#*says the person who wears the same jacket nearly every day*

[hoperays-song]

Random Q-Teez Headcanons

Step 1: Giving them names so here we go, everyone once again meet:

Airi Himuro: Main Movie Colour Pink

Mai Yonezu: Main Movie Colour Yellow

Rubi Utada: Main Movie Colour Red

Kanna Hamasaki: Main Movie Colour Blue

Umika Amuro: Main Movie Colour Green

Step 2: Headcanons!

They are all obviously really big fans of Ash and Ash's music influenced their groups style over time.

Airi is the leader of the group and main vocalist.

Mai is the lead vocalist and sort of a second in command.

Rubi is the sub vocalist and goes on to also be the main rapper.

Kanna is the lead dancer and a frequent face of the group.

Umika is the main dancer and is the youngest.

When we see them in the movies, they are waiting to debut, and do so right after the Majestic run starts. They come to one of the first shows to say goodbye to Ash and wish her luck performing the rest of the shows.

Airi and Mai are best friends and have been really close since they were little.

Rubi is actually named after Clay Calloway's wife as her parents were huge fans.

Kanna is actually Umika's older cousin and the two have a sister like bond.

They went to America before debuting to quickly learn English, as immersion is one of the best ways to learn languages, and they all are pretty near fluent by the time of Sing 2 since they knew some basics beforehand.

In terms of group style, it's very cutesy (as we see in the movies) but also has pastel grunge aspects thrown in (again, thanks to Ash). Over time, it eventually transitions to full pastel grunge.

They do a few collabs with Ash after debuting, something that all six of them were super thrilled about.

Airi is the leader of the group but not the most parental, a title that falls onto Kanna due to her already taking care of her baby cousin. Airi does act the second most mature out of the group though.

Umika is the baby of the group and is unsurprisingly babied by the others a lot.

Rubi is the scary one of the group and is very protective of her friends, especially at shows.

Mai is often a guest on radio or news programs due to her being very bubbly and cheerful.

Ash became like a big sister or older cousin to the group after them being some of her biggest fans as she got her career of the ground and is pretty close with them (chats with them on insta after they go back to Japan).

[fadingdaggerr]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write a fluff Melissa x reader, where R is a new teacher and shes got this sick motorcycle and everybody thinks she's super cool and badass, and Mel's absolutely head over heels and gets all nervous when R is around, and when R eventually realizes it she starts doing things on purpose to get Mel all flustered.

With like A LOT of fluff.

You can maybe make it little spicy too, or not.

Idk you do whatever you prefer.

know i’m alive (18+, minors dni)

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! | 5.8k

includes: the dating but not really sort of trope, but of ooc!melissa i’m sorry, partially unedited again im sorry

warnings: sexual innuendo, alcohol consumption (brief), making out/kissing, smut (fingering, oral, mel receiving), body worship?, aftercare

note: the bike referenced is a harley-davidson 1992 daytona, one of my personal fav models. i grew up in a biker family so this was cathartic. also the temperatures referenced in fahrenheit are roughly the 10-20°c range, hope that’s helpful :)

It’s become a sort of routine: get to work, drop your things off, get coffee, make Melissa blush, teach, do prep, watch Melissa try to hide a smile, go home, repeat. You can’t help yourself, getting the woman, who will always be the toughest in any room she’s in, riled up with fluttering lashes. Shocked faces from across the room didn’t help with the ego you were steadily growing with each interaction.

The first day you were at Abbott, she pointedly ignored you, despite constantly having an eye on you. What you once thought was suspicion over a new person near the kids, though sort of true, was more of a curiosity. A new third grade teacher walked into her school, wearing an oversized denim jacket and old Chucks, how was she supposed to feel? Her harsh glares and eagle eyes softened, and you started to see a more bashful side of the woman. It was only until Ava had the balls to say that Melissa’s behavior was very not Melissa, that you noticed that only you could evoke this side of her.

Since day one, the redhead has had an interest in you, not that she would ever verbalize it. Breathlessness has become a common feeling every time you come in with the sleeves of your sweater rolled up and rings adorning your fingers, making her focus shift and half the time she doesn’t hear a word you say, just following the gold bands that catch the light as you speak animatedly. Melissa longs for the day you got close enough and she could pull you in by the necklace you wear, the same that dangles in a taunt when you lean into her space. In the brief moments you’re alone, there’s a sense of calm that comes over both of you. The need to keep up a bravado drops, and you can indulge yourself in her presence. She’s lost count of how many times you casually dropped a gorgeous or beautiful instead of using her name, and how she has to fight turning when you say either in casual conversation, not just to her. All you know is that her wide, surprised eyes are all the motivation you need to keep it up.

—☽—

It’s bitter cold as you walk into Abbott, finding yourself nearly running to the main entrance before your eyes begin to water from the nipping winds. Reprieve comes in the form of the front lobby, leaning against it to catch your breath and shrug off your jacket to let the warmer air rid you of goosebumps. With your belongings dropped off in your classroom, it’s easy to start moving towards the lounge, knowing you saw a silver car that belonged to a certain redhead.

The voice of Jim Gardener is all there is when you enter, Barbara having, no doubt, told them to shut their mouths while her ‘second favorite man’ was speaking, Gerald also ranking number one in his wife’s heart. Grabbing your personal mug from the shelf, you pour a cup of unfortunate coffee as you watch Melissa through your periphery. She used to sit in one of the chairs, no room for someone to place themselves next to her. However, once you started, you noticed she moved to the couch, where no one but you was brave enough to sit.

Walking slowly to your spot, you gently sip the coffee that threatens to spill over the sides before setting it on the table. Lowering yourself, you sit purposefully closer to Melissa than a typical coworker would. Not one shuffle away or look of discomfort comes of it, it almost makes you grin. As the weather comes on, and Jim is no longer on screen, voices start to fill the room. You throw your arm back to the back of the couch as leverage to push yourself forward, leaning into Melissa’s space as the two-week broadcast appears on screen.

Her attention on you is not missed, neither is Barbara’s, who you already know is giving Melissa a look of bewilderment. The dusty pink that paints her cheeks with every interaction between you has quickly become your favorite color. It’s a struggle and a half to keep your eyes on the screen, but the temperatures being in the fifties and sixties starting tomorrow made you so excited that it didn’t even matter. Instantly, your mind is whirling with plans for the second the final bell rings and you can run out the door.

When the news goes to commercial, you sit back, keeping your arm behind Melissa’s shoulders. The warmth radiating off of her has your mind begging for you to shift your arm just a touch closer, to wrap your arm around her, but so far playing it safe has been working in gaining her trust. She can’t help it, green eyes falling onto you as she tries to decipher your move, hoping to catch something in your eyes that tells her what this was between you. All she gets is a little smirk that is half-hidden by a sip of coffee from an orange mug.

Melissa catches on quickly to your happier mood, finding the joy you exuded, that seemingly came from nowhere, to be adorable. She can’t even believe that word dared to enter her vocabulary. Your typical flirty remarks don’t make an appearance, just a serene smile on your face and a wink to Melissa when you catch her eyes scanning over your face. 

As the last kids get into their dad’s truck, you find yourself practically skipping back to your room to quickly gather your things. With the speed in which you move and the utter state of focus you are in, you don’t notice Melissa’s little smile as she sees you move with obvious excitement as you leave the building. She decidedly ignores the little thought that you may be all giddy to see someone else, and maybe she will continue to ignore it with a glass of Merlot.

Marty at the front desk of M&J’s Storage Company gives you a tightlipped smile and a curt nod as you drive past, having gotten used to you stopping by periodically over the winter. Pulling up in front of unit seventy makes your heart race, the second most beautiful thing in the world sat behind that navy metal door. The old lock takes a few tugs to loosen its hold, finally allowing you to release the latch and lift the door.

“Well, hello again,” you mumble as you pull back the cover, eyes scanning over metal. It hadn’t been long since your last little maintenance visit, meaning all you had to do was drive home and get her shined up.

After stopping at the gas station on the way home to fill the tank, you finally park and nearly eat pavement as you jump out of the car. It takes extra effort without the help you usually get from your brother to lower the bike off the trailer, but you manage, though it leaves your arms shaking while you remove the cover again.

Polish turns the piping from grey to silver, the dust off the body goes back to its original tan, and the blue on the design is restored to its proper glory. Despite checking once a month or so, you cross your fingers as you start the engine, hoping that all your hardwork will pay off and nothing will go wrong. The engine does a chg-chg-chg before it turns over and the motorcycle comes to life.

“Yes!” you exclaim, jumping in the air slightly with sheer amount of excitement running through your veins. You let the bike run for a little bit as you take photos to send to your brothers as proof you could, in fact, get it off the trailer without them. 

All you can think about for the next couple hours before bed is the feeling of your riding jacket and the wind blowing against it.

—☽—

The sky is still dark when you open your eyes the next morning, impatience waking before you before your alarm. Once you’ve gained your bearings, you get up and are getting ready as fast as you possibly can. It’s impossible to sit still, you’re almost dancing in place as you brush your teeth and can’t stop yourself from skipping to the closet by the front door. Shoved in the back, next to your sandals, was a pair of black, leather, steel toe boots. After saving every penny your senior year of college, you bought them as a graduation gift for yourself, and you’ll wear them until you can feel the ground through the soles.

Once you had to turn around due to forgetting it from sheer enthusiasm, you borderline ran down the stairs to your garage space. With the garage door open, the warm air creeping in from the outside is invigorating, and the lack of wind for the first time in two weeks gives you hope that your face won’t freeze off on the ride to Abbott. The biggest pain is getting your backpack to sit comfortably over your slightly bulky riding jacket, covered in patches from states and towns you’d visited over the years.

The second the bike begins to move, it feels like all of your problems have disappeared behind you. The low rumbling and revving drives others crazy, but it feels like the calming presence around you. If only the cops around weren’t such sticklers, or you’d have left your helmet off for the fifteen minutes drive. The wind on your face is better than caffeine, but your eyes water so badly, you can’t have anyone thinking you were sobbing on your way to work. That’s a Monday activity, not Thursday.

From the speed in which you got ready to get on your bike, you’re the second person in, Janine always being first. You refrain from sitting by the TV once you’re in the lounge, just leaning against the counter and sipping your coffee until the object of your affection arrives. Gregory and Jacob come in together, talking about the next round of plants for the garden. When Barbara comes in, you can see that she’s holding in laughter, a fast-talking Melissa behind her.

“How are you not freaking out, Barb? That bike is beautiful, and it’s at Abbott, Abbott, of all places,” she almost yells, her hands waving around with disbelief in her friend’s relative disinterest.

“It’s a bicycle, Melissa.”

“Motorcycle, it’s a motorcycle. It doesn’t have a basket and ribbons, unlike yours,” Melissa mumbles that last part, but Barbara stills catches it and gives a gentle smack to her friend’s arm, despite laughing herself. You can’t lie, knowing that Melissa is fascinated by the bike, you want to speak up about it now, but instead, you stay quiet.

The spot next to her by the TV stays vacant, practically having an RSVP with your name on it. When you plop next to her, she peeks at you from the corner of her eye, and she does it a few times again during the commute report. You catch her the fifth time, raising your brows in question to not gain the others’ attention, but she just gives you a shake of the head. She turns back to the TV, but you’re persistent, propping your arm behind you like you’d done yesterday, and poking her shoulder.

Her head whips away from you, and seeing that it was your hand over her shoulder, she turns back to you with a playful scowl.

“What?” she asks with a softer tone than you had expected.

You lean in just a touch to keep your words between the two of you, “you were staring. Was just making sure you’re okay.”

God, you could survive solely off the way her eyes shine, how wide they open at your earnest. Neither of you realize the time between your words and the answer that has yet to come, just looking at each other as a tiny smile plays on your lips. It takes the internal will of ten thousand men to not jump at her emerald eyes dropping briefly to your lips.

“Right… Sure you’re not just flirting? Like a little kid annoying their crush?” she jokes, partially to save her from embarrassment, partially to hide the racing of her heart from your attention.

“Could be. But at least I’m not the one avoiding the question,” you joke back, and when she doesn’t answer again, you push, “nothing to say about that, beautiful?” Her eyes go to her lap as she shakes her head, another poor attempt to hide the clear effect you have on her. For now, you’ll just ignore the feeling of her leaning slightly closer to you and try to still your rapid heartbeat.

—☽—

In a desperate attempt to see who owns this magnificent bike, Melissa stays in the parking lot, loitering by fiddling with her purse to not raise suspicion. She immediately ignores Gregory and Mr. Morton, knowing they’re too stiff to ever consider getting on a motorcycle, let alone this one. As she sits there on her phone, after fifteen minutes of waiting, a familiar hum starts up and the bike is moving out of the lot.

That jacket. Patches cover nearly all visible space, even a little Eagles one next to a custom Abbott patch. Even with the helmet obscuring your face, without the jacket, she’d know you anywhere. Immediately, she starts to move, putting her car in drive as she pulls out of the lot the same way you did, conveniently the same direction she needed to go.

With a stroke of luck, she pulls into a lane next to you at a busy red light, rolling down her passenger side window, “aye! Why did you say shit about you having the bike?”

You push up your visor, yelling over the motor and traffic, “air of mystery!”

“Bullshit!”

“Guessing you want a ride, huh, gorgeous?” You can’t even contain your grin as you watch her eyes widen, flicking to the red light that has still yet to turn. Little do you know her mind is screaming and your cocky little smile isn’t helping one bit.

She swallows the lump in her throat, “follow me to my place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say as you flip your visor back down, glad to be able to cover your face as you smile so hard you narrowly avoid missing the light turning green. It doesn’t take long to fall into line behind Melissa, cutting into a tiny space that earns you a deserved honk from the old man behind you.

It’s less than twenty minutes before Melissa’s blinker directs you into her driveway. You walk it slowly next to her car, keeping the engine running as you take off your helmet. Melissa gets out of her car, abandoning her purse in the seat next to her, and stands nervously by the hood as she plays with her sleeves. Suddenly the thought of being one the motorcycle, pressed against your back, sounds so good she’s afraid she’ll ruin it somehow.

Your voice cuts off her brain’s nervous rambling, “I’ve only got the one helmet with me. So, you’ll wear that, and we’ll stick to the side streets.”

“No highway,” she grumbles as she steps closer.

Your nose scrunches as you laugh at her pout, “no highway and nothing over forty, cross my heart.” Holding out your pinky, she begrudgingly takes it while ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. “You’re gonna wanna tie your hair back, low bun, braid, something like that.”

“Ponytail?” she asks, pretending she doesn’t care that your pinkies are still wrapped around one another.

“Nope, it’ll just tangle. And we can’t have anything happening to that beautiful hair,” you subconsciously pull her hand closer and draw her in. Her finger tightens around yours in return. When her neighbor pulls into their driveway, their car door shutting loudly disrupts the quiet between you two, making you both pull away.

Instead of speaking of it, you both fiddle to get ready for a ride around the block or down to the corner store. Melissa faces away from you to tie her hair into a tight low bun, she takes deep breaths to calm herself from the sheer proximity to you. Behind her, you fiddle with the clasps of the helmet to fit her better.

When she turns to face you again, you motion for her to get closer and her eyes almost bulge out her head. Melissa slowly approaches you as her fingers tangle around themselves. You lift the helmet in silent question, and she nods. Carefully, trying to touch her as little as possible, you help get the helmet on without pulling her hair.

You open the visor before you adjust the chin strap, “feel good? Secure?”

“It’s comfier than I thought,” her voice comes out slightly muffled by the guard in front of her lips. Melissa prays you can’t hear her fast breaths, completely overwhelmed by your scent surrounding her.

“Good,” you smile, “I’ll back her up onto the street, then you can hop on.”

Once you’ve got the kickstand down so it’s as stable as possible for her to get on, you offer a hand as support. Melissa slowly places her hand in yours, the squeeze she receives tells her trust me, I won’t let you get hurt. Using the footrest, she gets herself over the seat to straddle it behind you. Manicured hands flex open and close behind your back as she becomes unsure of where to put them.

“There’s handles, slightly behind you, that you can hold onto,” speaking loudly over the motor. You turn over your shoulder to meet your eyes with hers, “or, if you wanna, you can hold onto me. Whatever’s your preference.”

To save face, she rolls her eyes, “just want my hands on you, don’t you now?”

“Can’t call you a liar for that one,” you say with a smug grin, turning back to lean the bike upright and put up the kickstand. The second you start to move, Melissa’s arms go tightly around your waist, white knuckling your jacket.

Feeling her holding you was only so pleasant until you realized it was mostly from fear. Before taking off slowly, you pat her hand where it rests on your abdomen. It only grips tighter in return. Taking your foot off the ground and beginning to move, feeling more careful in every move you make as to not make Melissa more nervous than she was. It was surprising really, that Melissa Schemmenti of all people was nervous on a motorcycle.

Her grip starts to loosen after the third or fourth turn, but her arms don’t move. Melissa almost rests her head against your back, but decides against it in a sudden judgment. When the moment comes where she feels comfortable, she releases one arm from her hold on you to push the visor back up to have an unobstructed view of the Philly streets and your reflection in the mirrors.

