#nothing beats the sound of vinyl

[stagefoureddiediaz]

This Black Friday I finally replaced my record player and now I can listen to my vinyl again 😍😍😍

#I love my vinyl records and I’m so happy I can listen to them again #nothing beats the sound of vinyl #and this one has a Bluetooth function so I can use it to connect to my iTunes library as well 🙌🏻 #vinyl #record player #there is something about having to listen to an album in order as well - the way the artist curated it rather than shuffling songs 😎🤓

[foundationsofdecay]

oh wow the first sundowning vinyl disc is. pretty curvy. ok

#it still sounds good i'm just surprised it isn't flatter #nothing can beat the mcr may death never stop you vinyl which is so warped that it scrapes the needle even when it's raised. incredible QA #eepy token

[queenie-ofthe-void]

“Led Zeppelin? Never heard of them,” Steve lies, like a liar. Of course he’s heard of them, thinks maybe Hop’s mentioned them before. Doesn’t really know the band well, and probably definitely couldn’t name a song. But the comment serves its purpose, and the trap is set.

Eddie calls it the Zep Campaign. Every day they’ll listen to one album, and Steve will pick his favorite song from each. Eight days for eight albums. On the last day, they’ll narrow it down to one song to rule them all– because apparently even Led Zeppelin likes the Mordor books Dustin doesn’t shut up about. 

Each day, Steve struggles to pick a favorite. Day four isn’t bad– doesn’t mind a song that is actually called Rock and Roll, which is just a lazy title in his opinion– but they’re only half way through and the songs are all starting to sound the same. An endless stream of too-fast guitar melodies and weird, wobbly sounds he’s sure he’s never heard before. The vocals are his favorite part, but the lyrics are vague and confusing.

Long story short, he’s not a fan.

But this growing thing between him and this ridiculous metalhead is new, fragile. So if it’s important to Eddie, it’s important to Steve. 

“Stevie, we really don’t have to keep doing this,” Eddie concedes. It’s day eight, the final album, and he thinks even Eddie might be desperate to listen to something different. “You’ve listened to every other album and honestly this one is the worst. They were all on drugs, and this isn’t even their sound ya know? Like it’s not even real metal.”

And honestly, Steve does know. He’s been listening to this band for eight days and yeah, all the songs sound the same. But these ones are different. Softer. He’s made it this far, and he’s nothing if not persistent for the people he loves.

Sprawled out on the floor next to the boy he likes, passing a fading joint back and forth, he thinks he can suffer a bit longer. 

“No Eds come on, we’re halfway through anyways. Just flip it over and we’ll smoke while we finish.” Eddie huffs a sigh, but Steve can see the slight uptick of his lips, reminding him of why he’s doing this. He flips the record and crawls back, presses himself flush up against Steve’s side.

The next song is long, too long to keep his attention. They burn down their joint and Steve leans heavily onto Eddie’s open chest. He gets lost staring at the vinyl art. A guy dressed in a fancy white suit sits alone in a dive bar, the only splash of color against a dull background. The bartender looks gruff, like the rest of the bar, making the man stand out even more. He wonders if that’s how he looks posted up at the Hideout during Eddie’s shows. Wonders if he looks just as out of place in Eddie’s life as this man does, even though he looks comfortable there too. 

Eddie shifts his arms around Steve, bringing him back to the present. The song has changed and Steve feels the slow melody wash over him.

“Wait,” Steve cries out, flailing up and out of Eddie’s arms as he registers the new song. It’s soft with a steady beat. It’s got synth-- the sound Eddie told him he likes in pop music. This song isn’t loud and chaotic like the rest. The voice is soothing and the lyrics are mostly simple enough. It’s different, and he can’t believe it but–

All of my love, all of my love

all of my love to you, oh

“This one. I like this song. Like actually like it.”

Eddie sits up and stares at him. He can see the dramatic shock and annoyance on Eddie’s face. But it’s doing nothing to hide his broad smile and shining eyes. 

“Steven. Stevie. Baby, sweetheart, this absolutely cannot be your favorite Zeppelin song. Out of all the songs on all the albums and all the hours of poetic melodies I’ve forced upon you, you choose the most non-Zep Zeppelin song.” Steve laughs sweetly as he watches Eddie fail to keep the glee out of his supposedly annoyed voice.

The cup is raised, the toast is made yet again

One voice is clear above the din

“This song isn’t even metall!" Eddie screeches. He rants and raves, waiving his arms as he regales Steve with all of the reasons he should absolutely not like this one particular song. He's shining with happiness, dial turned up to a hundred and it's all aimed at Steve. He can't help but to gaze back fondly, enraptured in the adorably obnoxious spectacle.

"It’s all synth, almost no guitar because Page didn’t even write this one! He wrote all of them except two songs, Stevie, and of course that’s the one you chose. No one who knows good music even likes this album. It’s not even metal music and honestly I almost didn’t show it to you, that’s how bad it is!” They're both giggling, leaning falling slowly into the other's space. Facing one another, their feet tangled together, Steve twists and pulls on Eddie's rings. Just to touch.

“Well, maybe that’s why I like it,” Steve snarks, taking his hand. “Plus it’s a love song.” Daring to reach out.

All of my love, all of my love, yes

All of my love to you

Eddie’s smile dims a bit, softens at the edges as he grows serious. “It’s not a love song Stevie, not like that.” He’s looking at Steve but he isn’t. Looking past him into the back of his thoughts. “The lead singer, he wrote it for his son. His kid died of some kind of bad illness while he was on tour. Didn’t make it back in time.”

He pauses, and Steve waits. Knows Eddie has more to say, hoping his patience will pay off. Eddie’s sight refocuses and he heaves a heavy sigh. His eyes glisten as they lock onto Steve.  

“My mom used to sing it all the time. While she was cooking, or putting me to bed, or pulling weeds in the garden. She’d sing it constantly. Hell, she didn’t even know all the words, but she’d still try and sing the interludes– ya know, the music between the lyrics.” He laughs lightly, a stray tear just barely hanging on. Steve tightens his grip around Eddie’s hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. A silent sign of gentle support and encouragement. 

“Sounds like a love song to me,” Steve whispers. Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to his forehead and pulls Eddie into a tight hug. 

All of my love, all of my love, to you now

“A love song just for you, from both of us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've always headcanoned that Eddie loves Led Zeppelin, because he plays guitar and loves metal and reads Lord of the Rings so of course he would.

#It's 1:30am and life is chaos #I wrote this in two hours after i spent all day at work hyperfixating on one of my favorite bands #This is all wikipedia so if something's wrong no it isn't i'm too fragile for corrections #if you see typos no you didn't #ramble on is eddie's vecna song #change my mind #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #led zeppelin #eddie munson headcanon #steddie headcanon #QueenieWritesStories

[coconut-dreamz]

king of my heart

"the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury" || tom blyth x singer!reader

a/n: inspired by ts once again !!!

i'm perfectly fine, i live on my own i made up my mind, i'm better off bein' alone

you had spent the last few years being single and throwing yourself into your work. that was evident through the sheer amount of music you'd made in the last five years and the world tours you'd gone on.

after your messy break up a few years ago, you'd sworn off love and relationships lately. though, they did make great inspiration for music. but throwing yourself into your work for the past three years had consequences. you were feeling burnt out after your latest world tour and your manager had strongly urged you to take a break for awhile. not to mention you were in a rut. you hadn't wrote a single song in months. nothing inspired you, all of the songs you tried to write sounded wrong. 

we met a few weeks ago now you try on callin' me, baby, like tryin' on clothes

rachel was a good friend of yours, you had met on at a red carpet once and became fast friends. she had recently finished up filming for a project and was in new york. she wanted to meet up with you and introduce you to her cast mates. 

that's when you met tom. there was an instant attraction between you two, there was no doubt about it. everyone in the room could feel it. tom, luckily, also lived in new york. but he lived in brooklyn while you lived in manhattan. but he was constantly calling you, asking you to meet up or come over and hang out. nearly every day he was free he'd call you up. 

salute to me, i'm your american queen and you move to me like i'm a motown beat and we rule the kingdom inside my room

you two were just hanging out in your bedroom, listening to your vinyl records. stand by me started playing, softly filling the room. "dance with me," tom stands, offering his hand to you. you just smile and agree, standing up. his arm snakes around your waist as your hand makes its way to his shoulder. you lay your head on his chest as you two sway to the music.

"this is nice," you whisper out as the song ends. "i like spending time with you. hours feel like minutes here," he responds as he spins you around, causing you to erupt in giggles at his antics. you continue to dance around the room until the sun sets behind you, lost in your own world with tom. when you were with him, everything else melted into the background. it was like the only thing in focus was tom. 

'cause all the boys and their expensive cars with their range rovers and their jaguars never took me quite where you do

you had reluctantly agreed to a date with someone one of your model friends had set you up with. he picked you up from your apartment in his flashy car, drawing attention to you two from everyone around you. you weren't quite used to all this attention, you had been a lot more private in recent years. 

the date was absolutely terrible. he took you to some upscale restaurant that served expensive dishes that were only 1-2 bites each. as he drove you back to your place, all you could think of was how you wish you'd just stayed home and gotten take out with tom. you'd be a lot less hungry and a lot more happy if you'd done so.

after being dropped off, you texted gigi that you're never letting her set you up again. after texting her, you called tom. he picked up almost immediately, as if he was waiting for you. "that was the worst date ever!" you shout, once the call connects. all you hear is his melodic laugh in response. "i wish i would've just stayed home and gotten take out. i'm starving. the restaurant we went to didn't fill me at all!”

"how about i come over and pick up something up on the way there? we can watch a movie or two and you can tell me more about how much of a disaster it was." you smile at his suggestion. "that sounds great, i'll see you soon?" you answer, happily. "see you soon, love." he hangs up. you smile, couldn't wait.

and all at once, you are the one i have been waiting for king of my heart, body and soul

being with tom felt easy. you didn't realize it at first, but then all of a sudden he was embedded in every part of your life. being with him was as easy as breathing. it came naturally to the two of you. he had somehow snuck in and captured your heart. 

"i love you," you whisper out as the two of you stare up at the stars. you'd decided to go on a camping trip upstate. you were laying on a blanket, cuddling. it just felt right with him. nothing was ever forced. it was simple. 

tom sits up abruptly at your words, looking into your eyes "do you mean it?" he asks, unsure. "you're the king of my heart, body and soul." you state, staring back at him. a huge grin making its way onto his face. "i love you, i have for awhile. i was just too scared to say it first. i wasn't sure if you felt the same." he admits, a little shy. 

"you are my everything. there's nothing i wouldn't do for you." you admit to him, leaning in and placing a delicate kiss on his lips. you feel him smile into the kiss as he deepens it, pushing you to lay on the blanket and crawling on top of you. 

late in the night, the city's asleep your love is a secret i'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep

"shhh, don't be so loud! it's like 3am." you whisper shout at tom as you two walk through london. it was a stunning city, even more so with him by your side. "i love this woman!!!! i'm so glad she's mine!!!" he shouts into the open air, spinning in circles and laughing. his silliness causes you to laugh at him, playfully slapping him on the chest, trying to get him to shut up. 

tomorrow was the world premiere of the ballad of songbirds and snakes. you were so excited for him and the rest of the cast, but there was a selfish part of you that wanted to keep him to yourself. you didn't want him to become the internet's boyfriend or the 'white boy of the month'. you wanted to keep your love a secret from the world.

you wanted to shield the budding love from the cruelty of not only the world, but the tabloids. the press had ruined your previous relationships, breaking the trust you'd previously shared because of false rumors and speculations. you know tom wasn't like that, but you didn't want to be proved wrong. you just wanted to hold onto this secret for a little longer.

change my priorities the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury

some people may have labeled you as materialistic in the past, your countless new shoes and outfits adding fuel to the fire. but, as of late, your priorities had changed. you no longer cared for material goods, the only thing you desired was tom. everything about tom, you wanted. his hugs, his kisses, and especially his love for you. his love would be worth more than anything money could buy you. 

is this the end of all the endings? my broken bones are mending with all these nights we're spending

shortly after meeting tom, you were reinvigorated. he was your muse. he mended your heart and gave you inspiration to write once again. no longer were you writing sad songs about ended relationships, but songs confessing your love to him. by the time you had known him for six months, you'd already written enough songs for two 20 song albums and a few extra for deluxe editions.

the more time you spent with him, the more songs you were inspired to write because of him. your agent had wanted to kiss him on the mouth personally for the amount of songs he had inspired you to write after over a year of nothing. your fans would be thrilled to hear you'd be releasing new music after three years of nothing.

"what are you doing there, darling?" tom walks into your office as you play around on the piano and write down the notes you were playing. "just composing a new song. i was inspired during our date last night. i just finished writing the lyrics and now i'm trying to come up with the melody." you answer him, not looking up from the notebook. his eyes widen at your words. "you wrote the lyrics already?" he asks surprised. 

you look up from you notebook at this "of course i did, you're my muse. i've completed two albums dedicated to you now." you answer him and continue playing, trying to find the right notes. "you what?" he asks, unaware of his influence on your creativity. you stop playing at this and stand up to face him. "from the moment i have met you, i have written and composed exactly 47 and a half songs. you are my muse, tom blyth. you occupy my mind at all times. i love you" you confess to him with a grin. "my god, i love you." he captures your lips in a searing kiss. he truly was the king of your heart.

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you

[pearlsinmyhair]

˖⋆˚₊⊹ his muse

hobie brown x fem!reader

this has been in my drafts for. forever. like it was summer when i wrote it on a whim. this initially started as a request for hobie with a reader that came from wealth. the vivienne westwood imagery picked up from there, and i just kinda had fun with it. and now im posting it- huzzah!

warnings: smoking (cigarettes). mentions of drinking. slight nsfw at the very end. meet-cute that leads to smut. hobie being a flirt. fem!reader.

hobie is in the midst of a creative rut that he can’t get out of, no matter how much he tries to. that is, until some inspiration walks through the door.

hobie was in a musical rut.

which never happened to him. never. if he needed a subject for a song, all he had to do was look outside for five minutes or watching the news for even less to have a subject.

that was the wonderful thing about hating the establishment: infinite cruelty, infinite song ideas.

but here he was, staring down at his guitar and picking at strings aimlessly. nothing came to him, no note or melody stuck out to him as song worthy.

he was sitting on the worn couch in his band’s makeshift studio, crosslegged and hunched over his guitar like a madman.

a soft knock came from the doorway, and he looked up to find one of his band mates hitting their knuckles against the doorway.

“you need to get out, man. you’re cooped up.” he said, stepping into the room to stand over hobie like a mother hen. “some fresh air will do you good.”

hobie scoffed, never one to take orders from anyone. but then he exhaled and leaned back, looking up at his friend with an exasperated expression.

“and where exactly do you intend for us to go?” he asked lowly, grumbling.

that’s exactly how he ended up here, in a music club full of bodies he didn’t want to touch and liquor he didn’t want to drink.

it wasn’t a traditional club scene by any means. It was a bit more artistic, leaning away from rave-style places that he’d gone to before. but it still wasn’t his preferred place.

he nursed a shirley temple, which his friend had shoved into his hand unceremoniously before disappearing into the crowd. hobie had decided that he would be the designated driver, and he understood that his band mates were going to take full advantage of that fact.

when they entered the place, his drummer had leaned over.

“maybe you’ll find a muse, hobes. i’m sure there’s plenty of pretty things in this place to give you ideas.” the boy wiggled his brows, and hobie promptly shoved him away with a chuckle.

now, he leaned against a counter and wondered what the hell he was doing. this wasn’t air. this was just distracting noise.

and said noise was becoming a little too much for his senses.

he made eye contact with one of his more sober mates, gesturing that he was going to go somewhere private. he sent a text to their group chat as well saying the same thing.

not a role model

-> heading to the back, text or call if you need me

little drummer boy

-> you’re no fun, man.

not a role model

-> 🖕🏿

he moved down a hallway, the sound of bass and electronic beats fading into a pleasant jazz sound that made its way through the speakers overhead.

the space behind the actual club was a kind of lounge, filled with warm ambiance and vinyl records and leather arm chairs. when his friends brought him here, he always inevitably retreated to this quieter space.

it was ironic really. the punk unable to handle crowds and noise. but this was a much different setting from his own shows, so he cut himself some slack.

he sunk into one of the armchairs in a side room, his head lolling back to look up at the ceiling. his head slightly throbbed, and he began to regret not drinking water.

he reached in his pocket to pull out a cigarette box.

he wasn’t a casual smoker, not by a long shot. it just helped to have something to drag on sometimes, something to burn his throat while he was thinking.

right as he put the cig to his lips, the door banged open and slammed shut once more, the lock sliding home.

his spider-senses told him to prepare, but when he looked up they stopped buzzing.

because a girl leaned against the wall across from him, her chest heaving and her eyes wide.

she looked afraid, scared. the way her fingers trembled alerted him to the sheer amount of adrenaline running through her veins currently.

and she hadn’t even noticed him yet. he took a moment to glance over her.

she wore a pretty little lace dress, black and short, with straps that barely cling to her shoulders. his eyes drifted down her bare legs to the black platform gogo boots on her feet, and he was impressed with the height she was balancing on. he knew from experience that those shits weren’t easy to master.

he had been a model once, and he knew enough to see that the girls clothes were expensive. like, wearing his rent expensive.

she took an anxious step, only to wobble like a baby deer, legs too long to stand properly.

maybe not so stable after all.

when she still didn’t notice him (too busy listening to the door), he opened his mouth to make himself known.

