#sea party looks🖤

[morallyinept]

Slow - A Javi Gutierrez One Shot

'Slow, slow. Slow as you can go. So I can feel all I want to know. Slow, slow. I go with your flow. Let the world keep it's carnival pace. I'd prefer to look into your beautiful face...' - Slow, Depeche Mode

Summary: Javi just wants to take it slow. Really slow. Because, that's how he likes it.

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. However, Reader speaks and understands Spanish.)

Word Count: 3.4k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️ “It's the emergence, of.” 

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.  

Explicit: Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M & F receiving/lots of sensuality/multiple orgasms/making love/Javi completely loving on you, and being completely in love with you... 🫠

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned. 

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: This was inspired by my result of this tag game and therefore I had to write it... first time writing for gorgeous Javi G too! 😍 There's lots of Javi & Reader conversing in Spanish so I've provided translations as you go.

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVI GUTIERREZ MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

His fascination with your mouth borders on an unbridled obsession. 

It’s the curve of your lips, a subtle intoxicating lilt that holds him captivated in your thrall. You have him bewitched.

In the quiet moments of the pleasant fracas swirling around him, he finds himself entranced by the way your mouth quirks into a beaming smile, a sight that could brighten even the dullest day to fall out of the sky onto his head of silken curls.

In the sultry Mallorcan night, the heat hangs in the air like a velvet cocoon. The villa, perched on the cliffs overlooking the coastline, catches the sea breeze that carries with it the intoxicating scent of salt and blooming bougainvillaea.

The moon, a radiant slither of its full naked orb, casts a silvery glow on the Mediterranean waters, turning the waves into a ripple of shimmering diamond refractions.

The night air is filled with the chorus of chattering cicadas, their rhythmic hum a soundtrack to the nocturnal symphonies of the night.

From the cliffs, the lights of coastal towns twinkle in the distance, creating a mesmerising panorama against the dark canvas of the night sky.

The event bears the imprint of both newly conceived business connections and broader social interactions. Laughter echoes against the backdrop of the sea, mingling with the distant sounds of the waves crashing against the cliffs on which the luxurious villa, you and Javi call home, rests on.

But Javi’s interest tonight is piqued on something other than the façade of the glitz that comes with the party uniting his independent business venture away from a life shadowed by once secretly organised crime.

Shunning his duties as an amiable host this evening, he’s distracted by you and your lips. 

He loves the way your glazed lips feel on the pads of his fingertips; a soft and tender invitation to place gentle smooches on them that speaks the volumes of your love for him without uttering a single word.

The thought of your shared, deep kisses linger in his mind like a sweet aftertaste; a memory he can savour throughout the minutes of separation from you by his side.

He misses the cadence of your voice already as he sees your mouth converse with his new associates.

Whether you whisper sweet, riled nothings in the height of hedonistic delirium in his ear, or share heartfelt sentiments doing mundane things, each syllable carries the warmth of your unwavering connection.

Javi’s fixation on your mouth is raw and primal, an intense craving that runs deeper than words. The way your lips move, whether in a smirk or a pouted smile, stirs a want, a need, within him.

It’s as if your mouth holds a magnetic pull, daring him to explore its depths with a hunger that borders on illicit infatuation.

He thinks about how they... suck.

In the heat of passion, he revels in the brand of your lips, each kiss leaving a mark on his senses and skin alike where the lines blur between careful restraint and reckless abandon.

It’s a visceral experience, one that leaves him yearning for more, addicted to the electrifying sensation of your mouths colliding frantically.

Sipping on cool champagne from across the soiree, Javi watches you with a silent appreciation and a growing warmth traversing his bloodstream, gathering at the end of his painfully hardening cock. 

The soft glow of the outdoor lights play on your soft features, and every movement seems to be in some unspoken, yet choreographed, harmony with the effervescent bubbles twirling in his glass.

His coffee bean eyes are fixated on you within the balmy shadows, and as you speak with those around you, he can't help but be mesmerised by the way your mouth moves.

He marvels at the way your laughter spills from your lips like the finest vintage wine, filling him up with a contagious yet unquenchable thirst; a storm in his head that only settles when you’re near.

He looks at you, a dissected hunger spilling out over his features. He’s known obsession before, but not like this.

This burns, this desire leaves him on his knees, begging at the altar of you for more; the focal point in the gallery of his yearning, to taste those lips and let them roam unbidden across his body once more. 

In the midst of the vibrant party, he finds himself helplessly ensnared by the conspiring allure of you. Your laughter echoes through him like a haunting melody, drawing his gaze as you effortlessly charm those around you into willful subjugation.

His chest swells with pride, knowing that you’re the one who holds the spotlight in his once complicated life. You’re the one he can be unabashed and silly with.

That yours is the pair of lips he can enjoy as they wrap so delectably around his cock.

Javi holds in an audible groan at the memory of you doing just that, only hours ago. 

Leaving the home of his arms to ready yourself for the party, he'd watched you. An arm behind his head, splayed naked on the bed, engrossed as you ran the velvety lipstick over your lips in the mirror.

You watched, just as enraptured as he, through the glass reflection as he fucked his fist languidly whilst you did it.

You blotted your lipstick on his lower hip, a kiss print tattoo staining his skin that only you both know is there.

Now, as you move through the crowd, a magnetic force tugs at his attention. The gentle swish of the silk of your flaxen dress reveals a slip of thigh skin to tantalise him further.

The way your eyes sparkle at him with excitement - each detail of your smile etches into his consciousness, carves deep into the steeple of his bones. 

In the throes of the party, he feels like a mere spectator witnessing the enchanting performance of the woman he calls his amor.

As your eyes meet across the crowded space, a spark ignites creating an electric current that surges between you both. You feel it immediately whenever he looks at you like this, that bolt down your spine brandishing molten and hot into your core.

How his dark eyes drink you in over the tip of his champagne glass; a contained predator under the guise of a hapless romantic, sizing up his prey.

How he wanders over your body with an unapologetic, insatiable smirk, leaving a slew of prickles to flood all over it; nipples tightening under the flimsy silk for all to see, but only for him to taste.

You both know what he does to you. What you do to each other, even without physical touch. He knows how wet you are for him under that dress right now.

You know how hard he his inside of his pants right now.

Amidst the party's chaos, your mutual pining silence becomes loud; gazes locked with an intensity that screams of a shared hunger for one another. A flutter in his chest, a quickened pulse throbbing between your legs; the visceral responses to the tether that pulls tight between you ready to snap.

You lick your lips, the subtle swipe of your wet tongue over the scarlet of them, and it breaks all of his composure in an instant. 

Glass discarded blindly on the table behind him, Javi makes his way towards you. 

In whispered conversations beneath the shimmering string lights, your entwined arms and words carry the weight of acute longing - a pace of deliberately denied pleasure. 

“See something you like, Javi?” You smile into the graze of his softly bearded cheek and plant a delicate kiss on it. 

"Mi amor," he whispers, his voice a soft serenade. "Estás radiante esta noche, más hermosa que nunca." (My love, you are radiant tonight, more beautiful than ever.)

He presses his forehead against yours, soft silken curls spilling down his temples.

“You look so good in this colour.” His fingers brush down the front of your dress, leaving devastation in their wake.

You smile into him sweetly, at the compliment he adorns you with. It’s worth more than any gold he's wrapped around your finger.

Your digits slide up and down the expensive lapels of his shimmery suit jacket. A colour like the depths of a lush forest after a gentle rain that serves to enhance the tan on his face, and he’s never looked more beautiful.

You clutch him closer, breathing him in; a blend of aromatic lavender, spicy cardamom and a burst of citrus bergamot blends on his skin as you run your nose behind his ear.

His hands find a home snug around your lower back, stroking the bare skin there your dress dares to reveal, and gently crushing you closer against him.

It’s a relentless pursuit, an unending loop of wanting more - more of your laughter to gorge upon, more of your warmth, more of the intoxicating essence that is uniquely you.

More of those lips as they draw near and he can feel your warm breath from them ghosting upon his mouth. 

Leaning in, he grazes them against his own and asks in a low, intimate tone, "¿Podemos escaparnos por un momento, mi amor?" (Can we slip away for a moment, my love?) 

The words carry a sense of biting urgency and crackles with something more than a whispered clandestine secret to escape the decadent banality around you. 

As if caught in the trance of a feverish reverie, the party seems to melt away, replaced by the dreamscape of your bedroom where time moves differently and the heat of the Spanish climate sticks to your skin further, despite the open doors on the balcony.

The linen curtains billow in the breeze welcoming you both in. The flickering lights from the party below cast ethereal shadows in the bedroom, and the muted sounds of the revellers become a distant melody as Javi finally attaches himself to your succulent lips, stumbling in the doorway with you. 

In this fever dream, desire is palpable, a desecration of any innocence as he pushes the door shut behind him with the sole of his Gucci loafer, and he’s above your body on the kingdom of your shared bed, those cascading chocolate waves falling into your face. 

The siren of the night calls, a constant craving, an ache that only subsides when you’re entangled in each other's arms. And yet it still feels as though it'll never be absolved.

He draws his fingertips around the circumference of your silk covered nipples, then up to your lips. He watches in awe as you kiss each of them, your tongue daring to lick around them, sucking them into your mouth. 

"Your mouth,” Javi murmurs, the intensity of his gaze fixated on the wet, pink tongue sliding between the webbing of his fingers. 

He feels you cup him over his pants, the prominent ache becoming unbearable as you squeeze gently.

"Quisiera tomárnoslo con calma esta noche." (I want us to take it slow tonight.)

“Javi…” You groan in protest as he runs his wet fingers over your crown and presses himself against you, making you feel the hardness of him at your centre. 

"Lento... realmente lento, mi amor. Quiero tomarme mi dulce tiempo contigo." (Slow... really slow, my love. I want to take my sweet time with you.)

“Javi, por favor…” You whine, trying to grind against him. (Javi, please…)

“Quiero explorarte a fondo... hacerte anhelar que esto dure para siempre.” (I want to explore you thoroughly... make you long for this to last forever.)

Sucked into the plush oasis of his mouth, tongue swiping tantalising tracks across your lips, your fingers rake into his curls as you tug. A gritty whine of longing claws its way from deep within him; a raw and primal sound that conjoins the ache in his chest and the incessant throbbing in his cock.

It’s a guttural utterance, a manifestation of the unspoken cravings that sear red hot through his veins. 

"Entrégame todo tu amor, Javi.” (Give me all of your love, Javi.) You gasp as you come up for air. 

You push his jacket from his broad shoulders, fingers prying at buttons down the linen shirt to get to the prize of golden skin underneath. The hem of your pale honey silk is pushed up to your waist as his fingers stroke over your thighs. 

A slew of kisses make steamed tracks on your collarbone, a hungry mouth trailing over your bare breasts as he releases them. Hard nipples are sucked into warm, wet flesh as you whine and gasp.

He buries himself between your thighs, lips sucking, tongue fucking into you gently, as you twist your fingers into his scalp and pant for more. 

“Javi!”

He hears you lament his name over and over, lost in the depths of the pleasure from his mouth. He offers you a tether, fingers slipped into your cunt and mouth alike as he looks up at you, tongue running around your pulsing clit. 

The bedroom fills with sunlight in the ripe darkness of the night - you glow for him, as bright as your dress, brighter than the sun.

He watches you come as he licks and sucks you through it; fingers pushing into your craving orifices deeper, coated in saliva and slick.

Javi discards his pants, kiss print still visible from your lips. Crawling up your body gloriously naked, sculpted in the arms and shoulders, you welcome him in with open, adoring arms and legs.

Those first few strokes, when he enters you, feels like the first time all over again. Like he’s died and been reborn anew. Put back together again, sewn up with glittered strings.

He slows right down, dragging his thick cock almost all the way out, before pushing back in slower than before. 

You groan, low and lingering, entombed in your wanting. Feeling every hilt and swollen ridge of him.

“You feel me like this, mi amor?” His nose nuzzles at your neck, lips pressing kisses into the column of your throat. “¿Tienes idea de lo jodidamente hermosa que estás en este momento?" (Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are right now?)

His fingers slip down your stomach, circling over your clit as you whine for more. 

He stops only to kiss you, losing himself in the richness of your taste; his cock plunged in deep and feeling you clench and rib around him. 

“Slow,” Javi whispers.

“Slow,” you whisper back. 

He glances down between your bodies to keenly observe the root of your connection; watching the way he disappears fully into you, hips crushed against yours. 

Watching the way you gnaw and bite on your bottom lip that he just has to have. Taking it between his teeth, he sucks it, sweet nips, tongue sliding into your mouth to gorge on you further.

The grind is deep, a languid pendulum of his hips back and forth. You grasp at his fingers, entwining them as he pulls you out of yourself.

Slow, unhurried strokes so you feel it all; lingering in the pooling light of your orgasms, never letting them diminish, always keeping you out of the dark. 

Kisses click down your jaw, soft grazes of his facial hair feels like chiffon against your skin. Hands stroking, squeezing, full of you as he fills you full of his hard, thick love. 

Soon your mouth craves the taste of him and you take him; lips clamped around his length as you suck him down into the back of your throat, tasting your sweet slick that coats him.

Nose pressed against the soft, downy hairs at the base of him, and his fingers curl around tendrils of your hair as you suck.

Javi gulps, a gasp strangled in his throat somewhere cracking out of him as he watches you annihilate him with those lips. 

He pulls your face up to him, kissing you so desperately and tasting his own salt on them. He feels you circling, with just the tip of your forefinger and thumb, trailing delicately up his shaft and to the head that’s warm and glistening.

You rub your thumb over that tiny oozing slit and feel him twitch and buckle as he groans - that deep, guttural sound when a man finds his pleasure.

"Soy completamente tuyo." (I am all yours.) He rasps, losing everything he is in an instant with a simple flick of your tongue.

You kiss and mouth over his cock gently, trailing the swollen, wet head over your lips as though re-applying your favourite lipstick.

He grunts, neck craned with his head watching and relishing that moment to come when you’ll slip him into your throat again. 

"Oh si, si, si..." he hisses encouragingly. Little breaths of "fuck... fuck... fuck..." puff out of him on ragged whispers as he watches your hungry lips devouring him slowly.

As slow as you can go. 

You climb up him as he sits upright; broad, muscular arms straining with the weight of him.

“Necesito de ti, Javi.” (I need you, Javi.) You shudder. 

You sink down on him without hesitation, gasping with a tremor as he fills you up. 

“Slow,” he whispers.

“Slow,” you whisper back. 

A gentle swivel and flex of your hips, back shining with sweat as you rock into that sweet, heady rhythm of how he likes it, how he wants this to last.

He steers you down onto him, feeling you shake down his length as he fills you up slowly, deliberately to make you feel him.

He places his palm flat on your lower tummy increasing the pressure as you arch back and you can feel the delicious weight of it as he furrows deep inside of you.

A few strokes of your clit with his thumb and you're falling apart.

“Ah si, Javi…” You wail. 

He licks into your mouth as you cry out for him, tasting those lips once more. Sucking on the bottom as he gives you all of him. 

He runs his nose across your throat and it makes him shudder in that way he does when he inhales your scent into his bloodstream. When he shifts his body weight slightly, you can feel exactly what it does to him as he hits your spot and you rile his name.

Outside, muted star trails smear across the night’s sky above the ocean. In here, in the sheets with Javi, it’s all slowed down to heavy panting breaths, touches that linger and sear into the layers of your skin as they crisp and unfurl.

Burning you up from the inside. Teeth bite into your tongue to mute the crescendoing whines and moans.

He whispers sweetly comforting spiels in your ear as he's deeper right now than he’s ever been. Buried to the absolute hilt inside of you, and the slightest movement makes you gasp and clench and fist those sheets in heady defiance.

And yet he still keeps you grounded as he swells and stretches you out. Locked in a silent gasp, your mouth open, your hands slowly release their death grip on the sheets and he kisses your shoulder in a mark of respect and praise as you burst around him; stardust and diamond fragments filling the air as he inhales you in.

Javi moves slowly, backs out a little and you whine at the feel of less of him, but he's back inside you in a slow, deep glide, bringing you full of him again.

And again. And again.

He clamps his fingers around your nipples as you're on the cusp once more, knowing how much you love it. 

“Mírame… Eres tan hermosa. (Look at me… You’re so beautiful.) How did I get so lucky?” He utters in spellbound disbelief.

You’re coming again; body clenching and shuddering, pussy squeezing around his cock, and each time he can barely hold on himself.

He pulls them out of you, one after another to bear witness to each one being born. The gentle weight of him on top of you, the softness of his warm, tanned skin, the scent of his cologne and the words he says sends you over the edge. 

The only time Javi speeds up is when he draws closer to his own finish, pumping his hips into you as he whimpers and has his turn to shake in your arms.

Brow furrowing, dark eyes watery, he strains and gasps. 

“Te amo muchísimo, nunca dejaré de amarte…” (I love you so much, I’ll never stop loving you...) He utters as you kill him. 

"Nunca, nunca, nunca..." (Never, never, never...) You say smiling into his mouth. “Javi, come for me,” you groan.

“Si, mi vida…” he pants. “I’m coming for you… fuuuuuck!”  He growls into your ear.

You come with him as he empties with a shudder, his forehead crushed into yours, fingers knotted in your scalp, your nails buried into his back skin.

He kisses you, the taste of salt and faded bubbles wash over your tongues.

He stays inside you, connected and drenched in seeping slick and spend as he kisses your lips - those lips that could make him leap off the cliffs to his death. 

Those lips that are divine inspiration.

"¿Tenemos que volver a la fiesta?" (Do we have to go back to the party?) You ask dreamily as he kisses over your breasts and shoulders repeatedly, slowly.

"No, podemos quedarnos aquí, mi amor." (No, we can stay here, my darling.) He says into gluttonous mouthfuls of your skin. "Además, aún no he terminado de tomarme mi tiempo contigo..." (Besides, I haven't finished taking my time with you yet...)

You smile into his crown and he looks up at you; soft chocolate curls framing his buoyant face. 

“Slow.” You say.

“Slow.” Javi agrees. “Así es como me gusta.” (That's how I like it.)

Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you enjoyed going slow with Javi G. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts, and would always appreciate a re-blog if you enjoyed what you just read. 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVI GUTIERREZ MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #javi gutierrez x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #javi gutierrez #tuwomt #javi g x reader #javi g smut #javi g fluff #javi g x you #javi gutierrez x you #the unbearable weight of massive talent #jett's writing

[comphy-and-cozy]

The After Party II

Pairing: Brady Skjei x Reader (f) x Andrei Svechnikov

Summary: A year after your illicit tryst with your current fling and your ex-fling, you meet again. Part two to The After Party.

Word Count: 6.3K

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Light alcohol use/mention, swearing. Threesome (MFM - no MxM), fingering (vaginal + anal - f receiving), oral sex (m + f receiving (vaginal)), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, anal sex (f receiving), double penetration, mild cumplay. **Please do your research before engaging in any sexual activity but especially anal sex. This is fiction and by no means any indication of how one should prepare. :)

Author's Note: happy belated birthday, @smileysvech! I hope your bday gang bang 2.0 makes this year's celebration one to remember. thank you for being my biggest cheerleader and for all of your unwavering support. 😘🖤

nhl masterlist | moodboard

The party is unlike one you’ve ever been to. Like a themed sorority bid night, but with a much higher budget; the decor is elaborate, a sea of blacks and reds and glitter. Candles illuminate the room, making the atmosphere feel dark. Ornate. Indulgent.

Your boyfriend dons a black leather jacket and black jeans that accentuate his thick thighs. His jacket is completely unzipped, revealing more than a tantalizing sliver of his toned, golden muscles; they’re all but bare, the deep cut lines of his abdomen, an opportunity to show off his impressive body. The silver cross branded on his bare sternum is a stark contrast to the crown of thorns perched on his head. Judas.

Your dress contrasts his outfit entirely; lace and ivory wrapped around your body, the corset bodice hugging your figure. It’s demure, but the gold necklace—a 37 sitting prettily on your exposed chest—draws the eye down to your cleavage, a sexy twist to the otherwise sweet, shy, virtuous look. Thick, feathery wings glitter on your back, enhancing the angelic look, complete with a pretty, glittering rhinestone crown—symbolic of a halo. 

A light to his dark, day to his night, heaven to his hell. Andrei’s angel. 

His brand on you runs far deeper than his name etched onto your back at his games, and though your claim on him is invisible, he wears it proudly on his chest, seizing every opportunity to show you off as his girl. It’s been there since before he made you his girlfriend, officially, but it’s only grown since then in the last year that you’ve been together.

Tonight is no exception. Andrei’s hand lingers on your side, a silent message to anyone who would dare to question who you belong to. You’re not typically one for the whole possession thing, but you can’t deny him—not when he looks at you like that.

You mingle, sipping on your cocktail, enjoying the night of frivolity—one of the last before the final push of the season and preparation for playoffs begins. Nykki and Martin make their way to you two, and eventually, the two boys depart in favor of who knows what shenanigans. 

Across the room, talking to two pretty leather-clad demons, is the handsome brunette from your past. His handsome, warm smile is plastered across his face, no doubt letting some pretty words doused in honey drip from his mouth. You ignore the pang of—something—that bubbles in your chest at the sight, not even wanting to spend the time identifying what it is.

As if he can sense it, his eyes glance up and lock with yours for the briefest of moments. A smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he lifts his beer to his mouth, winking so quickly you’re not sure if you imagined it. The next moment, he’s back to his flirtatious antics, laughing jovially at the taller of the two girls flanking either side of him.

