#one row of colourful buttons

[bywons]

𖧷 HEARTSHAKER — LHS

⌕ lee heeseung doesn't know what he wants from his rival, better marks or a kiss

pairing. student!lee heeseung x student!fem! reader wc. 1.4k tw/cw. jealousy, kissing genre. academic rivals to lovers, fluff, highschool au sru's note. requested for my nini love ♡ shitty title ik but i hope ya'll like cuz i dont T0T ( CATALOGUE?! )

¤ feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated! PLS REBLOG ♡

96 out of 100.

thanks to the almighty above that lee heeseung is tired, the basketball jersey stuck to his back, sweat covering his face and colouring the red fabric darker as he pants for his breath, or else the test paper in his hands would have been crumpled and ripped to shreds.

not because of his number obviously.

“99, i knew i rocked this paper!”, a dulcet, familiar voice floats up to heeseung's ear from behind him, followed by a mean eye roll from him and his stance still. heeseung doesn't bother to turn around, not when he recognizes the infuriating feminine voice and already visualises the usual dark brown braids hanging by the either sides of her face, school tie too tight and almost reaching the last button of the shirt.

“why the long face?”, jake's interruption breaks heeseung out of his trance, as he takes the much unwanted seat beside him, “96 not enough for ‘ya?”

“oh shut up”, heeseung returns jake’s scoff slamming down his physics answer sheet against the wooden table. both heeseung and jake know it's not enough, whether it's a 96 or a 99 ’cause,

“it's never enough unless i cross y/n’s marks”, heeseung sighs, the answer sheet dampening under the pressure of his sweaty hands, as his forehead became the victim of the other.

everyone in the class is aware of the cutthroat competition and abhorrence between the two brunettes, already expecting the usual bickering episode between the two whenever it was time for exam results, and even if by chance someone got the same results as any one of them, they'd do their best and not bother the two.

but today is different, today heeseung doesn't find his usual energy to bicker with the braided girl sitting at the back of the class, not when she managed to beat him thrice in a row at his own game!

“last time it was a marks’ difference and now three? how is this even possible?”, heeseung groans while flipping the sheets over and over as if something magical would happen and increase his numbers.

“i heard park sunghoon's been studying chemistry with her,” jake sighs, pushing his fingers through his dark hair as he turns his head to the side, but his eyes steal a glance at heeseung, and he smirks, “‘ya know, the chemistry toppe—”

“yeah yeah i got you jake, i know who he is”, heeseung presses the bridge of his nose a bit too hard, the familiar face of the boy floating up to his vision, though he can't remember where his loved moles are on him. oh how all the girls are head over heels for park sunghoon.

is y/n one of them too? he could swear they're hanging out too much.

stupid thought, stupid stupid thought. heeseung winces at his sudden curiosity, why is giving this matter so much thought? he doesn't like y/n anyway, he doesn't like her bickering, he doesn't like her annoying attitude, he doesn't like her hair, he doesn't like her scent and he definitely doesn't like her smile. so lee heeseung shouldn't really get his head messed up in this.

the school bell rings, bringing out new tedious groans and sighs from the students as they dawdle to their next classes.

“i think she's coming here—”

“don't you have a physics class to be at, jake?”

“yeah yeah shoo me away all you want to”, jake scoffs, a smirk playing at his lips when he slings a bag on his shoulder before leaving the class, “bet you can't shoo away her.”

and before heeseung even knew it the class was empty, except him and as empty, dispersed out in the crowded hallways to their next classes. that is unless the previous dulcet but annoying voice came closer to heeseung.

“heeseung!”, you chirp, approaching him from behind, “how was your paper?”

“ugh what do you—”, heeseung's anger dies down when he turns around to face you, your hair's not done into braids today, instead it's let open with your tie loose this time, a few drops of sweat sticking to your forehead, dance practice maybe? “—w-want?”

“your marks of course,” you giggle at his stutter, taking a seat beside him, “wanna make sure if i beat you or nah.”

“yeah you did, but not on your own huh?”, heeseung scoffs, looking down at you. he realises his heart skips a beat when you tilt your head to the side, holding eye contact.

not good.

“huh? what do you mean heeseung?”, you pout, acting ever so confused by his accusation, “not on my own?”

“oh come on, the whole class knows it now”, heeseung rolls his eyes, “park sunghoon, rings any bell?”

“oh hoon?”, you grin, covering your mouth and suppressing a small giggle, “he did help me a lot with chemistry, he's so sweet!”

heeseung doesn't realise his face is getting hotter and redder by the minute, both by your presence and the pronunciation of somebody else's name. he has a nickname already? hoon? no way, you have only ever interacted with him, whether it was bickering or asking for notes or silently sitting beside each other. so how did this other guy pop up?

“hoon,” heeseung mumbles his nickname, his eyes searching for something in yours and he doesn't even notice he's sounding jealous, “how are you guys so close already…”

“well he's been tutoring me chemistry for a month now—”

“a month?!”, heeseung's brows lift up and his jaw hangs open.

heeseung doesn't know if he likes your new look, the way the curls of your hair rests on your shoulders, the way your tie is loose from your neck and the way your head tilts to look at his, heeseung's heart skips a beat and it knows something is wrong.

“why? is something—” your lips fall apart, a soft blush takes place on your cheeks and you giggle again, in a teasing tone you nudge heeseung's arm, “aww are you jealous?”

“what? don't be ridiculous now.”

“heeseung is jealous, you are jealous, you are jealous j-e-a-l-o-u-s”, you continue this song, nudging heeseung and teasing him more and more, causing his cheeks to heat up, eyes turning back to the open window and then back to yours.

“shut up y/n, you're not funny”, he scowls, the soft breeze enters the empty classrooms and hits the both of you like a refreshing wave.

and in that moment, through your teasing manner, the empty classroom, the echoes of your laughter and the soft breeze caressing your hair, your long dark hair that matched his and the way his heart skipped a beat, the way his heart always skipped a beat while you were around, he realises it's something good.

“if you shut up now i swear y/n”, heeseung tried and kept his best ‘angry at you’ acting.

“oh really? then why don't you make me?”, a soft chuckle leaves your lips and you squint your eyes.

it happens all so fast, heeseungs soft lips on yours, falling right into place. it tickles you a bit like feathers and pulls you in, until you realise that's his hand snaking around your waist. the kiss was delicate, caring and brought so much warmth from a person you only argued with.

you gasp for air, first one to pull back.

you meet his eyes, scurrying through yours and cheeks all red, probably embarrassed of what he did. the kiss quickly coloured your cheeks, a shy smile playing around your lips and a small glint in your eyes.

“i-i don't know what i did—”

“its okay heeseung”, you shush a nervous heeseung, the proximity increasing the pace of your hearts, “do you like me?”

“i love you”, heeseung answers almost instantly, “i love everything about you.”

“me too”, heeseung is the most relieved as he hears this, that hoon guy got nothing on him now. he's the winner.

“so, are we gonna date then?”, he chuckles.

you nod, “let's surprise the class together!”

lee heeseung doesn't know what he wanted when he got his answer sheets. better marks than y/n, a bickering episode with her, or maybe her to fall in love with her? he doesn't know.

a smirk falls upon his lips and he pulls you closer by your waist. he looked ever so magical and beautiful up close, that you wish the bickering had died down earlier.

“whatever you say, pretty girl”, he leans in for a second kiss, indulging himself more into you, he swears his heart will beat out of the chest as soon as his free hand makes contact with your dark strands of hair.

outside the class stands a grinning jake with a bored sunghoon, and a quite high five is shared between the two, carefully peeking inside.

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

(📌) :: TAGLIST IS OPEN! @euncsace @ii-nu @leaderwon @dimplewonie @yrhome @heartswonn @jwonistic @aaa-sia @ashtxrie @kgneptun @lilacnini @haechansbbg @river-demon-slayer @in-somnias-world @teddywonss @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @mylstserenade @branchrkive @aishigrey @nctislifue @greyminyoon1 @ro-diaries @rikibun @sleepyxxhead @belowbun nets! @/k-labels

#heeseung x reader #k-labels #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #heeseung fluff #heeseung scenarios #heeseung imagines #heeseung #heeseung angst #enha angst #enha imagines #enha fluff #enha x reader #heeseung enha #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #niki x reader #heeseung smau #enhypen smau #heeseung moodboard #jake smau #jay smau #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #heeseung x you

[rinhaler]

So Tell Me What You Need

oliver aiku really really likes you ♡

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ yandere!oliver aiku x f!reader

Genre: college!au (++ smut) Notes: thank u 2 @chososdoll for doing gods work with this fic i hated it hehehe Warnings: 18+, serial killer mention, murder mention, weed mention, smoking, stalking ♡, manipulation, dub/noncon, 'just the tip' ♡, coercion, oral (m receiving), cock slapping ♡, facial, creampie ♡, praise, degradation, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, etc.) ♡ Words: 7.2k

The body of a young woman was discovered in the early hours of Thursday morning. It’s the third body in the last five months to be found, and an inside source has revealed that this is thought to be a pattern by one killer. The victims are all female and—

Your heart pounds as you shut off the TV in your front room. It’s the last thing you want to hear as the windows reveal the dark night sky outside. You don’t even see the stars above; the light pollution takes that comfort from you. All you can see is rows of apartments opposite to your own, some lit and some dim. Some with funky colours but most are warm white.

And your face flushes with heat as you notice one of the latter have a couple fucking up against a window before you turn away to face your roommate.

She notes your concern, but chooses to smirk and poke fun anyway.

“Maybe it’s your stalker,” she teases you. “You might be next.”

“That’s not funny.” you sigh, storming off to your room. You wince as you look at the abandoned study materials at your desk. You’ve been putting everything off for weeks, but your coursework and exams are the last thing on your mind.

You find yourself pacing around a little before you eventually decide to sit on the edge of your bed. There’s no way you can possibly sleep after hearing that. And your roommate’s poor joke has only made you more paranoid. So, what is there left to do?

Music might help, you think to yourself as you unlock your phone. You can barely do anything as your fingers begin to tremor while you look through your playlists. You’re interrupted, though, as a call from an unknown number fills your screen.

You mask your fear with anger, grunting as you swing open your bedroom door to yell at your friend.

“Stop it, Lacey! I’m going to have nightmares, I’m serious!” you yell. She looks at you, confused. You hold up your phone to show her the incoming call. But her eyes drop to the coffee table, her own phone discarded on top of it in favour of smoking from her bong.

“Answer it.” she urges you.

And you gulp, nodding, sliding the button across the bottom of the touch screen to take the call. You steel yourself, already knowing what’s coming as soon as you speak. It’s the same thing every single time. You don’t say a word, not for a few seconds. There isn’t a sound from either of you as you sit on the couch while your roommate’s eyes follow you.

“Hello?” you say, meekly.

It begins.

The heavy, repetitive breathing that sends a chill down your spine. She looks concerned, now. It’s the first time she’s been present when you’ve received a call. You’d started to suspect she didn’t believe you.

“Who the fuck is this?” she yells, snatching the phone from your hand. Their breathing stutters, it’s barely noticeable but you both pick up on it. It’s enough to make her hang up. “I— you should stay in my room tonight. W-With me.”

“Are you scared?” you ask her, earnestly. She doesn’t respond, but the fact that she’s packing away her drug paraphernalia is answer enough. “Thank you.” you smile, though you leave the room as you do.

You start scrolling through your contacts on instinct, tossing your phone onto your bed as you find the number you’re searching for and put it on loudspeaker as it dials. It rings and rings, and you start to worry you won’t get through. You undress, taking off your clothes from the day to change into your pyjamas.

“Hey you,” he starts. “S’pretty late, baby. Somethin’ wrong?”

“Oliver…” you start, legs buckling at the sound of his voice as you feel a combination of relief and guilt surge through you. You sniff, the pressure of your fear and other underlying emotions doing their best to overwhelm you. “My— The stalker called. Again.” you tell him, and you’re instantly met with a sympathetic coo.

“Do you want me to come over?” he asks. “Or do you wanna come here? I’ll pick you up, princess, s’not a problem.” he continues. You shake your head despite him not being able to see.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Sorry, I was just freaking out. Nice to hear your voice, though…” you smile a little, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“Alright. Only if you’re sure.” he speaks, clearing his throat. “I miss you, though. You better let me see that pretty face of yours soon.”

“Okay,” your smile widens. Once again nodding knowing he can’t actually see you right now. “Goodnight Oli.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous.”

Sharing a bed with your roommate helped. You didn’t even mind her snoring, it’s not like you’d expected to get much sleep anyway. You got enough to get you through the day, though. Classes went by without incident, and you didn’t feel yourself wavering at lunchtime like you have been recently.

The calls are unpredictable, you’re always on edge. There’s no specific times or days or even how many times he’ll call.

You walk back to your apartment alone. The winter sucks. It’s not particularly cold, but it’s dark when you get to your classes and then it’s dark again when you leave for the day. You feel like you’re going crazy, and you can’t pretend you aren’t scared of being outside alone when it’s so dark out.

A text notification frightens you enough to almost drop your phone. You don’t even remember turning your phone off silent. Though you can’t help but grin when you see who it’s from.

Oli: Wanna hang out tonight?

You: I’m too behind on my coursework ☹

You: Another time? x

Oli: Okay princess x

You take a deep breath, pocketing your phone as you continue your journey to your apartment. The elevator isn’t empty, but you don’t mind. If anything, you feel a little better to be around people. Your music plays softly through your earphones the whole time, and your anxiety finally begins to dissipate.

Although, it comes flooding back when you get to the door of your apartment.

It’s locked.

And, normally, that would be fine. But Lacey always finishes early on Monday’s. And she’s always home before you get here. Your mind instantly flickers to the phone calls. The stalker.

The news report last night.

Little hands tremble as you search pathetically through your tote bag until you find your keys. The metal clings and clangs as you search for the right one; you jump as they fall from your hands. Eventually, though, the right one is in your grasp and you open the door quickly.

There’s no sign of her. She isn’t smoking in the front room like you expect. You open her bedroom door without knocking, only to discover she isn’t there either. Deep breaths are taken in vain. You try to call her, but there’s no answer.

You: Are you okay?? Call me ASAP

Lacey: I’m fine! I’m at the frat hanging out with Eita 😇

“Oh thank God.” you sigh, all but falling to your knees when you read her reply. Instantly, you can’t help but think about what a slut she is when you think about her failing to tell you her plans because she’s decided to sneak off to ‘hang out’ with her toxic friend with benefits.

Your mind is clear, though your heart is still beating a mile a minute.

Oli: You’re really just gonna study all night? X

You: Thinking about ordering a pizza :P x

Oli: I like pizza you know 🙄x

You: Next time! Promise x

It’s crazy. It’s embarrassing, actually, how quickly he can put you at ease. You’ve only known him for a few months, but it feels like you’ve known him forever. You sigh, dreamily, as you recall how he had introduced himself to you and Lacey during welcome week. He had to squeeze in the fact he was the president of the most popular frat on campus.

Even then, he made you blush. Though you couldn’t act on it; you’d had a boyfriend at the time. But you’ve been single for almost as long as you’ve known Oli, since you dumped him a week or two after; when you realised you didn’t love him anymore. And, still, nothing has happened between you and Oliver.

You’re scared, truthfully.

You’re scared because you know he’s experienced and he’s confident. You know girls throw themselves at him and he knows he’s popular. You’re not a virgin, but compared to him you may as well be.

After clearing your throat and shaking your head to dismiss your train of thought, you start looking for food to add to your basket from your favourite pizza place. It’s so hard to choose, as much as you’d love to get everything, you’re basically broke.

Incoming call.

“Please, no.” your voice breaks as you speak out loud.

You shouldn’t answer. The number is private and you already know what’s going to happen. But you’ve tried that before. You’ve tried ignoring them, but they just keep calling until you answer.

You’re frozen, paralysed with fear as you contemplate what to do. Lacey isn’t here to support you this time. She won’t be coming back, either. So, do you really want to answer? Do you really want to deal with how many calls you’ll receive if you don’t?

The burden of dealing with this alone is too much to bear.

But you’ve been left with no other choice.

“H-Hello?” you whimper, eager to get it over with. The breathing starts, and you’re surprised that this time it’s enough to make you cry. And it’s not just a few tears falling. Whoever is on the other end of the call will undoubtedly know what you’ve been reduced to. “Please stop doing this. W-What do you want from me?” you cry.

It's useless, though, the breathing just continues.

“I can’t t-take it anymore, please, p-please…”

“Mmmmpf,” you hear, it’s cracked and strained and it makes you feel sick. You aren’t sure if you’re imagining things, or if this sicko is actually getting off to the sound of your anguish and desperate pleas. “Thank you.” they say, the voice is deep and distorted but it’s clear as day.

Your breath is trapped in your lungs. And for the first time, they hang up.

You just can’t anymore.

Can’t breathe.

Can’t function.

Can’t think.

You can think enough to call Oli, though. Tremoring digits manage to navigate away from the takeout website to bring up your text thread with Oliver once more. And you don’t hesitate to press the call button.

Your eyes are soaked, vision blurry like a smudged camera lens as you look around your barren apartment while you wait for him to pick up.

“Hi gorgeous,” he answers, a seductive lilt in his tone. If you weren’t so worked up, you’d be flustered. You can picture the smirk on his face as he talks, though you aren’t really listening. “What’s up, baby? Calling to brag about that pizza?”

“O-li.” you sniff, voice cracking after each vowel. He’s silent, but you hear him move. Like he’s sitting upright suddenly, ready to spring into action to rescue you. “He c-called. Again, Oli… again—”

“Shit.” he sighs. “Do you want me to—”

“Please… come get me. ‘m so scared, don’t wanna be here a-alone.” you whine.

“I’m on my way.” he tells you. “I won’t be long, baby. I promise. See ya soon, princess.” he finishes, cutting off the line as he rushes to his car.

Your body stiffens as the silence of your apartment hits you once more. You can’t waste time, though. So, you pack. You’re quick about it, too. You fill your biggest bag with toiletries, a change of clothes and sleepwear… and your coursework.

There’s no way you’ll be doing any work tonight, but you can at least pretend you’re functioning like normal. You can’t let this creep dictate your entire life, right? Maybe being with Oliver will actually keep you calm enough to actually get some of your work started.

Oli: I’m outside x

The black night sky makes your heart race as you walk out of your apartment. The winter cold is harsher in the bleak evenings. Your thin sweater isn’t enough to protect you from the air nipping at your skin.

It’s the least of your worries; all you can think about is the fact this stalker of yours could be watching you right now. It could be anyone. Someone from your class, someone you shared the elevator with, your next-door neighbour. The very thought makes your steps quicken. You’re hurrying to the elevator and bashing the button until it arrives. It’s the first time you’ve felt safe since you left your apartment, because you’re alone. But even then, your skin breaks into goosebumps as you look up at the CCTV camera in the corner.

You’ll never feel safe, not really.

You rush down the road when you see Oliver’s car in the distance. He honks, and it’s all you need to run to him. You’re running like an athlete, and it feels more humiliating than it should. You’re sure Oliver understands why you’re frightened; and you’re sure he won’t judge you for sprinting to the car. But, still, it feels pathetic.

You open the door roughly before you practically dive into the passenger seat. He moves out of the way a little as you throw your overnight bag into the back seat.

“Hey, you’re alright now. Yeah? I’ve got you.” he speaks softly, doing what he can to relax you. You almost melt into his touch as he tucks a hair behind your ear. You do, a little, your body almost melds to the plush leather seat. Your head falls backwards onto the head rest, and your lip begins to wobble. “Poor thing…” he sighs.

“D-Drive, please…” you say, voice weak and strained.

He nods, driving off towards the frat house.

“I wouldn’t worry, you know.” he tells you, putting his hand on your thigh as he drives slow and carefully. You don’t object to his advances, in fact, it’s a comfort to feel his warm hand on your bitter flesh. Even his rough thumb stroking your skin is a welcome feeling. “It’s probably your ex, princess.”

“You think so?” you wonder. “I don’t know… he didn’t take the breakup well, but—”

“You never know what people will resort to when they’re heartbroken, baby.” he tells you, uneven eyes focus on you even as he drives. It makes you nervous, but his calm demeanour forces you to ignore it. You trust him, wholly. “Plus, he knows he lost the best thing that’ll happen to him in his pathetic life.”

“… Oli.” you smile, looking down at your knees as you try to avoid his cocksure stare.

He doesn’t say another word for the rest of the journey.

You come face to face with Lacey as you walk through the grandiose double doors. You feel like a guest of honour as you enter the castle that Oliver Aiku reigns over. Everyone is filled with warm smiles and happy faces as you see them. But your expression in return is feeble. You try to smile, but you’re so downtrodden, and Lacey immediately knows why.

She doesn’t even care that you don’t say hello when you run by her on the stairs and hurry to Oliver’s room. Oliver remains at the bottom while he watches you flee.

“She got another call.” he informs your roommate.

“Fuck.” she hisses through her teeth as she looks back up the stairs. Her voice is filled with remorse as she thinks things through. “I shouldn’t have left her alone; I knew she was—”

“S’alright, Lace,” Oliver smiles, his pristine pearly whites instantly put her at ease. “You can’t be with her every second, don’t blame yourself.” his eyes are so warm and full of love, she sees it every time he talks about you. He’s good for you, she thinks. He’s so sweet about you and he’s crazy about you.

