#my house is in the right spot but it's on the bottom layer so I gotta move it then move it to fill the space up then move it back again

[leclerc-hs]

fille stupide - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader Summary: request from anon, in which you don't know French and a stranger helps you find your way back home Warning: 18+, SMUT, mean charles, degradation, some French (badly translated please correct me if needed), smut, smut, smut.... Word Count: 1808 Author's Note: I can't stop writing smut??? I think I hit every area the anon wanted!!! xo hope you like it lmaoooo also I wrote this so fast so it might not be my best work but I couldn’t sleep so I decided to write to pass the time. UPDATE: Also I just want to give a major shoutout to @dannyramirezwife for checking the translations for me!! It seriously means the world to meeee PART 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

DESPITE MONACO'S REPUTATION as one of the smallest countries in the world, you found yourself defying expectations by getting lost. The common assumption that such a compact place would be easy to navigate proved to be a misconception, as Monaco’s intricate streets and unique layout presented a challenge, turning what seemed impossible into a reality. Your reality.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The murmur of students passing by echoed, their conversations blending into a linguistic symphony of French, a language foreign to your ears. The decision to pursue the International University of Monaco, a place where the native tongue was French, felt like a bold and ambitious choice at first. The picturesque landscapes, the allure of the Mediterranean, and the prestigious academic reputation had drawn you in. 

However, as you stood outside the building, the reality of linguistic barriers hit you with full force. It seemed like every conversation, every announcement, and every piece of information was enveloped in a language you struggled to comprehend. Although, most knew English, it wasn’t the standard, and you were not yet adjusted to it. 

Panic surged through you as you hurriedly navigated the winding sidewalks, desperately trying to locate the building housing your apartment. Your focus was solely on scanning the towering buildings, hoping to spot a familiar one. The urgency of the situation compelled you to dart forward, not paying mind to those surrounding you. It was a recipe disaster, leading you to collide right into the body of another person.

“Mon dieu,” My God. The man said with a slight annoyance in his tone. “Regarde où tu marches!” Watch where you’re walking!

As the words were proclaimed, your eyes locked with a man’s gaze. He was the most stunning individual your eyes have ever beheld. His physique was tan, sculpted and taut, with biceps stretching the seams of his t-shirt. A pair of black sunglasses perched confidently on the bridge of his nose, adding an extra layer of allure to his presence.

You had absolutely no idea what he was saying. Although by the look of his furrowed eyebrows and tightened jaw, it was evident he was far from pleased. He removed his sunglasses, unveiling a pair of narrowed eyes.

Embarrassment tinged your cheeks as you stammered, “I’m so sorry!”

Under his scrutinizing gaze, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of smallness. His eyes, which you presumed to be green, were veiled in fury, making it difficult to discern their true color, yet undeniable captivating in their intensity. 

“Tu parles Français?” Do you speak French? A sly grin stretched across his lips slowly, reveling in your bewilderment. “Stupide, stupide fille,” Stupid, stupid girl. he added, savoring the moment.

Gazing downward, you focused on your feet, idly brushing your hands across the bottom of your white sundress. The garment was short, adorned with a little tied bow between your breasts and flower details.

“I’m a bit lost.” You muttered. “Would you be able to help me find my place?”

“I ne sais pas,” I don’t know. He persisted in speaking French, despite knowing you couldn’t understand. It felt as if he aimed to humiliate you, to provoke a sense of frustration or anger deliberately.

“Évidemment, je peux. Fille stupide.” Of course, I can. Stupid girl. He was mocking you and you didn’t even know it.

You let out an exasperated groan and sidestepped to make way for him, muttering a small ‘nevermind.’ However, as you moved, he followed suit, intentionally blocking your path and halting your movement.

“You shouldn’t be wearing dresses so short,” his fingers gently toyed with the thin strap of your dress. “It’s a bit windy for them.”

You felt the goosebumps rise on your skin from his touch alone. You frowned, “So, you do speak English?”

“Oui, la plupart des gens le font.” Yes, most people do. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as he continued speaking in French. While you acknowledged the need to learn the language, it felt like he was intentionally being cruel rather than helpful. “Are you in University?”

You nodded briskly, eager not to waste any time, especially since he finally seemed willing to be helpful.

“Most of the students live this way,” he mentioned, his hand wrapping around your wrist as he began to walk, essentially pulling you along with him. The touch of his skin against yours stirred butterflies in your stomach. Despite the fact he was insanely hot, you struggled to concentrate, almost forgetting the fact that he was behaving like a total asshole. 

He muttered French phrases to himself throughout the entire walk, small laughs escaping his lips while you remained clueless about what he was saying.

“Je veux te manger.” I want to eat you out.

“Tu t’habilles comme une salope.” You dress like a slut.

“Je vais te détruire.” I’m going to wreck you.

You weren’t sure what it was. Whether it was delusion from exhaustion or simply the undeniable sex appeal of the guy, the words, even though you didn’t understand them, strangely aroused you. 

Guiding you through the streets, he steered you into a lobby of a building that finally seemed familiar. “What number are you?” he inquired, referring to your apartment number. 

“Why would I give a stranger my apartment number?”

He scoffed, “I’m Charles. Not a stranger anymore. What’s the number?”

You didn’t give him the information because he convinced you that easily. It was more because he knew the area better than you. 

“0217? I think.” You replied, not entirely certain. The rush of your first day at university had left you with little time to settle in and memorize details. He didn’t seem to have much patience as he led you quickly up the stairwell and in front of a door with the numbers 0217 on it. You pulled out your key and unlocked the door, smiling as you finally pushed it open with success.

“Come in and have some water before you go,” You offered. It was the least you could do to express gratitude for his assistance. Your apartment was sparsely furnished, with only a mattress on the floor and several boxes scattered about.

“Sorry for the mess,” you bent over to pick up two water bottles from the case of water, your lace underwear with tiny hearts all over them peeking out for Charles view. He groaned loudly and unashamed.

Fatigue weighed heavily behind your eyes, but a persistent ache tugged at your stomach, insisting on the need to fulfill it.

“Mon dieu, j’ai besoin de t’avoir.” My god, I need to have you.

You rolled your eyes at the man as he said yet another sentence in French, handing him the water bottle. Rather than taking the water bottle from your hand, he grasped tightly onto your forearm and pulled you into him, the shock of his grasp causing you to drop the water bottle.

You felt your stomach tightening with need as his hands were on you once again. It was sick really. How this big of an asshole could turn you on so much.

“Rule number one, you can only roll your eyes when my cock is stretching your tight little pussy.” The scent of his cologne made your knees week. It was embarrassing. How quickly he was able to affect you. 

A soft gasp escaped your lips at his words, and your heart raced rapidly in response. He towered over your small frame, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at your flushed skin. A dead giveaway to how badly you were aching for him.

His hand swiftly pulled the strings of the dress, giving him full access to your breasts. He slipped his hand into it, pinching your nipple between his middle finger and thumb.

“On the bed.” His tone was demanding and authoritative, treating you like you were the dirt on the bottom of his shoe. Treating you like the slut that you were. “On your hands and knees.”

You rushed over to the bed, falling to your hands and knees, turning your head to look up at Charles behind you. Once he makes his way over, he grabs your hair and pulls you so your back is flushed to his chest, pulling your mouth to his. His tongue slips its way into your mouth, devouring you. The process is not entirely sexy. It’s urgent. Frantic. As if neither of you could have enough of one another.

He pulled away and spoke gruffly, as if he was angry with you. “Doesn’t even know a lick of French, stupide fille.” Stupid girl. He remarked, switching off between French and English.

Your dress was so short that he didn't even need to move it to see your panties. The dainty little hearts had him foaming at the mouth. So fucking cute.

“Fucking salope.” Slut. He pushes you back down, letting you fall back onto your hands as he pulled his pants down, freeing his cock.

You felt your mouth water at the sight. Just like him, his cock was beautiful. Perfectly smooth and dripping with pre-cum. You moaned as he pressed the head of his cock to your lace covered pussy, teasing you with it. You felt yourself growing needier, trying to push yourself onto his cock for more friction. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” He groaned, pulling your underwear to the side, and spitting directly onto your pussy. He did it as if he was spitting on the sidewalk, with no care and no respect, shoving two fingers into your heated center. He wasn’t gentle in the slightest. He was greedy, taking whatever he wanted from you. “Pathétique,” Pathetic. He sighs, shaking his head, "Such a cock slut."

Loud moans left your mouth as he stroked where you ached with his fingers before removing them and replacing them with his cock. 

“So fucking tight,” he hisses, his fingers grabbing onto the skin of your ass to add leverage as his continues to push deeper. To push harder. Your pussy squeezes him harder as he utters the words. “Tu aimes ça?” You like that? He muses on, “You like hearing what a tight pussy you have?”

“Dirty fucking slut.”

His hand reaches out and forces your head down onto the mattress, limiting your breathing. He’s completely unhinged. His hips relentlessly pounding into you. Fucking you like he’s mad at you. Fucking you like he hates you. With every thrust, a loud moan escapes your lips, echoing off the empty apartment walls.

“Come on my cock,” he demands. “Squeezing me like you’re going to come.” He states. You can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You feel yourself choking on your moans as it hits you. You’re now leaping over the edge of your orgasm. “That’s it,” he soothes, talking you through as you release all over his cock, but he doesn’t slow the roll of his hips into you. He pulls your face up from the mattress, his hand holding you up by the back of your neck. You’re completely limp, practically nothing but a toy for him to use. 

“Charles,” you’re yelling his name repeatedly.

At the sound of your voice yelling his name, he quickly pulls out and comes undone, releasing all over your backside. He collapses beside you, both of you trying to catch your breath. You both lie there, unmoving, just staring at each other.

“You should really learn French.” He laughs, a smug smile forming on his lips. You can’t help but laugh in response. 

“Maybe you can teach me?” 

“Peut être.” Maybe.

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagines #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #fillestupide #Fille stupide

[highdefhoetry]

tipsy invitation.

cw: nsfw!! gentle femdom, bondage, oral sex/blowjobs, mild sensation play/tickling

summary: inspired by rafayel's veiled whispers five star memory. things get a little steamy after the two of you break open the red wine.

word count: 1508

The faint sound of rustling of ribbons and soft, quiet grunts echo through the empty house as you stand before Rafayel. The lights are dim. The atmosphere is set. Your head is still spinning from the red wine you had an hour or so ago, but not enough to take you away from this moment. 

You weren’t sure if the red ribbons would hold out or if Rafayel would break free as soon as you finished tying the knots, but as you stood there admiring your handiwork, you saw how they held tight despite his constant wiggling. The chair he’s sitting on shakes a bit, but for the most part it looks like he really can’t get out of it. His playful expression slowly turns to one of slight panic, his cocky demeanor slowly falling away.

“You haven’t even started unwrapping me. Am I just gonna be thrown away like that?” he whines, pulling his arms a bit as he leans forward. You can tell he’s still trying to keep up his unshakeable facade, but you could see right through him. You were going to strip him of every layer, until he had no choice but to sit in front of you bare and vulnerable.

You lean forward and rest your hands on his knees.

“On the contrary. I’m going to take my time unwrapping you.”

Your fingers undo the buttons on his shirt, exposing his soft, pale skin. You trace the tips of your nails along his collar bones, causing him to shudder and gasp.

“...h…hey…”

He’s trying hard not to react, but you know this is his weak spot. His ears grow redder and redder, his expression becoming more strained and desperate. The corners of your lips curl up as you speak.

“What’s wrong? I’m giving you the attention you wanted, right?”

He stifles another sound, barely holding it together. All that talk, just for him to crumble at one touch. He was an absolute treasure. One you were going to plunder.

“This isn’t… what I had in mind…”

“Too bad,” you sing, grabbing the rose sitting prettily beside his chair. “You don’t really have a choice now, do you?”

You brush the soft red petals against his ear, just teasing him a bit to remind him of his current helplessness. He gasps again and flinches away.

“...You’re good at catching people off guard.”

You giggle in response, then brush the flower against his bare collarbone. This time he actually shrieks.

“(Y/N)!”

“Yes…?”

“...Can’t you be more gentle?” he whines, pouting ever so cutely. It almost makes you want to show mercy. Almost.

“I’m being as gentle as I can,” you paint a trail from his collarbone to his neck, then back around his ears. “You’re just too sensitive.”

“Aahhh… nnngh… hngrh!”

Rafayel has been reduced to pained grunts and breathy whimpers. Seeing him get all flustered from such a light touch stirs something inside you, something feral. You discard the rose, wanting to feel him with your own hands. Within seconds you’re straddling his lap, your ass resting on the tops of his thighs while your arms drape over his shoulders.

“Poor little fishy. Already so flustered and worked up.”

“As if…” he chuckles. “It’ll take a lot more than that to break me.” 

His brattiness seems to have made its comeback in full force. He mirrors your smirk, a small glint of mischief in his eyes. Clearly you’d gone too easy on him.

You take his chin in hand, gently pulling it up while running your thumb across his bottom lip.

“Good. Because I want to play with you for a long, long time.”

You start to grind against his hips, feeling a certain stiffness beneath you. His low grunts turn to soft moans as you press against him, moving forward and back in a steady rhythm. You push your thumb into his mouth and moan from the softness of his lips and tongue. He sucks it obediently for a few seconds before you pull it out. 

“I’m very pleased with this new toy of mine,” you say, lacing your fingers in his hair. “He’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Are you sure you’re satisfied?” he whispers in between breathy gasps. “If needed, you could do a slow, thorough inspection. Make sure everything’s functioning the way it should.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You don’t wait for him to answer. Your hands suddenly grasp fistfuls of his hair, gently yank his head to one side. He gasps, then lets out a small yelp when your lips press against his neck. His skin feels warm, its reddish tone matching the blush on his face and ears. You start off slow, simply kissing the sensitive bare skin, then when you think he’s gotten used to it, you begin sucking and licking with as much softness as you can muster. The whimpers and cries coming out of him are to die for. He moans in falsetto, splutters out half-formed sentences in between sharp, hitched breaths.

“...Aahhh! (Y/N), please… ohhh…”

You drink in his sweet, tittered noises until you’ve had your fill. When you finally pull away, you see a flurry of pink and red lip-shaped marks on his neck where your lips had been. 

“Oh, dear. This won’t do,” you coo as you stroke each mark with your fingers, making him shudder a bit more. “I suppose I won’t be able to return you now.”

“Urgh…” he twitches at every touch, trembling as he tries his best to keep his composure. He’s breathing heavily, his brow and bangs are damp with sweat. When his eyes dart away from yours, you grab his jaw once more and use a bit more force to bring his gaze back to you. His wide, sparkling eyes stare back at you with an amalgamation of emotion. Anticipation. Adoration. Maybe even a hint of fear. 

“I’ve heard there is a very special feature with this kind of toy,” you whisper, leaning forward to press your lips against his chest. “Shall I do some exploring and find out for myself?”

He can only respond with fluttered moans as you kiss down his chest, lingering on his soft stomach. His muscles twitch as you kiss each of his defined abs, and his hips start thrusting the closer you get to his belt. You slide off his lap and crouch down in front of him, staring at the present waiting for you between his legs. Feeling bold, you undo his belt and zipper, giving him a chance to protest. He never does. You tug at his waistband, pulling it down as much as you can, revealing the white boxers under his pants. His dick pulses and throbs beneath the white cotton.

You start off with just one finger. There’s a small, clear stain already, and you smother the urge to tease him about it. Rubbing the tip of his member forces out more strained moans; you feel him throb harder and push himself upwards, as if begging for more. 

There’s a slit in the middle of his boxers, perfect for sneaking your hand inside. You grab his shaft, smile when he lets out a desperate cry before leaning forward to take him in. Your lips envelop the tip, suck gently while his whimpers increase in volume. You wait until you hear him beg to continue.

“Come on…” he groans. Your hand tightens slightly around his shaft.

“You know the magic words,” you tease, licking the length of his cock from balls to tip.

“Hngrh…p…please…”

“Please, what?”

His frustration grows. You can tell he’s nearing his breaking point. His face is crimson red, his eyes are squeezed shut, his muscles tensed against his ribboned bonds.

“Please… keep going…”

You kiss his cock and praise his efforts.

“Good boy.”

With that, you take him into your mouth, sucking him in a steady motion while your tongue dances around his dick. His moans are loud and airy, like a beautiful siren’s song luring you to demise. You start to lose yourself in the act.

It doesn’t take long for him to finish. Maybe a minute or two, maybe shorter. He lets out one last high-pitched cry, then an explosion of cum fills your mouth. You feel his cock pulsing inside for a few more seconds before it’s over. You swallow his load, then give his pretty cock one last kiss before standing up.

