#;COFFEE BREATH☕️

[takiberry]

𐙚ᝰ.ᐟ Coffee Breath : WY

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ Warning: Swearing, Mentions of Drugs, Weed, Alcohol, Underaged Drinking, Smut in Later Chaps.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔ Synopsis: Your typical love story, girl meets cute barista, barista gains a lil crush on her as she becomes a regular customer and his favorite person to speak to during his shifts, what could go wrong, right? oh of course, his ex girlfriend & another girl trying to come back and cause issues! how lovely..

જ⁀➴ ᥫ᭡. Pairing: &TEAM’s Nicholas x Reader.

𓍯𓂃༝༚༝༚ Theme: Sappy Love Story w/ Angst, Inspiration from @heesbaby & @onlyjaeyun ( i luv ur works sm guys mwa )

🗝️⋆｡𖦹°‧★ PROFILES :

y/n torture chamber | coffee h8ers | evil bitches

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ🍯 CHARACTERS’ MOODBOARDS :

y/n | nicholas | rené | maki | taki | harua | jo | yuma |euijoo | fuma | yudai | aoki | hana

₊˚⊹ ᰔ CHAPS :

the cute barista

oh he wants you so bad

i’m killing myself

can we PLEASE get a restraining order

you’re SICK

sick ‘n TWISTED

VII

₊˚⊹ ᰔ SPECIALS :

x-mas minisode

📝╰┈➤ tiny noties! : hello! oh my gosh i finally made it! i’m not sure as to whether or not i have an upload schedule for when the chaps will come out but! i will let you guys know if there is 🤍

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ 🐾 taglist! : open, send an ask or comment! : ; @aceheexx @hyvelxve @soobiverse @luvnicho @i4kt @luvitria @jjungwonss @wonkisbbg @flwoie @sionshiii @yyawnjun @olivehues @amesification @heart4hees @maoyueze @ffixtionista @yuma-is-mine

[bunnys-kisses]

bunny, dearest!! i’ve truly been craving some spicier brownies lately, perhaps with a side of coffee. oh, and a mocha, too, for max ☕️ xx

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there's tons of options to choose from! so please, check it out! i also accept prompts outside of f1! i've recently added some new prompts, so i hope you enjoy them! as for this anon, thank you for the lovely request! it's a lot of chocolate (yum)! i hope you enjoy!

and check out the master-list

brownies ("you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours.") + coffee (rivals au) + mocha (breeding kink) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, ferrari driver!reader, breeding kink, pregnancy, dirty talk, rough sex, mean!max, doggy style

max had his fair share of rivals. from being the best along side lewis hamilton to the childhood rivalry he shared with charles leclerc. while he was able to brush those off, laughing about how it was all in good fun. part of the game was to be able to go wheel to wheel with another driver.

you, on the other hand. ferrari's little trail blazer. needed to be put in your goddamn places. especially when you made him dnf at the dutch grand prix.

"you're a bitch."

"and you apparently don't know how drive." you shoved max away from you. you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

"they should've never let you on the track. not when you're driving like a madwoman. they should revoke your license, you bitch."

this was the face of mad max. the stubborn, aggressive, almost insane driver that they let on the track at seventeen. but you held your ground as you spat back, "aw, is someone made that daddy was watching you spin out? is that why you're getting in my goddamn face you fucking prick!"

max could feel his lip twitch. he grabbed you by the front of your ferrari shirt and kissed you deeply. you were both in your hotel room, which max bulled himself into. now you were pressed against the back of the door with max's hands digging into the front of the shirt.

there was a moment of silence, the two of you looking at one another. two rivals till the bitter end. then it happened. you kissed one another with a hot fever.

when you pulled away, you saw the tension leave his shoulders. you said, "you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours." then ran your thumb across his soft lips, "is that all you needed? a kiss. what are you twelve?"

he exhaled deeply through his nose before he said, "no, i need to fuck you." then he took your shirt from the bottom and started to get you undressed.

sneakers kicked off by the door. your shirt over the couch, his jeans thrown in the direction of the window. your panties ended up over the nightstand and the rest of your clothes were in various places around the room.

max had you pinned under him, your ass up against his hard cock. the rush of today's race still sparked in your minds as he rubbed his achy cock against your wet cunt.

"you're a bad girl." he said.

"oh yeah? what does that make you, verstappen? god of the track? coming to give me salvation?" you groaned as he he pushed his achy cock inside of you. you exhaled deeply and arched your back.

he chuckled as he sank in all the way, his breath came through his teeth, "yeah. i am." he sounded almost cocky and it made a shiver run through you. he watched you hold onto the white sheets of the hotel bed. you felt good.

you have had sex before. this wasn't a new thing for either of you. he had multiple times buried his cock into your pussy and fucked you until the headboard put a dent in the wall. until the likes of your teammate (max's other rival) was banging on the shared wall to get you to shut up.

max's grip was possessive, there was little tenderness between you two as he rutted against you. he could feel the heat bloom in his face as he curved over you. making sure that his cock got into the softest parts of you. he was going to make sure that he kept you under him. and off the track, not when you felt this good against him.

your pretty cunt clung to him like a vice as he felt the heat flare up to his ears. he panted heavily like a dog as you whined in response like something more needy. his pace was erratic and the throb in his chest was noticeable. it all felt so hot and it burned both of you.

"you look good under me. where you belong. right at the bottom of the grid." he laughed, a little darkness to his tone. he could feel the sweat on the back of his neck as he continued to move. it all felt painfully hot for him.

you hissed between heavy thrusts and gripped onto the covers under you. you replied, "i want to see your downfall, verstappen."

he chuckled and kissed at you neck. he held onto you tightly and pressed more of his weight onto you. he said, "right, right. you want me to crash, you want me to retire. i've heard it all. but, i'm not retiring." he kissed the shell of your ear and said softly, "you are though."

"in your dreams." you arched your back a little bit. you panted heavily, "not until i get my world championship."

max snickered to himself as he continued to move against you. moving your hips alongside his cock. you gasped into the covers at the sensation and knew that your career was going to be swift and short. after all, who was going to take care of his baby?

he didn't want to leave his child with you alone with nannies. no, they had to be with their mother. which meant hanging up the helmet and picking up toys. the thought excited him as he continued to bully his cock up against your pussy.

he let himself indulge in your sweetness. it all felt so good.

"you're a sick fuck." you whined, "next time i'll make sure you dnf again. i'm going to snatch that trophy out of your hand."

he pressed himself up against, you almost bending you in half. his weight left you squirming pathetically under him. he chuckled, "right, right." he almost laughed at the thought. you with the world champion trophy.

the only thing you were going to be a champion at the end of this season was how good you could take max's cock. but that's alright, if you do a good job, he'll get you a little trophy.

you groaned into the covers soon after, the pleasure washed over you. and you almost hit your fist against the covers. you felt the heat in your brain as you groaned into the pillows. max only took it as a sign to fuck you harder. he watched your ass bounce as he fucked you with a renewed energy. when he came he grit his teeth and panted heavily against you.

he could feel his cock throb inside of you as he came. cum being spat out into the back of your womb. part of him prayed that this time it would take. but then again, you two had a whole rest of the season to make that happen.

you may not be getting your trophy at the end of the year. but max will let you kiss it after he holds it over his head. he had to be a good husband after all.

-

"you're insane if you think i'm wearing the red bull logo." you held your head high. your arms crossed over your chest.

max crowded into your space with one of his shirts in hand. he said lowly, "well the ferrari ones aren't fitting anymore are they?"

you placed a hand on the middle of his chest to get him to step back. you said, "i can always ask charles or lewis to give me a new size." you were currently almost seven months pregnant with your first child.

apparently the hate fuck after the dutch grand prix resulted in a little accident. in the heat of it all and the insanity of the week's race, you were basically without protection. and thus the next generation of racer was conceive.

even though you and max were about to get married, you refused to wear the gaudy colours of red bull. just because you retired early to have you son, didn't mean you were max's kept woman. you already had plans to work with mercedes after the birth of your son. anything but red bull.

he reached for your belly and gave it a rub, "just make my life easier."

you stepped towards him, now crowding his space. you took him by the jaw and made him look at you. you chuckled a little, it was amusing, "max, if you wanted a woman that wasn't going to bust your balls. then you shouldn't have gotten your rival pregnant."

even as his future wife, you still got under his skin. as he wrapped his strong arms around you, he said, "you're going to be the death of me."

you smiled at him, "good, i bet the insurance check will be lovely." <3

[digitalgirlguide]

WHY AREN'T YOU DATING YOURSELF TOO?

As I sat sipping my morning coffee, I couldn't help but wonder: why do we often wait for someone else to take us on a romantic date when the perfect partner has been there all along—ourselves?

We get so caught up in chasing love from others we often forget that sometimes that you can give yourself the love you need too.

There’s something soooo empowering about falling in love with your own presence. I mean why wouldn't I want to hangout with myself? I'm amazing, fun and smell good too.

When you take yourself out, you're not just spending time alone— you're setting the standard for yourself everytime you get dressed up and go to that fancy restaurant, everytime you grab your tote bag and favourite runners and go exploring in your city, or even monthly spa visits to pamper yourself. make your solo dates pop so you don't settle for less when it comes to romantic partners and platonic friendships

Physical Solo Date Ideas

Sunset Beach Walk: Slip into your cutest sundress and wander along the beach as the sun sets. You could even pack yourself some of your fave sparkling drinks and some fruits! and everybody always feels better after they spend some time by the water.

Picnic in the Park: Pack a basket with your favorite snacks, a cozy blanket, and a good book. Find a shady spot under a tree 🍓📖

Yoga in the Garden: Roll out your mat in your backyard or a nearby garden. Breathe in the fresh air and stretch your body 🧘‍♀️🌸

Gallery Hopping: Spend an afternoon exploring local art galleries. Take your time admiring each piece and journal about it after 🖼️

Stargazing Night: On a clear night, lay out a blanket in your backyard or a quiet park and look up at the stars ✨

Food Solo Date Ideas

Café Hopping: Spend a day exploring cafés in your city and act like the main character in a sitcom or romcom. My fave thing about cafe's is people watching and making up storylines about people. ☕️

Gourmet Dinner for One: Dress up and take yourself to that fancy restaurant you’ve been eyeing. Put on that dress you've been "saving for a special occasion" and order yourself the whole bottle! 🍷

Baking Adventure: Try out a new baking recipe and create some new sweet treats, whatever you have leftover you can share with your girls 🥮🍪🍰

Farmers’ Market Feast: Visit a local farmers’ market and pick out fresh, seasonal ingredients. Then, head home and cook a delicious, wholesome meal just for you.

Ice Cream Parlor Indulgence: Treat yourself to a visit to an ice cream parlor.

Remember, darling, you're the star of your own show. Every moment spent with yourself is a chance to fall head over heels for the fabulous person you are. So, slip into that cute outfit, step out with all the confidence of a city girl in stilettos, and let the world bask in your glow.

After all, the greatest romance you'll ever have is the one you create within yourself.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

DEAR SPRING, STAY FOREVER ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO, SHOKO IEIRI

synopsis; just another mellow breakfast shared between you and your partners. (you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of them.)

word count; 3.8k

contents; sashisu/reader (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, all of u are whipped, lots of petnames, literally just breakfast fluff, it ended up kinda sugucentric on accident (not my fault btw he just really loves making breakfast for u that’s on him), also ended up kinda sappy at the end (that’s on me), implied no curses au, they’re in their twenties but it isn’t specified, everyone is eepy and in love <33

a/n; a little breakfast fic bc i love mornings and i love them :33 (tagging my beloved sashisu soldiers @catchuuu @staryukis i am making breakfast for both of u btw ☕️🥞) pls listen to spring thief by yorushika it’s the most sashisu song ever

as always, suguru is the first of you to make it into the kitchen.

he’s humming. it’s soft, a low lull of his voice, beckoning you closer like the call of a siren. sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, fiddling with a pan, sizzling and simmering and breathing in the scent of pancakes; it pairs well with the espresso steam from the coffee pot to his right, the vase of hydrangeas by the windowsill.

it’s a sunny morning. the perfect setting for the start of your day, an atmosphere you can savour, like the gradual sipping of your soon-to-be morning cup of coffee. somewhere outside your vision comes a morning symphony, chirps and songs by cicadas and robins. splotches of sunlight splatter against the windows, the kitchen table, the floorboards — illuminating the man in front of the stove.

something in your chest constricts, when you look at him. a tenderness uprooted, a fondness watered and trimmed, a hungry plant only satiated at the sight of this; the back of his head, raven locks cascading down his broad shoulders in obsidian waves, hair put up into a lazy half-down bun. a little messy, a little too breathtaking for words. wearing a black turtleneck that hugs his waist just right.

you should be used to it, by now. suguru has always been an early bird, always the first to rouse from his slumber, only ever contended by shoko and her occasional bouts of sleep-deprivation. he’s always waiting for the three of you, just like this — in front of a sizzling pan, adjusting his glasses by the kitchen table, cooking or reading or simply reminiscing. content to stir in the peace and quiet of the morning hours, before the world wakes up. 

and he’s always taken to preparing breakfast for the four of you, always ready to greet you with a smile and a cup of freshly made cappuccino. he enjoys taking care of you, all three of you. always has.

(it wasn’t any different back when you were kids. suguru was always the first one in the dormitory’s kitchen, messing with the rusty french press or making a grossly bitter smoothie for himself. he was snarkier, more roundabout — but no less thoughtful. grumpy little shoko would always get the last bitter pumps of espresso, and sleepy little satoru would get a french toast if he asked nicely enough. and you? 

you got to see them, be with them. that alone would’ve been enough. the steaming cup of cappuccino left on the kitchen counter — a little too tailored to your taste to be a mere coincidence — was always nothing more than an added bonus.)

the soft humming falters, for no more than a beat or two. suguru shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and suddenly you can’t resist the temptation.

with clumsy steps, heavy feet weighed down by a sleepy sense of numbness, you stumble towards your target. it’s a familiar waltz, five steps to reach him, a warmth that spreads throughout your body in tandem with the curl of your arms around his waist. slumped against him, cheek squished against his upper back, you hold your breath.

silently, you wait. one, two, until you hear the familiar roll of his breath; a delighted little sigh that slips from his parted lips.

when suguru cranes his head to get a glimpse of you, his amber eyes are leaking adoration. a sense of liveliness, a joyous spark — like a firefly, the flicker of a rusty lighter. he looks well-rested, dark circles long faded, only the dimmest remnant of them still visible beneath his eyes. 

he holds your gaze, steady and kind, and then he’s leaning forward; eager to press his lips against your waiting forehead. glasses slipping ever so slightly down the bridge of his nose. the kiss is chaste, familiar. warm, warm, a faint heat that simmers in your chest, a tiny firework of a feeling. even the metal of his piercing feels warm on your skin. 

you melt into his spine, fingers searching for a pair of hands that find yours first — his thumb rubbing tender circles over your forearm. practiced, memorized, that familiar waltz of motions. he lingers against your skin, breathing in satoru’s favorite strawberry shampoo. you’ve been stealing it for weeks now. 

suguru’s lips curl up into something amused, still not quite willing to part from you. 

but then he does. turning towards the stove, reaching for the coffee pot with one hand, the other securing your own and lacing your fingers together. he gives them an affectionate squeeze, still resting on his lower stomach. a silent greeting that he always ends up voicing anyway.

”g’morning, love,” he croons, a little raspy, but sweet and nice. honeyed and deep, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. you hear him pour something into a cup. ”how did you sleep?”

all you can give him is a tired grunt, stretching your limbs out, blinking sluggishly to shoo away the drowsiness. suguru knows what to expect; he simply smiles, endeared, pouring steamed milk into your favorite cup. with a clink of his spoon against the ceramic, he adds the foam, stirring it carefully.

then he’s shifting his weight, angling his face towards yours, and pressing the rim of the cup against your lips — not before blowing on it gently. he watches as your eyelids flutter, waiting for the hum of contentment he’ll hear once you have your first sip. and he gets it. the rich aroma stirs you into a more awakened state, and a single taste of the creamy foam has you standing up a little straighter, humming in sleepy delight. suguru smiles, crow’s feet hidden behind his glasses. 

you accept the cup with a grateful squeeze of his palm, and he makes sure it’s steady in your hold before he faces forward again. another sip, and your throat feels a little less dry, your mind a lot less sluggish. so you answer his previous question. 

”… slept well,” another tiny sip. it’s hot, warming you up from the inside. ”i would’ve preferred waking up to you, though...”

a low chuckle bubbles up in your boyfriend’s throat. it makes you want to pout, but you smile instead. traitorous lips. 

he’s looking at you again, unable to help himself, reaching over to brush some loose strands of hair away from your face. ”aw, ’m sorry,” he coos, teasingly, sickeningly sweet. ”but then you wouldn’t have woken up to a fresh cup of coffee, hm?” 

now you really are pouting. he shifts, until you're standing chest to chest, and kisses it away. twice, for good measure. he must be in a good mood.

he usually is, at this time of year. when the air starts smelling of honeydew and snowdrops, and he’s awoken by barking dogs, luscious sunbeams splattered on soft bedsheets, the pitter patter of sudden spring rain. when the apricot trees outside your apartment complex begin to bloom; a flurry of sickly-white kisses pressed against your windows, sticking to the locks of your hair. it gives him an excuse to run his fingers through it. even when shoko whines for him to cut it out, and satoru purposefully shakes the branches to make the tiny white petals even harder to find. he must like having his hair ruffled like a misbehaving dog. 

they make suguru sigh and sigh, exasperated, but there’s always a smile waiting somewhere out of view. he’s not very good at hiding it.

(he likes the apricot trees. likes watching them change shape, colour, likes waiting for them to wither and blossom and turn into fruit.

once they’re ripe enough to pick, i’ll make marmalade for us.)

the morning waltz continues. while suguru continues to flip his pancakes, you sleepily decide to set the table. fondness erupts behind his eyelids at the gesture, small as it is. you stand on your tiptoes to reach the highest shelf, just to grab satoru’s favorite mug; one you all got him for his 19th birthday, a heartfelt message of world’s okayest boyfriend etched into the front. it was meant to make him pout and whine, but you’ve never seen him drink out of anything else at home.

you place the cup on the table with a soft thunk, along with plates and cutlery. suguru has already brought down a cup for shoko, seated on the kitchen counter next to him, soon to be filled with the same rich espresso he always drinks. he’s waiting until she joins you both, so it doesn’t end up going lukewarm. there’s nothing shoko hates more. you can practically hear that grumpy scoff, see her cute little frown.

your sleep schedules differ from day to day. suguru is always up early, satoru always sleeps in. shoko fluctuates between the two. you usually end up rousing from your slumber whenever the bed starts feeling a little too empty — a fact you doubt they’ll ever quit teasing you about.

that differs from day to day, too. sometimes you sleep with suguru, sometimes the other two, sometimes all three. you have your separate rooms, but always end up with your limbs intertwined one way or another; even if one of you comes home late or falls asleep on the couch watching tv. satoru can’t sleep without hugging someone, and suguru can’t fall asleep unless he knows you’re all sleeping well. shoko isn’t picky, but you know she feels safest when she’s linking elbows with you, or touching pinkies with suguru, or snoozing on top of satoru’s chest like a weighted blanket. as for you… 

you’ve gotten way too used to their touch to ever go without it. last night, you ended up in suguru’s room, tucked underneath his chin, while satoru snuck into shoko’s bed to convince her not to pull another all-nighter. you’re assuming it worked.

”mm, smells good. you makin’ pancakes?”

a bubbly, groggy voice spills into the air, just as a light breeze flits in through the window. soothing, refreshing. you turn your gaze towards its source.

and there they are. sleepy satoru, and grumpy shoko, the former clinging to the latter like an overgrown koala. satoru seems to be in high spirits, calling out to you with a smile, blue eyes glimmering like a sunny sky; but you can tell he’s tired by the way he’s stretching out his limbs, only wearing a pair of pyjama pants. and shoko is silent, blinking drowsily, twitching when his loud voice buzzes in her ear. she makes no move to push him away. 

suguru gazes at them with a smile, in tandem with you, nothing but fond. loving, in the way the amber of his eyes gleams and swirls with promises of something everlasting. he’s a little intense, honestly. but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

and, admittedly, your sleepy little partners are a sight for sore eyes. 

shoko meets your gaze, and finally decides to shake off the man with an arm over her shoulder. said man huffs, but makes no move to follow her when she stumbles into your arms. 

her limbs find their way around your midriff, her chin to the curve of your shoulder. her hair is loose, almost as long as suguru’s, messy and brushing against your cheek. your hand goes to smooth down her back, the fabric of her oversized shirt, soft and laced with the scent of laundry detergent. she yawns, right by your ear, lips jutted out into a small pout, and something in your chest returns. a hungry plant, drinking up her raspy voice, the glimpse you get of that mole beneath her eye. her stretch marks, when she pulls away and her shirt rides up enough to expose her thighs. little lightning bolts.

