#Happy Birthday Fizzles!

[popfizzles]

Thank you!!! I think I have finally updated my age on all my socials, and I am ready to hang out now!!

I think I will probably get a stream set up! I want to celebrate my birthday in Animal Crossing, and then maybe switch to ScarVi to catch a Pokemon with the birthday mark?? I have to decide which Pokemon I wanna hunt though,,, and then at the end of it all i may swap to jackbox or something. maybe i'll play a mario party??

also 🥺👉👈

[If you wanna slide me a dollar or two for my birthday, you can do that over here with Ko-Fi!!]

(I've set the incremental to just one dollar!! so you can choose exactly how much you wanna give me, as opposed to Ko-Fi streams where it goes up by 7 dollars each time)

[finnitesimal]

.

[hjbirthdaywishes]

June 10, 2024

Happy 46 Birthday to DJ Qualls.

[kikic777]

I meant to post this in June.. of last year..

[winxanity-ii]

FATHER, FORGIVE ME

ship: father charlie x fem!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 ( oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery ) word count: 4.1k a/n: ahhh….I just want to say I'm so thrilled with all the love and support for the mini Devotion series! It means the world to me to see you guys enjoying it as much as I do. And a huge thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday! I got drunk asf, and here's the rough draft I made while tipsy, lolol. Hope you all enjoy~ 😈✨..

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You wouldn't say you were a bad person.

Selfish? Maybe. Impulsive? Absolutely. But "bad" seemed a bit of a stretch.

It's just that, when you saw something you wanted, you didn't hesitate to take it—and, honestly, you had no regrets. Not until now, at least.

Sitting here, surrounded by the smell of old hymn books and dusty incense, listening to some wrinkly old man in a white robe drone on about salvation.

The whole thing was your mother's doing. She had this recurring phase, like clockwork, where she'd get bitten by the "Bible bug."

For a few weeks every year, she was the most devoted Catholic you'd ever seen. She'd call, text, guilt-trip—anything to get her kids back on the straight and narrow, even if just for a Sunday morning.

For the last seven years, you'd managed to dodge it. Moved out at eighteen and never looked back, leaving the duty of church attendance to your three other siblings.

Usually, someone would take one for the team and tag along with Mom until her enthusiasm fizzled out again. But this time, it seemed your luck had run dry—your sister had finally roped you in, and here you were, seven-year streak shattered.

You sighed deeply, eyes half-lidded as they flicked across the stained glass windows—all those saints staring down at you in judgment.

You couldn't help but think of all the things you could be doing right now. Sleeping, for one. Your bed sounded like heaven compared to the hard pew beneath you.

Or brunch with your friends—mimosas and laughter, not these monotone chants and the faint smell of mothballs.

Hell, you could've called Kevin over and gotten dicked down instead of dealing with this—

Your thoughts screeched to a halt, slamming against an unexpected sight.

The old priest, the one whose croaky voice was practically white noise at this point, stepped away from the pulpit. In his place was someone else—someone younger, someone whose presence commanded attention.

A man, tall, dark hair neatly combed back, with a crisp black cassock that hugged his broad shoulders just right. He moved with a sense of ease, like he belonged up there.

And damn, was he handsome. Handsome enough to pull your focus completely, which was a feat in itself given the circumstances.

Your eyes tracked him as he approached the podium, his voice replacing the rasping chant of the old priest. It was smooth, warm, resonant. Nothing like the man you remembered from years ago.

He spoke about community, faith, redemption—but all you could think was how someone like him ended up in a place like this.

You found yourself leaning forward, just slightly, as if drawn in by some invisible force. Your irritation melted away, replaced by a strange curiosity.

Maybe… maybe this wouldn't be the worst way to spend a Sunday after all.

The priest stood quietly at the altar, his figure framed by the soft light filtering through the stained glass windows. A faint scar traced its way down the right side of his forehead, a mark that spoke of some unknown hardship or past misadventure.

He was youthful but with the stillness of someone who’d seen enough to understand patience and humility.

With each breath, the man seemed grounded in his presence, shoulders relaxed but broad, the fabric of his robe resting comfortably against his chest.

His appearance was almost angelic, yet the subtle scar and the weight in his eyes hinted at something more complex beneath the surface—a man of God, perhaps, but one who had walked through fire to find his faith.

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow in appreciation as you stared at the handsome man up there. You leaned over a bit to your mother, eyes never straying from his figure. "Ma, who's that? Is he new?" you whispered to your mother.

She looked up from her phone, Candy Crush flashing on her screen. You silenced the snort that wanted to come out. Looked like she might retire from church early this year, you thought to yourself, seeing her early signs of disengaging.

She glanced up at the front, giving a quick look before going back to her game. "That's Father Charlie Mayhew. He was brought in about two or three years ago, I think," she murmured absently, barely paying attention.

Father Charlie.

You watched as he spoke, his voice strong yet gentle, his eyes sweeping over the congregation with a genuine warmth. He wasn't like the old priest—this one seemed to genuinely care, as if each word held weight.

You wondered if that scar came from something dramatic, some story worth knowing. Your gaze lingered, taking in the slope of his shoulders, the way his lips moved with each word. Something about him felt... magnetic.

You found yourself sitting up straighter when the two of you made eye contact—he blinked, his words stumbling just slightly, a brief hitch in his otherwise smooth delivery. "I, uh... I apologize," he stuttered, looking off to the side, the tips of his ears turning pink.

You caught the way his eyes shifted nervously, almost as if he was trying to regain his footing. It was subtle, but you could see it—the way he tried to pull himself back together, to get through the rest of the sermon without any more disruptions.

He cleared his throat to continue, "As I was saying... uh, the importance of faith in our lives cannot be overstated. We must always strive to, um, to do what is right, even when it's difficult..." His voice trailed off slightly, but he managed to steady himself, his eyes avoiding yours as he focused on the rest of the congregation.

It made something stir in you, a mix of curiosity and amusement.

You bit down gently on your lower glossed lip, eyes trailing over his form, taking in every subtle detail. The way his hands gripped the edge of the podium, the faint flush creeping up his neck—it was all so telling.

He seemed innocent, reactive.

You smiled to yourself, letting your gaze linger as he continued, noting the way he seemed to avoid looking in your direction now, as if afraid that another glance might trip him up again.

Maybe you should pay a visit to Father Charlie—see if you could break that serene composure of his.

You could already imagine it—the way he might tense up under your touch, the way his voice might crack if you whispered something just a bit too forward.

The thought alone made your heart race, anticipation bubbling up inside you, like something in you just knew—he'd be fun to unravel.

You leaned back in your seat, a slow, satisfied smile playing on your lips. Oh, this was going to be fun.

The sermon ended with a quiet murmur of 'Amen' from the congregation, followed by the gentle shuffle of people rising from the pews.

You glanced around, watching as people slowly made their way to the exits, some stopping to chat while others lingered near the back of the church.

The old priest was nowhere to be seen, but Father Charlie remained, standing at the front as he spoke softly to a small group of parishioners.

Your mother, of course, made a beeline for him. You heard her voice carrying over the hushed conversations, gushing about how moving today’s sermon was.

You rolled your eyes, unable to help yourself, and slowly rose to your feet, making your way over with an almost lazy stride.

As you approached, you could see your mother perk up, her eyes lighting up as she turned to you. "Oh, there she is! Father Charlie, this is my youngest, ____." She gestured towards you, her hand lightly resting on your arm to pull you closer. "You've met my other children over the years."

You could see the change in Father Charlie almost instantly. His posture shifted, his back straightening just a little more, his eyes rounding as they landed on you. He seemed almost like an eager puppy, his gaze bright and attentive.

He quickly pulled his eyes away, turning back to your mother with a polite smile as he nodded. "Yes, I remember," he said, his voice a touch softer. Then he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours as he gave you a gentle smile. "It's nice to finally meet you. I don't think I've seen you here before... ?"

Your mother gave a sort of laughing scoff, waving him off as she caught his attention again. She chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, Father, the day she willingly comes to church without an incentive is the day the devil is welcomed back into Heaven's gates."

You kept your eyes on Father Charlie, a small smile tugging at your lips as you tilted your head slightly. "Maybe I just hadn't found a good enough reason to come before," you said, your gaze locked on his, your voice light but carrying a hint of something more.

His eyes widened just a little, and you watched as a faint blush spread across his cheeks, his lips parting slightly as he blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Before he could say anything, your mother’s name was called from behind. It was one of her church friends, and in an instant, she was off, waving a quick goodbye and leaving you standing there in front of Father Charlie.

You didn't waste a second, taking a daring step forward, your eyes fixed on him. "So..." you said, letting your gaze roam over him before meeting his eyes again. "You seem awfully young to be running a church like this. I have to say, I'm impressed."

He looked bashful, glancing down for a moment before looking back up at you. "Oh, well, thank you. I just... I do my best," he said, his voice soft, the pink on his cheeks deepening.

You smiled, tilting your head just slightly. "Do you do one-on-one sessions, like other churches do?" you asked, your voice carrying a hint of mischief.

He blinked, clearly confused for a moment, before his eyes widened in realization. "Oh, you mean confessionals?" He nodded quickly, his expression shifting back to something more serious. "Yes, I do. In fact, I was planning on doing confessionals later today, after the services. Not many people take me up on it, but I think it's important to always offer the option."

"Oh, really?" you said, letting your voice drop just a bit, your head tilting to the side as you watched him. You let a small smile curve your lips, your gaze never leaving his. "Well, you wouldn't mind if I came to see you and... confessed, would you, Father?"

He stuttered, his blush deepening as he quickly nodded. "N-No, of course not. You're more than welcome to come by, anytime," he said, his voice a bit shaky.

You smirked, giving him a nod. "Perfect," you said, your voice smooth, before turning on your heel and walking away, back towards where your mother was waiting.

You could feel his gaze on you the entire time, the weight of his eyes almost burning into your back. And you loved it.

This really was going to be fun.

The church grew quieter as the service officially ended, people slowly trickling out while you lingered, waiting for your moment.

Eventually, you made your way to the confessional booth, the small wooden space feeling cramped as you settled in. The air was close, the scent of polished wood and incense hanging heavy.

You could hear Father Charlie shuffling on the other side, the sound of the door closing behind him, the rustle of fabric as he got seated.

You took a breath, letting the silence stretch for a moment before you began. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..." you said, your voice soft, but there was an edge to it that you couldn't quite hide.

There was a pause before you heard him clear his throat, his voice coming through the small screen that separated you. "The Lord is always ready to forgive. Please, tell me your sins, my child."

You sighed, leaning back slightly, your fingers brushing against the hem of your dress. "I fear I desire a man that is just out of my reach," you said, your voice carrying a hint of frustration. "It's wrong for me to want him... but I can't seem to help myself."

There was a moment of silence, and you could almost picture the look on his face—concerned, earnest, wanting to help. His voice was gentle as he responded. "Desire can be difficult to control, but it is not inherently sinful. It is what we choose to do with that desire that matters. You must pray for guidance, ask for strength... and remember that God understands our struggles."

You hummed softly, your eyes half-lidded as you listened to him, but your mind was drifting. His voice was soothing, and you found yourself imagining what it would be like if things were different.

If there wasn't a screen between you.

If you could reach out, touch him, feel that innocence melt away under your fingers.

Your hand trailed down your side, your fingers brushing over your thigh as you let out a soft sigh.

His voice cut through your thoughts, sounding a bit uncertain. "Sister ____... are you alright? Do you hear me?"

You smiled to yourself, your mind made up. You leaned closer to the screen, your voice dropping to a near whisper. "Father," you began, your tone coy, "I must confess... I find it difficult to focus when you're speaking. You have such a... soothing voice."

His breath caught audibly, and you could almost hear the way he was struggling to gather himself. "W-What do you mean, sister?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, laced with confusion.

"It makes me think... sinful thoughts."

