The town I grew up in was surrounded by a river. No matter which road you took leaving town you had to cross it. The ancient, muddy Big Sioux River. Every spring and sometimes in the summer it would rage and flood until it felt like the town was under siege. No one could leave and no one could enter until it subsided.
Coming home from the bar one night, my grandfather missed the bridge. He was going almost one hundred miles an hour when his ‘58 Chevy jumped the river, crashing into the opposite bank. He was decapitated. His body impaled by the steering column. They never did find his head.
Strangely enough, some twenty years earlier while fishing in that same river, he reeled in the top part of a human skull. He took it to the Sheriff who sent it off to a lab in the city. They tested it and found that it was over 200 hundred years old and most likely Native American. The lab returned the skull to the Sheriff and he gave it back to my grandfather.
Grandfather kept the skull in the basement. He’d take it out and show it to you if he had a couple beers in him. I held it in my hands after he died. I wondered if it was somehow his skull and time was a strange circle.
I was ten when I saw my first dead body. It was on the bank of that same river, off a different road. Some guy wrecked his motorcycle in the night. His body lay next to the river under a blue tarp the cops had thrown over him. My dad pulled the truck over on the other side of the bridge and we walked to where the cops were. We leaned over the rail of the bridge right over the tarp as one of the cops pulled it off. A heavyset dude lay there, almost like he was asleep. But he was so white it was startling. He was wearing an Earl Campbell football jersey, the same kind Cristopher Cross wore in his music video for his mega 1980 hit “Sailing.”
When I was in college, I woke up one morning after a long night of debauchery and someone had covered me up with a blue tarp. I’d passed out in the back yard. When I first opened my eyes I didn’t know what the hell was going on. The world was on fire in blue. I thought I was dead under a tarp like that guy I’d seen when I was a kid. I swear I could actually hear the words to that Christopher Cross song.
“Well, it’s not far down to paradise, at least it’s not for me
And if the wind is right you can sail away and find tranquility”
When I was 14 my best friend and I drove a couple of girls down to the river and parked a hundred yards from where I’d seen the dead guy in the Earl Campbell jersey. My buddy and his girl took off with a 6-pack to build a fire in a clearing. I just kinda sat there as I hadn’t been alone with a girl since I was a little kid. I couldn’t think of anything to say so I told her about the body I’d seen when I was a young. She wanted to see where. I chugged the rest of my beer and grabbed a couple fresh ones, pointing out the way.
She laughed and dashed off and I dizzily chased her. She was pretty, far too pretty for me. I caught up with her by the bridge and told her the body had been on the other side. She grabbed a beer from me and cracked it open, accidentally spraying herself. She squealed like the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I took off my t-shirt. She wiped her face with it, then ran off under the bridge to the other side.
She was stopped by a tangle of white gardenia plants all abloom. “This is the spot,” I said. “His family must have planted them,” she said, half shocked and half sad. I instinctively reached out to comfort her and she grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me full on the mouth. I almost passed out from the excitement and the beer and the running and the perfume and the gardenias and the death.
Three years later she shot herself in the heart with a 12-gauge shotgun. She was pregnant. It wasn’t mine. We’d broken up more than a year before.
It didn’t make any goddamn sense. After I heard about it, I got in my car and drove. I wanted to get the fuck out of that stupid little town. It had been raining for three days and the river had flooded. So I pulled over and watched it. The water was raging in wild white cap torrents and I wondered if the bridge would hold.
Summary: She and Tom don’t exactly get along, but really, everyone knows they just need to bang.
Pairings: Reader (?) x Tom Holland
Word count: 1.9k
Warnings: Some swearing and some smut
A/n: I’m sorry this is so shitty :/ but let me know what ya think anyways :)))
“And this is as close as you’ll get to it.”
“Wouldn’t want it anyway.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
It was a good feeling when she got the last word in. It
meant she won that round, and boy, there were many rounds of snarky banter.
Neither she nor Tom were overly fond of each other and did what they could to
avoid any situation involving the other. However, when your best friends are
dating, it’s inevitable. Kat and Haz, what a cute couple. She and Tom, no way
in hell. Or at least, that’s what they said every time somebody suggested they
‘just make out already’. See, the thing with those two is that they had
undeniable chemistry; the room was thick with sexual tension whenever they were
together. It was apparent to everyone but them.
They were currently at the boys’ shared apartment. When Haz
had asked the both of them to help him prepare for tonight, they had
begrudgingly agreed. It was Kat’s birthday, and being a good boyfriend, he was
throwing her a surprise party. As much as they disliked each other, she and Tom
loved their friends.
Haz had put them in charge of decorations, so here she was, standing
on a wooden stool in the living room, Tom on the ground behind her. She was on
her toes, trying to tape streamers to the ceiling. Due to the height difference,
he had a perfect view of her ass. She was annoying, but that didn’t mean she
wasn’t hot – not that he’d ever admit that
Suddenly she wobbled a little, and as if on instinct, he
immediately reached out. He grabbed her waist, steadying her.
“Hands off, Holland,” she said sternly, not even looking at
“Geez, I was just trying to help,” he removed his hands, holding
them up defensively.
“My knight in shining armour,” her words dripped with
He rolled his eyes at her.
Having finally taped that section, she asked Tom for another
piece. The small seat she was standing on didn’t allow room for much movement.
As she turned to take it from him, she lost her balance. With a yelp, she fell
forward – right on top of Tom. They crashed to the floor in a loud heap.
They both groaned; him underneath her, she with her face
pressed against his throat. She lifted her head and winced. Haz came running
“What is going on in h–,” he stopped midsentence when he saw
them on the floor, in quite the compromising position.
“It’s not what you think.”
“I’m sure,” he said amused, his grin getting wider. He
contemplated taking pictures but thought better of it. They’d kill him.
“She fell on me,” Tom grunted.
“No, I didn’t!” she protested.
“You literally fell off the stool, onto me.”
“Okay, fine, I did,” she huffed as she stood up, checking
Tom was still lying on the floor, taking a moment to recuperate.
“Um, mate?” Haz snickered, looking down at him.
Haz checked to see if she had noticed yet, before answering,
“You got a little something there,” indicating his collarbone.
Tom swiped at the area, not finding anything.
“What? What is it?” he questioned. He too stood up and
looked between the two, puzzled.
By now, she had realised what Haz was talking about and
suppressed a smile.
She pointed at the mirror on the wall and allowed him to
make the discovery. She and Haz exchanged a look and giggled.
“What the fuck?”
They burst out laughing. Right at the base of his throat,
there was a perfect impression of her lips, her red lipstick staining his pale
skin. Glaring at his reflection, he tried to wipe the mark away but only
succeeded in smudging it.
“How the hell am I supposed to get rid of this?” he growled.
“Will you relax? It’s just lipstick,” she reassured.
“Yeah, that makes it seem like you two were getting intimate,” Haz snorted.
“Shut up,” the other two snapped in unison.
“Okay, okay,” he backed out of the room. “I’m gonna finish
up in the kitchen. You guys should finish all this too, party’s starting soon.”
She nodded at him and turned to look at Tom. He was still
rubbing at that spot and she could tell that it had spread all over his neck
Sighing, she walked over to her bag and pulled out a makeup
wipe. She sauntered over to him and held out the tissue. He took it reluctantly
and cleaned the lipstick off.
She crossed her arms and waited for him, expecting a thank
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said instead.
“For what?” she asked in confusion.
“You fell on me, I cushioned your fall. You’re welcome,” he
“My hero,” this time she rolled her eyes at him. “Come on,
we gotta finish hanging these streamers.”
