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avastrasposts · 3 hours

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Big Sky Country - ch. 1

Cowboy!Frankie x OFC

Hi!

I'm really excited to post the first chapter of my new fic after posting a little snippet of it almost a month ago! In it we meet a cowboy version of Frankie as he returns to New York to patch things up with his "maybe girlfriend", but he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.

No age gap, OFC story, angsty as fuck in parts, some smut, and I'm putting poor Frankie through hell again (I love him, I swear...)

And a big shout out and thank you to @i-own-loki who made the beautiful banner!

Warnings can be found here - contains spoilers but please read if you know certain themes may be upsetting for you. This fic is dark in parts and I don't want to upset anyone.

Series Master List

Main Master list

Prologue

The Greyhound bus rumbled away down the pin straight highway, heading west, towards the darkening mountain range. The sun slowly sank behind the highest peaks, soon their shadows would touch her feet. Looking back, east, towards a past she’d left on a whim, she sighed and let her eyes drift up to the indigo sky. Big sky country indeed.

So alien to her eyes, so open to someone used to living their life surrounded by tall buildings, busy people, small trees in small parks.

Here, the open prairie gave speed to the cold wind that hurtled down from the mountain range, whipping dirt from the road, tugging at her loose hair. She briefly closed her eyes against the particles of dust, inhaled deeply, tasting it on her tongue, dry grass in the air, a hint of snow from the mountains. No way back now, the bus too far away to stop. Only her duffel bag and a phone number, hoping he’d pick up and let her in.

He pressed his thumb to the button with her name, the taxi behind him rolling away down the crowded street. The buzz from the intercom added another layer of noise to the assault on his ears.

He dropped his hand.

Waited.

Glanced down the street, letting the tall steel and glass buildings pull his gaze upwards, to the thin sliver of dirty gray sky visible above them. With a sigh he dropped his eyes down, towards the end of the long street, where the buildings seemed to merge into one solid wall. He knew he was looking west, could feel it in his bones, in the way his feet wanted to start walking towards it. Towards the tall mountain range behind his home.

He pressed his thumb against the button with her name on it again, the buzzer grated his skin. He had a way back, nothing stopping him from hailing a cab, climbing back on the Greyhound and heading west again.

But she’s here. If he wanted to make this work, he needed to be here.

Chapter One

A wall of warm air hit Frankie as he pulled open the door to the bar, chatter spilling out onto the street. His shoulders pulled up to his ears, the environment uncomfortable to him and he stopped just inside the door, scanning the room for something familiar apart from the smell of stale beer in the air. This bar was the first one he saw that looked like it would maybe serve someone like him, a Texas boy, fresh off the bus from Montana. He’s pretty sure he still has horse dung stuck to the bottom of his cowboy boots, his old army duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

The door behind him opened again, cold air hitting the nape of his neck under the ball cap.

“You growing roots, old man?”

The line is followed by a man snorting and a hand on Frankie’s arm, pushing him to the side. He would snap, bite back with a threatening remark, or at the very least fix the man with his most intimidating soldier scowl. But he just took two steps to the side, his shoulders creeping closer to his ears as he tugged at his cap, the movement unintentional, a nervous habit. He knew he was out of place here, a stranger.

The young man, a yellow backpack slung over his shoulder and long hair pulled into a bun, shoved his way past Frankie, catching the eye of the woman behind the bar.

“Hey, dickwad! Behave yourself or I’ll have you barred,” she barked, her eyebrows furrowed as she jabbed her finger at the man and he raised his hands in a weak gesture of apology as he sauntered towards the bar.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he snarked, heading towards a loud crowd further in, walking away and ignoring the frown from the woman. She turned her attention to Frankie instead and looked him up and down, an appraising look, before meeting his eyes. “You coming or going, cowboy?”

“Uuh..coming,” he managed to press out, picking up his feet and walking to the bar. He felt heat creep up his neck at being so easily pegged as a cowboy, an out of towner, swallowing down the urge to turn on his heel and bolt out the door. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and the woman behind it gave him a smile, setting down a coaster with a flick of her wrist.

“What can I get you? You look like you’ve traveled far.”

“Just a beer, thanks,” he said and she gave him a softer smile, pity flashing across her face.

“This is Brooklyn, cowboy, I’ve got twenty beers on tap and forty in bottles,” she said and he felt fatigue set in, can’t even order a normal fucking beer in this city. He sighed deeply, dropping his head between his shoulders. But the woman just chuckled in a low voice, tapping her hand on the bar just in front of him.

“Don’t despair, I’m a good bartender, I know what you’ll like.”

He picked up his head as she stepped away, grabbed a glass and moved to a tap further down the bar. Shooting him a quick grin she began to pull the pint, amber liquid filling the glass, topping off with a creamy white head. He watched her from under the bill of his cap, shouldn’t really appraise her, but he can’t help it. The fitted jeans on her curves, and the faded bar uniform shirt tied at the waist instead of tucking it in, made his eyes drop down over her ass in a way a man trying to save his relationship with another woman should avoid. And she clocked him checking her out when she turned towards him again, making him snap his eyes to his hands on the bar. Heat crept up his neck as he rubbed the small bullseye tattoo next to his thumb.

“Amber ale from a local brewery three blocks from here,” she said and placed the pint on the mat in front of him.

“Thanks,” he replied, watching the bubbles rise to the bottom of the head, “looks good.”

“One of my favorites, I’ve always had a soft spot for amber ale,” she nodded, picking up a cloth and returning to the never ending duty of cleaning glasses.

Frankie picked up the glass and took a long sip, humming as the ale slipped down his throat.

“Damn,” he said, “that’s good, that’s really good.”

“Told you,” the woman smiled at him and he gave her a quick smile in return before he took another sip.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as she moved around the bar, clean glasses getting wiped and stacked. Clearly a newcomer to the city, she’d called him ‘cowboy’ and he hadn’t protested, the boots and the duffel bag giving him away, even before she saw his uneasy eyes roam around the bar and his nervous shuffle. She’s used to assessing anyone who steps in through the door, the loud ones, the quiet ones, the ones who are only coming to make trouble.

This man was one of the quiet ones, she doesn’t think he’s loud even when he’s in his own element, surrounded by friends.

As he took another long drink from his pint, she turned and picked up glass, catching his eyes on her. She smiled warmly at him, wanting to make him feel welcome, at least in this bar. The city outside is usually brutal to newcomers, and this one seems to carry more of a burden than most.

“So you’re new to the city?” she asked him, moving back to his side of the bar, pushing long strands of ginger red hair back behind her ears before wiping another glass.

“Yeah, came in on the bus a few hours ago,” he replied and she nodded. He doesn’t look like he flew into the city, he’s got the tired face of someone who's spent too many hours leaning against a window, watching the Midwest slip past. But underneath the tired eyes there’s a warmth, a softness in the way he gives her a small crooked smile that makes a dimple appear on his right cheek.

“Spent two fucking days on it,” he sighed, rubbing a large hand over is face before he lifted his cap and swept his thick curls back. She’s temporarily mesmerized by how they bounce back around his ears as he squashes the cap back down.

“Two days? Where did you come from, Texas?” she asked, her eyes widening at the thought of spending two whole days on a bus, but he shook his head.

“No, I think Texas is like three days, I came from Montana,” he took another long drag of his beer.

“I’m guessing this isn’t a weekend trip then”, she quipped, putting down the cloth, all the glasses done, and leaned back on the counter behind her. There’s more work to be done but the stranger chuckled softly at her joke and it pulled her in, making her smile in return.

“No, I’m here to stay with someone, my..ah-a friend, of sorts,” he said, “Gonna see if I can find some work around here, try a different type of life.”

“What do you do?” she asked, “Maybe I know someone who knows someone, that’s usually how it works here.”

“Back in Montana I work with horses, on a ranch,” he replied, rubbing his thumb over the condensation on the beer glass, “Before that, I was a mechanic, cars, helicopters, anything really, I can usually fix it.”

“That’s a pretty handy skill,” she replied, sounding impressed and he gave a little shrug, as if the ability to fix helicopters was something inconsequential, “I’m sure you’ll find work, especially if you can fix old cars, lots of those around here.”

She turned and grabbed a notepad from next to the till, “What’s your name and number? I’ll keep it on hand and ask around for you.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised as he sat up a bit straighter, “Uh yeah, I’m Frankie, Frankie Morales.”

“Nice to meet you, Frankie,” she smiled back at him and slid the notepad across the bar, “Write it down, and your number. I can’t promise anything, and I’m not recommending you to anyone, I’ll just let them know you’re looking for work.”

“Yeah, sure, of course, but anything helps,” he replied, grabbing the pen and jotting down his information.

“What’s your name?” he asked, as he passed the notepad back to her.

“Aisling,” she replied, slipping it in next to the till again.

“Do you own this place,” he asked, looking around the bar. When he looked back at her she was shaking her head.

“No, not at all, I’m just the bartender,” she said, “Give me a minute, I’m just gonna serve these guys.” She gave him a quick smile and headed down the bar to two men who had just sat down.

Frankie watched her as she took their orders, smiling and laughing easily as she pulled a beer for one of them. The men, her age, are both hanging on to her every word as she makes a joke, the blonde one clapping the other one on the shoulder with a loud howl. She winked at him and turned, reaching for a bottle on the top shelf to serve the other man. As she stood on her tiptoes, stretching to reach, her shirt rose up, a soft sliver of creamy skin exposed in the dim light of the bar. Frankie couldn’t help but stare at the glimpse black underwear peeking out above the edge of her jeans, a flash of lace, his mouth suddenly dry as his cock reacted. He dipped his head, but couldn't keep his eyes away, she swayed on her tiptoes, refusing to get the stepladder and her breasts pressed against the shirt as it rode up higher. Frankie had an image of her underneath him, all that soft flesh, warm and smooth under his rough palms, sweet smelling and whimpering.

She managed to slide the bottle off the shelf and grab a glass. Frankie peeled his eyes away, looking down at the now empty pint in his hands, pressed his thumb into the tattoo, forcing his thoughts in another direction. At the end of the bar, Aisling rang up the customers’ order and wiped down the bar before coming back towards him.

“Do you want another?” she asked, nodding towards the empty glass. Frankie considered it for a beat and then shook his head. He wanted a clear head when he went back to the apartment, he needed to say the right things to save the relationship with the woman who lived there. He already knew that not even in his head could he bring himself to call her ‘girlfriend’, he’s far from sure that’s what she is anymore, not with the way they left it.

“No, I can’t,” he said, “It was good though, what do I owe you?”

“Fourteen fifty,” Aisling replied and he tried not to cough at the price as he pulled his wallet from the back of his jeans.

She took his bills and he left her a tip on the bar that she deposited in the tip jar with a smile.

“Uhm…tell me,” Frankie said, absentmindedly tugging at his cap, “Do I really look that much like a cowboy?”

Aisling’s smile softened as she heard his nervous question, “Well…yeah, the cowboy boots are kinda a give away,” she replied, “It doesn’t exactly look like it’s a fashion choice, and the whole jeans, suede jacket, belt buckle look…” She motioned over his body as Frankie’s eyes dropped down to his jeans and belt, hidden from view by the counter.

“You’re good,” he said, a small chuckle escaping him, “You got all that just from when I came in?”

“Tricks of the trade,” she replied, “I need to know who steps into the bar and read them quickly.”

“So you assessed me as soon as I walked in? What else did you pick up on?” He was curious now and leaned forward on the counter as she laughed.

“Well, I’m cheating because we’ve been talking for a bit now. But you do look ‘new in town’ and I’d say ex-army maybe?”

“I guess the duffel bag gave it away?” Frankie smiled, glancing down at the old bag at his feet.

“No, they’re ten dollars at the army surplus stores,” Aisling replied, shaking her head, “But you sat down with your back against a corner, and I bet you can tell me exactly where the exits are and how many people are in here and which ones could give you trouble.”

Frankie raised his eyebrows in surprise at her and she shrugged.

“You’ve been scanning the room since you walked in.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” he replied, letting his eyes roam across the room again, it’s instinct at this point, inherited from years in the army, “I quit the army years ago but it’s a habit I can’t seem to drop.”

“What did you do? Mechanic?” Aisling asked and Frankie shook his head.

“Helicopter pilot, which means I had to be able to fix anything, but mainly I flew things, anything really.”

Aisling gave him a closer second look and the pieces fell into place, his quiet demeanor, the way he held himself, not exactly folded in on himself, but as if he was trying to stay unseen and not be noticed unless he wanted to be. A strong, solid body gone slightly soft with age, betrayed by the gray in his beard and hair, small white scars across his knuckles, evidence of old injuries. A strong, solid body gone slightly soft with age, betrayed by the gray in his beard and hair, small white scars across his knuckles, evidence of old injuries.

“What?” he asked as he noticed her eyes scanning him.

“Just building the picture,” she said, a small crooked smile, “You know us bartenders, always trying to figure out the story of our patrons.”

“Not much of a story,” he said, tugging at his cap and hiding his eyes, “just new in town, looking for work.”

“Everyone has a story, Frankie Morales.”

He shrugged at that and fumbled for his phone as it began to ring. Aisling gave him a quick smile and stepped away to let him answer in private.

Frankie’s jaw ticked as he saw the name on the screen, Eva. He’s been expecting her to call since he left her front door. Their front door, maybe. The truth is, he doesn’t know where they stand anymore. They’d met in Florida, after a doomed mission to South America that left so much pain inside him, and a rift between old friends. She’d been a calming presence, someone who seemed to have his back when his mind spiraled out of control. But she hadn’t been enough, being in Florida became oppressive, and it wasn’t just the humid heat. The old haunts from the days he’d spent trying to numb his brain with white powder, bars and venues filled with memories of the friends he’d lost, both those who’d died and those who still lived, it all became claustrophobic.

When Herb, his sponsor at the NA, first invited him to the ranch in Montana he’d scoffed at the idea. He was a pilot, not a ranch hand. But after a close call, nearly falling back into the habit, he’d taken him up on the offer and gone out there for two weeks. Herb had convinced him by talking about the clear, cool air making it easy to breathe, the open sky making the mind feel less claustrophobic. And he’d been right. The first evening they’d sat on the porch, the mountains at their back, the open prairie in front, and Frankie had looked up at the endless sky and it was almost as if he was back in a cockpit, flying close to the stars. Nothing encroached on his mind, no buzz in his ears, nothing tugged at his memories, just the open sky and an endless horizon.

The two weeks of hard ranch work, aching muscles, blistered hands, sealed the deal. If he wanted to truly start over, he needed to leave Florida and come here.

Eva had been enthusiastic at first, pulled in by Frankie’s talk of the horses, a new foal that had just been born, the small cabin they’d live in. He’d shared the pictures he’d taken, all rustic beams, sturdy wood furniture and a hammock on the porch. It looked like a romantic western dream and that’s what they both really thought it would be. And for the first few months they were happy.

But when Frankie found peace and calm in the solitude of the isolated ranch, felt free and unrestricted, she began to feel claustrophobic and suffocated. The nearest town, a forty-five minute drive away, didn’t offer much of anything. She found work online and began to resent the life he’d trapped her in. That was the word she’d used, trapped. When the fights became a daily occurrence, Frankie felt the familiar itch of wanting to escape come back. Starting, as always, in his feet and crawling up his body until he spent more time out on the ranch than in the cabin. And for every hour he stayed away, Eva resented their life more, resented him more.

Until eventually, one late evening when he came back after five days on the trails with a group of guests from a neighboring ranch, she’d left. Only a note saying she’d accepted a position in New York with the company she worked for. A line about needing a different type of life, no invitation to come with her, to follow her, just signed /E and that was it.

He’d called her, spent hours on the phone when she eventually picked up, begged her to come back. Offered to move to a ranch closer to a bigger town, find a compromise where he could still have the peace of the ranch life, but let her live her life too. But she loved New York, after the silent cabin, she craved the noise and the tempo of the city.

Eventually he agreed to come to New York, to see her new life and maybe find a place in it. But the city was an assault on his senses after so long on the ranch. The peace that his spiraling mind had finally found evaporated as he navigated the city, the metro, her friends, the bars. His feet itched, the skin around his nails was picked raw and he felt on edge, even in the apartment, his mind never getting a chance to be quiet.

Eva called it his need for control, to always have a plan of escape, a way out. He knew it was the years in the army that had shredded his sense of safety, left his nerves ragged and too exposed to the mundane background noise of a city. Maybe he’d be able to deal with it some day, but now, he needed the silence.

After two months in Brooklyn, he left. A loose promise from both of them to maybe try to patch things up, to try the long distance thing. But when he sent a text, saying he’d returned safely to the ranch, and she didn’t reply for two days, he knew it was over. And he didn’t miss her. He had loved her at some point, he thinks. But their lives didn’t match, their needs too different. And he saw that he should maybe not be with anyone while he laid down the foundations of a new life in a new place. He needed to find a way to live with himself, in silence, before he considered sharing his darkest sides with someone else.

And then Eva called. Six weeks after he’d left Brooklyn. He could hear the heavy traffic behind her as she walked down a street somewhere, leaving a clinic that had confirmed what she’d suspected.

“I’m pregnant, Frankie, and it’s yours.”

The words floored him, sent a sharp jolt of dread through his system, his feet tingling, then his scalp. A baby. In New York. But his baby, their child. And the dread was replaced by nerves, how would they do this? Would she want to raise the baby in New York or come back to Montana? He had space for a child here, a guest bedroom with a view of the mountains. It would be a perfect nursery, he could paint it, build a crib with Herb’s help, the nearby town was a good place to raise a family when the child was old enough to begin school. Without even stopping to think, he built a new life around the unborn child.

Or hell, even New York, he’d make himself put up with New York if that was what she wanted. The apartment only had one bedroom but maybe they could move further out, get a bigger place. He could renovate pretty much anything, he was sure of it. Maybe they could find a quiet neighborhood with trees, where his mind could find peace even in the city. Without even stopping, he built another new life around his, their, unborn child.

“I don’t know if I’m keeping it, but I wanted to tell you.”

Eva’s voice had been hard, letting him know that she was doing him a favor by telling him, letting him be part of it.

“I’ll come to New York, I’ll get a bus today,” Frankie pleaded, “Let’s talk this through, a few more days won’t make a difference.”

She’d conceded, and he’d thrown stuff into the old duffel bag, left a message with Herb, and driven to the crossroads where the Greyhound stopped.

Now he was here, in a Brooklyn bar, looking down at her name on his phone as he pressed the green button to answer.

Chapter 2

A/N: And we're off! I'm so nervous, I really hope you all will love this and follow along as I explore this new version of Frankie! I hope to post a new chapter every Sunday so fingers crossed life doesn't get in the way too much!

❤

Tagging the ususal suspects: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @casa-boiardi

#frankie morales #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #frankie morales fanfic #triple frontier

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theficpusher · 8 months

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you live in my bones and we live in the sun by queenmcgonagall | nr | 1212 the sun and the desert and a map and nowhere to be but with each other.

Baby, I Met You On the Highway by i_amthecosmos | G | 1978 The desert is boring, but an unexpected friend makes things better.

throbs and gleams by thinlines | T | 3728 au. harry rides motorcycle across the country and finds louis in the middle of a desert.

my youth is yours by sapphirestylan | G | 5309 Niall and Harry are uni students who go down to visit Harry's family in southern California over spring break. They leave on a road trip in the middle of the desert, going as best friends and coming back a lot more.

Alien Roadtrip! by HelloAmHere | E | 16378 For the first time in his life, Louis doesn’t know where he’s going. Harry doesn’t mind. OR: roadtrip with desert feelings, too much snack food, and empty motels. Harry is definitely absolutely not an alien. That would be ridiculous.

Cosmic Love by smittenwithlouis | M | 27185 Sudden chills rake over his body yet again, making him stay rooted to the ground. Static in the air makes every hair on his body stand up straight. That's when he notices something a couple feet in front of him lying on the ground. It’s what appears to be a person, weird white beams snaking around them like Christmas lights. Louis' heart rate picks up. Is the person alright? What are they doing here? What the fuck is happening? Or: Louis lives in a small, desert town in the middle of nowhere Texas, yet a strange visitor manages to find Louis among the stars.