You return to your conversation with Nykki, though you feel his gaze flitting back to you, burning a hole in your side, tempting you to look his way. Glittering disco balls hang from the ceiling, illuminating the walls with the light from the candles’ flames, and you ignore the urge to glance over at him again.

“Your outfit is so cute,” Nykki’s saying, fingers caressing the feathers on your wings. “And I love your wings!”

With a smile, you thank her. “I was going for a bit of a sexy angel vibe, you know?”

“I’m sure Andrei appreciates that very much,” she replies with a knowing smirk and a gentle nudge of your elbow. You chance a look back to the corner of the room, but the handsome brunette you’ve been making eyes at is gone; you don’t dare to turn your head to look for him, not standing next to Nykki. 

Soon enough, she gets called away, and you’re left alone, uncomfortably vulnerable at a party where you still don’t quite feel like you belong, despite having attended several events as Andrei’s other half. Swirling the ice in your cocktail glass, you’re about to down the rest of your drink so that you can head back to the bar before you search for your boyfriend. As the rim of the glass touches your lips, you feel a looming presence approach your left side.

“Should’ve known you’d copy me,” says a voice that you know all too well. Out of instinct, your head turns and you’re blessed with the sight of Brady, up close and personal. His dark hair, peppered with gray, is messy, styled that way, a strand falling lazily in his face—he looks more like James Dean than an angel, with the suave and confident demeanor. 

“I think I look way more angelic than you,” you say, eyeing the loosely buttoned linen top and expanse of his chest. He looks so effortlessly cool, the high-waisted, wide-legged ivory slacks hanging loosely as he’s leaned against the wall with an air of nonchalant swagger.

He watches you, a smug smile tugging at his lips. The beer bottle rests loosely between two fingers and his thumb. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Your face grows hot at the callout and your eyes dart away, embarrassed. You’re sure he’s smirking now, feeling the burn from his gaze.

“You do look beautiful, though.”

Brady’s voice is lower as he says it, almost like he’s dropped the confident, playboy facade. You thank him shyly, and in the blink of an eye, the curtain’s back up, the smirk plastered back on his face.

“Where’s your man?” he asks casually. He might as well have been glancing at his nails, but you have the feeling his question is far from innocent.

“Think he’s out playing Spikeball on the patio,” you reply, head craning to try and spot him through the window. He’s exactly where you thought, grinning after slamming the ball into the net, fist bumping Marty in celebration. You smile.

“And he left you alone? Looking like that?”

You shoot Brady a glance, the bold flirtation alerting you to his potential motives. It is his birthday, after all, and you certainly gave him a birthday to remember last year. 

Your eyebrow raises. “What’s it to you?” 

“Well,” he says, slipping a hand into his pocket, “I know if you were my girl, I’d be fucking you over the counter in the bathroom right now, dressed like that.”

Heat floods your body, white hot and scorching straight through your bloodstream at his blunt words. You sip at your drink, desperate for something to alleviate the dryness in your throat. “That’s not very angelic of you to say, Saint Skjei.” 

“Aww, but baby, we both know you’re far from angelic. Don’t we?”

This time, in addition to the warmth on your cheeks, you also feel a deep throb between your legs. His words beckon a flashback of strong hands—4 of them—caressing your body, driving you to the height of pleasure; of the feeling of being so delightfully full. 

“Baby, come outside and—oh, shit, hey, Skjeisy,” Andrei’s deep voice echoes, veering from his path to you to give his teammate a clap on his back. “Birthday brother.”

Brady offers your boyfriend a wide grin and a clink of his bottle against Andrei’s glass. Your cheeks burn as they flank you, tall and looming and so large compared to you. The memory of last year’s celebration lingers, flooding your mind with a foggy heat that suddenly makes it a little bit hard to breathe.

“What’re you up to?” he asks, looking at you with a smile, like he can see the mist clouding your brain. “What’d I miss?”

“Just telling your beautiful girlfriend how fuckable she looks,” Brady says, unabashed. If you weren’t used to his antics by now, you’d be surprised at his boldness.

Andrei pauses for the briefest of moments, registering the implication behind his friend’s words before he’s turning to look at you, a mischievous expression on his face. “She does, doesn’t she?”

By now, your pulse is racing, practically sweating under the heated gaze of both men standing before you. You watch both of their eyes roving over your figure, undoubtedly envisioning filthy things; you wonder if either of them notice the way your pulse beats in your throat.

“Malyshka, tell him what I told you earlier tonight.” Andrei’s command is gentle, light-hearted, but there’s a longing behind them. 

Surging heat goes straight to your cheeks, burning at having to repeat Andrei’s words. You glance at him, and he nods encouragingly. So you swallow, murmuring, “Y-you said you were gonna fuck me how I deserved to be fucked tonight.”

Amusement flickers in Brady’s eyes, along with a blue flame that matches the one glowing inside you. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“Like the only girl lucky enough to fuck me on my birthday,” Andrei finishes for you. A statement of pride; pride in the ownership you have over him, too. 

The fire in Brady’s irises grows, burning bright. You watch an entire cinema of filthy thoughts run through his mind; you’re sure all three of you are thinking the same thing—it’s Brady’s birthday, too. And you are a lucky, lucky girl.

Tension is thick in your little triangle, almost like you’re sizing each other up. Andrei’s eyes dance to yours, and he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, whispering in your ear, “You want him to come home with us, dorogoy?”

Your gaze locks with Brady’s, who couldn’t have heard your boyfriend’s question, but looks like he’s waiting for your answer all the same. Keeping your eyes on his melted chocolate ones, your only reply is a subtle nod, and you feel Andrei’s smile against your cheek.

Twenty minutes later, you step into Andrei’s apartment after the world’s most excruciating Uber ride with the heat of Brady’s leg pressed against yours, his hand drawing slow, teasing circles on the inside of your thigh. Andrei had sat in the passenger seat, making idle conversation with the driver, Brady chiming in regularly, as if he wasn’t driving you into a slow descent into insanity. It was almost enough to make you mad, had you not been spending all of your effort trying not to make a mess on the Uber’s leather seats. 

You watch the way Brady’s eyes flare with heat when he follows the two of you into the kitchen, eyeing the quartz countertop. His eyebrow arches with a glance at Andrei, a silent message sent in the quiet of his apartment. The brunette slinks up beside you, a warm hand caressing your waist, and all at once you remember.

“I’d be fucking you over the counter in the bathroom right now, dressed like that.”

He catches your eye, a wink at you as if he knows you’re remembering his words. “So pretty.”

“So are you,” you whisper shyly. His lips curl into a grin, making him look even more handsome. 

Brady stalks closer to you, all too similar to a predator stalking its prey; the only thing missing is David Attenborough’s dulcet tones, narrating his actions like a wildlife documentary. Despite the itch in the tips of your fingers to touch his skin, to drag your hands through his hair, you back away from him until you’re caught between the kitchen island and his large, looming body. Andrei seems content to watch the scene in front of him play out, standing behind you on the opposite side of the island. 

“Wanna kiss you,” Brady says, voice barely above a whisper as his eyes move to your lips. Your throat bobs in anticipation as you feel the edge of the countertop pressed into your lower back, trapped between Brady’s body and the island. “Can I?”

You nod, but you see Brady’s eyes flick behind you, silently seeking approval from your boyfriend. Andrei must have given it, for the next moment, Brady’s smiling, hand moving to thread through the curls you’d styled earlier that day. His lips brush against yours, feather light, teasing, waiting.

The pause is agonizing, time momentarily standing still as your heart thuds against your chest before Brady finally, finally presses forward to kiss you fully. It’s sweet, far sweeter than the mischievous glint in his eye or the seductive lines he’d traced on your leg in the Uber; for a moment, he really is the angel he’s dressed as instead of the carefully hidden sinner’s persona.

It doesn’t take long for Brady to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands move from your waist to knead at the globes of your ass. His lips curl upward as he swallows your moan, lifting you easily to set you on the countertop. Warm hands slide up the front of your bare thighs, pushing the skirt of your dress up to reveal bare, sensitive skin.

The shift in position allows you to press your body into him, knees settling on either side of his hips as he steps between your legs. Your makeout gradually shifts from sweet and timid to passionate and scorching, whimpers slipping out of your throat as his hands slide the straps of your wings off your shoulders. 

Brady’s lips trail over your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine when his lips find the spot on your neck that makes your toes curl. Your head falls back, allowing him easier access to suck a mark into the tender skin. He places a hand behind your head, supporting your neck, guiding you slowly down onto your back.

The countertop is cool against your bare shoulders, your large, feathery wings no longer digging into your skin. You shiver, not from the temperature of the quartz, but the heat from Brady’s gaze as he tears his lips away from you, standing slowly. His hands blaze fire down your legs, trailing a fingertip lightly down your calf before grasping an ankle in each hand, making a slow show of spreading your legs. 

“Forgot you like to wear these little tiny things you call underwear,” he muses, running a thumb along the sodden lace covering your modesty. 

Andrei, no longer interested in sitting on the sidelines, lets his palm coast over your chest, over your breast, over the bunched up fabric from your skirt, feeling for himself what Brady describes. “You’re soaked already, malyshka.”

Already, just the touch of their hands on your body lights it on fire, and you sigh as Brady’s thumbs rub gentle circles into your calves. Your pulse quickens, nipples instantly hardening when Andrei pushes the top of your corset top down your torso, freeing your breasts. His hand offers a small reprieve from the cool air when it massages one of your breasts, humming approvingly at the way your spine arches into his touch.

“He’s good with his hands, isn’t he?” Brady coos.

You nod, and Andrei smirks at you. Lord knows how many times he’d brought you to a euphoric release with just his hands alone, skilled and strong and wicked in their promise. As if to prove the point, he pinches your peaked nipple between two fingers, earning a yelp from your mouth. But then his hand trails farther, two large fingers digging into the damp lace and tugging it to the side; you gasp quietly at the cool air that hits your most intimate area, the sound melding into more of a moan when you see the heat in Brady’s eyes as he gazes at your folds.

The dynamic is clear: Andrei, revealing you to his friend, presenting you on a platter—or, in this case, his kitchen counter.

“I didn’t get to taste you last time,” Brady comments, his voice low and husky. “Not really.”

Your core clenches at his words, anticipation buzzing through you. Brady smiles, licking his lips. Above you, Andrei nods once, and the brunette needs no more encouragement to sink lower until he’s eye-level with your cunt. He draws a finger through your center, collecting some of the dripping nectar with a click of his tongue.

“This for him,” he asks, jerking his head toward Andrei, who has resumed the gentle knead and massage of your breasts, “or me?”

Another pinch of your nipple has you whimpering. “Wh-who says it can’t be both?”

A low chuckle sounds from Brady’s throat, a smug smile curling up on his handsome face. “Knew you liked being shared, pretty girl, just didn’t know how much.”

He delves into your core like a man starved, long laves of his tongue ending with a flick against your sensitive clit. By instinct, your back arches and your hips raise to meet his mouth, seeking out more of the pleasure that blooms through your body as he presses his face against you. “So sweet, baby.”

Brady is good with his mouth, and he knows it. Expertly, he alters between flat licks of his tongue and sucking gently on your clit, with a precision only someone with experience can manage. It doesn’t take him long to remember what makes you tick, how you gush around his tongue when he slides it inside of you and fucks you with it. 

Just as the energy starts to build deep within you, you’re crying out when he abruptly tears himself away from you. “Brady—”

“Hmm?” he asks, sharing an amused look with Andrei. “What’s wrong?”

“Need—need your mouth.” You can’t help the whine that accompanies your words, the desperation that crawls under your skin.

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” 

You lick your lips, guiltily glancing back to catch Andrei, an eyebrow raised and an amused smirk painted on his face. 

“He has a nice mouth,” you say, as if to justify your unrestrained desire for the man who isn’t your boyfriend. 

Andrei hums. “So do you, kisa. Can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Lay your head back for me.”

You do as told, and Andrei tugs you toward him a few inches so your head is leaning off of the countertop. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

Andrei leans down to kiss you, soft and slow, and you sigh into him, the familiarity of his mouth helping to alleviate some of your nerves; the pulse between your legs is all but forgotten under his attention. As he pulls away, he purses his lips, dropping a long, thick wad of saliva into your open mouth. You feel the slow drip of it against your tongue, slipping down your throat as you swallow obediently. 

“Khoroshaya deovochka,” he murmurs as he stands to his full height. Good girl.

The praise makes your nipples tighten as you shiver. You can feel Brady’s hot breath on your inner thigh, can feel the heat from his gaze as he takes in the sight of your open, wet, waiting core. His lips against your skin makes you jolt slightly, a sigh breathed out against Andrei’s tip pressed against your lips.

“God, I missed eating this pretty pussy,” Brady says, his tongue flitting against your entrance, teasing you. You can feel the way your pussy throbs under his attention, like she knows she’s mere moments away from relief.

Andrei chuckles lowly, his eyes no doubt stuck on the brunette working his way between your thighs. Your own throat bobs in anticipation, waiting for Andrei to push his tip past your lips and into your open mouth.

Then, as if following a countdown that only they could hear, Brady’s fingers broach your eager entrance, simultaneous with the gentle push of Andrei’s length to meet your tongue. Swiftly, steadily, they fill you up with a practiced precision that makes your toes curl, the sensation so complete and fulfilling—pun intended. 

Your Russian is patient, feeling the gasp as Brady works another finger into you before his hand slips into your hair, holding your neck steady while he presses his hips forward. He tests his own restraint, inching in and out while your mouth and throat accommodate and adjust to his size, your tongue flatting against the top of him.

Brady’s mouth joins his fingers, sure to catch the slick pooling around your entrance; he probes and teases with the tip of his tongue, taking his time to re-learn what makes your spine arch and the breath catch in your throat. He groans, exhaling lowly against your center, eyes fluttering closed as he savors the taste of you.

“So fucking sweet. Svech, do me a favor and fuck her face a little harder so I can feel her gush on my tongue.”

“Aye aye,” Andrei says with a smirk, a mock salute before his other hand is placed on the other side of your neck, stabilizing your face before he gently picks up the pace of his thrusts. Your eyes water at the intrusion, at the different angle of his cock in your throat, breathing steadily through your nose.

Soon enough, your boyfriend has a consistent rhythm, and any whine you want to let out is blocked by his length lodged in your airway. He hums, smugness dripping from his voice, “Love watching the outline of my cock in your throat, kisa. You take me so well.”

The praise alone makes heat surge to your core, right into Brady’s eager mouth, and he moans, choking out, “That’s it, baby.”

His pace picks up, directly correlating to the flutter in your belly, to Brady’s tongue and fingers working in tandem to drive you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips roll against his face, seeking out that delicious friction that will have you hurtling into euphoria. His head is too far to reach with your arms, so you occupy your hands by taking to your breasts, massaging and tweaking at your nipples while Andrei continues his rough thrusts. Streaks of saliva marr your face, frothy and wet, leaving filthy evidence on his usually pristine kitchen floor.

For a fleeting second, you wonder what this must look like; you, spread wide and waiting on your boyfriend’s counter, getting stuffed at both ends by two handsome, talented men, both eager to drive you to your peak. It’s the image of your body between them that has your release barreling through you, a choked groan sounding out despite the intrusion in your throat. Brady groans, mingled curses and praises slipping out while he works you through the waves of your climax.

Andrei doesn’t let up, not until Brady’s pulling away from the apex of your thighs, the scar on his chin coated with your orgasm. He helps you up, admiring the swell of your lips and the tear tracks on your face before he smiles and presses a wet, musky kiss against your lips. “So pretty. Even prettier when your face is a mess like this.”

“You wanna take her cunt this time? My treat.” Andrei asks with a grin wide enough to reveal his missing tooth.

“I’d be honored,” Brady says with a mock nod of his head, his eyes flicking to yours with a mischievous grin.

“C’mon, malyshka,” Andrei murmurs, lifting you easily in his arms to take you into the bedroom. He deposits you on the bed, positioning you to leave room for Brady to follow and kneel before you. Your eyes draw to the bulge in his pants, the thin fabric doing little to hide his modesty as Andrei helps you to remove what’s left of your costume.

“You want it?” he asks in a teasing tone. 

“You got to taste me,” you say, blinking up at him. “It’s only fair I get to return the favor.”

Andrei sniggers at your quick remark. “So eager, my pretty little slut.”

The name sends heat coursing through your body, radiating particularly between your legs. Brady moves to remove his expensive trousers, and soon, you’re presented with a mouth-watering view of his very impressive, very erect length. Your tongue slips out to lick your lips, eager to feel the weight of him in your mouth.

Of course, Brady can’t resist teasing you, gripping himself loosely as he taps his tip against your cheek. Your mouth opens, impatient, but he doesn’t give you what you want; not yet. Instead, he drags the head across your lips, slow, teasing, agonizing. 

“What a good girl,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself, but then he winks at you. “So obedient.”

Brady’s instruction is simple, just a soft, “tongue out,” before he’s running his tip over it, pressing himself firmly against your tongue. You sigh out at the taste of him, precum already dripping onto your waiting taste buds, earnestly wrapping your lips around his tip as you take him into your mouth.

Beside you, Andrei draws the slightest attention back to himself by divesting himself of his clothes, dropping unceremoniously to the floor. You feel a warm, large hand running along the curve of your ass, giving the flesh a squeeze before his fingers probe lightly at your entrance, testing the slickness he finds there. 

As you work at Brady’s length, jaw opening wider to fit more of him into your mouth, Andrei’s hand slides up just a few inches higher, and all at once the agreement from earlier sinks in.

If Brady was going to fuck your pussy, then that means…

Almost like he’s reading your mind, Andrei chuckles behind you when you gasp with realization. Not long after, the pad of his finger presses gently against the tight bud, teasing and prodding. For a brief moment, you tear yourself away from Brady to crane your head, just in time to see Andrei spitting onto his fingers, coating them with his saliva before bringing his hand back down to your backside. He smirks at you, then winks at Brady as his first finger teases you, your mouth falling open at the feeling—not enough.

But Brady clears his throat, not pleased with the lack of attention, and his hand gently turns your head back to face him. “Back to work, sweet girl.”

Ever eager to serve, you do as you’re told, only this time, you moan around Brady’s length as Andrei presses the tip of his finger past the puckered ring. Slowly, he eases it in, carefully testing the depth with slow, gentle pulses as your body relaxes to the foreign sensation. Your tongue lolls against Brady, whimpering as you do your best to stay focused on him.

Whether it’s to help you or just to show some dominance, you aren’t sure, but soon Brady’s hand is threading through your hair, gripping it into a ponytail at the base of your skull. Slowly, he pushes your head forward, watching the way his length slides between your lips. The beautiful brown of his eyes lock with yours, monitoring your reaction as he gradually increases the pace. His hold is firm, the tug on your hair just hard enough to have you shivering.

Soon enough, he’s fucking your throat, and Andrei’s eased two fingers into you, priming you for what’s to come. Spit, drool, and tears track your face, a frothy mixture pooling at your lips when Brady finally pulls out. He smiles, admiring his handiwork. “Love that throat of yours.”

Andrei hums behind you, his thumb brushing against your clit and nearly making you jump. “Baby, you’re dripping. You like when Brady fucks that pretty mouth?”

You nod, licking your lips with a smile. Brady winks at you. “Love fucking all of your holes, darlin’.”

A fresh wave of heat gushes between your legs, accompanied by a slap to your ass and a Russian curse. His fingers flex inside of you gently working you open. “Get to it, then,” you challenge him.

“Aw, baby, I’m flattered,” he says with another smug smile. “But I think I want to watch that pretty boyfriend of yours fuck your pretty little ass first.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you turn to look at Andrei as he’s retrieving his bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer. The liquid is cold on your skin, warmed quickly by his hand, finger pressing into you. He eases you open, adding another finger, and then another, until he deems you ready for his more than considerable length. 

“Ready, malyshka?”

You cast a glance at Brady, who smirks at you with darkened eyes, like the sight of you on your hands and knees and three fingers in your ass is nearly sending him over the edge. “Fuck me, Drei.”

When Andrei presses into you, you wince at the stretch as you adjust to the sensation. He sucks in a breath, murmuring a low curse in Russian. Gripping your sides, his hands squeeze tightly as he waits patiently for your approval to keep going.

Brady hums as he greedily drinks in the sight of you. He murmurs low, filthy promises to you, watching intently as Andrei patiently pushes deeper; your mouth falls open as your body adjusts to the stretch, his more-than-adequate width nearly enough to make your eyes cross. 

“Doin’ so good for me,” is Andrei’s gentle purr, groaning as he starts low, shallow thrusts. Your fingers grip into the bedsheets, gasping out. By the time he’s thrusting at a steady pace, tears are already pricking at your eyes from how blissfully sinful it feels, his tip directly nudging into the spot that makes you see stars. 

Andrei fucks you thoroughly, until you’re a mumbling, shaking mess. Your body arches as his large hand traces its way down your spine, coming to rest at the base of your neck; he presses you down into the mattress, just slightly, just enough to make your breathing a bit more labored. He leans forward, too, and you cry out when the action shifts his cock even deeper inside of you. Lips dot gentle kisses against your shoulder blades, accompanied by slow, shallow thrusts as your body trembles beneath him.

“Come,” is all he says; a command and a plea all at once. He doesn’t have to say anything else, only keep his movements steady until you cry out loudly as your release radiates through every bone in your body.