When you finally slow down, it’s six blocks over at her favorite corner store, they’ve got the best hoagie options. She uses your shoulders and the hand you placed out for her to get down from the bike, legs numb from the vibrations of the bike and motor against her thighs. You’re quick to get off, helping her get the helmet off and fixing the little strands of hair that stick up from static. Neither of you mention Melissa’s rosy cheeks or your lingering caress along her bangs.

The small shop leaves little room to roam about, and you stay closely pressed to Melissa’s back as you maneuver to the counter to order food to bring back to her house. With the warmth radiating off of you, she now understands how you felt the whole ride. She knows how you feel about her, it’s a mirror of the ache in her chest for you, and feeling you against her has her heart pounding in time with yours.

From around her waist, comes your arm, offering the cashier a twenty dollar bill. Your other hand rests against Melissa’s hip, holding your wallet open for the change. This has to be some sort of revenge for holding you, she thinks to herself.

As you slowly pull into her driveway, there’s an air of unsureness around the two of you. Stepping off the bike again, you fiddle with your fingers, not wanting to invite yourself into her home. Melissa tugs at the ends of her sleeves as she plans her next words.

“Do you wanna come in, have a beer with those hoagies?” Melissa offers with a hopeful tone.

You smile as you grab the helmet from you, clipping over the little strap on the seat. She takes the hint and walks towards the door with you closely behind her. Inside, without the jacket and boots on, Melissa thinks you look soft. Everything about you is so careful with her, even when you wear worn leather with chains, this dressed down version matches the treatment she always receives.

Sitting across from her at the island, you answer all her questions about how you got the bike, how you maintain it, how you learned all the tricks to keep it running.

“Seriously, that thing’s how old and still going that strong?” she asks through a mouthful of capicola.

“It’s thirty now, it’s a 1992. Harleys are just built to last longer than the actual biker at this point, especially the older models,” you take a swig of beer, “the Daytona was too good to pass up. I got it so cheap and the guy barely had miles on it.”

Melissa perks up, “how much?”

“Thirty-five hundred. Stupid cheap, he could’ve easily gotten ten.”

She smirks, “and you just let him trick himself out of the money?”

“Duh,” you say. There’s a beat of silence before you both start to laugh, leaning into one another over the table.

—☽—

The sun set some time between finishing the hoagies and the third episode of The Real Housewives she roped you into watching. She claimed it was only fair considering she willingly got on the motorcycle. What had started with you two on different cushions quickly became you being pressed against each other, your arm taking residence behind her, but never touching her as you always kept it.

In a strange moment of bravado, Melissa leans against the back cushion and your arm dips into the slope, falling gently around your shoulders. You purse your lips in an attempt to keep a straight face, adjusting your arm to have your hand rest on her shoulder. It doesn’t take long before your fingers begin to draw nonsensical patterns over her shirt. Time passes, episodes go on, and Melissa’s weight starts to fall more into you. Every passing second you become more aware that you don’t want to leave this position as long as you live.

The screen turns black, Are you still watching? appears across it, behind the words, a reflection of the two of you. Your gaze dips down, immediately meeting Melissa’s looking up at you. Green eyes flick to your lips, and for the first time, you know for a fact that you are not imagining it. Her tongue pokes out to wet her lips, capturing your attention. Eyes meet and it’s so quick, neither of you can tell who starts it.

Melissa’s lips taste like light beer and strawberry chapstick, and her tongue is dominating and soft. Her hands grip tightly at the base of your neck, keeping you close to her like you would disappear if your lips left hers. Your hands take residence on her waist, like they had hours ago, and the warmth of her skin under her shirt is screaming your name, begging to be touched.

Tongues clash against one another, sticky lips clumsy as air becomes a necessity. Barely taking your lips off her skin, you trail downwards to her jaw, placing wet kisses along it. The hands on her waist push up and make their way beneath her shirt, gently squeezing her warm, supple body. The feeling of your soft hands holding her makes Melissa groan, tugging you back to her wanting lips.

All she’s wanted since the moment she met you, to hold you, kiss you, touch you, it’s all happening and she can barely find it in her to stop. She never wants it to. With your teeth tugging at her bottom lip, a borderline moan escapes her, and she feels you smile against her mouth and it’s all she can think about. Melissa is completely putty in your hands.

Without breaking the distance between you, you pull away from her lips slowly. Heaving breaths escape both of you, lips swollen and pupils dilated from lust. Melissa’s hand traces from the back of your neck to the chain of your necklace dangling in front of her, looping it around her finger to pull you in closer. Your lips graze over hers, but her words fill the space before they can touch.

“What if I asked you to take me upstairs?”

Your thumb brushes over her ribs, “then I would.”

The door handle almost puts a hole in the wall with the way Melissa shoves it open behind her as you walk her backwards towards her room. Her hands drop from your face to the hem of her shirt, beginning to pull it up before your hands take over. As you step away to throw her shirt off to the side, your eyes drop and a soft look comes over your features.

Stepping into her space again, your fingers trace over her skin, “you’re so beautiful.” It’s barely above a whisper, she barely hears it, barely even sure you’re aware you’ve said it.

Melissa’s only response is to kiss you again, pulling you towards her bed until she topples onto it, taking you with her. Your thighs straddle her as you tug off your own shirt, bending down to continue ravishing her. You kiss down from her lips, to her jaw, to the dip at the base of her neck, then trace your tongue back up. Cold hands grab yours, pulling them down to the button of her jeans.

“Are you sure?” you ask from above her, free hand pushing baby hairs from her blushing face. She only nods, not trusting her words. You shake your head lightly, a little smile on your lips, “I’m gonna need a real answer, lovely.”

Lovely, that’s a new one. She feels her face warm under your gaze, arousal pooling. With the strength she can muster, she utters, “please.”

Without a moment to spare, your lips are on hers again, hand at her waist moving to unbutton her pants. As you help push them down, your hand passes her panties, the dark patch of wetness calling to you. It only invigorates you as you let go of her lips, kissing down to her chest. Arching forward, she makes space for your wandering hands to slip behind and unclasp her bra.

A breathless mumble of God leaves your lips, before soft kisses are pressed to her sternum, skim over to her breast. You kiss her skin with a reverence she’s never felt, teeth graze over her hardened nipple before your lips wrap around it, tongue swirling. The unattended breast begs for attention that is quickly given by your hand, rolling the bud between your fingers.

The warm hand at her waist grips down to her thigh, pushing her legs open to make space for you to lie. Your mouth and hand switch, equal, worship-like attention given to each breast. Melissa’s quiet, hidden moans become louder, hips shifting for pressure against yours. Taking the hint, your lips travel lower, licking over her abdomen and gently biting when she tugs at your hair.

One hand wraps around her thigh, the other keeps her in place as a weight against her stomach. Pressing wet kisses to her thigh, you look at her for permission to continue. The image of you between her legs, lips on her wet thighs, eyes shining with want, all she can manage is bucking her hips towards you, a whine escaping her lips.

One last kiss is placed against plush skin, Melissa’s hand tangles with yours, interlocking fingers feeling like they belong there. Your warm, wet tongue glides over her slit, up and down in slow figure-eights, her little gasps only egging you on. Flattening your tongue, you press harder against her, tasting her more fully, groaning against her in satifaction. It makes sense why Eve would so easily give everything for a mere taste of the forbidden fruit. Sweet and warm, divine heaven on your lips.

Melissa hips buck into your face, begging for more and you are more than willing to give. You lick up to her clit, the pearl demanding attention from you. Small, circular motions with your tongue make Melissa groan, slapping a hand over her mouth as she gets closer and closer to her peak.

You lift away from clit, much to her dismay, “don’t do that.” The hand on her stomach moves to pull her hand away from her mouth, “I want to hear you… please.”

Her hand drops to the sheets beside her, and your mouth is back on her. Sucking harder against her, your hand slides down her abdomen and positions in front of her blooming lips. Your middle finger presses into her slick walls, forcing a moan from both of you. With a few gentle pushes and pulls, you slowly ease in your ring finger, making her clench tightly.

Red nails dig into your hair, tugging as Melissa writhes above you. Husky moans and whines fill the room, pleas of faster and yes, yes are burned into your mind, a melody you won’t dare forget.

You pull off of her clit to take a breath and speak, “can you take more, baby?”

“Please,” she says through pants. The hand in your hair tug you up to her lips, “please.” Her desperate grasp is not willing to let you go, claw-like nails digging into your back.

Lips dancing as you shift your hand to put your thumb to her clit, lining your forefinger to her pussy. Melissa’s jaw drops as the third finger stretches her more, the moan that rips through her is felt by your lips on her neck. You keep a steady rhythm of circling her clit and pumping your fingers into her. Her moans turn to pitched whines, walls hugging your fingers, she was so close. You kiss down her neck, sucking little marks that will fade by morning, taking your time on her breasts and lower stomach. Reaching her clit again, suck it into your mouth as you speed your fingers’ pace.

Frantic hips begin to still, a whine leaving her plump lips as she cums around your fingers. Your attention leaves her clit to travel down her lips as you slowly pump your fingers, removing one by one as she comes down. Shaking thighs relax against the bed as you clean her with your tongue, nectar of the goddess being all the reward you need. She pulls lightly at your hand on her thigh, begging for your lips on hers.

Pressing a final kiss to her pearl, then thigh, you capture her lips in a slow kiss, soft and full of the love that had been hiding under every interaction since you’d first met. When you pull away, you bring your fingers to her lips to give her a proper taste of herself. Accepting the offer, her tongue swirls around the digits. You internally scold yourself for being jealous of your own hand, even the string of saliva that connects her heavenly mouth to your fingers.

You shift to cup her cheek, admiring her droopy eyes and blushing cheeks, the sheen of sweat over her forehead. Her own hand mirrors your movement, pulling you down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“You are so- too good at that,” she mumbles against your cheek, feeling the vibration of your laugh.

You press a kiss to her cheek before flopping next to her, “you, you taste too good.”

Her hand comes to cover her face, but you’re quick to catch it, bringing it closer to kiss the back. Melissa chuckles as you nibble on the knuckle of her pinkie, but she frowns as you roll off the bed. Emerald eyes follow you to the ensuite bathroom, and back as you go back between her legs with a warm washcloth. The featherlike touch and soft kisses to her skin only further the blush on her cheeks.

After discarding the rag and tugging off your jeans, you lay down next to her on your side, eyes scanning over her face. Her head turns to you, enjoying the quiet between you, even more so when your pointer finger traces her features and takes special attention to her lips. Lipstick smudged around her chin, surely on your face as well, and messy eyeliner, she’s never been quite so beautiful.

The gentle ministrations and loving attention make Melissa’s eyes grow heavy, sleep grasping at her despite the fight to stay in your presence. Feeling her relaxing into you, you shift to lay on your back, arm out inviting her into your embrace. Lazily rolling into you, her face tucks into your neck, hand searching for yours.

You tangle your fingers together and whisper into the air, “I think it goes without saying, but I’m stupid in love with you. Everything about you. Just thought you should know.”

“Good thing,” she says through a yawn as she shifts more into you, “because I’m stupid in love with you, too.” 

You press a kiss into her hair, “go to sleep, pretty girl. I’ll be here in the morning, if you want.”

“Of course I want,” it’s barely audible, but you can tell she means it.

The scent of sex, sweat, and eucalyptus body wash radiates from her, underneath it all is a smell that’s so uniquely Melissa that you can feel yourself sinking into the mattress. It feels easy, being with her, it makes sense. You find yourself staring at the ceiling, you recount every time you should have spoken up about your feelings. Surely there could have been a time, but none seem to come to mind. It only makes sense that this is how it was supposed to happen. In her bed, on this day, with the taste of lager on her tongue, you were meant to find your way together.

title from beauty school by deftones

one day i’ll write a shorter fic like i planned in my head

feedback appreciated as always <3

[sixosix]

a/n both my latest fics r about cold can u tell that i’m trying to manifest it

warnings none! fluff, highschool au, ooc reo i think, wc 500

it is unfortunate that you are seated directly under the ceiling cassette aircon on the same day—the one day—you decided that bringing a jacket would be unnecessary. with the way you are trembling and feeling as though all your limbs have turned into ice speaks volumes of your deep regret.

you envy your classmates already borrowing hoodies from each other, eyeing them as they snuggle into their seats. specifically, your seatmate, who is making a clear point in sighing contentedly every time you glance at her sweater-clad way.

the squeak of nearly-dry markers scrawling on the whiteboard only serves to irritate your already sour mood—here you are, cold, pissed off, and dying.

“does anyone know the answer?” your teacher asks, and the hands raised give you a chance to peek at your phone and notice someone has messaged you.

reo come out rq

reo hi just peek outside please

it was sent ten minutes ago. you suddenly feel an impending sense of doom.

“that’s correct. can someone explain why we should not consider the claim— who is knocking?”

mikage reo’s head pops out from the door, a feigned sheepish smile on his face. “sorry to disturb you, ma’am, i just want to give this to y/n,” he says, showing off the thick jacket in his hand, and without even scanning the entire room, his eyes zero in on you immediately.

mortification settles in on you when everyone’s wide-eyed gazes shift over to your trembling figure.

standing up and feeling like you’re dying a little inside, you head over to the door, glaring at reo while your back is turned in on the baffled audience. with a swift turn, you pull reo by the sleeve and drag him outside of the classroom. the door slams shut.

“thank you, reo,” you dryly laugh, taking the jacket. then added in a frantic whisper, “in the middle of math class? really?”

reo smiles, all teeth and adorable sappiness. “in the middle of math class. really,” he affirms. “passed by your class and saw you shivering. and you weren’t replying, so me, wonderful as i am, did what i had to do.”

you’re not wearing it on your person yet, but with the way reo’s leaning closer, arms snaking around your waist, you feel the heat seep into your body like flames licking up your skin. it burns the most on your cheeks, and reo’s eyes hone in on it like a man on a mission.

belatedly, you realize the position you’re in—reo all but pinning you to the wall, arms on your waist, your back pressed up against the surface—and how this must look to bypassers. “don’t do this here! we’re literally in a hallway.”

“it’s fine,” reo grins sharply,  “everyone’s in class.”

“yeah, so why are you here?”

he huffs, nuzzling his face into your neck, his breath on your skin. you shiver, and you feel his smile. “you won’t like it when i say i missed you even though it’s the truth.”

“i’m glad you know me so well.”

and you know, that even when you go back inside the room without wearing his stupid little jacket, you’d still feel all warm inside, the ghost of his kiss burning deep.

[wherethefireliliesgrow]

Feelings

Shin Ryujin x F reader

GENRE: fluff

TAGS: college love, friends to lovers

TYPE: One Shot

Inspired by: Feelings - Lauv

Ryujin was on a mission. She had grown tired of waiting for you to realize on your own that she was the one meant for you. After patiently biding her time for two years, hoping you would end things with the boyfriend who seemed to never make time for you, Ryujin finally saw her chance. However, it seemed that the universe was determined to see her fail. She had attempted to confess her feelings to you three times before, each time ending in failure. But they say the fourth time's the charm.

As cliché as it may sound, it was love at first sight for her.

During her first year in college, on one of her drunken escapades, she stumbled into a small coffee shop near her university. And there you were, greeting her with a warm smile despite the early hour and her embarrassing entrance of nearly breaking the glass doors with her head. You made her the most delicious cinnamon latte she had ever tasted. She joked that it was the sole reason she kept returning, but deep down, she knew she couldn't bear a day without seeing your beautiful face.

To her delight, she discovered that you were a fellow student at the same university and of the same age as her. She was desperate to get your phone number, even willing to give up her reckless drinking habits in favor of coffee, especially the coffee you made. It took her 17 visits to the coffee shop before she finally mustered the courage to ask for your number, although it didn't come from her own lips. Every time she tried to speak, the words would get stuck in her throat, leaving her gaping at you like a fish. It was her best friend and roommate, Yeji, who managed to obtain your number.

Yeji, with her eyes sharp like a cat, noticed the sudden change in Ryujin's behavior early on. Instead of dealing with broken-hearted girls leaving their shared room after one-night stands, she now witnessed a giggly and infatuated Ryujin. Yeji suspected that someone special had captured Ryujin's heart, and to her surprise, it was you, one of her group members in the economics class. On the 17th visit, Yeji dragged Ryujin to the coffee shop counter and boldly asked for your number.

You agreed, thinking it wouldn't hurt to make a new friend. After all, you were quite lonely, spending your days working at the shop and struggling through your studies. Little did you know that this was the beginning of two long years of Ryujin secretly pining over you.

Ryujin adored everything about you. She loved your gentle nature, your patience, and even your dad jokes. She even grew to love your pet guinea pig, Cough Drops, despite its weird name and tendency to pee on her hand. The only thing she couldn't stand was your toxic on-and-off relationship with your jerk of a boyfriend. For the past two years, whenever you broke up with him, she would try her best to sweep you off your feet. However, her efforts often went unnoticed as you mistook her genuine kindness for her naturally flirtatious personality, considering her just a close friend.