With a smile plastered across your face, you lean forward to start untying the knots in the ribbons that keep his arms and legs bound to the chair. However, as soon as your hands reach down, you feel something grasp your arm firmly. When you look back at Rafayel, he’s grinning at you with cheeks reddened and hair sweaty and disheveled.

“Wait, when did you…?”

“There are all kinds of escape methods you can learn online,” he winks. 

“You little…!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he wags a finger in front of your face. “Such profanities won’t do. Besides, I think it’s your turn to be unwrapped…”

#rafayel x reader #love and deepspace #rafayel x you #rafayel x mc #minors dni #love and deepspace smut #love & deepspace

[theapangea]

Hanging on the Telephone

Lip Gallagher x innocent!reader

Part of the Every Little Touch Series

Summary: Phone sex with Lip Gallagher

W/C: 2k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI!!! Male and female masturbation

A/N: I know I've been MIA but here is a little Lip smut for making you wait so long you little pervs ;). This was a fun one to write and maybe there will be a part two to this story! This is part of my Every Little Touch Series with Lip x innocent!reader. My requests is currently closed but when it does open please feel free to suggest any ideas you have for this story or another one. Love you cuties!! <3

Finally you murmur, shuffling your snow covered boots through the carpeted floor. Struggling to strip your coat and shoes off at the same time. Trying to work quickly as the stale air of the house makes you start to sweat under your several layers.

Eyes sleepy, heavy, ready to collapse onto themselves as the coat and boots are soon forgotten about, taking the last several steps to your bed before plopping face first into the mattress. The plush blanket muffling your scream as you release all the built up stress from the stupid little day you are having. Though the scream seems not to be working.

Rolling over onto your back, arms laying delicately over your mid section. Eyes fixated on the ceiling, the weight on your shoulders grows heavy as the strain builds behind your eyes making it tougher to breathe. Cursing silently at your stupid, sad, pathetic fucking life. A small stream of tears trickle down your temples, squeezing your eyes sharply together, wishing everything and everyone away. 

Just need a little peace.

Just need a little release.

Taking a deep, slow breath as you let your mind wander. Rubbing your thighs together, the buzzing runs through your thoughts, suddenly landing on Lip. His causoled fingers running down your delicate skin. Absentmindedly touching the same spots he did while you continue to let your mind run wild. 

Breath hitches as your fingers grace the lining of your jeans. Arching your back as you imagine Lip placing small kisses down the side of your neck, a trail of wet warmth and deep bruising. Not really thinking much into what you are actually doing. But you missed his touch, even if you have only felt it once. Missed the way he made you feel, wanting to feel that way every single day of your life. Desperately wanting to feel that release again, wanting him to send you over the edge. 

The vibrating in your back pocket makes you jump from your skin. Almost as if someone has caught you in the act of thinking about the shared moment with Lip and what that would ultimately lead to. 

Lifting your hips in the air, your toes digging into the carpet as your hand struggles to grip the small device from the bottom of your pocket. The vibration is still buzzing, sending a quivering through your body. Finally pulling the device free, flipping the phone open to see Lip’s name displayed on the small screen and behind it a blurry picture you took of him on last year’s school trip to Cloud Gate (the big shiny bean in Chicago).

Instantly pushing the answer button and placing the phone to your ear. A half-whisper greeting escapes you as you wiggle your way to the top of your bed. Feeling a little embarrassed to be talking to Lip after you almost let yourself get off on the thought of him.

“Whatcha doing?’ Lip questions from the other end, you can hear the brush of smoke that hits the receiver.

“Currently,” Pausing for dramatic effect, “Succumbing to my self loathing, waiting for the universe to end it all.” You force out a life to make light of the situation.

His low chuckle as a response sends a shiver through your body, igniting the fire that grows between your legs. 

A smile lamenting itself firming onto your face. Lip has that effect on you, making this life feel a little less lonely. “And what might the famous Lip Gallagher be doing right now?” You ask, picking at the dirt underneath your nails. 

“Ya’know, just been thinking.”

“About what?” You inquire, hoping you already know the answer.

Stuttering over his words as he tries to form them into sentences, feeling a bump in his throat as he doesn’t know exactly how to say it, “Ab-about the other d-day…about you.”

Heat rises immediately to your cheeks, a full breath filling your lungs until they burn. A huge smile engulfing your features as you silently giggle to yourself. Happy beyond belief that he was thinking about you. 

“Yeah?” Is all you can muster to say as the air has fully exited your chest, leaving you laying there, basking in the bliss.

Carding a hand through his messy hair as he takes another drag of his cigarette. Lip’s body sprawled out over his bed as his voice hitches, “Can’t stop thinking about it.”

The words are music to your ears as you happily tap your feets against the soft comforter. He’s been thinking about you, thinking about what you both did together and he’s talking to you about it. 

“Have you been thinking about it?” He speaks softly into the phone, finally realizing that you have been silent a little too long.

“Maybe…” You’re a little embarrassed to admit it. Not because you didn’t want it to happen or that you are embarrassed of Lip in any way. You’ve just never been comfortable talking about any form of sex or pleasure before, especially talking about it with someone else. 

Another puff of smoke hits the receiver as you can hear Lip shift on the other end, “Any particular part?” He hums.

You’re hesitant at first, doing this stuff in person is one thing but having to talk about it is a whole other beast you’d never thought you’d have to overcome. But you want to talk about it with Lip, he makes you feel comfortable and wanted. He makes this experience way less scary than you had originally thought.

“Your hands,” You finally confess, the heat rising rapidly to your cheeks as you pull your legs to your chest, doing anything to hide.

He purrs against the receiver. “Where? Deep inside of you?”

“Lip.” You whine, embarrassed that he just said that out loud. He speaks about this stuff so plainly and bluntly that you almost don’t know how to act. Almost as if he gets a kick out of seeing you embarrassed.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about.” The words are heaven, laced in pure silk running perfectly over your body as the thought of Lip thinking about the way you felt under his grasp, the way his fingers curled expertly inside of you, the way you tasted, all innocent and pure. He can’t help not thinking about the way you relaxed under his touch and how he desperately wants to do it again. “Do you still feel that itch?”

The heat has not subsided yet from your cheeks as he keeps talking about it and you have to admit that the itch has truly never gone away. It was just in a deep little part of your brain, eagerly waiting for Lip to let it out. 

You hum as you stretch your legs out in front of you, squeezing your thighs together again.

“Like right now?”

Especially now.

“Are you going to do anything about it?” He questions. 

You huff, “I’m not really sure what to do.” You have to admit out loud which seems so silly at the moment. 

“It’s okay,” his tone is subtle, “‘member what I showed you?” 

Closing your eyes as his words whisper your mind into the amazing memory that you two share together. You could swear that you are currently there now, wrapped in Lip’s arms as he rubs your core into ecstasy. 

You hum against the phone, your tone is whiny as your other hand grabs at the rough fabric of your jeans. 

“Just touch yourself like that, tell me what you’re doing, how you’re feeling.” His voice calms you down.

Shaking your head as you murmur over the line, “Ok.”

Stumbling over your words as you struggle to take off your jeans while laying in bed, “I-I’m taking off m-my je-jeans…come on.” You angrily whisper to your jeans as you push them off.

Lip laughs on the other end at your struggle, able to picture you perfectly as the sounds of muffling come over the receiver. 

“I’m in my panties now.” You say to him.

He laughs again, this time more from the chest.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You whine, “I’m new to this.”

“Do you want me to talk instead?” He suggests.

“Yes, please,” You breathe a sigh of relief. Blessing that you won’t embarrass yourself any further. 

“One sec then,” Lip says before the phone goes silent. Jumping up quickly to rip off his shirt and jeans before grabbing the phone again, relaxing into the mattress. Lip’s hand is instantly on his cock when he gets back on the phone with you. “Ready.” He’s barely able to get out his words as his touch sends electricity through his body.

The pre-cum dripping slightly from his pulsing tip onto his stomach. He doesn't know how long he will last, his imagination has been getting him through the days, desperately wanting to touch every part of you, know every single detail.

You lightly breath out the word yeah, biting your lip in anticipation of what's to come next. 

“Slip your hand under your panties.” His almost demanding tone falls delicately on your ears. 

Your hand slips underneath your white, cotton panties. Fingers trailing over your mound, hesitant to touch too close to your burning center. A single whimper escapes you as you stop just short on meeting your needs.

“Good girl. Now touch that pretty little clit of yours for me.” Lip’s voice is paradise, guiding you on this journey of self-discovery. Begging, pleading for you to just slip your finger between your folds. 

The electric jolt of pleasure bursts through your body as your middle finger grazes over your sensitive nub. You whine heavily into the phone. Lip returns with a groan of his own, happily pleasuring himself, your whimpers are addicting as he strokes his aching cock. 

“How does it feel?” He purrs.

“Amazing.” Your chest falls as you sink a finger deeper between your folds, delicately teasing your entrance like Lip did before. Imagining that it’s his finger dipping graciously into your burning core. 

“But not as good as when I do it?” He questions, his words teasing you.

“Definitely not.” Grinding against your fingers, the confidence begins to trickle in as you try to talk dirty to him, “I wish it was you…touching me, your fingers deep inside of me.” Curling a finger into your dripping hole, struggling to accommodate your own finger this time. 

Adding more pressure to his grip as Lip’s hand falls down his length. Buckling his hips as he groans when you call his name, knowing that your holes are filled because of him. 

Lip’s name whispers from your mouth, between moans, whimper after whimper as he tells you to pick up speed, pumping your fingers deeper inside of your burning core. Back arching, fingers losing rhythm as you gasp one final time. White, hot flames filling your bloodstream as you scream Lip’s name into your empty room, cumming intensely onto your soaked fingers.

Lip follows you as he pumps faster and more rapidly as you say you’re picking up speed, face contorting into pure pleasure as one last pump sends him over the edge. The perfect white liquid shooting from his cock, landing onto his stomach. Stroking a couple more times as his breathes even out and a small laugh departs his lips

Your chest is heavy when the world starts to fall into place again. Cumming with you was absolutely the best sexual experience Lip has ever had.

The phone is quiet for a couple beats, neither of you knowing what to say or how to continue. 

And before either of you can continue a conversation, banging on the door from Lip’s end pulls you back to reality, “Lip, you're wastin’ all the minutes.” Fiona loudly calls from the other side of his locked door.

“Shit,” Lip curses from the other end, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, ‘kay?” 

He hangs up with a quick goodbye.