Speed Dates and Slow Lanes by zita17 | E | 34652 Overworked drama TA and script reader Louis Tomlinson just wants to make it through the end of the semester unscathed when an impromptu road trip turns his relationship with his best friend and roommate Harry Styles upside down. Basically, this is the story of what happens AFTER a pair of idiots try to become lovers. Co-starring Harry’s vintage Mercedes named Delilah, with cameos by Shakespeare, mix tapes, Denny’s, Walmart, Frank Sinatra, Joshua Tree National Park, Harry’s crocheted bucket hat, and Louis’ mesh tank top.

Have Love, Will Travel by kingsofeverything | E | 97257 Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series. It soon becomes obvious to their viewers that there’s something more than friendship between them. Eventually, they figure it out.

#deserts #have love will travel #kingsofeverything #speed dates and slow lanes #zita17 #smittenwithlouis #Cosmic Love #HelloAmHere #Alien Roadtrip!#sapphirestylan #My Youth Is Yours #thinlines #throbs and gleams #i_amthecosmos #baby I Met You On the Highway by #queenmcgonagall #you live in my bones and we live in the sun

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caffeinatedopossum · 2 years

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Poetry prompt: under the sea’s eyes

Oo thanks for the prompt! I think I'm gonna have fun with this one

Under the seas eyes:

I gazed at the ocean

With eyes glazed over

Overwhelmed by regret

That I will never really know her

I wonder what she has seen

And where she has been

Guided by the moon

And enveloped by the wind

I wish I could speak this language

Of seafoam and waves

Oh, what poetry it must be

To harbor both so many lives and so many graves

And though her stormy depths

Are a place I dare not dive

I'll wonder all my life

Which one of us is more alive

I hope this reverence

Is enough on its own

To appreciate from the shore

The nature of things that can't be known

Feel free to give me more prompts if ya'll want! I really enjoyed this

#wow so this unlocked feelings i didnt know i had #the moon and the sun are lesbians. everyone knows this #but i just realized the ocean is polyamarous and the sun and the moon and her are all in love #on a different note though. this is a poem about a fear of the unknown #in my case an actual fear of swimming in the ocean #but sometimes i look at the ocean from the shore and i think #why is it that we speak of the ocean as if its only one thing?#the ocean has changed and lived and breathed more than anyone alive today #it has so much plant and animal life and has carried and ended so much human life #its been the solace and pride of sailors and pirates and fishers for longer than i can imagine #its been the home to the skeletons of ships long forgotten and still on the ocean floor #its alive and so old and so full of life and death and growth #i cant help being scared but pulled to it all the same #like i need it to understand that i am here. observing it. recognizing it.#im alive but not as alive as she is #and i think thats beautiful and profoundly terrifying #i like to think about how the power of the waves crashing into the rocks and shells and bones and waterlogged ships #turns it slowly over time into sand #like even in the death and the rage and the uncontrollable current #you will become something new #even if its something that breaks you down into a million smaller pieces #you will never quite be the same again #you're now like your own ecosystem that will never die the same way twice #i take comfort in that in a weird way #i never want to die the same way twice

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gonzodangerfeels · 22 days

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Who is Mr Brown?

Are you asking for Mr Brown?

I wanna know Now

Just smell for the fresh buttered biscuits

The hot cross buns

Ferdinand's rump roast

#it's so beautiful and scary!#zzzzzzt zzzt electricity starts zapping the sky #welcome to Heaven's gate #you will make a fine landing pad #I will use their bones to build on #Indian burial grounds #my tribe fries the dead to a dark charcoal #ever hypnotize a school of barracuda #and the sun shows up in full chase #I can only assume I am also watching it from above and below #in the modified chart of values sometimes instead of a 2 the t becomes a 9 amd T a 3 #points lines angles I count all kinds of shots #so you were fully aware I was into you wheb you lived next door #I thought I was being cool and not bothersome to you #it shows you what I thkught of myself in that the best thing I could do was leave you alone (smh)#yeah I kinda daydreamed a lot about sitting on your bed ocer there while you smoked #you scoot closer to me and I turn to look at you #we donttaay anything #the next thing I know our heads get closer and our lips press and tongues interlink

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urtrickster · 7 months

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#the thoughts.#the funky tunes.#CAUSE I'VE BROKEN BONES FOR U AND FOR U ONLY #GIVE ME UR HEART AND UR HAND AND WE CAN RUN #you're my hope / permanently yours #sometimes the moon looks brighter than the sun #as times like this run up my wrists #she hates all of the guts and blood #splash around with me #while we move like flames on burning sheets #sometimes things don't work out the way we've planned #to live is just to fall alseep #to die is to awaken #maybe we're meant to lose the ones we love / but i'll fight for you 'til then #Spotify

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gojorgeous · 3 months

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“heatwaves”

pairing: alpha!gojo x omega!fem!reader summary: when a work trip takes you to japan, the last thing you expect is a heatwave... and some guy with blue eyes? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, a/b/o dynamics, no established relationship, dubcon (i feel like it’s always kinda dubcon with a/b/o), p->v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, biting, blood, marking, spit, praise, swearing, pet names (baby/sweetheart/princess), brief mention/implication of pregnancy, knotting, reader gets picked up, reader is american, reader is unaware of their omega status, reader experiences their first heat, reader and satoru “bond” without having a fully conscious conversation, reader and satoru are early twenties. a/n: it's here! somebody spay me. by popular demand i have written alpha!gojo for you all… just a classic reader goes into an accidental heat at work and (x) character happens to be the nearest alpha LMAO. this is entirely uncreative, but i love it for that!!! straight smut with a little plot if you squint hard enough! i hope it lives up to your expectations. find my alpha!geto fic here and find the list of my 1k event fics here. enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. wc: 5k

Nobody ever told you that Japan was so damn hot.

Hot was not what came to mind when you’d heard you’d be taking a trip to Tokyo. Temples? Sure. Mt. Fuji? Great. Hot? No fucking way.

But, here you were, boiling away under the sun on what you’d thought would be a fun little work trip. Instead, you were just suffering with every step, trying to listen to what Principal Yaga was saying and failing miserably.

“These are the sparring courts. No students right now, but they’ll start training within the hour.”

You rub at the back of your neck, cringing when your palm comes away coated with a thin layer of sweat. Gross.

You lift your eyes to the sky, wondering how much longer this was going to take. Your little trip to Japan was to organize an exchange program with Jujutsu Tech. Your students had been begging to take a trip to Tokyo, to where their cursed energy would be closer to the source and, consequently, stronger. You had to admit, it was a good idea. A few months spent training here in Japan would do them good. From the moment you’d set foot on Japanese soil, your power had thrummed faster in your veins than ever before.

Principal Yaga was giving you a tour of the grounds and had sealed your horrible fate when he’d decided to start outside. You barely heard a word the man said. New York was never this hot…

“Are you alright?” You blink, fanning your face as best you can. It provides no relief. God, it felt like the heat was penetrating your fucking bones…

When your eyes slide to Principal Yaga, you’re surprised to see that he looks genuinely concerned. “Y-yeah.” You blink again, shocked by your own stutter. Maybe you were coming down with something? “I’m fine, just not used to this kind of heat, I guess.” You fan your face again and clench your jaw when it still does nothing.

Yaga’s brows furrow and you see him glance around, like he’ll find said heat standing next to him. How was he wearing so many layers?

“How about we head inside and take a break, then? We can continue the tour… later.” You nearly fall to the ground and kiss his feet. Air conditioning is truly God's gift to man…

You smile and it’s all genuine. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”

Yaga nods, but you think his eyes linger on you for just a beat too long before he turns. He still looks confused… or maybe flustered? That only leaves you confused.

You follow after him, each step feeling like you’re sinking deep into cement. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying to get some ventilation. When you finally reach the building you nearly sigh with relief. Air conditioning… that’ll be good. Just what you need. A few minutes inside and you’ll be good to go. You’ll just have to remember not to wear so many damn layers again when you continue the tour.

You’re smiling as you step inside, so ready for relief that you’re practically shaking– but relief never comes. Your brows furrow. You brush your arm through the air. It… doesn’t help. It’s strange– you can feel the coolness of the air conditioning, feel it gliding up and across your skin, but the heat doesn’t subside, doesn’t so much as lessen.

“I trust you know how to find anything you might–” Yaga clears his throat. “Need?”

Your brows furrow. He’d shown you all the school’s resources last night and your room was already stocked with food, toiletries, and every other thing you could possibly need. Of course you knew where everything was…

“Yes… Thank you.”

Yaga shifts so uncomfortably you think that maybe he’s about to pee his pants. “Right, well, you have my contact information. Let me know if I can be of assistance in connecting you to any… resources.”

You’re more confused now than you were at the start of this conversation. “Right…”

“Take care.”

Yaga shoots you one last– worried?- glance and stalks down the hall. You’re left wondering what the hell is happening in his mind and why he seemed so desperate to offer you resources?

You blink, clearing your mind as best you can, but some sort of fog seems to be settling over your consciousness. Definitely coming down with something, you think.

You make your way through the halls, steps still feeling suspiciously heavy and heat still radiating off your body. A cold shower. That’ll help. Or so you thought. The further you walk, the more each hallway starts to look like the next. Was it left or right next? Was this hallway always a dead end? Since when was there a bathroom there?

You’re leaning against the wall now, panting. Something is pooling in your gut, something warm and far too intense. Your inner thighs are wet, too. You want to convince yourself it’s sweat, but… you’re horny. More horny than you’ve ever been in your whole damn life. You think you might die if you don’t get some dick in the next ten minutes. What the fuck?

You slide yourself into the next room you see: an empty classroom. Thank fucking god. You grab the back of a chair, hands shaking with how hard you’re gripping the wood. You take a deep breath. You need to get a hold of yourself, need to figure out what the fuck is happening to you.

You swallow and try your best to think. It’s not without difficulty. Your head feels like somebody’s filled it with glue. It takes a minute for a coherent thought to come through, but when it does, you think it’s a good one. Doctor.

Yes– you don’t feel well, so obviously a doctor is the correct choice, right? You scramble for your phone in your back pocket but freeze when the brush of your own hand against your ass sends a jolt up your spine. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Carefully, you extract your phone from your pocket, but it’s too difficult to even remember your fucking passcode. You press your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the overwhelming ache that’s forming between your legs. Something is definitely wrong.

You fumble with your phone, but your hands are shaking so hard it just tumbles to the floor.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck?”

“Yo, who’s baking cookies in here without me?”

Your head snaps up and, with some difficulty, your eyes settle on a… man. You suck in a breath. He’s… dazzling. He’s wearing all black, but it’s not a student uniform. One of the teachers that you’ve yet to meet, then. White hair and pale skin contrasts against his clothes, but his eyes are covered by a pair of sunglasses set low on his nose. Even in your delirious state you still have the wherewithal to wonder who the fuck wears sunglasses inside.

You get a quick look at him before a wave of intense- fuck, desire?- washes over you. You tremble again and shock yourself when a whimper tumbles from your lips.

“Oh, shit,” you hear him say. You glance at him from the corner of your eye and watch him inhale again– deeply. His lips part. “Oh, shit.”

You clench your jaw and tighten your grip on your chair. Your legs are shaking now– you can barely stand. You squeak pitifully.

The second the sound leaves your throat you hear footsteps– rapid, hurried, concerned, ones. Warm hands clasp your waist and you cry out at the touch, electricity sparking on your skin.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He turns you gently to face him, hands steadying your swaying body. “Who the fuck left you alone in here?” His hand is rubbing soothing circles on your lower back now and you think you’ve never felt something so good in your life. It’s so good that you almost miss what he said. Almost.

“W-What?” You see his brows furrow as you peek up at him. At this angle you can see under his sunglasses. His eyes are blue. Really fucking blue. You think he might be the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, even with the expression of… anger?- that he’s currently wearing.

“Whoever he is, I'll kill him.”

That makes you blink. An extra sliver of clarity opens in your brain. “What are you talking about?”

He tugs you a little closer, wrapping an arm fully around your waist and pressing you up against him. You try to ignore the fact that you love it, that you want nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and climb him like a fucking tree.

“What idiot leaves an omega going into heat?” He’s glaring at the doorway like he’s torn between staying here with you and running after said idiot to pommel him into the ground.

“‘M not an omega.” The words are out before you’ve even stopped to consider them. It’s true. You’re not an omega. You’re a beta. You’ve always been a beta. You’ve got the little “B” on your ID card to prove it. You were tested at birth, just like everyone else, and even if you really were an omega you would have presented years ago.

He only glances down at you and snorts. “Funny, sweetheart.” His hand is still rubbing those little circles into your back and it’s enough to make that fogginess in your mind grow a little thicker.

But your fear, your uncertainty outways your instinct. You pound a weak fist against his chest, not to push him away, but to get his attention. He’s still glaring at the doorway like he wants to murder it.

“‘M serious,” you gasp. “I’m a beta… I don’... know whas’ happenin’… to me.” Each word is a tremendous effort to form. Your tongue seems to have lost its ability to do anything but hang limply.

That gets his attention. He lifts a hand, gently brushing your hair back from your eyes and then cupping your jaw. “Is this your first heat?”

You find yourself leaning into his touch despite the fact that you’ve only known him for thirty seconds. Your eyelids flutter. “N-Not a heat… jus’ feel… sick.”

His brows furrow again, deeper this time, and he shakes his head. “How old are you?”

You know why he asks. Most omegas present around eighteen or nineteen. “Older than… nineteen…” You try to laugh, but it only comes out as a whimper.

That answer only serves to make him push closer. You feel his hand trailing down your neck, skimming gently over the skin until he reaches a spot you hadn't even realized was so… sore. You keen at the touch. Fuck, no. There was no way. You had swollen fucking scent glands.

You try to push away, but he pulls you in, burying his face in your neck. You shudder when he groans. “You smell like a damn bakery exploded,” he chuckles, and the sound is muffled by your skin. When he pulls away he makes it look like the action is physically painful. He cups your face again. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re an omega. If this is your first heat then…” he swallows and your eyes track the bob of his throat. “You’re just a late bloomer, baby.”

You shake your head desperately. It’s just the stupid heatwave. It’s just… hot outside… right?

You try to think about how this could be possible. It could be that the test you took as a baby was wrong… it happened sometimes. It was rare, but it happened. But if you were an omega, what would have triggered your presentation now? What had changed?

Your eyes widen. Japan. You’d set foot in fucking Japan. Ever since you’d gotten here, you’d felt power pulsing in your veins. Maybe it hadn’t been just power…

“N-no–”

A gentle thumb smooths over your cheek and you meet his eyes again. You shiver when you see a whole lot more black than blue. “You have no alpha?”

You whimper, leaning into him. Touch me, touch me, touch me, a part of you begs. You shake your head again and a tear slides down your cheek. “No,” you whisper.

Strong arms slide beneath your knees and you squeak when you’re suddenly suspended in the air. When you glance up he’s grinning triumphantly. “You have one now,” is all he says before he’s carrying you out of the classroom and twisting through the halls.

Warmth rushes over you at the sensation of being held, and something begs you to give into it, to give into the heat still washing over you, to the throbbing between your legs. You fight it and fight it hard.

“Where’re we going?” you ask, but your voice is sounding more and more like a whisper.

His eyes stay focused ahead, even as he presses a comforting kiss to the crown of your head. “Your room, sweetheart.”

Your brows scrunch. “How d’ you know where–”

“‘M following your scent, baby.”

He can do that? You bury your face in his neck, embarrassed, only to be hit by a different scent so delicious your mouth starts watering. You groan. Loudly. There’s a scent pouring from his neck that’s filling your head with memories of spices you can’t name, but suddenly know you love.

You think you hear him chuckle and then feel a gentle hand on the back of your neck, encouraging you. You snuggle deeper into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and burying your fingers in his hair. Taste him, taste him, taste him your mind chants. It’s too good an offer to deny. You lick a stripe across his skin.

Your groans are instant. He’s squeezing you closer, leaning into your touch, and you’re pulling him closer. Your fingers curl into his jacket, tugging and tugging. You lick again and now he’s the one groaning.

“Damn, that feels good,” He sounds as surprised by that fact as you feel. The swaying of his steps comes to a sudden halt. You whine, missing the rocking of his body. “Think we’re here, princess. This it?” His hand is smoothing over your hair, slowly coaxing you away from the curve of his neck. You blink, not wanting to leave the paradise of his scent, but also feeling some overwhelming urge to please him.

Your eyes settle on a door and you recognize a little chip in the wood. You nod. “Mhm.”

You gasp when his hand grips your hip, wriggling through your pocket until he pulls out a little brass key.

“Perfect,” he says, and his voice sounds like he’s all too pleased with himself. He shimmies your key in the knob until the lock clicks and then you’re inside. The door slams shut loud enough to make you jump and squeak.

“Oops, sorry, baby. Guess I’m a little excited, heh.” His hand squeezes your hip soothingly and you mewl at the wave of heat that pulses through you. Your clit throbs almost painfully and you feel something gush onto your thighs. You whimper.

He inhales. “Oh, shit,” he breathes, and then you’re moving again. He navigates your room like he knows it. He probably does. From what you can tell, most of the rooms at Jujutsu Tech follow a standard layout. He weaves down a hall to the left and then into your bedroom on the right.

He lays you on the bed gently, tenderly, like he’s afraid you might break if he drops you so much as an inch. “There we go,” he breathes. You can’t deny that it feels good, that it feels right, to be lying on the softness of your mattress, but it’s not enough.

You claw at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him close. You want something from him, need something, but you can’t name what. You just know that the heat boiling beneath your skin can only be sated by him, that the throbbing between your legs can only be calmed by him. “P-Please,” you whimper. Tears well in your eyes. You need him so bad it physically hurts.

The smile he gives you is soft and genuine and it takes your breath away. He dips his head and you think you see him slide those sunglasses down his nose and toss them to the side. You don’t pay too close attention, though, because he’s kissing your neck again and your body is screaming with sensation.

“Aw, I know, baby. Don’ worry. ‘M gonna take care of you now. Jus’ relax.”

His words spark something in you– your last bit of consciousness. A brief moment of clarity shines through the fog of your mind and you remember what the hell is happening, what the hell you’re doing. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head desperately. No, no, no, this is not happening to you. There’s no way.

“Hey, now. None a’ that.” Fingers clasp your chin, holding you still. When you peek your eyes open, you see that he has in fact removed his sunglasses and that his eyes are more black pupil than dazzling blue. His jaw is clenched and his breathing is heavy. “Don’t try t’ fight it. Jus’ try to enjoy it…” His head dips and suddenly he’s nipping at your scent gland again.

You thrash and scream, but not in fear or pain. You’ve never felt something so good in your life. Every graze of his teeth feels like heaven. Your skin zings with electricity, sending pulses of pure need straight between your thighs.

You grab at him, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging him closer. Your chest is heaving when you speak. “Please, p-please-”

“Shhh…” You think you hear your shirt tearing, but you’re too focused on pulling him closer to care. His tongue licks a stripe up your throat and your eyes roll back.

You’re sure your shirt is off now. You can feel the cool air, but it does nothing to ease the heat raging inside you, pulsing and pumping through your veins.You feel him tugging at your pants, too, and you try to raise your hips. He only shushes you again. “Jus’ relax. Let me do the work, baby.”

Your pants are gone in seconds, even without your assistance. So is your bra and then your panties. He tries pulling away to undress himself, but you mewl and his eyes blow even blacker before he’s back over you again. He settles for popping the buttons straight off his shirt and shimmying out of his pants.

The sight of his bare skin makes you whimper and then you’re clawing at him again, dragging your fingers across his shoulders, over his chest, down his abs. It’s a greedy touch and one that he returns. His palms move along your body, kneading and squeezing at any flesh he can grab. It feels so good that you think you might pass out– but it’s still not enough. Something is still missing. You feel… empty.

His fingers trace across your stomach and it’s too late to realize what’s happening before he’s circling your clit. You jerk and jolt at the touch, but he presses his chest to yours, pinning you. The throbbing only worsens when his fingers settle into a rhythm.

Tears leak down your cheeks. It’s too overwhelming. You’re burning– burning from the inside out. The pulsing between your thighs is all-consuming with its intensity, with its-

“Need! N-Need–” you’re crying out, but you don’t even know what to ask for– don’t even know what you need.