Grumbling, they returned to their assigned job.
“Let’s get this party started!” Kat screamed, raising her
cup in the air. Somebody turned the volume up, and the crowd cheered, the
apartment filling with music. She kissed Haz and dragged him into the middle of
the room, dancing with him.
Tom smiled at his friends enjoying themselves. He took a sip
of his drink, his eyes wandering the room before they landed on her. She was wearing a short black
dress, hair cascading down her back. She was tipsy but moved with confidence in
her heels. He watched her hips swinging in time to the beat of the song, her
arms above her head. He admired the curves of her body, very evident in the
confines of the tight fabric. It wasn’t long before some guy was behind her,
his hands on her hips. She was unfazed, grinding against him. She spun around
in his arms, her own coming down over his shoulders. As she moved closer
towards him, Tom looked away, filled with a strange resentment.
He left the room, in search of more alcohol to distract him
from this unwanted feeling.
She needed a drink. She had been dancing for what felt like
hours and was desperately thirsty. Squeezing past the swaying bodies she made
it to the kitchen. She noticed Tom leaning against the counter, talking to
another guest. She moved towards the island bench across from him and grabbed a
bottle, pouring some soda into a cup. She guzzled it down.
“All that grinding made you thirsty, huh?” he asked, more
bitterly than he intended.
Putting the cup down she frowned, “What’s that supposed to
“It clearly means something.”
A thought dawned on her.
“Are… are you… jealous?” she asked in disbelief.
“Are you kidding? Why the hell would I be jealous?” he scoffed. He took a gulp of
“Fine,” she shrugged her shoulders, not really caring.
“Where’s your bathroom?”
“Down the hall to the left.”
She nodded her head once and pushed past party-goers in the
direction he had advised.
In the bathroom she checked herself in the mirror. She
tousled her hair, mind going back to her chat with Tom. What was up with him? Shaking her head, she rummaged through her
purse for the tube of lipstick. Finding it, she removed the lid and applied a
fresh coat. She pressed her lips together, evening out the colour. Just as she
popped the lid back on, the door opened.
“Occupied,” she called out.
“It’s me,” Tom stepped in, closing the door behind him.
“Oh. I was just leaving anyway.”
Zipping up her purse, she took one final glance at the
mirror. She saw Tom in the corner of her
eye and bit her lower lip. He was wearing a black tee emphasising the muscles
in his arms. His jaw was clenched and she noticed how sharp it was. She swallowed.
“Am I making you nervous?” he asked curiously.
“Of course not,” she forced herself to make eye contact,
hoping she exuded more confidence than she was feeling.
“You seem nervous,”
he took a step towards her.
She took a step back.
“Why would I be nervous? If I recall correctly, you were the
one who sounded jealous earlier. Do I
make you nervous?” she countered, trying
to gain the upper hand.
“Not at all, and that wasn’t jealousy,” he continued to move
“What was it then?” her back hit the wall.
He was standing awfully close now. He filled her senses,
sight, smell, hearing. She met his stare,
refusing to look away first.
“It was frustration.”
“At what?” she almost whispered.
“At wanting to do this.”
He cupped her face and crashed his mouth against hers. Once she
recovered from her initial shock, she found herself kissing him back. The rigidity
of her body seeped away as they melded into each other. She reached up and wrapped
her hands around his neck, pulling him closer. His hands dropped down to her
back where they slipped further lower to her ass.
He lifted her up effortlessly and she wrapped her legs
around his waist. Their kiss was messy and passionate as everything they had
been holding in came flooding out. He sat her on the edge of the sink and stood
between her legs with his hands on her thighs. Her dress had ridden up and the
heat of his palms seared her bare skin. He slid one hand up and gripped her hip
while the other remained on her leg. He leaned forward, pushing her back and
she threw an arm behind to find a purchase to support herself. She accidentally
knocked over a bottle but they barely noticed it clattering to the floor. Her legs
hugged his waist she gripped his shoulder with her right hand.
Needing a breath, Tom broke the kiss, moving his lips down
her jaw to her neck. Her head fell back, exposing her throat and she let out a
moan as he found her sweet spot. She tangled her fingers in the curls at the
nape of his neck, her other arm snaking back over his shoulder. She was lost in
bliss. She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling.
“Tom,” she moaned his name. Egged on by the sounds falling
from her lips, he brought a hand up and slipped the spaghetti strap from her
shoulder. He kissed down past her collarbone and along the soft skin of her
All of a sudden there was a knock at the door.
It was Haz.
“Fuck,” Tom cursed, as they separated. He stepped back and
went to the door, not looking at her.
She, in turn, slipped off the sink and wiggled her dress
back down to an appropriate length. She pushed her hair out of her face and
turned to the mirror above the sink. Her lipstick was smeared across her mouth
and her cheeks were flushed.
He opened the door.
“Yes, mate?” annoyance in his tone.
Haz’s mouth fell open in surprise when he saw Tom, but then he
noticed her in the bathroom behind him. He smirked.
“Uh, you’ve got a little something…,” he repeated his words
from earlier in the day.
“Huh?” Tom walked over to the sink where she was still
He too, had her lipstick smudged over his mouth and chin. He
dropped his head, shaking it.
“Wait ‘til I tell Kat,” Haz said gleefully, running off in
the direction of the living room.
She looked at Tom. Then she went to the door and closed it. He
turned to her when he heard the click of the lock.
This is totally rushed and emotionally charged and probably has errors but enjoy
Jughead trudged home, the energy sapped from his body as the crushing weight of reality pushed further onto his shoulders. He couldn’t believe it: Mr. Phillips, the one person at Southside who had appeared to take genuine interest in Jughead, was the Sugarman. As if he didn’t have enough going against him.
He walked up the steps to the trailer, quickly slamming open the door and preparing to head straight for the fridge when he realized that the door should have been locked.
He looked up, surprised to find a very nervous looking Betty Cooper standing in his living room. Quickly glancing down to check her fists, a habit he would need to work on letting go, Jughead breathed a small sigh of relief to find her fingernails free of her palms.
The relief was short lived, however, as an uncomfortable tension settled between them.
“What are you doing here?”
His voice was rough, a combination of anger and exhaustion giving his tone a darker coloring. Betty took a nervous breath, and he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction as her eyes clouded with apprehension. She should be on edge. She didn’t belong here, not after she made it very clear that she was too good for Serpent trash like him.
“Jug, there’s something I need to tell you.” She took a small step forward, to which Jughead parried with a small step back. He watched as her lips, once warm and lush and pink, tightened into a thin white line.
“What? Are you here to tell me that you still love me again?” He crossed his arms across his chest, releasing a laugh that contained absolutely no humor. “Pretty sure you’ve already poured enough salt on that wound for one week, thanks.”
He moved into the kitchen, hoping that if he just walked away maybe she would get the message and let herself out. He couldn’t deal with this right now. He already had so much going wrong this week.
Of course, in typical Betty Cooper fashion, she didn’t leave. Instead she followed him toward the kitchen, leaning over the counter as she watched his back.
“Jughead, please. I need to tell you the truth. There are things you don’t know.”
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” Jughead mumbled beneath his breath, opening the fridge and pretending to survey it’s decidedly empty shelves.
He didn’t even have to look up to know Betty had furrowed her brow, “What does that mean?” She asked, her voice hardening just a bit.
He closed the fridge, looking her dead in the eye with as cold an expression as he could manage.
“Toni and I kissed. More than once.”