”morning,” you chirp. she presses a tiny kiss against your cheek, dangerously close to your lips; sometimes you think she does it just to tease you.

”hey, how come i didn’t get a morning kiss?”

shoko turns her head, finding satoru’s accusing stare. he’s pouting, tilting his head, already making his way over to suguru. but she only rolls her eyes.

”you’re such a baby.”

”you know you love me!”

suguru stifles a puff of laughter, leaning back against the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the marble. watching his partners with barely contained delight. satoru notices, grinning softly, throwing his arms around his boyfriend’s neck.

satoru’s kisses are always sloppy. you hear that drawn out mwah! even without looking at the pair, even without seeing his lips against suguru’s jaw. a phantom warmth sprouts on your skin. 

”good morning, handsome,” he purrs, low and rumbling through his chest, pressed flush against suguru’s — their heartbeats mingling together. soft skin against smooth fabric. there’s mischief in those aquamarine eyes, something teasing, and it makes suguru want to return the favour. 

”good morning, baby,” he presses his lips against satoru’s cheek. voice muffled against his soft skin, silky and deep. ”you kinda smell.”

a moment passes. the calm before the storm.

satoru blinks, barely registering shoko’s dry chuckle from behind him — and then furrows his eyebrows together like an irritated cat. a scandalized noise builds up at the base of his throat, and he glares at the man in front of him, frustration only growing when he notices that suguru isn’t returning the favour. his gaze is still fond, like an artist admiring a marble statue, drinking in his pouty boyfriend’s fluffy hair and droopy eyes and rosy lips. flattering, but the damage has been done.

”oh, i see how it is,” he withdraws his arms and takes a step back, crossing them with a hmph. ”bullying your sweet boyfriend first thing in the morning, huh? have you no shame?”

”sorry. you just look really bulliable today.”

another offended little noise. he turns on his heel, messy strands of hair swaying with the movement, glaring at shoko instead. ”unbelievable. i feel neglected in this household.”

you huff out a breathy laugh, taking a seat by the kitchen table while your lovers bicker. sipping from your cappuccino in silence, soaking up the mellow morning mood. until you feel satoru staring at you; eyes like marbles, big and bright, rich with mirth. his pout fades away, and he closes in on you with a smile. troubles forgotten. 

before you can greet him, he’s leaning down to leave a fat kiss on your forehead — messy, uncoordinated, but loving. a coo on the tip of his tongue. when he’s this close you can see his dimples, those tiny freckles that only come out in the light of the sun. 

you feel him smile against your skin, pulling back to speak. parting his pretty, glossy lips. ”and good morning to you, my dearest.”

he’s silly.

your lips bloom into a sweet grin, honeyed nectar on your teeth. he’s illuminated by the light streaming in through the window, a little disheveled, with his cute bedhead and bare chest exposed. a giggle slips from your lips, and your voice carries a melodic lilt, coming out as a soft croon. ”good morning, sunshine.”

satoru blinks. just once, before the telltale signs of his excitement start to show; his face brightening, breaking out into a cheshire grin, something sweet in the way his eyes crinkle. like folded origami, like messily cut fruit. citrusy and smooth.

before you can protest, those strong arms are reaching around your waist — hoisting you up into his arms with a coo of c’mere. he spins you around, just once or twice, and chuckles at the way you let out a sleepy yelp. even after stilling, he doesn’t put you down, only guiding your legs to wrap around his middle; his naked chest and muscles pressed flush against you. he’s warm, one large palm on your back and the other on your thigh. he touches you like it’s muscle memory, every ridge and dip, every part of you he’s already long mapped out. honestly, you don’t understand how he can get so excited this early in the morning.

but who are you to complain, when it means getting smothered like this? 

”oh, and i smell great, by the way,” he suddenly huffs, directed at the partners behind him. he’s quick to smile down at you, tilting his head and searching for approval. ”don’t i, baby?”

for a second, you’re tempted to join in on the teasing. some part of you wants to. unfortunately, it loses against the parts of you still mesmerized by the splotches of white inside his pretty eyes, those cute little freckles. so you nod.

”yeah,” you breathe. inhaling, taking him in, sunlight and strawberries and laundry detergent. ”you smell like spring.”

his smile continues to blossom, turning sweeter by the minute. brighter than the sun. he throws a victorious glance behind him, delighting in the simultaneous roll of their eyes — before finally putting you back down. he wastes no time in plopping down on the seat to your right, dragging your chair closer to his, until they’re pressed against each other. curling a leg around yours. so clingy in the morning. 

suguru and shoko are quick to join you. they blink slowly, sipping on their cups of espresso, a rich aroma spreading throughout the kitchen. it blends well with the plates of pancakes suguru scoots towards you, drizzled with the syrup satoru likes. he’s attentive, making sure you’re all comfortable, rising to his feet when shoko asks for a single cube of sugar. she’s started to mellow out a bit, no longer as grumpy, soothed by the bitter taste on her tongue. and satoru keeps your leg locked in place beneath the table.

it’s hard not to feel nostalgic, like this. when spring is blooming just outside your window, when all three of them are just the same as you remember. some things have changed, sure, but they’re still so unapologetically them. loud voices, rude eye-rolls, teasing comments and all.

they munch on their pancakes, sip on their coffee, and you chat about what to do when you all get home. what movie to watch, what food to order, what food to make because suguru doesn’t think you’ve been eating enough homemade meals lately. bickering and bantering. smiling.

(it feels like high school every day.)

shoko is the first to leave. she glances at the clock on the wall and stutters out a string of curse words, a mutter about being late. suguru plays dumb when she accuses him of not reminding her on purpose. she kisses you again, right under your jaw, and lets her clingy boyfriends give her one kiss each on the lips — despite her protests that they’ll mess up her lipstick. then she’s heading out.

”goodbye, doctor!” satoru calls, cheery even as your girlfriend rolls her pretty eyes.

”don’t call me that yet,” she snorts, adjusting her scarf. ”there’s still a good chance i’ll drop out. or cheat my way to a doctorate.”

so she says, but you all know her. you catch that glimmer of amusement in her eyes, something smug in the way she straightens her back. a little embarrassed, maybe. but the faith you have in her makes her glow.

then it’s satoru’s turn. he’s whinier, about it, ignoring the alarms on his phone on purpose. suguru has to bribe him, promising him kikufuku and take-out and an extra tight hug when he gets home. only then does he get up from his seat, untangling his leg with yours.

”do i have to?”

”yes, you do,” suguru tuts. ”the kids have an exam today. be responsible.”

another pout. but he listens, slipping on his sunglasses, putting on a coat and stealing a sip of your coffee that only makes him grimace. he has you both kiss the taste away, and you indulge him, because he’s silly and stupid and yours. 

and then it’s just you and suguru. he has a day off, and you don’t have to leave until later. the kitchen falls silent, back to a mellow morning rhythm, that quiet waltz of motions and sunshine. suguru pours you more coffee, gazing at you from across the table, and you thank him with a smile. he adjusts his glasses and flips through the morning newspaper; absently, you wonder if shoko and satoru would’ve teased him for it.

what the four of you have is an odd arrangement. but that’s what all of you are, anyway; a little odd. 

and as you sit there, serenaded by cicadas and morning birds, senses caressed by cappuccino foam and apricot blossoms and a hand holding yours over the table… you think to yourself that even if everything shattered around you — if the earth stopped spinning or the stars crashed through the roof of your apartment — you’d probably still keep on living. you’d do it, if only to continue chewing on these memories, these mornings, like savouring the faded flavour of an old piece of gum. over and over again, until you can’t tell where your teeth end and where the gum begins, so that you’ll always be able to taste it on your tongue. for the rest of your life.

it’s melodramatic, yes, but they are too. you’re sure suguru is pondering a sentiment even more dramatic, right now, even heavier with devotion. something so sappy you’d have to hide your face in your hands and beg him to stop talking. 

and, lo and behold, he suddenly speaks up. 

“are you happy?”

the question breaks you out of your silent stupor. you look up from your plate, his amber eyes already taking you in, drowning you in fondness. he’s smiling, and he’s looking at you like you’re spring personified. the silver of his lip piercing catches the light of the sun. a couple apricot petals are stuck in his hair, woven between his raven locks. 

you blink. inside your chest, something unfurls, twists and turns, grows and withers all at once. a whole garden of love, just for them.

you lean forward, elbows on the table, and brush through his bangs. petal caught between your fingertips. when you lean back, you’re smiling.

“yeah,” you answer, truthfully. inhaling the scent of spring. “i’m always happy when i’m with you.”

a breeze caresses your cheek, your hands, and the whole apartment smells of apricots. suguru seems pleased, returning to his cup of lukewarm coffee, a little clink of ceramic against porcelain that strikes you as distinctly heavenly.

soon, you’ll have to leave. you’ll have to manage without their jokes and banter and touches, without them, for a grueling number of hours, one tortuous lecture after another. but they’ll be waiting once you get back — and tomorrow, you’ll have breakfast again, just like this. forever and ever. you never want the coffee to run out, never want the apricot trees to wither. you want to stay greedy for a long time to come. 

and you’re sure they feel the same.

the sun lets her golden hair flow throughout the city, melting rivers and warming benches. she falls across shoko’s lecture hall, sneaks into satoru’s classroom, kisses her way up suguru’s neck. you let a sigh slip past your lips, and the sun breathes it in again — a vein of joy awoken, slumbering inside your veins.

and you smile.

(it’s springtime, now. a little warmer. 

here’s to another year together.)

[vanfleeter]

Tangled In The Blankets

Characters: Jake Kiszka x Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ || Fluff. Cozy Jake. Smut. Dry humping. Oral sex (f receiving). Penetrative sex. Cockblocking.

🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️

Tonight is the perfect fall night.

The air is chilly accompanied with the light rain that drizzles. The whole house is swallowed in darkness except for the living room. Candles are scattered around the room, flickering and illuminating the room in a dull, orange glow. A cozy and comfortable feel for the night.

A fire flickers in the hearth. The sound of the fire crackling mixes with the breathy moans of both you and Jake.

After a long day of work for the both of you, Jake made the decision to have a quiet and relaxing evening, and he knew just the way to wind down. So when you came home, you found the house darkened and the soft glow from the living room beckoning you.

It started with a quiet dinner around the coffee table, consisting of a warm bowl of soup, a new recipe that Jake had found on the internet. Then following the soup, was a comforting mug of hot cocoa made from those hot cocoa bombs. Inside them were mini marshmallows and little Halloween sprinkles. He would watch you with a small smile on his face as you watched the hot cocoa bomb rotate in the warm milk before melting and releasing all of its contents. He chuckles when you squeal seeing the little sprinkles inside.

“There’s little pumpkins!” You exclaim as you look closer, your nose nearly touching the warm liquid inside the mug.

Sitting on the floor against the coffee table and sipping on the hot cocoa, Jake started to touch you. First it began with his hand resting on your knee as he leaned closer and pressed his lips to your cheek, causing your cheeks to just slightly flush red. He slowly trails his hand up your knee and he gently squeezes your thigh making you squeak and your body jolt, nearly spilling your hot cocoa. He smiles against your cheek, and you can feel his warm breath against your skin as he opens his mouth just a little to kiss you again. You let him remove the mug from your hand and he sets it on the table beside his before he pulls you onto his lap.

His lips brush yours before he fully presses in and he kisses you. His hands move from your thighs and around to your butt. He gives them a light squeeze making you smile against his lips. The small movement of your hips has you grinding against his crotch. He groans, mentally cursing himself for choosing to wear such a thin pair of linen pants. But in this moment, he embraces it and pushes you back down again against his hardening bulge.

You knew he had this planned out when he laid you on the floor that was already covered with blankets and pillows.

He takes his time undressing as he does himself, and leaving gentle kisses along your body. He loves you softly as he makes his way down your body. His thumbs rub circles on your inner thighs as he makes a connection with your aching core. You feel his tongue gently dance through your folds and you can’t contain that moan that escapes you.

He licks through your folds again before thrusting his tongue inside of you. You writhe beneath him as he becomes relentless, fucking you with his tongue and bringing you crashing into your first orgasm. He laps up all of your release and crawls back up your body.

All while he had been orally fucking you, neither of you realized that the rain had picked up and was turning into a storm until you saw a flash of light from outside the living room window. Jake took no notice of it as he positioned himself between your legs. He only acknowledged it when he pushed inside of you as thunder rumbled outside.

“I guess we’re just that powerful together..” He says with a wink. You can’t help but laugh at his feeble attempt at a joke.

He sits inside of you, completely filling you, and kisses you before he slowly starts to move, first pulling out with just his tip inside and then pushing fully back inside. He keeps it slow for a little bit, feeling every single bit of you.

You’ve wrapped your arms around his back and your legs are twisted around his waist giving him an easier access to you as well as a way to push himself deeper. Your moans are sweet and airy and he absorbs everything one of them.

You take him by surprise when you clench your thighs around his body and use your strength to roll the two of you over, allowing you to be on top. His head lays perfectly against the pillows, his long locks splayed out around his head.

“Was I not doing enough?” He says with a smirk.

“No..” You smile as you keep the steady pace going, rising and falling around his length as he meets you in your descent with a thrust of his hips.

You were nearing your end, your walls clenching around his length. “That’s it, baby..” He says, digging his fingers into your hips. He wasn't quite there yet but he wanted you to find yours again.

Oh how he loves to watch your face twist and contort as the pleasure fills your body. The way you bite your lip as a little squeak emmits from your throat. And when you finish, he flips the two of you back over. Seeing how tight the blankets have come with all the movement, he finds it hard to do much so he pins you to your stomach on the floor and fucks you from behind. His body is completely stretched on top of yours. Your back is arched just over so slightly so that he has the right angle to thrust himself inside.

You can feel his hands wash down your arms as he hands come down to hold yours, your fingers interlocked together. His warm breath cascades down your neck with every thrust he gives. You’re still sensitive from the first two orgasms that he gave you, making your third approach rapidly.

He peppers the back of your neck with kisses as he picks up his speed. He twitches within you, signaling his impending orgasm.

“Baby.. I can’t hold on any…longer..”

You turn your head to the side and he captures you in a kiss as you both come to your own releases. He sloppily kisses you again, refusing to remove himself from inside of you.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he moves your hair across your back and kisses your shoulder. You nod your head, giving him a lazy smile and he chuckles.

Finally he removes himself from inside you and does his best to twist his body inside the blankets to lay beside you. You turn on your side, giving him more space but he only pulls you closer. He brushes your hair behind your ear and softly caresses your face in his hand. Another strike of lightning flashes followed by a dull thunk from inside the house. “I guess the powers out,” Jake laughs.

“That’s okay,” You say as you snuggle into his chest. “We don’t need it right now.”

He smiles and tilts his head to kiss you. “I hope I did good tonight.” He says, drawing little shapes on your skin.

“Better than good,” You say as you slide your leg over his hip. “I love nights like this.. Slow and relaxing–we haven't done this in a while.”

“No, we haven’t,” He says. “And I’m sorry for that.”

You shake your head before kissing him. “Don’t ever apologize. You’ve been working hard and I am proud of you.”

The two of you became absorbed in each other again that you didn’t notice anyone coming inside the house until Josh clears his throat. Jake nearly jumps out of his skin and turns over to look at him.

“What the hell, Josh?!” He exclaims. “You can’t just barge in here like that! Did you even knock?”

“Uh yeah,” Josh says. “I knocked and I rang the doorbell.. But clearly now I can see that I’m interrupting something.”

“Very much so..” Jake growls through his teeth.

“Well I lost power so I thought I’d come over here.”

“We don’t have power either,” Jake says.

“Yes you do,” Josh says matter-of-factly as he leaves the living room. “Porch light is on!” He calls from the kitchen. “Ooo! Soup!”

“Josh–” Jake begins, but you stop him.

“No, it’s okay.” You say. “Let him eat some.”

“Well this relaxation lasted as long as it did,” He grumbles.

You giggle and lean over to kiss him. “Come on, let’s get dressed.” Jake groans and falls over onto his back. “Maybe when he leaves, we can resume where we left off..” You whisper in his ear.

“Why don’t we just continue now?” He whispers back as he pulls on top of him. “He’ll be so grossed out that he’ll have no choice but to leave.”

“Come on, Jake. Be a little hospitable.”

Jake huffs a breath. “Fine..”

🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️

@losfacedevil @writingcold @edgingthedarkness @ignite-my-fire @jordinlkiszka @hollyco @earthgrlsreasy @dancingcarbon @josh-iamyour-mama @katiegvf @oliverfuckingreed @cheersdannyx2 @piratejtk @takenbythemadness

Add yourself to the tag list! Link in the master list!

[floraltypes]

A People Pleaser

pairing - jim halpert x reader

summary (☕️) - jim is known to be likable, so the one person he really has grown to enjoy seemingly not liking him, is very frustrating

request - 900 event!

Despite sitting right beside him, your eyes seem to always look past his. It had been almost a complete month since the newest co-worker of Dunder Mifflin- you- arrived and you still won’t look at him. It is (not so) secretly getting to him. 

It was clear from the moment you arrived that you made the dull office seem brighter, smile and sweet beauty, you chatted up everyone. Sure, you were more quiet but you still tried to come out of your shell.

He admired that aspect about you, the way you’d bashfully let Dwight blather on and on about some stupid beet rant and kindly explain something to the vibrant Kelly who would rather chat your ear off about royalty drama. Somehow, in one way or another, you had done something kind for everyone in the office, even Jim, yet he was still spiraling. 

You would quietly bring him coffee after getting some for yourself, yet never said anything more than placing it on his desk and returning back to your work.

“I don’t get it,” he sighed, legs crossed and furrowed brows while staring at the camera. “Did I give her a mean look the first day? Accidentally take a potential client? She just refuses to talk to me!” he waved his hands around, clearly stressed. 

“Have you tried being nice?” one of the people behind the camera asked. 

“I mean, yeah!” 

“Oh my,” you agitatedly whispered underneath your breath, hand rubbing the bridge of your nose while peering at the never-ending circle of death. The bright colors were now spinning for ten minutes and you had tried everything. 

“You alright?” Jim looked up from his work to see your mouth downturned and face sour. 

“It’s fine,” you shake your head, typing something into the keyboard while waving the mouse around the screen. “The website might just be down.”

“Mine works fine.”

“Thanks,” you grimaced, your voice clearly showing how annoyed you were at the moment. At your reaction, Jim flushed a bit, fearful that he was giving you another thing to hate about him. Therefore, in order to make sure that wouldn’t happen, he made it a mission to help you. 

He stood up from his desk, walking the few steps to your own where he leaned over the side of you, now scanning his eyes through the computer screen in hopes of seeing something you had not. 

You could feel his breath on the open skin of your neck, he was so close, his hand gripping one edge of the desk, near where your own arm lay with hand on top of the mouse. Inside your stomach was experiencing that familiar stirring feeling when you encompassed Jim Halpert.

“I don’t hate Jim,” you quietly answered the question, sitting uncomfortably in front of the camera. “Why would you think that?”

“Did you try doing that command exit?” he questioned, looking down at you, a few wisps of hair falling across his forehead. You couldn’t help but stare at the new look, the way his eyes always seemed so soft when they looked at you. But, then again, he was just such a nice guy that it probably was like that with everyone. 

“Didn’t work,” you hum, forcing yourself to face away and keep your sights on the computer screen. This action now gave Jim a similar opportunity to look over your features. The way you nervously bit at your lip and the creases from your current stress were evident near your eyebrows. Something fluttered within him, and how he wished to just gently smooth them before placing a sof- “I’ve tried everything.”

“Well there is one way, if you head to the search bar,” pushing his thoughts aside he moved his hand up a bit to reach for the mouse. In return he accidentally grabbed the top of your hand. “Oh,”

“It’s fine!” you accidentally yelled, looking around at the stares from disrupting fellow co-workers you quieted down, and tried to leave your seat. “I’ll just go talk to IT, call them, or something. You don’t have to worry about it.”

He hesitated before removing his hand from your own, and like an ignored puppy, he relocated back to his desk, sending a defeated look towards the camera, trying to signal them to look away.