“God, Fuck, I know, princess,” he groans. He licks a long stripe up your neck. “But ‘s your first heat. Gotta–” he has to pause to swallow. He’s panting, now, just as lost as you are, and you get the sense that he’s restraining himself. “Gotta get you ready… go slow.”

You shake your head. Now, now, now is all you can think. You need him now. “No… please…” You bury your head in his neck and find that spot that’s pouring his spicy scent into the air. Your mouth waters and you lick him, letting your teeth graze his skin.

“Fuck!” He shivers atop you and you feel the pure strength restrained within his muscles. “Fuck- okay. Okay. Relax f’ me, princess.”

You try, you really do, but your body refuses to do anything but try to pull him closer. You feel his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them up, up, up until they’re pressed tightly to your chest and your feet are dangling on his shoulders. The position makes you whine, feeling more exposed than you ever have before.

“You on birth control, baby?”

Your brows furrow. It’s becoming harder and harder to focus on what he’s saying rather than simply the sound of his voice. Were you? You try to think, try to remember through the pit of glue that is your brain. No…

You shake your head. “N-No…”

There’s a slight pause, a beat of contemplation, and then he’s laughing. “Guess I’m bouta be a daddy then, heh.” He chuckles again and the sound rings through you with a wave of pure bliss. His lips brush your neck again, settling on your pulse and making you whine. “Don’t really mind as long as I get you.” Your head rolls back submissively, exposing your throat. Yes, yes, yes, your mind screams. There’s nothing you want more than that, you think.“Okay, here we go, baby.”

There’s hardly any more warning. One second you feel him shifting between your thighs and the next he’s pressing inside of you, feeding his cock in inch by inch. The stretch is… delicious. It burns, fuels that fire inside you, but it makes the heat feel more… pleasurable. Your back arches and your head rolls back submissively.

“Oh, fuck, princess.” His voice has gotten higher, more like a whine than anything else. When you gaze up at him you can see the flush in his cheeks, even through the fog in your mind. More, more, more your mind screams. Or maybe you say it aloud, because more is exactly what he gives you. The second you feel him tucked up against your cervix the second he begins to take you. He sets a pace that is somehow both brutal and gentle, with strokes that rattle your skull and also give you exactly what you need. His hands grip your hips, holding you still to take exactly what he wants to give. His head dips until he has his lips wrapped around your nipple, and his tongue is swirling so deliciously that you can’t help but drag your nails down his back.

Your body rocks with every thrust, teeth rattling and eyes rolling. The heat inside you grows… tighter, like it’s all pooling to your core, waiting for something you still can’t quite name.

“N-need…” You don’t know what you need, still. Only that you want to beg for it so badly it hurts.

His tongue slides away from your nipple, tracing a line up between the valley of your breasts, over your collarbone, before he finally settles on your pulse once again. The nick of his teeth makes something click in your mind. This is what you need. Bite me, bite me, bite. Claim me, claim me, claim me.

“Yes,” you breathe. Your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer, coaxing his teeth to sink in, to stake their claim. “Oh God, yes. Please.” You sound delirious, you think, but then so does he when he answers.

“Not yet, princess. Not yet.” His tongue darts out to lick across your neck again and you can only sob. Why not yet? Now, now, now…

Tightness coils in your muscles, the throb at your core reaching a breaking point. You feel something coming, something like an orgasm but yet also not. You know that when whatever is pooling inside you releases, you will shatter, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be put back together.

Your nails claw across his back hard enough to draw blood and the action forces out some sort of low grumble from his chest that makes you whimper and melt into the mattress. The tip of his nose draws a line up your throat. “Keep doin’ that, baby. Mark me up.”

You don’t dare deny him. You scratch at his skin, desperately trying to pull him closer. His thrusts grow faster and your thighs begin to tremble and shake on his shoulders, overwhelmed with the intensity of all you’re feeling. You pull at him, grab at him, thread your fingers through his hair.

Your body jolts with each thrust and you’re sure you’re going to burst any moment. But you can’t. Not yet. You still need something, something he hasn’t given you yet. He groans and the sound is so delicious that you feel it sliding over your skin and settling in your bones.

“M’ gonna knot you now, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna take care ‘ve you.”

You whimper at his words. You hope they’re true. You don’t think you can take much more of the incessant gnawing of need in your gut.

“Please…” your voice is hardly more than a whisper. His breath is hot as it shakes against your neck. He’s licking and nipping at you ravenously, like he needs you just as badly, like he wants to claim you as badly as you want to be claimed.

His thrusts quicken even further and your jaw falls open, neck arching. You don’t think you can hold on much longer. Apparently, neither can he.

You feel it the moment he starts to swell inside you. It’s perfect, you think. It can’t get better than this– but then it does.

His teeth graze your throat again, this time a little harsher and with a little more intent. “Mine,” he whispers. The second he bites you everything goes blurry.

You’re experiencing… heaven. There is a rush of that electricity that buzzes under your skin. It bursts forth and you feel it reaching out, forming a link between the two of you that you know is now impenetrable. It pulses and burns and you can feel him, feel his pleasure, his desire, his need for you and only you– his need to make you his. You think your souls must be blending, merging, with how deep the connection runs. You think you know him, know everything you could possibly ever need to. You know he’s the one. You know he’s yours.

It’s perfect, the way it fulfills every desire you’ve ever had, the way he notches inside your cunt like that’s where he was made to be, the way his teeth clamp around your throat and bond you together forever.

You scream for him, you think, but you can’t tell through the complete and total haze of pleasure. Your walls spasm around him, milking him for every last drop, and you feel the heat of his cum coating your cervix. The heat at your center finally releases, bursting and flooding through you in a way that feels like pure bliss has been injected into your veins. Your thighs quake and tremble with the pure intensity of it all and white spots dot your vision.

His body is tense above you, shivering with the magnitude of what’s just happened. He’s groaning into your neck, your flesh still clamped between his teeth like he never wants to let go. You’re not sure you ever want him to.

Your breaths shake in and out, lungs heaving as you finally come down. His knot is still settled deep inside you and with the few strings of consciousness that slowly filter back into your mind you know that he’ll remain there for a while.

His teeth release from your neck with a squelch that you think you would be sickening in any other context, but only makes you whimper at the loss of contact. He only hums and finds your hand, twining your fingers together as he laps at the fresh bite on your throat. It feels… amazing. Not in the way it felt before, like he was licking pure lust straight onto your skin, but more like he’s giving you a comfort you have never known in your life. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt you here.

His lips press a final kiss to your throat before you feel him shifting. He gently rolls you both onto your sides, getting comfortable and pulling you to his chest while you both wait for the next wave of lust to hit you. It will, you know. Sooner rather than later, too. Your mind has cleared enough to realize what’s happening, what’s to come. You won’t be leaving this room, this bed, for quite some time.

A gentle hand brushes a sweaty lock of hair from your eyes before it settles on the nape of your neck, massaging the sore muscles there. You sigh and raise your gaze to find him already looking at you, an easy smile on his lips. He has dimples, you realize, and he’s… breathtaking. And now… he’s all yours.

There’s a beat of silence between you, a moment of reconciliation with what’s just happened between you, of what it means. You blink up at him, your lips parting to say something, anything, but instead your brows furrow in thought.

His smile drops instantly. He leans into you, thumb caressing your cheek. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Your mouth runs dry. You peek up at him from beneath your lashes. “What’s your name?”

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byakugoseal · 1 year

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tag dump: broken & updated tags part i

#morgs tag dump #✖main verse║war-torn child you were made to hold brawls between your knuckles & bury old friends & old memories beween your ribs #✖one piece verse║on days when the sky is painted grey i feel like there’s nothing worth forgiving #✖kny verse║from a tender age i was cursed with rage came swinging like a fist inside a batting cage #✖fairy tail verse║plunge the knife; bare my soul; scrape my ribs;#✖anbu verse║& death is the only god who comes when you call #✖pre-canon verse║you know better than anyone how to cry in silence for things gone by #✖genin verse║she went from porcelain to iron to steel #✖shippuden verse║the sun has been extinguished & the moon has fallen / there goes the light of our turbulent world #✖gaiden verse║& you keep telling yourself / there is no smell of war in me / but why else would this feel like madness #✖hokage!au verse║there will come a time when you might have to decide who lives & dies out there it’s a terrible responsibility #✖bleach verse║fear is what beats inside your heart in the place where life used to be #✖modern verse║life is a series of moments you wish your ribs could take back #✖bnha verse║i carry a body full of secrets & my bones align the universe within me #✖shipping call║well i won't die for love but ever since i met you you could have my heart and I would break it for you #✖mains call║i’d be lying if i said losing you was something i could handle #✖exclusives call║could we remain quiet on earth & bear it the war we make inside #✖inbox call║she screams for heaven’s help but heaven has always been deaf #✖starter call║tell it anyways for little words can sometimes mean life or death #✖plotting call║i’ve got to learn something from my mistakes instead of establishing a new record to break #✖affiliates call║peach blossom has a colour that does not ask my sins #✖ask memes║when the local language is violence be fluent

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pandoraslxna · 2 months

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pervert!neteyam masturbating and imagine he's fucking reader 🫣

A mighty warriors need

adult Neteyam x female omatikaya reader

Words: 2.2k

Summary: The only trouble Neteyam allows himself to get into, is you.

Warnings: explicit smut, voyeurism, male masturbation, teacher/student dynamic, reader trained for her iknimaya at 18, slight age difference (Neteyam is 28, reader is 20), sexual fantasies

Notes: Just something short while we wait for my precious sun to come back and continue her event <3

Adult Neteyam art was made by @Cinetrix 🩵

Neteyam, for all that he tries to stay out of trouble and follow into his father’s footsteps, has never had a particularly relaxing life, or even one lazy day all to himself.

He has also always been what dad calls an "early bird".

When he was a child, his father told him stories of the time when he was a soldier on earth, how his superiors had called him an early bird too, because he was always the first to wake. Dad said, it‘s a quality that shows of discipline.

And that’s part, if not the main reason, why Neteyam has always raised from his hammock before the very first rays of sun could even cast over the horizon.

Stretching his limbs, his tired bones crack and he has to stifle a chuckle because he knows if mother was awake she would scold him because she dislikes the sound of that. After rolling his hammock together and stuffing it away, he walks over to his siblings, all three of them still sound asleep.

He pulls Tuks blanket up, gives her a little kiss on the forehead and then leans over to tip Lo‘aks chin up so he closes his mouth and rolls over in his sleep. It stops him from snoring, and then Neteyam watches with a fond smile how Kiris brows relax as the annoying sound finally stops.

Dad is now up too. He hears him shuffle around quietly in the dark, then nods his head at him when they pass each other. A silent greeting to not wake the rest of the family, before Neteyam ties his cummerbund around his hips and steps outside.

He knows his father is in no rush to start the day before he had what the human called coffee, a brownish powder brewed in a cup. It’s one of the very few human quirks his old man can’t seem to lay off.

But neither he nor the rest of the family seem to mind. It also gives him time to participate in the sacred morning rituals, offering prayers to Eywa, before he goes to pick fruit for breakfast.

Alongside his father, he then attends council meetings where they discuss matters of governance, strategize for the clan's protection, and ensure the well-being of their community.

As a skilled warrior, Neteyam leads training sessions for younger Na'vi warriors. He prepares his students for their upcoming iknimaya, imparting his knowledge of combat and hunting techniques, survival skills and the importance of harmony with nature, as well as the balance of life that eywa protects.

It’s not everyday, but he also engages in diplomatic meetings with neighboring clans whenever his father is too busy to attend himself, fostering alliances and resolving conflicts. It‘s his diplomacy skills, honed through years of observing his father, that help him navigate discussions and negotiations, that ensure the unity and prosperity of their people, which are also well respected, especially among the olangi clan. The flight on his ikran is short, and it’s barely an hour before he‘s back home.

Evenings are dedicated to spending time with his family. Neteyam joins his parents, siblings and the rest of the clan in sharing a meal, one who’s meat he often participated in hunting the day prior. Engaging in the lively conversations around him has always come naturally to him.

You see, with great responsibilities befitting his impending role, his day was usually filled with numerous duties and commitments, leaving barely any time for him to step out of line even if he wanted to. The only time during his busy day that he made sure was strictly reserved for himself, was the time past eclipse.

As the sun sets and dawn casts its ethereal glow over the forest, he leaves behind the clamor of his responsibilities and disappears far off the village. With agile grace, he climbs onto a tree, finding solace on a sturdy branch that offers a panoramic view of the forest below.

Seated high off the ground, Neteyam takes a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance of the forest. He closes his eyes, allowing the soothing sounds of nature to envelop him, the rustling leaves, the distant calls of animals, before he opens them again. Right on cue, he hears the sweet humming sound coming from below him, where a small river ripples.

He can't help it. He should perhaps try harder to help it, but he cannot quite summon the willpower.

His position gives him the perfect view of the main reason he occupied himself here in the first place. It was something he just had to do to maintain his focus and equilibrium. It even reached a point where he found himself eager for it, looking forward to this rare moment he had all to himself. The only time where he allowed himself to act upon his own desires. And it was the rush of adrenaline and the excitement of doing something so forbidden and dishonorable that bought him here day after day.

This spot here in the forest, this river below– it was your favored bathing spot. And Neteyam always made sure he had front row seats to the little private show you so unknowingly put on just for him.

The thing that Neteyam had with you, was that you‘ve always been trouble. The only kind of trouble he ever allowed himself to get into.

Logically, he’s known it since the first day of your training, when you were one of his numeyu [students]. He’d watched you undercut his authority a little more with every lesson, and underneath the spark of annoyance that had flooded his veins, he remembers thinking: this one’s going to be trouble, in the kind of way that made him want to smile. He hadn’t, at the time– but he had wanted to, and that was no small feat.

Now, you’re trouble in a different kind of way. Still in a way that makes him smile, but now... you’re the kind of trouble that he thinks could fuck up every single rule and regulation he’s ever made to keep himself disciplined, and he’s fairly sure that he’d let you if you asked nicely.

Fuck, he’d probably let you if you didn’t ask him at all.

His throat feels tight as he glances down below, his hungry gaze landing on you just the moment you untie your loincloth and let it slide down to your ankles. His eyes travel over every inch of your exposed skin, every curve of your body, as you step into the shallow water.

Eywa, you’re a real sight.

Splashing some of the water onto your chest, he watches every little drop roll over your pretty tits, down to your navel. It’s like you’re making a show out of this, bending down to collect more water into your palms in a way that gives him the perfect view of your pretty pussy from behind.

Great mother, the things he would do to press his face between your thighs, smell your arousal, to taste the wetness.

Neteyam can’t help but let his hand skim over his chest, his toned abs and down past the cord that holds his loincloth together. His cock is hard and aching beneath the fabric, begging to be touched. He feels his heart speed up in anticipation, so he shuffles out of his clothes and wraps a hand around his shaft.

Squeezing the tip of his cock, where it turns from blue into a faint hue of purple, he forces the very first droplets of pre-cum to form and spill over his knuckles. There’s a tightness, a warmth that swells inside him and it gets even worse when he inhales deeply and your scent fills his nostrils and he bites down on his lip to hold in a moan.

It’s the same scent that was right under his nose when he had trained you not many years ago. When he had guided your hands to hold your bow, corrected your stance by pressing himself against your back and straightening your spine. It’s the same scent, just so much sweeter now that he has his cock in his hand.

He then rolls your name in his mouth, testing the syllables in a hushed whisper. He can envision moaning it, wants to moan it if he can be completely honest.

Neteyam watches you use different soaps and kinds of oils you made out of herbs and tree sap to rub into your skin. Your hands cup your breasts, palms running over your perky nipples until they’re shining in said oil and he imagines those perfect tits bounce right in front of his face while you’re riding him.

It’s a mouth watering image in front of his minds eye. You on top, your back arched, your hips rolling. And Neteyam, rolling right back, on his elbows, mouthing your breasts, your collar bone, feeling the way you would squeeze around his length as you ride him.

He runs a ghosting touch down his stomach, the vision of your hand doing it. The imaginary weight of you on his lap grinding down on his hard member to put some friction onto your needy clit might have made him come when he was younger, but now he just groaned and let one hand wander to his balls to gently squeeze and knead them. His other hand strokes faster, tugging from base to tip in a quick rhythm that makes his eyes flutter closed for a moment.

Neteyam can’t seem to keep them away from you, though, so he quickly opens them again. Feeling the pressure build and the heat start to flood his system, he attentively watched your delicate hands roam your body to further massage the oils and natural soaps into your skin.

He could almost feel those fingers on his cock, kneading the flesh of his inner thighs, wandering up and down, gripping him tightly, urging him on. He could imagine exactly how your hips would circle against his groin, the rub and retreat designed to tease his cock until he couldn’t fight it anymore and just started mindlessly rutting against your body.

Stepping deeper into the river, a content little moan leaves your parted lips as the water encircles your middle. It’s just now that he sees you have a wooden bowl with you. It floats on top of the water’s surface, before you dip it into the water and then empty it over your head to rins yourself off. Neteyam imagines the feel of it sluicing over your shoulders, your breasts, your belly, soothing tired and aching muscles. He imagines the warmth of the water flowing further down, dripping off your rounded hips, your mound. Stroking himself faster, he imagines running his tongue along your skin to catch every drop of water, imagines how rich it would taste of you. It’s such a perverted thought, so shamefully dirty that the sheer thought of voicing those fantasies makes his cock throb so hard that his breath catches in his throat.

It’s so dirty– he is so dirty.

If only you knew how many times he came into his fist with your name on his lips and those thoughts in his head. Neteyams face burns hot with shame, and he doesn't need a mirror to know it's suffused with a purplish blush.

Shuddering, then moaning softly, he stares as if hypnotized at those wonderfully plump lips of yours.

Eywa, he was really losing the battle with his own arousal. His thoughts jumped from one filthy image to the other, it was hard for him to focus on any part of your body for more than a minute because there was always something new, something hotter, something he wanted more desperately.

And now it were your lips. Those lips that would feel so incredible wrapped around his length, he knows it. A mouthy little thing like you surely was good for more than just talking back. Knowing you, you would definitely give it your all as you sucked his cock. He knows you would work through the stretch in your throat like a champ, would take him in deeper and deeper despite the way the fat tip of his cock would make you gag and bring tears to your eyes. You would suck him like your life depended on it, he was sure of it. And you would enjoy it. Would milk him dry over and over again, hell you would definitely beg him to let you suck him off.

Neteyam felt his orgasm overtake him, heat surging through his body like white fire. His hand moved faster, quick strokes that made his chest heave with desperation, chasing that pleasure high like prey, but then you– you turned around, and fuck, your gaze suddenly lands right on him. So direct, if his head was anywhere near clear enough to think, he would’ve realized that you must’ve known that he was there this whole time. But it was already too late now.

Eyes dark with lust, Neteyam held your eyes captive as you then wordlessly pushed him into his orgasm with a seductive little wink, watching with a growing smirk how his back arched and rope after rope of cum splattered against his palm.

See? You’re trouble. Trouble, in the worst of ways.

#Neteyam #atwow #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x na'vi!reader #atwow neteyam #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #avatar neteyam #neteyam smut #neteyam sully #neteyam sully smut #neteyam sully x reader

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moonstruckme · 2 months

Note

PLEASE!!! im on my hands n knees begging. poly!mauraders with a hyper partner that give off golden retriever vibes I BEG

Happy to oblige my love!

poly!marauders x golden retriever!reader ♡ 1k words

Sirius is still in the process of waking up when you come inside, bags of groceries in your arms.

“Morning!” You lean over the top of the couch to kiss his cheek as you go by, all but skipping into the kitchen. “Have you been outside? It’s gorgeous.”

Sirius levels you with a deadpan look. “Do I look like I’ve been outside?”

“You should,” you say, undeterred by his attitude. “Spring is in the air! The sun is out, the trees are starting to get their little flowers—I even bought us some tulips to put on the table.”

“That’s nice,” he mumbles, sinking deeper into the cushions. He knows he really should help you unload the groceries, but it feels like his bones have been replaced by barbells. Luckily, he hears a set of footsteps coming down the hall.

“Hey, sunshine.” James comes in fully dressed, pecking you on the lips before starting the coffee machine. “What’d you get?”

“I got tulips,” you tell him excitedly. “Have you been outside? It’s a really lovely day.”