Your Russian is patient, coaxing out the final waves of your orgasm as your thighs tremble from the force of it. Brain foggy, you register the feeling of fingers carding through your hair, soothing you as your vision begins to come back to you. Soon enough, you float back into reality and Andrei smiles, warm enough to feel your heart start to melt at the sight.

“C’mere,” he says, wrapping his arms solidly around you and falling onto his back, bringing you with him. Brady’s figure steps between your legs, large and looming, his eyes glued to where Andrei’s cock is still stuffed deep inside your hole. All at once, the warmth in your heart quickly turns back into desire, and your core flutters.

“You gonna fuck me, too?” Your voice is laced with challenge, a teasing lilt in your tone. 

“You want me to fuck you?” Brady quips, a dark eyebrow raised in amusement. “Want me to fuck this tight little cunt?”

“S’your birthday gift,” you say, and Andrei chest shakes with a chuckle beneath your back. Brady smiles, his eyes dragging to the place in question, spread open and waiting for him.

“Lucky me,” is his hummed response, moving his hand forward to rub a slow circle over your clit with his thumb. You whine, and Andrei pinches your sides in a silent command, holding you steady. He presses a kiss against your shoulder, his weight solid and strong beneath you—holding your body up without any effort, it seems. One of the many, many benefits of having a boyfriend who is a Big Boy.

Brady snaps your attention back to him when he steps closer to the apex of your thighs, fisting his erection as he lines himself up. His eyes, brown and molten, are transfixed on the way the tip of his cock slips into your eager and waiting entrance; he lets out a grunt at the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around him.

You, on the other hand, are completely speechless—you’ve forgotten how to speak entirely, only nonsensical babbling slipping from your mouth. The feeling has you unable to focus on any one thing, consumed by how fucking good it feels to have both of them buried deep.

The two men work in sync, wordless, the same silent telepathy that they used earlier. In. Out. In. Out. Pleasure blossoms between your legs, tingly and warm as it spreads through your core, up your limbs, to the tips of your fingers and toes; you aren’t sure where you end and they begin.

“Kisa,” Andrei’s deep voice rumbles beneath you, murmuring lowly in your ear. “Feel good?”

You open your mouth to reply—yes, God, yes—but all that comes out is a jumbled moan, lilted higher when Brady presses in just that little bit deeper. He laughs, thumbs gripping your thighs tightly as he holds you open. “You kidding, Svech? Your girl loves being stuffed full of dick. These slutty little holes are drooling all over us.”

Brady’s words earn a low flutter—whether in your belly or in another area, you aren’t quite sure—but based on the growl that slips from Andrei, you’re inclined to believe the latter. His hand slinks up your side to massage at your breast, the other branding fingertip-shaped marks into your hip. “That true, dorogoy?”

Because your brain is in the process of being fucked into mush, it’s all you can do to nod, a weak, “Yes” tumbling out of your mouth. His breath is hot against your shoulder, murmurs of Russian curses low in your ear. “How lucky am I, huh? My gorgeous girl, treating me and my friend so good on our birthday.”

The deep purr of praise is like a catalyst to the heat in your veins, setting it ablaze through every cell in your body. Your back arches off of Andrei’s warm torso, and this time you’re sure that you clench tightly around both of them.

“Drei,” you sigh, “please.”

“Please, what?”

“C-come… make me… c-come—”

Brady smiles while his thumb resumes the same steady, circular motion on your clit, like he can’t decide if he’s amused or turned on at your desperate plea. For Andrei, though, it’s no laughing matter; suddenly, his thrusts become even steadier, more sure. He’s determined, hips setting a metronome that contrasts Brady’s pace, speeding up ever so slightly.

When your climax hits, it’s like time stands still: your breath, frozen in your lungs, mouth open in a silent scream, a snapshot taken just as the fire ignites at the place where Andrei and Brady meet inside of you. Your body tenses, spine rigid as your legs begin to shake in Brady’s strong hands, doing little to absorb the ripple effect of your orgasm. 

“Shiiiiit,” the brunette groans, amid the mish mash of Russian and English pouring from Andrei’s mouth as his hips slow to a halt, content to feel the way your body writhes and reacts to him. 

“Think we need to do this more often,” Andrei says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice; you can see it reflected in Brady’s eyes, predatory, devouring the sight of you below him. He doesn’t need to voice his agreement out loud; it’s clear in the way he can barely resist pulling out of you to help you onto shaky feet, then to your knees on the floor.

With a blink, your gaze floats up between Andrei and Brady, standing over you, each fisting their lengths, glistening with you. Your hands dance their way up your body, brushing your hair out of the way before returning to cup your breasts. “Happy birthday, boys.”

Brady’s eyes darken and Andrei allows a low growl at the sight of you, your breasts pressed together like the sexiest canvas they’ll ever see. Both of them work their hand over their dicks, varying in speed but sharing the same intensity—the same kind of unrestrained desperation, stretching themselves for the final sprint to the finish line.

Andrei’s deep groan comes first, ropes of his release splattering across your decolletage, dripping down into the cleavage you offer. A sharp curse from Brady’s mouth precedes his own peak, cum landing on your chin before sliding down and dripping onto your chest. Your boyfriend’s eyes glitter, watching the drips meld together into a mixture of one.

Without a word, Andrei steps toward you, crouching slightly to run his hands across your chest, gathering some of the cum onto his fingers. His eyes lock with yours and, in silent reply to his silent question, your mouth opens obediently, allowing him to press his first and middle past your lips, pressing onto your tongue.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” Brady says, voice a combination of a chuckle and a groan. You suck on his digits, swallowing the salty mixture of them with a flourish.

“Angel,” Andrei muses, making sure you lap every last bit of cum off of his fingers. “She’s an angel.”

———

Bonus mini scene inspired by this video:

That weekend, you’re scrolling on social media when the Canes pregame video pops up. It autoplays, and your eye immediately catches the salt and pepper hair, your heart fluttering a little bit at the sight. Then Andrei’s on the screen, and you’re smiling at seeing him feeling so confident and in his element—he’s where he belongs. 

But then you hear Brady say, “What a night!” followed by a loud laugh from Andrei, and your heart stops. They wouldn’t…

It takes another few replays to hear that Brady also says, “It’s a pleasure.”

When Andrei gets home later that night, high from a shutout win and clinching an official playoff spot, his wide smile fades slightly at the sight of you on the bed with your arms folded over your chest. 

“Wh–?”

“Tell me what you whispered to Brady before the game,” you say, a glint in your eye. 

Your boyfriend pauses, reflecting, then smirks when the memory comes back to him. His eyes flick to yours and his eyebrow raises. “You really wanna know?”

A pointed look is your only reply. 

“I told him you still can’t walk today.”

SIMILAR CONTENT:

Sundress Season* Glittery* A Night in Paris*

#andrei svechnikov fic #brady skjei fic #hockey fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl fic #andrei svechnikov x reader #brady skjei x reader #hockey smut #nhl smut

[taintandviolent]

go for a drive ; James March x reader

summary: 364 days of the year, you're the one who has to go see him. but on Halloween, you two go for a drive. w a r n i n g s: 5.2k words. smut, kinda slow-burn, smut with a little plot, female receiving penetration, sex toys, fingering, handjobs, mentions of ghosts/death. a/n: [🎃 part of lizzie's halloween fics! 🎃] inspired by this gif and @redwoodghost and @silverzoomies (also my beta readers thank you pookies)! Happy (early) Halloween, readers! May your Halloween night / Halloweekend be filled with spooks and fun, but if not... enjoy this smutty little fic. I wanted to at least get this one out on/before Halloween, even though I've been terribly behind on all of my writings. If you enjoyed, please let me know! comments and reblogs are appreciated. 🖤 full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

October 31st.

With one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh, James drove happily down the road, without a care in the world. The breeze that exhaled from the coastline fluttered your hair gently, twisting your delicate tresses as it blew through them. You wordlessly watched him as he drove, as he lived, memorising the way that his eyes would dart from the road to look out at the sea, then back again, head full of presumably thoughts. You let out a dreamy sigh; the same one you’d let out as you watched him get gas — such a mundane thing made important. You laughed as he waited in the car for someone to come out, frustrated with the lack of hospitality these places possessed.

Eventually, you’d pulled out your debit card and leaned out of the car to slide the card into the slot. James protested furiously, insisting that a lady should never pay for a date, but you shushed him with two delicate kisses to the corners of his mouth. He’d pay you back in other ways, you promised. That seemed to sate his intolerance.

As he drove, James’ pale complexion seemed to reflect the setting sun, flushing him with warmth. His forever pitch-black eyes were sometimes — when the sunlight hit them just right — the warmest, darkest chocolate brown you’d ever seen. You were so used to seeing them in the dim, moody lighting of the Hotel Cortez, it seemed that every day besides this day, you forgot that. Because three hundred and sixty four days of the year, he remained in the Hotel Cortez. He liked it just fine, after all — he’d built it. His own personal, torturous heaven. Now, of course, it was home to a few awkward (and unfortunately) permanent guests. Still, he never complained, unless of course, you weren't there .

Those were the days where his temper would sour; he’d snap at Miss Evers, or shoo away Elizabeth on the rare occasion she wanted to speak to him. The days where his little cream puff, his hummingbird didn’t grace the hallways with her rabbit soft steps and darling laughter… Those were the days where he wished he wasn’t stuck there for all eternity and instead, doing whatever you were doing in the outside world. It didn’t matter what it was.

While you couldn’t spend every single day there, you were so enamoured with James March that you took any chance you got to pull yourself away from your meddling little life. You would drive downtown and burst through those ornate, gold doors to fall right into his arms. You’d come to learn that it drove his ex-wife mad, the way he’d sense your arrival, and rush through the lobby like a mad man. He always wrapped his arms around you so tightly that you felt your breath rush from your lungs. He frequently kissed a line from your shoulder to your forehead, lingering on your lips for a second longer than any other spot.

He lingered much longer than normal last night when you arrived for his annual Devil’s Night Dinner Party. You hardly cared about that — to you, more importantly, it was his birthday , and no matter the circumstance, you’d be in attendance for that. You were never fond of his guests, and they were never fond of you, but be that as it may, you were spending time with James and that was your joy in life. In recent years, the dinners had seemed shorter to you; James peppered the evening with secretive touches, and whispered comments that kept you going through all the atrocities. Frighteningly, those atrocities had become less and less appalling to you. You watched, wordlessly, as the band of notorious serial killers descended on the unfortunate victims of the evening, and merely blinked, before turning away to look at your hands, or scroll through your social media feeds as they did their work.

Finally, as the night would draw to an end, it was your time. He’d let the psychos free to do whatever they wanted in his Hotel, and you two got to nuzzle each other’s necks for hours on end. You hadn’t brought a present as he insisted that the way you’d give yourself to him was a gift enough.

And give yourself to him you did. After a shower to rinse the sludge of his guests from your form, you gave yourself to him against the wall, with your leg hoisted into the air and then again on the dinner table, where, in a fit of passion, he’d knocked one of the wine glasses to the floor. There was rarely ever a night where James would only take you once. Once was never enough to him, he craved you in ways unimaginable to you.

James withdrew his hand from your thigh to place it on the wheel, navigating around a particularly tight turn. “Well, my dear. How shall we finish off our evening? Dinner as usual? See a picture perhaps?”

You’d spent the early part of your day having brunch at a quaint little cafe a few miles from the Hotel, a darling walk on the beach, and dinner at one of his favourite restaurants. James drove — he insisted. It was the one day a year he got to do anything besides sit in the garage. Someone had polished his cherry-red 1920s ReVere convertible the night before, perhaps Miss Evers, perhaps him. Part of you thought it might’ve been him, because you could easily picture him meticulously polishing this beauty of a car, readying it for a day of gallivanting around Los Angeles.

“James,” you replied, scooting closer on the seat, the silken fabric of your dress slipping easily on the leather interior. The breeze wafted his cologne in your direction and you filled your lungs with it unabashedly — god, he smelled good. “My answer is the same every single year. As long as I’m spending time with you, I’d do anything.”

Anything. He seemed to roll that word over and over in his mind. Any-thing. As though you were beholden with a need to fulfil his wants and desires, you never protested to anything he suggested.

“In that case… something new.” he murmured as he turned the wheel suddenly, veering off the main highway. The wheels crunched the gravel beneath as he wound higher up, before pulling into a small alcove that overlooked the ocean.

This was new.

He killed the engine, letting you both fall into silence. Aside from the crashing of the waves against the rocks and the occasional car driving by, there was nothing. Just nature and the two of you. You must’ve been somewhere around Malibu, you thought. Maybe farther. Perhaps Zuma. You hadn’t been paying attention, but regardless of where, the sight was breathtaking. A romantic spot. Had he brought other girls here? Perhaps to murder them. Surely, the ocean provided an excellent disposal system.

“It’s beautiful out here, James…” you whispered softly.

“As are you. Far more so.”

With your cheeks aflame, you turned away from the coastline to face him. He was staring at you, with one arm stretched casually over the back of the seat. You knew he was analysing you and shamelessly drinking in your presence — savouring the little things that the Hotel Cortez failed to provide; the way the salty air blew your hair about, the chill that made you shiver ever so slightly, the way the sun seemed to wash your skin in gold…

“What? What are you thinking? You’re always so pensive.” you asked, reaching out to cup the side of his strong jawline. He clasped his hand over yours, leaning into it, and turning his face so he could kiss your palm.

“Mm, perhaps — mm.” Another kiss and he brought your hand down to his lap, resting it upon his clothed thigh. “Perhaps I just take you here, my little hummingbird. Right here.” The way he spoke was threatening and lusty, and sent a chill down your spine. You shivered closer to him.

“Perhaps you do…” you said. Although you weren’t from his time, you found yourself mimicking his speech style, and he always seemed delighted when you did. A gem amongst a flooding sea of lingo that he loathed and refused to understand. He was a sharp fellow; he could decipher what certain things meant, but he was as bright as he was stubborn.

James leaned over in his seat, the leather creaking with his weight and with a murmuring sigh, he pressed his lips to the top of your shoulder, skin exposed where the hem of the dress had slipped down. He peppered delicate kisses along your collarbone, dipping down to the front of your décolleté and inhaled deeply. You shivered, tittering girlishly at the sensation of his moustache tickling your chest. “Such a delightful girl you are,” he crooned, his syrupy soft voice melting into you.

While he continued kissing, his large fingers trailed down the front of your dress, watching your reaction carefully. Your breath hitched as he neared your centre and James paused, looking deeply into your eyes. You bit your bottom lip, and crushed your mouth against his, warm and heavy. As he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping out to find yours, the sun sank below the horizon, and James slid his left arm behind your back, wrapping it strongly around your waist.

Even on the one day he was free to be amongst the living, he remained ghostly. His lips were soft and cool, and the inside of his mouth had a particular unnatural chill that sent a wave of goosebumps erupting across your skin. Still, you loved kissing him. You loved the way he’d devour you, encircling your tongue like it was caught in a tango. James always held you when he kissed you, asserting that either you’d not escape, or that you felt safe in his arms. Perhaps a confusing melange of both.

A car zipped past, the headlights illuminating your indecency and you jumped, suddenly aware that despite the privacy of the alcove, you two were still in a public place. More than that, you were fooling around like two teenagers in a public place, just off the main highway. Scandalous. “James! What if someone sees!”

“Let them, my darling. Allow them a glimpse of the greatest pleasures they’ll never know.”

James fingered the hem of your panties, before slipping underneath the satin. He stroked the mound of flesh tenderly, trailing down between the slit of your cunt until he found your entrance. The wetness greeted him quicker than he’d anticipated as told by the devilish smirk that tightened his features. On instinct, your legs spread slightly, giving him more room to work. The reality was that you were already craving more of his touch and hoped to entice him deeper. Still, you couldn’t help but be embarrassed that you were so wet already.

“It’s your kissing, James…” you explained. “It always gets me going… I can’t help it.”

“You’re apologising?”

“Well, no, yes— aaah !”

James clicked his tongue disapprovingly. His large hand cupped your cunt, middle finger encircling your clit gently. Throngs of energy shot up the front of your torso, making you tremble instantaneously. James watched as you writhed and wriggled underneath him, though his strong arm kept you close to his body. “Speak up, my dear.”

You swallowed hard, trying to find the words amidst your brain’s white, hot fog. “I… I’m uh… my god, I wasn’t sure if it… James, my god, please. I can’t get a word out.”

“That’s alright, I can gather what you meant. Nonsense.”

Carefully finding the entrance again, James slid two fingers inside and you let out a gasp, clamping your eyes shut and letting your mouth fall open. Exhaling desperate, breathy moans as his fingers curled inside, finding the spongey flesh with ease. You arched your back, bracing your neck against the back of the seat. As he worked your clit and your g-spot simultaneously, you blindly felt for his groin. Beneath ironed dress pants, you felt the shape of his cock, warm and stiff. James March was many things, and well endowed was one of them. With a playful pout contorting your plump lips, you stroked it outside of his trousers for a few moments, teasing him to the point of frustration. He clenched his teeth, hissing through them.

“James,” you purred. “Then, let me…”

Hips first, he scooted closer, giving you unspoken permission to touch him. You found the waist of his pants, slid the button out and reached in. Inside of you, James’ fingers stopped moving at the sensation, and he huffed breathily in your ear. Although you’d touched him many times, he never seemed to get used to the feeling and always responded to it with the most delighted, euphoric reaction. You yanked the waistband of his briefs down to free his cock.

Keeping eye contact, you worked the saliva up with your tongue, collecting it in your mouth. Once you’d had a mouthful, you bent at the waist and parted your lips, letting your spit fall onto the head, glazing it. James hissed, watching you with a depraved glimmer in his eyes. You were so polite, so innocent, and yet…

With a honeyed sigh, you began playing with him, gliding your fingers over the deep red skin of his head, pressing your thumb into the flesh and squishing more pre-cum from the tip. It was hot to the touch, and with no conscious decision of his own, it began thrusting into the circle of your grip. You made a loose fist, allowing the length of his cock to slide in and out of it. He found his natural rhythm again, pumping his thick digits in and out of your cunt.

Moving your hand further down his shaft, you reached the base, and squeezed gently. The addicting sensation of rigidity, paired with the soft, pliable skin had you biting your lip as you worked his cock in and out of your fingers. James let out a desperately hungry whine, and pressed his thumb into your clit. His chest was heaving now, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he leaned back against the seat.

You whimpered, and dragged your hand upwards, jerking him off faster. His cock was rigid and burning up — he liked this a lot . Perhaps it was voyeurism, perhaps it was circumstance, but whatever it was, it had him acting feral. In turn, that had you acting similarly. You spread your legs further, undulating your hips to further the sensation along. The coil in your tummy wound tighter and tighter until it finally snapped, and you gushed around his fingers, pulsating in tight clenches. Your lips parted, allowing a drawn out moan to flutter breathily out. To James, it was akin to music. Cries of sex and cries of agony were so similar.

As you came, his lips found the side of your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sweet flesh that greeted him. He groaned and snarled into your skin, murmuring lascivious words directly into your ear. You shivered with each one, laughing breathily between moans.

You felt a particular tension within him, and kept your speed, running your thumb along the underside of the head. His breath hitched in his throat. He pumped his fingers faster, curling them deeper into your cunt. His thumb repeatedly bumped into your clit, sending you into a blurry, eye-watering state of euphoria. Beneath your dress, your thighs quivered, trembled with overstimulation. There was suddenly a burn deep within your core that you knew all too well — the second orgasm.

“Don’t — don’t stop…!” He ordered. Despite your quivering muscles, you continued playing with his thick cock. With a coy smile, you leaned forward, angling your open mouth over the head of his dick. Teasingly, you’d lean away every time he bucked his hips upward, seeking out the slick, warmth of your mouth.

“Diabolical!” Sweat glistened across his forehead, his neck reddened with pleasure. You smirked up at him, peering at him through your lashes. Admittedly, you were being rather naughty, but it was so fun to see such a pristine man come undone.

James never worried about stains; Miss Evers could get anything out of anything. So, he came enthusiastically, his entire body tightening and convulsing with the waves of his orgasm. He bucked his hips hard into the grip of your hand as tears of white wept from the slit, cascading over your knuckles and dribbled in large, sticky droplets onto his pants. One hit the bottom of your lip, and as you pulled away, you made a show of wiping it from your mouth before flattening your tongue against the pad of your finger.

As he came down from the high, you watched him silently. You two were submerged in darkness, but the glow from the highway’s street lamps illuminated him in a shadowed, film noir sort of way, chiseling his jaw and bringing the soulless blackness back to his eyes. This was the James you knew. The dark one, the one that was soft for you, but underneath his lust and adoration, you knew he wondered what you’d sound like dying.

“Was that good?”

“That’s not the word I’d use, my dear…”

You grinned to yourself, fiddling with the hem of your dress. James heaved a sigh and tucked his softening cock back into his pants, adjusting it until it was comfortable.

“I’ve a splendid idea. Why don’t you show me your home?” He asked, though it was more of a demand; he’d already made up his mind as he started the car.

“My home?” Immediately, panic flowed over you as he began to drive back the way you’d come. Had you done the dishes? Was the bed made? That pile of dirty clothes on the chair in your bedroom — had you put that away? You didn’t have Miss Evers to clean up after you, and once you came home from work, you wanted to do nothing but relax. “God, there has to be something more interesting than that to do.”