“runnin’ from something, little fawn?”

her eyes snapped to him, and she jumped slightly when she realized that someone else was in the room with her. her wide doe eyes did nothing to help disapprove the nickname. she opened and closed her mouth to speak, struggling to get the words out.

“i’m not running.”

he chuckled.

“no? do ya’ slam and lock doors at clubs often then?”

she scoffed at him, rolling her eyes. she took a step away from the door, though he could tell she was keeping track of any noise.

“i’m just…catching my breath.” she said, pulling at the necklace around her throat.

hobie’s eyes drifted down to it, surprised to find a string of pearls with an all too familiar saturn pendent.

his curiosity got the best of him. “real or fake?”

her eyes darted up to meet his, and she looked away in embarrassment as she said “real.”

he let out an impressed whistle. “that’s why you’re running.” he mumbled as the pieces clicked together.

she gave him an incredulous look, eyebrows furrowing in a way that he found adorable.

“my guess” he said as he stood from the chair, taking a step towards the girl. “is that you definitely aren’t supposed to be here. rich girl, pretty dress, innocent look. this place is practically forbidden for your like.”

her gaze hardened into a glare. “and what exactly is my like, hobie brown?”

he smirked. “you know my name.”

a statement. she deflated slightly.

“i’ve been to your shows.” she said, voice lowering. it was just enough to make him realize how close they were. he registered her body language quickly, noting how she didn’t shy away. so he didn’t either.

“interestin’, doll. does your daddy know?”

“don’t condescend me.”

he took a step back then, raising his hand in an ‘i come in peace’ gesture. “easy there. just askin.”

he went to grab a lighter to light his cigarette, reaching down into his jackets pocket. when he found nothing, he groaned softly.

a click made him look up, only to be met with the girl holding up a lighter of her own. he leaned forward to light his cigarette, and she held his gaze as the sizzling sound breiflu filled their silence.

“as you can see” she said softly. “i am not quite ‘my like’.”

he let out a puff of smoke, making sure to turn his head so that it didn’t flow into her pretty face. she coughed anyway.

he chucked. “what you doin’ with a light if you don’t smoke?”

she flipped the lighter in her hand, and it took a moment to notice that it was one of the silver heart ones that were popular.

“you like vivienne, huh?” he said, looking down at her with half lidded eyes as he took another drag.

“what can i say, i have a thing for punks.” she replied, looking up at him through her lashes.

oh, he was going to eat her.

“s’that so?” he asked, wanting to drag whatever admission she was holding in. he leaned close over her, and she stretched her neck to look right up at him. this close, he could smell whatever shampoo she used.

she was off limits. but he never really abided by rules, did he?

“what’re you runnin’ from, doll?” he asked, tapping his cigarette out as he waited for an answer.

“my father sent a body guard out to find me. i snuck out, and the man’s in the club right now.” she said, watching the way his lips curled around the cigarette.

the air kicked on, and the girl below him shivered. he shrugged off his jacket with a sigh, pulling it around her. she accepted it gratefully, practically nuzzling up against the collar.

fuck, he was a goner.

“better get you out of here, then.” he said, using the edges of his jacket to tug her closer. she smirked, allowing him to pull her against his body. “that would be great.”

he leaned down as he texted the chat, brushing his lips against the top of her ear as he typed.

not a role model

-> hey, i got someone i need to take home. anyone sober?

little drummer boy

-> the fuck are you on about, why would anyone be sober.

fresh meat

-> i am, go enjoy yourself hobes.

thank god for tyler, he thought as he pulled back the collar of his jacket to press his mouth to the girls jaw.

as she snuck him into her room later, the lyrics of a song began to write themselves in his head.

and as he thrust into her, her hands fumbling against her silk sheets and her moans in his ear, he realized that he had found his muse after all.

hobie’s masterlist

#hobie my beloved #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown blurb #atsv hobie #hobie brown atsv

[elliespeach]

tear you apart mini chapter | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"because you need me." ´ˎ˗

pairing ellie williams x fem reader synopsis ellie owns her own vinyl store and the day you wander in changes both of your lives forever. she quickly becomes infatuated with you, desperate for your love that she believes is meant to be. when things in your life begin to spiral, ellie is there to catch you, but you'd never suspect she was the reason you fell in the first place. wordcount: 1k warnings: ellie manipulates reader a bit, readers depressed, other than that nothing. this is lowkey soft. an: so sorry to do this to yall, but have this while i take my leave! short but sweet :)

a week had passed, and ellie’s plan had worked better than she expected. being with you that night had formed some sort of bond between you and ellie. you never wanted to leave her side, and ellie had to keep reminding herself to not show that she was over-the-moon about it. ellie mostly stayed at your place, allowing herself to finally tidying up the small apartment. she also got you blinds. 

you didn’t protest to any of it, you didn’t do much of anything actually. you slept, a lot, ellie waking you up for meals and to stretch your legs. but you’d always find yourself back in bed within the hour. you spoke a few words at a time, slowly like you were trying not to sob with every movement of your mouth. if ellie hadn’t known the extent of your relationship with suzanna, she’d be more concerned. 

you have barely reached out to shauna, who has been texting you every day, each text sounding more condescending than the last. ellie usually deleted them while you slept. you didn’t need to be bombarded while you grieved, and ellie knew you were in no position to talk with anyone but her. last night, you even said as much. 

ellie was finally curling into the soft sheets, after finishing the dishes from the dinner she had made for you both, which you barely pecked at. you turned over from the endless stare to the wall and looked into her crystaling green eyes, “why?” 

it was so soft, so innocently spoken that ellie choked back the lump building in her throat. her callosed hands reached up, softly brushing back hair from your face, “because you need me. because i want to.” 

the lines have been blurred, as to what ellie felt was appropriate. if it was up to her, she would kiss you until she stopped breathing but she knew it wasn’t the time. that you’d likely stop her advances and finally tell her to leave. but now that she knew what is was like to kiss you, to taste you on her tongue, to feel your hands rustling through her hair, it was torture. her own specially devised torment, one that she would endure for you. 

anything, for you.

you nuzzled into her, as you did every night. this is as far as you’ve gone with her since that night in the bar. allowing ellie to feel the warmth of your skin, but nothing further. she relished in it in, fearing that after your grief subsided, you’d discard her. no. no, you wouldn’t. 

ellie pondered in your silence, your head resting lightly on her chest, likely feeling her heart beating for you just under her skin. ellie knew she shouldn’t know about suzanna, and what she meant to you, maybe it was in her best interest to ask. casting a line out, and she hoped you’d latch onto it. 

“what was she like?” ellie said into the darkness of your room, brushing a hand over your back for comfort. you sighed, and ellie opened her mouth to apologize for bringing her up, for shattering whatever walls you had spent the last week building up. you beat her to it, and ellie was relieved when your voice was still soft, warm even. 

“motherly, in all the ways that mattered. my own mom was a wreck, cared for my siblings more but suzanna, she always made me feel like i mattered–” 

“you do matter,” 

“i know. but, to be told and to believe it is different. she made me believe it.” your hands resting atop ellie’s stomach started to fiddle with her shirt. 

“you two must have been close, then.”

“more than you know,” you exhaled with a quick chuckle. one that ellie had not heard in days, a smile tugged at her lips. “can i tell you a secret?” 

ellie prepared herself, of course she already knew your secret but hearing it come from your sweet mouth was different. you explained everything, how you and suzanna came to be the way you were, how she had made you fall in love and then discarded you when once she was done. how she toyed with your emotions but still, you loved her. ellie bit back anything she really wanted to say. 

she tricked you. she knew you felt abandoned and still pursed you, only to leave and come back as she pleased. used you for your body, your kindness. 

“i could never tell shauna, and i think hiding it from her was part of it. the fun. it sounds horrible, i know. but i really did love her.” 

ellie chose her words wisely, “i’m sure you did.” and then, an idea. “what would shauna do, if she found out?” 

“i’m never telling her–” you started, a little defensive. ellie knew she was pushing it, this conversation, but she was hopeful you’d forget it in the morning and only remember that she held you till you fell asleep. 

“no, i know. but, if she did, i mean how would she even react?” 

“she’d likely never speak to me again. i don’t think any of my friends would. i mean, i’m a homewrecker.” your voice cracked and ellie pulled you closer to her. 

“technically, you’re not. no home was wrecked by you.” because it was me, i’ll happily carry that burden for you. a yawn escaped you, and ellie pondered how you could be tired after laying in bed all day, but instead of questioning it, instead of pushing further, she nuzzled down into the bed with you. “don’t worry, your friends will never find out. get some rest,” 

so you did, feeling safe in ellie’s embrace. while you slept, ellie formulated her plan. your friends would indeed find out, if ellie had anything to do with it. your friends, especially shauna, had to go. they didn’t care about you, not in the way ellie did, not in the way you needed someone to care about you. she knew the risks, the fallout of you losing all your friends, but she’d be here for you. she would be enough for you, she’d make herself enough.

-----

taglist: @aouiaa @kissmxcheek @spaceshipellie @strgrlxox @machetegirl109 @uraesthete @mousymaven @ucannotcompare @imahallucination11 @thatgiraffefromtlou @cjrights @sc0ttstre3ted @nicolicht @p1llowthoughtss @ellabsmasc

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fic #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams fanfiction #modern!ellie williams #modern! ellie fanfic

[saoirseirose]

Sweet and Salty!

Would JJK men let you stack donuts on it?

Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, Toji

Warnings: Suggestive, Inappropriate use of donuts, Oral (M!receiving), Teasing, Bondage (?) (in sukuna), SIIIIIZE KINK, Crack.

WC: 0.9k

GOJO

Count: 1, It doesn't fit

It was his idea, heaven knows how gullible the all mighty gojo satoru when it comes to TikTok trends, so the blame was fully on you when you left him for an hour, with his phone, alone.

Gojo satoru in the battlefield is fucking horrifying, so it was a shock to see this man fall into something as low as a whining mess, puppy eyes, pouty lips, and his high-pitched voice as he pressed his palms together, kneeling infront of you as you fought the urge of shoving the remote control down his pretty little throat.

"don't you think it'll look so pretty baby? Aren't you curious at all? Don't you want to see how many donuts I can stack on it? Beat the world record too?"

"there's no world record for the most stacked donuts on a dick, satoru"

"there is now!"

He wouldn't stop bringing it up, he just couldn't, he physically couldn't or else he'll surely die. (He's dramatic like that, you live for it though) You're in the supermarket? Don't let him pass the aisle with donuts stocked on the shelves. You're watching T.V after an exhausting day? Don't let him see any commercial with donuts included. You're laying down trying to fall asleep? Don't breathe because Satoru will surely bring it up again, begging you to stack donuts on his cock like a broken vinyl record.

Everyone has their limits, what do you know about limits? Nothing.

So you finally fell for his traps, giving him an annoyed sigh, one that he's happy to hear because that doesn't like a 'no' to him. So he bolts out of your shared bed, long limbs rushing towards the door, and before you know it, he's back with two fucking boxes of donuts.

"satoru, did you—"

"I came prepared, If you didn't agree, I would've just ate it by myself, in the shower, tears in my eyes, my broken heart in my palm" he coos, scuffling with the ribbon that tied the two boxes together.

You rolled your eyes, watching as your dramatic boyfriend unboxed the donuts, placing it on the bed before wrestling with his belt, all huffs and puffs as he fought with the leather.

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief as you climbed on the edge of the bed, removing his belt yourself.

Satoru's breathing becomes uneven, pretty blue eyes pinned onto the crown of your head, his hand gripping your shoulder as you removed his belt, taking mental notes to chastise him for not even changing his outside clothes since he's too horny to function.

He groans, the sound rumbling in his chest as his eyes fluttered, feeling you rub his chubbing cock through his slacks, his blunt nails digging on your shoulder, but not enough to hurt you.

"so needy" It was your turn to coo at him, watching intently as he bucks into your hand, completely forgetting his original plan.

"donuts" he breathes out, almost wheezing as if the air in his lungs had been knocked out, in a way at least. He removes his hands from your shoulder, busying his fingers instead as he unzipped his pants, pushing it down his thighs before he's sitting down on the bed, his back flat on the headboard, eyes dark with desire as he pats his thighs, calling out to you.

You bit back a laugh, seeing him slowly fall apart, and you're not even doing anything yet. You slowly got to his lap, making sure to make it as slow as possible, and as painful for satoru who's gripping the sheets by now.

"you got somewhere to go, baby?"

"yeah, inside you, tonight, hopefully" he grunts, resting his head on the headboard just behind him, panting.

"I thought you wanted to beat a world record?" Grabbing a piece of donut from the box, you teased him furthermore, to which satoru replies with a soft whine, grabbing your free hand to squeeze it in a quiet plead.

Once you got enough of teasing him, you placed a donut on his leaking tip, satoru's lips opening to let out a breathy gasp, his face pinched when the pastry doesn't go past his cockhead

"it doesn't fit, 'toru" you mumble, looking at him through your eyelashes, faux disappointment evident in your voice as you twisted the donut, making satoru take in a sharp intake of breath.

"fuck that, Don't need a world record when I've got a pretty pussy infront of me" he grumbles in "disappointment" as he wretches the dessert away from you, the gears in his head working while he removes your shorts, followed by your panties.

The sheets definitely didn't survive that night, and satoru wasted money on donuts that inevitably ended up on the ground.

GETO

Count: 4, too thick, donut fucking ripped

Suguru closed his eyes, takes in a deep breath, probably stole it away from you as you stacked another donut on his already-too-hard-cock-it-looks-borderline-painful.

He knew you were down to anything he brings up, especially in the bedroom, but he didn't think you'd be this engrossed to his perverted fantasies.

You were down to four donuts, the glaze staining his cock as it mixed with his pre, his abs clenching as he watched you stare at his cock in awe, something he finds adorable. He wanted to tease you, maybe rile you up, but he's too busy chasing his breath to do so.

His tip was flushed red, looking angry that you're suddenly fearing for you life, you swiped a thumb on it, a smudge of cream getting caught on the pad of your finger, to which you brought to your lips and licked.

And Suguru could practically hear the boss music blasting inside his head, his cock throbbing at the view that the donuts around his dick started to fall apart.

It was bizarre, seeing a man rip four donuts simultaneously just because he got so fucking horny that pre-cum oozed out of him, almost like he's already cumming.

Mortified, suguru apologized, he doesn't know why he's apologizing but he sure is now.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to ruin your—work" he hesitates, unsure of what to call it, piece of art? Too glorifying. Thy cock piercing the circle of desserts? Too poetic.

"that took me two hours sugu" you pout, pretty lips jutted to a small scowl, though in all honesty, it only took you five minutes to stack the donuts, five since suguru kept moaning whenever your fingers grazed his cock, five since there's already eight donuts he ripped throughout the process.

"I'm sorry, I really am, try again? I wanna make it up to my pretty girl"

Safe to say that the donut place nearby wasn't pleased with the continuous orders in the same address for the past three hours.

NANAMI

Count: 1, it was the only one you had

Nanami's eyebrows furrowed, lip caught between his teeth as he grabbed onto the couch's arm, almost ripping it as you hollowed your throat, tongue lapping up his precum as you moaned around him, making him hiss, his hand running through your disheveled hair as he tries not to buck his hips so he doesn't suffocate you.

It was supposed to be an innocent lunch in the office with your husband, you brought pastries from his favorite bakery on the way, even bought his home-made lunch prepared by you.

But things don't usually go to plan, especially if your husband is pent up with work, resulting in his office door to be locked, his assistants ordered not to come up because he's 'too busy'

Which he is, he's too busy fighting the urge to cum, he's groaning, whispering praises as you gagged around him, an apology sputtering out of him, eyes closing as he throws his head back.

He tries to distract himself, thinking of his annoying white-haited subordinate, thinks of the deadlines he's trying hard to forget, thinks of how hectic his job is.