“Give her our best.” Eita tells him, putting a hand on Lacey’s shoulder as they descend the stairs. “We’re going to smoke in the garden.”

“Enjoy yourselves, kids.” Oliver smirks, winking at them before chasing after you.

He sees you making yourself comfortable in his room. You’re already undressed, and you don’t care that he can see you. He doesn’t dare look away, either. But you don’t mind. He watches as you put on the mismatched pyjamas you threw into your bag, and he sits beside you on the bed after you collapse backwards onto the mattress.

“I’m gonna change my number,” you whisper. “I should have done that in the first place…”

“Good idea.” he agrees. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his hand rest atop your head, his thumb delicately stroking your forehead again and again. He swears he sees you fall asleep for a second before you scare yourself awake with a too heavy breath. “Should we get you that pizza?”

You nod, lightly.

“I’d like that.”

He’s the perfect gentleman. You’re lucky to know Oli, you think. That’s how you feel anyway, as he watches you in silence while simultaneously encouraging your efforts in getting your schoolwork done.

He was kind, and he was helpful. Telling you that you could take a break or stop all together for the evening when your food arrived. And so, you spent a good while making notes and studying textbooks.

“Atta girl.” he winks at you, teasingly, when you begin to scribble down words onto pages. “I’m proud of you, baby, don’t let that idiot get under your skin.”

“Thanks Oli, I—” you’re cut off by the sound of your phone vibrating. You look over your shoulder and back to the desk you’ve been sitting at for the last 35 minutes. “O-Oli…” you whimper, showing him your phone.

He sets his own phone down on his bedside cabinet as he focuses on yours. It’s them. Oliver takes your phone, eyes furrowed as he debates whether to answer or not - choosing to answer brazenly. He puts it on loudspeaker, if only so you can confirm it is indeed the man who’s been harassing you endlessly.

The breaths are heavy but also stifled. It’s like he’s trying to control himself. He’s trying to be quiet. Oliver looks at you for answers, but you don’t have any for him. You haven’t got a single solitary clue on how to deal with these calls anymore.

Nothing works.

“Keep messing with her, I’ll fuck you up.” he says sternly. He eyes you up to make sure you’re listening to him. He wants you, needs you, to know he’s going to protect you at any cost. “We know who you are, so knock it the fuck off.”

He presses the big red disconnect button and puts your phone down beside you on the desk. He’s a little taken aback when you rush into his arms, your head resting on his firm chest while your arms wrap tightly around his torso. His hand comes down gently on the crown of your head and hear him emit a soft chuckle. You can’t see the small smile etching its way across his face, but you know it’s there.

“I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you, okay?” he assures you. You feel like a different person, with him. It’s like you’re having an out of body experience when you find yourself lunging forward on your tippy toes to place your lips against his. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. Not right away, at least. He holds your shoulders after a few seconds go by. “Where did that come from?” he smirks.

“I don’t know, sorry… I just—” you’re interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. You back away a little, smiling. “Saved by the bell.” you joke.

“I’ll go,” he closes the gap between you again, bending down to capture your lips in a soft, chaste kiss once again. “Find a movie or something, anything you want.” he whispers against your skin before parting from you.

You shiver, slightly, after he closes the door behind himself. The rational side of you knows that you’re fine. Nothing bad is going to happen right now. But you can’t help feeling safer with Oli around.

Maybe that’s why you kissed him.

You’re just so grateful to him.

“We should prob’ly go to sleep.”

You nod, agreeing when you see the time tick tick ticking on the plain black clock above his desk. A few hours had passed since the most recent call. You didn’t even pick a movie, you ended up watching some silly gaming videos on YouTube while you ate together.

It was divine.

And you can’t deny the possibility that it tasted better with a smile on your face and good company.

You get under the covers, your body feeling warmer as you watch Oliver circle the bed to turn off the light. He’d decided to forgo wearing anything to cover his chiselled body, and you suspect he did it on purpose.

The room is plunged into darkness until he uses the flashlight on his phone to guide his way back to bed. The mattress sinks behind you as he gets under the covers, and you only just manage to suppress a yelp when he presses his body against yours. You could quite literally dissolve under the pressure.

He smirks against the juncture between your neck and shoulder as he kisses you there, a desperate mewl escaping you in an instant. His hand rests on the curve of your hip, though his thick fingers begin to sink into your malleable flesh. You can’t even bring yourself to protest as you feel him not so subtly nudge his hips into you. And you can feel him.

“Oli… w-we shouldn’t.” you say, softly, the desperation clinging to your tongue gives away your true feelings instantly. You shouldn’t? That’s your opinion, clearly, as a rough hand winds its way around your body and up the baggy unflattering t-shirt you’d decided to wear.

“Are you sure?” he whispers against the hairs standing on end on the back of your neck. Words formulating in your mouth crumble to pieces when he squeezes the supple flesh of your breasts, alternating between them like he’s deciding which is his favourite. He experimentally rolls one of your nipples between his finger and thumb, and he’s mesmerised by the sound you release and the way you back your ass up against his aching length. He offers his own breathy sound in response. It’s almost a gasp. “You like this?” he wonders aloud despite knowing.

And you could cry as you nod.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched. Since you’ve been loved.

And why should you put your needs on hold just because you’re a little scared?

“What about just the tip, princess?” he mutters, you feel your panties soak through as gravelly words enter your ear canal. He’s that desperate. He needs you that badly that he’s prepared to settle for just the tip. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand how much I need you, baby?”

“We r-really shouldn’t…” you tell him.

Even through the material of the top you’re wearing, you feel his rock hard body pressed heavily into your back. His hard-on makes you dizzy, you may as well be drunk from how much the room is spinning as you do all you can to resist.

“But you want to.” he tells you. He moves you onto your back and cages you in. He brushes his bulging sweats into your heat, his head drooping as he feels so close but so far to what he’s always wanted. Since the very moment he set his sights on you, he wanted this. “I can feel you, princess. You can feel me too, yeah?” he asks.

“Y-Yes, Oli… I feel you.”

“So stop fightin’ it.” he commands, though there’s a level of desperation interlaced with his words. He pulls down his sweats and his cock springs free, slapping against his abs and leaving a sticky smear against his tensing muscles. You whimper when he repeatedly taps his cockhead against your clit, even through the layers you’re wearing to cover it. Your toes curl. “Just the tip, sweetheart. C’mon, for me… been waiting so long for this.”

You don’t even answer before he hooks deft fingers into the waistline of your shorts. He leaves your panties, though. And you yelp as his fingers tease the pretty lace covering your drippy folds. He hums, he moans as his fingers run along the clothed length of your slit.

“You’re fucking soaking, baby. You need this cock, please. Let me fuck you. Why are you tryna deny yourself of a good time?”

And with that, you find yourself nodding dumbly.

He growls at your muted answer. It’s all he needs. It’s all he fucking needs and he’s happy his odd coloured eyes even manage to pick up on the gesture even in the dark. Could he have imagined it? He doesn’t know, nor does he care when your legs spread open for him like a flower once he moves your panties aside. The dewiness is cold against the crease of your thigh, but it’s barely noticeable as Oli spits down on your pulsing clit.

“Just the tip, o-okay?” you stutter.

“Mmm,” he answers. He hisses as your tight cunt swallows him, practically sucking in the head of his cock as soon as your entrance feels him. His eyes lose focus for a second and his breathing is erratic.

It’s happening.

It’s really happening.

He almost loses balance, hands settling on your bent knees so he can stabilise himself. You’ve been playing so hard to get for so long. And even you aren’t sure why.

He cups your face as he lowers his body on top of yours. His lips slot against your own as he kisses you passionately, though he breaks it soon enough.

“’m sorry.” he apologises. And you’re confused, only for a moment, before you feel his full-length plunge into your unprepped walls. Your hands fly to his back, nails digging and scratching over beautiful musculature and marking him like he’s yours “You’re fucking tight, baby.” he chuckles, kissing you again as his hips begin to gyrate.

“Oli, I said—”

“Don’t care.” he argues, already knowing what you’re about to say. “You feel too good. So tight f’me, princess. ‘n I’m making you feel good, yeah? Let me fuck you, stop thinking and take it.” he tells you, hips snapping harder to accentuate his point.

“Nngh—!” you moan, your nails still claw and mark at his back. He chuckles, darkly, as you draw blood. He doesn’t care, not in the least. He hadn’t expected you to be like this, but he can’t say he isn’t enjoying it. He kisses your neck as his thrusts get deeper and harsher. You feel his lips curve as you clench around him tighter.

He’s found your spot.

That perfect spot deep inside of your perfect cunt.

Your tight walls that now he’s certain were made for him to fuck. He pulls out, and it’s so brief. But the way you’re whimpering tells him how much of a good girl you are. You’re trained without even needing to cum. You’ve never been fucked so good.

After all of the sex you had with your ex, you didn’t know missionary could feel like this.

Doggy was always your favourite because it was the only time you could really feel anything with him. But this… you can feel him in your fucking throat. Your mind is blank as he pounds into you again and again at an unrelenting pace.

“Who’s making you feel good?” he mumbles into your ear. You feel close to passing out when he nibbles on your earlobe right after. Your cunt clenches and he laughs because he swears if you do that again you might actually break his cock. “Who’s fucking you so good, hm? Tell me who’s making your pretty pussy purr.”

“Y-You!” you gasp. “Oli, please! Please don’t stop.” you wail.

You can’t even feel embarrassed at the thought of anyone hearing you. Not when he’s dangling your first penetrative orgasm right in front of your face like a donkey with a hanging carrot. You mumble his name like it’s a prayer as he batters into your g-spot as if it were his soul reason for living.

“Waited too fuckin’ long for this,” he admits, the scruff of his facial hair scratches your skin as he gives you a filthy, sordid tongue kiss whilst continuing to assault the button deep within that will lead to your eventual ruin. And it’s close. It’s so fucking close and the two of you can feel it. “First time you’ve been fucked properly. That pathetic ex of yours—”

“D-Don’t,” you warn him, having no desire talking about your potential stalker when you’re so close to reaching your peak.

He grabs your face and squeezes until your lips pucker for him. Your eyes widen as he stares into them. You will listen to what he has to say, he’s making damn sure of it.

“Had a perfect pussy right in his face ‘n he didn’t know what to do with her.” he smirks. “No wonder you didn’t want him anymore.”

“Oli,” you sob. “Oli, please.”

“But I can make you cum.” he tells you. He frees your face and holds his hands under the bends of your knees. You feel every breath in your lungs escape as he folds you in half. He can’t help but laugh, not quite at your expense but it feels like that regardless. Only because he’s shocked. He can’t believe such a simple change could have you cumming so quickly for him. “Good girl, that’s it, baby.” he praises you.

“Haah, hah, aaaah! O-Oli! Mmmpf—!” you gasp, creaming around him pathetically as he drills his length in and out of you.

“I’ll make you cum t-that hard. Every fucking time, princess.” he stutters as he nears his own end. He isn’t sure, but he’s almost certain he sees your eyes cross as you cum for him. God you’re such a slut. He can’t believe you’ve been acting so coy and hard to get for so long. You’ll be addicted, now. You won’t be able to get enough now that you’ve experienced what a good fuck can really do for you. “Fuck. Fuuuuu-ck…” he finishes, still thrusting into you.

The warmth you feel coat your insides has your self esteem at an all time high. And you hate how much of a simple-minded girl you really are. As if guys won’t cum in anything they stick their dicks in if given the chance. And, still, you feel so special that Oliver Aiku chose you to be his own personal cum dump for the night.

His sweet words and ability to make you unravel make you feel more meaningful to him than you really are. He kisses you repeatedly before collapsing by your side. His seed dribbles out of your spent cunt and, now, you feel disgusting. But it doesn’t take long for him to catch his breath and move to spoon you again. He puts his softening length back inside, intent on keeping you plugged up with the goal of falling asleep like this.

“T-Thank you… Oli…” you whisper.

He doesn’t speak.

But a sweet kiss on your shoulder is all you needed from him.

“Oliver.” you whisper.

He grunts in response, and that’s all. You consider saying his name again. You consider saying it a little louder this time so he’ll hear you. But instead, you drop it. If anything, it’s probably a blessing. You raise your head a little to check where all of your belongings are. If he’s so out of it that he can’t even respond to his name, you should take the chance to sneak out before anyone can tease you about your antics.

You’re expecting an earful from Lacey. She’ll want to talk about every sordid detail. And, truthfully, you’d rather die. You’re embarrassed. You’re ashamed of yourself for even having sex on your mind when you’re dealing with a stalker.

The thought of the other guys seeing you is filling you with embarrassment, too. You know already without even seeing them that everyone knows what you did. You were so loud, both of you were. And in the moment, you didn’t care. Oliver didn’t either, but he’ll wake up not caring too.

Guys that hadn’t heard you fucking will have definitely been told by now. You’ll be greeted by smirks and torment on your way out of the frat. You should have known this would end up happening. It’s been obvious how much Oliver wanted this for a long time, and you held off, but last night you were weak.

So weak, and now you want to runaway from the scene of the crime.

You’re taken aback as you try and get out of bed but you’re pulled straight back into Oliver’s arms.

“Where’d you think you’re going?” he asks.

Fuck.

As if he couldn’t get any sexier, of course his morning voice is hot. It’s coarse and rugged and you instinctively melt back into his arms. You’ll tell him. You will tell him that you’re leaving. Right after you grind on him a little bit.

Just a little bit.

“I h-have to go,” you lie. “I’ve got things to do, Oli.”

“Mmm, don’t care. Got morning wood, feel it?” he asks. His arm snakes around your body and his palm flattens against your stomach so that your ass is pressed against his erection once again. “Can’t go ‘til you do something about it.”

“Oli I, aah, fu—! N-Not fair…” you mewl as his fingers dip into your panties and his fingers begin to play with your silky clit.

“Suck me off.” he commands, his touches on your clit become lighter and lighter until he stops completely. “I’ll finger you ‘til you’re droolin’ if you suck this cock f’me, princess.” he stuffs his wet fingers into your mouth so you can taste yourself. It catches you off guard, and you sputter around them. But as he continues to finger fuck your face, you begin to mewl around his thick digits. “Good girl, just suck my cock like that.”

He reaches behind his head and throws a pillow to the ground for you. He lifts you so you’re facing him, and can’t quite believe how seamlessly he manages to carry and move you exactly where he wants.

And then you remember, he’s experienced.

He sits on the edge of the bed whilst your legs are wrapped around his waist as you make out. He bites your lip and encourages you to drop to the ground. You nod, reluctantly, worried that you won’t be able to give the performance he’s hoping for.

But regardless, he watches as you move the pillow across the floor and between his feet so you can kneel on it.

You whimper a little as your legs widen as you kneel, feeling last nights ejaculate slowly drip out of you and onto his fresh, pristine pillow. He doesn’t care, though. His dick is soaked from your cunt and his pre. And it’s all you can think about as he lightly slaps it against your nose and lips.

Your jaw loosens and your mouth is a perfect ‘O’ shape for him to slot into. His fingers lace through your hair as he slowly lowers you onto his cock. You hadn’t noticed in the dark, but he’s uncircumcised. You’ve never seen a dick like his before.

Your hand wraps around his length as you take him into your mouth, but you soon pull away again. You can’t believe how much easier it is to work someone with foreskin.

He smirks, seeing the thoughts go through your head. He’s so sensitive and receptive and you’re clueless. He’s practically putty in your hands and yet you think he’s the one in control. You’re so cute and naïve.

He loves girls like you.

“Suck it, princess.” he commands. “S’not a toy, y’know. Suck my dick clean.”

You clear your throat before sinking down onto his length once again, finding a steady rhythm to suck and lick and take him down your throat. He’s average length, but he’s girthy. It’s hard to take, honestly. Compared to your pencil-dicked ex, your eyes are watering and you’re doing anything and everything not to choke or gag.

He sees it, too, he’s got a perfect view as he tugs at your hair to make sure you’re keeping eye contact with him as you suck him dry.

“That’s a good slut,” he smirks through a heavy breath. “Take this dick, jus’ like that…” he continues.

Your thighs squeeze together as he degrades you. You don’t like it, you don’t like that you’ve become a slut after being his princess. But at the same time, you love it. You want to hear it again. So you take him deeper. And deeper.

“Such a dumb girl letting that loser ex of yours stick his dick in you.” he says, licking his lips as he pushes your head lightly. His chest rises and falls rapidly as the pressure of his hand intensifies until your nose brushes against brunette curls, and then squishes against his pubis. “And now he’s stalking you… what do you think he’d do if he knew you were sucking this cock?” he asks, his voice breathy and desperate as his hips start to buck.

You try to pull away, but the barely trying effort of his hand keeping you in place is somehow stronger. He coos as you stutter, struggling to breathe through the desperation.

“Breathe through your nose, stupid.” he tells you. “Good cock makes pretty girls like you real dumb.” he smiles.

He yanks at your hair until you’re fully removed from his cock. Pre and dribble pools from your mouth as you gasp desperately. You want to be mad at him, you want to tell him not to speak to you like that.

But you can’t.

Not when his lips are on yours and you feel yourself getting off from the idea of him tasting himself on your tongue. You’re breathless and out of words when he breaks it momentarily, and the sound of tacky masturbation is like a tidal wave in your ears.

“My pretty little slut, aren’t you?” he asks, kissing you again before you can answer. You can’t answer when your head is so empty. Is that really what you are? It doesn’t matter, you suppose. He’s already decided for you. “God, don’t you have any self-respect? Don’t you think you deserve better than being a stupid slut for me?”

His face contorts as he jerks himself harder and faster. You’re too busy thinking about his question to notice, though. You suck his tip into your mouth before he forces you away. His intimidating glare telling you that he’s looking for an answer this time.

“M-Maybe…” you pout, eyes wet and wide as you wonder aloud. Do you deserve better? Isn’t this all your good for? He’ll keep you safe, at least. He seems to like you more than any other girl on campus. He’s the best fuck you’ve ever had and you’re way more into him than you’d ever let on.

And just the as word leaves your lips, he’s moaning boisterously. Your face painted in white, pearly cum. A showing of just how much worth you have in his eyes. It feels almost endless as he gives you a full facial, hissing as it drips from your eyelash and into your eye.

He scrapes some of it from your face and force feeds it into your mouth.

You’re disgusting, too, because you suck without question.

“Fuck, you’re nasty.” he laughs. He lifts you up from the ground and tosses you onto the bed with little care. You almost want to cry from the stinging sensation you feel in your eye. You should have left when you had the chance. Instead you’re starting off the morning and Oliver Aiku’s cum rag. You don’t feel much better when he throws your shorts at you. “Clean yourself up.”

You try your best, focusing the material around your eye area as you try to do some sort of damage control. You see him tuck his dick into his sweats with your unaffected eye, and he swaggers towards the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“I’ll get you a towel, wait here.” he tells you.

He hastens down the stairs and walks into the kitchen. The frat is bare, he suspects most of the guys must still be in bed. Though as soon as he rounds the corner, he notices Eita sitting at the kitchen table. They share a knowing smirk, silently celebrating the fact that Oliver finally got what he wanted out of you.

Oliver pours himself a bowl of cereal, leaning against the counter as he crunches it between his teeth. Eita looks up from his phone after a few moments of silence and finally speaks.

“Did you fuck her, then? Or—”

“Fucked her stupid. ‘n she sucked me off this morning.” he smirks, slurping the milk on his spoon as he thinks about your pretty face covered in his seed. “All thanks to you, my friend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eita laughs, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear and igniting it with a lighter from his pocket.

“No no, really, thank you.” he laughs, “I got to be her knight in shining armour when you called her last night. She was so easy to fuck after that.” he grins, holding a fist out for him to bump. Eita chuckles, trading which hand holds his cigarette before returning the gesture.

“You’re such a sick fuck.” Eita laughs, scrolling through his phone. “Look,” he shows his screen to Oliver. He can only laugh when he sees yet another article about the psycho serial killer that has made your anxiety worse than it already would be with a stalker on the loose.

“I’m not the one killing girls, am I?” Oliver comments, “Just scaring one girl with some heavy breathing.” he shrugs.

Even he isn’t twisted enough to think whoever this local serial killer is isn’t completely fucked up. But he can’t deny that it started happening at the perfect time. After he set his plan in motion to be your stalker. After he planted a seed in your mind that he’d always be there for you if you needed him. He’d always protect you no matter what happened, and he wasn’t about to let this stalker get to you.

You fell for it. Hook, line and sinker. You’re even starting to suspect your stupid limp dick ex because he told you to suspect him. Oliver Aiku, the guy who’s always around when you need him most. The guy who’s always just a phone call or text message away. The guy who’s always offered to be by your side and jump in harms way to protect you.

Oliver wasn’t even on your radar.

Perfect Oliver.

Sweet Oliver.

© 2024 rinhaler

#oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku smut #oliver aiku x you #aiku x reader #aiku smut #aiku oliver x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock smut #bllk smut #blue lock x fem!reader #tw smoking #tw stalking #tw manipulation #tw dubcon #tw coercion #tw praise #tw degradation

[lipstickstainedreid]

Tequila shots

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Summary: You and the team go out. Tequila shots are flowing, which leads to a closeness you hadn't expected.

Wordcount: 2787

NSFW, fem!dom!reader, Sub!Spencer, Praisekink

------------------------------------------------------------------------------The team decided that it was a good night to go out, after an especially hard case to celebrate. You were happy to find a nice black top in the back of your car. It’s off the shoulder and accentuates your cleavage nicely without being too much. 