James waved his hand at you dismissively, ignoring your concerns, before returning it to the steering wheel and pulling back onto the main highway, headed back to Los Angeles. Anxiety made the drive feel short; you spent half of the ride trying to visualise the state you’d left your apartment in, and the rest of the ride sheepishly giving him directions, pointing to the necessary exits.

Finally, he pulled up in front of the curb. You looked towards your front door, nervously. It wasn’t a dump, but it certainly lacked the lustre and grandeur of the Cortez.

“Love your costume,” a girl said to James as you passed them. He turned to protest, but you immediately grabbed his arm, towing him towards your front door with a hurried, “Thank you! We love the 20’s!”

You filled your lungs with air, took a deep breath and opened the door. You peeked through with one eye at first, lessening the blow. Thankfully, aside from a hoodie, and a pair of socks, the living room looked… clean. The kitchen was another story; you hadn’t done dishes in a few days, and the impressive collection of coffee cups and cereal bowls would remain in the dark.

James paraded around, taking in the place where you lived, where you spent the time that you weren’t with him. Casually, he muttered an order and he headed towards your bedroom. You straightened up, slightly confused, but reached around the back of your dress, feeling for the zipper.

He stood out front of your door, leaning his broad shoulder against the frame. “Is it here?” He asked, gesturing to the bed. “Is it here that you pleasure yourself?”

Holding the front of your dress to your chest, you turned, blushing. “S-sometimes. Other times it’s in the shower. But most of the time… most of the time - yes.”

“Touch yourself… go on. Consider it a late birthday present.”

He’d made the demand impossible to deny now. A birthday present? You couldn’t be rude. You whimpered nervously as you dropped the dress to the floor, stepping out of the circle of it. Eyes locked on him, you sat down on the bed, scooting backwards until you felt your pillows. With a shaky inhalation, you leaned back and allowed your fingers to trail slowly down your stomach towards your cunt. Once you found her, she was soft and warm, and the entrance was still slightly slick from earlier.

“I want to see what it is that you do…” he crooned lowly. “…exactly how you do it. The only difference now is that you don’t need to imagine anything, my buttercup. I’m right here.”

“Well,” you paused at that, eyes drifting to your bedside table. “Exactly? I usually use my uh…” You rolled onto your side, pulled the drawer opened and produced a deep red coloured vibrator. “This.”

“Ah, yes . A vibrator.”

Incredulously, you asked: “You know what this is?”

“Ahh, my dear.” Hooking his thumb around his suspenders, he pulled them down over his shoulders. “Electric vibrators were invented before I was a twinkle in my mother’s eye. Doctors used them to… relieve hysteria in females. By the twenties, they were a common household item — of course I know what that is. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.

You laid, stunned, at the momentary history lesson. You’d had no idea that James knew what a vibrator was, and moreover, seemed to know more about them than you did. One button at a time, James began undressing himself, watching you as you brought the vibrator to life with a muted buzzing. You neared the tip of the vibrator to your clit, but paused. James opened his shirt, draping it carefully over the end of your bed frame.

His pale chest, lightly muscled, was now on display for you. The visual blindsided you, and you found yourself staring, letting your eyes trail up and down his form. You’d seen him shirtless — and even nude — so many times that you’d memorized his body at this point, but it never failed in taking your breath away.

“Well…” you started, snapping yourself out of your stupor. “You were, but… not… actually yesterday. But you were born yesterday.”

“Quite right. In 1895. Therefore, I know what a vibrator is, and I know how you use one — so… use it.”

You bowed your head shyly, and pressed the vibrator to your clit. You’d turned it up high; the sensation sent a shockwave through your core, and you jerked forward up onto your elbows.

The sight of a shirtless James at the edge of your queen size bed was enough to make you cum again. He looked so out of place in your modern room, but there was something incredibly sexy about it — a fantasy. Something you’d pictured hundreds of times.

The vibrator buzzed on, drilling into the bundle of nerves with mechanical ease. You slipped it over your clit, and swept it side to side before plunging it deep into your cunt; it slipped in with a slick swallow. James wouldn’t take his eyes off you, watching every moment of this erotic torture that you were bestowing upon yourself. You writhed, kicked and moaned… and yet, you still continued. Your breathing was erratic, your breasts rising and falling with each breath you took. You brought the vibrator back out for more clitoral stimulation, and crushed your head into the pillow beneath your head, forcing it down into the mattress as you slid the smooth plastic between your folds.

“ Aaauuuuuggggh… . My god, fuck….”

“That’s it, good girl.”

Your cunt clenched, your lids falling shut. You continued pumping the vibrator in and out, feeling every throb that she gave. You rubbed the angled tip over your clit, edging yourself further. Your legs were shaking again, you were close.

“No no, eyes on me.”

Your lids snapped open, absolutely willing to take in the visual before you. For the first time in long time, you didn’t need to rely on your imagination; everything you desired was currently crawling up towards you from the end of the bed with his pants hanging open and a dastardly smirk on his lips.

“Ffffuuuuck,” you breathed. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

Your gaze hungrily dropped to his groin, gobbling up the visual; the outline of his hardened cock beneath his briefs. This had gotten him worked up again, and you knew what was coming next. Or maybe next, after you.

James interlaced your fingers, lifting your hand from yourself and freeing you from the pleasuring. It was his turn. The vibrator dropped to the mattress, still buzzing. Your hand came down on the bed sheets, blindly slapping around until you found it. With a hard press from your thumb, you silenced it.

You were gasping for air like a fish, begging for relief. He had stopped you, edged you just before you came, and the warning clenches were hot and angry. Wordlessly, James climbed atop of you, supporting himself with a hand on either side of your head as he gazed down at you. His eyes danced over your form, lingering at your pulse as it throbbed in your neck — he always was innately interested in your heartbeats and your pulses, he’d press his hand your heart during orgasms, feeling the organ as it hammered an erratic rhythm through your skin. You chewed your lip, gazing right back up at him. He was so handsome; your stomach feeling like a bundle of fried and deeply tangled wires every time you looked at him. You were never sure what about yourself had enchanted him so deeply, but it was an obsession. It was something that tormented him, and needed to be constantly sated.

He reached into his briefs, letting his cock bounce free. It bobbed heavily, bumping into the lower part of your stomach, twitching to find something to penetrate. Beads of pre-cum fell, stringing from his cock to your skin, connecting you two for a brief moment before it stretched and snapped, falling just below your belly button.

He lowered his arms, bringing his mouth to your breast, where he began peppering kisses along the fullness of them. His teeth grazed your nipple and your back arched, a moan escaping as he bit down, just hard enough to cause a twinge of pain — you jerked your hips upwards, pressing his cock back up against his own stomach. The pressure brought a syrupy “Oooh” from his throat.

His cheek was suddenly pressed against yours, his lips by your ear. “I can’t very well fuck you with these on…” His fingers hooked around the elastic of your underwear, snapping them back against your skin. You immediately swung into action, shimmying them down over the curve of your ass, and down your thighs.

“There… all better.” You whispered into his ear, kissing the side of his face.

At that, James straightened up and angled his hips down before pressing them hips into you, urging the head of his cock to breach your entrance. You scooted further down on the mattress to meet his hips, and pushed him just a little bit deeper than he’d already gone. You revelled in the sensations; the hot stinging stretch before the release as the head slipped in, the fullness of his girth pressing against your slick walls, and finally, the ache as he bottomed out, his groin bumping roughly against yours. 

His thrusts were quick and deep. You felt the immediacy of his need, the surging desire that coursed through him like electricity. Dark strands fell into his eyes as he slammed his cock into you, drilling deep into your cunt. Every slick, hungry pull of your cunt drove him wild, it was a feeling unlike any other. Not even Elizabeth, with all of her dominating energy, had made James growl in ecstasy like you did.

He straightened up, took hold of your hips and quickly found a rhythm of pulling you onto his cock — your eyes rolled back in your head. Your skin flushed, a sheen of sweat covering both your bodies.

“J-James,” you stuttered. He nodded in response, buried too deeply in his euphoria to respond. “It feels so good — oh god… oh-oh god.”

You felt the sensation of your hot, aching cunt tightening. A moan caught in your chest, and your breath shuddered.  As she released in a series of throbs, you rocked your hips against him, pulling James closer to you, wrapping your arms around his scarred back.

He bucked his hips a final time, bottoming out, before he moved his hips haphazardly, bunny humping you. Strings of white coated your insides, you felt it ooze from your hole as he pulled his cock from you.With a sigh, James rolled off of you, and flopped heavily next to you, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling as his breathing slowed.

“You are… sensational, my little pet. Sensational.”

A smile on your lips, you reached for your phone, tapping the side button to illuminate it. Your smile faded quickly; the sun would be rising within the next two hours and your romantic day would be over. Until next year. You weren’t ready for the night to end, and rotated your body on the bed.  

“James,” you murmured, stroking his chest with a single finger. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“You never need to ask, my dear.”

~

As soon as you two walked through the doors of the Hotel, you spotted her. Countess. Elizabeth. She was standing on the second floor, wearing a silvery house robe and presumably nothing else, arms spread out on the railing like wings. She glared down at you.

With a kind smile in her direction, you pulled yourself closer to James as he made his way towards the stairs. She glowered, all but snarling her plump, red lips at you as you ascended. James had told stories of how… tempestuous his ex-wife was, but further, how uninterested in him she was. Was she truly so cruel that the moment he took joy in having someone else, she wanted to crush that?

“James,” she sneered from above, not bothering to address you. You rolled your eyes so hard they ached; her constant bitchiness was alluring, terrifying at first, but it had now become nothing more than an annoyance, akin to the whining of a mosquito. “Have fun on your day off?”

“Immeasurably.” He replied, curtly.

“And what did you two do, hmmm?” Her voice was breathy and hoarse, and even given the tryingly aloof words, was still delicious to listen to. It was a shame she wasted her breath on such immaturities.

“Now, now. Jealousy doesn’t suit you, my dear. Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.”

You smiled. Of course she’d be jealous; after all… it wasn’t her that James had just pumped full.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randodummy / @poltoreveur /

#Happy Halloween #James Patrick March #AHS Hotel #James Patrick March x reader #James Patrick March x you #ahs smut #ahs fanfiction #American Horror Story #lizzieshalloweenfics #myfics

[treasureofmammon]

(English isn't my native language, sorry for any mistake)

You asked for requests- well, lately, i can't take a MC who has many siblings (6-7) out my mind. They're at RAD, everyone getting ready for an important event. They get a call saying thay their eldest brother (who is kinda like Lucifer) suffered a car accident and all the siblings have to be there bc they don't know if he will make it. It went like

-you can't go, the event-

Mc:My brother was only 18 when our parents died and he had to take care of all of us, the company, and solve all the legal problems. I wasn't asking to go, I'm saying I'm going.

Anyway, you don't have to do it. Have a nice day/night ♡♡ drink water

I was feeling uninspired, but many of you gave me great ideas when I asked. Here is Anon's idea: an MC with a lot of brothers, their situation is similar to the Seven rulers of the Devildom, but then, a tragedy strikes.

🖤 It's not optional 🖤

👥️Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor + Solomon + MC (gn!reader) + OG MC's family.

⚠️Warnings: Angst, parental figures, siblinghood (is that a word?), fluff. I took A LOT of creative liberty.

📝 Note: Anon, I hope that this is of your liking. It took me some time to actually write this one; it was a special and cute challenge. Thank you for sharing!

✨️🖤🌟✨️🖤🌟✨️🖤🌟✨️🖤🌟✨️🖤🌟✨️🖤🌟✨️

You looked up to your bedroom's ceiling, feeling a sting in your stomach, an itch that doesn't go away, a rare premonition. You have always had those since you were a child, especially when something bad it's about to happen; but, for some reason, they've become stronger and clearer since you arrived here, in the Devildom.

Now you know beforehand when Mammon's "entrepreneur" adventures are going to fail, although to no avail as he does whatever he wants anyway. Or when Lucifer is getting so somnolent at his desk that he'll drop asleep and spill his coffee on the papers. Or when Satan is trying to get a special tome from his messy piles of books, making them fall and get trapped under thousands of them. Or when Beel is so hungry, he might destroy the kitchen or, worse, the whole house.

But none of those premonitions feel like today's. It's been days since your human world phone doesn't ring. Your oldest brother won't call. At first, you thought it was a relief since he has the horrible habit of calling you twice or thrice on the same day; but now it feels worrisome.

One day, you were secretly eating ice cream in the kitchen, and seconds later, you were in front of a group of intimidating and very hot men. And your brother knew. Of course he did. He just was so busy with work that he forgot to mentioned that he signed off your request for an exchange student program that you so much wanted to experience, and that he got a call that week that you were accepted. Obviously, none of you were expecting it to be in literal hell. And yet, he didn't mention it: not a warning, not a comment, not even a word.

As you feel yourself drowsy under the moonlight coming parted through your bedroom window, you remember your siblings. You know that your eldest brother wasn't always like that: a dictator, a nosy young man, a general in charge of his six little bratty siblings. No. He once was a refreshing young adult, responsible yes, but free. He would ride his motorcycle with his babe hugging him tightly on the back, and feel the sea ​​breeze; or party in College and then wake up ready for a chemistry exam that he'd destroyed with a 100%; or organize a movie night at home on summer break with you all, piling up a bunch of pillows and bedsheets until you 7 had the living room completely transformed into a fort just to watch Mulan for the nth time that month.

But he changed. He changed that exact summer break actually: he left school, sold his motorcycle, broke up with his significant other and all that just to raise you, to raise all 6 of you. After all, he was barely 18 when your mom and dad died, and he had to take care of you all.

He could have called that day that you were inadvertently teleported to the Devildom, but he forgot because he had a stack of paperwork that he needed to finished before his boss (who, by the way, you like to call Mr. McCrankyPants since you were eight years old), threatened to fire him again.

As it sinks in, you feel your heart squeeze. You reach your human world cellphone, but it rings before you grab it. Your second eldest brother is calling you. The coincidence would have scared you before if it wasn't so regular now. So, with tranquility, you answer the phone and hear with attention what you already sort of knew: —MC?—, a sniff and a broken voice —Big brother was on a car accident—.

Lucifer calls you out: —No! No! You can't go to the human realm! I understand your situation, but Lord Diavolo gave us explicit orders to keep you safe in the House of Lamention, so I'm afraid we- —. You interrupt him with a defeated face, you look up to Lucifer and say honestly —You can't understand, do you Luci? After all, you're the oldest...—. You direct your gaze back to your suitcase, filling it up quickly with mainly clothes and some personal items.

—What do you mean?—, Lucifer asks. His brothers are all in the threshold of your bedroom door, watching you prepare to leave, hearing the discussion, setting the mood with their sadden faces.

—Because you've never had anyone to give his all for you. Rather, it's always you who carefully takes care of your brothers. But not the other way around... If you did have someone, you'd understand—.

Lucifer stays silent. Of course, he understands. Of course, he used to have someone, too. However, he won't say because, as of now, he looks at his brothers, all of them amazed by your words, all of them touched by your sensibility, all of them understandably empathetic.

So a long pause fills the house, until Mammon breaks the silence —I get it—, he says with a rare serious tone that always surprises his brothers —Let'em leave, it's until the matter it's settle, right?—. Lucifer sighs, —No, we have clear orders that...—. Annoyed, Mammon cuts out Lucifer's words: —Clear orders? The heaven with that shit, Lucifer. If it was ya, I...—, but Mammon shuts himself up, biting his lower lip.

—Mammon is right, but... how long is it gonna be?— Beel asks with a sad puppy face.

—Exactly, it might be way too long. It's better if you stay here and wait for news at home..., with us—, Belphie adds.

—We will be here for you, hon—, Asmo says with a worried face expression.

—You'll always have us for you, MC— adds Satan.

—And we can play video games to keep you distracted if that helps—, Leviathan suggests.

You close your suitcase and make your way out of your bedroom to the house's entry. The brothers don't stop you. They just watch. At the main door, Solomon awaits. —Solomon! If you take them there, I swear...— Lucifer shouts. Although Solomon ignores Luci as he places his hand gently on your shoulder and chants a spell.

—MC?— Asmo calls out for you one last time. You look back and smile at them.

— You know, boys? My brother was only 18 when our parents died, and he had to take care of all of us, get a crappy job, stop his studies, solve any legal problems, and pay the mortgage. Now he needs me. I wasn't asking for permission to go, I'm saying I'm going. It's not optional... Wouldn't you do the same for Lucifer?—. And with that, a blueish light surrounds you and Solomon in a circle, and before you know it, you're back in the human realm.

The hours at the hospital are dready boring. While your big brother sleeps in a coma, his lungs breathe artificially thanks to the machine at his left. You just sit at his side, although he's unconscious, you tell him all sorts of jokes and adventures from back in the Devildom. You thank him for his existence and pleading, you ask him to be strong. A roller coaster of emotions that has been going on for days now, not only for you but for all your other 5 siblings.

As for this right moment, you breathe in and out, grounding yourself like the nurse suggested, focusing on the stains on the hospital room's ceiling. Until you hear a familiar voice: —Have you tried with the healing spell I taught you?—. Quickly, you look back, —Satan?! No, everyone! What are you guys-—. But you don't finish your question, because this time is Lucifer who interrupts you: —We couldn't let you go unprotected, and worse, mad at us.—, he smiles sincerely and you feel as if half of your family was there now. A weight lifts from your shoulders and your eyes water. —Solomon, did you bring them here? Thank you—.

Solomon smiles: —Who knows? Maybe I did, or maybe I found them in the human realm already—, he finishes with a wink.

Worried, you try to ask them: —But without Lord Diavolo's permission...—.

—Doncha worry about it—, Mammon assures you and continues —So, have ya tried with Satan's spell?—.

You look down and pout, —Y-yes. But it didn't work—.

—I see...—, Lucifer says and then commands to his brothers —if that's how it is, then, everyone: you know what to do—.

Gently, Asmo holds your hand and helps you stand up from the uncomfortable chair; then, he places you in front of your brother's bed, with your back to them. That's when you feel it: 7 hands on your back. A warm energy suddenly runs through your body, and tears come down your cheeks. It's their magic powers being transferred to you briefly.

—Come on, MC— Solomon orders, watching from the side —... give it another try—.

Crying, you chant —May the vestiges of pain that linger within the person before me be eliminated. I am the one they call MC... Hear my command!—.

You sniff, tears escaping your pretty eyes, as you wait, expecting, praying to whatever there's to pray that it works. Only seconds, but they feel like eternities. Until your brother's eyes are finally open, although confused. You gasp thankful for the miracle, and you make a mental note to thank each of your 7 lovely demons and teacher. You know that you will reward each of them after. There will be time.

For now, you hold your big brother's hand tightly, looking at him as if he hanged the moon and the stars, crying of happiness. But all he says is: —MC? Why are you crying? Are you ok?—. As always, you're the priority in his mind.

✨️🖤🌟✨️🖤🌟✨️🖤🌟✨️🖤🌟✨️🖤🌟✨️🖤🌟✨️

[Note; The character(s) depicted here belong to the mobile game "Obey me: shall we date" and are owned by Solmare Corporation. The text here was made by me: Treasure of Mammon, meaning this is fan-made. | GN!Reader | English is not my first language, so there might be orthographic and syntax errors. I urge you all to interact kindly with this post].

📌 Masterlist

#Treasure of Mammon writing #Treasure of Mammon asks #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #obey me mc #obey me x gn!reader #obey me gn!reader #obey me gender neutral mc #obey me fluff #obey me angst #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me lore

[mimble-sparklepudding]

FFXIV Screenshot/Gpose Asks: 3.

A few more suggestions for screenshot/gpose requests, in case anyone is looking for inspiration.

Feel free to reblog and I hope you enjoy.

Send 🤖 for a screenshot associated with technology or magitek.

Send ☠️ for a screenshot associated with piracy or the high seas.

Send 💪🏼 for a screenshot associated with strength or power.

Send 💋 for a screenshot associated with seduction or sensuality.

Send 🧳 for a screenshot associated with travel or storage.

Send 🪖 for a screenshot associated with war or conflict.

Send 👙 for a screenshot associated with the beach or swimming.

Send 🐌 for a screenshot associated with slowness or waiting.

Send 🦄 for a screenshot associated with fantasy or whimsy.

Send 🐣 for a screenshot associated with birth or new beginnings.

Send 🕷️ for a screenshot associated with fear or discomfort.

Send 🐍 for a screenshot associated with betrayal or spite.

Send 🦚 for a screenshot associated with pride or performance.

Send 💐 for a screenshot associated with romance or dating.

Send 🌿 for a screenshot associated with plants or nature.

Send 🪸 for a screenshot associated with the underwater world.

Send 🥀 for a screenshot associated with heartbreak or emotional pain.

Send ✨ for a screenshot associated with magic or aether.

Send 🔥 for a screenshot associated with fire or heat.

Send 🌟 for a screenshot associated with fame or renown.

Send 🍻 for a screenshot associated with feasting or carousing.

Send 🥊 for a screenshot associated with sparring or competition.

Send 🏆 for a screenshot associated with victory or triumph.

Send 🎨 for a screenshot associated with art or painting.

Send 🧘🏾‍♀️ for a screenshot associated with meditation or calm.

Send 🎲 for a screenshot associated with luck or gambling.

Send 🏰 for a screenshot associated with castles or walls.

Send 🏔️ for a screenshot associated with mountains or high places.

Send ⏳ for a screenshot associated with time passing or hurrying.

Send ⚖️ or a screenshot associated with justice or fairness.