And then it was reality staring you right in the face when you realized that you’d have to face Lip at school tomorrow. Fuck. 

~~~

Let me know what you think!! My replies don't work but I am more than happy to talk to you in my inbox or messages. Thank you for supporting me !! I LOVE YOU!!!

#lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher #shameless x reader #lip gallagher fanfic #lip gallagher x you #every little touch series #theapangea

[vetteltea]

Mick Schumacher and Hot Soup In The Cold [no warnings]

Day 10 of the Vetteltea Advent Calendar

Note: Dedicated to one of my absolute favourite MS47 writers on this platform, @thisismeracing. Millie is a complete babe and I genuinely am in awe of every single thing that is written. I really hope this brings up to the standard you write Mick!

The lock of the ornate oak door clicks; a sound which echoes through the open-plan hallway and into the kitchen. There’s two sounds of footsteps; the first are scattery, nails digging into the floor and the undeniable sound of a tail smacking into the carefully organized suitcases. The second are heavy boots, carefully closing the heavy door and the faint curse in German, panic settling when the cases begin to wobble. 

You’ve sensed them before you see them; Angie comes scampering into the kitchen, letting out a singular bark to alert you of her presence. Immediately, you’re crouching down, coos falling from your lips as the puppy nuzzles into your touch, her pink tongue coming out to graze against your fingers. The sensation always feels weird, laughing as she continues to lie across the floor, basking in your attention.

Heavy footsteps into the kitchen don’t cause you to glance up, not until you hear his voice. It’s not his voice, but the tiny whine he lets out, clearly hoping for some of the attention which was currently being directed towards the four-legged companion. 

Eyes widen when you finally look up to catch a glance of your boyfriend. He’s wrapped up in so many layers; you had insisted before he left the house, knowing all-too-well that the temperatures had dramatically dropped overnight. Even through his jumper, coat and hat, you can see him visibly shivering; his nose is scarlet from the harsh weather outside. There was no snow, no ice, it was just undeniably cold. 

“Oh, my poor baby.” You play along after his pout, standing up from where you had been previously settled, two hands resting on either side of his face, his icy skin immediately warming underneath your touch. Gently, you find yourself leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his red nose, the coolness immediately numbing your own skin.  “You’re so cold, Mick!” 

“I know.” He pouts, attempting to wiggle closer into your touch, lips pushing forward for another kiss. Of course, you comply, quickly pressing your lips to his before pulling away, turning to wash your hands whilst your boyfriend’s eyes widen upon seeing the counter.

Atop of the induction hob was an empty pot, remains of your well-known chicken noodle soup lingered in the bottom. His heart tightens for a moment; there was no way you would have made his favorite soup and not saved him any whatsoever? Instead, blue eyes peek onto the two thermos cups, both steaming from their content. It clicks in his head, though he speaks to clarify his thoughts are right. 

“Are they for the drive- the soups-” He clarifies when you turn around from the sink, wiping your hands on your trouser leg. 

“Yeah, I really don’t want to deal with the McDonald’s queue again.” You visibly shiver, remembering how long-winded the previous drive up to the Schumacher Home had been after Mick insisted on stopping off for lunch. The thirty-minute wait for a cheeseburger, chicken nuggets and cold fries whilst a woman in front of you demanded a full refund was something to be forgotten. 

You had bypassed that this year; whilst Mick took Angie for a speedy walk around the area whilst you packed up the final pieces of the luggage, you had also made a batch of Chicken Soup; over the past three years, if you had learnt anything, it was that the boy could not resist that meal. So much so, that when you turned around to pack the flasks into your own bag, you had frozen in your spot. 

His pink, pouted lips had made a home over the edge of the flask, already drinking the soup, lips becoming tighter when a noodle came to the brim of the cup. His eyes widen upon the realization of what he’s done; without even thinking, he’s chugged half of his soup as if it was water. 

You laugh. You actually laugh at him. It’s something you’ve grown to expect from Mick; like the world spins and racecars sprint around a track, he will always take your soup before it’s even been wrapped up. You’ve come to accept this, and whilst you watch his eyes fall down in shame, reveal a third flask of soup, hidden away from the two in sight. 

Mick’s mouth opens in shock, still holding the soup in one hand, pointing at you with the other. “Did you-”

“I know you, Mick.” You tease, stepping forward and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Maybe a little too well.” You take the second flask next to your own, securing them in your own bag, a safekeeping for when he would inevitably try to take it after the first five minutes of the drive.

You knew him too well, after all. 

#Mick Schumacher #MS47 #Mick Schumacher x Reader #Mick Schumacher Imagine #Mick Schumacher One Shot #Mick Schumacher x You #Reader Insert #F1 #Formula 1 #F1 x Reader #Mick Schumacher Blurb #Mick Schumacher x Y/N

[soulofapatrick]

The First I Love You - Liam Dunbar (NSFW)

Liam Dunbar's POV:

I open the door to the Stilinski residence with the key Y/N cut for me and am too deep in thoughts about tonight that I don't hear the multitude of heart beats.

"Y/N?" I call, hearing his grunt from the living room, "I bought the whipped cream and chocolate like you wa-" I let out a small shriek when I see Lydia, Stiles, Scott and Derek in the living room with Y/N. Lydia cocks an eyebrow at Y/N when he tells me to go put it in his room instead of the kitchen.

I can't help but feel mildly annoyed as I trudge my way up to Y/N's room, meeting Sheriff Stilinski halfway up, "Afternoon Sheriff." I throw on a fake smile before entering Y/N room. I shove the bag into his bottom drawer then make my back to the living room to settle on the floor by Y/N's feet as there's no more room on the sofas. Y/N instinctively reaches down and begins to massage a hand through my hair, making me want more than his hand in my hair but of course I can't kiss him now because the others are here and I'm a minor so the pack may not be okay with it.

As if feeling my discomfort Y/N leans closer and says softly, "You can sit on my lap Lili, it might be more comfy than the floor." I pretend to hesitate but give in when Y/N pulls me up onto his lap, both of us shifting until we're in a comfortable position. A position we've sat in multiple times when we've been alone; fitting together like jigsaw pieces.

Halfway through the third movie I feel my eyes dropping shut and Y/N just presses a kiss to my hair and carries on carding his fingers through my hair, murmuring, "Don't fight it. Get some rest Liam."

I wake to find myself in Y/N’s bed, he's next to me with a book in his hand and the other is on the inside of my thigh where I've draped a leg over his waist. As if knowing I'm awake he begins to rub his hand up and down my thigh, inching higher and higher each time. My hips move towards his hand but every time they do he stops and moves his hand to my knee, making me whine.

"Sorry about the others coming over. They arrived with Stiles and it's his house too so I couldn't turn them away." Y/N finally glanced over from his book.

"You could make it up to me." I purr, placing one of my hands on his bare chest and slowly moving it down towards the waistband of the loose fitting tracksuit bottoms he's wearing, lingering on what I know are his weak spots. He shift subtlety and I call it a silent victory, especially as it causes him to lean over me and put his book on the bedside table.

"We'll use the whipped cream and chocolate another time. Right now I just want to fuck you." He whispers in my ear, teeth grazing across my cheek and making me groan.

"Please."

"You've gotta be quiet though baby, Stiles and Dad are home." He warns, trailing kisses down my neck before rolling on to his back, pulling me on top of him. I sit up so I'm straddling his hips and throw my tee shirt to the floor before practically ripping off my shorts in a rush to get naked, not caring because Y/N's eyes are raking up and down my body and ripping my clothes is an excuse to wear his ones after. He puts his hands on mine before I can rip my boxers, making me frown until one of his hands grabs me through the material. I whine and my hips buck into the friction, becoming fully hard.

"Off." We say at the same time and I can't help but snicker at this, both of us losing our final layer of clothes and patience. My eyes falling to Y/N's erection that slaps against his stomach, mouth watering a little as I wanna taste the precum that's leaking from the head but before I can even duck my head Y/N groans out, "Finger yourself."

I lean over him and grab the bottle of lube from his top draw, pouring some onto my fingers before throwing it on the bed beside Y/N's head. Y/N's hands softly caress my hips as I slot two fingers inside myself, his eyes on the movement of my fingers disappearing inside me as I stretch myself for him. Normally I'd shy away from attention like this but the way Y/N watches, his tongue darting out to wet his lips just turns me on.

Once I'm stretched enough I shuffle forwards and grab Y/N's erection, lining myself up with him so I can slid myself down easily. He lets out a soft sound once he's fully sheathed inside me that makes me lean forwards and press an open mouthed kiss to his lips, beginning to gently rock my hips. I can't help the small gasps and moans that leave my mouth as we find a steady rhythm, Y/N's kisses swallowing the sounds while one of his hands settles on my hip and the other tangles in my hair, pulling lightly.

"I love this." I murmur against Y/N's now kiss swollen lips, gasping when his hips buck up to meet my twist of hips. He smiles, nodding in agreement, "I love you," before his lips gravitate to that sweet spot on my neck to distract me from what he just admitted. It works because soon my hips are pressing down harder and his thrusts are becoming rougher. He suddenly pushes me into a sitting position and I cry out when the change of angle means he's pressing up against that tight bundle of nerves but Y/N's hand flies up to cover my mouth, hushing me. I bite my bottom lip so hard I draw blood and Y/N gently pulls my lip from my teeth before his hand wraps around my neglected member, making my hips jerk as my body becomes unsure where to gravitate to: down so Y/N's pressing on that bundle of nerves or forward and into Y/N's hand where his thumb is ghosting over the slit.

I almost scream when Y/N gives one final tug of his hand and the other pushes me down, my orgasm slamming into me. I collapse on top of him, biting into his shoulder to mask my moans, hearing him gasp a little. Once I'm sure I've come down from my high I just let Y/N fuck me to his own orgasm but what I don't expect is for me to be coming again at the feel of him filling me up. My back arches and I think I forget how to breathe for a good few minutes because suddenly Y/N is kissing me.

I pull away when my sex-fogged brain processes Y/N's murmur so I say, "I love you too." He stills before his face breaks into a grin and he pulls me down into another kiss, making me cry out against his lips as it's pushed him even further inside me and hitting that extremely sensitive spot. There's a creak outside and I freeze when there's a knock on Y/N’s bedroom door before the Sheriff asks, "Are you okay in there Y/N?"

"Yeah! Don't worry! I just slammed my knee on my bedside table again!" Y/N calls back and the Sheriff believes him as he sighs, wishes Y/N goodnight and shuffled back to his own room.

Once I'm sure he's gone I slowly ease off Y/N, my arms and legs shaking with effort before collapsing next to him while he leans over and grabs some tissues. I whine into his side when he cleans me up and then himself, snuggling closer when he finally puts his arms around me, mumbling, "Gnight Y/N, love you." Smiling when he says it back and presses a kiss to my forehead.

#liam dunbar x reader #liam dunbar #liam dunbar x male reader #liam dunbar oneshot #liam dunbar smut #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x male reader #teen wolf smut

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Boss (Part 2) - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

This work, all of my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY TIMES PEOPLE HAVE TO SAY THIS SHIT

Warnings: Bodyguard AU; Power Imbalance; Not Necessarily Healthy Dynamics; Power Struggle; Implied Age Gap (Still VERY MUCH Legal); Nudity; Reader is a Brat; Bradley Snaps; Suggestive Themes/Implied Sexual Content; Female Reader with No Name or Identifying Description, No Y/N

Summary: You keep testing Rooster's resilience until he snaps.

Part 1 Master List

Despite your argument and you playing your towel card, Rooster didn’t seem to be backing down from his stance that you would remain at the safe house until the perpetrators were caught. And your attempts to convince your family to take your side didn’t go anywhere. If anything, your attempt to convince your parents to let you out only convinced them that it was better to keep you locked up.

You were reaching the end of your rope. And frankly, you were ready to push Bradley there too for locking you up.

The safe house was beautiful and luxurious, but there were limited windows and the only time that you could get any kind of fresh air on the one protected balcony was with Bradley right next to you, keeping an eye out for any security threats. You hadn’t felt this suffocated and managed since you were a teenager and you were not going to stand for it.

And so began the next stage of your plan.

Sure, you were raised with money and maybe you were just a little bit of a brat, but you had inherited a rather intense cunning nature from your parents. You knew what you wanted and you were not afraid to pull out some cards that were not necessarily appropriate in order to get what you wanted in the end. And so, you did your research.

There were cameras all over the house, which your parents’ personal security monitored regularly. But there were still blind spots. None of the bathrooms and bedrooms had cameras, for obvious privacy concerns. You tested out your theories over the next few days and made a quick mental list of all of the little blind spots in the safe house.

There was one in the kitchen. And there was one out on the balcony.

 “I want to go outside,” you stated, leaning on the wall.

Rooster glanced up from his laptop and nodded. You turned around and started walking over to the balcony entrance as Rooster set up the security protocols. Waiting rather impatiently by the door, you shifted nervously on your feet. Even though you spent the last two weeks testing out the limits of the cameras and you were certain that this would work, you were still nervous.

It was probably a really bad idea, but at least it was your own bad idea. No one forced that idea on you.

Bradley walked over and input the security code to let you out onto the balcony. You stepped out into the sunny and warm air and made your way over to the lounge chair that you moved the day before in order to ‘do some yoga.’ Bradley glanced over at you as you set down your towel before turning to surveil the yard.

Undoing the buttons of your shirt, you glanced over to see Bradley still staring out at the yard, taking his job of security so seriously. Setting your shirt down and shimmying out of your shorts, you leaned down to grab your sunscreen. Applying a layer to your skin, and making sure to put an extra amount on your breasts, which were usually covered in the sun, you eventually turned to Rooster.

“Can you get my back?”

Bradley turned and practically had a heart attack when he spotted you standing there with just a small thong bikini bottom on. You held out the sunscreen bottle to him with an expectant expression. Bradley swore under his breath, a vein starting to pop out on his neck, before he reluctantly walked over. Taking the sunscreen from you, he applied it to your back while sweat started to bead on his forehead.

“Thanks,” you stated, shooting him a wink before laying down to sunbathe.

“Sure,” Rooster grunted out, quick to remove himself from your presence.

He focused on the yard and his security protocols, only glancing over at you occasionally. But one such time, he turned to see you now on your back, your uncovered breasts exposed to the sun and his gaze. Clenching his jaw so tight that he was worried that he’d break a molar, Rooster turned back to the yard, missing your smirk.

And when he glanced over to see you shimmying out of your bottoms, Rooster swore that he was going to combust right then and there. He was starting to worry that those dreams that he kept having of you were never going to end at this rate.

You lounged around for a bit longer before standing up and getting dressed once more. When you were slowly buttoning up your shirt again, Rooster approached you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rooster growled out, causing you to pick your head up.

“Sunbathing,” you stated, as if it were obvious. “Why?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Rooster grunted out, causing you to raise an innocent eyebrow.

“I don’t,” you drawled, running your hand slowly down his chest. Stopping right over his heart, which was hammering out of his chest, you leaned up and closer to his lips. “But maybe you should see the doctor, Bradley. You’re flushed and your heart rate is really elevated. Maybe you’re coming down with something.”

You turned to head back inside, leaving a frustrated Bradley behind you.

“I’m not going to change my security protocols,” Bradley called after you. “Whatever stupid game you think that you’re playing, it’s not going to work.”

“Didn’t you read my file?” you asked, grabbing the door handle. Staring back at Bradley, your expression darkened a smidge. “I always get what I want.”

Ripping the door open, you stalked inside, well aware that Bradley was staring after you with a similarly dark expression.

~~~~~

The next day, you stepped out of your bedroom in a rather short dress that complimented your figure beautifully. The strappy heels that you picked to go along with it clicked on the floor as you headed down to eat breakfast. Bradley was in the kitchen, like you knew he would be, making himself breakfast after his morning workout.

“Why did you get all dressed up?” Bradley asked, frowning when he noticed your outfit. “You’re not going outside this compound.”

“A girl can’t dress up for herself?” you huffed, walking over to the fridge.

You pulled out a yogurt for breakfast and leaned over to grab a spoon. Walking over to the table, you set it down in front of the seat in the kitchen blind spot. You cursed when you ‘accidentally’ dropped your spoon. Bradley glanced up just in time to catch an eyeful of your uncovered ass and a little more than his sanity was willing to take as you bent over to pick it up.

Hearing Bradley’s sharp footsteps, you straightened up as he stalked towards you. Smirking up at him, you stepped back, drawing him further into the blind spot. Bradley, taking the bait, backed you into the corner. He loomed over you and placed his hand against the wall, trapping you in between him and it, with a rather furious expression.

“What?” you questioned innocently, batting your eyelashes.

“You know all the blind spots, don’t you?” he accused, causing you to shrug your shoulders.

“Blind spots? I just like this corner,” you lied straight through your smirk.

“Is this how you always get what you want, huh?” Rooster growled, glaring down at you. “Flash your tits or your ass and suddenly everyone drops everything to get you what you want?”

“No,” you replied honestly. “Most people just do as I ask the first time.”

“Should I feel honored that I’m the first person in your life to tell you, ‘No’?” Bradley scoffed at you. Staring back down at you, he stood taller and defiantly. “It won’t work.”

“It won’t?” you chuckled, amused with his antics. “Why the long showers then, Bradley?” Rooster didn’t respond, though the vein on his neck looked like it was about to burst. “I would tell you to go fuck yourself, but you seem to be doing that all on your own.” Slipping out from between him and the wall, you turned back to him. “Let me know if you need a helping . . . hand.”

“I’m not going to let you out,” Rooster vowed, causing you to smirk again.

“Sure, you won’t,” you replied, picking up your yogurt.

“And whatever seduction game that you think you’re playing, it’s not going to change my mind.”

“And if my seduction game were for some other purpose?” you asked, turning back to him. Taking a spoonful of yogurt and sensually licking it off the spoon, all while maintaining eye contact with Bradley, you grinned. “What then, Bradley?” 