James smiles, sliding one of the bags away from you as you start snipping the stems of your tulips so they’ll fit in a vase. “Yeah, I poked my head out for a sec. It is nice.” His glance slides over to where Sirius languishes on the couch, grin going somewhat cocky. “Morning, Sirius. You could help with the groceries, you know.”

Sirius waves his hand. “Two of you are enough.”

The coffee machine starts to gurgle, summoning Remus like a siren’s call. He trudges out of the bedroom, sleep clinging to his frame. Sirius opens his arms commiseratingly.

“It’s hardly ten,” Remus grunts as he collapses into them. “How have they already been productive?”

“I know, they’re so perky.” Sirius pets down the cowlick at the back of his boyfriend’s head. “It’s freakish.”

“You’re freakish,” you say brightly, bringing them each a cup of coffee. Sirius has no clue how you’ve managed to unload the groceries so fast, or where you found the time to doctor his coffee the way he likes it. You’re like a machine. You laugh giddily when he nips at your fingers as you pull away. “Remus, wait until you see the weather outside, it’s so perfect. I think we should have a picnic. What do you say?”

“I say it’s too early for decisions,” he mumbles, sitting up off Sirius so he can drink his coffee. “But that sounds nice.”

You beam as if you’ve gotten a full-stop go-ahead, breezing back towards the kitchen. “We can make brownies,” you say, bringing your vase of tulips to the table, “and sandwiches, and lemonade. And we can go to that park with the stream—what’s the one?”

You look to James, who in turn looks to Remus.

“Mayfield,” Remus says.

“Right! We can go to Mayfield park, and hike over to that meadow-y area.” Sirius glances your way, and you’ve already started taking down the ingredients for brownies. “It’s so sunny and nice out, you guys won’t believe it. We can bring a frisbee or something.”

“Hiking and frisbee?” Sirius murmurs to Remus. “I don’t like the sound of all this activity.” Remus snorts.

“That sounds great, angel.” James apprehends you before you can start pouring things into the mixing bowl, putting a mug of decaf tea in your hand and steering you towards the living room. “I think these guys are going to take a bit to be ready for all that, but I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

“Right.” You look a bit abashed, sitting down criss-cross-applesauce in the big armchair. “Yeah, we don’t have to go, like, right now. You guys just woke up.”

“Thanks for noticing,” Sirius says wryly. But when you fidget in your seat and he can feel James’ glare boring into the side of his head, he throws in an eye roll of feigned reluctance. “Get over here.”

You happily transfer into his lap, letting him brush your hair aside and squealing when he plants a wet, squelching kiss on your neck. Remus, sensing that Sirius’ attention has a new captive, leans back into James, who winds his arms around Remus’ middle gamely.

“Now why would we go outside,” Sirius asks, nosing at the underside of your jaw as you giggle and squirm, “when we can just do this all day?”

“You could just as easily do it outside,” James points out. Sirius whines petulantly against your skin, setting you giggling again.

“He’s right,” you reason, transferring your tea to your other hand so you can wrestle Sirius away from your neck. “We could do this in the sun, with wildflowers and trees around.”

He pouts. “But you know I burn easily,” he says, “and poor Remus’ hip can’t take the hike.”

“You don’t know what I can take,” Remus huffs, and Sirius realizes he’s chosen the wrong avenue for his argument. “If my hip hurts, it’s only because your mum was so rough last night.”

“I don’t particularly enjoy being compared to Sirius’ mum,” says James. Remus’ ears go a bit pink as he mumbles an apology.

“I won’t let you burn,” you tell Sirius. “You can use sunblock, or we’ll find you a nice shady spot. And Remus, if your hip’s bothering you, we can always find another park. One without a hike.”

Any vexation that might usually be summoned in Remus by mention of his aches and pains melts away in the face of your earnestness. “Thanks, dove, but I’m alright,” he says. “It’s fine today.”

James rubs the skin just above Remus’ hip lovingly, and you send him a beaming smile. “It’s probably because it’s so nice out,” you say.

“Yeah, Sirius,” James turns on him. “It’s so nice out. Do you really want to miss out on what could be the single most beautiful day of the year?”

Sirius really could give a shit, but he sighs, rolling his eyes. “Fine, let’s picnic.”

“Yay!” You won’t be contained any longer, hopping up from his lap. “I’m going to go get the frisbee.”

“The frisbee’s in the attic,” Remus muses, then raises his voice so you can hear him. “Don’t go up in the attic by yourself.”

“I can get it,” you call back.

“Don’t,” he warns. “You need someone to hold the ladder, just—” The ladder groans as it comes down and Remus echoes it, starting to stand. But James pats him on the shoulder, encouraging Remus back down as he gets up.

“Slow your roll, angel,” he calls ahead. “I’m coming.”

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saetoru · 11 months

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。10:07 PM — AL-HAITHAM.

al-haitham asks you to marry him before he even realizes himself what he’s just asked. it’s a random tuesday night. you’re in worn out pajamas, he’s still got slight damp hair from his shower, and the both of you are curled up on the couch.

you’re rubbing his chest and his arm’s wrapped around your waist when you murmur, “we should get a place with more windows.”

he raises a brow, turns to look at you and scan over the side of your face. it’s familiar, the way you look so pretty under the dim light, on the same couch against the same walls in the same living room. but it’ll still feel like the first time even if it’ll be his last.

“is the design of our current home not up to your standards?” he asks, making you giggle.

“it’s nice,” you hum, “but it needs more windows. and a bigger kitchen. and maybe a backyard.”

“this home is conveniently close to our place of work,” he argues, fingers creeping up from under your shirt and rubbing circles into your hip. it’s soft—your skin, it’s warm and familiar under the rough pad of his thumb. it’s a touch that’s routine enough that you don’t squirm in surprise anymore when he finds your bare skin, and then he wonders for a moment if there are other routines waiting for him.

maybe he’ll watch you wait for him through the window as he comes home. maybe you’ll dance in the kitchen as coffee’s being made. maybe there’ll be picnics in the backyard as the sun sets. maybe, when you have a new house but the same home, he’ll find more of you in the walls and the corners of every room.

“haitham,” you huff, “a little extra walk won’t kill you. we should find our dream home.”

“our?” he asks after a moment, like he’s shocked. you only nod against his chest.

“of course, silly,” you chuckle, “i certainly won’t be house shopping with the general mahamatra—”

“we should get married,” he blurts.

“what?”

“my grandmother left a ring,” he instantly explains, “it’s a very nice ring, i promise. you won’t have to worry about having a bare finger—”

“that’s not what i meant—”

“and it can be a small ceremony,” he assures, “it shouldn’t take much planning. but if you’d like something fancier, i don’t mind either, it’s your wedding day just as much as it is mine—”

“that’s sweet, but wait—”

“and if you’re worried about time off for the honeymoon, as the former acting grand sage, there’s still a few strings i can pull for us both. i hear inazuma is nice during spring, so that gives us—”

he’s rambling. he’s figuring it out right here and now and it’s the last thing you expect of him, not having an elaborate plan—and it takes you by surprise. but he’s breathless and his eyes are wide and his chest is warm and his arm is still wrapped tightly around your waist.

and you couldn’t dream of saying no.

“you think you want all this?” you ask gently, “with little old me?”

“there’s no one but you,” he mumbles, holding you closer. and if there’s a slight bounce in his knee as he waits for your answer, you pretend you don’t notice.

“so you want to get married?”

“i want to marry you,” he corrects, “i want you. marriage is just the means of how.”

“okay,” you say with a hitch in your throat. after a moment of silence, you let out a shaky chuckle, eyes watery as you meet his. “okay. let’s get married.”

“okay,” he nods slightly, swallowing thickly.

“and we can have a house with more windows,” you add.

“and a bigger kitchen,” he agrees.

“and a backyard.”

“maybe a bigger study,” he adds thoughtfully.

you grab his face at that, with enough desperation that his cheeks are squished in your hands as you turn him, pressing your lips to his. you taste him, feel him pass through you as a breath of air, hear him ring through your ear as a muffled grunt.

he’s a part of you. he’s every inch of you. he lingers on your skin and knits into your bones. he’s yours now and somehow….somehow he’ll be yours forever.

“i’m going to get married,” you sniffle. “how exciting.”

“i’m going to marry you,” he murmurs, like he’s still processing the fact that you’re here, and his, and you’ve said yes.

“i love you,” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his.

his eyes close and his arm squeezes you gently. “i’ll always love you.”

edit: everyone stop fucking commenting about the authors note it was a joke and the comments are getting old :/ why don’t you actually leave feedback on the fic itself for once and show writers some support as you consume content

you people don’t fucking understand how insanely in love with him i am i want to make a fur coat out of his pubic hair and wear it on a cold winter day idc

#i had a dream about this so i woke up and wrote it and now i’m going back to sleep #teepods.writings #drabbles.#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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norrizzandpia · 7 months

Note

hiii, it's me again, the video's #1 stan. i've decided to call myself sun anon (if that's okay<3)

i've been thinking about whiny/needy lando and i've decided to make that everyone's problem!!! like imagine getting back to his apartment after you've been running errands or something and he's so happy to see you and he's acting all clingy and won't let you go. kisses all over your face, trailing down to your neck, hands roaming your body, not wanting you to move from his lap. just think!!!! im mentally ill 🥰 and totally normal about this!!!

OMFG THE START OF SUN ANON 😭😭😭😭 mwah mwah im your biggest fan atp also i love this

I Can’t Go a Second Without You (LN4)

Summary: She was gone for five hours, but apparently that’s too long in Lando’s book.

Warnings: clingy lando is that rlly a trigger bc omfg thats my dream, language, heavy make out, lando gets EXCITED! Bro struggles badly bc yn just wants to put things away

Note: I DIDNT THINK IT WAS GOING TO GET THIS SEXUAL BUT HERE WE ARE. SUN ANON I HOPE THIS LIVES UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS PLZ OMFG 😭😭

2nd Note: bro wtf three updates in a night wtf am i doing

She really didn’t think she had been gone that long. Just a few errands and stops along the way for random things she remembered she needed, Y/n had only been gone for a few hours. However, to Lando, it was clear that had been a lifetime when she walked through the door and he was on her in an instant.

Hugging her tightly and nuzzling his face in her neck, Lando said, “What took you so long?”

Her hands ran through his hair as she dropped her bag and kissed his cheek, “What do you mean? I just ran out for a few.”

He shook his head lightly, “No, baby. You were gone for way too long. I’ve just been sitting around waiting for you. I mean, I was so bored.”

His whining and complaining had her smiling as she felt him pull away, only to grab her hand and tug her over to the couch.

Plopping down, he pulled on her arm, so she fell right into his lap, moving her legs in order to straddle him properly. His hands were on her back as she leaned backwards to stare at the bags left at the front door.

“Wait, Lan, I need to put those away.” She said, trying to move from his grasp only to be pulled right back down.

He shook his head, “No way. I’ll put them away later. For now, though, you’re all mine.”

Looking back at him and really looking into his eyes, Y/n clocked how desperate he was for her. His hands squeezed her hips in a silent pleading as his eyes swam with an overflow of love.

Melting into his demeanor, Y/n sat closer to him, their fronts pushed against each other as her fingers brushed through his hair. He hummed in pleasure before leaning in and kissing her lightly.

It started out feather-like, but became more needy as time went on. His hands traveled down to her ass, squeezing when her hips moved over him roughly. When she felt one of his hands leave her back to travel up to the back of her neck, Lando simultaneously moved his lips down to her jawline. He stayed there for a while, nipping and sucking before finding her sweet spot just above her collar bone and fixating on it. Her quick intakes of breath when he ran his tongue over the spot had Lando feeling needier than he had began with. The way her hands gripped his t-shirt as if he was her anchor had him getting more excited than he had anticipated.

“Lando, wait,” She whispered when his hand slipped under shirt.

Thinking she was uncomfortable, he drew back immediately, looking up into her eyes in search of answers.

Although, she gave no sign of discomfort when she got off of him and trailed back to the bags at the door.

“Just let me get these things put away and then we can restart and end that.” She said nonchalantly as if she hadn’t just left her boyfriend on the couch with, literally, the biggest problem.

He stared at her, trying to find words for her cruelness, before standing up and shuffling over to her. One hand over his crotch to cover his situation, Lando followed her around as she moved between rooms. His hands, at times, tried to reach out for her and pull her back to where they had been, but she always scolded him and told him to give her a minute.

After a particularly close call of her giving into his persuasions, Lando groaned loudly.

“Y/n, you can’t just walk in here and grind on me and make out with me and moan in my ear and then leave me hanging. Do you see me right now?” He said in disbelief, hand moving away from the center of his pants to show her his agonizing pain, “I have, arguably, the worst case of blue balls known to man.”

She giggled, something Lando tilted his head at in offense, before she put her hands up, “Okay, I’m sorry! That was uncalled for, you’re right. I just really wanted to get all of these things done, so I could spend the night with you worry-free. But, I am sorry, baby. I didn’t really think this through.”

He nodded, stepping closer to her, “Yeah, you didn’t, love. I don’t think I’ve ever needed you as much as I do right now.”

She quirked an eyebrow as he pulled her into him by the waist, “Is that so?”

Backing her up into the wall and pushing his erection into her thigh, Lando whispered, “Let me show you.”

She brushed her lips against his, the items in bags she had wanted to finish putting away being long forgotten, “Okay. Show me, Lan.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x reader #mclaren #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris smut #lando norris edit #lando norris #lando norris x you

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wineauntie · 25 days

Text

ALWAYS YOU— luke hughes x reader

summary: you are the sun and Luke Hughes is in desperate need of some light.

note: I literally started writing this when tonight’s game ended (it’s 4am for me!). So please excuse any and all grammar mishaps!

warnings: fluff, luke hughes in love, nicknames like pretty boy, use of y/n.

word count: 1k+

throughly unedited due to it being 4am and the fact I wrote this half-asleep, please ignore mistakes :))

“Oh, Luke…”

Your boyfriend of two years, Luke Hughes stumbled into your arms from his place in the doorway to your apartment, his eyes shallowed with exhaustion as you opened your arms for him to fall into.

His body crashed into yours as you nudged your door closed with your foot, embracing Luke tightly. You weren’t tall at all in comparison to the 6’2 giant, who had to bend to lean into your warmth, so despite standing on the tops of your toes, feeling the ache run through your legs, you pushed through it and continued to hold him.

Tonight had been rough.

Losing 4-3 to the Rangers after the chaos of the first period, (with a record breaking 162 total minutes in penalties), this game was the last straw to fall in Luke’s mind. You see, Luke was good at hockey—great even, but he wasn’t a machine. He had those days where no matter how hard he’d try, the game never exactly went the way he needed it to go.

Tonight was one of those days.

And each thing that went askew built up and up until it was all just too much.

With over 30 minutes of ice time under his belt for the game, two game losses in a row, a team verbal lashing from their coaches along a silent and cold shower, the only thing Luke craved was to crawl home to you.

You and your effervescent comfort and joy that radiated.

To him, you were the sun, bright and well-loved, an asset needed to sustain all life. And perhaps the world couldn’t recognise you to be such, however Luke knew deep in his bones that a life without was you not a life he wished to live. Not even a life he wished to dwell upon.

You squeezed onto Luke as tight as possible, your own eyes shutting as he buried his head into the supple skin between your neck and shoulder. His arms had folded around you, holding you closer to his trembling body. You let him take what he needed, your comfort offered up to him in its simplest form, ready to be moulded into what he needed.

Luke wanted to let your rays envelop all of the darkness he felt beginning to blossom in his mind, he wanted to bask in the light of your unwavering love.

You were the reason he woke every morning with a sheepish smile, the reason his days were brighter and his heart fuller. He may not say it out loud in front of others in fear of being mocked, but you were the reason he kept going.

Not hockey, not the game, not some scores– only you.

Was you, is you and always will be you.

“How about we order food in, pretty boy?” You hummed lightly, your fingers brushing through his wild curls, as your other hand held him tight. “You must be starving.”

Luke nodded stiffly against your skin, unmoving form his position as he held you. You didn’t force him to answer verbally whilst he breathed in your solace, merely humming in acknowledgement as you continued to allow your fingers to card through his hair.

“If you need a shower, I have fresh towels and clothes for you in my room,” you mumbled, keeping your chin propped on his shoulder. “And if you need–”

Luke murmured something against your neck, so muffled that you couldn’t quite catch what he’d said.

“Hm?” You tilted your head so your nose brushed the shell of his ear.

“I had a shower there…I only need you,” Luke hoarsely spoke, his grip shifting and tightening as your heart melted. “Always need you.”

“You have me,” you promised quietly, your face pressing into his shoulder. You felt his body shudder as you kissed the pale skin that peeked out from his hoodie. “You’ll always have me.”

“Can we just watch a movie and sleep?” His soft voice cracked as he finally lifted his head to meet your eyes. You heart cracked open in your chest at the sight of defeat and pure tiredness present in the eyes you loved.

“Of course,” you smiled, as his hands moved to cup your face. “I’ll order food while you change and then we can chill on the couch or in bed for as long as you want.”

Luke nodded wordlessly, his head ducking to press a soft, pillowy kiss to your lips, his grip firm but loving as he kissed you. You found your hands settling amongst the curls at the base of his neck as you hummed lightly into the kiss.

Pulling away, his teary eyes met yours once more.

“I don’t deserve you,” he suddenly mumbled, his thumb caressing your cheek as he spoke in rushed words. “You should just break up with me and–”

“Keep talking like that Hughes and I’ll kick you into next week,” you interrupted sternly, forcing Luke to suppress an exhausted smile at your sharp response.

You were the sun after all, bright and warm but at it’s core– fiery, (…and very hot, in Luke’s opinion).

“You deserve to be loved, so let me,” you chided, your forehead pressing against his as he dropped his chin to his chest. “There is no one I would rather love, no one more worthy of it.”

Without another word, Luke sighed and nodded once more, his eyes glancing towards the small living room. Watching him, you smiled, waiting for his gaze to return to yours and when it did you watched him redden under your eyes.

“I rented Secretariat,” you told him, “so why don’t you go and get changed, we have a whole lot of nothing to go and do.”

“I love you,” his voice raw with emotion as he continued to cling to you.

“I love you too,” you answered with a hum, “and I meant it, there’s no one I would rather love than you. Please don’t ever doubt that.”

“I won’t,” he whispered, “and for the record, loving you was the easiest and greatest thing to ever happen to me.”

a/n: Tonight’s game was chaos in its finest form (I hate the rangers)

#wineauntie #nhl x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes x oc #luke hughes oneshot #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #new jersey devils

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peachesofteal · 11 months

Text

Mermaids

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon Riley/mermaid!reader 8.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Dark themes. Magical beings eating human hearts. Magic. Blood, Violence. Explicit sex. Blood kink. Breeding kink. Creampie. Dubious consent. Possessive Simon Riley. "And with your mermaid hair and your teeth so sharp, you crawled from the sea to break that sailor's heart" - F+TM

It begins early this year.

Earlier than usual, when your hunting ground in the mortal world was just starting to turn green, shaking its frosted and frozen branches free to make room for bright blooms and emerald leaves. Just as the steps of Brighton Pier changed from ice slick ledges to waterlogged, weeping wooden planks, and human clothing shifted from long coverings that protected their fragile membranes from the bitter wind to soft and flowing fabrics that allowed their bodies to breathe.

This time of the year the mortal world was alive. Full of rebirth and growth, strong and vibrant.

Vibrant, like the song that began early this year, the frequency echoing deep below the water’s surface to where you waited for its pull. The siren song of a true treasure, far beyond any other, the melody of your chosen, the ebb and flow of the rhythm that is not unlike the sea. The siren song of a mortal’s heart, the cacophony able to reach you and your sisters far below the swell and crash of the ocean, far beyond where the light ceases, the melody possessing the ability to pull you to the surface once a year.

Once a year, to hunt.

One a year, to dance and drink and fall in love, if only for a night.

Once a year, to sacrifice a human heart.

Your eldest sister holds you tight to her body in an embrace as the sun rises. Elegant fingers fuss with your hair, smoothing and tugging and pulling, a vain attempt at taming something wilder than her own heart. Her face is grim, a black void that reflects no joy or excitement, just dread. It is a mirror of yourself. It is a pain that you know too well.