All that was swirling through his mind is that - somehow - he gave you another reason to despise him. All that was swirling through your mind was that your crush on the naturally kind man was escalating fast, and you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. 

This was merely one example of Jim’s attempt at showing an extra kindness to you, a chance for you to grow a liking to the genuinely sweet man (even though you already had, he just wasn’t informed on that information). Later on in the week he was determined to do a coffee drop off as you had done for him many times. 

It was the later hours of the night, Michaels lack of organization leading to two sales people having to stay later and fix his mistake. After too many rounds of rock paper scissors, it was concluded that you and Jim were the (un)lucky winners. 

“I’ve almost finished with the first pile,” he perked up at the sound of your voice, soft humming exiting your lips after the small comment. “I should be able to finish up the next one rather quickly.” 

“Same here,” he hummed, tapping his pen on his desk. “Weird without everyone.”

“Mhm,” you nodded in agreement, scribbling away with no mind to his words. 

“I’ll be back,” exiting his area he made his way to the darkened kitchen area. Luckily there was a pot left, pouring a bit into two cups - your specifically designed one and his striped one - he plopped them in the microwave to heat up. 

“Hey, does it look like the name-” you suddenly stopped your question upon noticing that your co-worker had disappeared. With much interest and confusion, you now followed the beaming light to where he stood blowing your coffee a bit. “Jim?”

“Ah!” he hastily put the cup down. 

“What are you doing?”

“Providing you a good cup of joe,” he hesitantly smiled, lifting up the green mug. “I warmed them up too long, don’t want your tongue to burn off or something.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, giggles erupting which made him just want to join in. “You’re so kind,” you mumbled, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips. 

Jim was stunned, stuck in place, his eyes wide, and ears almost seemed to perk up at such a compliment. “You think I’m nice?”

“You’re the nicest person in the office, probably.”

“Wait, you don’t hate me?”

“Why do people think that?” you shook your head. 

“It’s just, well, you act so differently. I try extra hard to be nice, I don’t know if when you first started working here I somehow did something to … tick you off?”

“Oh,” was all you could muster up at the moment, nerves once again kicking in at the way his body heat seemed to be radiating and a soft glow was in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, it’s just, I actually just want to get to know you more.” 

“Jim, you’re kind, but you don’t need to do anything extra for me. I’ve noticed your politeness and all of these acts, it makes me overthink things,” with a sigh you let him know the truth, shoulders slumped due to the confession. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine, I just don’t want to take things out of context.”

“You think I learned the way you take your coffee just to be friendly?” you nodded at his question. “Even the way I always drop off a specific candy bar if you’re having a bad day, or e-mail a funny message about animals because that always seems to make you smile? Have I ever done any of that for Dwight, Angela, even Stanley?”

There is silence, and for once, you ponder to yourself that you may not be overthinking everything after all. Jim places his hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing over the fabric. “It’s not as if I like them in the way I like you.” 

And after those words tumble from his lips that hand moves up to cup your cheek, mouth leaning in to place itself upon your own. He can taste your coffee concoction on his lips now, and finally get to feel the softness of your cheeks. Similar to a boy's first kiss, he opens his eyes, trying to admire your features (finally) up close. 

“Well, it’s obvious he confessed,” Pam laughed, rolling her eyes while speaking in the confessional. “He shows that lovesick smile all the time, I would know, I’m his best friend. It was even obvious that she liked him, but I figured it would be better for him to find that out on his own.”

The camera went on to pan into where you and Jim were giggling at the candy on the receptionist's desk. He stole a piece from your hands, plopping it into his mouth, and you lightly smacked his arm in response. Jim’s lips twitched, hands grabbing your own hand, and just shaking his head before letting it loose. To Jim the confession was liberating, he was known to be a people pleaser but especially a you pleaser. Yet, hiding his growing affection from the office staff would be more difficult than he imagined.

(the office masterlist)

[bambiesfics]

- Link to Bimbo reader’s mood board -

𝗘𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗲’𝘀 𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗯𝗼𝗮𝗿𝗱 🚬🦕 ☕️ 🐈‍⬛

Ellie’s all: eye bags, waking up at 5am to go to work, restless, breath smells like black coffee and a Marlboro. She uses her girlfriend as her comfort person, her emotional support human, her plushie. She’s butch, too protective, feels like a father around her airhead bimbo gf, sap for sure.

- Images that reflect Ellie -

⧆　 　 🚬 　 　∿　　 ⌅　　⁺

⭒　　　　🐈‍⬛　　　⁺　　　♩

⧆　 　 ⌅ 　 　∿　　 🪵　　⁺

💭……. To Ellie …….

Hey Ellie, you’re so hardworking. Such a gruff, brooding, little asshole. You don’t look like much, despite your attitude. Lanky little toned arms, 100 pounds soaking wet. But you don’t care, you didn’t choose your frame, you chose your character. And you have a protective one, a strong one, an unrelenting on. You get so get soft and sappy around one girl, that’s right. The one you wanna take care of.

Let your girlfriend say something cute and watch how quickly you itch to throw her in the backseat of your car and climb through the front seat just to assault her in kisses. And all she did was call you a cutie in your “emo boy clothes.”

🎵 Her songs, give them a brief listen: Spotify links

Safe in your skin - Title Fight

Transgender - Crystal Castles

where is my mind? - Nada Surf (she loves the original pixies one, nada surf just makes her feel cool and sad).

Delaware - Drop Nineteens

If you think I’m pretty - Artemis

!!! [ Please help Palestine ] !!!

[whoreteen]

Hhu wanting you to ✨beg✨ like a good gurrrll

↳ pairings: hhu x reader ↳ wc: 2,5K. ↳ genre: smut with a dash of fluff, fwb!au, roommate!au, established relationship. ↳ content warnings: TEASING (lots and lots of it), unprotected sex, use of pet names, dumbification, orgasm denial, corruption, praise kink, slight degradation & dacryphilia if you squint your eyes lol [lmk if i missed anything]

a/n: i wrote short scenarios for the members based off my brain rot . Nothing Else 🤭 they’re all self indulgent sorry not sorry hsgdgs this is straight up filth ok brace yourselves &&’ hope you like it anonie ~_~ also this isn’t proofread oops

buy me a coffee? ☕️ | masterlist | feedback.

♡ 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐋

— your innocence only makes him want to corrupt you more than he already has.

Seungcheol doesn’t know when or how it all started, but his brain is constantly filled with images of corrupting your every thought. He wants to hear you beg for him and have you know you only belong to him.

He’s fought countless thoughts with himself, blaming it all on your innocent nature that’s in contrast to his own dirty one, yet, he just can’t help taking the most innocent things that you do and making them seem so wrong and dirty.

He doesn’t care how he found himself in this predicament, truthfully, but fuck. You’re just so pure and inexperienced, so innocent — soaking yourself at the simplest of touches. He truly just can’t get enough.

“Fuck.. Cheol,” you choke out his name as he buries his face in your neck, stopping to nip and suck at the flesh there as you’re wrapped around him in every way.

You let out a whine and shiver slightly when his warm breath tickles his neck.

He looks up to admire your desperate state momentarily, bottom lip caught in his teeth before muttering a soft, “Yes, angel?”

His lips attaches to your neck again, leaving open mouthed kisses and light bite marks. The overly intense feeling of his soft, wet lips on your neck and thick cock buried deep inside of you is almost getting too much to bare.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, smirking ever so slightly, eyebrows raised in amusement. He damn well knows your answer already.

“Fuck— no, please, no,” you cry out pathetically as you roll your head into the pillows. “Please.”

“Please what?” he taunts. There’s nothing more he loves than your soft, tiny moans, he just wants you to be louder for him. “I got you baby, but you gotta— shit, you gotta tell me what you want.”

Looking up at with those lidded, slight glossy eyes that he swears he could get lost in, you nod. “P-please,” you moan, “fuck me harder.”

“Yeah?” he smirks, feeling his cock swell a bit more at your pleas, wanting it just as bad as you’re asking for it. “Beg for it.”

He gives you a particularly hard thrust and your voice turns into a squeak as you clench around him.

“Come on, baby, show me how much you want it. How much you want me to fuck you…”

“Cheollie, please,” you’re downright begging now, moaning his name against his lips as his strokes gets faster, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening with each thrust. “Nggh oh my god, fuck—I want it so bad. Please don’t stop.”

You let out a whimper and when you look up at Seungcheol, you’re met with dark, lust blown pupils, and lips swollen red.

His mouth is half open as he lets out very low guttural grunts. “That’s my good girl, I always got you, baby. Are you close? ‘Wanna cum for me?”

♡ 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎

— you’re never one to dirty talk, but unfortunately he won’t fuck you properly unless you do.

“Fucking say it.”

Your tiny moans fill the room as Wonwoo starts slowly grinding inside of you languidly, causing friction between the two of you.

For some reason, your boyfriend gets off on the incoherent babbles that pour out of your mouth as he pounds his big cock inside of you. He just loves hearing you cry and beg for him, but more than anything, he loves seeing you in this state. You never know what to do with yourself whenever he fucks you, it’s almost like you’ve never felt pleasure like this before.

“I said say it,” he demands harshly.

You can’t help but whine and grind your hips up to meet his that have suddenly slowed to a stop.

One thing about Wonwoo is he HAS to hear how good he makes you feel; he wants to hear you beg, swear, use your manners and say ‘please’.

But more importantly, he wants you to tell him what you want.

Your only response is a drawn-out moan, lower lip caught between your teeth. At this point, you just want him to move. To give you what you so desperately want.

“Or I’ll stop,” he adds, earning another whimper from you as his strong hands grip your waist, stilling you with a firm grip. “Don’t test me.”

A low whine of his name escapes your lips and he feels his cock harden at the sight of your doe eyes, pouty lips, and messy hair. His mouth literally waters at the sight.

“Please… Wonu, I need you,” you finally plead. “Please, fuck me hard, make me cum,” you sob while hopelessly bucking your hips into his, yet to avail. “Please…”

You whine, eyes shut tight, “Y-you feel so good… inside me, nggh oh my god. So big.. I-I love it, fuck, so much.”

You’re so needy at this point and literally in the palm of Wonwoo’s hand, but your boyfriend isn’t someone to give in so easily.

If you really wanted it, you’d have to beg and work for it.

He slowly thrusts his hips up shallowly as he moans at the delicious drag of your wet heat.

“How bad do you want it, baby?” he smirks as he watches you tremble and clench around him from such minimal contact. “Hmm? Tell me.”

“S-so badly,” you plead. “I need it.”

“Oh yeah? What do you need, princess?” he teases sadistically, nipping at your bottom lip a little too harshly before licking over the sore spot in apology.

You try to avoid meeting Wonwoo’s eyes and he can’t help but smile lovingly, his dom presence almost disappearing. God, this side of you is just endlessly cute and he finds himself falling even harder for you, if that’s even possible.

He thrusts his hips slightly. “You gotta use your words. If you can’t even say what you need, maybe you don’t want it that bad,” he shrugs nonchalantly, withdrawing his cock the slightest bit, but you’re quick to wrap your legs around his waist tightly, to keep him in place.

“No, no, no!” you cry out, sounding so broken as you clench around him. “Please, you make me feel so good, I love how you feel inside of me— please, don’t stop.”

You’re almost crying at this point, tears slipping down your face, and god did Wonwoo love seeing you beg.

“You’re so cute, baby girl, so fucking adorable,” he confesses as he begins thrusting into you, his pace fast and merciless, until you’re a mess of incoherent words, finally giving you what you want. “Do you know that? You’re so beautiful, such a pretty mess, and it’s all for me, right? Fuck, I love you so much… my good girl.”

♡ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘𝐔

— he realizes the sound of your desperate moans are more enough to send him over the edge.

You moan, sobbing quietly as you try to muffle the desperate sounds of pleasure you’re letting out behind your hand, too focused on the way he thrusts himself deep inside you.

“C’mon baby,” he coos lightly. “I know you wanna be good, for me, don’t you?”

His hips slows to an agonizing slow grind against yours and you nod vigorously. “Exactly, now take your hand off your mouth. For me.”

You do as you’re told. He tightens the grip around your neck just a little before his forehead presses against yours. “Wanna, fuck, hear those pretty little noises you make.”

You feel the loud gasp you let out cut through the already stuffy room and it only takes a few seconds before you stop fighting the urge to push yourself against him, kissing him sloppily.

Mingyu moans into the kiss and presses his lips harder against yours, swallowing each of your delicious moans. Truthfully, there’s nothing more he loves than hearing your moans, but as always, he really needs you to be louder for him. Like, he feels like if he doesn’t hear your loud moans, he might die. That’s how bad it is…

“Gyu…” you whimper. “I— fuck, oh my god yes, just like that… Feel so full.”

To him, your moans and sounds of pleasure is music to his ears, something he wants to hear over and over again.

All of this started with you drunkenly hooking up with your roommate, Mingyu once, and since then, you’ve been casually ‘hanging out’. You’ve had many pillow talks at first which involved conversations about what you’re both into and not into as well as rules to keep things from getting, well, messy.

Surely, the ‘no feelings’ and ‘no strings’ rules were the most important things in your relationship, but Mingyu had broken them way before he knew they even existed.

He fell for you the first time you had sex, and at this point, he’s too far gone to even think about refusing you anything you want. If quick hookups is what you want from him, and still be his friend, then he can do that.

Little does he know, you feel the exact same way.

Mingyu lazily licks his lips and raises an eyebrow at the desperate whines of plea that escapes your mouth as you buck your hips into his.

“I know you can take it,” he pants, the way he’s speaking makes your head spin as he gradually picks up his pace. You feel him deliver a particularly rough thrust that manages to hit that soft spot inside of you as you force your grip on him to tighten and your eyes to snap shut.

You try to open your mouth to say something, but all you can produce are silent gasps and broken whimpers of his name as he thrusts his hips into you.

“Fuck, baby. Show me you’re a good girl.”

Your eyes roll back into your head, he’s got you just where he wants you. “Mingyu, oh my god, right there!”

He continues to thrust his hips hard and deep, your tight walls tightening around him as your loud moans loudly resounds in the empty room.

“Yeah?” He places one of your legs over his shoulder as his pace quickens, a choked moan falling from your lips at the feeling. “Tell me how good I make you feel. Want you to feel good for me.”

“S-so good, fuck. ‘Gonna cum.”

Mingyu thrusts forward, loosening his grip on your waist until his cock is fully sheathed inside your gspot before he suddenly stills his hips. “Wanna cum? Yeah? Beg for it like a good girl, then.”

♡ 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐋

— he wants you to fuck you so good to the point you won’t be able to think about anyone or anything else.

Vernon is tugging your bottom lip with his teeth before he pulls away and you hear a soft, “Fuck, you’re so pretty… so gorgeous, it’s killing me,” dance over your ear.

You let a high-pitched moan escape your lips and his hips slow to a deep grind as he appreciates how wet you get just from him spilling out a few words, how you crumble beneath him before he even pushes his dick fully inside of you.

“My good girl… Taking it all in like the beautiful slut you are, hmm?” he coos. “Just for me?”

“Fuck, it feel so good I’m so— oh my god, so close.”

“Say my name,” he commands in a low voice, running his large hands beneath your body, groping a handful of tits. “Wanna hear you moan my name.”

The thing about Vernon though, is that he gets off on stuff like this. You’ve been friends with benefits for a while and, the amount of times he’s fucked his hand to the thought of you moaning his name? Countless. The way you whimper his name? Fuck, he’s on cloud nine.

“Hansol— oh my god, fuck!” you cry faintly, your entire body trembling as he tilts his mouth to your ear and whispers obscene delights. “It feels so good, please don’t stop— god, please.”

Vernon firmly grips your throat the second you moan his name, grinding his cock as deep as he can penetrate you, stretching you to accept his size. You feel your inner muscles strangling him and close your eyes.

“No, no, no. Don’t close them baby,” he demands, his soft voice holding a certain degree of authority that instantly makes you stop in your tracks. “Wanna see your face…”

You open your eyes to look into his gorgeous ones and he thinks he might explode, the eye contact alone is enough to nearly send him over the edge.

“I want your eyes on me, can you do that for me, baby girl?” he asks, his voice just above a whisper, moaning at the wrecked look in your eyes.

The next move you make is giving him a kiss that’s much softer and sweeter, a gentle one, right before he says, “I promise I’ll make you feel good, trust me.”

In all honestly, you don’t need to hear it. You already know he will, just like he always does.

“Sollie— god, fuck! Feels so good. Fuccck— so big….”

“Oh yeah?” he says, entertaining your little rant.

Continuing to rut against his hips, you feel yourself forgetting how to breathe as you stare in awe at Hansol who’s voice is getting breathy and fucked out.

You squirm underneath him, closing your eyes.

“Look at me baby,” he says. “Open your eyes.”

You look up at the pretty boy on top of you, beads of sweat running from his collarbone over his perky chest. He looks so fucking hot, all blissed out and fucking you as hard as he can.

“There she is…” he grunts, “My good fucking girl. Keep those pretty eyes on me, okay?”

You can’t help but nod, moving against his hips and moaning his name continuously as you try your best to get more friction. Your chanting stops for a minute but your best friend’s hips hasn’t stopped, still buried deep inside you.

“I-I need words, baby, wanna hear you beg,” he moans. “You look so pretty, all flushed… Shit, you’re so beautiful.”

“Fuck— there you go baby, that’s my good girl. Always so good for me…” Vernon whispers against your lips as his hips slow to a deep grind, crashing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. “You’re doing so well for me. Taking me so fucking well, like always, huh?”

if you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving feedback! love hearing you guys’ thoughts! my reqs are open for now, so if you want anything written, lmk 🤍

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Love and Coffee in the Mornings✨

This was a fun little writing challenge I did for @moonlight-prose and I had so much fun with the prompt “You want me to make you some coffee?” I just wrote this up this morning, so I hope you enjoy! ☕️ Comments and reblogs are always appreciated, always happy to hear your thoughts ☺️

Pairings: Joel x fem! reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: Oral, fingering, unprotected p in v, love making, love confessions, outbreak! Joel, soft Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You awake to specks of light peeking in through the drawn tasseled curtains and a morning dove cooing its soft tune up on the roof. You blink once, twice and rub the sleep from your tired eyes. The room is still, almost a parallel world inside these walls compared to the outside gates of Jackson.

You lay in nothing in the king sized bed, only the tossed up cotton sheets to cover you. That’s not all that covers you though. No. Joel’s massive body crowds your space and his thick arms cage you to him as he drapes them around you and holds you up against his broad chest. His thick fingers are entwined with yours, and you can’t help but feel a wave of intense emotion flow through you from the feel of it all. The feel of him. Joel. Your soft, gentle man that only shows that side of himself to you. Only you.

A smile tugs at your heartstrings and a wet tear rolls down to the pillow from the corner of your eye as you take it all in. He’s yours. Yours, yours, yours. And you belong to him. His, his, his. It’s like a love song that plays through your mind, winding around all your brain cells and making its way down to your beating heart that only beats for him. Just for him, only him.

His slow breaths are relaxed and deep behind you as he sleeps with his head rested in the crook of your neck. You can smell him, taste him as his lips kiss the side of your jawline, the scruff of his beard tickling the inside of your neck, and his tousled curls fall against your cheek, sticking to the sweat that remains from last night.

You remember last night so clearly. It was one of the best nights of your life. Every night with Joel is like that, like a dream you were sucked into, and you just can’t wrap your head around that it’s real. He’s real. Your perfect, brooding man that never goes a day without showing you how much he really loves you.

Love. The first time he ever told you was a week ago while he held you tight in his arms inside the bathtub. You remember, remember like it was just seconds ago. The way he took your hand and turned you around to face him. The way he so gently cupped your chin and stroked his calloused thumb up and down your jawline. The way he looked so intensely into your eyes with those doe eyes that were flecked with spots of sunshine that shine only for you. And the way he called you his ray of sunshine, sending your heart spiraling out of your chest from just the way he was looking at you. His soft gaze said it all. He was in love with you. And the way that the words tumbled from his mouth like it was effortless to him made tears well up in your eyes.

“My ray of sunshine. My beautiful, perfect girl,” he hummed out as he stroked your cheek and pushed back a flyaway hair behind your ear. He paused a second later, his eyes melding into yours like two hearts that beat for each other. And then he said it. He said the words. “I love you,” he whispered down at you, and that’s when the tears fell. Those happy, glistening tears that fell just for him as you said the words back to him. Slow and steady, like how your heart beats for him. Like a sea of galloping horses that run wild together on the shorelines of the ocean, free and happy.

