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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

Good Girl

gif credit amancanfly

Synopsis: Henry is at the gym testing the new Glute Drive while his longing wife drops by to visit and decides to play a little wicked game of teasing.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: Explicit, this is basically ALL smut. Slight SubMale / DomFem then a lot of DomMale / SubFem, dry humping, cock teasing, dangerous driving, fingering, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight size kink (I am all the kinks today), unprotected sex and bodily fluids!

A/N: Okay so this fic was born out of the UNHOLY union between this thread and the video of Henry going “good boy” at Kal. Many thanks to my darling @agniavateira for helping me proofread this!

Title: Good Girl

There he is, my bear of a man. His sculpted, wide body plastered to some medieval-looking torture device. Strong, large arms hang onto the handles, muscles flexing. Slick with sweet sweat, he thrusts his hips up and down while grunting with effort.

Who the hell came up with this air-fucking machine?

I walk through the deserted mirrored room, my black painted nails scratching the glass as I draw closer toward Henry. Gyms tend to be freezing, and I’m not properly dressed for a workout session with my mini plaid skirt and a dark grey t-shirt. But his arduous gasps fill the chilled space enough to make things a little warmer.

“What are you doing here, little one?” Henry finally asks, pausing his thrusts for a moment as he spots my cattish moves toward him.

I observe silently as I inch closer. he has his waist strapped to a bench, heavy weights of 80kg are on each side of his body while he lifts upward and presses his behind back down. A sheer layer of sweat covers him entirely, his skin glistening in the fluorescent’s light. His favourite blue top is soaked.

“I came home from the studio and my hubby wasn’t there.” I pout, standing right at the edge of the bench where his feet are pressed for support.

He pouts back at me, genuine care on his face. My darling bear might have the endurance of a large predator, but his heart is all strawberry marshmallow when it comes to his lady. He hates to spend time apart. Whenever our schedules collide it’s all about Face-timing and sending nudes.

Honestly? I care less than he does about this shit ever getting leaked. I even keep some steamy under-the-cover selfies so I’ll have something to work with when either of us is away.

But what I hate the most, is having him here yet he’s absent. The Pre-production shenanigans have him preparing for his next role, which usually means working himself at the gym to the point of collapsing, just so he could look like some demi-god. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind him having a little body fat. That’s why I bake him pizza every weekend. What his gym coach doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.

“I’ll be done in 10 minutes, darling.” he answers and continues to slowly push down and up again, releasing a pained grunt and clenching his teeth. “Just… two… more… sets.”

“I don’t want to wait.” I alert him, circling the machine carefully to not get in his way. I appreciate the hard work and stamina, but I am quite tired of having the downside of the deal. Every day for the last 2 weeks I received an exhausted Cavill with aching, strained muscles. The most action I got was massaging his muscles in the bathtub which might sound romantic if not for him snoring 3 minutes in.

“Ten minutes,” he mentions again. He’s out of breath as he ascends and then lowers once more, the weights pressuring his body down while the bands create a resistance.

No way in hell someone came up with this device and didn’t think this is a sex thing. I see my bear thrusting his hips upward like this and only one thing goes through my mind.

Oh, how I need to be on top of this mountain of a man.

I cannot help myself, nor can I hide the malicious grin forming on my mouth. I lift my leg carefully, hovering it in the air above him. I cage him between my straddled legs whilst giving him my best dominatrix glare. Henry raises his eyes to meet mine, looking dumbfounded.

“What are you doing, darling? You’ll hurt yourself.”

Oh, sweet summer child.

I sway my hips in a slow dance, with the thrust of his body and his heavy breaths as the music I’m dancing to. The arousal in his eyes is evident within seconds. His lips part away slowly, his beautiful blue eyes begin to cloud, and his adam’s apple slides upward in his throat as he swallows.

“At home.”

“Here.” I ignore his request lowering myself slowly and carefully to squat over his groin. He’s not hard, yet.

Henry releases a deep loud grunt. Usually, I am weightless for him, but right now I’m adding to already 160kg of weights. Well, he is the type of guy who likes to push his limits and I am the type of girl who likes to test boundaries.

“Don’t,” Henry protests, another grunt escaping his lips. I stretch myself, my ass pressing back, my groin rubbing against the tender muscle that begins hardening between my legs. I can feel the rush of blood, making him throb and grow vast between my legs.

“Don’t do what?” I press my teeth against the lushness of my lower lip viciously, beginning to grind against the hardness in slow circular motions. “Don’t you have two more sets?”

He clenches his teeth, his hands tightening around the handles so harshly his knuckles whiten. With great effort he lifts up, succumbing to my wickedness. His erected cock is concealed underneath his clothes, yet I press and dance onto it, making blissful moans as the friction has me singing that sweet familiar tune.

When he pulls down I dive with him, feeling the exhale of his body and the dancing twitch of muscles. I greatly anticipate the next push upward, my hands reaching to squeeze my breasts together. My panties are now soaked with moisture as I press and rub, bringing myself closer.

When he lifts again, his thrust is a wee bit faster. He’s either getting used to my weight on his groin, or the adrenaline of the beast that I’ve been teasing allows him to push higher. He angles his hips into mine, serving my need, and gives me the friction I demand. His eyes meet mine and pure darkness devours me within them.

I am in so much fucking trouble, but it’s so worth it.

“Oh Henry, you’re making me so wet.”

I moan his name, rubbing myself on his cock at a demanding speed while he lifts up and down. My clit tingles, swollen against his enormous bulge as that familiar wave begins to spread. He’s so hard, so painfully swollen, and so incapable of getting any release while I ride him into a powerful orgasm.

I clutch his thighs, desperate gasps spiralling out my mouth as the pleasure continues to hit my core. My nails dig deep into the hardened flesh but I can’t be bothered.

“Oh god…” I throw my head backwards, trying to adjust my breath while my legs are shaking around his wide waist. There’s still a throbbing hardness against my burning core, the angry drumming of blood pulsating against my opening.

I’m tempted to take my phone and capture his looks in my camera. But I’m in too much trouble as it is. Henry is drenched in sweat, upset in ways I’ve never seen in my life. He's done with his workout for today, no doubt about that.

“Are you done?” he asks me with a frown.

I lick my lips and lift myself up, knees nearly giving up as my legs are still numb from the intensity of pleasure. I let out a provoking giggle, putting my finger between my teeth, knowing he likes that gesture. This is my favourite battle, control. He enjoys superiority with his physical power, but every now and then I sweep the rug beneath his feet. And though he loves it when I am his good girl, sprawling and letting him take what he wants, when I am bad, the beast is willing to split my ass in half.

Guess I won this round.

Henry unbuckles the harness from his waist as I step back. He takes the towel from the bench and wipes his face. My eyes fixate on the still hard swelling in his nether area. I could offer to take care of it for him, but I am not feeling this generous right now. Better keep his stamina for home, so I can actually get me a proper shag in a nice, clean bed with a nice, clean husband that doesn’t smell like an entire rugby team.

“Go wait in the reception.” he demands, his tone anything but sweet right now.

“Don’t take too long.” I demand in return as I turn around, flipping back my hair and letting it slide down my ass. I can hear his frustrated groan behind me, just before I leave the room. It makes me lose myself in a burst of chuckles.

~*~

Henry meets me downstairs, a serious expression on his face. His gaze doesn’t meet mine, letting me know that unlike myself, he is vastly unamused. He takes my wrist in his big hand and leads me outside while smiling to bid bored receptionist goodbye.

I am forced to follow his large strides. Being a tall man, every step of his is equal to three small ones of mine. Even though it seems like his “problem” subsided, he’s not exactly interested in waiting.

He’d always be tender in his behaviour towards me, a respectful gentleman who knows how to treat women. Sure, he can rearrange a guy’s skull, but he never raised his voice at me. He’d take a walk outside the house and then return to so we can have a talk like adults.

But this is not a fight. This is but our favourite little war. Ongoing from the day we met.

I notice that we are not going to the car. Instead, he leads me to a narrow, dark space between two buildings. I can smell the damp sidewalk, the scent of earlier rain filling my nose. This spot is anything but romantic or erotic, with street cats screeching at the back and the sounds of trash cans being hit as they bounce on top of the lids.

Finally, he towers above me. His hand lets go of mine and hold it open in front of me with a demanding look in his eyes.

“Take off your panties.”

I let out a bemused laugh, dry and short as I am uncertain of his odd demand. But he holds out his hand at the stern request, motioning for me to do as I’m told.

“Here?!” I ask, looking around to see if there is anyone who might be a voyeur on our little engagement. The last thing I need is our agents scolding us again for photos of us being inappropriate in public places. Gretchen swears we make these mess on purpose. We kinda do, because we can’t keep away from one another.

“You want another one of your fancy pairs turned into rubbish?” he threatens.

I comply, breathing out like a brat and leaning down to take off my underwear for him. I place it in his hand and move back against the wall, anticipating his next move. I guess “Cavill and wife caught doing cardio after the gym!” could be a funny headline, better than the one at the hotel at the Academy Awards.

Henry folds the small material in his hand, holding it in his fist as if it’s something he can actually squeeze, before shoving it into his pocket. He grabs something else in exchange. I hear the chink of his car keys, dangling between his fingers as he offers them to me.

“You drive.”

There are no explanations, nor can I make anything of his behaviour. My man is willed with the control of his emotions. To outburst is to be weak, I am keen on that, my own terrible flaw. It only pisses me off more to see him keeping himself so relaxed while I am always the one who sees fire.

I follow his order, walking after him silently as he leads me to where he parked the car. Having no underwear beneath my short skirt is anything but convenient right now, especially when I have to enter the vehicle and crouch down.

I try fixing my skirt to cover myself, feeling the leather of the seat beneath my ass and other regions while Henry begins messing with the music player. I can see the small smirk at the corner of his lip, it’s evident that he’s having himself a good time knowing how uncomfortable I am at this very moment.

I roll my eyes at him and try closing my knees together as much as I can while stepping my foot on the gas.

He puts on Queens of the Stone Age and takes the passenger seat back, remembering he needs more legroom than I usually require. His head turns to face me, his lips sucked into his mouth in a cunning gesture.

“Had yourself a good time?”

His hand reaches toward my knee, grazing at the bone with featherlike movements. It tickles, I am forced to move my knee from him involuntarily, but he keeps it in place, resting his entire large hand on my kneecap.

“I’m driving…” I warn him, keeping my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road.

I can tell he is smirking wickedly, his eyes staring at the road ahead of us carefully and then back at me. His fingers make their way up my thigh, snakelike on my bare skin. His palm is large and warm, pressing onto my inner thigh while his thumb draws invisible circles on my skin.

“Henry…” I warn again, feeling cool air blowing against my lips as he forces my legs to part wider for him. “You’ll get us killed!”

“Then focus on the road.” he commands, licking his lips. His fingers meet my wetness in a touch so tender it’s almost a phantasm, yet still there, undoubtedly making me swallow a sigh and squirm slightly in my seat. It’s as if he is testing the water first, a slight brush before plunging in and damn if he doesn’t push into me with his fingers, pressing three of his large digits to massage my heat.

“Fuck!”

I am fighting to keep my eyes open, my hands clutching at the steering wheel while my left foot kicks at the floor.

“Maybe we should stop.” I suggest, nearly pleading.

“Keep driving, we’re almost home.” he answers, sounding relaxed. The amused grin has vanished from his face, replaced with the severeness of pride and triumph.

He strokes my cunt between his fingers in a tight grip, his fingers running up and down, playing with my wetness, smearing it across his hand before plunging two of his knuckles inside me as we stop at a red light. I am very much aware that other drivers might see us, so does he, but he seems to care very little if anyone spots him pleasing his wife.

“Aww…” he mocks me, hearing the helpless cry that pushes out of my throat. “You shouldn’t have been such a bad little girl.” he teases some more, his fingers now plunging in and out with excitement. I allow myself to grind at the surface of his palm to achieve more friction at the base of my clit so maybe we can finish this quickly before the light is green.

But he’s the one in charge of my satisfaction now. He holds his hand further, so I will have none of it and keeps the stimulation only at the rim of my cunt, his fingers circling my entrance.

“Too bad you had to tease me like that.” he murmurs in his low voice, his fingers slowly withdrawing and only his thumb grants my clit with a small tender brush.

“Now you’ll have to wait, and be a good girl for daddy.”

I let out another cry, arching toward the wheel and biting on my lips. It's not out of pleasure, but out of torturous frustration as he withdraws completely. I give him a quick, infuriated stare, seeing how he sucks his fingers victoriously, enjoying every single drop of his sweet win.

Feeling slick between my thighs, I press slightly harder on the gas pedal, trying to get us home faster. Henry pumps the volume of the music player higher.

Watch you come from above

I'm so needy for love, I'm desperate,

Greedy in slavery I sneak around from behind I got a one track mind We got a skin on skin thing baby I want to lick you too much I hear you comin ooh aaaah baby

~*~

The moment we enter the house I lock the door and try to make my move but he has his hand on my throat in less than a second, squeezing not too tight, but tight enough to make a point. His blue eyes scan my face, his soft tongue slithering across the freckle of his lower lip with arousal.

“Get on your knees, little one. You’re not off the hook yet.”

I gasp at his fierceness, weak against his charisma and beauty. I stroke his face, still sticky with sweat from earlier, my fingers are gently smoothing against the stubbles on his high cheekbones and at the dimple of his chin.

“Please, daddy, just fuck me already,” I bargain.

“I’m wet and ready for you.”

“On your knees.” he repeats himself, his lips twitching to a small grin as he sees my defeat. His hand slightly releases my neck, his fingers pet my chin and jaw and finally entangle in my hair as I fall to my knees slowly, levelling myself at the height of his groin. His hand strokes my head lovingly, pressing my chin against his growing arousal as I look up to him with fake innocence.

“Are you gonna be good now?” he asks, his fingers twirling around my long hair lovingly.

“Yes, daddy.” I nod, waiting to have his cock in me, in any part of me. I want to touch myself so badly, my pussy throbs with desperate eagerness to be stuffed by his huge cock. .

“I want to see you crawl on fours and wait for me in the living room, babygirl.” he growls at me while discarding his blue top on the wooden floor, exposing his thick hairy chest.

“I want to look at your cunt as you move for me before I’ll destroy it. You’ve been such a nasty girl today.”

I shiver at his words, a shrill of air kicks out of my lungs at once. My toughness is down to non-existing. I let him have it, I let him have it all. I crawl on my knees and palms like a cat in heat, my ass exposed for him. My cunt drips with primal desire to be conquered by this menacing alpha. I stop for a moment and then look behind me. I see him kicking off his shoes, his sweats slipping down his thick thighs along with his briefs before he continues to follow me, holding his erection in his hand, massaging the base of his cock while looking at me to open wide for him.

I reach the furry white IKEA carpet in our living room and wait for him, still on all fours. His heavy footsteps make the wood creak beneath his weight which alerts me that he’s close. The heat of his body is near. I feel the aura of his body as he falls down to his knees carefully behind me.

His hands smooth against the curve of my ass, appreciating my shape to the point of worshipping my flesh. He takes the time to study again what he knows better than I do, trailing up to lift my skirt until it’s hiked around my belly. He then pushes my shirt, prompting me to take it off. Not an easy task to perform on all four limbs.

For one lingering moment, his hands roam across my body, massaging my muscles, pinching my nipples between his fingers. I moan beneath his large hands as he coaxes me into being his little plaything, succumbing to his will. Possessive fingers grip my shoulder and in a sudden movement, I’m pressed with my back down while Henry pushes my legs apart with his knees.

“I just love to look at your face when I fuck you, babygirl.” he explains, his hands pulling my legs violently against his hips to position me as he desires. That way, we can both enjoy the show of his cock slipping in and out of my slit.

I squirm beneath him, my hands reaching for his chest to stroke at the thick dark hair and hardened pecs. “Please, fuck me.” I beg to the point of whining as I look at his sturdy cock, admiring every vein and ridge that decorates his impressive size. Henry takes himself and begins to tease my entrance, making teasing groaning voices while I plea so weakly.

But that’s only to prepare me for his brutal invasion. He lets out a loud husky shout as he pushes in, penetrating me with such vulgarness, it takes the air out of my lungs. I am split in half, feeling how my body stretches immediately to bind itself to him.

My narrow slit tries to remain resilient while Henry keeps himself nested between my lush folds, a groan of pure pleasure vibrates through his glorious chest before he takes my jaw in his great hand and makes me look at him to see the sin in his eyes.

“Good girl…” he calls out in his deep low voice, pulling himself out slowly and then slamming back inside me in with a slippery wet slap. I gasp, my entire body shuddering in his veiny arms.

“Good girl.” He speaks again, letting the words roll and linger on his tongue.

His rhythm is somewhere between torturous to divine. When he pulls away he does it ever so slowly, watching with perverse fascination his own cock as it slides out my narrow entrance just before he slams back in. Henry promised that he will destroy me; he never breaks a promise. I already feel how my muscles are thrown into a paradox, trying to resist him yet have him deeper and deeper with each one of his amazing thrusts.

“Look at how you take me,” he calls in a guttural voice, urging me to look at our union. “You have such a tight succulent cunt, baby.”

It feels almost too sinful to stare, my entire existence shivers at the sight. His big beautiful cock enters me, slick with my juices as he increases the pace. I’m petite but with him inside I’m forced to expand, my body stealing his shape, embracing him with devotion, wanting him to be like this forever.

His wide thighs are placed right beneath my legs, his right hand silks its way down my hip and grips me roughly as he pounds me in increasing speed. With one hand still on my jaw, he presses his fingers to my mouth where I suck and bite at him. He always wants me to look at him, loves it when I’m hopeless beneath him when my mouth cries for him while he stuffs me with his cock, over and over again.

I squirm to meet his pelvis. He fucks me so raw that no actual words come out of my mouth but the mewls of a small, helpless animal instead. Being hunted for sport rather than eating. I grind my clit against his pubic bone to elicit more delightful friction, getting me closer and closer. But I’m stealing control and he’ll have none of that right now.

He shoves us down, pinning my hands against each side of my head while his groin is holding me down to the surface in complete captivity. I am hurting for a mere moment as he shoves too forcefully. His apology is a deep passionate kiss which he is forced to break as we both gasp for air with every merciless push of his loins into mine.

“Fuck babygirl!” He leans his forehead against mine, a feral gaze in his eyes. I lock my legs around his waist, my body losing every grip it ever had on control as the warmth begins to throb at the base of my cunt, spreading from my womb towards every nerve until I feel nothing but love flowing through my body.

I pant in awe, my voice adding to his deep growls and husky gasps which only become louder as his orgasm looms closer with the tightness of my cunt around his swelling cock. It sucks him harder, demanding his release, milking him of his offering until he shudders through me and yells out my name.

The gush of warmth that spills inside me is my second favorite thing in the world. I moan with sweet delight as his cream coats me inside.

“I love you so much.” he whispers, holding me in his protective embrace as if to apologize for fucking me so hard.

I’d imagine that after such a long time together he’d already figure it out that I’m the one provoking it.

“What’s the name of that device again?.. the one I was…”

“Glute drive.”

“Glute drive, yeah, we’ll do that again soon…” I suggest, nibbling at his ear playfully while he remains on top of me.

~*~

Song lyrics are by Queens of the Stone Age - Skin on Skin

#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #Henry Cavill x OFC #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x reader

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lovelylogans · 3 years

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spring cleaning

there’s a pack rat in the family. who it is will not surprise you.

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: food mentions, alcohol mentions, general messiness, jokes about hoarding

pairings: patton/virgil, offscreen logan/roman

word count: 2,412

notes: hi! this is just a quick little fic as i beta and finish off the next chapter of debutante. this is based off the gilmore girls season three episode twelve “lorelai out of water” cold open. takes place the spring after the main storyline, after alliance but before debutante.

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virgil’s phone buzzes at 10:13 am on a sunny spring sunday. he pauses just after he drops off the brunch plates for mrs. torres, babette, and east side tilly, digging around in his back pocket to squint at his recent texts.

logan sanders: Please help.

any other time, this kind of text would probably send anxiety flooding his veins like ice water. as he’s been warned, sure, he’s a little anxious that he’s misreading the situation, but he shakes that aside and snorts.

“called it,” he mutters under his breath, before he wipes his hands on his apron and types out christ, you’re folding easy this year. is that a new record?

a brief pause. then, No, the record was twenty-four minutes. To be fair, that took place when I was ten years old, we were moving into the house, and you were already going to be involved, so I perhaps I should propose that does not count against my spring cleaning record.

ah, that’s right. god, helping patton move had kind of been a nightmare. helping anyone move is a bit of a nightmare, but with patton there’s a whole new layer of shenanigans.

Another buzz. Also, I need this to be hastened along. I have a Socratic seminar in English tomorrow, and though we have settled on a tentative truce I refuse to let Dee achieve the highest grade in the class.

he shoots back i’ll be there asap.

“jean,” he calls to the counter, but jean, having been warned as well, waves him off.

“i got it, at least he waited till the we hit the between-masses lull.”

“you’re the best,” he says, hanging up his apron and ignoring mrs. torres’ hoots about his arms—he's like ninety percent sure she’s spiking her own orange juice so she can have a screwdriver with her pancakes but he hasn’t caught her with a flask in hand yet—and heads out the door.

the citizens of sideshire are fully soaking in the pleasure of a sunny spring day—it’s one of those days, where the weather’s warming up slowly, but there’s sure to be more cold snaps before they fully settle into spring, so lots of people are taking advantage of it. families are sprawled with picnic blankets in the grassy town square. the “long-haired freak” (taylor’s nickname, not his. virgil’s pretty sure his name is dave, but also, he’s not totally sure his name is dave, and as such usually avoids any complications by saying “hey, man,” whenever virgil sees him) is out hawking fruits and vegetables from his garden. lots of people are out on walks, some with earbuds or headphones on, some calling out jolly greetings to other people taking advantage of a blue sky and temperatures that are soaring above freezing.

“hey, virgil.”

“hey, felix,” virgil says, craning his neck to catch sight of—well, he guesses felix and riley are technically his tenants? but that always feels weird to say—his neighboring business owners. felix is busy making sure a promotional poster’s taped to the window. “how’re things?”

“ah, y’know, y’know,” felix says, waving their hands around. “weather’s warming up, so we’re getting into busy season. guess people want to be able to flaunt new ink in the warmer weather, y’know?”

“hey, speaking of—” virgil says.

“oh, yeah,” felix says, scratching at the half of their head that was once shaved bald but is now growing in stubbly. “you wanna have riley do one this time? they can draw up some sketches for you, if you want. or i can, if you want, but it might be a minute ‘cause i’m all hands on deck for this massive full-back piece.”

“nah, riley’ll be cool, it’s been a minute since they’ve done one for me,” virgil says. “i’ll drop by later with some reference photos, ideas and stuff.”

“i’ll make sure they’re refreshed on what your style is before the consultation,” felix says. “appreciate the business.”

“appreciate you and your spouse taking over this empty shop so taylor didn’t get a chance to,” virgil returns, as he usually does whenever felix or their riley thanks him for something. he’s really awkward about accepting gratitude, he’s working on that with emile and patton.

“god, could you imagine taylor next door,” felix says with a theatric shudder. “bad enough he runs half the town.”

“i’ll call tomorrow to make the appointment?”

felix flashes him a thumbs up, and virgil raises a hand in farewell as he continues on his way.

he ends up pushing his sleeves up to his elbows as he walks to the sanders’ house, occasionally saying hey to other residents of sideshire, or tilting his face up to the sun.

this winter’s been brutal, even worse than it usually is for the northeast, with absurd amounts of blizzards and ice. on the days where it wasn’t shoveling ridiculous amounts of snow on the whole town, the sky had been gray and overcast, and what little sun there was could barely stream weakly through the clouds.

but now, the sun sinks softly into his exposed skin, warming him without overheating him thanks to the breeze, carrying the sweet scent of tentatively blooming flowers planted by particularly audacious gardeners.

it is a perfect, lovely spring day.

by the time he gets to the cheerful yellow clapboard house, he’s taken enough deep, calming breaths to ensure that he is a calming presence. he ascends the stairs of the wraparound porch—oh, huh, looks like patton or logan’s making an attempt at being a gardener, that looks like mountain mint—and knocks lightly on the front door.

“please come in,” logan shouts, sounding exasperated, and virgil obligingly pushes the door open.

he toes off his shoes, even as he overhears patton’s voice, cajoling.

“hug-a-world! c’mon, you’ve gotta remember your hug-a-world!”

hug-a-world, virgil mouths to himself, before it comes back to him in sudden, vivid technicolor and he rounds the corner.

and, sure enough, surrounded by the detritus of the sanders home, patton and logan sit in a hastily-cleared space in the middle of their living room, patton holding a stuffed ball tight to his chest.

“of course i remember the hug-a-world,” logan says, still with that tone of exasperation, but lessened now at the sight of a beloved childhood toy.

“you can’t make me throw away your hug-a-world,” patton declares viciously, which would almost be believably threatening if he were not clutching a stuffed ball made to look like a globe to his chest, and if his curly hair was not sticking up in a configuration that virgil thinks of as chaotically unruly, and if he were not wearing a pink-and-blue sweater he usually busts out around easter, and if someone did not know patton as a person. “you learned all seven of your continents on hug-a-world!”

see, without fail, almost every year patton gets suckered into the whole concept of the spring clean. and, without fail, logan or virgil will try to point out that he does this every year, and patton insists no, really, this time for sure he’ll get rid of some of the clutter around this house, it’s about time!, and then he gets sidetracked getting attached to objects he finds that he suddenly cannot bear to get rid of, despite the fact that said objects have typically been buried away in a dark closet all the rest of the year.

which means that logan and virgil sit with him and try to point that out, and patton wavers, before he decides to keep or donate or trash it, and it seems like it’s going okay, until the next thing he touches turns out to be another thing that he suddenly cannot bear to give up.

it’s gotten a little better since that time they introduced the marie kondo method, but also, that much worse, because of course he insists that everything sparks joy!

but this is way more mess than usual. there are cardboard boxes and piles of clothes and bits and bobs that are in piles that come up to his ribs. virgil squints it at it suspiciously.