When he didn’t respond, looking more than a little flustered, you walked out of the room and headed back to your bedroom, swaying your hips just a little extra.

~~~~~

Rooster was reaching the end of his rope. First, there was the towel incident. Second, there was the balcony incident. And third, there was the flashing in the kitchen. Hell, he was going stir crazy himself and your antics were really starting to mess with his brain, which seemed to just replay the images of you over and over again. His dreams were even worse.

And he knew that this next fight was going to push him completely over the edge. He was going to snap.

He just got a status update from the other Daggers in the field and relayed the information to your parents, who came to a decision that he knew that you weren’t going to like. And so, here he was, in your bedroom in the late evening, while you lounged around in a short nightie that he knew you put on when you heard him knock on the door.

And the whole game was starting to get really old, really fast.

“Another three months!?” you snapped, glaring into Bradley’s soul. “You’re going to lock me up here for another fucking three months!?”

“Don’t blame me, I’m just the messenger!”

“No, you’re the fucking warden of this hellhole!” you shouted back, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“The tactical team fucked up, what else do you want me to say!?”

“I want you to say that I can get the fuck out of here!”

“Well, that’s not going to fucking happen! Your parents were the ones who made the call, not me, so stop acting like a fucking brat all the goddamn time,” Rooster snapped back at you, causing you to whirl around with a fire in your eyes. “I’ve had enough!”

“Boo hoo! You could have switched out with one of your teammates weeks ago, but yet you stayed here so that you could fucking rule my life!” you shouted back at Bradley, taking a step towards him. “What? You get a high off of disappointing women, Bradley?”

“Don’t say my name like that,” he warned you, that vein popping off his neck again.

“Like what?” you asked, really pushing your luck, though you didn’t care or even seem to realize the situation that you were putting yourself in. Leaning forward, you pressed your body against Bradley’s and brushed your lips against his neck, right on that vein that always popped up. Trailing up towards the edge of his ear lobe, you breathed out with a sultry edge, “Bradley.”

And that was your most serious miscalculation. One that you were going to pay for.

In a second, Bradley snapped. All of his self-control and professionalism just snapped in a moment. You blinked and suddenly you were on your back on your bed with your hands pinned above your head by Bradley’s much larger hand. His knees were pinned on both sides of your hips, keeping you in place, as he glared down at you.

And for the first time in your little game, Bradley had the upper hand. And you didn’t really mind it, actually, as you subtly closed your thighs together.

“You’re a fucking brat,” he snapped out you, noting how you seemed to squirm a bit underneath him. Though, you didn’t seem interested in kicking him off, since you weren’t fighting his hold. Leaning down to your face, he tried to not smirk when he felt your breath hitch in your throat at his position above you. “And I’ve had enough.”

You laid down, not fighting him, and just staring up at him with a docile look that he hadn’t seen since your last night out of the safe house. Fucking hell, you were making this difficult for him. Keeping a firm hand on your wrists, Bradley stared down at your figure before turning back to your face.

“I’m giving you two options,” Bradley grunted out, shifting above you. “And this is a one-time offer.”

You nodded to show that you understood, concerned with how your voice would come out if you tried to speak in that moment.

“Your first option is that I put in a transfer request. There’s another Dagger on standby to take my place. One who your little tricks will never work on. As soon as I put in the transfer request, we’ll have about twelve hours together before I’ll be gone from your life forever. And then we can both move on from this shitshow like it never happened.”

Bradley stared down at you, trying to place your reaction, though it didn’t seem to change. Maintaining his composure for once around you, he leaned in just a little bit more. His mustache brushed against your cheek, causing your thighs to involuntarily cross, and your breath to catch. His lips pressed against your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine and your toes to curl.

“And your second option is that you be a good girl for me for once and get on your fucking knees.”

You blinked up at Bradley as he got off of you. Straightening up, he stared at you as you slowly sat up from your spot on the bed. Staring up at Bradley with that mostly docile look in your eye, though the fire seemed to return after Bradley got off of you, you stood up. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, the fire passing between the two of you, as you stepped up to him.

And then you slowly lowered yourself down onto your knees, all while maintaining eye contact with Bradley, and reached up to undo his belt.

A.N. This was supposed to be a one shot, but I had some inspiration and here y'all go! I’m a big fade-to-black in lieu of actual spicy scenes kind of gal and so this is probably as spicy as it’ll get from me. If I get inspiration, I’ll write a Part 3, so if you want to be tagged, reply/reblog with the request and have your age in your bio! Thanks!!

People who asked for Part 2: @erinallene @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker @xoxabs88xox @the-darling-badger @bradshawwannebe @praline357

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #tgm #tgm fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster #rooster x you #top gun rooster #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic

[eddiesgorlie]

The First Time

Highschool!Virgin!Austin x Highschool!Virgin!Reader

Summary: Y/n and Austin have been dating for their highschool years when they decide to take their romance to the next level.

Warnings: Smut, cockwarming. Let me know if I missed any!

Word count: 1,505

Our first prom together was coming to an end, it was more amazing than words could explain. “Do you want me to drop you off at your place?” He asked as he helped me pull my coat over my shoulders. “My place, yes. Dropping me off, no.” I said as a lightly squeezed his hand. “That sounds great to me.” He said as he lovingly kissed my forehead. “Are your parents out of town again?” He asked as he opened the car door for me. “Yeah, they should be gone for a couple more days.” I said, knowingly smirking at him. “The whole house to ourselves, you say?” “Entire house.” I smile. We’d been dating since freshman year, so about two years now and I’ve been wanting to lose my virginity to him but every time I’d either chicken out or the timing wouldn’t work. The drive was calm, comfortably quiet, the radio was lowly playing the oldies channel. Our hands were tightly held together on the center console as I rubbed his hand and played with the rings on his fingers. Once I noticed the small street I lived on coming into view, I started becoming anxious, so excited yet so nervous, as I imagined the scene that was about to play out, I felt wetness pooling in my panties.

“M’lady.” He said, breaking me out of my daydream as he reached in the car to help me out. “Thank you.” I said, grabbing his hand. Once I completely stood up out of the car, I placed a soft kiss on his lips and started to the front door, holding the long layers of my dress off of the ground. He quickly caught up to me and snatched the keys from my hand, unlocking the door. The moment the door shut, I tackled him in a passionate kiss, it was a little more aggressive than I thought because we began falling to the ground, thankfully he caught the fall moments before we hit the ground. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I covered my face in embarrassment. “Hey, hey, don’t cover your face. I’m just as excited as you.” He said as he wrapped his arm protectively around my waist. I moved my arms away from my face and looked into his eyes, they were dilated, full of love and lust. “Want to continue?” He said with a smile. “Of course.” I said, crashing my lips onto his. I took his face in my hands as his tangled into my hair. I parted my lips, welcoming his tongue after he ran it over my bottom lip. He sat up to take dominance, groaning into the kiss as my leg grazed his clothed cock. I quickly pulled away. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.” I said, searching his eyes for pain. “I-it felt good actually.” He said not meeting my eyes as he cheeks flushed red. “Oh- um.” I said looking between us, noticing the tent in his dress pants. I reached down and carefully rubbed my hand over the tent. His eyes quickly shot up to mine as I continued rubbing him. “Here, try this, baby.” He whispered as he took my hips in his hands and grinned them over the same spot, I gasped as he rubbed right over my clit. “I think we should go up to your room.” He said, smiling, I quickly nodded and he lifted me up into his arms and carried me up the stairs and to my room.

I took a deep breath as he set me down. “Um- c- can you help me with my dress?” I asked shyly. “Of course.” He said, he walked behind me and found the zipper of my dress and slowly pulled it down, he lifted the straps off of my shoulders and the dress pooled at my feet, revealing me in just my matching pink lingerie set. I turned to face him and ran my hands over his chest before sliding his suit jacket off of him. “Let me look at you.” He said, rubbing my cheek. I stepped back and did a slow spin for him as he untied his tie. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He said, pulling me in for another kiss. He backed us up towards my bed until he laid me down on the soft grey comforter. I sighed into the kiss as I felt his hands reach to my back and unclasp my bra, tossing it on the floor. My heart raced, fast enough I think he could see it as he looked at my bare breasts. He leaned down and placed kisses all around my neck, chest, stomach and right above my panties, I reached down to start unbuttoning his shirt, almost having it off of him before he starting sucking on and playing with my nipples. I let out a soft moan as he rolled my nipple between his fingers and the other with his tongue. “I can’t believe I went this long without hearing that beautiful sound.” He said, kissing his way back up to my lips.

“I want to see you.” I whispered against his lips. He sat up and unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way, tossed it on the floor and stepped out of his pants, leaving him in just his tight, black boxers. Once he climbed back on top of me, I ran my hands over his chest and kissed every inch. “Can I take your panties off? I promise, I’ll be gentle.” He said. “Yes.” I said, stroking his cheek. His fingers hooked into my panties, pulling them from my body and tossing them onto the pile of our clothes on my floor. His eyes met mine, looking for permission, which I quickly granted him. His fingers reached down to my pussy and rubbed between my folds, carefully pushing in my hole and up to my clit, making circles over it. “Austin, don’t stop.” I said, my breathing fast. I loudly moaned as his fingers made slow tortuous circles over my clit, a warmth was slowly building in my stomach. “I-i feel something strange.” I stuttered out. His fingers quickly pulled away and he sucked my juices off his fingers. “Do you think you’re ready?” He asked. “I’m not sure, I feel ready but I’m nervous.” I said. “I’ll go slow and you tell me anytime you need to stop, promise me you will?” He asked. “Yeah.” I whispered. “Lets see, I think I’m forgetting something.” He said with an embarrassed laugh. “Do you have any protection?” He asked, remembering. I flushed red. “Yes, in that drawer.” I said, pointing to the bedside table. “Naughty, but prepared.” He said, laughing. I watched as he pulled his boxers down and rolled the condom over his hard cock.

He climbed back on the bed and kissed my clit. “I’m going to go very slow.” He said, with a smile. “I love you.” I said. “I love you more, Y/n.” He said. He lined his cock up to my dripping pussy and slowly pushed in, the sharp pain of stretching hit and I tapped his arm. “Wait.” I gasped out. “I’m right here.” He said, holding my hand. “It hurts.” I choked out. “I promise it will go away, we’re taking it nice and slow.” He said. I took a deep breath and the pain slightly subsided. “Keep going.” I said, meeting his concerned eyes. “Are you sure?” He asked. “I’m sure.” I said, appreciating his concern. He thrusted in until our hips were touching and pulled out slowly before thrusting again. “You feel amazing, so tight.” He sighed as he rested his forehead against mine. “Faster, please.” I moaned out. He sped up his pace a bit and his cock started rubbing against my G-spot. “Oh my God, Austin. Whatever you’re doing feels amazing.” I said, my head falling onto the pillows. I slowly started feeling a warmth building up in my stomach again. “I’m feeling that again, Aus.” I whimpered. “I’m close too, baby.” He said into my neck.

Within seconds, I felt a coil snap and my orgasm flowed through me. “Oh my God!” I screamed as I clenched around him and my legs shook. “Good girl, good girl.” He groaned has he filled the condom. His body collapsed on mine as we both came down from our highs, the only sound in the room were the sounds of our quick breathing. “Are you feeling ok, hun?” He asked, stroking loose strands of hair out of my face, his cock still buried deep inside me. “Better than ok.” I said, kissing him. He leaned up and started slowly pulling out. “No.” I said as I grabbed his arm. He gave me a confused look. “I like being his close. Just a few more minutes?” I asked, pouting my bottom lip. “Of course.” He said kissing my forehead. He moved to lay next to me and pulled me into his chest.

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[roosterbruiser]

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

✯ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 "𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧" 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲) ✯ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A truce of sorts. A pitstop at the church. ✯ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4.5k ✯ 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✯ 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 #𝟏 ✯ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 #𝟏 ✯ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟐𝟔𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟖 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐓𝐗

Your mama hesitates before she knocks on your bedroom door. Things have been quiet between the two of you since your argument a couple weeks ago, quiet enough to keep you out of the house and her out of your hair. 

When she does knock, you’re stubbing out your Marlboro and waving the last bit of evidence out the window, quickly crushing the filter and stuffing it under your pillow. 

“Yeah?” You call. 

“Is it alright if I come in?” She asks, clearing her throat softly. She sets her hand on the doorknob, but doesn’t twist. 

“Uh, yeah,” you answer, sitting on the edge of your unmade bed. “Sure.”

She opens the door, pushing it open slowly. You’re already looking at her, sitting on that mess of quilts and sheets and clean laundry, wearing your green dress. Your face is naked except for some poorly applied eyeliner and misplaced blush and your hair is as wild as ever. Still, though, you take her breath away. 

“Oh, Filly,” your mama says quietly. She watches in real time as your spine stiffens in discomfort and then clears her throat, shaking off all that adoration that makes you uncomfortable. “Well, that dress fits you mighty nice now, doesn’t it?” 

Looking down at the fabric, which is miraculously unwrinkled and unstained, you hum. It does fit you nicer than a lot of things you have in your closet--almost like it was made for you, stuffed in a corner in the thrift store, waiting for Jake to find it. 

“I reckon it does,” you whisper. Looking back up at her, the early afternoon sun shining bright on her tanned skin, you smile awkwardly. “You look pretty, too.” 

She rolls her eyes like she isn’t one of the most beautiful women in Silverkeep. 

“Well, I just came in to ask if you’d zip me up,” your mama says, her heels clacking on your floor as she turns her back to you. “You mind?” 

Shaking your head, you cross the floor to her and carefully zip up the dress she has on. It’s a real pretty thing, made from layers of sheer flower-printed fabric. You know already that she’s gonna wear one of her pretty shrugs with it, too, and look even more delicate than usual. 

“Thanks,” she says softly. “Daddy’s gettin’ another pack of cigarettes,” she tells you. “So, we’ve got some time to kill.” 

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. 

“How’s my makeup look?” You ask her, brows pulled together. 

She turns, her eyes soft and her brows blanched. 

“Beautiful,” she tells you. It doesn't feel like a lie--you do look beautiful right now. But the application of your eyeliner is a bit wonky and you haven’t quite gotten the hang of blush placement yet. “Do you want me to put your hair up? Just ‘cause it’s gonna be hot.” 

Your mama is almost afraid of your response, already steeling herself against the words that are surely on the tip of your tongue. But you just nod, moving to sit on the edge of your bed very compliantly. 

She’s surprised, stuck still for a moment in her spot in your stuffy bedroom, brows knit. But then she’s moving to you, carefully combing her fingers through your daddy’s curls. You have such thick hair, unreasonably curly and wild, just like him. A smile tugs on her lips. 

It’s quiet in your room for a few minutes. The sun is high in the sky, the birds are singing, the bees are buzzing. Outside, children are running around in sprinklers and parents are talking at the mailboxes and teenagers are speeding by on their bikes. You’re staring at your wall, quiet and content as your mama carefully separates your curls and gathers some random bobby pins from your desk. 

“You know, when I was pregnant with you, I hoped you’d get your daddy’s hair,” she says with a fond smile, a few bobby pins tucked between her teeth for safekeeping. “I always did love those curls.” 

“Why?” You ask with a grimace. “Can’t hardly run my fingers through it ever.” 

She tuts, pulling all that mane of yours backwards and carefully pinning it in place strand by strand, curl by curl. 

“You’ve got beautiful hair,” she says. “And a lot of it. It’s one of my favorite things about you, baby. I’ve always wanted curly hair.” 

Something prickles your chest.

“But you’ve got such nice hair,” you argue softly, fiddling with your quilt. “Easy to control.” 

She tuts again, a smile tugging at her lips. 

“We can control your hair,” she says. “Just gotta be patient with it. And soft.” 

She’s right--she’s fairing just fine pinning all your curls right now, making sure that they’re secured tightly before moving on to the next strand.

A few beats pass and you stay still, letting your mama tame your hair. 

“How’s packin’ goin’?” She asks. 

There is no malice in the question. Her tone is even and careful, treading lightly, but with enough curiosity that you know she’s asking in earnest. 

Your belly flips anyway--you don’t know why. You think it’s an amalgamation of excitement and giddiness and fear and trepidation. It all sits in your belly and fizzes like a bottle of Coke stuffed with Mentos. 

“I’m kinda bad at it,” you tell her quietly. “I don’t really know how to pack.” 

She nods, humming. 

“Well, that’s what happens when you stay in one spot your whole life,” she reasons. She glances around your room quickly--spots the boxes in the corner that are newly taped and not labeled. “What’ve you got done so far?” 

Your fingers are tingling. 

“Half my closet, my snow globes, some of my desk drawers,” you list. “That’s about it for now.” 

She nods. 

“Good places to start,” she tells you. “Do you wanna take your bed?” 

You stutter for a moment, opening and closing your mouth. 

“Am I allowed?” 

“Of course,” she says, brows knit. “We don’t want you sleepin’ on the floor.” 

It makes the tips of your ears hot. That’s kind. It’s very kind. But then you think it: where will you sleep when you come home to visit?

“Maybe, then,” you answer with a small shrug. “We’ll see.” 

She nods, pinning the last piece of hair to your head before patting your shoulders softly. 

“All done,” she tells you softly. “Take a look.” 