He wasn’t sure why he said it - maybe because he wanted to hurt her like she’d hurt him, or because he wanted to prove to her that he was fine without her. Something inside him told him it was more likely that he was simply incapable of keeping such truth from her. Absolutely none of him felt any better when he saw the pain in her eyes.
“Oh.” She whispered, her eyes flickering down to the floor, “Did it - I mean - Did it mean anything?”
Jughead shrugged, “What does it matter? You broke up with me, remember?”
“I did it to protect you!” Betty’s voice rose suddenly, before quickly finding its way back down to a whisper, “I did it to protect you.”
Jughead sighed, backing out of the kitchen to meet Betty on the other side of the dividing wall, “From what? The Serpents? Newsflash - you’re a little late.” He pushed up the sleeve of his t-shirt, revealing the black and green ink that hid underneath. Betty’s eyes widened, just a bit, but she quickly composed herself. Not that it mattered - he knew she was judging him. “Go ahead,” He growled, “Say it - say what you’re thinking. Say all the things you sent Archie to.”
“Jughead that’s not - What Archie said, none of it was true.” Betty looked up at him, her glassy green eyes searching his for even a semblance of understanding. “I told you I would support you, and I meant it. I still do.”
Jughead was reeling with emotion. Why did she have to be here? Saying these stupid things in that stupid soft voice of hers and looking at him with those stupid eyes. His whole body ached just thinking about her, her very presence leaving him feeling like an addict who had just been offered one last hit. He wanted her out, wanted the pain to just stop, but he took one last mistaken look at her crumpled appearance and couldn’t stop his heart from faltering.
“If what Archie said wasn’t true, then why would you break up with me? Why would you -” Jughead’s voice gave out, his throat tightening as he attempted to hold back his emotions, “Why would you take away the only good thing I had left?”
“Jughead,” Betty stepped forward, reaching out to stroke his face on instinct before realizing better and pulling away.
“Just tell me what is going on Betty.” He was practically pleading now, desperate to know why she had left him. Why, if she never wanted to see him again, she had insisted on helping with the drag race and jumped in his car to ensure they both escaped the police safely. Why, if she really didn’t want him to be a part of his life anymore, she would tell him she still loved him.
Betty took a deep breath, and Jughead braced himself for whatever was about to come next.
“The Black Hood - he contacted me.”
“With the letter, I know.”
Betty shook her head, “The letter was just the beginning. Last week, I started getting these phone calls. He’s been calling me, threatening me, threatening Polly and Veronica, threatening…”
“Me?” Jughead asked, the pieces in his mind slowly clicking together. He couldn’t believe he had been stupid. He had been too distracted by his insecurities and his anger to recognize what had been going on. He hadn’t even questioned it when Archie had appeared at his door, hadn’t even doubted that Betty was abandoning him. He’d just left her at the mercy of a psychopath. “Oh God, Betty -”
“Please,” Betty started, “forgive me Jughead. I… I understand if you want to be with Toni, if she makes you happy, but I don’t think I can live with myself if you don’t forgive me.”
She looked so small standing in front of him, so vulnerable and so very unlike the Betty Cooper he had fallen for. She had sacrificed so much for him, he couldn’t believe he’d been so selfish.
“Betty,” Jughead rushed forward, capturing her cheeks in his hands and pressing his lips in a bruising kiss. She released a slight sob against his lips, quickly grasping on to the fabric of his shirt and relaxing against him. He breathed her in, the fog that had been surrounding him lifting and giving way to a buzz of pure adrenaline. When pulled away, pressing his forehead against hers and wiping a stray tear from her cheek. “I’m so so sorry. I can’t believe I didn’t even notice -”
“No, Jughead - it’s my fault.” Betty placed a hand over his heart, “If I had just talked to you -”
“We should have talked to each other.” He reached up and took her hand into his own, melding his fingers with hers and wishing he could never let go, “I shouldn’t have just taken Archie at his word. I should have fought for you -”
Betty cut him off with a kiss, softer than the first but just as full. “Let’s just forget all of it, okay?” She smiled at him, that wonderful Betty Cooper smile. It hadn’t even been a week, but oh how he’d missed that smile.
If love were a drug, Betty Cooper was, without a doubt, the most addictive of them all.
“I love you.” He whispered against her chin, slowly tracing kisses along her jawline as his fingers trailed around her waist. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”
Betty captured his face in her hands, bringing his eyes up to meet her own. They were brighter than before, shining exactly the way he remembered them at night. “I love you too.” She said, her lips brushing against his with every syllable, before crashing down into him once more.
Prompt: Reader is left without her memories after surviving a car accident involving an unsub.
Requested by: Anonymous
Spencer could hear himself scream your name as he watched the scene unfold.
It was difficult to see. He watched the unsub’s car, the one with you inside of it- tied up with rope that dug into your skin and tape across your mouth that muffled your screams. He saw it hit the wall. He wasn’t sure if the unsub had lost control or whether he had done it on purpose, choosing to end his life instead of facing the consequences that came with being caught. All he knew was that his heart stopped beating the moment the car crashed into the building and sent you flying through the broken windows and onto the hard pavement.
He was sure you were dead. Your body laid limp amongst the shattered glass on the floor. Blood was seeping from the back of your head and he could feel his heart being torn as he ran towards you, his eyesight blurred at the tears that instantly filled his eyes.
It was all a blur. He remembered bits and pieces. The harsh flashing lights of the ambulance. The blinding white walls of the hospital. The hard seats of the waiting room. The feeling that overwhelmed him when the doctor came in to announce what had been your fate. He remembered the sense of relief when he said you had made it.
His heart didn’t truly shatter until he was allowed to see you. You were finally awake and he was ecstatic as he rushed in to wrap his arms around you. What he didn’t expect was the way your body froze in a mixture of alarm and confusion. He pulled away and he immediately saw it in your eyes. You didn’t remember him.
A/N: i don’t have the slightest clue as to where this came from but enjoy it i guess Word count: 1.1k
“Need ya to keep quiet for me, darling. Can you do that?” Y/N nods vigorously, her hips eagerly bucking into the rough palms of his hand. It just had to be tonight of all nights that Shawn decided, his games were deserving of a little bit of play time.
Shawn’s undoubtedly the most annoying person to ever exist to Y/N tonight. When it comes to teasing, he’ll drag it out as long as he can, until she’s begging him to give her anything to extinguish the burn of desire. Shawn knows her body like every note on his guitar. Where to move, how to curve his fingers so they hit that spot in such a sickeningly delicious way, it makes her bones quake. He does it every single time, without fail.
Y/N lets him play her like his favorite song, whenever he wants no questions asked; Pushing her until she’s on the edge of her release, pulling it away in the blink of an eye, taunting Y/N practically. It makes her core cry out every time, pleading with want to be cared for and he does it just right.
“Use your words, baby. Your smart ass mouth had no problem functioning earlier.” His digits curved against her g-spot, pulling an undetected moan with it.
“I can be quiet, I-I promise.” Y/N’s eyes knit shut, beads of perspiration running down her temple already. She trembles out a response, virtually a whisper among the sounds of the air conditioning in the bathroom.
He presses the pad of his thumb against her bundle of nerves and her hand instinctively reaches out for his bicep, feeling her knees nearly give out beneath her. “Dazed, flushed, and needy. Such a beautiful look on you.” He hums, his teeth gently grazing her earlobe.
The ocean waves of blood washing over her tongue remind Y/N of how hard she’s biting into her bottom lip. She wants to scream, moan, anything that allows her to liberate the feelings boiling within, but she remembers her promise just moments ago and she remembers that if she breaks, he stops. As much as she wants to let it out, she refuses to make him stop now.