But that didn't mean you didn't feel the butterflies whenever she appeared at your apartment door, her hair tousled from riding her motorcycle, dressed in a leather jacket, and wearing a charming smile. There was definitely something more between you two when she kissed the top of your head before bidding farewell. Still, you always dismissed those feelings, attributing them to her reputation as a player. Ryujin had dated many girls and was known as the biggest flirt on campus, a fact you were well aware of.

Time and again, Ryujin patiently waited for you to end things with your boyfriend, hoping that you would finally grasp her true intentions. The first two times she mustered the courage to ask you out, you brushed it off as a joke, hiding your own flustered state. Deep down, you feared that she had noticed the way you looked at her with longing, just like your friends always teased you about.

"Love knows only broken ends," you told her, trying to convince yourself as much as her. "We're the best versions of ourselves as friends."

And so, you returned to your boyfriend, unknowingly shattering Ryujin's delicate heart even further. She was never one to give up so easily, and she knew that the best version of her was when she was with you. 

On that fateful third attempt, Ryujin had everything planned out to finally express her feelings to you. With a bottle of champagne in hand, she intended to celebrate the last day of class before winter break and confess her love to you sincerely and without hesitation. She even bought a bouquet of sunflowers, knowing they held a special place in your heart. However, when you opened the door, she was taken aback as you pulled her into a tight embrace, your tears soaking into the fabric of her shirt.

“Cough Drops died.” You had managed to muster out between sobs. 

Ryujin had closed her eyes and cursed at the Fates from above, they really didn’t want her to find happiness. Even though she had dreamt of being with you for years, she still prioritized your feelings over anything. The timing wasn’t right, and that was okay. She could wait for you forever. 

Ryujin, determined to give Cough Drops a proper farewell, embarked on the task of arranging a small funeral for your guinea pig. Finding a suitable burial place proved challenging, but eventually, she settled on utilizing one of Yeji's large potted plants. Fortunately, Yeji had already returned to her hometown for Christmas, sparing her from witnessing Ryujin's unconventional handling of her precious plant babies (she had received a huge scolding telling Yeji after, and had to clean the dorm for two months straight). She held you close as you sniffled and cried, laying the sunflowers she had bought for you on top of Cough Drops before covering them with dirt. She even sang to the guinea pig, per your request.

Oh, the things she would do for love.

Which brings us to the final and fourth attempt. Ryujin was beyond nervous, meticulously arranging a romantic picnic at the park and even persuading Yeji to make her special spaghetti, knowing it was your favorite. She had made up a sorry excuse of wanting to take a walk after class, and you gladly accompanied her without any hesitation. 

"Something on your mind?" you asked, gently tapping her arm with your fingers.

Ryujin shook her head, offering you an unconvincing smile. "Nothing. I'm just glad you're here."

You leaned against her shoulder, interlocking your hands with her clammy ones. "I'm glad you're here too, Ryujinnie. I'm lucky to have you as my best friend."

The word "friend" made Ryujin flinch, but she held onto hope that she could change that today. However, before she could take you to the location she had everything set up, a downpour along with thunder ruined her plans. 

Drenched and frustrated, she walked you back to the door of your room, feeling defeated. 

"It's okay, Ryujinnie. I still had fun," you tried to cheer her up. "It's always fun when I'm with you."

She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and sighed in defeat. 

"Do you want to dry off in my room and watch a movie?"

Ryujin shook her head, running her hands through her dripping hair. "I've ruined my chance."

"What chance?" Confusion filled your voice. When she brought you to the park, you thought she simply wanted to change your usual Friday movie nights for something different.

Ryujin took a deep breath, looking into your eyes. It was now or never. "I have feelings for you," she blurted out. "I always have."

"Ryujin..." You were taken aback. You too had feelings for her, but the fear of losing her if things didn't work out had held you back.

"We're better off as friends."

Ryujin stepped closer, grasping your warm hands in hers. "Why?"

"Because love only knows broken ends."

"You don't know that." Ryujin pulled you closer, their breath brushing against your face. She was warm, so close. All it took was leaning forward a few centimeters, and your relationship would be forever changed. 

“Tell me, do you feel anything for me too?”

“I-” You looked everywhere but at her. “I don’t.”

“Are you sure?” Her lips softly caressed  your cheeks, making your heart go in a frenzy.

You gulped, struggling to maintain self-control. "Yes."

"If you're sure, I can leave," she murmured, her breath mingling with your hair, a slight smile forming on her lips. She could feel your defenses breaking down.

"Don't go." Your hand tightened around her jacket.

"Then give me a chance." Ryujin gave you that smile capable of winning countless hearts, the smile she reserved only for you. "Let me change your mind."

"Okay." Unable to resist any longer, overwhelmed by her scent and proximity, you pulled on the collar of her jacket and brought her lips to yours.

She smiled, finally having you like this in her arms and getting the chance to kiss you after years of waiting. The kiss started off slow but quickly became passionate. Both of you had too many unspoken feelings hidden beneath the facade of friendship, and now they rushed to the surface. It was a kiss unlike any you had experienced before, making your head spin. You yearned to explore more of Ryujin, wanting to mold yourself into her and be enveloped by her warmth every second of the day.

As your tongue traced the outline of her lips, she pulled back, panting and blushing. Her heart raced, and the sight of you—lips swollen, hair disheveled, and dazed—made her feel even more.

Ryujin laughed contentedly, knowing that all the waiting had finally paid off. 

"I'll change your mind," she whispered in your ear before gently pushing you into your room for another long-awaited makeout session.

And she did.

[jingooism]

nights

han joowon never loses the need to serve his penance. he'll let people abuse his time and work him to the bone before he refuses to help. joowon was always a good officer, but now? now, it was his lifeline, the way he felt like he was helping in his own small way. dongsik would never blame him for it, but recently there's been more nights than not where he's alone on the couch before joowon stumbles in, dead on his feet. tonight is one of those nights.

the boiler had gotten fixed ages ago, the house warm and inviting instead of the old cold and drafty. all the newspapers had been taken off the wall, pictures set in new frames, and plants dotted over every surface. dongsik had found something calming about raising plants, it kept his mind occupied on its worst days. the house was finally a home again, and there was no hesitation from dongsik when he asked joowon to move in. it happened over dinner one night, joowon was cooking, as he usually did, and they were just sitting down when dongsik brought it up.

"you know, you're here all the time," he starts, setting their chopsticks on their placemats. "you've become a manyang boy."

joowon looks up at him, and dongsik has to quell the squeal in his chest, he was still wearing his apron and everything looked so achingly domestic.

"is that a bad thing?" joowon asks, head down, pretending to readjust their bowls on the table. he's still always unsure of his place, unsure where he really belongs. this is when dongsik knows he needs to work harder to make sure joowon understands.

"i didn't say that," dongsik reassures, grabbing joowon's hands to still them from their idle tasks. the action causes joowon to finally meet his gaze. "isn't it tiring? going from gangwon to seoul to here? you look like you haven't gotten a good eight hours in forever," he gently runs his thumbs over joowon's dark circles.

joowon sighs, leaning in to the touch, "it's just what i have to do, dongsik. you know that."

"i do, i understand," dongsik nods. "i don't agree, but i understand."

silence stretches between them as they sit down and start their dinner. he can't think of a better time to ask the question so he just does, too in love with the idea of seeing joowon in his space more.

"what if you moved? here, i mean," dongsik starts. "you did say you wanted to live on the same street as me."

joowon doesn't respond quick enough, leaving dongsik to word vomit out of worry that he's overstepped. "it was just a suggestion of course, the house is more than big enough for two and you'll save money, but i shouldn't have--"

"okay," joowon says softly, a small smile playing on his lips. "if you're that desperate to have me."

"who's depserate?" dongsik scoffs, hooking their ankles together under the table. "you're the one at my house every week," he mutters into his food, cheeks flaming.

so since then, joowon has been in manyang for good. they share a bed, a nighttime routine, everything. he nags at dongsik about cleaning, about his diet, about the way he spreads himself thin. dongsik finds it to be...perfect. but there's always a catch, and that's that han joowon will never be the person at work to ask to leave. he'll stay until he's told to go, which makes for multiple nights a week where dongsik doesn't see him until it's nearly the early hours of the morning.

he's slumped on the couch, the soft glow of the tv and the heat of the blanket lulling him into a sort of half-sleep, tea long gone cold on the table, when he hears the door unlock. he peeks one eye open to the clock, and sighs quietly when he sees 1:00am. he pretends to be asleep when he hears joowon enter the living room, shuffling to kick off his shoes at the front door. there's the sound of a jacket being hung up, and then dongsik feels the couch dip next to him.

"aish, i told you you'll hurt your neck like this," joowon mumbles, pulling the blanket higher on dongsik's neck. dongsik pretends that the action woke him up, and stretches out, draping himself over joowon.

"what time is it?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

"1:00," joowon mutters, knowing he's going to hear it.

"joowon-ah, you let them work you too hard," dongsik says. "it's wrong of them to do knowing you live so far," he looks up at his lover from where his head is rested in his lap. "you have to be able to tell them no."

"it's my job, dongsik," joowon sighs, knowing that some part of dongsik's words are right. "i just..."

"you just want to save everyone you can," dongsik finishes, grabbing joowon's hand to interlock their fingers, placing it on his chest. "and i love that about you, really i do, but you can't do the job if you're not at your best, can you?"

the silence is answer enough. dongsik sits up and tugs joowon to his feet, "let's get ready for bed." he keeps joowon's hand in his own all the way to their bedroom, where he flops down at gestures at the bathroom.

"hurry, it's cold at night now and you're my heater," dongsik smiles, getting under the covers. he's glad he let joowon change their sheets, now they lay in high thread count silk opposed to rough cotton. they were a fortune, but worth it. joowon huffs out a laugh before shutting the bathroom door and turning on the shower. by the time he's finished and crawling into bed, dongsik's eyes have slipped closed, again slipping into a weird half sleep.

he feels joowon pull him to his chest, and sighs at the immediate warmth. a soft kiss is placed on the back of his neck, "i'm sorry, hyung." joowon knows that the endearment is dongsik's weakness, only using it when he needs to be forgiven.

dongsik turns in his arms, meeting joowon's sleepy gaze in the dim light of the room. "low blow, won-ah. low blow," he laughs softly, leaning forward to kiss joowon. "i just miss you is all," he admits. "you moved here and i feel like i see you even less than i did when you lived in seoul."

"i know," joowon replies, arms going tighter around dongsik's middle. he misses dongsik too, thinks about his every minute of every day. the only thing that gets him through the long hours is knowing that dongsik will be waiting for him when he gets home. "i'll try to be better, hyung. i promise," he rests their foreheads together.

"you don't have to be better," dongsik chides. "you're perfect how you are, han joowon. what you need is a break."

joowon hums, "where would we go?" the thought of just the two of them getting away makes joowon smile, and he thanks the lowlight of the room for saving him from looking like a lovesick idiot. "any ideas?"

"i want to go anywhere with you," dongsik says simply, like the words don't immediately make joowon's chest cave in. "but...i do know someone who has a lakehouse not too far away," he whispers. "we can go, just the two of us, and shut in for a few days..."

"what would we do?"

"i'm too tired to talk about what we would do," dongsik wiggles his eyebrows, making joowon laugh quietly. "how about i show you in the morning?" he nuzzles into joowon's neck, soft puffs of warm breath hitting the skin there.

"i'll hold you to it," joowon mutters into dongsik's skin.

joowon feels dongsik's breath even out against his neck and tightens his arms just a little bit more.

if in the quiet of the room dongsik hears a small, "i love you," he keeps it to himself.

[the1975attheirverybest]

Education

Lesson #6: Mistakes happen

A/N: This was meant to go out earlier. sorry. ONLY TWO MORE TO GO.

Warnings: kinky smut

-----

Amelia felt her breath hitch in her chest at the sight of him. Across the room, she spotted Matty walking into the party space  of the hotel, in his signature leather jacket, his curls slicked back, a faint smile dancing on his lips as he spotted someone — a sound engineer from the studio, probably— and went over to say hello. He leaned forward to give his friend a hug, the chain around his neck sparkling, like a shooting star, underneath the warm glow of the party lights. She thought back to the last time that she’d seen him, the memory of him, naked, on top of her, rushed back to her mind like a current, making her knees wobble. He wasn’t wearing any necklaces then. She would’ve felt the cool metal against her bare skin if he’d worn one. Must be a new addition. The US always did bring out his edgy side. 

Her eyes couldn’t bring themselves to look away from him. He looked good. And she’d missed him. Her hand reflexively raised to adjust the sleeve of her dress. There was nothing wrong with it. 

“Don’t do it, love.” A voice whispered into her ear. 

Amelia jumped, startled at the intrusion. She turned around to see Charli giving her an admonishing look. “Remember what we talked about? C’mon, you need a drink.”

Before Amelia could protest, charli had grabbed her wrist, pulling her along. 

She thought back to the conversation that Charli was referring to, her heart sinking immediately. 

She’d spent the first two days following the release of those pictures of Matty and his model pal, pathetically sobbing in various corners around her apartment. Nights were especially difficult. Time seemed to slow down when everyone else would go to sleep and she was left to her own devices. Without people to distract herself with or errands to keep her schedule busy, her mind would inevitably find its way back to Matty. She would indulge her emotional masochism, scrolling through her phone for photos she’d taken of him throughout the years. It hurt to look at him. Up until now, he’d been a grounding presence in her life. It was impossible not to feel good around him. He was kind, and gentle, and one of the funniest people she knew. His boyish laugh always made her feel warm on the inside. Despite everything that he’d been through over the years, and even with his life growing increasingly public, his privacy shrinking little by little, he’d somehow managed to remain the same sweet and innocent young boy that she’s always known him to be. It was awe-inspiring to witness. He’d put on a front— flippant, sardonic, larger than life, keenly aware of each and every person watching him— moving from dispensing cutting critiques of culture to making dick jokes, giggling at himself and making references that felt like inside jokes between him and every single fan in the room. No one could see that and deny the maturity, resilience, and self-control that it took to make it all feel so effortless. And yet, in perfectly ordinary moments, sitting across the kitchen table from him, jet lagged and sharing a packet of stale cookies that he’d found in his carry-on, she’d look into his red-rimmed, sleep-deprived eyes, and he would smile at her— and just like that, the myth would melt away and he’d be the same idealistic young kid who gets moved to tears by great music, or the stories of fans discovering the band for the first time, or if he thought for a bit too long about the series of contingent events that had to happen in order to bring him and his three band mates together nearly two decades ago for his whole life to turn into what has now become. 

  she could no longer see any of that when she scrolled through the photos. The face that stared back at her was that of a complete stranger. She felt like she no longer knew him. She’d concocted this intimacy, this history, this idea of him. It was merely the fact that his soft way of being in world tended to make everyone around him feel special. It wasn’t difficult for him to forge connections with people, even fans who’d met him for two minutes, on the streets, and asked for a quick photo, could attest to this. Matty always addressed everyone like he knew them. Like they knew him. She was no different than complete strangers across the world, scrolling through their own phones, taking in whatever aspects of his life had been made public, and piecing together an idea of him in in their minds.

The realization that she had no idea what was going on inside his mind all this time did nothing to free her from his hold. It was easy enough to tell herself that he’s just a guy: deeply flawed, perpetually horny, and riding the waves of his new infamy straight into the beds of various beautiful, rich, and sexually experienced young women just for the hell of it, whenever he wasn’t around. Whenever he’d take too long to call, or text back, she'd remind herself of all the things that she found infuriating about him, all the flaws that proved him to be emotionally immature and impulsive. She'd reduce him to the worst version of himself and remind herself that she wasn't unique in that regard. If she wanted to be with an emotionally stunted man child who passed the time by sliding into the dis of women a decade younger than him, she'd go on any dating app and have her pick.Finding an equally attractive man to replace him with while he was busy gallivanting around the world wouldn't be hard, but deep down, she knew that this abstract idea of the man-child-rockstar that she could pin all her grievances on and flick away like a fly in order to regain her self-control was unfair. It wouldn’t hold up to the reality of him when, sooner or later, she found herself in the same room with him again. Matty's undeniable. And that broke her. 

On the third day of carrying on her routine of crying around the apartment and marinating in self pity, her scrolling through old photos was interrupted by a text notification. 

Charli: George says you’re mad at him. I’m sorry he can be such a guy sometimes. We should hang out. Just us girls. 

She’s still fuzzy on the details, but the text eventually led her to George’s place. Charli pouring the wine and sampling through the variety of chocolate boxes she’d picked up on her recent trip to Europe. George hovered between them, occasionally attempting to interject, but always shot down by Charli’s reminder that “no one’s asking you.”

“I’m a fool. Just say it. I’ve been foolish.” Amelia admitted as she handed her glass over to Charli for a refill. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, babes- oh, this bottles officially deceased- hold on, let me get a new one.” Charli scoffed and stood up, walking around the kitchen to try and remember where she’d hidden a particularly good bottle that she didn’t want George to ‘waste' on the wrong occasion. Boy troubles, especially Matty troubles, seemed the right occasion. “Look, I love Matty, I do. He’s a sweetheart. One of the most talented musicians I've ever met... But he’s a mess!” She’d located the bottle, stifling a laugh as George realized that she’d hidden it out of his reach. “You need someone who’s - mature. Who knows what he wants.”