But nothing works when you pull away, keeping his tip popped inside your mouth as you lathered saliva on the flesh, tongue poking to caress his frenulum.

Nothing fucking works when you opened your mouth, skillful fingers grabbing something from his desk, still kneeled down infront of him, his eyes opening momentarily to watch your pretty eyes bat up at him.

His mouth falls open slightly, breathing out as you placed a donut on his tip, the donut supposedly your lunch today was now sitting prettily on his twitching tip.

Something stirs inside kento, golden eyes fixated on your doe eyes as you slowly brought the pastry down his cock, the lewd sight enough to make kento growl, his hips stuttering as he lets go of the tingling sensation in his abdomen.

White spurts of cum paints your face, some landing on your hair as you opened your mouth, tongue lolled out to catch some of his essence, the donut still around his flagging cock.

"fuck" kento laughs breathlessly, eyes closing as he hears you stand up, pulling the donut away from his cock, to which he immediately grabs, all the while grabbing your waist to place you on his lap.

He doesn't have to say anything when he brings the dessert up to your mouth, your lips curling to a grin as you grabbed a bite, even putting on a show as you stuck your tongue out, licking the icing mixed with his cum. A giggle leaving you when you feel kento's cock hardening again from under you.

SUKUNA

Count: 5, forcefully

Ryomen isn't fond of your scheming ideas, especially when you're ovulating, he doesn't trust your brain when you're near your period, doesn't trust you when you got home with a rope behind your hands, you think he didn't see, but he did, even saw the box of donuts you've piled up at the very back of the fridge.

He thinks you've gone nuts, he knows you're nuts

But he didn't think you were insane to the point that you got to his room at three am, the rope in hand, along with the handle of the box of donuts caught between your teeth.

You've managed to sneak inside his room unnoticed. Maybe because you timed it when he just got home from an exhausting day dealing with brats, with that said, you even got him tied up in the bed posts, even got him muzzled without waking him up.

So imagine ryomen's reaction when he wakes up to five donuts stacked streched around his still soft cock, he immediately jerks on the ropes that bound him, a growl startling you as you stood up from the bed, with your hands on the air in some sort of surrender, but you've already gone too far.

"april fools?" Wariness filled your voice, smiling sheepishly at the seething male as he glared at you

What a fucking liar, it was already in the middle of april when you pulled this stunt up.

Ryomen tugs on the rope again, the sound of wood screeching making you cringe. You made your way back to the bed, putting a finger infront of your lips to tell him to be quiet.

"it was for research purposes, I knew you wouldn't let me so—" you point towards his dick, the sprinkles and icing scattered on his cock, and for shit and giggles, you placed a cherry on his tip, balancing it around the fifth donut.

His answer was muffled, thanks to the cloth you unceremoniously shoved inside his mouth. You lowered your guard, pulling out the cloth and watched as ryomen catched his breath, your own heaving in relief as you thought he wasn't mad.

Now, here's your mistakes based on the statistics given by ryomen himself

Never lower your guard, as you were pulling the cloth down, he already got one hand out of the ropes

Never underestimate him, as you watched him 'chase' his breath, he got the other hand out

You're super fucked

Literally

Ryomen's hand slithered on your waist, your eyes widening as you realized he was free now, shivers running down your spine as goosebumps rised when his warm calloused hands made its way inside your shirt, caressing your skin, his head leaning up to whisper into your ears

"for research purposes, I'll be fucking you with these stupid donuts around my cock, would you want that?" He rasps, nibbling on the shell of your ear as his free hand slowly pulled down your shorts, with you frozen on top of him, he grins, feeling the soaked spot in the gusset of your panties, his cock hardening, the donuts around his length stretching.

TOJI

Count: 5-6

Now this one was on him, he let his pretty baby be spoiled, who could blame him? You were such a pretty think he couldn't possibly say 'no' to you, the thought of saying it alone makes his stomach hurl.

So here he was, in the middle of an online meeting, his pants pulled down to his knee, his cock decorated with donuts, approximately five, since the other one was now inside your mouth, doe eyes zeroed on him as you chewed contently, savoring the sweet, and slightly salty dessert.

Toji's hands grabbed onto your hair, ruffling it as he explained through the mic, his expression calm as you kissed his now exposed tip, laying your tongue flat on it, to which toji hums, playing it off as he's thinking, pausing for a moment before continuing.

You pouted, feeling neglected as his hand left your hair, opting to grab something from across his table instead. You stared at his cock, seeing a steady leak of precum trail down towards the donuts, you licked your lips, pursing it before taking a bite on one of the donuts, your teeth slightly grazing his length as toji hissed, looking down at you momentarily then his eyes were back in the screen, talking again to no end.

You whine, silent enough so the computer doesn't pick it up. you took a bite again, licking up once the donut was inside your mouth. Your mistake was huffing and pouting with food inside your mouth. You choked, hitting your chest, and coughing loudly as you tapped on toji's thighs.

He looks alarmed as he looked down on you, eyebrows furrowed when he saw your panicked state. He grabs a bottle of water in his table, handing it to you with not second thought, clicking his tongue when you drank the water to get rid of the pastry that was lodged on your throat.

Once you calmed down, toji sighs, grabbing the bottle from your hand, and as if remembering he was still on an online meeting, he spoke straight to the camera, face stoic as he did

"Sorry, what was that? My girl started choking on the donuts around my cock, my bad"

#jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk smut #jjk satoru #jjk sukuna #jjk geto #jjk toji #jjk nanami

[reve-writes]

—inked; kaz brekker.

ʚ kaz brekker x reader | grishaverse | 1k words. ʚ reader is a tattoo artist, kaz brekker needs a tattoo. there's a lot of yearning involved. ʚ non-descriptive needle and tattoo stuff; slight angst. ʚ a/n you can tell i don't know how tattoos work.

Kaz Brekker should stop trying to find a reason to knock on your door. He should step back, tilt his head down and walk away as if he was never there in the first place. It was becoming a habit and habits meant comfort and comfort usually became root for something more—something that someone like him couldn't grow beyond a sprout when you deserved the whole forest.

Yet he stayed stubbornly at your door.

He was a selfish man in that regard.

He could hear you shuffling behind the door and then the rattle of your keys, followed by a soft click of your door being unlocked. You pulled the door open a smidge.

“Kaz!”

He wished you didn't sound so happy to see him. Then, he wouldn't feel welcomed to come back the next time and the next time and the next. He didn't want to make a habit out of it, but he was here yesterday and four days ago and a week ago. He had a feeling that he would be here in the near future as well.

Your door swung open immediately. You were wearing casual clothes, comfortable for sleeping, instead of your usual coats and leathers. It was a welcome change. It made his visits feel more personalised, like he was the only one to see you as you were and not as you wanted him to.

“What brings you here tonight?” you asked, already leading him to sit on the upholstered couch in your room. It used to be your bed, before you saved enough for a real one. Now, it nestled itself in one corner of your room for rare visitors. The only one who ever came by your rented room in Ketterdam was Kaz lately.

“I want to get a tattoo.”

His eyes wandered to your walls, littered with inked drawings of past tattoo designs you had done. You worked at a tattoo parlour that fell in the Dregs' territory. Many of the new members had their tattoos done at your workplace. You had even inked a few of them yourself.

“The shop opens in a couple of hours,” you said. “We can wait—”

“Not at the shop, if you can,” he interrupted. He didn't think he could bear having other people in the same room. He didn't think he wanted someone else to potentially do it as well. He came to you because he trusted you. He had spent too many nights awaiting dawn with you. He had told you too many secrets he shouldn't have. You had told him things about yourself that you probably shouldn't. He came to you when nothing went right. He came to you when everything went the way it should. You waited for him after a good day. You still waited even after a bad day.

It was a strange dynamic.

It should feel like he was skeeting over the edge of a chasm, but it felt more like the gentle hum of his room at the Slat. Steady, familiar four walls that served as a respite from the debauchery of the Barrell.

“Of course,” you agreed. It took you less than five minutes to gather everything you needed. Fortunately, you had gone on a supply run for the shop earlier. You were planning to bring everything to the shop when it opened, but you'd be needing them earlier than you thought.

“You're putting a lot of trust in me,” you joked. “I could write 'Ketterdam's biggest loser' on your arm.”

“It would suit you better than me.”

You chuckled. He thought it would sound good on vinyl. He could listen to it for hours.

“Rule one, Brekker. Never insult the person who's putting permanent ink on you.” You shot him a glare, but you were smiling. It was inexplicably easy to smile around him. “What are you thinking?”

“The Dregs tattoo, on my arm.” He rolled his sleeves and your heart was beating twice as fast. Unbeknownst to you, his was as well. He had never bared a part of himself so casually before. You had never seen him without all his layers—all the protection over his skin.

Your machine whirred to life. You disinfected his skin with a couple swipes of a disinfectant pad. His whole body tensed when you made contact, despite your gloves.

“Hey, Kaz.” You pulled his attention away from where you'd touched him. “I won't hurt you.”

You held out your gloved palm. With your free hand, you took his gloved hand and set it gently over your palm. He inhaled sharply.

“It's okay. It's just me.”

He trailed a finger softly over your palm. There was a barrier between your skins, but it was daunting all the same. He took a couple of deep, spaced breaths with closed eyes. When he opened them, you were smiling encouragingly at him.

“You can start,” he said, but almost immediately regretted it when you pulled your hands away.

“There will be slight pain,” you said over the whirring of your machine.

He scoffed. “I know pain better than—”

He cursed, inhaling sharply when first contact broke his skin.

You rolled your eyes. “I warned you, Brekker.”

Stray hairs fell over his forehead. “I was startled.”

His eyes were tracing the lines of your face as you worked. The proximity started to feel somewhat comfortable, with the lull of your tattoo machine. You occasionally hummed as you worked. He etched the sound into his mind. You weren't a singer, but he preferred your voice over any performers.

“Done!” you suddenly proclaimed. He looked away and cleared his throat. “What do you think?”

The crow and cup over his right forearm. A permanent mark that he was Dirtyhands of the Dregs. No deed too low for him as long as there was enough Kruge involved. Was that all who he really was?

“Can you add another? A small one,” he rasped.

“Certainly, Kaz. What is it?”

“The letter R, here,” he pointed at his bicep. “For the boy I was. For my brother.”

“I wish I could've met him, you know. Jordie.”

Kaz wished so, too. A foolish wish. Ketterdam didn't groom him to be a wishful thinker. Hope was a dangerous, dangerous thing. He should leave.

“Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry if I overstepped.”

Kaz's eyes widened. “No. You're okay.”

It was him.

“Then stop looking like you're ready to bolt anytime, Kaz. I happen to appreciate your company.”

“Oh.”

He let hope force its way in and make a nest in his chest anyway.

[ ]

#kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #—ki writes 🍯

[asilentandkindersea]

beautiful stranger — c. berzatto

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) : carmen ‘carmy’ berzatto x blackf¡reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) : needle, blood, kind of ooc carmy.

(+𝟏𝟖) bear and berry au, where carmen get a tattoo on a whim, only to develop a precious friendship with his tattoo artist.

hi, welcome in the land of imagination and alternative universe. today, you are going to explore the stupidity of my brain and my overwhelming load of ideas. i’m very new in the xreader writing lore, first time i’m not writing an oc story so have as much fun as possible, like and reblog, it means a lot to me. kisses on the nose. <3

tw : not proofread, written at 2 am and clearly sleep deprived, appends a few years before the tv show, when carmen was being treated like shit in new york, english isn’t my first language !

the art of eye contact was something you mastered at. the depth of your irises staring down your interlocutors’ eyes for the time being. at first, carmen thought it was intimidating, and with time, while his cerulean eyes no longer fled from the hold yours had, he found out. noticing at first when the light of this small studio hit your irises that they held an hint of gold inside of them. it was more apparent during sunny days, when the ball of flame carefully lightened up your face.

your dark lashes battled softly every two seconds when you were focused, maybe more if he dared to look away for the spit of a moment. darting his eyes from your lashes to your nose, drawing the curves of your face, memorizing each of these part only to doodle them later on when shame was no longer in order. maybe it was the pinkness of your lips that captivated his sense, or it was probably the way you bit your bottom lips trying to focus when there was no sound other than your beating heart and his ragged breathing.

it was most definitely the way your nose crunched when you were showing a proud expression, seeing as the drawing on his skin only looked like you imagined it. he had to fight the urge to press a soft kiss on the wrinkles of your nose more than once, during the first few months. probably coming back at the studio was the worst idea, considering he was no longer focused on his cooking but mostly on the lock falling in front of your face. he might have pushed it a few times behind your ear while you where so focused drawing your next flashes.

was he always this pathetic before ? or was it the first time his focus had shift so intensively?

the first time he came at the tattoo shop was months after coming back from noma, and working in new york. he don’t really know how he managed to find the shop, to be honest, maybe it was while looking online, or while walking home after a boring day off. yet, even tho he never truly cared in the higher power, not once hadn’t he thanked the universe for making him walk into the shop.

new york always felt like home to you, only when it came to tattoos and illegal drawings at night in those dark alleys you so often found yourself in. maybe if you hadn’t taken a break from college after an injury you wouldn’t have met his ocean eyes, the kind of blue you only see in summer when you are in your hometown. nonetheless, you loved new york for the small aspects, and he was one of those.

it was a saturday, usually you were off the weekend, but the quietest of your apartment was driving you insane, and the walk from your place to the shop was short. your very much used converse on and a redbull in your hand, you found place in that room you secluded yourself most of the time. the light pink color emitting from your neons, the oh so many plants hanging around and an old frank sinatra vinyl playing, you were drawing a new flash.

something you loved doing, doodling tattoos no matter how silly they could be. fingers moving across the screen, feet tapping in rhythm to the music, and eyes focused on the drawing, nothing could’ve made you look up from that piece of art you were making. and yet, the ding of the bell announcing a new client made you jolt from your red seat, closing the ipad in a second before walking out of the small room you found comfort in.

a not-so-tall man was standing in front of the counter, a jacket thrown over his white t-shirt, and his curls disheveled — had he messed with it ? — his eyes beamed upon seeing you.

“hi. . . sorry. i—“

he was shuttering like a pre schooler, — that was cute— his hand moving to his curls only to nervously mess them.

“hello, do you have an appointment ?”

in his ears, your voice sounded sweet like honey. entrancing like the sea monster, the sirens pulling him towards the depths, enchanting him in a way that caused the tip of his hears to flush pink for a second. you were showing this infamous smile people would go to war for, and carmen berzatto was a goner.

“i don’t— sorry i saw the sight ‘bout the non appointment thingy and. . . i can come back another time or—“

“no it’s okay, my colleague is busy, and i’m not, what are you here for? a tattoo. . . a piercing perhaps?”

your irises staring down his cerulean one, he almost felt like drowning only to be trapped in the depths of your eyes.

“a tattoo, if possible.”

“m’okay pretty boy, i’m gonna need you to sign the consent form and then we’ll talk in my studio.”

his fingers lingered a second too long on yours, while grabbing the pen you were giving him. an electric shock went through your body, making your eyes go wide, only to bend over, searching for the consent form. the paper on the counter, only the sound of the pen scribbling down his information was heard. usually, you weren’t that shy, and yet… there was something this man had that made your heart run a marathon.

“alright, do you have an idea or something you wanna do?”

once again, your voice made his entire world shatter.

the studio was small, a faint smell of cigarette lingering the fake leather seats, covered with thrown pillows. posters, canvas, were on the wall, many were signed with your name, while others had name he couldn’t make out from where he was seating. carmy admires the decoration, in all honesty, he thought the room would look completely different, and yet…

“i got some you might like, but if you have an idea you can doodle it or describe it to me and we’ll go from there.”

it took you at least half an hour to decide on the tattoo. his shoulder falling in a relaxed manner each passing second, while his eyes wondered on the screen you were making what he had in mind, real. he noticed the way your eyebrows furrowed in focused, your feet bouncing in rhythm with the single playing over and over again, before you lifted your head with a soft smile filled with pride.

looking back at the drawing, he felt understood in an odd way. perhaps it was how you made his thoughts appear on the screen, or probably the way you were explaining the reasoning behind your choices. he clearly wasn’t paying attention to this part yet, far too focused on the black design to say anything.

lifting his head only when the vinyl was heard and your voice had disappeared, he finally snapped out of his daze, he found the strength to answer this silent question your eyes were asking him.