“Please stop teasing me, Shawn. Please.” Her pleas fall on deaf ears as a dark chuckle pierces through the darkness. “Now you know I can’t do that, honey. That’s not my style.”
“Well can’t you fucking make it your style?” She grunted, a slight irritation at the almost nonexistent movement of his fingers setting in.
“M’kay.” Is all he says. It’s never that easy to convince him to stop with his games. Never. It always took her to her vocal limits to convince him to even slightly speed up. Shawn seduces her until tears are streaming down her pretty little face, pools of disheveled sheets surround her, and her skin is slick with sweat and desperation, every fucking time. Y/N knows she’s thinking too much about this. She thinks so much his lips blanketing her clit blindside her, pulling a strangled scream from her throat.
Even in the dim light of the handicapped bathroom, Y/N can feel his piercing chocolate eyes staring daggers through her chest. She knows he is, no need for bright lights or opened eyes to tell her. Her right hand reaches out for something, anything to take out this excess tension on. Her trembling hands run down past her navel, basking in the soft curls she teases between her fingers. “Fuck you,” the growl falls into the void, triggering a chuckle from Shawn and a whole new sensation to her pussy.
She whines when he pulls away, allowing the cold air breezing through the pristine bathroom to hit her dead on. “Love to, not right now, though.” His pink puckered lips return to the most intimate parts of her, to pleasing her. His fingers don’t stop, drilling into her like nobody’s business. His tongue never ceases, licking and prodding the sensitive dips, curves, and crevices of Y/N’s heat. One of those screams she wanted to let out finally bubbles up, coming out as a high-pitched moan instead.
The slurping sounds his mouth creates against her pussy drives Y/N up the walls. Something about the way he devours her, pushes her towards a pleasurable insanity. His thrusts get more forceful, more powerful, his tongue more gentle. Teasing, she might even say. “Gonna cum for me, darling? Hmm?” She nods despite him not being able to see her the best at the moment.
The knot in her stomach has been forming for God knows how long now, inflating like a fucking balloon before the opening is freed and the moistened air exits once again, a never ending cycle. Shawn knew exactly what to do, kicking his trusty assistants into overdrive. Amongst the thrusting of his digits, he adds a third one and his hand quickly flies towards Y/N’s mouth, knowing she’ll moan at any second.
His prediction was right, not even close to a shot in the dark. A deep moan presses up against his hand like her unrelenting hips as his fingers pick up their pace, desperate to feel her walls clenching around him. He couldn’t tell if he wanted her orgasm more than her or not. Her chest heaves, eyes shut tight like bolted locks while her body shakes. Her muffled moans of Shawn’s name fill his hand like overflowing water, each one making his cock swell larger in his jeans. He was grateful he wore a relatively long shirt today.
Y/N’s orgasm continues to waver over her, each hit like a jolt of electricity to her core. She’d had amazing orgasms courtesy of Shawn, but none had ever hit her this hard. Hard enough to pull tears from her eyes, leave her throat sore and deep red crescent marks in her palms. Her hair was soaked along the edges, similar to Shawn’s fingers now, her face glowing even in the dark. Shawn’s tongue doesn’t cease fire as he works mercilessly to clean Y/N up, nearly bringing her to another earth-shattering orgasm.
“Better now?” Shawn quips, pulling her underwear back up her legs. Y/N unties her sundress, letting the fabric fall back down and shield her legs once again.
“Yeah, but someone else isn’t.” She hums, gesturing to the ever growing bulge in his jeans.
“Shut up, it’s your fault.” He groans, pressing a kiss to her temple. Y/N’s hands run up the expanse of his chest as she pushes him against the wall. Her hands palm at his growing cock, eliciting a loud moan from the adonis beneath her palms.
Prompts: 13-”If I die, I’m going to haunt your ass.”, 106-”Stop being so cute.”
Summary: Reader accidentally finds out that she’s a witch and has a conversation about it with her boyfriend Klaus.
The times were hard for Mikaelsons. Every supernatural being in the city was turning against them and the enemies seeking revenge were emerging from every corner of the world.
So once weird things had started to happen to me I had decided to keep it to myself rather than bothering Klaus with it. I still hoped that maybe I was just being paranoid, but the hope was slowly leaving me as more unexplainable stuff was happening.
Summary: In which a football game with all of the Avengers helps you determine who’s the better Rogers.
Pairing: Steve x Reader
Word Count: 2,212
A/N: This one is especially written for the forever beautiful @beccaanne814-blog ! Becca, my love, I hope you are having an amazing day because that’s exactly what you deserve. I’m so grateful to have you in my life and I hope you enjoy this!
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Are you sure you want to do this?“ You counter, lips tilting up into a smirk.
“Okay.” Steve shrugs, adjusting the sleeves of the red shirt that was made especially for this occasion. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Y/N!” Tony yells from across the field. He has his arms crossed over his chest and his frown is visible even from this distance. “Stop fraternizing with the enemy!”
.... so Keith WAS holding back a few tears when he saw Shiro again in S1e1. Let the man cry dammit internalizing ain't healthy.
Oh ya I certainly think so. The way his eyes do that shimmery, jittery animation thing makes them look all glassy and his voice sounds choked up. It’s the first time Keith has seen him in a year, and he’s tortured and traumatized but he’s finally back and Keith is just overwhelmed. I’m sure seeing Shiro’s scar and galra tech arm made him feel guilty that he couldn’t rescue Shiro sooner, that he couldn’t have stopped him from leaving. So it’s this heart aching torrent of relief and inner turmoil. He immediately reaches for Shiro’s face and tilts it closer for a better look. Because he’s missed that face so much and his first instinct is to reach out and hold him.
And you know, I’m certain Keith had actually cried over Shiro before. Many times after Kerberos I think. (Especially if it was intentional that one of the animators put in that It’s killing me when you’re away note in his shack.) But yeah, Shiro was the one person who never gave up on him and Keith still lost him. I can’t think of anything in the universe hurting more than that.
Also, consider Keith at the start of season 3. He’s still out searching. It’s important to remember that Keith has been grieving Shiro for a long time now. And yet here he is, months and months later, still scouting debris fields and thinking back to when Shiro first disappeared. It’s something that still haunts him, and it’s a pain he’s constantly carried with him.
I’m sure after the initial shock wore off, he locked himself in his room and sobbed. Because even if we don’t see him cry on screen, we still witness these grief-stricken outbursts where he lashes out and breaks down all these months later. The pain is still that raw and bleeding.
Also, the way he yells and slams his hands down on the table before getting up and leaving to cry in the vlog–he does that same thing in the diplomatic meeting when no one gives a damn that Shiro is gone. So ya, I think it’s very likely he cried then. And knowing how volatile his emotions are, I’m certain he’s cried over his loss before
Eddie and Richie constantly touching one way or another (hand holding, pressed together, ANYTHING) and the other losers thinking it's the cutest thing ever
“And this line…”
Richie traced down Eddies palm as he continued to whisper to him. Eddie had his hand laying flat over a rock as Richie danced his fingers across his palm. “means what? oh wise Richie Tozier what do you see?” Eddie chuckled softly.
“Well, I see me doin’ your mom in the very near future!” Richie shouted and took advantage of the fact that he had Eddies wrist in his grip, grinning like a idiot. But Eddie countered him and slapped him with his left hand.
“Ow! Geez, Eds. You asked me to read your future.” Richie scowled and pushed Eddies hand away, lifting it off the mold of the rock.