“attic,” logan says wearily, in explanation. “he got boxes out of the attic.”

oh, shit, the attic. god, that thing is stuffed to the brim with boxes, no wonder the living room looks like someone upended the odds-and-ends drawer for a giant into the house.

“but—c’mon,” patton says, in that same sweetly coaxing tone that usually makes them all throw up their hands and leave the rest of this spring cleaning mess for next year’s spring clean. he holds out the hug-a-world to logan. “hold it. marie says so.”

“marie does not realize that she has a special case with my hoarder of a father and therefore should customize the approach of sparks joy, because you have too wide a definition,” logan says, but he reaches out and takes the hug-a-world with both hands anyways.

virgil examines logan holding it, thinking suddenly of a much tinier logan with a gap in his front teeth holding the same toy in the same way, though the fabric had been much more vibrant shades of blue and green then. there had been a solid stretch of time that the hug-a-world had been the toy that logan had hugged falling asleep, back in the poolhouse. he’d taken the hug-a-world to the diner and to school and all around the inn and to the princes’ apartment and back again.

a side of logan’s mouth twitches up, and then, as if suddenly conscious of it, he forces the corners of his mouth to turn down as he stares at it.

“remember?” patton repeats, staring at logan and the hug-a-world fondly. “we used to take turns to squeeze it as tight as we could and then wherever our pinkies would end up, that’s where we were going to go together when you grew up.”

“yes,” logan says, and then loses the fight against his mouth, because it twitches up into a smile again. “many a trip to uzbekistan was planned that way.”

“look!” patton says, pointing and tilting his head. “that’s canada, then, where’d your other one get you?”

logan moves his other pinky in order to squint at the faded fabric. “i believe that’s cambodia. possibly vietnam, i was rather splitting the border.”

“why not both?” patton says pragmatically, or as pragmatically as he can sound planning a potential trip based off hugging a ball.

logan hesitates, holding the ball.

“look,” patton says. “hey, how about virgil helps clean it up, and the hug-a-world can live in your room?”

logan chews at the inside of his lip.

“if it sparks joy,” patton sing-songs.

logan heaves a sigh.

“the hug-a-world will live in my room, then,” he says, before looking to virgil. “we’ve started a pile for you right here,” and pats a pile of what mostly looks like clothes that can be either repaired, repurposed, or sneakily donated.

virgil takes a breath, and says, “i’ll crack open a window and put on some music, then. patton, you take your allergy medicine today?”

patton tilts his head to think about it.

“that’s a no,” virgil says. “i’ll grab it on the way. water, snacks? we’re gonna be here for a while.”

“are we?” logan says doubtfully, twisting to look at him.

“we are finishing spring clean this year!” patton insists. “i mean it this time!”

logan arches his eyebrows at virgil, and virgil mouths play along, and logan sighs before he turns back to the pile, pulling out an old jacket at random.

“i have never seen you wear this. it should be donated.”

“that was from raf, we can’t just toss it!” patton cries out in dismay, and virgil heads for the kitchen.

he fills up three glasses of water, chops up some celery and apples, fills up three mini ramekins with peanut butter, and sets it all on a tray, along with the round white pill that patton takes for his allergies.

he plugs in his phone and scrolls to a roman-made playlist, lowering the volume so that they’ll be able to hear each other, and proceeds to make his meandering way around the piles of Stuff as best he can without knocking anything over.

on his way, he moves to crack open the windows of the living room, allowing the floral-scented air to waft into the messy room, to hear the chirping of the birds under patton and logan’s debating.

he pushes aside a pile of old books on the coffee table and sets the tray down, mostly ignored as logan manages to triumph and tosses the jacket into a box labeled DONATE.

virgil settles down next to his pile, sitting in criss-cross-applesauce, and gosh all of the clutter of patton and logan’s lives looms over them like a mountain at this angle.

“okay,” virgil says encouragingly. “good, that’s good! raf’s old jacket will probably make some other teenager very happy to have it.”

patton sighs, staring after the jacket. “yeah, i guess.”

“this is good,” virgil says stubbornly, before tugging at a piece of fabric sticking out at random and unearthing a blanket.

“oh, i was wondering where that got off to!” patton says, delighted.

“i thought that got lost in the moving shuffle,” virgil agrees, because the last time he saw this he was pretty sure it was tossed over the back of their rented apartment couch.

“so this blanket has not been washed in at least six years,” logan says.

“well, that can be fixed!” patton points out. “i say keep.”

“we’re never going to finish,” logan groans.

“of course we’re gonna finish!” patton says.

“yeah, logan,” virgil says unconvincingly. “listen to your dad.”

patton beams at him, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek; logan rolls his eyes, before he turns his attention to the blanket.

“so, you claim keep for your room,” logan says. “you already have so many blankets.”

“well, we can always use more blankets!” patton points out. “worse comes to worse, we’ll put it in the linen closet.”

logan tilts his head, before he sighs, and places it in a pile of other fabrics that they seem to have decided to keep.

“all right, fine,” he says, then fishes out another piece of fabric. “next item—”

“look how fast we settled that!” patton says brightly.

“pretty fast,” virgil agrees dutifully.

“we’ll totally finish spring clean this year,” patton says confidently.

(they do not finish spring clean this year.)

#my post #text #my fic #my fanfiction #the sideshire files #sideshire files #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #moxiety

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king-maven-calore · 3 years

Note

Odd question no. 16, who are your top 5 fave Red Queen characters and which part of the series/books did you start to like them.

You know anon, your questions aren’t odd at all 😊 but I’m guessing this is your signature at this point. Here you go! (it got a little long, sorry)

5-Farley: She grew on me tbh, there wasn’t a point in particular that made me feel like wow now I stan her. Nah, I just thought she was badass, smart (also she got that short haircut at some point that I totally fell in love with 🥵) ) and I liked how idealistic she is. She is the female version of one of my favorite characters in all of literature, Enjorlas from Les Miserables. (Except her revolution did work 🤧 )

4-Evangeline: I fell in love with her the moment she shows up at Queenstrial clad in leather and spikes and smirks like she owns the place. 10/10 stole my heart and kept stealing it every time she opened her mouth (except when she screams “he was supposed to be mine” about Cal in the Bowl of Bones yikes) I was praying to the literature gods that she would be a lesbian and they answered. When she said fuck the war, I’m going to Montfort with my GF to sip piñas Coladas? Absolute legend behavior. Unparalleled.

3-Mare: She started to grow on me when she decided to go through with the shooting and again in Glass Sword when she straight up maims those prison guards despite Cal asking her not to do it. Not her best moments for a lot of people, but for me, this is exactly the kind of behavior you can expect from a girl who has been oppressed and starved all of her life and has seen the torture inflicted upon her people. White people tend to have this high and mighty rhetoric about how oppressed people should react to shit, how they should be the better person. FUCK that. I’ve seen it play out a thousand times on TV and in books. Characters of color and especially women aren’t allowed to be raging, teeth bared, screaming and kicking angry about anything, or they are called crazy, irrational, and barbaric.

tl,dr: Mare is rightfully angry, she acts on it, she has love for her people and her family, I love ❤️❤️❤️her. I love she gets everything she wanted. More brown women getting everything they want, please.

2-Cal: I liked him when he showed up and helped Mare tossing a coin at her, later when he helped her get a job, the dancing lessons. All good things. But the moment I really was like damn, silver boy 😏😏 was after the shooting, how this cold, pragmatic part of him comes out. Like Mare says, he’s a warrior through and through. And later when he refuses to join the Red Rebellion, that completely sold me. Too often YA love interests have “the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair” and throw their beliefs out of the window to make out with the protag and there’s nothing I loathe more. He slowly changes as the series progresses and I love his character arc so much sometimes my heart aches lmao. Because he starts off as an upholder of the oppressive system with a ver flimsy sense of compassion and ends the books wiser, actually compassionate, with a sense of striving for the greater good, and a huge softie. As I said before, I consider him the Darcy of YA.

1-Maven: oh my tragic child. First started liking him when he seeks out Mare under the rain and then takes her to Cal so she can see her family. Completely owned my soul when he rises from the ground as Mare asks for help and he’s like “Nah, fam. I’m good.” how easily he drops the act and how far he is willing to go to get power. I’m going to cut it here because when I start talking about him I can’t stop (That’s why I don’t include him in fics that much oops). There are personal reasons why I like him and literary ones. He’s extremely layered and whenever he showed up, he elevated the story to a whole new level.

#ask #anon #red queen #red queen series #Maven calore #Evangeline samos #Mare barrow #Tiberias calore #Diana farley #Anonymous

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chelsfic · 4 years

Text

I Fell into Fantasy - Nandor x Guillermo One-Shot

WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: Guillermo admits to a secret desire. Nandor tries to fulfill it without compromising his aloofness.

A/N: The title of this fic comes from a song called “Days of the Phoenix” by AFI. I was inspired to write this fic by the scene in the movie where Viago talks about how he likes to make things “nice” for his victims during their final moments.

Warnings: Blood drinking, a bit of smut, frottage, pining, angst

---

Guillermo really should know better.

How many nights has he spent digging up the garden to dispose of the mangled corpses left behind after the vampires’ feasting? How many bruised, torn throats has he seen? Cracked collar bones and broken limbs? Lifeless, staring eyes?

He knows the victims are in pain before they die. He knows the vampires sometimes like to play with their food, chasing tearful virgins through the house, giving them a taste of escape before tucking into their meal. He knows it hurts. He knows it isn’t sexy.

Really. He knows.

He’s still jealous. He’s jealous when he shows up to yet another sad familiar mixer to find that nearly every other human in attendance has faded puncture wounds and he has to hide his smooth, pristine throat with a turtleneck sweater. He’s jealous when he’s forced to stand in the corner and listen to his master’s obscene, tantalizing moans as he drinks from some random human who isn’t him. He’s jealous when Nandor remarks on how tasty a victim is, licking his lips before discarding their lifeless forms like so much garbage.

He knows it’s wrong. But he gave up caring about right and wrong a long time ago, around the time he dug his first clandestine grave.

He’s wanted to be bitten ever since he was 13-years-old and he first watched Lestat turn Louis on the 18-inch TV in his bedroom. He’d paused the movie, rewinding and frantically beating off as the blood poured onto Brad Pitt’s lips. He wants to know what his master’s lips would feel like on the tender hollow of his throat. He wants to feel the scratch of his beard as he closes his mouth over Guillermo’s sensitive skin. He wants Nandor to hold him close. He wants to feel those sensual moans rumble through the vampire’s chest as he takes his fill.

He wants so much.

Whenever he feels jealousy, lust, longing... he reminds himself that he should feel grateful, proud even, that Nandor has never fed from him. Nandor sees him as more than a meal. He’s a trusty companion, a person, a...friend? This is what Guillermo tells himself. He knows it’s not a matter of taste. How many times has Nandor scolded him for looking too tempting when he blushes? Or warned him to be careful with his sword collection because he didn’t want him bleeding all over the place and testing his self-control?

Whatever his reasoning--respect, boundaries, taboo--Nandor doesn’t feed on his familiar. But Guillermo often wonders if things would be different if his master knew how badly he wanted it.

---

“Guillermo, you’re very serious tonight. Are you having to take a human shit? I can wait until after for you to do the tucking in…”

Nandor stands by his open coffin with an uncomfortable smile on his face that’s akin to a grimace. Guillermo has already helped him remove his outer layers and brushed out his flowing, dark hair. All that remains is for the familiar to hold his hand while he steps up into his coffin.

“No, master, I--I don’t have to take a shit. I’m fine,” Guillermo murmurs with sadness practically oozing out of his pores.

Nandor bristles, his eyes darting all over the room as he wars with himself over whether to press further or simply to ignore Guillermo’s stupid human moods and hope they go away.

The vampire sighs dramatically, “I think you better tell me what is the matter, Guillermo. I don’t want this affecting your work performance. You do a very poor job dusting the paintings and the window dresses when you’re sad. Now what is it? Laszlo and Nadja? Are they giving the guff to you?”

Guillermo is quiet for a long moment, looking up into his master’s fathomless brown eyes as he decides how to respond. Nandor’s whole body is tense as if he’s awaiting the guillotine blade. Maybe he should just get it out of his system and finally admit--well, certainly not everything he feels for his beloved master, but at least about his deep desire to be bitten.

He blushes, lowering his gaze as he finally answers, “I guess...I’m just a little jealous. Of...of the people you feed from.”

Nandor’s face drops into blank befuddlement before his dark brows lift upward and his lips curl in a poorly concealed smile.

“You’re jealous of my victims? I kill those people! You want me to murder you? Is this some kind of death wish thing? Because I find that really annoying!” Nandor sputters, half amused and half serious.

Guillermo’s face is burning with humiliation now and he rushes to clarify, “No! No, I don’t want to die, master. It’s just...I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to be bitten by a vampire...”

His voice fades to nothingness but Nandor clearly understands him and his face grows pensive as he contemplates his words.

“Are you bullshitting me?” Nandor questions and his tone is just close enough to irritation to cause Guillermo to shrink in on himself as he answers.

“No, master.”

“Well…” Nandor sighs and affects a look of disinterest. “It’s alright to say that sort of thing to me, Guillermo, because you’re my familiar. But you want to be careful out there with the other vampires. You could get eaten up! And then where would I be? Having to make another ad on the Greg’s List!”

“...Craigslist…”

“As I said!” Nandor snaps, holding out his hand expectantly as he moves to get into his coffin. “Now, that’s enough of this crazy talking. Alright?”

“Alright, master,” Guillermo murmurs subserviently, reaching up to release the lid and slowly lowering it, sealing his master inside.

“Goodnight, Guillermo!” Nandor’s muffled voice calls as the familiar moves around the room, blowing out candles.

“Night, master!”

Sealed in the claustrophobic darkness of his coffin, Nandor’s mind races as he tries to process this new information about his familiar. Guillermo--his little Guillermo!--would let him bite him and drink his delicious blood? No, he wants him to do it. Yearns for it. He is jealous of the people he kills just because they get to feel the sting of his fangs and the touch of his lips. Nandor palms himself through his trousers. He’s harder than he’s been in a century just thinking of it.

---

He tries, he really does. Guillermo tries to forget about his shameful admission and go back to normal. Nandor certainly seems unmoved, doing nothing to even hint that he remembers having the conversation. So, Guillermo goes through the motions, dutifully completing his chores, searching for fresh sources of virgin blood, and standing by while Nandor sates his bloodlust with perfect strangers. But now that he’s revealed his secret--part of his secret, let’s be honest--and faced his master’s outright rejection, he just can’t seem to let go of the hollow ache in his chest.

He feels inadequate, pathetic, unattractive. And sad. Mostly sad.

Guillermo might think that Nandor has forgotten all about their little chat, but the vampire dwells on it just as much as the human does in the days that follow. And it’s impossible to ignore the scent of “sad human” that’s begun to permeate the household. Nandor spends several days battling with himself over what to do. He considers killing Guillermo and starting over with a new familiar… Guillermo gets his wish, Nandor doesn’t have to confront his shameful attraction to his servant… everybody wins! But the thought of Guillermo’s sweet little face gone still and lifeless sends a foreign stab of emotion into his chest that is really unpleasant.

He could ignore the situation and hope for it to go away on its own. But now that he knows his familiar is secretly lusting after his bite, he can’t get it out of his mind. He’d avoided feeding from Guillermo for years. At first it was a matter of preserving a valuable asset. Guillermo is a good familiar, why risk slipping up and accidentally draining him? After a while, when Nandor started to fixate on his familiar’s adorable smiles, fantasizing about how his soft, little body would feel against his...then it became a matter of self-control and rejecting his disgusting, unnatural feelings for a... servant!

So, that leaves him with one option. He must feed from Guillermo...carefully. So, so carefully so as not to be overcome and either kill or ravish the poor fellow. And if he is going to bite his Guillermo, then he must make it a pleasant experience for his familiar. He can’t stomach the idea of simply ripping into his human and hearing him scream and cry with the pain of it. No, it has to be...special.

---

Guillermo is barely in the door, laden down with shopping bags, when his master’s voice calls to him.

“Guillermo! Is that you?”

“Yes, master! I’m back from the store. I got you some more of those bath bombs you like,” Guillermo answers, wrestling with the bags as he edges towards his room. “Is there something--?”

Nandor appears at his side and interrupts, “The one with the lavender? Very good, Guillermo. Ehm--why don’t you put down those satchels and come with me to my room for a moment. I have a surprise for you.”

Guillermo’s face lights up with a warm smile and he drops the bags on the floor by his closet-room, “A surprise? For me, master?”

“Just for you, Guillermo! Come!” Nandor practically skips at his side as they walk back to his room, his eyes lit with anticipation.

Nandor closes and locks the door behind them, watching his familiar take in the arrangements he’s made. He borrowed Laszlo’s gramophone and set it up in the corner. It’s playing a soft, quiet melody that floats gently on the incense-infused air. A vase of vivid red roses sits on an end table next to his fancy couch, which he’s covered in a layer of bath towels.

“What...what is all this, master?” Guillermo breathes, walking up to the flowers and burying his nose in the fragrant blooms with a smile on his lips.

“Do you like it, Guillermo? I wanted it to be--” he pulls a face but manages to get the word out “--nice for you.”

“But, why?”

Nandor steps up beside his familiar, towering over the smaller man. “I’m going to feed from you. If... if that is still something you are wanting.”

“Oh,” the word comes out on a shaky exhale and Guillermo feels his knees go weak. “I--yes, I still want...that. Thank you, master.”

Nandor smiles, baring his fangs and crinkling his eyes. Guillermo feels his heart do a flip in his chest and wonders, distractedly, if Nandor can hear his heartbeat. They’re standing so close. Guillermo could lean forward just a bit and they’d be touching. He looks up into Nandor’s eyes and finds them melted with warmth. His master has never gone through such an effort for him before. Guillermo feels like his heart could burst.

“You want to take a seat?” Nandor gestures to the towel covered couch and Guillermo snaps out of his daze.

He sinks down onto the cushions, running his hands appreciatively over the terry cloth, “This was clever, master.”

Nandor takes a seat beside him, close enough that their thighs brush together and Guillermo gulps. He’s brushed his master’s hair, helped him dress, helped him bathe for goodness sake, but he’s never felt as close to him as he does now.

“Are you comfort-a-ble, Guillermo?” Nandor asks, staring at his face with a hungry intensity.

Guillermo locks eyes with him and he sees his master’s pupils dilate, his lips part to bare elongated fangs. He gasps out a quivering breath as he fights the waves of exhilaration, lust and fear in order to answer.

“Yes, it’s...very comfy, master. Very nice, thank you.”

“Good,” Nandor responds, his eyes flicking down to Guillermo’s collar. “Why don’t you remove your woolen garment and open your collar. I don’t want to spoil your nice clothes.”

Guillermo feels like he’s in a dream. Nandor is never this...considerate. His mind flashes back to every time he’s watched his master strike out at a victim unannounced, with fierce aggression and even cruelty. It’s pathetic that his standards are so low, but the fact that Nandor isn’t treating him like just another victim to be used and discarded sends a rush of affection and hope flowing through him. He hastily grabs the bottom of his sweater, pulling it up over his head and tossing it aside. Next, he reaches for the collar of his shirt, but Nandor is there first. His long, thick fingers pluck at the buttons, releasing each one until Guillermo’s chest is visible. He pulls the collar aside, revealing the smooth, unblemished curve of Guillermo’s neck and shoulder.

“Are you ready?” Nandor asks with a hiss as he eyes his familiar’s naked skin. He’s never seen so much of the man before and he feels his cock stir with interest inside his trousers.

“Yes,” Guillermo breathes needily, tilting his head to bare his neck even further.

Nandor brings his hand up to cradle Guillermo’s head, letting his fingers sink into his soft curls and cupping his warm cheek in his palm. The pulse point at Guillermo’s throat is practically visible, his heart is beating so fast. Nandor feels his mouth flood with saliva as the rushing flow of Guillermo’s blood reaches his ears.

He wraps his other arm around his familiar, drawing him onto his lap and finally leaning in to bury his face into the warm, inviting crook of his neck. Nandor breathes in the intoxicating aroma that even the human-things-for-smelling and his incense cannot obscure. He moans loudly. He might be embarrassed if he were less overcome with the sensory feast of his familiar’s soft body in his arms and the promise of his warm, thick blood.

Guillermo mewls at the touch of his master’s mouth on his bare throat. His beard is scratchy and rough but his lips are impossibly soft and gentle. It’s like a kiss, he thinks, his heart rushing with affection and joy. Nandor’s arm around him is firm and strong. He knows that he could never hope to escape if Nandor truly wished to restrain him and drink him dry. Putting this level of trust in his master makes him feel like a tiny, frail rabbit in the jaws of a hungry wolf. A delicious shiver runs down his spine at the image. And then Nandor’s lips pull back and he feels the sharp points of his fangs graze over tender skin.

“Oh!” Guillermo cries out.

Nandor growls low in his throat but pulls back just slightly to check, “Is this still alright?”

Guillermo nods quickly, bringing up his hands to run them through Nandor’s soft hair reassuringly, “Yes! Yes! Please, master!”

He feels Nandor’s chest rumble with suppressed laughter and then there’s just the blinding, burning flash of pain that blooms as Nandor finally strikes, burying his fangs into his familiar’s soft, warm throat. Guillermo’s mouth falls open and his hands fist in Nandor’s hair as the first wave takes him.

“Shhh,” Nandor murmurs wetly against his neck, lapping the spilled blood with long strokes of his tongue. “Shhh, you’re safe.”

“Nnghh!” a pleasured groan strangles from the familiar’s throat at the touch of his master’s tongue. Guillermo squirms, his cock filling even as blood drains away from his body.

Nandor tightens his arms around his little Guillermo, pulling him flush against his broad chest and biting down once more as he begins to drink in earnest. He moans wantonly as the sweet blood fills his mouth. He’s as hard as he’s ever been and he rolls his hips against his familiar’s generous backside. He drinks and he drinks.

The pain ebbs enough for Guillermo to lose himself in the delicious feeling of connection with his master. His hands, his lips, his tongue, his teeth are all on him, inside of him, part of him. Nandor’s touch unlocks a secret room inside of Guillermo where he keeps his most tender feelings. For once he allows himself to truly feel the devotion, the affection... the love that he has for his master. It’s wonderful and dizzying. Tears slip from his eyes as he reaches his arms around Nandor’s broad shoulders, hugging him closer for as long as he’ll allow.

Too soon he feels his head start to spin and his grip on Nandor’s shoulders loosens. The vampire senses it immediately and draws back with a feral growl. Guillermo is limp and breathless in his master’s arms. He looks up with heavy-lidded eyes and watches Nandor lick blood from his lurid, stained lips.

“Thank you, master,” Guillermo whispers, snuggling into Nandor’s chest with a contented sigh. His arousal is flagging and he hopes that his master hasn’t noticed. He’d felt Nandor’s rigid erection grinding against him while the vampire drank his blood, but he has no way of knowing if that’s just something that happens every time he feeds. Whatever the case, he’s far too weak and drunk with happiness to do anything but drift along and hope that Nandor keeps holding him.

Nandor’s dead heart squeezes in his chest at the sight of his sleepy familiar burrowing his face into his chest. His plan seems to have failed. He’d wanted to give Guillermo his fantasy while remaining aloof, but instead he’s feeling an annoying rush of warm affection. Worse, he’s shamed himself by...rutting against the human like a street dog. He should push him away, or give him an order to remind him of the boundaries that are still in place. But as he looks down at the sweet smile on his familiar’s lips he can’t find it in him to spoil the moment for him so soon. Tomorrow. Tomorrow night he’d remind Guillermo of how things still stand between them.

“Will you keep holding me, master?” Guillermo mumbles, his eyes drifting shut. The human has read his thoughts!

“Yes,” Nandor replies, leaning down and tracing a barely there kiss onto Guillermo’s forehead. “For a little while.”

#nandermo #nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #wwdits fanfic #wwdits

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softbaby-tom · 4 years

Text

needy - t.h. x reader

summary: “Oh fuck, hold on, were you listening to me singing in the shower?” warnings: tooth-rottingly sweet and sticky fluff word count: +2.5 k

A/N: so this is my first ever one shot / fic in general, so please bear with me. Very special thanks to @worldoftom for being an amazing friend and editor for me. I love you to pieces! —————————————–

It’s half six and you’re impatiently pacing back and forth in front of the bathroom door, because you have to get ready for the dinner date with Tom’s family in two hours. Tom’s been hogging the bathroom for so long that it’s pretty much a case of “start now or you’ll be late” at this point - you just can’t wait any longer.

So, you mutter to yourself “fuck it, I’m going in,” and sneak inside the bathroom while he’s still in the shower. The second you stick your head through the door, you’re instantly greeted with the smell of his shower gel and a wave of hot steam coming from the shower. After a few seconds of adjusting to the new environment, you make your way over to the sink-area to collect your makeup bag, along with all the loose items scattered across the counters next to the sink, where you usually do your makeup. Most of the time you’re in either too much of a hurry or simply too lazy to put all the products back into the bag, where they belong. So, you just leave them out to easily use them again the next morning without having the trouble of rummaging around to find them.

It’s safe to say that Tom is often annoyed with the situation of all those items flying around the bathroom counters, but he never really gives you shit about it, either. He just shoves them all to the side, whenever he needs the space or is looking for something in particular. Over the past few years, you’ve come to know he’s a slightly more organized person than you are and that he likes everything to be neat and in its right place. You, however, find it more practical to have them at arm’s length whenever you need them.