When you move to look into the mirror, you’re taken back. Oh. You’re almost never without those pesky curls framing your face. There is so much skin you feel like you never see staring right back at you, hills and valleys and peaks and hollows. And suddenly, with the sun shining bright and with your hair pulled back, you realize how shitty your makeup looks. 

Your mama watches from behind you, hands on her hips, a fond smile tugging on her lips. 

“If you don’t like it, I can do somethin’ else,” she tells you. “I think I remember how to braid, but Lord--it’s been so long. No promises!” 

“I love it,” you tell her. Biting your lip, you meet her gaze in the mirror. “Will you do my makeup, too? Like, if you have time.” 

She’s trying not to show you how excited this makes her--trying to stifle that grin and that bubble of giddiness that’s about ready to burst inside her chest. You’ve never asked her this before. Even when you were little, you never cared for dress-up. You were too busy stuffing worms in your pockets and trying to pee standing up like the boys did. 

“I’ve got time,” she tells you. She comes up behind you, suffocated by her love for you but also the scent of the cigarettes she knows you smoke in the house, and holds onto your shoulders. “I got a lipstick that’ll look beautiful on you, baby.” 

 When Jake rides up to your driveway on his bike, sweating in his suit already, your daddy is standing on the front porch smoking a cigarette with his hat tipped back on his head. 

Your daddy smiles at Jake, waving with one hand while he holds his cigarette against his lips with the other. 

“Howdy,” he calls. “She’ll be out in a minute, alright?” 

Jake nods with a smile, his throat tight when he thinks about seeing you walk down the lawn to him in that green dress he found. 

“How’s it goin’ in there?” Jake asks, sitting still on his bike. “They still hissin’ at each other?” 

Your daddy shakes his head, taking a long drag. 

“Nah,” he says. “They’re in there gossipin’ and paintin’ each other’s nails.”

Your daddy is proud of this fact--his girls are getting along again. And all it took was a few weeks of sweltering tension and a few bottles of nail polish. 

“Weddin’s bring everyone together,” Jake teases with a boyish grin. 

Your daddy grins. 

“That’s what they say, huh--?” 

Stepping onto the porch behind your daddy, you nearly knock Jake off his bike when he sees you. You don’t look like Filly at all--you look like someone else entirely, someone that could be friends with Emmaline Odette, someone who gets her nails done outside of town.

Unlike most things in your closet, the dress is feminine and fits you nicely. It looks like it’s been tailored for you--cinching at the waist and comfortably flowing down your legs, just barely grazing the pavement. Your hair is pulled back, only a few bouncy curls springing forward to frame your cheeks. And you have makeup on--real makeup, nice makeup. It’s in all the right places, too. You look put together. 

Like, in a way that makes Jake’s heart hurt. 

“What’d you do with my daughter?” Your daddy chuckles, squeezing your elbow. “‘Cause I know this ain’t my Filly-billy!” 

Grinning coyly, you shove your daddy. Then you peek over your shoulder to make sure your mama isn’t watching and take his cigarette, taking a hasty drag before giving it back to him. 

“See you there!” You call to your dad, smoke billowing in front of you as you race across the yard and to Jake. 

When you meet his gaze, you almost fall to the grass in a heap of wanting. He’s looking at you like he wants to swallow you whole, dressed in that suit he must be hot in, his eyes wide and his mouth ajar.

That is a look you’ve become familiar with. He wants you. He wants you in a bad, bad way. And it makes your belly churn with hot desire.  

You hop right up on his handlebars, grinning, and wave to your daddy. 

“Go,” you whisper-hiss to Jake, who’s still just staring at you. “You’re droolin’!” 

And with that, Jake starts peddling, a faint smile on his lips as he waves your daddy off and balances you on his handlebars. You lean against his chest in greeting when your daddy can’t see the two of you anymore, heart hammering when Jake presses a few kisses to your bare shoulder. 

“When d’we gotta be there?” You ask quietly, squinting beneath the sun. 

Jake rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“Not for an hour,” he tells you. 

You nod. 

“So, we got time for a pit stop?” You ask. 

You didn’t have time to fully admire him in his suit. You think it was his daddy’s from a long time ago--it’s definitely outdated. The color of lakewater, Jake fills it out just right. It makes him look like such a man--especially with his hair pushed back the way it is. 

“Where?” Jake murmurs quietly. 

“Anywhere,” you tell him. “I want you.”

On a Saturday in Silverkeep, there are very few places that are open and empty.

That’s how you at Silverkeep Baptist, pulling Jake’s bike around the back of the building and nestling it in the weeds. The clock is ticking, but you and Jake stand just outside the backdoors beneath the sun, peering in the dusty windows to make sure precisely no one is there. And no one is--it’s just rows and rows of empty pews. 

He’s holding your hand, keeping your body tucked up against his. 

“Is this sacreligious?” He asks. 

You shrug, chewing on your bottom lip. 

“I don’t know if I care,” you say quietly. “Is that bad?” 

He shrugs. 

“Like you were gettin’ into Heaven anyway,” he teases. 

Grinning, you elbow him. 

“Likewise, pre-marital sex-haver!”

“Pot, meet kettle,” he says softly, brows raised. 

You reach for the handle of the backdoor--it’s unlocked like it always is, like you knew it would be. And when you turn to look at Jake, your brows raised. Saliva is thick on your tongue, sweat beginning to gather in the pits of your arms and on your hairline. 

“We doin’ this?” You ask softly, letting your eyes fall from his to his lips, his chin, his throat. “I really, really wanna do this.” 

“Hmm,” he says. You’re about to frown at him, but then he’s leaning forward and scooping you up in his arms, opening the door with one hand and ushering the two of you inside. “We’re on the clock!” 

He’s pinching your rear and you’re laughing, pressing your lips to his fervently, meeting his tongue, tasting the Altoids that have dissolved there. And he’s holding you closer to him, his arms straining with the weight of you, already growing hard in his trousers.  

It’s silly for a little while, the two of you bursting into the stale-smelling church in your nice clothes, curiously done-up for the first time this summer. Neither of you have ever been here on a Saturday, much less been here when it’s entirely empty. 

“So quiet in here,” you whisper against his lips. 

He nods, kissing a sloppy line down your throat as he sinks to his knees right where he is before the first pews, placing you carefully on the ground.

“We can make it not quiet in here,” he tells you softly, moving so he’s between your legs, your thighs hugging his hips. “But we gotta make it quick!” 

Nodding curiously, you begin reaching for the zipper of your dress, which is impossible to reach in your position. Jake is already undoing his belt, peering down at you with hooded eyes. You’re looking back up at him with a beautiful sheen across your skin--the stained glass windows, which are dirtier than ever after the stormy few days you’ve had, cast a blue light on your body. 

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he whispers to you, chewing on his bottom lip. 

Still scrambling to undo your dress, you bite your lip and roll your eyes. 

“Undo my dress,” you finally hiss, rolling on your side on the hardwood. “Hurry!” 

He does undo it, pressing his palm against the place between your shoulder blades to hold you still, before he pulls you to face him again. 

Already, your chest is heaving. 

God, he’s fucking angelic when he’s between your legs. 

Your mind is spinning already, like it usually is when you’re with him. You’re dizzy with affection, with love, with wonder, with excitement. In only a few weeks, it’ll be just you and him in Austin forever. And right now, you have him. He’s here on his knees between your legs, his cheeks flushed and his hair neat--and he’s only looking at you. 

He makes quick work of pulling the straps of your dress down, tugging on the fabric until your bare breasts are before him. Groaning, he leans down and nips at the skin there, roughly taking your breasts in his mouth and sucking harshly. 

“No bra?” He mutters against your skin. “Fuckin’ Christ, Filly.” 

“Oh, that’s good,” you mutter, already breathless. “Fuck, keep doin’ that.”  

He kisses across your chest, leaving a trail of saliva, and you arch your back when he latches himself around your other nipple, his large palm coming to hold your other breast. He loves doing this--loves the feeling of your pebbled nipples in his mouth, loves the way you can’t keep your back on the floor, loves the little sounds that fall from your mouth. 

Since the two of you have started having sex, you’ve found yourself a bit insatiable. You could have sex every day, twice a day, and it still wouldn’t be enough. You want Jake all the time--and what you really, really like is when he has his pretty head between your thighs. God, you really feel like you’re at church then--screaming for the Lord, finding Him behind your eyelids. 

Wordlessly, you reach down and wrap your hand around his erection, bypassing his trousers and slipping right into his boxers. He groans against your skin when you give him a squeeze and a languid rub, rutting up into your hand. 

He’s wanted you from the moment he saw you appear in the doorway of your home, a vision in green, smoking her daddy’s cigarette. And now he has you below him, writhing already as you pump him just right. 

“My hair,” you suddenly say, lifting your head off the ground. “Can’t mess it up!” 

Jake nods, pulling away from your breasts and looking down at your already-wrecked form. He tugs on your legs suddenly, making you squeak, and then you’re lying on your right side. He holds on to your left thigh, curls it around his waist. 

“Better?” He asks. 

You nod, resting your cheek on your arm instead of the floor. 

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing hard. “Take your pants off now.”

It’s a race to get undressed just enough: Jake pushing your dress up to your hips and keeping your shoes on, pulling his pants down to his knees. And then he’s holding your left leg against his body, supporting you. 

“D’you think you’re ready?” He asks, panting. 

Before you can answer, he’s pressing his fingers against your panties--which are soaked through thoroughly. He moans quietly, cheeks redder than ever, and presses down on your clit through the fabric. 

“Oh,” you mutter, eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, take ‘em off.” 

“You’re in such a hurry,” Jake laughs. You roll your eyes, moving to take the panties off yourself, but then he’s just shoving them aside. Before you can say a word, he’s pressing his index finger to your entrance. “Fuck, you’re soaked,” he moans. “Church’s doin’ it for you, huh?” 

Biting your lip hard, thighs already trembling, you just weakly give him your middle finger. But then he’s curling his finger inside of you, pressing that spot perfectly, and you’re digging your nails into your own palms. 

“Shit,” he mutters, watching your pretty face contort as you take his finger. He’s fully hard now--and honestly, he’s been fully hard since the two of you were standing at the backdoor. “Goddammit.” 

“Don’t take His name in vain,” you moan, neck flexed in ecstacy when he presses another finger into you and works his palm against your clit sloppily. “Fuck.”

“Filly, I’m gonna bust right now if we don’t do it,” he admits, pulling his hand away from you. “Can we--?” 

“Fuck me,” you interrupt, swallowing hard, pushing yourself against him. 

He scrambles for the condom he has in his pocket, ripping the package open with his mouth as you stroke his cock, swallowing dryly as you watch him with half-shut eyes. 

He fumbles with the condom a bit, distracted by the flames of pleasure licking his cheeks, but then he has it rolled on and you’re ready and waiting and wanting. 

“C’mon,” you mutter desperately. 

He holds onto your thigh, hiking it up so the bend of your knee is hooked over his shoulder, and shuffles forward to grind himself against you. The moans you release are in tandem--desperate and deep. 

“Don’t tease,” you beg, digging your nails into his wrist. “Mustang, I’ll fuckin’ rip you a new one if you even--!” 

He pushes into you all at once, rendering the both of you silent and breathless simultaneously. And he knows the minute he feels your warm walls hugging him that he is not going to last very long at all. 

Seated deeply inside you, maybe deeper than ever before, he stays still for a moment and watches your face get swallowed whole by pleasure. He loves this part--when you feel so overwhelmed with pleasure, so unbelievably alight with passion, that your face freezes in anguish. 

You think you can hear angels singing as he keeps himself still inside of you, your bodies flush against each other. You don’t care about the stuffy smell in here or the fact that you’re laying on a hard, unmopped floor. You don’t really care about anything at all except him. 

“I fuckin’ love you,” Jake grunts, shaking his head as he watches your perfect body stretch and arch like you’re reaching for something that isn’t there, body docile and wanting. “Goddammit, I fuckni’ love you.” 

He pulls out just a bit before moving back in and your walls answer for it, fluttering already, pulling him closer and deeper. 

You’re drunk on the feeling, so worked up and foggy in the head that you feel like you’re about to faint. Every place he’s touching right now feels like it’s drenched in gasoline: his grip on your thigh, his other hand securing your leg over his shoulder, his hips pressed against yours, the flat part above his cock fringing against your clit deliciously. 

“I love you,” you cry almost silently, lost in the rapture of it all. 

Jake keeps moving, trying to keep his thrusts even and deep, trying to keep himself from busting just looking down at your parted lips and your pebbled nipples. 

He’s already chasing his high as you take it, eyes screwed shut in rapture. 

Jake’s trying not to think about reality right now, which he hasn’t been doing a very good job of in the past month, but he’s finding it even harder right now. He knows, and has known since he fell asleep in his mother’s bed, that he’s going to do the right thing. He doesn’t know when, but he knows he’s going to do it. He feels like he deserves these few fleeting moments with you, which he knows are numbered now, because he’s going to do the right thing. 

The rest is just dust.

In his wildest dreams, sometimes he imagines that you’ll forgive him. You’ll be endlessly full of grace and peace, absolutely open to him and Emma and their baby. You’ll still want him. You’ll still love him. And you won’t be hurt--you’ll get it. You’ll understand the complexity of the situation, of his fear. 

“Jake,” you groan breathlessly. “Harder.” 

“Filly,” he groans, laughing dryly. A piece of his blonde hair becomes unstuck and hands before his eye. “I’m not gonna last.” 

Instead of verbalizing your answer, you reach out and dig your nails into his hand splayed across your thigh, holding you open. Oh, he realizes. That’s what you mean. You want him to hold onto you harder. 

He obliges immediately, moving his palm up your leg until it’s sitting in the crevice of your thigh. The sensitive skin there is paper thin and sensitive, so when he presses his thumbs down, you release a whimper. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, tears gathering in your eyes. “Yeah.” 

“Like that?” Jake mutters, rubbing the skin there with his thumb as he keeps canting his hips into yours, squeezing you. You nod slowly. “Just like that, huh?” 

“Just like that,” you mutter. 

He doesn’t know why the thought sweeps across his forethought--maybe it’s because of his sister marrying Curtis or maybe it’s because of your dress or hair or makeup or maybe it’s because he’s fucking you in church or maybe because Emmaline--but it does, very heavily. 

He wants to marry you. 

He wants to marry you and fuck you like this on your wedding night, pulling your dress up around your hips, yanking your underwear aside. This kind of desperate, beautiful fuck is his favorite. And he wants to do it forever with you. He wants to see you cry tears of pleasure just from him touching that delicate spot on your thigh, just from him pressing into you. 

“Fuck,” Jake mutters. You already know what that means, can feel his thrusts getting sloppier and faster. “Oh, fuck--I’m gonna cum.” 

He notices the fidgeting as the two of you stand up and start to get ready to head to the venue. You’re rubbing your thighs together, brows knit slightly, as you wipe under your eyes carefully and straighten your dress. 

“What?” Jake asks, bumping you as he does his belt up. 

Glancing at him, you shrug, face warm. 

“I’m just--like, uncomfortable,” you answer a bit coyly, nodding to your cunt. 

What you mean is that you’re ridiculously wet and your underwear is doing little to stop it. So, arousal is dripping down your thighs, making them sticky. 

“Oh,” Jake says at once, holding onto the curve of your waist. “Was I--was I too rough?” 

You shake your head immediately, laying a palms on his chest. 

Swallowing all your embarrassment, you clear your throat. 

“No, like I’m just--I’m still wet,” you say. “So, it’s just like…uncomfortable a little bit.” 

Jake swallows, nodding. 

He checks his watch. You have twenty minutes to get to the venue on time and it’s a fourteen-minute ride on his bike. 

“Sit on the pew a minute, will ya?” 

Brows knit, you start to argue, but then he’s pushing you to the pew already. When you’re seated, the wood hard and cold on your bottom, you watch him carefully. 

He sinks to his knees again, despite only having just finished having sexy, and starts to lift your dress up. 

“Jake,” you say, shaking your head, pushing his hands. “No, I didn’t mean it like--we’re gonna be late!” 

He shakes his head, spreading your knees. 

“Nuh-uh,” he tells you. “We’ve got four more minutes.” 

“You don’t have to,” you tell him, even though you’re not really sure what he’s about to do. 

“I know,” he says, brows raised. “I want to.” 

You watch, breath caught behind your teeth and hands limp in your lap, as he leans down. You’re shocked for a moment when his warm tongue comes down on your skin, licking a long trail up your thighs and to the elastic band cutting your thigh. 

“Oh,” you mutter, hips bucking forward a bit. 

You’re still pulsing with want, having not gotten a true release, but this feel distinctly more intimate than him going down on you. Sure, you want him to go down on you--but this, what he’s doing now, cleaning your thighs with his mouth, it feels more loving. 

The taste of you on his tongue is already making Jake want you again--even though he feels like a washrag that’s been wrung out. You’re soft beneath his tongue, sweet and perfumed with sweat and oranges. 

Once he’s certain he’s cleaned every inch of your thighs, his cock already hardening again, he kisses the top of your left knee and looks up at you with earnest eyes. 

“Better?”

You nod, swallowing hard. 

“Uh huh.”

✯ 𝐚/𝐧: decided to split the wedding up in two parts! so this is part one!! there will be more wedding content in chapter fourteen! and also the week long chapter will be split up in TWO chapters now!! so fear not, my little chickens!!

✯ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

✯ 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝

✯ 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

✯ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬:

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#hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x y/n #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman seresin #hangman angst #hangman x you #hangman x reader #hangman au #hangman fluff #hangman series #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x you #jake hangman fic #jake hangman imagine #top gun maverick hangman #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #jake x filly #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin angst #jake seresin series #hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin smut #rumours universe

[pleniloon]

i have heard your call that you are now doing nsfw hcs!!!

so... like uhm.... kazuha with a lip piercing headcanons??? because i just read this really good fanfic about kissing kazuha with a lip piercing and i starting making a sound that can only be described as a mixture of squealing and cackling...