“Matty’s mature!” Amelia yelled out, snatching the bottle out of Charli’s hand and popping it open. “It may not seem like it sometimes, but he’s the fuckin best.” She poured herself a drink with a dramatic sigh, the conflict draining her. 

“You’re not actually meant to drink that right away, you're supposed to wai- okay you’re just gonna- alright you seem like you need it, so, just… my point is, he’s not ready, yet. He’s in a new girls bed every week!”

“I love him.” Amelia simply stated, the confession came as a surprise to her. but it was true. She could sit here and debate what kind of person Matty was, or what qualities of his would make him a good or bad partner, but it really only came down to one thing: she was in love with him.

Her words hung in the air, feeling even more loaded by the silence that followed. 

“Uh-umm…” George cleared his throat awkwardly. “Have- have you- I mean...does he know that?”

Amelia shrugged. 

“Amelia, darling, I hate to say this, but" Charli gave her a look that Amelia recognized as pity, "babe, you don’t know him well enough to love him.” 

“The fuck I don’t!” Amelia yelled out into the room, slapping the kitchen table assertively. 

Charli giggled, “I like drunk Amelia.”

“I know Matty. I’ve known him my whole life. I mean, he rolled me my first joint and taught me how to smoke it.” Amelia’s reminiscent gaze looked past Charli, into the distance. 

“You needed to be taught how to do it? That’s kind of sweet, actually.”

“Then the boys made a whole thing of it. Like how innocent I was, or whatever. So, I overdid it a little. To prove a point. Anyway, I...got hungry and lost in a grocery store.”

Charli laughed.

“And by lost I just mean I was so high I couldn’t  find the cash register. Matty came and got me.”

“Aww-“

"he might have been laughing all the way through, and he definitely filmed the whole thing on his phone and sent it to all of Dirty Hit, but still. He came to help me…he also still has the video. Blackmails me with it from time to time.” 

“Sounds about right.”

“I know him. I do." She repeated firmly, "I know that he works hard to remain aware and grateful for the life that his work has given him. I know that he cares so much about people. Even people that he doesn’t know. I know- I know how stubborn he was back when he first started dabbling with drugs- I mean, he never said anything cuz he hid it for quite a while- but- I know him well enough to know that he must’ve been scared. He's not as rough as his exterior sometimes suggests. I know it must've been difficult. But he’s Matty, so of course, he rationalized it to himself. And I know that he’s proud of the band now- how much they’ve grown. I was there, I watched him pick up the pieces of his own life after every set back or break up or relapse, or whatever. I saw all that. I know the great things that he’s capable of.”

Charli sighed. Considering her words carefully, she looked more seriously into Amelia’s eyes, her hand sliding across the table to hold Amelia’s, “I know. But what I’m trying to say is that you’ve always liked him. And because of that, you’ve always kinda- like- seen him through rose-tinted lenses. The way he’s behaving right now? That’s not someone who is ready, or even looking, for a relationship. He’s treating you and the women that he rotates through as if you’re all the same. He doesn’t know how to be alone. If he has a day off, he reaches for a distraction. If he has an inkling of a desire, he’s looking for the fastest possible way to fulfill it. Diving head first into something like this could affect your friendship.”

Amelia was silent for a moment, letting Charli’s words wash over her. In theory, everything that Charli said was true. But the reality was much more complicated than that. Matty wasn't blind to his own shortcomings. For fucks sakes, he makes his shows about them. But it’s one thing to know your blind spots exist, another thing entirely to try and fix them. She understood that writing the show, making the album, all of that was Matty’s way of trying to fix things. Looking for answers. Yet, he continues to indulge himself in the meantime. How was he supposed to find anything new if he’s too busy going through the same cycles?

“What about you, George?” Amelia turned around. “What do you think of all this?” She gave him a nervous smile. 

George took a deep breath. “Oh, me? I think….I think you’re both right-“

"Oh, don’t be a coward George-“

“No, no, listen. I think you’re both right. I think it’s possible for Matty to be both things at the same time. And I think talking about him can only get you so far. Talking to him, on the other hand, might help.”

Amelia knew he was right. "mhm."

***

“New dress?” Matty whispered as he tapped her shoulder, seamlessly sliding into the small group of people that she’d been in conversation with. Amelia turned instantly to look at him, his smile making her face tingle. 

“No- umm- it’s not new.” She scanned the room for Charli, she wasn’t strong enough to do this on her own. 

“Well, I like it. Suits you.” Matty’s hand trailed down her arm as he spoke, pausing at her wrist, and lightly brushing her skin. 

“You- uh- you’re back. Howww- was LA?”

“Oh, you know- Sunny, warm, too cheerful- wanna go sit down somewhere?” His fingers intertwined with hers, he squeezed her hand in his. “Looks like your drink could use a refill, we could-“

“N-no!” She spoke too quickly, feeling guilty when he looked disappointed. “I- just mean we’re with people. It’s rude.”

Matty shook his head, laughing softly. “ who cares. Let’s go.”

***

“You ever done it in a bathroom?” Matty asked, an eyebrow raised, as soon as they were no longer within earshot of other people. 

“What?”

“Hey, I’ve been gone a while. We’re overdue for a new lesson.” He giggled. “Have you ever fucked someone in a public bathroom?”

“No, of course not. Sounds unsanitary.”

“Look around you, darlin,’ this hotel’s obscenely expensive. It’s a label event not a college stoners house party. We could eat off the floors of the bathrooms here.” As he spoke, Matty looked around the room for signs or directions to the restroom area. 

“Don’t musicians do cocaine in bathrooms?”

“And they fuck, too.” He nodded. She felt his arm around her waist, pulling her along as he sped up, no doubt, spotting the right hallway. 

The door slammed shut behind them. Matty waisted no time in pressing her up against it, his lips quickly attached to her neck. With one hand holding her waist, his other roamed along the door frame to find the lock, snapping it closed to insure their privacy. 

“Shit- I’ve missed you- missed this.” She let out, unselfconsciously, making him moan in agreement. 

Matty’s head gradually dipped lower and lower, moving from her neck, to her collarbone, to the top of her chest, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses along her skin. 

Amelia hadn’t realized how long it’d been, or how much she'd needed him, until she felt his touch again. Light as a feather, but always precise, intentional. Like he knew what reaction he wanted out of her and he knew exactly how to get it. His instincts always seemed in tune with her body. He noticed things. Little details that happen in the blink of an eye, like the difference in her moan when his lips touch just the right spot between her ear and neck. Like the way that her entire body comes alive when he’s making her feel good, touching her just above the hood of her clit. Like the rhythm she likes, not quite gentle, but not too harsh. Enough to leave a tingling feeling behind. She liked feeling the place where his fingers had been in the aftermath, liked feeling sore and knowing that his hands had done that to her. And he knew that she did. 

At this rate, it wouldn’t be too long before she’d be ready to melt into a puddle at his feet. 

She flinched when she felt his hand leave her hip bone and dip lower, hiking up the skirt of her dress. His eyes snapped open, his lips, reluctantly leaving her skin for a moment. “You- uh, you alright with all this?” He was panting, breathless.

“Mhm, please don’t stop now.” She whispered, hotly, her breath against his skin sent a rush through his body. 

Matty grinned, her reply egging him on. “‘Please’ ? We’re already begging, are we? At least you’re remembering what I’ve taught you.” 

She pressed her lips together, silencing a yelp as the pads of his fingers circled her clothed center. “Oh my god, Matty-“ her words interrupted with an involuntary moan. 

“Relax for me.” He whispered. “Close your eyes, breathe, yes, that’s it.” He placed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “Let me take care of the rest, you just- focus on feeling good.”

His fingers against the fabric of her underwear were steadily building friction, the pressure in her core rising. 

“It’s been a minute." he mumbled, seemingly thinking out loud. "what if I’m off rhythm? What if your body  doesn’t quite feel pliable anymore?”

She whined in response, her hips thrusting forward to meet his hand. 

“Oh, is that so?” The smile palpable in his voice, everything about the motions of his fingers told her that he hasn’t forgotten a thing. “You’ll just take anything, then? Any touch at all?” He moved the crotch of her underwear to the side, finally exposing her bare skin. She felt him slide his finger along her slit, blushing when he'd sensed her wetness. 

“Hmm, it’s almost like I was never gone.” He grinned, reveling in his effect on her body. 

His now wet finger found the spot just above her clit, exactly where she likes it. 

“oh my FUCK!” She gasped, biting her lower lip. 

“Hey, hey,hey..what’d I tell ya? Breathe, darling, you’re holding your breath in, breathe for me. Don’t want you to cramp up.”

She found it dizzying how effortlessly he went from taunting her to cooing, gently, guiding her through the intensity of the moment. Her head was spinning, foggy and flooded with him. 

“Ma- oh god, that feels so-“ she felt herself sinking and surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, resting her head back against the door, her eyes closed, lips apart and mumbling incoherently. 

“So wet for me,” Matty whispered, “god, I can’t not fuck you like this. It’d be wrong not to.” He slipped a finger inside of her, slowly and firmly. 

She screamed, a flood of pleasure hitting her, head to toes, she buckled at the knees, no longer able to control her body, but Matty’s free hand quickly pinned her in place, stopping her from falling to the floor. 

“S-sorry, I-“ she stuttered, her shaking hands grabbing onto his biceps to steady herself. 

Her eyes fixed on his lips, she could hardly see anything else. Not that she wanted to. His lips looked perfect, pink, wet, she desperately wanted to kiss them but she barely had the strength or presence of mind to command her body. It was completely under Matty’s influence now. 

“I have a better idea.” Matty whispered, pulling away. she was too caught up to hear a word he'd said, only knowing that the heavenly sensation he’d given her had suddenly disappeared. She cried out, letting herself be moved around by him. 

“Okay, I need you to bend over now. Against the sink, okay?”

Her body moved as Matty directed, like clay in his hands, but deep in the back of her mind, she realized this position put him behind her. She was no longer able to see his face. They’d never done it this way before. She wasn’t sure how to feel. 

“Good, good, now move your legs apart just a bit more. Perfect. Hold tight, alright?”

She understood why he wanted her bent over like this as soon as he slipped his finger back inside her, suddenly reaching the perfect spot, an electric current jolted through her body. 

“Ohhh, yes, yes, yeah right there- fuck- iiii-“

“How’s that, my love?” It was the finger curling inside her and the other rubbing her clit that sent waves of pleasure crashing over her body, but it was his words, his cooing ‘my love’ to her that completely overtook her brain. For the first time in her life, she felt her mind come to a complete stop. Not a single thought, worry, or concern. She wasn’t even processing the sensory feeling of the world around her. She couldn’t think of a single sound, touch, sight, or smell. All that was there was white, hot pleasure. Her body convulsed, matty spoke (but she couldn’t tell what he’d said), and she felt herself scream out his name as her body shook between him and the sink. She was vaguely aware of the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, and the feeling of Matty’s hand pulling tightly at her hair.

“I didn’t say you could stop. Cum again.” He demanded. She wasn’t sure that she could stop even if she wanted to. He’d gotten a hold of that sweet, soft spot deep within her, her body trembled again as a second orgasm hit her, Matty’s grip on her hair grew tighter. Blood gushed into her mouth. 

Over the sound of her own panting, and the ringing in her ears, she heard Matty suck on his own finger, pulling it out of his mouth with a wet pop. “You taste amazing.” He placed a gentle hand on her hip when she attempted to stand back up. 

Her brain still felt scrambled, she couldn’t form any coherent thoughts or sentences. She turned around, her hand on Matty’s shoulder for support. 

“You wanna sit down for a moment?”

She wasn’t listening, her hands, still shaky, were fumbling with the buckles of his belt. 

“Amelia, hey, no, wait.” 

“Uh-umm” she started at him blankly, her mind looking for the right words. “You don’t want me to- to umm…” 

“Not here. Not now. don't want to hurt your knees, plus, I think you should slow down anyway.”

Her face fell, her grip on his belt loosened as she did her best to focus her hazy brain on his voice and take in his words. 

“I’m fine.” She whispered, her hands finally letting go of him. 

“Let me clean you up before we get back out there.”

***

Amelia's foggy brain raced with silent fear. she'd never felt so disoriented before. She felt everything intensely. the lights felt blinding, the air grazing her skin, the sound of the music filling her head. Her every sense was heightened, triggering an unexplainable sense of anxiety, as she walked by Matty's side, the inches off space between them felt like miles. He felt so far away, she had this inexplicable need to be with him, near him, even though she already was. why won't he hold her hand? is he not feeling the same way? does he not want to be near her as much as she does? Was their interaction over now that he'd finger-fucked her in a hotel bathroom? Was she supposed to take the hint and go her own way?

She saw Matty smile as a man, from the other end of the hallway, headed towards them. He seemed to recognize Matty and Matty recognized him. She watched them exchange greetings and begin a conversation that she was too overcome with anxiety to follow. She felt a burning in her chest; a raging jealousy. She did not want to split Matty's time and attention. This stranger had overstepped, intruded on what was supposed to be a private moment, between her and Matty. Tears welled in her eyes, and before she knew it, she'd grabbed onto Matty's arm, burying her face into his side.

"Amelia, you alright?"

To her surprise, though Matty was thrown off, he made no move to pull away. She heard him mumble, excuse himself, and walking away with his arm around her waist.

"Hey, look at me, he's gone, it's just us now. Look at me, Amelia, I need to see your face." He paused, pulling them both into a quiet corner, leaning against a wall. "Hey, what is it, Mia, talk, please."

She was too overwhelmed. Every time she tried, no thoughts came to her mind and no words left her lips. The longer that she remained silent, the more she could see fear in Matty's eyes.

"Sorry- umm, I don't know what came over me." she finally mustered. watching his face relax as he heard her voice. "Guess I've missed you more than I realize...god that was embarrassing." Matty smiled at her confession, making a quick-witted response, but in the back of his mind he wasn't sure if that was the full extent of her strange behavior.

"Let's get a room upstairs, hmm? What do you say?"

***

Amelia had clung to him through the elevator ride, running his hands down his body and kissing his neck. Matty's hands had held her waist steady, his head thrown back. "fuck- you're so good at that- maybe I should go away to LA more often."

He groaned, disappointed, when the elevator bell dinged, announcing their arrival at the right floor. Amelia giggled, unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time, as Matty squinted, reading the room numbers on the walls to find theirs.

They were hardly all the way inside before Amelia returned to kissing on him: his neck, his chest, on hand playfully stroking his right nipple while her mouth kissed and bit on the other. Matty had no idea where this new-found initiative of hers was coming from, but it all felt too good to question.

"shiiittt- Mia, your tongue feels so-"

"tell me something," she whispered, kissing down his chest. "did you sleep with anyone while you were away?"

Matty was caught off guard by her question. he opened his eyes, watching as she looked up at him through her lashes. "what?"

"while you were gone" she said in between kisses, "did you have sex with anyone?"

His head flung back, again, Matty struggled to make sense of what was happening. the fact that the blood was rushing south in his body did not help either. "uhhh..." He swallowed harshly almost losing himself in the feeling of her touch, "y-yeah, was I- umm, not supposed to?"

"how do I know what you are or aren't supposed to do?"

Finally collecting himself, he pushed her body away from his. "what's happening right now?"

"I don't know. I was trying to kiss you and you stopped me." Amelia shrugged, a blank expression on her face.

"I guess- um- I had wondered if- you'd like to slow down, maybe? I could call down for room service. Get us some drinks? some dinner?"

Amelia stood on the tips of her toes, kissing his lips. "no drinks." she whispered. "no dinner." she unbuckled his belt.

***

"right. How's that?" Matty stepped away, admiring his handiwork.

Amelia was not amused by this turn of events. Somehow, she'd found herself bound, using the decorative ribbons that had been wrapped around the hotel towel set, and Matty's vivid imagination, her arms were now tied together, behind her back.

"We're gonna have to be really careful though. If your arms start to feel numb, you've got to let me know. Right away. Do you understand?"

Amelia nodded.

"alright, then." Matty resumed his place on the bed, sitting opposite her, with his back against the headboard, his lengths spread on either side of her. "go on, then, as you were." he gestured.

Amelia hesitated for a moment. Sucking him off with her arms tied behind her back wasn't going to be easy. She wouldn't have nearly as much control. But she desperately wanted to please him. To be a good girl for him. to make him feel good.

"Don't make me ask twice, Mia."

She bent down, her lips wrapping around his tip, slowly taking more and more of him.

"That's- it- fuckkk- good girl."

The praise was more than enough to spur her on. Soon enough, she was drawing the filthiest moans from his lips, holding her breath as long as possible, to get his hips to behind needle thrusting into her mouth. Her back had begun to feel sore, and she was running out of breath. When Matty thrusted his hips particularly harshly, he hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag for breath and pull away.

Matty watched her heave and gasp for breath, her own drool running down her chin, tears on her cheeks. His hand on the back of her head pulled her back onto him by the root of her hair. She hardly had a moment to squirm or cry out, before he bucked his hips to meet her mouth, shoving himself all the way into her. "Perrrr-fectt. Yes, shut up and take it like a good girl. thats it, keep going –fuckkkk."

with his hand over her head, adjusting her pace and position whenever he pleased, Matty was in bliss, and it wasn't long before she felt her mind slip back into that dizzying haze.