In that moment, you realize that Tom didn’t notice you coming in, as you can hear him starting to sing. His sweet, velvet-like voice fills the hot, steamy air like a soft breeze at the beach on a hot summer day. You stand there in awe of his beautiful voice and close your eyes to drown out everything that could be distracting your senses and just enjoy the rare occasion of hearing him sing. He’s usually very self-conscious about his singing - even though you’ve told him multiple times that there really is not a single reason to be - so, with that in mind, you just know he’s completely unaware of your presence right now. You listen closer and start to recognize the song he’s singing.

… And I can be needy

Way too damn needy

I can be needy

Tell me how good it feels to be needed …

For a second there, you contemplate whether or not doing your makeup in the bathroom while Tom is showering is a good idea, but looking at the bathroom mirror completely fogged up, you soon decide to move the whole procedure to the living room. You look over your shoulder one last time to maybe catch a glimpse of his cute butt, but even the shower screens are fogged up to the point that it looks like they’re actually made of frosted glass. With a pout on your face and a chuckle under your breath, you turn on your heel and strut to the living room, your collected items shoved under your arms.

That’s pretty much the best place to work on your makeup, mainly because it has the best light, due to the massive window front. Sitting down on the floor with your legs crossed, you set the small stand-up mirror that you carried from the bathroom along with everything else on the coffee table, then twist your hair into a messy bun on the top of your head to get it out of the way. You study your reflection to look for any particular unwanted spots you may need to cover up. The silence seems unbearable as you work, so you pull your phone out of the right pocket of your joggers and open your favorite playlist to keep it playing in the background.

To start off your daily makeup routine, you cleanse your face with a cotton pad and some toner, rubbing it across your face to get rid of anything that might have accumulated over night. Afterwards, you take out your eye cream and moisturizer to prep your face for the layers you’re about to put on. In that moment, you hear the bathroom door opening and Tom walking down the hallway towards you and the sound of your music.

As he walks around the corner, you see him shaking his bum and swaying his hips to the beat of the song that fills the air, wearing only the jeans he is apparently intending on wearing for dinner and the towel he used to dry himself off, wrapped around his neck, both edges falling on his bare chest. You are once again thankful that your taste in music is similar to his, almost the same, even. You can’t imagine yourself being in a relationship with someone with a completely different taste in music, at least if they hated everything you ever put on.

A big smile starts to spread across your face seeing him like this. Remembering his little singing performance in the shower, your mind comes up with a devious plan to tease him a bit.

Keeping as much of a straight face as possible, you turn on needy by Ariana Grande - the song he was singing in the shower earlier - to test his reaction. At first, he looks confused, as if he's taken aback by the sudden change in tempo, stopping his movements mid-dance. He stands there frozen for a second and you realize that he might not have known the song he was singing. He must have probably heard you sing it to yourself, absentmindedly, a few times.

Collecting himself, he closes the small distance in between the two of you and sits down in the armchair across the coffee table. You feel his eyes on you as you proceed to put on your concealer.

“What did you just put on your face?” he asks completely out of the blue.

While buffing it in, you answer in a nonchalant tone, “It’s called concealer.”

“And what is it for?”

“Darling, it’s literally in the name. It conceals everything that needs to be concealed. Imperfections like dark undereye circles and blemishes and all that.” In a cheeky tone, you add, “You see, your silly shenanigans last night are pretty much to blame for these dark circles in the first pl-”

“Wait, what is this song again?” he interrupts you, one hand raised with his index finger pointing up.

You look up from the mirror and flash him your brightest smile, raising one eyebrow in an attempt to look mischievous as you answer, “Why, do you like it?”

“Yeah, I mean, I think so. It was stuck in my head the whole day, but I couldn’t remember where the fuck I heard...” Tom tilts his head and squints as if the pieces are falling together inside his head. “Oh fuck, hold on, were you listening to me singing in the shower?” he asks, his fist raised at the height of his shoulder, thumb pointing backwards.

To be fair, he should have been on to you the second you changed the song. Truth is, you're constantly trying to prank each other in some way or the other, always quick to call one another out on little things like that.

You can see a blush growing on his cheeks immediately. In a heartbeat, you get up from the floor and make your way over to the armchair he's sitting in. Cupping his face with both hands, you settle on his lap and look straight into his chocolate-like eyes.

“Listen, babe. I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you a million times again, if I have to. Don’t. Be. Embarrassed. About. Your. Singing. In front of me or anyone else. I love you, I love your voice and I love your singing. I love your snores, your grumbles in the morning when you’re still sleep-drunk and your mumbled monologues when you’re asleep. I could listen to all of it, all day and all night.”

To emphasize what you just said, you press your lips onto his, for a little peck, and you can feel him relax into your touch instantly as he brings his hands around your waist to pull you closer and prolong the kiss a bit more. He never seems quite satisfied by a mere peck on the lips. Before the kiss gets too heated, though, you pull away quickly, leaving Tom with a serious pout on his mouth. He looks like a puppy who's been denied belly rubs or his favorite toy right now, which is endearing on the one hand, but extremely annoying how it gets to you almost every time.

“Now, I really need to finish my makeup, otherwise we’re going to be late,” you say while attempting to get up from his lap, but he holds you by your hips and pulls you back down.

“What the—” you want to ask, but he shuts you right up by capturing your lips with his, holding your face in between his hands. After a passionate kiss, he holds you close to his face, foreheads touching.

With a serious look in his eyes, he practically whispers, “I love you, too. More than you know and more than I’ll ever be able to verbalize.” Shrugging, Tom adds, “Just needed to say that.”

You feel your face heating up at his words, always so flattering despite being so simple, then you breathe out, “I’m glad you did. Good talk. If you would excuse me, now?”

Tom raises his hands on either side of you in a surrendering movement, letting you finally get up from his lap so you can finish your makeup.

After asking a few more questions about the products you’re using, Tom stands up from the armchair and struts into your shared bedroom to put on the rest of his outfit for the evening. Just as he walks out, fully dressed and looking dashing as always, you finish your look by adding some setting spray. Don’t want to look cakey halfway through the evening.

“Okay, I think I’m good to go,” Tom huffs half-amusedly, eyes studying your whole face with a longing expression. “Wow. You look— wow.”

“I love how eloquent you can be, gorgeous.” You laugh, watching through the corner of your eye as he pouts at you in that almost-adult-like way of his. “Someone’s extremely needy today, hm?” you add, getting up from the floor and pulling him into you by a hand so you can place a flimsy kiss on his lips. “C’mon, let me put on some clothes so we can leave.”

When you come home later that night, you head straight for the bathroom to take care of your night routine. As much as you enjoy doing your makeup and the way it makes you feel more confident when you wear it, there is no better feeling than taking it off again at the end of the day.

You stand in front of the mirror, humming, taking it all off, feeling eyes in the back of your head. Looking over your shoulder through the mirror, you can see Tom standing by the door frame, already in his sweats, naked from the waist up, ready for bed, with the most doe-like eyes you’ve ever seen on him.

“What now?” you ask, grabbing the several makeup wipes and cotton pads you used to throw them in the bin beneath the sink.

“Nothing,” he says shaking his head and grinning. “Figured I’d watch you doing that, too. A full circle kind of thing, y’know?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say with a short huff. Next, you reach for your moisturizer and start applying it for the night. That’s actually your favorite part about the whole routine; feeling it sink into your skin, smelling the familiar scent because you’ve used the same one for so long that it always makes you sleepier, just from smelling it.

Lifting a hand up to his chest as though he’s offended, Tom gapes at you in the mirror before he turns around to leave for the bedroom. “You know where to find me,” he says over his shoulder, almost bumping into the doorframe on his way out, causing you to snort out a small laugh.

You finish off as quick as you can, shoving everything into the cabinet next to the mirror haphazardly so you can join him in bed while he’s still awake.

You find him lying on his side under the duvet, humming to himself a sweet melody you think you know from somewhere, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. So, you just slide under the covers yourself, snuggling up to him immediately. His arms come around your body by sheer instinct, too. There’s a long shared gaze into each other’s half-closed eyes, pinky fingers intertwined in between your heads, before Tom takes a breath in.

Before you know what’s happening, he starts singing.

I'm so in love with you

And I hope you know

Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold

We've come so far my dear

Look how we've grown

And I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old

Just say you won't let go

You’re pretty much in shock, unable to form any coherent thoughts, let alone to find any words adequate enough to tell him. Simply staring at him with wide eyes, feeling a subtle prickling in the corner, mouth agape at the massive vote of confidence he’s offering you right now, you listen to him in silence. He's rarely comfortable enough to sing in front of you, and the fact that he’s doing it right now sends a warm, tingling sensation to the pit of your stomach and tugs delicately at your heart. You’re still too stunned by his voice and everything he makes you feel that you cannot stop staring at him. Even if you were able to form a logical sentence, you wouldn’t trust your voice to be anything more than a croaky whisper.

Just as Tom opens his eyes again to look at you, a single tear runs down your cheek, falling onto the pillow. You feel his thumb brushing a second tear away before it falls, the words seeping carefully through his melodic tone, and with a deep sigh, you realize what he's singing.

"That song," you say, and you were right; it's nothing more than a raspy murmur. "It played at the restaurant on our first date, didn't it?"

“It did, princess. And you still look just as beautiful as you did that night. You know, I can’t ever take my eyes off of you,” he mutters softly, his warm words hitting your face and reaching your heart. “You’re just stunning - with and without makeup. You don’t even have to try. I just hope I’ll have the chance to look at that beautiful face for the rest of my goddamned life.”

You feel more tears stinging in your eyes and a lump building up in your throat, but you fight against them to pull off a smile and breathe out, “Always and forever... Promise?”

“Promise.”

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

A/N: I’m so happy the teaser did considerably great and I hope you also like the whole thing. Feedback is appreciated and encouraged. Thank you so much for reading! i love you.

tagging some mutuals / friends and everyone who reblogged the teaser. Crossed out means I can’t tag you.

@worldoftom, @stuckonspidey, @hollandraul, @snowflakeparker, @farfromhaz, @mrhollandisart, @tomhollandsblog, @woaholland, @foreverherth, @screamholland, @humbledutch, @starkissedholland, @starksparker, @softspiderling, @tomhoe-lland, @cherry-holland, @thatweirdomimic,

#tom holland #tom holland oneshot #tom holland one shot #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fan fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fan fiction #fanfic #softbaby-tom #mine

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retro-rezz-the-est · 5 years

Text

The Right Alpha (Drew/Reader/Roman A/B/O smut)

Summary: Just some lovely threesome action with our favorite Samoan and our thicc Scottish bastard (so just pretend that Ro is still on RAW lmao).

Word Count: 6,464 ^^;

Warnings: mentions of a dickbag ex-boyfriend in the beginning, semi-public sex, Drew being a tad bit of a little shit (bc that’s a warning on its own lol), possessiveness, biting/marking, anal and I think that’s it??? Correct me if i’m wrong lmao. Also, this is my first time writing anything AU themed, so feedback is appreciated! :)

(A/N: Here it is, y’all! I’m so sorry this took so long to get out. My brain was just in 1000 different places at once lol. Thank you all so so so so much for 400+ followers, and I can’t tell you all how much I love and appreciate every single last one of you <3. Here’s to 500 and more threesome fic action!)

(Y/n): your name

“Oh, come on!”

“We said no, (Y/n), and that’s final,” Ember chastised you from her seat nearby, her golden irises seeming to flare when the Scot’s name came out of your mouth.

Your eyes went to slits as you turned your head to face her, pulling your leg out from underneath you to let Roman lace up your ring boots. “Well, why don’t you guys like him? He hasn’t done anything to me.”

“Exactly, small fry. He hasn’t,” the Samoan said. “Yet.”

Groaning, you hopped off of the supply crate you sat on and leaned up against the back wall. They never did seem to like seeing anyone get close to you, especially after the whole situation with your asshole of an ex-boyfriend.

You could still hear all of the names he called you, how he kept you away from Ember and Ro for long periods of time, and how he tried to make you wear that fucking collar that read “Omega Bitch” on it…

After that whole fiasco (and after you had to physically pull Ember off of him for cheating on you with some unmated girl he picked up from a bar), they were there to keep you stable and well.

And away from any and all potential partners.

“But, Drew’s different, I think. He seems like a sweet guy.”

The fiery haired woman scoffed, replying, “Yeah, a ‘sweet guy’ who has a record of bagging and shagging Omegas for a quick fuck and then leaving them the very next night for a new score.”

“She’s got a point, (Y/n). Literally everyone on the damn roster knows about his record,” Ro added, coming up to your side and wrapping his arm around your waist. “We just want to protect you after what happened last time.”

“Oh, really? Is that why you always step up to him whenever he gets 10 feet away from me?

Pulling you closer, he rested his chin on top of your head and chuckled, feeling you try to shove him away.

“You know, just because you two are Alphas-”

“And your best friends…”

“-doesn’t mean that you have to shield me from virtually everyone who comes in my path,” you continued, rolling your eyes at her intrusion. “Besides, my true mate is out there somewhere. Are you guys just gonna shield me from them too?”

You felt Roman move away from you just as you saw Ember rise from her own seat.

“Of course not, girl,” she answered, bumping her forehead against yours. “But, it’s just not gonna be him. Believe me, I know these things.”

The three of you shared a laugh and you could feel their unique scents wrap around you. As comforting as it was, you could still feel Roman’s eyes lock onto the back of your head with a strange firmness, almost as if he didn’t want to look away…

“Anyway, you still have to get dressed and prepped for our tag match tonight, Moon, so I suggest you go do that.”

Placing your hands on her shoulders, you turned her around and lightly pushed her in the direction of the women’s locker room, gaining another soft chuckle from her.

“I suppose I have to. Don’t wanna go out to the ring in my sweats,” she commented, letting out a dramatic sigh and walking away.

Placing his forehead to yours, you felt him give you another quick squeeze before letting go. “Kick some Riott Squad ass out there, ya heard?”

“Aye, captain.”

You gave him a mock salute and waved as he too walked off, leaving you alone in the large hallway as echoes of the ongoing Universe bounced off the concrete walls. Pivoting on your heel, you grabbed your leather jacket from the crate behind you and sauntered off, unaware of the large Scotsman’s presence nearby.

A few minutes had passed of you walking over to the stage area to mentally prepare yourself for your match until a whiff of strong whiskey, leather and amber swept itself under your nose.

Oh, fuck me…

“Well, hello there, leannan.” (sweetheart)

You felt the hairs on your arm rise as you slowly turned around to face the large Scot, his feet falling heavily on the ground as he stalked towards you.

“H-Hey there, Drew,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “W-What are you d-doing here?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear ya talkin’ ‘bout me with your two… friends… a little while ago and I saw ya gettin’ a little bit flustered,” he said as he continued to walk towards you with a smirk on your face, your feet propelling your body to move backwards.

This dance continued for a quick moment of silence before your back hit a nearby wall and he placed his hands on said wall to keep you there, trapped and in place for him.

Alone.

“You can feel it too, right, lass? Tell me ya can.”

Oh crap, crap, fuck, you thought as you felt his scent cover you like a warm duvet. You could feel yourself getting lightheaded and you mewled, lolling your head to the side.

A deep rumble shook his chest as he took in the sight of the unbitten nape of your neck. “Ah, so you’re unclaimed as well? I can change that one for ya, gaol.” (love)

His body pressed against yours next to the stage area, taking one hand to hold your head and the other to grip your waist. Leaning down, he rested his head in the crook of your neck and took in heavy whiffs of your own lavender, honey and cherry scent.

Should I tell him? Oh god, if I do then Roman will actually kill him. Especially Ember, your mind ran at a million miles an hour when he brushed his nose against the sensitive spot underneath your chin and you sighed contently.

Drew’s hand on your waist began to drift skyward and held you tighter, as if you were going to drift away if he let go. He chuckled and you felt it even through the layers of your ring gear, and you could slowly feel yourself drifting further and further into his touch…

“McIntyre! You get your grimy paws off her right the fuck now!”

Oh shit.

The two of you quickly departed when Ember roared. Her hair began to glow as brightly as her eyes did in that moment, and you swore you could see her teeth get sharp and her nails grow.

“I am so dead,” you murmured to yourself as she booked it over to the two of you at full speed, nearly colliding with the Scottish man when she stopped.

Going toe-to-toe with him, she growled, “If you ever, ever, ever, put your filthy hands on my friend again, I swear on everything that I’ll rip your balls off.”

She scoffed, stepping back to eye him up and down. “And trying to claim her when she’s clearly not your mate? Now that’s just pathetic, even for you, Drew.”

That’s because he is! you mentally screamed at her as she shoved her hand between the two of you and shoved, pulling you away from the wall.

She tugged you towards the stage area and you willingly went with her, despite all of your nerves and inner thoughts telling you otherwise. “Come on, (Y/n). Our match is just about to go on.”

Glancing back at Drew, you frowned a little, seeing his slightly hurt expression and how Ember’s nails left a slight mark on his chest. You sighed, placing a smile on your face anyways and letting Ember lead you two out as her theme began to play overhead.

Getting the win felt good, but pinning Ruby felt even better.

The adrenaline had your blood pumping and had you energized for exactly the length of time it took for you and Ember to get from the ring and back to backstage before everything just left you feeling almost jet lagged.

Walking back into the large hallway, you locked eyes with a solemn McIntyre standing nearby and apparently, the woman next to you had clearly noticed. She bared her teeth and gnashed them at him, making you flinch and grab her wrist to hold her back.

You sped off, towing the female Alpha behind you and occasionally looked back to catch his eyes but just missing him as his own theme started to play. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, walked through the curtain and oh shit he forgot about him.

Staring daggers at him from inside the ring was a very determined looking Roman Reigns, shoulders squared and all. Drew walked down to the ring eyeing him right back, shucking off his jacket and tossing it into the timekeeper’s area.

He stepped over the ropes and made his slightly shaking hands into fists, feeling his heart race and hearing the bell go off to signal the start of the match. The two of them rushed at each other and grappled for a second, Roman managing to get his head in the crook of his arm.

The match seemed to speed up as Drew was able to corner him against one of the turnbuckles. An odd look that appeared on his face was soon replaced with one of sheer anger when Roman smelled the air around him. Even with the Scot’s hand pressing his face into the ringpost, he still managed to catch a whiff of something familiar…

His Alpha instincts screamed confusion and upset and protect as he felt his eyes dilate. Throwing his elbow into the other man’s chest, he was able to shove him back far enough so he could grip his chin.

“Why do you smell like her, huh?!” he yelled, teeth beginning to extend. “What the hell did you do to her?!”

Confused, Drew thought, Wait, he picked up her scent as well? I thought only true mates cou-

His train of thought was interrupted with an abrupt shove and a rapid clothesline by Roman, making him fall to the ring mat. Standing on shaky legs, he didn’t even see his opponent hit him with his iconic Spear and go for the pin. The match was then over before he could even blink.

The ref raised Roman’s arm in victory before he tore it away in favor of kneeling down to face the fallen Scot. Moving to his ear, he whispered, “Don’t you even think about touching her again, McIntyre. I’m warning you now.”

He got up just as quickly and rolled out of the ring, stalking straight up the ramp and backstage without any hesitation. Roaming the hallways, he finally found his destination and banged on the door.

“(Y/n), open up! We need to talk now!”

“Gimme a second, Ro! I’m almost done packing my stuff!” you threw back, zipping up your duffel bag and hoisting the strap onto your shoulder.

Sitting on a nearby bench, Sasha lifted her head and raised her eyebrows at the Alpha’s insistent door knocking.

“What’s his deal, sis?”

A nervous chuckle suddenly leapt from you as you rubbed the back of your neck. “Well, actually…”

Another loud bang came from the door, startling the hell out of you both. Letting out a breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding in, you shakily made your way to the door and opened it, seeing an angry Roman fresh out of his match.

Sasha slipped in behind you and looked up, seeing how straight-faced he was before letting out an “I’ll see you later, (Y/n)” and leaving the locker room. As the violet haired woman’s figure turned the corner, he gripped your forearm and shoved you back through the door.

Quickly locking it behind him, he turned back to you rather slowly, giving you time to access him. His hands were clenched into fists, a vein was faintly popping out of his neck and his breathing was very rugged.

“Why did Drew smell like you tonight?”

A pin could drop and you would hear it from how quiet the space had gotten, a light hum from the lights above and his own breathing being the only noises heard. “Is there something you want to tell me, (Y/n)?”

You placed your duffel back onto the bench behind you and looked down, folding your hands together. “Well… he may have kinda… cornered me… in the hall before my match?”

“He what?!” Roman roared, making you take a few steps back.

“But, Ember was there to get him away from me and set him in his place… but not before he scented me.”

That seemed to hit him harder than anything as the two of you went quiet again for a heartbeat more. It was enough for his eyes to dilate a lot more and for him to steadily make his way to you.

Just like with Drew, you soon found yourself chest to chest with a hulking Alpha against the wall nearest to you, panting slightly with anticipation as your own eyes grew wide and the Omega in you screamed for him.

Wait, what? you asked your brain, confused as to why he had the same effect on you as Drew did. This has never happened before.

Well, he’s never been this protective over you. Not since…

Your mind shot a blank when you felt his wet hair brush against your skin, igniting metaphorical sparks as he moved his head. He held your biceps in his large hands and just like Drew, he placed his head in the crook of your neck and sighed.

Deciding to savor this moment of privacy yourself, you rested your head on his, feeling him run his jaw up and down your exposed neck. Instantly, you were hit with a wave of him; a feeling of calm and familiar rolled over your body and you smiled.

But this was different. This was something… more…

As the Alpha’s usual coconut, sandalwood and ocean breeze scent filled your lungs, your mind drifted to images and dreams of you two lounging on a beach somewhere in each other’s arms, laughing at nothing while you sip a strawberry daiquiri as the sun set on a clear sky…

No… it couldn’t be… you couldn’t have…

Could you?

Was this even possible?

You let out a squeak as he got even closer, the hardness of his vest pressing you harder against the wall. Hands already placed on his shoulders, you felt his chest rumble with a faint delight when you responded to his touches.

As quickly as the image popped into your head, it seemed to fade just as fast when he let you go and made you exhale from the long contact. He gently took your chin in his hand and raised your head to look at him, staring you square in the eye.

“I don’t want you smelling like him anymore, (Y/n),” he uttered, his eyes dilating back to normal and going soft. “If he tries that shit again, you come to me, ok?”

Without waiting for your response, he strode over to the door, unlocked it and made his exit, leaving you stunned and your body wanting all at the same time.

What the hell am I gonna do?

For the next week, Roman wouldn’t leave your side, not even for a second. Even Ember started to notice the near possessiveness the hulking Alpha was demonstrating and quite frankly, it freaked the hell out of her.

Hell, he even had the nerve to walk you down the ramp and accompany you to your rematch against Ruby dressed like a damn bouncer that following Monday, despite you continuously telling him not to. As the bell rang and the two of you went after each other, you could still feel his piercing gaze watch every move you made.

Everything was going well for you so far. You had managed to get Ruby’s shoulder’s down for the pin, and the ref’s hand was slamming down on the mat.

You waited for the three-count, but it never came because of the sound of blaring bagpipes that was Drew’s theme. Glancing towards the ring gave you the vision of a very pissed off Scottish Alpha who was currently focused on one Roman Reigns.

What the hell is he doing here? you mused, hefting yourself off of the Riott Squad member. Moving your gaze to them, you saw that they were engaged in a heated argument, standing face to face with fingers being pointed. One thing led to another and soon enough, both men were throwing fists in each other’s faces.

“What the hell are you two doing?! Stop!” you screamed at them, hoping that they’d hear you.

But they didn’t.

You didn’t see Ruby get off her back, and you certainly didn’t see the incoming kick she landed on the back of your neck. With you dazed, she quickly hit you with a roll-up and caught the three-count.

Her theme stated to play as she rolled out of the ring and rushed up the ramp, not wanting to see the outcome of your situation. As it stopped, you were left kneeling in the ring, shocked and tugging at the ends of your hair.

Small tears welled up in the corner of your eyes as you eyed the two men at ringside. Your wolf screamed anger and hurt, and you just wanted to get away from those two bastards. You got yourself up and stepped out of the ring ropes just in time to shove past both of them to walk backstage.

What was all that about? Do they know about… that already? Am I completely and utterly screwed. Do they know that I have to choose?

Every step towards the women’s locker room felt like a solid punch to your heart as thoughts kept raging in your mind, keeping you on your toes when you turned a corner.

“(Y/n)!”

Shit.

You stopped dead in your tracks in the middle of the hallway, silently cursing that there was no one around who could help you. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed on the walls and headed in your direction, but you couldn’t move yourself to look at them.

“Shit, small fry, we didn’t mean to-”

“‘M sorry this màthair (motherfucker) wasn’t-”

Their barrage of word vomit made you pivot on your heel, and you could feel your eyes begin to glow brighter and dilate more.

“Will the both of you please shut the fuck up?!”

And that line did it for them.

Sighing, you dropped your head into the palm of your hand and took a deep breath. No need to lose your shit over this, (Y/n). Just calm down.

“Ro,” you resumed, “i know you care about me and I know you want to protect me, but you don’t have to hover around my shoulder 24/7! I need space to breathe, you know.”

Turning to the Scot, you pointed a finger at him and said, “And you, Drew, you don’t have to step up to my friends just because they want what’s best for me. You have to see that. Now, can you both please tell me what’s wrong without killing each other in the process?”

Both men’s heads spun to the side to face the other, teeth bared and hands at the ready.

“I don’t want him fucking touching my mate!” they both roared at the same time.

Boom.

…

The lack of sound was deafening when you asked, “...your what? Roman, how long have you known?”