Piercings

inspired by hiraethflower’s fic!!

part two

characters: kazuha

summary: you might love your boyfriend’s new piercing more than he does.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: afab!reader (no pronouns); pet names (dove), dry humping; not proofread

note: my first time writing for kazuha!! i think we read the same fic anon 👁👁 anywho, i really hope this makes you squeal-cackle, bc if it doesn’t then i’ve failed as a writer </3

⋆ i’m not sure if lip piercings currently exist in teyvat but, for the sake of the post, they’re another trend that originated in fontaine.

⋆ due to how isolated inazuma is, they haven’t quite gotten on the trend yet. so, when kazuha returns from liyue with a ring on his bottom lip, you’re pleasantly surprised.

⋆ you had always found your boyfriend to be criminally attractive. so much so, that when you first started dating, you felt butterflies every time he quoted one of his poems for you. the first time he recited a verse after getting his piercing, you found yourself unable to focus on anything but the way his lips moved as he spoke.

⋆ kazuha is a smart man; he knows how to fluster you, and he absolutely abuses that knowledge.

⋆ trailing his lips down your neck just to make you shiver from the cold metal, leaning forward just enough to make your lips brush but not quite meet, whispering poems in your ear that would make even the gods blush… those were some of his favorite things.

⋆ you had developed a ritual of kissing each other before doing pretty much anything - getting up in the morning, going to bed at night, leaving the house, saying hello or goodbye, whenever you two deemed it necessary.

⋆ kissing kazuha used to be all about sweetness and tender touches… you still share those kisses, but now your boyfriend has developed a cheeky habit of turning your innocent kisses into something more whenever he got the chance. all with the hopes of you catching his bottom lip between your teeth in a moment of passion and flustering yourself when the ring touches your tongue.

⋆ of course, you developed some obscene fantasies regarding your lover’s new look. you even thought of other piercings that he could try out - your favorite suggestion was a tongue piercing, for reasons that you claimed were purely “aesthetic.” both you and kazuha knew otherwise.

⋆ really, your fascination with such a small accessory was the thing that made kazuha keep teasing you with it.

⋆ ah, but his absolute favorite thing about the piercing was how it affected you during your shared moments of intimacy.

kazuha sighed softly against your lips before diving in once more, stealing away all your breath with his barrage of impassioned kisses.

he knew he was greedy, barely taking the time to say “hello” to you before his lips were on yours and his body pushing you towards the bedroom. you landed on the futon with a soft thud, your boyfriend’s warm body hovering over you and caging you in between his arms.

“kazu– hahh,” you let out an airy moan when his lips trailed down your jaw, nipping at the sensitive spots on your neck that he had memorized. he pulled back and brushed his lips against your skin, chuckling lightly when you shuddered under his touch.

“cold?” he teased, lifting his head to smile down at you. instead of replying, you stared at him in your lust-filled haze, unable to tear your eyes away from his bottom lip as the tip of his tongue poked out and slid across it slowly.

you didn’t realize that you whimpered until he huffed in amusement and nipped at your earlobe. “what do you want, dove?” he whispered.

“i want you, kazuha– please.”

he got to work on undressing you, pulling off each layer of clothing agonizingly slow. “is that right?” he mused, smooth hands coming to rest on and knead at your hips as he sat back on his knees. “you already have me, dove. be a little more specific.”

your hips jumped after he settled between your legs, rubbing his still-clothed dick against your crotch. one of his hands held you still, the other moving to rub featherlight circles around your clit.

you whined and shot your lover a halfhearted glare. “you know what i want…” you tried to argue, to preserve some of your dignity. however, your fighting will was shattered when he rutted his hips against your clit, licking into your mouth after you let out a surprised gasp.

your hands found purchase in his hair while he kissed you like a starving man, his feverish kisses starkly contrasting the languid pace of his thrusts. he drank up every moan that you let out, every wispy gasp and sigh of his name.

he was addicted to this feeling, drunk on your sweet taste. your lips met over and over again, each kiss hungrier than the last, until you tugged at his hair and forced him to lift his head to breathe. you were a lovely sight - lips swollen red and glistening, cheeks flushed and mouth agape in a silent moan.

kazuha dragged his hips up, savoring the drawn out moan that spilled from your lips. in a moment of poise, you pulled him down once more and nipped at his jaw, rolling your hips against his and giggling breathily at his surprised groan.

he really wouldn’t mind leaving again, if it meant returning home to your saccharine embrace.

a/n: i wanted to keep this 100% gender neutral, but i just,, don’t understand how that works in smut? 🫤

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #kazuha x reader #kazuha headcanons #kazuha smut #pleni.writes

[brokenjere]

seventeen going under (j.f) (part 5)

"'cause you said clouds are like paintings, no one sees the same thing" -soft spot by taylor thomas

catch up here

Winter, age 12 

Conrad banged on the front door, calling my name repeatedly until I opened the door, exasperated and sweaty. I was covered head to toe in snow gear. The snow pants, the jacket, the hat, the gloves. The entire nine yards. “Why are you dressed like that?” He asked. When I looked at Conrad, he was only wearing his jeans and his jacket. His hat covered his ears and his glasses fogged up from the warmth of my house. 

“Why are you dressed like that?” I asked him. I tried to cross my arms over my chest but I had too many layers and I felt like Santa Clause. “Aren’t we going sledding?” 

“Are you afraid to get a little wet?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. I scoffed and unzipped my jacket, unbuttoning the snow pant straps and pulling them off, revealing the leggings I had underneath. “That’s more like it,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me outside. There was a hill only a few blocks away from the house and we often walked there to go sledding. Jeremiah was already waiting for us at the top of the hill. 

“There you guys are!” He called, waving at us. I waved up at him and ran up the hill as fast as I could while dredging through the deep snow. It was a fresh fall last night and Jeremiah called me really late at night, begging me to go. My mom only said yes once I told her Conrad was coming with. Always the protector, he was. “Finally,” Jeremiah said, tossing the sled he had in his hands down on the snow. “You riding with me?” He asked. 

I looked over my shoulder at Conrad as he made his way up the hill. He was always the slowpoke, trailing behind me and Jeremiah. The trailblazer and his sidekick. I looked back at Jeremiah. Curls poked out from under the beanie he wore to keep his ears warm and his nose was a light pink from being outside waiting for us. “Of course,” I said. He gestured for me to sit down on the sled so I did. He sat down behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He pushed off the snow and down the hill we went. 

I heard Conrad yelling from behind us, “you could have waited for me!” He yelled. I laughed as the wind blew through my hair and the snow got kicked up in my face and Jeremiah held me. When we got to the bottom, I couldn’t stop smiling. Even after Jeremiah rolled off the sled, taking me with him. We sank in the fresh snow like a memory foam mattress and we caught our breath. 

“So, who’s gonna carry the sled up?” He asked, looking over at me. His smile was infectious. 

“Not me,” I said, pushing myself up and starting up the hill with no sled. “See ya at the top!” I called, walking backward as I looked at Jeremiah still laying in the snow. He just watched me, smiling, until his face dropped. 

“Watch out!” I heard Conrad yell. When I turned around, he was heading full speed on the sled toward me. He was trying to stop with his heels, dragging his hands in the snow to add traction but the snow was too fluffy and it was too late, his sled crashed right into me and I landed cleanly in Conrad’s lap. “I told you to watch out!” He said, laughing as he held on to me. He rolled off of the moving sled, holding on to me a little too long. He lost his glasses in the snow and I grabbed them for him, wiping the wet off on my pants. “Thanks,” he mumbled and put them back on. 

“You coud have warned me earlier,” I laughed. Jeremiah walked over to us and leaned over me. His curls fell in his eyes and he extended his hand to me. I gratefully took it and he pulled me up. When I was standing, I extended my own hand to Conrad. He grabbed it and instead of standing up, he pulled me back down. I smacked his chest and laughed. “Seriously?” Conrad laughed, a sound that was rare but one of the most lovely sounds in the world. 

“Okay, okay,” he folded and stood up, helping me up with him. “You’re carrying the sled.” 

“Not a chance,” I said, wiping the snow off of my pants before starting the trek up the hill, leaving the boys behind. 

I stopped by the pool on my way out of the deb ball tea, sneaking up behind Jeremiah on his lifeguard tower. He was so beautiful way up in the sky like that, I didn’t want to disturb him. He yelled at a little boy running down the pavement and I laughed, catching his attention. 

“You outta here?” He asked, looking me up and down and smiling. I think he was taking in my appearance. The kitten heels, the hat that I’ve let fall off my head that I was now carrying in my hands, and the spaghetti strap that was falling off my shoulder. I shrugged, pulling the strap back up. 

“I think so.”

“You look like those deb girls chewed you up and spit you back out,” he laughed and I hit his knee gently with my hat. “I’d walk you home if I could,” he said. “Where’s Belly?” 

“She saw Cam lingering outside the hall when we were leaving, so she went with him,” I told him. “He’s a good kid.” From what I knew about him, he was a good kid. Smart, kind, and funny. He was certainly cute. 

“Well, walk safely. Text me when you’re home.” I nodded and bumped his knee again but this time with my fist and Jeremiah reached down and messed up my hair with his wet hand. 

I smoothed down my hair as I left the country club, taking off my kitten heels and deciding to walk barefoot. As I struggled to take one off, hobbling on one foot, a pair of hands caught me and steadied me by my elbows. I gave up, my height now uneven, and looked up to see Conrad. Of course. “Hey,” I said, barely above a whisper. 

“Need help?” He gestured toward the one shoe on and before I was able to reply, he bent down and wrapped his hand around my ankle, taking my shoe off for me. On his way up, he grabbed the one I was already holding. “You on your way home?” I nod. “I’ll walk you.” 

I didn’t object, mostly because it was a long walk and I didn’t really want to do it alone. He walked next to me, our shoulders bumping every few steps, and we didn’t speak. I played with the frills on my hat to occupy my mind until finally, he spoke: “You look really nice. I didn’t know you were a deb.” 

“Your mom didn’t tell you?” I looked up at him and he looked down at me and when we were standing this close, that’s when I really noticed how tall he was. How big he was. He shook his head, smirking a little. “She asked me over the spring.”

“You know why, right?” He kind of laughed, but I knew he wasn’t really making a joke. Of course, I knew why she asked me to be a deb. It’s the same reason she asked Belly, too. “It was nice of you to agree. The heels certainly aren’t your style,” he said, lifting the heels up between us. I laughed and nodded in agreement.

“It wasn’t so bad. The tea, I mean.” 

“Wait till your waltz lessons. Ms. Cubbington is a real piece,” he said, purposely bumping my shoulder with his this time. 

“You should know.” 

He let out a laugh, nodding his head but he seemed a little upset that I brought up Nicole and in retrospect, maybe I shouldn’t have. “I escorted Nicole for the same reason you agreed to be a deb. For my mom.” I nodded and looked down the street ahead of us. The view in Cousins was always pretty. No matter what. Rain or shine, summer or winter, the ocean was always beautiful. “Do you have a date?” 

“No,” I told him. “Susannah said Jeremiah could escort me, but he’s pretty persistent on not.” Conrad nodded as if he knew. “I’ll find one. I think Belly might ask Cam,” I said. I looked at his face to gauge his reaction but there was none. His jaw twitched a little but other than that, he didn’t reply. 

We walked the next block quietly until he spoke up again. “I’ll take you. You know, if Jeremiah won’t. Or if you don’t find a date.” He seemed to stumble on his words and he slowed his speed until we were at a dead stop. “Or if you want me to. I don’t know.” He shook his head like a dog shaking off stress. 

“Thanks for the offer, I’ll let you know.” Conrad looked down at me and pushed his hair out of his face. He nodded and cleared his throat and then started to walk again, this time I trailed behind him just a tad until his hand wrapped around my wrist, bringing me back to his side. 

Fall, age 12 

I’ve had the boys back now for one month. Their tans were fading and Jeremiah lost the freckles on his shoulders and Conrad cut his hair short again so it no longer sticks out of the sides of his baseball caps. 

I was sitting at the kitchen counter, tapping my pencil so hard on my notebook that the eraser shavings were sprinkling over the pages like fairy dust. I hated math. I was never good with numbers. I was better with words, I thought. Conrad was the smart one. He was getting through his homework so quickly his pencil was basically on fire when I finally gave up and pushed the notebook away from me. 

“What’s your issue?” Conrad asked, laughing at me. He pushed his glasses up his nose and grabbed the notebook to inspect my homework problems. He did this stuff last year, so I’m sure he knew it like the back of his hand. “This is easy,” he told me. 

I groaned and kicked my feet against the counter gently and Conrad just laughed. “I don’t wanna do it. I hate math. It doesn’t make sense to me. Why do I care what X equals?” 

“These are simple three number problems, YN. 3+x=7. Just subtract 7 from 3 and you solved for x,” he tried to explain to me. I just shrugged it off but he did make it sound easy. It gets all jumbled in my head and I can’t straighten it all out. 

“Why can’t all the numbers just be there?” I asked. 

“Because then it wouldn’t be math.” 

“I don’t care what the missing pieces are. I’m never gonna need to know that,” I complained some more as Conrad scribbled down the same equations, but how I would solve them so that it was easier. It was basically cheating, I thought but I didn’t really care and neither did Conrad, apparently. 

“One day, you’re gonna have to find your missing piece,” he said. I think he wanted to sound philosophical or smart or something when he said that but it just sounded dumb to me in the moment. 

“I have all my pieces. And if I do miss one, I’ll have you to find it.” I smile at him, big and cheeky with lots of teeth and I think he was gonna open his mouth to say something back to me but then Jeremiah burst through the front door. 

“There you losers are. Are you done? I wanna go ride bikes to the park!” I jumped out of my chair and grabbed my jacket so fast, ready to leave this math behind. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” I told him. Jeremiah slung his arm around my shoulders and we both looked at Conrad expectedly. He just said: “I need to finish. You two have fun.” 

“I think I wanna ask Jeremiah,” I told Conrad when we were half a block away from home. “To the deb ball.” He swallowed so hard I could hear it like a ping pong ball in his throat. 

“Okay.” 

“It’s just that, it’s Jere. You know? I think he’ll agree to go with me. I hope he’ll agree to go with me. And besides, Belly likes you. A lot. I know she’s been hanging out with Cam but you’ve always been her guy and maybe you should ask her instead of me,” I rambled. I was losing my train of thought, forgetting what exactly my point was. This time, I stopped moving and he stood in front of me with a knowing smirk on his face because he knows I ramble when I get nervous. 

“Are you done?” He asked me. I nodded my head. “I don’t want to go with Belly. That’s why I asked you.” 

“But she likes you. You gotta know that. I thought you liked her, too.” Belly and Conrad were always an enigma to me. I knew how she felt, of course I did. Who didn’t. But Conrad was harder to read. His jaw tightened whenever she was mentioned in passing and he always seemed happier when she was around. But then he said things like that. 

“I like her, too,” he told me. “I don’t know what I feel for her. She always used to be a kid to me. Someone I saw during the summers and yeah I like her laugh and she has the most amazing smile,” he started rambling now and I rolled my eyes at him. “But she’s not you. She was always like a sister to me and you, you weren’t. You were always YN.” 

His words took me by surprise. I almost was left speechless but he tapped my leg with the kitten heels in his hands and I blurted out: “I want to be with Jeremiah.” I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud before but he has to know. My love for Jeremiah seemed as obvious as Belly’s love for Conrad. 

“Do you really?” He asked, lowering his head just a few inches so he was close enough to mine that I could smell his minty breath. I took a step back. 

“Yes,” I told him. Firm. Final. “I do.” 

“That’s not what it seemed like a few months ago.” His voice was low but it spat at me like boiling water bubbling over the edge. I grabbed my shoes from his hand and stormed off down the road, not bothering to look back at him to see if he was following. I doubt he was. 

Last Spring, age 16 

I always saw the smoke before I saw him. Floating into the sky before it collected itself in the cloud and if my eyes followed its trail, it would end on Conrad’s lips. I pushed open the gate to his backyard and he smiled carefully at me like if he smiled too hard his face would shatter. 

“Are you okay?” I asked him. Lately, he was always in a sour mood. I didn’t know if it was because of Aubrey or his dad or what. Jeremiah didn’t know either but he didn’t like to talk about it. It brought down his mood, he said. 

“I’m okay,” Conrad told me. I tilted my head at him and cocked my eyebrow and he chuckled. “Just a lot going on lately, YN.” I nodded as if I understood but truthfully, I didn’t know what he was going through. 

“Well I’m here if you want to talk about it,“ I said. He didn’t say anything back so I reached over and grabbed his hand. He laced his fingers between mine and squeezed twice. Jeremiah always squeezed three times. It felt like something was missing. I squeezed back once. 

“I wanna tell you, YN. I wanna tell you everything I just- I don’t think I’m ready,” he said very quietly. If the wind blew just a little bit as he spoke, I wouldn’t have heard him over the leaves rustling. But the air was still tonight in Boston. This porch seemed to be our spot these days. He was always out here and I was always sneaking up on him late at night. 

“Tell me when you’re ready,” I said. He nodded and then all of his weight collapsed under him and onto my lap. His head landed on my chest and he was crying. 

I threw my heels at the foot of the stairs, tossing the hat in the pile like a ring toss at the fair. My mom poked her head out in the hallway, a curious expression on her face. “Did it go poorly?” She asked, concern written in her eyebrows. I shook my head and walked down the hall to where she was set up in the living room with a crossword puzzle. 

“No, the tea went well,” I told her. I plopped myself down in our Lazy Susan - the one we got specifically for Dad but he was nowhere to be found, so it was mine for the taking. “I just got into a fight with Cornad.”

“About what?” My mom sat back in her spot on the couch and picked up her pen to continue her daily puzzle. My dad always steals Susannah’s newspaper since she never reads it and they each do their own puzzle and seeing who finishes it first. Dad usually wins. 

“Nothing important,” I lied. “How’s the puzzle going?” I asked her. She smiled down at it and bit the end of her pen. 