“No, you said ‘Eddie, wanna let me read your future?’ And I said ‘No, Richie’ but you grabbed my hand anyway.” Eddie rolled his eyes.
A few feet away, Ben was tying his shoe and observed the recent showing of, Eddie and Richie slapping the shit out of each other. It was a common show. Ben laughed and shoved his shoe back on the ground.
Beverly was attempting to lead them in a conversation about their latest school assignment, she leaned her hand in the dirt to balance herself as she spoke.
But she quickly started to smile to herself as she realized that Eddie had put his hand back to lying on the rock and Richie silently went back to tracing his fingers over the lines of Eddies palm, since it was Richie, he was still whispering his vision of Eddies future to him in his ear.
“You wanna share that with the class, Tozier?” Beverly clicked her tongue and Richie snapped his head up. Something in her made her wish she didn’t interrupt the moment. But she figured it wouldn’t make that big of a difference, considering the fact that Richie and Eddie seemed to always be doing something on the side of their group conversations.
“I can share your future if you want, gimme your hand Bev!!” Richie jumped up and shot over to the laughing girl.
Eddie, in all his paranoia, had squeezed out a lot more hand sanitizer than he had planned. He watched the large puddle of liquid slid in his hand. He looked up and glanced around to see if he could spot Stan. He wouldn’t mind taking some of the sanitizer off of Eddie’s hand. But as he squinted forward to find him, a more annoying friend bumped his side.
“You know Eds, It was only tree sap….fitting for you, I mean you’re the biggest sap I know.” Richie chuckled as he thought back to five minutes ago when Eddie shrieked over having made contact with the sticky substance, not sure what it was. As Richie laughed, a mischievous smile took over Eddie’s face.
“I don’t know Rich…It looks disgusting..” Eddie wavered his voice to sound concerned as he pretended to inspect his hand, knowing exactly what the curious trashmouth would do next.
“Let me see!” Richie pulled Eddie’s hand like Eddie predicted so Eddie quickly raised his hand and smeared his sanitizer on Richie’s chin, careful to avoid his mouth. “Ew! Jesus Eds. Do you even know what that stuff is?” Richie grimaced as he rubbed it right off his chin.
Eddie continued to giggle. “It’s only hand sanitizer, Richie relax.”
Richie wiped the last bit off his face and looked at Eddie with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “You think you’re so funny…” He pointed his finger teasingly at Eddie who grabbed it and pulled his hand down.
“I think that was hysterical.” Eddie laughed.
Their little charade had finally gotten their friends attention and they’d slowed down to watch the show. Eddie seemed to be teasing Richie, who was attempting to get a rise out of the smaller boy. But between their bodies, their clasped hands were moving slightly back and forth. It was almost like they just had yet to notice that neither of them had let go yet.
Mike smiled and shook his head and looked at the others to say ‘Can you believe this?’ and everyone concealed their giggles. Stan, who’d barely been paying attention glanced up and decided to tease them.
“Hey Eddie do you have any hand sanitizer?” Stan shouted suddenly, Richie and Eddie hopped away from each other and let go of their hands as if they’d been burned. Their cheeks rosy. Stan smirked to himself.
Richie had proudly shoved his new joy buzzer onto his hand and was excited to meet his friends so he could test the thing out. And as he skipped down to the quarry, his eyes landed on the unsuspecting Mike. He grinned.
Mike glanced up from his perch on a rock, the only one currently on land. He gave Richie a suspicious look and waited for him to say something.
“My dad says my handshake is weak, can I ask for your opinion?” Richie asked, it was the only excuse he could think of to get Mike to shake his hand. But Mike was not dumb. He looked Richie up and down and chuckled.
“I’m not falling for that one, Rich.”
Richie grimaced and kicked a pebble. He observed his friends start to come out of the water and dry themselves off. Eddie wrapped himself in a towel but as he was climbing over some of the rock, he tripped and started to fall forward.
Richie instinctively reached out and grabbed Eddie’s hand and pulled him up to stop his from face planting. He hadn’t realized his mistake until Eddie’s thankful smile turned pain filled. “Ow! Fuck Richie!” Eddie shook his hand and bit his lip at the small shock that went through his hand.
“Hey that’s what your mom said last-”
Eddie pushed Richie and he collapsed onto a rock. “Hey, Eds. I forgot I was wearing it for a second. I was only trying to help.”
Eddie continued to shake his hand. “That shit hurt.”
Richie rolled his eyes and made sure he took the buzzer off before grabbing Eddies hand again. The only thing he could think to do was to rub his hand soothingly. Eddie let his pout fall into a small smile. The two boys sat so close together that Eddie was nearly in Richie’s lap as he rubbed the smaller boys hand.
“I can’t believe they don’t know how cute they are right now.” Beverly chuckled and Stan shook his head.
“I don’t see how it’s possible for them to constantly be in each others personal space and not think anything of it.” Stan mumbled with a shake of his head.
“They’ve a-a-always b-been like that too.” Bill rolled his eyes.
“It’s adorable.” Ben watched them with an amused grin and Mike nodded in agreement.
Uhm... I-I have a plot bunny for you. Kakashi and Obito where Obito is a water creature of some sort, like a selkie or a siren, and he meets Kakashi when they're both really young. Kakashi has a new best friend, but Sakumo (who knows all about fairies and their tricks, after the naga prince Orochimaru disappeared and broke his heart) is concerned. So, he asks to meet Obito, and is surprised that instead of a tricky fae he's just been tackled into the sand by a hyper child of the sea.
I TOTALLY MEANT THIS TO BE LIKE 600 WORDS WTF. OOPS??
Sakumo is just a little worried,
He stands on the porch
overlooking the crooked path down to the sea, twisting the chain of the pendant
he normally wears around his fingers. It’s a bad habit, and he always thinks he
might be loosening the setting, twisting the metal out of shape. Thinks of one
day reaching down to touch it and finding the ruby gone, lost forever along the
paths he walks. His heart clenches just imagining it, this last gift gone and
never to return, just like the sly, beautiful, cunning prince who once pressed
it into his hands.
That’s the reason he’s fretting
over Kakashi, really. He’s seen the signs—bits of coral, sea glass from far
shores, shells that can only be found in the deepest places, pearls larger and
brighter than any that land-dwellers can reach without dying in the process. He’s
found bits of seaweed in Kakashi’s hair, swept the sand from his room in the
mornings when he knows it had been
clean the night before. Watched the way he eyes the ocean as it breaks, with something
very much like longing.
Sakumo’s sword rests on the
chair behind him, cleaned and polished to a mirror shine. He hasn’t carried it with
any regularity since Kakashi was born, but he keeps it in repair. There are too
many dangers not to, and sometimes he can earn a few coins guarding a traveler on
their way. It’s not something he wants to use now, in any way, but if Kakashi’s
safety is on the line, he won’t allow himself to do anything less.
He thinks of Orochimaru, of
waking one morning to an empty bed and an empty home. It’s impossible to regret
any choices that gave him Kakashi, no matter how he still mourns both his wife,
a dear friend if nothing else, and the naga prince who stole his heart, but—
But he wants to save Kakashi the
grief that he’s felt all these years, of adoring a fey creature with a mind
half-full of magic and too many dreams that leave no room for more human kinds
Kakashi is stubborn, smart. He won’t
listen to Sakumo, not at first, but Sakumo has to try.
He hears footsteps in the dirt
of the path and drags his eyes up from the ruby in his fist. Kakashi a coming,
steps light, a smile on his face and a string of fish dangling over one
shoulder. They’re not fish that swim anywhere near these shores, but Sakumo smiles
regardless, waves to his son, and allows himself to enjoy the way Kakashi lights
up a little when he sees him.