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror of the bar. Sighing you touch up your lipstick and fluff your hair for more volume. 

“Y/n!” you hear Emily knock on the bathroom door. 

“Coming!” You yell back. 

You give yourself one more look before heading back into the bar. 

Everybody is stuffed into a booth in the back. The Rolling Stones playing over the speakers gives the bar a nice vibe. A few small groups are scattered around, a couple of guys playing darts. Overall it’s not as busy as you’d expect.

You sit down next to Emily. “What are we talking ‘bout?” You smile. 

Your eyes scan the table, everybody already has a drink. Morgan slides a beer towards you. You smile gratefully at him. 

Your eyes get stuck on Spencer, he took off his blazer and the tight-fitting dark purple shirt is very visible. You let your eyes wander over his chest, the buttons are slightly pulling on the fabric. Over the past year, he grew out of his lanky frame and into a man with broad shoulders and arms. His sleeves rolled up making his arms look even bigger. God, he looked delicious. 

“Well, Prentiss, JJ and I are convincing everyone else to go to this club a block away,” Morgan spoke.

“The average age here is 50.” Prentis sighed head resting on her hand, with the other she was waving her beer around to point at a group of elderly men. 

Rossi quirked an eyebrow in her direction.

“No offence.” She quickly mumbled. 

Spencer seemed to get nervous at the thought of going to a club. His hand ran through his hair. 

“Come on guys, we want to dance!” JJ exclaimed. Garcia gave in with a little “Whooo,” sending a wink your way. 

A night of dancing would be a good way to get your mind off of all the brutal cases you’ve seen lately. Besides it’s been forever since you had some drunken stupid fun. Who knows, what is the worst thing that could happen with your colleagues?

You take a big swig of beer. “Okay, I’m in!” You laughed. Half of the table burst out in cheers.

Hotch, Rossi and Reid still needed to be convinced. Prentis starts a small chant, tapping her beer on the table. “Clubbing, clubbing, clubbing.” JJ and Garcia join in quickly. 

“Come on Hotch, scared you can’t keep up anymore.” Morgan taunts. 

Hotch glances at the man next to him about to answer, when Rossi intervenes. “Come on Hotch let’s show these kids how it’s done.” 

More cheers erupt from the table. 

Reid is fidgeting with his hands looking up at you worried. you smile at him reassuringly and mouth “You’ll be okay.” He nods and gives you a small smile. His eyes were still a bit worried. 

The team finishes their beers and gets ready to walk to the club. 

Standing at the coat check you can already feel the bass coming from down the hall. You start feeling a little giddy, excitement filling your chest. “Y/n! you ready?” Penelope grabs your hand to pull you down the hallway. 

The music hits you like a wall. There are speakers all around the room blasting what the DJ is playing. Different coloured lights are flashing everywhere. Reid comes up next to you, anxiety visible in his shoulders and jaw. You reach over and give his hand a small squeeze. He smiles at you and lets out a breath before walking in with you. 

Prentis comes up to your group and waves everybody over. Derek is standing at the bar guarding a row of shots with his life. Everybody piles around the shots. You lick your hand and pour some salt over it. Getting ready holding the glass and lime. 

“One, two, three, shot!” Morgan yells.

The tequila burns a little going down and you grimace at the taste. The lime helps a bit. You lock eyes with Reid who seemed to have a worse experience than you. Before you can talk to him the girls pull you back on the dancefloor.

In the bathroom, you look at your phone”, the text is starting to become blurry. 2:00 AM. Your mother's voice echoes in your head “Nothing good happens after 2:00 AM.” You shake your head and look in the mirror. Why do you always feel more drunk in the bathroom than out on the dancefloor? You reapply your lipstick and tousle your hair around a little bit. You stumble a little to the door before heading back out. 

Walking past the bar you see Derek and Spencer standing around a group of girls. A small pang of jealousy hits your chest. Reid runs a hand through his hair and smiles at one of the girls. God, why did he have to look so hot today? All those girls are probably throwing themselves at him. It’s, not like he’s yours or anything but still, that doesn’t mean you have to like these girls flirting with him. Surely if you were sober this wouldn’t bother you as much. Right now your head is dizzy with alcohol, and you can’t think straight. 

As you march over there Morgan calls out “Y/n come do a shot with us!” Spencer's hair was starting to stick to his forehead from the heat and he unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. You could see the blonde girl beside him whisper something in his ear. Her hand very clearly touching his arm. Could she be even more obvious? 

Reid his cheeks were turning red by the second as he gulped. 

“Okay, it’s Reid's turn,” Morgan calls out, and all the girls cheer. Confusion is written all over your face, Derek smirks at you. 

Spencer looks even more uncomfortable wiping his hands on his trousers. 

“Okay pretty boy, it’s salt, shot, lime remember?” Reid nods, nervously looking around. 

Derek comes closer to your ear, so you can hear him over the music. “Can you help boy genius out?” 

“Sure, what do I need to do?” you answer.

“Stand there and look pretty we’ll do the rest.” 

Sounds ominous but you’re sure Derek would never do anything you’re uncomfortable with. 

He walks back to get some stuff from the bar and comes to stand behind you. 

“Don’t be scared pretty girl.” 

You feel something cold on your neck going down parallel to your collarbone. You turn your head to see salt getting poured over the same line. Derek stands in front of you now and hands you the lime. “Hold this in your mouth.” 

You do as he says. Surely this is not the most professional thing you could do but you can’t see anyone else from the BAU around. 

Spencer gets pulled by Derek to stand behind you. The blonde girl glares at you, obviously jealous of the position you’re in. 

You can feel the heat radiate from the man behind you. He’s holding the shot glass in one hand. 

Derek yells from the group of girls “One, two, three, shot!”

Spencer's big hand holds your arm as he moves even closer. You feel him completely pressed behind you as he dips his head down. His tongue moving across the strip of salt. 

Tingles shoot up and down your spine. Just as fast as his mouth leaves your neck he turns you around. He takes the shot and puts the glass down. Both of his hands hold your face. He pulls you close to take the lime from between your lips. 

Your breath stops. You’ve never been this close to the man in front of you. Your mind is consumed by the thought of this man. All you can think about is closing the gap between your lips. You lock eyes as he moves away. The confidence in his actions seems to fade away as he steps away from your body. 

“Okay, Y/n now it’s your turn!” Morgan exclaims from behind you. His words slowly bring you back to where you are. “Pretty boy, you want to return the favour?” he taunts. 

Spencer mumbles something which gets taken as a yes. The blonde girl drags the lime over the space on his chest now visible with the part of the shirt that’s unbuttoned. She shakes the shaker to pour salt over his chest. She gives him a wink before walking away. Reid takes the lime from Morgan, who hands you the shot after.

Something about this girl so obnoxiously flirting with Spencer is setting something off in you. Maybe you had some unresolved feelings about this man. You knew you were attracted to him, who wouldn’t be? This was a jealousy deeper than that. 

You were aware these girls wanted to go home with Spencer tonight. Something switched in your mind. Fuck it let’s give them a show.

You approach the taller man, who’s staring nervously at you. With your free hand, you move the shirt out of the way and you lick a long strip over his chest, not breaking the eye contact. Spencer's eyes darken as he looks down at you. You take the shot and use both hands to pull Spencer down by his shirt. You’re filled with longing as you hold him there. Taking the lime from his lips, you feel his breath hitch in the closeness shared for a split second. 

“Let’s go,” you growl in his ear. Reids's hand grabs yours as he pulls away. He manoeuvres you across the dancefloor filled with partygoers. When he finds an empty bathroom he pulls you inside and closes the door. 

You push him against the door and with your other hand you lock it. Your lips connect in a passionate kiss. Fireworks go off in your chest as you’re mind is buzzing with alcohol and lust. Your lips move against his with hunger. His hands try to touch you anywhere he can. They move from your hips to your waist to pull you closer to him to your face. Your hands are unbuttoning his shirt. When his shirt is open you push it from his shoulders and let it fall on the bathroom floor. You break the kiss and a soft whine escapes the taller man. You let your eyes travel over Spencer. His blonde hair all tousled, cheeks red and lips flushed, his eyes stay focussed on yours. 

“Such a pretty boy” you whisper against his ear as you leave wet kisses down his neck. He lets out a quiet breath from the feeling. You smile against his neck and suck harder leaving maroon and purple bruises all over his collarbone. 

His knees almost buckle from the feeling. Your hands move down from his chest to his thighs. You softly brush against his groin feeling how hard he already is. 

“Are you so needy already?” You coo. 

Spencer nods feverishly “Please let me make you feel good.” He begs. 

“Not yet baby,” your hands move to his belt slowly undoing it. “There is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” You quickly pull his pants and boxers down.

He gasps at the feeling of the cold air on his dick. A drop of precum already collecting at the tip. You smile as you slowly move your hand around his shaft. You go teasingly slow at first looking up at the man in front of you. 

Spencer is leaning his head against the door, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed together. 

You start licking at the tip, then moving from the base down his shaft. Spencer lets out a moan at the feeling. You take the tip in your mouth as his hand buries in your hair. 

You start bobbing up and down his dick, your cheeks hollow. Enjoying the pretty sounds he’s making. Your hands grab his thighs. You notice Spencer is starting to move with your head trying to go deeper down your throat. He feels heavy on your tongue. 

“Please Y/n,” he whimpers “Please let me cum.”

You move away from him. “Not so fast baby. Slowly standing up you keep one hand on his length, moving it teasingly slow. You feel him trying to gain some more friction by moving his hips. You loved having this incredible man so desperate for you. 

“You’re being so good for me baby.”

Spencer moans at the praise. 

“You want to fuck me, make me feel good?” 

He nods his hands again trying to pull you closer. 

“Please miss.”

You bring him towards the sink as you jump up on the counter. Pulling on his blonde locks you lock lips again. His tongue brushes against your lips, you let him in. Your tongues circle each other. Spencer's hands move to the bottom of your shirt. 

“Can I take it off?” He murmurs against your lips. You nod in response. 

He quickly moves his head away to remove the top and throws it down on the ground. He stares at you for a moment. His lips connect to your chest as his hands find their way to the clasps of your bra. 

You moan at the feeling of his lips all over you. He slides the bands of your bra down your arms as it joins the pile on the floor. 

His kisses move to your right nipple, and his hand finds your left boob. He kisses and sucks on it while his hand massages the other. His teeth softly pull on it. 

“You make me feel so good baby, suck a good boy.” 

He whimpers against your chest. His hands move your skirt up to your hips as his mouth continues making its way down.  You gasp at the cold counter against your bare ass.

He hooks his fingers around your panties and moves them down your legs. They get tossed aside without looking. Spencer's mouth latches to your thigh. Wet kisses up and down your thighs. 

You feel yourself getting wetter with each passing second as your breathing becomes more heavy. 

After what feels like ages his lips find their way around your clit. His tongue moves circles around it gently applying pressure. Your hands are buried in his hair.

“Fuck Spence,” you moan. 

his tongue licks around your entrance as he continues to suck on your clit. 

Softly you feel one finger nearing your entrance. He moves it in and out of you with ease. Fuck he has long fingers. 

A second one joins. 

“Fuck baby,” He curls his fingers to hit your g-spot “you feel so good.” Your moans come out broken from the pleasure.

He continues eating you out as if his life depended on it. 

A familiar tightness forms and your legs start shaking.

“Don’t stop Spence, I’m so close.” This only seems to make him more enthusiastic. His tongue still circling your clit. His long fingers fucking you. You can’t take it anymore.

“I’m gonna cum Spence.” You warn him. 

Your sweet release covers his face as you moan his name. 

The man comes up from between your legs with a hazy smile. You brush his hair out of his face. 

“You did so good sweetheart.”

You give him a soft kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. Something that sends a wave of endorphins through you. 

Your hand moves down to his shaft again, still standing ready. With your other hand on his shoulder, you pull him closer to you. You give him a few pumps before lining him up with your entrance.

He moves into you. You both moan at the feeling as he slowly bottoms out. 

“Fuck you’re so big baby, you make me feel so good.” 

He whimpers “Thank you miss.”

Spencer starts thrusting slowly first, moaning at the feeling of you surrounding him.

“Faster baby.” At these words, he starts fucking you faster. 

You press your nails into his shoulders. Whispering encouragements and praise into his ear. 

His hips snapping into you faster and faster. 

You feel your walls fluttering around him, feeling the familiar tightening in your stomach. Spencer starts moving faster and deeper. You can tell he’s getting close.

“Be a good boy and cum for me.”

That’s all it takes for Spencer and you to fall over the edge. His hips stutter as he lets out loud moans. He lets his head hang against yours as he fills you up. 

You kiss his head.

“Such a good boy.”

#reid #spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #smut #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #matthew gray gubler #fanfic #criminal minds fic

[tomorrcwz]

could you write we are never ever getting back together w/ rb seb or another dilf 🫶🏿

★ . . . 𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐕𝟓

pairing: rb!sebastian vettel x ex!reader

in which you swear, you're never ever get back together with your ex sebastian, your first love, but it's harder than you thought when taking a trip down memory lane.

you were dead sent on your promise, you drunkly made on yesterday's night out with your girl friends at that small shabby looking bar around your street's corner — you were never ever ever go back to your ex, your stupidly handsome, cheeky, talented, rich boyfriend who has made a living out of his hobby, racing around the world, and who's blue eyes were deeper in it's colour than the ocean after a rainy day and the dirty blonde hair, which fell stunningly against his forehead in lose curls. those, you loved to comb your finger through them when you found yourselves on a sofa or bed, his head, comfortably resting on your lap, looking up to you with a cute smile, you had fallen in love with summers ago — back when you were green behind the ears, knowing absolutely nothing about love but thought otherwise.

no, sebastian vettel and you were over, forever and some more because you were a better person now, smarter than before. it should've ended after the first breakup that was caused by sebs hands — he said, he needed space, even though you haven't seen each other for a while 'cause of his hectic work schedule and you studying and working back home, resulting in you not attending every race on the calendar or more specifically said, all but two.

so the first break up happened, and oh well, you didn't really get his reasoning behind his words, but in a short span, you got together again after calling nights in a row, him halfway across the globe.

"I miss you badly, hase (bunny)", the german man sheepishly mumbled under his breath, face mushed against the pillow of his hotel room bed as he awaited your answer.

a low moan escaped your lips. you knew it wasn't going to work but you loved him too much, your first love.

"oh basti", you said, voice laced with longing. "i do, too, so much. when are you coming back home? we could meet up. . ."

on the other side of the call, you heard his laugh. "but should we?"

you also giggled slightly, realizing that the pair of you already went over the translucent barrier of broken up exes, strangers, friends, whatever you should be. "we definitely should. you love me, don't you?", you sweetly asked him, fumbling with the teddy bear he got you in monaco last year when you visited him at work and spent days afterwards with him in the heart of monte carlo, relaxing on the beach, shopping at the local shops and markets, and went on hikes. "because i love you."

silence greeted you for a second, and then another few, letting you wait in anticipation, wondering if he loved you or just wanted to have fun, have someone so he wouldn't get bored or—. "hase, there's no one i love like i love you, you know that, right? we complete and compliment each other so well", he answered. "I'd give you the world just to hug und kiss you right now."

you sign, a stupid grin growing on your lips. "then come back, sooner than later, yeah?"

"I wouldn't want to leave a lady waiting, hase."

and as he had said over and over again on the phone, he did come back for you, going as far as picking you up after work with a fancy looking car, you didn't want to guess the price of, dressed up in a dark button up and fitting jeans, sunglasses resting on his nose, hiding one of his most striking features.

you had hugged him in the car, no worry clinging in your brains as you pushed the dark glasses out of his face, interlocking lips hotly and climbing in his lap on the driver's seat, grinding down on him, making out like horny teenagers — which wasn't far off as you were just two young individuals, high on the feeling of being in love.

afterwards he drove you home to let you doll up for a date night which ended with him pushing you roughly into the sheets, rolling and play fighting, kissing and groping, moaning and whining. you felt right back into the relationship like you never had broken up in the first place. the only difference was the closeness; you took more breaks to visit him, travel the world alongside him and he in turn showed more interest towards your work and study, returning faster home to you.

but maybe that was the problem, the cause of another break up, this one.

you grew too fast close, too close, leaving no space — whenever he was home, you did everything and anything together, even if it was a one (wo)man task; there was unsolved pressure with the actions, causing you to fight more than beforehand and leaving you to passionately more or less solve a disaster by having sex. there were no character growth nor deep talk, you both rather went to your friends to talk about how dumb the newest problem in your relationship was — and his friends shared his views with yours, and they let you know about the information, resulting in more fights.

alas, in the end you broke up again just yesterday night, drunkly blocking his number to avoid the silent plea of a voice in your heart to call him, to beg him to take you back.

you'd miss him picking fights, you thinking you were always in the right and him escaping the house to listen some rock album in his old bmw. in addition to that you'd miss his cheeky comments, the loudness of his laughters, the blue hues of his magnificent eyes and the love he wore on his sleeve, showing it openly towards the world. you'd miss his warm touch and lips on your neck, the gently squeezing of your hands whenever you were out.

you'd miss your first love but sometimes it was for the better and cutting contact to distance would let you heal.

or so you thought because he had called you this morning, your head pounding, to tell you on your voice box that he still loved you — it left you feel exhausted and you strongly believed that you were never ever getting back together.

the teddy bear would acts as a reminder of firsts with a lover, him sitting prettily on sebs side of the bed.

˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗ rina speaks : loved the request, pls send more !!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel fanfic

[thetriumphantpanda]

take me away to paradise

You guys voted and you wanted part 4 of Joel being a menace so here you go, the next instalment of my dbf!Joel. Shoutout to the anon who sent me the ask with the inspiration for this part - I love you.

Pairing | dbf!Joel x female reader

Summary | Joel is back fixing up the attic, you're stressed waiting for a call about the job you really want. Stress relief seems the only option to distract yourself, until Joel discovers your trove of toys.

Word count | 2.8K

Warnings | As always, dbf!Joel is a flirty menace so be warned. There's guided masterbation, sex toys, protected (FINALLY THEY ARE SMART) PiV sex, dirty talk and some fluff for good measure.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You’re stressed. There’s no beating around the bush on this one. You’d interviewed for a job you’d wanted pretty damn badly two days ago. They’d promised to call you as soon as they’d made a decision, but you were still waiting. Phone turned off silent, volume turned all the way up so you wouldn’t miss the call. 

You’d tried everything to distract yourself – you’d gone swimming in the pool yesterday afternoon, but the scrabbling at the sides when you heard your ringtone for it to be your mom asking you to put the chicken in the oven ready for dinner that night had given you a heart attack. You’d tried reading, going for a walk, you’d even picked up a cross-stitch you’d started about four years ago and never finished, only to throw it down thirty minutes later when you’d realized you’d done two rows in the completely wrong colour. 

Today was proving even more difficult. Joel was banging around in the attic, trying to finish up the job your dad needed doing. He’d arrived pretty early – your mom only just on the way out to work. He’d given you a small smile and a hello but had been hidden upstairs for the whole morning. 

Boredom was seeping through your body, along with a tightly wound string of stress and frustration, there was only one thing for it. You shut the book you were trying to concentrate on, setting it on your nightstand, before your hand reaches into the drawer and pulls out the small bullet vibrator. Is this going to become your thing? Getting yourself off when Joel is just meters away from you? You’re pretty sure if you climbed the ladder and asked him to, he would fuck you, but there was something about thinking about him whilst you got yourself off that had excitement bubbling under your skin. 

You fit your fingers into the waistband of your shorts, pulling down just enough that you can spread your legs. You make quick work of pressing the button on the bullet vibrator a few times before it stops on your favourite setting before placing is gently against your clit. Pleasure is bursting through you almost immediately and you can’t stop the small moans that fall from your mouth as your hips start moving with your hand, pressing your clit more firmly to the vibrator. 

Your brain is foggy at best but you’re sure as you find yourself slowly edging towards your release that Joel’s name falls from your lips, wishing it was his fingers on your clit instead of your toy. You can feel the tightening in your belly and the spots that start to cloud your vision. You’re close and it’ll only take a few more moments of vibrations to push you over the edge. 

“You’ve gotta stop doin’ this kinda thing, sugar.” 

You squeal in surprise – the high you were rapidly hurtling towards quickly dissipating as you press the button to stop the vibrator. 

“You shouldn’t be listening in.” You grumble, trying to pull your shorts back to a respectable position. 

“I tried not to,” he shrugs, “But these walls?” He knocks on yours with his knuckles to prove his point, “Paper thin.” 

You make a move to put the vibrator away, now more frustrated than you had been when you began, “No need to stop on my account.” 

“Funnily enough, I’m not really in the mood anymore.” You groan as you turn over and bury your face in your pillow, attempting to mask your embarrassment. 

You can feel the bed dip beside you, and Joel’s warm hand wraps around your ankle, giving it a comforting squeeze, “Look at me, sweetheart.” 

You turn over onto your back, Joel letting your ankle go so you can move more easily, “I didn’t mean t’make ya embarrassed darlin’,” He smiles, running his hand up your leg, “Were you thinkin’ about me?” 

“Maybe.” 

“C’mon now darlin’, weren’t so shy just a minute ago when you were moaning my name, were you?” 

“Yes Joel, I was thinking about you.” You admit. 