You could hear the slight hitch in his breath, the rustle of fabric as he shifted. "S-sister," he stammered, clearly taken aback. "This... this is not appropriate."

You ignored his protest, your voice growing softer, more intimate. "You know, Father, I've always heard that confession is good for the soul. And right now... I think there's only one thing that could truly absolve me of these desires." You let the words hang in the air, knowing exactly what you were implying.

"Sister, this... this isn't..." His voice was shaky now, the uncertainty clear. "I don't think—"

"Come get me, Father," you whispered, your tone daring, challenging him. "You wouldn't leave me like this, would you?"

There was silence for a long moment, and then you heard it—the slow shuffling as he moved. The sound of his door opening, the soft creak of the confessional booth as he stepped out.

You pushed your own door open, stepping out into the dimly lit church. Father Charlie was standing there, his head downcast, his face flushed a deep red. He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words came out, his eyes flickering up to meet yours before darting away again.

You took a step towards him, your movements slow, deliberate—like a predator closing in on its prey. His breath hitched as you approached, his shoulders tensing. He cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sister, I... this isn't right. We shouldn't—"

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the front of his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. You let your hand slide down, your voice a low purr. "Father," you purred, your eyes locking onto his, "I want you to take me somewhere... push me to a higher calling, yeah?"

His eyes widened, the pupils dilating as he stared at you, his lips parting in shock. For a moment, he seemed frozen, and then, almost as if the word was pulled from him, he whispered, "Okay..."

His hand was trembling slightly as he reached for yours, and you let him lead you out of the main church area, his eyes flicking nervously around to make sure no one was watching. He led you down a dim hallway, stopping at a small door that opened into a cramped janitor's closet.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you were on him.

You pushed him back against the wall, your lips crashing against his. He gasped, and you took advantage, licking into his mouth, tasting the hint of mint on his tongue as a low groan rumbled from your throat. His hands hesitated for a moment before resting on your waist, his touch light, unsure.

You deepened the kiss, feeling the way he shivered beneath your touch, your hands pushing up under his cassock, fingers skimming over the hard lines of his abdomen. His muscles tensed under your fingertips, a shudder running through him as he let out a shaky breath.

You pulled back, just enough to see his face in the low light, and he chased your lips, leaning forward as if he couldn't stand the sudden loss of contact.

You let out a dark chuckle, your hands coming up to cup his flushed cheeks, squeezing gently. His face was a deep shade of red, his eyes half-lidded, his breath coming in short, uneven pants. He looked almost dazed, completely overwhelmed, and it only made your smile widen.

Your thumb grazed over his plump bottom lip, pressing gently before dipping just inside his mouth. His eyes fluttered, his tongue flicking out hesitantly to brush against your thumb before retreating. You let out a soft sigh, a hint of a teasing smile tugging at your lips. "Oh?" you murmured, raising an eyebrow, your gaze fixed on him.

Charlie swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto yours, his breathing ragged. You stepped closer, rising onto your tiptoes, your lips just barely grazing his as you spoke. "You did so well during the sermon, Father," you whispered, your voice low and dripping with suggestion. "It makes me wonder... what could such a blessed mouth do somewhere else?"

His breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly, but he didn’t pull away. You gripped his shoulder, your fingers digging in just enough to make him shiver, and tugged him downwards. "On your knees," you said, your tone commanding, leaving no room for hesitation.

Slowly, almost as if in a trance, Charlie sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and something almost like reverence, and it sent a thrill through you.

You watched as he knelt before you, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the part of him that knew this was wrong, that wanted to resist—but the desire was stronger, and he couldn't bring himself to stop.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair, your touch surprisingly gentle. "That's it," you murmured, your voice softening just a fraction. "Such a good Father... doing exactly what you're told."

You took a step back, your eyes never leaving his as you moved to the nearest wall, leaning against it comfortably.

With slow, deliberate movements, your hands reached down, unzipping your mini skirt and letting it slide down your legs, pooling around your ankles. You made a show of it, your fingers tracing along your thighs, sliding over your hips, and letting out a soft sigh as you watched him.

Charlie's eyes widened, his gaze following every movement, his lips parted, his breath catching in his throat. The flush on his face deepened, his eyes locked onto you with something like awe, mingled with pure, unfiltered desire.

You smirked, lifting one hand and curling your fingers in a come-hither motion. He hesitated only for a moment before slowly beginning to crawl towards you, his eyes never breaking away from yours.

The sight sent a thrill through you, a shiver of excitement running up your spine. He reached you, his hands carefully coming up to rest on your legs, his touch light, almost reverent.

His fingers traced along your calves, moving upwards with a hesitant slowness that made you release a shaky sigh, your back arching slightly as his touch grew bolder.

His hands were trembling as they reached your hips, his fingers brushing against the edge of your underwear. He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking up to meet yours as if silently asking for permission.

You gave a small nod, and he let out a shaky breath, his fingers hooking into the waistband and slowly slipping your underwear down, his eyes fixed on you the entire time.

Once they were off, he shifted closer, his breath ghosting over your bare skin. He surprised you by gently lifting one of your legs, settling it over his shoulder as he pulled you closer, his face inches away from your most intimate parts.

He let out a deep, almost pornographic groan as he leaned in, taking a slow, deep breath, as if breathing you in. The sound sent a jolt through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.

Charlie looked up at you one more time, his eyes searching, as if asking for final permission.

You smiled, your fingers sliding through his hair before giving a gentle but firm scratch along his scalp, your silent approval. He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh before leaning in.

At first, his movements were hesitant, his tongue slipping out to give an experimental swipe. He was sloppy, uncoordinated, his lack of experience clear, but there was a determination in the way he moved, as if desperate to please.

You let out a soft hum, the sound encouraging him, and he grew a little more confident, his tongue pressing more firmly. He licked a long stripe up, his tongue swirling at the top, and you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

"That's it, Father," you murmured, your voice a soft purr. "You're doing such a good job."

The praise seemed to light something in him, a low groan vibrating against you as he pushed in closer. The sound made you gasp, your back arching slightly as the vibrations sent a rush of pleasure through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He grew bolder, his tongue delving deeper, slipping inside you as he began to eat you out like a man starved. He was messy, the wet sounds filling the small space, his lips and tongue moving with increasing fervor, as if the more he tasted, the more he craved.

He bullied his tongue into you, his nose brushing against you as he lost himself in the act, his hands gripping your hips tightly, holding you against him as he worked.

You bit down on your lower lip, trying to keep quiet, but the soft, wet sounds filled the small space, making it impossible to ignore.

Your hand moved up, your teeth sinking into the back of it as you stifled a moan, your thighs trembling as he continued. His tongue moved with determination, pressing deeper, swirling before retreating, then focusing on your most sensitive spot.

When his lips closed around your clit, giving a particularly hard suck, your vision blurred, and stars burst behind your eyelids. Your back arched, your body pressing against his face as the waves of pleasure rolled over you, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Your thighs shook as you slowly came down, your body relaxing slightly against the wall. You let out a shaky breath, your fingers still tangled in his hair, tugging gently. You gave Charlie a small shove, pushing him back just enough.

He hesitated, his tongue giving one last languid lick, followed by a reluctant suck before he finally pulled away, his lips glistening, his breath coming in low, heavy pants. His bottom face was a mess, his eyes half-lidded, dazed as he looked up at you.

You leaned down, your fingers cupping the bottom of his face, your thumb brushing over his flushed cheek as you gave him a swift peck on the corner of his lips. He blinked, his eyes widening slightly, a blush deepening across his face.

Straightening up, you reached down, picking up your discarded thong, folding it neatly before slipping it into the pocket of his cassock. He stared at you, his lips parted, his breathing still uneven.

"Thank you, Father~" you purred, your voice dripping with satisfaction. You watched as his blush deepened even more, his eyes darting away from yours. "You know," you continued, your tone teasing, "I might just have to come back for confession more often."

He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours, a mix of confusion and something darker swirling in them. You smiled, giving him a wink before turning on your heel, striding out of the closet, leaving him kneeling there, his breath still shaky, his face still flushed.

As you walked away, a satisfied smile playing on your lips, you couldn't help but think that maybe church wasn't going to be so bad after all.

A/N: hehehe, dont mind me, just wanted to see charlie's and y/n relationship in reversal...

[bbyquokka]

blow me instead?

– “Why should I blow out the candles, when you can just blow me instead?” prompt

pairing | lee felix x gender-neutral reader

genre | smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | established relationship ; dom felix ; oral sex (blowjob) ; finger sucking ; cum swallowing ; deep throating

words | 2.6k ~ ( 2,693 ) + 2 fake texts !

notes | a lil smth for felix's bday. jisung's will be posted at a later date when i've finished it :( don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — wips list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

you forgot. you’ve forgotten the most important day of the year and you are currently kicking yourself for it. it’s felix’s birthday, the one day of the year that you look forward to every single year – but for some unknown reason, this year you forgot.

maybe it’s because you’ve both been really busy that you haven’t given it a second thought. you’re always well prepared for things like this, but this year it slipped your mind.

you knew you forgotten something but you couldn't tell what. you had that nagging feeling in the back of your mind but you pushed it to the side. “i’ll figure it out later” you always told yourself only to forget – once again.

it wasn't until the day before, did you looked at your calendar and see ‘15th sept’ circled and decorated in hearts, labelled ‘felix’s bday!!’ did you panic. that nagging feeling quickly turned into a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. worry and panic washing over you and coating your skin in a cold sweat.

it was way into the night to go to the store to pick something up. everything was closed. you thought about making him something but realised that you don't have the materials to do so. so a quick search on the web was your last resort. you hoped you could find something that would do next day delivery but alas, after several hours of searching and drawing up blanks, did you accept your fate.

you woke up the day of his birthday, feeling guilty and it's eating you alive. you don't think you'd be able to face to him without bursting into tears.

“i should at least wish him a happy birthday.” you mumble. you take your phone from the night stand and open up felix's contact. your thumb hovers over the green circle. 

you hesitate. lips pursed together. you overthink. you can hear his sullen tone of voice. you can see his facial expressions twisted into sadness. your heart aches and feels tight, like someone is gripping onto it.

“fuck. i can't.” you throw your phone onto the bed beside you, watching it bounce from impact before rubbing your face with your hands and groaning. “maybe a shower will help me. i’ll call him then!” 

you didn't call him. in fact, you spent the whole day avoiding him. you did pop to the store and buy a small box of cupcakes and some candles. you had this idea of surprising him by turning up at his place with a fancy birthday cake, thinking it's better than nothing,  but when the store only had cupcakes to offer, that idea was quick to fizzle out.

the cakes are now sitting on the counter, untouched and unopened. you're in your lounge wear on the sofa, TV on but you're not tuned into whatever show it's playing. instead, you're on your social media, looking at what felix has been up to the whole day.

pictures of felix with chan, jisung and hyunjin. birthday wishes from friends and family flood his profiles. you're glad he's had a good day but that guilt just won't go away. 

you've shamelessly avoided him the whole day because you couldn't face him. it's cowardly of you and you know it, but in a way, you just shut off.

you rush to your feet. your sock covered soles slapping against the floor as you rush to the door. you open it and come face to face with a not so pleased looking felix.

'“i see you're still alive.” you swallow. he sounds irritated. he's angry at you and you don't blame him.

“felix, i–”

“are you going to let me in or are we just going to stand out in the hallway?” he cuts you off. you look down at your feet and shuffle to the side, opening the door wider for him.

he walks in, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his coat as you close the door behind him. he notices the unopened cupcakes and pack of birthday candles by the side of them.

“so?” he starts as he looks at you. your chin is tucked into your chest, fingers fiddling with one another. you feel like a child about to be told off by a parent.

“i'm so sorry, felix.” you start, keeping your eyes glued to your feet. you don't want to make eye contact with him because the guilt of forgetting is eating you alive. it's making you feel incredibly nauseous.

“for?” his arms crossed against his chest as he looks down at you, brow raised. his authoritative and dominant aura seeps out from his pores and clouds you, suffocating you in the process.