“Kakashi,” he says warmly,
leaning down to offer a hand up onto the porch, since Kakashi rarely deigns to
approach from the front and use the stairs. “Did you have a good day?”
“It was decent,” Kakashi says
decisively. There’s a flower tucked behind his ear, one the grows near the
mouth of the river that empties into the sea. It’s a fair distance from the
house, and worry twinges at Sakumo’s chest again. Too far for him to hear a
call for help, should it come.
When he manages to wrestle the
feeling under control, Kakashi is watching, dark eyes faintly narrowed. “Are
you okay, Dad?” he asks, tipping his head. “You look like a constipated frog.”
There’s nothing in the world
better for the ego, Sakumo thinks wryly, than having children. “I’m fine, cub. Just—wondering
if you’ll ever introduce my to your new friend.”
Kakashi blinks, but doesn’t bother
asking how he knows. For a brief second, he glances down at the ruby pendant Sakumo
is holding, then away, and says with perfect disinterest, “If I’d known you
wanted to meet an idiot like him, I would have introduced you weeks ago.”
An idiot? Sakumo raises a brow,
but doesn’t try to argue; this is already more of a concession than he
expected, honestly. “Well, maybe I was waiting for you to bring him up,” he
says mildly, tries to inject it with the crushing
parental disapproval via sigh that his own mother always used to devastating
effect, and apparently doesn’t do too badly given the way Kakashi winces.
“It wasn’t a secret,” his son tells him witheringly. “And
besides, I don’t have to tell you everything.”
Sometimes, Sakumo is absolutely,
entirely certain that he won’t survive Kakashi’s teenage years. If he’s already
like this at seven, there’s no hope left at all.
“No,” he agrees, and keeps his
tone light. “Of course you don’t. But I like knowing about what makes you happy,
There’s a long pause as Kakashi stares
at him, evaluating his sincerity. Then he nods once, decisively, and says, “He
should still be near the beach, because he’s a loser who never gets anywhere on
time. You can meet him now.” He hurries inside, leaving the door swinging, to
lay the fish on the counter, and Sakumo takes the opportunity to belt his sword
around his waist and clasp his pendant back around his neck. Kakashi will
notice it—Kakashi notices everything,
much to his chagrin—but he probably won’t say anything.
Then the rapid footsteps are
back, and Kakashi takes a flying leap off the porch to land in the sun-gold
grass. “Come on, Dad,” he says impatiently, looking like he’s going to dart
back and start tugging at Sakumo’s belt the way he did when he was younger. “Before
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Sakumo
protests, stepping down and following Kakashi’s path as he hurries back down
the hill. Ignoring the track, Kakashi takes the shortcut across the stream,
then down the steepest part of the incline, and hits the dune well ahead of Sakumo,
who isn’t quite reduced to running just yet. He watches his son disappear
around the edges of the dune, and when he rounds it Kakashi is already halfway
to the water, though he’s finally walking again.
“Idiot!” Kakashi calls, pitched
to annoy, impatient as anything, and Sakumo strangles a groan. The very least Kakashi could do not to get killed
by a magical creature would be refraining from insulting it, so of course throwing
around insults is the very first thing Kakashi does. It’s probably how he
introduced himself, knowing him.
“I’m not an idiot, you jerk!” a
voice shouts back. Young, Sakumo thinks with some surprise as he scans the
water. There’s a flash of iridescent scales among the waves, and the next time
one breaks it leaves a shape behind. A long, looping tail, dark blue with a
sheen of orange-gold scattered throughout, flared, feathery fins streaked with the
same colors, pale skin, dark hair chopped short. A siren boy, just pulling himself
up on the sand, and the soldier in Sakumo is assessing, calculating, weighing
the risk of a child who clearly hasn’t even managed to change forms yet.
The rest of Sakumo wonders what
a siren boy, so young and without mastery of his own power, is doing alone on
the surface, far, far away from any siren chorales.
Then he turns, pushing himself
up to sit as he twists to face Kakashi, and Sakumo’s eyes track over the deep
scars all up and down his right side. Cold certainty sets into his bones, and
he releases the hilt of his sword as if it’s burned him. Sirens are vain to a
fault, and scarred chorale members are usually driven out.
Gods, but how long has this boy
been alone, cast out and thinking himself unwanted?
Kakashi and the siren are still
bickering when Sakumo makes his way over to them, and it sounds angry and
cutting and irritated, but Sakumo knows his son better than that. Kakashi looks
fond, and even if Sakumo doesn’t know
the other boy, he’s fairly sure that light in his eyes is the very furthest
thing from hate.
“—wouldn’t have bothered,” Kakashi
is just huffing when Sakumo nears. “But my dad
wanted to meet you, and he’s the only reason I—”
“Your dad?” the siren
interrupts, and his dark eyes are wide with excitement, clearly not taking any
of Kakashi’s bluster to heart. “He wanted to meet me?”
“Of course I did,” Sakumo says
lightly, and smiles as both boys jerk around to look at him.
“So slow,” Kakashi complains, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dad
this is Obito. He’s an idiot, so don’t listen to anything he says.”
Sakumo rolls his eyes, just a
little, but crouches down so that Obito won’t have to crane his neck looking up
at him. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says warmly, watching those black eyes
widen, and gods, the boy is adorable. Especially for a flesh-eating,
sailor-drowning monster of the depths, but, well. No one’s perfect, and if Obito
hasn’t drowned Kakashi yet the world at large is probably safe. On instinct, he
reaches out, ruffling wet hair a little, and offers, “Would you like me to
carry you up the hill so you can eat dinner with us? Those fish—you must be the
one who caught them, right?”
Without warning, Sakumo’s arms are
suddenly full of wet skin and slick scales as a baby siren wraps his arms
around his neck and hugs him tightly. Sakumo overbalances, too startled to make
a sound, but Obito doesn’t let go; if anything he clings tighter, and says in a
tone that’s close to desperate, “Thank
you! Yes! Yes, I really, really want to!”
Sakumo chuckles, picking himself
up out of the sand. “Of course. The least I could do for someone who caught us
such a fine dinner,” he says lightly. He gets an arm around Obito’s back, the
other underneath the glittering tail, and hefts him up.
The fin still curls on the
ground, and he hesitates, not wanting to drag it through the prickly grass, but
before he can say anything Kakashi heaves a disgusted sigh and stalks over,
hefting the feathery end up in his arms. “Can we just get this over with?” he
demands, though Sakumo can see his cheeks are a little flushed.
“Bakashi,” Obito complains, flicking
his tail slightly, and Kakashi makes a deeply offended noise as it slaps him in
Sakumo hides a grin. That’s certainly not how he and Orochimaru interacted.
And…maybe it’s selfish of him, but he’s a little glad Obito doesn’t have a chorale
to go back to, that he’s alone. Maybe he won’t disappear on Kakashi just when
he thinks their happiness is assured.
Before he can ask how in the
world they met, small fingers are at his throat, touching the ruby there
lightly. There’s a soft sound of wonder, and Obito looks up at him, expression
startled. “This is the same necklace the trapped prince is wearing,” he says. “How
does a human have it?”
Sakumo would swear his heart entirely
“Trapped?” he croaks when he can finally manage to draw even a
partial breath again.
Obito tips his head, like the question
confuses him. “Yeah. He’s been sleeping at the bottom of the forest river since
before I was born. My selkie friend says her mom told her there was a battle with
the sea witch Danzō, and an earth goddess and holy monk helped the prince but
even though they defeated Danzō he trapped them in the forest.”