A smirk splays across his lips, his free hand reaching for your vibrator, which he holds between his fingers in front of your face, “Show me,” His voice has dropped a few octaves and his eyes have gone dark in that way you love, “Show me how you make yourself feel good when I’m not around.” 

You stare at him for a moment before your hand is taking your vibrator from him. You lift your hips with him still sat next to you, dragging your pajama shorts down your legs, before you spread your legs. You can see his eyes flutter to your pussy, aching and wet from your earlier ministrations. You press the button and place it gently against your clit, feeling Joel’s hand come to rest at your hip, anchoring you to the bed and to his presence next to you. 

“Such a good girl for me,” He murmurs as you start to wine when you press the button again to change the setting, faster and harder vibrations thrumming through your body, “Does that feel good, baby?” 

“Feels so good,” You moan, pressing the small bullet more firmly to your clit, eager to find the high you were hurtling towards before he interrupted, “Not as good as you are though.” 

Your eyes have fluttered closed as your hips buck every so often with the vibrations, but you can still hear him chuckle and shift himself a little on the bed, “You want me t’help, darlin’?” 

“Yes!” You cry out, mostly from the fact that you’re so incredibly close to coming, but also because you can’t ever say no to this man, “Fingers, Joel,” You breath, “Put your fingers inside me.” 

You feel his hand trail up the inside of your thigh and you automatically spread your legs wider for him. His fingers dip only slightly inside of you, and you can hear a deep exhale from his mouth, “Jesus baby,” He breathes, “Always so fuckin’ wet for me.” 

“You… ohhhh fuck,” He’s slipping one of those fingers inside your pussy, curling it up automatically in the way he’s so quickly learned sends you feral, “You love it, don’t you?” You ask. 

“Love that you’re always so ready f’me?” You nod, eyes still closed as the feeling of his finger inside you, teamed with the rampant vibrations on your clit has you teetering on the edge of oblivion, “Course I do.” 

He slips his finger from your tight heat and you’re about to complain when he slips it back inside you with another, filled so deliciously. He’s shifted so he’s knelt between your thighs, free hand splayed across your belly to keep you exactly where he wants you. 

“Come on baby,” He encourages, “Wound so tight, ain’t ya?” You can only nod, “Come for me darlin’, I know you’re desperate for it.” 

It takes another few pumps of his fingers inside you before you’re crashing over the edge. Your legs are quaking, and you can feel yourself clenching tightly around Joel’s fingers as you move the vibrator from your clit, the stimulation just a little too much for you right now. 

“Good girl,” Joel has leaned forward, fingers slipping from you, to press a kiss to your forehead, then he’s taking one of your hands and placing it at the front of his jeans, you can clearly feel the outline of his cock straining, “Let me fuck you baby, please?” 

You come around from the haze of pleasure at him begging you like that – it’s new. He’s usually commanding, taking exactly what he wants from you, knowing always that you willingly give it to him. You shuffle a little underneath him, Joel pushing himself up to rest on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head and then working his belt from his jeans as you open your bedside drawer, fishing around to find a condom. You’re about to pull one out when Joel’s is crowding over you. 

“What’s this?” He pulls out the bright purple silicon that caught his eye. 

You let out another groan, not so much of embarrassment this time, more from frustration that you were desperate to have him inside you as soon as possible. 

“You got eyes?” You asked, “What does it look like Joel?” 

“Looks like a poor substitute for me, is what it looks like.” He’s smirking down at you, rolling the dildo between his hands. 

“Put it back in the drawer then,” You’re pulling at his wrist, tugging it back towards its home, “And fuck me instead.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” He’s standing quickly from the bed, shedding the rest of his clothes, you’re doing the same, pulling your tank top off, revealing you naked bodies to each other for the first time, “God, you’re a fuckin’ picture baby.” 

His big hands are running up the curves of your sides and then he’s pressing a kiss to your lips, rutting his hips into your own. You can feel his throbbing cock, sliding through your folds. You’re almost about to wrap your legs around his waist and pull him inside you when you remember his words from last time. 

“Joel,” You mumble, pushing gently at his shoulder as his head is dipped to press kisses along your neck, “Joel!” 

“Hmmm?” He lifts his head just enough to listen to you. 

You grab the condom that was discarded on the bed and hold it in front of his face. He smiles, taking it from your hands. He settles back on his thighs, and you watch as he tears the packet, deftly rolling it onto his cock in such a practiced motion you were almost jealous of all the women that had come before you to make him the man he is for you. In this moment he is quite possibly the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Broad shoulders and a thin sheen of sweat covering his tanned skin, his dark eyes and soft lips. 

He's shuffling closer to you now, hooking you’re the back of your knees in his arms, folding you almost completely in half as he wastes no time at all in slipping himself inside you. This new position has you whining below him. He’s slow in his thrusts to begin with, giving you time to adjust to being spread out and stretched like this. 

“God damn baby,” He hisses from above you, “I love bein’ able to take my time with you like this, all spread out for me.” 

A moan falls from your lips as he shifts on his knees slightly, pushing himself so deep inside you that the tip of his cock brushes your cervix. No-one before him had even gotten close to the level of pleasure you felt coursing through you at this moment in time. 

“Faster,” You beg, gripping onto his biceps as he obliges, “Fuck Joel,” Another filthy moan tumbles from your mouth, “You’re so fucking good to me.” 

“I know baby,” He coos, “I know.” 

His thrusts don’t let up, in fact, they become more intense and every hit of him bottoming out inside of you has a gasp or a moan leaving your lips. He dips his head to take one of your tits into his mouth, sucking and running the pad of his tongue over your nipple before he switches sides to shower attention on the other. Your hands managed to reach around and find a homme gripping the meat of his ass, almost daring him to go further. It’s delicious, the way his cock brushes the spot inside of you, but you want more, need more from him. 

“Joel please,” You almost sob in pleasure, “More, I need more.” 

“Darlin’, I can’t give you much more,” He’s chuckling, leaning down to crash his lips to yours, “Why don’t you put your hand on your pussy and make yourself come for me?” 

You do exactly that. Your fingers are circling your clit at a brutal pace, desperation to find another high whilst Joel is buried inside of you outweighing the pain of overstimulation you’re feeling. You can hear his own moans falling from his lips as your fingers are bringing you back to the edge. 

“Fuck baby, c’mon,” His voice is faltering, and you look up at him, he’s ruined, and you can tell he’s not going to last much longer, “Come for me.” 

In all your years of having sex with other people, not that there had been many, you’d always thought that someone demanding you to come was a myth. That there was no way a voice could hold that much power over you. Joel’s voice was different. The low octave, and the way he’s looking down at you as he pounds into your tight pussy, has you arching your back into him whilst you actually scream his name. Your fingers make light work of making sure you’re thoroughly spent through your orgasm, and then all you can focus on is Joel. 

His hips are stuttering, and you can tell by the way he’s got his eyes screwed shut and his mouth is hanging open that he’s not going to be far behind you. He opens his eyes, and you make direct eye contact with him, winking as your hands come to your tits, massaging them in your hands and using your fingers to run over your nipples, “You gonna come for me Joel?” You ask, batting your eyelashes with an innocence that is directly justxaposed to the fact that he still has you folded in half and is seconds away from his own ecstasy. 

“Fuckin’ hell baby,” He groans, “Gonna be the death of me.” 

And then he’s following you, throwing himself over the edge as he stills inside you. His head is buried in the crook of your neck as he groans your name. It’s only now that he’s stopped that you realise how much your body is aching. Almost like he can sense how you feel, he’s finally freeing your knees, letting them drop to the bed and giving you some much needed relief. 

He rolls off from your body, collapsing next to you to catch his breath. For the first time since you started whatever this was you curled into his side, draping an arm over his chest, reveling in the feeling of not having to rush anywhere or worry about anyone disturbing you. He wraps his own arm around you, pulling you closer to him as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“I gotta get moving, sweetheart,” He speaks softly, “Your dad is gonna have questions about why the attic is takin’ so long, and I can’t exactly admit it’s because I spend most of my workin’ hours balls deep in your pussy.” 

You smile, although you’re disappointed. Sure it’s exciting to sneak around and there’s something in the thrill of the risk of getting caught, but there’s a part of you that wishes you could both curl up and fall asleep together and not worry about getting caught like this. 

“Alright,” You mumble into his skin, “Get back to work then, Miller.” 

You stay planted on the bed, the ache of your bones is delicious and you know you’ll be feeling him for days. You stretch as he discards of the condom in your trash bin, dresses, when a moan of pleasure at the clicking of your back as his head turning to you. 

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

You shake your head, “Just a little sore, but in the good way,” Once he’s got his shirt back on, he’s kissing your lips, “Gonna be feeling you for days Joel.” 

“Good,” Another kiss, this time longer and more languid, you think if you pulled his arm he would fall right back into bed with you, but you don’t, you know he’s got work to do, “Just know, the next time I catch you gettin’ yourself off before you ask me for help, I might not be so forgiving.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You smirk, eyebrow raised. 

He’s chuckling and shaking his head, “You naughty little thing, stop distracting me.”

Your hand is motioning for him to leave you, “Go on, get back to work, I need to soak myself in a hot bath to recover.” 

He stops in your doorway like he’s thinking of what to do next, “I could help you?” 

“Joel!” You throw your discarded shorts across the room at him, “Go!” He holds his hands up in defeat before he’s gone.

You hear his boots on the ladder up to the attic and within minutes the hammering from before is filling the house. You finally manage to drag yourself from your bed, grabbing a fresh set of pyjamas for after your bath. You run the water as hot as you can bare it, filling the water with bubbles before settling into the water. You can still hear Joel working above you and although you had been spent and sated not moments before, your hand is automatically running down your abdomen and between your legs before you know what happening. What Joel doesn’t know, won’t kill him, right? 

#joel miller #pedro pascal #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #joel miller fan fiction #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel smut #the last of us #the last of us hbo #Joel Miller smut #tlou #tlou smut #tlou fic #Joel tlou #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal #TS

[xas24]

number 30 (pt. 2) ~ pablo gavi

pt. 1

summary: pablo sees y/n again and doesn’t let the opportunity slip.

the first thing pablo did when he got home that night is search her up on instagram. clearly he knew that he wouldn’t really find anything with just her first name, but still he typed it into the search engine and saw as a range of accounts popped up.

he scrolled, looking at each profile picture to see if he could find any resemblance of her. he was browsing for atleast a minute when his eyes widened, landing on a profile picture that looked exactly like her.

he clicked on it and his excitement dissipated when he saw that her account was private. however, she did follow him and the “follow back” button was tempting him. she didn’t have many followers and no one he knew followed her. as his finger hovered over the button, he thought twice.

it would be completely unexpected if he just randomly requested to follow her. she probably didn’t even know that he remembered her name, or even noticed it, seeming a little stalker-ish that he went home to specifically find her instagram and request it.

so he swiped off of the app with a sigh, opting to waste some of his time on tiktok instead.

•••

“¡aquí están nuestros asientos!” (here are our seats!) y/n’s little sister stated as they finally stopped walking. y/n turned to look back up at the many, many rows of seats and her brows furrowed when she turned back to see her sister already getting comfy in her chair.

“¿cómo conseguiste estos asientos?” (how did you manage to get these seats?) y/n asked, sitting down. they were so close to the front of the pitch, practically front-row seats. they could see all the players’ benches, the managers, everything so much more clearly.

her sister shrugged, “papá me quiere más.” (dad loves me more)

y/n rolled her eyes. “muy divertido. estoy siendo serio.” (very funny. i’m being serious)

“yo también.” (me too)

y/n left it at that as she turned back to the front when the players started walking out. the stadium erupted with cheers and screams, her sisters probably being the most loudest one there - sometimes she loved how vocal she was about her love for the football club.

they’ve both had a passion for football when they were younger, both growing up loving barça, their home club. it was their uncle who first got them into football. he loved taking his two favourite neices to all the matches he visited, buying them little custom made jerseys and scarves to match their love for the club.

as they all grew older, it was more y/n and her sister who took their uncle to the matches. a few years ago, when he died due to cancer, the two were most devastated. none of their other family members loved football as much as him, no one else wanted to love it for them, no one else would’ve been able to replace him.

the two went to every single barça match after that, knowing how happy it would’ve made their uncle to see they still had that pride and happiness for their club.

although they usually sat on one of the top rows, y/n did not know what possessed her father to pay extra money, on behalf of her little sisters pleads, to sit right at the front today. she didn’t question it though, the view was amazing.

the bright colours of red and blue illuminated the whole stadium and y/n smoothed out her own blaugrana jersey as she cheered along with the rest of the camp. the jersey she wore held a special moment in her life, small but meaningful, as she remembered how her favourite player had interacted with her on the day of the champions parade.

it was only a week ago but she couldn’t stop thinking about it after that, her heart rate quickening every time she thought about it. the way he had stared up at her, asked her what number was on her back, cheered and smiled when he saw his own, held eye contact with her until he literally couldn’t anymore.

she was delusional. it was completely meaningless from his side, just a star player interacting with a fan. however, it meant so much more to her - even her sister couldn’t stop talking about it for a few hours after.

it was now halfway through the match when majority of the stadium erupted with protests as they all watched gavi fall to the floor. the referee came over and y/n was at the edge of her seat as she saw the players arguing on the pitch. it was a clear red card for the other team but it was gavi who recieved a yellow card.

he was injured, held up by one of the medical staff as they tried to get him off the pitch. pablos breaths were heavy, his jersey sticking to his skin with sweat and he felt pissed and upset. his foot was in complete pain and he’d just recieved a yellow card when it wasn’t even his fault.

he slightly lifted his head, eyes scanning the benches as he limped away from his teammates with the help of the staff member.

that’s when his eyes landed on her.

y/n. the girl from the balcony. the girl with the number 30 on her back. the girl who he could not stop thinking about. she was here and she was sat right in the front row with the same screaming girl from the balcony, who pablo assumed was her sister.

she was wearing the blaugrana jersey again and pablo hoped it was the same one from that day, the big number 30 boosting his pride.

he could immediately feel the heat coating his cheeks as his eyes tugged on hers for a second longer than he should’ve looked. she was talking with her sister before she turned back to the pitch and her eyes instantly landed on his, as if she knew he was staring at her.

pablo could see the concerned look on her face, probably due to his injury, and he tried to straighten up. show her its nothing. tell her he’s alright and it’s nothing major. along with her slightly furrowed brows, he could see the light tint of blush on her cheeks as she held eye contact.

his heart was now practically screaming in his ears, telling his fogged brain to just go over and talk to her. forget the fact that there’s a game on. forget his injury. forget how all the people around her will start swarming at him the moment he walks over there.

shaking those thoughts off, he looked back towards the tunnel and let the medical staff take him to check out his injury. he’d seen her again and he didn’t want to let that opportunity slip. he’d have to find another way to talk to her.

y/n knew that he remembered that moment the instant he held eye contact with her as he was taken off the pitch. he probably just recognised her, but that was enough for her sour mood from his injury to lighten slightly as the game resumed without him.

she just hoped today would be the day she’d finally get to talk to him.

•••

the game had ended and barcelona had lost. it was clear how defeated the fans felt as they started making their way out of camp nou. y/n and her sister started making their own way out once everyone in their section had already left. it was too crowded and they’d both rather make their way to y/n’s car whilst not having to worry about being squished between bodies.

whilst walking out, y/n tugged on her little sisters sleeve.

“aquí.” (here) she held out her car keys to her. “espera en el coche. necesito ir al baño..” (wait in the car. i need to use the bathroom.)

her sister nodded and walked off towards the exit. y/n turned and started making her way towards the bathrooms. she could still hear the chatter of fans all around her, some disappointing talks, some accepting talks. of course, she was a little upset about the loss herself but she’d grown to realise that they couldn’t win everytime.

it just wasn’t their day today. there is always a next time.

her mind also could not leave gavi’s injury. he’d returned around five minutes after leaving, looking perfectly fine. he didn’t have any sort of cast on, but he wasn’t put back on the pitch, so she’d only hoped he was okay.

a few moments of fixing her hair and her jersey, she walked back out. it was getting much later in the evening and she’d had to get home. however, after seeing the large crowds still walking throughout the camp, she decided to just go another way. there were multiple exits towards the parking lot, she could take any.

turning a corner, it was quick and unnoticed as she bumped into someone. “ay, mierda.” (oh shit) she said as she stumbled a little from the impact.

gavi felt himself stumble a little before taking a step forward and catching himself and the person he bumped into. when he looked towards them, he instantly felt his eyes slightly widen and a light blush fall onto his cheeks.

“lo siento.” (i’m sorry) he said towards her.

there was no way he was actually standing infront of y/n right now. he couldn’t believe it, it was as if he’d been given another chance.

“lo siento. no miraba por donde iba.” (i’m sorry. i wasn’t watching where i was going) y/n felt her heart rate starting to pick up as she realised pablo gavi actually had his hand on her arm.

“esta bien.” (it’s okay) he shrugged it off, awkwardly taking his hand off her arm as he gave her a warm smile, trying to contain his grin as she blushed and gave him a shy smile back.

“lo siento por tu lesión. se veía mal.” (im sorry about your injury. it looked bad) she stated, straightening up and attempting to mask her stutter.

“esta bien. lo revisaron y dijeron que no era nada importante.” (it’s alright. they checked it and said it was nothing major) pablo replied. his brown eyes took in her features. she was so much more beautiful up close. he could see every single feature so much more vividly, her long eyelashes coated with a little mascara, her perfect nose, her rosy lips painted in the perfect tint of light pink lipgloss.

he had to physically hold himself back from reaching forward and moving the hair away from her cheek.

“eres la chica del balcon? número treinta, no?” (you’re the girl from the balcony? number 30, no?) of course he knew who she was but he had to say something. something to let her know that he remembered her.

when she chuckled, he swore he just fell into heaven. “no pensé que te acordarías.” (i didn’t think you would remember)

“¿cómo podría olvidar a alguien tan hermosa?” (how could i forget someone so beautiful?) there. he had said it. he’d finally muttered those words to her, his exact thoughts, as his heartbeat vividly rang in his ears. he felt his palms starting to sweat.

y/n didn’t even know if she was still breathing. there was no way he had just said that to her, she wouldn’t believe it. that bump had to have knocked her out because she felt like she was dreaming.

the pablo gavi just called her beautiful, and he remembered her from the parade. she wanted to cry.

“oh gracias. en realidad soy un gran fan tuyo.” (oh thank you. i’m actually a really big fan of you.)

“realmente? tu hermana se veía más feliz el otro día.” (really? your sister looked more happy the other day.) pablo joked, earning a small laugh from y/n and he probably just died and came back to life. even her laugh was so angelic.

“mi hermana es un poco ruidosa. le gusta mucho barcelona.” (my sister does get a bit loud. she loves barcelona with her whole heart)

“puedo decir.” (i can tell) he chuckled.

his eyes never left hers, her smile, her lips. y/n smiled back and slightly nodded before glancing down. she couldn’t hold his intense eye contact. she knew that if she did, she’d immediately melt.

pablo hesitated a little, his thoughts running all over the place as he stared at her a little longer. should he just ask her for her number? would she find it weird? would she just give it to him out of excitement? would she even want to actually talk to him after this?

there was no knowing when he’d see her again, especially this close with no interruptions. so with a heavy heart, he spoke up. “si no te importa, ¿me das tu número?” (if you don’t mind, can i have your number?)

y/n instantly looked up as if she’d heard him wrong. was pablo gavi asking for her number? as in her phone number? he wanted to text her? contact her later? did he even know her name? she tried to act nonchalant about it but couldn’t hide the shy yet giddy smile that took over her shocked expression.

“sí.” he held out his phone and she carefully took it. pablo watched as she typed her number in. he took the opportunity to take in her features once more. her bottom lip slightly tugged under her teeth as her eyes focused onto his phone. he’d finally done it. he’d gotten her number. she hesitantly passed him his phone back and gave him another shy grin.

“gracias.”

she nodded in return. “tengo que ir. mi hermana está esperando.” (i need to go. my sister is waiting.)

pablo nodded in response and let her walk off, bidding her a short goodbye. his eyes never left her figure as she retreated back down the hallway she came from, his heart beating louder at every step she took away from him.

y/n couldn’t contain the excited smile on her face, the bright blush on her flustered face and the harsh banging of her heart against her ribcage.

she didn’t know how she’d be able to explain all this to her sister.

#gavi imagine #pablo gavi #barça #gavi #gavi x reader #imagine #pablo gavi x reader

[finkinthisfrew]

Teacher's Pet

cw: 18+, teacher/student, slow burn, pining, public arousal

JSYK: this is a Matty x reader, but I personally dislike seeing Y/N in a story (I feel like it takes me out of it) so that’s why you get a new name lol sorry if you hate it

You: Hazel Thompson, a timid and unexperienced 26-year-old Masters Student Him: Matty Healy, an intimidating and authoritative 30-year-old Professor at an Ivy League

It’s fall- your favourite time of year. The leaves are just beginning to turn as you quicken your pace, walking across campus. It’s your first day at the university- you’re starting your master's, something you’ve wanted to do for years and finally saved up the money to do. You feel a bit out of place, several years older than most of the freshly out of high school students who run around you, anxious to start the next chapter of their lives. But you find it charming nonetheless, now smiling at a duo of giggling girls with their arms linked that pass as you tighten your scarf around your neck, bracing yourself against the chilly fall air. You climb the steps of the charming old brick building towards your last class of the day, eager to get home and start on your already giant pile of homework.