“... i–uh…” you start, words lodged in your throat. felix lets out a small, irritated sigh. “I forgot about your birthday.” 

your voice is small and cracks. you furiously blink back the tears that are threatening to spill from your lower lash line.

“you forgot?” you nod slowly. “is that why you've been avoiding me?” you nod again. “why?”

“because i thought you'd be angry at me… like right now.” felix runs his fingers through his hair slowly.

“i’m not angry that you forgot. it happens. i’m angry because you avoided me on my birthday.”

“i know.. i’m sorry.” you look up at him and chew your bottom lip. the cupcakes catch the corner of your eye. you rush to then, opening them and the candles before sticking one in the middle of the cake.

felix follows you and watches you with eager eyes. his gaze suddenly feels hot. he licks his lips as he admires your body, eyes flickering up and down.

he's undressing you with his eyes. 

you turn around, holding the cupcake in your hand with the candle flame flickering. you present it in front of felix and smile.

“i got you cupcakes though. i know it's not much but i couldn't find anything on such short notice…” felix simply hums and looks at the cake, then you. “are you not going to blow it out?” you question after some seconds pass.

felix leans in close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear as his voice drops and becomes low and deep. his warm breath fans against your ear as he speaks.

“why should i blow out the candles when you can just blow me instead?” 

goosebumps ripple along your skin. your heart suddenly starts racing. his breath feels ticklish against your ear, body temperature suddenly rising

“f-felix!” you squeak as he pulls back, finding amusement at your shocked facial expression. 

“i assume you didn't get me a gift so i can consider a blowjob as one. and if you do a good job, maybe i’ll let you off the hook for avoiding me on my special day.” 

“i–” you swallow a little, the heat from the candle is radiating onto your chin, adding to the increase of your own body temperature.

felix keeps his brow raised before trailing his hand down his torso to his groin where he squeezes and groans softly.

you can't take your eyes off him. you watch his hand squeeze and palm himself through his jeans. his veins bulging from his hands and arms. 

he kicks his head back a little, lips parting and giving you a view of his outstretched neck. his adams apple bobbing with his swallows. soft moan and grunts leaving his parted lips.

“don't just stand there.” his deep voice brings you back down to reality. “blow me.”

you place the cake down on the counter (after you blow out the candle) before kneeling in front of felix. he looks down at you. his dominate aura making you feel small and vulnerable but excited.

you can feel the pit of your stomach tingle and bubble with excitement. warmth coating your groin. the tips of your fingers and toes feel electric from the surging feeling of excitement that's mixed in with hormones.

you reach up and slide your hands up and under his t-shirt. his warm skin hugs the tips of your fingers. the sturdiness of his abs flexing and tensing with his stomach moving in time with his breathing.

you feel his smooth skin, tracing his muscles with your fingers. the only thing that isn't smooth, however, is the small, yet noticeable happy trail that runs from his belly button and disappears below his jean waistband.

“mhm..” felix hums softly, your touch giving him goosebumps. you move your hands lower until they come into contact with the rough fabric of his denim jeans.

you look up at him, asking for permission with your eyes to which he gives with a nod of his head.

you unbutton and unzip his jeans slowly, revealing that he is wearing black designer boxer shorts. you notice how his bulge is slowly, but surely, getting bigger with each passing second as he anticipates and waits.

you pull his jeans down to his knees. you press the palm of your hand against his crotch, massaging him slowly. he huffs. his cock twitching against the palm of your hand.

you give him a few gentle squeezes. your touch is too gentle for his liking so he looks down again you with glossy eyes.

“harder.”

you oblige by wrapping your fingers around his clothed length and squeezing, hard. his hips buck slightly and a soft, deep moan falls from his lips.

you feel his warm hand pressing against your cheek as his fingers graze along your jawline before bumping against your bottom lip.

he slowly strokes your lip, chewing on his own. 

“look at me.” you look up at him, making eye contact. two of his fingers nudge between your lips, gently pushing past them as you part them.

“good.” he whispers as his fingers caress your tongue. your brows furrow together, lips wrapping around the two digits as you suck. your saliva coats felix's fingers thoroughly whilst he pushes them further into your mouth until they're fully encapsulated in the warmth of your mouth.

the hand that around his clothed length has slowed down and is now loosely gripping him. your groin feels hot and excited, tingles in your stomach as felix explores the inside of your mouth with his two fingers before pulling them out slowly.

he gives a satisfying ‘hm’ before instructing you to continue with the nod of his head.

you whimper a little and reach up with both hands, grabbing the waistband of his boxer shorts. your fingertips brush against his hot skin, causing felix to shiver and huff in excitement.

you slowly pull down his underwear, revealing his happy train and v-lines slowly before his erect penis is revealed, bouncing and twitching at the sudden cold air hitting his hot shaft.

felix lets out a small breath of relief. the feeling of being restrained is no longer an issue. his hips buck slightly as you wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, stroking it slowly.

you watch the man above you slowly crumble. his penis twitching, pre-cum leaking from his slit. his shaft is hot against the palm of your hand, tip red and a few veins protruding along the sides.

your hand glides up and down his penis, rotating at the top. you use the pad of your thumb to gently rub his tip, smearing the pre-cum and making his tip glisten.

the sensitivity gets to felix. his hips rocking a little in your hand against his will, thigh muscles noticeable twitching. his head flops to the side slightly, half-lidded eyes looking down at you and watching your every move.

you lean in and lick the side of his shaft a few times before pressing your tongue against his tip and swiping it several times. his salty pre-cum coats your tastes buds, making you feel more excited.

you rub your thighs together as the heat in your groin is unbearable at this point. you're desperate for some sort of friction and attention but you're too into pleasuring felix. with the way felix is right now, you know he is going to be selfish and chase his own high.

your free hand cups and caresses his balls. felix hums softly as you roll and squeeze them gently in your hand whilst kitten licking his tip.

“c’mon, baby. you know i need more than that.” 

you close your eyes as you wrap your lips around his tip. felix shudders and huffs a little, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. you gently suckle on his tip, swirling your tongue around it a few times before slowly lowering your head and pushing more of him into your mouth.

the corner of your lips feels stretched, mouth stuffed. you try to make your jaw slack but even that is a struggle with how thick and long felix is.

you struggle to put half of his length in, settling with a little under. you can feel his tip bumping the back of your throat and saliva is quick to accumulate in your mouth.

felix huffs and puffs, body shuddering and twitching. he reaches down and runs his fingers through your hair a few times. 

you start to bob your head slowly. your hand stroking what your mouth struggles to reach. the head and hand move in synch with each other, providing equally, if not more, pleasure to felix.

he feels the pleasure rushing through his veins and burning. his toes curl against the floorboards and his grip on your hair tightening with each suck as a way to keep him stable and grounded.

“...fuck … baby, m-more..” he pants.

you oblige, increasing speed and intensity. felix's moans become more intense and breathy. his body and mind failing to comprehend the intense feeling of warmth and wetness from your mouth as well as the coolness of your palm.

“... oh fuck.. yes… so fucking good…” 

this just encourages you even more. you remove your hand and place them both on his thighs for stability. you push your head further down his length until you can feel it down your throat.

you hold back your gag reflex, swallowing a few times to tighten your throat around him. felix lets out a string of incoherent moans and whispers. 

your jaw hurts. your lips hurts. your knees hurt and you can't breath but listening to felix whimper and crumble makes it all worth.

you feel him twitch in your mouth. his hips thrusting involuntarily. he's a mess and he's close.

his balls are tightening and his body is coated in a thin layer of sweat. the sensitivity of his cock head is overbearing. 

“don’t stop.. 'm close..” he struggles to say between his moaning. his strangled moans mix in with the sloppy, wet sounds of your mouth. 

he lowers his head, chin tucked into chest as he whimpers. a string of “fuck” leaves his lips as he grips onto you. it doesnt take him long. his cock twitches in your mouth, hot fluid coating your tongue and throat.

felix whimpers and whines, huffing and puffing. his body twitches and jerks. you help him ride out his orgasm before slowly pulling away. 

you look up at him, making eye contact as you swallow. felix shudders and strokes your swollen bottom lip, saliva collecting on the pad of his thumb.

“you did good, yn.” with felix's help, you rise to your feet. the numb feeling of pain on your knees becoming more noticeable now that your legs are outstretched.

“does this mean i’m forgiven?” you mumble. felix nods and strokes your hair gently.

“sorta.” you look at him slightly confused. “my birthday isn't over just yet, yn.”

“true… so, what do you want?” 

felix takes you by the hand and drags you to the bedroom. he gently throws you onto the bed, stripping himself of his clothing as you lean on your forearms and watch.

“i want so much more.” he purrs as he crawls onto the bed, towering over you and kissing the shell of your ear.

“i’m a greedy man, yn. you should know that a blowjob is not nearly enough to satisfy me.”

[stevesbipanic]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 27: "I thought we agreed it was over."

Eddie saw Steve's beemer pull up outside the trailer before he heard the knock at the door. The words were already leaving his lips as he opened it, "I thought we agreed it was over."

It had hurt, the break up, but Eddie had been expecting it. He knew Steve would never be his forever no matter how much he wanted him to be. It was all too easy for him to push back the tears and agreed when Steve said things like it was for the best and that they'd never work.

He had tried not to think about all the times Steve had said how much he loved how they were different, that it meant they got to share things with the other person. How Steve whispered love confessions when he thought Eddie was asleep weeks before he was brave enough to voice them in the daylight.

It was over, and that was that, so why was Steve here?

The sentence fizzled out though when he took in Steve's features. A quickly blackening swollen eye, a split lip, knuckles bruised and bleeding. Steve was trying to hold his side while also tightly gripping the backpack on his other shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

Eddie hadn't heard from Steve in months besides the occasional update from the kids or a glance at him from hellfire pick ups. The sound of those words made him realise how much he had missed Steve's voice despite how broken it now sounded.

All the hurt he'd felt melted away, stored for a later time when Steve wasn't swaying so much, when his face wasn't so pale. Eddie gently guided him inside, taking the backpack and placing it on the couch before leading Steve to the bathroom.

He methodically cleaned up his cuts and checked his ribs and tried not to think about the fact that the doctor said Steve shouldn't risk another concussion. He got Steve a change of clothes and sat him upright on the bed.

"Can't sleep yet, sweetheart, got to make sure your heads ok for awhile, alright?"

Steve's eyes became misty again, "Didn't think I'd ever hear you call me that again, Eds. I'm so sorry."

Eddie took Steve's less injured hand in his, gently stroking the back of it, "What happened, Steve?"

The question didn't help the tears that now seemed to flow freely down Steve's cheeks, "I thought if I broke up with you I could keep you safe, keep the both of us safe."

Eddie's grip tightened slightly, "Stevie."

"I was stupid I should've given the box of stuff from you to Robin or someone but I wanted to keep a piece of you close, and he, he found a picture of the two of us, the one Jonathan took at your birthday party."

Eddie knew the picture, it was his favourite, he still kept it tacked to his wall, didn't have the heart to take it down and put it with every other part of Steve that now sat in a box under his bed. Jonathan had caught the exact moment Steve kissed him while he cut his cake, they looked so happy, they were happy.

Eddie could infer the rest, "Your dad did this then?"

Steve nodded, "Kicked me out too, I'm sorry I would've gone to Dustin's but he's at his grandparents and Robin is at college and I just." Eddie pulls Steve closer, "I'm glad you came here, baby, you're safe here." Steve seems to finally relax at those words, like he'd been holding his breath since the day they'd parted.

"I didn't mean anything I said, Eddie," Steve cried.

Eddie gave Steve a sad smile. "I know, let's talk about all that later, just rest now I'll wake you up in a little bit to check your head again," Eddie said pushing Steve softly down onto the bed. They had a lot to discuss, a lot of hearts to mend but for now Eddie just needed Steve to be ok.