Nine years. Nine years Orochimaru
has been trapped and sleeping and waiting to be rescued, so close at hand, but—Sakumo
He looks towards the forest, a
dark shadow on the horizon, and takes a breath.
Well. It looks like his sword is
going to see a bit of use after all.
Juice x Reader where Juice comforts the reader after she catches Jax cheating on her.
You shake your head in disgust as you take in the scene in front of you, your stomach churning with puke. Jax and Tara both look at you, their expressions similar to that of a child who’s been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
“I fucking knew it.” you spit, laughing with absolutely no humour. “You’re fucking welcome to one another. I’m done.”
You turn on your heel, fighting to keep your tears at bat as you keep your head up high, refusing to fall under the weight of betrayal.
“Baby, please-” You pull your arm back out of Jax’s grasp, spinning around and slapping him hard across the face. Your chest heaves up and down as you relish the sting on your palm, the increasing redness in Jax’s cheek making your chest swell with pride.
“I am not your fucking baby. You lost the right to call me that when you stuck your dick in your past.” Your tone is eerily calm, the type of calm that is more worrying than you screaming at the top of your lungs.
Truth is, you had a feeling something was going on, you’d even asked Jax upfront about it. Of course, he’d just brushed you off, making you feel like a paranoid bitch. Guess you weren’t wrong after all.
“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” Jax tries to reach out again, you stepping back out of his reach, instinct taking over. His eyes glisten with tears as he looks at you, not knowing how to fix the pained woman in front of him. “I didnt-”
“Please, do not insult my intelligence by trying to justify your actions.” you warn, your nails digging into your palm as you fight to keep yourself together, refusing to let the man you loved so much watch you crumble. “I’ll send someone round for my stuff. Goodbye, Jax.”
You smile, barely, in appreciation as you take the mug from your best friend, the warmth from the tea giving you slight comfort. “Thanks, Juice.”
“Don’t mention it.” he says, taking a seat across from you on the couch, leaning forward to grab the icecream and two spoons from the table. “Got your favourite, figured you’d need it.”
“You know me too well.” you joke lightly, moving in closer and grabbing the spoon being held out to you, a hefty scoop of ice cold mixture on the end. “I actually feel okay though. I think I sort of expected it.”
Juice nods, placing a scoop of the icecream inside his own mouth. “I know he’s my friend and all, but he’s such a fucking asshole sometimes.”
“You can say that again.” You sigh deeply as you let your thoughts go back to the scene you witnessed earlier, your eyes stinging with emotion. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise, you know you don’t have to do that with me.” Juice says opening his arms to you, you sliding into them thankfully, the two of you sinking into the cushions.
“I think I’d be lost without you.” you mumble, inhaling his scent, your eyes closing as his body radiates warmth. Juice holds you comfortingly, his fingertips trailing up and down your arm.
“You wouldn’t. You’re the strongest person I know.” he responds, meaning every word. He can never seem to understand how Jax finds it so easy to hurt you, especially when you deserve so much more. “You’d be fine.”
“Maybe.” you admit, leaning back to sit up straight, a soft smile on your face. “But I doubt I’d last long without my best friend.”
He nods, a nervous expression overcoming him as he watches you, your eyebrows frowning at the change. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” you say, stealing another scoop of the ice cream, your taste buds tingling at the flavour.
“Have you ever thought about us?” he asks, his fingers pulling at a loose thread on his grey sweatpants. You think about it for a moment, your tongue swirling over the spoon as you bask in your thoughts.
“Honestly, yeah.” Juice looks at you in shock, not expecting that response from you. You sink back into the couch, shrugging your shoulders. “I always thought I’d end up with you, but Jax happened instead I guess.”
Juice sighs, his hands running across his face in aggravation. You frown, moving forward to grasp his wrists gently, removing his hands so he’s forced to look at you. “What is it?”
He stares at you, his mouth opening as he tries to explain everything he’s feeling, but no words come out. His gaze flickers to your lips, your eyes widening as Juice leans in towards you, you leaning back subconsciously.
“Sorry, I-” Juice utters, pushing himself up from his seat and making his way to the hallway, heading towards the bedroom. You decide to shake all doubt from your being, quickly getting up and following Juice before he can lock himself away.
You grab his shirt within your grasp, him pausing and huffing before turning to you. You lean up swiftly once he faces you, capturing your lips with his own.
Your eyes flutter shut as you let yourself feel his soft lips, your hands resting on his chest, everything coming to you so naturally. Juice pulls away, a sound of upset leaving you. “What’re you-”
“Shh.” you whisper, your touch slipping under his shirt, him flinching at your cold fingertips as you run your fingers up and down his warm flesh, his eyes clenching shut in pleasure. “Please.”
Your shoulders relax in relief as Juice kisses you, his motions hesitant and wary. You scrape your nails lightly on his toned stomach, his hands moving to rest on your hips before squeezing lightly.
A moan escapes from you as Juice sucks on your lower lip, your core tingling at the feeling. You wrap your arms around him as you move backwards, your back pressing against one of the walls as his tongue slips past your lips, exploring the new found territory.
As the tension rises, Juice’s hands begin to wander, his fingers resting on the waistband of your pajama pants, your head nodding slightly in encouragement. Juice slips his hands into your trousers, your mouth parting as he rubs on top of your underwear teasingly, his touch featherlight.
“Juice.” you whine, pushing your hips off the wall in the hope of more pressure. Juice just smirks against your lips, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit as he moves his lips down your neck, his teeth nibbling lightly as he goes.
He swiftly pushes your panties aside, his digit sinking into you without any warning, your back arching as you suck in a harsh breath. He pumps his finger in and out at a wonderful pace, your hands finding their way to Juice’s biceps, the muscles flexing as he pleasures you.
“That feel good, baby? Hm?” he whispers, his teeth biting playfully at your ear. He picks up his speed as he adds his thumb into the game, swirling the pad deliciously on your clit as you writhe in pleasure. “Is my good girl gonna come for me?”
“Yes, oh god yes.” you pant as you grind against his hand, another digit being added inside of you as he curls his touch, your spot being hit perfectly. Your moan is caught by Juice’s lips as you come, your walls clenching and his fingers as he milks you through orgasm.
Once you’ve come down from your high, you’re picked up, Juice carrying you to his bedroom and placing you carefully on the mattress. He falls down next to you as you try to catch your breath, your body fatigued with euphoria as you run through understand what just happened.
“Was that okay?” Juice asks quietly, your head turning to the side to look at his face, his eyes trained on the ceiling. You laugh quietly, your fingers searching as you slot your hand between his, a content smile on your lips.
“It was perfect.” you admit, feeling the most relaxed you had in ages.
A/N - I wish this writers block would go away so I could write constantly, but it’s just so hard rn! Anyway, I hope you liked this!! Feel free to request if you want❤❤
Sub harry who is just discovering his kinks and your fucking him one day and put your hand on his neck and he says tighter in a breathy little whimper and so you do and that's how he finds out he likes getting choked
IM WHEEZING CARBON MONOXIDE BITCHDJSJS
okay so he’s come home from a day of recording at the studio and he’s all tuckered out but feeling really needy as well so he practically begs you to fuck him.