You double-check that you’re at the right lecture hall before entering behind a very slow-moving group of fellow students, wondering why they’re dawdling by the door so much. You scan the large room as you inch your way in before freezing in the doorway, spotting the reason for the traffic jam. Leaning over the teacher's desk is a breathtakingly handsome man. His hair is gelled back, though a few curls, perfect ringlets, have escaped, effortlessly beautiful where they hang across his forehead. His brows are furrowed in focus as he rifles through the papers on the lecturer's desk, his absent-mindedly pursed lips more perfect than any marble statue you’d ever seen. He’s wearing a collared button-up shirt and tie with a speckled wool knit v-neck sweater the colour of coffee pulled overtop. It fits him a little too well, you realize as you notice how the sleeves cling to his muscled arms. His dark grey slacks are also perfectly fitted, hanging over Doc Marten oxfords which peek out from beneath. A single tiny silver hoop hangs from his ear. It takes a moment for you to register that this man isn’t a student, but your Professor. You question yourself for a moment. He’s too young, too stylish, and far too handsome to be a Professor at such a prestigious institution, but your hunch is confirmed when he looks up from where he’s bent over his desk at the group of you gawking at him from the doorway.

“Class is about to start if you wouldn’t mind finding your seats,” he says to you all with raised eyebrows, his tone stern. His dark eyes casually survey the group of students as they finally begin to move into the classroom. His eyes pass over you, then flicker back for a split-second. At least... you think they did. He’s already back to looking at the papers he has scattered across his desk, his face focused and otherwise dull of emotion when you shake the thought from your head and step into the classroom.

You sit down in the second row of the medium-sized lecture hall, not wanting to seem too keen, but quickly realize that the second row might as well be the first- the majority of your peers sitting in the back of the hall. You feel relieved when you hear someone shuffling behind you. You glance back to see another girl sit down behind you, her eyes glued to the front. At least you’re not the only one captivated by him. You turn back in your seat and begin to write the title of the class and the date at the top of your spiral notebook in preparation for taking notes when you hear her speak suddenly.

“He’s so fit, isn’t he?” She whispers loudly. You glance over your shoulder, unsure of whether the girl is speaking to you, but it’s clear as day she is- leaning forward on her knees, her chin cupped in her hand as she ogles the professor blatantly. “My friend warned me about him- he’s so gorgeous. Christ, what I would do to…”

“If you’d like to save any comments or observations on me and my teaching until after the class, that would be greatly appreciated,” the Professor says without looking up, making you both jump.

“She also told me he’s a hard ass…” she mumbles in your ear under her breath before leaning back into her seat. You can’t help but giggle at her comment. Unfortunately, this time, the professor looks up from his desk.

“You two aren’t going to cause me any trouble this semester, are you?” His question is directed at both of you, but his eyes are locked onto yours. His face is serious, an eyebrow cocked in question, and you can’t help but look away, too intimidated by his gaze. You feel a surge of heat course through you, displaying itself obviously on your cheeks. 

You shake your head, and that seems to be enough for the Professor, who stands up and turns to the blackboard behind him. 

“My name is Professor Healy…” he says as he writes his name on the chalkboard in big letters before launching into the lesson. 

You find yourself transfixed by him- his voice, his looks, his commentary. He’s insufferably intimidating, yet palpably gifted at teaching- the way he speaks keeping everyone in the room hanging on his every word up until the last 15 minutes of class when he tells everyone to spend the rest of the time reviewing the curriculum and reading lists for the semester. 

“I know this will be a very busy semester for all of you with very little time for much more than study and homework. Most teachers are not understanding of that, but I like for there to be mutual respect in my classroom. I allot extra time in all of my lessons for you to finalize your lesson notes, begin mapping out your assignments, and ask any questions you may have…” Professor Healy says as his eyes scan the room. You’re practically shaking in your seat as you wait for your inevitable turn with his gaze. “But this is a two-way street. If you are late, disruptive, or don’t hand in your work on time, I will assume you are not taking this class seriously, and you will be disciplined.” His eyes land on yours as he says the word ‘disciplined’ and you feel your cheeks flush as his words knock the air out of you. He pauses his speech for a moment, though it feels like a century as his dark eyes pierce through your soul, tickling something deep within your core. You suddenly become very aware of the wetness growing in your pants. You’re left in a hazy daze when he finally looks away.

“Is that understood?” He asks the class.

“Yes, Professor,” you say immediately, much louder than the mumbled “yes” and “yup” answers a few people gave, most people opting for silent nods. His eyes return to yours for the briefest of moments, something hidden behind them as he cocks his head ever so slightly to the side, but his eyes are gone before you can identify it.

As Professor Healy leaves you to your work, everyone turns to their papers, but you're still glued to him as he turns around, walking back towards his desk. You watch as he pulls off his sweater, another curl escaping the grip of his hair product as he does. 

Damn those fucking curls. 

He turns to hang his sweater over his chair and you can’t help but stare at his ass, perfectly perk in his tailored slacks. Before you can shake yourself from the thought of what it might feel like to explore its curve with your fingers, he turns and begins to unbutton the sleeve of his shirt before rolling it up to reveal several tattoos on his veiny forearm.

Fuck.

You force your eyes back to the curriculum sheet that had been passed around at the beginning of class, but find yourself unable to read the words. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to focus yourself, but the image of your Professor is burned into the inside of your eyelids.

“Alright, class, you're dismissed. I'll see you all on Friday,” Professor Healy says 15 minutes later. You stand, but before you can begin to gather your things, he looks over at you. “You two,” he says, looking at you and the girl behind you, “if you could stay behind for a few minutes, I’d like to speak to you both in private.” His tone gives nothing away, making you almost more terrified than if he’d given away the purpose of the conversation. 

You nod before shoving your notebooks into your bag and turn to approach his desk as the girl behind you joins. You stand silently and watch as Professor Healy neatly stacks his lesson plans, calmly placing them into his briefcase as the last few students file out of the classroom. Finally, he looks up at you both.

“What are your names?” He asks.

“Rebecca Schwartz,” the girl next to you says.

“Hazel Thompson… sir…” you tag on at the end, the ‘sir’ feeling necessary in this moment. You think you imagine his eyes brighten slightly in amusement at the extra word. He nods curtly in understanding. 

“This schools code of conduct requires that student-teacher relationships be founded on trust,” he begins, his dark, strong gaze towering over you. “Trust that we will treat each other professionally, with dignity and respect. I believe objectification does not bode well for that type of relationship, would you agree?” 

You nod, too terrified to speak as Rebecca says, “Yes, sir.” 

Professor Healy nods curtly once again at Rebecca before turning to you with raised eyebrows, obviously dissatisfied with your lack of words. 

“Yes, Professor,” you quickly sputter out. 

He looks at you from under thick dark lashes, the brown of his eyes darkening even more as he speaks. 

“Good girl,” he says softly.

Your eyes flutter softly at the praise, and you feel a swell of heat grow down south as his heavy-lidded eyes burn a hole through your soul. The silence in the room is deafening, the burning sensation of need between your legs becoming harder to ignore with every passing second. Just before you feel like you’re about to pass out from the tension, he dismisses you both. 

“Good afternoon, ladies. Miss Schwartz,” he says as he tips his chin to Rebecca in farewell who's already scrambling out the door like a spooked puppy, leaving you alone together. 

You turn before he can do any more damage with his gaze, walking shakily back to your seat to grab your bag. But you can feel his eyes burning a hole in your back. You find yourself wishing you’d worn something a bit more revealing, or at least done your hair- done something to impress him- then kick yourself, realizing you were doing the very thing he’d just scolded you about. You want to turn around and protest, point out that you didn’t say anything, that you weren’t the one objectifying him, that it was all Rebecca. But… you know that that’s not true. That you might as well have said it all out loud with how blatantly you stared at him. How you wondered if his ass felt as firm as it looked in those pants. How you could practically feel the softness of his curls under your fingers, the tenderness of those gorgeous pink lips against your skin-

“I would have thought you’d stand up for yourself a bit more, Miss Thompson,” you hear him say suddenly behind you, interrupting your train of thought, “being one of my more senior and experienced students.”

You whip around, bracing yourself for his gaze but find him casually rifling through his suitcase. 

So he did know. He knew all along that you didn’t say anything- that it was all Rebecca. You answer timidly, not wanting to offend him.

“I thought it’d be rude to correct you…” you say sheepishly, your voice almost a whisper. You watch as he raises his eyebrows patronizingly, still not looking at you, shaking his head to himself. It irritates you, his body language condescending, and the fire from earlier suddenly turns to anger. 

“Well I wouldn’t want to come across as disrespectful and lose your trust, Professor,” you say in an exaggerated tone before you can stop yourself, your smile sickly sweet.

Professor Healy looks up at you finally and you’re pleasantly surprised to see him smiling, entertained by your words. 

“If you’re not careful I’ll start to think you’re going for Teacher's Pet, Miss Thompson,” he says smugly. You watch the little fire dance in his eyes before eventually gesturing towards the door, and you walk out together. 

You stop in the doorway and turn to speak, not realizing just how closely he’d been following you. He stops before he can bump into you, and suddenly you’re only a couple inches apart at most, the tension between your bodies almost as intimate as if you were touching. You can’t help yourself. 

“Whatever pleases you, Professor,” you say, looking up at him doe-eyed. You're shocked by your own words. 

You see his jaw slack ever so slightly, the movement almost imperceptible. You watch his eyes cloud, his smug smile disappearing, replaced by his authoritative gaze. He leans down towards your ear, just by a fraction.

“Careful,” he breathes. Then before you can respond, he slips past you, his arm brushing against you as he passes, sending a shock of electricity through you before disappearing.

part 2

#the 1975 #matty the 1975 #at their very best #bfiafl #tender #love #lovers #fanfiction #matty healy #fanfic #matty smut #matty #matty x reader #matty 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #the 1975 fanfic #professor #professor x reader #school #university #forbidden fruit #teasing #pining #matty healy x reader

[heartthrobin]

paint my sunset peach (1)

mechanic!eddie munson x farmgirl!reader

wc: 6.71k

warnings: reader is a little bit of a meanie, dirty sweaty eddie, hella pining, sunshine!eddie + grumpy!reader, swearing but otherwise pretty wholesome, limited use of y/n

an: i started writing this literally months ago and only finished it recently, super duper proud of it :))) this will be part one of a (probably) three part series. let me know if you want a tag in part 2 !!! i tried to tag all those who liked this post so thanks for the support - love you all <33

summary: the conveyer belt of mech-heads you dealt with on a weekly basis were nothing more than a side-show annoyance. but god, the auto-shop had never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

part two

Before the auto-shop, on the corner at the intersection of Lovett and Harwood, was a Chinese restaurant.

The Red Lotus.

On Friday nights as a kid, daddy would drive into town and return with a steaming white bag of fried rice and dumplings. Sometimes, when they had in stock, he'd bring a single mooncake to share between him and you.

It was family run, the Zhou's. Three sons and a daughter.

They closed down right after you graduated, tired of the middle of nowhere-ness. The tractors rumbling loudly through town at six o' clock every morning, the shaky cell reception and the incessant knock of evening frogs on the porch.

Tired of butt-fuck nowhere Tennessee.

It stood empty for two years. Sometimes you'd pass it in your truck and remember them, other times you wouldn't even look.

But now, now it stood as a brand new garage. Or at least the tiny town's excuse for "brand new".

Daddy's friend, Mister Carl Abernathy, owned it.

He was a short stocky man, bald all over and you'd never seen him without a cold bottle of cider and the remnants of it’s sweat staining down his creased button-up.

You knew that only because he was always around: lots of things on the farm needed fixing up.

Weeds crept up into the tires of the tractors, age beat at the truck you used to move in and out of town - crates of peaches bouncing jovially over each bump.

Every time they needed a looking at, Carl would send over the bonehead of the week.

The same white pull-up would brake loudly outside the farmhouse door, always somewhere around nine: just in time to disturb your breakfast, and one of his latest recruits would hop out.

They’d lean haughtily against the large wheel of the dying blue tractor.

"Well, looks like we've got a problem on our hands here, hey little missy?"

They weren’t even worth the effort it took to roll your eyes. No shit.

The farm didn't make nearly enough from the weekend markets in bigger nearby towns, or the pennies of the townsfolk to afford new vehicles. So, you stuck it out with each caveman Carl sent your way.

And you were fine with it.

Mostly fine with it.

Sure, some of them were vulgar: they'd whistle at you or comment on your ass when you passed them working. Others could only succeed at making the vehicle worse than when they'd started, but it was your job to sort them out.

Could you have gone off with your high school friends to college? Sure.

Maybe.

But that’d leave Daddy all alone in that big house. You pushed away the thought when it surfaced to bug you.

Your mother had disappeared long before you knew her, exhausted - like the Zhou's - of being nowhere.

Maybe of being no one. Perhaps of being a no one peach farmer with the grump that was your daddy and a toddler zooming at her feet.

Either way, it didn't matter.

She had left and you remained to do the job, and that job included dealing with Carl’s mechanics.

At least it hadn't mattered, not until some morning in late summer.

The sun watched from high over the green farmhouse. It glared down, peeking over the edge of the porch.

You were fixed on the bird pecking at the already deteriorating grey window pane above the sink, overlooking the rows of colourful fields.

"You're messing, Cherry."

Cherry. Daddy had been calling you that since as far back as you could remember him talking.

You glanced at him across the table, where the spread of bread, eggs and jam had been lain, before you noticed where a long stripe of strawberry jam had run down the front of your black tank top.

"Listen now, you're gonna be fine with the tractor today?"

His voice was stern - probably too stern for such an hour of the morning, but you hardly noticed - swiping at the jam with your finger and nodding.

"No problems, alright?"

Daddy usually worked the tractor, but he was going to some meeting two towns over. He hadn't mentioned what about, but you were sure it had to do with the crippling financial state of the farm.

You nodded.

It's how you found yourself alone out in the heat of the midday sun.

The tractor rumbled beneath you, joggling over every rock and mole hill.

Every couple meters, you'd stop: climb off and pick at the peaches before tossing them into the crate. When enough crates were full, you'd load them onto the truck and move again.

You'd been at it, burning over your arms and shoulders, for what couldn’t have been more than a few hours when the tractor gave a sickening jolt.

Gripping the wheel and watching in horror over the edge of your sunglasses, your eyes followed the thick cloud of grey smoke where it began seeping out at the edges of the hood and disappearing up into the sky.

"No, no, no ..." you drew up the handbrake and leapt out the side onto the soil. The blue metal scalded the tips of your fingers where you threw the bonnet open before swallowing down mouthfuls of hot smoke.

It took five minutes of coughing against the side of the vehicle, another five kicking at the left wheel and at least another ten swearing at the sky before you dug your phone out from between the seats and dialled the number to Carl's auto shop.

It rung three times before his gruff voice carried across the line, "Abernathy Auto Repairs speakin', hello?"

"Good morning Mr Abernathy," your fingers pressed into the sides of your temple, working fruitlessly against the headache forming there. "I'm calling from the farm down Jasmine road—"

"Oh hey there, darlin'. What can I do you for?"

A squirrel rustled somewhere down the row of bushes. "Well, I'm out in the field now and the tractor has ... uh, given up on me. The ‘63. Need one of your men to come give it a start, or a look-over or—"

"Not a problem, not a problem at all. Are you far out? Whereabouts are you?"

You cupped a hand to shield up over your eyes, glancing back from whence you'd came. The house was but a speck of green in the distance.

"About two or three miles north west of the house?"

You could practically hear him nodding, a steady gulp audible against the line.

"Don't you worry about a thing, little darlin', I'll have one of my boys out there within the hour. Just hang tight."

"Alright, thank you kindly sir—"

But the line was already dead.

You glared at the phone.

Huffing loudly, you pulled yourself back up onto the truck - allowing the soft shade to gently graze over your face as you sunk back into the seat.

The warm wind rippled over the tops of the rows of greenery and you watched quietly, the irritation simmering to a low boil in your chest.

There was a quiet tranquility in being so far out from the house, shielded from the scorch.

Your boot tapped rhythmically against the console. Warm breeze brushed over your face again and you sighed, tilting your hat lower over your forehead. The lull of the quiet field allowed your lashes to fan closed over your cheeks. Before you’d taken note of the bird coming to perch on the roof, you were already asleep.

It was the loud rumble of an engine and the throbbing pain in your neck that brought you back to the world of the conscious.

You woke with a jump. Heart thumping against your ribcage in instant confusion. Your hat flew off your head and over the edge of your seat from where it had been blocking the light over your eyes.

Bringing a hand to your neck you whined loudly, the angle you’d been perched at doing nothing for the long term preservation of your muscles there.

You turned anyways, noticing the white pick-up quickly nearing from the direction of the house.

Frowning, you glanced down at time against the console. Three fifty-eight.

"Shit!"

You stuck your head out from under the shade of the tractor top to notice how low the sun has sunk in the sky. It was almost reaching the head of the hill in the distance.

The mechanic shouldn't have taken longer than an hour to find you, and subsequently, wake you. You quickly diffused yourself of blame.

Daddy was going to kill you.

Clambering off the side of the tractor, your hands found your hips before the car pulled to a wailing halt barely a few centimetres off from your knees.

Dust swept up around the truck, obscuring the view of the man that stepped out of it.

"Woah. Almost hit you there, doll."

Warm wind cleared the air and the figure of a young man stood in your field.

The words sitting on your tongue begging to be spat out were sucked straight back down your throat.

For a moment you forgot what you had planned to say at all.

The man's eyebrow cocked at you under strands of dark, curly hair falling carelessly from the skew bun atop his head.

Behind you, a crow cried in the distance. Your senses quickly returned to you.

Your fists tightened at your sides. "Where on god's green earth have you been?"

He looked taken aback.

"Well, I had some trouble finding the house," he smiled sheepishly, motioning to the farmhouse over his shoulder, "and then I had to phone Carl cause he didn't really tell me where—"

"So you're new then? Carl sent a greenie to come fix my tractor?"

Anyone who'd spent more than three days in town knew the farm down Jasmine road. Knew your farm.

A heavily ringed hand came up to his jaw, rubbing there and eyeing you in a way that made the hair on your arms stands straight up.

It was painfully unfair how handsome he was.

"New to town. Not new to fixing tractors." His voice was smooth, the curl of a grin peaking at you from the edge of his mouth.

Sucking in a deep breath - a feeble attempt at composure - you nodded once.

"Well, I've got a tractor and it's broken. And you're two hours late, so if you don't mind, I've got a job to do."

You turned violently on your heel, sure if you stood under his gaze any longer that you'd melt right against the soil.

The sound of the peaches tumbling out the crate onto the tractor split the air between you and him, and soon you were marching away from his figure - crate in hand - in pursuit of fruit further down the lane.

"I'm Eddie!"

You waved vaguely over your shoulder, electing not to bless him with an answer.

Carl was going to hear an earful from your father, you were sure of it. You plucked angrily at the fruits off the bush, tossing them a little too violently in with the rest.

It was quiet from the distance behind you, but you refused to turn to look.

Sure, you shouldn't be so surprised that one of Carl's idiots was nearly two hours late and got lost in a town that really only has two roads, but god, he'd never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

The walk was long, each stop causing the crate to become heavier, and you worked hard to put the image of the mechanic’s black shirt - that he'd obviously cut the sleeves off himself - and how it clung to his chest with sweat out of your mind.

You didn't stop until a voice called from behind. At first it was soft, but it grew louder within a minute: as was the sound of footfalls.

"Hey, miss!"

He was jogging towards you, pieces of hair falling recklessly out from the grips of his hair tie to frame his red face.

Eddie only stopped when barely a few feet separated you.

"All done." He grinned, huffing around his smile. "She just overheated a bit, needed some water and a a couple valves disconnected."

You couldn't tell whether it was harder to hold his gaze or work to keep yours off of his chest.

"Right. Good." You nodded, leaning to lift the crate at your feet. "Then I'll be getting back to it."

It was heavy, almost too heavy if you hadn't lifted boxes like those from sunrise to sunset for the last eighteen or so years.

But the mechanic was clearly unconvinced, he swooped in closer to you. "Let me get that—"

"I'm fine—"

"No really." By now he was way too close, close enough that you could smell the undertones of a shower gel or maybe a cologne.

His voice softened, "Please. To make up for my tardiness."

It was hard to tell whether it was the sun making you so dizzy or his proximity, but either way, it forced you to nod slowly. "Fine."

Eddie took the crate from your hands, you ignored the rush of heat to your stomach as he grunted against the weight.

"Strong thing aren't you, doll?"

You didn't respond, eyes fixed on the giant blue tractor a couple meters from where you stood.

Silence rung, only the footfalls filling the space. You'd almost made it all the way back to the tractor without conversation before the mechanic decided to open his mouth again.

"I don't think I caught your name earlier."

You met his eyes, regretting it almost immediately when your knees threatened to buckle, "That's because I never gave it."

Stepping just close enough to take the crate from his grip, but avoid the drift of his cologne again, your hands brushed closely against his.

They were cool against your sweaty ones.

He was grinning again.

You stepped back, balancing the peaches against your hip before tilting it over the box attached to the end of the tractor allowing the round pink pieces to clatter down into its depths.

"Right. Well, what's your name then doll?"

But you were already clambering back up the side of the tractor into the worn leather seat.

"Wouldn't you like to know, pretty boy."

He was leaning against the side of the truck now, you avoided looking down at him, something told you that you'd find those eyes blinking right up into your soul again if you did.