And then there was last night. Your muscles still ached from all the love making, all the different positions he had you twisted in. And how many times did he make you cum? Three, four? You couldn’t remember. That part was a blur as he made you cum over and over again. A fresh wave of slick sticks to your thighs as you squeeze your legs tight as you remember it all.

You remember his head in between your thighs, first. How he worked you nice and slow, building that first orgasm as his rough tongue meticulously lapped circles over your clit, how he tugged and pulled you into his mouth, how his fingers curled up inside you again and again, hitting that sweet spongy spot that made you see stars. Remember the way he thrusted into you time and time again, filling you up with his seed as he rutted his hips into yours over and over again. How your legs were thrown over his shoulders as he crowded your body and showered you with gentle praises and worshipped your body over and over again.

That’s a good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. That’s it, sweetheart. Come on, baby. Look at me, show me how pretty you are when you cum for me, wanna see ya.

God, he was so… perfect. In every way. You just couldn’t get enough of him. Never wanted to get enough.

You hear him stir behind you as a low groan comes from deep within his chest and feel his arms hug you tighter as he slowly opens his eyes to the harsh sunlight. You feel his lips graze your jawline as he leaves gentle kisses all the way up to the shell of your ear which makes your heart skip a beat.

“Mornin’, baby,” he whispers in your ear as another groan leaves his chest as he turns you his way and lets his hands drop down to your waist.

“Morning, handsome,” you say with a huge grin spread taut across your lips. He smiles back at you, and those cute dimples appear on his cheeks, making you blush at the sight. You push his tousled locks back and he groans as your fingers scrape against his skull. A deep groan escapes his mouth, and then he’s pulling your right leg over his thigh, opening you up for him to have access to.

“And how are you feeling this mornin’, sore?” he asks as he slides his hand down your torso, carefully ghosting his hand over your center as you shiver in response.

“Not really,” you gasp out as he slowly runs a finger over your folds, collecting slick on his fingers and spreading it all over your sex. You moan out in response and let him continue, opening your thigh up a little more for him.

“Mmm good. Because I’m hungry, and I know exactly what I want to feast on,” he smirks. “You’re so fuckin’ wet for me already. Fuck,” he growls out as he turns you on your back and slides in between your thighs, slowly lifting your legs over his shoulders as you shutter in response. Touch me, taste me, you want to scream out. But he knows. He knows that’s what you want.

He slowly trails kisses up your thighs as he gets you all worked up. Slowly teasing and making you drip more for him as his thick beard tickles in between your thighs, as his large hands splay across your hips. He gets right to your center and stops just for a second to admire your glistening cunt.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he gawks as his eyes turn an amber color, his love swirling all around the flecks of his irises for you, and it makes your heart nearly stop at the sight.

“Yeah? You like what you see?” you ask with a shaky breath.

“Mhm, fuckin’ love it.” He takes his calloused thumb and spreads you apart, slowly caressing all the most sensitive spots of you. He gets up to your clit and circles and circles, eliciting a moan out of you.

“Fuck,” you whimper out, your hands grabbing the sheets as you bunch them around your fingers.

“You want more?” he asks in a husky breath, his broad shoulders flexing with every movement he makes.

“Mhm, please,” you beg, writhing underneath his touch.

He chuckles under his breath, and his eyes turn darker, more carnal as he stares up at you in between your open legs. He pulls you down further in the bed and gently blows down on your center, making your hips buck up in response. He pushes them back down and lowers his head to your pulsing center. His eyes never leave yours, they stay focused intently on you, just like a hawk watching its prey. And then he licks a long stripe from your dripping hole, all the way up your folds as his pupils expand into black pits. The image has you shuttering under his touch.

“Eyes on me now. That’s it. Just like that,” he commands as he drops back down on your cunt. He spreads your folds with his tongue, eagerly soaking each fold with the base of his tongue, slowly making his way to your aching clit. And when he finds it, he attacks. He circles and circles it with a steady pace, gently pulling it in his mouth and sucking, making your moans echo around the room as he works you up, builds that growing orgasm as you feel it already setting it. It’s right there in the base of your spine, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach. He’s so fucking good at this, at eating you out. You never last long. He’s just that good. The artist that can make love to you with only his tongue, and it feels so good.

He pushes two fingers inside your dripping hole and slowly works them up and down, up and down, curling till he meets that sweet spot that has you sending more slick over his fingers. His tongue doesn’t stop. He keeps working at your throbbing bundle of nerves, keeps sucking and nipping and licking until you’re a puddle underneath him. His beard is glistening with your wetness, and it’s probably the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Joellll, feels so good. I’m so close… I’m almost there-I..” your voice breaks off as he takes you into his mouth again, slowly sucking on that spot that does it for you. You squeeze against his fingers inside you, your walls fluttering as you’re about to shatter. Almost there, almost. You tangle your fingers into his tousled curls, and he groans at the sensation.

“Come on, give it to me. Let me see you cum, baby. Remember, eyes on me. Wanna see those pretty eyes focused on me when I make you cum,” he growls as he pushes up inside you more, licks up and down until he’s pulling you into his mouth again. You feel the cap break inside you, feel the hot sensation taking over as you start to lose it, start to fall apart in your intense orgasm.

“Joel, I… I’m…” you can’t finish your sentence, too fucked out at the moment.

“Let me have it, pretty girl. Give me all you got,” he growls as he sucks you into his hot mouth again. And then it’s over. You’re cumming, hard.

You moan out his name and squeeze your legs around him as your eyesight goes blurry, but you focus on him, never leaving his blown out pupils as he stares up at you like a starving wolf that wants to feast on you. You let yourself go, let your walls clench up before you release white, hot liquid all over his fingers, all over his mouth.

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises as he groans out, licking up all your spent liquid as he slowly works his fingers inside you, curling them until he has every ounce of cum that you can give him right now. You breathe out breathy moans as he licks at your now sensitive area, cleaning you up carefully as he devours you, tastes you over and over again. And you can never get enough of this. Of him, his fingers, his tongue, his soft praises. He’s too good, too good.

When he’s finished, he crawls out between your legs and joins you at the head of the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Did so good for me, baby. So good,” he praises as he traces your bottom lip with his calloused thumb and presses his lips against yours slowly, delicately, like a rose petal just blossomed at the first sight of spring. He’s so gentle, so loving, so perfect.

When he pulls apart, he traces your jawline as his eyes turn to that warm honey color you love. “You want me to make you some coffee?” he asks with a gentle curve of a smile that envelops his mouth.

“I’d love some,” you respond as you beam up at him with a deep blush on your face.

“Okay, I’ll go make you some then,” he says as he pulls away, slowly sliding off the bed.

“Joel, wait,” you say urgently as your hand shoots out to grab his wrist, preventing him from going any further out of the room.

He looks back at you with his dark eyebrow raised, questions lingering in those honeyed eyes of his. God, he looks so good standing there in nothing but a pair of black briefs that hug him close as you see the outline of his hard cock planted against them. His broad chest expands as his breathing is still rapid, his large veins cascading down his thick arms as his tousled locks stick up everywhere, like he’d just had morning sex, which he did. Mornings with him were your favorite thing in the entire world, he was your favorite.

“What is it?” he asks as he stands still, eyes meeting yours in question.

“I need something else from you. You need something from me,” you say shallowly as your eyes trail down to his hard erection under the thin material of his briefs.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asks as his eyes turn a darker shade of molasses, a color you want to drink up, let him devour you with his sweetness.

“Fuck me,” you whisper as you bite your lower lip and spread your legs for him as you show him just how wet you are again. His eyes trail down your body and end at your center as he breathes in and lets out a deep sigh, his hand dragging through his coarse scruff on his face slowly.

“Goddamn,” he groans at the sight of you. He doesn’t waste a second. He drops his briefs to the floor and climbs in between your legs, pushing them apart as he stares in wonder at your glistening sex.

You lean forward and wrap your hand around his thick cock, tracing the lines of his large vein that runs under his glistening head, all the way down his large length. The tip of him is swollen and red, and precum leaks from his slit as you work it up and down him, hearing the wet noises you make as you fist him with your palm, enjoying seeing his eyes cloud over in a fog the more you touch him.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Feels so good,” he groans as you lightly circle his tip, finding all the sensitive spots as more precum gathers over the swollen tip of him. Before you can continue working your hand over him, he pushes you down on the pillow and wraps your legs around his back as he pushes the head of his cock to your opening, barely thrusting inside before he speaks again.

“Hold on tight, love. Gonna make you feel so good,” he groans as he pushes his way inside you, stretching you to the max as he pushes deeper and deeper, until he’s bottoming out and hitting the back of your walls.

“Fuck,” you moan out as he starts to move at a steady pace. In and out, up and down as you hear the wetness of each other as he slams back into you over and over again.

His lips come down and nip at your collarbone as his hands knead over your breasts, making your nipples pebble underneath him as he rolls them under his calloused thumbs. He speeds up his tempo, angling your hips higher as he hits your spongy area time and time again, making your eyes glass over at the intense bliss you’re experiencing.

“Squeezin’ me so tight, baby. Feels so good. You’re so close, so fuckin’ close. Come on and give it to me. Show me how pretty you can cum on this cock,” he growls as he presses down on your throbbing clit, circling you until you’re screaming out his name and breathing ragged moans into his ear.

“Good girl. Come on, baby. Wanna feel it,” he groans as he thrusts into you deeper, circling your clit in the exact spot you need him to. You rake your fingers down his back and moan out as your legs squeeze the back of him. One more circle of your clit, and you’re done for. You clench up around his thick cock and release all your pent up white hot liquid on him and feel your eyes roll back at the blissful, fucked out feeling. Your body feels electric as you hear white noise spread through your ringing ears and take a minute to come back to reality. Back to your body after that blissed out high.

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl. So good,” he groans as he thrusts faster into you, his breathing hitching as his jaw flexes and his hands clamp up around your hips. “Gonna-fuckin’…cum. Ah, fuck,” he moans as he snaps his hips once more into you and releases his seed all over you, filling you up as his jaw goes slack and his eyes roll back. His breathing is heavy and ragged, slowly coming back to himself as he pulls slowly out of you, dragging his spend with him down your thighs.

He collapses next to you, and both of you just breathe as you catch your breath for the next few minutes. “That was incredible,” you gasp out as you fold into his arms, your heart rate going a thousand miles at the moment.

“Mmm, yes. Always is with you,” he groans out, a thick southern accent spilling out of him. And you love it, love his accent, love him.

After a few minutes of snuggling together, he gets up and grabs a towel from the bathroom. When he comes back, he gently cleans you off, careful not to overstimulate your sensitive areas. “There ya go, all cleaned up,” he rasps as he throws the towel on the floor next to his ruined briefs. “Now, how’s about that coffee?” he asks with a smirk as his caramel eyes dance across your body that’s wrapped up in the sheets.

“I could go for a sweet cup of coffee,” you say as you push yourself up to a sitting position, your head still swimming from the thick cloud of arousal.

Joel comes over to put a strong hand on your shoulder and lays you back down, tucking you into the sheets as his hand caresses the back of your head. “No, you stay right here. I’ll bring the coffee up to you. You just relax. I’ll start a hot bath for you when I get back,” he says gently as he pulls on a clean pair of briefs and runs his hand through his tousled curls.

God, he’s pretty.

“Oh, uhh okay,” you reply in a whisper as you’re awestruck at how gentle and loving he’s being towards you. It took a long time to get to this point, but you made it. Now he was your soft, sweet man. Always at your attention when you needed him. And you loved him. God, you loved him. So much, so very much.

“I’ll be back up in a few minutes,” he says as he turns toward the door as the hardwood floor creaks underneath his footsteps.

“Joel?” you call out, stopping him before he can make it through the wooden door.

“Hmm?” he hums as he turns back to you, brown eyes intent on you.

“I love you,” you whisper out, enough for him to hear you through the fog of tension that wraps around the room.

His face softens and a smile splays across his face, his honey eyes shining on you like they never had before. It’s absolutely beautiful how smitten he looks at you, how in love he looks. For you had opened him up, shown him what love really looked like. And when he fell for you, he fell hard. No more rough cut edges, for he was soft now. Loving, caring, beaming for you and only you. And it was the most beautiful thing you ever saw in your entire life.

“I love you, too,” he whispers back as the trace of a teardrop forms over the film of his eyes. And then there’s nothing left in the room except pure love for one another, a cloud so thick and dense that there’s no getting past it. He was yours and you were his. Clear as day. No questions about it. “Be right back, baby,” he says as he exits the room and softly closes the door.

You lean back into the cotton sheets and bury your head against the pillow as you close your eyes, envision yourself in a field full of vibrant flowers with Joel by your side, rolling around in a bed full of roses as you lose yourself in each other. And it brings you peace, fills you with a deep satisfaction. He’s yours as much as you are his. Two souls forming into one, colliding together and ignoring everything else but each other. Your peace, your comfort, your ecstasy. It was Joel, it was always Joel.

A few minutes later, he brings you a steaming cup of coffee. You see it’s drizzled with caramel and French vanilla creamer, and it looks absolutely perfect. “Well, go on and try it. Tell me how you like it,” he says as he sits on the edge of the bed and hands you the cup, slowly sliding his hand up and down your thigh as he waits for you to taste the hot liquid.

You take the cup from him and blow on it, slowly taking a sip of the hot coffee as it encases your taste buds. Drops of caramel and French vanilla slide down your throat, along with the taste of the strong coffee that follows it. It’s warm, heavenly, the perfect cup of coffee you’d ever tasted.

You turn to him and smile, looking up at those honey eyes that sink into yours. “It’s absolutely perfect,” you say as you take another sip and set it on the forest green nightstand that sits next to the bed.

“Glad ya like it,” he smiles as you wrap your arms around his neck and drag him back down to the bed with you, his left arm catching your waist and his right hand gently caressing the back of your neck. He brings you to his lips and crashes them against yours as you feel his warm breath against yours. You part your lips and invite him in as his tongue glides in and finds yours, letting the coffee taste pool all over your mouth as he devours you nice and slow, just how you always like it.

When he pulls back, his calloused fingers hover over your jawline, slowly moving to cup your chin as his thumb dances over your lower lip softly. He looks at you with endearing, loving honey eyes, and you can’t shake the feeling of how completely in love you are with him. Mine, mine, mine, you scream in your head. Mine.

“I love you so much, my little ray of sunshine,” he breathes out against your neck, his eyes telling you everything you need to know.

“And I love you, so much,” you whisper out as you drag your lips across his soft plush lips.

“You wanna go take a bath with me?” he asks as he smiles down at you, his eyes lost in a daze before you.

“There’s nothing more I’d want to do,” you answer as you leave a trail of kisses down his cheek, ending at his lips as he pulls you in again, feeding all your desire for the man of your dreams that lays next to you as he consumes you in full.

“Joel?” you ask as he rolls on his back, laying you on his chest as he hums out and looks up at you with those big brown eyes that you so dearly love.

“What is it, baby?”

“Thank you for showing me what a home looked like again. Thank you for loving me, for never giving up on me,” you choke out as you tear up and smile down at him as you lay against his broad chest.

“Oh, baby. No. Thank you for never giving up on me. I know I wasn’t always easy to deal with. I wasn’t always kind, especially when I first met you. But you evened me out, showed me what real love looks like. And I can’t thank you enough. I just… I just love you, so fuckin’ much. I love you, I love you,” he cries as he cups the back of your head and pulls you down to his level, planting his lips against yours as you fall back into him time and time again.

This is where you belong, where you always want to be. It’s with Joel, it’ll always be with Joel. Your best friend, your saviour, the love of your life. And you’ll never get enough of him. Never, ever. Your forever coffee date, your forever lover, yours.

[killedpink]

방찬 | the space between us.

🎧 masterlist !?

🏹 synopsis: after a particularly difficult breakup, your reliable, trustworthy best friend chan shows up to comfort you. in some ways more than others.

☕️ word count: 3.7k

🏷 contains: breakup, friends to lovers, mutual pining, comfort sex, soft dom chan, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, teeny bit of nipple play, possessive chan, thigh riding, so much praise, multiple orgasms.

a knock at your door pulled you from your bedsheets, throwing the covers off of your entire body and swinging off the edge of the comfortingly warm bed. your apartment was unnaturally quiet, unnaturally bare and unnaturally unfamiliar. was it even yours to begin with? it didn't take long to get to the dead-bolted front door, unlocking the tedious locks and swinging it open, the cold air slamming into your face.

seeing chan felt like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders, slamming your tear-streaked face into his middle and wrapping your arms around his toned back was your new favourite thing to do. he smelled warm, homey and gently masculine, like cedar wood and citrus. he was calming all over, he was comforting all over, he was kind all over. chan was your only sense of familiarity now, the better half of the past year being wasted on a dirtbag of the highest order. "what happened, beautiful?" he whispered into your hood, (his) the black champion hoodie obscuring the top and back of your head, using it to shield you from the cruel, unjust outside world. just hearing chan's voice made everything feel better; his presence giving you another reason to carry on tomorrow. you could hear the soft thumps of his heartbeat, you could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and most importantly you could feel his large hand slowly stroke your back, moving up and down, following the path of your spine.

you felt yourself hiccuping tears into his chest, his arm slowly rocking you back and forth like a tiny, exhausted baby. you pulled away from him, eyes immediately focusing on the dark patches on chan's hoodie from where you had cried into him. "come in, chan." you stood aside, letting him enter your apartment and set down the hot drinks he brought with him for the both of you to share on your coffee table. who bought that? you couldn't even remember, feeling like an intruder in your own home, despite owning it before ever knowing the world's worst boyfriend. chan settled on your couch, his trusting eyes watching you follow his lead, leaning your head on his broad shoulder. "i hate him.." you spoke, to no-one in particular, your eyes closing to let your tears pass. "oh, baby," chan was sympathetic, of course, rubbing your sides and wiping the tears from your eyes. you let chan take care of you — you let yourself relax into his touch, into his warmth, into his chest.

"what do you say we forget all about that idiot guy, yeah? you wanna watch a movie?" chan proposed, his australian accent making you giggle. "of course. you pick." you smiled into him, moving off of him so he could grab the tv remote. is that where you last left it? you watched chan, noted how his brows creased in concentration, how his full lips pouted as he debated every movie your netflix had to offer. everything about him just felt right: he never made you sad, he never made you uncomfortable nor unwelcome. you hated how you didn't hate anything about chan, instead completely enamoured with every little detail of him. his wavy hair, for one — you loved the way it tickled your skin, or how it framed his face, how it bounced when he moved too suddenly. his dimples, especially, you felt your heart flutter when they peeked through his skin when he stretched his cheeks or spoke certain words.

you hadn't had a drink all day, your body dehydrated from crying. the warm, aromatic coffee tasting so delectable you struggled to put it down, letting the heat seep into your hands through the sleeve on the cup. when your eyes caught chan's gaze, he looked away, seemingly upset even if you could only see one side of his face. he shook his head, barely, and turned to you, with a soft, small and gentle smile on his rosy, plump lips. "no one's gonna hurt you again, i swear." the palm of his hand gingerly holding the outside of yours, your hand now feeling warmth from both sides, giving you goosebumps. or was it chan's touch? his hand moved from yours to your cheek, softly cradling your face in his wide, strong hand. his brown, trusting eyes searching yours as if the harder he looked into them the more of your mind he would be able to read, "i won't let them." he whispered, your bodies close enough that you heard the emotion in his voice as clear as day. your hand wrapped around his muscular arm, fingers curling around his forearm, "i trust you, channie." you muttered, your mouth speaking the words before your brain even realised you were speaking.

there was nothing else the two of you needed to say in that moment, opting for a comfortable silence in which you simply rested your head on chan's chest, letting him absentmindedly play with your hair or fiddle with your hoodie strings. it was oddly relaxing; just lounging on chan was all you needed to feel miles better, his company alone proving to be more efficient than spending your days sobbing into your pillow. those days of pure heartbreak feeling like a lifetime ago already in chan's arms. he fixed everything, even if he was doing nothing but watching a movie and letting you use him as a pillow.

if you were asked what the movie chan picked was called, you'd be speechless, completely concentrating on chan, your aching, yet mending heart and the sting of your under-eyes. you supposed it was funny, considering you often felt the rumble of his chest from laughter, his mellow voice soothing you entirely. it was late when chan arrived, the sun slowly exiting the sky and the roads chock-full of people rushing back home. about twenty minutes into the movie you were certain neither of you were watching, the sky faded into a dark blue, the edge of the earth still brimming with light. you shifted positions, your legs resting on chan's lap, your head still tucked safely into the crook of his neck, his heartbeat coaxing your exhausted body to sleep.

when you woke, it was entirely because chan had moved you from his arms onto your bed. your body woke before your mind, your eyes not registering the time on your clock for a few moments before your brain had the opportunity to catch up. 01:22. are you serious? "chan? how long was i asleep for?" your eyesight was bleary, yet you could still make out his tender smile, his eyes crinkling. "don't worry about it. you needed the rest. go back to sleep if you want." he stroked the hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. what? "chan.." you started, voice betraying you as it whispered, voice slightly hoarse and feathery from sleep. "i know, i'm sorry, i didn't realise i.." chan was trying to get the words out of his mouth faster than he could say them, unable to explain what had happened.