“What bothers you?”

You are the last two left on the beach. The others have all gone, eager to stretch their legs and seek their own songs, the trill of the blood bubbling up in their veins, their bodies pulled like magnets to the source. One heart, one song, one human male for each sister, poor mortals who have no idea what awaits them today, their ignorance bliss on the last night of their lives. Your sisters, as well as you, all live for this night. The joy of the love, the thrill of the hunt, the taste of the ichor that sustains you. The anticipation of this night fills your dreams with swirls of violent songbird chords and sweet melodies of affection. It is all you talk about for cycles, leading up to the day when you leave the water at sunrise and your tail shifts and shatters to reveal two very human looking legs.

“I am weary.” She tells you plainly, an announcement that does not come as a surprise. You have watched how she fades. Watched her linger in the darkness of the caves, watched her float lifelessly on slow currents, gaze hollow, vigor lost. “My song is faint.” She pushes further, holding your hand tightly as she releases you from her embrace. “I think I may not take a heart this year.” But we must. Must we? It was a question unanswered, but one that plagued you both. How else could you live, if not for these sacrifices?

“You would choose to die.” You surmise and she gives you a curt nod, as if it is obvious. As if her admission does not rattle you down to your very bones. Perhaps you too, one day, would make this choice. Would choose not to hunt. Choose not to love and lose. The notion pains you, fills you with sorrow as it has for many, many years. This was not an unknown feeling, even though you still experienced the joy, the bliss of your hunting, of the harvesting, you still felt the pang of loss every time, stronger and stronger as the years ticked by.

“It aches now, knowing I will fall in love this night, just for it to end as the sun rises.” The sea crashes onto the beach behind the two of you, and her lips part with a smile before she leans in to graze a kiss along your cheek. “Happy hunting, my sister.”

The song encourages you onward, leading you through a maze of streets and buildings while the sun rises and lingers in the sky. You comb the city for your male, following the electric hum of the song through alleys and neighborhoods, stopping to enjoy the day, your one day on land, as often as you can. You relish in the things that are rare for you, the taste of coffee and human food, the smell of flowers in the park, the feel of grass on the bare pads of your feet. The dress you’ve chosen flutters in the breeze, allowing the cool air to caress your skin softly, and the sun beams down on your exposed limbs, warming you under its light as you indulge in mortal world. It is nice, you decide while you bask in its rays, to feel the sun as humans do. Such spoiled creatures, being so close to something that gives so much life.

That same sun begins to sink lower behind the skyline and you’re still mindlessly gazing at small insects and diving birds when your heart trills, the force of the song slamming between your ribs, a smattering of warning bells going off within you. He’s close, your blood croons, so, so close. The incessant rattle, the insistent pull is enough to bring you to your feet and anxiously smooth the wrinkles of your clothing, eyes darting wildly around while you hunt for the source, feet flying beneath you. So close, so close.

You come to a stop in front of a pub where a black door is propped open, music and revelry echoing from inside. Here. He’s here. The supersonic vibrato that hums in your own blood draws you into the dimly lit bar, and you hear the song in his veins grow even stronger when you step through across the threshold. He is not hard to find, this close, and your magic strings out before you, weaving and seeking past the bodies that dance closely on the floor, each as desperate for one another as you have grown for your mortal and his song.

He stands in the back, half covered by shadow, the dark pitch of the room matching his clothes and the mask he wears over most of his face. Everything about him is bigger than the males that have called to you in the past, his height, his arms, the width of his shoulders, even the feeling of him in this place. Everywhere you venture, every spot you position yourself in, you feel his eyes on you. He is unusual, and watches, from his vantage point, his companions, other humans, the bartender.

You perch atop a barstool on the opposite side of the room to study him. His eyes carry a ferocity, a heaviness of emotion that stirs the blood running through your own veins until it is pounding in your ears. The severity of him nearly intimidates you, the level of his awareness, the pools of his amber rich brown eyes occasionally flicking over to where your fingers wrap around a glass of beer, the heat of his gaze searing away at your skin underneath the dress. The mask confuses but does not caution you, and your own heart now beats in time with his due to your proximity. Handsome. You muse to yourself, caught up in tracing the outline of his cheekbones. Beautiful, in a dark way.

There is something about him. Something ruinous, something different. Something you cannot name.

It is of no consequence. You are the huntress. You will have your prize, your immortality, the taste of his heart on your tongue. His death becomes your life. His love, his heart, becomes yours, for eternity.

But how nice, might it be, to keep this one? It is an impossible thought, a dreamless idea, but one that still crosses your mind. The fantasy of falling in love for eternity, of having more than one night, more than the blood and violence that follows, more than the loss that would sustain you. If it were to be one, you know you’d choose this one. Your thoughts stray to your sister for a moment, imagining her alone beneath the surface, mourning the centuries of life she has lived, the centuries of love she has lost. Did she know this feeling? This hopelessness, this despair. Your lips tug downward as you consider her words. It aches. It aches, knowing I will fall in love this night, only for it to end as the sun rises. Gloom washes through you, your own yearning itching inside your soul, your desperation for your human itching at your skin. It aches. It aches, it ach-

“Hello.” Someone says from behind you, a deep, distinct voice, and you snap upwards, straightening your posture to turn into the body that crowds you. You jerk backwards on the stool when you realize how close he is, the action unsettling you from your seat, and you slip forward, nearly falling free from your wooden perch. Balance on land is difficult, and yours is perpetually off, a skill you've never mastered. A massive hand wraps around your elbow to right you, gently steadying you, and your jaw goes slack when you finally look up.

It's him.

“Hi.” You smile, trying to recover from your less than graceful impression. Your heart thunders in your chest, and the melody inside him screams for you.

“I’m Ghost.” He motions to your mostly empty beer and raises his completely barren one in return. “Buy you another?”

The indulgent smile that scrawls across your face is practically involuntary as you give your answer.

“Sure.”

His name isn’t Ghost, but he keeps his true name close and won’t give it to you. You give him a nickname, one you usually use on land, and he doesn’t bat an eye, even when you tell him it’s a pet name and not your real one with a wink. The name Ghost doesn’t strike you as odd, after learning what he does, why he keeps it tucked away, and you marvel at him while he tells gives you bits and piece of himself, occasionally peeling his mask up to drink. He’s a solider, a Lieutenant in a special task force, some of which he happens to be out with tonight. He likes bourbon, specifically from a certain region in America, and he smells like the forest. You lean closer, completely unable to stop yourself, inhaling as deeply as you can, breathing in the mossy, earthy, green scent that hovers in the air around him. It was heady, and endless, and wrapped you in a dizzying cocoon of memories that you couldn’t place, but clearly envisioned. Forests, teeming with life and glowing chartreuse from top to bottom, oceans with aquamarine waters, shallow pools for you to bathe in under the sun, the water crisp and cold, your skin eagerly soaking it up its potent brine. Sapphire skies, the beaches stretching on and on, their seas fathomless, their bounties endless. You push closer, nosing as near as you can to his skin and take a lungful of the air. Strange. You knew humans wore things to mask or change their scents, but had never encountered one so… affecting.

“Alright, love?” He brushes the lightest contact of his fingers against yours, and you straighten, eyes ducking down in embarrassment.

“Yes, sorry. I- I was… distracted.”

Unusual indeed.

One drink turns to many, and you carefully note how Ghost’s posture becomes more relaxed, shoulders less tense as the two of you indulge. He continues to surveil the room, observing and cataloguing, and you find it dangerously appealing, how in tune he is to his surroundings. How vigilant. Your hand lays gently on his thigh when you can no longer hold off the desire for physical touch, and he inclines his head to speak above your ear, the warmth of his cheek behind the fabric pressed casually to your head.

“D’ya want to go somewhere else?” Yes. You nod, and he motions to his group before excusing himself, his large body cutting a path through the packed room like he’s parting the sea.

You note the couplings around the bar as Ghost approaches his companions, leaning down to speak to one who is seated, legs spread wide on a faux velvet chair. He has a mohawk, and cerulean blue eyes that trace you from head to toe after Ghost begins to walk back towards where you're seated. You break the eye contact hastily, observing the others, pity pulling on your heart strings over a distraught female who sits in a corner, watching another with longing. The state of her broken heart is written all over face, her body rife with grief. The object of her affection, another stunningly beautiful female, dances with a different mortal, her artfully woven hair spiraling from her shoulders in tune to the way she moves her body. They have it so hard, you think. The song does all the work for us. You never have to woo your mortals, just provide them with the opportunity to find you. The song pushes them to seek you out, drives them to near madness unless they are in your company. They don’t always love you back, as you love them, certainly. But you never have to vie for their attention, never have to posture for their affection.

A large hand takes yours, warm and beating with the pulse of his heart, the rhythm of the song.

“Ready?” You open your mouth to say yes but nothing comes out, and the feeling of dread, the ache swamps you for a passing second. I think I may not take a heart this year. All you can do is nod.

As he leads you through the crowd, you cannot help but reach forward with your free hand and clasp onto the dancing woman. She pauses, eyes lighting wantonly when she sees you, but you push a sprinkle of magic through her, sparking desire in the base of her consciousness for the mournful dove in the chair.

You don’t look back at either of them as you leave, and silently pray to no one that they find happiness in love, that they relish it and keep one another, if only for you.

You bring him to the beach, as is your custom. It was where you felt safest, closest to the ocean, it’s where your power felt most pure should you need it, should something go wrong. You shiver at the thought, shoving down the memories that threaten your balance, and you clutch Ghost’s hand.

“Come down here often?” He inquires and you shrug, a response you know mortals are fond of.

“I like it here.” You offer, and he hums in acknowledgement. You tug him towards the overhang of the pier, where the shadows will shield you, where no one dares to venture. The only light comes from the moon, it’s silver glow glittering dimly through worn wooden pier slats, and you watch it catch his eye, his pupil expanding and contracting as you step closer and closer. “I want to kiss you.” you implore. “Will you remove your mask?” The song. You’re depending on the song to help you with this, depending on his desire, the power of the melody in his veins to urge him to comply with your request, and when he tilts his head like he’s considering you, you hold your breath.

It happens quickly. He removes the mask in a fluid motion, and then his lips are upon yours, hot and seeking, tongue exploring your mouth while yours opens for him, your body clenching with dizzying desire at the feel of his touch against your skin.

“I knew it.” You gasp when you pull away and trace the fine point of a fingernail down his jaw. “I knew you were breathtaking under there.” He chuckles.

“Happy you think so.”

Your mouths melt together as he holds you around the waist, your bodies getting closer and closer until you can feel the hardness of his cock in his jeans, feel the scorching heat of him through his clothes. You are desperate for this mortal, your desire to feel him moving inside of you nearly as strong as the lust you feel to taste his heart. You sink to the sand together, a dance of limbs and movements that have you panting astride him when he settles, propped up on his elbows.

“Simon.” He says mid breath. “That’s my name. Want ya to have it.” Simon.

“Simon.” You whisper it, and he nods before pulling you back to him, two large palms cradling your face like you’re a delicate creature. It makes you feel special, makes you feel cherished, like you’re something gentle to be treasured, and not a monster out for his life. You kiss him tenderly, one more time, as softly as you can manage, your heart trembling inside your chest, before your teeth bite into his lip, the ferocious intensity of the act returned by him, his mouth meeting yours full force. You bite again, and this time his flesh gives way, bright, mineral rich blood bubbling from the tiny cut and you eagerly lap at it, the ichor coating your tongue and exploding across your senses. He laughs, the echo of it rumbling deep in his chest, and you place your hand against his heart greedily, the vigor of its beating nearly making your eyes roll back into your head. The length of his cock throbs between your legs, where only the fabric of his jeans separates you, and you rut against him helplessly. Sparks ignite between you, your body shuddering when his hands hook into your hip, strong grip guiding your movements against him. Your magic swells inside of you, and your head spins.

Take him, take him. Take his heart, take his song. Have him, his love, his heart, for eternity, forever.

You push him onto his back, dress rucked up around your hips, fabric pooling around the two of you.

“I want you.” you tell him, fingers fussing with his clothes, encouraging him to strip his shirt free and then unbutton his jeans. It’s messy, uncoordinated, and sloppy but you can’t find a care. You’re too filled with want, overflowing with desire for your mortal, your desperation mounting as he stills you, tracing a finger over your ribs and then down your pubic bone to where your slick, silken folds wait to be touched.

“Simon.” you whisper his name again, the word close to begging, and he shushes you, swirling a finger down where you’re leaking, circling the swollen bud of your clit with agonizing strokes that fill your senses with electricity.

“Shhh. I know what you need.” He soothes, and deftly pushes a finger inside of you, stroking along your walls. You shiver, face dropping into the crook his neck, and he turns his head so that the soft puff of his breath wafts over your skin as you whimper. “Does that feel good?” He asks, pressing another inside, his thumb flicking over your clit in lackadaisical patterns. You moan, body welcoming his touch, and you nip at the skin of his shoulder, eager to tear it apart, to taste his blood again. His other hand pushes at the back of your head, until your teeth are flush with his skin. “Go on.” He urges, and your eyes slip closed with bliss while you break the thin membrane, blood pooling to the surface as he lets out a small grunt. Your tongue swirls in it, painting his skin ruby, and you drag your lips downward, over where his heart pounds wildly in his chest. For you. It pounds for you. It sings for you.

“I need you inside me.” He pulls at the straps of the dress, divesting you of the top, exposing your breasts to the cool air and silver light of the moon. His thumb rolls one of your nipples and you feel for him, already free from his under garment, the things humans wear under their outside clothes, and you swallow when you feel the size in your fingers.

You sink down onto him with a hiss, body stretching for the intrusion, cunt spasming around the width and length as it fights to make room. He pets your hip soothingly, and you sit straight up, letting out a cry when you feel the true length of his cock inside you, the absolute fullness of it nearly seated in your belly. When you look back down, your eyes trace the smear of blood from his lips and shoulder, and your tongue darts out against your own skin, seeking the flavor of ichor that waits on the corner of your mouth.

Something glitters in his eyes, something shifting as if he finally recognizes the danger he’s in. Even here, with you astride him, split open his cock, hips stuttering in slow circles, wariness flexes across his face as if he knows, finally, that he is the prey and you the predator.

“It’s okay, do not be afraid.” You reassure him, stroking a fingernail over his breastbone, to where his heart flutters beneath your touch. He blinks, eyes blissfully blank, the firm grip of his hand on your hip relaxing before he says:

“Will you not tell me your name?” A long sigh slips between your teeth. Mortals. So hung up on familiarity. But how could you refuse a dying man his last request? Your lips kiss the shell of his ear as you give it to him, the point of your fingernail pressing into his delicate flesh, desperate to seek the strong muscle beneath, the song in his blood echoing through your own bones with supersonic vibration. The sounds and colors of the mortal realm all increase, too bright, too loud, everything shaking like the earth is suddenly trembling and then-

Something snaps inside of you. Magic, raw and powerful, a force unlike anything you’ve ever felt spills into you, your body being washed over with the rush of floodwaters, your heart and blood now singing for him, yearning for him, desperate to be consumed by him.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

The claim burns beneath your skin, your magic twisting away into something completely new, something more powerful as your mind grapples with the changing reality.

In the next moment, you’re spinning, tumbling through the air until you’re on your back, splayed beneath him, hands trapped at your sides. Your legs are folded underneath the width of his torso, your body opened for him just so, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix, stretching the slick walls of your cunt with each punishing thrust.

“I-“ the words are cut off sharply when he seals his mouth to yours, teeth gnashing and gnawing down from your lips to your jaw and then up to you ear.

“You,” He punctuates the word with a sharp thrust, and you gasp. “are mine, little huntress.” It is a vow, snarled through clenched teeth, and your own body betrays you by tightening around him, eager and willing to be claimed. The air is hot, humid and electric with magic, the burning effects of your error travelling through your every vein, every cell of skin. The utterance of your name, the act of your own foolishness strings heavily between you, while your body tenses underneath him.

“Simon.” You breathe and he only nods, holding your cheek in a gentle palm, stroking a loving touch across your face.

“Sweet little Nereid...” He names your kind with a growl, and your heart slams in your chest, his cock thrusting into your cunt wildly, desperately. “More beautiful than the sea herself.” The laugh is crooned, like the satisfying scratch of a needle against a record, and his fingers stroke your clit while he presses himself to you, your hips pinned beneath his weight, your body immobile. “Did you truly believe me to be a mortal?” He smiles darkly, lips curling with sinister satisfaction, and you feel the cold hand of fate reaching into your own chest cavity, rooting around in your soul until magic is searing across your skin, a bending and scraping feeling digging underneath your ribs, your own magic twisting and clawing until it burns away into something new, something changed, something imbued with him.

No. It’s not possible.

“You… you’re-“

“Yes.”

Simon cares little for the mortal realm. It’s pace and its noise and its scents are all cloying to him, obnoxious and foreign, the general rush of its inhabitants and their lack of care for their world offensive to him and his kind. They do not care for their realm, and do not take care of it ether, instead choosing to let it rot and fester beneath their feet, their drive and determination to outdo one another single handedly responsible for the destruction of most of their world. They call it something here, 'capitalism', like naming it will excuse it, while Simon just calls it murder, and greed.

Mortals and their extreme indifference do allow him certain things, however. Their love of violence and obsession with wealth put even the most well-off of his kind to shame at times. His kind loved things that shone, certainly. But mortals? They loved things that bled. It was this lust for power, this ravenous streak of greed that gave him the opportunity to position himself as he has.

As a hunter. A killer. A ghost.

Simon had been hunting for the thing he loved for a very, very long time.

And tonight, he was finally going to bring you home.

The first time Simon saw you; over a century ago, it was beneath Brighton Pier. You had a human male panting after you as you walked beneath the wooden overhang, your hand cupping his cheek softly, eyes full of tenderness and love. Simon, and the man, were both entranced by your beauty, the way your body moved under the night sky, how your skin seemed to glitter against the sand. Simon watched as you led him to where the moon couldn’t reach, beneath the shield of the slats, the dark of the evening hiding you from all prying, curious eyes, except for his.

He watched you take the male inside your body, watched you lavish your tongue across his neck and chest, watched your lips form sweet words of reassurance and honey while you tasted his blood. He watched the nails of your fingers gleam in the low light, watched them sharpen and then dig, scratching and clawing beneath the threads of the male’s skin, until you held an ichor rich organ in your palm, a complex system of vessels and ventricles, it’s sinew glowing red beneath your touch. He stood in awe as you devoured it, your feeding turning into a frenzy as you consumed it piece by piece, the male bleeding out and dying slowly, all while still buried inside your cunt.

After your feast, you dragged the male’s lifeless body down the sand to the water with you, where you pulled it beneath the waves, never to be seen again. Surprised, and intrigued, he stood at the water’s edge, watching the tide that was tinged red lap calmly at the shore. He knew humans had a taste for blood, but this was another desire onto itself. What were you?

The following year, Simon couldn’t help but return to the same area in hopes of spotting you again, the creature unknown to him, a mystery begging to be unraveled. You appeared at dawn on the same day, with a horde of others, who then dispersed into the city and surrounding areas, following the sound of a song he could not hear. He became a creature obsessed, tracking your every movement, watching your every hunt and sacrifice. He stood in the dark while you made love to the mortals whose lives you would take, watched you hunt with wild abandon, watched you enjoy the small, tiny things in your eternal life that others often overlook. He began to know you, began to learn what you liked and didn't, began to learn what made you smile.

You became the brightest spot in his own too long existence, the yearly reminder of love, of vitality, of life. He loved you, desperately, recklessly so. His dreams were filled with soft, sweet visions of you, bloody moments of passion and adoring, lingering kisses that he swore he could still feel when he woke.

It took time, too long of a time, before he discovered who, or what, you were. He spent a century trying to learn how to lure you to the surface. Simon tore apart libraries, bargained favors across dimensions, granted wishes and wove powerful spells just to trade for information on you and your sisters, the Nereids, the lasting remnant of a forgotten power, reclusive magic lurking inside the deepest depths, a realm inside a realm, never to be discovered unless you wished it so. And even then, the additional answers he sought were scarce.