"So you think I'm pretty?"

Hot red blush chased up the sides of your neck over your ears, you prayed it wasn't discernible under the pink sunburn.

The keys jingled loudly as you slid them into the ignition and turned them violently. The vehicle jerked to life.

"I think your job is done. Good afternoon sir."

Before he could say another word, your foot had sunk down on the accelerator and the tractor was rumbling back down between the bushes again.

In your peripheral vision you watched how the mechanic stumbled back against his pick-up, narrowly avoiding catching his foot under one of the hundred pound tires, and the sound of an echoing chuckle fading as you plodded away.

-

The drive back to the auto-garage was quick. At least quicker than the drive Eddie had taken to find the farm.

His hands tightened around the wheel, twisting over the leather as he pulled to a park in the open spot across the street.

A ring of brown soil stared up at him from where he'd pulled at the handbrake with dusty paws.

"Shit ..." he wiped his hands down the jean over his thighs.

Eddie was used to the oil and the reek of grease, as if that wasn't already enough, but not the itch of farm soil up his nostrils and behind his ears.

He twisted the metal ring around his finger, a small grin playing at his lips.

But the soil wasn't so bad, he reckons he'd swim through a pool of it it to get another chance to watch the hot-tempered farm girl's hips sway when she marched away from him, just as you'd done earlier that afternoon.

The smile didn't leave his face as he climbed out the car, locked it and crossed the street whistling.

Eddie was almost completely used to the whir of the drills echoing off the walls and barely registered the creak of the lever that was raising a car near the back of the shop.

Carl was leaning over the reception desk clinking the bottom of his cider bottle against the wood and puffing on the end of a cigarette.

He waved vaguely down at the open ledger when he noticed Eddie nearing, "See here, extra two hundred dollars on a cheap fucking knock off for that AMC Eagle. You believe that, Munson?"

"Hardly, boss."

Eddie was halfway back to where he'd abandoned the engine on a red convertible before weaving across town to find a farm when the boss' voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hold it, hold it. Where’ve you been? Didn't I send you outta here three hours ago?" He swivelled on the bar stool against the counter to face him.

The greasy palm that had been picking it's way under car hoods all afternoon reached up to rub against the side of his neck. "I couldn't find that fucking farm, did three circles ‘round the post office before I saw the sign for Jasmine road."

Carl surveyed him with a crooked brow. "They didn't teach you to read maps down in Indiana, boy?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He was about to turn back on his way, when the picture of your face glimmered at him behind his eyes, "Listen boss, the girl there. The daughter you said, what's her name?"

By then, Carl had already turned back down to the accounts. "What's it to ya?"

Silence rung long enough that Carl peeked back up at Eddie over the rim of his glasses.

Eddie shrugged bashfully. "Pretty thing."

Carl threw his head back, laughing loudly - Eddie always thought his laugh sounded like a dog barking.

"I've seen that look." He shook his head, lifting to perch his glasses on his shining bald head. "Too many of you boys come back from that farm starry-eyed. No hope with that princess, she don't like you mech-heads. Nope, not one bit."

"Ah, come on, don't you believe in love at first sight?"

Carl let off another crumbly chuckle, "Bit your head off, didn't she?"

"Sure did." He beamed like the cat that caught the canary, "Love it when a lady talks to me sweet."

A sweaty hand shrugged him off.

"Get back to work, Munson."

But Eddie wavered. "Just a name, boss."

Carl stared at him for a couple moments, clearly bored. It took a long slug of the yellow cider and a hard sigh before he spoke again: "Y/n."

The grin crept back up his cheeks. He tested the name on his tongue, finding it to taste as sweet as he knew it would.

"Appreciate it."

"Get back to that convertible before I fire you."

-

Eddie the mechanic had been firmly put out of your mind following the ruckus out in the field.

Sure, his puppy dog face had returned to you later that night as you lay in bed, but that hardly counted.

You'd forgone mentioning his tardiness to Daddy, electing to take the mild scolding instead.

By the time the end of the week had arrived, you'd just about completely forgotten the floppy haired man that had once graced the farm.

That was until Daddy rose the topic of the auto-body shop again.

He handed you the wet plate, you took it carefully - starting to wipe it down. The water sloshed beneath his hands, scrubbing hard at the soapy pan.

Bullseye watched up at you from where she was curled up on the kitchen chair, purring loudly. Outside the sky was turning deep lilac and the crickets were clicking loudly.

"Tomorrow on your way back from Madeline's, I want you to stop by Carl's."

Madeline's was the local - and only - grocer. You dropped five cases there every Tuesday.

Your hand stilled against the plate, "For?"

"I want you to ask him to spare a man, a good one. Just a couple afternoons a week to do some work."

Your father handed the next plate over carefully.

Confusion tugged at your brow, "Work? What work?"

"You're too curious for your own good, y'know that?"

Bumping your shoulder against his, the pot lid almost slipping from his wet fingers, you laughed. "Don't be difficult, what for?"

The old man sighed.

Some nights, with the evening hue seeping in through the window against his face like it was just then, you were reminded of how old he really was.

"I want to fix up the Cobra."

In the barn around the back of the house, sitting untouched and unmoved for almost twenty years, lived a 1965 AC Cobra.

The steel lid slipped from your hands, clattering against the floor. Your father jumped.

"You're fixing the Cobra!" You grabbed him by the arm, eyes wide in delight. "Is it for me?"

He offered a half-hearted stern look at you, leaning to pick up the lid before straightening out.

"Don't get too excited, she's a real piece of work and we don't know if she can even still be revived."

You tugged at the edge of his shirt, "But ... it's for me, right?"

"Well, your twenty-first is coming up and I thought you're old enough now—"

Just about strangling him, your arms flew up over his neck.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you—!"

He sighed over your shoulder, patting your back with a wet hand. “Alright, alright. Just speak to Carl.”

-

Your drop-off at Madeline's had never gone faster.

Town was busy, as busy as it got on a Tuesday morning, and Abernathy's was no different.

You pulled into a spot down the line of other nearly identical pick-ups to your own in front of the shop.

At the front desk, where you were sure he'd grown roots into the stool behind it, sat Carl Abernathy.

When he looked up from a piece he'd been tinkering with, surprise twisted at his features.

"G'morning darlin'," he set the piece down, puffing around a lit cigarette, "What can I do you for on this fine morning?"

"Good morning sir," you set your hat on the counter, leaning beside it. "My daddy sent me, he's asking if you could spare a man for some work 'round by ours. Couple nights a week."

The little man's eyes screwed at you.

"What, may I ask, will he be expected to do?"

By then you couldn't stifle the grin any longer.

"He's gonna be fixing the Cobra."

The response seemed to delight the man as much as it did yourself, because he laughed loudly and slammed a hand down against the wooden desk.

"Your old man finally found some sense, hey?" He jeered, "I'm mighty pleased to here that, little miss, I really am."

You smiled, "It's my birthday gift. Twenty-first coming up."

"Twenty-one, hey? Well, I've got just the boy. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

Carl leaned dangerously back on the stool, you fleetingly wondered how he didn't topple over, before yelling over his shoulder into the depths of the shop.

"Munson! Get your up-to-no-good-ass over here!"

Not to say that you'd completely forgotten him, but you were still more than a little taken aback when the tall framed mechanic from a few days before emerged from under the hood of a pick-up.

"Boss—?" His eyes found you. They lit up like main street over Christmas. "Oh, what a pleasant surprise. Morning, doll."

Grease covered every inch of his arms up to his elbows which held the scrunched up ends to the black long sleeve he was wearing. He was dirtier than last you saw him and it made your stomach swoop dangerously.

"Him?" It slipped out before you had time to catch it.

But Carl didn't comment on your rudeness, instead he slapped a heavy hand over Eddie's shoulder and shook it.

"For sixty's models, this is your boy for the Cobra." The older man beamed at him, like he was telling you his son was a heart surgeon. "Hands like a magician I tell you."

The comment sent a icy chill down the back of your spine, it wasn't helped when the mechanic snapped a wink at you from under his boss' hand.

"R-Right, well, you can come by as soon as you want to start working. A couple hours a day, my daddy will pay you."

With his hair clipped back, you could make a clearer assessment of his face as he nodded to you. He had thick lips and a strong-set nose.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, doll."

The cheekiness in his grin was plucking at a nerve behind your eyebrow. "Think you'll be able to find your way this time?"

"I think I'll be fine." His hands sunk into the depths of his jean pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Left at the butchery and right down the road to my heart."

You scoffed, turning back to Carl. "Thanks Mr Abernathy. I'll let my old man know."

Not even sparing Eddie another glance, you grabbed your hat off the counter and turned on your heel back to the car.

He watched your hair sway under the press of the brown hat and where your wide shoulders glistened in the light beneath the straps of your overalls.

Only when the sound of your engine had disappeared down the street, did he turn back to Carl who was digging the end of a screwdriver into a metal plate.

"You're really an old romantic aren't you, boss."

Carl grumbled, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Eddie shook his head, chuckling delightedly, "Psh, "sixty's models"! As if Jacob couldn't get that Cobra running in a couple days."

Pulling another cider noisily out from the cooler he kept at his feet, Carl guffawed. "I sure hope it's gonna take you more than a few days, lover boy, cause that little miss doesn't seem too fond 'a you I can tell you now."

But Eddie wasn't fazed, "Don't worry, she will be."

-

Sure as the sun rose in the sky, two o' clock rolled around the next afternoon and a noisy white pick-up pulled into park in front of the green farmhouse.

"Cherry! The mech's here!"

You'd grumbled, reluctantly pulling yourself out from where you'd been perched under the cool shade of the back porch repainting worn pots.

Eddie was standing lost in the driveway when you found him.

He was dirty, obviously just from the shop, and you offered something short of a warm welcome, but he seemed unfazed.

"Car's in the barn 'round the back of the house."

"Well good afternoon to you too, miss." You wondered if his smirk had been permanently stitched there.

The toolbox rattled with each step he took after your pacing figure.

As promised, the barn stood nearly as tall as the house in a faded orange hue.

It was dark inside and the door creaked loudly where you'd swung it open.

There she sat in all her glory. The 1965 AC Cobra, in a fitting cherry red.

Eddie whistled lowly over your shoulder behind you.

"A damn shame hiding this beaut up in this dusty barn." He passed you, running his hand over the bonnet that glimmered even in the low light.

We can agree on one thing at least, you thought.

"I've got to go finish up," you motioned over your shoulder, "but, uh, if you need anything I'll be around. Just shout."

You'd already caught the edge of the door, halfway out, when his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"And what is it exactly that I should I shout, doll? Seeing as you still haven't told me your name."

You surmised him, considering only momentarily letting your name spill off your lips.

Hm. Not today.

"Doll works just fine, greenie."

Finishing off the pots was easy, quick. They stood lined up against the bannister drying while you busied yourself in the vegetable patch behind the house: twisting carrots and beetroots out from the dark soil as the sun sunk slowly lower in the sky.

The time had hardly occurred to you when the back door swung open, your father sticking his one foot down the step.

Keys to the pick-up dangled in his hand.

"Cherry, I'm running to Madeline's for some wood glue and another bag of nails. Need anything?"

Swiping an itch on your forehead with the back of your hand, wiping a long black stripe there, you shook your head. "Nothing."

"Right," he nodded and the door was already halfway shut when he tossed it open again. "Oh, and go make that boy a bite to eat. Damn skinny thing's been in that hot barn for hours now."

You sagged your shoulders childishly, voice coming out as a whine. "Must I really?"

"Yes, you must really."

And he was gone.

The fridge was a ghost town, spare for the never-ending supply of fruit and vegetable that lived in the bottom drawer.

Following five minutes of pursing your lips and staring into its depths, you conjured up a lettuce, cucumber tomato and sweet-chilli sandwich. It didn't take long to convince yourself into making another to satiate your own complaining stomach.

You hummed as you worked, pouring cool lemonade into two glasses, packing the food back into the fridge and rinsing off the butter knife.

The tall clock chimed jovially from the hallway when you shuffled out the back, two plates and two glasses in hand.

Your hip nudged open at the barn door and a wave of sweltering heat rushed over your face and between every tendril of hair on your head.

Blinking foggily into the dim sauna that was the barn, you were met with the only slightly browned back of one Eddie Munson.

The man was hunched over, head lost in the depths of the car's stomach and when he straightened out you just about swallowed your tongue.

His long black mane was in a messy ponytail at the base of his neck and his shirt had been abandoned somewhere by the right tire. Sweat was sliding down the side of his face like an open faucet.

"Hey," he smiled when he met your eyes, voice groggy and tired. The sound made the plates wobble under your grip.

"Hi—" you cringed internally, it was the most pleasant greeting you'd offered him so far. Why had it come out so ... awkward?

You motioned down to the plates, as if his eyes hadn't already found them. "I made you a sandwich ... didn't know if you were hungry or—"

The wrench flew from his grip down into the box where he tossed it and Eddie sighed. "Starving."

You handed him the plate, watching how his blackened fingers stained the edge of the plate and the rim of the glass.

He sat carefully down against an empty crate that had been abandoned by the wall, resting the glass by his feet and wiping his hands down the length of his thighs.

"Hot as hell in here." The mechanic mumbled before diving into the sandwich.

Letting his head fall back against his shoulders, he moaned loudly.

"This is fucking delicious." He commented around the mouthful.

You worked hard to swat away the blush reaching at your cheeks by nodding quickly. That sound would probably ring in your head all night.

"I should go—"

"You're not gonna eat here? I don't mind ..." Eddie eyed the sandwich you'd made for yourself in your hand, gaze flickering between the plate and your face.

Your mouth curled around a response, but you were beat to the chase.

"I know you probably mind," he interjected quickly, "but if you w-want company, I mean, you could eat here ..."

Pursing your lips, you surveyed him: long gangly legs spilling in every direction and rings clinking against the glass.

Would it really kill you to sit five minutes with him?

"No need to turn red, greenie." You resigned, kicking over another crate near the grate of the car before leaning down to perch against it. "I don't mind."

It was quiet for the first couple minutes. You focused on your sandwich, feeling his gaze flicker up to you every few minutes.

He'd practically inhaled the first half of the sandwich, but you noticed he was eating the second half slowly.

"So," he swallowed down a gulp of lemonade. "What were you busy with now before I forced you into sitting here with me?"

You picked at a cucumber that had fallen loose from your sandwich, teasing at the outer skin with your teeth.

"Very important work." Your lip curled at the corners, it seemed he noticed. "Fate of the farm depended on it. Guess now it'll have to crash and burn ..."

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me."

His amused look matched yours.

"Pulling carrots out the patch."

He leaned back, eyes widening theatrically. "Sounds exhilarating."

"You have no idea."

You bit into your sandwich again, finding the space suddenly more comfortable.

"Tell me," he pulled off a piece of tomato hanging dangerously off the edge of the sandwich, "How does a car this beautiful find it's way onto a farm in the middle of nowhere?"

Your chest pinched at the question.

"Y'know, just ..." you motioned vaguely towards the roof, "Aliens."

He caught how your gaze flickered from his to a loose bolt near your foot.

Okay, sensitive spot.

The bread was soft between Eddie's fingers, he set it down.

"I thought I saw some funny lights in the sky last night."

It was becoming almost impossible to keep his eyes off you, even for a couple seconds at a time.

You only nodded at his response, refusing to lift your gaze from the floor.

It was making his stomach churn, desperate for a couple more minutes to enjoy the view of your face.

There was a smudge of brown soil against your forehead where your hair fell over it, making his hands twitch in his lap, itching to reach out and swipe at your sun-kissed face.

"Just you and the old man then?" He pressed, reaching for his glass again.

You shrugged, "Couple creatures of the earth too. And the peaches, of course. Always the peaches."

"Peaches are good."

"Peaches are good."

"No boyfriend then?"

It slipped out of him before he had chance to catch it. He'd been dying to know since the second your figure had appeared to him beyond the cloud of dust out in the field.

You took your sweet time, examining him over the rim of your glass. He couldn't tell whether you intended to respond to him at all.

The weight of your gaze was making his head spin.

"'A course I have a boyfriend. Nights on a big farm like this get lonely without someone to warm the other side of the bed. Y'know?"

Eddie's heart sunk into his stomach.

The sandwich had suddenly lost it's appeal. He set the last couple bites by his feet. He nodded slowly.

"... Can imagine."

Blood was rushing past his ears loudly, he could feel it pooling around his cheeks: warming his face with embarrassment.

"He's actually around if you want to meet him?"

"Uh—" Eddie couldn't even formulate a half of a response before your head was thrown back over your right shoulder:

"Cowboy! Baby!"

Cowboy?

There was a thick confused silence where he wasn't entirely sure who or even if anyone would march through the door - he mostly hoped that you'd been lying and nobody was coming at all.

"Baby!" You called again.

Then he heard it.

The fall of footsteps. Someone was running towards the barn and getting quickly closer.

From out of the sunshine, bounding through the door, Eddie made out the shape of the largest dog he'd ever seen.

Four long gangly legs carried him across the small space, tongue swinging over the side of his jaw: he'd appeared so quickly that Eddie didn't have a moment to prepare before the hound leapt excitedly into his lap.

"Hey, boy—!"

He toppled back over the crate and the dog licked hungrily at the sauce around the edges of his mouth, he nudged Eddie's face with his giant snout before spotting the last few bites of the sandwich left abandoned and scooped it up in one long lick.

The distraction of the food offered Eddie the opportunity to sit straight up again, he could feel the hay tangling into the depths of his hair - but the thought dissolved when he picked up the sound you were making.

You were laughing.

The sound was making him drunk, he was sure of it.

It was made worse when he looked at you: head tilted to the side, leaning at the wall and calling the dog breathlessly between giggles.

Eddie could feel the tiny birds flying in circles over his head and his pupils turning to hearts.

"Cowboy, leave the man's food!"

But the sandwich was long gone and the dog had apparently lost interest in sniffing at the empty plate, returning to licking wet stripes up the side of Eddie's face.

"Sorry, he's just a pup." Your face had softened, giggles bubbling down to a sigh. "Hasn't grown into all his manners yet."

"A pup?" Eddie mumbled in disbelief, catching Cowboy behind his ears with a tickle.

Like a magic button, the dog collapsed into a puddle by his feet: panting loudly.

"Kinda looks like your boyfriend likes me more than you."

You leaned against your knees, head shaking. "I'm feeling a little betrayed that he hasn't even looked in my direction yet."

"It's my natural charm, what can I say. Attracts animals of all species."

Scoffing loudly, you shook your head. "Keep the traitor then. We'll see how long he lasts without me feeding him spoonfuls of peanut butter under the table."

Eddie briefly wondered how big of table existed in the kitchen beyond the window of the farmhouse to fit the monstrous animal at his feet.

"Aw, then who would keep you warm on cold farm nights ..." he flashed a toothy smile, "Winter is just around the corner after all."

"Well, in that case," you tilted your head back in false concentration, lifting your hand to count on your fingers: "There's Bullseye, the cat ... Rodeo, the other cat. A couple stray dogs sometimes walk in off the fields, maybe we could adopt a goat?"

Cowboy was watching you with his head in Eddie's lap, Eddie tilted his head innocently to the side. "No one else?"

"Nope ... none that come to mind."

You were smiling at him now, mischief curled into the edges of your mouth.

It was turning his insides to a molten pool of goo.

"Is that a smile I see?" He tried his luck. "Did I make you smile? Is a comet about to hit the state of Tennessee?"

You turned your head quickly, working to wipe the expression off your face, but not entirely succeeding.

Instead you stood up.

"Whatever, greenie." Leaning down to pick up your plate, Eddie was briefly exposed to the view down the front of your dungarees. He blushed again. "Don't you have work to do?"

Crossing the space quickly, you grabbed his plate from beneath one of Cowboy's pot-sized paws before clicking your tongue at the dog.

He clambered back onto his feet like a new-born deer, clearly still not entirely sure what to do with so much leg.

"I'll see you later then, doll?"

But you didn't turn back, disappearing into the light of the sun with Cowboy trotting at your heels.

"Maybe in your dreams tonight, pretty boy."

-

tags: 

@jokersgrf @anicosa-ironlung @sleepy-bunnie @pricelessemotion @sweetgladiatorfesival @eggo-segual​ @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @introvertedmouse @ctrlaltdel3te @multifandom-l0ver @inarinine @sillysteveharharhar @buckystwilight @hey-lucille 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au

[magnus-the-maqnificent]

prompt: malec and the gang having korean bbq, everyone look in puzzled as magnus the one who do the grilling and then just put everything in alec plate

Anh? Actually sending a decent prompt for once? More likely than you think 😳

Read on ao3

****

Maybe it was the six glasses of soju, maybe it was the atmosphere - the restaurant lit like a 90’s bar, the blue aquariums lining the walls full of colourful fish (a sight that made Alec miss his children - Max and Rafael would’ve adored them), the music playing through the speakers of the restaurant and the smell of hot sizzling meat - but Alec was feeling especially smitten today.

Or maybe it was the love of his life looking particularly sexy today, wearing a powder blue silk shirt with the top few buttons left undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was a little looser than usual, a few stray locks falling in front of his face. His eyeliner was sleek and sharp, and lips pursed in intense concentration as he flipped some shrimp on the grill.

Alec was just content to watch him for now, chin propped up on a palm, hearts in his eyes.