“Ever since you came to me with Ember after the situation with your ex,” the Samoan in front of you answered, shoving his hair back and glancing back at you. “That’s why I didn’t want you to get close with the Scot.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit and you know it, Reigns!”

“What did you say to me?” he demanded, pressing up against the other Alpha.

“I said it’s bullshit,” he smirked, looking down at him. “I’ve locked onto her scent for months now. I had a feelin’ about it, and I confirmed that last week.”

“So you cornered her to prove your damn point? Is that why I smelled her on you during our match last week?!”

They both turned to face you, making you shudder under their intense gazes. Drew gestured to you, saying, “Maybe we should let the lady decide for herself.”

What?

“So, lass, which one of us is tellin’ the truth?”

You wanted to shrink down into your skin in that moment. You had to tell them. It was the moment of truth.

But… would they accept it?

“Um… here’s the thing…” you started, gingerly holding the back of your neck. “I haven’t been the most… honest… person with you two either.”

Roman crossed his arms, confused. “What do you mean, (Y/n)?”

“Well, both of you seem to draw the same reaction out of me, since you both had scented me last week, so I think that you both are my mates.”

As you finished, you let out a soft nervous giggle, but the two Alphas in front of you weren’t laughing. The aura in the hall felt like all the air was sucked out of it in that one moment, the tension being so thick that you could cut it with a butter knife if you could.

After what seemed like hours of nothing being said, Roman piped up. “Why didn’t you say anything, small fry?”

“Are you kidding me?! You two try to murder each other on a weekly basis, so imagine what would’ve happened if I told you, or you for that matter,” you countered, looking back at Drew, “that your rival was also my mate.”

“She’s got a point there,” he pointed out.

“Shut up, asshole.”

You uttered, “This is exactly what I was talking about. We can’t even have a decent conversation without you two throwing jabs at each other.”

“How does this even work, (Y/n)?” Roman questioned, his eyes softening.

You shrugged as you placed your hands on your hips. “I don’t know the fucking biology of being an Omega. All I know is that you two are my mates and that I get super turned on when I’m around you.”

Oh fuck, I didn’t mean to say that, you thought, cursing the Omega in you wanting to jump their bones. You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth to keep more inner thoughts from coming out, but it was already too late.

Both men raised a brow at the comment, Drew chuckling at your newfound embarrassment.

“So what you’re sayin’ is…. is that you’re turned on right now?”

Don’t nod, don’t nod, don’t do fucking anything.

But, your brain and your nerves had other plans for the night as you nodded in agreement. He walked the short distance to you and cupped your jaw, drawing you to face his eyes. The Scot noticed how you weren’t fighting him off and he chuckled at your submission.

“That’s good, then.”

And with that, he drew you up to his waiting mouth and planted a hard kiss to your own, leaving you weak in the knees. His lips claimed yours in a heated dance that left you wanting - no, craving - more.

You couldn’t help but trail after his mouth when he slowly pulled away, leaving more than an ache between your thighs. Roman growled, stepping forward to handle him himself but you thrusted your arm out, holding him back.

“Leave him, Ro,” you told him, trying to keep your own body up on your shaky legs. “I’m fine.”

“You heard the caileag (girl), Reigns. She’s into it.” A lewd grin slid onto his face when you voiced your approval. His hands continued their path from his sides and onto your body, gripping your hips and moving you closer.

A minute passed before you asked, “So, what do we do now?”

“Well,” Drew spoke, his voice dripping faintly with lust, “I say we take our activities somewhere more… private.”

You shivered, seeing his teeth grow and feeling his scent start to seep into your skin. You were momentarily snapped out of your drifting by Roman, who cleared his throat.

“Is this ok with you, (Y/n)? I don’t want him trying to force you to do anything,” he said, maneuvering himself behind you and running his palms up and down your arms.

You mock him, “Is this ok with me? Have you ever seen the two of you? Of course I’m good with this.”

Drew roared with laughter, hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Where should we take this now, (Y/n)?”

“I feel like I’ll explode if I have to wait any longer and frankly, I don’t think you can wait either,” you chided as you ground down against both of their bulges, making them groan.

“Alright, then. So let’s just continue it here.”

Wait, what?

As soon as you opened your mouth, Drew slammed his lips back onto yours, claiming them as his once again. His tongue slipped in-between your lips to entangle itself with your own as Roman began to pepper kisses along the back and down your neck. The Samoan then bit down harshly, pulling a moan from you as he sucked a dark mark into the skin.

Surprisingly, through the feeling of getting drunk off of two Alphas trying to get in your pants, your logistical side kicked in.

Wrenching your lips from the man in front of you, you wondered, “Wait a minute, what if someone sees us?”

“They won’t. We’ll make sure of it.”

Roman’s voice piped up from behind you, his hands moving to your hips and switching their place with the Scot’s. He continued to place love bites on the column of your neck while Drew’s lips left your own and began to trail down your jaw.

Planting a final bite to your bottom lip, he moved down to the side of your neck that Roman hadn’t marked up yet and setting down his own claims on you. Your skin was ablaze with a burning need for something to happen, and you guys had just started.

You wanted them to bite you, mark you. Show the whole world that you had been blessed with two burly Alpha males.

Tilting your head back, you whined and pressed Drew’s head into your skin to voice what you couldn’t say. His chest rumbled with a caged laughter, slightly humbled by your enthusiasm.

“We’ll get to that soon, nighean bheag (baby girl). Just be patient.”

His mouth trailed from down your neck and hit the top of your chest, licking and biting at any patch of skin he could reach. He reached up to cup your breast, fondling it briefly before pulling down your ring top and eyeing your hardened nipple. He sucked it into his mouth and made you tug on his hair, holding his head still while Roman reached into your top to massage the other one.

The two men seemed to work together in a weird way you hadn’t seen before as when Drew finished working on one of your nipples, Roman would move on to pinch and tug at it when he moved to the other. It made your lower belly go warm and made you smile a little.

As he continued to make his way down, Ro made it his effort to keep you entertained up top with him whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Omega,” he murmured before softly placing his lips on yours. “I can smell your needy pussy from up here. But, I’m gonna let him have a taste first.”

You felt your face grow warm and chose to focus your vision on the wall behind Drew, but they both weren’t having that tonight.

A sharp pinch on your thigh through your fishnets brought your attention back to the man who was currently on his knees in front of you. “Ya better not be spacing out on us, leannan. We need you t’ see how ready you are for us.”

His accent was muddy with lust as he gripped the sides of your ring shirts and pulled them down, you toeing them off when they reached your ankles. A ripping sound followed thereafter when he put a large hole in the crotch of your tights to expose the black cotton panties you wore.

“Mmm,” he moaned, pressing his nose in the apex of your thighs and inhaling deeply, “ya smell absolutely divine, lass. We’ve barely touched ya and you’re already drippin’ wet.”

Barely? Um, the various hickies on my neck beg to differ.

You held the catty remark back just as he ran his fingers up and down where your slit was, causing you to buck your hips in his face.

“Roman, if ya wouldn’t mind…?”

He smirked, moving his rough hands to your thighs. “Gladly.”

He held them tight and spread them, hoisting you up to keep them apart. He was strong enough to hold you there - and more than likely enough to do some other things to you - and that made a shiver run down your spine.

A breeze hit your bare lower lips when Drew dragged your panties to the side and stared at your juices shining in the low light.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about. You’re soaked, (Y/n). I wonder if I just…”

The sentence trailed off into nothing as he leaned forward to lick a stripe from the bottom of your lips to the top, spreading them to circle your clit with his thumbs. A loud moan almost left you, but you placed your hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

Roman tutted at you, biting your earlobe and tugging on it. “Oh no you don’t, baby girl. You’re gonna let the entire arena know who’s making you feel this good. So, take that hand from your mouth now.”

Slowly drawing your hand away, you felt Drew blow on your clit and suck it into his mouth, suctioning his lips around the small but. This time, you didn’t try to hide the noise that you let out, your Omega side going crazy at the thought of being pleasured by your true mates.

He moved his fingertips down your labia and went straight for your hole, sliding a thick one in and groaning at your tightness. The vibrations ran from your core up and you tried to wrap your thighs around his head but Roman’s grip prevented you from doing so.

He peeked over your shoulder and groaned at the sight, rutting his hips into your ass. He saw the Scottish Alpha slide two more of his fingers into you and felt you squirm in his hold, the sight making him grow even harder. Shutting his eyes, he bent his head back and banged it against the wall behind him but not before he heard Drew call his name.

“Spread her ass, Roman. I have an idea.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis when you heard that. Even in your arousal fueled daze, you managed to choke out a moan and grind your hips down on the Scot’s fingers.

His brows furrowed, picking his head back up to face you. “This alright with you, (Y/n)?”

Oh Roman, always the protective one, you thought when you nodded, your nerves igniting at the thought.

That was all the approval Drew needed before the man behind you grasped your ass and spread your cheeks, exposing your back hole to his waiting eyes. Gliding his wet fingers from your core and to your ass made you shudder at the sudden emptiness but groan at the newfound wet feeling.

Looking up at you, a soft grin was in place of his usual cocky smirk as he kissed the exposed skin of your thighs and slid his index finger into you.

You were pretty sure that groans you two made that second were ricocheting off the walls at that point with your nails currently biting into the skin of Roman’s arms. One hand flew to the back of Drew’s head when he moved his tongue back to your clit, flicking it in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

The coil in your core grew tighter and tighter with each passing moment and with each finger Drew added to your ass. Three fingers later, you were trembling in Roman’s hold and willing yourself not to cum all over his face. Luckily, he withdrew his fingers just in time to sit back and watch your own slick drip down from your empty cunt and into your gaping ass.

The erotic sight made him squeeze his cock through his ring trunks, releasing a pent up moan from within him. As he rose, the sight of your wrecked form with marks covering your neck and shoulders seemed to have an effect on both men. A silent agreement between the two lead Roman to place you on the ground shakily as they removed their pants to expose their hard members to you.

Drawing your eyes from the floor, they stuck to their cocks, inches on inches of throbbing Alpha that made your legs even more shaky and your core throb with anticipation.

“So, who’s getting where, boys?” you asked, chuckling slightly with how drunk you were on both of them.

Side eyeing each other, they nodded and each grabbed one of your arms, spinning you around so that your front faced Roman and that your back hit Drew’s chest.

“I’m gonna need more of that tight ass of yours, love,” he responded, desire dripping from his tongue. He slapped your ass then, the sound bouncing off the walls and your ears. He snickered when you ground back against him as if to ask for more, but he just lifted you up and wrapped your legs around Roman instead.

“Hey there, small fry.”

The softness that had lingered in his eyes before was soon overtaken by dilated pupils when roman held onto your hips and Drew spread your cheeks to expose your hole. Both men angled themselves against you, causing your lower half to quiver, and they slowly slid into you.

You couldn’t form into words the feeling of being filled at both ends. When Drew popped into your ass, you shut your eyes and stars formed behind your lids. They both began their slow thrusting to get you warmed up, but your whimpers and whines almost made them lose their cool a few times.

“Harder, please, I need it.” Your needy Omega side was starting to come forth, and you bounced on both men as best you could to achieve that feeling.

“To hell with it,” Drew growled, slapping your ass once more before pistoning his hips into yours, beckoning Roman to do the same.

“Yes, yes!” you sobbed as they set a brutal pace, feeling their cocks rub against each other through your wall’s thin tissue. The sound of skin slapping on skin was deafening and you felt your eyes roll into the back of your head when Roman hit your spot dead-on.

Tilting your head back again, you rested it on Drew’s broad shoulder and rocked your hips forward when your Samoan started lapping at your breasts. Sweat began to drip down and off of all of you, none of you caring anymore whether someone heard you fucking or not. You felt their knots start to swell underneath you, causing you to push back harder against them. They both roared at this, each of them going back down to give your neck more hickies.

“We’re not gonna knot ya, (Y/n),” Drew panted, his voice hot and heavy in your ear. “We’ll save that for another time.”

“Yeah, a time when we’re actually in a bed,” Roman added, chuckling at your expression.

You clenched down on both of them and they groaned, holding back their own impending release for when you came. You actually weren’t that far off from them because the coil in your core seemed to snap when they looked at each other, eyes dark and teeth sharp. They looked down at your bite ridden neck and bit down harshly, piercing the skin and marking you.

That’s what did it for you.

When your slick gush onto Roman’s cock in fervish, he spilled his own load inside you as he gripped your already bruise covered hips. Drew was the last to fall over that edge, shooting his hot cum deep inside your ass and revelling in the feeling.

The three of you panted and slumped against each other in a mess of tangled limbs and sweaty bodies. The wall against Roman’s back would’ve been a blessing if he had his shirt off but for now, he’d just enjoy the moment for the time being.

A few seconds had passed of you all being connected when you said, “I don’t think I can walk for the rest of the night.”

Your cheeks were flushed to oblivion, and you felt like you were fucked six ways from Sunday. Still holding you, Roman suggested, “Maybe we should take a breather for a minute. Or five. Or fifty.”

“I like the sound of that,” the Scot agreed, nuzzling your hair and smiling. His accent was still thick but you still managed to hear everything he said.

You mind began to drift off as you felt them lap at the bonding marks they made on you. Even though your entire body ached and you were probably going to waste an entire bottle of concealer to cover up your various bruises, you couldn’t be more happy.

You continued to drink in the mixture of the warm and cool scents around you, letting it fill your lungs and enter your heart. It’s be like this every day with them, hopefully.

Your true mates.

~~Tag List: @writinglionqueen @writing-reigns @i-have-saracasm @yaint-me @calum-hoodwinked-me @missmoxy @gold--gucciempress @melinated-moon-goddess @meishaabae @luciddrreamss @neversatisfiedgirl @the-carter-mob-don @aj-mac21 @crossfitjesusinskinnyjeans @finnsauroraborealis @tacoshu @ladytea19 @candicelerae @sassybrose @bambitaz @lookalivesunshine-x @liamakorn @rosequartz-ext @deepdisireslonging @flawlessglamazon @myorlandobloomersareshowing @thegoblin-maiden @justsimplevicky @taryn-dibiase @caramara3 @hardcorewwetrash~~

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#roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #drew mcintyre x reader #drew mcintyre fanfiction #drew mcintyre fanfic #drew mcintyre smut #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfiction #wwe smut #rezz writes some bullshit #sorry this took so long again lmao ^^;

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stilinski-jpeg · 7 years

Text

Stoned On You

A/N: Hiii. This is a collaboration with me and @minhosmeanhoe . We figured out that we’re the same person with the same dirty mind and this was the outcome. This is the longest and most smut I'm sure either of us has ever written in our lives and I hope you guys love reading as much as we loved writing it ! The song that goes with this fic is Stoned On You by Jaymes Young.

Warnings: smut; smoking (weed), drinking, mentions of violence, hair pulling; I’m sure there is more but idk rn

Word Count: 12,529

My entire mind and body relaxed as I placed the blunt in between my lips and inhaled its deliciously intoxicating fumes, the TV screen playing colorful cartoons in front of Dylan and I. A laugh escaped my throat, along with the excess smoke, thanks to the funny shapes and colors dancing before me at the same time that I passed the joint right back to my best friend. He laughed too, grabbing the joint from me and placing it between his lips where it hung lazily.

Fuck, he looked good. A layer of scruff collected along his jaw and chin, making him look more grown up than the boy I met years ago. His signature Mets cap sat backwards on his head, doing little to hide the bits of hair peeking out of the sides. Dylan and I had been friends for a long time, but it was always when we were a little high or slightly intoxicated that I got that tingling feeling between my thighs. A feeling so unbelievably strong, it would take over all of my thoughts whenever we were together. I couldn’t deny the way I secretly lusted over him, but I knew I wasn’t the only one. I’ve caught Dylan staring at me with dark pupils more than once or biting down on his lips as he gazed at mine.

Why either of us never did anything about it was a mystery. It seemed like it'd be so effortless for us to just cross that line, without that fear of not being able to come back. But I think it was always that fear of losing the friendship or things being weird after that always halted us. Although, that never hindered my mind from going off on its own. Even now as my thoughts started to cloud, all that didn't seem to matter as much. I smiled as he expertly took a swig of his beer while the blunt was still in historic mouth. I wanted to be that bottle or the blunt or both.

As the liquid went down his throat, pushing forward his Adam’s apple for the slightest second, I couldn’t help but watch in complete awe. Dylan could do the simplest of things and it immediately had the capacity to turn me on. My best friend finished taking a swig of the cold beverage and as soon as he took the bottle off of his lips, he replaced it with his tongue to pick up any excess beer. It was just a normal thing any human did, but it still managed to send desire rippling right through my entire body and land straight in my core.

I shifted slightly, trying to shake off some of that desire. I wasn't in the right frame of mind to fight it off. He turned to me, just as sluggish as you'd expect, a worried look on his face.

“Ah shit babe, you cold?”

I know what you're thinking, babe isn't what best friends call each other. But, we weren't your typical best friends. When I met Dylan, I knew we both felt as if there were something else there between us. Call it sexual tension or a connection, but I've never thought that Dylan holding my hand as we walked down the street was anything more than just that. Or sitting on the couch smoking a joint in my underwear with him was out of the norm. It was just how it had alway been. So when one day he started calling me babe, it stuck like any other nickname.

I nodded in reply to his question, even though it was a lie. He lifted his arm for me to snuggle into him and I did, curling my body into him and wrapping my leg around his. This was no help to the pool I was creating in my panties. He lazily rubbed small circles into my skin with his thumb, and I could only imagine him rubbing those same circles into my clit.

A small laugh erupted from his chest as his amber eyes focused on the television screen and I couldn’t even bother taking my eyes off of him to see what he found so amusing. All I cared about was the way he pulled the joint out of his mouth and blew a smoke as he passed it back to me, my eyes lingering on his slim fingers holding it. If only he knew the things I’d let him do to me with those beautiful fingers of his.

Gladly taking it from him, I breathed in one last puff before leaning over to his coffee table and putting it out on the ash tray. Dylan turned to me with a confused expression as to why I just did that, but instead, courage like no other washed over me as I placed my hand on his chin and gently opened his mouth. He watched me with intrigue swimming in his eyes, my lips parting slightly so I could blow the remaining smoke into his mouth. He breathed it in happily with a smirk playing on his face and I knew that if he didn’t lose that smirk soon, I certainly wouldn’t be able to control myself any longer.

I curled back into him trying to fight off the sinful thoughts that were winning the war in my brain. It was a few minutes later that I finally decided I didn't care about the consequences of any of my actions. I'd been holding back this pent up sexual tension for far too long, we both had.

In one smooth movement, I slipped my hand past the waistband of his sweatpants and his boxers. He veered his hips fractionally, but otherwise seemed unfazed. I frowned at him, wondering why I wasn't affecting him more. He blinked slowly, his eyes low and glossed. He was higher than a kite, barely able to register my fingers inching towards his cock. I smirked, I guessed I'd have to try a little harder.

I felt around until the tips of my fingers grazed over his member. It was soft still, unknowing to the pleasure I was about to unleash on it. Wrapping my fingers around it, I began palming him slowly. I kept my eyes on the TV, trying to seem more nonchalant than I felt. He quickly started growing harder in my hand, making me smile. I bit my lip, forcing it back.

He chuckled, his attention now mine again. “Uh, whatcha doin’ babe?”

He wasn't stopping me, he only grew firmer and firmer. I ignored him, picking up my pace and rubbing my hand against him faster. I felt him relax and sink into the couch. Looking up at him, I noticed his bottom lip harshly tugged in between his teeth as he closed his eyes in complete bliss. It was certainly a sight for sore eyes to see the person I consider to be the sexiest man I know coming apart because of me. His hips slightly jerked to create a different type of friction and I gladly followed his guide, wanting him to feel his absolute best.

“Fuck, babe.” Dylan moaned breathlessly and the sound provoked such an intense ache in my core, I had to rub my thighs together to settle it down a bit. “A little tighter, please.”

It was my turn to moan as I heard him beg beneath me, knowing exactly want he wanted and not being afraid to tell me. There’s nothing sexier than a man allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of you and trust you enough to tell you what he genuinely liked.

My hand gripped slightly more around him and the loud growl that he released was more than enough to spark an insatiable fire inside of me. I knew for a fact that I would be willing to do any-fucking-thing this man ever had the desire to do because that’s how much of an effect he already has on the girl currently jerking him off. My thumb slid over his swollen red tip and I whimpered when I felt the liquid gathering over his slit, my tongue immediately craving a taste— no, needing it.

Never faltering my rapid movements on his member, I quickly pulled myself out of his embrace and fell down to the floor in front of him. I watched as he opened his eyes to see what I was doing, only to have them roll to the back of his head once he understood what the next step was. Kneeling in front of him and licking my lips one last time, I leaned forward and replaced my hand with my warm mouth. His pelvis bucking instantly and his hands finding a new home tangled in my hair.

I started at my own leisure, bobbing all the way down until his tip skimmed the back of my throat, before retreating back up again. I flattened my tongue and sucked in my cheeks as I pulled him in and out of my mouth. The sounds stumbling from his lips were heavenly, sending wave after wave of lust crashing down on me. Which only fuelled me to want to pleasure him more.

I made good use of my other hand, cupping his balls skillfully and massaging them. He growled, his nails scraping against my scalp and his hips jolting upwards harshly into my mouth. I looked up at him through watery eyes to find his mouth hanging open while his eyes fluttered between opened and closed. He began thrusting his hips in his own rhythm, pushing my head down against him while he shot himself up into my mouth. I took all of him as best I could, humming when I was able to reach his edge.

“God, why haven't we done this before?” He practically whined.

I struggled to answer his question, humming and mumbling around the cock currently lodged in my throat. I felt the grip on my hair loosen and pulled him out of my mouth.

“It's not like I haven't wanted to before,” I repeated, this time able to form actual words.

He smiled, grabbing me by the chin and lean forward until our lips were so close to one another I could smell the beer that he'd drank one too many of on his breath. “Well, if we're doing things we've always want to do, it's my turn.”

The smile remained as he reached around my waist, grabbing it and pulling me to my feet. Only to plop me back down horizontal on the couch. Thrill rushed through my veins as he slowly grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and lifted it off of my body, already exposing my breasts since I had no bra on. He instantly moaned at the sight before attaching his lips to one of them out of pure instinct. Considering the fact that he was wearing his Mets hat and looked too damn good for it to be taken off, my hands flew to his back instead of his hair as he gently bit down on the skin of my breast. His tongue soon found my perky nipple and had its own form of fun that I completely approved of.

Dylan’s hands dug into my waist and continued to assault one of my breasts before moving to the other one when he was satisfied. Moans fell from my lips at the wonderful feeling on my sensitive body and it made me wonder what else he was capable of. Thankfully though, my mind didn’t have to think long enough because he was already making his way down my chest and stomach (which were now infested with butterflies). Once he reached my belly button, Dylan dipped his tongue inside just to tease me at the same time that his hand moved over to my panties and gently slid his finger over me.

“Fuck, you’re unbelievably wet.” He groaned, his cock growing hard against my thigh. “And so damn warm.”

Before I even knew what was happening, Dylan completely tore himself apart from me and my body whined at the loss of heat within our contact. I looked up at him with concerned eyes thinking maybe he regret his lustful decisions and wanted to stop this, but instead he just grabbed his beer off of the coffee table and took a sip as he smirked at me.

“Seriously?” I whined, staring at him. “Come back.”

Dylan didn’t say anything, he simply leaned back down to me with the beer bottle still in his hand. His face hovered over mine, our lips inches apart before he suddenly placed the icy cold bottle over my covered core. I gasped immediately at the unexpected contrast of hot and cold on my body and Dylan chuckled over me. He had this smug look planted on his face and I wanted to be annoyed at him, but I couldn’t. The strange feeling in my heat actually felt oddly good as he slowly began to rub the bottle up and down. The cold condensed water from the bottle transferred through the flimsy fabric of my panties and soon enough touched my actual core, moans now coming out of me uncontrollably. It wasn’t something I’d ever thought of doing, but I was certainly glad someone as clever as Dylan had.

He pulled the beer away, sitting up again and taking one last swig of his drink. He let the liquid fill his mouth and he kept it there as he returned the bottle back to the coffee table. I watched as he scooted himself down the couch and hovered over my most private place. He glanced up at me, a mischievous look in his eyes, before he let a stream of beer flow out of his mouth and onto my panties, soaking them further.

I gasped, my back arching as I felt the beverage seep through to my core. His fingers hooked into the sides of my panties, his lips traveled upwards to right above my waistline pouring the rest of the liquid out there. He pulled my panties down slowly, his tongue trailing after them lapping up every bit of beer from my skin. It was cold from the drink along with the drink itself and I didn't know how to control the insane amount of gasps and moans coming out me. I always assumed Dylan was a kinky dude in bed, but to have it confirmed right in front of me is on a whole other level.

The soaking wet panties were tugged off of my legs and thrown on top of the coffee table as his hands gripped onto my thighs, spreading them apart. He placed lingering kisses on the inside of one which made goosebumps find a new home on the surface of my skin. Just as he was about to kiss my core, Dylan hovered over it and moved to my other thigh. I groaned in impatience and could feel his lips smirk against my body.

“Please.” I begged breathlessly.

“What do you want me to do?” He teased, knowing very well what it was I needed from him.

“Dylan, please.” I repeated.

“Babe, just tell me.” He whispered, his breath heating up my previously cold core. “Do you want my mouth or my fingers?”

“Y-Your mouth.” I panted. “I want your mouth on my cunt, sucking me until I’m cumming hard against your tongue.”

“As you wish, babygirl.”

Before I even had the chance to swoon at the nickname (the second he has given me tonight alone), Dylan flattened out his tongue and licked up my core. He moved past my folds and moaned as he tasted my juices.