“Good, I think. What’s a 9 letter word that also means betrayal?” She questioned. I pull my knees to my chest and try to make myself as small as possible. I watch my mom as her eyebrows furrow in focus. She licked her lips and tapped the end of the pen against her lip and then I thought of my father, who would most likely be outside by the pool doing the same puzzle, possibly already having the 9 letter word for betrayal written down. What’s another word for soul-mates? Lover. Partner. Confidant. Whatever you called it, my parents were it. 

“Treachery,” I said quietly. My mom looked up at me as if she didn’t hear me so I repeated myself louder. “A 9 letter word for betrayal. Treachery.” She smiled and pointed her pen at me. 

“My beautiful, smart girl!” She scribbled down the word and then held up the puzzle in victory, admiring her work before she ran toward the back door calling for Dad. I could hear him groan from outside and my mom was howling like the wolves late at night, finally having a win under her belt. “Is it cheating if YN helped me?” I heard my mom ask. 

“Hey!” Dad yelled into the house. I laughed under my breath and he stuck his head through the door. “You’re not supposed to give her the answers!” 

+

I showered and changed, brushing through my hair in the mirror that was fogged up. I looked at myself through the small circle I wiped away with my hand and I sighed. This summer, something was wrong. I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was going to come crashing down around me and there was no way to stop it. 

Cousins was supposed to be our escape from the busy Boston life. All of the drama: school, Conrad, Mr. Fisher, football. All of it was supposed to be left behind in the exhaust of our cars as we left the city but it all seems to be washing up on the shore and sucking my under. 

It was still the middle of the day, but I wanted to curl up in bed with a book or a good movie and forget about the outside world but that was impossible because when I entered my bedroom, Jeremiah was sprawled out on the bed. “In your jammies already?” He asked, looking at my pink striped pajama shorts. 

“I had a long day,” I told him, throwing myself on the bed next to him. I folded my hands over my stomach and looked up at the ceiling and Jeremiah mimicked my position. 

“So, tell me about the tea. We didn't talk much after.” 

"It was alright. Boring. Steven was our server,” I laughed, remembering the way his hair was slicked back with too much gel and he had to wear the silly apron and refill our waters at our beck and call. Belly took advantage of that. 

“He should have been a lifeguard with me,” Jeremiah said. He looked over at me but I kept my eyes on the ceiling. He was no longer shirtless with his red shorts on, instead he wore his regular bright blue and green swim trunks and a worn out t-shirt I recognized from home. 

“Only people with big egos are lifeguards,” I teased. “People that want to get noticed by all the pretty girls at the country club.” Jeremiah bumped his knee against mine and I smiled. 

“You’re the only pretty girl I care to be noticed by,” he told me. I scoffed and said: “that’s not true.” 

“What do you mean that’s not true?” He sounded offended and he perched himself up on his elbows to look down at me. His curls fell in his eyes and I could tell the stray strands were tickling his nose because it was twitching. 

“Gigi likes you, you know,” I said. 

“I don’t care.” 

“Don’t you? She’s really pretty. I bet she catches your eye at the pool.” 

“I’m too focused on making sure the little kids don’t slip and fall than on Gigi and her skimpy two piece.” 

“So you noticed her two piece?” Jeremiah groaned in frustration at our banter. I knew I was reaching with the Gigi comments but it was fun to make him squirm in his shorts every once in a while. “I’m teasing,” I told him. 

“Anyone caught your eye this summer?” He asked me after a moment of silence. 

“It's the same group of kids we see every summer,” I said. He shrugged, half expecting me to continue I think but I didn’t. 

“Wanna go swimming?” 

I pushed myself off the bed and shrugged, “sure. Give me a couple minutes to get changed.” 

Jeremiah nodded and squeezed my forearm once before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. 

Outside, Jeremiah was already in the pool waiting for me. He floated on his back, moving his arms in butterfly motions to keep himself afloat. I had a towel wrapped around my body when I stepped outside. He heard the door shut behind me and turned himself upright. “Why do you have that thing around you?” He asked. “Get in.” 

I drop the towel on one of the lounge chairs and sit down on the edge of the pool. Jeremiah swims over to me, careful not to take his eyes off of me. It feels like a challenge. Like this entire summer was leading up to us being more than friends but something always gets in the way. 

He used two fingers to move my knee over, making a safe little home for him between my legs. He rested his arms on either side of my thighs and looked up at me through his lashes. “What?” I whispered. 

Jeremiah’s fingers tapped against the skin on my back. I had goosebumps spreading all over my skin and I knew Jeremiah could feel them but he didn’t say anything. He shrugged, not saying anything with his words but he gripped my hips with his hands. My stomach was in my throat and I wanted to say something, tell him to stop. That we can’t go there. That I love him. I didn’t have the chance. He lifted me up and pulled me into the pool on top of him. 

He fully submerged me, not releasing his grip from my hips. I thrashed around, trying not to laugh and let water in my mouth but Jeremiah was smiling under the water. I was hyperaware of his hands on my hips still and I wrapped my own hands around his wrists and he exchanged my hips for my fingers as he pulled me back to the surface. 

“You’re a fucking asshole!” I yelled but I was laughing and pushing the wet hair out of my face. 

“You love me,” he said. I kicked him under the water but there wasn’t much force in it. I scoffed at him and floated on my back, looking up at the sky. “What do you see up there?” He asked me. 

We often do this, lay on our backs whether we're in the water or freshly watered grass, sometimes even on hot pavement, and look up at the clouds. He always told me he felt like clouds were like paintings and no one ever sees the same thing. We would argue about what we saw: him insistent that he sees a face but it looked more like a house to me but in the end, he always agreed with me.

“There’s a bunny. By the sun.” Jeremiah floated himself next to me and our arms touched as we waved them in the water to keep ourselves up. “You see it?”

“Yeah. I see a bat,” he said. “A few clouds over.” 

I squinted to try and see the bat but I didn’t. “There it is,” I lied.

“You see?” 

“Yeah.” 

Jeremiah wrapped his arm around my waist, plunging me back under the water only briefly. I regained my footing and came up for air too close to his face. “You liar,” he whispered. I couldn’t help but smirk. He tickled me, my sides giving in. I pushed down on his wrists, begging him to stop until eventually I couldn’t breathe and Jeremiah got tired. 

He wrapped his arms around my waist and I instinctively wrapped mine around his shoulders. He was slippery and wet but I’ve never felt safer. “I need water,” I told him. He nodded but didn’t let go. “Seriously, put me down.” I laughed and pushed myself off of him, swimming to the edge. Jeremiah’s phone sat next to my towel and as I reached down, it went off. The screen read VIVIAN and my eyes saw red.

#jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher imagine #jeremiah fisher fan fic #jeremiah fisher x reader #reader insert #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp fan fic #tsitp imagin #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader

[etherealwanderer]

Giving Luca kaneshiro a haircut

Just a little Drabble :) he was talking about his dad cutting his hair on his recent stream so I thought I would write a little smth ;) hope you enjoy ! This is from y/n pov

“Babe!” I hear Luca yell from across the house. I hear big loud footsteps rapidly approaching our room. He runs through the doorway and launches himself onto the bed right on top of me. His full weight making me sink into the mattress.

“Jeez Luca ! You scared me I thought something was wrong.” I look at him worried. He shoots his head up and gives me biggest smile, his hair covering his eyes.

“Sorryyyyyy… I just missed you!” He whined loudly. I brush his hair out of his face. When was the last time he got a haircut?

“Your hair is so long. You should go to the barber soon, my love.” I stroke his hair lovingly. He looks up at me playfully but proceeds to get shy and bonk his head into my chest.

“Y/n…”

“Yeah?”

“Can you cut it for me?”

Cut it for him ? I’ve never cut someone’s hair before.

“What??? You want me to cut it?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Alright.”

He gets off of me and runs to the bathroom to set everything up. By the time I get there after leaving my comfy spot, he’s in my vanity chair facing the mirror with a towel around his neck. I start to get nervous but he seems to be excited and trusts me so what could go wrong.

“I’ve never cut hair before babe, how do you like it?”

“Not too much on the top. I like it medium with layers.”

Simple enough. I wet his hair and comb it through. Man it has gotten quite long. I brush my fingers through it to see if any tangles are left, which there are none. He seems to be relaxed and happy I’m doing this for him.

“Aahhh so relaxing. Y’know, my dad used to cut my hair for me, but I had him stop because he would cut a lot off the top.”

Got it. Do not cut too much on top.

“Okay… we’ll, I’m going in so, let me know if I’m doing something wrong ‘Kay?”

“I trust ya! Plus you’ve seen my hair how I’m talking about it so you have an idea already!” He said cheerfully with a full smile.

I grab the comb in one hand and scissors in the other. I start at his bangs, no issues. I go ahead and give the bottom a trim, no problem. I get to the top and get a little nervous. I constantly look at his face to make sure I’m doing it right. He feels my hand touch the top of his head, I see his eyes shoot up to see what I’m doing. Crap.

“Not too much, please darling.”

“I’ll try not to, my love.”

I grab strands of hair looking at every micro expression he makes.

Snip

Nothing.

Snip

Nothing.

Sn-

“I said not too much!” He yells which startled me and I step back to the door.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to.”

He looks at himself in the mirror checking the strand I cut, then he turns to me.

“No… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. You’re doing great… I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Did a bad memory come up?”

“Yeah… sorry.” He sulks down. I reach my hand out to his face and stroke it gently.

“It’s okay… I’ll do better.”

He looks to me and gives a weak smile. He kisses me, then sits back down and we continue where we left off.

Snip

Snip

Snip

“Done! How does it look?”

He looks up and ruffles his hair with his fingers.

“Looks great! You did such a good job darling. Who needs a barber when I have you!” He lifts me up and kisses me all over my face.

Hmmm… not to bad of a barber aye?

Thanks for reading !!! Hope you enjoyed :)

#luca kaneshiro #luca #nijisanji #nijisanji en #drabble #luca kaneshiro x Reader #luca x Reader #etherealdrabbles♡

[sabo-has-my-heart]

scenario no. 2 and fluff dialogue number 14 with baby Ace though if possible

Okay so I don't write for abuse, however this does vaguely allude to some abuse. Also! I don't have kids, I don't do well with kids, I know nothing about kids! Therefore, I hope my portrayal of little Ace and Reader are about right.... I tried if nothing else!

Warnings: allusions to abuse, GN!Reader, Ace and reader are about 2-3 years old, modern-ish AU

Word Count: 1230

     Hurrying down into the basement, you tried your best to be quiet. It was a game your foster mother played frequently after getting off the phone with your foster father. She’d tell you that it was time to hide and not come out until she got you, no matter what. So you’d pick the best hiding spot you could and stay there. Trying to stay quiet like she said until she found you. Sometimes it only took a few minutes, other times it took a couple of hours, but she’d always come and find you and give you the biggest smile, telling you how great of a job you did and how you won the game! She’d then give you a cookie or a single piece of candy before making dinner for you and your foster father. This time you had a really good hiding spot. You’d been scouring the house for good places to hide, places your mother hadn’t already found you in when you’d stumbled across the old toy chest. It was mostly empty save for a couple of stuffed animals, but more importantly, it was big enough for you to fit into. Struggling into the toy chest, you smiled to yourself, shutting the top and trying not to giggle. It would take your mother so long to find you this time! Despite the cramped space, the stuffed toys were surprisingly comforting, laying your head on them and whispering to them to pass the time, slowly dozing off. When you awoke you knew something was off, you weren’t in your bed, your mother hadn’t found you, and the house was relatively quiet. Pushing the lid open you looked around, your small face scrunching up in confusion as you looked at the basement. Furniture that had been pushed up against the walls were replaced by boxes, wooden boards that were supposed to be for a small repair project were missing and the layer of dust was already making your nose itch. Struggling to get out of the chest, you stumbled before tumbling and landing on your butt, kicking up more dust. You let out a loud sneeze before whimpering. Something felt wrong, you didn’t know where your foster mother was, and now the dust was getting in your face.

     “Who’s down there!” an unfamiliar voice shouted from the top of the stairs, drawing your attention. Getting up, you walked to the bottom of the stairs, noticing a small black haired boy. 

     “M-my name’s Y/n, who're you? What’r you doing in my house?” you whimpered, looking up at him. From what you could tell, he looked about your height, not even able to reach the door knob without a step stool as he glared down at you.

     “You stupid? This is my house, not yers! I shoul’ be askin what yer doing!” he shouted, making you shrink back as you stared at him.

     “No is not! My fos’er mommy said that she and my fos’er daddy bough’ it all on their own! You’re the stupid one!” you shouted back, your fear of him morphing into anger. 

     “Wanna bet? Come up ‘ere and I’ll show you!” he said, crossing his arms. Carefully climbing the stairs, you joined the boy at the top, looking around. It looked like your house for the most part. Same living room walls, same ugly carpet, same dirty ceiling fan. Except the furniture was all wrong. Gone was your couch, your TV, your coffee table. Your father’s ugly recliner was missing, as was your mother’s favorite standing lamp. Hurrying into the kitchen, you looked around in a panic. It was just like the living room, same walls, same floors, same cabinets, but different furniture. 

     “See? Told you wasn’t yer house! Now answer my question! What’r you doin here?” he demanded. Staring at the kitchen, you fell back onto your butt, tears running down your cheeks as you started crying, surprising the boy.

     “H-hey! Why’r you crying? Stop crying!” he demanded as you sobbed. The boy stood there for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around you, patting your back as best he could, “stop crying li’l brat! I need sleep.” Ace whispered, confusing you as your sobs momentarily ceased.

     “W-what?” you asked, about to start crying again, struggling out of his arms.

     “It’s what Dadan a’ways says when I cry to make me to stop… n-not that I cry.” he said, looking away from you. You stared at him for a moment before wiping your tears away, though still sniffling. 

     “Who’s Dadan?” you asked, wiping your nose on your sleeve, looking up at him.

     “She’s th pers’n that takes care o’ me.” he said simply.

     “Do… you not have a mommy or daddy neither?” you asked, tilting your head.

     “Non a’ yer beeswax!” he shouted, fully turning away from you now. You looked down at the floor, drawing squiggles on the linoleum. 

     “I don’t got ‘em neither. My fos’er mommy says they wan’ed ta give me a be’er home, but my fos’er daddy says they didn’ wan’ me.” you said, trying to wipe your nose again.

     “I…  my mommy an’ daddy died.” he said softly, looking back at you again. You nodded, seemingly in understanding before getting up to your feet.

     “I… I don’ know what ta do now. My fos’er mommy took care a’ me but I don’ know where she is.” you said, fidgeting nervously. The boy looked at you before taking your hand in his.

     “Come, I take you some’ere special.” the boy offered, gently tugging on your arm, only to have you tug back and shake your head.

     “My mommy says not ta go anywher’ with str’ngers.” you said, looking away from him.

     “My name’s Ace. There! Now we’r not strangers.” he said before tugging at you again. You followed him this time as he pulled you outside, leading you to a small shed, pulling a rope to open the door before leading you inside.

     “This is wh’re Dadan tell me ta go wh’n she doesn’ want me ‘round. You can stay here now.” he said as you looked around. It was a little rickety, the only place to sit or lie down was a pile of blankets in the corner, and a few children’s books and wooden ‘toys’ sat in another corner, but with no idea as to what else to do, you agreed.

     It didn’t take Dadan long to find out about you, finding Ace’s ‘smuggling’ of food out to the shed more than a little suspicious, her eyes damn near popping out of her head when she found you. After a thorough and in depth search with the help of a man named Garp, it was decided that, with no place to go, you’d stay with Dadan like Ace. Though to be honest, you were just happy that sharing a bedroom with Ace was nicer than staying in the drafty, somewhat terrifying, shed that Ace had shown you. It was different from your life before, but you liked it more, soon forgetting about your foster parents and easily falling into a surprisingly comfortable and happy life with Ace. While you didn’t remember much about your foster parents, you did remember how you’d gotten here, never more thankful that you’d crawled into the toy chest, though you were never going to do so again, just in case.

#one piece #one piece ace #portgas d ace #op ace #fire fist ace #hiken no ace #portgas d. ace #platonic ace x reader #fluff #Little!Ace #Baby!Ace #no romantic relationships #baby!Reader #little!reader #child!ace #child!reader

[metalheadcowboy]

ok so we have steve wearing eddies vest sooooo obviously we need eddie wearing steves jacket!!!!

NO BECAUSE I WAS LITERALLY JUST THINKING ABOUT THIS!!!

👏👏👏

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

"This is the cheesiest shit, like, ever, even for you, Steve-o."

Steve chuckled, sliding his Member's Only jacket off of his own frame, goofy grin spreading from ear-to-ear as he slid the faded fabric onto Eddie's shoulders, "Like you don't love it," he quipped, giving the jacket a few adjustments before stepping back as if to admire his work.

Eddie shook his head, "Never said I didn't," he spoke, Steve's own body heat trapped within the thin layers seeping into his skin like sunshine. The smell was addicting, Ralph Lauren cologne laced with the slightest hint of cigarette smoke making his head spin, "Maybe I should forget my jacket more often."

Steve rolled his eyes, sliding his hands up under his jacket being worn by Eddie as if the action were muscle memory, "Yeah, right, well you'll be damn sorry when I don't give it to you next time, Eds," he teased, letting his hands wander, fingertips sliding ever so slightly under the hem of Eddie's shirt making him jump.

"Oh, bullshit," The curly headed boy scoffed, reaching up his arm to wrap around his boyfriend's shoulders, Steve leaning ever so willingly into the touch, readjusting the jacket for Eddie before quickly returning his hands to their assigned spots.

"How so?" Steve questioned, eyebrow quirking upward. Eddie smiled lazily, looking at him with those void brown eyes that encapsulated the light of the trailer park streetlight above them.

"Because..." Eddie trailed off, looking around for a second, as if to see if anyone might be watching, like anyone around here would really give half a shit, the trailer park didn't house snitches, unless they were really looking fro trouble. The older boy leaned in, just close enough so that the tips of their noses brushed together, "I always get what I want."