"Will you stay?"

"As long as you need me."

[strnilolover]

.✦ ── Anything For You ── ✦.

♡ !bf chris x !fem reader

⚠︎ warnings : fluff!!, pet names (baby, babe, angel, my girl)

♡ wc : 1.4k

♡ summary : just chris being an absolute sweetheart of a boyfriend cause omg.

Whenever friends would come over to your apartment, they’d always tell you that you have an obsession with stuffed animals. Half of your bed being cluttered with different sized plushies, ranging in all different colors.

Though, you wouldn’t say it’s an obsession. You’ve always found comfort in stuffed animals — holding them close at night when you sleep or when you needed to cry your heart out.

Whenever your birthday came around or Christmas, you would always ask for stuffed animals as a present or gift — never anything too big or expensive because you didn’t need them. Even as a little kid, you always had a stuffed animal clutched in your grasp when you walked around your childhood home.

When you had gotten with Chris, it took a while for yourself to invite him around to your place. A little afraid of what he might say to your overflowing pile of soft plushies and stuffed animals that resided on your bed. But, that fear inevitably fizzled out when he had bought and surprised you with a soft teddy bear. Telling you, “I see how you look at my stuffed bear I have, like you want to take it and cuddle it for yourself.”

That same day, you offered for him to come over when you were going home for the night, asking if he wanted to stay the night as well. And he happily obliged.

The first moment he stepped foot into your bedroom, he took in the surroundings. All the little decorations that screamed you, plastered around the room on the walls. But, his eyes immediately caught your bed and how a good portion of it was stuffed with all the different plushies.

He stared in awe, taking in the sight. But, he didn’t tease or tell you it was too much — instead he watched as you added the bear he got you to the pile, heart swelling as he watched.

“You know baby, I find it absolutely adorable that you have so many stuffed animals.” He said, grabbing your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Makes it more you.”

-

That was a few months ago. When that moment happened, it made you so happy to know he didn’t find it weird at all that you kept so many plushies with you.

Right now you and Chris were walking hand in hand through the mall. Walking past different stores and popping into a few to buy a few things. Something Chris loves doing is spoiling you — buying you all the little things you like that you have your eyes set on.

A lot of the time, you turn him down from buying you so many things because you feel bad for him spending so much money on you. But, he always reassures you that he wants to do it.

As you both continued to walk, your eyes immediately caught a store filled with stuffed animals. The soft plushies standing out vibrantly — your body almost immediately being drawn in the direction of the store.

“Chris — baby can we go in here please?” You ask, already tugging him along before he can respond. He just smiles, happily following you along through the doors.

Once you stepped inside, you detached from Chris’ arm, wandering away from him through the many isles there were. Your hands running over the soft fur of teddy bears and different animal shaped plushies as you passed each and every one of them.

Chris followed behind closely, watching as your eyes lit up in excitement by every thing you touched and passed. He loved watching you act like a child when you saw stuffed animals — knowing they always made a smile spread across your face, and that’s something he’d do anything for to see stay on your features.

As you continued walking through the isles — something big and grey caught the corner of your eyes. Your head immediately snapping toward it as your eyes widened.

It was a giant grey stuffed bunny. It’s large floppy ears cascading down the side of its face and flopping over its shoulders — your feet moved you closer to the giant stuffed animal, hands reaching out to touch its soft fur.

It was so soft, something that would be perfect for cuddling on the nights you weren’t with Chris. It’s large stuffed frame almost as big as your own body. “Look at how cute this is baby!” You say excitedly, picking up the giant thing and hugging it close as your body turned toward your boyfriend.

A smile spread across his face — you almost looked tiny compared to the rabbit you were holding. “It’s very adorable angel, s’that something you want?” He asked, his own hand reaching out to touch one of the rabbits floppy ears.

You stood there, holding the bunny as you pondered. As you were about to answer, the price tag caught your eye — making you wince. A frown pulling at your lips, you set the bunny down, turning to Chris once more. “Maybe another day?” You say, quickly walking past him with your head hung down.

Chris’ brows furrowed, watching you walk away back toward the entrance of the store. Your mood changed quickly — going from happy to a little sad. His eyes moved to look back at the bunny, quickly realizing why you had set it down and walked away so abruptly.

Sure it wasn’t the cheapest thing, but the way your face had lit up when you saw it and held it, was something Chris wanted to see stay on your face.

He grabbed the big plush rabbit, turning and walking toward the front of the store in the direction of the register. His eyes moved to look at you, who was already out of the doors, walking off toward a few benches to sit down at.

You didn’t look back as you walked out the doors of the store, knowing if you did you’d want to run right back in and land your hands on any of those you could get to. So instead, you walked to some benches, waiting for chris to follow behind you.

You sat there for a few minutes, guilt gnawing at your chest as you realized you just sort of left Chris without a reason as to why you wandered away. After a few more moments, you stood up, turning your body back toward the store even though you didn’t want to. But, you wanted to know where Chris had gone.

As you moved back toward the store, you saw Chris walking out of it. The giant bunny in his grasp as he made his way to you. You stopped, mouth agape as he stopping in front of you.

“Babe, what — why did you get that?” You ask, hands itching to reach out and grab the stuffed bunny. You felt bad, knowing the money he just spent on this thing.

He raised a brow at your question, the stuffed bunny still in his arms. “You wanted it, so i got it for you baby. I don’t care about the price, you know that.” He said softly, holding the bunny out for you to take. You hesitated for a moment — eventually grabbing it when you knew he wasn’t going to let up.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, hugging the bunny close to your chest once more. “You didn’t have to…it was expensive.” You murmured, walking to Chris and hugging him the best you could with the bunny in your arms.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “And I said I don’t care about the price — I just want to see my girl happy, and if a stuffed bunny is going to that reason, then i’ll get you as many as you want.” He said, hugging you a little tighter, lips now peppering kisses down your head and to the side of your face.

You couldn’t help but giggle, shaking your head as kissed your face. Once his kiss attack was done, you pulled back slightly — head tipping up to look into his eyes. “Thank you baby.” You whispered, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips.

He hummed, accepting the kiss. Once you pulled back, he grabbed your hand, pulling you through the mall once more. “Anything for you angel.”

© strnilolover

♡ a/n : another chris fluff cause why not?? sorry if this seems kinda rushed and such, but i’ve been loving writing fluff so much recently. let me know what y’all want next!! (been thinking about writing more head-canons and more for Bakery owner matt :D)

[redrose10]

Trope- exes. Who didnt end badly, still has residual feelings for each other & met again at a mutual friend’s birthday dinner/hangout (?) with prompts 36 & 46 ? 🤎

I went with Yoongi for this one since he’s like 99% of the requests I get. I hope that’s okay!

< I Will Always Love You >

Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: A few swear words

#36 “Are you finished, so you’ll listen to me?”

#46 “And I’m here to save you.”

*******************************************************

Twelve months…two weeks…four days…five hours. That is how long it’s been since you last saw him. Since you last saw Yoongi. That night your world came crashing down. The two of you had been arguing all week. Little things here and there.

He left a dirty coffee cup on the counter and an argument ensued.

You forgot to pick up his medicine at the pharmacy on your way home and he took it personally.

He did a load of laundry and accidentally shrunk your favorite sweater. He offered to buy you a new one that night but you felt like he did it out of spite.

You accidentally knocked over a glass of wine all over his laptop causing it to short circuit. He could easily afford a new one but it was the principal of it all that upset him.

The final straw was when he skipped date night. He left you sitting at home alone for hours watching the meal you had worked hard on go cold. When he finally walked through the door he said you guys needed to talk and you agreed. After almost two hours of you both pouring out your hearts you both agreed that your three year relationship had run its course and it was best to go your separate ways.

So you found yourself a cute little apartment several blocks away. Yoongi made sure to stay out of the way as you and your best friends Jungkook and Jin helped you pack up and move all of your things. As you were leaving Yoongi told you to take care of yourself and that he would always be there if you ever needed anything. You told him to the same even though you both knew deep down you would never contact each other again. You gave him a hug and walked out. That was the last time you saw him.

Because even though you shared many of the same friends it was surprisingly easy to avoid him. It also helped that it seemed like he was doing the same. One of you was always conveniently busy or sick so it worked out.

Except tonight. Tonight was the one night you couldn’t avoid. One of your good friends Jimin was getting married. He made you promise not to skip out on the wedding and of course you agreed even though you really wanted to, especially after getting confirmation that Yoongi would be there.

Things had gotten easier as time went on over the last year or so. You stopped crying over him every day. Then you stopped thinking about him every single day. You heard that he had started dating some woman a few months after your breakup. It hurt deeply but it also motivated you to try and move on too. You went on a few dates here and there. You had a small thing with some guy named Namjoon but even though he was really sweet and nice and handsome that fizzled out after a couple of months leaving you single again.

You somehow managed to get a last minute date for the wedding though. Your neighbor. He was cute but you quickly found out he was arrogant and rude. The first thing he said to you was how he thought your dress would be shorter and you had to watch him check out practically every woman at the wedding while you were sitting right next to him. Even though you were miserable and feeling more alone than ever as you watched Jimin saying ‘I do’ to the love of his life you still did your best to fake happiness.

Jimin and his new bride walked down the aisle and as you turned to see them off you saw him. Yoongi looked as beautiful as ever, his hair was longer and his suit was somehow casual yet still wedding appropriate and looked great on him. He was smiling at Jimin and his bride before looking back and smiling at a woman. She was gorgeous with a smile almost as beautiful as his. He looked happy and content and even though you felt a small burning sensation in your chest you were happy for him.

Cocktail hour flew by and then it was time for the reception. You did your best to avoid Yoongi as much as you could through the evening. You caught little glimpses but thankfully it didn’t seem like he saw you at all, or at least he was pretending like he didn’t which you appreciated.

Dinner was served and then you sat through several speeches. Jimins best man Hoseok recounted several funny stories, a few of which you personally remembered, and it felt really good to laugh like that again.

Then the dance floor was opened up. Your date surprisingly asked you to dance. You accepted and headed to the floor. Even though he was dancing with you, his eyes were scanning over every other woman within the vicinity. At one point he even creepily licked his lips earning an eye roll from you.

“Hey uh you ready to go? I think we should find a room so we can finally be alone.”, he mumbled in your ear.

“No thanks.”

“Come on Y/N, don’t be such a prude.”

“She said she’s not interested. So I suggest you fuck off. Maybe try one of the other women you’ve been staring at all night.”, a very deep and very familiar voice said from behind you.

Yoongi and your date were having a stare down before your date scoffed mumbling something about you not being worth the trouble and walking away.

“Want to dance?”, he asked stepping in front of you.

Speechless you nodded. As he placed his hands on your hips it felt like your body was on fire and you wanted to lean into him to savor the feeling.

“Yoongi I…I thought you were here with a date.”, you questioned.

He smiled, “I was…I was dancing over there with her and then I saw how uncomfortable you were and now I’m here to save you.”

You quickly backed out of his grasp, “What?! Yoongi I’m not going to be the reason you two break up. You’re disgusting for doing that to her.”

You stormed out to the balcony area needing some fresh air. Yoongi followed closely behind.

You had tears already forming from all of the emotions you were struggling to sort through, “Leave me alone Yoongi. Please just go back to your date. I’m not going to be the reason something happens between the two of you. I don’t want her to get upset with me or think I’m trying to get you back or something.”, you pinched the bridge of your nose trying to stop the tears from falling, “I just want you to be happy and you looked so happy earlier and that makes me so happy and I just…”

You were in a panic thanks to feeling guilty because what if she saw you two and feeling angry that he would do that to her and feeling hurt at the reminder that he wasn’t yours and finally feeling a sense of relief at having him so close once again. The comforting mix of his cologne and shampoo taking you back to a simpler time but making it all worse.

He lightly chuckled before wrapping you in his arms allowing you to cry into his chest, “Y/N, are you finished, so you’ll listen to me?”