Every year, he returned to the human realm to see you, tucking himself away in cloaks of magic and darkness so that he could creep as close as possible to you. Every year, he watched you hunt, watched you capture your prey effortlessly and consume their heart. He watched you shed a tear for them. Watched your drag their corpses down the beach to the sea, where you carried them into the water with you before disappearing all together.

Eventually, time began to change you. He watched you regard your lovers, your mortals with callousness, and cruelty. He watched you treat them with tenderness, and adoration, caring for them, making their ends sweet and soothing their fears. He watched you stand on the beach for hours at dawn and try to fight the urge to hunt. He burned to take you away from this world, to sever you from your ocean, bring you home to him, but your kind did not live in his realm. He was unsure how to sustain your life, and the search for answers was slow. Years went by, and the soft dreams that he had always welcomed turned to nightmares, fueled by the fear he’d lose you before he even had the chance to try to bring you home.

A decade ago, he watched you falter. Your body trembled as you took your sacrifice, your cries so hysterical he was certain you’d draw the entire block to where you hid in the shadow of someone’s gaff. His own body was rigid with tense, untethered magic that sought to lash out, and he was rife with worry that you’d give yourself away, you’d be caught by some mortal force and unable to return to the sea when the sun rose. The fear he felt was unreasonable, uncontainable. He'd level the city to protect you, to keep you safe, and he nearly did. He almost took you, that night. Was quite close, so close that he was crossing the street in front of vehicles and preparing to pull you into his realm when you composed yourself and completed your harvest, the glowing organ in your hands proof of your will to live, to love.

He rarely left the mortal realm after that. Only to seek his final answer and solidify his plan, his masquerade as the masked Ghost allowing him to exist in the realm indefinitely, giving him the availability to be close for when the time was right, for when you would be ready.

A year ago, you were the last to return to the water, your steps slow and clumsy, your eyes tired and weepy. You appeared satisfied, but as you looked back on the city from the shoreline, he saw the hint of desolation in your eyes, the shadow of dejection haunting your face.

It was more than enough, to spring him into action. More than enough, to find your promised mortal for next year and steal his song, bringing it into himself by a small piece of blood magic, something so simple and obvious Simon cursed himself for not realizing sooner.

This morning, as he observed you and your sister on the beach, he knew he had been right. He could see it in your face. The pain of sadness, of loss twisting your elegance into an ache, those feelings compounded by the admission of your eldest sibling. This could be your last hunt.

It was time to bring you home. Forever.

“That her then?” Johnny nods, indicating he’s looking the same direction as Simon, watching you walk down the curb, paper coffee cup clutched in your hands, face smiling at the sun.

“Yes.” Simon answers, shifting uncomfortably. The bloody song has been heating his flesh for weeks, boiling in his veins and driving him practically mad. Nymph magic. Its incessant hum has been battling his own power, jockeying for position as it worked to pull you to the surface. Combined with his own, he wasn’t surprised it possessed the ability to bring you up earlier than normal, encouraging you and your sisters through the depths and to the shore. If his blood was singing, then so was every other poor sod’s in this city.

You cross the street into the park, dress swaying around your hips, and he indulgently stares at the form of your body, the set of your shoulders, the texture of your hair. He closes his eyes to breathe, reaching into himself to get a handle on the battle of will going on in his blood, the warring magic factions pushing and pulling beneath his skin, begging to be let out, trying to lash out. Soon. He reassures himself. She will be with him soon.

He can smell you from here. You’re ripe. Overflowing, your scent is like a flickering ocean breeze, briny and cold but full of life, of promise. You’re ready, ready to be taken from this awful realm, ready to be bent underneath his body, ready to be crying on his cock as you come while he floods your womb with himself and his power, tying you to him for all eternity.

That is, if he can get you to relinquish your name.

It is a key piece of his plan, and the one that worries him the most.

He knows you do not give it freely; knows you keep it guarded. It’s like you’re already aware that he waits in the shadows for you, watching, keeping track of every step you take, every year, from sunup to the next, until you slink beneath the water where he cannot follow.

The pressure inside his body is nearly unbearable by the time you step into the pub. Dozens of heads turn towards you, mortals’ eyes roving all over your body like you’re a treat for them, like you’re something delicious they’ll have an opportunity to taste. Foolish, greedy mortals, too busy staring dreamily at you to recognize the predator that you are, or the predator he is, oblivious to the two hunters in the room with them right now. He wonders, if you'd bathe in their blood, given an opportunity. The image makes him smile.

Johnny clears his throat expectantly, and Simon nods, casting a glance over to where Gaz sits with a pretty female on his lap, her attentions focused solely on him, her eyes heavily lidded with lust. Johnny gives him a nod.

“Good luck.” He offers and Simon waves him off. He’s no need for luck. His blood sings your song.

“Ready?” He nearly loses control when he watches your face fill with despair for a moment after his question, his aching need to soothe and comfort you almost forcing his hands out to touch you. I'm here, little huntress. You are not alone anymore. He cannot tell you this, not yet. So instead, he applies pressure to your hand gently and waits. When you nod, he breathes just a tiny bit easier.

He cannot stay in this place any longer. The eyes, the mortals, their inane thirst for alcohol and violence starting to scratch underneath his skin. He needed you, needed your name, needed to take you home to his realm, and all this noise and smoke and foul-smelling liquor stood in his way. The feeling of your hand in his soothes him, calms the anxious explosion that’s building in his chest, but it’s not enough. Nothing will be enough, until he has what he wants.

On the way out, he does not miss your little spell. He is, and has been, the most powerful creature in this room. He has felt every ounce of magic used, by you, by Johnny, by Kyle, all night long. It makes his heart swell when he feels your effort to push the dancing female into the arms of her scorned lover, makes his heart soar when he realizes perhaps, you have not given up on love, on life. Perhaps, you just need something else, something other than the hunt, to live for.

He allows you to take your time beneath the Pier. He cannot rush you, cannot allow you the feeling of anything being amiss, being off. You are so close to the sea, so close to the edge of the water that if he spooks you, it will be too easy for you to slip away. Too easy for you to be lost beneath the surface, again, just as you have been for hundreds of years.

When your teeth tear into his flesh he nearly moans, almost loses control again, but tamps down the urge to spring forward and toss you into the sand beneath him. He needs your name, needs your name so bloody badly it has his head spinning, his entire being desperately urging him to act, to claim, to take you. Your cunt is searing hot around his cock, your body shivering in his arms as you rock your hips delicately, eyes watching him half addled, crazed with the lust for his blood, for his heart.

“Will you not tell me your name?” He thrusts slowly up into you, and pity flashes across your features as you bend forward to brush your mouth against your ear. He feels your lips part, hears the intake of your breath and then-

You’re his. The magic begins immediately, bonding you to him, searing you into his soul and vice versa, the song in his blood slipping away until all he feels is the combined force of your power and his, the melding of souls and magic that will guarantee your existence in his realm, by his side, guaranteeing your survival, your ability to thrive. He takes advantage of your confusion, of the chaos that rises in your heart and flips you on your back, spreading your thighs wide beneath him and plunging his cock as deep as he can. So close. So, so close, and then you will be truly his, for as long as you both shall live.

“I-“

“You,” he thrusts harder, desperate to claim you. “are mine, little huntress.” He hisses it, pushing the words forward with the brunt of his power, and you gasp before whispering his name.

“Sweet little Nereid…more beautiful than the sea herself.” He kisses your throat, stroking your clit at a torturous pace while your confused gaze tracks his every movement. “Did you truly believe me to be a mortal?” The magic pushes through your blood and bones, continuing to stitch and sear you to him, and he can’t help the feelings of possession that come over him.

His. His. His.

His magic cuts and gnaws at your own, ripping and shredding it to bits until it’s infected with him, the strength of your name, your free admission to him, turning you inside out, changing the very chemistry of your body. He watches with dark satisfactions as your face shifts, your lips parting with understanding, eyes widening with your knowledge of the truth.

“You… You’re-“ Clever little huntress.

“Yes.” He purrs, and punches his cock back up inside of you, pressing close to your cervix, your body wet and needy, just for him. You shudder and blink hazily, confusion flickering across your features while his magic roots around inside of you and binds you to him, cell by cell. He can still smell you, smell the cool salt air of the sea that comes from your skin, smell the ripeness of your body, your willingness spilling forward in the air, the scent of sweet honeysuckle and sea holly. Your thighs tighten around his hips, your body rocking swiftly in time with him while your brow furrows, like you’re not sure what you should be doing. He licks at the stain of his blood on your lips, his tongue pushing into your mouth, and you let out a sharp whine, small hands flexing against his chest.

“No.” you admonish, face stricken. “No. No, you t-tricked me.”

“I did.” He agrees, reaching between the two of you to rub your clit in a swift circle, your breath hitching. Your face twists into something sour, but your cunt clenches around him, and his lips curl into a crescent moon smirk. “Are you going to come on my cock, sweet one?”

“Unnf.” You moan nonsense, turning your face away from him but he does not stop, hips snapping against yours, his body working to bring yours closer and closer to its climax.

“I think you are.” He hisses and grips your jaw to turn your eyes back to him. They’re wet with tears, but he doesn’t see fear in them, doesn’t see the despair. Only flares of rage, and the heat of desire, the electricity of the magic that is now shared between the two of you. He smiles triumphantly. “I think,” he relaxes his pace, dragging his cock out of you painstakingly slowly, gaze never leaving your lovely face. “you’re going to come for me, and then I’m going to breed you, little huntress.” You tense around him, squeezing his cock, the words pulling a delicious, physical reaction from you that shakes his focus for a moment. His palm lays flat over your lower belly, low enough that his thumb can feel the hardness of your clit, can stroke around it’s hood while you gasp and convulse in his arms. You shake your head stubbornly, chest heaving for breath, and he slams himself back into you, your spine curling forward into his chest.

“Gods.” You cry out, fingers scrambling for something to hold onto, finding his shoulders and sinking deep, deep enough that he knows you're drawing blood. It oozes from the tiny wounds, tracing down his skin and when you pull away, your fingers have been darkened with it.

He watches with small wonder as you slip them into your mouth, face going slack with bliss, cunt spasming around him while he strokes deep. His skin prickles, mouth finding yours again, and you moan into him, uninhibited, full of abandon.

“I have watched you for over a century, my sweet Nereid. Watched you hunt, watched you love, watched you lose.” He slows to look down at you, caressing your face with a gentle touch. “I have watched the light fade from your eyes, watched despair take over your existence.” Your gaze widens, mouth dropping open in surprise, and then closing abruptly, eyes softening around the corners.

“Simon.” You murmur, pressing your finger to the weeping wound from your teeth.

“My huntress. You will never be alone again.” He noses your jaw, licking and sucking against your skin, cold brine exploding against his tongue. Your scent crests, peaking with the honey flower and salt, your body yearning beneath him, cunt milking his cock. “Come for me.” He encourages when he knows it’s time, when he sees the glossy want all over your face. It doesn’t take much urging, another stroke of your clit and you’re coming, body locking up around him, muscles straining as you cry out, face full of bliss and legs tense around his hips. You clamp down around him, holding him deep inside your body like a vice but he works you through it, thrusting slowly inside your scorching cunt, your walls desperately trying to keep him inside. “There you go.” He soothes, fucking you through the aftershocks, your face still twisted up. “That’s just what I needed.” The orgasm makes your more pliable, more soft and less angry, and he sees in your eyes what he knows to be true. You want this. Perhaps this is not what you would have chosen at first, perhaps the magic was too strong in your veins in the beginning, but your body knows what your mind works to accept. You are choosing this, choosing him, over the hunt. Over the sacrifice. Over the immortal life of loss.

So, so close.

He folds your legs towards your chest, opening you deeper and you mewl, lips parted in dazed, post orgasm glow. He can’t help but kiss you again and again, his painfully slow thrusts forcing irritated breaths to puff from your nose.

“Something you want?” He teases, and you nod, pressing your face into his shoulder and groaning into his skin.

“Simon. Please.” You voice breaks, and he feels your cunt pool around him, liquid heat forcing him to grit his teeth in an effort to stave off his own orgasm.

Ask me for it, little huntress.

“Please, what?” He mocks, thumb pressing down on your clit hard, causing you to keen. He doesn’t move, just stays steady inside of you, your cunt working pull him deeper.

“Please, please. I want-“ you gasp when he bites the skin of your neck, and he smiles wickedly. Your cunt practically strangles him now, body working to drag his orgasm from him, magic singing in both of your hearts.

His. His. His.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

Your scent overpowers him, the swell of the ocean behind him combined with the salt of your essence pulling him harder into your gravity.

“What do you want?”

“I want your come.” You beg and he snarls, finally losing control, fucking into your eager body with abandon, hard and punishing while you moan and cry beneath him. He takes your earlobe in his teeth before whispering a vow:

“Then you shall have it.” He plays with your clit, the intensity of his strokes matching the pace of his thrusts and you pant eagerly. “You shall have it every day until you are full of me, full with my child.”

“Yes.” You moan, and he feels you moving towards another climax, your muscles spasming and eyes slipping shut.

“I’m going to breed you, give you my baby, sweetling. Make you mine, forever.” Your back arches and you wail, your cunt clamping down on him again, and he thrusts as deep as he can, chasing his release, fueling his burning desire to empty himself inside of you. He lets go completely, untethers his magic, lets it fully fuse with yours as he spills inside of you, the pressure of his orgasm working against your aftershocks, and your own magic that wraps itself wildly around him, clawing at the seat of his power, desperate to attach itself.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

His. His. His.

You fall asleep on his chest, body relaxed and sated, mouth open in a small o. He needs to get you up, needs to get you ready to travel to his realm but in this moment, he’s content to sit here, against the old wooden pier, timing the rise and fall of your breathing and planning for the future, for eternity.

“Will you care for her?” A musical voice asks from a short distance, and his head snaps up to see your sister, the one you stood with on the beach this morning, inclining her head towards your peaceful, sated body that sits snugly in his arms.

“Always.” He promises, and she nods, eyes looking down the shoreline.

“I am happy for her.” She looks sad, forlorn, not unlike how you appeared hours ago.

“It is not too late, for you to hunt. There is still plenty of time before the sunrise.” He tries to encourage, and she nods.

“Perhaps.” Simon briefly wonders if Kyle or Johnny are still in town, a sinister idea forming in his mind, taking shape before his very eyes. He pushes, just the gentlest bit of magic, the piece that’s mixed with yours, towards her. A long moment passes, and then, “I think I’ll walk.” She motions up the pier and gives a goodbye nod, as he strokes a hand down your spine when you shiver in his arms.

You do not stir until she is a speck on the horizon, and when you do, you lift your head wearily, like you’ve slept for a thousand years.

“What’s going on?” you murmur, shifting your dress so it covers your thighs. He presses a light kiss to your forehead before giving an answer.

“We’re going home now, little huntress.”

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #mw2 #ghost call of duty #mermaids #mermaids au #magic au #ghost x reader #cod fanfic

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rosie-writings · 2 months

Text

Drag Me Under

Request: anon—Colby and Reader are friends who won’t admit their romantic feelings to one another, and in order to make her jealous, Colby interacts with another girl, but instead, it makes the Reader distance herself from him. Make it very angsty and fluffy.

Summary: Colby decides to get with another girl to make the Reader confess her feelings for him, but it backfires nearly costing them their friendship instead.

Warnings: Angst, Jealousy, Vomiting, Alcohol, Colby x Reader smut, Unprotected sex, Couple Arguing, Crying during sex, Body worship, Praises, and fluff that will put tears in your eyes…

Words: 9.8k

No Y/N Used

Title is from ‘Drag Me Under’ by Sleep Token

My heart ached with every second I wasn’t safely unaware in my sleep.

A desperation gnawed bone deep, and I wasn’t in any place to get rid of it. Every second I was in that house my stomach was in knots to the point where I couldn’t hold food down.

I hated him; oh I hated him so much that it made me sick.

And then not even my sleep was safe.

I thrusted awake in the dead of night with sweat across my skin and my legs pushed so tightly together I thought I would combust. The last time I woke up teetering the edge of a climax I was in high school when hormones were high and common sense was low.

I lay there until the sun cast a blue sheen to my room, and thought about whether his hands in real life would feel as world shattering.

And then I would see him in real life, he would open his mouth, and I would roll my eyes and inwardly kick myself. For such a pretty face and beautiful body, he sure was a bonehead and a half. God, it pissed me off. Every time he opened his mouth I was reminded how clueless he was, how much of an idiot he was.

So tell me why I was head over heels for Colby when there wasn’t a chance in heaven or hell he’d look in my direction for anything more than brainless banter?

“The fuck happened to you?” I shot a glare in Jake’s direction when I entered the kitchen. My eyes must have been puffy and red since it took work to keep them opened. I heard the padded soles of my house shoes against the tile; I couldn’t even take full steps without dragging my feet. He sat at the island—in my opinion, with no better appearance than me—eating cereal and scrolling on his phone.

”Why are you here?” I snapped back. “You’ve been back for longer than you’ve lived here.”

”Jesus Christ,” he laughed. “I forgot how rough you were in the morning.”

”Talk to me about it again and I’ll dig your eyeballs out with that spoon—“

”It’s nine in the morning, why are we doing this already?” I glared at Sam as he walked in the room. I proceeded to make my own lazy cereal.

”He said I looked a certain way—“

”I didn’t say you looked like anything, I just asked what happened to you?”

”Nothing did,” I snapped back and whirled around to face him. “But something might happen to you if you don’t shut up.” Jake’s eyes widened as they glanced down at the spoon I pointed at him.

”I don’t think a spoon will do anything to him,” Sam said. I glared at him next.

”Want to find out?” He took a step back when I took a step towards him. I sized him up. “You’re not worth dirtying another spoon.”

I grabbed my bowl of cereal and walked out of the kitchen.

Last night we had a party.

Now, I’m not one to usually lose myself at a house party—that was such a lie—but apparently I took it too far last night, and throwing up before it’s one am and looking like road kill in the morning “ruins parties” or something. I assumed Colby was still asleep. Or at least in his room.

I walked up there and held my breath when my knees hurt while taking the stairs. I took a bite of cereal and didn’t even think twice before barging into his room. He was still in bed; laid on his stomach with an arm over the edge like he checked the time on his phone but then fell back asleep mid placing it back on the table.

He made a deep whining noise as to say “what the fuck are you doing here” but I didn’t mind it and closed the door behind me.

“Dipshits downstairs were threatening me already and I thought you’d be too asleep to do that so I’m tolerating your presence for breakfast.”

”It’s like—“ He squinted as he checked his phone. “It’s nine forty. Why aren’t you asleep?”

”You’re the only one still in bed.” He grumbled and lay back down albeit this time on his back. I walked over and sat on the edge of his bed facing him with my legs crossed. I took another bite. His head lifted and he looked at me then my bowl and then he plopped back down.

”Why are you here?”

”Jesus fuck if you all want me to leave so bad—”

”No, don't go,” he said as I went to get up. I sat back down.

I took another bite in hopes that if I swallowed cereal the butterflies in my throat would go down with it. His voice was so much deeper than usual and his hair poked in every direction. He ran a hand through it as he focused on whatever was on his phone.

“Weren’t we going on the podcast toda—“

”Oh shit, yeah,” he interrupted me as if his remembrance was too visceral to keep quiet. Then he sat up. The blanket fell to his lap and his hands covered his face. Then he looked at me and then my cereal again.

”You better not have taken the last of it.”

”Tell that to Jake and Sam.” He shook his head. “When did you even go to bed last night?”

”I think like four or something,” he replied with a yawn.

”Oh,” I said and took my last bite.

”You were asleep by probably two,” he scoffed. I wanted to kick him but it would have been too much work. He laughed and continued, “Fuck you were so sick I thought I was going to have to make people leave, but Tara brought you in the bathroom for like an hour and then you fell asleep.”

”God forbid a girl be a lightweight.”

”Last night was worse than usual, did you do anything different?” I sighed and recounted my steps yesterday. I went with the boys on a hike and we had a late breakfast then I filmed a video with a friend so by the time I made it back home, we had a small snack for dinner and the party started. I also had four too many shots.

”I didn’t eat enough and drank a lot more than I usually do.”

”You’re an idiot.”