They had come out for Korean barbecue - him and Magnus, and Jace and Clary and Isabelle and Simon - because it was the weekend, and because Isabelle thought it’d be fun to go out on a ‘triple date’, and because Jace and Magnus had clashed on what kind of food they wanted and Korean barbecue ultimately met both their needs.

Alec could hear the chatter of conversation between the others, but his eyes were only on Magnus, who was now busy rolling a piece of shrimp and some pickled garlic in lettuce, which he then dipped in some chilli oil and held out to Alec.

“Say ahhh.”

Alec rolled his eyes but complied anyway, letting Magnus feed him. The taste of crisp lettuce hit him first, and then the chilli and the shrimp and everything else, the flavour while literally bursting into Alec’s mouth.

Magnus smiled, no doubt enjoying what he called Alec’s “foodgasm face”.

“Good?”

“Mmhmm,” Alec nodded, a hand coming up to cover his mouth as he chewed. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but smile a little.

Magnus feeding him had become something of a habit between them. It was a result of Alec’s long work days that blended into nights in an extra office Magnus had summoned up for him inside their apartment, plus Magnus’s persistent desire for himself and everyone around him to eat well, particularly a minimum of three meals a day minimum.

So, these days, when Alec tended to answer ‘you should eat something’ with some variation of ‘later’ more than three times in a row, Magnus would simply sigh and summon up a plate of food and a stool next to Alec’s chair. He’d feed Alec until the plate was left empty, sometimes with chopsticks, sometimes with a fork or spoon, sometimes with his fingers, carefully wiping away any excess left on Alec’s lips afterwards.

It was probably not something to get used to, and Alec might have to put a stop to it sooner or later, but screw him - he had a repressed childhood and loved being pampered.

Right now, Magnus was feeding him a second helping of a lettuce roll with shrimp, when someone cleared their throat from across the table.

“Are we going to get some, too, or are you just going to feed Alec everything?” Jace pouted.

Alec snorted, “I’m pretty sure you can assemble your own rolls, Jace.”

“Okay, one,” Jace protested, “you can assemble your own too, and two, I’d be doing it right now if Magnus hadn’t dumped all the cooked shrimp onto your plate.”

Alec looked down at his plate, and - yep, there was a heap of shrimp on there.

Magnus sighed, looking long-suffering. “I put on another batch for you guys, they’ll be cooked soon.”

“What if you’re too busy cooing over Alec and they burn?” Jace narrowed his eyes.

“I keep telling you I can grill-“ Isabelle butt in.

“Oh, it’s fine- I mean- Magnus has way more experience so-“ Clary interrupted, steering the evening clear of disaster. 

Isabelle sighed and leaned back in her chair. “When will the world appreciate my talent?”

“I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with any of this,” Simon muttered to no one in particular. The waitstaff had kindly procured pre-grilled vegetarian alternatives for him, which included grilled mushrooms, tofu and pineapple slices. 

Simon hadn’t touched the pineapples so far. Alec didn’t think he was planning on doing so either.

Magnus sighed, “I won’t let them burn. Also, you can have the first serving of brisket.”

Jace seemed satisfied with that offer, and busied himself with the glass noodles they had served as a side.

Magnus paused to flip the shrimp on the grill, and then turned his attention back to Alec, assembling another roll and holding it out for him.

Alec shook his head. “You should eat too, love.”

“You first, babygirl,” Magnus grinned.

Alec rolled his eyes again, but how could he ever refuse?

#send me prompts! #malec #alec lightwood #magnus bane

[leggerefiore]

Yooo requests are open :) nice

So listen. I need to share this with you this is obligatory now.

I remember back in like 2015ish there was this thing where everyone was posting their HCs of how *character* reacted to their s/o wearing this tight pink shirt that reads “push my buttons” or something like that and the chest area of the shirt had an image of a keyboard on it RIGHT where the boobs are 🫢 I need to know how emmet and ingo would react to their busty fem s/o wearing one of those PLEASE‼️😩 have an inkling emmet would be enjoying himself too much while Ingo’s just sitting there like 😟 “DEAREST, WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS-“

I. may have added some characters to this. For reasons.

cw: fem! reader, suggestive material,

characters: Ingo, Emmet, Larry, N, Cyrus, Colress

▲Ingo▼

● The older twin froze dead in his spot with his clipboard still in hand as he spotted you. He was heading back to his office from doing some safety checks throughout the station when he spied you lingering in the administrative area. Your shirt instantly caught his attention. Brightly coloured, tight, and worst of all… The implication. Boobs were a weakness of his. He covered his line of sight with the clipboard quickly before the obviously placed keyboard graphic over your breasts infested his mind.

● “DEAREST–” his voice was loud as he was especially panicked, “What are you wearing?!” He was going to scream from the way his mind raced. No! He was at work. Ingo would never do such a thing here! He tried to lower the clipboard to gaze at you before raising it again. The middle row was right where your nip – No! Ingo! Get a hold of yourself. You giggled at him. Did you do this to him deliberately? How cruel! “Pl-please head home and change out of that…” he begged.

● You, instead, walked up to him and grinned at him playfully. Lowering his clipboard, you forced him to look at you. “Well, hubby,” you spoke clearly, “Would you push my buttons?” He finally did scream.

▽Emmet△

○ The younger twin stood in the seventh car of the train eagerly. A battle with a powerful trainer! He was nearly vibrating with excitement. When the doors from the previous car opened, he leaned forward happily. You walked into his car and made his grin grow even wider. Your top was tight and left little to the imagination. It hugged your curves and breasts wonderfully. Emmet chuckled at the keyboard graphic right across the bulge of your boobs in the pink fabric.

○ “Darrrrrling,” he held out the 'r' as he pulled you closer to himself with a mischievous grin, “Verrrry nice. I love it.” Your lovely shirt was pushed right against his chest. It was little wonder what was racing through the more playful of the twins' mind. His hands were already grasping your sides, and his eyes growing lidded. “Mmm, but you showed other people,” he hummed, “I am Emmet, and I am jealous.”

○ Well, let's say you had a wonderful time and the Super Double Battle Line, as did your beloved Emmy. He did a bit more than “push your buttons.”

💼Larry🏢

🍙 The businessman nearly spit out his water as you sat beside him. The whole restaurant seemed to have at least given you a passing glance, too. It was rare that anything stunned Larry, but your bright pink top had almost made his overworked heart give out. It was tight and hugged everything tightly. Your boobs obvious shapes on your chest and causing him to drink his water faster. This was not what he expected when he invited you over on his lunch break.

🍙 “Love,” his voice tried to keep up his facade, but there was a slight crack in it, “Isn't that colour too bright for here?” You cocked your eyebrows at him, wondering if that was truly all that was bothering him. The keyboard graphics right across your bust made his mind rush to his endless typing at his office job. “... Even if I wanted to, my break is already over,” he lied and stood up, “See you at home.”

🍙 You grabbed his hand unexpectedly. Smirking at him, you leaned into his side. “Let's walk back to your office together, Larry,” you spoke with a teasing edge. He tried to pretend he did not notice a certain bounce that accompanied your steps, nor did he explain why he went immediately into the bathroom after getting back to work.

🌿N👑

🟢 The poor, poor green boy tried to avert his eyes from you after you met him on the route just outside of Nimbasa. It was bright pink… Like a Cherubi. Actually, N attempted to suppress that thought. Two spherical objects… No! He was absolutely flustered by the tight-fittingness of it. Why were you wearing such a shirt? “Push my buttons?” What did that mean? He could truly only understand… The obvious chest on the shirt.

🟢 “M-my love…” His voice was soft as he set out to gaze at his Zoroark playing in nearby tall grass, “Is that okay for a walk?” He probably was not one to talk in his two shirts and khakis. You tilted your head at him when you finally got close. It was even worse, seeing you closer. He could see the smallest movements from you, hyper aware of body language. N noticed the slightest bounce to your bust. You giggled at him.

🟢 “I'm getting the feeling the shirt's implication is going over your head,” you told him with a playful sigh, “Still effective, though.” Poor N went silent as he tried to think of anything but your chest. Well, thankfully, the green-haired man was not opposed to certain things out in the wilderness.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ Cyrus sighed as he readjusted his collar. A date in Amity Square… You were already there waiting for him. He was in the middle of his own thoughts about various plans related to Team Galactic when he stopped. You sat on a bench with a Skitty curled up in your lap… And a skin-tight, bright pink t-shirt. He felt his heart begin to race slightly. It had a graphic across the bust of a keyboard and text stating to “push my buttons.” What in the world were you wearing?

☄️ “My dear,” his voice was monotone as he pretended to be apathetic to your teasing attempt, “Did you catch a new pokemon?” You gazed at him with an expression he knew quite well. Cyrus was not easily moved, obviously. You leaned towards him, making your breasts more apparent to him. He tightened his grip on his slacks, refusing to be affected. “I wonder if Weavile and them will get along,” he said simply.

☄️ You pouted and sighed. Leaning your head on his shoulder, you started telling him about the Skitty. Sadly, the Team Galactic Boss resisted temptation.

🥼Colress🛸

🧪 The scientist stood on the beach, wearing more vacation appropriate attire than his usual “coat.” You called out his name to call his attention. He turned his head to spy you running up to him in a very attention-grabbing shirt. Bright pink, tight fit, and with a… suggestive caption. Colress chuckled to himself as he watched your chest bounce as you moved. It was hard to miss you.

🧪 “Push my buttons…” he mumbled after you stood before him, “Here I thought you wanted me to take a break from just that.” You were the one who became flustered as he pulled you close to himself. His lips twisted into a smirk. “Well… Should we head back to the hotel then?” he offered. You shot him a look but sighed. It was you who got teased.

🧪 Colress led the way out of the Alolan heat into a different kind. Well, he certainly knew how to push your buttons just right and more.

#pokemon x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #larry x reader #n x reader #cyrus x reader #colress x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #larry/reader #n/reader #cyrus/reader #colress/reader

[perplexingluciddreams]

AAC IS HERE !!!! Pictures first, then explanation of settings and my feelings/opinions so far!

[Image description: A Jabbla Vibe 10 dedicated communication device, with Grid 3 open to Grid Explorer. It has the name Ezra at the top and three grid sets ready to be opened. Each has a different colour, from left to right they are red, teal, and dark green. Red is Supercore 50, teal is WordPower 100, and dark green is WordPower 100 for Switches. End ID.]

[Image description: Same communication device, open to Supercore 50 grid set. It is 9 buttons across, 6 buttons down. There is additional row at the top, which is like this from left to right; magic wand, jump back, speech bar taking the space of 4 normal buttons, speak, delete word, clear. End ID.]

[Image description: Communication device open to WordPower 100, with a plastic keyguard over the top. The keyguard is made of clear plastic and clips onto the device with two black clips, one on each side. This grid is 9 by 12, including the top row with the speech bar and other buttons on either side of speech bar. The background colour is dark blue. The keyguard holes is a bit smaller than the size of the buttons, so sometimes seeing the full button is tricky. End ID.]

[Image description: Same device, open to WordPower 100 for Switches. It is without the keyguard because the grid is 9 by 13 instead of 9 by 12, so it doesn’t fit this grid. The background is white and there is bigger spacing between the buttons compared to the other grids. There is a switch frequency keyboard on the right hand side of the screen. The buttons on this grid is divided into clearer blocks, for switch scanning. End ID.]

Okay… Firstly I am very very excited and happy and quite overwhelmed!! It is so great and relieving to have my own dedicated device, finally! I cannot describe how much this will help me.

Michelle (SCTCI (Scottish Centre of Technology for the Communication Impaired) person) set this up so the WordPower 100 grid is automatically opened first. However I already think I need to change this so Supercore 50 is first to open. I already am so much faster with Supercore, I think because it is less buttons to process, less overwhelming. And more easy to understand categories which help me with navigation (I struggle with that).

I also will try the keyguard, and Michelle say she can get another one for WordPower 100 for Switches. I don’t know if keyguard for Supercore 50 is an option, but it is custom made by someone apparently, so I assume it is possible.

Basically right now is just for trying and editing and experimenting. Then eventually I can ask Mum to email Michelle if I have anything to say or ask!

The physical device (Jabbla Vibe 10) is great! Not too heavy, good handle, good stand with good range of angles. I also have a bag for it!

I am just so happy and proud. I already use Supercore 50 to say several long sentences to Mum, and I am super fast on it!!! That is a big deal and big accomplishment for me. I also have Archie Scottish boy voice, and I love it.

🥰😍🤩🥳😄🎉

#words from my head #snapshots of my life #image #described #autism #autistic #nonverbal #nonspeaking #aac #aacdevice #aac device #aac user #grid 3 #Supercore 50 #wordpower 100 #WordPower 100 for switches #Jabbla Vibe 10 #communication devices #keyguard

[birgittesilverbae]

hitched fic, a moment for either/both of them where they look at the other and think 'hmm, maybe i won't mind being married to that goober', not that big italicized Oh, but that tiny little ...huh

"You disappeared," Ava calls out as she picks her way carefully down the stairs to the dock. The treads are still damp with the prior day's rain and fallen leaves lie slick on the wood. 

Bea glances back towards her from her spot at the very edge of the dock, shrugs a sweater-clad shoulder. "I just needed some air. You didn't have to come down."

"What, and stay up there with a solo front row seat to Ms. and Ms. Disgustingly In Love? No, thank you." She comes to a halt at the path curving along the lakeshore, eyeing the dock distrustfully. No handrails to grab onto there; she'd need to mention that to Mary when they returned to the cottage. 

"Have you stayed out here with them before?"

Ava shakes her head, then realises Bea can't see the movement. "Just on day trips, I used to bartend part-time and I'd pick up shifts on long weekends. Never worked out that I could stay overnight."

Bea hums to herself, tucks her hands in her pockets. "The last time I was here it was with Lucia." 

"Ah. No wonder you needed to step away. Do you want me to leave you to it, or…?"

Bea turns fully towards her then, her breath clouding in the air with every breath. "No," she replies, striding back up the dock towards her, "I always appreciate your company."

Ava ducks her chin towards her chest, her face growing hot. She doesn't know that she'll ever get used to the ease with which Bea just says things like that, or to how clear it is that she doesn't understand the effect it has on Ava. She clears her throat and kicks at a clump of leaves. "Yeah, well, the only other option is third-wheeling them while they talk about colour schemes with Yas, so…" 

"Are they still pretending they haven't already decided on navy and sage?"

"Mary was going on about coral when I made my escape."

Bea laughs softly. "She does know how to push every single one of Shannon's buttons." She proffers her arm to Ava, nods towards the path. "Would you be up for a turn about the lake?"

"Gladly." She clasps Bea's forearm, turns in time with her to start down the path. Her thumb strokes absently across the thick weave of Bea's sleeve. "I like this sweater too," she remarks, "but I'm appropriately dressed for the weather this time, so don't even think about offering it to me."

"I wouldn't dream of it. I'm glad to hear you've figured out how to check a forecast."

"Didn't want to risk another round of mockery."

"It was gentle ribbing, if anything."

"'Oo, Ava, you're going to freeze your nipples off'."

"I absolutely do not sound like that, and I definitely did not say 'nipples'."

"You might not have said it, but…" Bea's arm stiffens beneath her hand, and Ava scrambles to backtrack. She gestures up at the trees, limbs skeletal in the cool air. "Ironic, don't you think, that we're here looking at this as a wedding venue when everything's in the middle of dying off for winter?"

Bea tips her head back to follow the direction of Ava's hand. Her face goes a bit shuttered, cheeks pink with the chill, eyelashes fluttering. "It'll be beautiful come spring, though," she replies softly.

Gaze locked on Bea, on the gentle fall of loose strands of hair across her cheek, on the constellation of freckles scattered over her cheeks, Ava can't help but agree. 

#ask #selifator #fic: hitched #warrior nun #mywn #myfic #ava x beatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #avatrice

[lix-ables]

🍬⁺ ᘏ. WE ARE FOOLS — H.HYUNJIN.

❤️‍🩹🩹 mdni. flirty rivals, teasing, sexual tension, mentions of blowjobs, voyuerism, slight humiliation on both ends.

❤️‍🩹🩹 masterlist

❤️‍🩹🩹 words. 1,012.

— do leave feedback, and consider reblogging, it helps me a lot !!

watching hyunjin getting punched was something you didn’t think you’d witness today out of all days, and the satisfaction it gave you - you had to admit it, it felt good. but the last thing you expected to do today was definitely not walk over, with an ice pack cold between your fingers, and you still found yourself doing exactly that.

“i’m going to kill him for punching you before i ever got to,” you start, your lips in a thin line, handing hyunjin the ice pack, who’s eyes looked up and glared at you, like he was staring at your soul. “in all seriousness though, what did you do for him to get that mad?” you watch him hiss a little as he pressed the ice pack to to his cheekbone where you could notice the bruise starting to form. “screwed around with his girl,” hyunjin sighs, and your eyes shift to the way his long fingers held onto the pack. “more like she came onto me,” he mumbles right after and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“you expect me to believe that?” you grab the ice pack from his hand, sighing at how good it felt in your hand - with the weather being humid, you needed that pack too. “i don’t expect you to do anything,” hyunjin frowns when he sees the ice pack in your hand instead of his. “though if you want, and if it makes you feel better, you can slap me. lightly.” “it’s not going to make me feel better. c’mere.”

with the ice pack in one hand, your other grabs onto his elbow, pulling him with you in the direction of one of the nearby classrooms, your fingers tight around the material of his blue blazer. leaving him to stand awkwardly by himself, you pull out one of the chairs of the last row, motioning him to sit down and hyunjin walks over, sitting down on the chair, while watching you with intent eyes, his fingers coming to loosen his tie and remove the top two buttons.

“do you just randomly carry a concealer and brush around?” hyunjin snickers as he sees you pull out a beige coloured box, and step closer to his figure. “no, i don’t just randomly carry this, don’t be dumber than you already are, hyunjin.”

“you’re trying to get someone’s attention, aren’t you?” he pokes, a smile settling on his face - a smile that made him take a sharp breath in, his long fingers coming to rest on his cheekbone where the bruise was. “now, why would i want to do that?” you tilt your head, putting the concealer down on the desk in front of him, pushing it forward and standing in place of it, so that hyunjin was now looking up at you, his eyes meeting your own. “i don’t know, you want be pretty for someone, sweetheart. and trust me, you’re not even that pretty. maybe cute, but not pretty,” he hums, and you huff, biting the inside of your cheek, your tongue jutting out after, and you open your mouth to say something, but decide against it. your fingers reach to touch the bruise on his face, his skin is soft at your touch, you think, and before you can even realise it, hyunjin pulls you closer, his fingers tugging on the sleeve of your blazer.

“how do you expect to cover that bruise up if you’re so far away,” he mutters, his eyes not moving away from your face for even a second. “you don’t need to do this, you know,” he finishes, before keeping quiet to let you open the concealer box, taking out the microfiber sponge and dabbing it with the powder. “trust me, i don’t want to do this,” you let out a short chuckle, before continuing, “and if you don’t think i’m pretty, you still watch me in class, don’t you? i don’t suppose you’re crushing on me, hm?”

“in your fucking dreams, doll,” hyunjin grits his teeth, going back to hiss when you touch his bruise with the sponge. “oh, too bad for you, i don’t have dreams about you,” you reply, smiling. “you wish you do, don’t you? i bet you think about me, in the darkness of your tiny room, maybe oh, touch yourself at the mere thought of me?” he smiles back, his knees now touching your bare thigh, the material rubbing against your skin.

“aww, look at you. have you been thinking about whether i dream about you or not, pretty boy? and at night? how cute.”

“no, darling, but now that i think about it, you being on your knees, begging to be fucked - a sight to see, but sadly, there’s no one who satisfies you, isn’t that right?” hyunjin coos, his fingers now touching your exposed knee, and you shiver under his touch. “look at you reacting to my touch. i really wonder what you’d do if i just…”

hyunjin’s hand moves slightly higher, still staying on your knee, before you move away, your eyes glaring at him when you feel your back hit the desk behind you, almost making you trip. “go fuck yourself,” you roll your eyes at him, reaching back for the concealer, shutting it close, turning away from him, before you hear his voice behind you. “so you can watch? you have been thinking about me jerking off, haven’t you? dirty little thing - pulling off an innocent image up until now, haven’t you?”

“you wish, baby,” you turn back around looking at him, your hands resting at your waist, as you watch him come closer and closer to where you were standing. “you can only wish i was dreaming about your dick, but unfortunate for you, i doubt you can even do anything,” you sigh at him.

“say that again, i dare you,” hyunjin leans forward, his lips inches away from yours, his fingers now on your arm, his grip tight. “fucking say it again, and i’ll make sure you make good use of that smart mouth of yours, hm?”

note. the last thing i post before my mid terms started tomorrow jksadjsoid hopefully this came out well, sigh. also happy november besties !! hope you enjoy this nonetheless, it’s something different i tried aaaaaa. part 2 when I'm back i guess.

taglist. @hwajin @starlostseungmin @chrisbahng @niinjo @chvnnie @lixhues @joonszn @janvibutbetter @cherryhanji @blueberry-chan @dnadoublefelixx @ethereallino @stuckwithaphobiaa @chewryy @bangchanbabygirlx @critssq @zizis-world12 @aimeexx @whatudowhennooneseesyou @seobinniesshi @nightlychans @americanokisses @katieraven @h0neydewmoon @hwan-g @svintsandghosts

#— delulu moments ❁ ˎˊ˗ #stray kids smut #stray kids hard hours #skz smut #skz hard hours #stray kids hyunjin smut #stray kids scenarios #skz hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut drabbles #hyunjin smut drabbles #stray kids drabbles #stray kids suggestive #hyunjin hard hours #hyunjin hard thoughts #stray kids hard thoughts #hyunjin stray kids

[marimayscarlett]

By all means *eyes emoji*

Hi 👋

I took this ask as an invitation to figuratively dive into Richard's coat closet, and tried to compile every coat he wore in the last 30 years.