Suddenly Eddie connected their lips with a purpose, clashing teeth and bumping noses before they fell into their routine, slotting against each other like two piece of a puzzle. Steve parted his lips for Eddies tongue like he always did, letting out the sweetest whimpers reserved only for his boyfriend. Eddie ran his fingers through the wispy hair at the nape of Steve's neck, tugging softly when he decided he wanted a reaction.

Just as Eddie was about to pull away for air, Steve pulled away first, instantaneously attaching his lips to Eddie's neck like a leech, grabbing fistfuls of his own jacket as he did so. The long haired boy let his head swivel back, bearing his neck at Steve's will with a moan, muffled by him biting his plump, abused bottom lip.

Before long Steve shifted his thigh between Eddie's, standing awkwardly as the younger boy dry humped his hip, "Woah, woah, woah," Eddie slowed, causing Steve to stop all movement, pulling away with the biggest pair of puppy dog eyes the other man had ever seen. He brought his hand to Steve's cheek, thumb rubbing against the solid jut of his cheekbone, reveling in the way that his boyfriend leaned into the touch like some sort of house cat, "Gettin' a little rowdy there, bucko, you could at least take me to dinner first," he teased, smirk softening into a smile when Steve pouted.

"I did," he whined softly, scratching softly at the small of Eddie's back with dull nails.

Eddie chuckled low and gruff in a way that caused the butterflies in Steve's stomach to explode, "I know, sweetheart," he purred deep, sliding his hand from Steve's cheek to the back of his head, "Tomorrow, okay?"

It was a promise that Steve wished his boyfriend would make for tonight, but he could wait, would wait, "Okay," he mumbled, Eddie giving him one last genuinely sweet kiss on the lips before pulling away.

Just as Eddie went to shrug off the Member's Only jacket he had been lent, Steve grabbed his wrist, quickly catching his attention, "Keep it," he said, gently rubbing the smooth underside of Eddie's wrist when he received a perplexed look in return, "Tomorrow, remember?"

Slowly, the corners of Eddie's mouth upturned into one of the cutest smiled Steve had ever seen, "Yeah," he agreed, "Tomorrow."

Before Eddie could get away again Steve leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the delicate skin of the other boys cheek, pulling away to see a light dusting of rosy red flush across his face, "God, got me blushing like a school girl, Harrington, Christ," he rambled, pulling his hand back to scrub down his face.

"Yeah, well," Steve shrugged, walking backwards towards his car, "I have been known to have that effect on people."

Now it was Eddie's turn to roll his eyes, "Dork," he snarked, no real malice behind his words.

"Nerd," Steve returned fondly, resting his hand on the top of his car, preparing himself to duck inside.

Eddie crunched his nose before giving a short, yet dramatic bow, "Until the 'morow King Steve, how I will miss thine soft lips and supple skin."

Steve scoffed, shaking his head, "You really are a dork," he retorted and in return Eddie just grinned, giving him one last wave before seeing him off, Maroon BMW tires working against the gravel before screeching screeching onto the asphalt of the main road.

Eddie just stood there for a minute, even after Steve had left, before retiring to his trailer, swinging the door open with a certain kind of confident swagger that he only had after being with his boyfriend.

Even when he got inside he left the jacket on, even zipping it up with his back against the cold metal door, letting his nose bury itself into the collar, taking a deep sniff of Steve's lingering scent.

"You look like a dick," Wayne spoke out of the blue, and Eddie swore he jumped a mile, quickly trying to regain his composure.

"I- what?" he stumbled, furrowing his eyebrows, yet Wayne just smirked against the rim of his coffee mug.

"The jacket, son," he quickly gesturing his head in the direction of his nephew. Eddie just looked down at himself, like in the few seconds of interaction they'd had he forgot what he was wearing.

He let his fingers fiddle with a loose seam on the cuff, "Oh," he acknowledged, "Yeah," he agreed with a study laugh, letting himself fall into the kitchen chair adjacent to his uncle.

There was a silence between them for a minute before Wayne spoke up once more, "So," he sighed, scratching at the stubble on his jaw, "The Harrington's kid, huh, then?" he grumbled, gaze fixed on Eddie's wide orb-like eyes.

"How'd you figure," Eddie questioned, hand moving to twist the rings that graced his fingers, anything to keep his hands busy.

"Well," Wayne began, "For starters I don't know a single other person in this town who drives a car 's flashy as his." This made Eddie laugh, something genuine and fond, straight from his gut. " 'N second, I have eyes, y'know? And swapin' spit with the boy in my own front yard ain't somethin' I'm likely to miss."

At this Eddie blushed profusely, not even thinking about the possibility that his uncle could've seen them. Hell, he didn't even really realize he was home until he set foot through the door, "Shit, sorry about that," he apologized quickly.

"Ah, it ain't no skin off my back, kid," Wayne assured, causing Eddie to let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, "Not me you gotta worry 'bout, 's everyone else."

Eddie bit his lip and nodded, thinking back to when he looked around before kissing Steve, thinking about if he really looked everywhere, if maybe he should have checked again, if maybe it was stupid of him to think he could take advantage of such an opportunity guilt free.

And almost as if Wayne could sense Eddie's anxiety, he opened his mouth once more, "Just want you to be happy 'n safe, Eddie, 's all I ask."

This made Eddie smile, worries fading as he looked at the genuine, sincere look his uncle wore. And if he weren't so exhausted from being out all night maybe he would have even felt the signature sting of tears brimming his eyes, but no dice, "Thanks, Wayne," he replied, "seriously."

Wayne just nodded, signaling the end of their conversation and Eddie left it at that, feeling warm both inside and out.

#Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Steddie #Wayne Munson #Stranger Things #SEND MORE STEDDIE ASKS I BEG!!

[trashcanplant]

An Encounter in a Manor

Deirdre was walking with Marnie around Home one chilly weekend, down the path by the lake and the fence.

“I don’t understand why you keep writing all these love stories, Deirdre. In all our years of friendship, never have you been the romantic type. What changed?” Marnie asked her friend. She was bundled up in even more layers. The cold air nipped at her skin and made the musician shudder.

“Am I not allowed to have a new interest? I didn’t start a big huff when you took up woodworking, now did I?”

“No, I suppose you didn’t.” Marnie sighed. She paused, looking off to the side. She spotted a new building. It was a decadent manor with a little porch. It had detailed wooden beams and a fine brick. A fireplace was on the side, and a light amount of smoke escaping it.

“How interesting is that? It seems someone’s moved in right under our noses!” Marnie remarked. Deirdre turned and nodded.

“Oh how lovely! If I’m not mistaken that looks to be Edwardian.” The teacher mentioned, approaching it. Marnie grabbed her pig friend, pulling her back.

“We shouldn’t- it’s cold out and we don’t want to be a bother to our new neighbor. Plus, it’d be a better idea to bring a gift along with us! That and our other neighbors.” She chided Deirdre gently. She groaned, pulling her along and up the porch.

“Marnie, let’s just introduce ourselves! We hardly ever get out and meet new people. I don’t want to pass on this chance!” Deirdre said with gusto as Marnie followed her to the door. She rang the doorbell with a press of her hoof and waited patiently.

A woman taller than both of them opened the door. She had curly strawberry blonde hair and a long feminine face. She looked down them with a smile. She was wearing a blue dress with floral print.

“Good afternoon! May I help you?” She spoke with a slightly posh accent. She held her hands in front of her. Deirdre looked on in awe and Marnie slinked behind her.

“My name is Deirdre, and this is Marnie. We’d like to be some of the first to welcome you to this neighborhood!” The teacher spoke gleefully.

“Oh my, you came all the way out here to welcome me? That’s so nice of you. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Please, do come inside for tea.” The woman said with a polite smile. She opened her home to them, and they came inside from the cold.

Entering the little manor was like stepping from winter into spring. The house was warm, full of plants and fine decor. This was only the entryway. Beyond the arch was a little sitting room where the woman was pouring two cups of tea. It smelled like jasmine.

Deirdre took off her coat, adjusted her tie and entered the sitting room while Marnie took off a coat, a shawl, a scarf, a second shawl, and a cardigan to finally be in her usual thick sweater and shawl. She joined her best friend in the room with the woman.

“My apologies for forgetting to introduce myself! My name is Minerva Mannerly, welcome to my home.” She said kindly, sitting down across from the more seasoned neighbors.

“It’s no problem at all, Minerva. It’s very nice to meet you.” Deirdre said, taking the china teacup in her hoof.

“You as well. Please, do tell me about yourselves.” Minerva prompted. Marnie looked to Deirdre who took the lead.

“Well, I’m a teacher. I teach at the boarding school by Howdy’s, you just follow the path for a little bit and it’s there. Marnie here is a musician, she plays so many different instruments it’s incredible.” She explained, taking a sip of tea. Minerva oohed and have a gentle clap.

“Do you perform frequently?” She asked. Marnie cleared her throat, holding the teacup to warm her hands up.

“N-no, I mostly teach my neighbors.” Marnie murmured anxiously. Minerva shook her head gently.

“Oh thats interesting!” She replied politely. Minerva drank her tea to fill the silence. Deirdre looked at Marnie and cleared her throat. The musician sighed, sitting up straighter.

“Thank you for having us in your beautiful home. What do you do for a living?” Marnie asked, albeit with halted words.

Minerva smiled at the compliment.

“Oh, I don’t do much. But I do frequently host little cotillions and parties. I do love to throw parties.” The posh woman spoke then took a sip of her tea.

“Oh, I love parties! That’s so interesting. And you said cotillion balls? How frequently do you host them?” Deirdre piped up. Minerva looked at her with a smile.

“Oh, once every month or so. I say, you can never go wrong with being a little bit fancy sometimes! It just as we do as fine, upstanding women, is it not?” She replied. Marnie gave a halfhearted smile and held her cup like it would break if she let go of it.

Deirdre glanced at Marnie and snickered quietly. Marnie chuckled, wiping her eye of a tear before she finally spoke up again.

“Yes, we are all fine, upstanding, socially responsible women.” She giggled. Deirdre nearly dropped her tea cup. Minerva looked on confused, but she began to chuckle.

“Is- is there a joke? Is it funny?” Minerva asked with a polite grin. The teacher and the musician looked to each other, sighing as their laughter halted.

“Right, I suppose I should explain that. In college, Marnie and I had a professor who was a tad off in the head. He’d constantly say that ‘fine, socially responsible women should not be in his class’. It was a common math class. We always poked fun at him behind his back.” Deirdre explained. Minerva tilted her head in a confused motion.

“I don’t get it..” she mumbled. Minerva cleared her throat and put a smile back on her face.

“But I’m certain we will make plenty of jokes and have loads of fun together!” The posh woman said happily. Deirdre nodded.

“Absolutely. I suppose we should be going… Marnie’s already left to put her layers back on.” She said with an awkward chuckle. Deirdre fixed her hair.

“We really should stay in touch though. I can give you my personal number, and we can arrange a time to meet? Maybe I can get Marnie to bring her cello along. She does better when she doesn’t have to talk, really.”

“Oh, but of course! Whatever makes her feel comfortable. I shouldn’t want a new friend of mine to be forced into a situation that she wouldn’t like.” Minerva said. She held her hands together politely.

With a wave, the two women were off and walking away from the manor.

“Deirdre?”

“Yes, Marnie?”

“She was nice. That was uncomfortable, but I heard her say I was her friend. That makes me happy.” The musician said softly. Snow crunched under their feet as they walked, passing by birds cooed quietly. The world was still for a moment, and Deirdre smiled.

“I’m glad you’re happy. You know, we really should get out more. Who knows what new friends we’ll meet?” She asked. They looked forward at the path and snow began to fall.

“Absolutely not.” Marnie said with a giggle.

#welcome home oc #Planty stories #marnie maestro #eddie dear #minerva mannerly #they’re friends now!! #Marnie is socially awkward #Deirdre is the only one who can get Marnie out of the house willingly

[hartshorn-and-isinglass]

Day 18.

Spent nearly an hour trying more configurations of the Everest shoulder rest. Unfortunately, the angle of my chest hits right against the corner of the shoulder rest and fucks up my tender point. It needs something underneath it to lift that hard corner up and away from my sternum. In a fit of pique, I cut the Acoustagrip sponge to a shape that would fit that exact spot, ripped the adhesive layer off the foam, and stuck it onto the bottom of the Everest. This does in fact solve the problem. But now I have to let my sternum recover.

I don't know how long this will last; I'm going to have to order some upholstery foam to try and make something more permanent. After spending all day sinking my energy into modifying furniture for the house I am NOT THRILLED at having yet one more thing to modify on my project list. But hopefully this will be much quicker than the goddamned bathroom organizer that still somehow doesn't fit that corner despite repeated measurements and modifications...

I should consider this a win... it just really doesn't feel like it. Now I'm out of tune again because my left arm needs to adjust to the new angle I'm holding the violin at. I'm also, I guess... heavily questioning the value of what I'm even doing... like not just "is this this much lift and shoulder support going to make it harder to switch to Baroque" but like "...why am I even doing music". I dunno, Spouse is having Angst and Anxiety about finances and is kinda getting me down about things... realistically I'm not going to be able to do anything with music to help defray the costs of my hobby for several years at least. I mean, on the other hand, this still costs less right now than going back on antidepressants and finding a new therapist, so as long as it's bringing me joy, even if it's hard for me to access that joy directly, I should probably keep at it.

#personal #Marve won't shut up about violin

[mogai-headcanons]

( !!! ) yes , i ' d like 02 see this tutorial ^.^ ! and , also some questions ..

001 : what editor you use 04 put 30 images in one post ?

002 : is it possible 02 make icons like yours in ibis paint ?

i'll answer your questions first, then do the tutorial, since the images will make it kind of long!

question 1: the newer editor on desktop! i think it's called the beta editor? i don't know if you can use it on mobile (i make all my flags and edits on desktop, so i queue them from desktop), but it's accessed with this toggle:

[id: a screenshot of the text post editor on tumblr desktop. a white arrow points towards the editor toggle in the top right corner, which is switched off. end id]

when the toggle is switched off like it is in the screenshot, you'll be using the newer post editor, which allows 30 images.

question 2: i honestly don't know, sorry! i've never used ibis paint (the only editor besides gimp that i've used is pixlr), but if anyone who sees this does, feel free to answer this one for me!

tutorial for combining images when i have more than 30 icons to fit into a post:

i'll put this tutorial in text first, then add images with further explanation of the process for if you need it.

basic tutorial:

make your icons that you need to put into one post

open them so that they are two layers in one image

right-click the image you want on the right side in the post and click on 'edit layer attributes'

in the layer attributes menu, input the width of the icon plus a little extra into the 'offset x' spot (for 600x600 icons, i put in the number 610), then hit the 'ok' button at the bottom of the menu

go to the image menu (top bar) and click 'fit canvas to layers'

you're all done! save your image as a png (or other file type that can have a transparent background)

detailed tutorial:

let's say i need to combine these two images for a post:

[image id: two square icons of the bisexual flag. the right one has an image of luz noceda from the owl house over it with a white outline and a black shadow behind it. end id]

first, i open the images as layers in one image. just open one of the images using 'open' in the file menu or the shortcut ctrl+o:

image id: the top image shows the gimp editor with no images open in it. the file menu is open and a white arrow points at the 'open' option. the middle image shows the gimp editor with a square icon of the bisexual flag open in it. the file menu is open and a white arrow points at the 'open as layers' option. the bottom image shows the gimp editor with a square icon of luz noceda over the bisexual flag open in it. there is a white bracket highlighting that there are two layers open in the layers menu with the text '(both in one image)' beside it. end id]

now both images are open in one layer! these images are 600x600, and i want to mimic that little white space that tumblr puts between images, since it looks nicer that way. i right-click on the image that i want to be on the right in the end, which is the icon without the character over it, and either click 'edit layer attributes' or the 'e' key:

[image id: the top image is of the gimp editor with a square icon of luz noceda over the bisexual flag open in it. the lower layer of the image, a square icon of the bisexual flag, has been right-clicked. a blue arrow points towards the 'edit layer attributes' option in the right-click menu. the bottom image is the same, but instead of the right-click menu, the layer attributes menu is now open. end id]

in the edit layer attributes menu, i type the width of the image plus a bit extra into the 'offset x' spot to mimic the space tumblr puts. for my typical 600x600 icons, i put in the number '610'. 'offset x' moves the layer that number of pixels to the right (or to the left, if you put in a negative number).

[image id: the gimp editor with a square icon of luz noceda over the bisexual flag open in it and the layer attributes menu open. the number '610' has been typed into the 'offset x' box, and a white arrow points towards that box. end id]

click the 'ok' button at the bottom of the layer attributes menu. that will apply the layer offset. now go to the images menu on the top bar and click 'fit canvas to layers' - this will make your image the right size to accomodate all the layers in it, and since you now have an offset layer, it'll make your image larger:

[image id: the gimp editor with a square icon of luz noceda over the bisexual flag open in it. the image menu is open and a white arrow points at the 'fit canvas to layers' option. end id]

once you click that, you'll have this:

[image id: the gimp editor with a rectangular image open in it. the left side of the image is a square icon of luz noceda over the bisexual flag, the right side is a square icon of the bisexual flag, and there is a small strip of transparent pixels between the two. end id]

it looks like it's not the whole image, but that's just because this icon is large and it's still centered on the original image. using the scroll bar at the bottom will show the entire image. you can now save this image as a png/other transparent file type and upload it like this:

[image id: the two square icons from the beginning of the tutorial. this time, they are both in one image instead of being two images next to each other. end id.]

i'm not the best at instructions (autism symptom), so if you need any clarification, lmk!

#long post