She felt tears roll down her face as Matty pulled her off of his cock and helped guide her onto his lap. As he helped her sink down onto him, she realized, somewhere in the back of her mind where thought were struggling for coherence, that she'd never ridden a guy before. In fact, she had no idea how to do it. But that's what all this is for, right? Matty showing her how to do things. Was she meant to bounce on her knees? move back and forth? There was no way this would be fun for him. And he's definitely experienced fun. Other girls had probably given him mind-blowing orgasms before. Better than he'd ever feel with her. She stared, blankly, at the top of her chest. Where she desperately wanted to lay her head; to wrap her arms around him and feel her chest against his. But she couldn't even touch him with her hands bound and behind her back. She couldn't adjust her position either, or control her movements, she felt isolated and far away from him. She was literally sitting on top of him but could barely feel his body against hers. this wasn't how it was supposed to be. none of this felt good for her, and she was sure it didn't feel good for him either. panic filling her chest, she began to lose her breath.

"r-re-red. Matty, please, red. I- I don't- I wanna stop. I said red that means it's over, it's stop. Please I want to stop,"

Matty's neck snapped forward with a loud and painful crack. "wait?" his eyes widened, " yes. Of course. We're stopping. Immediately." He put his hands up in the air where she could see them. "I- umm....Not touching you, okay? but-I would like to. If- if you'll let me? hmm? to-untie you. Nothing else, I promise. May I do that? please?"

He sprung into action as soon as she nodded, his shaky hands making it unnecessarily difficult to undo her ties.

"How-how do your arms...i mean, are you okay?"

Amelia used her now freed limbs to roll herself off of him. When he offered her his hand to help steady her, she slapped it away, and jumped off the bed, hearing him hiss when she separated her body from his.

"Amelia wait- where are you going? Please let me-"

she slammed the bathroom door shut, startling Matty enough to rock the bed.

What, the fuck, had just happened?

[the-kr8tor]

It's my birthday in two days! So, here's a cute little Hobie HC for you💕

Despite how Hobie looks super punk, he didn't always. Especially when he was in high school. The tall, lanky 15 year old shuffled through the halls of the crowded school, thick glasses slipping down his nose every so often. Scuffed and beaten up sneakers on his feet getting stepped on buly several people as he squeezed his way through, pulling the fraying bookbag tighter on his shoulders. He scowled as he was pushed into a nearby locker, the loose button-up he was wearing snagging on the corner. Hobie, now irritated, pushes away from the locker, only to groan with irritation at the small rip he hears from the action. It's times like these where he really hates hand-me-downs.

Hobie whips a glare towards the person who pushed him, only for his mouth to drop open in shock. There you stand before him, all spikes, chains, black leather, and bright colors. The platform boots on your feet make you nearly eye level to him. Hobie can see the sincerity glimmering in your eyes, an apologetic smile on your dark, lipstick stained lips. And now your saying something, your lips moving as you look up at him. He's not sure, unable to register anything except for the fact that you look damn amazing. So unlike anyone he normally sees roaming these hallways.

Shaking his head, Hobie clears his throat, an almost nervous smile on his lips.

"Sorry, mate. Didn't quite catch that.." He says, cursing himself at the small crack of his voice. If you heard it, you don't comment on it, offering him a knowing smile.

"It's alright. Apologies for bumping into you there. I can fix your shirt up for you if you'd like."

Hobie's taken aback, again. You dress like a straight up rockstar and you're nice?? He can feel the way his heartbeat quickens in his ears. It was like he knew then and there, that you were gonna be an important part of his life. And you were. From that moment on, you two were inseparable. You were a breath of fresh air for him, going against society norms and doing your own thing. You became his beacon, his muse, his role model. And, Hobie became the same for you. You admired how he stood up for himself and his beliefs, no matter how hard things got. Hobie was smart, insanely so, and it made you admire him even more.

And when Hobie got bit by that spider, it furthered your adoration for him. Even if he denied it heavily, he was the symbol of hope for many, especially you. For all that you were to each other, it was a wonder why it took so long for him to properly make a move years later when you'd entered college. It was after one of his shows, his chest heaving with excitement and adrenaline from the rush of performing. You were cheering so loud for him and the band, waiting excitedly for him backstage.

And maybe it was because he was still buzzing with energy and confidence from the roaring crowd. Or perhaps it was the way you looked absolutely exquisite wearing the choker he made you and the leather jacket that he'd copped just for you to match his. Whatever it was, it made him rush off the stage towards you, arms circling your waist and pulling you flush to his chest. His lips pressed against yours, soft and gentle despite how hurriedly he'd done so. You gripped his shirt, damp with sweat, as he pulled away in shock of his own actions and pulled him back in for another kiss. Hobie didn't seem to mind, not one bit as he pulled you even closer.

This was partially made cuz I saw someone say something about "Loser Hobie". He'd definitely be a loser in high school😭💕

OMG ADVANCED HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU MY AO3 BESTIE ❤️❤️❤️ I hope you have a great one!

AOZBQISJWBDPWQWW LOSER HOBIE!!! he was so scrunkly back then!!! (Literally my type back in hs lmaooooo) I'd like to think this is like a reverse ttn au! R saying that they can mend it for him reminded me of it

Squeaky voice Hobie!! What a cutie!!!

BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS!!! THEY GREW UP TOGETHER AND DEVELOPED FEELINGS FOR EACHOTHER 😍😍😍

The backstage kiss omfg 🥴🥴

[stevenblueniverse]

Bellow selkie au Chapter 9

Summary: blue diamond makes a scene and forces yellow to buy music

Chapter 9 day 1 around people

"Here, take this", yellow said, throwing some clothes to blue, "what are these for?", blue asked, picking up a dark blue jumper yellow gave her. "theyre clothes, I'm going to be taking you outside today, we need to try and help your fear of humans, if you blend in no one will notice you're a selkie", yellow replied, looking for more clothes that would fit blue "should I keep my coat here then? Wouldn't that make me stand out?", blue began to take her coat off and try on the human clothes immediately after, "I was going to say that", yellow said, putting her boots on, "but I thought it would scare you, leave the coat on my bed, no one will touch it, I promise".

Blue nervously stepped outside, she was holding tightly onto yellows hand, she felt so weak without her coat in public, she was wearing dark blue pants, a dark blue jumper and a white shirt, all too big for her and not suited for the extremely hot weather outside. "This place is quite small, I've only been here a bit and already know around here, hopefully I'll be able to go here again I really like it here", yellow said, trying to cheer up blue and lead her around, as she was speaking a small feeling of dread appeared, she realised she won't be here forever and may never see blue again, she tried to keep her mind off it but now couldn't stop worrying about what would happen if blue was left alone, and if she'd face the same fate as her sister.

"Where will you take me first?", blue asked, trying to sound confident when really she was trembling, she'd flinch and look away whenever she saw another person, she was probably making quite a scene. "I think first we should get you some clothes of your own, you can't only wear mine, they're too big for you and it must be way too hot wearing those!", yellow said, slightly pulling blue to the small clothes shop, she really didnt want to go to anywhere where there would be a lot of people. "I like your clothes yellow! They smell very nice, like you!", blue loudly said, getting some nearby people to look at them, yellow blushed bright red from embarrassment, "erm...thanks!? You know people never say that, living as a sailor isn't the most hygienic thing", yellow tried to laugh it off but it was so embarrassing. "well I like it! Those who don't are just idiots!", blue was getting very loud now, yellow needed to very gently hush her, they probably looked mad to all the people nearby.

Yellow opened the door to the shop and lightly pushed blue in first, thankfully it was nearly empty. "Alright blue choose what you want, you don't need to choose what I would wear just anything you like, I'll pay for it", yellow said, as blue looked around, she decided to analyse every single piece of item at the store, bending down and staring at one each for a long time, yellow huffed, "no not like that, we'll be here forever! Just pick something you'd like to wear", she whispered to blue, the few people in the shop where all watching her and her strange behaviour. After some time and yellow begging her to be quicker, blue finally got some clothes, she got a light blue sun dress, a red version of that same dress, jeans, a dark blue jacket with diamond patterns on the inside, yellow cringed when she saw blue pick that up, it was one of her mother's designs, and a black shirt with "mr universe" written on it, thankfully I didn't seem to cost much, yellow was very worried she'd made a mistake letting blue pick anything.

Yellow and blue finally exited the shop after what seemed like forever, yellow was already tired and people where still watching them. "I think we should go home blue", she said, blue shook her head, "no I want to go, there!", she pointed over to a music shop, "you want albums!?", yellow asked, confused, blue probably didn't even know what that place sold, "really?", yellow asked, way to tired for this, blue looked up to her and nooded, she was too cute for yellow to say no to, so she let her look inside.

Yellow tried to explain to her what music was and how albums worked but blue seemed to already know, she immediately rushed over to look at the vinyls. "Blue I only have a player for those back home, are you sure you want that", yellow said, chasing after her, blue was really fast. Blue looked over to yellow and showed her a vinyl she had picked out, the cover was black and white with a woman in the middle, "I want this one", she told yellow, giving it to her to look at, "you want..", yellow looked at the text written above the photo on the cover, "a Lisa hannigan album..... Blue do you even know who or what this is?", yellow was way to tired to be dealing with this, she needed to get home and sleep, "please yellow, I really want to understand you humans, wouldn't learning your music be the best way? And maybe I can come home with you and we can listen to it together?" Blue's guilt tripping was amazing, a bit of sweat ran down yellow's face as she imagined trying to introduce blue to her mother, it would be chaos. "Fine", yellow sighed, knowing this was definitely going to be expensive, "maybe ill try and sneak you onto my ship when we leave", "you won't need to do that", blue smiled at her, "I'll just transform and follow after, did you forget how good seals are at swimming?".

They've been outside for much longer than expected, when they got out the music store it was already getting dark out. They exited the shop with blue holding all the bags full of clothes and the album she forced yellow to get. Yellow yawned loudly, "today was quite a day! How was your first day outside without your coat!", "it was okay, I still feel off without it, when we get home I'm definitely putting it back on", blue replied, looking around the nearby houses, suddenly she froze, and dropped the bags, yellow grabbed the one from the music store, "what are you doing! You couldve broke that! What are you looking at-", then yellow saw it, they where standing right outside the home of pink diamond and her human family, they could see the human who had trapped her getting out of his van and going into the home, he looked back at them, yellow gulped, "blue let's leave now!", she grabbed the bags and blue and rushed out of there as fast as she could.

[vampiricgf]

when I cast my mail in ballot I thought of bisan. I thought of how she's been wearing the same jacket for over a year. I thought about how it was once green and now looks almost black. I thought of the fact that she has braces, which require consistent dental care. I thought of hind. I thought of all those days emergency responders were forced to spend only communicating with her via radio because in any attempt to reach her they were brutally shot and killed. I thought of how she was afraid of the dark. I thought of the aid trucks, and how despite the risk people so desperately needed that food they ran for the trucks and were mercilessly massacred. I thought of how for over a year our politicians have played a game of sitting on their hands and pretending their eyes don't work, instead placing more value on things like lockheed martin stock or a glorified military base over a human life. I thought about how ignoring and posturing in front of palestinian protestors was more important to a presidential candidate than actually having any semblance of a meaningful conversation and people cheered for it. I thought of how hitting palestinian protestors with signage and heckling them was more appropriate in the eyes of several thousands of people than actually listening to and giving even a sliver of understanding to what they had to say. I thought about how to several millions of people it was not absolutely horrifying to them to learn that a candidate for vice president promised a meeting with family members of those suffering through genocide only to back out at the last second when it was clear that would not just be a sympathy meeting for cameras and a good photo op for a publication.

I do not put my faith in a piece of paper or in someone who doesn't know me or you and has no real interest in providing protection or making improvements, people play politics to win and be the most wealthy and powerful person in a room. In essence, that's the truest motivation for any political aspirant. It's not about service or duty, if it were the responsibility of aid would not be foisted to the average every man when it comes to nearly every single issue while we give billions to our military industrial complex and it's propaganda, gleefully at that. its naive at best, willfully ignorant at worst to believe our collective responsibility begins and ends with a piece of paper, to believe that this time this election will be the magical one that fixes everything as of were not just going to do the same exact shit again in another four years. my faith lies in the people who have been working over the past year in real, tangible ways to provide aid and means of survival. the people who, despite suffering baseless racist attacks, constant smear campaigns, misinformation spread with malicious intent, even having their own lives threatened, have still woken up each day and continued that goal of providing aid in any way, through any avenue that's available. my faith lies in the members of my own community that I've spent countless hours with over the past year, even as they've gone through their own grief and mourning and fought through their own feelings of powerlessness and fear, to do whatever they can to provide help. my faith lies in the people who have donated to fundraisers, to relief organizations, every time they have the opportunity to do so, all the hundreds of thousands of them and the ones who have done so silently. these people have proven again and again that they can see the value in a human life over a weapon's manufacturers stocks. if you value a human life, if you consider any of these things while casting your ballot, and you feel anger and you feel powerless turn your attention to fundraisers that have no yet met their goals. turn it to the aid requests sitting in your inbox. turn it towards the aid organizations that need to be able to provide clothes, sanitary products, medicine, life saving medical intervention. be someone to have faith in. we have more in common with one another then we do with any leader head of any state. I have more in common with the woman I donated to yesterday than I do with any presidential candidate. you have more in common with the boy asking for help to save his family than you do someone blowing hot air on a stage.

[willow-lark]

not most people (but it's you) - wheelclair

took a break from my byler week fics to try something new and jot down a quick wheelclair drabble!! this one is dedicated to @booksandpaperss (💕🫶) who i was talking to a bit ab wheelclair aus the other day,,, ngl i'm becoming obsessed w these 2

As Mike watches, Lucas lifts his hand in a gesture that Mike knows all too well, with an uncertain smile on his face as he wiggles his fingers every-so-slightly in a wave.

Mike is tempted to reach up and pull down his window shade to cut off the interaction, to ignore Lucas and feed into the hurt lodged deep within his gut that he’s never actually let go of, and nursed for all these years. But—Lucas isn’t doing anything to hurt him, in truth. Did he really ever? Intellectually, Mike remembers the barbed words, the harm both he and Lucas caused each other. But it doesn’t feel like those things matter so much right now. It didn’t seem to matter this morning, when Mrs. Harmon paired them together for their new history project, and Lucas stuck his hand out in the aisle between their desks and Mike took it in truce. Somehow, even surrounded by meatheads and having assimilated into the ranks of all the thug-headed jocks that leech off the walls of Hawkins High, Lucas has retained the good faith that Mike remembers in him, putting loyalty above all else, and trusting those he cares about.

Lucas was always a lot nicer than Mike was, he thinks. Lucas doesn’t snap at people unless he has a good reason. He’s only got a bone to pick with people if they hurt someone he loves. Not like Mike, who gets angry at the people he cares about for no reason, uncompromising and mean even when he doesn’t mean to be, demanding that everything goes exactly his way.

Once, Lucas was Mike’s closest friend. Once, Mike would have reached for his walkie to radio Lucas, and they would look across at each other in their windows and talk late into the night.

Now, though, Mike lifts his fingers in response, and sends across his own tentative smile.

...

“Hey!” calls a voice behind Mike, who slams his locker shut and whips around. He didn’t sleep well last night, staring up at the ceiling with a pounding heart, mind all caught up in thoughts of what was and what might have been. It is only Lucas, leaning casually against the row of lockers in his crisp letterman jacket, grinning at Mike with that same easy smile he’s always had.

“Hi,” says Mike, grumpy, sudden butterflies in his stomach doing their damn best to flap all the way up his esophagus. He doesn’t look nearly as put together as Lucas does right now. The Hellfire t-shirt he’s wearing definitely needs a wash, and so do the jeans that he’s worn every day for the past two weeks.

“You want to come over to mine after school today and get started on this project?”

“Okay,” Mike says before he can fully think it over, but as he does he realizes he doesn’t really have an excuse not to. Corroded Coffin was supposed to get together and rehearse tonight, but Gareth’s home sick with a violent flu and Eddie called yesterday that he wasn’t going to be able to make the drive out from Indianapolis to visit like he had planned. “I was going to have rehearsal today, but I don’t anymore.”

“Corroded Coffin, right? That’s a sick name, man.”

“Oh, I, uh, I play guitar now.”

“Awesome,” Lucas says, and claps Mike on the shoulder. “I’m driving Erica home today, too, so let’s meet in the parking lot after class lets out. See you later!” and he strides off to whatever class he’s supposed to be at next period. 

Mike stands there, noise of the bustling hallway swelling around him. He can still feel the warmth of Lucas’s hand on his shoulder, an old and familiar touch. Mike’s not that touchy of a person. Most people, he’d snap at. 

Lucas isn’t most people.

hm. i May have to write more of them bc wheelclair is quickly shooting up my list of fav rarepairs. high school au wheelclair is something that can be so personal. like. they're so???? n e ways if u read this far i hope u enjoyed it!! mwah. xoxo.