"no.. it was okay, actually. i.. i liked it. a lot." you smiled, slowly sitting up on your bed. chan still seemed a bit uneasy, his mind likely racing like you knew he had a habit of doing. you sighed, "look. it's late, it's dark and it's cold. just.. stay the night for me? please? we don't even have to talk about it. i just.. i don't wanna say goodbye yet." you stammered, feeling your heart beating frantic in your chest, blood rising to your cheeks, throat dry and hands trembling. you smiled at him, your heart fluttering when you saw he couldn't resist his own smile, his dimples showing and his eyes turning into crescent moons. he was so pretty — who in their right mind wouldn't want him to stay the night?

please say yes. please say yes. please say yes.

"you're right, it's late and it would be really dumb to try driving anywhere right now. i'll just sleep on the couch, i'm sure you want your space," he decided, shrugging sheepishly. you were instantly dejected by his answer, his dark, copper eyes briefly holding eye contact with yours. you knew you were teetering on friendship and relationship, you knew asking could ruin so much — but you also knew you couldn't sleep without chan. fuck it. "please don't go. chan, stay with me. please." asking felt like a shot in the dark, it was terrifying and exhilarating. his gaze softened, his brows relaxed, his soft lips curved into a tiny, delighted smile. "okay. i'll stay here." chan sat down next to you, easily welcoming you into his arms once more. "so.. about that kiss?" you inquired, eyeing him carefully. his body usually reacted before his mind, always caught up in his thoughts. he shifted momentarily, "i just.. i don't even know, i saw you there, all sleepy and calm and i just wanted you to feel better." you shook your head, "i always feel better with you, chan." he was taken aback, clearly unaware of his effect on you, or on others. you sat up, facing him, inches away, interested in what his next words will be.

you were not expecting a kiss. a full bodied, chan's soft, plump lips on yours, his hands holding your cheeks tenderly, type of kiss. and while you sat there, blinking, dazzled it was over before you knew what had happened, before you had the opportunity to savour it. your eyes were wide, resembling a deer caught in headlights, a strong opposite compared to chan's relaxed, calm eyes. you leaned your body into his, allowing your lips to collide with his once more. you felt him smile into the kiss, you felt the tip of his wide nose brush against yours, you felt his hands twirl the hair from the nape of your neck in his fingers. you felt tingly all over, goosebumps rupturing all over your skin, feeling yourself nuzzle into him. "this isn't a heat of the moment thing, is it..?" chan whispered against your lips, pecking them quickly, hungrily and eagerly. you shook your head, "no.. definitely not." you answered, pressing your puckered lips against his, your teeth grazing his bottom lip.

distance grew in-between the both of you. "do you wanna..?" chan trailed off, too embarrassed to formally ask. "i thought you'd never ask." you leaned into him once more, pressing needy kisses to his jawline, "i need you, channie." you murmured into his bronzed, tan skin. with less than five words, you had set something ablaze in chan that you had never seen before. he tore his hoodie off of his body, letting you — not so subtly — check him out. he was like an adonis, every inch of his torso perfectly carved like he was a living, breathing marble sculpture. following his lead, you yanked the hoodie off of your body, turning it inside-out in the process, throwing it wherever your mind decided in such a short amount of time. your legs fell on both sides of chan, his hands holding your bare breasts in his hands; they felt heavy all of a sudden, hyperaware of his hands experimentally groping them, fondling the soft flesh in his skilled hands.

chan took your nipple in his mouth, flattening his tongue to brush the hardening bud in one swipe, his lips puckering around it as he let his teeth graze against the sensitive skin there. it gave you goosebumps — the feeling of his hot mouth on your erected nipple, heating up not only your breast but your face, feeling it flush against the skin of your neck. he replaced his mouth with his thumb, rubbing the nipple with the pad of his thumb, observing how you reacted to his touch intently. you squirmed in place, "chan, please.." you started; however unable to finish. he caught on quickly, yet he was simply too cruel to follow through, instead opting to lean back, putting his weight on his hands and arms as they held him up, "c'mere, then. i won't bite.. too hard, at least," he grinned, his white teeth poking out from his blushy, pink lips.

you approached him on your knees, "take these off," chan's finger hooked under the waistband of your pants, watching you expectantly. as shy as you were — you weren't embarrassed by chan, thanks to your many years of friendship, intimacy came surprisingly, yet welcomely, easy. you didn't have to think twice about it, quickly stripping them from your body, leaving you in your underwear alone. it couldn't be helped that your eyes wandered to his chest, watching as it rise and fell with his breath, watching as the shadows contoured his muscles, and how his abs fluttered with the air he inhaled and exhaled, the movement just a few milliseconds behind his chest's movements.

his hands wrapped around your waist, sitting just above the swell of your hips, and guided you onto his thigh. his smirk was crudely wide, not even hiding how much he was enjoying this. the denim of his jeans gave a different sensation than what you were used to, your arms wrapping around chan's bare, wide shoulders to anchor yourself, allowing him to grind you onto his thigh, your flesh under his fingers dipping from the pressure he was using to grab onto you, his veiny hands clinging onto your waist as if you'd slip through his fingers. chan brought you to paradise and back, pushing and pulling you by your waist on his thigh, clenching and unclenching the muscle underneath your cunt so expertly that you needn't do much but let him control you; positive you couldn't achieve an orgasm as brilliantly as chan gave it to you if you tried by yourself. your nails dug into the muscle of his shoulder, connecting his neck and shoulder blade as your clit caught on the waistband of his jeans — causing chan to chuckle and grind you onto his thigh even harsher than before.

it didn't take long for you to cum, leaving a dark wet spot on both his jeans and your underwear, sticky and clinging onto your sex as a consequence. "you see what you do to me, beautiful?" chan muttered, your eyes falling down to his crotch to see the painfully apparent bulge residing where his cock was. fuck, he was that big? the ashes of your orgasm are still glowing and simmering with a residual heat in your body, but it's the kiss that chan presses against your throat, and the way his hands trail down to the curve of your ass and brazenly gropes it — that's what fully reignites that volatile pit in your gut.

"chan.." you plea, your hand falling to cup the tent in his pants, palming it in your hand. you watched as his abs trembled, his chest stuttering as he shakily drew in a breath. he used the side of his hand to push you back, your body colliding with the mattress below that easily took your weight and cushioned your fall. chan loomed above you, your eyes unable to look away from his, despite the audible sounds of his belt unbuckling, the sound alone making your breath hitch and mouth water. he shrugged his jeans off surprisingly seamlessly, making it look easy — which you were sure it was not. you stopped him before he got to his boxers, "i wanna do it," you were sheepish about it, sure, but you were more eager than coy; you'd swallow any pride for him.

chan lets you undress him, of course, watching you endearingly as you pulled his boxers down, letting his cock spring free and hit his stomach. you almost want to roll your eyes when you see it, because on top of being caring, and talented, and funny, he's got a gorgeously thick cock that you know no man or toy could ever replace. your hands cradle his hard shaft, unable to fully hold it with one hand alone, your fingers a few millimetres away from touching your thumb. you drag your hands up and down the length of chan's cock, until his skin is glistening with his own arousal and every ounce of your body is screaming at you to let chan fuck you in desperation.

you felt his hand start at the curve of your calf, fingers dipping into the inside of your knee, travelling higher to the silky skin of the inside of your thigh, rounding out at the dip of your hips, before finally brushing against your naked, wet slit. you hum in approval, your hips bucking to follow his touch and grind yourself onto his hand. chan's index finger starts at your entrance, moving higher to illustrate small, electrifying circles around your clit, swollen and puffy and sensitive from his touch. chan stopped as soon as he started, removing his hand from your sex and using both hands to wrap around your thighs, spreading them far apart from each other and letting them rest on both of his sides, caging him in. you hiked them up onto his waist, both legs wrapped around and pulling him into you.

soft lips collided with yours, chan's mouth tasted lustrous and sweet, like ambrosia on your tongue. he parts the kiss before he slinks into you, "wanna see your pretty face when i finally get to fill you up," he hissed all too eagerly, his eyes attentively watching every flutter of your eyelids, every gasp that falls out of your lips, every little movement you could possibly make; chan ensured he'd witness it, determined to see it as it really was, not as he imagined it to be — but to really, truly see you under him. he fantasised about this for months, a vision of you not too far away in his mind whenever he had his cock in his hands. your breath hitches when you feel his hot, hard cockhead press against your hole, but you have to draw in a breath when you feel him slowly inch inside of you. there's no discomfort when he enters you, just a dizzying, breathless, fullness. it makes your eyelids flutter closed, completely lost in the feeling, suspended in the moment of pure, unfiltered delirium that seemed to intensify every time chan sunk deeper into you.

he watches as your cunt swallows him whole, eyes wide with glee and dark with a carnal hunger. he has to hold in a sensual, sex-drunken groan when he watches your puffy slit swell from his cock buried under your skin, and with each eager ache of your cunt clenching ravenously around his cock he in turn feeds you more and more of himself. you can feel his bulbous, sopping wet head throb from within you, letting out a starstruck gasp when chan finally fills you to the brim, his hilt rubbing against your sopping wet clit and you cry, keen and write under him, gasping for air. "so fuckin' beautiful like this, you're taking me so, so well," chan gushed, his heart-fluttering words of praise almost sounding innocent if his language wasn't filthy, and if he wasn't practically moaning the words out.

scratch that — nothing about any of this is innocent. not even a morsel. chan's hips kiss your inner thighs, fucking you in brutally powerful, needy and erratic thrusts, skin snapping against yours, his cock filling you to his hilt each time, his head nudging your cervix and pouring his leaking precum into your hole, confident you can take it all. and it's the only thing you can do, repaying his more-than-satisfactory efforts by taking everything he generously gave you. how is that anything but sinful? he's getting close, you can tell, his hand clinging onto your waist so hard it burned, setting your nerves ablaze. you shudder when you feel your shared slick leak out from your hole, chan's filling cock leaving no room inside of you, consequently pushing it out and letting it smear your thighs and trickle slowly down your slit. your body moved on its own when it clenched around him, your stomach twitching each time your cunt milked chan's cock.

you squeal, you cry, you gasp out his name like he will save you, your legs tighten around his waist to pull him physically impossibly closer to you, as if he could get any closer to you, both of your bodies sweaty and skin sticking together. your arms wrap around his neck, fingers hooking into his skin like he'd slip out from underneath you. your voice is hoarse, your legs ache, your head is dizzy and your lungs are breathless, but he keeps going as if he has something to prove. you wail out chan's name, your eyes squeezing shut, ignoring all of your senses but one: touch, of course, lost in the sensation of the wanton licks of friction chan sparks between the both of you, each drag along the inside of your cunt pushing you further on the edge of mind-numbing bliss. your pulse echoes in your ears, your heartbeat thundering in your ribcage as your insides turn into mush, your limbs jellied and your body so, so exhausted.

chan bottoms out inside of you, pushing his entire cock into you so forcefully you're sure you'd fuse together, his hips stuttering and his mouth pouring out such a pornographic moan so erotic you're sure you combusted from his sounds alone. he's shameless. he's noisy. he's so fucking sexy he makes you want him all over again. he stills, and you can feel the way every atom in his body tenses as he fills you with his cum, so heavy and so warm, pouring himself into you. completely spent, you sigh chan's name as if it were a prayer, leaning into his touch and surrendering yourself completely to him. once he pulls out, you quite literally feel yourself gush with yours and his climaxes, spilling out of your entrance and down your legs, slowly and crudely dribbling onto your bedsheets below, likely already soaked with sweat.

you wait until chan lays down next to you, and you sluggishly, timidly crawl into his middle, resting your head above his heartbeat, still erratic and still winding down. his arm wrapped around your waist, his skin so much warmer compared to yours even now. chan's thumb affectionately stroked your clammy skin, all the while whispering into your hair, "just so you know, i'm not going anywhere."

[liv3laughlev]

PUNISHMENT („• ᴗ •„) // ★.⁗☕️⚬☆

content warnings: nsfw, fem & afab reader, boss!nanami x assistant!reader, teasing, fingering, overstim, he talks to the kitty for sure, oral (fem receiving), he cums in his pants oopsies

author’s note: eee first fic on this account 🙈 the ending is kinda abrupt but i really wanted to get this posted..

masterlist !!

you drove him insane. the way you dressed, the way you talked to him, the way you’d act when he was around. you knew what you were doing and he knew that too. you would even go as far as baking kento sweets to get his attention, and make you stand out from the rest of your employees.

tonight kento was exhausted, but he couldn’t leave just yet. he had some work to finish, and he was the type to stay behind until he was done. you had caught wind of him staying and decided to bring him some coffee— you know.. to help wake him up a little.

you gently knocked on the door to his office. “mr. nanami? may i come in?” you asked, putting on a sweet voice.

“come in..” you heard him say from inside, his voice giving away how tired he was. when you came in, you saw him at his desk, the main light source being his computer.

you closed the door behind you and approached his desk, gently placing the cup on his desk away from all the papers he had to the side.

“here you go, sir.. i made you some coffee..” you said with a sweet smile.

kento glanced up at you, his eyes flickering down to the little skirt you were wearing. he could damn near see your ass if you were to turn around. “thanks..” he murmured as he met eyes with you once again.

“since i’m off the clock.. do you mind if i hang out in here while you do your work? it might be nice to have someone in here so you aren’t lonely in here..” you spoke with a little smile.

“don’t you want to go home? have any family to see?” he asked, taking a sip of the coffee. he let out a satisfied sigh, taking another sip.

“actually.. i live alone. so no one is waiting for my return home..” you said as you glanced out the window, taking in the view that you had. it was gorgeous, a nice view of the city. you were almost jealous kento got such nice scenery.

kento thought about it before getting up to pull over the ottoman next to the sofa he had closer to his desk, patting it lightly to tell you to sit. “fine, but only for a bit.. i can’t have you distracting me for too long..” he spoke, trying to bring his attention back to the paperwork he had while you sat down.

“yes sir..” you said sweetly, crossing your legs as you got comfy. your breath hitched as you felt his hand rest on your thigh, catching his gaze in the corner of his eye.

“good girl..” was all he said as he gave your thigh a gentle squeeze before he went back to his paperwork. you almost felt your brain go mushy, all you could think about was the way his voice sounded in that moment. “i’ve noticed that you’ve been.. working harder recently.. any reason for that?” he asked as he kept his eyes on the papers in front of him.

you felt heat rise in your cheeks as you avoided looking at him. “no reason, sir.. i just want to do well for this company..” you spoke, your eyes following his hand that went back to resting on your thigh.

kento raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you, an almost knowing look on his face. “are you sure about that?” he asked as he turned his chair to face you, his hand giving your thigh another gentle squeeze.

“n-no..” you admitted, your voice a little shaky.

“are you going to start telling me the truth, now?” he asked while he gave you a look that made you squeeze your thighs together a little. he had a satisfied look on his face when you nodded. “how about you tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours..” he muttered softly.

you let in a shaky breath, your voice almost completely quiet as you finally spoke. “i need you to notice me.. please..” you pleaded.

“who said i hadn’t already, hm?” he spoke lowly as he leaned a little closer.

you bit your lip as you looked at him with an almost hopeful expression. “really?” you asked sweetly, your eyes flickering to look at his lips as he brushed his thumb against your bottom lip.

“i have to admit.. you weren’t very good at hiding your little crush..” he teased, chuckling a little as he heard you laugh.

“you’re so mean.. can’t believe you’re teasing me now..” you frowned slightly, but your frown was gone the moment he leaned in to kiss you. your lips seemed to almost melt into his, the kiss paced perfectly. you let out a little sound of surprise as he pulled you onto his lap, deepening the kiss shortly after.

he looked at you softly when he pulled away, his hand cupping your cheek. “can i make you feel nice? i want to touch you more than ever..” he admitted as his other hand rested on the small of your back, holding you closer.

“i want that..” you spoke shyly, noticing the way it seemed like his eyes lit up just a little more.

that’s how you found yourself laid on his desk, soft whines leaving your lips every time his fingers curled into your cunt just the way you loved. this was his first time touching you yet it seemed like he knew your body so well already.

“mr. nanami—” “call me kento, love..” he muttered to you as he kissed your neck.

your breath hitched as one hand was clinging to his arm like your life depended on it. “fuck, kento..” you gasped, squirming some as you felt his thumb rub little circles on your clit.

“you’re so pretty.. especially like this..” he muttered as he stood over you, one of your legs resting over his shoulder as he pressed his fingers inside you so perfectly. “such a messy girl.. all i did was play with her some and she’s already crying for me..” he chuckled as he spread your folds, observing the way your pussy leaked.

“d-don’t say that!” you whimpered, your hands grabbing onto his arms harder as you felt his fingers reach in spots your never could.

“can’t help it.. you’re too cute like this..” he muttered. “can i get a taste, please?” he asked after he pulled out his fingers and licked them clean. the moment you nodded he kneeled between your thighs, spreading them in front of him. “wow.. can’t believe such a goddess is interested in me..” he chuckled as he teasingly kissed right next to your cunt, but not right on it just yet.

your breath hitched the moment you felt his tongue make contact with your cunt, licking your clit some before curling his tongue inside you.

“k-kento!” you whined as your fingers ran through his hair, tugging it ever so slightly. you heard a soft groan come from him, his eyes looking up to meet yours.

“do that again.. that feels nice, my love..” he muttered, lazily lapping at your cunt. his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he groaned from the next tug you gave his hair.

you felt a nice feeling bubbling up in your stomach after some time, your eyes just slightly open while you blissfully enjoyed each sensation his mouth gave you.

“it feels.. gonna cum, kento..” you moaned softly.

“that’s okay.. go ahead..” he reassured you, looking up at you with lust clouded eyes. he enjoyed each little cry of his name that you let out, and enjoyed it even more when you came, tugging at his hair probably the most you had. he groaned out, gripping your thighs as he guided you through your orgasm with his tongue, finally looking back up at you with his mouth all messy.

you sat up to give him a kiss, your eyes glancing down and noticing a wet patch on his crotch. you smirked and pushed him to sit on his chair, climbing onto his lap. “did you—” “yes and i’m willing to own it.. yes i came in my pants.. couldn’t resist it when i got to eat the world’s prettiest woman’s pussy..” he muttered before he kissed you more.

[takiberry]

𐙚ᝰ.ᐟ Coffee Breath : WY

౨ৎ˚⟡.•☕️ you’re SICK.

PREV : MASTERLIST : NEXT

📝 ╰┈➤ tini notiez : yay chap five !! i won't do TOOO much drama but i want your guys' opinions on what i should do for more 'angst' like chaps !!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 🐾 taglist ; @aceheexx @hyvelxve @soobiverse @luvnicho @i4kt @luvitria @jjungwonss @wonkisbbg @flwoie @sionshiii @yyawnjun @olivehues @amesification @heart4hees @maoyueze @ffixtionista @yuma-is-mine

[piss-pumpkin]

☕️ Unfortunately for us, ☕️

Dipper pines x reader, Douce amere chapter 17, ~6.1k words (sorry guys) Masterlist prev

When Dipper looked at you, he saw Bill. In everything: every minute movement, every word you spoke, every breath you breathed was a reminder that he was there too. Avoidance. If not seeing you meant not seeing him, he could live with that. Maybe.

He wasn’t sure where you slept on the first night, because it wasn’t with him. That was new. He guessed you were on the couch in Soos’ break room, but he didn’t want to check. 

It was no surprise that he couldn’t sleep. He stared at the ceiling, dead tired but unable to close his eyes. Nightmares weren’t new, nor unfamiliar, but they usually only affected him when he was asleep. Now they seemed to perforate even blinks. The ceiling was old wood, a few panels with stains, and the faded finish were enough to tell him just how aged it was. The rafters were clean though, somebody must have dusted it before the summer so they’d sleep better. The walls too, all clean. Mabel’s side less so, now that he noticed. Across the room he saw the faint sparkle of glitter along the walls by the moonlight. 