His tongue worked me over deliciously, alternating between flicking over my clit and sucking on it until I cried out. I didn't think it could get much better, the way his rough tongue assaulted my core was already threatening to send me over the edge. That's when I felt his long dexterous finger slide inside of me and I was a moaning mess. It pumped exquisitely in and out, the pads of his fingers stroking in time with the tongue.

“Dylan…” I whined, unable to even complete the sentence I'd only half thought out.

I was sidetracked by the second finger that was inserted into my pussy. My whole body shook from the new found pleasure. He'd changed up the positioning of his fingers so they were now curled upward, caressing my g-spot so mind-blowingly that I knew I wouldn't be able to hold back much longer.

I tightened my walls around his fingers, trying my hardest to hold out on him. But in response he hummed into my cunt, sending a tidal wave down on me. I came, hard. My moans animalistic in nature, not evening caring if the neighbors complained. I squeezed my eyes shut, my mind spinning and my body volting.

I was so lost in my own world of pleasure that I only came back to the real one when I felt Dylan remove his fingers from my body and I hissed from him no longer being near me. My eyes opened in response and they immediately came into contact with his as he stood and slowly ripped his shirt off. I knew we weren’t going to stop here considering both of us had intense lust pooling in our pupils, but also from the way his erection was back up and ready for more. The sexual tension was swimming in the air as Dylan sat back down on the couch and lifted his finger, indicating he wanted me to stand.

I followed his actions without second thought before he rubbed his bare thighs with a raised eyebrow and I didn’t need any more explanation to know he wanted me on his lap. I gladly walked over to him and placed one knee on each side of his legs as I grabbed his member, Dylan biting down on his lip at the contact, and slowly pumped. Just as he placed his hands on my waist, I lowered myself down on him and allowed him to enter me until I sat down completely. Both of us immediately moaned at the feeling of our bodies connecting as one for the first time, something we realize we should’ve done a long time ago.

He was a thick man, there was no denying it. And there was also no denying that I really liked it. He stretched my walls deliciously, in a way no other guy ever could and I knew that I would be cumming in no time because of it. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I pulled myself back up and we both grunted out loud the second I slammed back down.

I let my head fall back as I continued this motion, hard and slow. My breast bouncing with each time I landed on his cock. He groaned loudly, his eyes fixed on me as I rode him and let myself get caught up in the way he filled me. As I lifted myself up again, attempting to come back down, his grip on my hips tightened. I was halted in my venture and I lifted my head up to look at him. Our eyes met, the lust so dark it seemed to burn into something deeper. I waited, almost impatiently, to see what he'd do next. What else could he do to get me going?

That when I felt his hips shoot up to meet mine. I moaned, squeezing his shoulders so hard that my nails were making indents in his skin. He held me in place, while he thrusted his hips up into me over and over again. Biting my lip to contain my screams, I didn't last long. Soon enough I was yelling out profanities as his speed picked up.

“God, you feel so fucking good. I could fuck you all night.” He growled, watching me as I started to come undone.

It was his mouth latching onto one of my breasts that really did me in. I barely had time to give him a warning as my walls closed in around his dick, slowing his pace but not by much. He loosened his hold on my hips, allowing me to ride out my own climax.

“Fuck, Dylan.” I cried, dropping down on him only a few more times before my legs began to shake. “I didn't know you had that in you.”

“Trust me, babygirl, I have a lot more in me.”

His words had an excitement running through me instantly. Neither of us moved until our breathing evened out. I rested my forehead on his, closing my eyes, my body weakening from all the wear. His warm breath fanned across my face, making more aware of the thin layer of sweat that coated both of our bodies.

When I opened my eyes again, he was looking at me. His eyes studying every inch of my face, trying to assess if I was doing alright. I gave him a smile to reassure him. When he smiled back, it was the mischievous smile I knew only brought trouble. He slipped out from under, sending me into the couch. I giggled, curiously wondering what he was up to next.

I felt him before I heard him, his hands wrapping around my front and pulling my back to his front. His hands cupping my breasts and kneading them carnally, a low growl erupting from his chest. I have no idea how, but he lifted the both of us up with my back still pressed against his warm chest before he forced me to kneel on the sofa. I had only begun to put together what he was planning when he placed his hand on my back and pushed me down until I was leaning on the head rest, my ass up in the air for him as my chest pressed against the back of the couch. Dylan’s hands slid to the inner of my thighs and nudged them for me to part them.

“Do you want me to go soft or go hard?” Dylan asked, his hand squeezing my thighs before settling on my waist as he positioned himself at my entrance.

“Really fucking hard.”

“Who would’ve known my best friend was such a dirty girl?” He teased, chuckling.

“Dirty and impatient.” I answered, backing my ass up so he could re-enter me already.

“Just how I fucking like it.” He smirked.

Dylan, suddenly, slammed into me hard and fast, making it impossible to keep from screaming out in pleasure. He didn’t even wait before already starting a quick pace. My chest continued to hit against the back of the couch as he pounded into me mercilessly, occasionally squeezing my waist with his calloused hands.

“Holy shit, Dylan.” I moaned loudly, my breathing becoming erratic and unstable.

“I know, babe. Fuck!” He shouted, Dylan’s balls slamming against my ass in the most delicious way.

It’s not exactly an everyday thing to come over to your best friend’s house one Friday afternoon to watch a movie and eat out, only to have him eat you out then fuck you like there’s no tomorrow in such a fast and dirty way. This wasn’t love nor wasn about feelings in any way. No, it was purely two consensual adults giving into their carnal and physical desires.

I could feel my arousal wetting down my thighs from how turned on I was as he now used his hands to back me towards him at the same time that he thrusted forward. The sounds our bodies make together—the wet, sticky, smacking and slapping noises—normally would’ve made me blush, but not with Dylan. With him, all of those sounds were fucking hot and they just drove us even further.

Because I was already so sensitive from just having two orgasms in a row, I could feel my body begin to tighten up again in preparation for a third one. The room was hot and sweat rolled down my forehead as the smell of sex filled the air, one that I could certainly get used to.

“Fuck, you have impressive stamina.” I managed to say through the moan that was strangled in my throat.

“I know.” Dylan chuckled, increasing his speed which I didn’t even think was possible. “It’s a gift really.”

“One that I’d like to explore some more ” I answered. “But, right now I really want to feel you cum inside of me. Please?”

“Of course, babygirl.” Dylan responded, reaching a hand around my lower belly and pressing hard on it to push me back with unbelievable strength in sync with his thrusts. It makes my entire cunt clench around him and it feels so fucking good that we’re both cumming in seconds.

A couple of minutes later, we were back in our original position, clothes returning to bodies and a new blunt lit as it passed back and forth between us. Neither of us had spoken since I'd return from cleaning myself up in the bathroom. My stomach turned with the familiar twist of fear as I contemplated whether my worst fears had been realized. I made several attempts to strike up a conversation, but all failed.

“Did we just fuck?” His voice startling me. I looked over at him with a smile, his eyes glossy and unsure.

“I thought I was a better fuck than that! You can't even remember?” I giggled, slapping him lightly on the arm.

“Oh, I remember. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t hallucinate the whole thing.” The smiled he lent me made my whole body light up.

“Don’t worry, you didn't.” I reassured him, Dylan biting down on his bottom lip. “You definitely just had your cock buried inside of me just moments ago.”

“Damn.” He said in awe and I laughed at his high state.

He stretched his hand out for me to pass him the joint I just smoked and I gladly did. Silence descended upon us again, but it wasn't awkward like the first time. It was calm and comfortable, the both of us coming to terms with the dirty things we just did together. Watching carefully as he pulled in smoke from the blunt in between his lips, my body already craving them again.

“Hey, babe.” Dylan called, my thoughts disappearing with his words.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Can we fuck again?”

A smirk immediately invaded my lips as he turned towards me with mischief sparkling in his dark pupils. My hands flew to the joint in his mouth before pulling it away and putting it out on the ash tray.

“I thought you'd never ask.” I teased, already tugging at my shirt and tearing it off.

The bar was crowded tonight. Dylan and I sat at our usual table, him drinking a beer and I a vodka tonic. Nothing had happened since our high night of fucking, but that didn't mean that the sexual tension was any less thick. I know he felt it too, yet, neither of us acknowledged it was there.

We were just people watching now, the dancers grinding and the drunks extra drunk. I laughed as a beefy man fell out of his chair, crumpling to the ground. I tapped Dylan's arm, trying to veer his attention to the drunken man but he didn't budge. I glanced at him only to find him staring straight ahead, his body tense and his jaw visibly clenched.

“Dylan?” I frowned, looking out into the crowd to see what he saw but came up with nothing. “What's wrong?”

Without wavering on his stance, he nodded pointedly at a guy sitting with his friend at a table. He was attractive, very attractive actually and, if I wasn't mistaken, he was eye fucking the shit out of me. His line of sight traveled down to the parts of my body he could see, paying extra attention to my cleavage. I blushed, playing with the condensation on my glass to keep me from looking at the cute guy. It didn't work, because a few seconds later I was looking at him again.

I heard Dylan clear his throat far more times than could be considered normal, but I brushed it off. Watching as the cute guy sat back in chair, his teeth sliding over his bottom lip seductively. I tucked my hair behind my ear, smiling. I felt something warm, against my thigh and glanced down to see Dylan's hand resting there. The gesture was undecipherable with my head swimming with thoughts of my new friend a few tables down. Our eye contact was strong, my body rushing with adrenaline as I dreamed of all the ways he could use those perfect hands of his.

“I'm gonna run to the restroom,” I told Dylan without ever looking at him. My only thought right then was perking up my tits and making sure my makeup looked good for this cute guy.

His eyes never left mine and mine never left his as I slowly stood up, Dylan’s hand sliding off my thigh. I tried to hold back my smile at the same time that I turned towards the direction of the bathroom and headed for it, my hips swaying for the eyes I knew were staring at me.

Once I reached the inside of the ladies room, I immediately went to work. Pulling my tight blouse down to expose more of my swollen chest, thankful for the amazing push-up bra I’d decided to wear last minute, followed by pushing my skirt up to show off my toned thighs. Digging into my pocket, I grabbed my red lipstick and mascara. I applied both of them with skilfully and took a satisfied look in the mirror.

With confidence flowing through my body, I walked back to my table noticing an extra drink sitting with the others. Dylan’s eyes widened at me as I came into his sight and I smiled at him, returning to my seat beside him. He scanned my entire body and I could see his tongue peek out of his lips to lick them, making me feel even sexier. I reached my hand to grab the drink that was on the table and lifted it to him.

“Thanks for the drink, Dylan.” I smiled, taking a sip of the fruity, but laced with vodka, beverage.

“What?!” Dylan exclaimed, snapping out of his trance on my body to flicker his attention on the glass in my hands. “I-I didn't order you a drink.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused, as I put it back down on the table. “Who else could have...?”

An invisible light bulb had clicked over the both of our heads as Dylan and I shared wide-eyed glances before quickly turned our heads to the cute guy. He was already staring at us, well me, with a smug smirk plaguing his face. I felt the blush painting my cheeks as he raised his bottle of beer to me, my fingers instinctively pushing loose hair behind my ear. Just when I thought I couldn't be more nervous, the handsome stranger stood from his seat and began approaching our table.

“Oh, my God.” I freaked out, giddily turning to Dylan. “Quick, how do I look?”

My best friend gave me a once over with his eyes and then looked over at the nearing man with an indescribable emotion pooling inside of his now dark pupils. “Great.”

He said it as if he was referring to the arrival of the guy more than answering my question. Before I could respond or ask him why he was suddenly acting so weird, the guy who bought me the drink had finally reached our table and stood in front of me with a sexy smile on his face. Seeing him this close made me realize he was much more beautiful than I initially thought.

“Mind if I take a seat?” He asked, voice low and gruffly.

“Actually we do-” Dylan started, but I cut him off with a pointed look.

“We DO NOT mind at all.” I smiled patting the chair next to me.

He took the seat graciously, plopping down and scooting closer to me as he wrapped his arm around the back of my chair. His hair was an ashy brown colour that made his blue eyes sparkle. This guy was handsome and I wanted to feel those handsome hands all over my body. I smiled at him, turning slightly to face him better.

“So, what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?” I asked, biting down on my lip softly.

He chuckled, taking a sip of his beer before answering. “Looking for a girl like you.”

I giggled, tucking the fallen hair from my face behind my ear. I heard a scoff behind me and glanced over my shoulder just in time to see Dylan rolling his eyes. I frowned at him, praying this guy hadn't noticed.

“By the way,” I felt the cute stranger's lips skating lightly over my ear, making goosebumps erupt all over my skin. “That lipstick is a nice touch, makes your lips look so beautifully plump.”

Another round of giggles erupted from my mouth as a huge smile grew across my lips. But, both were halted by another pair of lips next to my other ear.

“My cock made your lips pretty plump too.” I swallowed thickly at my best friend's words, remembering the recent encounter I had with his cock. I could feel my cheeks flushing and I hissed at Dylan to stop it.

“God, you're gorgeous when you blush.” The cute guy hummed, turning my head to face him by my chin. I melted at his touch, hypnotised by it.

“You flushed just like that when I was pounding into you, too.”

The first thing that came to my mind, other than the flashing images of Dylan moaning and grunting as he fucked me hard against his couch, was the need to shut my best friend up. I didn’t understand why he was suddenly bringing back those events considering we haven’t even talked about them since it happened. It made me mad that he chose to right when I was flirting with another guy. It didn’t make any sense. Why now? Why not when we were alone and had all the time in the world to talk?

“So, did you like the drink?” The stranger asked and I nodded, not trusting my voice quite yet. “Oh, good. It’s one of my favorites because of how damn sweet it tastes.”

I knew it was coming, but I didn’t have enough strength to push him away as Dylan whispered into my ear yet again. His warm breath fanning across my skin and making goosebumps completely cover its surface.

“I can think of something else that tastes really fucking sweet.” He huffed and it took everything I had not to moan right then and there.

“By the way, what’s your name beautiful?” The man asked and I pressed my thighs together to settle the growing ache in them.

“The same one I kept moaning over and over again. The same one that rolled off my tongue as hers worked around my cock. The same one that-”

“Would you like to get me a bottle of water, Dyl?” I asked suddenly, interrupting whatever sentence he had put together to keep me from doing something I’d regret.

“Water?” He teased, his eyebrows quirking as he smirked. “Why? Are you thirsty?”

“Here.” I chose to ignore him, but my body certainly didn’t as it shuddered immediately, and reach for my purse to give him the necessary cash.

“No, no.” The cute guy extended his hand to stop me as he shook his head with a smile. “It’s on me, please.”

“Thank you.” I smiled back at him and let him hand Dylan a few bills to buy me water, my best friend scowling in reaction.

“Excuse me.” He spoke politely before he left without taking the money, his tone completely flooded with venom.

I watched as he left the table without another word, his back towards us and it didn’t feel right. My stomach flipped at the sight of him walking away and I desperately wanted my best friend back here, no longer as interested in the cute stranger as I was before. But, he didn’t seem to notice because he was already turning back to me and starting another conversation. It took every bit of strength I had to tear my eyes away from Dylan and look back at him. His eyes were kind and his lips held a soft smile so I did what I could to imitate them.

“So, that guy over there…” He started, pointing to the place where Dylan was standing before he left. “Is he your brother or something?”

“Uh, no.” I cleared my throat. “He’s my best friend actually.”

“Ah, no wonder he’s so angry. ” He nodded, taking a sip of his beer.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Well, I’d be too.” He shrugged. “If I was constantly around a gorgeous woman like you and not allowed to actually touch her.”

With that, the stranger placed his calloused hand on my bare thigh and I slightly jumped. It was warm, but nothing compared to the warmth Dylan’s hand gave off. I looked down at it for a second before gazing back up into his eyes, only to notice they weren’t as soft as before. Now holding so much intensity in them that I didn’t know whether or not I should be turned on or intimidated.

However, the thing about his words was that they were so incredibly wrong. Dylan has touched me and, God, I wanted him to do it again. Because he was lingering in my thoughts, I subconsciously flickered my eyes away from the person currently talking to me to scan them across the room in search of Dylan. The first place I looked at was the bar, assuming he would be there purchasing my water, but he wasn’t. Curiosity seeped into my mind as I continued searching when I, suddenly, found him.

He wasn’t getting me my water like I assumed he would be. He wasn’t walking around just enjoying the music as he waited for me to finish talking to someone new. He wasn’t sitting at the bar watching the baseball game on the TV screen. No, Dylan wasn’t doing any of those things I’d normally expect him to do. Instead, he was on the dance floor grossly grinding up against an unknown girl with his eyes boring directly into mine… and the sight made my stomach drop.

I'm not sure what my face looked like, but I could only imagine it was exactly the reaction he was hoping for. The wicked smile that stretched across his face was challenging. He dipped his head into the crook of the random girl's neck as I watch him, sliding his hand down her front. I wasn't sure if the heat that filled my face was from anger or embarrassment. He was completely doing this on purpose and did little to hide that.

I was seething as I turned back to the random guy, who I think at some point said his name was Ben. I scooted in closer to him, until our chairs were virtually touching, and crossed my arm under my chest pushing up my breasts. Ben took notice immediately, stammering mid sentence before making several attempts in continuing on, all the while his eyes glued to them. I laughed suddenly, not sure if what he said was even funny, placing my hand on his arm and stroking it lightly.

Ben gave me a look, but shrugged it off before yet again continuing on about himself. Stealthily, I glanced over at Dylan who'd already upped the ante by grabbing the girl by the waist and pressing her against him as he gyrated his hips into her. The girl wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling his head down towards her. Somehow that sly asshole was able to maintain pristine eye contact with me. Not forgetting to add an infamous cheeky smile.

I'd had it at that point. He was playing a deadly game that I refused to lose. I returned my focus back onto Ben, who impressively had not stop talking about himself, and grabbed a handful of his shirt. There was only one way to win this war and if Dylan wanted to play dirty, so be it. Without warning, I pulled Ben forward until our lips met; my eyes trained on Dylan's. His face had fallen from the cocky smirk to a dumbfounded expression. He'd all but stopped dancing with the girl to watch as I opened my mouth slightly allowing this random guy to slip his tongue into my mouth.

I barely registered Ben’s lack of skill as I watched Dylan's face turn a deep red, anger practically expelling from his ears. I smirked into my kiss, knowing that I had won. I took my eyes off Dylan for the first time in several minutes and back to Ben who was now trying to guide his hand up into my exposed cleavage. I allowed him to creep up my body, his other hand wrapping itself around my lower back and pushing me closer into him. I threw my arms around his neck to spite Dylan even further even though my victory was already established. Just as Ben was about to touch me over my shirt, he was suddenly and completely ripped away from my body.

With shock coursing through me, I looked up to see a fuming Dylan with his hand tight on the back of Ben’s shirt before tearing him out of the chair and tossing him to the floor. The stranger immediately groaned as a complaint, but Dylan's full attention was on me. My eyes were wide as they noticed his extremely dark and furious ones. The rage coming off of him was so strong, I felt nervous around him for the first time.

“What the fuck, man?!” Ben, suddenly, shouted. Quickly standing up from the floor and just as angry as Dylan. “What the hell do you think you're doing?!”

“I think I’m taking my girl back and leaving.” He simply answered, not bothering to even look at Ben.

“Your girl?” He scoffed. “The same one that was just shoving her tongue down my throat a few seconds ago?”

“Actually, you were the one that put the tongue in our kiss.” I pointed out, lifting my finger to wipe off the smudged lipstick on my face.

“No.” Dylan spoke up, responding Ben’s question and ignoring my comment. “The same girl that was shoving her bare ass in the air for me to fuck.”

If adrenaline wasn't already coursing through my veins, it certainly was now. My best friend extended his hand to me and I slipped mine into his, letting him pull me out of the chair. Ben’s tension-filled glare was staring the both of us down but being the polite woman I was, I slowly turned to him with a forced smile.

“Thank you for the drink.” I stated, feeling Dylan take his hand out of mine to wrap his arm around my waist in a protective manner. “I really appreciate it. It was nice meeting you.”

“W-Wait, what?” Ben shook his head in disbelief. “You’re leaving with him?! Baby, you’re really making the wrong choice here. I know I can treat you better than he can.”

“Goodbye, Ben.” I replied, noticing Dylan’s hand grip tighter into my waist.

“No, no goodbyes.” He refused, taking a step towards us and Dylan growling lowly. “Come back to my place with me. I can fuck you better than he can. I mean, look at him with that stupid baseball hat! He’s a Met’s fan! He’s just meant to be pathetic.”

“You little-” Dylan started to fight, but I simply placed a hand on his chest to stop his actions.

“Dyl, can you give me your wallet?” I asked, never taking my challenging eyes off of Ben.

Without saying anything, but as confused as ever, Dylan reached into the back pocket of his khakis and took out his wallet. Once I had it in my hands, I opened it up and grabbed the condom every guy always keeps just in case.

“Here.” I handed Ben the condom and his eyes raised in suspicion.

“Are you giving this for me to use on you?” He teased and I didn't even try to hide the laugh erupting from my chest.

“Absolutely not, it’s for you to put on your head. Since you're acting like such a dick, you might as well start dressing like one.”

And with that, I pulled a snickering Dylan out of the bar as we left a very shocked and angry Ben long behind.

The car ride back to Dylan's place was filled with unknown silence. The unknown part being I didn't know where his head was at. Dylan seemed in light spirits when we left the bar but now that we had this extended drive, the tension crept in like toxic gas. Although, I could have been imagining that. The occasional glances that I stole at him did little to calm my nerves. His expression was hard in nature, but not necessarily angry. But there was no real way of telling.

We stomped our way up the landings, reaching his floor and turning into his doorway. He jingled his keys around finding his house key, before pushing it into the lock and turning. The deadbolt made a loud clicking noise and he pushed opened the door, letting it swing open. He didn't move, gesturing with his arm for me to go in first. His face was still emotionless as I passed him and he barely even looked at me.

This was a different side of my best friend I hadn't seen before. I'd seen Dylan be many things before: mad, upset, anxiety ridden, but this was new territory for me and I didn't know what to think— let alone react. I tried to prepare myself for anything so when I heard the door close behind me, I tensed up waiting for whatever was coming.

I couldn't even find the courage in me to turn around and look at him as I felt Dylan take agonizingly slow steps towards me. The entire living room was silent apart from my heavy breathing that I didn't even know was occurring until this exact moment. Goosebumps rose on my skin and my entire body shivered the second Dylan's slim fingers lightly slid up my arm, leaving sparks in its wake. His own body pressed against mine, butterflies violently flying around in my stomach when he pushed my hair behind my neck and leaned his mouth towards my ear. His tempting lips brushing against it.

“Babe,” He began, his warm breath sending shivers on my neck. “Did you really think getting me jealous was a good idea?”

I nodded, not really knowing if the question was rhetorical but answering anyway. I couldn't help biting down on my lip when Dylan gently placed his on my skin and puckered it with a lingering kiss. I could feel the prickling of his light stubble on me and it felt insanely good.

“Hmm, well you shouldn't have.” He hummed, planting kisses on my neck in between sentences. “Do you want to know why?”

I nodded again and was surprised Dylan allowed me to answer a question like that for the second time in a row without forcing me to verbally respond.

“Because you’re seriously gonna regret it.” He stated, abruptly turning me around and shoving me up against the nearest wall. A few picture frames of his family that were hung up instantly fell down.

Lust immediately crashed down on me as I stared into his dark dilated pupils. Even though he was the one who started our little jealousy war, my curiosity was spiked in seeing Dylan's dominant side. The need to correct him was dimmed by my need to see what he was truly capable of. I allowed him to grab my wrists with one hand, lifting them over my head and pressing them flat against the wall. His hands were rough, squeezing tight on my wrists and I could only imagine the bruises I would have in the morning. But, there wasn't a single bone in my body that actually cared.

“You see these beautiful tits right here?” Dylan questioned, trailing his free hand up my stomach until it reached my breasts and squeezing one of them. “They’re both mine.”

I whimpered at his touch, but he just continued without acknowledging it. He moved his hand back down towards my core, pushing past the waistband of both my skirt and the elastic of my panties.

“You see this delicious pussy?” He asked, swiping his fingers along my folds, pulling a moan from my mouth. My panties getting increasingly more wet by the second. He swirled his digits over my clit, collecting some of my juices before pulling his hand back out of my bottoms. He slipped his finger into his mouth, savouring me with a content hum. “Also mine.”

“But, most importantly.” He growled, taking his finger out of his mouth. “These beautiful, plump lips of yours?” He leaned in close to me, his eyes flashing from my lips then back up again. He grabbed a hold of my chin, slowly caressed the bottom of my lip with his thumb. “No one will ever touch them because these lips belong to me.”

His lips crashed down on mine, hard and rough. My own lips maneuvered with his, as I struggled to move underneath his grip on my hands. I wanted desperately to touch him, to pull as close as our bodies would allow. Dylan and I were kissing, I was kissing my best friend. My head kept screaming that it was wrong, that I should stop. But his tongue made me delirious, lulling me softly into an electrifying bliss that I prayed never stopped.

He began kissing along my jaw and down my neck, pulling a deep ache from within my core. His mouth was delectable, smoothing over my skin.

“Let me touch you.” I panted breathlessly, attempting again to move my hands.

Dylan chuckled, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Not a chance.”

He ran his tongue down my neck, before blowing softly down the wet line he'd just made. I shivered, a small whimper almost leaving my lips before I stopped myself. Dylan moved his head to look at me, raising his brows with a slight smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. I drew one back at him challengingly, knowing the sounds I made are what Dylan craved most. From our last intimate encounter, he seemed to thrive off them; sometimes fucking me harder or moving his irresistible tongue faster to force more out of me.