“i like it, yeah.. it.. yeah. that’s what i had in mind. can we.. like do it on my arm, right here?”

showing the top of his forearm, and the empty space, you nodded.

to be honest, the time to prep felt like a blur, as the conversation flew awkwardly at first, before the cooking subject came by. the fact that your parents had a cabaret intrigued carmen, and made him ask so many questions all at once. if there was one thing that never changed about him, was his insatiable curiosity, and knowledge. new kitchen, new food, new restaurant. always the first thing on his mind, and as you were moving toward the leathery table, the tray with your torture equipment (he clearly didn’t know the names of every stuff present on it) moving along.

he knew it was also time for the permanent drawing. from the moment the frank sinatra vinyl was changed for a the weeknd one — making your shoulders move at the first few notes while putting on the latex red gloves.

“why red ?”

he asked, the last time he had a tattoo done, the artist had black one.

“why not ? red is my favorite color.”

your chuckles made his shoulder drop, relaxed in this unfamiliar and warm room. his arms shaved, cleaned, the needle was right above his skin. your face close to his skin, dreadlocks pulled in a high ponytail, glasses on your nose and that little wrinkle of focus, he felt a pinch in his skin.

“hey, stand still pretty boy, m’kay ?”

and he did, ignoring the way his skin turned red each time the needle was piercing his flesh, only nodding and chuckling as the conversation goes on. surprisingly, he felt at ease under the sharp machine, and your — very — shitty jokes. he noticed the tissue used to clean up the tony drop of blood that left the open wound, noticing how you asked him if he was in pain each passing minute. even once you finished the masterpiece, he stayed on the table laughing at your stupid attempt to make him laugh — which worked because he was complaining of tummy aches with a smile on his lips —, you stayed in your studios even after closing hour, forgetting the existence of your colleague in the room next door, his cerulean irises fixated in your comforting eyes.

he didn’t know that entering this shop with the idea of marking his skin permanently with two angels and a sun, would give him someone to talk to for hours without catching a break.

© 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐚

#•🍓𖥻 ̨𖥔 bear and berry #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x fem!reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fic #the bear fx #i’ll put the credit for the gif & psd later !!! i’m gonna sleep #psd by kittenkaiju & gif by @thiscoldheart <3

[crackedpumpkin]

I SMELL COLE FICS

Do you think i could get a drabble? I dont care what or how you write, I will take anything.

Hello hello hi!! I'll be honest, freedom with what to write can be incredibly nerve wrecking but i hope you enjoy this one! I struggled so much to decide on what exactly to write lmao,,,,

|| ᴅʀᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ʙᴏʏ || ᴄᴏʟᴇ ʙʀᴏᴏᴋᴇꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ||

Your steps slow to a stop, looking up at the sign of the store you’re about to enter. You check your phone, comparing the name that your friend sent you. 

Rockin’ Tunes

You shrug, accepting the name at face value before entering the store. The bell attached to the door jingles, attracting the attention of the only person inside. 

You walk up to the store assistant who has his back turned to you, hesitant to disturb him when he’s restocking shelves.

“Excuse me…” You voice out shyly, only for your breath to hitch as soon as he turns around. Choppy ebony hair casts a faint shadow over his obsidian eyes, his sleeveless top showing off toned biceps. A thin chain decorates his neck, firm hands gripping a vinyl cover.

Yum.

You quickly snap out of your daze, almost drooling over the incredibly attractive boy in front of you. You blink a couple times, hand reaching up to subtly rub away any drool. The back of your hand brushes against bare skin. Good. There wasn’t any drool.

“Can I help you?” His brow is raised, waiting patiently for you to speak.

“Yeah, I came here to sign up for drum lessons. My friend Nya recommended this place, so I thought I’d check it out.” You try to lighten the atmosphere with a bright smile. A flicker of recognition crosses his face at the name you mention, his smile mirroring yours.

“You’re Nya’s friend? Nice to meet you. I’m Cole. If you’re interested in drum lessons, our only teacher is out of the country now, but I’d be happy to help.” He holds out his fist, and you grin, bumping it lightly with yours.

“I’m Y/n. That sounds good. Where do we start?”

Cole steps out from behind the counter, bicep brushing against your shoulder as he walks past you and towards the array of instruments in the back of the store. You gulp, following him.

Nya hadn’t told you that her friend was this attractive. You almost feel betrayed, looking down at your outfit and wishing you had dressed a little more nicely. He stops at a few drum sets that are a distance apart, and you eye the different types.

“So, do you know anything about drums?”

You pause, racking your brain for a good answer. “I know the basic boots-and-cats beatboxing.” You reply dumbly.

Oh my god. 

Your cheeks burn, and you’re ready to hide in a corner from how his eyes shine in amusement, trying to force down a laugh. 

“Okay, so you’re a basic beginner then.”

He sits at a drum set that looks nothing like the ones you see on TV. Everything is coloured black, cymbals made out of rubber. He grabs a pair of drumsticks that rest atop one of the drums in the set, giving it a twirl. 

Suddenly, your face feels rather hot.

“So this is the first type of drum set beginners usually get. It’s an electronic drum kit, and it’s connected to a speaker and device that lets you change the sound to whatever you’d like. This is a snare, this is a kick drum, and this is a high hat. These are what you’ll be starting out with for a basic beat, or the ‘boots-and-cats’ beat you mentioned earlier.”

As soon as he pauses, he starts to play a beat with the three he had pointed at moments earlier, switching it up occasionally. You try to pay attention to the beat and how he manages to keep time; you really do.

But the way his arms flex as he plays the drums is incredibly distracting. 

You tear your gaze away, nodding when his eyes meet yours to check if you’re following along. 

“We can start with this. Sit down here.” He instructs, getting up and moving out of the way for you. You take a seat, taking the drumsticks that he passes you. You hesitate, unsure of where to begin as you attempt to copy his position from earlier.

“First, place your right foot on the pedal, and push down.” 

You’re pleasantly surprised when you follow as he says, the kick drum producing a loud thump. You look up at him, eager for the next step. 

Cole has to hide the amusement in his smile from the way your eyes gleam in excitement, pointing out the left pedal. “Place your foot there, and keep it down.”

You do so, surprised when the high-hats make a slight rattle before they still. 

“This makes the sound tighter so that there’s less of an echo.” He explains, crossing his arms and answering your unasked question.

“Your posture’s too tight. You gotta relax. We have this rule in drumming: no chicken arms.” He mimics how your bent arms are almost perpendicular to your body, and you move them to rest at your sides with a sheepish smile. 

He nods approvingly.

“One of the most important things is that your wrist has to be flexible. You can’t be too rigid, or it’ll start to hurt very quickly.” 

You nod at his words, flexing your wrist and rotating it to loosen it up. 

“We’ll start simple: use the pedal for the kick drum to follow me on this beat.” He starts to clap, acting as a metronome for you to follow along. You do so, paying close attention to the 1, 2, 3, 4 beats he’s giving you.

“Now that we got that down, I want you to use your right hand to hit the high hat with a different timing. The beat goes like this: one-ie and a two-ie and a three-ie and a four-ie.” He instructs, demonstrating quickly.

You take a deep breath, nodding and trying to follow his instructions. You wince when you accidentally hit the high-hat off timing, trying hard to coordinate your body to the different beats you play.

“Sorry,” You apologize. Cole's brows raise, surprised by the sudden apology.

“You don’t have to be sorry; you’re already doing great. Besides, it’s just your first lesson.” He chuckles. You flush, encouraged to try once more. You lift up your hands, ready to start.

“Uh-uh.” He tuts, reaching down and placing his hands on your raised elbows. You glance up, your eyes widening, when you register how close he is to you. “No chicken arms.” He chuckles, smiling warmly as he leans back.

You clear your throat, managing a nod before playing again with the high hats and kick drum. To your delight, you follow along much more easily than the first time, though there are a few off-beats here and there.

“Not bad,” Cole remarks thoughtfully. You grin, resting the drumsticks on the snare, reaching into the bag you had placed on the floor earlier for your water bottle. 

“Thanks,” You reply with a simple smile, sipping your water.

“So, how do you know Nya anyway?” Cole grabs a stool, sits down next to you and leans back against the wall with a curious stare directed at you.

You hum in thought. “Well, I met her brother first at a book fair. I was in the romance aisle when I accidentally spilled a cup of coffee on his shirt.” You wince at the memory, Cole chuckling.

“I apologized so much and offered to wash his hoodie for him. But for some reason, he thought I was hitting on him. I wasn’t.” You deadpan, lips pursed. “Nya helped me scrub out the stain in the restroom, and I guess we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Sounds just like her and Kai.” Cole rolls his eyes playfully. “What about you? Why’d you start working here anyway?” You ask.

“I like music,” He replies simply. He takes a moment to think. “Not the customers, though.” He adds. 

“Oh?” Now you’re intrigued. 

“Earlier, this customer refused to listen to me explain the different types of guitar strings and just did his own thing even though he didn’t know what he was looking for.”

You snort in laughter, wincing at his words. “That sounds fun.” You say sarcastically.

“They ended up spending over a hundred dollars more than they needed. But hey, it’s their money, not mine.” 

“On behalf of all customers, I apologize.” You joke, but his response makes your smile falter, heat blossoming on your cheeks instead as his eyes land on you.

“You’re okay, though.” He muses with a slight grin. He takes you in, almost as if he’s studying you. You feel a flush creep up your neck, fidgeting with the drumsticks you hold as you try to remain strong, refusing to look away from his calm gaze.  

The bell jingles, and the both of you snap out of the daze you’re in. You sneakily fan your hot cheeks, and Cole clears his throat, standing up to greet the customer that walks in. 

“Cole!” You hear a squeal, looking back up to see a girl dressed in a sparkly mini dress practically launch herself at him. He catches her by her shoulders, eyes wide in shock as the smile drops from his lips. He pushes her away gently, keeping the overexcited girl at arm's length. 

“Kate.” He greets emotionlessly, all traces of humour and warmth from earlier now gone. His lips curve downwards into a subtle frown, but the girl doesn’t notice. 

“You remembered my name!” She gasps, “See? We’re practically a couple already!” She doesn’t seem to notice your presence, eyes trained solely on Cole.

Her hands brush against his bare biceps, and he flinches away with a shudder. “Kate, I’m not going on a date with you. I’ve made that clear multiple times.”

“But you don’t have a girlfriend, so going on just one tiny date can't hurt.” She whines with a pout. 

You wince at the dark expression on Cole’s face, racking your brain to come up with a way to help him with this persistent customer.

Oh. There was that one way you had seen your friend do once. 

You stand up, place the drumsticks on the snare, and walk over to a frustrated Cole and whiny Kate.

“Babe,” You sidle up to his side, taking his hand in yours and sending her a nonchalant glance before ignoring Kate entirely, “What’s taking so long? You promised to teach me the drums.” You purse your lips, trying your best to appear like a clingy girlfriend.

He turns to you, surprised before he registers what you’re trying to do. The deep chuckle that comes next sends tingles down your spine, the warmth of his bare arm making you blush as he drapes it across your shoulder and pulls you close. 

“I’m sorry, love. I’ll get back to you as soon as I finish helping this customer find the exit.” He replies, pointedly glancing at Kate who’s dumbfounded by your sudden appearance. You smile up at him and nod, walking back to the drum set and waiting patiently for him. He guides the speechless girl to the door, practically pushing her out.

He returns to the seat beside you with a relieved sigh. “Thanks back there. I’ve been trying to get rid of her for weeks, but she just wouldn’t take the hint, even after an outright rejection.”

“Anytime,” You grin, holding up the drumsticks. “Now, where were we?”

#ninjago #ninjago x reader #ninjago cole x reader #cole x reader #ninjago cole x you #ninjago cole x y/n #x reader #music store au #cole brookestone #cole brookestone x reader #cole brookestone x you #cole brookestone x y/n #asks #requests #x reader requests

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 21 - My Fair Lady

📜 Merry Christmas, you filthy animals! 😏😂

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, reunions, sexual themes (I mean smut, so get out of here if you ain't +18, I mean it!!!), they finally do it! (first times, nakedness, sex, all that jazz --> So yes, that is a spoiler!).

#10k words (this one is long, and I'm not apologizing for it, LOL)

Part 20 | Masterlist | Part 22

With Sadie away at camp, you finally got the time and the opportunity to surprise her and redo your guest room into her room.

The house was a mess. Boxes of new furniture waiting to be built: a desk, a bookcase, a new bedframe. Her mattress slanted against the hallway. Old white sheets covered every inch of the floor and things that could not be moved.

You'd taken the shade off one of the bedside table lamps and stuck it in the corner of the room, its soft, warm light guiding you as you stood on a ladder, carefully stroking a painter's brush covered in green paint just below the edge of the ceiling, balancing the paint bucket on the top step.

The problem you had with projects like these was that you didn't really know when to stop. Staring when it was still light out, nothing but music playing softly through the speakers from your vinyl player, it was well past 2 AM before you knew it.

At least this passion project was one of the few things keeping you from obsessively worrying about Jake. And Bradley.

The static noise popping through your speakers was a welcome relief for your neck. With one last paint stroke, you climbed down the ladder, picturing your records and what one you could put on next. You bit your lip, reaching up to grab the bucket and the lid from the top step, covering it and hitting it closed with a thump.

You knelt next to the crate, searching for the record you had in mind when a persistent knock at your front door startled you. You weren't expecting anyone, let alone in the witching hours of the early morning.

Everything that happened with Tyler left you weary. Every white car you passed on the street made your skin crawl, and when Penny finally re-opened the Hard Deck and you returned to work, each time the door swung open in a dramatic fashion, you half expected to see Tyler standing there, a predatory glare in his eyes.

People also had a habit of knocking on your door late at night to deliver bad news. But something told you you needed to answer it anyway.

You slowly tip-toed down your hallway, plastering yourself to the wall, hoping to stay out of sight of whoever knocked on your door before peering through the peephole. Shocked to see the person pacing back and forth along your front porch, you whipped the door open.

"Alyssa?"

She stopped pacing, twisting her body towards the sound of your voice.

As long as you knew her, Lyssa had never once cried in front of you or came close to being visibly upset. She was direct, used humour in the most inappropriate moments, and always played things close to the chest. To see her face, beat red and tears streaming down her face, you couldn't help your unease.

Something had to be seriously wrong.

"Is Will okay?" you asked her.  "What's' wrong?"

She shook her head, stepping in front of you. "Um, no, he's okay. We need to get down to Top Gun. Now."

"Top Gun? It's almost three in the morning."

She shook her head again. "Will's father got word an aircraft carrier got caught in a hurricane somewhere overseas. It sunk. They're bringing in the survivors now."

Heart dropping into your stomach, your legs wobbled. You fell against your door frame, hands gripping the wood tight enough to hurt. Your throat was screaming at you, and you couldn't swallow. 

There was only one other time you could compare to how you were feeling now.

Friday nights were the worst fucking days of your life.

"Please don't tell me..." you croaked. "Please don't tell me it was theirs."

You gripped Jake's dog tags tight as you caught her harsh gulp, her face remaining stark. She didn't say anything. Not that she needed to. The very fact she was on your doorstep told you everything you needed to know.

She wouldn't have come to get you otherwise.

"Come on, we need to go," she managed to say through a harsh swallow.

You don't know how you managed to loosen your grip on your door frame or how you laced your shoes without screwing up the knots. Or how you got your key in the lock with your shakey hand.

You don't know how you got into the passenger seat of Alyssa's car, either. Or how you managed to put your seat belt on or not throw up as she sped out of your driveway and down to the highway.

A small part of you whithers when you realize you wouldn't have known, wouldn't have been here, hadn't Alyssa's Ex caught wind of it. Nat, Bob, and the rest of the daggers would have, too, eventually, but they probably wouldn't have been informed until it was too late.

You don't even know what's waiting for you at Top Gun, whether both Jake and Bradley were or weren't there. Or only one of them. Or if they would even let you in.

The gates were open to the facility when the two of you arrived. Lyssa followed several cars that were already pulling into the winding entrance, the line starting to build as more and more started to appear from the opposite direction. You leaned forward in your seat as she pulled into the parking lot, your heart in your throat as you tried to see behind the building to the runway. All you saw were blinking red and white lights against the night sky.

Alyssa hadn't even moved the parking brake when you threw yourself out of her car, not bothering to wait for her. The cool night wind bit at your face as you searched the building, looking for any indication they were letting people in. You spied a group of people charging across the parking lot to an open side door, someone in dress kaki's manning it. You followed them, skidding across the pavement as you reached the door, trying not to run anyone over and barrel through the crowd.

Cyclone saw you before you saw him, shouting out your full name amongst the chaos to urge you to the front to let you in with the next group. The words spill out of your mouth before you realize you're saying them. "Do you know if...?"

He shook his head. "If they did, they'll be on the next plane that came in."

A million thoughts skitter through your mind, like spiders across a floor, yet you push them aside.