He studied the room with dry eyes, blinking in moderation to avoid the dark. Or better, whenever he had to, he dug the heels of his palms into his eye sockets so the swirling colours blocked out anything his mind conjured up. Usually you were there to help with that. 

His heart ached, and a few points on his arms from where you attacked him. Where Bill attacked him, he clarified to himself. But the line was blurry. This bed was entirely too big without you there. That was almost absurd enough to make him laugh, considering it was just barely larger than a twin.

 At least you both survived. Dipper groaned, half hoping to wake up Mabel so she’d come talk to him. But she was dead tired too, and Dipper had to do this alone. Unless you were awake. 

He shook his head without realizing, his body answering that question for him; no, he can’t go see you. That might kill him faster than sleep deprivation. But you were probably up too. He knew well enough  you might be tossing and turning just below him. It was going to be a long night. 

                                        …

Dipper trudged down the stairs, far too early in the morning for his usual liking, eyes to the steps to keep from tripping. But his legs were made of lead, or some heavy metal; they were completely weighing him down. Every step was a fight with gravity to stay on his feet. The good side of no sleep was his lack of brain power. He was running in survival instincts. His eyes looked down to stop from falling, his hands slid on the rail for the same, his body moved to find some sort of sustenance, and all without a single thought. Shutting those out seemed to be the best. 

Coffee. That was a good goal. Short term, easily archivable, and its accomplishment would help him greatly; it was perfect. 

He wiped his eyes as he stumbled almost blindly to the kitchen. The shack was quiet, the rest surely not awake yet. The more Dipper looked around, he realized it was still dark out. Or more like dim. A bit of dull moonlight was still shining through the windows.

The lights were on in a few rooms. Probably Mabel. Forgetful Mabel. Dipper flicked off the lights in the living room and the hall as he got closer. The kitchen light was on too. 

Dipper got to the doorframe, and froze, breath hitching in his chest. And it looked like you did the same. 

On the floor, against the cupboards, was you, sat in pyjamas, cradling a pot of coffee like it was your baby with a half full mug on the tile beside you. Your phone, noticeably on the lowest brightness, was almost slipping out of your loose grip. And Dipper wanted to look away, because it was clear you’d been crying, you wore all the telltale signs. Swollen eyelids, a little puffy, a little red. He hated noticing it. A pit formed in his stomach without a moments warning. Of course you had the same idea as him. Why not? Why the fuck not. Same brain. 

He took shaky breaths on even shakier legs. Your pupils looked normal. But knowing that meant he was looking at your wide and tired eyes as you looked up at him. It was a double edged sword. He gripped the door frame for balance. With his bad hand. He winced as his palm flew into the wood, straining the wrist that you…Bill- stepped on.

You flinched as he did. Like you could feel it from across the room. And you stared down into the coffee pot because maybe you both felt that looking at each other was painful. But Dipper didn’t have the self preservation instincts to follow your lead. It was all he could do to stay breathing. It was when you spoke that Dipper was knocked out of his head. 

“Do you..” you started, voice rough, shaky, dead tired. Probably from crying, if he had to guess. You looked up at him again, “do you want some?” You offered. An olive branch maybe. 

Yeah. That’s why I’m here. Dipper tensed, looking you over again, and turned away, half the tiredness evaporated from his body. He was almost in the shape to run. As fast as he could’ve he raced and hobbled back through the shack, back up the stairs, back into the dark room where his sister still slept. Back away. Back away. He didn’t get to see your reaction. As it should be. 

He carefully shut the door behind him, and stared at it for a few moments. You weren’t on the other side. You weren’t on the other side. Bill wasn’t on the other side. He rested his head against the door, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. You and weren’t on the other side of that door. You were downstairs, probably drinking coffee straight out of the pot, maybe crying. And he was doing nothing about that. Mabel’s soft snores grounded him to reality, at least. He could never be certain if you were on the other side of that door, or if you were Bill, but he knew Mabel was behind him. Asleep in her bed. 

He couldn’t stay here. 

He eyed Mabel, pursed his lips, and grabbed his backpack. What did he have? Laptop, a couple snacks, his journal was on the bedside table. He carefully slipped it in, zipped it up, pocketed a pen, and slung it over his shoulder. He didn’t bother getting dressed in more than his crumpled pyjamas before he left.

Down the stairs again, steadier this time. Through the hall again, more certain this time. He once looked back through the dark living room, at the light leaking out from the kitchen, and listened for the soft noises of mugs being set down, coffee swirling, phone tapping, even. He looked, listened, and turned away, straight for the door, opened and closed slowly and quietly. So nobody wouldn’t notice. 

The shack was Bill proof, meaning while you- the both of you, were inside, Bill was locked up. So it was the outside now, that was safe. Dipper started blindly to the woods without a plan, thought or trail. At least day was getting closer. The sky was lightening. Maybe there was some interesting and distracting creature that only came out at dawn that he could investigate, since he’s never up at this time. Maybe there was something new to discover out there. 

He nearly tripped on the way in. It seemed he forgot to tie his shoe. Sighing he tied it, and then started deeper into the forest. Deeper, deeper, yet deeper. A left turn, a right, a path followed, a trail created through the brush. Avoiding any clearing that resembled the one from yesterday. He didn’t know the way there, and he intended to keep it that way. 

Dipper ended up in the fantasy part of the woods, where fae folk met in tree stumps, and crystals grew and shimmered around the forest floor. But that was too obvious. To explored. The sun peaking over the horizon now, breaking through the trees. How long had he been gone? Whatever. Doesn’t matter.

He walked. And walked. And trudged and stepped and nearly tripped and did trip and stumbled and even ran at times, all away from the shack until the sun was high overhead and the afternoon was rolling along. 

But then he came to a part of the forest he’d not yet seen before. Not quite a clearing, more of a grove. The trees thinned, but the canopy let in only spots of light shine through. He couldn’t see it, but he heard a stream, maybe a river, trickling somewhere beside him. Best of all though, the grove was edged by a cliff face, with moss running down the side and a few vines. And Dipper lit up when he saw the cave. 

On the side of the cliff, was a hole. And it looked deep. And as Dipper stopped to study it from a distance, he heard little scampers and drips coming from inside, and he knew he was a goner. He pulled out his journal, pen, clicked it a few times, and started inside. 

The walls were stone, and seemed black by the dim light. Somewhere further in, Dipper barely made out the shimmer of light reflected on water, and his curiosity only burned brighter thinking about what the source could be so deep in the mountain.  The floor was rough at the entrance, but quickly smoothed the deeper he ventured in, and small streams were all leading down.

The drips and water only got louder the further he ventured in, and the light disappeared behind him. Working on instinct he slowed down, pulled out a flashlight, and cautiously continued. He wasn’t sure how this was less scary than the shack right now. But it was. This was mystery, this was nature. This was a hunt for something. Whatever that was. Dipper wasn’t sure. Either way, this was an animal urge, to find out and explore, something he didn’t need think about. A motion and routine he’d grown quite used to. This cave could have been a war zone for him when he was younger, more frightened, but today? A haven. 

The cave narrowed into one tunnel, which seemed built for him. It was… person sized, a little taller than his height. And the floor was smooth enough he needed to hold the walls to keep from slipping down the water he was forced to trudge through. It all led to the small pool. Dipper heart felt electric as he realized that’s where this culminated. He clicked the pen with whichever hand wasn’t on the smooth walls. 

The shimmer of the water drew him in, like blue moonlight shined at him. The flashlight wasn’t needed here. The tunnel widened into a… chamber, of sorts. Like a room. Maybe a temple. It seemed like one. The running water flowed all down the walls from some mysterious source far above him, but failed to flood through. 

Rabidly, he started to write. All those details. The shine, the falls, the cave itself, and he drew. Even if this wasn't magical, which seemed out of the question all things considered, it would be nice to document. Maybe he could take you here, you’d probably find it pretty. Nope. He shook his head. Nope. Don’t go there. A few lines of his drawing were shaky. 

Then something drew his attention. In the pool, more like a puddle, which marked the centre of the blue and glowy cave chamber, he saw something. More specifically, him. He saw himself, and suddenly the journal lowering to his side.

Seeing yourself in the reflection of water wasn’t abnormal, and completely divorced from paranormal. What made it odd, though, was the angle. Dippers first thought was of math. By where he was standing, the pool should not reflect him the way it did: he saw himself closer to it, as if he was knelt beside it looking in. Or… the other him was looking out. 

And this was a siren song to him. He did as he was told. He knelt beside the puddle, knees splashing in the stream, viciously scribbling notes into his journal that when he could barely read if he tried. 

The reflection smiled, and turned around, and Dipper did the same. There was nothing. Just the cave. And he could squint to see the light of the outside behind him. Nothing. He looked back, and his eyes grew wide.

The electric curiosity in his heart dissipated in a single breath. Behind the other him, was Mabel and you. You both came up behind him with lightning speed, landing and steadying yourself on his shoulders, shaking him a little. Oh god. Dippers face fell further as he watched, paralyzed. You both seemed excited, and he looked like he was laughing along with whatever idiot game you two wanted to play. Like usual. Like normal. 

He sunk further into the cave floor, his whole legs into the shallow stream. Carefully, he closed his journal on his lap, and watched. 

Stan and Ford made an appearance too. Ford came up beside Mabel and started excitedly explaining something to her, surely. He knew that face on him, that was what Ford looked like when he was proud, maybe had a brilliant idea, or maybe a stupid one. The kind of idea Mabel would love. And Stan spoke to you, like he was telling you a joke, or maybe you did something to make him proud, too. In his annoying Grunkle way, he ruffled your hair. 

What was this? The pool seemed to entrance him, and he had the good sense to notice. He jerked his head away and stared at the wall for a moment before anyone else could make an appearance. What is this place? He, slower this time, made note in his journal. This was weird. A mystery. Isn’t that what he came for? To solve some problem, investigate something crazy? 

He looked back. The scene was nearly the same. Just… his family. He ignored he pit growing in his stomach for the second time that day. He swallowed, and something tasted like burning. Maybe it was his heart in his throat. They all looked very happy. 

With curious and careless hand, he reached out, and touched the water. The touch felt electric. Static. He pulled his hand away with apprehension. 

The touch was short, barely broke the surface, but the ripples washed the image away completely, and he was alone again. And the drips and running water felt so much louder, even if his heart pounded in his ears. What just happened? 

He blinked. Maybe this wasn’t a mystery he wanted to solve today, actually. If nothing else, it reminded him; maybe he should be somewhere else, right now. 

He stood, suddenly remembering his legs were drenched, and cringed. There were things in that reflection that were impossible. He thought again of you, and shook his head more violently this time. But there are places he should be. People he could talk to. Sighing, he left the cave. 

                                        …

The sun was actually low, maybe a few hours from setting when he got back. There were horrors in that shack. He stood outside a moment. He could avoid the horrors. He could. If he was lucky. 

When he stepped up to the door, he didn’t get the chance to open it. Before he could react, it sprang open and out jumped Mabel, straight into a tackling hug. The wind was halfway knocked out of him, but he smiled. Maybe even laughed through wheezing as she practically squeezed the life out of him.

”Broooooo,” she said. Not a coherent thought, but maybe they had twin telepathy, because he understood it perfectly.

“I knowwww,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around her. He didn’t realize his knees were starting to give in until she adjusted to hold his weight better. 

Once again, more melancholic this time, “Bro,” she said. 

“Yeah,” he moped. Yeah. This did suck. And he didn’t know how it happened, or why, or how, and he bailed on them today. But he had to do that. “Right?” He laughed. Mabel would understand.

She groaned, slightly too loudly into his ear, and he winced. “Come on, they’re by the exhibits with Grunkle Stan,” she said, slowly letting go of him so he could regain his balance. “And tonight’s a scary movie marathon of only crappy sequels.”

Dipper thought a moment, mostly about nothing, and then nodded, following behind her. He shut the door as he passed though. Bills in this house. He shook his head. Nope. Don’t go there. 

The shack was a comfortable quiet. The dull hum of electronics offered a warm buzz to keep silence at bay. And the closer they drew to the living room, the more the sound of the tv covered even that. And when he sat on the couch, he could imagine things were normal, even though he hadn’t bothered to change into dry clothes. Like the reflection. 

He and Mabel talked a little. About regular things, mostly. And he was tired enough for the nightmares to barely touch him before he fell asleep. 

                                        …

Bill Cipher. Dipper pines. His sister, friends, you, weirdmageddon. Hands around his neck. Your hands, this time. Not Bills. Flashes of unfortunate images blended with even worse memories played on repeat and burnt themselves into his brain.

Dipper shot up with a gasp, hands flying to his throat as he inspected it frantically. He could feel his pulse hammering just from a touch on his neck, and he couldn’t tell if the sweat was on his hands, or just his whole body. A single wipe of his brow revealed it was the latter. Holy shit. On instinct, his shaky hand patted the bed beside him. It was empty. Shit. He fought the instinctual thought that you might be dead.

He shuddered, curling his legs up close to him. Even if it was empty, he couldn’t tear his hand away from your spot on the mattress. Fuckkkkk. Breathing. Breathing. Deep breaths. Shaky breaths he tried to steady. Mabel was still asleep across the room, lightly snoring. He didn’t need to wake her. But it didn’t stop him from glancing over, which quickly devolved into staring. Her breathing seemed a lot easier than his. 

How much more of this did he have to survive? 

That morning he found you in the kitchen again. The same as yesterday, alone on the floor with your coffee, cup, and puffy eyes that looked up at him widely.  At least this time he was desensitized. Instead of flinching and buckling in terror, he simply turned and walked away before… either of you could speak.

God, of course you were there. You really did have the same brain. Same as yesterday. No coffee for Dipper, because he was headed as far away from the kitchen as possible, stumbling through the living room with blurry vision, flushed face, shit he was totally crying. Or… almost crying, at least. He sniffled, blinding himself even further by eyes the ceiling to stop tears from falling. Because fuck that. 

He hit the wall with his shoulder on the way upstairs to his room.

”Bro,” Mabel said as he stepped in. She was sitting up in her bed, eyes bagged and tired. “Dipper.”

“Oh sorry,” he murmured, wandering back to his own mattress. “Did I wake you?” 

As he sat down, he heard her sniffle, and whipped his head around to see her sleepily trudging over to him, one of her stuffed animals hanging in her arms. She practically fell into the bed beside him as she sat down, and wiped her face on the sleeve of her nightgown, “Dip, are you alright?” She asked, voice tired and rough. “I didn’t get to ask you yesterday.”

She did?  Well, kind of. They talked last night. Maybe no about… that. But close enough. Dipper pursed his lips. Guess checking in wasn’t a terrible idea. “I’m whatever,” he sighed, wrapping an arm around her. He sighed again staring at her bed. All her stuffed animals and plushes were near the headboard, rather them spread down the side with a few at the foot. All bunched up near where her head and arms would be. Guess she needed all the support she could get. “Hey, Mabel,” he started, turning back to her. “Awkward sibling hug?”

She nodded, “yes please.”

Dipper blinked, and realized he was barely crying now. He won, the tears didn’t fall. He turned, and wrapped his sister in his arms as she did the same, neither letting go for a good minute. Her hair tickled his face a little, and somehow that got a half smile out of him. 

“Dip, do you think we’re gonna have to like-“ she paused, presumably to think. “-go through all that again?”

He was glad his head was still resting on her shoulder, because she couldn’t see the way his face fell. “I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “I think… we have things under control for now, though.”

Her arms never loosened around him, and he could feel her chin move with her words, “Yeah.” She snorted a laugh, and Dipper smiled just slightly hearing it. “That unicorn hair just keeps coming in handy, huh?”

Dipper smiled, and moved his head to try and escape her hair, “yeah, you did good with that one.”

Mabel nodded, and held on a little longer, and then her arms slackened. “Pat, pat,” she said softly, patting his back before he let go. Dipper smiled, doing the same to her. Mabel Mabel Mabel. At least she was alright. She kicked her feet off the side of the bed idly, “Hey, you guys have another thing in common now, I guess,” she said.

“Pfft,” Dipper couldn’t help but scoff. She was right. And he hadn’t thought of that. “Yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Are you gonna talk to them?”

”No,” he said. 

Mabel nodded silently, and Dipper couldn’t read her face. “Are you gonna talk to Grunkle Ford?”

He hummed. That, he wasn’t sure. He probably should. Ford might have a plan, or know what to do. “Maybe,” he muttered, nodding along to himself. “Maybe later.” He wasn’t sure whether he wanted later to be the next minute, or never. 

                                       …

Another day. Another nightmare. Another early morning, maybe night, actually, where with hushed feet he made his way downstairs trying not to wake anyone. This time for real, this time maybe he could do it. Get the coffee. The more he imagined it the more it seemed like nectar of the gods, maybe the one thing that could cure him.

He managed just slightly more sleep though, small victories. It was basically sunrise when he made his journey downstairs this time. There was just enough light spilling in from the windows that he didn’t notice the light from under the kitchen door. 

You startled him less the third time. Instead of a flinch and a jump, or an instinct reaction to flee, he decided to think. It was you and your coffee pot again, but you were laying with your back on the tile, staring at the ceiling before he walked in. Normal pupils. Blotchy face and puffy eyes. Just like yesterday. He winced as he saw. Don’t go there. 

You were a coffee hog. And you were looking up at him, like a deer in headlights. Like he’d caught you. 

He could survive. He could survive this, and survive that look. He eyed the coffee pot resting on your chest to get away from your terrified stare. It was looking like he’d fail his mission again. 

“Do you… want some?” You asked, with all the same living tenderness and ragged sadness as last time. And Dipper had to steel himself, leaning against the doorframe with his forearm this time to avoid hurting the bruise on his wrist. 

His eyes darted around as he looked at anything but you. Your stained coffee mug was on the ground beside you, still. A few cupboards were ajar, the rows of cups peeking out at him. The sugar was left out, as with a cooking pot. God, you were everywhere. There wasn’t a place he could look in this kitchen where he wouldn’t see you.

So he met your eyes. “Y/n,” he started, surprising himself with the steadiness of his voice. “Can I have the kitchen tomorrow?”

The question was almost funny. Like you two were divorced parents and he was fighting for custody of the room. You both seemed to love it, and it couldn’t be shared. The concept could’ve been funny if it didn’t make his heart burn and leave a bitter taste in his mouth. 

You nodded, looking at the white tile floors instead of at him. 

Okay. He sighed, nodding to you before leaving. Okay. Coffee tomorrow. After all this time. He walked aimlessly outside, sitting on the porch, and resting his head in his hands. God, were the two of you just stuck? He needed that coffee more than you, he really did. You should be fine without. 

Dipper rubbed his temples. Don’t go there. But really though, what right did you have to be in such bad shape? Why were you still so shaken up. Shouldn’t that be reserved for the rest of them? Who actually lived the apocalypse? Ugh stop. He shook his head. He knew better than most being possessed wasn’t fun. You could have the coffee today, that was fine. Tomorrow was his day. He might die without it. 

                                          …

His thoughts seemed to ring true. He would die without it. That night, after avoiding people, doing a little seething, he had some of the worst nightmares yet. They all ended with his whole arms black and blue instead of just the wrist. And with several other people looking the same. Except you. Never you. You weren’t on the receiving end of anything like that. Your most striking feature was Bills manic smile, that you wore far too well, and that was practically burned into his brain. His subconscious seemed to love the image. And instead of reaching for your spot on the bed he just got up and left, brow furrowed. Coffee. 

Oh god. His face fell into a scowl when he saw the light shine under the kitchen door. Not again. 

Dipper sighed, hand clutching the doorframe. Same as always. Every fucking morning. He asked, but here you still were, same as always. Dipper never imagined he’d get used to the look of you crying, but it was getting far too familiar, and he was getting far too desensitized.  “Y/n,” he said lowly, blinking long and slow. He took a deep breath before he spoke. He loved you. He loved you, he thought. Just to remind himself. “Y/n, do you really have nowhere better to be,” he said, gesturing at your spot on the floor. Every single time, right there. Sulking. He could feel his voice raising, almost against his will, “-Then right here, every morning.” 

Like there was no escaping you. First in his dreams, and now this. His hand was shaking. Legs too, oh boy! He gripped the door frame harder, to steady his hands and his balance. He loved you. And he wasn’t looking at Bill. “I asked you yesterday,” he said glaring at the floor. 