Send 🏺 for a screenshot associated with history or legend.

Send 🧼 for a screenshot associated with cleanliness or bathing.

Send 🦠 for a screenshot associated with sickness or disease.

Send 🔮 for a screenshot associated with the future or fortune-telling.

Send 🧸 for a screenshot associated with children or childhood.

Send 🪩 for a screenshot associated with parties or dancing.

Send 🎁 for a screenshot associated with gifts or surprises.

Send 📚 for a screenshot associated with reading or research.

Send ❤️‍🔥 for a screenshot associated with lust or sexual attraction.

Send ⚜️ for a screenshot associated with nobility or chivalry.

Send 🃏 for a screenshot associated with humour or comedy.

Send 🎶 for a screenshot associated with music or song.

Send 🖤 for a screenshot associated with secret desires or kinks.

Send 🪚 for a screenshot associated with crafting or building.

Send 🏜️ for a screenshot associated with the desert or wilderness.

Send 🦁 for a screenshot associated with leadership or dominance.

Send ⚫️ for a screenshot associated with grief or regret.

Send 💎 for a screenshot associated with glamour or wealth.

Send 👍🏽 for a screenshot associated with success or approval.

Send 👼🏻 for a screenshot associated with innocence or purity.

Send ❄️ for a screenshot associated with cold or winter.

Send 🗝️ for a screenshot associated with privacy or secrets.

Send 📝 for a screenshot associated with writing or correspondence.

Send 🏳️ for a screenshot associated with surrender or capitulation.

Send 🧞‍♂️for a screenshot associated with wishes or hopes.

Send 🛏️ for a screenshot associated with sleep or resting.

Send 💌 for a screenshot associated with infatuation or crushes.

#screenshot asks #FFXIV gpose #ffxiv screenshots #ask list #FFXIV ask list #gpose #FFXIV screenshot meme

[justkennadi]

Happy Halloween…🧡🖤🧡🖤

Notes: Special post for halloween 😍🤗 this is what the poll was for too btw. Not a continuation of my mini series either. Not proof read.

Content: Nerd!Armin x blk!fem reader, mentions of drinking and one sorta nsfw joke at the end

It’s halloween night and this time it wasn’t Eren throwing a party but Reiner. You didn’t like him that much but a party’s a party and it’s halloween!!

You decided on a vampire like fit since it was last minute. You were going with Mikasa and Eren who just decided to be thing one and thing two.

The party wasn’t far so the three of you decided to walk. Eren and Mikasa went to your house to pick you up so you alll could walk together.

“You’ll finally get to meet Armin!” Mikasa exclaimed as you three walked to the party.

From what you knew Armin was their 3rd friend before you and was realll nerdy now so he was often caught up with homework or studying. You went sure how Eren or Mikasa convinced him to put the book down for a party but you were a bit glad tbh. You really wanted to meet him especially since you had a thing for nerdy guys maybe he was cute…

It was obvious which house the party was behind held at. The music was so loud you could faintly hear it at your own house!

Once inside you, Eren and Mikasa push through a sea of dancing monsters, fake celebrities and other goofy dressed people. Eren got distracted somewhere in that sea but you and mikasa made it to a kitchen area. Mikasa yells she’s going to get a drink but you barely hear her so you just nod while still walking.

You weren’t really sure where to go or what to. You thought about getting a drink or two yourself but before you can finish that thought you bump into a slightly tall ghostface.

“Oh, sorry, my fault.” You say quickly looking at him.

He just stands there a bit and you were about to question it until Mikasa catches up to you.

“Im back- Oh hey Armin!”

Oh, so this was Armin?

He just waves and you both look at each other. Mikasa notices and tries to further introduce you two.

It’s still kinda awkward and also kinda hard to hear so Mikasa pulls you two outside where there were let people.

“Guys loosen up! It’s a party!” Mikasa exclaimed taking a sip from here drink. “Y’know what? You two just need a drink too, wait right here!”

And just like that she was off. You were starting to think she was an extreme lightweight.

“Soooo..” You said breaking the ice. “What made you not wanna nerd out tonight?”

Armin shrugged and looked down then away.

“What’s your major?” You ask.

He mutters something that has science at the end of it.

Smirking you say, “Can you take your mask off? I cant hear you..”

He slowly takes the mask off and you’re baffled.

He has the rosiest cheeks right now but he also had gorgeous blue eyes and soft looking lips. Also the curliest looking blonde hair. Adorable.

“Hey handsome..” You said playfully poking him. He just smiled and looked away.

Clearly he was shy but you found that cute as hell.

Mikasa comes back with two cups and hands them to you both.

“He’s so shy, Kasa..” You whisper in her ear.

“He’s just like that at first just give it time.” She says. “I’m gonna go dance and find Eren you two have fun out here ok?”

“Sureee..” You say sipping from the cup.

She runs off and you look back at the blushing blonde boy in front of you.

“Comeon, talk to me Min.” You say playfully.

His face reddens at the nickname and he says, “I like your costume..”

“Thankssss!” You twirl for him. “I liked yours too.”

He smiled.

The two of you talked outside for a bit longer. Armin finally started to open up more especially with the drink in his system. He even accidentally slipped he thought you were stunning and hot.

“Aw, thank you minniee!!” You say giddy.

He looks very embarrassed because of that but still smiles at your reaction.

“Hey, so i gotta go but…can i get your number?” Armin asks.

You smile big and quickly write your number on a candy wrapper and hand it to him saying, “Happy Halloween!”

He chuckled at this and turned to leave.

You were sad to see him go but once he did the party started dying down and here comes Mikasa again. This time Eren is with her.

“She partied too hard so times up, y/n.” Eren laughed.

“Nuh uh.” Mikasa says wobbling a bit.

You laughed and started walking with them. Eren asks about armin and how he missed him and you tell him he’s fine.

“He was dressed as ghost head!” Mikasa exclaimed.

“Ghostface.” You corrected.

“Well so was Connie and Marco.” Eren says. “I couldn’t tell who was who!”

Just then you get a buzz in your pocket from your phone. As Mikasa and Eren talk about party and read the text you got from and unknown sender.

- Hey, It’s Armin…

- I know vampires suck blood but i’d love to know if you’re down to suck something else ;)

You smile big at your phone as you demand an address. Did you just score a cute boy who happens to be intelligent as well??

Oh happy halloween to you….

#nerd armin #aot x black reader #aot armin #armin attack on titan #armin x reader #armin x black !fem reader #armin x y/n #nerd armin x black reader #nerd armin arlert #nerd alert #aot imagines #aot x female reader #aot x poc!reader #aot x reader #armin imagines #arminarlert #armin x black reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #x black reader #x black fem reader

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

where the sidewalk ends | pablo gavi

🎃 synopsis: Sofie meets an ex-hookup during a Halloween party. The full moon is high in the sky, the Summer they shared is now only a memory, and there are weirder things to worry about. warnings: alcohol consumption, smut, spooky themes, social media, fluff (Wc: 3k)

(this is a sequel to ibiza night fever, but can be read as standalone)

|the playlist|

“But all the magic I have known I've had to make myself.” ― Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends

It’s finally October, every melancholic girl's favorite time of the year. After a breakup and a much-needed Hot Girl Summer, what Sofie needed was a Sad Girl Autumn, and she’s been taking advantage of the season.

She started doing yoga and has been reading a lot more; you can confirm that by checking her Insta feed – she’s been filling it with intellectual aesthetic pics.

Strolls through the park, loud sighs, pumpkin spice drinks—anything that makes her look like the protagonist of a pretentious European indie film.

Tonight, though, is a special night. Tonight Sofie is a sexy Barbie Cowgirl, and she’s accompanied by Black Swan, Sleeping Beauty, and Carrie. Or, Chiara, Luisa and Becca, as they are known the rest of the year.

It’s Luisa’s annual Halloween party. It’s been a hit since the first edition and the first time Sofie will be attending it as a single lady.

If the last few months have taught her anything, it is how to be casual, or at least how to appear casual. Sofie was focused on having fun, holding her phone in one hand and a gin tonic drink in another. She scrolled through social media while taking another sip. She wasn't trying to arrive already drunk at the party, only to loosen up a bit.

She and her friends have already posted their outfits; half of them were already at the party. Sofie took a deep breath, put away her phone and walked out of the door.

chiaraaraujo

liked by rebeccaamorim and 307 others

i am so stressed out #natalieportman

oliviaaraujo amen sister ⤷chiaraaraujo 🦢 ⤷sofiemartins 🦢🦢🦢

view all coments...

rebeccaamorim

liked by pedri and 752 others

its halloweeen happy birthday stephen king

sofiemartins uhh so i just googled stephen king birthday and... uh... ⤷rebeccaamorim nah i got it right, shut up ⤷pedri 😂😂

view all coments...

sofiemartins

liked by pablogavi and 326 others

🦄💗

luisafernandes girl marry me chiaraaraujo gatinha 🖤

view all coments...

luisafernandes

liked by chiaraaraujo and 956 others

i'm your favorite disney princess 🩷

francisca.cgomes tão lindaa rebeccaamorim u the love of my life. fr.

view all coments...

When Sofie walks into the party, she gasps with excitement. The decor was straight out of a Halloween movie. A fog machine was filling the room with mist, cobwebs were hanging all over the place. Jack-o'-lanterns grinned from every nook and cranny, their flickering faces casting playful shadows, giving the whole scene a spooky, dimly lit charm.

It was clear Luisa had gone all in to make this party amazing.

And the guests really brought their A-game in the costume department. Among the crowd, there was a wickedly realistic zombie, a time-traveling Doctor Who, a whimsical unicorn with a shimmering horn and even a comically oversized banana. The variety was as entertaining as it was impressive.

Music was thumping from the speakers, mixing old-school Halloween hits with some current jams, setting the mood for the night.

Sofie's eyes locked onto a familiar face in the sea of costumes – it was Pedri, dressed like a pirate and laughing at something Rebecca said. He looked a bit different since she last saw him, sporting a cool beard that suited him perfectly.

Sofie wasn’t surprised to see the two chatting; Becca and Pedri have been in a complicated long-distance situationship since they met in Ibiza, in the summer. But seeing the football player at the party gave Sofie goosebumps, as she tried to forget her own antics in the Spanish island.

She goes on to greet the couple.

“Cool beard, you really committed to the theme, didn't you?” Sofie jokes about his costume and Pedri laughs. “What are you doing in town, anyway?”

They were in Lisbon, far away from Barcelona, where he should be. Sofie half asks because she worries about her friend ending up heartbroken, but she’s mostly scared that his answer might get herself in trouble.

“We had a game here last night. Figured we could stay for the party.” Pedri winks.

We. There it was, what Sofie was scared of.

“We?” She asks, anyway, even though she knows the answer.

Pedri then tilts his head to the other side of the room, pointing at something. Or someone. When Sofie looks, she’s met with a figure standing by the door, somebody wearing a Ghostface costume. She rolls her eyes and looks back at Becca.

“I’m getting a drink, have fun you two!” Sofie says.

“Don’t get lost!” Becca yells and Sofie gives her a thumbs-up and a nod, but the moment she turns away, the music swallows her up. Luisa's mansion was like a maze. Sofie knew she was in for a tough time trying to do what Becca had asked.

The music was blaring, making it feel like she'd stepped into a nightclub. There were chill-out rooms with people sprawled on fancy couches, a glittering dance floor with a DJ dropping beats, and dimly-lit hallways that seemed to lead to who-knows-where.

Sofie's search for a drink brought her to a bustling room, where she was comforted by another known face, Chiara. She was dressed as Black Swan and deep into a lively, tipsy, philosophical convo with a small group of friends.

Sofie couldn't resist joining the shenanigans. "Hey, Chiara," she chimed in, with a wide grin, “what are you guys talking about?”

Chiara turned her swan-like gaze toward Sofie, her theatrical makeup adding extra drama to her expression. "Oh, you know, the meaning of life, the universe, and why we all wear costumes on Halloween," she replied, her words accompanied by giggles from her friends.

Sofie grabbed a chair and got cozy, all set to dive into the amusing and philosophical banter.

But the conversation didn’t last long; A muffled scream suddenly pierced through the party chatter, instantly grabbing their attention. Sofie and Chiara exchanged a concerned look.

"Did you hear that?" Sofie asked, her eyes darting around the room.

Chiara nodded, her curiosity piqued. "Yeah, that sounded pretty real. We should check it out."

They both rose from their seats, leaving their group of friends momentarily and headed in the direction of the mysterious scream.

Sofie and Chiara followed the sound down a dimly lit corridor. The place was spooky, and their nerves were on edge, so they just froze, waiting to see what would happen next.

They exchanged nervous glances, ears perked up, hoping to catch any hint of what had caused that scream. The whole scene felt like something out of a suspense movie, and they were bracing themselves for a sinister revelation.

“Hey,” 

The girls screamed at the voice behind them, as they jumped in shock. With a hand on her chest, Sofie took a deep breath, looking back to the figure standing now in front of her. Ghostface.

He took off his mask in a hurry. It was Gavi, and he tried to show them there was no need to be scared.

“It’s just me…” Gavi says.

Sofie and Chiara breathed a collective sigh of relief. Sofie was particularly happy to see that it was Pablo, and for a moment, she considered giving him a hug. But that thought made her freeze in her tracks, and her mind drifted back to their time in Ibiza, and the nights they shared. They hadn't talked since then.

“Is everything okay?” Gavi asks, torn between wanting to laugh at their reaction and genuine concern.

“We just heard something weird,” Chiara begins to explain.

Then, out of nowhere, loud banging noises erupted from the same place they'd heard the scream. The sudden, unexpected noise sent a fresh wave of tension through the group.

Sofie, swallowing hard, spoke up. "So, we came here to check it out..."

Pablo, shaking his head with a sly grin, says, "I don't know, I'm not super into the idea of investigating 'bang' sounds." He shot Sofie a knowing look.

“Do you think that that's somebody having sex?” Sofie asks, almost relieved at the possibility, since she had not considered it.

Chiara doesn't buy the theory, it doesn't sound to her like somebody is having a good time. “But if it's something serious, we should at least make sure everyone's safe." She says.

Pablo relented with a sigh. "Alright, fine. Let's check it out. But stick close, and let's not turn this into a horror movie cliche, okay?" He jokes.

With cautious steps, they followed the sounds down the corridor until they reached a closed bedroom door. The weird rhythmic banging noises were definitely coming from inside, and a mix of curiosity and fear gripped them.

Gathering their courage, they exchanged one last glance before Gavi, the designated leader of the group, slowly turned the doorknob. The door creaked open, revealing the dark room on the other side. 

When they pushed the door open, they were in for a surprise – a room filled with Roomba vacuum cleaners gone rogue. The little bots were spinning around, bumping into furniture, and beeping like they were part of some bizarre dance routine. It was like a small-scale robot rebellion.

Gavi burst into a loud laugh, "Seems like the robots have picked Halloween for their big uprising, huh?"

“That’s why I don't trust robots…” Sofie says, tip-toeing closer to Pablo, trying to avoid the bots.

“What about the scream?” Chiara couldn't help but bring up the initial reason for their investigation.

The group tenses up once again, remembering what brought them here in the first place.

"It was me," came a voice from the corner of the room. Luisa was sitting down, carefully wrapping a band-aid around her toes. "One of these things nearly took my toe out, and I don't even know how to turn them off."

With everything finally making sense, the group gathered their efforts to grab the rogue Roombas. After some trial and error, they successfully managed to turn off the little vacuum cleaners and carefully piled them up in a closet. 

luisafernandes

liked by pedri and 873 others

thanks everybody who showed up. it was the best halloween party ever. my vacuum cleaners literally almost unalived me. i love all of my friends so so much. happy halloween!

rebeccaamorim what was that in the middle? ⤷sofiemartins don't even worry about it pablogavi 👻 chiaraaraujo maybe like. get a broom or something

view all coments...

Pablo and Sofie stayed behind after hushing the girls back to the party. In the dimly lit bedroom, it was just the two of them. Pablo sat at the edge of the bed, and Sofie stood by the window. They both felt the urge to talk but weren't sure where to start or what to say. The unspoken tension loomed in the room.

Should they bring up Ibiza? Or should they pretend like nothing happened? They exchanged glances every now and then but mostly remained silent as they gathered their thoughts.

"It's pretty crowded out there..." Sofie says, her thoughts interrupted by the party noise.

Gavi cleared his throat, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I know... This is better. I prefer being alone."

Sofie couldn't help but giggle,"Well, you're not entirely alone. I'm right here, you know."

Pablo met her gaze and said, "When I'm with you, it doesn't feel like there's anybody else in the room." Gavi's face flushed like a tomato, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realized what he had just let slip. "Do you... um, understand what I'm saying?" he mumbled, his words stumbling out as he anxiously awaited Sofie's response.

“I feel the same way.” Sofie says, her words escaping before she could even fully process what she was saying.

A palpable tension hung in the air as they locked eyes. It felt like an unspoken challenge to see who would look away first. It was like a silent game of vulnerability chicken, and neither of them was ready to blink.

In an instant, Gavi was right in front of her, his hand gently resting on her hips. His eyes pleaded for permission. Sofie, taken aback by his bold move, simply nodded, her eyes fixed on his lips.

He kissed her hungrily and passionately. Their minds immediately turned into a total mess, as they both desperately tried to savor the moment while also trying to let each other know just how much they'd missed this.

Sofie instinctively placed one hand on his chest, while running her fingers through his soft hair with the other. Pablo deepened the kiss, taking his time exploring her mouth and playfully licking her bottom lip.

He carefully guided her to the bed, lowering himself onto her. Their lips finally parted, leaving them breathless and flushed.

They stared into each other’s eyes intently. They couldn’t wait anymore. The desire between them was so strong, neither of them could speak. They both just wanted each other, no more holding back. 

Sofie grabbed him tightly by the neck, pulling him closer. After gasping for air, Gavi brought his lips to her again, his hands moving down her sides and gripping her waist firmly.

She took off her shirt and Pablo gently pulled off her lacy pink bra.

“I missed them so much.” Gavi jokes, looking at her breasts. Sofie gives a playful slap on his arm.

“I missed you too.” She whispers in his ears. She can feel the goosebumps all over his body as she says that.

“Are we really doing this?” He asks, tenderly kissing her neck. He can’t seem to keep his mouth away from her body for too long. He knows they don’t have much time together, he’s going back to Barcelona in the morning.

“I want you so, so much.” Sofie answers in between whimpers, she’s already too lost in pleasure to consider the consequences of what she’s doing.

“But we have to be quiet.” Pablo looks at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “If somebody hears us moaning, they might get worried for our safety.” He whispers. Sofie has to bite her lip to hold back a giggle.

“I can be quiet.” She promises.

Pablo enters her slowly, taking his time to enjoy every second of their reunion. They get lost in each other and it feels like their first time all over again.

She wraps her legs around him and digs her nails into his back, demanding more of him. His body starts rocking, slowly thrusting harder and faster until he loses control completely.

Their bodies move together easely. Sofie has to put a hand on her mouth to stop herself from crying his name out loud.

The sigh of her desperation is enough to drive him off the edge. He reaches down and starts massaging her clit, just like he knows she likes it. Pablo speeds up his pace, when he senses they’re both close to orgasm.

He collapses in her arms and Sofie holds him close as they reach their peak together.

They have their eyes closed and for a while the only thing on their mind is each other's heartbeat.

But then, Sofie feels her anxiety creeping in, and it is enough to break the magic surrounding them. "We should probably head back to the party," she whispers. To their ears, her words seemed louder than the music outside.

"Right," Pablo mumbles, eyes still closed, lingering in the moment for a little longer.

They quietly slipped out of the bedroom, making their way back to the party without exchanging another word. 

Even without speaking, as they get out of the bedroom, they share a sly, knowing look, hinting at the possibility of meeting again, without the need for words.

Sofie, without Gavi noticing, sneakily slipped a piece of paper with her phone number into his pocket.

#pablo gavi #gavi #football fanfic #pablo gavi fanfic #football fic #ibiza night fever #oc fanfiction #halloween fic #gavi fanfic #social media au #pablo gavi imagine #gavi smut

[lady-morrigen]

Right Now You're Mine

pairing: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

words: 5.7K

warnings: 18+ content, cursing, drunk guys refusing to take "no" for an answer (not Peter), college/post-college aged reader & Peter

a/n: so i was listening to "Skin to Skin" by Movements and couldn't get the idea of tumultuous on and off relationship with Peter out of my head, this is the outcome of that. i recommend listening to it before or after reading! thanks as always to my forever beta @acrossthesestars for editing this into something legible. i am nothing without you 🖤

masterlist | taglist

(divider by @silkholland)

The driving bass rippled through the shitty apartment, nearly drowned out by the voices of all the people crammed inside. You’d found a relatively empty corner to stand in, preferring to be there rather than brushing shoulders with total strangers. You always felt so out of place at these big parties, even when you came with friends. 

Your fingers picked nervously at the label of the warm Bud Platinum in your hand. Your friend Mike grabbed a case of them for you after class. You’d assumed he would grab them from the refrigerated section but you had been terribly wrong. It’s not like you even enjoyed the taste, but they were relatively cheap and brought on a comfortable buzz much quicker than the Busch Ice that the boys usually kept in the fridge. 

The song changed and you brought the bottle to your lips, singing along to the opening lines of “All Night Longer” almost out of instinct before tipping it back and allowing the bitter liquid to take the edge off your anxiety. You were staring blankly into the throng of people in front of you, observing the way their bodies pressed close together, gyrating awkwardly to the beat. Out of nowhere, a voice, surprisingly close, snapped you out of your reverie.