And oh boy, this man surely loves a good coat. He's the one member of this band who consecutively wore a coat on almost every tour and really takes a liking in the dramaturgical effect of wearing long (often times dark in color) coats and later reveiling additional outfits underneath, especially in later years. It fits his somewhat dramatic stage presence and he started quite early with these kind of stage outfits!

I subdevided this overview in two sub-topics to give this post somewhat of a structure, because this will be long.

1.) Richard's coats on stage (organized by year and tour)

1.1) Firstly, the plain black coat from the Herzeleid tour which he wore in 1995/1996. It's from what I could find the first time he wore a coat on stage while playing for Rammstein.

1.2) Addtionally, he wore the shiny red and silver coat during the Herzeleid tour as well as partly on the Sehnsucht tour in 1997. Same as the black coat before, he forwent any additional outfit underneath.

1.3) Also on the Sehnsucht tour, Richard wore the somewhat futuristic (reminded me a little bit of Star Treck costumes) black and silver coat which is clearly visible in Live aus Berlin. It suited the whole style of this era quite nicely and fit into the vibe of Till's cyborg/futuristic jacket as well.

1.4) For his outfit during the Reise Reise tour in 2004/2005, Richard settled for a black military-style coat. The button rows seem to be reminiscent of french military uniforms from the 17th and 18th century (as well as the button lines and the embroidery on the collar of the underjacket) and his pants were designed in a similar style. The lining of the coat is bright red, a theme which would occur numerous times over the years.

1.5) During the LIFAD tour, Richard wore a grey-mottled coat made out of a somewhat leathery material, adorned with silver buttons and a red armband - again he incorporated a red element in this coat, just like with the one before. On a sidenote: He once mentioned that Michael Jackson was an inspiration for this armband because Richard liked the cool look of it - his leg-belts (visible in the right picture) also kind of resemble the harness Michael wore on stage and in some videos during his Bad era.

1.6) An absolute personal favourite of mine: The studded coat Richard chose for the 2013 part of the Made in Germany tour, oftentimes paired with the torn black and red top underneath. This one also got red lining, as well as a fine red line near the cuffs of the coat.

1.7) In 2016 for the Festival tour, Richard wore coat in a more cosy and snuggly style, which marked a break in the clean cut coat-aesthetic up to this point. It was more in the style of a cardigan with a zipper instead of buttons. The armband made a reappearance as the signature red element (mirrored by a red band on his pants), and red lines along the seams added this colourful accent.

1.8) For the 2019 tour leg of the Stadium tour, Richard mixed things up by wearing a two piece combo made out of a leathery material, with a studded cap on the right shoulder and red elements in form of the usual arm band and a red folding in the front. The lower part of this outfit was removable, so the upper part remained as a jacket.

1.9) In 2022, he wore an all black coat with a belt and flaps along the shoulders, as well as snap fasteners as buttons; it overall resembled the typical look of a trenchcoat and seemed less rigid then the previous ensemble.

1.10) A true fandom favourite appeared on the scene in 2022 when he presented the infamous chicken coat. This one was already known from the "Freeze my mind" music video (from 2021) from Richard's side project and other band Emigrate. Different than in the music video, where a vest completed the look, Richard again after years went on stage without any outfit under it. This coat was used by him also during this year's tour leg.

1.11) Another personal favourite of mine is the black coat with red lining which he wore during this year's tour. Affectionatly dubbed "the vampire coat", this coat appears to be quite clean cut and simple, but has a very nice and dramatic effect on him (choosing gifs this time to underline this sentiment).

2.) Richard's coats off stage

Here are some of the coats Richard wore off stage during band fotoshoots and outings. Not counting normal jackets or parcas here.

2.1) The fur-lined coat during the Rosenrot fotoshooting:

2.2) The reoccuring black coat with fluffy fur elements, worn by him while being presented with awards in 2005 in Berlin as well as during the Echo award show in 2009:

2.3) He wore another black coat which looked pretty similar to the one before but is still slightly different during a signing in Paris 2004:

2.4) And a brown/beige kind of trenchcoat was his style of choice for the Fashion rock night in 2009:

2.5) During the outdoor shooting for the LIFAD album, Richard wore another black coat:

2.6) And lastly, the fancy embroidered coat Richard chose for promotion pictures for (I think) his first album with his band Emigrate:

Not sure if I was thouroughly enough and found every coat he ever wore, but I think the presented ones here really express his love for this piece of clothing in general 😊 I'm looking forward to either seeing a new coat on Richard next year or a return of his vampire coat 🦇 (Still hoping to see the studded coat someday again).

(Used picture sources: Rammwiki and the Rammsteinworld gallery - wonderful rabbit holes to get lost in.)

#rammstein #richard kruspe #richard's fashion lore #half his penthouse is filled with coats by this point i guess #this took me about 3 days to compile and i had so much fun no joke #thank you for this ask 💜 #ask #richard's coats #emigrate

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt I the wedding dress: an actual update

For the uninitiated, my current hyperfixation (one of them) is designing a wedding dress for Crowley because I heard the song Book of Love by Peter Gabriel from their Heavenly Playlist. Here's how far I've got with the concept:

Okay, where do I start? There's so much happening and I've only got as far as the shirt, cufflinks and jacket. Let's go with the overview/jacket:

[Disclaimer: I'm a design student, but not in fashion design. I don't really know what I'm doing, but I'm having fun, and I hope that's what matters]

JACKET: So the first photo above was the jacket idea I had when I first decided to start this, because the season 1 waiter blazer suits Crowley, from the cropped nature to the sharp notched lapels (if you're not sure what that is, like I was at first, it's not very clear in the white but you see that lightning bolt style collar in my sketch? that's the notched lapels).

But it met too high on the chest (notice where it cuts the tie) to be soft enough for a wedding dress, so I made the two halves meet lower down in the sketch. I also made it single-breasted (which basically means a coat or blazer that has a single row of buttons, in this case, just one button).

I haven't worked out more about the jacket, oh and also if someone could tell me the material of the original costume that would be very cool. I'll probably spend an unreasonable amount of time designing the button, too. As for colour, it would be black with a garnet or currant red lining.

OVERVIEW: So like the sketch shows, there's a shirt, that's held in place by a corset over it, and the jacket covers both. The corset would probably be under bust and back-laced for more support, with hints of scarlet on snakeskin leather? I'm not entirely sure, I need to research corsets.

The cummerbund (oops misspelt it in the sketch) is a broad waist sash, you can see it in the waiter costume, too. In the wedding dress, it would overlap the shirt slightly under the corset, and I was thinking of black satin with embroidery of stars/constellations.

I was originally going to draw star charts of a significant month for them (maybe April, because that's when nightingales, which are migratory birds, usually return to England for mating season to sing). Perhaps star charts as visible from Earth versus Alpha Centauri? But that could get complicated and on the bafta livestream chat someone sent coats that have Zodiac patterns on them in gold, so I'm debating that too.

Besides, there'll already be a nightingale pin on the lapel, gold with a sapphire eye for Aziraphale.

The lower part of the wedding dress involves a train and trousers and split skirt, we won't go into that. I think this post already got too long so I'll make another one for the shirt and the cufflinks :")

Have a lovely day my maggots you're amazing and I love you. Look at you, you're gorgeous.

#good omens mascot #weirdly the nightingales wed #crowley's dress #good omens #asmi #weirdly specific but ok #maggots #good omens fandom #crowley #book of love #fashion #wedding dress #dress design

[archiepudding]

A Little Surprise

Atsumu takes you on a little arcade date, but your little surprise is certainly more entertaining.

Pairing: Dominant! Atsumu Miya x Female!Readee

Warnings: 18+ Sexual content, swearing

There was too much to look at. Rows of machines burst with an array of neon cyan and pink, while glowing screens bombarded your view with every other colour. Polished floors lined the narrow pathway that was surprisingly scarce of customers on a Sunday evening. Your hand was cosily interlocked with Atsumu, his large hand easily swallowing yours. You squinted in the low light, searching through the claw machines that line the right side of the arcade, yellow plush Pikachus and the harsh blue of Sonic commandeered most of them. A few teens stood huddled in the back, yells belching out through the arcade as you watched them race against each other, your legs tensing for them at how close the race came.

On your way out, you linked your fingers with Atsumu once again. Your arms brushing against each other. Stepping out into the bitter evening chill, the small child within you could no longer be held back.

“Squirtle!” You tugged him back, letting go to put your hand on the icy glass. “They hardly ever have him! And he’s the last one!” You turned to face Atsumu, your lips already pouting.

“It’s three degrees… and you want me to play on the one machine that's outside?” His expression was deadpan.

You chewed your lower lip. “Please?”

Atsumu sighed, loudly, dragging his feet as he came to join you. He held his hand out and you placed the slippery cold coin into his palm. Although he seemed reluctant at the start, Atsumu had become more and more determined, jabbing at the buttons and slamming his foot against the machine when the claw would drop the desired prize. Thirty minutes had gone by and he hadn’t even noticed that you slipped away, returning with two cups of warm coco. 

“Here.” You grinned.

He blankly accepted, his concentration never wavering. He took a quick slurp and tried his luck again. 

Realising that he was likely in this for the long haul you take it as another chance to look around, hoping to find something to surprise him with in return.

You felt a little bad, as your mind wandered back to the boy outside the arcade, but you’d hope your trip wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes, your legs carrying you through the busy bustling Tokyo streets. Your eyes went wide, staring up at the seven-story building, the windows filled with a collection of undergarments that caused your pink cheeks to glow red. Your feet carried you from floor to floor, and to be honest with yourself there was at least one item on each floor that made your eyebrow raise at the thought of Osamu in the bedroom. You laughed at the different options available - dildos in the shapes of carrots or eggplants, leather catsuits and corsets all making you envious of the mannequins. 

Interestingly, you found yourself scanning over the collars. The lewd thoughts in your head are already running wild. Not overthinking it, you grab a few more items to make the night more enjoyable, but as you go back to the counter your attention is brought to the colourful selection of vibrators. A display advertising a small curved pink one. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you reach for a box, keeping the newly bought items close to you as you make your way back. 

You had taken longer than you expected, your phone reading quarter-to-nine. You’d been nearly an hour. Your heart pounded in your chest. Why hadn’t he called? Did he think you left him? 

Just when you thought your heart had stopped, you heard a bellowing cheer. Followed by the familiar smile beaming at the slightly disfigured blue turtle. His eyes sparkled, and you couldn’t help but smile at the childish grin of self-satisfaction that plastered his face. 

“I knew I’d get it!” 

You blinked up at him, taking a few steps forward.

“You’ve been at this for nearly two hours.” You squeaked.

He handed you his winnings, but before you could take it he pulled it back, pushing his face closer to it.

“Well I can see why no one wanted him,” he turned it towards you pointing at the toy's face, “it looks like it’s had half its face melted,” he turned it back to himself, “and then went ten rounds with Bakugo.”

You snatch it from him, your face contorting when you get to inspect it yourself. “Oh god.” 

“I’ll see if they can switch him out for a new one.” Atsumu went to take it back but you pulled it into your neck, scowling at him.

“No!”

He holds his hand out, his face serious. “Give it.”

You shake your head.

“Y/n!” 

You shook your head faster, taking a step backwards.

His face softened before he tried to resume his composure. He wiggled his hand, silently repeating his original question.

“It gives him character!” You protested.

He caved, turning his hand to invite you to take it. You did, immediately retracting.

“Oh my god, they’re freezing!” 

Placing your gift under your arm, you take his hands in yours, pulling them back towards the arcade machine to get out of the way of the crowded space. His hands were lightly pressed between yours, his skin red but incredibly soft. Atsumu couldn’t hide how happy he was in that moment, his eyes tentatively watching each movement. Everything seemed to disconnect, his world solely consumed by just you and him.

“What?” You giggled, glancing from his hands. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You were sure it was just the winter breeze but the tips of his ears burnt a deep red. 

His voice was low. “You know I have another way to warm these up?”

You tilted your head, your eyes narrow with confusion and curiosity, but they quickly changed when you felt the freezing tips of his fingers sneak up your shirt. His icy claws clamping either side of your waist. You gasped. A breathy squeal escaping your lips as you wiggled out his grip. Atsumu bared a toothy-grin, his hands slapping on to his knees as he hunched over.

“That’s not funny,” you attempted to hide your own laughter and slapping his shoulder. Atsumu pulled you close to him, your chest now flush against his, “they’re so cold!”

“That’s what happens when you spend two hours in three degree weather trying to get the girl you love what she wants.”

He goes to kiss you, but you pull your head back, your hands gripping his biceps tighter. Your eyes searched his, wondering if you had misheard him. 

Your voice was weak. “What did you say?”

He raised his brow, only one. “That - that’s what happens when you-”

“No. The last part.” You smiled, moving his hair to the side.

“You mean me trying to get the girl I love, the creepy ass teddy she wanted?”

Your smile grows wider. “Yeah. That bit.”

“You like the sound of that, huh?”

You hummed in agreement, slowly bringing your lips towards his. You could feel yourself melting away until the sudden stark cold feeling had snuck its way onto your back. You slapped his shoulder.

“Stop it! Here!” You unzipped his coat, “how do you like it?” You pressed your hands onto his stomach, his muscles contracting from the cold. He let out a small puff of air, but his composure never wavered. 

“Not sure this was what you were going for, but it’s just making me want to take my clothes off.” 

“Oh really?” An evil temptation ran through your mind. “Well, then maybe you’ll want what I went to get you then.”

Keeping your hand where it was, you hand him the bag with your free hand. Briefly checking over your shoulder you position yourself so only you can be seen from the street.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Take a look, but don’t pull anything out.”

Curiosity peaked in his eyes as you watched him open the bag, his eyes almost bulging out his head. He frantically searched around him, clearly paranoid of any prying eyes.

You watched his Adam's apple move sharply and he cleared his throat. “W-Where did you...erm. When?” 

“While you were getting this guy.” You pulled the toy out from under your arm, placing him into the bag. Your eyes flit down his body, your hand stil against his skin.

Usually you would be a lot more modest, but the way he looked at you just made you throb between your legs. You slowly dragged your fingers down, stopping just at the waist of his trousers.

“Careful doll. Someone might think I've corrupted you.” He smirked, pulling you closer to him. 

Reaching up to his ear, your hand makes its own way to the zip of his pants. 

“Then why don’t you discipline me?” 

Getting in a more comfortable position, you pressed your palm against his bulge. Atsumu leant his head back, a white fog releasing from his mouth. The sight of relief causes a smirk to twitch on your face and you remove your hand. Attempting to compose himself, Atsumu grabbed your arm and dragged you to the nearest taxi, throwing you in. 

The low lights made it easier for your hands to wander to Atsumu’s thigh, not allowing him to return the favour. Leaning across, you press your lips to his, the pressure a lot rougher than usual and your hands dip into his pocket, taking his phone out. He looked at you curiously. 

“Unlock it.” 

His hand cautiously took it from you, the screen lighting up the dark uber. Atsumu’s gaze was hard, though you were sure it was more fear than confusion. You chose to take your time, carefully setting up your little surprise further. Turning your head to the side, you pass the phone back to him. 

“What did you do?” He asked.

Silently, you lean forward, pulling one of the boxes out the bag and placing it in his lap. 

“Really?” His voice was just above a whisper.

Confirming his suspicions you take his hand in yours, directing it to the top of your trousers. Your fingers dancing around the drawstrings and loosening them.

“Check for yourself.” You instructed.

Atsumu lifted the top of your shirt, allowing his fingers to creep down to your wet laced underwear. His hand lingered there longer than necessary to check, his fingers were still cold, the tips grazing back up and out of your trousers. He took his phone out his lap, the app you were last on already open. 

Unsure if he had figured out how to use it, you were pleasantly surprised by the sudden vibration between your legs. A small hum bounced in the car, your eyes glancing between Atsumu and the blissfully unaware driver. Moving into the middle seat, you placed your head on his shoulder, his hand firmly gripping your thigh. 

Facing forward, you kept your gaze on the road but your mind was anywhere but. Your hand snaked its way up his toned thigh, his hot length rock hard. Atsumu let out a low grunt at the feeling of your touch on him. With one simple ‘pop’ his button came undone, the zip already down from earlier.

His breath was hot on your ear. “When we get back, I’m making use of everything you bought.”

You turned to face him, glancing at his lips. “Everything?”

“Everything.”

His thumb slid up his phone, the pleasurable constant turning into an overwhelming euphoria. 

“Lean into me.”

You gladly accept. Taking the collar of his coat in your mouth, attempting to muffle your moans that were adamant to escape. You started to move your hand softly up and down along his clothed length but his hand gently laid on top of yours.

“I’m not going to be able to last long if you do that, doll.”

You could also feel yourself becoming undone, your hips moving backwards and forward on their own as your body searches for a way to relieve itself. 

“Does it feel good?”

Your slow rhythm begins to speed up, your mind aching for his cock to be between your legs. Nuzzling your face deeper into his neck, his scent is the final tipping point. Your senses seem lost as your legs shake, the knot in your stomach coming undone in your underwear. A shiver racks through your drained body, your weight pressed against Atsumu. 

“I take that as a yes.”

You hadn’t noticed the car was pulling up to the familiar campus surrounding. Atsumu signalled you to get your stuff and you both quickly scampered out the vehicle, both trying to find some money to pay with. 

You barely made it into your apartment before you were stripping each other and your clothes leave a cliche trail to your bedroom. Warm tingles spread through you as Atsumu messes with his phone, the shock causing you to stumble. He steadied you. 

“Get this out and fuck me already.” You begged, a little too desperately.

Atsumu cupped your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “Patience, doll.” 

You watched as Atsumu left you, the vibrator almost slipping out from how slick you were, your legs slightly squeezing together. Taking the collar out from the bag, he motioned you to the bed and you obliged. 

“Are you going to cum for me?” He took the collar, the cold leather lightly slapping you as he dragged it down your bare chest, “Are you going to cum all over my dick?” 

The way he commanded the room had you tranced. Your mind was intoxicated with the thought of him. Atsumu let out a low chuckle and crawled to you on the bed, your body moving backwards. Your hands lifted your hair, the collar wrapping securely around your neck, the lead dangling between your breasts. Atsumu leans down and pressed wet kisses against your chest, trailing up to your lips. His hips fit comfortably in front of your dripping cunt, his dick begging to get past your pink obstruction.

“Please…” Your voice was weak.

“Please what doll?”

“Fuck me… please....”

Not wasting anymore time, his hand relieved you from the overstimulating pleasure. Atsumu fumbled with your draw, quickly opening a condom and rolling it down his shaft. His hand pumped a few times before his body came down into you, his dick sliding in with little resistance. Your hands clasped his biceps, his strong muscles sturdy under the pressure as he thrusted deep inside you. It didn’t take long for his kiss to turn desperate, his hand moving gently to grab at your collar as he pushes himself backup. The explicit sounds of skin slapping skin filled your apartment, you both breathed heavy and the look in Atsumu’s eyes could only be described as feral lust.

He pulled out of you, laying flat on the bed and taking the lead in his hand. He fit perfectly inside you as you rode his dick, your hips grinding back and forth. 

“Come closer.” 

You looked at him confused, but Atsumu wasn’t happy with that. Before you could answer, you feel the firm tug around your neck, the leather lead wrapping around his forearm. Your chest fell to his, you both face to face as he bucked his hips up into you. 

“Sorry, I can’t wait.”

“It’s okay.”

He braced his arms around you, twisting you over as the warm sheet contrasted your cold clammy skin, though it was short lived when Atsumu’s hands gripped your ankles, your stomach now pressed against the sheets. The collar slid around your neck, and Atsumu began fucking you deep. His dick reached further and further as he plowed into you. His thrusts were anything but tender, the sloppy actions causing you to almost see stars. 

Atsumu’s mind shot to the little pink helper, his free hand taking it and pressing it against your clit. The stimulation being almost too much.

“Shit. Yes… I think I’m gonna cum!” 

“Shit, I’m almost there too!”

Atsumu’s grip tightens on your lead, your head forced backwards as you try and resist. The lack of oxygen, causing the last of your sanity to dissipate as your body begins to shake. Atsumu felt your walls spasm around him and watching you choke yourself only made the lewd fantasies in his head run wild. At his own limit he knocked into you a few more times, releasing your leash to grip your waist, his fingers digging in just enough to not mark. 

Your torso dropped forward, Atsumu doing the same. The exhaustion was evident in the way you both slowly slid down the bed. 

“You’re really heavy.” You spoke.

“I’m eighty killograms of pure muscle, what do you expect?” 

“Yeah, well you’re squishing my tits!”

He rolled off, wriggling his arm underneath you. Mustering up the last of your strength you shuffle closer to him. 

“We need to shower.” You stated, drawing a small circle on his chest.

“Five minutes.” He cooed, causing you to nuzzle closer to his chest.

“Two.”

“Deal.”

#haikyu x reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #hq atsumu #hq smut #haikyuu smut #atsumu smut