As much as he tried to avoid seeing you, perceiving  you, he couldn’t help when you spoke. Eyes to the tiles. Eyes to the floor. You sniffed, voice shaky and soft, maybe even raw. Unlike how Dipper had ever heard you before all this. But it was a voice he was getting used to, “What?” you asked. 

He clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palm until he broke the skin. Oh, fuck you. No. He could not do this. You only needed one word, one was all it took, and it felt like a stab wound. Or so he assumed, he’d never been stabbed. And he couldn’t resist a bit of torture, so he looked up at you, and that was a twist of the knife. He clenched his jaw. This is so stupid. “Can you just-” he shook his head, trying not to glare at you. “Can you just give me the kitchen?”

You sat there a moment, barely reacting, reminding him slightly of a wet kitten. “I-“ you started, staring up at him, then looking down at your coffee pot. Shakily, you stood up, and placed it on the counter behind you. “Okay,” you practically whispered. 

You stood awkwardly a few feet in front of him, and he realized he should probably step aside. You didn’t meet his eyes when he did, and he was half glad. He might die if he saw them up closer, more detailed. They might seem sadder. “Y/n,” he sighed. “Can you… not be in here, tomorrow morning?” He asked, “please?”

You nodded, and left behind him, and the kitchen was empty. Your cup still say on the ground where it was beside you. The coffee pit was still half empty. Dipper sighed, completely alone. At least he had coffee. It didn’t taste as good as he’d hoped. Nothing like nectar if the gods.

What did you have to cry about? He shook his head. Don’t go there. No but really, though? You got yourself into this. You were the one who brought Bill here. It’s not like you’d ever met him before, it’s not like you had any… experiences… the way he did. Or any of the others, really. Did you even know what was at stake? You never lived the apocalypse. You didn’t have to survive that. So why were you so fucked up about this? Shouldn’t it be him crying on the floor, if anyone? 

But no, here he was having to drink the coffee you brewed, keeping his shit together, mostly, while you were… that. Why did you have to bring him into this god damned Shack? He stared bitterly into his cup, and swirled the coffee around. It was lukewarm at best. 

If only, what? If only he was with you when you found him? If only he noticed sooner? If only you had the common fucking sense to say something? Bill could’ve tricked you. But you could’ve said something. If only you didn’t find him. If only you did anything different. If only you weren’t in the woods that day? If only you were anywhere else. Like if you never came to Gravity Falls.

His gaze softened. Even in his head he was going too far. Was he? Is the world gonna end because you were at the wrong place at the wrong time? Or because he didn’t tell you enough? You should have had the common sense to tell somebody about a statue in the woods. You weren’t an idiot. Or so he thought. And suddenly he was right back to glaring at his mug. And yours, which he didn’t bother to pick up from the floor.

He knew better, maybe. He knew Bill tricked people, and he knew you weren’t stupid. And he knew you probably felt… some pretty strong emotions, right now. But what the fuck did you have to cry so hard about? 

Don’t go there. Just don’t. At least he had the kitchen to himself for a while.

                                              … 

Again. Again, again again. He asked, again. And you didn’t listen. Again. On the floor of the kitchen, just like yesterday, just like the day before. Felt like fucking forever. Like you and him were stuck in that god damn kitchen, trapped by his early morning want for coffee and your inability to sulk anywhere else, with your half empty pot of coffee, and similarly stained mug. Every god damned time. How many days had it been? It all seemed to blend together. But the moral was: who in gods name were you still a wreck like this?

“Y/n,” Dipper started, running his hand through his greasy hair, catching on the tangles from days without brushing it. And he thought briefly about how on a normal day you might run your fingers through it, or at the very least spray him in the face with dry shampoo to tease him. And the more he thought of that the angrier he got. He took a breath. Breathe. “Y/n,” he said, hands shaking. “Come on.”

You looked up at him, face blotchy from tears, presumably. With a ragged and throaty voice, “What?” you asked. And he was forgetting you could sound any other way. 

What do you mean, what? Get out. Of the stupid fucking kitchen. He deserved that. He deserved to go get coffee. “Why,” he said, taking a breath. Breathe, breathe, breathe. “-Why are you here?” He was talking with his hands now, gesturing wildly at you with each word, however shaky he might be. 

“I-“ you started, hand halfway reaching out, then retracting to the safety of the handle of the coffee pot. You had a wide eyes, sad eyes, tired eyes, wild eyes, and Dipper winced as he saw the little red veins around your pupils. Your throat still scratched with each syllable, “I wanted coffee.”

Oh fuck off. He was shaking his head now, and his hands were still because they were balled into fists at his sides. “Y/n, fuck off,” he said, voice getting louder. And suddenly it was all rushing to the surface, and his body was moving on its own. He stepped forward pointing at you, and you reacted like it was a spell, shrinking into the floor and the cupboards. “You fucking brought Bill back,” he started, stepping again. “And you didn’t tell me anything until it was too late. Then you did this,” he yelled, joking up the fading yellowish and purple bruise on his wrist. Even after days of fading it still looked sickly. 

It’s not that he didn’t notice your face falling, as you clutched the pot like a lifeline, it’s that he wasn’t done. “And for some fucking reason, after all that,” he spat. “You’re incapable of doing the one thing I ask, the one thing.” 

You stuttered, speech choppy, “What… did you,” you cleared your throat, “ask?”

What did he ask? Dippers face scrunched as his hands fell. “Yesterday,” he said simply and lowly. “And the day before, I think.”

You blinked, looking once at the floor before back at him, still and silent as a statue. 

“I asked you to stay out of the kitchen,” Dipper snarked, standing over you. But his anger was dissipating and his confusion growing. Did you really not remember? That was worrying. Was Bill still in your head? No that was impossible in the shack. Memory loss of some kind? That seemed most likely. Trauma induced? Mental or physical? Either from when he hit you in the head, or it was mental state induced. Were you that dramatic? Don’t be mean. 

“You-“ your feet were retracting as you curling further into yourself. “You didn’t ask me anything yesterday,” you mumbled, staring into your coffee pot. 

You quickly tensed, eyes darting back to him, “-that I remember,” you added quickly. “I-I know I was… out, yesterday.”

What? What was your angle? That’s… “What?” 

You pursed your lips, and swallowed, eyes falling back to the floor. “Well, I was…” you trailed off, thumbing the coffee pot. “I wasn’t me.”

”That was like, days ago,” he spat. And then paused. And paused. And then looked. At you, at the coffee pot, and the mug beside you. Okay. At first, there was no thought, just an empty brain staring at a cup. Alright… 

You said something, but Dippers brain was starting to move again, and it seemed to tune you out. Why didn’t you remember, and why did you never learn? And why did you think… that was yesterday. Okay. Alright. 

Without another word, he turned around and left, headed upstairs, and shook Mabel awake. She was tired, dazed, and confused, but she answered his question: what was yesterday. 

Well shit. Her too. And Dipper came to the conclusion that he might be the weird one, and he might be in a timeloop.

Next

Guys I’m sorry. This is a two parter too that’s the worst part. These two chapters almost killed me. So god Damn long and a fuckimg doozy 😭

I got to like 4K words and realized I hadn’t covered half the stuff I wanted to.

Also I got real sad again around the time I wrote this, can you tell 💀

Taglist: @dead-esque @cipheress-to-k-pop

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 7 - Medical Play

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : Not sure what's gotten into me lately but I've been on a roll and managed to finish some WIPs I had for Kinktober 👀. The prompt for this one is "medical play". I hope you enjoy it 🙂. I kind of kept this one short and sweet !

If you liked it and want to support a struggling student, you can buy me a cup of coffee. ☕️

CW : fear of hospitals - mention of overdose - trauma - medical play - a little angst

Marshall sat hunched over on the couch in the home studio, eyes locked on his phone screen, jaw clenched. The email had come in that morning—an official note from his management team. The insurance company was insisting on a full medical examination before his upcoming tour. Mandatory. His health records were clean, but that wasn’t good enough for them. They didn’t care that he’d managed to survive in an industry that chewed people up and spat them out. All they saw was a fifty-year-old man who had nearly died from an overdose years ago, and who, in their eyes, might not make it through another tour without some kind of medical assurance.

But they didn’t know what he saw. They didn’t know how, for years, hospitals had haunted his dreams. How that one night back in 2007 still lurked in his mind, the smell of disinfectant and the sound of frantic voices crashing back into his head whenever he thought of doctors or medical equipment. He could still feel the cold sweat on his skin, the sharp pain in his chest as his body started to shut down, the blurred vision as his pulse weakened. He had looked in the mirror, seen the pale reflection staring back at him, and thought, This is it. I’m dying.Even now, a shudder ran through him, his breathing shallow. He could still hear the faint beeping of the machines, the sensation of being utterly powerless as his life slipped through his fingers. It didn’t matter that he’d been sober for years—his mind never let him forget how close he had come to losing everything. He slammed his phone down harder than he intended, the sharp noise echoing in the quiet room. His hands balled into fists, his heart racing. The thought of walking into another doctor's office, of lying on some sterile exam table under the harsh lights—it made his skin crawl. The same paralyzing fear flooded him, that same suffocating helplessness. No way. He wasn’t going through that again.

The sound of the front door opening and closing pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. You had just come home from work. You worked as a nurse practitioner, calm and collected as always, your blue scrubs a stark contrast to the tension simmering in his veins. You walked over, eyes softening as soon as you saw him. “What’s up?” You asked gently, taking a seat beside him. You could read him like a book, and right now, the strain was written all over his face. Marshall exhaled sharply through his nose. “It’s this damn insurance thing,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “They want me to go through a full medical check-up before the tour. Like I’m some broken old man. They’re scared I’m gonna… I dunno, drop dead on stage or something.” You frowned, your brows knitting together with concern. “I’m sure they’re just being cautious. You’ve got a lot of history… they just want to make sure you’re okay.”. “I am okay,” he shot back, the edge in his voice sharper than he intended. “They’re acting like I’m fragile. I’m not.” You didn’t say anything right away, just gave him that understanding look of yours. You knew what had happened to him—what that fateful night in 2007 had done to him, not just physically but mentally. You knew how hard it was for him to even think about hospitals, let alone step foot in one. “It’s not about being fragile, Marshall. They just want to make sure you’re healthy,” you said softly. “And honestly… so do I.”

He clenched his jaw, looking away. “I don’t need a bunch of doctors poking at me, babe. You know what that’s like for me”. Your hand found his, squeezing gently. “I know.” You paused, choosing your words carefully. “But it’s been a long time since you’ve seen anyone. And you’re not the same guy you were back then. You’ve come a long way.” Marshall swallowed hard, his throat tightening. Yeah, he’d come a long way—but that didn’t erase the fear. It didn’t stop the memories from crashing in, the beeping machines, the sterile smell of antiseptic that still made his stomach turn. The feeling of being trapped, unable to control what was happening to his own body. He had spent so long running from that fear, burying it deep down, that the thought of willingly going into that environment again—of handing himself over to doctors who would look at him like he was just a body to fix—made his heart race with anxiety. “I can’t do it,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t go back in there. I don’t want to feel like that again”.  Your face softened even more. You knew the depth of his trauma, the invisible scars that no one else saw. You leaned in closer, resting your hand on his leg. “Okay. I get it. I know it’s hard. But we can do this… together. You don’t have to go in alone”.  Marshall’s gaze flicked toward you, the hint of desperation in his eyes. “What if… What if I just don’t go? I’ll figure it out. Cancel the damn insurance. I don’t need them.” You shook your head slowly. “You know that’s not an option, babe. This is about your health, your future. But I think there’s a way to make it easier.” He raised an eyebrow, confused. “What do you mean?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “What if I help you get used to it? At home. No doctors, no hospitals. Just me and you.” You let your hand glide up his arm, your touch soothing as you leaned in closer. “I’ve got some of the equipment at home… I could check your vitals here, no pressure. It doesn’t have to be so clinical. We can make it… more comfortable.” Marshall blinked, the tension in his chest still tight, but your suggestion was throwing him off balance. “You… what? You’re gonna play doctor or something?” Your smile grew, the warmth of your teasing tone cutting through his anxiety like a balm. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.” He snorted, shaking his head slightly. “You’re crazy.”. “Maybe,” you admitted, standing up and holding out your hand. “But you trust me, right?”. Marshall hesitated for a moment, the fear still gnawing at him, but your hand was steady, your eyes filled with nothing but love and reassurance. He slowly took your hand, letting you guide him into your shared bedroom.

You grabbed a few things from your work bag—a stethoscope, a blood pressure cuff, and a small pulse oximeter. The sight of the equipment made his heart thump harder again, the memories flashing for a split second. But you were there, with your soft, knowing smile pulling him back to the present. “Sit down,” you said, pushing him gently onto the edge of the bed. He did as you asked, the tension in his chest still there, but lessening with every second you were close to him. You stood in front of him, your scrubs hugging your curves just enough to remind him of how lucky he was. You let the stethoscope dangle from your neck as you leaned down, your hands resting on his shoulders. “I’m going to listen to your heart,” you said, your voice low, almost a purr. “But I think we both know it’s already racing.”. Marshall’s breath hitched as you slipped the cool diaphragm of the stethoscope under his shirt, your hand pressed softly to his chest. Your touch was careful, but the slow way you leaned in, lips just brushing his ear, sent a shiver down his spine. “Deep breath, baby,” you whispered, your voice sultry as the stethoscope rested just over his heart.

He inhaled deeply, trying to focus, but the sensation of you being so close, your lips grazing his neck, had his pulse pounding for a whole different reason. You pulled back slightly, a teasing smirk playing on your lips as you moved the stethoscope lower, fingers sliding across his skin with deliberate slowness. “You sound a little tense,” you murmured. “Want me to fix that?”. Marshall exhaled shakily, his hands instinctively reaching for your hips. “You’re not playing fair.”. “I never said I would,” you teased, pulling the stethoscope away and moving on to the blood pressure cuff. You knelt in front of him, wrapping it around his arm, the sensation of your fingers tightening it around his bicep sparking something hot between them, as did the vision of you on your knees. The cuff tightened, the pressure building as the sound of his pulse filled the air. Your eyes locked on his, your expression shifting from playful to something more intimate. You leaned closer, your lips brushing the skin just below his jawline as the cuff deflated slowly, the soft hiss filling the room. “You know,” you whispered, your breath warm against his neck. “This is just the beginning. I’m not done with you yet.” Marshall swallowed hard, his pulse racing, his body betraying him in the best way possible. “Yeah? What else you got?”.  You let the blood pressure cuff drop, climbing onto his lap, thighs straddling him as you looped your arms around his neck. “Well,” you purred, your fingers trailing down his chest, “I haven’t checked your temperature yet.”. Marshall chuckled low, the tension between the two of you thick and electric. “Pretty sure it’s rising”.  Your lips brushed his ear, your breath hot and deliberate as your hips pressed into his. “Good. I like it when you’re hot.” His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as you leaned in, your lips inches apart. “Think you could check the rest of me while you’re at it?” Your smile was wicked as you pressed your body against his, your lips finally claiming his in a slow, heated kiss. You pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth. “Don’t worry, Mr. Mathers. I’m going to give you a full exam”. Marshall smirked, the anxiety from earlier completely drowned out by the heat between the two of you. “Now this I can handle.”

[sunnitheapollokid]

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚Hello There! My name is....Bluey ya! Anyways, so I was wondering if you could do a number five five by like making him deal with the apocalypse dilemmaજ⁀➴ ⊹₊⟡⋆ and maybe he starts seeing a girl near the coffee shop and starts telling his mind out to her? Could you I mean ya , I'm not the best at request...

Stay Bright Pix˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

𐙚₊˚⊹ like i’m stuck in an apocalypse.

a requested five hargreeves short fic . . 📞🐈‍⬛

context : five finally gets back from the apocalypse, and when he does, he makes a visit at griddy’s donuts. — and he sees a girl there.

warnings : minor cursing .ᐟ

author’s note : THANKKKK YOU FOR REQUESTING !! also,, so sorry this took a while to respond back to 😭 but i’m here now !! your message is so sweet, stay bright too friend 🤍 without further ado, happy reading .ᐟ

five didn’t want to deal with the whole .. apocalypse thing, he really just wanted to see his family again. but when that family has their own issues of their own, it’s hard to keep them all in one room without practically slicing each other’s head off.

so late at night, he made his way towards a place from his childhood. a place where they used to be able to still get along. and that was griddy’s donuts.

despite the place being a popular spot in town, looked old and abandoned now. the smell of espresso flourished in the brunette’s nose just moments before he sat down and ordered.

“hello, ready to order?” a girl, younger, had her notepad out, with her own black pen. for the first time in about 50 or more years, he’d recieved a genuine smile from her. she looked kind and sweet. his gaze had been broken off once she waved her hand in his face.

“oh uh — yeah, um,” he looked down at the menu. “can i just get some coffee? black.” five handed the waiteress the menu. she wrote down on her notepad with a nod, “coming right up.” she gave another wide smile before walking to the back to grab that cup of hot coffee for him.

a few minutes later, she came back and placed the cup before him. “enjoy.” she spoke. “thank you,” he glanced at her name tag.

(name).

“(name).” he nodded at her as he sipped the coffee. she gave another smile before turning and walking away.

— 𐙚₊˚⊹ ☕️

(name) continued to clean in the back as she listened to her tunes through her headphones. she hummed to the beat as she sweeped, and once she finished with the dishes and everything else and pulled her headphones off her head.

and instead of the usual chatter and noise that echoed across the diner, there was no noise at all. it was dead and completely silent.

the girl walked out from the back and found only but unconscious and bloodied bodies on the floor. only standing in the middle of the room was the same boy that ordered the black coffee.

the boy turned around to face her, her jaw practically on the floor. his eyes widened, thinking she’d scream or yell. —

“holy shit.”

was the only thing she breathed. five hunched over, the side of his stomach stinging. she picked up her feet and quickly took the first aid from the back of the kitchen. she ran over to the uniformed boy and let him lean on counter, his face painted with agony.

she panted, looking over at the bloody wound his hand held and his face. “remove your hand. i’ll — i’ll try treating it.” she opened the first aid, “agnes? agnes!” she yelled for the other waitress but did not get a response back.

“damn it, she must’ve bolted the second she heard the gunshots — why, — why, how?” she started asking questions as she treated the wound. he hissed, “i’m sorry! sorry.” she repeated, treating it a little more gently.

as she bandaged it, he sighed with relief. “who are you? did you kill these men?” (name) furrowed her brows at him. he shook his head, staring at her eyes. “i mean — yes. i did, but,” he let out a heavy sigh.

she bit her lip, how would she get him to talk?

“i’m (name) (last name). i’m a daughter, i’m only fourteen. but, i wanna know your story.” he continued to drown himself in her eyes. “five hargreeves. i’m thirteen but my consciousness is really older than it looks.” he clicked his tongue.

they continued to sit in silence, (name) leaned her back on the counter beside him. “you mean, the hargreeves family? the superhero family?” then her eyes widened. “you’re the boy. the one who went missing years ago.” five scrunched his face.

“how’d you know that?” he asked. “people talk.” she winked. he rubbed the bandaged side of his stomach. “i have five days to get rid of an apocalypse. in. this. body.” he emphasized with another heavy sigh. she wanted to ask more questions, but she let him unload before asking anything else.

“and my family’s are filled with crack-headed assholes, and the handler’s up my ass.” he scratched the back of his neck. she smiled a little at the sight and thought of a little boy cursing as such. “and the thing is,” he sighed again as he sat up.

“i wanted to go here to unwind and remember the only times me and my siblings ever got along.” he played with his fingers. (name) watched him talk. “but now, they’re just.. a bunch of dipshits.” he tossed one of the dead guy’s arms away.

“what about you? i’ve been stuck in an apocalypse to experience high school, how is it?” he finally asked her.

“like i’m stuck in an apocalypse.” she retorted back with a smile in attempts to lighten the mood. he snickered lightly, “always thought it would seem so. thank you, (name).” he finally returned the smile.

she smiled wider, “hey, you intrigued me. can’t help it.”

[abiiors]

marigold's - ross x reader 🍂˚ ༘ ೀ🎃｡˚☕️

a/n: quite literally giggled and kicked my feet the entire time writing this fic!! also BAKER ROSS!!!! cw: nothing much really, just food and food related activities/conversations wc: 4.4k

it’s a crisp autumn morning when their eyes meet across the street. her heartbeat quickens, palms starting to sweat just a little. in the opposite window, ross stands still for a moment. her eyes narrow in his direction. recognition flares in them and then... hatred.

that pumpkin stealing bitch!