[drdemonprince]

Hi! I've recently been getting into fashion and I need some advice. Specifically, I (queer trans man, American) really like the look of like. Men's leather bondage gear, and I want to try and incorporate that into my outfits to look cool, but at the same time I don't think my sexuality is anyone's business and I don't really want to be advertising the fact that I'm gay to everyone who sees me. Also, I don't want to be dressed innappropriately. My logic is that if people can wear chokers in public, there has to be some level of leather gear that is appropriate and not immediately obvious - do you have any ideas of what that level is?

I actually have an article on this! To wit: I think because of homophobia we hypersexualize a lot of gay men's fashion despite the fact that when we look at high fashion designed for cis straight women, bondage gear is absolutely fucking everywhere.

Leather, rubber, and bondage gear are an important part of queer history. Harnesses, collars, pup hoods, leather jackets, heavy boots, and handkerchiefs are all associated with sex, but they are also all cultural signifiers and articles of clothing. And they're all articles of clothing that you'd see on the runway or on a goth at the mall and barely blink at. The only reason we see these things as inappropriate is because of the growing moral panic surrounding gay people's sexuality, and our culture's particular bent toward hypersexualizing gay men.

(you'll notice in this essay that I say sexualizing leather is just as absurd as sexualizing drag. Just three years after I wrote it, we now live in a moment where drag queens are routinely painted by conservatives as being inappropriately sexual around children. This is the path we go down when we try to filter our sexual expression to placate conservatives who accuse us of being groomers. They just keep taking more and more away from us, because it's our very existence that is inappropriate in their eyes, not "how far" we have gone.)

A leather harness is no less appropriate for public wear than a promise ring or wedding ring. They're both symbols of the culture a person belongs to and that culture's standards regarding gender and sex, as well as a reflection of the person wearing the article subscribing to some extent to that culture's value system. I wear a collar nearly every day and that might put some sexual thoughts or hang ups in the minds of random people who behold me, but I haven't done anything to violate another person sexually by openly being myself.

I would also apply this same line of thinking to fursuits, by the way. Furries do incorporate their love of anthropomorphic animal people into their sex lives, consuming porn with anthros, pretending to be animal people during sex, or even having sex in their gear. But that is because being a furry is an important part of who they are, how they express themselves and who they find community with. And so, because being a furry is so important to who they are, they also incorporate furrydom into many many elements of their lives that are completely nonsexual: socializing with friends in their suits, making new outfits and accessories for their costumes, performing in their fursuits at furry talent contests and for tiktok.

A furry dancing around in their suit is no more sexual than a straight man dancing on tiktok with his wife. And a gay man wearing a harness, collar, leather chaps, or hell, a rubber tail on his belt is no more inappropriately sexual in public than either of them.

[ashboy-3]

Weird meet Weird

Written for Dannymay day 10 Prompt: Bones Fandom: Danny Phantom Characters: Danny and OC Words: 719 Summary: Danny and Parker accidentally meet up for lunch in between classes and Danny ends up meeting a new friend

“Hey Danny,” said person looking up from his laptop to see his blonde roommate with another person, one he doesn’t know.

“Hey man,” Danny greeted, gesturing to the extra chairs

“This is my friend Bones,” Parker pointed to the other person who had mohawks dyed a multitude of colors, wearing a black jean jacket filled with patches, and jeans. The shirt seemed to be a random pun shirt that Danny smiled at. Looking down Danny saw that his shoelaces had little beads with letters on them, spelling a message.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Danny!” Danny smiled.

“Oh cool! I met Parker in our English 1010 class. I’m a psychology major. What about you?” Parker asked.

“Oh, I’m an astrophysics major. I’ve always been a big fan of NASA and space in general,” Danny ate one of his fries.

“Oh, nice! I don’t really understand science that much, but I love the zodiac, tarot, crystals things like that.”

“Man only known each other for five seconds and I’m already being replaced” Parker faked being offended as Bones just smirked, giving Danny a pat on the back.

“What can I say, Parker? Weird attracts weird.”

“Oh, then you’ll definitely get along. Danny over here is the weirdest person that I know,” Parker rolled their eyes.

“Hey, I’m not that weird!” Danny laughed.

“Sure you’re just unusually a secretive person who won’t even tell me where you’re from.”

“I told you I’m from Illinois,” Danny pointed out.

“No hometown?” Bones asked, eating his own food.

“It’s just better if I don’t say. My hometown never got the best publicity,” Danny shrugged awkwardly.

“Hey, man I understand. I’m from NYC. WE have as much good publicity as bad,” Bones assured him.

“Nah. Maybe one day, but not today,” Danny shook his head as Parker groaned.

“That’s the answer he gives every time!”

“So the name Bones?” Danny asked carefully, not wanting to offend his new friend.

“Oh came out a while ago, but I couldn’t find a name that fit me. My parents and brother kept suggesting names for me to take, but I couldn’t find one then I’m studying in high school one day and it hits me. Bones! It was perfect! Went home and told my mom that I want to go by Bones. She was confused at first, but after a few months of insisting she realized that this was permanent,” Bones shrugged, not at all afraid to share his story.

“Oh, that’s nice that your family is so accepting!” Danny smiled, remembering having that same fear for so long.

“You’ve had the experience I’m guessing?” Bones asked as an awkward air filled the three because Parker had never thought to ask Danny about his home life.

“It’s not the same. There was something about me that my parents had always voiced a certain distaste for. I was going to tell them instantly, but let’s just say my life got a little crazy and I just couldn’t. So I didn’t tell them anything for three years. I eventually told them about my junior year of high school. My older sister was right next to me as were my two best friends. Believe it or not, we all planned an escape plan in case anything went wrong or they didn’t accept me, but I told them. My mom did broke down crying and my dad went silent for a whole day, but I wasn’t told to leave. The next day my mom hugs me tighter than she ever had before. She was still crying but she was stressing how much she loved me and how proud she was of me. I can relate a little,” Danny shrugged.

“Shit man. I didn’t know,” Parker looked down.

“Hey don’t feel bad. It’s like you said I’m too private of a person. I’m trying to get better, but it’s not nearly a big deal as it was in high school,” Danny laughed to himself as he looked down at his watch.

“Shit! I’m gonna be late!” Danny instantly hurried up and packed his stuff.

“Hey, Parker is gonna send me your number and vice versa! We should meet up again!” Bones suggested as Danny was already walking out!

“For sure!” Danny gave his two friends a wave-bye, rushing off to his next class.

[originaltyphoonkryptonite]

Chapter 5: Damian

Dick pov

It's been a month or two since that nightmare incident and Zella has been getting better. She lets me semi-touch her on the arms, hands, and shoulders. And I can give her hugs about once a week, maybe twice a week on a good day. We've also made Friday nights our hang/teaching time. I even do Saturday Movie Night with her and Gus. Luckily that time is right after dinner which is at 5:30. During that time, I also help Zella with letting people touch her. Though I semi gained a little guardian during patrol.

~flash-back~

It was a rainy night and probably not a good time to be doing patrols on slippery roofs. I was fighting some bank robbers on a roof and nearly fell off when something grabbed my arm. I couldn't see what but it flipped me back up and right onto a crook. I been saved by the something a few times so I left it a piece of bacon once on the balcony of my apartment. It was gone when I checked the next morning. Since then, every time I get saved and nothing is there, I'll leave some bacon for it.

~flash-back ends~

Coming out of memory lane I found a letter Damian wrote for me. I smile as I reread it. It basically saying I was going to abandon him by going back to being Nightwing, though abandon was crossed of. He also wanted me to take Tim with me. I chuckle and get ready to go to a gala Bruce said I had to go to. I was bummed since it was Saturday Movie Night the same time as the Gala. I finish getting ready and head to Gotham.

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

Damian pov

Grayson is hiding something and I intend to find out. He's be more.....smiley lately. I had brought it up to Father but he only said 'He's probably got a new girlfriend.'. Still it is unnerving he would be this happy. Not to mention he's been spending less time at the Manor and more time at his home. But he had to be at the gala tonight at the Manor. I was waiting for him to come as the guests mingled around the ballroom. The moment I see him enter I go over to question him.

"Grayson, why have you been spending so much time at your apartment?"

"Oh.....no reason."

"Then who is this woman?", I ask as I take out a photo of a lady with black hair that ended at her back, green eyes, and she was wearing a pink shirt with a purple collar, a gray sweater jacket, gray tennis-shoes, gray capri, and a what was 1/4 black watch.

"Where did you get that?!", he asks as he tries to grab it.

"I have my ways. Now who is she?", I reply as I put the photo back in my pocket.

"None of your business.", he says as he gives up trying to get it.

"Doesn't matter. I already did research on her."

"You what!?"

"Zella Lilith Duff. Age 24, owns the bookstore Silent Shadow. Rents one of the apartments above it to a Richard Grayson. Has no criminal records, not even a parking ticket. Shy around people so a good friend of hers, Gus Hodges deals with people for her. No other records of family listed."

I smirk while Grayson had his mouth open wide. He then grabs my arm and drags me to a corner of the room that wasn't busy. He then glares at me.

"Does Bruce know about her?", he asks with clenched teeth.

"No, Father doesn't know, but that can change."

"What do you want?", he asks with a sigh.

"I want to meet her in person."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Fine.....but I have to be there. And no threatening her got it?"

"Very well. I will meet her tomorrow, unless you want me to give this information to Father?"

"Fine."

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

Zella pov

I got a text from Dick this morning saying he youngest brother wanted to meet me?! "It should be fine," I think. "I mean Cippia will be in the shadows, and Dick will be there......with a brother......I'm doomed!"

I hear a knock on the door and Cippia goes hide. I smooth out my gray sweater dress and double check my black leggings. I then open the door.

"Hello Dick. This must be Damian?"

I will admit I was surprised by the glare Damian gave me. He didn't seem to like me, but Dick had warned me Damian didn't like many people.

"Yeah this is him. Sorry for coming so early in the morning.", Dick says with a sheepish grin.

"It's fine. Come in and have a seat at the counter. I made pancakes."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

They both enter and I close the door. We head to my kitchen and there sitting on the counter were the pancakes I had made.

"Don't mind if I do!", Dick says as he digs in.

"So Damian, you're ten from what Dick has told me?"

"Tt. Yes I am ten as it is obvious.", he says with a scowl.

"True, but I thought I could start the conversation that way. Since that backed fired, do you like animals?"

"I do."

"Then tell me about your animals. Dick did mention you had a few."

We talked about his pets and that he likes to draw. It was.....not as bad as I thought. Dick said he had something for Damian so he went to his apartment quick.

"What are your intentions with my brother?" Damian asks the moment Dick left.

"Well I was hoping he could be my friend eventually."

"Is he not your friend now?", he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"I have a hard time letting people in. Though Dick has this way about him."

"I suppose he does."

Dick came back and tackled Damian.

"Come on Dami wear the cute Stitch onesie I got you!"

"Never Grayson!"

They go back and forth and I couldn't help but laugh. Apparently  my laughter was not expected because they both stop. I blush and hide my face in my hands in embarrassment.

"Fine. I'll wear it.", Damian says as he takes it and goes into the guest bathroom to put it on.

"You should laugh more. It was cute.", Dick says with a smile.

 I give a small smile back and Damian comes back. We spent the rest of the visit watching Disney movies on the couch.

[johnkrrasinski]

started from a call

full masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 3,610

Warning: angst with a happy ending! that's all.

Summary: written for @wkemeup's 9k writing challenge with the prompt "character a leaves an embarrassing, drunk message on character b’s voicemail and spends the rest of the night trying to discreetly delete it from [b]’s phone." inspired by a bit of ross and rachel from friends too. you found out from steve that bucky was in love with you in high school but after he returns home with a girl in his arm, you cancelled your plans to tell him how you feel. will you and bucky have your happy ending?

a/n: please like, reblog and leave a feedback. :) enjoy!

"Alright, I'll see you tonight. Bye." He leaned against the kitchen counter and hung up the phone with a grin on his face. "You hear that, Sam? We're going on our third date tonight." He threw his phone up into the air and caught it so casually without spilling a drop of his coffee sitting on his right hand. "Looks like I'm getting that 300 bucks soon."

"Hey, easy. You ain't going to that date yet, who knows? She could bail on you. It doesn't count if the date doesn't end well."

"Oh, but it will. I just gotta turn on my charm and next thing you know, we're already meeting the parents stage."

"Meeting the parents? That's a big step from you, Buck."

"Hey, I'm a man of my words. If I said that I'm going to change this year then I'm gonna stick to it."

"So Leah isn't just a one-time thing to get 300 bucks?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no. We'll see how tonight goes. But one thing's for sure is that I'm getting that 300 bucks."

Sam and Bucky made a bet as their New Year's resolution that Bucky would never go on a second date with any girl or remember to call her in the morning after a wild night. His commitment issues had given him a reputation as the player in the gang. It wasn't a new thing anymore to anyone that when they visited Bucky's place in the morning, they would see a girl with a dopey smile and slightly ruffled hair walking out of his apartment, giddy that Bucky just made a promise to call her later.

You, Natasha, Wanda, Sam and Steve were hanging out at Nat's place. The six of you had been friends since college. You, Nat, Bucky and Steve had known each other since high school and the four of you kept in touch despite going to separate universities. You met Wanda when you went to NYU and Steve met Sam while he was in Harvard. Long story short, after the four of you graduated, you and Wanda lived together as roommates and even started your own bakery business. Steve and Bucky lived in the same building as you and Natasha and Sam lived nearly alone. They were too independent for roommates. Don't even start on Natasha and how much she valued her personal space. That's how the six of you ended up here, gathered at your place on a Saturday afternoon.

"Are you gonna pick her up tonight?"

"Of course. Gonna clean up well, bring her some flowers and knock on her door at 7 pm precisely. Which girl isn't gonna fall for that?" Bucky walked over to the couch you and Nat were sitting on and leaned on the headrest, his arms caging both you and Natasha.

You didn't say anything nor did Natasha because she knew about your feelings for Bucky. Despite never feeling that way about Bucky in high school, your feelings changed a week ago after learning that Bucky used to be in love with you but never had the courage to tell you. That's why he never had a girlfriend during his high school years and he wanted to take you to prom and confess his feelings to you but he was too late. Another guy had already snooped in first.

You were his first love but it wasn't reciprocated until now. That's why in college, he learned how to get over you and slept with as many women as possible because he felt like he lost four years of his life of finding the one. He never intended to be a player and feed girls empty promises, it just kind of became his way of dating. He was too afraid that no one could live up to you yet he enjoyed being with women. Hence, the bet.

The day you found out from Steve about Bucky's past feelings for you while playing truth or dare, you immediately wanted to call him up but Bucky was out of town for a few days and as soon as he was back home, he had Leah in his arm. Your heart was crushed. Wanda told you that it would probably last for a few days and that he'd eventually be single again but you totally did not expect this thing to turn into something serious. You loved Sam with every fibre of your being, he was like the big brother you never had, but you wanted to curse him for making that bet.

So you just rolled your eyes and stayed silent throughout this entire conversation, even though your heart felt like it was being stabbed over and over again. "Alright, I gotta go. Got a big date tonight. I'll see you guys in a few hours." Just like that, Bucky walked out of the room without knowing the pain his words caused you.

The next day you were sitting in your bed watching The Notebook in your pyjamas because you were too heartbroken to do anything productive. It was Sunday so you could just have a whole day to yourself and do absolutely nothing but cry. Wanda knocked on your door bringing a plate of cookies and she had a pitiful look on her face. "y/n? Sweetie? I made you these cookies, they might make you feel better." Sometimes you thank the stars for bringing her into your life.

"Thank you, Wanda. You're so nice to me." You know you probably sound like a hormonal whiny kid but everything made you cry at the moment.

"Do you need anything else? I know how it feels to get your heartbroken, trust me. When me and Vision had a fight and we didn't talk for days all I wanted was to curl up and never leave my bed, so in case you need anything, I'm here." She offered you that warm smile of hers.

"No, all I want right now is to just eat these cookies and go back to my film, thanks Wan."

"Okay, I'll be outside." Your pity party was interrupted when Nat arrived in her leather jacket and burst into your room.

"Get up, you are taking a shower and you're getting that face beat."

"Natasha, what the hell? Leave me alone."

"Y/N, listen to me. I got a date for you. His name is Scott and he's a real nice guy, he's funny, he's a good friend of mine and he is really smart. He is so much better than Bucky, I promise you. Now c'mon, I already told him that you are meeting him tonight at Stark's restaurant at 7."

You whined, doing anything you can to get her to leave you alone with your tears and your cookies but you knew that once Natasha set her mind on something, there's no talking her way out of it. Damn that woman with her determination.

"Y/N, c'mon! Wallowing all day isn't you. I know you and what's good for you. That's why I found you a great guy who will charm you so good that you will forget Barnes even existed. You can't let him win, y/n. If he's going to be happy with someone else, then you better show him that you can be much happier with other people."

You stared at her, trying to absorb her words. There's some wisdom in that. You're not the type to cry over a guy, not even for even Bucky Barnes. So you let Natasha drag you to the shower and asked Wanda to do your hair when she does your makeup. She chose an outfit for you, a dress that was not too sexy but chic enough to leave a good first impression.