”Me? You’re the idiot for forcing me to go on that stupid hike and then I’m hungry all night and the alcohol wasn’t hitting me—“

”You’re so dumb,” he laughed and shook his head as he stood up from bed. My throat clamped tightly together as my eyes fell down his body and up again before he would notice. “Maybe you should have eaten something then.”

”I had chips.”

”Chips aren’t enough when you drink that much.”

”Whatever,” I grumbled. I didn’t have the grit in me to bicker with him, not when he looked like a God despite slowly making his way into his bathroom with a light hangover. I couldn’t look away from his dark skin when he curved the corner out of sight.

I didn’t care if he might have caught my gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

“Is only Sam and Jake here?” He asked. I had to choke down the tension in my throat.

”Um, I’m not sure. I saw them then ran because they were being mean.”

”I mean they’re not wrong; we all look like shit after a party.”

”You’re an asshole.”

”Someone has to be.”

”Not all of you can be mean to me! Besides,” I swallowed tightly when he walked across the doorway towards the sink. He washed his hands before washing his face. “I’m about to be put through the ringer right now; Tara said she was coming back before the podcast so we can take photos or something.”

He walked back in the room and it took work to look at him in the eyes.

”Sam and I might go—“

”On a damn hike again, I thought so.” He laughed and slung his jeans at me before he pulled them on.

”You should order real breakfast for everyone,” he said when he pulled on a shirt and grabbed a hat, his phone, and shocks and shoes.

”Alright, give me your phone.” He rolled his eyes and tossed it to me.

I followed him downstairs while scrolling through breakfast options.

“Hey Sam,” Colby said as I followed him into the kitchen.

”Oh hey.”

”Wow he’s up already.”

”Do you have shit to talk to everyone when they first wake up?” I snapped at Jake. He burst out laughing.

“Want to go still?” Colby asked Sam and completely ignored my banter with Jake.

”Yeah let’s go,” Sam said and rinsed his cup out at the sink.

”No no, that wasn’t talking shit. I only save that for you.” I flicked him off as he picked up his backpack. “I’m going. Got some stuff to do apparently,” Jake said.

”Yeah cool, we’re going out for a little bit anyway. Unless you’re up for a morning hike.”

”I’m not up for anything that starts with the word ‘morning.’” Jake said back, and I rolled my eyes as I purposely collided into my shoulder as he passed me. “See you guys.”

”See you,” Colby said and he turned to me. “You sure you wanna be here by yourself?”

”Rather than sweating my ass off in the am? Fuck yes. I’m taking a shower then parking my ass in bed until Tara gets here.”

”Fine,” Colby laughed. “Let’s go, Sam.”

And they were gone.

I took a shower and paid extra attention to my puffy face. If photos were in my near future, I needed the help. Then I sat in bed like I said and watched Netflix while scrolling on TikTok until the food arrived.

It was an hour later when it did, and I was pushing the food in the oven to keep warm when Tara arrived.

”Oh my god it smells so good,” were her first words to me.

”I ordered food for us. We’ll have breakfast when Sam and Colby come back.”

“Sweet. You’re in one piece this morning,” she giggled as she dropped her backpack and placed the smaller makeup bags on the island. I rolled my eyes.

”Yeah, a shower and a boy-less house works wonders I suppose.”

”I was surprised you didn’t crawl in bed with Colby last night. I mean, unless you did after I left.”

I choked on nothing.

”What do you mean?” I gasped; my face already heated up. What did I do last night?

”You had a lot to say about him when you were drunk and sobbing in the bathroom.”

”Tara,” I gasped quietly. “What did I say?” She laughed; a pink tone on her face. “Tara!”

”I didn’t know you wanted to kiss Colby so badly. You actually hide it really well. I mean… Mostly.” The walls around me crumbled and I turned away from her so she couldn’t see the blatant blush on my face. But it was too late, she burst out laughing. “It’s okay! It’s not that big of a—“

”No one was supposed to know that,” I mumbled.

”Okay, well I’m sorry your drunk self needed to tell someone that badly. At least it was me and not him. I had to convince him to not stay with us and that I could handle you.”

”Really?” I gasped. She nodded.

”How much do you remember?”

”Hardly anything.” She bit her lip in thought. “Tara,” I warned. “What else did I say?”

”You should talk to Colby.” My stomach fell out of my ass.

”No. No way. Why do you think I should—What else did I say about him?”

”You—well… All I’m saying is if you talk to him, I think it will all work out.” My eyes burned as tears nearly developed.

”Talk about him about what?” I gasped. “I don’t understand.”

”You know he likes you!” She finally yelled. “Like holy fuck! You two are down each other’s throats without actually being—Okay, listen to me very clearly. Colby is so head over heels for you. Just talk to him, okay?”

”What did I tell you?” My voice shook.

”You said you wanted to just kiss him and fuck him and then maybe he would love you the way you love him.”

I shut down.

My breathing slowed and the tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t speak.

”You’re not stupid.” Her voice dropped as it filled with a comforting seriousness. “And you’re definitely not worthless. I know he’s an idiot—fuck, all the boys in this house are idiots—so that doesn’t mean his obliviousness means he doesn’t want you or doesn’t think you’re worth going for.”

”Tara,” I choked. “You’re dumb.” She laughed.

”I know, so are you. But you’re not an idiot.” I laughed harder and she hugged me before we took the bags and I led her down the hallway to my bedroom.

“God, I can’t believe I said that.” She laughed.

”I mean, it’s not surprising. Also I take it back.” She sat on the bed as I opened up the bags. “You are an idiot becasue how the fuck do you not see how dumb he is about you?” I glared at her.

”He’s not—No. He doesn’t like me like that. If he did, he’s had plenty of times to tell me.”

“Which is why he’s an idiot.” I rolled my eyes.

”Let’s talk about something else.”

”Sure.”

Later, after photoshoots and after the boys came back and showered, we ate a one pm breakfast. There was no freeing myself from what Tara told me, and the thoughts reverberated behind my eyes sevenfold when Colby was around. It must have been obvious because I caught Tara’s stares or glares after I looked at Colby.

It was time to leave for the podcast.

Tara left and said that she was getting ready with friends to go out that night to which the three of us contemplated. If the podcast went well and we didn’t have any other responsibilities, Sam said we would go.

“What about you then?” The interviewer turned to me. “What was your upbringing like? Because Sam and Colby’s were pretty different but they stayed together and formed this whole life around spirituality even if they grew up on and are kind of on different sides of now.”

”Yeah I grew up in a spiritual household like Colby,” I explained. “But it wasn’t really—It wasn’t that intense. I knew about spiritual things and spirits but it wasn’t really on my radar until I got older. I kind of developed an interest in it all after some experiences with friends in college. After feeling what spirits can do or-or make you feel like, I guess? It opened up an entire world I didn’t really care about and suddenly I needed to involve myself and understand it more. Because it’s fun.” I looked at the boys and Sam’s eyes went back to the interviewer’s as Colby’s lingered on mine. “And if like—clearly it’s affected my friends as much as it has—then how can I not be completely interested in it, you know?” I looked back at the interviewer.

”Has it changed the way you view religion then?”

We talked about religion and spirituality for a while, and I didn’t mean to talk as long as I did about it. My hands shook and grew cold, and I got sick of the sound of my own voice.

”But no!” The interviewer said after I backed out. “It’s all so interesting and your beliefs and experiences mean a lot!” He went on to talk about his beliefs as well before handing the conversation back to the boys.

“It’s all so subjective and personal, you know?” Colby started. “We may have different beliefs spiritually or within religion, but we all are on different journeys and I believe that what matters most is the life I lead when I’m here on earth. Like was I actually caring or had compassion for people or did I dwell on upholding close minded beliefs that turn me into a hypocrite? Like-Like if after we die, nothing is the way we thought it would be, at least I know that I did my best to care for other people and not control them.”

”I agree,” I said. “Which is why I’m so open to everything. Anything can be true, so in a way, what does it matter? Why does it matter so much believing in any one tangible religious doctrine if we aren’t even sure of it? I mean, the one thing we all are 100 percent sure about is that we’re all people. We’re all flesh and blood here regardless of anything else so I’m doing my best to take care of people and have compassion for them. Messing with ghosts is fun and even if we know they’re real or not—that’s not really my issue here—we-we don’t know what they are. Like yes, supernatural things have happened to us which can make us firm believers that there are spirits and there are things on the other side, but what I’m hung up on is how do we know for sure what we’re talking to? What if none of the spirits are people at all?” I felt Colby’s eyes on me and I had to look away from him and towards meaningless things in the room or else my tongue would tie.

”My logic is that we as physical people can’t see or go to the spiritual realm and talk with people—spirits—who passed. So then how can we as spirits—after death—talk to physical people now? It’s all a mystery and something we will never know so what’s the harm in trying to learn more and more?”

”That makes a lot of sense,” the interviewer said. He talked more, but I gambled and looked at Colby. Warmth was in his eyes when they met mine, and I was glad that Sam took the next talking bit because I didn’t know what was going on anymore.

It took effort for both of us to look away and tune back into the conversation.

“I am fatigued,” I sighed dramatically as we kicked back in the car. Sam started music and put the car in drive.

”That was really good, though,” Colby said from the front passenger seat. I sat behind Sam and looked at Colby when he stole a glance at me.

”It was,” Sam agreed. “But now my brain is fried.”

”I mean what’s stopping us from going out then?” I asked playfully and Colby laughed.

”That’s true, Sam. We can chill now that that’s over.”

”Jesus, two nights in a row?” Sam gasped.

“I can always make it three—“

”Fine,” he cut me off. “Text Tara and we’ll meet up with them at some point.”

After we got home, we went to our separate rooms to get ready. My brain was fried as well; Colby was right. I wanted to relax and have a good night with my best friends without ruining it like I did last night.

As I finished putting on makeup, Colby came into my bathroom.

”Oh hi,” I said.

“Hello.” He stood next to me. I needed to hold my breath and focus on myself in the mirror to keep from ogling over him. He looked so good. There weren’t words I could come up with to describe how good he looked to me. His skin was so dark; the late spring sun already had a vengeance for Los Angeles. And the black and white shirt he wore was one that always grabbed my attention in the worst way.

”Okay, you guys ready to go?” He nodded. I didn’t say anything about the way I caught his gaze falling down my body in the mirror like mine did to him that morning.

”Sam’s on the phone then we’ll go.”

”Sweet.”

“You look really good,” he said and my stomach tensed.

”You do too,” I replied with a confidence I didn’t think I had.

At the club, we found our friends and claimed our table for the night.

“Okay, I’m getting like fourteen green tea shots,” Tara said.

”Holy shit, you trying to put us in the ground already?” One of her friends gasped. There were seven of us.

“It’s only two a person,” she clapped back.

”And it’s only like ten pm.”

A while later, the shots were brought to our table. We drank one and I already felt the relaxation flood my skin like a warm blanket. I turned to Colby who stood at my side.

His eyes were already on me.

“What?” I laughed.

”Nothing,” he said with a smirk and shook his head. He looked back at the table. He shoved his side into me and I shoved him back. We didn’t look at each other though as the conversations rolled on louder and louder.

By our fifth shot, I felt it. I really felt it.

Tara ordered us two mixed drinks already, and multiple drinks were between Sam and Colby as well. My heart raced with every brush of Colby’s arm on mine. He talked with his hands more the drunker he got, and every time he moved, his arm brushed against mine.

Finally, he turned to me. Our attention was on each other and no one’s intervened.

”Keep touching me Colby and I’ll push you away.” He scoffed a laugh at my sudden words.

”Yeah pretend you don’t like it all you want.”

”What does that mean?” I coughed.

”I saw you looking at me. Fuck,” he laughed. A hand strung through his hair. “You always do. And I always notice. Especially when I’m not wearing any clothes.”

”Of course you know when I’m looking at you because you’re always staring at me first,” I laughed and his eyes darkened. “Have something to say to me?”

”Mm,” he sighed and looked away like we weren’t talking about anything important. “Not now.”

”Of course you don’t,” I jeered. He glared back at me.

”What does that mean?”

”It can mean whatever you want.” I turned back and sipped on my drink until the sound of bubbling air flowed through my black straw.

“You’re really cute when you try to flirt with me,” he said quietly behind me.

The rest of my drink nearly shot up my nose.

”You’re ridiculous if you think I’m flirting with you.”

”Yeah? Then how many times have you looked at Sam like that?” I whirled around to face him with wide eyes.

”You’re saying a lot to someone that you call a best friend, aren’t you?” His eyebrows rose.

“And you look at me and touch me a lot more than you would a best friend.”

”Maybe I’m a touchy person.”

”You got that right,” he scoffed. “Can’t say anything to you without you throwing a fit.”

”Don’t be a dick.”

”I don’t have to try to be one if I have one.” I grimaced.

”And you won’t have one if you don’t learn how to shut your dumb mouth—“

”What the fuck is happening?” Sam laughed as he stepped to us. We were a couple feet from the table.

“I’m not sure,” he said too sweetly to me. “Ask her.”

”We’re not doing anything,” I laughed and shoved him away before I spun back to the table.

”Let’s go,” Sam said. Colby drank down the rest of his drink and left it on the table.

”Where are you going?” Tara asked as Sam pulled Colby further into the club.

”Perusing,” Sam replied and the boys were gone.

”That sounds disgusting,” Tara scoffed. I looked in the direction they went. “If you wanna go you can, we aren’t holding you here. But watching your best friends suck face doesn’t sound very pleasing to me.”

”Y-Yeah, I’ll stay here,” I said distantly. Tara grabbed my attention and looked at me in the eyes.

”You can go with them.” Her all knowing tone sickened me. I smiled as to not let on the rest of the girls and Jake and Johnnie onto anything if they noticed what we spoke about.

“No no, let’s get more shots.”

I was wasted.

Utterly wasted.

The club was loud, the voices louder, and my friends’ hands on me as we enthusiastically spoke and danced and partied ebbed my frustration with Sam and Colby.

It had been an hour.

At most, maybe. I’m not sure. I lost my sense of time.

There was still no sign of them.

I couldn’t make out the words shared between Tara and her best friend. We sat on sofas now completely dumb and unable to stand without falling over. Jake and Johnnie lingered and talked to other people I recognized, but I couldn’t find Sam and Colby.

Until I saw a flash of familiarity.

There he was, Colby. He stood somewhere between the bar and the dance floor in perfect view. My eyes narrowed on him and he smiled and talked to a girl.

My stomach dropped. My blood boiled. I swallowed down nothing and my tongue got stuck to my throat due to dehydration.

She wore a tight little dress and her wavy hair draped down to her ass which was nearly out. I held my breath when her arms stringed around his neck.

Why was he talking to her? Like that nonetheless?

I watched as she got closer to him and then his hands were on her. I should have looked away if I was a good best friend and respected his privacy, but in my head, I wasn’t just a best friend to him.

Colby was mine.

So to see his eyes on her then his lips on her; it unraveled me. Acid burned my throat as I watched them talk. Her eyes met his lips and her body pushed to his—

When he kissed her, I jumped to my feet.

”What—Oh no.” I heard Tara ask me where I was going, but she must have seen Colby. He was that close to us. So much for fading into the darkness.

If I had gotten to the restrooms a millisecond later I would have missed the toilet.

”Hey,” Tara called as she said my name. She followed me into the stall. “Shit. Are-Are you really drunk?”

”What the fuck do you think?” I spat back with a roughened voice. Fire was in my eyes when I looked at her. “He-He fucking—oh my god—I’m going to kill him.”

”Yeah, hey I know. Let’s just-Let’s just chill for a second—“

”How can I chill, Tara?” I practically screamed. “Colby was fucking kissing someone!”

”What’s wrong with that?” She pried. I looked at her like she was delusional. Did she not remember the conversation she started with me this morning?

”What’s wrong with that? What’s wrong is that it’s not me!”

And she smiled.

”There, finally you admit it.”

”Tara,” I cried. Tears welled in my eyes. “He’s so-He’s so stupid.”

”I know. Do you want to go ruin his night or something?” I contemplated it. Tears rushed down my face and I didn’t care if it ruined my makeup.

”No,” I sobbed. She looked at me with utter concern. “Because I just wanted him to be happy.”

She hugged me as I cried.

I swore something died in me the moment I saw him kissing her.

I knew Colby hooked up with girls sometimes and I knew it wasn’t serious. But I was serious about him even though he never would be serious with me. It was all too confusing. He flirted with me and called me out for flirting. He allowed me in his bed, but he never touched me, and he changed clothes in front of me frequently. We were as close as physically possible in every way except sexually.

Maybe he never liked me.

Maybe he never wanted me like I was delusional enough to believe.

I left that club with Tara before anyone else.

I wasn’t drunk anymore, but when I got home, I vomited until I cried again and again.

It was only a couple hours later at most when I heard commotion. The boys got home. I didn’t hear anyone else with them though. Then, the fighting.

”You’re just so fucking stupid.” Sam’s voice. “Make sure she did actually make it hom—oh wait yeah her shoes are right here.”

”What are you talking about?” Colby spat back at him. “I didn’t do any—“

”You know what the fuck you did.”

”Sam, don’t fucking start with me.”

”I brought you with me because I wanted you around me. And maybe help me get someone. I did not intend for you to make out with her.”

”I didn’t mean it like that.”

”Didn’t mean what? You kissed her literally right in front of them; in front of her!”

”I know…”

I couldn’t listen anymore.

My bathroom was closer to the front of the house so I raced to my bed and lay in it. I cried until the sun rose, and sometime between dawn and mid morning, I fell asleep.

The next time I could tolerate the sun, it was late in the sky. I turned over and moaned at the tension in my back. I slept weird and still in my clothes from the night out.

I crawled out of the pit that was my bed and checked the time. Three pm. I got up and immediately walked to the shower.

The water was so hot it inflamed my skin. I was puffy with redness, but I needed the sting. I needed the warmth because there was nothing inside of me. Colby was still Colby. Just less mine, right? I must have taken it too far. I let my emotions go and they were too connected to him. I had to move on. I couldn’t do this to myself anymore.

Thoughts circled my head and I felt the burning in my eyes.

But at least he’s happy.

Tears fell again.

I liked him; I loved him so much that it didn’t matter. I decided, as I pulled on warm sweatpants and a hoodie, that I would let him go and not lead him on anymore because clearly he wasn’t following me. I had to protect myself and to do that, I would have to make sacrifices.

Rule number one: No longer am I allowed in Colby’s room.

I didn’t go into his room that day, or the next.

I walked in the kitchen. The boys were nowhere to be seen. I grabbed a serving of the breakfast they ordered earlier. As I ate, I scrolled on my phone at the island. The quietness of the house was therapeutic but, in a way, nerve racking. What were they doing? What was Colby doing?

Rule number two: Stop thinking about Colby every two seconds.

I failed immediately, but I reminded myself that thoughts are habitual and I’ve broken habits before, I can do it again.

But my heart ached.

It ached so deeply that there was no other reason for this ache unless something intrinsic was severed within me. What was wrong with me? Colby had been my best friend for years now, and if he didn’t want me as more than that, then how amazing was it that I was still this close? I couldn’t ruin it.

The backdoor slid open.

My heart raced as Colby walked in; I could recognize him from his footsteps.

”Oh hi,” he said sweetly. I smiled back.

Rule number three: Don’t let him think you’ve been heartbroken

”Hey,” I said. I didn’t like the way he flinched at the rough sound of my voice. He knew I was sick. He turned with concern in his eyes. I cut him off. “What are you guys doing today?” His head cocked to the side with confusion.

”Uh—I think we’re just editing and we have some meetings to go to.”

”That’s cool,” I said unassumingly. I got off my chair and threw away my trash.

”What do you want to do? I was just editing outside for a little bit.” I grabbed my phone and walked to the other side of the kitchen.

”I had stuff to do, but I’ll see you guys later.”

I let go of the breath I held when I closed my bedroom door.

I couldn’t keep myself together in front of him so in order to keep my third rule, I decided that distancing myself for the time being would be best.

Message from Colby; What do you want for dinner?

It was dark outside when I emerged from my room.

The downstairs was louder now; business must have been done. I walked into the kitchen in search of food. They must not have gotten something yet.

Colby said my name when he saw me. We met again for the second time that day in the same place.

”Did you guys get food?”

”No, I was wondering what you wanted.”