"I have a friend, Lyssa. Let her in next."

He nodded without complaint, knocking hard on the door to let the group in.

Whether it was the threat of being yelled at for running or that they were inside the famous Navy facility, nobody moved quicker than a brisque walk.

You'd take on any military officer who would dare yell at you for the way you tried to weave in and out of the throngs of people.

The hallway you were guided down led to a hanger. The space had been turned into a temporary relief centre, with tables, cots, and supplies filling every inch. Medics were already helping a few of the officers who looked worse for wear, and dread filled you each time you spun, another injured officer upon another.

You weren't sure you were relieved or scared with each face you saw. Whatever they had to go through to get here, one thing was for certain. They had to do so in a rush.

You halted when you spotted the large military-like plane Cyclone spoke about sitting on the runway in the distance, viewable from the wide open door. Whether it had been there before or it had just arrived, you didn't know. Nor did you question it any further. The only thing that mattered was if Jake and Bradley were on that plane.

But with each group of people that passed, there was no sign of them.

Alyssa finally caught up to you, grabbing your arms from behind and tugging you backwards. "Liz," she started to say, but you tore out of her grasp.

"We didn't have time. We didn't have time," you said repeatedly, threading your fingers through your hair next to your temples. Alyssa reached out again, this time turning you by your raised elbows as you continued to force yourself to breathe. She pushed, and you slowly lost your hold on your roots, lowering your arms until she was grasping at your hands.

"I didn't want to tell him I loved him over a letter. I didn't want our last words to each other to be over a piece of paper," you cried out, trying to tug away. She didn't let go, her grip tight. It made you sob harder.

"I can't go through this again! Not with them, not with him. Not after everything Sadie and I have ever suffered through. It's too much, Alyssa!" you were on the verge of screaming. "We've been through enough!"

Lyssa opened her mouth, words just barely sounding out before her eyes locked on to something behind you. She gasped, and you twisted sharply, watery eyes searching a new crowd of officers making their way off the tarmac and into the hanger. You squinted your eyes, the night sky and the bright white lights from inside making it harder to make out faces.

A cluster of Navy officers broke off from the crowd, parting the way.

Then you saw them.

Both of them.

Jake was favouring a leg as he leaned against Bradley for support, hobbling along as they finally reached the entrance to the hanger, searching for a temporary cot. Even at a distance, you could make out a cut framing his eye, and one side of his face was bruised.

But he was here. He was whole.

He was alive.

You couldn't help it. You charged forward, no feeling in your legs as you zoomed past other families and officers, probably a few high-ranking officials in your paint-smattered shirt and overalls. Time slowed down for you as you ran, even if you were running as if your life depended on it.

"JAKE!"

Jake lifted his head at the sound of your voice, urging Bradley to stop. Bradley looked at him funny, watching his eyes glaze over and wondering if Jake hit his head harder than the medics originally thought. But then he followed his gaze, only to see you charging forward without a care in the world to reach him, and he knew.

Bradley unhooked his arm from around Jake's shoulders, steadying him for a second and then letting go, stepping to the side so you could have your moment.

You slid along the floor as you came to a halt in front of Jake, worried he was more damaged than you could see, arms reaching for him. Jake bracketed his arms tightly around your back the second you touched him, and you buried your face into his shoulder. He grunted as he pulled you tight, shoving his nose into your collarbone.

Jake smelt of the sea, of gasoline and sweat. His flight suit felt ripped under your hands as you tried to find a grip. Or maybe you were trying to assure yourself he was really there. Your mind flashed through all the possible things he might have gone through with each caress, your cries getting louder with each one.

Yet in your panic, you pulled back from his hug, only to take his face into your hands and kiss him hard.

"I love you," you gasped out between kisses. "I'm not getting you go. I'm here. I love you, I love you, I love you."

Jake's response was instant, fingers quickly gripping the back of your neck, the roots of your hair, to drive your head at all the angles he wanted, all the ways that made it easier for him to devour you.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, pulling away from his lips with a tightness in your chest. Your eyes fell on his lips, red and slightly swollen, and you were positive yours were the same. Until you looked up at those green eyes and the rest of the hanger, everyone else, faded away.

Jake smiled at you.

"Hi, Darlin.'"

You huffed a sad laugh through your tears, letting yourself fall into his body, hiding your face in his chest, sobbing.

Jake didn't let the grip on your neck go, curving his hand against the skin, holding you to him. His other arm, at some point, had dropped down to your waist. Whether it was to keep himself upright or keep you from falling over, he wasn't sure. Nor did he really care. Because Jake was pressing his mouth into your hair and closing his eyes to relish the feel of you in his arms.

He was home.

You turned your head against his chest to look over at Bradley, slightly surprised to see him hugging Alyssa. Her forehead was leaning against her hands, currently shaped into a triangle against his chest. She was shaking with silent sobs as Bradley hugged her back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

The panic you felt before settles in your chest, warmth wrapping around your rib cage. As if he felt your eyes on him, Bradley opened his eyes, resting his cheek atop her head. You reached out, Bradley instantly extending his arm to grasp your hand. You smiled sadly at him with a fresh wave of tears in your eyes, squeezing his hand before burying your head back into Jake's chest, not once letting go.

Feeling you move against him, Jake lifted his head, catching your hand holding Bradley's. He found Bradley looking at the two of you with a smile, in a similar position, with Alyssa wrapped around him.

"Is there something you want to tell us, Rooster?" he said, eyes gesturing to Alyssa. You shook with silent laughter against his chest.

Bradley smiled at you, at Jake, before closing his eyes and letting his lips graze Alyssa's forehead. "Is that any way to speak to your saviour?"

There was no malice in Jake's words when he dropped his head back down to press a kiss into your hair, flippantly shooting back, "Don't push it, Bradshaw. I'm still ahead by one."

---

The ride home had been quiet.

After some harsh convincing by you and Alyssa, Jake and Bradley were allowed to leave. You had gotten the run down by one of the medical officers about Jake. He had no concussion and no broken bones but had ended up with quite a large amount of water in his lungs and a significant amount of bruising the days before.

You caught snippets of Rooster's conversation with the medics, enough to know what happened. You didn't want to know the deeper details unless Jake wanted to talk to you about it. Knowing he almost drowned and Bradley had saved him was enough.

He wasn't at risk of a secondary drowning, but more so pneumonia or an Edema. You'd be calling an ambulance at the first sign of a cough.

Bradley was helping Jake up the steps of your front porch as you went ahead and unlocked your door. Lyssa spotted Jake from below, hands out and ready. Despite her tiny frame, she was there, ready to catch him should he need help.

You were quietly surprised to see Bradley being the one to help Jake. You knew it wouldn't have been easy for either of them: Jake, who didn't want to need to accept the help at all, and Bradley, for whom he was helping.

But once Jake cleared the last step and straightened himself, he patted Bradley on the shoulder, murmuring a 'Thanks, Rooster' before limping over to you.

You looked up at him with a smile, cocking the side of your head in Bradley's direction before saying, "I'll meet you inside?"

Jake nodded, then nodded once to Rooster before continuing inside. Lyssa had walked off back to her car around the same time, leaving only you and Bradley standing alone on your porch. You pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you, Bradley. For saving his life."

Rooster stiffened at your touch but slowly relaxed, arms coming up to wrap around your back. "I know it's not worth much, but I'm truly sorry Lizzie," he murmured. "For all of it."

You shook your head against his shoulder, murmuring a low "Don't," but Bradley pressed on.

"I've been an ass since the start. I've been the one doing all the things I said Jake would do," he said next to your ear, refusing to let you go. "I think I was more worried about being replaced.. and everything else... I just didn't want to see you and the bug getting hurt. The rule was to put Sadie first. Instead, I was the one doing all that. He really does care about the two of you despite some of his faults."

You pulled back from the hug but still left your hand on his shoulder, wiping at your eyes. "Can I ask what made you change your mind?"

Bradley gave a fond look, and you could only stare at him for a second before a smile shot across your face. "Sadie?"

You had wondered what she had scribbled in that letter. She was shifty about it, too, refusing to let you see anything anytime you walked by.

Something told you you'd never know.

Rooster grinned. "Yeah," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Her and the fact, this one saved me yet again. Then gave me a heart attack."

You smiled, looking back at your open door. "I'd like to think he was giving you the chance to make it up to us."

Bradley dropped his chin to his chest, still smiling, before he looked over to Alyssa, leaning against the driver's side of her car.

"Call me if you need help?" he offered, stepping forward to place a hand on your forearm before turning to proceed down your front steps.

"I think we'll be okay," you replied softly, not really caring if he heard you, still staring at your front door.

--- 

 The tension inside the house hit you like a wave the second you closed the door. It was just Jake and you now, and despite everything that transpired the past few hours, you felt nervous. 

Looking down, you spied Jake's boots neatly lined up next to some of yours, making you wonder how he managed to get them off. It made you undo your laces slowly, tactically, as if to stall time. 

Something about standing here made everything more real. 

There was also the bit about you sending him that partial nude. And that letter - which you weren't as concerned about. But that damn photo, all inspired by a moment of brevity, had you yelling to yourself, what the hell did I just do? when you dropped it off at Penny's.

You couldn't worry about the shame currently building in the pit of your stomach. You had to press on.

Jake was hurt. He needed you. 

“Jake?” you called out softly, not expecting to find him hunched over, leaning against the wall of your hallway, facing you. You held out your hands, ready to grab him and support him. That was until he sharply lifted his head, eyes the only thing you could truly make out in the dim lighting, the dawn just peeking through your windows. You froze, lowering them, your voice stuck in your throat. Those eyes were challenging you to move, daring you to escape, to make a sound in the dead silence that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. With the predatory glint in his eyes, you knew right away what he wanted to talk about. 

Yet, Jake is the one to break the silence first.

"Where's Sadie?"

"Camp."

You feel like you've just given him the green light for something with those words. He seemed to know it, too.

"What can I do to help you?" the question comes out more quietly than you were anticipating.

Jake straightens himself with a groan but doesn't remove his eyes from you. On the contrary, they are still sharp and as intense as when he first saw you.

"Liz," he spoke lowly. 

He takes a step forward. You take one back. 

"I think you know the answer to that." 

"Do I?" you breathe out, taking another step, and he stalks forward as much as he is able. 

He nods once. "I got your letter. And your photo."

Your back hits the wall - you can go no further. 

It's not as if you couldn't escape him or tell him to stop. Jake is pinning you with his eyes as he approaches you and cages you against the wall. You know if you told him to stop, that all this was too much, he'd back away. 

You don't want him to, though. 

"Darlin," he roughs out, a hand reaching for your hip, his mouth next to your ear. "I've thought of nothing else."

Your trembling, heaving though no sound is coming out. You knew Jake was tall, muscled, and built like a freaking horse. It's stupid how the thought crosses your mind once again. You feel small against him, pressed up against the wall. 

"I take it you liked it?" 

You have no idea where this courage is coming from. 

"Liked it?" he pressed a kiss on your neck below your ear. "I got hard just looking at it." 

You title your head back against the wall; eyes closed, an arm coming up to wrap around his neck as Jake continues to press small kisses into your skin, slowly starting to add his teeth. An arm shoots around your waist, tugging you into him, and you gasp, racking up the wall with the movement. 

"Jake," you gasped to the ceiling, digging your fingers into his hair. He winced against your neck with a groan, pausing. You wondered if you had accidentally injured him more. Because as much as Jake was desperately trying to merge himself into your skin, as much as he was trying to show you just how much he loved you, how much he wanted you, he was utterly exhausted.

And he was hurt.

"There's nothing more I want than to be with you right now," you said calmly, stroking the hair at the back of his neck, sobering the moment. "But you're exhausted. And hurt, Jake. When was the last time you slept? "

Jake sighed into your neck, weight sagging with him, "Only a few minutes on the flight home. Not sure when before that."

It was true. Bradley had managed to resurface with him strung across his back, carrying Jake the rest of the way up that stairwell. His memory was fractured into bits and pieces of moments when he opened his eyes. Him being carried on a stretcher, Rooster sitting next to him in a med tent, voices yelling, and people poking and prodding at him. The flight home was when he really started to get his memory back, but he didn't dare fall back asleep, wondering if it had all been a dream and he really did die back there.

You frowned. "Let me take care of you, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Pressing a long kiss on his cheek, you carefully untangled yourself from his hold, sliding down the wall. Hooking your arm around his waist, you led him down your hall to your bathroom. Jake's grip on your body was anchored tight. Hand threaded through the opposite pocket of your overalls, a part of him always touching you.

Leaving him to lean against your bathroom counter, you spun to turn on the shower, ensuring the water was okay before coming to stand in front of him once more. Resting your hands on his chest, you toyed with the zipper of his damaged flight suit.

"Do you need help?" you asked him softly.

He knew he could manage without you, even with his back being out of sorts. Yet, he still softly replied, "Go ahead."

You ranked your eyes over the fabric as you pulled down the tab of his zipper. His suit was ripped in some places, and large chunks were torn out, revealing the black tank he was wearing underneath. The zippers of the side pockets were misaligned, and while both of his patches were still intact, the threads were sticking out around the borders, making them unusable.

You made a note in the back of your mind to steal them the second you could.

Once the zipper reached the end, you moved both of your hands down to his chest, taking both sides and pushing the fabric off his shoulders.

Yet you stilled when you felt something hard in one of the pockets, instantly unfolding the fabric and unzipping the pocket, Jake watching you with hooded eyes. You pulled out a water-tight bag, gasping when you saw your letter and the various polaroids through the clear material.

"You.. You saved them?"

Jake let go of your hips to shrug the piece of clothing off, freeing his arms. He placed one hand on your hip, the other taking the bag from you, holding them.

"Why wouldn't I?" Jake's voice was quiet.

You felt a lump in your throat, tracing the bag in his hands. You were curious to know which one is the cockpit photo, but you also know your spontaneous, risky shot is also in with them. It's not that you didn't regret it, nor did Jake's enthusiastic reaction deter you, but you still felt that little bit of shame and embarrassment knowing the physical proof still existed.

"I... I didn't think they would mean that much to you. It was just a thing Sadie and I did so you wouldn't feel left out," you admitted, feeling vulnerable.

"They were all I had of you and Sadie out there."

It guts you, the simplicity of such a statement, yet packed with so much meaning.

Jake placed the bag behind him on the counter, ready to resume his grip on your body. Except his eyes caught sight of the pieces of metal dangling over the front of your chest, and he reached out to take his Dog Tags into the palm of his hand.

"You're wearing them."

You followed the chain to stare at the two pieces of metal. Your reply was soft, "I rarely took them off."

He didn't need to know about your breakdown. Not yet. You had said enough in your letter for him to know you had done what you needed to do, but he didn't need to know about the events that led up to it.

That was a conversation for another day.

Jake sighed, letting them drop back down in between the two of you, hand curving around your hip and pressing his forehead to yours. The two of you stayed like that for a few seconds until you felt him fiddling with the clasp on your hip, never fully releasing it from its hold.

He didn't need to voice it for you to know the question behind the action. It was clear as day as to what he was asking of you.

Will you join me?

Remember all those times over the past year you told yourself to fuck it? This was definitely getting added to all those other times.

Because you found yourself reaching down to your side and finishing the job, releasing the button from his hold. You felt Jake's breath against your mouth, warm and wet, as he slid his hand up to one of the front clasps, popping the buttons out of the hooks as he tugged, repeating the process with the other.

The two straps fell down your back, and you held your arms up in a silent invitation. Jake seemed to hold his breath as he pulled at your battered shirt, up over your head, to reveal your bare breasts.

He tossed your shirt to the side in the general direction of your laundry basket, but you didn't take your eyes off his to find out if it hit its mark. You feel no shame as he dropped his gaze. He's seen them before, kissed them, touched them. But the way his eyes rake over them makes it seem like it's the first time he has.

But when you reach for his black tank, pulling at the hem to work it over his body, you catch the view of his back in your mirror and let out a terrifying gasp.

His back is one big purple bruise, marring his skin. It spread from the curve of his right shoulder blade, sinking its way across his spine and ending near his hip. The only comparison you could draw to it was a painter's palette of cool colours mixed in with black. Whatever he had hit, it was clear the impact had been severe.

"Jake," you cry out, stepping to the side so you can turn him and see the damage for yourself, not in some reflection.

"How bad is it? The medics told me it's there."

"It's not pretty." 

It was the most accurate statement you could give him without wanting to double or even triple-check the work of the medics on him. He let you investigate the bruised skin for a few seconds more before moving out of your grasp and facing you. 

"Come on," he uttered. "Let's get under the water." 

You quickly removed the rest of your clothing, letting the rest of your overalls and underwear fall to the floor, using your toes to work off your socks. Jake managed to get the remainder of his flight suit off with little struggle, boxers included. 