Scott was early to the restaurant and he looked elated to see you. He was wearing a grey suit with no tie and he had a really exuberant smile on his face, the type that drew people easily. You could see why Natasha called him a nice guy.

"Wow, sorry, I just- didn't expect you to be this beautiful."

"Ah, thank you, Scott. Have you been waiting long?"

"No, not at all. I just arrived here like five minutes ago."

The night went on and Scott did most of the asking and talking, you answered each question curtly with forced enthusiasm in your face and body language. You weren't even listening to half of the things he said because your mind kept playing images of Bucky with Leah and how you heard from Sam that the date went well so he lost 300 bucks. You kept thinking about Bucky and Leah and how they would probably get married and have kids and live in the suburbs with a golden retriever while you'd still be single and you'd compare every man you meet to Bucky. Maybe it was your karma for not reciprocating his feelings in high school.

Five glasses of wine and you spent more time nodding than talking. Honestly, all you wanted to do was to just go home and go back to The Notebook because their love story was much better than your love life. Scott woke you out of your daze, "Natasha told you that I was cuter than this, did she?" after you gulped your sixth glass of wine.

"Oh Scott, I'm so sorry. It's not you, it's me. I know it sounds cliche but it's just... I'm not in a place where I'm looking for a boyfriend. You are a really likeable guy and I swear, if we had met at another time, maybe I would be a better date but right now, I just- I have someone else in my mind." You sighed, it felt like a relief to get that off your chest.

"Is this guy... an ex-boyfriend?"

You chuckled, "no... He wishes."

Scott nodded, "look, I don't know what your situation is but I've been through a divorce and it's never easy. But eventually, you'll be fine. You can't see it now because you haven't had closure." Then it was as if the bulb above your head was turned on.

"That's it.  Closure, yeah. That's all I need. Okay, give me a minute. I'm gonna call him now and I'm going to get my closure."

Scott sat there watching you comically trying to find your phone in your purse and tapped on Bucky's contact number. The normal you would be sweating with every ring but intoxicated you had no worries in the world... For now.

"This is Bucky. Can't pick up right now, leave a message." Beep.

"Hello, yes, Bucky! Or James, should I call you James? I always thought Bucky was a weird name. Anyways, I'm just calling to tell you that I am fine and I am on a date with Scott. And speaking of dates, I just gotta tell you that I'm happy to hear that your date went well. And that, my friend, means that I am over you. That's right, I'm over you. Tell Leah I say hi." You said sarcastically.

You hung up the phone and threw your phone back into your purse. You felt like you just won a chess game.

The next morning you decided to sleep in because your heart was pounding and you could barely sit up without feeling like you might fall. You were supposed to be working at the bakery but since you owned the bakery, Wanda let you sleep it off until you recover. You couldn't remember anything from last night, how you got back to your apartment was a mystery. You tried to put the pictures together, from being forced to go on a date, meeting a guy named Sean? Simon? Sebastian? Scott! Yes, Scott. You ordered your meals and then... Nothing, it was all blurry. You weren't even sure if anything happened at all after eating your meals.

The apartment was empty because Wanda was working at the bakery and it was just you with your hangover pills. Bucky came to your apartment without knocking because Wanda told him on the phone that you were home. He greeted you with a smile and asked about your date.

"Uh, let's see. I think there was a restaurant, I know there was wine. And there's a guy, Scott and pretty much that's all I can recall."

Bucky made a yikes face. Seeing the state you were in, he could do the math (of the wine you had). You probably enjoyed the alcohol more than the guy. What a doofus, he thought. If he was the one going on a date with you, you'd definitely remember every detail from last night.

"Leah's downstairs and I'm taking her back to her place but I left my keys here last night. Have you seen it?"

"No, check the drawers. Maybe Wanda put 'em there."

"Ah, okay." He opened the drawers and found the keys to his bike.

"Did we... Speak on the phone last night?"

"Nope, my phone was dead and I didn't charge it all night so I haven't really checked it. Why?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's just... Never mind. My memories are a bit hazy right now. You should go, say hi to Leah for me."

Bucky nodded as you walked back to your room to go lie down. Your question reminded him that he should probably check his phone now because there could be work-related messages but the first thing he heard was a voicemail from you. "Oh, y/n. I got your message!"

That instantly stopped you in your tracks. Your eyes went wide and you froze. You immediately turned around and ran to grab his phone away from him. Bucky had a confused look on his face, "who's Scott?"

"Oh my God, no, Bucky, give me the phone. Give me the phone!" But it was already too late, he was already halfway through your voicemail and by the time you successfully snatched his phone out of his grasp, he had already heard every word.

Bucky stood there dumbfounded, he needed time to process everything you just said to him. "What do you- what do you mean you're over me?"

"Oh, God... Alright, um- lately, I've um- sort of, have... Feelings for you." You never had to chase a guy or confess your crush first so this felt new and my God, it was nerve-racking.

"You have feelings for me..." He said it as if he was convincing himself that his ears got it right. Bucky couldn't believe the words that just escaped through your lips, for years he had dreamed of this moment. Though never did he ever want you to make the first move but adolescent him wanted to hear you say what he'd been wanting to say to you too.

He didn't say anything for what felt like minutes and you couldn't decipher his thoughts from the look on his face. "I need to sit down," he pulled one of the dining chairs and leaned on his side in a defeated posture.

"Bucky... Please say something." You alerted him in a hushed tone, not wanting to startle him than you already did. But he didn't. He was lost at words. What the hell was he supposed to tell her?

"Look Bucky, I'm sorry for telling you this way but I had to. I just- I've been wanting to talk to you about it since you came back to New York, well- actually, since Steve told me but-"

"Whoa, Steve told you?!" He interrupted.

"Yeah, it just accidentally slipped when we were playing truth or dare..."

"Okay well," he stood up from his seat, yet he still couldn't look you in the eye. "I can't do this right now, Leah's waiting for me downstairs and I gotta go." He basically ran out of the room and slammed the door behind him, leaving you alone.

Once your hangover had begun dissipating, you decided to help Wanda at the bakery and took the night shift. She must've been exhausted from managing the bakery alone while also helping the employees in the kitchen so you told her to go home and leave it to you. The bakery's usually slower at night.

When it was nearing closing time and your employees had gone home, you decided to clean up and turned off the lights and checked everything one last time before locking the door. The bell above the door dinged and you were slightly annoyed because who the hell comes to the bakery at this hour?

"I'm sorry we're clo...sed." It was Bucky. He stood there in a black coat, with an expression you still couldn't figure out. "Bucky, what are you-"

"You have no right to tell me that you've got feelings for me." His tone was harsh, he never spoke that way to you or anyone... Ever.

"What?"

He walked closer to you, maintaining his gaze, "You can not tell me that you've got feelings for me now when I'm doing well with my life and Leah..."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I was in love with you for years! Years, y/n! And you never said and did anything and now when everything's going well you're ruining it!"

"I am ruining it?" You repeated the question because you couldn't believe what you just heard. How dare he said those hurtful things to you.

"Yes! I was doing fine with Leah and now I don't know what's going to happen with me and her anymore..."

"Yeah, well, I was doing fine before I found out that YOU were in love with me and never had the balls to tell me!" You did everything you could to not cry, you hated crying in the middle of an argument.

"Hey, it's not like I didn't try. There were your ex-boyfriends and your dates and I had to move on. I couldn't wait forever! And now, now you're too late."

"Oh, so what? You're just gonna walk away and pretend that this never happened?"

"Yes, I'm going to do exactly that and I'm going to go see Leah." He turned around like he did earlier in your apartment and left you alone once again with your heartbreak.

"Fine! Go ahead and see Leah because I don't give a fuck about cowards like you or whoever you sleep with." You slammed the door and tried everything you could to not have a breakdown here because you really hated letting an argument hurt you. You sat on one of the chairs where the customers would sit and you hid your face with your hands and cried.

Not because you just lost an argument but because of what Bucky said and it felt like you had lost Bucky before you even had him. Now there was no hope left for you and Bucky, things were too complicated.

You didn't know how long you had cried there, alone, in the dimmed lighting of your shop but after you felt like the tears had dried, you wiped the traces of your tears from your cheeks with the back of your thumb. You stood from your seat and was ready to go home. You couldn't wait to eat some leftover pizzas, take a warm shower and cry into your pillows until you fall asleep.

But when you were about to leave, you saw Bucky standing on the other side of the door, watching you through the windows with a softer expression on his face. You opened the door and Bucky instantly grabbed your waist and kissed you as if his life depended on it.

You gave in to his kiss, letting him pour every desire and yearning into your lips for as long as he wanted. You grabbed his face because you wanted him impossibly closer and you shut your eyes, letting your guard down. Because it was Bucky, and you'd known him for as long as you could remember and you both deserved this moment.

Bucky eventually pulled away until both of you were running out of air. You were breathless from his kiss, you never knew he was such a good kisser. (It's Bucky and he's had a lot of women on his bed, of course, he was excellent at it. Who were you kidding?) But now that you've had your own front-row experience, you felt a tad of possessiveness at the thought of sharing those lips or any part of him with anyone else.

"I couldn't go back to her knowing you are here alone and I had thrown away what I've wanted for as long as I could remember."

"I'm glad you came back." You pressed your foreheads and you rested your hands on his chest. You could get used to this.

"I hope it's not too late to say this but, y/n y/l/n, will you let me take you to dinner and see a movie after maybe?"

"I wasn't the one who said it's too late," you halfheartedly teased him.

"Shut up, so is that a yes or a no?"

You bit your lip and nodded, "yes. Definitely a yes." You stared into his ocean blue eyes, so deep and beautiful, you could easily get lost in it.

"y/n y/ln, I'm going to put all of your ex-boyfriends to shame."

"Hm, we'll see about that." You put your arms around his neck. Then a thought crossed your mind and your smile faded away, "what are you gonna do about Leah though?"

"I'll talk to her in the morning. Let's take you home now, yeah? It's getting late."

You bit your lip and nodded, "okay."

Ninth grade you dreamed of popular jocks and athletic seniors, but little did you know that, sometimes, the one who sincerely loved you was the book nerd who loved The Hobbit a little too much.

[angry-geese]

OSHA Non Compliance

Nanami Kento x Reader

Warnings: nsfw/minors do not interact. shameless smut. fingering, oral (fem and masc receiving), face riding, praise kink (kinda), multiple orgasms, mutual pining. gojo slander. a little dub con due to the sex pollen stuff. afab reader

Notes: some sex pollen smut with Nanami. i have a post thats pretty similar to this thats a gojo x reader which you can read here

Word Count: 3.3k

If there's one thing you two can agree on, it's how this is all Gojo’s fault.

The job was supposed to be simple; get in, exorcise the curse, get out. It wasn't a particularly deadly one, but it was proving to be difficult for lower grade sorcerers. Anyone who had come into contact with it fell violently ill, suffering effects that lasted between hours to days. The symptoms themselves varied from person to person. Nobody seemed to give a straight answer.

In response, you two were sent out.

As odd as it was, you didn't question it. Curses are odd, things like this happen. Two grade one sorcerers should have been enough to take this thing out. One alone should have been enough, not to mention the army of sorcerers sent after it before. Gojo wanted you to take backup just in case, shrugging you off when you asked why he couldn’t do it himself. You were certain you could take this alone, but he was insistent.

Reluctantly you dragged Nanami along.

The two of you weren't officially partners, but most of your jobs were done together. It was a mutual agreement. He found you much less annoying than Gojo. That's not to say he didn't find you annoying at first, but you were more tolerable. Nanami wasn’t much older than you—only by a few years—but he acted as a mentor when you first started out. You quickly improved, nearly rivaling him in strength. It wasn't long before you became a grade one sorcerer, same as him. On that day he was there to celebrate with you.

He likes to think you’ve turned out to be a semi-functional human being. Maybe he’s gotten sentimental as he’s grown older. He hated for his work life to cross over into his home life, but he’s made an exception for you. Any time you’d call, he’d come running.

The curse had taken up residence in an abandoned school, only being discovered when the building was being surveyed for possible reuse. You’re not sure why nobody had noticed it sooner, but you’ve learned not to question a curse’s behavior.

It’s attack had a strange area of effect. You've never seen anything like it. The fact that such a non-lethal curse was considered such a high grade should have tipped you off in the first place. The curse released some strange sort of fumes. Or spores. You really weren't certain what they were. It was airborne and you knew that you needed to stay far away.

While the direct hit missed you, you were still affected. You took in a lung-full of the stuff before you managed to get away.

If it weren't for Nanami…

You barely make it back to the car. You’re not injured, so much as you’re lightheaded, and nauseous.

“I’m not going to make it back to the school.” You say.

“Are you hurt?” He asks.

Slowly you shake your head. It's not wrong, per se, but it's not right either. This is a strange type of hurt.

Your apartment is closer. The drive was twenty minutes on the way there; you make it back in about eight.

You’re not sure what to do once you get inside other than contemplate your life choices. You toss your keys and bag aside. There's not much you can do aside from flop down on your couch and pray. Not that you’re the praying type normally, but what could it hurt?

The effects of the pollen seem to hit you all at once. The sickly sweet taste in your mouth makes you gag. You fall to your hands and knees and retch, but nothing comes up. If you thought you felt bad before, you definitely do now. Sweat beads on your forehead. You feel jittery, yet lethargic. Heat radiates off your skin like a furnace. Your mouth has gone dry. Your clothes feel too tight. You’d claw them off your body if your partner wasn't sitting a few feet away.

You swallow hard as heat begins to pool between your legs. You shift uncomfortably, trying to get some relief.

While you’re slowly losing it, Nanami looks fine. As calm and collected as ever.

Nanami didn't seem to get the brunt of that attack. Or maybe he's better at hiding it than you.

He is.

He’s been dealing with an aching cock since you two left that building. He was all-too aware of every corner and bump on the ride home. You were too busy trying to escape with your dignity to notice him, and the tent that grows in his pants. He covers his lap with his suit jacket. You think nothing of it.

He studies every dip and curve of your clothed body. They cling to your skin with sweat in a way that makes his cock throb. Nanami knows how wrong it is. He shouldn't feel this way. You're his damn partner! Looking at you this feels so wrong.

In an attempt to comfort you, he smooths a hand across your back, gently squeezing your shoulder. Sweat beads in your hairline. Your chest heaves.

“I don't think it’s something we can wait out,” you say, swallowing hard.

“What are we-” it’s as if he didn't realize what he was asking. His eyes go wide, before his gaze shoots straight to the ground.

“‘Ken-” You say, hoping he can't hear the way your voice trembles, “I feel like I’ll die if you don't touch me.”

It's with a sinking, horrifying feeling that he agrees. Slowly you climb into his lap. It feels wrong. But your body fits perfectly against his. He’s your partner—your friend—you shouldn't be wanting him this way. He’s pliant against your touch, moving with you, paying close attention to each and every one of your movements. Every cell of your being wants him to fuck you.

“I know.” He says. “Me too.”

He hauls you into his arms, setting you down on the couch back-first. The sudden weightlessness you feel makes you gasp. There's nothing gentle behind his touch. Your hands work to undo the buttons of his shirt, but they tremble so bad it's hard to do.

“Don't worry about that.” He coos. "Let me take care of you."

With shaky hands he undoes the buttons on your pants, sliding them down your legs. His face heats up at the way your panties are already soaked through. All this just for him?

He tries not to stare too long. If you were the only thing he looked at for the rest of his life, he'd be content.

He strokes at your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. He almost seems afraid to touch you. For a moment he is, but that quickly wears off when you moan. He can't help but watch the way you squirm and writhe under his touch. How the delicate fabric clings to your skin from how wet you are. He hates how much he enjoys seeing you like this. It feels wrong.

“Please,” there’s a hazy look in your eyes.

He swallows hard. You’re not thinking straight, he thinks, this is so wrong.

He pulls down your panties, throwing them aside with your pants. You tug off your shirt, quickly tossing it aside. His hands come up to palm at your breasts through the fabric of your bra. He gently tugs the fabric down, exposing your breasts. Your nipples harden in the cool air. As wrong as it feels, you would be lying if you said your partner wasn't attractive. Not only is he handsome, and one of the most powerful sorcerers you have met, he was a close—if not your closest—friend.

Nanami’s touches are feather-light. It's not that he's worried about hurting you—though the fear of that is there—he doesn't want this to ruin your friendship. He doesn't want you to view him differently because of this. The two of you have gone through much together; he doesn't want this to make things awkward. He’s just wanted you for so long.

He never intended for his work life to cross over into his home life. That was until you came along. Nanami can't imagine a life without you around.

Two of his fingers press against your entrance, his thumb circling your clit. His fingers are long, and fairly thick. Only one enters you at first, but you’re wet enough he adds a second one not long after. His fingers curl, stroking against your g-spot. His touch feels like too much yet not enough. You desperately grind against his hand, chasing your own release.

If he can just get you to finish, maybe he can wait it out. You’ve clearly got it worse than him. Right?

He pulls you up into a kiss. His lips taste sweet. Your lips part, allowing his tongue into your mouth. His chest presses against yours. Your thighs tighten around his hand, though not in an attempt to stop him.