”I don’t really care,” I said. It was easier to say than a bunch of other words. My voice already burned from just looking at him. His eyes were filled with question and he didn’t say anything. “Uh, let me know when it’s—“

”Stop,” he said. I turned back to him. “Don’t leave.”

”I was just going to my room.”

”Are you okay?” I looked at him like he was silly.

”Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

”You-You’ve been in your room all day? You never do that. Did you get sick last night?”

“That doesn’t matter,” I deadpanned with finality. His brows rose and his lips closed. “Let me know what you guys get.”

And I went to my room.

A message from Colby, once again, was the last message I read before I fell asleep; Hope you feel better <3

Three days later I said more words to Colby than he said to me.

I couldn’t tell if it was because it was easier for me to talk to him now that the initial sadness had passed, but it confused me. He didn’t try to talk to me during meals and he stopped texting me entirely.

I messaged Colby; Hey, are you and Sam going on the hike this morning?

He didn’t respond. Two hours later I was met with two sweaty boys downstairs. That was odd. He never didn’t respond to me, especially about their damn morning hikes.

My days were long and lonely.

I didn’t understand his silence towards me. Maybe he was afraid that I was mad at him because I avoided him for a while. My thoughts were interrupted when Sam burst into my room.

”Sam—“

”Alright,” he sighed harshly. “I’m not leaving until we figure out what the fuck is going on.”

”Sam,” I gasped when he sat on my bed across from me. “What-What’s going on?”

”Cut the shit. You’ve been cooped up in your room for almost a week now and Colby’s turned into a moody bitch, so tell me why you guys are arguing.”

”We-We aren’t—“ He glared at me. He knew. “I hate Colby.” His gaze softened and something attuned to shock plastered his face. “He’s so-He’s so fucking—ugh! I hate him so much. This is his fault.”

”What’s his fault?” He asked quietly. Tears already welled in my eyes.

”He-He—oh my god—you can’t tell me he’s that fucking stupid to not know that he’s led me on for so long, right? Like genuinely. He flirts with me like that and then-and then makes out with other girls in front of me then pretends like everything is fine? And now he’s ignoring me like he has some right to? Fuck no. He’s the idiot who started this.” Sam gawked at me and it took a second for him to collect his thoughts.

”You like him?”

”Sam,” I gritted my teeth. “I love him so much that I’m not telling him shit about any of this mess. He clearly doesn’t want me so I’m not ruining our friendship too. I’m trying to make my feelings for him go away but now, it’s turned into this—“

”Oh my god,” he whispered slowly as disbelief now replaced his emotion. “Oh my god! I’m going to fucking kill him.”

”What? Why?’ I fired back.

”This was on purpose.”

The room shattered around me.

”What?”

”I’m—You—Someone, hold on.”

“What?” I gasped. I launched myself out of my bed as he rushed through my door. “Sam no! What are you doing?”

”Talking to him about this. I’m not losing my best friends due to ridiculous miscommunication.”

”Sam please!” Tears flowed freely down my face now. “Please don’t tell him—“

”Don’t tell him what?” We froze as we looked down the corridor into the living room.

Colby stood in the middle as if we was in the process of walking inside from the back yard.

”Oh no, I’m not. You’re going to. And I’m leaving.”

”What? Sam no, please. This isn’t fair.” Sam yanked his arm from my grasp. He went up to his room and closed the door.

The silent stillness of the house in between Colby and I gutted me.

“Hey,” he said sweetly and I spun away from him as he took paces towards me. “Hey.” His paces quickened when I wiped my tears. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

”You fucking tell me!” I yelled at him. I pushed him away from me. “You fucking tell me, asshole.”

”What? What is wrong with you—“

”What’s wrong with you, Colby?” I yelled. This time I didn’t try to wipe away the new rivers of tears. “Why would you do this?”

”I’m not doing anything—”

”First you lead me on, then you kiss her, then you pretend like everything’s fine, then you ignore me—Why the fuck are you ignoring me?”

”What?” He gasped as his eyes widened. “What are you talking about? I—Who are you talking about? I didn’t kiss anyone. And I responded to you!”

”Look at your fucking phone!” I finally screamed; my voice throbbed with pain. “And don’t fucking gaslight me, don’t fucking lie to me, and don’t fucking play dumb; what do you mean ‘I didn’t kiss anyone;’ you kissed right in-fucking-front of me!”

”Oh my god,” he whispered. He was frozen, idle in fear.

”You’re so fucking stupid, Colby! Why would you do this to me? I’m so upset and it’s-it’s like destroying me. Why can’t you just talk to me—“ I stopped moving and looked up at him silently when tears welled in his eyes too.

”I’m sorry,” he whispered.

”What?” I gasped. He blinked quickly and tears streamed down his face.

”I didn’t realize—oh my god—you’re telling me all this time…”

”All this time what? Please! Make sense—“

”You’re telling me all this time you’ve been ignoring you because I did actually hurt you?”

I stood in shock.

In fiery visceral shock.

Neither of our tears stopped.

”Obviously!” I gasped. “I have wanted you for so goddamn long and you like purposely led me on to kiss someone in front of me? You’re so fucking—Ugh! I hate you!” His lips parted in shock. He said my name. I didn’t care. I didn’t mind the butterflies that overwhelmed my stomach.

”I-I thought you wanted-I thought you wanted me but you wouldn’t tell me you do and it-it would make you jealous and-and you would—”

“You kissed her to make me jealous? And then ignored me?” My voice scratched through my screams.

“I-I didn’t know what to do. You weren’t telling me and I-I thought you would come to me—“

”If you kissed someone else first?” I yelled. I swore my heart pumped so fast it would run away. “Am I a game to you? Just something to play with?’

”No!” He finally shouted. “I’ve wanted you so bad but you never told me you wanted me so I thought I made it all up—“

”You’re such a fucking idiot! I swear to god I’m going to kill you.”

”I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—“

”You’re the worst, Colby. Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

”Why didn’t you talk to me?” His voice finally rose above a whisper. I scoffed.

”Maybe because you clearly had your eyes set on someone else! Maybe I came to terms with the fact that I couldn’t have you romantically but at least I still got our friendship.”

”No,” he choked. “No you should have fucking told me!”

”You should have told me!” I screamed back. “Colby, I-I can’t do this if-if you’re—oh my god.” I covered my face with my hands as sobbed wracked through me.

“No,” he demanded and his hands latched onto my wrists. “Don’t do that. Don’t close me out again.”

”Why? It’s not like you’ll want me now!”

”I want you now. I wanted you a year ago and I’ll want you a year from now.”

”Colby,” I gasped as he yanked my hands from my face.

“You’re not a game to me, and—holy shit—I’m so fucking stupid. I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done this, I-I didn’t know what to do because I thought—no, I knew—you wanted me but then you pretended like you didn’t so I thought that if I kissed someone else it would either make you jealous and come steal me from her or if you didn’t want me anymore it would help me get over you.”

I shook my head.

”You’re so stupid.”

”I’ve been told,” he rolled his eyes.

”I wanted you so bad; you hurt me. I literally couldn’t breathe. Watching you kiss her made me sick; I almost couldn’t leave the club because I was so sick.” More tears fell down his face.

”Fuck, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—this is such a mess.”

”And then I told myself, ‘God, of course he doesn’t want me. I’m just his best friend and he always goes for prettier girls who aren’t friends with him first.’” His hands still held my wrists. I looked at them. He gently let go of them when he noticed I looked at them.

But then his hands slowly moved to my face and held me.

”Colby—“

He kissed me hesitantly as if he assumed I would push him off. All he wanted was a taste even if that was all he would ever get. I could tell from his uncertainty; the light weight of his touch.

But I grabbed his clothes and pulled him closer.

He gasped into my mouth when I took him deeper. His fingers left imprints on my face now, and my nails dug into his skin. Fire ate up my entire being, and I held onto him so I wouldn’t fall over.

He tasted better than I imagined, and I imagined many times.

He was all I thought about in the dead of night. He was all I wanted when I was lonely. This time it was me who gasped and moaned into his mouth, he grabbed me and shoved me backwards until my back hit the front door.

”No,” he gasped for breath. He still kissed me. I found myself speechless as his hands held me close and raced over my body. “It was always only you; only thought about you—“

”Okay, can I go before…”

“Jesus Fuck,” Colby gasped and turned around. We stepped from the door and saw Sam coming down the stairs.

”I’m so glad we aren’t fighting anymore but for the love of god, I’m leaving—“

”Leave,” Colby demanded and opened the door. I couldn’t look Sam in the eyes; Colby laughed once about something. Sam had a backpack, I wondered how long he thought he would be gone for.

Before the front door closed all the way, Colby grabbed my hand and hurried me up the stairs.

A head rush almost knocked me off my feet. My heart pounded, and when he closed us in his room, I cursed myself for breaking another rule. If they applied anymore.

”You drive me so crazy—Shit, I literally thought I was crazy,” he said as he kissed down my neck. My uneven breath couldn’t form a word as he pushed me down on his bed. I was familiar with his sheets, but never like this.

Never with him on top of me.

He kissed me again, but this time I parted my legs and allowed his hips to slot in. I gasped at the pressure, and he too let go of moans as he thrusted himself against me.

”You really didn’t know? You really didn’t?” His voice was scarily quiet. I shook my head with closed eyes.

Tears fell down my temples.

”I don't know,” was the only thing I could choke out.

”Oh my god, look at you,” he whispered as he grinded his hips down with mine. I knew he watched my face unravel with pleasure even as my eyes were closed, and he brushed my hair back away from my face. “Wanted you here for so long—fuck—I didn’t mean to mess it up, I’m so sorry—“

”I know,” I fired back. “Touch me already.” He let go an uneven breath as well and he rushed off of me.

”Up, hurry. Lie down normally.” I hurried to his pillows and lay down on them. He crawled over and watched me from his hands and knees. I looked up at him and just looked. His hand on my face nearly lulled me to sleep.

Safe; that’s how he made me feel. That’s how he always made me feel. I needed him so desperately for so long that when he put me in that precarious situation, I realized that that was what he had taken from me.

Now with closure, he brought it back.

He shook his head.

”You’re all I’ve imagined, I promise you that.”

”What do you mean?” I timidly asked. He kissed down my neck and my body melted into the sheets when his hands memorized my body.

“No one compares to you. I needed you as close as possible.” He took a break from speaking and kissed bites into my skin. I gasped and arched my back at the sudden sharpness so he linked his arm under me. My hands found his hair and finally, finally, his hand invaded my shirt.

“Colby,” I moaned and caved into his touch. He moaned against my skin and continued his work painting purple and red into it.

Finally he pulled my shirt off.

“But I was too scared to fuck it up; can't fucking lose you.”

“You won't,” I gasped. His kisses passed my chest and dipped onto my stomach. They don't miss an inch of skin, and I couldn't help from sporadically moving from how sensitive his lips made me.

“So perfect, so beautiful; just wanted you under me.” I held onto him; his hair, his arms, any part of him I could find. Finally when his mouth cascaded down my stomach and over my side towards my hip, his fingers interlock with mine. Still, he has a hand delicately held under me.

“Please.” I didn’t even realize the plea left my mouth; that was how gentle the sigh was. He looked up at me from where he kissed.

”Please what?” His voice was so soft I could have fainted.

”Touch me, Colby. Just take off the rest of my clothes.” He smiled into another kiss and still took his time with me.

”I will, don’t worry.” My stomach recoiled in anticipation. I wouldn’t let him let go of my fingers. I held onto him tightly.

I reeled against myself when he kissed lower and dipped his fingers into the hem of my pants. I moaned his name and and I shivered from the feeling of his breath and laughs.

”So impatient,” he whispered, and it sent chills across my skin.

”I’m not,” I whined. He kissed across my navel and to the other hip.

And then I felt it.

His free hand ever so slowly made its way down my body until he teased me through my pants. A hard breath pulled between his teeth.

”Fuck, I can feel how warm you are. How wet you are.”

”Colby,” I gasped. “I said I needed you.”

”I didn’t think you were lying, but oh my god.” Without another request, Colby pulled my sweatpants and underwear down in one. I couldn’t stop staring up at him as he rose to his knees. He tossed my clothes away and pushed my knees apart.

”Oh my god, I love you. You’re so perfect; every part of you. Wanted you so bad.” I couldn’t breathe as he spoke those words over me. His fingers trailed down my inner thigh and jumped to the other leg without even teasing me. I writhed against him, and the problem was, he didn’t even touch me yet.

”Colby,” I gasped when he kissed the side of my knee. His lips fell lower. “Colby, please,” I whined but he ignored me. His other hand pushed my other thigh back as he kissed down my leg. I knew he felt the way I jolted at every touch; the pleasure zapped through my body. I clenched around nothing every time his lips neared a centimeter close.

“Love you, let me taste all of you.” I wanted to cry.

I was so mad at him.

I hated him.

I loved him so much that if I died when he tasted me it would have been enough.

My nails scratched against him as I tangled them in his hair and he moaned against me, from pain or pleasure I didn’t know. As his mouth dipped closer and closer to where I needed him most, his other hand traveled down my other leg. I couldn’t stop moving, moaning, and his hands held me down so I couldn’t push myself into him.

”Please, please I need you—“

“I know,” he sighed. Then his eyes met mine. “Won’t you let me kiss and touch every part of you first? You’re so so impatient.”

“You-You have! Please, just touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

The tears fell again. My head tossed back to the pillow.

”I’ve wanted you for so damn long and-and then all this happens and this is how you repay—oh fuck!” I looked back down at him as he licked me once, twice, and then slotted his lips around me. “Colby, oh my god, yes, oh fuck thank you!”

Maybe the kissing was also to calm him down and hold himself back.

Because next thing I knew, his hands pushed my legs back roughly and he moaned into me deeply. I couldn’t open my eyes; moans yanked from me as he worked me relentlessly with his tongue. He moved with me when my hips rolled uncontrollably, and he never allowed me to pull him harder on me nor further away. He was right where he wanted to be.

”Fuck,” he moaned when he pulled away. Licked me once. “Taste so fucking good.” I couldn’t breathe when he dragged his fingers down and saturated them with my fluids.

“Oh my god yes, please—“

He slowly pushed two inside as he leaned his head against my thigh and watched me with stars in his eyes.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned and couldn’t keep the strings of moans behind my lips. He still watched me in awe as his fingers worked me ever so slightly. I rolled my hips with his hand. His other hand held the side of my thigh and I covered it with my own. “You feel so good, want you to do this so bad.”

”Yeah? How did you pretend I touched you?” Pink heat fell down my body, but he pushed against the spot inside me harder. He didn’t move faster though.

”I—oh fuck—I imagined you-you fingering me like this and-and…“

”And what?” His voice was disgustingly sweet with a teasing tone on the edge. I didn’t know if I wanted to smack the dazed look off of him or melt in his heart eyes.

”And-And you would use your tongue.”

”How do you want me to do that?” He teased in such an irritating way. I closed my eyes tightly partially in embarrassment but also arousal. Anything he said with this tone could get me on my knees.

”You already know,” I grumbled.

“Do I?”

”Colby, please,” I exasperated. “Taste me again. Make me feel good.” That must have set him off because he sucked in a breath before doing just that.

My hands now curled around the bedding under us. His arms held me down even as his tongue and fingers worked me. My eyes closed as I drowned in his touch. He quickened his pace and listened to my body when I writhed from stimulation.

”Fuck, you—oh my god so fucking perfect,” he said with a smile as his fingers moved in and out quickly.

”Colby please, need you.”

”You have me.”

”Want you inside of me.” He gave in.

He lifted himself up and pulled his clothes off. I would have tried to take them off myself; I always dreamed about undressing his perfect body, but I couldn’t move. I stared at him frozen with a warmth I didn’t know.

Then he leaned over me and his hand brushed my hair away. He held my face. His eyes watched over my face and I couldn’t blink as I soaked in his appearance too.

”So perfect,” he whispered. I gasped when he thrusted against me. I pushed my body up into his when he teased me and drenched himself in my arousal. “Love how responsive you are.”

I kissed him and he melted into me.

I drank down his moans as he thrusted into me in time, and his hands raced up my arms and held my hands on either side of my head against the pillow. I gasped for air when he pulled away. My eyes closed as his body overwhelmed mine.

He didn't say anything, only planted kisses against my face and neck when he easily slid into me.

“Colby—“ I gasped, and he moaned when his arm slid under me. He watched me as he moved faster.

”Yeah?” He teased lightly. With a smile, his eyes closed and my heart skipped at the sound of his moans. “Feel so good around me, holy shit.”

”God, I love you,” I whined. He groaned loudly and kissed my skin with a bite. More moans forced from me as his hips met mine with a higher intensity. Tears fell down my face again, and this time I didn’t try to wipe them away.

All the pain and frustration and confusion welled inside of me like an overflowing spring, and of course it took his kiss, his touch, his body to break the seal. He finally let go of my hands and I touched his skin like he memorized mine. He lost himself inside me when I touched him and scratched him. I kissed him and also left love bites because I felt the same.

He was mine just as much as I was his.

“You-You, fuck, you’re so much,” he moaned.

”How?” I kept my voice tense in my throat or else I would let it go into loud humiliating moans that would probably be unintelligible.

”Too much; I-I didn’t think I could ever deserve someone like you.”

”I don’t-I don’t deserve you. How does anyone deserve someone at all—oh fuck, Colby!” My words were slurred into moans as he fucked his hips into mine with intention.

Then he grabbed one of my hands and shoved it down in between us.

”Touch yourself, baby. Want you to cum with me.”

”Oh fuck,” I whined; I couldn’t contain the ways those simple words made me feel. His tone, the feeling, the touches; it was too much for me and I was crumbling and crumbling fast. “God I hate you,” I moaned through gritted teeth. He shook his head quickly with furrowed eyebrows.

”I know, I know; I’m so sorry.” And his actions felt like it. I could feel how sorry he was when I lay under his gaze and when my body reeled under his touch.

”Close—“ was the only word I could pronounce and he nodded with a small smile.

“Good because I-I am too.”

”Inside,” I gasped.

”Want me to cum inside you?” I nodded quickly. He held me so tight I knew I would see bruises later. I looked forward to it. “Yeah that’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good. Oh my god, I’m so-so fucking close.”

”Please,” I gasped. “Harder, I’m going to.” He didn’t say another word as he lifted himself up and grabbed my waist and fucked me like he wanted. I held onto him and I saw how quickly it washed over him; his face twisted with pleasure and I couldn’t blink as I watched his orgasm overwhelm him.

The feeling alone, of him finishing inside of me, was enough, and I knew I would never get his moans and his pleasured face out of my thoughts for a long, long time. I had to take my own hand away from me because it was all too much. He fucked me through my orgasm even as overstimulation settled in his body.

The moment I went to push him away, he stopped moving and groaned with relief. I pulled him down until all his weight was on me. He kissed me like he meant it. I didn’t think I could ever kiss him without meaning it.

”Please let me in,” he sighed as he caught his breath. “Want to be with you and you only.” I nodded quickly.

“We can only have each other.” He nodded enthusiastically as he rose to his elbows. I held his face in my hands. “God I fucking love you so much and if you’re an idiot I’ll kill you.”

”I’d deserve it.” I only smiled before I kissed him again.

A few more minutes of silence passed, and that was when I realized the sunset orange streaked through the blinds of his room. The golden rays illuminated through his dark hair as I brushed through it.

”Wait, how—Was Sam going to be gone the whole night?” Colby laughed.

”I’m not sure, but I’ll tell him to only come back once I text him.”

”What, why?” He looked up at me with an unimpressed boyish smirk.

”Do we not have a lot of time to make up for?” Heat spread across my face again and I shoved him back down to lay on me again.

”Shut up,” I laughed. “I guess so.”

”What? Do you want to get up and work or something?”

“No, I’d rather take a shower. It’s fucking hot in this room and your cum is all over me.” He laughed and rose up to his knees. His eyes flickered over my disgusting body.

”Pretty sure it’s yours as well.”

”Whatever, it’s so gross.”

”Let’s take a shower then.”

”Oh, so you can get me dirty in the shower and then after all over again?” He rolled his eyes. Goosebumps raised in my skin in the wake of his touches.

”We’ll take as many as we need, I just want you.”

I rolled my eyes as if it was the corniest thing I ever heard, but I swooned like a girl because that was all I fantasized coming from his mouth.

✧˖*°࿐

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