You weren't ashamed of your body. But you were a little apprehensive, letting Jake see everything in its entirety. It makes you step into the shower first, almost as if you were trying to run away. 

All this is new to you. And the internal battle currently raging on in your head was making you hesitant. Because even standing here, naked in your shower, Jake's eyes ranking over you like you were his last meal from behind the glass door, you still fought with yourself not to look at him.

But let's be real. You were a virgin, new to all of this.

You definitely looked.

And tried to mute the squeal that was trying to crawl its way out of your throat as you turned to let the running water hit your face. You could hear Jake's warm chuckle from behind you as he stepped into the boxed space.

"Like what you see?" he spoke lowly into your ear, dragging your back to rest against his front by your elbows.

"I'm not going to answer that question. 'Cause we both know if I do, it's going to lead to something."

You could feel all his ridges and sharply defined muscles against your back, and it took you everything not to mould yourself into him. Jake pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your neck, before resting his cheek against yours. "And what would that be?"

"Jake..." you warned, your voice slightly shakey.

"Not tonight," he replied, dragging his hands up your arms. "I just wanted to see how far that blush of yours goes."

"Oh, you kinky.." but he didn't let you finish, catching your mouth in an opened-mouth kiss. You moaned, tilting your head back before turning to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You released his lips to glaze up into his eyes, taking the moment to assure yourself yet again he was here with you. You matched his soft smile before he zoned in on your cheek, reaching up to thumb the skin. His face was hardened in concentration, no doubt rubbing at a stroke of paint you'd accidentally marked yourself with, working to get it off. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his wrist.

"What's this from?"

"I'm painting Sadie's room, trying to make it more hers as a Birthday gift."  

Jake hummed. 

The two of you continued to shower together, you mostly helping Jake. You tried not to get too caught up in staring at him, biting your lip in concretion as you rubbed body wash over him. You felt his eyes on your face the entire time, and you tried to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him. 

Jake made you spin around to face the showerhead to return the favour. Feeling his hands caress your skin, letting him work the soap under the swells of your breast, along your arms, even down the panel of your stomach, you had to fight the arousal pooling in between your legs. 

Not to mention, you could feel him growing hard and heavy against your lower back. 

"This isn't fair. I'm the one who's supposed to be taking care of you," you murmured, leaning your head back against his shoulder.  

He pressed a delicate kiss to your collarbone. "This is taking care of me." 

You ended up getting out first, picking up each of your discarded clothing, throwing them in the basket, and reaching for the towels you kept on the makeshift shelf on your wall as Jake finished with his hair. You saw the frown on his face when he stepped out, and you rolled your eyes affectionately at him, handing him a towel.

Helping him to your room, you left him to sit on the corner of your bed. You rummaged through your top drawer, pulling out the pair of his boxers you had accidentally missed when you packed up his bag. You found them on the day you were getting things ready to visit Ridley.

He took them without a word while you pulled on your sleep shirt and underwear, ironically the same baggy nightshirt you wore the night of that damn thunderstorm where he kissed you.

Climbing into your bed, you held up your comforter as an invitation. He fell face-first into your chest with an aching groan, grabbing your sides to pull himself half on top of you, his head finding a home in the crook of your neck.

Your suspicions from before are finally confirmed. Because even as he held you, Jake was desperately fighting sleep.

Pressing a delicate kiss to the cut on his cheek, you grazed your lips up until you could press them just below his hairline, your fingers threading themselves soothingly through his hair.

"Go to sleep," you whispered into his forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up."

---

You slowly awoke to the sensation of lips delicately pressing soft kisses into your forehead and fingers stroking along the back of your arm, the occasional touch of warm metal accompanying the touch. You mewled, curling yourself deep into the apex of his shoulder, lulled by sleep.

"I'm sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep."

You pressed a sleepy kiss to his bare chest. "I should be awake. I'd sleep the day away like this if I could."

Jake hummed, resuming his gentle caresses. He had raked down your sleep shirt along your back, fingers now dragging up and down your spine, getting lower and lower each time he did it, causing you to shiver.

"I had a dream like this. While I was away on the carrier," he spoke, pressing another kiss to your temple. "At the ranch in Texas. In my room above the barn."

"Tell me?" you yawned, still half asleep, warm and content.

Jake nosed into your cheek, trailing it over your skin as he spoke, "The two of us. In my bed. Naked."

You shook silently with laughter, turning your head back against his arm. "Of course you did."

You would have seen Jake smiling down at you had you decided to open your eyes.

"I'd dream I woke up with your back to me, sheets resting low on the curve of your back." He slid the back of his fingers across your exposed shoulder, getting lost in the image in his head. "The barn door was open, catching the first rays of sunlight in your hair. There must have been a storm cause the grass was so green, everything was so right."

You leaned away from his chest, resting your head further back on his arm to peer up at his face. Jake's hair is dishevelled, his eyes harbouring the remnants of sleep, worn and puffy. His bruise had already begun to yellow, and his cut didn't appear red or as swollen. Yet, looking up at him from within the safety of his arms, huddled against his massive chest, you find yourself wishing you could control the way air catches in your throat.

"Sounds perfect."

Jake smiled softly, leaning down to kiss you. You moan in protest, turning your head away and barely managing an "I have morning breath" to Jake as his lips land on your cheek.

"I don't care," he rasped into your ear. You turned your head back, and he placed his mouth on yours.

You give as much as he is giving you, letting Jake caress your tongue with his, letting him take and take at his pleasure, until he is releasing your mouth and mouthing across your cheek.

He’s taking his time with you, something so different from the previous times you've found yourself against or under him, at the mercy of his mouth and hands. There's hesitation in his movements, wary of making any sudden, intense movements that might have you bolt. 

"You're taking your time," you say aloud, carting your fingers through his hair. Jake laps gently at the corner of your neck, hand stroking down the side of your leg. He pulls back to stare at your face, you meeting his gaze.

"I almost didn't have time."

God, you know how true that statement is. And the fact, the Jake who left you standing at the end of your driveway all those weeks ago wasn't the exact same one who returned to you. 

Jake travels down the length of your body, and you let him push up your oversized shirt, revealing your breasts. "Hello, girls," he grinned, pressing a single kiss to each breast. "Oh, how I've missed you."

It makes you laugh, carting your fingers through his hair, messing it up even further. You can feel him smile against your skin. But then he is trailing his nose down your core, down your stomach, lightly grazing your skin with his lips as he goes. You watch him with careful eyes, your breath picking up quickly.

You know his intentions, where this is going, what it would evidently end up being. And you’re okay with that. You trust him, and you love him. There wasn’t anyone else you could imagine having your first time with. 

Working himself down to the end of your bed, Jake’s face hovers over your underwear, his eyes searching yours. You nod, reaching down to help him remove them, Jake flinging them behind his head in a dramatic fashion, making you laugh once again.

Until he’s lining up kisses down the inside of your thigh, stopping when he’s just that close to your core. And then he looks up once again. You can hardly see any green in his eyes, just a thin strip on the edge of being overtaken by black.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

What do you do but stutter an embarrassing reply of, “If you want to.” 

Jake wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want to. You knew that. He even chuckles at your answer teasingly.

“You’re going to have to keep these open if I do,” he says, tapping the back of your thigh. “I’m not going to nearly perish a second time, though what a hell of a way to go.” 

You huff in amusement, tinting your head back against your pillow only to drop your chin to your chest, looking at him between your legs.

“Just be gentle with me, Jake. I’m not…” 

Experienced is the word you leave out, but you know Jake understands you. He always seemed to when it comes to you.

He places both of your legs on his shoulders before reaching up to thread his fingers through yours at your side. He barely has time to punch out the words, “Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” before his nose is parting your folds and he’s swiping his tongue up and down your cunt repeatedly. 

You pull against his hold on your hands at the feeling, wailing and then biting your lip to quiet yourself, muffling your sounds.

Jake lets go of one of your hands to thumb your bottom lip, removing it from your teeth. He lifts his head and says in one breath, “Sadie’s not here, Liz. Let me hear you moan for me.”

And then he’s sucking on your clit, and you can’t hold it in any longer. The noise you let out is practically a scream, and the vibrations from Jake’s moan against your cunt push you that much further. Cause the fact he mentioned her name while headfirst deep between your legs is filthy. 

And the sounds that follow, echoing around your bedroom, are raunchy.  The night Jake kissed you in your hallway, your worries about Sadie hearing both of you come to mind. Because thank God she wasn’t here, or else she’d think Jake was murdering you.

You’d have to work on being quiet if you ever wanted to do this again with Jake once she came back home. 

You felt hot with your shirt racked up around the top of your breasts, gripping the hem to rip it over your head, your back leaping off the bed as far as it could go. Jake glances up, still working his mouth against your cunt to watch, the only remaining piece on your body is his tags.

You buck into his mouth, having no control over your body as he just sucks and sucks and sucks, your grip on his hand getting tighter and tighter, and you’re gripping your comforter to the point your hand throbs from the force. Cause everything burns and feels so good and yet so bad, and you cry to whatever part of you decided you needed to wait to experience this.

But in the back of your head, you know nobody could make you feel the way Jake was making you feel now.

Something snaps, hard, your muscles pulling tant and the cry blaring out into the ceiling of your bedroom is anything but salacious.  And Jake's voice is muffled when he works you through it, chanting, “Good girl, that’s my good girl,” over and over as you chant your hips to chase the feeling.

You are a shaking mess when Jake finally lets go, and slides back up your body, letting his weight settle against your chest, arms threading themselves under your shoulders.

"Was that okay?" 

You don't even have the words to describe how you are feeling. Your eyes are wide, staring up at him, wondering why the hell he'd be asking such a question when he caused you to be in such a state. 

Instead, you lurch up and kiss him hard, your hands gripping the middle of his back, sliding down to slip under the fabric of his boxers. Jake jolts when he feels your hands cupping his ass. 

"Are you sure, darlin'?" he pants, pulling away from you. "Are you sure you want this? With me?"

This was Jake. He wouldn't have you without your consent.

"I only want you."

It's slightly cheesy. But there was no other way you could put it. You couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else. But he challenges you again, asking, "Are you sure you want it to be me?" 

You wanted to smack him for his sheer idiocy right now, bringing up his shitty perception of his self-worth. But you don't want to ruin the mood, and you know where it's coming from deep down. It has nothing to do with you. 

"I do," you say instead, rubbing your nose against his. "I just don't know how to make you feel good, though."

"It's not about me right now."

Except it was. It was about both of you.

"Get on top of me."

The both of you rolled, Jake grabbing your hips as you landed on top of him. You sat up, placing your hands on his chest. The action had you rocking yourself back onto his clothed cock, and Jake let out a moan, hands tightening on your waist to push and pull with your movements.

Leaning down to kiss him once, you followed his jawline, reaching his ear. "You want to know something?" you asked, suddenly emboldened.

"What?" he gasped, nails biting into your skin.

"I've been dying to do this since the first time I saw you on the beach."

You felt the pinch of his nails as you kissed down his neck, making sure to catch a patch of skin between your teeth softly. You continued down his chest until you finally got to your desired place.

The divet.

The perfectly sculpted yet slightly crooked valley that split the entire length of his chest in half. You had a brief moment of panic, a stutter in your heartbeat, when you realized just how forward you, the freaking virgin, were being. Hell, you didn't even know if you were doing any of this right.

All you knew, you had waited long enough.

Spread out beneath you, Jake's body is spread out for you like a personalized meal. You pressed a kiss into his skin first before letting your tongue press deep into that valley and swirl all sorts of patterns across his skin. His eyes nearly bugled out of his head before Jake groaned, chest puffing out and hand fisting into your hair. 

You work your way up, getting ready to take one of his nipples into your mouth, when Jake suddenly shouts and lets out a fevered, "Stop." 

You reel back in shock, scared you overstepped. But Jake only tugged you up by your hips, using you as a counterweight to pull himself to sit against your headboard with a painful groan. He settled you directly against his pelvis, where you can feel just how hard he is through his boxers.

He grips the back of your neck hard and slams his lips into yours. You whimper into the kiss, worried he's using it as a tactic to let you down gently. When he finally releases your lips, you burst out, "I'm sorry, I overstepped. I shouldn't have.." 

Jake grips your throat, thumb resting just barely on your Adam's apple, enough to know it's there. You can feel it with each hard sallow you take, his hand big enough to encompass the entire length and width of your neck. 

"Don't ever apologize for that," he states firmly. "I'm yours to do with what you will. And trust me when I say there is a lot more you can do to me than just a simple kiss on the chest." 

And there's the blush. 

"I told you I'd corrupt your innocent little soul," he smirks, pulling you to his mouth once again.  

The next few moments are filled with long, passionate kisses and heavy touches until Jake is reaching for the hem of his boxers, and you find yourself helping him pull them down, him kicking them off in some unknown direction. 

Unlike this morning, there's no hesitation when you take him in, his cock hard and standing to attention. You regret your reaction to the comment you made about his helmet last year. Cause there was truth behind that one missing letter. 

Jake reaches for you, helping to position you over him before he suddenly freezes.  "Shit," he gasped, pushing you to sit on his thighs. "We don't have anything."

You ducked your head shyly. "We don't need one if you're okay without one. I... I'm on the pill."

"You're on the pill?"

You know what he means behind the question instantly.

"Two months before Penny asked me back. Other reasons, though. Not that I was expecting to get laid at any point in time," you answer him quietly, lifting your head. "You know me, Jake. I don't do one-night stands. I never have."

Jake relaxed under your hold, a small part of him sighing in relief.

"Worried I moved on?" you ask him softly, stroking your finger across his brow.

"You had every right to," he's almost ashamed to admit. You shook your head. "When are you going to get it through that stubborn head of yours that you are worth it, Jake? I love you. I'm not going anywhere."

Jake sighed again, dropping his forehead to your collarbone.

"Besides, you painted a pretty picture in the flatbed of your truck," you tease, quickly reciting the words he had rasped into your ear when his fingers were almost knuckle deep in your cunt. You drop your head forward and whisper into his ear, "The day I can have you gripping my cock?"

Jake growled at your words, reaching for your thigh to properly position you over him. Straddling his waist, you rest on your knees. Jake grabbed his cock, angling it just so as to rub the tip against your cunt slowly. You weren't sure whether he was teasing you or getting you used to a feeling.

Maybe it was a bit of both.

Then his tip caught at your entrance, and you let out a whimper. 

He stops, not doing anything else except letting go of himself to latch onto your other hip. Tilting his head, he places a kiss on the underside of your jaw, breathing in deep.

You understand why Jake had you move on top of him for this. He was letting you control the pace and do what only felt comfortable to you. It warms your heart, even if it is on the verge of jumping out of your chest.

"Take your time, darlin," he encouraged you softly, mouthing at the skin under your collarbone. "I'm here whenever you are ready. And we can stop at any point."

You took a deep breath, finally finding the courage to press yourself down onto him.

Something between a whine and a gasp escaped your lips as you felt the tip of his cock enter you. You had no previous experience to compare this to, but you were sure you weren't supposed to feel this stretched out. Or this full. 

You got about halfway down before you cried out, sightly in pain. Jake's grip tightened on your leg and hip, muscles flexing as he halted you. You're slick, but it's a tight fit. And his breath was just as ragged as yours.

 Sliding the hand that was griping your hip up your back, Jake encompasses the nape of your neck in his hand, tiling your head down so he could take your mouth into an open kiss.

"Jake," you whimpered into his mouth, your nails digging hard into his shoulder. Jake kept a tight rein on his control, but it was a battle he was struggling with. You just felt too good around him.

"Such a good girl for me," he cooed. "Taking my cock." 

"I don't know if I can go any further," you whimper. But Jake is quick to reply, "We don't have to, not if you don't want to. But you're almost there, just a little bit more." 

"Fuck," you whined, tearing yourself away from his mouth to bury your face into his shoulder.  His hand tightened against the nape of your neck, fingers tangling themselves into the roots of your hair. The grip is reassuring and grounding, and you take several deep breaths before you press down once again.

Then, just when you think you can't take anymore, he bottoms out, his hips pressed tightly into yours. 

That's it. You were a virgin no longer. 

And suddenly, with that thought, you felt nervous. Because, of all things, that damn fucking sign in the girl's bathroom of the Hard Deck flashes in your mind.

Jake is experienced. You're not. It was one thing for him to say he didn't mind you were a virgin, but it was something else for him to be the one to change that status. Because every story you've ever read about how men would compare their previous partners to their current one eats away at you.

There was no way you would stack up to the long list of women Jake had bedded, for lack of a better word. But Jake only nuzzled the valley between your breasts, tongue delicately tracing the underside of one while rubbing soothingly down the curve of your spine.