He went back to work on my neck, this time nibbling on the skin there. I squeezed my eyes tight, trying to repel the spell that he was slowly putting on me. The nibbling quickly turned to sucking and there's nothing I wanted more in that moment than to cry out. His teeth sinking into me, left my thighs soaked from my own juices. I tried rubbing them together to settle the ache in between them, but Dylan suddenly shoved his leg in the middle and purposely kept them apart.

“I’m gonna need you to moan if you want any relief.” Dylan teased with another chuckle and I desperately wanted to yell at him. But, at the same time, I wanted to see just how far my best friend could go.

“I’m gonna need you to give me relief if you want any moans.” I challenged right back and he stopped biting to look me straight in the face with an impressed expression.

“What was that?” He questioned, giving me the chance to take back my retort.

“Simple.” I shrugged, choosing to keep my disobedience. “I’m gonna need you to touch me already, Dyl.”

“Oh, so you think you’re the one in charge here?” Dylan confronted, forcefully pushing his body closer to me. “I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”

“And who am I talking to?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes playfully.

“The man who’s about to fuck you so hard and so rough, you’re going to be a shaking and crying mess begging me to stop in no time. But, guess what princess?” He questioned, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke. “I won’t stop until I’m satisfied.”

Before I could even protest or realize that I secretly loved his seductive threats, Dylan abruptly turned my body around and forced me back into the wall. He released his grip on my wrists but not without warning me to avoid removing its position unless I wanted to be punished and, as tempting as it sounded, I decided I’d follow his demands. My best friend’s hands raced down my arms and hips prior to landing on my short skirt and tearing it down my legs. The material pooled at my feet and he allowed me to kick them off before suddenly squeezing my ass with his rough hands. I tried to hold back my whimper, but failed when a small sound escaped my throat and Dylan chuckled darkly.

“Having a hard time hiding there?” He teased into my ear.

“Fuck. You.” I grunted, nudging him backwards by pushing out my ass slightly.

He chuckled, pushing himself against me before placing his hands on my hips. He rubbed them enticingly, as he slipped them down my front and brushed his hands over my panties. I shivered, it was becoming increasingly harder to not just let the impure sounds I was holding back out. I felt his stubble raking along my shoulder before his lips pressed against me. My whole body was brightened by his touch, but it was set on fire by his finger pressing into my panties against my clit.

I could feel my whole body shaking as my nail dug into the wall. I gasped, swallowing it immediately. Dylan smiled against my skin, knowing he’s winning. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, promising myself I wouldn’t make another noise again. I could resist him, I could win this.

“Oh baby, you're so wet.” His warm breath washing over me as he spoke.

I couldn't even respond, his fingers already circling around my clad bundle of nerves. My breathing was picking up, my eyes shut tight, and my will slowly dissipating. The whines and mewls I was forcing back were fighting their way out and I didn't have the will to stop them. This proved even more true when Dylan threw caution to the wind, snaking his hands inside my panties and making complete unrestricted contact with my clit. I cried out instantly and it honestly felt so good.

“That's my girl.” He growled, working his fingers quicker than before.

I relented as a fire began licking in my belly. His mouth moved along my neck and onto my shoulder going back and forth while his finger flicked vigorously at my clit. I let every vulgar moan I’d been holding back out, not caring who heard. And Dylan would sometimes moan himself in reaction to mine and the hums from his voice would vibrate throughout my entire body, only waking the fire even further.

I opened my legs more for him and he took the new angle as an opportunity to push a slim finger into my entrance, his thumb taking over the tempting position on my clit. My cheek was flat against the wall and I allowed Dylan to give me all of the pleasure he damn pleased. His other hand moved up to my blouse and ripped it apart completely, my mind too focused on the delicious movements of his pumping finger to really care.

“Lower your hands to your sides.” Dylan commanded, his voice raspy.

I did exactly as he instructed and bit down on my lip when he took off my shirt than unclasped my bra, allowing it to slip down my arms. There was always something extremely sexy and exciting about being entirely vulnerable with someone as you stand in front of them completely naked and this time was no different. Dylan’s free hand was already squeezing and kneading my breast as the other increased its finger’s pace inside of me. He returned his kisses on my heated and tingling neck, the different sources of pleasure overwhelming me. I was well aware I wouldn’t be lasting very long before falling off the edge for the first time in long time with Dylan and it made me think about our last encounter. If Dylan was able to make me cum three times without even really trying last time, I wonder how many orgasms he’ll be giving me this time. His words from earlier suddenly hit me and repeatedly rung in my ears, my body not knowing if it should be concerned or ready for him.

I won’t stop until I’m satisfied.

At that exact moment, Dylan added another finger into my cunt and the second he pressed his tips against my tight walls, I was a lost woman. Every single joint in my body stiffened but he didn’t dare stop his assaults there, only making my orgasm even more powerful. The throaty moan that fell from my dry throat was precisely what Dylan lusted to hear this entire time as a river of pleasure within a strong fire flooded every single cell, tissue, vein, and surface of skin throughout my body. To come back down from my first high of the night was an actual bummer since I already craved more, but by the insatiable look on Dylan’s face seen from the corner of my eye— I could tell many more would soon be coming.

He pulled his hand out of me, setting each one of his fingers in his mouth and sucking every last drop of cum on them. I almost came again at the sight, his mouth was so fucking beautiful and all I wanted was it calling out my name. Completely out of breath, I turned around to face him. He had just finished pulling the second finger out of his mouth and smirked at me. I squeezed my thighs together to settle the ache that was forming there once again. Dylan's eyes roamed over my naked body, following every curve of me.

Normally I would have been self conscious, but I was doing the same thing. My eyes traveled over his clothed body, recalling from memory what it looked like underneath all that material. When I got to his belt, my mouth went dry. I instantly recalled vividly his length and what he felt like in mouth. I bit down hard on my lip, containing the whimper I almost let out. I wanted to taste him again. I wanted that bitter salty taste of his precum on my tongue.

I was lowering myself to my knees before I realized what I was doing. I felt his eyes on me, watching as I unlooped his belt out of the buckle and began unbuttoning his khakis. He sighed, when I pulled down his zipper. His cock being freed just a little from its confinements. I sunk my fingers into his pants and pulled them off of his hips until they pooled at his feet, his belt clanking against the hardwood floor. I looked up at him before touching his boxers, his eyes were dark and his mouth was in a perfect O shape. I flashed him a small smile, before pulling down his boxers too.

He growled as my smooth hands ran lightly along his dick, down to his balls and back. He felt so good in my hands, stiff and long, making my core wetter. He didn't rush me, even though I knew he was as eager as I was to have him in my mouth. I wrapped my hand around his shaft, slowly stroking him. Another luscious sigh tumbled from his mouth as I began my torturous motion on him. He held his shirt up with one hand, while the other found its way into my hair. He pulled lightly on my roots as I smoothed my finger over his slit where some precum had accumulated.

“Let me feel that throat already.” He almost whined.

I smiled as I opened and guided him into my mouth. His grip on my hair tightened as he groaned a beautiful noise. I closed my mouth around him and hollowed my cheeks, rewarded with another one. Neither sound compared to the one he let out when I began moving. It produced goosebumps all along my naked body, his eyes screwed shut and his teeth clamped down on his bottom lip. It wasn't long before I felt him moving to his own rhythm into my mouth and I let him take over, grabbing onto his thighs for balance.

He guided my head as his hips thrusted forward into my mouth. He was going deep, tapping further and further into my throat as he went. The few times I gagged around him, he let out the most carnal moan anyone could ever make. I hummed every time I heard him swear, the profanities only further confirming my suspicions, he may be fucking my mouth but I was fucking him up. It was seconds later that I felt his cock twitch and I knew he was close. Too close apparently, because right after that he pulled out, breathing heavily. His hands were still in my hair, holding me away from him as he stared down at me with lustful eyes.

“Oh, no you fucking don’t.” He said, his voice gravelly in nature. “I'm in fucking control.”

He kicked off his khakis and boxers and in one swift motion scooped me up, throwing me over his shoulder. I squealed with laughter as he walked me across the room until we reached the couch and he set me down on the back of it. I balanced my ass on the edge as Dylan leaned in close to me. His eyes ran over my face, paying special attention to my lips. I too leaned in, hoping to catch his lips with mine. But as soon as I did, he pulled back slightly, a smile spreading on his face.

“Who's in charge, baby?” He teased, closing in on me again. His lips ghosting over mine.

“You are.” I whispered, closing my eyes expectantly.

He chuckled and I could feel his open mouth almost over mine as he did. But instead of the kiss I was awaiting, Dylan pushed me back softly so my head hit the seat cushion of the couch. I frowned as I lie there laying awkwardly upside. My face was met with a hard cock and I looked up too see Dylan standing over me. He had the usual cocky grin on his face, but this time adding to his dark pupils was a hint of mischief. I furrowed my brows at him, wondering what he had in store for me this time.

He moved past my face, climbing on the couch and positioning his in front of my sex. I couldn't see what he was doing, but my pussy and I both knew that we were in for it. When his tongue slid across my clit, I couldn't help but cry out. I was still so sensitive and even a soft swipe of his tongue could have me falling apart in seconds. I tried pressing my legs together but he pushed my legs open, forcing to endure the assault his tongue was about to place on me.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered, the command taking me by surprise.

Nervous about the possible punishment I could receive if I went against him, I did as he commanded and opened my mouth. Just as my body shuddered when his lips wrapped around my clit and gently sucked, Dylan pushed his cock into my mouth. I immediately moaned in reaction and he whimpered at the feeling of the vibrations around him. Last time we had sex, Dylan surprised me with his impressive stamina and this time he’s surprising me with how damn kinky he actually is. Never in my life would I have imagined that my best friend was into the 69 position, but here we are doing it. I hadn’t tried it before this moment but as we both pleasure each other with our mouths at the same time, I realize it’s already one of my new favorites.

As his lips sucked my clit, the sharp edge of his tongue would flicker my nub which made it increasingly hard to stay focused on giving him his share of pleasure. I was thankful that I didn’t need to bob my head since Dylan chose to fuck my mouth instead, but I did have to keep a certain pace as I massaged his balls. Soon enough, he was a moaning mess against my heat as well.

My hands flew up to his thighs for stability and I didn’t mind the uncomfortable feeling of his tip hitting the back of my throat making me gag. I welcomed it just to be able to hear the way his throat constantly moaned and growled. I, myself, couldn’t hold back the way he made my body feel. His slim finger was back into the game, quickly pumping in and out of me. The both of us were messes in each other’s hands and in a matter of minutes, our bodies couldn’t take it anymore.

He was the first to cum, his twitching cock shooting his hot load down my throat. The salty taste dancing in my palate before my own release arrived. A shameless mewl escaped my throat as my entire body shook with my orgasm.

The only sound that was heard in the empty room was the panting and hard breathing our chests made at the same time that we slowly relaxed again. Dylan pulled his sex out of my mouth and I winced when he took his mouth away from mine. He licked all of my juices off of his lips, standing back up in front of me. I watched him take off his shirt, my body still hazy, before he kneeled down. With a sly smirk on his face, Dylan leaned down and kissed me deeply.

“You can handle more, right?” He breathed and I almost didn’t believe his question.

“What?!” I exclaimed. “Dyl, you can’t be serious!”

Dylan grabbed my thighs and brought my legs down to the couch, now laying my body flat out on the seat. He hovered over me, his face only inches from mine.

“I know you can, babe.” He encouraged. “Just one more, okay?”

“O-Okay.” I nodded, my voice unstable. I was unbelievably overwhelmed already as it is, but I also knew that I could handle just one more for him. For my best friend, Dylan.

He smiled at my response and brought his hand down to his shaft quickly pumping before attaching his lips to my breasts. Even though I had no strength, my own hands flew up and tossed his Mets’ hat to the side so I could run my fingers through his soft hair. I tried pulling his head up towards me, but he was too focused on biting my nipple to notice.

“Dylan,” I called and he hummed in response. “Kiss me.”

His eyes instantly snapped up to look at me and, without another sound, Dylan removed his lips from my breast to attach them to my own in a passionate kiss. He slightly moaned into my mouth, taking his hand off of his erection. Dylan positioned himself in front of my entrance before pushing in, both of us groaning at the delicious feeling.

He continued to kiss me as he slowly drove into me over and over. I wrapped my arm around his neck, pushing him down further to meet me. Our tongues rolled over each other sloppily, but fuck it was intense. His thick cock filled me beautifully, pulling almost pornographic moans out of me that Dylan swallowed. My skin began heating up and the spring in my lower abdomen began winding. I was going to come again, I knew it and I pulled out of the kiss trying to catch my breath.

“You gonna cum already, beautiful?” He teased, feeling my walls close in around him.

I could barely answer him as I felt him moving in me, his hisses and grunts mixing with my whimpers and moans laced with the slow but relentless smacking of skin on skin blended to create a hypnotic symphony of sounds that alone could make me orgasm. Although that was tempting, it was Dylan's lips meeting mine again that sent me over. I was writhing under him as my walls tightened, my vision spotting from the overwhelming feeling my climax had over me.

He never stopped, not for one second. His thrusts were constantly coming down on me even after my pleasure had ended. I was weak, my body exhausted from the amount of coming it had done today. I barely comprehended his lips were on mine still until he pulled away. He pulled himself up fully, holding on to the arm rest above my head for leverage as he stared down at my body greedily.

My whole body was sensitive, the feeling of his cock inside almost too much as it was, but just as I was about to tell him I really couldn't take anymore, something happened. That familiar feeling of the spring inside me coiling again, burning in my belly. Suddenly, nothing was too sensitive anymore, it only fueled my body.

“One more?” Dylan grunted, moving his hand swiftly to my hips.

“One. Fucking. More.” I cried.

He ceased his slow demeanour and began picking up the pace. His hips slamming into mine as he drove deep into me, lending me little mercy. At times I could feel my body screaming from the over stimulation, but it was that same feeling that was pushing me harder and harder to cum.

“Dylan.” I whined in warning.

He revelled in me calling out his name, squeezing my hips tighter with his eyes snapped shut and his head thrown backwards. He looked in complete euphoria, like he'd fuck me for the rest of his life if he could just because he loved how I felt around him.

“Will you swallow my cum?” He groaned, the request sending a new bolt of electricity through my body.

“Make me cum first and you can put yours wherever you want.” I mewled, already feeling the spring ready to snap.

“Fuck.” He swore, grabbing a fist full of my hair.

He bent down slightly, before pulling me forward to meet him until our foreheads touched. The new angle was rousing, making me cry out. Dylan's breath blew in my face, intoxicating me. And all these sensations mixed to finally send me flying over the edge, screaming. Dylan crashed his lips down on mine as I jerked and thrashed under him, my final orgasm of the night pulling every last ounce of energy I had left.

My body went limp fractionally and Dylan pulled back releasing the hold on my lips. “Let me see that mouth, I'm gonna cum.”

He pulled out of me quickly, positioning himself to the level of my mouth as I opened it and the strings of white hot cum poured into my mouth. My eyes fluttered shut as I took in the whole load, savouring the salty sweet taste of him. He let out the most lewd sounds as he pumped the last of his cum into my mouth.

Dylan and I sat staring at a blank TV screen a few minutes later. He'd since redressed himself, now clad in his boxers and graciously given me his previously discarded shirt to cover myself with. The silence wasn’t exactly awkward, but it wasn’t peaceful either. Dylan and I had just fucked… again and this time it couldn't be passed off as two friends that were a little too high. This time was different.

If it weren't for the exhaustion, I would be trying to piece it all together in an attempt to figure it out. But, I was just fucked to the point that every inch on my body was buzzing and I couldn't be bothered. So, there we sat saying nothing.

It went on like this until Dylan decided to break the silence. “We have to like date now, don't we?”

I laughed despite myself, wondering what on earth had given him that idea.

“Dylan, what?” I turned my head to smile at him.

“Well we fucked once and it was fine, like it was a fluke that would never happen again. But then at the bar when I saw you with that guy, something came over me. Like, I wanted to pound his face in for even looking at what's mine.”

The confession was so abrupt, I didn't have an adequate response for it. I couldn’t deny that I was jealous too at the bar, seeing him with another girl made me angry on another level. But, rushing into an actual real relationship seemed far too drastic.

“Or,” I suggested catching his attention. He looked over at me, eyes full of curiosity. “We could be best friends.”

“But, we are best friends.” He countered.

“Yes, so why change that?”

He considered this, mulling the idea over thoughtfully. “But, what if we fuck again?”

“Then we fuck again.” I shrugged, a smile peeking at my lips at the thought.

“What if I— or we get jealous?”

“So, we get jealous. I don't see the need to complicate things. We fuck, we get high, we hang out.” I told him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “We're best friends.”

“Best friends.” He agreed, pulling me in for a hug. I returned it, wrapping my arms around him and relaxing.

We pulled away, both of us slouching back into the couch. The atmosphere had all but cleared of the previous tension and it was just him and I again. He leaned over to the end table, fumbling around with something before returning with a joint between his fingers. He raised it up to me as an offering and I smiled giving him a small nodd. He lit it, taking in a puff for himself before passing it over to me. I took it gladly, settling into the cushions as he clicked on the TV. My entire mind and body relaxed as I placed the blunt in between my lips and inhaled its deliciously intoxicating fumes, the TV screen playing colorful cartoons in front of Dylan and I.

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existentialkendall-blog · 7 years

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Sharpie Soulmates (Soulmate AU)

Pairing: Kickthestickz Wordcount: 2.3k Rating: bad language, but nothing to cry about

Request/Prompt: Whatever you write on yourself appears on your soulmate but disappears from your skin. Pj is always covered in horrible pick up lines and crudely drawn dicks. While Chris is covered in doodles and gets an occasional 'fuck you' or 'you're a dick' on himself from pj. Eventually they meet when Chris writes 'I have a small dick' on his forehead and sees pj.

A/N: Request a fic here, click a like down there. This isn’t youtube people, you guys aren’t stupid enough to need to be told what to do

At first, PJ doesn't notice the harsh black lines on his skin. Usually flecks of paint adorn his skin, and consumed with work, he doesn't spend a lot of time thinking about himself. It's always the next idea, the following project, the bigger picture. When it first happens he doesn't see it until it's almost faded. On his right ankle, the small crude pen drawing of a dick, moving whenever he flexed his foot. It's repulsive, and for the first few seconds he's confused. Then he grabs the closest sharpie, and traces the image hoping it will go away. Since it's on his skin, a replica over the top might send the drawing back to it's owner. It doesn't, and now he's marred someone else with pornography. He throws the pen down in frustration and licks his finger, rubbing at the spot. It doesn't do anything. When he's in the shower, some 8 minutes later, he has an epiphany of sorts. He's just made contact with his soulmate, and the first interaction they had was matching ankle dicks. PJ groans, head falling back against the shower wall in annoyance.

___

It's strange, but paint doesn't transfer or leave his skin. It's only pen, ink. So when he's painting a cardboard box white, because he found a stash of the boxes yesterday, he's almost disappointed that he can't stay clean. "Is this for a new video?" Jamie asks, bent over his shoulder and watching the paint transform the conventional brown to a clinical white. Could be an office, a space station, a hospital. Most of the time he sticks with the brown, but for some reason he was in the mood for painting a calming white. PJ nods, still thinking about a video idea, "Yeah. I've got something in mind." "Cool, let me know when you've figured everything out," PJ nods again, "Also... What the hell is that?" Alert due to the shift in Jamie's voice, he turns and looks at his friend confused, then his eyes trail down and he sees it. 'Stop, drop, and roll, baby. You are on fire' Written on his arm in chicken scratch font, thick because it'd been gone over several times with the pen. "I..." He trails off, "I. I think that is my soulmate."Jamie pats him on the back in congratulations. "Well done."As soon as Jamie's retreating back leaves the room PJ scribbles on his arm 'You're a real dick' It doesn't take long for the message to receive a reply, and when it does PJ's irritated groan is possibly louder than yesterdays. 'I do have a real dick! Did you like the preview I sent you yesterday? Judging from your eager response I'd say yes' He bites his lip while writing, lower down then before so the words flow like a conversation on the other persons skin, smiling because even though the person on the other end is annoying the crap out of him, his soulmate is a boy. A man. He's never been with a guy before, and it's exciting yet nerve wracking to know he will be. 'Oh so that was a scale copy? I'm so sorry that you didn't grow during puberty like the rest of us' PJ reads the next piece of writing, grinning even more, then goes back to painting. When Sophie asks him later why he has 'YOU HAVE A BIG COCK???' taking up three quarters of his forearm, he flushes a pretty pink and laughs awkwardly.

___

On the second day he nervously asks 'What's your name?' The pen flips restlessly in his hand, patting against his black jeaned thigh until the name appears on his other arm, because as PJ quickly learnt, the love of his eternity is left handed. 'Chris' Huh. Chris. With the pad of his index finger, he traces each letter tentatively. When he reaches the end he repeats the motion, hovering over the capital C that seems so much more magnetic than the other letters. 'And yours' PJ's eyes soften and his mouth turns up at the corners. Yours. His. Mine. And then he understands the question and uses his green fine liner to trace 'PJ' adding several layers of ink so it's bold and bright and him.

___

The problem is, PJ's a doodler. One trait that's been fluid since he was a child is that he loves to doodle. Especially on his skin. In fact, some of his best drawings were conceived that way during school; too tired to care about the subjects and too unprepared to bring extra paper. Skin was there for him when paper was not. He couldn't kick the habit when he entered University, and he sure as hell can't kick it now when he's a year in. Frequently he finds himself sitting with a pack of felt tipped Crayolas, or no name fineliners, drawing small, and large, designs on his left arm. For the past week it's been no different. What's annoying is he liked seeing the efforts of his creative process on his arm, wearing it like a tattoo, a badge of honour. But it disappears quickly, and he has to start again. Chris leaves him a critique one day running across the centre of his wrist. 'You're an incredible artist' It takes PJ by surprise. He's used to waking up and finding thickly inked penises on various locations on his body, or cheesy chat up lines that have PJ rolling his eyes but smiling fondly. Several of his favourites include; 'There are a lot of fish in the sea, but you’re the only one I’d like to mount' 'Oh no, I’m choking! I need mouth to mouth, quick!' 'I’m on top of things. Would you like to be one of them?' Needless to say, every written sentence and poorly thought out line, no matter how disturbing or rude, is both irritating and endearing.

___

That is, until the guy buys a six pack of sharpies. Beforehand it was ballpoint pens, stuff he was able to wash off easily. Not now. When he steps into the shower one morning, eyes blearily searching for the shampoo to wash the sleep out of his frenzied hair, he thinks everything is fine. There aren't any markings, and to be honest, that's a relief because they're a bitch to wash off every morning. It's when he's out of the shower and in front of the mirror, towelling down to get rid of the individual water droplets that trail down his chest, that he catches the black in the corner of his eye. 'My hand belongs here' PJ's jaw drops and he's stuck still for a few fleeting seconds. "What the fuck." It's on his neck. Not on a small scale, but like the Joker's writing, jagged and uneven. Backwards in the mirror, but PJ has magicked up enough mirror demons to read reversed. Almost blinded by rage and incredulousness, he's about to charge out of his tiny bathroom and write something way more offensive on his own body for Chris to have scar his skin for the days it takes for Sharpie to wash off. But then he spots 'Wanna go for a test drive?' on his hipbone as he's turning to leave. And then, 'Insert finger here' complete with an arrow pointing down to his asshole. It's almost illegible, how he managed to contort his body enough to scribble it on is beyond him. Amazed at Chris's audacity and carelessness he dashes out to his desk and plucks a bright blue permanent marker up. As he's writing a long list of complaints on his leg, and then rising up to his chest, he feels the similarities to writing film reviews on IMBd or letters of complaint that his parents used to do. Except, this is to the guy he's destined to be with, and he knows the complaining won't do jack shit to change his behaviour. ___

It's relatively peaceful for a while. PJ it still littered with pick up lines daily, the 'My bedroom has an interesting ceiling, I could take you on a guided tour' and the 'When are you expected back at Heaven?', and PJ still absently doodles on the curve of his wrist and palm of his hand, forgetting that Chris will see it until it's already sent. During this time he's been uploading more to YouTube. It's still in it's early stages, but he's grateful for the site because he's getting much more experience. Due to work, and YouTube, and constant creating, he hasn't really thought about meeting Chris. Although they're talked (if you can call it that) every day, they haven't discussed personal details, or their future together. Because if they're soulmates, they have to be together, there's no way they can be with anyone else.