“You a big Sammy Adams fan?” The boy to your right asked, turning to face you. You snorted derisively into your beer and shook your head. 

“It’s impossible not to sing along when the boys play the damn song any chance they get.”

He laughed then, a bright sound that caught your full attention, and you turned to face him fully. Boyishly good looking, he had tousled brown hair and a smile that made his dark eyes twinkle. He was wearing a plain black shirt, thumbs tucked through holes in the sleeves, under a green cargo jacket, and dark jeans; he seemed out of place in the sea of pastel and white worn by the frat bros throwing the party. You recognized him, you thought, as the quiet boy that had sat behind you in your European History class freshman year. 

“Hey, I know you!” You had to shout to be heard over the music, leaning into his space and placing a stabilizing hand on his shoulder. “You had Dr. G freshman year, right?”

“That’s right,” he smiled at you, a hint of surprise lighting up his eyes. He angled the neck of his bottle toward you, the gesture mirroring that of a handshake as he introduced himself. “Peter.”

You clinked your bottle to his, half-shouting your name as you turned back to the party. Turns out he already knew your name; sitting in the front row had made you an easy target for a professor who made it his life’s ambition to rag on students every chance he got. 

“Nice to officially meet you,” you said, taking another swig of your beer with a grimace. 

“I take it you come to these parties a lot?” That was an understatement. Your roommate was dating the chapter President and you inevitably found yourself tagging along with her to impromptu parties at least three nights per week. But you’d never bumped into Peter at one before. 

“Mmm,” you hummed against the lip of your bottle and pointed to your roommate and her boyfriend in the opposite corner. “You see that blonde over there with Fletcher? That’s my roommate, Cate. She drags me here every other night.”

“I see,” He pointed towards them as well. “Fletcher invited me tonight. He asked me to take pictures of the party for their upcoming recruitment video. Offered to pay me in beer.” 

“I hope you left your camera at home,” you scoffed. He grimaced, twisting so you could see his backpack. “Fletcher can be such a dick sometimes.” 

“Hey, I don’t mind,” he said. He shoved his free hand into the pocket of his jeans and rocked back on his heels, a sheepish smile on his soft mouth. “I’m enjoying the company.”

Four years passed from the night you first met Peter. Four years of study dates that turned into coffee dates, late night texts, and sending each other silly Instagram videos on bad days. You had never become an “official” couple, preferring to fall into each other when the moment was convenient, or when you’d had a little too much to drink. On nights that Peter was out doing god knows what, you’d sometimes fill your bed with another warm body. More frequently, you would spend the evening alone, polishing off a bottle of wine to drown out the lingering loneliness. 

It’s not that you didn’t care for each other. In fact, you probably cared a little too much. Life just had a habit of getting in the way and you both had your own respective walls up. Relationships never seemed to work out well for you, so it was easier to avoid them. You avoided getting too close to anyone, so you threw yourself into your work, making up excuses about how you were too busy for anything serious. Peter had his secrets too, a clandestine job that had him working nights and odd hours. You pretended not to notice the black eyes or the swollen lips, the way he insisted on keeping the lights off so you couldn’t see the scars that marked his body. 

He never told you what it was he was doing, but he would frequently find his way to your door in the early hours of the morning. He’d be propped against the door frame, a sheepish smile firmly in place, asking to come in and talk for a while. Most of the time, there was very little talking involved. Instead, your studio would be filled with the sounds of your pleasure, fading into a comfortable quiet just as the first light of dawn began to filter through the fogged windows. 

You’d lie there with tangled limbs, your bare skin pressed firmly against his as you traced delicate circles over the planes of his chest. You’d tell him about your shitty day, your weekend plans, and about how you secretly hoped to one day leave the city and make a name for yourself. Peter never once shared details about the ghosts that haunted him, the ones you could see dancing in the shadows of his eyes, but you had learned early on not to push. "I like hearing about your day," he would say. "I don’t want to bore you with the details of mine."

It was all so intimate, the traveling hands, forehead kisses, and intertwined fingers. Sometimes, you’d let yourself imagine that it was real, that he was yours, and you didn’t have to give him up with the sunrise. Eventually, the dawn would become too bright to ignore and he’d extract himself from you, despite your protests, leaving you all alone in your big bed with little more than a parting kiss and a whispered promise of calling you later. 

You’d toss and turn, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before peeling yourself out of bed and catching the train to work, but it was usually hopeless. You were never able to calm your racing thoughts long enough to get anything resembling rest. Instead, you’d throw on a pot of coffee and sink into a chair by the window to watch the last of the darkness slowly fade into daylight. 

Deciding you were through with your self-pity, you agreed to go out with Cate and Fletcher while they were in town, knowing that you’d be in bed by 11 pm at the latest. You’d agreed purely out of a desire to get out of your own head for a bit, thinking that some face time with your best friend might do you some good. Slipping into a tight dress, you swiped on some concealer in an attempt to look more alive than you felt and headed out the door. 

The club was packed - long weekends always brought plenty of tourists into the city. The feeling of the pulsing bass, paired with the vibrant flashing lights and the familiar burn of a vodka soda felt like a balm to your soul. Or at least a distraction from your problems. It had been so long since you’d let yourself go out and enjoy letting loose. Something like guilt had begun gnawing at you about a year ago, when you realized how deep your feelings for Peter ran. You hadn’t brought another man home since. 

As the music and the alcohol began to loosen your limbs, you let Cate drag you onto the dance floor. Your hips moved in time with the seductive rhythm as you brandished your drink in the air, singing along to lyrics of a song you’d nearly forgotten. It wasn’t long before a pair of unfamiliar hands circled your waist, and pulled you against a firm body, encouraging you to keep dancing. As the scent of his overpowering cologne attacked your senses, you turned just enough to see the strangers face, and complied. He was handsome enough, with deep olive skin, a shock of nearly-black hair, and hazel eyes that seemed to stare right through you. When you turned back to face Cate, she was giving you a thumbs up in approval, a devilish grin on her face. You made sure to stay in the middle of the dance floor, under the brightest lights so that anyone could see if the stranger tried anything that crossed a line. It’s not like you’d never danced with a stranger before, but something told you to be careful with this one.

One song turned into two, turned into five and you found yourself in need of another drink and a break to catch your breath. The stranger’s hands hadn’t left your hips and you were suddenly feeling touched out. You looked toward the bar to check on the lines and your heart leapt into your throat. There, leaning his back up against the polished counter and staring directly at you was Peter. There was no anger in his eyes, but you knew him. Well enough to know that there was hurt masked behind the cool indifference of his expression. He casually sipped his drink then turned back to signal to the bartender, leaving you frozen in place. 

When you had finally convinced your limbs to move again, you turned to your dance partner and mumbled some excuse about needing to freshen up and get a new drink. He offered to come with you, his hands tightening possessively as you tried to walk away. You wriggled free, adamant that you go alone, despite the brief flash of anger that flared in his eyes. Looking around for Cate or Fletcher, you noticed they were nowhere to be found. They had a habit of sneaking off to a corner somewhere to paw at each other and you cursed them for leaving you alone with that creep. 

When you finally made it through the sea of sweaty bodies to the bar top, you were shocked to find that Peter was nowhere to be found. Had you imagined him? Was this your guilt manifesting itself in the form of hallucinations? It’s not like you had been sleeping well and Peter had been running through your mind all night, that familiar gnawing guilt trying to claw its way back to the front of your mind. You waved the bartender over, ordering a shot of Jameson and grimacing as the dark liquid burned in your throat. A wave of heat washed over you as it hit your belly, suddenly making the crowded club feel entirely too warm. 

You moved toward the exit, hoping that the fresh air would offer some relief. Breathing deep as you stepped outside, you allowed the cool, damp air to fill your lungs and closed your eyes. You had been a fool to think that coming here would make you forget about Peter, to think that anything could erase the mark that he’d burned into you years ago. Exhaling, you dug your phone from your bag, fingers flexing around it as you scrolled through your contacts and hovered over the call button. Calling Peter right now could be a big mistake, especially if you hadn’t imagined him and he’d seen you grinding on someone else. You didn’t have the energy to argue with him and you didn’t want to make it seem like you were only calling him to assuage your guilt. With a groan you locked the screen, tucking the phone back in your bag and turning back toward the entrance. 

“Well just where do you think you’re going, pretty girl?” The voice was male, incredibly deep, and unfamiliar. You looked up into the eyes of the creep from inside the bar. Had he followed you?

“I needed some fresh air,” you said plainly, trying your best to sound casual. “I’m headed back inside to get my friends. A cab will be here to get us soon.”

You were lying, but he didn’t know that. There was no one else outside with you and the thought suddenly made you feel unsafe and on edge. You would risk returning to the sensory overload that awaited you inside, if only to get away from him. You brushed past his shoulder and his hand tightened around your wrist, pulling you back against his chest. He held you there with one strong arm around your shoulders, refusing to let go as you shoved against him, trying to get free. 

“I think you should stay out here with me,” he growled against your ear. His free hand slid up the back of your thigh, pushing underneath your dress to cup the curve of your bare ass. The sickening sweetness of his cologne overtook you once more, making your stomach churn as you choked on it. 

You jerked against his hold again, trying your best to remain calm and not let your fear get the best of you. There was no one around to hear you scream and no one inside the club would notice you over the loud music, so you kept as still as you could, waiting for the right moment to fight back. 

“I was hoping we’d get a little privacy,” he said. “You put on quite a little show for me.”

He loosened his grip ever so slightly, intending to turn you around to face him, and you used it to your advantage. Lifting your heeled food, you brought it down hard onto the top of his. He howled in pain, but his grip remained firm as you fought against it. You did it again, this time swinging your arm down with force, connecting with his groin. He stumbled and you lurched forward out of his arms, putting a safer distance between the two of you as you reached for your phone to call for help. 

“You bitch,” he said. 

He stood up to his full height, taking a stumbling step toward you. You were about to grab for your mace when a blur of red and blue whizzed past you, colliding with the man and sending him flying back onto his ass. 

“Ok, now I know I’m seeing things,” you mumbled to yourself, swaying on your feet.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Standing over the crumpled man was Spider-Man. You’d seen articles about him in the paper and the smear campaign that they ran on the local news stations, but you never thought much about it. Truthfully, you were a little skeptical that he was actually real. It would be hard to deny after this. 

The masked man crouched, hovering over your assailant and muttering something that you couldn’t make out. Taking a tentative step forward, you stopped when he suddenly stood, gesturing for you to stay back. You froze, unsure of whether to run like hell or stay and watch him beat the shit out of the guy who just manhandled you. 

Without warning, the man climbed to his feet and charged at Spider-Man. Dipping his shoulder, he aimed it squarely at his ribs, and slammed the masked man into the wall with a sickening crunch. Spider-Man crumpled to the ground, unmoving, and your attacker turned to you once more. 

“Now,” he said, huffing a breath and taking a step toward you. “Where were we?”

Before he could take another step, his legs were yanked out from underneath him by a web, shot from the heap where Spider-Man still lay. He climbed to his feet, doubled over from the pain of having the wind knocked out of him, and probably a couple of broken ribs. He limped forward, pinning the man in place with strategically placed webs on his hands and feet. Facing you, he spoke. His voice was hoarse, but familiar in a way you couldn’t quite place. 

“Go,” he croaked. “Get out of here. I’ve got this.”

You did as you were told, afraid of the consequences if you didn’t. Thankfully, your apartment was only a couple of blocks from the club. You frantically scrolled through your phone, looking for Peter’s name, and pressed the call button. The phone rang and rang and rang, and you were forced to leave a desperate, sniffling voicemail when he didn’t pick up. 

The tears were flowing freely by the time you circled the corner and took the stairs to your apartment two at a time. Your eyes were blurry, causing you to fumble with the keys and drop them to the ground with a curse. On your second try, you managed to scoot inside, closing the lobby door safely behind you with a thud. 

You sobbed through the elevator ride to your floor, thinking only of how Spider-Man had stepped in to help you from a stranger, someone who clearly couldn’t take no for an answer. You were usually so smart, careful not to take risks and leave yourself vulnerable, but you’d been lost in your own head and not paying close enough attention. Now someone else was going to pay the price. 

As you walked in, you threw your bag and phone onto the couch and kicked off your shoes, sending them flying across the small expanse of your living room to be lost in the dark. Tossing yourself onto your bed, you didn't bother to change out of your dress before crawling under the duvet. You’d wash the sheets later. As you lie there, you couldn’t help but think about how badly you wished Peter were with you. The gentle security of his arms was the only thing you craved in that moment. 

You wanted him to hold you to his chest, tuck your head in the space below his chin, and stroke your hair until all of the tension left your body. You wanted to feel the rumble of his voice as you pressed yourself into his chest. In short, you wanted him. The empty space in your bed reminded you that he wasn’t there and that he wouldn’t answer your calls.

As the tears slowed and your breathing began to even out, you felt the weight of your exhaustion lying heavy on you like a blanket. The first tease of sleep began to creep into your limbs and you breathed deeply, inhaling the familiar scent of your fabric softener and the spicy remnants of Peter’s cologne. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you heard a knock - one long, two short, one long, the coded knock that Peter had begun using over a year ago. 

Convinced you were dreaming, partially due to the fact that you’d been crying yourself to sleep with him fresh on your mind, you snuggled deeper into the blanket and ignored it. It sounded again, this time much louder and accompanied by Peter’s voice on the other side of the door. You leapt from the bed, legs tangling in the sheets and crashed face down onto the floor. With a groan, you scrambled to your feet and opened the front door. 

Leaning against the frame was Peter, a look of concern on his face and a thick sheen of sweat on his brow. Without waiting for an invitation, he pushed himself inside, grabbing you by the wrist and turning you to face him. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, his hands ghosting behind as he scanned for injuries. 

“Are you ok?” He asked, his hands cupping your cheeks and forcing you to face him. 

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine,” you said. “I just fell out of bed Peter, it’s ok.”  

“That’s not what I mean, I-” His voice was uncharacteristically sharp, something he must have noticed because he softened his tone when he spoke again. “You called me like 10 times and then you didn’t pick up when I called you back. I was worried.” 

You choked out a sob, falling into his arms as he led you to the bed, sitting you gingerly on the edge. He crouched in front of you, his thumbs tracing soothing circles on the backs of your hands. 

“What happened?” His voice was thick with emotion and it made something inside of you crack. You told him all about the guy from the club, how violated you had felt with his hands on you, and how grateful you were that Spider-Man had been there to save you. 

“Otherwise…” you trailed off. You didn’t want to verbalize what would have come next. He shushed you, pulling you into his chest and gingerly rubbing your back. You wrapped your arms around his waist, squeezing tightly to convince yourself he was really there. It couldn’t have been too tight, but Peter tensed, a barely perceptible wince escaping his lips. 

You pulled back, allowing yourself to really look at him and realized that he had a giant bruise forming along his cheekbone. Upon closer inspection, you could see a small cut in the center of the swollen knot. He swallowed hard, gritting his teeth as he stared off into the corner. 

“Peter, what happened?” You gingerly ran your fingers along his side, taking note of how his body grew impossibly more tense from the effort of holding back. Carefully, you lifted up his shirt to reveal a large, reddish purple bruise stretching across his ribs. 

“Nothing,” he said. “Just work stuff.”

You replayed the events of your attack over in your mind, loosely fitting the puzzle pieces together in your mind as you came up with an answer that seemed too impossible to believe. Your heart raced as you searched for the courage to ask him one question, knowing that the answer might just be your missing puzzle piece. 

“Where were you tonight?” 

He turned to face you, his eyes not meeting yours as he fidgeted nervously with the strap on your dress. 

“You look so pretty,” he dodged your question, letting his knuckles drag over the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Peter,” you tried again, breathing in sharply through your nose before continuing. “Did I see you at the club tonight or not?”

“I might have stopped in for a drink or two,” he looked into your eyes then, his own red rimmed and brimming with emotion. You closed your eyes, slowly breathing out as you willed your racing heart to slow down. You felt dizzy, like the solid weight of the bed would dissolve and swallow you whole. 

“And where did you go after that?” Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, sticking to the roof as it fumbled over your words. “I tried to find you at the bar, but you disappeared.”

“It was hot in there,” he leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and nuzzling your nose. “I went around the corner for a coffee.”

“Peter…” Your voice was nothing but a whisper as the past four years all started to make sense. All of the secrecy, the scars, the odd hours. It hit you like a ton of bricks and you felt foolish for not figuring it out before. “It was you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His lips were mere inches from yours, brushing languidly against the side of your mouth.

“Oh give it up, Parker!” You pulled away, jumping to your feet and whirling on him. His shocked face stared back at you for a moment. Then he looked away, clenched jaw ticking as a tear streaked down his bruised cheek. You softened, taking a tentative step towards him and crouching so that you were eye level. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“No,” he stood to leave, furiously shaking his head. “No no no no no no no, I can’t do this. I said I wouldn’t do this.” 

“Do what?!” You were shouting at him now as tears fell freely down your face. “Let me in?”

“Don’t,” he growled, jabbing a finger in your direction before letting his hand fall weakly by his side. “Don’t you dare talk about not letting someone in.”

You were stunned into silence, staring at him with confusion twisting your brows. You couldn’t do anything but stammer weakly.

“Oh don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’ve been trying to break down your walls for the better part of four years now, hoping that one day… but I can’t get close to you.”

“How did you expect me to let you in when you constantly keep me at arms length? I mean, god, Peter I don’t even know where you go at night or where all of your bruises come from. You don’t tell me anything.”

“I… I can’t,” he stubbed the toe of his converse against your wood floors with a squeak. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Do you really think anyone is going to mess with me when I’m with fucking Spider-Man? How much safer could it get?!” 

“That’s exactly why they would mess with you. To get to me. I’ve lost too many people I loved and I couldn’t do anything to save them. I tried and I… I just couldn’t.” Peter sat back on the edge of your bed dropping his head into his hands and heaving a sob. “I can’t lose you too.”

You sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and placing your hand gently on his knee. 

“Hey, I’m right here,” you whispered. “I understand the risks and I’m staying right here. Don’t mourn me before I’m gone.” 

“But what if I can’t protect you?” 

“You’ve already shown me that you’re more than capable of protecting me. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up tonight?”

Peter shook his head as if trying to clear the thought from his mind, eyes still glued to the floor. You gave his thigh a squeeze, nuzzling even closer into his neck and his hand came up to rest on your shoulder.

“There was no doubt in my mind tonight that you were the only person I wanted to be with me after all of that. I called you because something in me needed you and I couldn’t explain why. Turns out you were there the whole time.”

He shifted toward you a bit, lips brushing gently over the tip of your nose as he pulled you tight to him. 

“I was so angry,” he said. “I saw that creep’s hands all over you and I blacked out. I knew that it was risky, but I didn’t hesitate. Not for a second.”

“You did good, Peter. You spoke to me and your voice… I wanted it to be you, but it felt impossible.”

He kissed you then, slow and lazy, his tongue laving over yours in a way that sent flames licking up your spine. His hand was on your jaw, the other on your neck as he guided you back against the pillows. He settled between your thighs, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist as he caged you in with his arms. 

He began to kiss along the edge of your jaw, blazing a trail down the column of your neck to your collarbone. Sucking a mark into the delicate skin there, he reveled in the noises you made as he moved his hips against you. A primal groan escaped his throat as he looked down upon his handiwork, branding you as his. 

“I’ll never let another person touch you,” he mumbled against your skin. “I promise.”

“Peter,” His name was pathetic and breathy on your lips and you tangled your fingers into his thick hair, pulling him up to crash his lips against yours.

He furiously tugged at the straps of your dress, sliding them down over your shoulders and exposing you to the cool breeze of the fan that spun overhead. Your flesh erupted in goosebumps at the sensation and you began to tug at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one smooth motion. 

Every movement was desperate as the two of you traded breathy moans laced with tension. 

Peter hiked the skirt up over your hips, sliding a finger along your slit and groaning at the way your panties were soaked with desire. He began to nibble along the column of your neck as his fingers circled your clit through the thin fabric, causing you to writhe beneath him. 

“All these years and you still get so wet for me.” His breath was hot against your neck as he spoke filth into your ear, dragging a broken mewl from your lips. 

Your fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans, unzipping and sliding them gracelessly down his thighs as he settled back between your legs. He thrust against you and you could feel how badly he wanted you from the impossible hardness of his bulge, his boxers and your lacy scrap of underwear serving as the only barrier. 

He leaned down and began mouthing at the swell of your breast, gently brushing your nipple with the pad of his thumb. Your back arched off of the bed, offering yourself up to him fully, and he devoured you greedily. His hands gripped tightly at your waist, pulling you impossibly tighter against him and dragging against your core. 

Your moans turned pitchy and you began to shove at the band of his boxers, lowering them over his hips just far enough to free him, the feel of him warm and heavy in your hand. He hissed at the contact and thrust his hips forward, kissing his way up your neck toward your jaw. In a flash, your underwear were pulled to the side as he lined himself up at your entrance. 

Peter’s lips found yours as he pushed in, tortuously slow, swallowing every moan as he stretched you open. He pulled out slowly, then snapped forward with more force, repeating the motion over and over again. Each thrust seemed to be laced with feeling, a message passed between you in the darkness as he gazed down at you, lids heavy with desire. 