“you…” she seethes through her nostrils like a furious dragon. obviously, ross can’t hear her from across the street, but oh, he knows what he did. and she is sure that her face does in fact, betray all her emotions right now; anger, hatred and more anger.

ross gives her a sickly sweet smile in response and waves a cheery goodbye. then he turns around and walks away from the window, a pep in his step. it makes her brain go into emergency mode, funnily enough—anger eating away at the sane parts of it, no doubt!

the greater marigold’s is in a bit of an uproar today. suspiciously enough, everything seems to be going on normally across the street at (the inferior) marigold's. she immediately runs for her binoculars. 

a collective sigh runs through the other baristas at the sight of it, but she does not have time for these trifles. she has to get to the bottom of something. 

and there they all are, just as she suspected. big, ripe, orange, and double in quantity. the pumpkins that marigold's stole from the greater marigold's. or rather, the pumpkins that ross stole from her. 

she’s sure of it. 

she shifts her gaze to the window of the bakery. might as well get some additional spying done. and she sees him—already there—matching binoculars in hand. it’s like they are mirrors of each other. they might as well be.

for the better part of a year, she and ross have both been working hard towards being the head baker of their respective bakeries. no one has come out and said the words, but they both know it’s a race to the finish line. just like everything else. 

that’s when she realises, this is her chance to step up and take charge of the situation. she can survive another day without murdering ross, but the bakery can’t survive without pumpkins. not on a beautiful autumn day like this. 

her eyes narrow as she furiously begins to type, her coffee getting colder by the second in its cosy little mug. it can wait. this, however, cannot.

from: admin@greatermarigolds.com  to: admin@marigolds.com subject: thief! stop stealing our fucking pumpkins, you… you ghoul!!

there. that should fucking show him. with much satisfaction coursing through her veins, she reaches for her coffee, breathing in the rich aroma, dreaming of the first delicious sip when the laptop pings. 

an email pops up. 

from: admin@marigolds.com to: admin@greatermarigolds.com subject: re: thief! ghoul? cute. stop stealing our recipes then and come up with your own :) 

the coffee cup stills abruptly on its way to her lips, drink sloshing precariously while she gapes at the first email of the day. the one she’s just had the misfortune of reading—first the fucking pumpkins and now this. all before a single sip of coffee. the sheer audacity!

there’s the familiar urge to glare across the street, at the all too familiar glass windows, all the way to the man inside; the familiar urge to turn him into a toad with her withering glare alone. still, she resists, takes a dainty little sip of the coffee. it tastes like shit—likely the doing of the stupid email and the stupid man. 

she huffs, fingers running angrily across the keyboard. 

from: admin@greatermarigolds.com  to: admin@marigolds.com subject: re: thief! seems like you’re projecting? the recipe has been in our family for decades :)) return our pumpkins.  

there. that seems sufficiently saccharine and sarcastic. and sent. 

the next sip of the coffee she takes tastes better than the last, sweeter even, until there’s another ping on the computer. another email popping up. all the warmth in her belly turns to hot, burning irritation. 

from: admin@marigolds.com to: admin@greatermarigolds.com subject: re: thief! marco’s older. the recipe is his. :)))  how are they your pumpkins? we paid for them

little shit! the smiley face in the email grates on her nerves. how dare he try to turn this on her?! he’s the thief, she mutters to herself, stomping her feet to the coffee machine and prepping for the day.

it’s bound to be a long one. shitty too judging by the lack of the pumpkins.

marigold's isn’t just a bakery, it’s an institution. and its head baker-to-be does not fuck around. 

ross glances at the surplus of pumpkins in the kitchen. sure, they might not have needed that many, and sure they would have to give some away at the end of the day, but he knows the other bakery does not have any for the day. 

maybe he’ll just work on a few more autumn recipes with them. he has no doubt they’ll taste just a little sweeter now that he’s seen the pure annoyance on her face—the way her forehead scrunches up, nostrils flared and the way her eyes narrow into what she thinks is a glare. to ross it’s about as scary as a little rabbit. 

it’s adorable that she should even entertain the idea that it’s scary. 

his boss, the older (and objectively the better) of the two brothers, can be dealt with. marco loves ross, loves all his recipes and the little tricks he likes to pull on ty, the younger of the two brothers. their rivalry is an enigma to him. 

it’s not just sibling rivalry—not just healthy competition. there’s so much more to it that he’d never been told. all he knows about it is that there was a big fight, marigold's split up because of it, and now the world has the "other one".

but ross has decided, a long time ago, that he won’t be caught in the cross-fire of it. not when he can be put to much better use as marco’s right hand man. 

he can’t resist sneaking a look at the modern, sleek bakery in front of theirs. everything about it is off to him—the slightly different font spelling out “the greater marigold's” in neat, cursive letters. they’re freshly painted too. not the chipped and slightly worn but comforting look he associates with marigold's. 

she’s leaving the bakery in a hurry, ross sees. her face is arranged in a careful, determined look. he looks at the clock and smirks. nowhere on a monday morning would have enough fresh pumpkins to sustain a bakery for the day. 

there’s a pumpkin spice haze in the air, ross thinks. marco even gives him a pat on the back when he sees ty throwing a hissy fit in his office through his binoculars. 

ross thinks back to just a few months ago, during the summer—how he’d managed to sneak in to the greater marigold's when she was on her break, and purchased one of the last remaining lemon-caramel muffins that had been selling like hotcakes for the last two weeks. 

lemon and caramel, he’d scoffed before biting into the giant thing, what a stupid combination. 

and now he remembers the way his eyes had rolled in the back of his head, the involuntary moan he’d let out on the sidewalk. they were the best fucking thing he’d had all summer. 

caramel, yes. 

he’d make something with caramel. 

had she been there in the kitchen at marigold's that day, she would have described it as heaven—the smell of fresh pastry, the blend of pumpkin and caramel. there’s a hint of cloves and cinnamon in there too, she would have thought. 

mostly, though, she would have looked at the baker—at his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tattoos peeking. at the way he kneads the dough until it’s soft and fluffy. the painstaking concentration he displays while making the pumpkin and caramel filling, his dimples on full display when he tastes his creation and finds it has exceeded expectation. 

she would have looked at him to study his technique, of course. 

alas, that’s not how it goes. 

by the time she gets back to the greater marigold's, sad little pumpkin in hand, ty is waiting for her. 

“you’re my star!” he says, gesticulating wildly, shaking his head in disappointment. “how could you let that happen? no pumpkin desserts in autumn, it’s a shame.”

and it is a shame, she thinks. there were recipes she’d thought to try. something new and exciting just like her lemon caramel muffins from summer—something that would have made ty promote her to head baker on spot!

“our suppliers deliver to marigold's first,” she mumbles, but ty is too busy cursing at marco, muttering his name under his breath. she supposes her excuses and explanations don’t matter. 

the problem isn’t the lack of pumpkins, the problem is that marco (ross) won.

“i’ll make sure it won’t happen again,” she promises. 

ty takes one long hard look at her, then looks back at marigold's. she thinks something almost nostalgic flickers on his face then, but that’s a stupid thought, right? the brothers hate each other just like she and ross hate each other. 

some gaps can never be bridged. 

a second passes and ty rubs the bridge of his nose. “no,” he says, “it won’t.”

she looks down at the ground like a little kid that just got told off. ross… is going to pay for this. oh how she wishes one of those pumpkins would blow up in his annoyingly handsome face…

the rest of the day, it seems, is well on track to going downhill. she feels herself dying a little on the inside every time she has to tell a customer that they indeed do not have pumpkin spice lattes today. 

yes, it’s not even noon yet. 

no, they haven’t ran out. 

we are so sorry ma’am. 

something went wrong with the pumpkin shipment. 

she should take that small sad pumpkin she managed to get and throw it through marigold's window, ugh! 

in an hour their new trainee gets tired of dealing with people’s questions. “you can try marigold's for pumpkin spice latte, we are currently out,” he says. 

almost in unison, a gasp runs through the other baristas. head after head turns to look at her as if she’s a volcano about to erupt. and maybe she is… the boy cowers, realising he probably said the worst thing he could have. she simply smiles at him—lips stretched over her teeth, canines visible—and turns to the customer. 

“we are sorry about the lattes, ma’am,” deep breath in. deep breath out. you need to sound human, not like a growling animal, “something went wrong with the pumpkin shipment today.”

“they ran out of PSLs! PSLs!” the customer’s voice rises an octave higher, and ross smiles from behind the divider.

he’s busy making sure the big batch of caramel doesn’t burn, and eavesdropping of course… subconsciously, his gaze flicks towards the other bakery and the girl within. he wonders if she’s so angry the tip of her nose has gone all red, he wonders if she stomped back to the oven like he’s seen her do before. 

ross stirs the caramel. it’s nice and thick now, smells delicious too, but his arms strain with the effort. there’s a thought that’s pushing around in his brain. ross wishes she could try some of the doughnuts he’s going to make. he wishes for a brief five minutes they can set the rivalry aside and he could spoon some of the filling into her mouth—watch her as she savours it, letting the sweetness linger on her tongue. 

he wonders if she’d sigh and moan like he had after that muffin. 

then he wonders if he’s lost his mind because this is a truly ridiculous line of thought. 

he curses under his breath, stirring a little more aggressively than needed. why does she have to be so... infuriating?

it’s another hour before he has to let go of the doughnut recipe he’s been working on all afternoon. all of it needs to chill in the fridge for a few hours, he can’t hurry it in his excitement. the doughnuts need to be perfect. not because of her, of course—he isn’t making them for her—but because marco expects nothing less. 

besides, the satisfaction of one-upping the greater marigold’s, of seeing that familiar look of frustration on her face when she realises her defeat, would simply be a sweet little byproduct. 

there’s a quiet little ping the moment he closes the fridge behind him.

from: admin@greatermarigolds.com  to: admin@marigolds.com subject: re: thief! 1) we were going to pay for them before you hoarded them with your grubby little fingers.  2) marco can keep his stuffy old recipe, ty’s is better anyway :))))  3) you suck. 

ross blinks. then looks across the street and blinks some more. try as he might, he can’t seem to fight the smile that worms its way onto his face. try as he might he can’t stop his brain from conjuring up images—of her sitting in front of the computer, nose scrunched, fingers typing furiously. 

from: admin@marigolds.com to: admin@greatermarigolds.com subject: re: thief! think about my fingers a lot do you? at least try my recipe before bashing it.

her cheeks are about as red as the apples in the kitchen, she’s sure of it. 

think about my fingers a lot do you?

no she fucking doesn’t! she never has and never will! what’s it to her if he uses his big hands with the slender fingers to knead the dough until it’s soft and fluffy? what’s it to her if he uses his toned arms to lift up heavy bags of flour and sugar and cocoa? what’s it to her if he does anything inside that stupid bakery of his?!

she huffs, ready to fire off a reply of her own, when the second line of the email finally registers in her brain. 

at least try my recipe before bashing it. 

why should she? it’s going to be rancid and possibly full of rat poison or laxatives or something. she’s sure of it. she turns her nose up at the email, primly clicking out of the tab. 

she won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it affected her even a little. she won’t give him any satisfaction at all. 

it works for a bit—working in the kitchen and taking up more jobs than necessary—it distracts her for a good few hours. the sun makes its slow descent west, dousing the bakery with warm golden light. 

this is one of her favourite things about the greater marigold’s—how everything turns golden at a certain time of the evening when the waning light of the sun touches it. she even likes to sit by the window for a small break then, sipping on whatever drink she fancies, munching on a small croissant maybe. 

that is until she sighs into her mug of hot chocolate, and opens her eyes to ross grinning at her from across the street. she narrows her eyes at him, his smile turns brighter, almost a laugh now. 

he has dimples, she realises for the millionth time. and just like every other time, her lungs stop working for just a second. 

ross lifts up a finger to his mouth and taps above his lip. she frowns, and then mirrors his action, mortified when the finger comes back soaked in chocolate and cream. 

shit. he saw her with a chocolate moustache like a fucking toddler!

her face flushes. ross laughs, and laughs harder when she sticks his tongue out at him. she does something wholly unfamiliar then, something that goes so much against her instincts that it feels alien for a moment; but she studies him, studies his face and the tray in his hands filled with delicious doughnuts that aren’t even baked yet and still they look so mouth-watering. 

at least try my recipe before bashing it.

should she take him up on his offer?

ross quirks an eyebrow when he catches her looking, equally as interested in her as she is in him at the moment. then his eyes slide to the door to marigold’s and back to hers. a silent invitation. he means it then—his offer is genuine. 

and try as she might, she can’t get herself to ignore the doughnuts and their maker.

from: admin@greatermarigolds.com  to: admin@marigolds.com subject: poison how do i know they’re not poisoned? 

ross laughs—no, he actually guffaws when the email comes through. two email chains in one day… anyone else might have thought there was something there. not him though. he can’t be thinking things like these…

from: admin@marigolds.com to: admin@greatermarigolds.com subject: re: poison if they were, would i tell you?

he looks across the street at the other bakery even though he can’t see her. the sun’s properly gone down now, the twilight giving way to the night. there are more people milling about the street—going home from work or out on an evening stroll. ross looks at the window and smiles fondly. 

the image is burned in his head now—her sitting by the window, upper lip coated in chocolate and head thrown back mid sigh. fuck, he had no business staring at her the way he had. no business teasing her about the moustache or inviting her to marigold’s again! 

and even now, ross can’t help but imagine the expression on her face—the suspicious squinting of her otherwise huge eyes, the subtle jutting-out of her bottom lip. 

from: admin@greatermarigolds.com  to: admin@marigolds.com subject: re: poison at least this email thread would serve as evidence if i died

from: admin@marigolds.com to: admin@greatermarigolds.com subject: re: poison so you’re taking me up on my offer then

ross holds his breath as the email whooshes out of his inbox and into hers. who knows how long it will stay there? what if she just decides not to respond and leaves him hanging?! but his heart lurches in his chest when the inbox refreshes, one unread email at the top. 

from: admin@greatermarigolds.com  to: admin@marigolds.com subject: re: poison my shift ends in 15

he fidgets for fourteen minutes and fifty-seven seconds of it, only getting himself together when the bells chime and he sees her looking around, a little lost. her hair is no longer in a bun, instead it hangs down her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. ross clears his throat and instantly gets her attention. 

he leans against the counter, arms crossed. the stance is meant to be casual, cool and aloof, and yet he doesn’t miss the way her eyes quickly graze over his biceps, over his forearms. how interesting…

“you came,” ross says, his voice laced with more surprise than he intended.

she hums, and there’s no judgement behind it—just a hint of that exasperation that may or may not be the teasing kind. “had to check out the competition, didn’t i,” she says coolly, walking toward the tray that still sits on the counter.

ross watches her as she takes marigold’s in. has she never been in here before? granted he’s only been to the greater marigold’s only once—to sneakily eat her muffins. shit, he’d have to erase the cctv before marco realises and goes ballistic.

he watches her with baited breath, waiting for her to finish her inspection. 

“your bakery’s empty,” she notes, and ross looks around as if realising that for the first time. 

he shrugs. “we close an hour before you do.”

she nods, then gestures towards the tray on the counter. he can practically see the gears turning in her head, sense more of the questions that he’s about to be asked. 

“what’s in it?”

“caramel,” he answers without missing a beat.

“and?”

a shit-eating grin. “pumpkins…”

she falters a little, fighting the tiny smile on her face. 

“and…?”

“usual doughnut things?”

she levels her stare at ross again. it’s a bit of a shock then—of course it is. he’s never been in such close proximity to her. the closest they’ve come before this when the brothers got into a heated argument in the middle of the street and their respective staff had to drag marco and ty back to their offices. he remembers how she’d scoffed at him then, sticking her tongue out as if that were the epitome of a good burn. 

it’s also a bit of a shock to him because in the warm, golden lighting of marigold’s, ross can see the precise colour of her eyes (so much different than he’d thought), the exact shape of them and their intensity. 

he looks at her and, perhaps for the first time, realises just how much he enjoys looking at her. 

“don’t be smart with me,” she holds up a finger, threatening.

then the finger pokes him in the chest. “laxatives?” she asks. 

ross frowns. “no—”

“ooh, i get it. salt instead of sugar.”

“uh—”

“too much cinnamon? wait, wait, cayenne pepper instead of cinnamon!”

ross watches her, amused, as her brain spits out idea after idea—all outlandish, all highly improbable. she’s halfway through guessing uranium (???) when he lightly grabs her by her elbow, halting her mid-sentence, and stuffs the doughnut in her open mouth. 

his finger touches something incredibly soft then—her lip, he realises with a mix of every emotion he’s ever felt. and thrill. so much thrill. his thumb is touching her bottom lip, lingering there, even though he should have pulled his hand back moments ago. 

she’s probably thinking along the same lines because her gaze dips down—first to the doughnut, half in her mouth and half out, and then to his hand, still by her lips. and then she bites down. 

ross waits. one beat, then another, then another. 

time slows as she chews, swallows and then, just as he’s about to be impatient and demand she tell him how they are, she licks her lips. right over the spot his fingers so briefly touched. 

involuntarily, ross shivers, gripping the countertop just a little.

“so?” he asks, his voice just a little hoarser than before. “are they poisoned?”

she doesn’t answer immediately, letting the silence hang thick between them. she just takes another bite, this time on her own accord, and closes her eyes as she chews, making a show of it. ross doesn’t realise he’s practically gawking until her eyes snap open, and she finally speaks.

“no,” she says slowly, dragging the word out, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “but they’re dangerous.”

he blinks. “dangerous?”

she swallows another bite and nods, stepping just a little closer, closing the distance between them. “quite addictive,” she says in a low voice, the teasing evident, as if she’s revelling in the way his face flushes ever so slightly at her proximity.

ross huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “you’re terrible.”

she doesn’t bother answering that. instead, she finishes the doughnut in two more bites and then swipes another one from the tray. he tries not to notice the warmth that blooms in his chest.

“they’re inspired by you,” he admits shyly, finally allowing himself to pick up a doughnut and taste it. and yeah it’s fucking good! it’s better than when he’d tasted just the filling earlier today. 

“me?” she points to herself, voice muffled. 

“your lemon-caramel muffins from this summer.”

she ahhs in understanding, remembering the baked delights from just a few months ago, before her eyes narrow in suspicion. “when did you try them?”

ross gives her an easy smile. “i snuck in when you were on your break.”

she gasps, ever dramatic. “so you are a thief!”

ross throws his hands up. “i paid for them!”

“if i knew you were buying i would have charged double,” she challenges, standing on her toes all the way to look down his nose at him. not that it works much—he towers over her regardless. 

ross steps even closer, bending down, his voice deep and soft like he’s confessing a secret. “i sweet-talked the barista, gave her a smile, and she gave them to me for half off.” and then he erupts into laughter as her face goes slack and then indignant and then finally pouty. 

“a thief and a flirt!” she accuses.

“only one of them,” he concedes. 

for a moment, they both just stand there, the tension between them crackling like electricity in the warm light of the bakery. he’s fully aware now—how close she is, how she smells faintly of vanilla and spice, how her eyes are much more alive than he had ever realised before. and she’s watching him too, her gaze flickering between his eyes, his lips, and back again.

it’s a moment. they’re having a moment. 

but then something happens—errant noise from the traffic, or creaks of the old building, or one of the million things that could have happened—and the moment is over. she steps back. fidgeting with her hands. 

then, as if thinking twice about it, swipes another doughnut. 

“thanks for these,” she holds it up, smiling in earnest. “i’m glad i got to taste them.”

“me too,” he nods, still just a little breathless. 

“i should go,” she mentions, lingering a little. 

“mm-hmm,” he nods. she’s right, it is getting a little late. he has no idea how far away she lives or how long it would take her to get home or if she has plans she’s getting late for. 

“right then,” she slaps a hand on the counter and then turns on her heels, brushing past him, her shoulder grazing his arm as she makes her way to the door. ross’s body tingles from the touch, and he watches her go, follows her out of the bakery just because.

she looks to the right once, then left and right again, before crossing the street. halfway through though, her steps falter. ross seizes the chance. 

“oi!” he calls out and she turns, dazzling him with a brilliant smile, warm enough to stave away the late september chill in the air. “see you around?”

she swallows hard. “yeah,” she breathes out. 

it’s a crisp autumn night when their eyes meet across the street. ross’ heartbeat quickens, and his palms start to sweat just a little.