You nodded, though refusing to look at him.

“She’s not my date like that.”, he said causing you to finally look up at him in confusion. He used his thumb to wipe away the tears on your cheek.

“She’s just a friend.”, he said making you roll your eyes. He laughed but continued, “She’s just a friend who has a huge huge HUGE crush on Hobi but was too nervous to ask him out. She asked if I would be her date tonight until she had a couple drinks and worked up the courage to tell him.”, he turned and smirked, “And it looks like it worked.”

You looked over and saw Hobi and that woman slow dancing while smiling lovingly at each other.

Yoongi continued, “And if you must know I was so happy earlier because I got to see you Y/N. I miss you. I was hoping you’d be here but then I saw you had a date. Jimin said he was no one but I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

“Yeah he was a mistake more than anything.”, you grumbled getting a smile out of Yoongi.

He wrapped his arms around you again and you allowed your body melt into his, “I missed you Yoongi.”, you mumbled into his skin.

“I missed you to Y/N. Fuck, I was so stupid for ever letting you go.”

“I should’ve fought harder too. I was just so tired of the arguing and feeling like everything was falling apart.”, you sniffled feeling tears begin to form again.

“Hey hey don’t cry any more. Y/N I hate seeing you cry. I’m here now. And maybe…maybe if you want to…we can start over.”

You looked up taking in his soft features and he gave you a small smile.

You nodded and gave his cheek a kiss which he happily received.

At some point someone had cracked open the door to allow the chill air to fill into the reception room which also let the soft hum of the music stream out onto the patio.

“They’re playing our song.”, you smiled as the familiar tune of I Will Always Love You rang through the air. Yoongi had sung the song to you one night after your first big fight. You were convinced that he was going to leave you. He wasn’t great at speaking his mind so instead he pulled you down on his lap and sang the song trying to do his best Whitney Houston impression. He did it to cheer you up but also let you know that no matter what happened between you two he was always going to love you. After that night it became your song.

Yoongi smirked, “Yeah I think our friends might’ve had something to do with that.”

He was was pointing inside and you saw a group of your friends staring at you both while giggling and giving you a thumbs up.

“Well if they want a show then we’ll give them a show.”, he said before taking your hand, “Y/N will you dance with me?”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst but you agreed before he quickly twirled you around and back into his comforting arms once again.

[popfizzles]

wait are u actually halfway to fifty

yeah, math is scary, huh?

[honeybuckin10]

Code Blue - a Hawks x fem!lawyer!reader One Shot

Summary: Pre-Meta Liberation Army Arc. A hero’s birthday party on a night off blurs the lines of professionalism between the Commission’s rising junior prosecutor and a certain winged hero when secrets are exchanged [wc 5.2k (I'm so sorry)].

Warnings (nsfw): swearing, drinking, workplace romance, mutual pining, angst and fluff, everyone’s a dummy, mature themes, smut-ish, heavy petting. Characters slightly aged up (mid-late 20’s).

a/n: first time writing for Hawks and/or MHA, would love feedback. please don't be a ghost reader!

Nights off for heroes were few and far between. So when they did happen, usually all Hawks wanted to do was catch up on much needed sleep. But it was Best Jeanist’s birthday, which was how he found himself begrudgingly ordering a round of drinks at the bar for the handful that had gathered to celebrate their friend and colleague.

For the sake of Best Jeanist, he did his best to hide the fact that he was in sensory overload. His feathers only amplified the already deafening bass of the live band, coupled with the loud conversations, and the clinking of dishes, glasses, and silverware.  

“Happy birthday! Sorry I’m late,” he heard the squeaky voice behind him. He turned around to see you giving the birthday boy a friendly hug before handing him a small gift bag with a card sticking out. You were a prosecutor for the Hero Public Safety Commission’s District Attorney's Office. Due to the nature of your work, you crossed paths frequently with heroes to gather evidence and build case files to justly put away villains.  

The first time Hawks met you, you bumped into him in line at the Public Records Department on the second floor of the courthouse. Literally. Your face was buried deep in a case file, the *click clack* of your heels echoing as they hit the linoleum floor. Not paying attention, you walked right into Hawks’ wings, causing you to drop the plethora of papers in your arms.

-

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention!” you said, not even realizing at first who exactly you had bumped into, though you did think it was odd that you had to spit out a feather.

The halls of the courthouse, like any government building, were unfriendly, bureaucratic and slow. Annoyed, he was going to tell you to watch it. The words began to form in his mouth, but fizzled when he turned around and saw you crouched down awkwardly trying to gather all your papers, your range of motion clearly limited by your stiff skirt suit and precariously balanced in your heels. At one point your hair was probably pulled back in a sleek bun, but more than a few strands were now falling out of place. He felt bad. So instead of telling you off, he knelt down to help you pick up whatever was left on the floor.

“It’s ok, these things can be hard to miss sometimes.”

Confused, you looked up to meet golden irises and a sly smirk. Your already rosy cheeks deepened from pink to red upon realizing who was in front of you.

“Oh my God. Mr. Hawks Sir. I’m so sorry.” You immediately got to your feet, straightening out your posture. Your eyes fell from his face to the very prominent crimson wings that hung majestically behind him. You grimaced. “Wow I guess I was really out of it.”

“No worries.” He handed you back the rest of the strewn files, your fingers just grazing. “So… come here often?”

He earned a small laugh from you, finally able to put you at ease somewhat even if only for a moment. “No… or yes? I’m not really sure yet. This is my first case.” A newbie lawyer, of course. You gave a strained smile, but the furrow in your brow gave your nerves away.

“Ah, welcome to hell. Prosecutor or public defender?”

“Prosecutor.” He smiled.

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other, then.”

“I hope so.” Ever the professional, he was sure you didn’t mean for it to come off as anything more than introductory pleasantries. But he couldn’t help the little beat his heart skipped that caused his wings to flutter slightly. He hoped you didn’t notice.

“NEXT!” The voice of the elderly woman at the front desk boomed, hoarse from years of yelling and cigarettes. Hawks took one more look at you as your eyes kept darting to your watch.

“Why don’t you go ahead of me?” he offered. He could have introduced you to Beyonce and he was sure he wouldn’t have gotten the same reaction. You looked like a little kid on Christmas morning, but you did your best to hide your eagerness.

“Are you sure Mr. Hawks?”

“I’m in no rush, I insist. And please, just Hawks.”

“You’re holding up the line, you have five seconds to decide before I’m kicking you both to the back,” the old lady deadpanned. You looked at each other, eyes wide, both biting back shit-eating grins.

“You heard her,” he said. He took a step back, bowing slightly with an arm extended to motion you through.

“Thank you,” you mouthed wordlessly to him as you slid past.

“Good luck.”

-

That was almost two years ago. Since then, you picked up more high-profile cases, including the arrest and sentencing of Stain and had begun to make a name for yourself as a rising junior prosecutor. Two years of various long and agonizing depositions, witness prep, thousands of boxes of files combed through, late night arraignments. Almost two years of brushing elbows in the trenches, and this was his first time seeing you outside of a work setting. But for your voice, he wasn’t sure if he would have recognized you.

Your hair, free from its ordinary confines, fell effortlessly down your shoulders and framed your face perfectly. Sure, occasionally he thought about what your body might look like out of a suit, but the reality was better than anything else his imagination could concoct. Had you always had curves there?

Hawks had always thought you were pretty. But being the Number Two Hero with a predominantly female fan base, he wasn’t necessarily phased by looks. What did phase him was that big brain of yours. You wouldn’t be good at your job if you weren’t insanely intelligent with a work ethic to boot. Hawks realized he had a crush on you after the first time he saw you try a case in person. It was a trial for one of the villains he had taken down and you enlisted him as a witness. Seeing you in court charm every single juror in your opening and closing statements, expertly cross-examining hostile witnesses, keeping your cool in the face of a disrespectful opposing counsel – that’s what got his heart going a mile a minute.

So now here you were in the wild, not in a suit, saying hello to everyone like the social butterfly you were. Your exposed skin was like the answer to a riddle he didn’t know he was trying to solve. He tried not to stare, staring was rude. Staring was also causing his wings to have a mind of their own, puffing up and fluttering away ever so slightly. He turned his back again to hide them, and took a sip of beer trying very much to go unnoticed.

“Um, excuse me ma’am. I’m going to need to see some license and registration for the absolute dump truck you got behind you,” said a devilish Mirko after tapping your shoulder. Your laughter rang out, cutting through the other noise in the bar. Hawks tried to pretend he didn’t hear it, though the corners of his mouth threatened to tug a smile out of him. She’s not wrong.

“Hawks, doesn’t y/n look good in this ‘fit?” He didn’t know how or when, but he was going to kill Mirko. He blamed it on her sixth bunny sense that she’d somehow sniffed out his feelings for you - though it was probably the fact that she noticed he stopped entertaining one-night stands months ago.

“Mirko, have you considered that y/n would like to have a night out without being harassed?” Even in the dim lights of the bar, he could tell your cheeks were flushed. And despite the nonchalant act he was trying to put on, he was sure his face was about the same.

“Hey, I was just giving a compliment,” the bunny said mischievously. She gave Hawks a wink as she backed away, but not before mouthing “If you don’t fuck her, I will.”

“Hi,” you said cheekily, blissfully unaware of the chaos around you.

“Hi Counselor,” he said, no longer able to contain his smile. He dipped down to give you a hug, hoping the way he inhaled your perfume went undetected. His senses were permeated with vanilla and cedarwood, followed by the smell of your floral shampoo. The warmth of your body spread across his chest, and he tried to memorize the way your soft hands felt so small resting on his shoulders. Reluctantly he pulled away.

“So how much catching up do I have to do?” you asked. Hawks swirled around the last of his beer.

“This is my second, but I can’t speak for the rest of my – uh - colleagues,” he said as he glanced at Mirko who was now forcing Best Jeanist to take a shot.

“Ah, I see,” you said slowly, following his line of sight.

“So what can I get you to drink?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“You buying me a drink, Hawks?” He rolled his eyes as you elbowed him in his side wiggling your eyebrows.

“I needed a refill anyways and my tab’s already open. Don’t let it get to your head,” he teased back.

“Oh don’t you worry, I will.” The bartender placed two beers in front of you. You took a long sip, as you watched the hero swirl is drink. Something was off and you were going to get to the bottom of it.  

What Hawks was actually thinking as he stared at his beverage, was that he suddenly had no idea what to say or do with his hands.

“So are you going to spend the rest of the night cowering in the corner? Didn’t think you’d be the wet blanket of the bunch.” He nearly spat out his beer.

“I’m not a wet blanket,” he said defensively.

“Prove it.” You stuck out your hand. “Since you bought me a drink, I think I owe you a dance,” you said with a smirk. He looked at you thoughtfully.

“You owe me nothing except your friendship.”

“Oh we’re friends now? I thought we were colleagues,” poking fun at his earlier comment. He didn’t like the hole you were digging him into. He could flirt with a brick wall, yet for some reason the workplace flirtations that had escalated for two years between you two were not translating to the place where they would be most appropriate.

“I, uh, tend to get in the way. Better not.” He tilted his head towards his back where his wings hung lamely.

“Oh come on don’t be a party pooper,” you gave an encouraging smile. His eyes met yours only for moment, but looking at you was like looking directly into the sun. So he kept his eyes on your hand while he found himself uncharacteristically tongue tied. He took your extended palm, but didn’t budge when you tried pulling him off the barstool. He sensed your breath hitch as he held you in place. Your eyes traveled from your now interlocked hands to his face. “Hawks…?”

*beep* “We got a code red. I repeat, code red. Over.” *beep*

The noise came from your purse, pulling you both out of whatever trance you were in. He raised an eyebrow. Sure enough, you pulled out a walkie talkie and brought it to your mouth.

“Rescue effort deployed, over.” *beep*

His golden orbs finally met yours, your eyes swimming with sympathy.