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Your fingers gripped tightly into the flesh of his ass, pulling him into you, and tilting your hips to meet him thrust for thrust. Tossing your head back into the pillow, you bit back a cry as he brushed up against the spot that sent sparks dancing across the surface of your skin. You could feel the pleasure building inside of you, the coil wound tight and ready to snap. 

“Don’t you dare hold back on me,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. 

He hitched your knee over his hip to press impossibly deeper, laying his other hand flat against your stomach, pressing down slightly. Your release wracked your body, nails digging into Peter’s skin, desperately clinging to him and capturing his mouth in a messy kiss. 

"Oh fuck," he breathed, nipping at your bottom lip. His pace had become erratic, sloppy, in response to the way you clenched around him. You fell back against the pillow and brought one hand to your breast, twisting and pebbling your nipple between your fingers as you gazed up at him from under your lashes. 

He dropped his forehead to yours, eyes squeezed shut and his mouth falling open in pleasure. The sounds he made were obscene as he firmly gripped your hips, holding you in place as he spilled inside of you. 

You moaned at the loss of him as he pulled out, collapsing onto the bed beside you and lacing his fingers with yours. He slowly brought your hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. The two of you lay like that for a moment, struggling to catch your breath and make sense of everything that had transpired between you. 

You groaned and pulled yourself from the bed, stumbling to the bathroom to clean up. When you returned, you found that Peter had climbed under the blankets after filling a glass of water for the both of you. You grabbed Peter’s t shirt from the floor, slipping it over your head and smiling shyly down at him. It all felt so… domestic, and a small part of you was afraid it would scare him off. 

You grabbed the water from the bedside table, perching gently on the side of your bed as you took a long sip. Peter’s hands slipped around your waist, tugging slightly. With a chuckle, you placed the water back on the table and crawled under the blankets to face him. 

He turned onto his back and pulled you into his side, his fingers strumming lazy patterns over the skin of your shoulder. You tangled your legs with his, nuzzling tightly under his chin, reminding yourself not to get too used to the feeling. But your mind began to run away from you and you found yourself imagining, once again, what if?

The coarse hair dusting his chest tickled as you danced your fingers through it absentmindedly. 

“Peter?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“I think I can do it,” you said, your voice far less confident than you felt. 

“Do what, sweetheart?” He tilted his chin to look down at you. 

“Be Spider-Man’s,” you stumbled over the words. “His girlfriend, that is.” 

“You’re not Spider-Man’s girlfriend.” There was a tone of finality to his voice that made your stomach sour with disappointment. He must have felt the way your face fell, your body tense where it was pressed against his. He hooked a finger under your chin and tilted you up to face him. 

“You’re mine.”

#tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #andrew garfield!peter parker #andrew garfield!spiderman #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #the amazing spiderman #andrew garfield

[glittter-vamp]

3!

Thank you for requesting! 🖤

Based on the song Wasn’t Me By Shaggy.

Warnings: Angst. Cheater!Joe X Reader. Explicit language. Mention of Sex & Alcohol. Sorry for any mistakes, I wrote this up on my lunch break earlier lol

Word count: 1,161

You left the house fuming and in tears. You couldn't believe what you had just walked into. Your Fiance Joe was throwing a party when you were away which he didn't tell you about. You walked into your house filled with people you don’t know, after being out of town for work. You thought it would be a cute idea to surprise Joe but you came home to a crazy house party and seeing something you didn't think you would of ever seen. "Hello?" Your best friend Liz answers the phone groggily. "Hey Liz, I'm sorry if I woke you up but could I crash at your place tonight?" You sniffle. "Y/N? Are you crying? What's going on?" You hear her wake up more. "I just needed to leave, I couldn't look at him." Is all that comes out trying to hold in a sob. "Yeah, yeah...come over but please drive safe. You shouldn't be crying and driving." She says. Of course your best friend would know when you're calling her from your car. "I'll be there in 5." You say before hanging up. 

You make it safely to Liz's house and as you pull into her driveway she opens the front door in her pajamas. You felt like shit for waking her up at 12AM but you just didn't know where to go. "I'm really sorry for coming here like this." You sniffle as Liz hugs you and lets you in. " You don't have to apologize, but what happened?" She asks as you follow her to the kitchen. "I came home early from my work trip. Instead of leaving tomorrow morning, I left tonight so surprise Joe and he had some fucking party going on." You say taking a breath before continuing. "I couldn't find Joe, I asked everyone around the house and they hadn't seen him either. So I went upstairs to our room and heard this noise coming from the bathroom. So I open the door and there he was with the fucking neighbor… fucking on the bathroom sink" You say getting livid all over again and Liz gasps. 

"Wait...the one that you told me about that was always a little too nice with Joe?" Liz asks and you nod. "Oh Y/N...I'm so sorry." Liz says hugging you again which made you cry again. "5 years Liz...we were supposed to get married in a few months." You sniffle. "He's gonna pay, you're going to have the last laugh in the end. I promise you that." Liz says rubbing your back. "I should of listened to my dad about dating a fucking NFL player." You mutter as she goes over to make some tea for you. "Man, I thought he'd be different...guess when you get that type of fame and money you get cut by that shitty cookie cutter. becoming the stereotype" Liz shakes her head as she turns on the stove and puts the kettle on it. "I already bought my dress, that was specially made." You sigh rubbing your face. "Girl, all you gotta do is sell that shit online and tell the story behind it. There's a facebook page of women in your situation and they sell like hot cakes. People love drama and supporting heartbroken women." She says making you chuckle. 

"Did he see you though?" Liz asks. "Yeah after quite sometime. Once he noticed me, I threw my ring in his face and ran downstairs leaving in my car before he could get dressed and even process me there." You scoff. "I'm just saying, when I see him...I might hurt him. Just letting you know." Liz says making you laugh. "I turned my location off, he shouldn't be showing up here." You shake your head. You and Liz enjoy your cup of tea and she tries her best to take your mind off things. Talking about movies, concerts and whatever else but you could feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. "Okay, Y/N...either turn the phone off or I'm calling him and cussing him out myself." Liz says and you sigh. " I'll give you a minute. I gotta go pee anyways. "Liz says living you in her kitchen. 

You unlock your phone and see, a sea of missed texts and calls from Joe. You open the messages up and read the messages. 

J🧡-Please answer the phone Y/N. I'm so sorry, that wasn't me

J🧡-Just let me talk for a few minutes

J🧡-Please pick up

J🧡- That wasn't me, just let me explain.

J🧡- Why did you turn off your location? Are you somewhere safe?? At least tell me that

J🧡-Please come back home, I'll leave if you need space

You scoff at the dozens and dozens of messages like those and decide to call him. You take a deep breath and made the call. Almost immediately he answers. "Hello!? Y/N, Jesus are you okay?" Joe frantically asks. "How could I be okay, I just walked into my Fiance fucking our neighbor." You scoff. “I’m so sorry baby, that wasn’t me. I never meant for that to happen.” Joe says sounding broken himself but it really didn’t do anything for you. “You keep saying it wasn’t me, do you have some type of clone I didn’t know about? What excuse is that?!” You roll your eyes. “I was out of character, I had way too much to drink and I wasn’t thinking right- Joe, you are not blaming this on alcohol. I’ve gone out with my friends multiple times getting shit faced and I never even looked at another guy while I was with you!” You snap back.

“Just tell me what I need to do to regain your trust again, you can’t just throw 5 years away of us away. We can go to therapy,Move houses, whatever you want.” Joe practically begs over the phone. “Joe, the only person who threw this all away was you. Don’t worry about the house, I’ll be getting my stuff out this week. I’m Liz can help with finding me a place in such short notice.” You tell him holding back tears.

“Don’t do this Y/N, please.” Joe says his voice breaking at the end. “I’ll be over to get my stuff while you’re at practice, I’ll leave the keys in the garage and whatever else you’ve given me in the house.” You sniffle before you hang up knowing he was going to put up a fight and you just didn’t want to hear it right now.

“Are you okay?” Liz asks peeking into the kitchen where you were crying. “Nope but I can’t allow him to disrespect me like this and take him back.” You shake your head. “I’m proud of you, and of course I’ll help you find a place. I’m only the best realtor in Cincinnati.” She jokes making you smile. Here’s to starting all over again.

#joe burrow imagine #joe burrow angst #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow fic #joe burrow x reader

[smeddiemunson]

hi! could i request steddie with 56 “shut up and kiss me already” and 149 “since when have we ever been friends?” like hurt/comfort sorta thing? thank you :)

hi @r0binscript​ hope you like it 🖤 thank you for the prompt!

56: “shut up and kiss me already.”

149: “since when have we ever been friends?” 

Steve hadn’t been to a party since Tina’s Halloween extravaganza in high school. He wasn’t traumatised or anything, just ever since he had his heart broken in a bathroom, the smell of teenage vomit and mixed drinks didn’t hold the same appeal as it used to. He wasn’t sure why it ever appealed to him in the first place. 

He remembered enjoying the press of bodies against his own, of being faceless in a crowd, and the fuzziness that came with alcohol. He remembered gossiping with girls in his lap, giggling over the things they said, then giggling into one another’s mouths. But now... he wasn’t sure if he could ever feel that again. 

But Robin had been invited by Vickie and she’d been too nervous to come by herself. So Steve, as her self-appointed soulmate, had to be there as well. 

Robin had found Vickie within about five minutes of walking through the open front door, ignoring Steve’s mumbled gripe about them letting all the cold air in by leaving it open. So Steve had spent most of the night hanging out in the kitchen, refilling his red solo cup with water every so often then nursing it as he people watched. He caught glimpses of Robin every so often, shooting her thumbs up whenever see caught his eye back, looking as panicked as she probably felt. But Vickie hadn’t yet run for the hills so he wasn’t worried about her. 

Eventually, the water made its way through his system and he was forced to leave his post in search of the bathroom. 

The house wasn’t big, but the amount of people crammed into the hallway made it hard to navigate. He managed to get to the bathroom but on his return to the kitchen, he got swept away by the sea of bodies and ended up in an empty garage.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t King Steve,” A voice said from the darkness. 

Steve flipped the light switch on. 

“Eddie,” Steve greeted.

Even after their flirt with death and the neighbouring hospital beds that came after, Steve had never quite been able to make it through to Eddie. He kept Steve at arms length, determined to keep their roles the same; Steve the King and Eddie the Freak.

He didn’t know that that wasn’t who Steve was anymore.

“You know this is a high school party, right?” Eddie sneered.

Steve sighed. It was going to be one of those times. Eddie being combative before Steve could even say anything.

“Robin wanted me to come. Vickie invited her.”

The sneer fell off Eddie’s face.

Steve was sure Robin never told him, but he knew anyway and that terrified Steve. Terrified him because it meant that maybe Robin wasn’t being as careful as she thought she was or maybe Eddie wasn’t the only one that had found out. But Eddie had never said anything.

And that counted as something to Steve. It was the sign he needed to keep trying, to keep asking Eddie how Hellfire was when he went to pick up the kids, to offer him an invitation to the Byers-Hopper “we coped with the Upside Down again” barbecue. Eddie hadn’t taken him up on any of it yet. But Steve was determined.

“What are you doing in the garage?” He asked once the silence had stretched on for a second too long.

Eddie chuckled humourlessly. “I can deal but I can’t be seen. It’s social suicide for me to be seen in the house, so I’ve been locked away in here like a fucking dog.” He pushed a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in awkward ways. “But at least I’ve got beer to keep me going.”

He gestured to the dark corner. An empty six pack sat next to a sturdy blue cooler and Eddie’s black metal lunchbox.

Eddie having been drinking suddenly explained why he was so ready to snap at Steve.

“Come on,” Steve said quietly. He crossed the room in four long strides to the door he hoped led to the yard. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What about Robin?” Eddie asked sadly. He was still expecting Steve to be pushed away by his attitude.

But if there was one thing Steve was, it was stubborn. He wasn’t going to give in this easily.

“She’s with Vickie, she’ll be fine.”

He cracked the door open, sending up a silent prayer that it was the door to the yard and waited for Eddie to catch up. He went back to his dark corner to snatch up his lunchbox from the floor then strode past Steve without another word.

Eddie placed his lunchbox on the floor next to his feet and turned back to watch Steve, his arm crossed protectively over his chest.

Steve stepped through the door and leant his back against the wall, trying his best to make sure he looked approachable and open to talking. He wanted Eddie to talk.

But Eddie didn’t seem like he wanted to, which scared Steve because Eddie always seemed like he wanted to talk. Steve remembered him in high school, remembered him running his mouth of at teacher or students any chance he got.

So Steve started talking instead. “This fucking sucks, Eddie. You shouldn’t be treated like that, no one should!” Then much quieter, through his teeth, an almost hiss. “You didn’t fucking do anything! You’re a hero!”

Really he didn’t realise just how angry he was until he said it out loud. How dare these people pretend that Eddie wasn’t the best of them, that he wasn’t one of the most special people to ever be in Steve’s life; even though he didn’t know him that well, Steve at least knew that.

Eddie only shrugged. “I’m used to it. Should be lucky I can even sell anymore.”

And that hurt more than anything. The complete resignation to being treated like he wasn’t even human.

“I’m worried about you, man,” Steve confessed quietly, probably not loud enough for Eddie to hear.

But Eddie did. He bristled. “Why?”

“Because we’re friends?” Steve fired back.

Eddie scoffed. “Since when have we ever been friends?”

“Since we went through hell together? We’ve all been trying to tell you this.” Steve sighed, he just didn’t know what more he could do. So he did something he never did. He begged. “I’ve been trying. You just gotta let me. Please.”

Eddie scoffed again, the noise sounding suspiciously wet. “I can’t, man.”

“Why not?”

“Because what if…” Eddie turned away from him, staring out at the yard and only letting Steve see the steady rise and fall of his shoulders, voice thick with emotion when he continued. “What if you get to know me and realise I’m not worth it?”

“Not worth what?”

Eddie threw his hands up, gesturing towards everything as he turned back to face Steve. “This. All of this. The family barbecues, the fucking niceties.” Eddie looked away again. “Your attention.”

Steve pushed off the wall, standing to his full height. He was ready to fight his case. “I think I know who deserves my—“

“I’m gay, Steve,” Eddie hissed, as if were venom, as if it was something that would scare Steve away. He pushed at Steve’s chest, forcing him up against the wall.

It was so similar to their time in the boathouse. Eddie’s wild eyes daring Steve to make a move, only this time he didn’t have a broken bottle against Steve’s throat. He wasn’t scared, could never be scared of Eddie again. In fact, he felt brave.

Steve closed his eyes as he said it.

“I’m bisexual.”

It wasn’t even something he’d told Robin yet. He’d known about himself for a long time but whenever he tried to tell her, the words got stuck in his throat. They burned as they pushed past the barrier now. He squeezed his eyes closed tighter.

Eddie began to pull away but Steve’s hand flew out to grip Eddie’s shirt, holding him close. It wasn’t cold by any means, but he welcomed Eddie’s heat.

He opened his eyes to meet Eddie’s confused ones.

“I promise you, you’re worth all this, Eddie.”

A wounded noise came from the back of Eddie’s throat. But Steve pushed on.

“And I’ll keep telling you until you believe me. Every day, a million times a day if that’s what it takes.”

Eddie inched forward. “Promise me you won’t regret this in the morning?” 

“Shut up and kiss me already.” Steve’s chest brushed against Eddie’s as they breathed in tandem. Steve exhaled a breath, Eddie inhaled the same air. His back was slowly growing wet from where it was pushed against the wall, but all he wanted, all he thought he would ever want again, was to know what it felt like to have Eddie kiss him.

Eddie’s eyes darted across his face.

In the morning Steve would feel bad that he pushed this while Eddie was clearly feeling vulnerable. But in that moment all he could do was tighten the hold he had on Eddie’s shirt and tug.

Eddie’s lips crashed into his, hot and wet and insistent.

It was a start.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #r0binscript #ask #prompt fill #i don't think angst writing is my strong suit tbh; always feels like i don't quite have the words to describe the feelings #so this was difficult for me but i'm actually so glad that i managed to do it?? and it's not horrible?? #everyone be nice to me even if you hate it please and thank you 🫶🏻

[gallawitchxx]

get to know bee 🐝

so many lovely pals have tagged me in so many lovely things, so if you've been dying to know more about me (you are, right?) - this post is for you! 😂😌🥳

- - - - -

first up, this picrew!

tagged by @whatthebodygraspsnot & @heymrspatel 🖤

she's giving lgbtqia+ rights are the smart & sexy choice ✨🌈

- - - - -

next, it's tag game tuesday!

tagged by @celestialmickey @energievie @thepupperino & @creepkinginc 🥳

name: bee 🐝

age: the big three-zero for just a few more days 🎂

how many hours of sleep did you get last night? enough, i think! 💤

which do you use more: tumblr mobile or desktop? it depends what i'm doing! i like posting from desktop & scrolling on mobile 😌

a hobby you’d like to pick up: oooh, i'd really like to do some paint by numbers 🎨

if you were a crayon, what color would you be? sea foam green 🌊

what was your average screen time last week? hehehe it went up.... like 5+ hours? 📲

a song you put on every playlist: "silk chiffon" by MUNA because that is my gay ass right 🌈

favorite holiday: i don't think i really have one anymore tbh 🤷‍♀️

something on your bucket list: go to bali 🌴

you’re invited to a costume party, what are you dressing up as? reese witherspoon as elle woods as a playboy bunny 💗

what show takes up the most space in your brain? i mean.... shamey wamey probs! also love island my chaotic beloved ☀️

and finally, share something you’re looking forward to: hugging my friends 😭 i'm so touch-starved 😭 also i'm seeing john williams conduct a night of his film scores with the LA Phil this weekend & i am freaking stooooked 🤘🏼

- - - - -

lastly, here are 15 questions!

tagged by @gardenerian @squidyyy23 @transmickey @milkmaidovich @celestialmickey @such-a-barbarian @heymrspatel @look-i-love-u @palepinkgoat @creepkinginc @harrowhark-a-vagrant @rereadanon & @thepupperino 🖤

Were you named after anyone? nope, not that i know of!

When was the last time you cried? definitely two days ago, but maybe again today because it's cancer season & i loooove to weep 😭

Do you have kids? noooo & neverrrrrrr

Do you use sarcasm a lot? noooo & neverrrrrr (meaning yes & always)

What's the first thing you notice about people? probably their vibe. what a queer answer lmaoooo!

What’s your eye color? i'm a brown eyed girl, eat your heart out van morrison.

Scary movies or happy endings? happy endings all day!

Any special talents? i have a very strong inner compass & can navigate places i've never been in before with relative ease! this is a really handy talent tbh!

Where were you born? northern california bayybeee

What are your hobbies? writing, reading, playing with my pup, pal'ing around with my buds, going to the movies, swimming in the pool, being stupid!

Have any pets? yes, a small dream dog named gus

What sports do you play/have you played? basketball & taekwondo

How tall are you? 5'5"

Favorite subject in school? english lit, drama & french

Dream job? i do not dream of labor, but i also kind of have my dream job - i'm a writer! & i'm so grateful!

- - - - -

i'm not going to tag anyone because i feel y'all have already done these! but if you want to do any of them, please tag me! i love you all! xx

#thanks everyone for tagging me! #i loved reading all of your answers 🥳 #tagged #tag game tuesday #about bee 🐝

[agirlinherhead]

Hazard Lights.

FICTIONAL Jeb x OFC.

NOW ON AO3!

PART 1/PART 2

18+ NSFW 2.5k

(and let's be honest, this looks like chapter 1)

In which Jeb is a Crier.

Listen. This is Haimgruder (HamFam trademark), a dramatised Hamish faced character placed in a complete canon-divergence from reality.

I'm a queer women of colour, of course I'm not gonna endorse fucking those people irl. Of Course.

If it's not your thing no worries, just keep scrolling. :)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

There's a wrinkle that runs perpendicular across the front of his trouser leg that sits at odds to the smooth line of the crease and regardless of how he sits, shifting his legs this way and that, there's no way that Jeb can present himself as anything other than a mess. 

Liddy's still talking, John's still playing catch-up and his boss nods his head in approval from behind his desk. The wrinkle stares back at him clear and strong and unrelenting. 

Once back in his office he closes the door behind him, aware that he hasn't digested a thing that has happened in the last two hours. Two days?. Two weeks?. Christ. 

There's a stack of paperwork sitting on his desk waiting for his signature, another stack full of telephone messages from people waiting for him to call back and there, tucked between his letter opener and his pen caddy, is the small white envelope John had given him the previous day, the one containing the details for tonight, the invite, to some gathering John's current squeeze Maureen, Mo, is holding for her…birthday? promotion? graduation? who knows. 

Maybe a break could do him good. 

.

Why John Dean had chosen him to bring here Jeb will never know. John isn't short on friends; young, fun, cool, friends. Among the sea of young and beautiful people in the room tonight Jeb has never felt lesser in any of those qualities. 

From his left Mo's giggle rings out across the room, her lips pulling into a wide almost manic smile as John looks on in adoration and their friends laugh at whatever joke Jeb just missed and it's then that he sees her, Mo's friend, one of the ones he's met before, the one with the eyes. The one with the hips. 

Jeb takes a swallow from his glass to still his nerves and chastises himself for his foolishness. He imagines himself a younger man, maybe back in his campaign days, fresh and energetic and driven, maybe back in those days he could have been the kind of man who holds conversations with beautiful women at birthday parties.

Foolishness. 