___

PJ wakes up stupidly early, the sun hasn't fully risen yet and the sky is a dusty grey, illuminated by yellowing streetlights. He forces himself to get up, and leave the house before 6:00am. The train to London leaves at 7:00am, and he wants to get coffee from the station before the journey. He pulls on his favourite green sleeved t-shirt slowly, bones cracking at the movements, and when he slides his socks on the fading purple dick on the base of his foot makes his smirk. Fully dressed and he's in the bathroom, tiredly dragging a toothbrush and staring at the sink with half closed eyes. He's out for the whole day, all four of his 'team' are. It's both research for a short film they're making for his Uni course, and a golden opportunity to meet with some sponsors that might fund his next big personal project. Until. "FUCK!" PJ yells, toothbrush falling from his open hands and eyes wide. "No! No, no, no," He wets a flannel and starts rubbing at his forehead, shaking with anxious frustration. The pen won't come off. 'I've got a small dick' is going to be permanently tattooed on his face in all the colours of the rainbow for the entire day. He adds soap and tries again, heart pounding uncomfortably. He can't meet sponsors with that filth tainting him. "Chris, you fucking asshole, I'm going to fucking kill you," PJ mutters, giving up, leaving his skin a red mess. He shoves a beanie on, and leaves the house with a scowl firmly fixed onto his face. His travelling companions don't say a word, even though they heard his angry explosion of profanities earlier. They get to London and shoot some footage in Hyde Park, brown boots hitting grey pavement as the scenery begins to change and the crowds grow thicker. He's actually forgotten that he's mad at Chris, too busy laughing at the stupid faces his friends are pulling, and running along the grass for various nature sequences. After a few hours they stop, and decide to head to a café. It's a warm spring day, and he peels off his beanie to stop his head from overheating. From where he's stood in the queue, he can see his friends take the leather sofas at the end of the shop, claiming it for their group only. One persons order is fulfilled, one step forward, the queue gets smaller. He can feel his fringe sticking to his forehead and he wipes it aside, grimacing at the damp strands that he knows will be several shades darker then the rest of his hair. At first, he doesn't notice the guy staring at him next to the floor to ceiling windows. He's wearing a baby blue striped t-shirt, coupled with raised eyebrows and messy hair. On the high table next to him is an abandoned coffee, keeping warm under the beating sun from outside. He's still there when they leave, PJ's hat clutched between his fingers because it's too freakin hot to put it back on. His camera bag is slouched across his body, and he's grinning at something Sophie says, when a hand clamps his shoulder and he turns around. The stranger that had been watching him is gaping open mouthed at PJ's forehead. That's when he remembers what Chris wrote, and he's going to explain, he swears he is, but the guy is hot. His floppy brown hair is messy above green flecked hazel eyes, and his mouth is practically begging to be... put to use. "I can explain," He finally breathes out, making an effort to stop staring at the stranger. The guy quirks an eyebrow and crosses his arms, as if to say go ahead, I've got all day. "See, this thing, y'know-""Let me stop you right there," He smirks, interrupting PJ's garbled rambling. From his pocket he pulls out a thin marker and in sloped, disjointed text, writes something on his palm. Then he takes PJ's slender wrist in his hand, circling it with his fingers, and turns it around, his thumb drifting idly down his wrist and resting over PJ's pulse point.

you're PJ what's on your forehead is a work of art just like your face I'm fated to love you

"Do I get a hello kiss or do you not put out on the first date?" Chris smiles wide and his other hand, the one not sliding into his own palm and curling around his fingers so they entwine, is reaching around his waist. PJ blushes and manages a "Public," Before slipping out of his grasp. "Oh c'mon honey, it's gonna happen sometime," Chris whines, high pitched and strung out. PJ shakes his head, and walks away from Chris. He follows him, long legs catching up quickly. He throws an arm around PJ's shoulders casually and leans down, pressing a wet open mouthed kiss on the side of his cheek. "You and me Peej, we're gonna fuck away the world." PJ rolls his eyes, brain automatically lending the words dick, and you're a. But he rejects his instinct and goes for a muttered "You should feel so lucky." "Oh I will. Later." It's natural, seamless, right. Chris is his. He is Chris's.

Part 2

#kickthestickz #fanfiction #fanfic #chris kendall #pj liguori #crabstickz #kickthepj #crabstickztag2

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rosyredlipstick · 7 years

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important facts & quotes from hidden oracle reread #4 part one

i cited everything from the hardback edition bc im a nerd

- page one apollo is already making pop culture references (1)

- meg is such a badass oh my g od (14)

- riodan does such a beautiful way of explaining things in this novels. awe-inspiring. mind blowing. example: “Her eyes glinted darkly like a crow’s. (I can make that comparison because I invented crows.)” (14-15) wow. beautiful.

- so i understand this series is going to be about Apollo’s redemption and ~~~~finding himself~~~~ or w\e but JESUS PLEASE RICK you can’t just say “She [Meg] reminded me of the strays my sister was always adopting: dogs, panthers, homeless maidens, small dragons.” (15) WITHOUT PROVIDING SEVERAL BOOKS AS EXAMPLE FOR SAID SENTENCE all i want is a book focused on artemis and her army of small dragons and lesbians dear gods please

- omfg can you just imagine sally having to go over to Percy’s room and having to tell him that the greek god of the sun apollo was there to see him omfg. imagine the salt. imagine both of them just groaning. imagine.

-”If I had still been an immortal, I might have flirted with her [Sally Jackson] myself.” (30-31) l o l Sally is a middle aged married woman seven months pregnant and still bringing in the gods you go girl im proud of you

- Sally Jackson is one of the best characters in the entire series. citation: every riodan book ever even the non-pjo it’s a fact

- i 10000% support the idea that percy gave apollo the led zeppelin shirt as a sneaky joke he’s so smart i love him so much

- “Percy laced his fingers. They were long and nimble.”(35) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

- He [Percy] would have made an excellent musician.” (35) f u ck

- literally all percy wants is to “stay alive” long enough to go to college, meet his baby sister, and see his mom get her book published my heart is broken for this boy (35-36)

- the return of the seven layer dip fuck me up (40)

- jfc that poor Prius it’s been through so much (52-54)

- page 67 and Percy’s already made two comic book references he’s such a canon nerd

- “Cops love me almost as much as teachers do.” god Percy Jackson what are you doing to me

- apollo tried to order a pizza to CHB and honestly same (73)

- g o d will solace jfc wow

- we’re to assume Will’s a skier (his Okemo Mountain jacket & skiers tan) (82) and now i have to write the inevitable fic that comes out of this fact

- Will’s mom was a alt.-country singer from Austin, Texas (83) which wow and honestly makes the fact will is a horrible singer 1000% better

- yellow daises grow year-round in the Apollo cabin, and it smells like fresh linens and dried sage. (83)

- kayla is aiming for the olympics and honestly im so proud already

- fact: any and all solangelo interaction have me crying into my book

- “Will put his hand on Nico’s shoulder, ‘Nico, we need to have another talk about your people skills.’” lol this implies that they’ve had this talk before and im dying to hear it

- the Hermes kids are big fans of Rocky Horror Picture Show (95) and now i have to write a seperate list of headcanons for this fact

- speaking of, Apollo used to cosplay as Rocky bc why not. (95-96)

- listen i know im solangelo trash BUT - “Will and Nico sat shoulder to shoulder, bantering good-naturedly. They were so cute together it made me feel desolate.” im destroyed (110)

- “but if I sit alone at my table, strange things happen.” “it’s a mood disorder” “i cant control it” stfu nico u nerd u just want to sit with your boyfriend im dead (110)

- Will nodded serenely. “It’s the strangest thing. Not that Nico would ever misuse his powers to get what he wants.” death to goody-two-shoes will solace 2k17

- off topic but CAN YOU JUST IMAGINE CHIRON THO. like. this happens and will and nico are just standing there. in front of him. telling him they have to sit together OR NICO WILL JUST HAPPEN TO PUT CRACKS INTO HIS CAMP. just imagine. him staring at them. sighing. deciding not to fight this one. agreeing & watching them giggle away bc they’re so SNEAKY & now they can EAT TOGETHER WOW

- lol when Meg was going to town on the hot dogs and “Julia and Alice watched her with a mixture of fascination and horror.” (111)

- “Will and Nico exchanged a look that might have meant, here we go.” (112) okay im sorry im just sO GONE FOR LITTLE MOMENTS LIKE THIS I JUST WANT NICO TO BE HAPPY AND COMFORTABLE IN HIS RELATIONSHIPS OKAY

- apollo refers to the seven as “the A-list” (112) same tho

- Jason, Piper, Coach Hedge, Mellie and baby Chuck are all in LA with Piper’s father like???? (113) THIS IS SOMETHING I NEED TO SEE? What’s the living arrangement? Is Jason living with Piper? OH GOD IS JASON LIVING WITH HEDGE AND MELLIE? DO THEY ALL LIVE IN SOME BIG PLACE PIPER’S DAD RENTED OUT???? do Piper and Jason babysit? do they have family dinners? how’s baby chuck doing??? how are they all adjusting to domestic life?? I NEED TO KNOW THIS IS ALL VERY IMPORTANT TO ME

- lol nico’s just as pissed as eveRYONE IN THE FANDOM about Leo’s not-death and im living for it (113)

- also nico carries around Leo’s lil ‘IM ALIVE LOL’ letter\hologram\thing? like i get it was completely for the plot but?????? “i look at it whenever i want to get angry” (114) like ok nico u lil bean whatever u say u little emo shit

- apollo’s little ‘lol when u have a headache in olympus hephaestus just cracks open your skull and removes whatever brain god\dess u just birthed up lol it’s so much easier ugh’ (116) w h a t t h e f u c k

- fact: harley is adorable no citation needed

- also you’re telling me chiron, basically as old as time itself tbh, doesn’t speak portuguese? k (120)

- “i am merely assessing how well paolo’s arms are functioning after surgery” (120) those are some big words william u nervous or something??

- “hmph” - nico di angelo, 2016 (120)

- this isn’t really important but there’s a satyr named herbert and he’s my new favorite character sorry i dont make the rules (124)

- ok so there’s an unnamed random camper who mutters in Italian (127) and now i’ve got the BIGGEST headcanon that this random girl and Nico (omg maybe a few others????) meet a few times a month just to rant to each other in Italian so none of them get sloppy with the language and u g h im such a bitch for nico di angelo frienships

- “A boy in the crowd gasped, ‘she’s a communist!’” (127) i fucking hate this book omfg

i’ll do more later in order to mentally prepare myself for the dark prophecy but it’s 3 am and im tired

#solangelo #of course #nico di angelo #trials of apollo #the dark prophecy #the hidden oracle #rick riordan #will solace #apollo #percy jackon and the olympians #headcanons #reading: the hidden oracle #again i know

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itshaejinju · 7 years

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Jin’s 7 Levels of FF15 Hell

Okay so 7 levels of this Hell but I can’t help myself when it comes to a pretty face and some other choice quality assets.

So @blindbae and @cupnoodle-queen (anyone else do this?) described their adventures in the FF15 Hell well I decided it was time to do it for myself.

Let’s get marching into hell the Hells I live in, darling.

Gladiolus: I live here, my mail comes here. I will always be in a permanent fixture in this hell. I have been a fan girl of Gladiolus since Versus 13 trailers and I was like who is this tank of a man, what’s his story - what’s his number? See his new look on the FF15 promo shit and I’m like, fuck I’m dead. I won’t survive this game. All versions of him just get my attention, like Versus, Brotherhood and the game, slays me. Play the game and I see:

And well, “awesome fan service thanks Square.”

Slowly as we start more into the game I’m just constantly drawn into his appearance, mannerisms (THE CUTEST DORKIEST SNEEZES EVER, reading and overall dorkiness) personality and power house skills just had me on the floor. The fuckin’ cup noodle quest happened after a really shitty day and I laughed the whole time about his over enthused ways about “Ultimate Flavor” and it really made me feel better. Sure his outrage to Noctis on the train and other spots had me yelling at the screen at him, telling him to stop yelling the “Emo Marshmallow” because well Noctis is trying. But I also see Gladiolus’ side of the story as I have been in a similar type of scenario so I felt with both sides. I always wished that instead of the Giglamesh Trials he went to have a funeral father and mourn their death and take a fuckin’ spa day or something.

He is the main reason for my thirst all day everyday, I can’t help myself, I tried and then was like “FUCK it.” So I embrace all of it.

In the fanfics and HC: I love Teddy Bear Gladiolus, rough Gladiolus and all the stuff in between. I love that he’s totally headcanoned to have a cock to rule all cocks. And totally a pervert with a lot of sexual desires. Fills my blackened sinnamon roll heart to the brim. (with cum) That he’s kind, patient (sometimes) and all the things I just enjoy in life.

Blind!Ignis: I visit here on the weekends, always smells like fresh coffee and french toast. It’s like a nice hotel.

At first I was like, “Who is this boy? Who is the mom friend of this group? Was like okay he’s model pretty, good with the daggers and funny with puns. Totally see him as a friend. Slowly he started to grow more than that and making me want to spray him with water to get him away from me.

I was like I can’t handle two hells! Just no please go! *sprays Ignis with a water bottle, hair goes flat around his face, clothes stuck to his body* FUCK YOU LOOK HOTTER. GO!!

Then shit goes down and he gets blinded. *UGLY SOBBING* *A LOT OF UGLY SOBBING* And I was like:

I love that he has zero fucks to give afterwards. He isn’t crying because he can’t see, he’s like “FUCKERS I HAVE A JOB TO DO LET’S GO!” And well that strikes me as sexy as fuck, like instead of breaking down and “woe is me” he soldiers on. It’s not like not blind Ignis is a pansy but it just made it clear to me that once he goes blind he is a strong and fantastic character. So I’m like “well let’s enjoy a cup of ebony any day of the week.”

I fell out of Blind!Ignis hell after playing the game but I visited often as a guilty pleasure. Then the damn Episode Ignis Trailer came out and well I jumped right back in.

And I’ve fully accepted Blind!Ignis hell specially paired with Gladiolus as the fatal GladNis. It really is a nice specially pairing that I enjoy being apart of. GladJuNis

Ravus: I vacation here, it’s so angsty, but cuddly awkward and I love it.

GOD DAMN. He was my guilty pleasure from the second I saw him in Kingsglaive. I didn’t like his character design in Kingsglaive but the voice and the personality was like “OH hello, darling!” So I was like hmm, I bet he will be in the game and I get to deal with him more. *Insert evil cackling*

When he saunters into the game I dropped my controller on the floor and needed to pick up my jaw from the floor. It was a instant panty killer.

I was like he’s a bad guy don’t love him. . .NO LOVE HIM TONS.

So I guilty pleasure loved him, “OH he’s horrid, bad guy!” *OH god can he pin me to the wall with that Magitek arm, PLEASE!?!*

It wasn’t until Tumblr did I fully unleash my love for him and admitted full love to him. In which I gush about him a lot with @stephicness

In the game where you had to kill him I screamed at the television at 2 am, “NO!” I tried my best not to kill him, like was there a way around it not to kill him?! When I realized I had to kill the poor beanpole I started to cry, I was like “I’ll make it quick and clean sweetheart!”

*Insert more ugly sobbing, and damning Square on attacking my feels*

He totally appeals to my tsundere love, the misunderstood character of the story! He was just trying to take care of his sister, sacrificing all he had left for her! Totally has me just wishing things went better for him, he deserved so much better!!!

I have such a strong desire for a steamy jealous fuck fic for him to be written, I just haven’t figured out how to word it right on his parts. But it will be arriving one day soon. *rubs palms together*

Cor: Visit every other weekend. It’s a nice comforting Hell, this are always in order and Cor is vigilant over his residents.

MOOSH’S husband. @themissimmortal Literally my tags say #cor x moosh that comes up whenever I type “cor”.

I didn’t join Cor hell until I met Moosh and read her smuts for him and when I did anons for her and wrote a few fics with him in it for her. I was like hey he’s quite nice, I could get comfy here. I like the idea of shy in front of his girl (moosh) but the fiery passions that embroil his soul releases as he let’s go and loves up on her. Totally a good thing in my book.

Ardyn: THIS FUCKER......

NEW resident of Ardyn Hell.

Just got passed the first wall of tentacles and goop and I’m like okay. . .what am I doing here?

THAT SMUG SMILE.

THAT VOICE.

THAT HAIR.

And aggressive fucking, tentacles and mind play smuts that I’ve been graced with that hits on my deeper kinks made me a prime target. I resisted for quite a while.

Then well I fell into it fully and I’m accepting it as my alternate vacation home. All thanks to @diabolik-trash-heap @valkyrieofardyn and @poisonous-panda

I really enjoy Ravus x Ardyn stuff it is a good toxic pairing for me. I will always keep up with insulting Ardyn and calling him Trash Man and such in hopes that he will have angry sex with me.

Sure those tentacles could do some domestic tasks too! Imagine Ardyn multi tasking with them making you breakfast? Pretty sexy.

Aranea: I’m moving around there like a cat that doesn’t know what side of the door she wants to be on.

MY DRAGOON WIFEY!

She floated on my screen (and my heart) like freaking Mary Poppins. Totally was like, damn, who the fuck is this lady? That hair, voice, eyes, slaying body can we have her on our team?!

PLEASE STEP ON ME.

*high heeled boots stepping on my ass*

Then let me step on you and we can fight back and forth on who is dominant in this situation.

I love her and all her quirks and morals. It makes my day to see her be badass on screen. I want a Episode Aranea bad. Let me learn more about her history!!

Older!Noctis: Hand is on the door, going hmmm, should I?

Regular Edge Lord Noctis appeals to me as much as Cloud Strife, so it’s like yup you’re sexy and all but *wishy washy whiny noises*.

THEN THE CRYSTAL SHIT.

*FLATLINES*

I was like oh hello Noctis, what are you doing later after you take a shower, eat and brush those teeth?

Because call a girl up why don’t you?

He looks a lot more like his dad, the wispy beard going on that hair all long and he is like “I’M READY FOR THIS SHIT!”

FINALLY! *ticker tape parade for Noctis right to my pussy heart*

It’s a hell that I flirt with a lot and when I come across a good King!Noctis fic I’m like . . .there is the door and I have he key. (It’s in the shape of the Royal Boner) But I go “really? Jin should you do this?”

So it’s like I’m almost there. I’m pretty sure @hypaalicious or @cupnoodle-queen or @louisvuittontrashbags will be coming out with some King Noctis smut that will just sell me totally, lock stock and barrel on the Older Noctis stuff. Or @blindbae to write some epic angsty stuff with Older Noctis that sits on my ass, and shake my head in shock. And officially join the 7th layer of my FF15 Hell.

Tagging: @themissimmortal @stephicness @stunninglyignis @blindbae @rubyphilomela @neko-otaku13 @zacklover24 @hypaalicious @louisvuittontrashbags @diabolik-trash-heap @diadyn @mandakatt @mistressoli @sheylann @xnoctits @insomniascure @insomniacapples @fieryfantasy @roses-and-oceans @valkyrieofardyn @highwinds-dragoon @blondechocobobutt @waifuthewhite

#extra ass shit #crazy thirsty jin thoughts #ff15 #7 layers of hell #gladiolus amicitia #blind Ignis #ignis scientia #older noctis #cor leonis #ravus nox fleuret #ravus deserved better #cor x moosh #aranea highwind #ardyn izunia

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sarah--writes-blog · 7 years

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Keith’s Galra Biology

Anon: (1/?)What kind of huge changes do u think keef will hafta get used to after he goes full galra? (I was reading your trio about it and wanted to know more ^_^)Personally, I think the eyes would be a big one...Like he can't see that well in normal lighting but when it's dark he has vision like a hawk! And then the ears too! Like he's more prone to motion sickness and the mice's squeaks make more sense...Then there's the problem of claws accidentally scratching everything and feet he's not used to!

(2/?) then there's the possibility of a tail, and getting used to that thing moving around and doesn't know control, and fur would be hard to live with when ur used ta plain skin!Especially when u hafta wear clothes over it and what if since his blood is different then it hurts his human heart? Argh so many angsty ideas!!! .·´¯`(^▽^)´¯`·. Another thing... you mentioned, allergies... Can you imagine if he was allergic to his own fur? Then that'd be terrible until he wasn't human at all anymore...

(3/3) so many things! Well sorry for nothing you! The post wanted anima so here I came to talk about sick fics ヽ❨｡^▽^｡❩┘

(cracks knuckles)

We have much to discuss.

I’m assuming when you said the trio, you meant Being Galra: Without You, Teeth and Diet. I have nine more pieces planned out for this series, and I wouldn’t hesitate to add more if the muse strikes me. I’m not gonna tell you what each of them is gonna be, but I will tell you that you hit the nail on the head in your first ask, and I will tell you that the next one is titled “Ears”. It just kept getting put on the back burner because I had requests I wanted to fill, and Being Galra was much more for me than anyone else so it could wait.

The thing about me is that I’m a selective perfectionist. Stuff that interests me and that I’m doing has to be perfect because that’s apparently who I am. And it kind of sucks. But in this context, it’s perfect, because I love Keith, I love biology, and I love fantasy/sci-fi creatures. Imma go down your list one by one Anon, we’re gonna have a grand ol’ time. This post is almost 2000 words long, you asked for it.

We’re gonna talk about the shit we know about Galra biology first. And by know, I mean what we can see.

Eyes. Absolutely, if Galra have night vision, his daylight vision would be much worse. And I’d believe Galra to have night vision to be somewhat canon, because of how goddamn dark all their ships are. Alternatively, since all their shit is purple, they could be seeing a different spectrum than we are (towards violet and ultraviolet). If Keith were to have that, he’d potentially lose some of his infrared and red vision if the size of the spectrum is the same. His suit and lion would be gray to him. I also like to consider the advanced biology option, where Galra are just more evolved and are better than humans in most ways. So he could have 20/20 day and night vision and see past the visible spectrum. But since he’s transforming and the human eye is the most complicated thing ever, any sort of change would probably warp his vision somewhat, making it worse than normal human and normal Galra vision. He’d probably end up with some form of astigmatism and have to wear glasses (can someone art that? I would like that to be art’ed).

Ears. Gotta give you props on this one for being more prone to motion sickness, I hadn’t considered that (me, a sickfic blog, go figure). I might wiggle that into the next piece if you don’t mind. I don’t think the mice’s squeaks would make more sense since they squeak in Altean? Mouse Altean? But they’d at least be a lot louder. I’m more worried about him and the ship. BIG-ASS SHIPS MAKE BIG-ASS NOISES. Maybe the other paladins would tune it out or get used to it, but he’d hear every little gear and crank moving in the vicinity. Not to mention, whenever an actually loud noise happens, his ear drum would have the potential of being completely shot. Again, he’d probably hear into the higher and lower spectrum. Something else to consider: ear muscles. We all like it when his ear twitches or moves to express his emotions, those new muscles would get sore fast. I remember learning to wiggle my ears, and they hurt.

Claws. Could we even call them claws? Maybe just nails? They wouldn’t come in with the initial transformation. They’d grow in afterward just with his nails. His nails would get thicker and thicker, and since I really doubt they have nail trimmers on board, he wouldn’t have any decent means to cut them without getting hella hangnails (and I personally headcanon Keith as doing anything he can to avoid hangnails because that shit hurts). So he’d let them grow. If they grow with him, he’d be able to adjust, and probably not scratch up things as much as he would if they were suddenly just there. It’s just like growing your own nails out, you get used to them as you go. This implies something interesting, though - nails are made of the same stuff hair is. This doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll correlate, but Keith’s hair could potentially be much thicker/rougher. Again, this would happen over time because his hair doesn’t just fall out.

Which brings us to Skin/Hair/Fur. This is the last thing we really know about, and we don’t even know all that much. There’s a lot of variation on Galra skin/hair/fur, etc. Ulaz has a lot less hair/fur than Thace or Kolivan, but that could be a personal preference of his. But he also has these white markings. The white markings could also be part of a Marmora thing, since Kolivan has them, and Thace wouldn’t because he’s a spy. But Ulaz also doesn’t have fluffy ears like Kolivan or Thace. There is no cookie-cutter Galra skin and hair/fur template that we could apply to Keith. But we see across the board that they have both. There’s a clear line on every Galra where the hairline begins. So Keith wouldn’t necessarily be sprouting fur everywhere, but he could certainly get a lot more when he already has it (interpret that however you like). Would he be allergic to this hair? Potentially. There are some instances where the body rebels against its own cells, and that would make life a living nightmare for him. Unless Coran has some wild antihistamines, he’s in for a bad time if he’s allergic to the fur. His skin might turn a shade of purple, and I personally like to think that different Galras have different shades of purple like humans have different shades of flesh color. He would probably lean towards a lighter purple because of the paleness of his skin in the first place. He might also adopt some white markings because he’s part of the Blades (which is also a thing I want to be art’ed). But the thing about skin is that your top layer is completely dead. He’d turn purple after a week or so, or he’d get incredibly itchy and exfoliate it all off in the shower at once.

So here’s Part 2. What we don’t know. And that can be more fun and more infuriating at the same time.

Tail. The only Galra we see with a tail is Antok, and we don’t even really see him. For all we know, he’s not Galra, and he’s just like Keith - a different species with a splash of Galra blood in him to awaken his blade. As fun as a tail would be, I don’t think that would happen. It’s not a staple of Galra biology that we’ve seen so far. But honestly? Give him a tail, I love that shit.

Feet. FEET HAVE BEEN BUGGING ME EVER SINCE S2E8. The suits on the Blades have room for what we could assume would be toe-claws, but the suits also have very decorative pieces all around - the eyepieces, the hoods, the boob-plates. Zarkon’s suit doesn’t have them. But Sendak’s suit looks like he might. Could it be a Blades thing to have room for claws for decoration? Sure. But I’d be willing to bet they have freaky Galra feet under there and I wanna see them bad. Maybe some Jurassic Park velociraptor shit, I’d really love that. That might necessitate a tail for balance, and would help explain Ulaz’s speed when we first meet him on the castleship. If Keith were to adopt these hypothetical feet, his bones would have to shatter and reform, or something like that. Do you remember that version of The Little Mermaid where it felt like every step was walking on glass? Talk to me about The Little Galra.

Allergies. The only one that I can think of that we can pull from canon is lactose. If we assume that Keith has some sort of Asian heritage (not really a lot of evidence except his name), and we assume that the Galra are very similar to our earth cats (again, not much evidence except the teeth and the fur), he’d have a really hard time with milk and other lactose products. But this is all assumption, so it goes in the unknown category. I’ve definitely played with the idea, I think it’s great, but there’s not a lot of things to back it up with. But if the Galra race as a whole can’t tolerate a certain material, it’s likely that would carry over as well. Keith may already have some allergies he has to manage. But consider the idea: Galras being allergic to humans somehow.

Other Internal Stuff. You mentioned blood, which is REALLY FASCINATING. Because bad shit happens when blood isn’t compatible. Even within human standards, the wrong type of blood in a transfusion can kill you. And I imagine Galra blood doesn’t abide by A/B/AB/O +/- rules. So I’d say the reverse of your idea might be true. His heart may physically change, but his blood may stay the same because otherwise blood changing types inside of him would kill him. Other internal organs, I’d LOVE to know about, but we haven’t seen any Galra sliced up and examined, and I don’t think we will. But any shift in any organ would be absolutely hellish to experience for our poor Keith. The same goes for bones and muscle. How dense is Galra bone? Do they have the same muscles as we do?