“I’ve been summoned. I don’t know what’s going on here, but come find me when you’re done sulking, yeah?”

He released your hand and watched as you disappeared into the dance floor, but not before he saw you ward off an unwanted suitor leering over Mount Lady who was still gripping the sister walkie-talkie.

He settled back into the bar seat and chugged.  

“I thought you were fun at parties.” Best Jeanist saddled up beside him, dropping off his empty round. Hawks groaned.

“Not you too.”

“It’s my birthday, you’re obligated to be nice to me. Not that I thought it would be so difficult for you.”

“It’s my first night off in months man, I’m just a little tired.”

“We’re all tired, that’s no excuse.”

Hawks felt guilty, Best Jeanist was right. Embarrassment bubbled in his gut, though maybe that was just the beer.

“Relationships are like a new pair of high quality jeans –“

“Please stop.”

“At first, the fibers are stiff. They take a while to break in, may even feel uncomfortable at first. But after a few wears, the fabric relaxes and molds to the wearer. The perfect denim…”

“Are you done?”

“No. You knew she was going to be here tonight so what gives?”

Hawks ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

-

You and Hawks had been at it for hours. You let out a low groan.

“Can you grab that box for me? I can’t reach.”

Hawks couldn’t help himself. You looked so cute on your tip toes arms extended. The persona you exuded in court was bigger than life, but outside that you were quite ordinary. He liked that you weren’t so infallible that you were beyond the need for his assistance.

The boxes of evidence filled the office, floor to ceiling. You had gone through most of them, only one pile was left. Technically he didn’t have to be there, but he’d bumped into you in the halls of the HPSC long past most had left the building. You explained your plight that the other junior associate assigned to the case with you had bailed. It was for one of the villains he’d captured anyways, so he volunteered to help.

“Yeah, I got it Birdie.” He walked over to where you were, but you didn’t budge. Stubbornly you continued to wave your arms as though you’d be able to summon the box clearly out of reach through sheer will alone. It was, in a word, adorable. So he perched himself behind you, pressing against your backside to absolve you of your struggle. He was being mindful of space - was the story he told himself, which was a lie. It would also be a lie to say he didn’t enjoy it.

You inhaled sharply and instinctively closed your eyes, his cologne infiltrating your nose. It’s not that you and Hawks hadn’t made physical contact before, it’s just that it was mostly in the form of professional or friendly touches. Like handshakes or pats on the back or nudging arms. There had only been a handful of other times where there was accidental increased contact, and each time felt like an out of body experience. This was no different. You tried not to push your ass into him as he reached above you, relishing the warmth of his body against yours. Meekly, you let your arms drop to your sides as a shiver rolled down your spine.

You only turned around when you heard him drop the box on the ground. You let your back land on the stack of boxes against the wall. You drank in his form, mere inches away from you. Jacket and gloves long discarded, you admired the veins in his forearms and the contours of his muscles that shown through his shirt. You knew he caught you staring, but you didn’t mind.

Hawks stared right back at you, silently enjoying the way the collar of your blouse, now partially unbuttoned and lopsided, showed off your clavicle. Your hair once perfectly coiffed now fell in a loose bun, strays falling around your face. Your half-lidded eyes beckoned him to close the tiny gap between you.

Maybe it was sleep deprivation that he forgot who you were (his coworker) or where he was (inside your office in the building of the HPSC). All sense of rationality went out the window the moment Hawks decided to take a step forward. Your eyes followed as he placed a hand next to your head, then trailed up the length of his arm back to his face, finally focusing on his lush lips that were suddenly very close. You held your breath as you patiently waited for impact that never came. His beeper went off, startling you both and cutting the moment short.

-

That was last night.

You were a lawyer. You followed rules. You enforced rules. Not that sleeping/dating a coworker was illegal, but it felt like you were doing something wrong. You weren’t each other’s superiors or subordinates, you weren’t in the same department, you checked the Commission’s bylaws and there was nothing else explicitly prohibiting romantic relations between employees. But you were still scared to disrupt the status quo.

You didn’t think much of it at first. You knew Hawks flirted with anything with a pulse. So you didn’t see the harm in giving him a taste of his own medicine every now and then. You weren’t sure when you started having actual feelings for him. It might have been a few months ago when you got to your office in the morning after a long night of work, only to find a coffee and a crimson feather on your desk. When had you told him your coffee order? All you knew was that the exchanges that once felt like an inside joke now seemed like cruel and unusual punishment, a reminder that you were nothing special and that this was just how he acted with everyone.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been out on the dancefloor. Your feet were starting to hurt. Mirko had fed you two shots and you were now nursing the remaining ice from your second gin and tonic. With clear liquor and cloudy eyes, you felt your confidence draining as the night wore on, no sign of The Winged Hero in sight. Did you go too far? Did you horribly misread last night’s events? Was he avoiding you?

You felt a pair of hands grip your hips, pulling you out of your daydream and realizing you had no idea where everyone else was. Your hand flew to your purse to grab your walkie-talkie.

“Don’t tell me you’re about to code-red me.” Your eyes immediately lit up as you turned around, too much alcohol in your system to play coy.

“You came!” Your hands excitedly drummed his chest. Your grin was infectious. He leaned in to make himself heard over the speakers.  

“Of course I did. Just took a while to find you, you’re pretty short.” His hot breath tickled your ear.

“You think I’m pretty?” you drawled, a lazy smile plastered on your face. The initial panic in his eyes softened as he realized your mistake. He didn’t have the heart to correct you, nor were you were wrong.

“That’s not what I – yeah… you’re pretty.” You pressed yourself up into him on tip toes, cupping a hand around his ear.

“Can I tell you a secret?” His heartbeat quickened, his own sobriety lacking along with his social filter. He should have shut it down, but instead he said:

“Always.”

“I – “

“Hey, watch it with those things.” His wings, again having a mind of their own, had inadvertently fluttered a drink out of a nearby patron’s hands - and he wasn’t happy about it. He was about to apologize, but you beat him to the response.

“Clearly it was an accident, why don’t you watch it you bitch-ass – ” On one hand, he thought it was very sexy how you tried to defend him. On the other, you were simply not threatening no matter how hard you tried and the last thing Hawks wanted right now was to ruin what felt like the most important moment of his life with a bar fight.

“I am very sorry sir, it was an accident. Feel free to use my tab the rest of the night,” he said to the man as he picked you up by your midsection and carried you away before you could finish the sentence. Even as you retreated, you continued your death glare towards the stranger who was left very confused.

Hawks placed you down in a corner where his wings and your sharp tongue hopefully wouldn’t cause any further disruptions. He leaned his back against the wall just to be safe.

“So do you usually go around starting bar fights?” he said with a smug smile.

“Me?! He started it and I was defending your honor,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re welcome,” you said defiantly. To your dismay, the hero let out a hearty laugh. “Hey!”

“I’m sorry. You’re right, you were very scary,” he finally got out as his laughter slowed.  

“Don’t lie,” you pouted.

“It was really cute.” He was still laughing, but you were starting to sober up.

“I said don’t lie.” Your meek voice was barely audible in the still boisterous bar. His eyes softened at your hardened expression.

“I-I wasn’t.” He was suddenly very aware of your surroundings, which was next to the line starting to form by the bathrooms. Loud chit chatter and crying coming from the ladies’ room mixed with sound of someone audibly vomiting from the men’s room was not exactly how he pictured this going down. He took your hand and started walking again.

“Ugh, where are we going now? Our friends are still there,” you groaned. Friends. Why was that word so easy for you, yet rolled off his tongue like sand paper?

“We can go back inside in a minute, but I want to talk.” He’d led you out the backdoor of the bar. You looked around, clearly confused.

“Dude, what is happening?”

“I couldn’t hear you in there and we were next to the bathrooms.”

“So you dragged me out to an alleyway next to a literal dumpster. Got it.” He looked around just to check if you were correct, which unfortunately, you were.

You couldn’t be serious with each other if you tried. Snorts and stifled giggles filled the alley, overpowering the dull bass from inside.

“I guess I really know how to set the mood, huh.” He scratched the back of his head, admiring the scenery.

“I didn’t know there was a mood to be set.” Your tone was inquisitive, free of judgement. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird all night.”

Hawks took a deep breath, trying to gather his growing nerves. But he was a coward who’d rather fly into a burning building than share his feelings so he deflected.

“You said you were going to tell me a secret in there. What was it?”

Your felt your cheeks immediately burn. The liquid courage you had before was wearing off so you volleyed back.

“You have to tell me a secret first,” you said defensively. Hawks rolled his eyes.

“I’ve already told you two secrets tonight, you just weren’t paying attention.”

“Like wha- oh.” You brought a hand to your mouth to cover the audible gasp that left your lips. You wondered if Hawks was embarrassed. If he was, he hid it well under the guise of a knowing smirk. It was at that moment you noticed how his gilded eyes shone spectacularly under the dim glow of the nearby streetlamp. Perhaps the embarrassment, if any, was also pacified by how clearly flustered you were by the culmination of all that had transpired in the last 24 hours. You crossed your arms. “Well… I still need one more secret from you.”

“Wow, three for the price of one? Now you’re just overselling it.” He stopped teasing when he saw you pouting again. Not a playful pout, but the kind that made it look like you were about to break. He never thought of you as fragile before. He grabbed your hand, averting his gaze.

“You have to promise to keep it a secret, ok?” You nodded, squeezing his hand for reassurance.

“I promise.” He took a deep breath, finally gathering the courage to look you in the eyes again.

“Keigo.”

“What?”

“Keigo,” he said again. “Keigo Takami. That’s my real name.” Your eyes widened in horror realizing you’d made him compromise his own security. You frantically began scanning your surroundings for any unintentional witnesses. He grabbed your shoulders to steady you.

“Oh my god, Hawks, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to –“

“Shhhh it’s ok there’s no one else around. You didn’t force me, I want you to know. Please, call me Keigo.” He watched the rise and fall of your chest, trying to monitor your labored breathing. Again, this was not going as planned. Not that he really had a plan to begin with. But even if he did, causing you to go into cardiac arrest surely was not on the list. Your breath finally started to slow.

“Keigo,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else. You liked the way his name felt on your tongue, so you said it again. “Keigo.”

He tried to suppress a smile, watching how the corners of your lips tugged upwards. His hand, seemingly acting on its own, stroked your hair as he continued to sooth you.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” which was another way to say he’d never heard a more beautiful sound in his life than his real name falling from your lips.

He tried to lighten the mood, not wanting to cause you any more distress than he already had over the course of the night.

“Not to brag, but this better be one hell of a secret ‘cause–“

He didn’t get to finish the sentence. You grabbed him by the collar to bring his lips to yours in a messy, fervent kiss that took his breath away but was over in the blink of an eye before he could act or process.  

You pushed him away slightly as you caught your breath, looking just as surprised as he was about the whole ordeal.   

“I-I’m sorry I should’ve asked –“

He crashed into you as he held both sides of your face, afraid you may float away if that beautiful mind of yours started to overthink as it often did. The force knocked you into the building behind you, but you didn’t mind. Wandering hands traveled over each other’s bodies, both eager to explore foreign skin. Your tongues danced in unison as you body tingled under his erratic touch, grabbing your arms, back, hips, waist, hair, whatever he could hold onto unable to stay in one place for long.

You couldn’t stop your own hands from feeling the muscles you’d watched from afar for so long, enjoying the ripple of his abs, the sturdiness of his chest, finally landing around his neck. You pulled him impossibly closer, spiteful of the little space that still separated you. His wings protectively caged around you, shielding any prying eyes from your compromising position.

In an extraordinary display of restraint he kept a hand on your ribcage, his fingers delicately ghosting the band of your bra over your clothes, his intent clear but never crossing boundaries. You smiled into the kiss deciding to take advantage of the new privacy as you placed your hand over his to guide it to its true destination. He let out a groan that reverberated against your lips as he squeezed the soft flesh under him, still in disbelief that he should be so lucky to experience all that had only existed in his imagination. He swallowed the soft moan you let out when he grazed his thumb over your sensitive nipple that peaked through the fabric of your top. You rolled your hips forward desperate for friction, and he eagerly returned the favor. You gasped at the feeling of his bulge against your pelvis, which you realized was the first time you’d come up for air since you locked lips.   