"Hey stranger" she says clinking her glass against his and all he can do is smile in lieu of words that won't form on his lame and heavy tongue. "You… have no idea who I am, do you?"

"Yes, YES!.. eh, sorry, yes, Mo's friend from… from the thing."

"Mhm" she takes a small sip of her drink before letting her eyes roam the room "The Thing". She looks almost offended. 

"No," he tries again, "of course I remember you from the theatre, the interpretive performance thing."

"Oh god" she snorts "That was terrible! I mean what the fuck even was that." 

Jeb laughs in agreement "I hear it's all the rage in Europe"

"Jesus, Europe can keep it thanks." she shakes her head finally smiling up at him.

He remembers it well, another one of Mo's things that she dragged John to who had in turn, as it seems has become routine, dragged Jeb along too. He remembers the performance, all flailing arms and wails, but more than that he remembers the dress. Long and tight and a baby blue, cut high and modest at the front and low and not at the back, low enough to distract Jeb all evening, the bare expanse of her shoulders and obvious lack of brassiere drawing his attention away from any stage production, interpretive or not. 

Tonight's dress isn't blue, it certainly isn't long either showing far more thigh than he's sure polite society expects so before his gaze lingers too long and before he says something stupid he asks her if she'd like to join him for another drink and for some reason he can't quite fathom she says yes. 

As far as nights go this hasn't at all been the worst. 

Jeb is…fun? More fun than she'd expected anyway. He has that knack that some people have of making sarcasm endearing, a wry humour that some might not recognise at first as humour at all, a clever wit, jokes hidden in truths and plain sight delivered with a boyish stuttering charm, disarming and warm. 

Then she finds that once he hits upon a topic he's interested in, off he goes. He tells her about geology, sedimentation and then apropos of nothing at all he gushes about a trip he took to a pineapple maze and at the centre? a giant pineapple design constructed completely of actual pineapples! He's like a kid at Christmas. If it weren't for the ring on his finger she'd kiss him. 

After that she mingles some more and leaves Jeb to his own devices; making small talk, nodding politely, spare wheeling next to John and Mo far more than he'd like. It's at the very end of the night that she finds him again, to his surprise making a direct path across the floor toward him. 

"So" she says "I'm about to grab a cab home but I thought I'd check first to see if there were any gentlemen left who would offer me a ride, we are kind of out of the way here after all."

Jeb nods and smiles politely, a theme for the evening, before "Oh! Oh, yes, yes of course." 

Her smile widens and she laces her arm through his "Lucky me". 

From across the room Jeb catches sight of John grinning toward him raising his eyebrows and motioning with a nod toward the companion on his arm. Jeb feels his cheeks flush. John raises his glass toward him as if toasting a victory. 

Foolishness.

.

Awkward. That's how the ride so far could be categorised. Whatever place Mo used this time is rural enough that there's not a lot to take interest in through the window, trees and grass and not a lot else. He cracks a couple of self-deprecating quips that don't land then turns on the radio and hums along to the kind of songs her dad still listens to riding to the store in his station wagon. Easy listening dad-rock. Songs about highways. OK. 

"So does John bring you everywhere?" She wants to know more, dig a little deeper just to see what's there. She's seen a glimpse and it's intriguing if nothing else. 

"It seems so, he's irritating like that." 

"Hmm. And Mrs Magruder? She stays home? Children I presume?" dig, dig, dig.

His hands shift at the top of the steering wheel rolling his grip forward and back. 

"Yeah. She, ah,… she stays home."

"Well I'll make sure to get you back to her quickly." 

There's silence between them for a while, Jebs' hands worrying at the wheel and he doesn't take his eyes away from the road when he finally says "I'm not actually staying at the house at the minute, I'm in a hotel, temporarily of course."

Oh. 

"Oh, that.. must be hard. How long?"

"About four months." 

Temporarily MY ASS.

"Well." She huffs out, because what do you say to that? Then with a positive smile adds, just for good measure, "I'm sure you'll be moving back home in no time." 

"I'm not sure the 32 year old tennis coach who lives in my house and sleeps with my wife would like it much." he says with a stretched smile but ouch, the sting of it is written all over his face.

Oh. Well in that case.

She lays her hand just above his knee and squeezes lightly "I'm sorry". He inhales. She lets her hand linger. "I can't imagine how hard that must be for you."

Her hand runs higher, delicate fingers and painted nails dipping in between his legs to trace the seam of his trousers at the inside of his thigh. His knuckles turn white at the wheel and his brows practically disappear into his hair line but he doesn't say a word.

He's dreaming. He's dreaming. There's no way she's coming on to him right? She's just being supportive, she's kind. Her hand traces higher, his cock twitches. 

Foolishness.

"It must be hard, working all day with that big important job that you have and no one to come home to. No-one to take care of you." Her voice is a little husky, her fingers a little probing. 

Jeb just nods. 

"Is it hard for you Jeb? Is it hard?" 

"Yeah, it's ah.. it's it's…" her fingers trace the seam just below the zip "What…what are you.. eh.." she flattens her hand against him and palms his stiffening cock through his pants "OH! ha! ok…ok".

"Jeb? Would you like to pull over?"

"Yep. yes, yes…" He nods frantically and moves immediately to cross lanes and make it to the side of the road, nearly taking out the red sedan approaching from his right. 

The tires kick up clouds of dry dust as he pulls to an abrupt stop on the little patch of dirt at the side of the road, up as close to the bushes and trees as he can get and he's incredibly glad that the road they're travelling is lined with fields rather than buildings and just isolated enough that there's no one to see her hands work skillfully to unbuckle his belt or to witness the way he pushes his back up into his seat and his hips forward when she slides down his zipper. 

He leans forward and moves to reach out for her but she just shifts round to face him a little more and pushes him back again.

"Just sit back, let me take care of you."

Oh, oh god.

When she untucks his shirt from his bright white briefs and snakes her hand beneath the elastic of the waistband Jeb actually squeaks, by the time she takes him firmly in her grasp and administers the first few experimental strokes there's no sound from him at all other than his ragged stuttering gasps and he looks almost afraid.

"You OK there? Do you want me to stop?" Judging from his reactions it's been a while and she wonders how long it has been since anyone touched him in this way? Anyone other than himself. 

"Heavens no, don't stop, please don't stop." It's the most complete sentence he's said in a while so she moves her hands a little faster and then with little warning leans forward and drags her tongue flat against the tip of his cock causing him to yelp in surprise and when she slides him between her lips he realises oh god, she's going to use her mouth. 

He hasn't done this in… he can't even remember, can't even think straight about anything other than the wet warmth of her mouth, her tongue, how she's fucking him with her rouge stained lips. It's not something his wife had ever been in favour of; Oral sex is up there on the list of forbidden things Jesus wouldn't approve of. 

"Oh god, you don't have to do that" It's too much, too generous. "Wait did… did John put you up to this?" 

The suction of the 'pop' when she pulls him from her mouth almost ends him then and there and he realises it's not just his dick, now strained and untouched, that's weeping; he can feel water pooling on his eyelashes. What a mess. 

"What?, why would John…?" She sighs and makes a show of running her tongue slowly along her plump top lip fully aware of the way his eyes track the movement. "You taste devine Jeb, I'd like to taste more of you. I'd really like to taste your come while you fuck my mouth. Would you like that Jeb?" She leans in closer and she can see the red taillights of passing cars reflecting in the glassiness of his eyes and the tears that are now escaping in thick tracks down his cheeks. "Would you like to come in my mouth Jeb?".

He gulps so hard he nearly chokes "Yes, yes, please please please.." she waits just a beat to see if she can string another 'please' out of him and she can, the final one slipping out between trembling lips as barely a whimper. 

"Good boy, Jeb." 

She teases the tip of his cock with little flicks of her tongue just for a couple of completely agonising seconds then leans down and takes the full length of him in her mouth all at once. Like the rest of him he's as long and big as she hoped he would be and she plans to take full advantage of that at a later time when they have more room, for now she'll savour the weight of him on her tongue. She hollows her cheeks as she drags her lips up his length before sinking back down and she only repeats the motion twice, then again, when she feels the muscles of his thighs start to tremble beneath her.

"Oh god I'm sorry, I'm gonna… Oh god… too soon, ah.." Whines and sobs. Delicious whimpers. 

His thigh muscles tense, his hips buck and his hand finds the back of her head pushing her as far down as he can manage until she can feel the warm ropes of come lash out against the back of her throat, Jebs desperate muffled apologies mingled with his high pitched keen ringing in her ears as she gags where he holds her in place. 

When he releases her she raises her face to his and only then, when his eyes are still focused enough to follow the bob of her throat, does she swallow. 

Flopping back in her seat she lets out a laugh Jeb doesn't hear, "What a night, huh?"

He doesn't respond and when she looks over she finds his glazed eyes staring ahead into the road, hands once again gripping the top of the steering wheel arms stiff and straight in front of him, his cock lying slowly softening against his open pants and his face? He looks like he's just witnessed a car crash.

Jesus.

Leaning over she fishes around in his jacket pocket to retrieve the pack of cigarettes she knows he stashed there and winds down the window before lighting one between her lips, taking a long hard drag, then holding it out toward him. "Hey, here." 

He turns toward her ignoring the cigarette and asking almost absently "So how did I taste?"

"Great, you tasted great Jeb." 

"I.. I did?" His eyes are still blank, wide and dazed, and his eyelids flutter rapidly. 

"Yeah, so great you win a prize." She takes another drag of the cigarette blowing long plumes of smoke out of the window and away into the night. 

"I.. I do?" He looks so confused, he'll come round in a minute or two. 

.

"Yeah, You get to drive me back to this hotel room of yours."

.

.

Read more on AO3

#THE FIC FOLKS #Jeb x OFC #gaslit #the purely fictional depiction of #jeb magruder #with the face of #hamish linklater

[blackandwhiteandrose]

Ten Lines

Thanks for the tag @missgeevious! 🖤 Rules: pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or three), and share it! Then tag other people.

1) Patrick was barefoot, and wearing an old pair of grey sweatpants that did both wonderful and terrible things to David, a well-fitting white tank that he’d not seen the likes of since Ted at the apartment’s housewarming party, and his Jays baseball cap, tilted askew on his head. (...in this house)

2) “You sitting here. Alone. A prince on a fleeting throne, separated from the proletarian masses with ropes given meaning only by their placement. You demanded my attention.” He smiles, wolfishly. “Sebastien Raine.” (this is how a heart breaks)

3) Patrick looks shocked at the flurry of movement and David’s serious expression. “I’m going to need you to explain that.” (hasn’t stopped me before)

4) Every now and then he basically dared David to take notice, to figure out what he’s doing, like he’s some sort of cartoon supervillain with a super secret code that’s really not-so-secret. (this is my confession)

5) Patrick is still staring as David starts back toward the bungalow after being at one with nature for what he apparently deemed an appropriate amount of time. He grins as David approaches with a bright smile and hair wild from the sea breeze. If he did nothing but gawk at his husband for the next six days, it would still be the best week he’s ever had. (all the beautiful parts of him)

6) Falling in love with Patrick had made him open and receptive, soft where there used to be hard edges, and he saw that bleed from one part of his life to another. (beloved)

7) Patrick had always considered himself a quick study and he’d never wanted to ace anything more than Intro to David Rose 101, Advanced David Rose (Boyfriend, Internship) 201, and Loving David Rose (Husband Edition) 301. (love like breathing)

8) Out of the corner of his eye, Patrick could see David smiling, for real this time, because he’d do anything Marcy Brewer wanted him to. (five-sixteen)

9) There are flames on David’s sweater and warmth creeping over his skin and he’s not sure if it’s from the steadiness of Patrick’s gaze or the way his heart is pounding, but he knows this moment is a turning point for him. For them. He’s sure there are words for this, or maybe just one, a single syllable that he’s never dared consider before. (some kind of alchemy)

10) Patrick’s eyes are warm and wide and full of that how-are-you-real wonder that David still doesn’t know how to stand in without squirming. “You did this? Just now? While I was gone?” (until I set him free)

tagging: @lilythesilly, @petalwritesx, @maxbegone, @seadeepy, @hippolotamus, @lastchancecafe13, @trueillusion82, @themelancholyvegetable, @sspaz1000

#BWR words #sc fanfic #schitts creek fic

[anevilbunnyinthehat]

Can you tell me some HC you have from the Leona x Cece pirates AU?👀☠️🖤

HI BB!!! Sorry for the delay in answering you, last week I had exams and I ended up very tired TvT)💦.

I don't remember if I answered something like that before but it doesn't matter, here are some HC!!

🦁Leona x Cece Pirate AU🔮

-This AU is mainly inspired by the pirates of the caribbean movie, so the magic in this AU is more linked to pirate myths and legends as it is in the movie.

-The world map would be similar to the twst but with some touches of our world.

-The plot would happen in 1707, like in the movie.

-The story would start from how Leona became a pirate. Here Leona belonged to a noble family but tired of being treated as less and living under the shadow of his older brother, he would run away from home and end up joining a pirate crew.

-Leona would learn of the pirate life at an early age, coming to have a deep admiration for the captain whom he saw as his father figure.

-Unfortunately these would be attacked by another rival pirate ship and Leona being the only survivor of that attack.

-The lion boy could have died being devoured by sharks but luckily a ship of the Royal Sword Company took him out of the water when he is unconscious.

-The commodore and his crew would discuss what a child was doing in the wreckage of a pirate ship...Coming to suspect that maybe he was a pirate too.

-But luckily for Leona, it would be the commodore's daughter who would save him, convincing her father to take Leona to the port and let him go.

-And yes, that girl was Cecilia who had also taken Leona's pirate medallion, so there would be no suspicion that he was a pirate. Something very similar as it happens with Will and Elizabeth.

-To all this, Leona would wake up in the bed of a cabin ship being that Cece had bandaged his eye, because after the pirate attack Leona had been injured in the left eye.

-And since the pirates taught him to be a gentleman with the ladies, as a thank you he would kiss his savior's hand as well as introduce himself...Only to get hit by a tray to the head.

-"ALLEN!" Cece would say scolding her brother for his behavior.

-"Sorry, I tripped over a badly nailed floorboard hehe"

-*Insert here "I'm going to kick your ass" looks between small Leona and small Allen*

-Despite that Leona and Cece would get along very well.

-But Leona did not trust the RSC crew (and with good reason), so that same night he would flee the ship after stealing a boat.

-Ten years would pass since then, Cecilia would become a lady and would be engaged to some owner of an important merchant ship. The engagement party would be held on a luxury ship, with many guests...What no one expected, is that they would be robbed by the most feared pirate crew of the 7 seas, Savanaclaw.

-With the guests surrounded by the group of beastmen, finally the captain of this ferocious crew would make his appearance. The fearsome Captain Kingscholar.

-And what was he looking for gold, jewelry...? Not all treasure is silver and gold mate.

-"Wait...WHERE IS SHE!?" The captain exclaimed confused when not finding the young lady with blonde hair.

-"THEY COULD KIDNAP ME BUT MY SPIRIT IS STRONG AS THE ROCKS THAT ARE HIT BY THE WAVES OF THE SEA" The woman would shout with pride already being on the pirate ship and with her hands tied by herself... How did she do that? No one knows, but Cecilia was definitely determined not to marry that stupid rich man.

-She wanted to fulfill her dream of becoming a doctor and had studied medicine for years thanks to the help of her tutor Merlin. Unfortunately at that time it was not well seen that a woman exercised that profession.

-So now the Savanaclaw crew had gotten their Doctor.

-In addition to the knowledge of medicine of that time, Cece also knew a lot about medicinal plants that could be of great help when treating illnesses and injuries.

-And she didn't mind if she had to stain her hands with blood, because well, since she had to treat the wounds of some member of the crew.

-She also taught them the importance of preserving dehydrated fruits, to consume vitamin C.

-Leona and Cece looked like an old married couple when they argued, even the Savanaclaw crew believed they were a couple...The only thing they didn't know about that was Leona and Cece(?.

-...Although when Leona and Cece were alone there were probably kisses involved.

-I also like to imagine that Leona gave Cece a gun to defend herself with it, in addition to teaching her how to shoot. Although in fencing, it seemed she already knew how to use a sword, because her family was known to be great fencers.

#leona x cece pirate au #twst oc

[euphoricfilter]

What would bts be like as fratboys?? Confident, smooth, fun boyss. Shy nerd mc or hot sorority girl mc. Friends to fwb to lovers. Or enemies to lovers. I love the idea of this au. I just want to imagine the fun of partying, drugs, alcohol, and sex without consequences ugh. Frat houses/clubs gives an easy way for them to meet often at parties and have sex at the party (bathroom, outside, room). or hanging out together. why not in that order. It also allows for fun challenges so mc can have sex with multiple guys in the same fic ah omg. Like "record having sex with x ppl", "rank x ppl after having sex with them" in a fun, consensual way. I want to be friends with college bts :/ Have movie nights, going to mcdonalds at 3am and other 3am adventures, cuddling etc ahh

-🖤

oooh this could be fun

confident himbo frat boy! bts x maybe not virgin but very sexually shy m/c so the possibilities for smut are now endless because ~ kink exploration!

i had to look up what sorority meant but yes! just for the sake of the plot, yes she will be a sorority girl 😭

enemies to lovers could be so good if it’s written well because i’ve read some enemies to lovers and the second hand embarrassment i get from some of these people makes my skin crawl. even friends to fwb to lovers could be an interesting concept, watching the way emotions change from platonic to them being like oh… wait they gave me a boner

i would like to imagine parties without me having to actually go to them so this concept may just be perfect for me 😭

i think there would be a lot of sex in the bathroom, i know that’s kinda gross when you think about all the throw up and sex that already happens in those bathrooms but i think their go-to place would be the bathroom and i don’t have an explanation why

oooh maybe they get a little drunk —> have sex (maybe a little tipsy so we’re not doing anything icky and both parties can consent) —> realize that it’s more than physical attraction —> hang out (dates) and then relationship!

the jealous sex that would ensue if any of the boys found out that she was having sex with other men, maybe it— ew cant believe i’m gonna say this because i don’t usually read this trope— but maybe whoever she’s seeing has sex with another girl to try and make her jealous but maybe our m/c is so sexually liberated with her new found confidence she doesn’t really bat an eye. maybe it’s a ‘she fell first but he fell harder’ kinda thing

YES THE CHALLENGES maybe HOLF ON let’s just go all the way and say it’s ot7 x m/c. maybe one of them develops feeling for her first while the others are egging her on to do all this stupid shit like see how many people she can kiss within an hour or as you say record herself while she has sex with someone, maybe she even tries to do it with someone outside of the group but that’s the moment they all start to realize that maybe they want it to be them that she records herself with

cute movie nights :( they’d definitely let the m/c pick, maybe she picks something none of them like, idk pitch perfect or something, maybe even a disney movie but they all just sit with her to watch it just because they like to see her smile :( 3am drives in the summer :( maybe stopping at the beach :( oooh and then cuddling in the car on the way home while wrapped up in a towel :( with sea salt kisses and sandy skin

#ask #🖤 anon

[alxxkto]

A God is Dead | Open

Alekto hated water. Loathed it. The lake had been cold (not an issue), dark (also not a problem), but it had been wet. They used the floating deck to hoist up out of the water and swing their legs up onto dryland. In preparation for their midnight dive Alekto had stripped down to their shorts and tank but now their weak, and ill-prepared, body was shivering uncontrollably. At least it had washed off the sweat. Once Alekto had regained control of their breathing they pushed themself up. Beyond the glassy windows was a riot of a party – the kind of party that Alekto would love to join if a god hadn’t just fucking died.

“Shits!” They screamed. Startling the gods closest to them on the balcony above. Alekto seethed, this was precisely why they hated their fellow immortals. Too caught up in their own little delights, dalliances and ecstasy to care about anyone else. A god is dead. They wanted to scream. 

The floors above, and below, were raucous with gigglewater – fucking Tez. It wasn’t her they were after tonight, though if they saw the bitch she wasn’t off-limits. Right on fucking cue a message bled into their vision. ‘Stand down.’ Alekto sent one right back. ‘No 🖤.’ And, because that didn’t feel like enough. They followed it up with. ‘Fuck you T’ – don’t get in my way. There had always been a silent unanimous agreement between them, Tez wasn’t to get in the way of their marks. This was really no different.

“Kanaloa.” They roared. Knowing he was here somewhere. Sure enough Alekto only had to stalk through a myriad of sea-scaped corridors to find him amongst half a dozen peers. Looking like the cat that got the milk draped in silk and gold. He said something that Alekto wilfully ignored. “You son of a bitch,” they snarled. “A god dies and you dance on their body?” They didn’t wait, no amount of chit-chat or soft-spoken words could push them off their path. Alekto barrelled towards Kanaloa knocking him flat onto his back as they slammed their knee into his crotch, and another blow into his stomach. 

They’d already sent the command to their blades to whir into life but neither responded. The left hissed, as if desperate to execute the order but unable. Alekto screamed, raining a barrage of blows down on Kanaloa. “He’s dead!!” The left blade finally unjammed itself and slid out of its compartment. Alekto pressed it against his throat. “Did you kill him? Did you fucking murder him? He’s fucking gone.”

Their voice hoarse from screaming, but Alekto continued anyway. “He’s not in Olympus.”

#ngno.starter #violence tw #weapons tw #(( rip to kanaloa a note will be added to his bio for this )) #open to anyone #think it might take... multiple people to drag alekto off kan #this is half drabble half thread #feel free to message cause i think this will be short :')