He’s so docile you don’t even need to tie him down. He’s laying out all sweaty across the bed, sheer black shirt unbuttoned all the way and his pants and briefs are discarded on the floor at the end of the bed. You’re riding him hard and fast, bouncing on his cock roughly with the back of your thighs slapping down on his, feeling his balls against your ass every time you sink down. His arms are above his head, splayed out limply with his fingers messing at the ends of his mussed up hair, whining softly as you bite down his neck and scratch up his chest, blowing on the stinging red lines and causing him to whimper all throaty and high.
“God, you’re amazing, y'know that?” Harry’s voice is soft and timid, eyes glued to your chest hungrily as it bounces in your perky lace bra– one he’d bought you at a fancy boutique when he was off shooting for the film in France.
“And you’re extremely thick. Did you know that?” You drag your lips sloppily down the spine of the butterfly tattoo, tongue peeking out to lap at one of his puffy nipples.
He answers with a short, wispy hiccup of, “Maybe.”
Your arms are holding his elbows down against the mattress, making sure he doesn’t move to touch you. Your knees are pressed up against his hips to give you balance as you slam down on him, his entire body jolting against the bed, cracked moans and soft keening stuttering from the heavy movement. He looks absolutely enthralling, with his cheeks tinted rose and his big green eyes all doe-like and innocent, swollen bottom lip tucked under his front two teeth as he thrums out shaky hums of gratitude, filled with, “Fuck me so good, darling. No one takes m'cock like you do.” and “You’re so tight, peach. Snug little cunt gonna fuckin’ ruin me for good, innit? Gonna make your baby boy come so hard it hurts…”
You’re hand reaches towards his neck out of instinct, fingers wrapping around the back as your thumb presses softly against his bobbing Adam’s Apple, using your palm to bring him towards your mouth. You keep his throat stuck to your lips, teeth sinking in sweetly and marking deep purple bruises into his soft, tanned skin. Something to look forward to seeing on him tomorrow morning as he’s spread out over the pillows with the side of his face pasted to the cushion, hair in a fluffy, wild halo with the sheets hanging low on his hips, revealing all of the maroon and violet love bites scattered down the tight muscles of his back, across his broad shoulders and speckling his delicate neck.
You’re so caught up in your thoughts you hadn’t realized you’d tightened your grip, thumb pressing down harder into his juglar and causing his breathing to shutter.
You immediately release your hold, apologies spilling from your lips as you kiss at his flushed ears with care, worried to death.
“More.” Harry’s croak is airy and quaking, but insistent nonetheless.
You stare at him for a second, surprised by the new development. But you grant him his wish, wrapping your fingers around his throat and tightening like before. “Like this?”
He nods feverishly, suckling his bottom lip into his mouth, bright, canopy green eyes rolling into the back of his head as the edges of his mouth twitch up into a teeny, satisfied smile. “Jus’ like that.”
You continue rocking against him, other hand cradling the side of his face as you gradually close your fingers further around his neck, relying on his body language and sounds of pleasure to guide you on this new territory. And what a discovery this is.
Harry looks incredibly sexy with his head tilted all the way back against the pillow, jaw flexing alluringly as his ruby lips are parted, heavy whimpers and short gasps rawing his lungs. His eyes are barely cracked open, heavy lashes brushing the tops of his simmering cheeks as he looks down on you with so much lust it burns. He pouts his bottom lip out pleadingly, talking meekly. “Can I have a kiss?”
You respond by flushing your lips against his, tongue dipping in teasingly and pulling out to skim his upper lip temptingly, drawing a deep, needy whine from him, air puffing out shallow and quivering.
“Such a naughty boy. Getting kinkier every day, y'know that?“
Harry returns your comment with a coy grin, tilting his head forward so that your fingertips dig deeper against his throat, bruising himself in the process and smiling as he feels the marks blossoming. He softens his eyes into looking all watery and innocent, but you can see a devilish glint in the specks of gold that shimmer in his irises.
“And you’re a pretty little thing with a tight cunt and a knack for returning my kinks. Did you know that?”
Summary: The whole “you see color when you touch your soulmate” deal. It’s fluff (and smut. There’s some in there).
A/N: Thank you thank you thank you for reading. You’re all too cool for me.
At least it was Friday.
You just had to get through a day of work, then you could come home and binge-watch
Netflix. The entry level job you had been
given was not challenging, and you spent a majority of your time reading or
listening to music. Though it was tedious
it paid well, and you couldn’t complain about being able to make rent for
“Your shirt and pants don’t match.”
You sighed. Your
cubicle-mate had recently met her soulmate, and every day for the past week she
had criticized your choice of outfit.
Request: Can you write a smutty mafia boss au where Yoongi is known to be the most heartless person alive and would kill anyone in an instant, but when he comes home he treats his wife like a queen and would do anything for her.
Yoongi adjusts the cuffs of his expensive designer suit as he steps into the elevator.
He catches sight of himself in the mirror of the elevator. He hair is parted at the side, the jet black strands contrast beautifully with his pale skin giving him an intimidating, almost ghostly look. His eyes are cold and unreadable and despite his rather small height, his overbearing presence is enough to make even the bravest of men cry.
He smirks at the younger boy next to him, Jungkook, who seems to be staring at the older in awe. Yoongi had taken Jungkook under his wing a few weeks ago when he’d found the boy battered and bloody on the side of the road. It was unusual of Yoongi to show such kindness, his reputation of being a cold hearted killer preceded him, and everyone had been surprised at his act of generosity.
Maybe Yoongi was becoming too soft.
He would continually insist that he was only using Jungkook for personal gain, the boy was proving to have a lot of potential after all. He could probably make Yoongi and the organisation as a whole a lot of money in the future. Yet, there was another reason Yoongi was so fond of the boy, he reminded Yoongi of himself when he was younger. Back when his final shred of innocence hadn’t been taken away.
When the doors of the lift open, Yoongi takes the lead, confidently striding down the hallway with Jungkook following behind like a loyal little puppy. When he reaches the right room, he swings the door open without hesitation and everyone sitting inside falls silent due to his powerful, intimidating aura.
The only sound that can be heard is Yoongi and Jungkook’s footsteps against the polished wooden floor as they enter. Out of the corner of his eye, Yoongi could see Jungkook’s face turning slightly red, he knew the younger hated being the centre of attention. One day he would have to get over his shyness, however, Jungkook always got the job done when it needed doing and that’s all Yoongi cared about for now.
Yoongi sits down at the head of the table, Jungkook sliding into the chair next to him.
No one dares speak.
Finally Yoongi clears his throat “So is anyone going to tell me what’s going on or are you all just going to sit there?”
Furiosa catching Max by his leg brace as he falls off the truck… man, that gets me every time. Not just the fact that she caught him by his leg brace with her metal arm(which is still cool ass imagery btw), but she did it out of pure desperation. It was like a gut instinct. She just reached out because seeing him die would have been too much. Not after he helped them(and her).
Then of course, there’s the fact that she only was able to save him because of their disabilities. There’s no way she would have had the strength to hold on as long as she did if she didn’t have that metal arm and he probably would have just slipped through if he hadn’t had his leg brace.
That’s called George Miller being a genius. You know in the trailers where they call him a mastermind? Yea, you thought that was hyperbole. Nothing but truth.
Looking back on your past, your life has never been anything out of the ordinary. Although your parents had left you on one mysterious night, leaving you little to no explanations, you live out the rest of your years residing in a new town under the custody of your aunt. That is, until you return to your hometown to investigate the whereabouts of your parents during your senior year in high school. It was that fateful decision that led you to find a boy collapsed on your front porch one night, wounds gaping and life fading when your entire life is spun out of control. Somehow being dragged into a life of crimes in the underground business of his, you discover the twisted secrets hidden behind the world you thought you had known all along.