His mouth traveled down your neck until he found a sweet spot that made you squirm. Your hand also made its way south, but your path was halted by his calloused hand when you reached the waistband of his pants. Hawks might fuck you in an alleyway outside a bar, but Keigo wanted to build you the softest nest to lay you on because you deserved nothing less.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of you neck as his other hand drew little circles on the small of your back.

“Technically… that wasn’t a secret,” he whispered into your skin. Your chests rattled against one another as laughter escaped your lungs.

“You’re an ass,” you said through fits of giggles. He nipped a little more at your neck, encouraging you on. “If you’re going to make me say it… I wanted to kiss you. Tonight. And last night. And the day before that. And the week before that. And –“

He kissed you once more to cut you off, but this time it was sweet and soft. It made you feel calm and centered. So when he pulled away, you decided to share more.

“Can I tell you another secret?”

“If it’s anything like the first one, absolutely.” He brought your captured wrist to his mouth, leaving a trail of small kisses over your hand. Your heartbeat that finally started to slow picked right back up.

“I’ve never flown before.” You not-so-subtly glanced at his wings before looking back at him, eyebrow raised. He gave you a wicked grin.

“Yeah I can give you a ride little bird. Not to be presumptuous, but uh… your place or mine?” You pretended to think hard about the proposition.

“Hmm. I’d say appropriately-sumptuous, and… dealer’s choice.” Hawks had found his way to your neck again which made thinking straight quite difficult, but you persisted nonetheless. “Though… maybe we go back inside and table this for another hour. I feel bad leaving without saying goodbye.”

Hawks moved up the column of you neck until his breath was in your ear.

“I’m gonna go on a limb and say, I think it would make the birthday boy very happy if we didn’t.” Despite the blush that crept to your cheeks knowing you may be the subject of workplace gossip tomorrow, your core clenched in anticipation at his words. The hero could tell from your dazed expression that it was time to go. That was, at least, until the walkie-talkie in your purse went off again.

*beep* “Code blue, y/n where are you? Over.” *beep*

You could see his sails deflate when you pulled out the device, assuming once again that his plans were foiled. Not one to put up a fight, he moved towards the door to reunite with everyone. But you didn’t budge, squeezing his hand to hold him in place. He watched closely as your other hand brought the walkie-talkie to your mouth. The playful twinkle in your eyes told him all he needed to know.

“The eagle has landed in the nest. Over.” *beep*

[hjbirthdaywishes]

June 10, 2023

Happy 45 Birthday to DJ Qualls. 

[rowdyluv]

A Little Attention

summary: in which ethan and y/n are arguing heatedly, turns out it’s over something simple if only she would’ve said something

word count: 3.93

warnings: ⚠️MDNI 18+⚠️, smut smut smut, unprotected p in v, rough, moderate-a lot of foul language, fem!receiving oral, fem!receiving fingering, bit vivid

notes: hi there 👋🏼. this was written for @mommahughes19-23 for her birthday (everyone tell her happy late birthday 🥳) i feel it is one of the most vivid pieces I’ve ever produced smut or not. seriously no minors, if anyone can tell me how to age restrict it please message me 🥲

Ethan's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his knuckles white with the effort of containing his rage. Y/n's eyes flashed with a fiery defiance that matched the heat of his own. They stood in the living room, their voices rising and falling like the crescendos of a tumultuous symphony. Their words were sharper than the knives in the kitchen drawer, each one a deliberate strike aimed at the heart of the other. The air had unspoken accusations and a tension that could be sliced with a child’s toy knife.

"You never listen to me!" Ethan's voice echoed through the apartment, bouncing off the walls and ceiling.

"And you never understand!" Y/n shot back, her own volume rising to meet his.

Their argument had been brewing for days, a slow brew of unspoken resentments and misunderstandings. It had finally reached a boiling point, spilling over into a confrontation that neither had seen coming. Ethan's eyes searched hers, looking for a crack in the armor of her anger, a glimpse of the softness he knew lay beneath. But all he found was a mirror to his own fury.

Y/n's chest heaved with the force of her words, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she tried to keep up with the pace of the fight. Her cheeks were flushed, not just from the heat of her words, but from the rush of blood that came with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The scent of their shared rage filled the room, a heady perfume that seemed to thicken the air around them.

"All you ever do is hockey this, hockey that, hang out with this group, hang out with that group," she desperately pleaded, her voice cracking with the weight of her frustration. "When will you have time for me?"

Ethan's anger fizzled at the sound of her desperation. He knew he'd been seeing her less recently, but the insinuation stung more than any slap ever could. He was torn between his love for the sport that had given him a future and the woman who was his present.

The woman who is hopefully his future.

The rage that had fueled him moments ago dissipated, leaving a cold, stark reality in its place. He had never meant to make her feel like she was in second place. He stepped closer to her, his heart pounding in his chest, and reached out to touch her, but she flinched away. He could see the hurt in her eyes, and it was like a punch to the gut.

With a heavy breath out, Ethan realized quickly the fight wasn't worth losing her over. He reached out again, this time with gentle hands that trembled slightly. "Babe," he began, his voice softer than the whisper of a leaf in the wind, "I'm sorry."

Y/n looked at him with sad eyes that spoke volumes. Her anger had not disappeared, but the intensity had given way to a deep sadness that was far more poignant. For a moment, she just stood there, her chest heaving with the weight of her emotions. Then, she turned and started walking up the stairs to his bedroom. The sound of her footsteps on the wooden steps was like a silent scream echoing through the apartment.

Ethan knew he had to act fast but he couldn’t chase after her instantaneously. He couldn't let the argument end like this, not when he felt so much for her. He waited a few moment, giving her space she to collect herself. While allowing himself some time to come together. Then, he followed her, his heart hammering against his ribcage like a drum. Each step he took was like sinking in molasses, slow, deliberate, feeling stuck in time, as if the fate of their relationship hinged on the precise timing of his arrival. Anyone who has ever been in a relationship knows timing is always crucial in arguments.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw her silhouette through the slightly ajar door of his bedroom. She was lying on the bed, her back to him, her body a taut bow of tension. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting a warm, intimate light over the disarray of their clothes, a silent testament to the tumult of their emotions.

Ethan approached slowly, his steps measured, each one a silent apology. He slid into the bed, his body careful not to disturb hers. He lay on his side, close enough to feel the heat of her body, but not so close that he could be accused of invading her space. He reached out, his hand tentative as it rested on her hip. Her skin was warm and smooth, a stark contrast to the ice-cold fear that gripped his heart.

For a moment, she remained stiff, unyielding. Then, almost imperceptibly, she leaned back into him, her body melting into his embrace. It was a subtle surrender, a silent acceptance of his apology. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the curve of her body fit against his like a jigsaw piece finding its match. Her breathing evened out, he took that as a good sign.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n," he whispered into her hair, his voice raw with emotion. "I didn't mean to make you feel less valued, or that I was ignoring you. I've just been caught up in everything, and I know that's not an excuse." He paused, feeling her body tense slightly. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. Just tell me what you need."

She rolled over to face him. Her eyes searched his, the anger now replaced by a smoldering intensity that sent a jolt of electricity through his body. She reached up, her hand sliding over his jaw, and then down to cover his mouth. The touch was gentle, but the message was clear: she didn't want his words, she wanted action. Ethan's pulse quickened as he felt her other hand begin to trace the line of his collarbone, her fingernails lightly scraping against his skin.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice a low, throaty purr that sent shivers down his spine. "I just missed you so much." His eyes stared right into her, and the depth of her need reflected in the dark lust filled pools. "I just got so frustrated because I needed you, and you weren't there. I needed you so badly, I couldn’t take care of it myself."

Her hand traveled south, slipping under the waistband of his sweatpants. The warmth of her touch was like a brand, searing through the fabric to the very core of his being. She teased him gently, her fingertips tracing the outline of his cock, which grew hard and thick beneath her touch. Ethan's eyes rolled back in his head, his breath hitching in his throat. He hadn't expected this, but the sudden shift in her demeanor was like a balm to his bruised ego.

“Y/n,” he shakily breathed out. “Baby, please. You do..”

She cut his words off placing one finger to his lips. “Ethan.” Y/n groaned. “Do not make me go back to my dorm, to my toys that are very much not you.”

Her hand traced his cock again, but this time she stopped and lightly squeezed it. The sudden pressure was like a switch thrown in a dark room, illuminating a hunger in Ethan that was more primal than anything he'd felt before. He took a sharp intake of breath, his eyes never leaving hers. He felt his body respond to her touch, his cock swelling and pulsing with the rhythm of his heart.

Without another word, Ethan rolled over her, his body a mountain of heat and need. One arm slid under her, supporting her back, while the other slipped under her shorts, seeking the warmth between her legs. Her thighs parted for him like the pages of a favorite book, revealing the slick wetness that coated her pussy. He groaned, the sound a mix of relief and desire, as his fingers found her clit and began to circle it with an urgency that matched the racing of his heart.

"All you needed was a little attention?" he teased, his voice low and gruff, a dark chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Hmm? Was that all it was?" His thumb applied gentle pressure, rolling her sensitive nub in a way that made her eyes flutter closed and her back arch. “You just needed to be a brat and pitch a fit to get my attention?”

"I need more than a little attention," she murmured, her voice thick with need. Her hand slipped down to cover his, urging him to increase the tempo of his strokes. His touch was electric, setting her nerve endings ablaze with every brush against her clit. "Much more," she gasped, as he obliged, his fingers moving faster, pressing harder.

Ethan's mouth found hers in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep, tasting the sweetness of her need. He could feel the tension coiled tight in her body, the way she arched into his touch, begging for more. He broke the kiss, his teeth grazing her lower lip, drawing a soft moan from her. "How much more?" he whispered against her ear, his breath hot and heavy.

“All of you. Please E.” She whimpered.

Ethan growled with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with desire. The roughness of his touch across her body sent a thrill of excitement through her, making her pussy clench around his fingers before he withdrew them. He began to remove her clothes with a purposefulness that was almost violent, ripping the fabric as if it were paper standing in the way of something he needed to claim. Her shirt was the first to go, torn away to reveal her lacy black bra, which he quickly unhooked. Her breasts spilled out, the nipples already erect and begging for his mouth. He didn't disappoint, taking one in his mouth and sucking hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making her gasp with pleasure.

Her shorts were next, pulled down with one swift motion, leaving her in nothing but a pair of drenched panties. He kissed his way down her body, his mouth leaving a trail of fire wherever it touched. When he reached her panties, he didn't bother to remove them, instead choosing to kiss and lick the fabric that separated him from her soaking wetness. She bucked her hips, trying to get closer, but he held her firm, the restraint only adding to the delicious torment.

Unable to resist her whines any longer, Ethan tore the panties away, revealing her to his eager eyes. He spread her legs wider, exposing her completely to his gaze. He took a moment to drink in the sight of her, the way her pussy glistened with arousal, the way her thighs quivered with anticipation. His dick throbbed painfully, demanding affection, but he held back seeing how he with holding attention from was the reason they were arguing in the first place. This time wasn’t about him.

“I want to taste you, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “Tell me how much you want me to make it up to you. Tell me how much you need me too.”

Her eyes snapped open, the desire in them a wildfire that could have burned down the whole apartment complex. “Ethan, please. I need you to fuck me so hard I forget everything else exists. I need to feel you everywhere, to drown in you. I need it rough and intense, just like how we felt downstairs. I want you to fuck the anger and frustration out of us both.”