Other things I love to consider because I’m a HUGE NERD

Evolution of Galra. They’re clearly an advanced lifeform, I can only assume they evolved similarly to us from tiny microbes.

On that note, could they not be a carbon-based life form? They could be silicon-based, or any other element-based. In that case, Keith is FUCKED.

The sheer amount of food Keith would have to eat to keep up with this transformation, especially if he’s growing a tail and weird feet.

He really wouldn’t adopt any Galra mannerisms without being around Galra 24/7. In fact, he might stay away from those because he wants to prove he’s still human and part of the team in all that shit.

It’s very rare for species to be able to cross-breed and have a non-deformed child, much less an alien having enough human biology to birth a human child, assuming his mother was Galra and procreated by human means. That can link back to the evolution and the carbon-based life form thoughts. Legitimately tell me about Keith’s birth, I wanna know exactly what went down in that hospital room.

Galra genitalia, anyone? Keith would probably be infertile, no matter what junk he ends up with.

Brain rewiring for ANY of the traits mentioned above. New tail? Rewire. New ears and eyes? Rewire. If he has weird feet, he may have to learn to walk again.

Conclusion

This is why you don’t ask me about Galra Keith. You get about 2000 words at 1 am. I didn’t expect to write this much about one topic in one ask, but I had a hell of a time.

I totally left out some stuff that needs to be put into consideration. I actually purposefully left some thoughts out because I’m putting it in Being Galra. Is Being Galra going to be as comprehensive as this? Absolutely not, I just wanna put Keith in interesting situations.

Thank you for theorizing with me! If anyone else wants to yell with me about any of these topics or a topic I didn’t mention, please do!

#galra keith #headcanon #voltron: legendary defender #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #keith kogane #galra #being galra #alien #i legitimately went into carbon-based life form stuff #fuck

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weretheones · 7 years

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Ten Years- Daryl Dixon AU

Plot/Request: Anon requested- “hey ! I was wondering if I could request a Daryl AU where Daryl and the reader are in their senior year o high school and they've been close with each other since childhood but the reader is badly bullied by her peers some of which are daryl's friends but when Daryl finds out he goes crazy angry and almost gets expelled? lol I thought this would be kinda cute and would distract me from what's actually going on in wtd rn lol”

Word count: 1939

 Warnings: bullying, violence, swearing

Note:  hope everything is ok! msg me if you need to talk. this goes out to anyone who may need it, i’m here for you <3 also, i went in an odd direction with this -- sorry if it’s not what you wanted!! i might continue this ;)

also... i’m back???

Tagging: @supernotnaturalcas, @milkyblubber, @zombeeegurl, @buckaroo--barnes, @its-bri19, @bitchasaurus, @sexyseabaz, @danandphllfics, @dashesoflipstick, @thatrandomblogblog, @team-barry, @sesshomaru-lover, @machiavelliperez. inbox or message me if you’d like to be tagged in upcoming fics! (please specify if you’d like everything or certain characters/series)

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Smash.

The sound of your body hitting the locker echoed through the air. Slowly, the pain began erupting from your right shoulder. You groaned with clenched teeth.

The force that had sent you into that locker laughed, giving you a quick glance before he hurried off. You stood by the unaffected metal container, a small frown on your lips. Blinking hard, you rolled your already sore shoulder back, moaning in pain.

It was the regular torment of your day, a routine one might say. You were used to him, Blake, toying with your already damaged mental state-- didn’t mean it hurt any less-- but it was to be expected. The physical pain, however, was quite new. What lead them to it was a mystery, but you sucked it up, just like you knew you should.

The pair of blue eyes watching from across the hall didn’t feel that he should be let off the hook. Those eyes, which had never witnessed an incident like this before felt as if something had to be done.

He knew you didn’t like when he lost his temper, so he always tried to contain it. But the sight of that asshole purposely crashing his body into yours was too much for Daryl to handle. Even as he tried to use the breathing exercises you taught him years ago, he was boiling with rage.

Hell, it was the second last day of school anyways. He didn’t care anymore.

The stuffy air of the crowded hallway quickly raced through Daryl’s lungs. His father had taught him how to hunt and how to fight. The latter being more defensive skills than anything else. Still, Daryl was a Dixon, and Dixon’s knew how to punch.

Thankfully, knuckles to the nose was all Daryl really needed to hurt the young man. A loud grunt left both of their lips, then another crash of a body slamming into a locker sounded.

“Daryl, no!” You screamed. He held back the urge to kick the now fallen teen in the stomach as he heard you. His blue eyes were lit with rage, anger and bitterness.

Blake cupped his very broken nose. Blood almost immediately began oozing out of his nostrils, his fingers gingerly touching the skin as he gasped. Daryl smirked, unaware he was even doing so.

The boy, who was expected to fight back, simply screamed for help, though not for one of his friends. The second you glanced down the hall, you saw your principal running towards you all.

“Dixon, stay back!” He screamed. Even through the layers of fake tan, you could see the redness growing on Mr. Johnson’s cheeks. You took a step back, glued to the locker behind you.

Daryl glanced at you, a slight panic in his blue eyes. Blake yelled, “Sir, he attacked me! He broke my nose!”

“Step back, boy.” The principal warned Daryl. His lanky body crunched as the abnormally tall man crouched to Blake. “Let’s get you to the nurse.” He soothed, helping the boy up.

“Dixon,” The man sighed, “My office. Now.”

Your body shook uncontrollably. There was no way Daryl was getting away with that. There was no way he wouldn’t get in trouble.

The pair of blue eyes you’d grown to know, to trust and to love stared at you with the same knowledge. Trying to keep your emotions under wrap, you pulled your textbooks closer to your chest. But your (Y/E/C) eyes still watered, a single tear slipping down your cheek.

The sight of your hurt face was too much. Daryl’s eyes ripped away from yours, feeling the imagine burn itself into his memories. Instead, he stared down to the dirty tiled floor, watching his feet as he moved farther from you.

Far enough that when he finally looked back, you were nothing but a blur.

The last thing you remembered of the Dixon boy was the sight of his dirty blonde hair disappearing behind the curve of the halls. You wished you remembered his eyes instead, or a rare smile of his -- but alas, the last sight you’d taken in of your childhood love was his back.

Daryl never showed up to graduation. No one spoke of him or his absence as if he’d never even gone to the school. You remembered Blake showing up with an odd looking bandage on his nose and a sheepish look on his face whenever you crossed paths.

There was nothing for you at the party afterwards, so you went home.

Your parents gave you flowers, cards and some cash. Fifty dollars, split into one twenty and three tens. They told you how sorry they were for missing your graduation, they claimed they couldn’t get the day off work.

You knew they could’ve. Both their bosses were quite flexible. But you needed the money, especially since you had been accepted into college. It was obvious that them missing the ceremony hit them harder than it did you. So you didn’t make it into a big deal. You were just happy they were there with you that night.

Two days after school had finished, you found yourself drifting down the road to his home. It was at the end of the street and as you grew closer, listening to the loud sound of gravel under your feet, you felt your stomach twist and turn.

Daryl never wanted you to come over. You’d asked to see the creek, and he’d gotten mad at you for coming that close. His father had learned through the few townsfolk who talked to him that Daryl and you were close. He teased Daryl about it, which only made the youngest Dixon fear for your safety.

He hated his father. You knew that by the way his eyes changed when someone mentioned his name. But Daryl would never admit it.

Still, you knew where it was. It was the infamous Dixon house after all.

The home was hidden behind some of the extended forest. The smell of motorcycle fuel and whiskey was strong, but as you pushed past that, you could smell the faint scent of the creek that traveled through their backyard. The small trickles of water could overcome the loud crashes and heavy voices -- if you really tried.

The town didn’t, not even the Dixons themselves. It seemed only you, at 18 years old, understood the hidden peacefulness of that home.

But that day, you couldn’t find a drop of calmness. Instead your mind went wild, making you run away.

You searched and searched for why you couldn’t just knock on the door. You knew something held you back, but what exactly, you were unsure of. Somewhere in the past ten years, it’d slipped your mind.

Tonight, you couldn’t help but feel anxious at the thought of Daryl being there -- at the reunion. The class of ‘86.

The navy blue dress was soft against your skin. It matched the tie, lying on top of the chair’s back. You could hear rustling coming from the bathroom, no doubt Alex trying to fix himself up beyond perfection.

Glancing across the cramped hotel room, you caught sight of the time -- five to six-thirty. Alex dashed out of the bathroom, pulling his tie from the chair and quickly putting it on. You watched him act at a pace that could’ve made you look like a sloth.

It didn’t take long to get to the school compared to the time it took to fly to your hometown. You couldn’t tell if the feeling in your gut was because you were anxious or about to vomit, maybe it was a combination of the two.

You could’ve sworn you’d closed your eyes for a small moment, just to let the wind brush through your hair and tickle your face, but by the time your eyes were open again, you had arrived.

The school looked the same. Even down to the placement of the bushes and trees, the building hadn’t changed at all. Roaming the halls brought back memories, some of which you’d wished hadn’t resurfaced.

Most of them were of Daryl.

A blonde woman sat at the long table, her back arched and a bright smile on her face. You felt her name at the tip of your tongue, something with an... A?

“Name?” The woman asked, engrossed in the list below her. She barely gave you a look as you approached her, Alex by your side. Clearly, she was busy.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N) and he’s a plus one.” You smiled softly, answering.

After hearing your name, the woman’s eyes snapped up to you. It was then you noticed the same glimmer of cheer in her brown eyes. It was odd how the colour she often critiqued always seemed to shine the brightest for most.

Amanda, who was one of your closest friends in eleventh grade whispered, “(Y/N)-- holy shit.” Her words trailed off, following your body instead. The bottom of her lip slightly twitched, until a high pitched sequel followed, “You look fucking amazing!”

“Thank you.” You blushed profusely. Alex smirked at the shade of pink growing on your cheeks. “You do too!”

“Gosh, it’s been so long. Almost eleven years, right?”

A loud scoff left your lips, “Yeah. Shit, that’s,” You exhaled, “long.”

“No kidding.” Her blond strands of hair fell in her face while she shook her head. You smiled back at her, happy to see her again.

You weren’t sure why Amanda was there. She’d left for grade twelve to go to another city. Her father had been up for a promotion-- he got it. She was ecstatic about it, but you knew you’d have no one for your last year of high school -- except Daryl. Last you’d heard of her, she’d been accepted into an ivy-league school.

“Well, I won’t keep you.” She laughed, handing you a name tag as well as Alex. “We’ll catch up later, right?”

“Right. Nice to see you again, Amanda.”

“Shit,” You heard a low grumble from behind you. Your eyebrows reached up, questioning your fiancé. “Those cookies. They’re addicting.” He complained. As if he was a drug addict, itching for a hit, he fiddled around with his body. His foot tapped uncontrollably, fingers fiddling with each other.

The whole situation made you chuckle, “Just go get some more already.” You shooed him away, turning the suddenly childish man and giving him a weak push forward. He sighed, but gave into his temptations.

“Get me some too!” You yelled after him. Your words hit his ears, which made him raise a thumbs up in response. A soft chuckle left your lips before you turned back around.

Before you could stop yourself, you’d smacked into a warm force and lost your balance. Your ankles shook, the high heels wobbling underneath your weight, but you never hit the ground.

The warmth you’d crashed into engulfed you. It felt so inviting, so much like home that you chuckled, “Oh, sorry--”, looking at your hand placed on their chest. It was mostly firm, but had a small amount of squish to it. You thought next to nothing of the encounter.

But when you looked up, peaking through your eyelashes all you saw was a pair of piercing blue eyes. They were older, more mature, but still held a certain sparkle that was undeniably familiar.

“Daryl?”

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granteares · 7 years

Text

some extremely self-indulgent patater snow day fic bc of my snow day today and Why Not right. i hope it’s enjoyable!! ~3k words under the cut.

“Kent— Kenny— Wake up, котёнок.”

Kent moaned in protest, rolling onto his other side and away from the voice murmuring by his ear. “I dunno what time it is, but whatever it is, it’s too early,” Kent mumbled, hiding his face in the pillow.

Alexei’s laugh was familiar and warm and he felt the breath lightly against his hair. “Is ten, you are sleeping long enough, is time to be waking up now,” the Russian insisted. “Big snowstorm they are promising come. Очень красивый.”

“Baby, I’m not awake, don’t make me try to understand Russian right now,” Kent whined, because he had never had that kind of talent Alexei clearly did for another language— even if it was out of necessity; he had attempted to gain some grasp of Québécois in the Q and had never mastered more than introducing himself, really, and it was about the same for Russian.

“Very Beautiful,” Alexei translated, pressing a kiss to the shell of Kent’s ear. “Snow is very beautiful. You come look, котёнок.”

Kent reached up to pull the blanket further over him. “You remember I grew up in New York, right? I’ve seen snow before. I'd be fine without seeing any more of it.”

“Is too bad, because you are helping me to shovel,” Alexei replied, and Kent could hear the teasing lilt to his tone.

“Fuck you,” Kent muttered, groaning. “Fine.” He couldn’t exactly tell Alexei no, even though he doubted shoveling was too hard of a task for a 6’4” man with the build of a hockey defenseman. Then again, with the addition of a 5’10” man built like a hockey forward, maybe Kent could get them back inside far sooner, where he could sit under blankets on the couch, curled up with Alexei and the dog, and pretend there was no such thing as snow— which had lost its magic by the time Kent was twelve and realized he hated everything about being cold down to his bones and always having to shovel the stoop and sidewalk of the New York City brownstone apartment he lived in with his mom.

"Спасибо," he heard Alexei respond— and Kent could translate that, at least, as 'thank you', because he'd heard it umpteen thousand times.

However, Kent made no moves to change position or get out of bed, if anything just burrowing himself into bed further. Alexei seemed content with this for a few moments, just leaning over Kent and lazily mouthing at his jaw, until Kent finally blinked his eyes open because obviously he wasn’t actually getting back to sleep. “Okay, okay, I’m up,” he sighed.

Alexei pulled away as Kent sat up, rubbing his eyes, and when Kent looked over he saw the brunette was grinning. “Good! Is time to play in snow!” he exclaimed.

Kent rolled his eyes. “I don’t get how you’re so excited about it. Bet snowstorms are even worse where you grew up… I’d hate it.”

“Нет, Kent, I’m find very nice… very refreshing. Do not mind the winter.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

Alexei smirked, nodding. “But you are still loving me, baby.”

Kent laughed. “Yeah, uh-huh. C’mon, you goon, let’s get this over with.” He pushed himself from bed, simultaneously running his fingers through his hair in lieu of a comb, then going through Alexei’s drawers to find some extra layers to put on top of his own clothing. Anything Alexei owned for himself was baggy on Kent, but not baggy enough that he drowned in it— just enough to be comfortable— and it certainly wasn’t a con that they also, of course, smelled like him. He pulled on his own clothes, threw what he’d borrowed from Alexei over top, stumbling a bit in his still-waking-up state. When he figured he was wearing enough to be fairly warm, he followed Alexei downstairs to the entryway of his house, where they had outerwear hanging.

Kent had had to buy new, real, winter outerwear when he’d started visiting Alexei more regularly. Even if the season was ongoing and he couldn’t get over much during the wintertime, he’d quickly realized that his Vegas-winter-wear wasn’t going to cut it whatsoever. It had been a while since he’d been out east any time but the off-season.

He pulled on boots, gloves, and his jacket, before tugging on his ridiculous Aces winter hat complete with a stupid pompom on the top. Alexei was similarly bundled up, but sporting a Falconers’ beanie, of course.

Kent followed Alexei outside and frowned at the cold breeze that blew flurries in his face. It was still coming down lightly, he realized, but it looked like at least a foot had collected on the ground already and Kent saw other neighbors had ventured out to clear what had settled on the ground before there was double the work to do later. He sighed, pouting at Alexei, who just gave him that loose and lopsided grin that always made Kent melt instantly, and rolled his eyes instead as his lips pulled up into their own smile.

There were two shovels set against the side of the house on the porch, so Kent grabbed one and Alexei grabbed the other, and after a quick debate over who would start shoveling what area, he got to work.

It had been years since Kent had had to shovel snow. He remembered a few occasions of helping his billet family shovel during snowstorms in juniors, but even that had been almost ten years ago. Then, of course, Kent had spent his winters in Las Vegas. Well, he could confirm he still hated shoveling as much as he ever had. He grumbled as he pushed snow off of the steps, clearing them and the walkway that led from Alexei’s house to the sidewalk.

“It’s cold as shit out here,” he complained when Alexei was within earshot.

“Thought you growing up in New York, used to snow and cold?” Alexei chirped, and there was a look in his eyes that Kent recognized well by now as his fucking-with-you look.

So Kent rolled his eyes and huffed, exasperated. “Doesn’t mean I like it. I’m freezing, babe. I’m about to turn into a popsicle.”

Alexei laughed, because he was a merciless bastard. “Sooner you stop complaining, sooner we are finishing shoveling. Need to shovel Mrs. Everett’s house, too,” Alexei explained, gesturing over to the house across the street, where said Mrs. Everett lived alone. She was an elderly, spitfire of lady, but also the kind who brought over containers of homemade soup for Alexei, especially during the season, and made sure his fridge had something in it. Kent remembered the first time Alexei had excitedly explained Mrs. Everett, and how she had learned to cook a few Russian dishes for him— which were admittedly, and understandably, not as good as his mother’s, but the sentiment was all that mattered. In turn, Alexei was always willing to go over and help her with housework when hockey wasn’t in the way. In short: Kent wasn’t surprised that they were digging out her house, as well, and he only nodded his head with a small pout on his face as they finished up Alexei’s home.

After they had finished Mrs. Everett’s house, Kent was making his way back across the street, shovel dragging along behind him, when something thunked against the back of his head. The beanie stopped most of the cold, but he shivered at the small pieces of snow that fell against his neck.

He whipped around, eyes narrowed at Alexei, who was poorly feigning innocence, working too hard to suppress a smile.

“You really want to start a snowball fight with the best shot in the NHL?” Kent accused. If there was one thing he didn’t feel like doing, with the cold officially having seeped into what felt like every last centimeter of his being despite his effort to layer up, it was find himself sopping and covered with snow.

“Am not being such bad shot myself. I’m having many goals this season.”

Kent laughed at Alexei’s comeback, because he knew that. He obsessively kept himself up to date with Alexei’s stats. Besides, he’d always known Alexei was a good player, his goal scoring records impressive for a defenseman. “You’re not goading me into this. I want a hot chocolate and a fluffy blanket,” Kent replied instead.

“Such grumpy old man, Kent Parson. No fun.” Alexei’s stance took on one that Kent recognized from on-ice moments: a challenge, daring Kent to back out of the competition; it was the posture he took whenever he was lingering on the edge of a face-off, ready to jump into the melee and take the puck for the Falcs.

And damn, if being a competitive motherfucker wasn’t something Kent couldn’t seem to grow out of. “First off,” Kent said, and heard the glint of challenge in his own voice, “You are older than me, Mashkov. Second, I’m so much fun, it’s illegal. Third: you’re going down.” Kent let his shovel drop where he was standing. The street hadn’t been plowed yet, and Kent had the feeling it wouldn’t be any time soon, considering the other neighbors coming and going across it like automobiles were a forgotten thing of the past.

He leant over, picking up a handful of snow and forming it into the rough shape of a ball (when was the last time he’d had a snowball fight? Probably the Q, he thought, on the occasion a bunch of rowdy teenage hockey-playing boys had an off-day and the snow was the right consistency for it). As he concentrated on pressing the snow together in his hands, another thud of snow hit against his chest, and he tensed for a moment before chucking what he had formed right back at Alexei, nailing him in the chest as well.

They continued like that for a maybe ten minutes, until a few of the neighbor kids caught on to the snowball fight— and Alexei was the kind of guy that always joined in when he had spare time and they were out playing some sort of game in the street, of course; Kent had watched last summer from the porch as the kids had set up a game of street hockey and yelled to Tater to join them, and then Alexei had convinced Kent to join in as well, and they had been awestruck that they were playing hockey with Kent Parson, but they had treated Alexei like he was just another one of the kids (and Kent had forcefully pushed aside his feelings about watching Alexei with children to examine at a much, much later date)— and before Kent even realized it, they were pausing to develop strategies and build defenses, Alexei with a handful of children on one side of the street and Kent with his own handful on the other.

Things turned into a flurry of snow and shouts when one of the kids called to resume the war, and Kent forgot for a moment that he was uncomfortably cold and that his gloves were starting to soak through as the kids chirped his poor snowball-making skills and he was told he was only allowed to throw them because, yeah, he was Kent Parson.

And then suddenly, Alexei’s team plowed through their own defenses, charging at Kent and his kids, and Kent was trained to prepare himself for ambushes like this, body turning and tensing in a way that would make Alexei’s body slamming into his hurt a little less, throw him a little bit less off balance even though he wasn’t on skates, but it was instinct at this point in his life. And sure enough, Alexei’s body connected with his own, and he was so much bigger, so much heavier, that without any boards to catch the impact or the ability to skate away at a lightning speed, Kent fell into a drift of snow with a huff of breath as Alexei knelt over him and— motherfucker!— shoved some snow down his jacket.

Kent spluttered as the cold bit at his skin, trying to censor his curses in front of kids suddenly ten times more difficult. “I’m— I’m gonna— you are dead, Mashkov,” he finally stammered out, pushing at Alexei’s chest with all the strength he could muster, as the big Russian laughed and fell off to the side, lying beside Kent in the snow.

The blonde seized the moment before he even really thought about it, grabbing a handful of snow and sitting up to let it drop down onto Alexei’s face. It wasn’t compacted, wouldn’t hurt, just give Alexei the same cold sting of snowflakes on skin. The bigger man gasped in surprise, bolting back up into a sitting position, and pouting at Kent as he wiped the snow off his reddened cheeks.

The neighbor kids had already forgotten about them, continuing their snowball war with single-minded intensity, leaving Kent and Alexei in their own little world.

So Kent stood up, then offered out a hand of truce. “Ready to go inside?” he suggested.

Alexei sighed, but nodded, taking Kent’s hand and allowing himself to be pulled up (not as much of an effort as it sounded, considering Kent could bench more than Alexei’s weight during his workout routine). “Cannot believe you put snow in my face.” Kent knew the anger was feigned. It wasn’t as if Alexei had never fallen face first onto solid ice before. A little snow in the heat of a moment of play was nothing.

“You shoved snow down my shirt, so, fuck off,” Kent chirped back easily. “It’s still down there.”

“Guess you are just going to have to be getting undressed when we are getting inside,” Alexei replied, all-too-giddy about the prospect.

Kent rolled his eyes. “Nope— No— You are not getting in my pants right now. I’m putting on the fluffiest, warmest clothes you have immediately and cuddling on the couch with Willow while you make me a giant mug of hot chocolate.”

Alexei laughed, but took Kent’s hand and squeezed it. “Yes, котёнок, whatever you are wanting,” he conceded as they crossed the threshold back into the warmth of Alexei’s house.

They walked up to the master bedroom together, unlinking hands when they reached the bathroom— the safest place to strip off their wet clothes without getting snow all over the carpets and making a bigger mess. Kent felt goose bumps rise over his flesh when he was standing naked, and quickly walked back into the bedroom, grabbing a pair of his own boxers before yanking open the drawer of Alexei’s dresser where he kept pajamas. He pulled on a pair of flannel pants, then found a worn and soft sweatshirt. When Kent was done getting dressed, he padded downstairs to the living room, settling on the couch where Willow was already napping. She repositioned herself against Kent when he sat down, and Kent threw a blanket over himself.

A moment later, Alexei walked in on his way to the kitchen. He paused to ruffle Kent’s hair from the back of the couch. “Making hot chocolate now. You are wanting marshmallows?” he asked.

Kent tilted his head back to smile upside down at his boyfriend. “Please, babe.

“Да, be back in few minutes.” And with that, Alexei was walking out of the room.

The warmth seeping back into Kent’s body as he waited had him half-asleep by the time Alexei came back, nudging him to alertness. He had placed the mugs on the end table, and when Kent was awake again, Alexei sat down and repositioned them so that Kent was in between the v-shape of Alexei’s legs, pressed close, and the blanket was over both of them. Willow shifted as well to get closer to the both of them, laying herself half across their legs.

Alexei pressed a light kiss to the back of Kent’s neck before twisting, and a few seconds later, a steaming mug of hot chocolate, topped with a ridiculous amount of marshmallows already melting into it just the way Kent liked them to, was in front of his face. He took the mug with both hands, enjoying the hotness against his semi-stiff fingers.

“Thanks, Tates, you’re the fuckin’ best,” Kent murmured, taking a cautious sip. Hot, but not enough to burn too much. He lowered it from his face and relaxed against Alexei’s chest.

“I’m know, am best,” Alexei replied teasingly, “But thank you. And thank you for helping with snow. Was being fun day. Not so bad, the snow, да?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kent agreed half-heartedly. “I guess it’s not terrible. I still like the desert better, though.”

“Will convince you eventually, Providence being much better than Las Vegas.”

Kent laughed sleepily. “Right, okay, Alyosha, if you say so.” He took another sip of the hot chocolate Alexei had made, feeling content.

#patater #kent parson #alexei mashkov #tater #alexei tater mashkov #patater fic #omgcheckplease #omgcheckplease fic #check please #check please fic #omgcp #omgcp fic #cp fic #omgficpls #i love them so much u guys help ?????? my dorky hockey boys #i'll post this to ao3 soon too

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