Heat pools low in your stomach, slowly building in intensity. You moan into Nanami's mouth. You're reduced to a whining, whimpering mess under his hand.

His free hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your head so your gaze meets his. A sleepy grin spreads across your face. The pad of his thumb brushes over your glossy lips. In a moment of lucidity you wrap your lips around it, swirling your tongue around the digit.

Nanami almost forgets how to breathe. Nobody can get him nearly as flustered as you can.

The coil in your stomach snaps. If you knew how much you gushed around Nanami's fingers, you'd be blushing. Your cunt clenches around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm on his hand.

Your first orgasm provides no relief. In a matter of seconds—probably less time than that if you're being honest—you're ready for another round.

You work the last few buttons of his shirt open before he gets impatient and pulls the thing over his head. You let out an audible “oh!” at the sight of his chest. It's more toned than you expected; not that you’ve given it much thought.

“Like what you see?” He says in a sudden moment of boldness that it surprises both of you.

You nod. Now really isn't the time to be shy, but you can't help it.

He's painfully hard, his erect cock leaking precum against his thigh. The tent in his pants is impressive to say the least. You get on your knees, tugging his pants down his hips. You were right to notice his bulge. He's huge. Long and thick. Uncut too. The hairs towards the base of his cock are light—a similar sandy blonde as the hair on his head—and neatly trimmed. He always takes care of himself. A prominent vein runs up the bottom. A small pang of guilt hits you when you realize how needy his cock looks. His chest, the tips of his nose and ears, and the head of his cock are all dusted with pink. He looks at you with such adoration it makes your chest flutter.

You slide off the couch, getting on your knees. Nanami parts his legs just enough for you to kneel between them.

His eyes go wide the moment your lips touch his cock. You press kitten licks to the tip, watching the way his lip twitches in frustration. Nanami’s hands bury in your hair. The feeling of his nails raking against your scalp makes goosebumps raise along your skin. What you can’t fit in your mouth, you stroke with your hands. Saliva runs down your chin in streams, tears stained black with eyeliner streaming down your cheeks.

The only sign that he’s about to orgasm is the way he tilts his head back, cursing.

When he cums, he cums a lot. It's thick, but runny, and has almost no taste to it at all. His cum spills out the corners of your mouth when you pull off of him, releasing him with a pop!

Without thinking, you swallow.

With how long he stares down at you, it almost seems like you’ve done something wrong.

You can't stop the squeak you let out as he hauls you into his lap. He lays back, guiding your hips so you’re kneeling above his face.

“What are you-”

“It’s only fair that I return the favor,” he says.

No matter how hard you try, he doesn't let you wriggle out of his grasp.

“I- I don't want to suffocate you.” You say.

The amount of his testicles Nanami would cut off just to get a taste of your cunt… He’ll give you a hint, it's more than one and less than three.

“You won't.” He said. Even if you could—which you couldn't, he’s stronger than he looks—he’d die happy.

Your thighs cradle his head in an almost perfect way. There's almost no better feeling. His tongue dips between your folds, circling your clit. You taste sweet, he notes. A kiss is pressed to your clit before long, slow strokes of a hot tongue lavish it in affection. He kneads your thighs gently all while alternating between licking and sucking on your bundle of nerves.

He wants nothing more than to take his time with you. After all, he’s got years to make up for.

You can feel and hear him panting against your dripping sex. He can do little to hide the way he grinds his bulge against the couch. He grunts when you tug his hair, guiding him to where you need him most.

There's a feeling of emptiness as you cum, your walls contracting around nothing where something should be. You ride out your orgasm with a series of short, high pitched moans, rocking your cunt against his mouth. Nanami takes all of it in stride, lewdly slurping at your sex. Your thighs shake, your cunt spasming as he continues to press kitten licks to your clit.

And god- the sight of his face; his lips wet and slick from your cunt, eyes hazy with lust, his hair a mess.

"It's no use." You say. It's in-between whimpers and moans. Even as your second orgasm approaches, you feel no sense of relief. "I need your cock."

He feels himself twitch with need. His cock barely went soft the first time he came. Nanami wants nothing more than to sink his length into your warm, wet cunt.

He doesn't bother carrying you to your room. He would have fucked you in the car if you asked. He’d fuck you on every flat surface of your apartment if you wanted him too.

His cock presses against your entrance, rubbing at your folds. He doesn't mean to tease you, he just wants to drag this out as long as he can. You're so wet you take his cock with no resistance. He groans at the feeling of your cunt as you sink onto him.

Cumming on his tongue is intoxicating, but it feels like nothing in comparison to his cock. Nothing substitutes for the hot, full sensation of his cock inside of you. You string together words in some desperate attempt to make a sentence. Being completely filled is making you woozy. Nanami fits just so well inside of you. It's like you were made for this. You're not sure if it's the pollen, or just him, but you can feel every ridge and vein on his cock.

"Can't believe-" he huffs, "can't believe you got tighter after cumming twice."

"Please Ken," you whimper.

It hurts, but it feels too nice to stop. Nanami can't tear his eyes away from the way your tits bounce as you ride him. The sounds of skin slapping on skin echo through the room, mingling with his grunts and your moans, creating a lewd cacophony.

"Fuck," he says, his seemingly calm demeanor fading, "you're so fucking pretty."

Gojo would give him shit about this for weeks if he knew…

You're starting to think he meant to do this.

"I'm going to kill him," you say, although it's hard to stay mad for long.

“Me too,” he says.

Your orgasm rolls over you like a wave, throwing you around and spitting you back out, leaving you an absolute mess. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Eyeliner runs down your face in streams, leaving black trails across your skin. It's the first time you've cum from g-spot stimulation alone. But it's also the same as the other two times you've cum: you're ready for another round instantly.

At some point in time Nanami gets on top. Your legs lock around his back, pulling him in. Maybe you blacked out. Exhaustion creeps into your limbs, leaving them sore and wobbly.

Nanami thrusts harder, trying to quell the fire that pits in his stomach. He doesn't warn you that he's coming. If he's being honest, he didn't know he was either. You just feel hot ropes of his cum fill you, spilling out, staining your couch. When he cums, his cock doesn't even go soft. If anything he’s harder. Almost instantly he’s ready for another round. He's never felt anything quite like this.

The sensation of his cum dripping out of you, running down your thighs in streams is bizarre. There's so much of it. You don't want him to stop. He brings a hand down to give your ignored clit some attention. His spare hand wipes your tears away, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek.

Even as he's made you cum for the nth time tonight he doesn't stop. The two of you can only fuck and cum until you're no longer sure where your body ends and his begins. It doesn't feel like enough. You’ve never been so full. He wants to cum in you and breed you until your womb is swollen with his child.

At some point he collapses from exhaustion—he thinks—and he's certain the two of you are going to die. No human can survive this, he thinks, that's impossible.

Neither of you died.

It could be minutes, it could be hours; by the time you wake up the sun has set completely. You're not sure what time it is, but judging by how long the sky's been dark, it must have been a while. Nanami snores softly, his drool pooling in the valley between your breasts. You card a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. One of his eyes cracks open. He can't tell if he’s dreaming or not. If he is, then this is too good to be true.

"You still with me?" You ask.

He nods.

You're cradled chest to chest, his heartbeat as steady and alive as ever. He pulls out slowly, admiring the mess between your thighs. Even in his sobering state he finds you truly beautiful. From the way your skin glints with sweat to the way you run your tongue over your parched lips. You stretch out, trying to work the stiffness out of your limbs. You’re certain you’ll be sore in the morning.

Nanami disappears into the kitchen, returning with two glasses of water. What you could really use is a shower.

If you want, he'll never mention this again. He's starstruck by your naked form, his cum dripping down your thighs. Part of him wants to see you like this every night. But that might still be the pollen talking.

He's sputtering out an apology; stringing words together in hopes of begging for your forgiveness.

"I didn't think that's how it'd happen," you say, shrugging, "but…"

You really can't complain. Everyone but Nanami seemed to realize how head over heels you were for each other.

"You… liked it?" He asks.

If you didn't like it, he would know. Nanami can't believe it.

"Minus the nearly dying part." You say. "I've spent the past year and a half trying to get in your pants. So yeah."

Instantly his face turns red. How has he not noticed? He's both mortified, and relieved that you feel the same—or at least similar to him. Then the embarrassment hits him. He didn't think he could be more embarrassed than he was standing naked in your living room.

"I'm gonna go shower." You say. He gives a nod in response, stopping dead in his tracks when you say: "join me."

[the-swedes-knees]

Time in A Bottle (Agent Mobius x Reader)

Summary: Everyone has a guilty pleasure. For Mobius, it's a slice of pie in a very specific slice of time.

Word Count: 1.8k

Located in the middle of Downtown, bordering on the corner of old-time druggies and newly gentrified condos was a moderate sized building with an exorbitant monthly rent. 

It was a theme restaurant, if the theme was 'we opened in 1953 and we'll be damned if we change the decor'- done up in chrome and frosted glass windows that clashed against the surrounding brick and mortar. The neon sign bearing the establishment's name had burnt out years ago, but it wasn't the type of place one would seek out.

Unless you were Mobius, that is.

[09:45:00]

Technically, he shouldn't be here.

His unit was nearly a mile out, or, more accurately, they would be within the hour. Dates like this, where a simple flap of a fat pigeon's wing could ripple into Nexus event after Nexus event had a name. A proper designation in their severity and frequency of necessary resets.

But he just always referred to them as 'a real pickle'.

You glance up at the front door as the brass bell affixed to the frame jingles loudly. The man that enters looks around the place before making eye contact with you and smiles. He points to the empty bar and you nod your head.

Once you finish refilling the other customer's drink, you see that he's made himself comfortable in the middle stool.

"Hey there." You greet from the opposite side of the counter. He offers a sheepish greeting in response as you set a water down in front of him, balancing a plastic straw on the rim of the glass. "Can I start you off with some coffee? Just made a fresh pot."

"That'd be great, thanks."

You place the mug and matching saucer in front of him and pour. For a moment you look up at him, and he's smiling a very genuine smile- something very rare these days.

As soon as it's full to the brim you're reaching under the counter and grabbing a clean glass sugar pourer, placing it right next to his cup.

"How'd you know?"

"Customer service intuition, I guess." He thanks you before unfurling the napkin containing his flatware. Like someone with real proper manners, he drapes the napkin over one of his legs before stirring an ample amount of sugar into his drink.

You can't help but notice just how much he fits in to the whole aesthetic with his well fitted brown suit and slim tie. New York offered a multiplicity of personalities, and you'd become quite numb to anything and everything that would walk through that door.

Yet, someone about this man was intriguing, familiar in a way. Like in the past life he was a PI that you hired to confirm your husband's affair.

Both a confidant, and a stranger.

"Feel free to take your time, but, do you know what you'd like?" You note his closed menu pushed to the side. He raises his eyebrows and nods while mid-sip, and you pull out a notepad and pen from your apron.

"Sure do, could I get two slices?" He points the vintage rotating pie cooler to your left and specifies his selection.

Easy enough. You put two generous slices onto separate plates, and he declines your offer of whipped cream or ice cream on top.

"Good choice, this one's my favorite."

"You don't say." The knowing twinkle in his eye wasn't noticed as you busied yourself with refilling his coffee. He holds his hands up in mock defeat and sighs. "Well, I guess you'll have to join me." The ceramic scraped against the quartz tabletop as he pushed one of the plates across the bar, directly opposite himself.

"I'm on the clock-"

"Don't worry, another customer doesn't come in for-" He pauses to flex his arm, riding his jacket sleeve up just enough to check his wristwatch. "12 minutes and 43 seconds."

[09:52:16]

"Am I supposed to trust you on that?" You raise an eyebrow, and his only response is a slight head tilt and pushing the second slice a nudge closer to you.

It wasn't every day courteous men offered you a break in the form of your favorite desert. Your face screwed up in contemplation as you looked at the only other two patrons in the diner before giving in and grabbing a second set of flatware. "Well, it is slow-"

"For a Friday?" He has another bite before setting down his fork and dabbing at his face with his napkin.

"Is it Friday already?" You sigh, bent over the counter to take a bite of the pie. Delicious as ever. "Hardly feels like it, all the days are melding together."

"I think this one will stand out."

"What is the date, anyway?"

"May 4th." You make a hum of acknowledgement and he gives you a lopsided grin. "2012, incase you forgot the year too."

"I'll mark it in my calendar," You laugh, using your hand to cover your mouth as you continue to chew. "'The Day I Met-'"

"Mobius." He introduces himself, extending his hand over the counter and you shake it. His grip is firm, authoritative. Before you can reply with your own name, he refers to you by it while maintaining perfect eye contact.

You can't explain why, but it feels so right when he says it. Like it was perfectly made to be pronounced in his charming Texan drawl with just the faintest hint of gravel.

While you're fixed in a stunned silence his eyes deliberately dart to the lapel of your uniform. You follow his gaze and laugh at yourself for neglecting that you were indeed wearing a nametag.

"So Mobius... like, from maths?"

"Yeah, like math." He eyes his untouched water and picks up the plastic straw. His fingers move carefully, removing the straw from the perorated paper. You watch with curiosity as the man twists the paper once and pinches the two ends together with his thumb and index finger.

Mobius holds his opposite hand out to you, confident, waiting. With a bemused smile you allow him to guide your hand. His skin is warm, presumably from the way he had cradled his coffee mug, but it's comforting in a way. His rough hand guides you, your finger tracing the geometry of the paper-straw shape.

"A path that twists and turns... but always ends back at the same spot."

"I wasn't very good at math." You admit, and gesture around as if working in a place like this was a testament to that fact. "Why does it matter that it always ends where it began?"

"Well, that all depends on perspective. Maybe it doesn't matter. But to the one who observes it, it makes all the difference." You quirk an eyebrow, silently pressing him to elaborate. "Maybe that point's... where you got your first kiss, the feeling when your favorite football team scores a winning touchdown, a perfect sunset-"

Mobius catches himself trailing off, and looks down at his plate. He puts another bite onto his fork and cheers it to you.

"Or having pie in good company."

You look around the mostly empty diner before bracing your arms against the counter, leaning in as if you were to whisper some great secret.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bit odd?"

[09:59:06]

"No-" His eyes crinkle as he laughs. "No, that's a new one. But you find it charming." He winked, actually winked, and leaned back in his stool, smirking into his coffee.

Your fork was halfway to your mouth as your just stared at him, frozen. You feel your mouth open and close a few times as you try to think of a somewhat dignified response.

"How would you know that?"

"I just know things." He shrugged.

"Like what?" You challenged.

"How about, Paul- over there." You crane your head to follow his line of eye, your coworker currently bussing a table that had just left. "Worked in this place five years, loves Coke- from the glass bottle, nothing else. Has a girl on the Upper East Side and runs a decent sized internet radio station out of his apartment."

"You're one of his listeners." You narrowed your eyes at him, a perfectly reasonable explanation.

"Oh, no. Hyperpop... not my style."

"Alright, BBC Sherlock-" You countered. You give a subtle head tilt to a woman sitting in a far off booth, papers spread out on the table around her pancake combo. Whoever she was, she definitely wasn't a regular. "How about her?"

"Mrs. Braverman. Youngest of eight siblings, English teacher at the charter school up the avenue. Actually prefers imitation maple syrup to the real thing."

You know very well Mobius could be talking out of his ass. But he's confident, nonchalantly so- like this was a game to him and he was obviously winning.

"What about me?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Your anticipation is palpable as he swallows his final bite, taking the time to wipe his face of crumbs before smiling softly at you.

"You are... a poem of a person. Charming, capable, when you walk into a room people notice- even if you convince yourself that they don't." His gaze is steady, patient, and he's looking at you as if you're the only person in the universe. "You have big dreams, far beyond all... this... and you're gonna make it."

[10:04:59]

The sound of the door chime breaks you out of whatever hypnotic state you had found yourself in. Sucking in a breath and blinking away the very beginnings of tears in your eyes you tell the new customer to sit wherever they like.

Mobius took this chance to check his handheld, sighing at the time and the ever-growing slope of the branch variation.

The reset charge would be set soon, with or without him there.

"Look at that. Duty calls." He stands up and pulls a billfold from his jacket pocket, not even counting as he puts the cash down on the counter.

Mobius turns to leave, but hesitates. He turns back around to face you and places his hands on his hips. Allowing himself to play into the fleeting illusion just a tad longer.

"One more thing I know about you-" Mobius rubbed his chin in careful consideration. "You have a date tonight."

"Ah-" You wag your finger at him and shake your head side to side, "got one wrong."

"Did I? Ah- well... How about we change that?"

You pause. The plates you had been holding found their way back to the counter as you set them down slowly. Once again in a very short time span, he had left you speechless.

"That... was possibly the lamest pickup line I've ever heard." Though you mean it to be snarky, it sounds more like praise coming from your smiling lips. "I get off at 6:30."

"Alright." He looks perfectly pleased with himself as he lightly knocks on the counter with his fist. "It's a date."

Walking out the door, Mobius gave one last look at the diner before reporting to the event site.

He knew would see you again, always at 9:45.