"Perfect," he murmured softly. You can't help yourself when your next words come out more anxiously than teasingly. "Live up to your imagination?"

If Jake caught on, he didn't let you know.

"Better," he groaned. "I don't care if we do anything else. I'm perfectly content to be like this the rest of the day."

He twitches inside you, and you gasp, dropping your mouth to rest against the top of his head. You know what he is doing. He's letting you adjust, letting the pain subside, assuring your anxious thoughts.

"Like this? Me, wrapped around your cock, barely moving," You manage to pant, and he hums against your chest. "What if we have company? Rooster tends to show up unannounced."

"He better not," his growl vibrates off your skin, hand flexing on your thigh in an effort not to thrust. "He should know better than to show up at your door when he knows damn well what we're getting up to."

Jake titles his head to set his teeth into your collarbone in a warning, making you clench involuntarily and whimper. He snarls into your neck, "Don't mention him when I'm inside you. This is not going to end badly, not for your first time."

The heat laced in his voice did nothing to stop the small chuckle that racked your chest. Your muscles pull tight across your stomach, and you choke, "Are you trying to make me combust?"

"Is it working?" 

Jake doesn't move. Not at first. Not until you decide to test the waters and flex your hips once, rocking yourself on his cock ever so slightly. 

Your mouth is resting open against his forehead, and your nails are biting into his shoulders as you moan, letting the first thumps of pain, turn into pleasure. He's tense under you, Jake, using every ounce of willpower not to thrust himself hard up into you to match your rocks. He wants to take this slow. He wants you to enjoy this, no matter how badly he wants to feel you clench around him.

Instead, he rasps into your breast, “Feel good?” 

Why is he so obsessed with asking you questions?

You’re unsure if your noise is intelligible, but you try to force out an affirmative hum. Then he hits the back of your cervix, making you howl and curl into him.  

It must have been the sound you let out because Jake growls. Gripping the flesh of your butt tightly, he flipped the both of you. You weren't expecting him to, not with how beaten up he was. The movement of your back hitting the bed caused him to hit something deep inside you, causing you to cry out and grip the planes of his shoulders, nails biting hard and uncaring if you happened to touch his bruise.

The slow movement of you rocking on him was nothing compared to the way he started to thrust in earnest. 

"You have no idea how much I've wanted you," he panted, increasing his pace. "The day I saw you at the Hard Deck when you were dancing in your kitchen. The clean fucking slate."

You whimper at the growl he spun on the word fucking, adding to the heat already spreading across your body. Even with the pleasure he’s bestowing across your body, you know this must be somewhat painful for him.

"Jake.." you gasped. "Your back."

"Fuck my back," he grunted, angling his hips in an urgent thrust. It made you tilt your head back into your pillow, your head almost hitting your headboard, your nails biting into his back, letting out a heated cry. Jake went for your neck, teeth, and lips, pressing hard to your pulse point.

"I don't care if I fucking break it," he growled out. "I'm not stopping until you cum for me." 

A particular thrust caused you to turn your head, and Jake sunk his teeth into your neck. You lifted your leg, wrapping it around Jake's waist. The angle of this next thrust changed, and you whimpered loudly, tears leaking down the sides of your face as Jake lurched over you with a desperate groan.

It has you wrapping your other leg around his waist, your hips slanted downwards, his cock pounding you at a new angle.

His hand, supporting himself on the bed next to you, shot out to grip your bedframe. Alternating between deep thrusts and shallow teases, Jake watched you underneath him. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, your eyes fighting to stay open, and dog tags - his dog tags - jangling against your stomach.

 He almost didn’t have this, the stark realization haunting him. He had literally been a breath away from never seeing you again, never feeling your warmth or hearing your cries of pleasure or even your laughter. He would take any chance, any glance, anything to assure him you were real. And that you were his.

His back spasmed, and he fell on top of you, saving himself from crushing you at the last second. But it doesn’t deter him. No, Jake still flexed his hips, more than determined to get you over that edge, to have you cum. Even if he didn’t, he wanted you to experience at least that. 

But those dog tags cause a possessive feeling to rise in his chest - because the only word going through his head right now is mine. 

"You’re mine, Elizabeth,” he grunted. "Say it. Please say it.”

There's the possessive kink you know and love. 

“I’m yours,” you cry out, consumed by the feeling of him driving his cock into you. “Yours Jake, just please…”

It is then a mantra of "pleases" and "I needs" fall from your lips, of which you aren't sure what for. All you knew was that Jake was working you higher and higher off that edge, fully determined to see you tumble over it.

“Cum for me Liz,” he whines.  “Cum for me, just for me. Please my darlin’ girl.”

He drops his hand between the two of you, seeking out your clit and rubbing hard, tight circles that have you screaming. Your soaring, going over that somewhat unfamiliar edge he’s brought you over only twice before.

You swear you black out, just for a few moments, until Jake is at your ear, whispering praise after praise about how good it finally felt to have you cum around him. How only he would ever be the one to experience this, how proud of you he is.

Then he thrusts, once, twice, before your hips jolt up, and he's pressing himself deep, flooding your core. You sob, burying your face into his neck and tightening your legs around him. Because amongst the overstimulation, you can feel another one creeping up from out of nowhere. Pure white heat shoots up to your chest as Jake's haunting moan vibrates your entire being.

Then it's quiet, and you want to bury yourself in this moment. 

You don't even care that you're crying. Because, with all the thoughts and feelings flying back and forth through your mind, there's one that stands out the most. 

Your so fucking glad you waited.

"Are you alright?"

When you don't say anything, too blissed out to form words, Jake pants out your name against your neck; his voice laced with urgency.

"I need... I need a moment. Just a moment," you manage to pant, forcing breath into your lungs. Jake moves, trying to bring himself onto his elbows as his back screams in protest.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, stroking your cheek. You manage a small shake of your head, the sides of your mouth turning upwards. "No," you reply softly.

You finally open your eyes to see Jake staring down at you. His brow pulled together in concern. And, of course, you, being you, had to say the first thing that came to mind.

"I guess you did give me a good time after all."

Jake tilts his head for a second before his memory catches up with him, and he shakes his head, though you can see the puff he takes out of pride. 

"What am I going to do with you, Elizabeth Beck?"

You grin up at him. "Hopefully, a repeat of that sometime in the near future?"

Jake rolled onto his side with a groan, pulling you with him to lie half on his chest. The action caused him to slip out from you, which you were grateful for. The quick movement only caused a brief amount of pain, and you were sure if he drew it out, it would have been worse. 

Jake was pressing kisses to your forehead as the aftershocks finally made them known. You trembled against him, hands trying to find purchase along his chest, and Jake didn't stop until he was sure you were okay.

But, in the blissful silence, once you calmed down, Jake playing with your hair against your back, did he finally ask the question you knew was coming since he walked through your front door.

"Does she hate me?"

You weakly lifted your head from his shoulder, watching the conflicting emotions play across his face.

"The day at the beach. She was devastated..." Jake trailed off, absentmindedly staring at your bedroom wall. You pressed a kiss to his chest. "We've both had a lot of people in our lives that have hurt us."

"I'm used to disappointing people, but her? She has every right."

You frowned. "She missed you so much, Jake."

He shook his head, slamming his eyes shut. You lifted your hand off his chest to cradle his jaw, your thumb stroking across his cheekbone under the newly darkened skin. "She could never hate you. She asked me every day when you'd be coming home."

Jake didn't open his eyes, but he did lean into your touch, his shame and guilt still evident.

You wanted to tell him about the most recent thunderstorm, Sadie waking up and crying out for the both of you in the middle of the night. You had done your best to soothe her, but deep down, you knew she wanted Jake. Nothing could compare to his words of reassurance or the way she felt when he hugged her that night.

In the end, lifting his dog tags off your neck and placing them around hers was the only thing that worked. Huddled in her bed with your arms around her, she fell asleep with them gripped tightly in her hand.

Something told you even if you did tell him, it would only make him more upset.

You stroked your fingers over his forehead, asking him softly, "Come with me when I pick her up from camp next week? I promise she will prove you wrong."

There was a silent pause, and then he opened his eyes. He searched you for any hint of deception, not that he would find any. Sadie was just as important to him as you were. In the end, he nodded once with a sigh.

It was a few more minutes before he carefully untangled himself from your hold. He swung his legs over to the side of your bed with a groan, his muscles spasming as he sat up. Even in your blissed-out state, you reached out and placed a hand on his upper back, where his bruise was the least dark, hoping to soothe some of his pain.

"Where are you going?"

"Getting something to clean you up."

"You don't have to, Jake. I can take care of it."

"It's my job," he countered, turning his head to look at you with a cheeky grin. "Let me do this for you."

He stood, lumping slightly to your bathroom to grab something to clean you up. You watched him go, taking him in in all his naked glory, biting your bottom lip hard.

You still couldn't believe he was yours.

You weren't expecting this: the gentleness as he took the rag between your legs when he returned, the kiss he placed on your thigh when you whimpered from the sensitivity.

After tossing the rag into your laundry hamper to be dealt with later, he maneuvered himself back into the position he assumed last night when you fell asleep, head buried in your neck, arms wrapped under your shoulders.

It was soothing, his weight on your chest almost counteracting the dull throbbing in your core.

"How long do I have you for?" you asked, threading your fingers through his hair.

"I have nowhere to be for the next two weeks," he mumbled into your chest.

"Stay with me?"

"As if I'd leave you now."

😏😘 You hate me now?

Tags:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

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@its-the-pilot

Part 22 - Jump in progress

Wickett ;)

#Spotify #damn those dog tags #dtdt #damnthosedogtags #horseshoegirlwrites #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin #jake x reader #liz and jake #jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake seresin smut #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x oc #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun fanfic #top gun hangman #hangman top gun #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #top gun smut #top gun x reader

[princelylove]

The Father.

Synopsis: A character study on Bruno Bucciarati. 

Warning: pet names used in italian are masculine, general yandere behavior, nsfw implication at the end but no real nsfw, referenced violence

Bruno is not really naturally the fatherly type, but he chooses the responsibility anyway. He hides that he smokes, doesn’t eat until everyone else has, and very rarely slacks off. Although he’s serious about work and his family, he tends to be playful and lighthearted. It’s rare to see Bruno in a bad mood. He’s a family man. Loves the holidays, always hosts. Wants to be called papa or dad- Bruno’s secretly hoping that one day someone will slip and call him ‘Daddy,’ how delusional. He took the responsibility from his own father for his health and safety when he was little and didn’t really blink, but who takes care of Bruno? No one! Because providers don’t need to be babied, obviously, and that’s exactly what he is. The provider. The man of the house. 

His favorite albums from Miles Davis are Agharta and Bitches Brew, which are jazz-fusion, avant-garde jazz, funk rock, and jazz-rock. I tend to think of jazz as slow, easy listening, but it’s wild, it’s experimental, it’s everything Bruno doesn’t allow himself to be in favor of keeping his perfect family fantasy safe and sound.  The Bucciarati household is always loud- whether that be from Narancia and Pannacotta “playing,” in Bruno’s words, or from the little record player that lives in the living room. He offered to buy Pannacotta some vinyl records, but he never took him up on it. It’s a bit of a sore subject. The bookcase has a cardboard box in it filled to the brim with albums from Miles Davis, Sade, Frank Sinatra, Tupac, and his darling’s alleged music taste- he guessed based off of what was in your room. How did he get in your room? Don’t be silly, he never said he was in your room. 

Bruno takes up two personas in order to maintain his fantasies, his passione one and his fatherly one, and flips back and forth depending on what’s going to work best. It’s rare to see Bruno just… being himself. He’s obsessed with how things are supposed to be- he wants what he never had. A big, happy family. 

His passione one is where he gets his sadism out of his system, where he tells himself he’s just doing whatever it takes to keep his family safe and sound and not thoroughly enjoying beating the shit out of whoever Polpo tells him to. He grabs your wrists too tightly when moving you out of his way, gets a little too loud with you, sometimes. He doesn’t hit his darling normally- no, that’s not what a good husband would do- but sometimes you just make comments that burrow themselves under his skin, and he can’t help but react. 

He doesn’t shy away when he does it, either. He always doubles down, giving you that firm tone he gives Narancia when he slacks off on important jobs, or how he would talk to someone while working a typical repo job. It’s like you’re talking to someone else- he doesn’t even bother to fake his normal smile. 

“Watch how you talk to me before you lose the ability to speak at all.”

It’s short and sweet. Nothing more needs to be said. 

He holds his head in his hands, later, thinking about how badly he just set himself back. At least he has the courtesy to open a window to let the smoke pour out. 

He doesn’t like smelling like cigarettes.

He isn’t really meant to be a father. He doesn’t really know how, but he’s trying to. He’s not meant to be a husband, either, with the way he treats his spouse, lately. But he’ll smile, and take that gentle tone, because he must. The world may be cruel, but he must not be. He has to work to not have that type of reaction when you speak to him so harshly. Maybe if he were a better man.

His cheeks hurt from smiling too much. He’s trained himself so that his smile would always reach his eyes- he even trained his relaxed face to be a more palatable version of his actual relaxed face. You won’t open up to him if he scowls at you, or glares at you instead of looks. He wants everyone to think he’s gentle- he wants to be the father that everyone always comes back to visit once they’re all grown up. A better version of his father, who Bruno would argue was perfect, for what he had. 

His darling is meant to be his spouse- his other half. He longs for someone he can shower with pet names, someone who will melt into his hands, someone who appreciates just how much effort he puts into everything. It’s rare that Bruno can fully relax- there’s always something to be done, whether that be at home, or by Polpo’s order. 

But… He doesn’t truly trust his darling. He loves to micromanage, and it makes him anxious to think about you holding something sharp or standing on something unstable. Please just let him reach whatever it is you need for him- his stand can bring things down if it’s also out of his reach. 

Why do you want to drive? He knows how to drive. Why did you bring your wallet? Of course he’s going to pay for you- he asked you out, didn’t he? Oh, let's not cut up your own snack, you could hurt yourself… Bruno is begging to be needed. He finds his identity in being the man of the house- the provider, the father, the husband, but you just aren’t giving it to him, and it's driving him up the wall. 

It’s suffocating. It’s patronizing. You can shave by yourself, you’re not a child. You know how to take something out of the oven- you’re not going to use your bare hand to touch the metal that was just sitting at 177 degrees celsius.

A little note sits on your nightstand. It’s meant to be a bonding exercise, as he leaves a new one every morning, but you don’t speak italian. Bruno’s handwriting is neat and bubbly- why he put so much effort into making it legible but not in a language you understand is beyond you. 

‘Amore mio -

Sono innamorato di te. Non aprire la porta a nessuno.

Avete mangiato qualcosa? 

Tuo marito.’

You’re left to sit and stare at it, if you’d like, or get on with the chores you know you have to do before Bruno gets back.

It’s little moments of peace- of genuine privacy- like these that keep you going. You’ve been getting up earlier for this exact purpose. Bruno would really rather you sleep the entire morning away and wake up to him coming home in the afternoon, arms open and smiling, calling his name, maybe saying something like “Come back to bed, my love.” … but it’s healthier for you to be up during the day, getting some sun from the open windows, and engage your mind with some tasks that aren’t instant-pleasure based.

But sleeping in a little bit isn’t a crime. You’re welcome to sleep until Narancia gets up- he needs you to walk him through the steps of making breakfast, again. Don’t worry. You won’t be touching the stove, or using a knife. Just guide him through it verbally, and comfort him if it fails.

It eats Bruno alive when you don’t immediately greet him at the door.

He sighs a bit at the snack you brought him. The bowl makes a clack sound as you set it down on his desk. You took such care in peeling and slicing some apples for him, he should be grateful. 

“Bello. What’s this for? I’d rather you not use the peeler unsupervised.”

“Wasn’t. Narancia was watching.” 

Bruno bites his lip a bit, but is quick to fix his face. He smiles at you oh-so-lovingly. “I didn’t know he was warming up to you, amore. Did something happen?” His hand reaches for the bowl, his wrist sits on the old wood of his desk, and his fingers tap the brim ever so lightly. He’s debating eating it to ‘please’ you or not, debating if he can hide his distaste for the fruit from his almost-spouse. So close.

“No.” Your answer is simple. It’s behaving without submitting. He wants the full story. Wants to know why his son is hovering over his darling- if this wasn’t done by a peeler, and actually done by the small pocket knife he trusted his son to have around you- 

“Perhaps it’s the exposure to you, then.” He really does it. He pops one of the smaller slices into his mouth, and chews. His shoe makes a distinct tap as he bounces his knee under his desk. As much as he adores you, his fondness for apples is like his fondness for the boss.

You hum at his act of ‘love,’ and wait for him to finish chewing, and actually swallow. When he notices your stare, he opens his mouth to display that he actually did.

“See? There’s no need to fuss, I’m not having issues with eating. I eat very well, actually.”

Of course his mind jumps to you being concerned for him. When you don’t respond, he sighs a little bit, and stands.

“Amore, is there something you want to talk about? I’m open to your worries. That’s what I’m here for.”

The clack of his shoes don’t comfort you. 

His outstretched hand doesn’t ease your worries.

His voice doesn’t soothe you.

“I love you, tesoro mio.” His lips graze your cheek, “I wish you wouldn’t look at me like I’m going to eat you.”

His hand rests on your waist, pulling you in closer.

“Unless you’d like me to.”

#yandere bruno bucciarati #yandere bruno bucciarati x reader #god this took forever #my italian is rusty give me a break if the grammar is a bit off

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 - 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐊

Pairing: FEDRA!Javier Peña x firefly!reader

Genre: slice of life, smut, romance, angst, enemies to reluctant friends to lovers, TLOU AU, minors dni

Summary: Javier, a former member of the Federal Disaster Response Agency in Kansas City, is haunted by the guilt and violence he indirectly caused by not taking action when he should have. After fleeing Kansas City in the aftermath of Kathleen's violent overthrow of FEDRA, you and Javier seek refuge in an abandoned train in the middle of a forest.

As you and Javier turn the train into a living space and learn to navigate the dangers of a post-apocalyptic world, you gradually overcome your differences and form an unlikely bond. But when your pasts catch up with you, you must confront the demons that haunt you and make a choice that could mean the difference between life and death. Will you choose to protect each other and find a way to build a new life together, or will the ghosts of your pasts tear you apart?

word count: 0,5k

chapter summary: seasons change, leaving joyful imprints of time's passage in their wake.

warnings: nothing, just fluff

Turntable - A rotating platform used to turn locomotives around, typically located at the end of a rail line or in a rail yard.

Warmth seeps into your skin. The air carrying the scent of freshly blooming flowers and a specific summer smell that reminds you of lazy afternoons where you would lay down on your rug and under the beam of light like a cat. You look to Javier who’s legs are dangling off the edge of the train. He has his run-down guitar on his lap, a smile on his face as he plays with the strings, something resembling a melody blending into the sound of nature. 

You smile and burrow your face into the crook of his neck. He smells nice. It feels good to finally be out in the open, appreciating the peaceful night around you. It had been a harsh winter. You were glad it was over, for now. 

“Seems like my playing is getting better if you’re already melting against me, perla,” his lips brushes against yoru temple, you shudder at the heat of his breath. 

“Or perhaps I’m trying to distract you so I don’t have to listen to it anymore.” 

“It’s hard to learn without a teacher.” 

You smile and look up to him, “I’m just kidding, Javi. You’re definitely getting better.” 

“Then give me a kiss.” 

Even after all this time, he still makes your heart skip a beat. You close the distance, pressing your lips together in a tender kiss. He smiles and takes your bottom lip between his teeth, a soft pain blossoms but disappears quickly when he sucks where the soft dents lay. 

“That’s for teasing me,” he breathes. He carefully places the guitar to the side and motions towards the turntable that sits between you two. The corner of it is cracked, the needle despite all the cleaning still muted in color. "Now, Let's see if this old thing's got some life left in it," Javier mutters, adjusting the needle with practiced fingers.

The needle drops, and the familiar crackle of the vinyl fills the air. Both yours ad Javier’s eyes grow wide, a smile on both of your lips. 

"It works," he says, his eyes lighting up. 

You can't help but grin The music floats around, echoing within the night. The stars overhead twinkle like they're in on the secret.

"Dance with me?" Javi asks, hand extended. 

“Of course.”

You take it, and the two of you start swaying. Javier's arms envelop you, pulling you close. The warmth of his chest against your cheek feels like a haven, a refuge under the vast sky. It feels like a dream but you know it’s real. His presence too strong not to be. His breath is warm against your ear. 

As you move together, Javier's fingers trace gentle patterns on your back. You sigh happily and allow him to guide you. He pulls your head to his chest, and you feel the steady thud of his heart.

“You know,” he mutters, guiding you into a swift turn and pulling you back again. “If it meant meeting you, I would endure a thousand more Outbreaks. That’s how much you mean to me.” 

You cradle his cheeks and pull him in for a quick kiss, you breathe your answer against his lips. 

“I would too.” 

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x fem!reader #javier peña au #the last of us au #tlou au #the last of us fanfic #narcos fanfic #narcos fic

[lightsoutletsgo]

Congrats on 500 followers! Such an exciting milestone! Can I ask for a celebration ship (ideally 2 lol)? I’d describe myself as introverted, intellectual, and a walking shitpost lol I love music (literally all kinds), books (I have a booktube channel), coffee, video games, and touching grass. I’m plus size and I go to the gym everyday and I’ve been doing archery for almost 25 years (I’m not as old as that makes me sound; I’ve been shooting for most of my life) and I am an Olympic-style competitor (I’m not good enough for the Olympics yet, but a girl can dream). I have a degree in English lit/creative writing and I work in the legal field. My friends would describe me as the dependable one, the one who always shows up, the one who gives the beat hugs, and the one most likely to go to war on their behalf. In a partner I look for someone I can laugh A LOT with, someone who can talk about literally anything and who is interested in lots of things, and someone who REALLY likes cuddling.

Thank you so much in advance! Your work is so good and I’m so excited to keep reading. Here’s to another 500!

🏹 anon

hello love! thank you so so much for sending in your request! omg you sound so interesting and cool 😭 I really had to do a little thinking about who I was gonna put you with 👀 but I think I got it? happy reading! mimi

LEWIS HAMILTON ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ - calls you darling and love - loves, loves, LOVES your thighs! they're so cosy and comfy. he's also obsessed with your hips - his love language is physical touch and acts of service - nothing he loves more than a cuddle session with you and he is a firm believer that there's nothing a cuddle can't fix

as an athlete himself, lewis knows how much time and dedication you have to put into becoming one of the best and so he loves supporting you on your journey for that. he comes to as many practices and competitions as he can and he loves to offer up his physiotherapist for you to use too! of course now and again he loves to try things out himself and rather annoyingly it doesn't take him long to get the hang of it! of course it's always nice seeing his arms and hands flex when he tries so do you actually mind?

the two of you spend plenty of evenings listening to music together whether it's new tunes on spotify or golden oldies on vinyl. lewis loves to gently tap out the rhythms on your hands and hips as he holds them and it's easily a soothing motion that helps if you ever get overwhelmed while out with him.

lewis understands that your job can be stressful and so he loves to help you unload as much as he can at the end of the day. if he's far away he's right there on facetime, smiling at you as you cuddle with roscoe on the couch and rant to him. or if he's in person, he's offering a back massage, shoulder massage, starting to make dinner and telling you to go an shower the day away while he puts your cosy clothes in the dryer.

"love?" lewis emerges from the garden where he's been doing a light workout, "where'd you go?" he's not concerned at the lack of response, he knows you've had a lot of work you've been focusing on lately and so he surmises you've probably fallen asleep somewhere. roscoe is nowhere to be found either, having grown bored of watching lewis' workout halfway through and plodding back into the house, so lewis knows he'll find the two of you curled up either on the couch or the bed.

walking through the living room, the couch is empty and so he heads straight for the bedroom. he quietly opens the door, smiling to himself at the sound of your heavy breathing and roscoe's snoring. he closes the door and showers as fast as he possibly can. his body craving yours and needing to be close to you. once he's showered, he emerges into your shared bedroom once more, pulling his sweatpants on and carefully sliding into bed behind you. wrapping an arm around you, you shift in your sleep, nose wrinkling slightly as you're disturbed. it doesn't take more than a soft 'shhh' and kiss to the head from lewis before you're settled once more, body naturally wriggling closer to him a little more as you seek his body heat. lewis closes his eyes with a happy hum. this is his favourite place.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

CHARLES LECLERC ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ - calls you mon amour or mon ange - charles loves your smile! whether it's your soft half-asleep smile first thing in the morning or a massive grin that greets him when he gets home after a long triple-header - his love language is quality time - he could spend hours praising you for the smallest things, just to watch the way you melt and flourish under his love and adoration. to him, you're a goddess!

charles loves that you're his shy little bookworm! he's that much in love with you that he's turned one of the big windows of his monaco apartment into your reading nook; complete with cosy chair, shelves, lighting and a small coffee table with a mug warmer to keep your coffee at the right temperature all the time! one of his favourite ways to pass the time when he's home is to sit and play piano while you read. he tells you it's a good exercise in practicing different styles and emotions of song. he'll ask you what mood the scene you're reading is and start playing accordingly.

he loves to watch you make videos for your youtube channel and often adds his opinion. your followers love it so much that it turns into a regular weekly segment on your channel! charles is in awe that your degree is in creative writing and is summoning up the courage to ask you to write a bedtime story he can gift and read to his niece for her birthday.

he knows you're the dependable friend, he sees it in the way you are with the people around you. but he also knows that that can sometimes be a little tiring and difficult when you yourself are struggling and so he becomes your dependable person. he loves being able to do the little things for you to make it easier.

the rain gently patters against the window of your apartment as grey clouds roll over the harbours of monaco. but here in your apartment with charles, it's warm and cosy and homely. it's a rare weekend that he's home and you've been spending time existing together. you've been reading while he plays piano, a new composition brewing in his head and now in his phone voice memos but now a sleepy atmosphere is settling over the apartment.

charles leans against the big L-shaped couch as you lay in-between his legs. his hands gently run up and down your sides as you lazily hum the tune he was playing barely five minutes earlier. he lets out a breath of laughter and smiles down at you, one hand coming up to stroke your head as you tilt your head up. he stares at you for a moment, just enjoying having you in his lap. his finger gently traces your face. across your cheeks, up your nose, across your bottom lip. he grins at you, completely lovesick as your eyelashes flutter shut and you sigh. leaning down he kisses you softly once, then again and once more.

#mimi's 500 celebration ₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ #🏹 anon #mimi.writes #mimi.answers #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader

[sashi-ya]

霊圧 + 淫慾. // spiritual pressure + lust. [twoop x sy]

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬. part two 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆. by sashi-ya 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐈 | 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 | 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈

tw: NSFW. mini scenarios when being caught by you while masturbating. also I came to ruin a perfect color spread from Shinij listening to music for ever. next part will feature part of the Karakura gang. wc: 1k // masterlist // tag list: @stygianoir @tealcat001 @dumbbitch223 @bookandyarndragon @ilibili @jin-supremacy01 // colab with @the-witch-of-one-piece

➡ 𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐈

A man that likes to investigate and nurture himself with the changing culture of the world of the living had discovered what porn is. And hell, what a breakthrough it has been for him.

Headphones and that little device Ichigo’s classmate gave to him, himself resting over his red sofa, believing the many boxes of vinyl discs protect him from the rest of the room. The phone plays the video of a busty red-haired woman moaning, being totally pleasured by a faceless man. He watches such video with great attention as he beats his own meat to the sounds of that girl’s whines.

Shinji’s smile grows wider, but his eyes are closed shut. Total bliss as he keeps jerking off, perhaps imagining the actress is jumping over his sex. And you are watching at a total unaware captain from behind. He didn’t hear you calling, nor he has noticed your presence.

You don’t mind watching, because you are sure he actually would love to know you have been. And just as he finally bursts, and his neck stretches in total pleasure you decide to take his headset off.

“Is that device able to record video?” you ask, hugging him from behind.

Shinji laughs nervously, you have surprised him and even if he tries for his almost yellow locks to cover his blushed cheeks you’ve seen the shame in his eyes.

“I- I think yes” he answers, confused, and still agitated. “Stay right there, let’s recreate the video…”

➡ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄

Does he really masturbate? Surely he does. He is a man with desires too. But have you ever thought about him doing it? Probably not… even if you did think of him while doing it.

It’s normal to you to hear him grunt and moan in his sleep, but it’s nothing but his difficulty to breathe. You are not supposed to be taking care of him; however, you do. The same way Kyone and Sentaro do, you provide welfare to him.

Jushiro fleeted you to your quarters, but, you decided to stay close to his room. He had been coughing more than usual, and his skin seemed a little more blushed during the times you were around. The last thing you want for him is to run a high fever and have no one to help him. But… what type of fever is the long-haired captain running? Perhaps, it was some kind of internal heat that couldn’t be stopped by any meds…

You hear him cough, and then whine. Like a plead, his last moan sounds. And you are sure he is not just sleeping, Jushiro must feel really bad. And you decide to act.

“Ukitake Taicho! Are you ok??” you move the curtain away to his room to discover he actually was more than ok. His green eyes widen; he looks at you with his mouth open from the side. He is completely naked in front of you, with his hard shaft in between his slender fingers, he is covered in sweat, with his hair a little dishevelled.

“(Name)-chan! wha- what- what are you doing h-ere?!! I thought I was alone!” he asks scandalized as you turn around to cover your eyes with your hands. You can’t ignore the beautiful image of his almost white skin subtly bathed by the warm flame of a candle, and the fact that his moans were motivated by pleasure.

“I’m sorry… Ukitake Taicho. I stayed here in case you felt bad, you seemed blushed during the day, and I was scared you might be running a fever…”

“I wasn’t sick, (Name)-chan… I’m not used to have you near me for so long” he whispers, as you hear him standing up. His wide frame rises behind you, one of his hands rest now over your shoulder. “It’s just you…” he mumbles, so soft and caring, but so sexy and arousing.

A smirk curls up your lips while you close the curtain and let him pull you, drag you… to sin…

➡ 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐈

You can’t tell me you simply “caught” him. There is no way you weren’t abducted by his manly grunts to look.

“You lose no time, huh? Yachiru just left with the other kids” you mock him, bending over the frame of his door. “Huh? The kid is always around, I have little to no time alone” he protests, never stopping his pumping motions.

You laugh sexily, and bite your lower lip. You are punishing him, nobody can but you. “No sex” you said. And no sex for such a beast is detrimental. “You are so needy, Kenny…” you purr, licking your teeth.

“Are you gonna come and suck my dick or you want a show?” “I wouldn’t mind you showing me how needy you are”

You are playing with fire, and you love it… almost as much as him. What you just suggested represents a challenge to him. And he will show you, and he is also gonna make you kneel in front of him sooner or later. His strong reiatsu raises like his arousal, growing like his hardness, sprouting, and overflowing.

Your lungs feels like they are being crushed by your ribs, his smirk turning into a devil smile as he pumps harder. Up and down. Precum dripping in between and over his knuckles, his wide chest covered in scars going up and down. His grunts like growls, feral and so hot, making cross your legs and regret your “sex prohibition”

He rips his eye patch; he wants you to finally succumb, and an upcoming orgasm can make his strong spiritual pressure become heavier for sure. So much that, as he wanted, your legs fail you and you end up kneeling on the ground.

“Hah!, you finally decided to suck my dick?” he laughs, standing up and walking towards you. “You- damn brute… conceal your reiatsu or else I’m gonna die before it” you protest, horny but on the verge of becoming hypoxic. “Fineee fineee, but only if you stick your tongue out for me”

#kenpachi #zaraki kenpachi #kenpachi x reader #jushiro ukitake x reader #ukitake x reader #shinji hirako x reader #zaraki kenpachi x reader #bleach #bleach x reader #bleach anime #bleach imagines #bleach fanfiction #bleach fanfic #bleach fanart #spiritual pressure x lust #hirako shinji #shinji hirako #hirako shinji x reader #hentober #shinji x reader #bleach fic #bleach tybw #bleach manga #bleach shinji #shinji bleach #shinji hirako x you #hirako shinji x you #shinji #hirako bleach #ukitake jushiro x reader

[foxsartdump]

the mf w/the edgiest palette ever

JOHN | ROSE | JADE

some notes on the design below

i dont have a lot to say on this one, honestly making him a pegasus was the most obvious option, the fur color is also quite obvious because i wanted him to resemble crows, tried to do his snout mark to be like a now to a crows beak aswell tho im not sure how well it translates

the wings on his filly design are uneven and messy-ish and i like to think theyre not really fit for full flight which get rectified more or less when god-tiering, faster on his hooves cause flash-step

his cutiemark is just his scratched disk, nothing more to say on that

if it werent for the fact vinyl scratch is already a pony name i wouldve used that, at first i wanted to call him turnaround beat but i went with record scratch instead cause it sounded better

#homestuck #homestuck dave #dave strider #homestuck au #mlp #mlp au #hs mlp au #foxs art tag #art #digital art #fanart #digital fanart