The words were like a lit match thrown into a barrel of gunpowder. Ethan's control snapped like a dry twig underfoot. He grabbed her hips and yanked her to the edge of the bed, kneeling between her legs. He looked up at her face when his mouth made contact with her pussy. He let out the deepest of deep groans when he watched her eyes roll back slightly.

Her sweet scent filled his nostrils as he tasted her, his tongue delving into her warm, wet depths. She was already so close, her body quivering with the effort of holding back. He didn't bother with gentle licks or teasing strokes; he went straight for the kill, his tongue flicking against her clit with the precision of a snake's strike. She screamed out his name, her legs wrapping around his head, holding him in place.

"Do you want to know what you taste like?" He asked, his voice muffled against her, a smile playing on his lips as he plunged a finger into her, feeling her tighten around him. "You taste like you’re mine." Ethan stated firmly, possessively. His voice filled with satisfaction as she moaned loudly in response. "And I am going to make sure you feel like it too." He adds another finger, pumping fast, his thumb paying close attention to her clit. His tongue alternating out with his thumb. “By the end, you’ll have no doubts baby girl. You are all fucking mine.”

"I'm so close," Y/n whimpered, her body tightening around his fingers. She could feel the orgasm building inside her, a storm ready to break. Ethan's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched her, his mouth a wicked smile against her sensitive flesh.

"Good," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "Because I'm going to make you come so hard you'll forget how you were feeling when you were without me, missing me." He took her clit into his mouth, sucking hard as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. She bucked against his face, her nails digging into the bed sheets. The sensation was overwhelming, a crescendo of pleasure that washed over her like a tidal wave. The red flush across her skin a perfect show of the sensation flowing through her.

With a final, brutal tug of his fingers, she came with a scream that was muffled by the pillow she'd bitten into. Her body convulsed, her pussy clenching around his digits as she rode the waves of pleasure. Ethan withdrew his hand, his fingers glistening with her juices. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a smirk that was equal parts arrogance and satisfaction. The taste of her on his tongue was intoxicating, a heady mix of sweetness and desire that made his cock throb with need.

He stood from the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. With a swift movement, he removed his sweatpants and boxers, revealing his hard, thick cock. It bobbed slightly in the warm, lamplit air, a silent demand for her attention. He stroked it a few times, watching her reaction. Her eyes followed the motion of his hand like a hawk tracking its prey, her pupils dilating with each pass.

Ethan climbed back between her legs, his cock pressing against her slick folds. He didn't enter her yet, instead choosing to tease her by rubbing the tip against her clit. She bucked her hips still sensitive from moments ago and trying to force him inside quickly but he held back. He was enjoying an all new type of power play. He leaned in, his mouth hovering just above hers. "You sure you want, uh what was it you said?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper that sent shivers down her spine. He moved to whisper right next to her ear. “Me ‘to fuck the anger and frustration out of us both’ y/n?” Ethan nudge her head to the side with his nose so he had better access to the sweet spot on her neck.

Her breath was coming in short, desperate pants as she nodded frantically. "Yes," she whispered, the word barely audible.

With a predatory growl, Ethan didn't wait, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder, effectively opening her up to him. He positioned the head of his cock at her entrance, feeling the heat of her desire. He took one final look into her eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all he saw was the need for release, the same need that pulsed through him. He slid into her with one stroke, burying himself to the hilt.

Y/n's eyes widened with the suddenness of his entry, her body stretching around him. He didn't give her time to adjust; instead, he began to pound into her with a ferocity that matched the intensity of their argument. Each thrust was punctuated by a grunt of effort, his body moving in a primal rhythm that seemed to echo the beat of their hearts. Her walls tightened around him, the friction almost painful, but he didn't slow down. He was a man on a mission, she asked him for something after being upset with him and he was not going to let her be unhappy with him again.

He reached down, his hand wrapping around her throat, his grip firm but not painful. "Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice a dark rumble that seemed to resonate through the very air around them. "Do you want me to fuck you like you're mine?"

Her eyes, glazed with pleasure, searched his, and she nodded frantically. The pressure of his hand on her throat only served to heighten her arousal, sending a fresh wave of wetness to coat his cock as he pounded into her. The sound of their bodies slapping together was like a drumbeat that echoed through the room, a rhythm that seemed to sync with the racing of their hearts.

Y/n’s whimpers grew louder, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Each thrust was a declaration of ownership, a claiming of what was his. She could feel herself losing control, her body responding to his every move with a mindless need for more. The sensation was like nothing she had ever experienced before, a heady mix of pain and pleasure that had her teetering on the edge of sanity. The hand that was holding her throat traveled down her body and came to a rest at her lower abdomen. Ethan applied slight pressure. Eliciting a sharp loud moan from y/n. Ethan smirked proudly.

Her eyes were glazed over, her pupils dilated to the point where the color was almost entirely obscured. Her nails dug into his arms, leaving half-moons of pain that Ethan barely felt. All he could focus on was the way her body responded to his, the way she arched into every thrust, the way her pussy clenched around him like a vice. He felt like he could come just from watching her lose herself in the moment.

He slowed his pace, his strokes turning long and deep, drawing out her pleasure like a master artist. His hand found its way back to her throat, his grip firm but gentle, a silent reminder of who was in control. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice a low, guttural growl. "Look at me while I make you feel this good."

Her eyes snapped to his, the intensity in them making his own pulse race. He watched as she bit her lower lip, her teeth sinking into the plump flesh, trying to hold back the scream that threatened to tear from her throat. He could feel her pussy starting to pulse and squeeze around him, her inner walls fluttering like a bird taking flight.

"Are you about to come for me, baby?" Ethan's question was a low growl, his voice thick with need. The words were a demand, a challenge. He knew she was close, he could feel it in the way her body was tensing beneath his. A quick simple “Uh-huh” was muttered.

With a smirk, he pulled out of her, flipping her over onto her stomach with ease. He grabbed her hips, positioning himself behind her. Her favorite position, their position when they need to be quick or he’s wanting to show her he pays attention. He took a moment to appreciate the view, her round ass in the air, her slick and it’s all for him. The sound of her gasp was like music to his ears when he thrust himself back inside, and he felt her body tense around him as he filled her completely.

She was teetering the edge of her second orgasm and he was veering towards his first.

"You take me so good, baby," Ethan groaned, his words hot and heavy in her ear. "So tight, so wet, like you were made for me." His hands gripped her hips, his thrusts deep and punishing, each one sending a bolt of pleasure through her body. "You look so pretty when you're getting fucked like this, all flushed and desperate for more." He gave her hips a squeeze, he was holding her up. Her legs were shaking too much to keep her up herself.

Without warning, Y/n's body tensed up like a bow string pulled tight, and with a scream that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room, she came. Her pussy clamped down on him like a vise, her inner muscles pulsing around his cock in waves of ecstasy. Her nails dug into the bed, her back arched high, and she trembled uncontrollably as the orgasm ripped through her like a tornado. It was the kind of climax that stole her breath, made her vision swim with stars, and left her feeling like she was floating on a cloud of pure bliss.

Ethan watched her shatter with a mix of pride and need. He felt her pussy milk him, and it was all he could take. With a roar that seemed to echo through his very soul, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and let go. His hips bucked against her as he emptied himself inside her, filling her up with his hot, sticky come. Each pulse of his release sent a new shock of pleasure through her, making her orgasm last longer, making it even more intense.

As the waves of pleasure receded, Ethan pulled out of her gently, collapsing onto the bed beside her. He rolled onto his side, his breathing ragged, his chest heaving. He reached out, his hand shaking slightly, to trace the line of her jaw. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and he felt a fierce surge of love for her that could bring him to his knees.

Y/n turned her head to look at him, her eyes still glazed with the aftermath of her climax. A soft, sated smile graced her lips, and Ethan felt his heart swell in his chest. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth, tasting the salt of her skin. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Always." He paused and thought about what to say for a moment.

“Just next time, talk to me about how you’re feeling before you get a moody and bratty because you need dicked down. I’ll happily do it, but…” He stopped talking to push some hair out of her face. “But y/n/n, sex isn’t everything in a relationship, I can give you physical affection in many forms. Not that sex isn’t great, I don’t want it to be everything with us. Okay, baby?”

She gave him a genuine, gentle smile reaching out to hug him. She was so desperately, hopelessly, in love with him it was painful at times, but he was so worth it.

[v3nusxsky]

Mars, mars!

I got a ask that I hope you write.

Basically Larissa is in a new relationship with Reader. And Larissa has been with Reader sexually since they passed 3 months together and they wished to enter into a more intimate relationship, but Larissa introduced shapeshifter sex (basically a shapeshifted cock and balls) and they are having unprotected sex.

Time passed and Larissa began to notice that her girlfriend’s areola is darkening, at first she let it pass but then talked with reader about it during pillow talk after sex, then she noticed that her girlfriend was eating weird foods and drinking weird combinations of liquids, something she expressed to her girlfriend amused. Then suddenly Larissa noticed that Reader was super sensitive during sex (while there were doing missionary, Reader squirted for the first time) and she talked about it during pillow talk while there were cuddling, while mentioning that her girlfriend was literally glowing. (like her nails were beautiful, her hair was long, shiny and healthy and her face had a beautiful blush and she had glass skin)

So after MONTHS of letting it go, all those things combined arose Readers suspicious about something she was thinking about. Reader then went and checked her calendar (while Larissa was at work) and realized that her period was 9 months ago and literally panicked about it. So next day she went to her doctor and talked about it, and the doctor did some blood texts and let her go home. Two days passed and reader was called from the doctor to come in and check her results, when she goes she’s given the news that she’s pregnant and she’s clearly been pregnant for 9 months, Reader of course doesn’t understand HOW? the doctor explains that Readers has a cryptic pregnancy and she’s almost ready to pop.

Reader goes back home dazed and confused by the whole situation, waiting for Larissa to get home to tell her the news.

Larissa goes home and Reader tells Larissa the news and Larissa faints from the surprise.

When she wakes up her girlfriend is sitting tensely on the couch and is given the news that she’s gone in labor.

Labor happens with Larissa panicking like a headless chicken and after HOURS of pain, reader gives birth to a healthy baby girl. A baby girl that Larissa cried big fat tears in seeing how precious her queen and princess look cuddling together on the hospital bed. A baby that made a decision that had been brewing for LONG time, in where Larissa kneeled beside the hospital bed and asked reader to marry her, with a ring that she took out of her bag.

OF COURSE READER SAID YES!!!

That’s it! I hope you do this ask I would be extremely happy and excited to read what you write. Have a good day mars!

The best surprise

*Authors note~ twenty two years to celebrate with a birthday fic including as many types of fics possible using the woman who inspired me to start writing again. Larissa Weems 🥰*

Trigger warnings~ cryptic pregnancy, shifted cock and balls for Larissa, hinted breeding kink and pregnancy kink (Larissa), smutty times, breast worship (r receiving), unprotected sex, aftercare, squirting (r receiving), missed period shock, doctors test, “spontaneous labour”, faints (Larissa), purposed (r receiving), mentions strap on, dom Larissa, sub kitten r

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You’ll never forget the day she finally asked you to be hers. The way she stumbled over her words due to the nerves wrecking through her tall frame. The way her cyan blue eyes sparkled with pure joy and relief when you said yes. Dating your boss is something you’ve been warned about, they say it’s complicated and quite simply a one way ticket for a relationship to fizzle out. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t worry you at the start of the relationship with Principal Weems. Not only her being your boss but an older woman with more life experience than yourself felt slightly intimidating at the start. As the love grew the insecurities faded and you were living your best life with her. Happy.

The first time the two of you made love was nothing short of magical. Larissa took her time to slowly introduce to the pleasure she could bring you, the ways she could touch you and make you feel building your confidence steadily. You’ll never forget the first time you made the shifter orgasm. All the fears of not doing it right or being deemed “sexy enough” disappeared. Choosing to make the older woman feel all the love you held for her, worshiping all six foot three inches of her. It was perfect.

Larissa is a highly intelligent human, you could see that from a mile away, so it shouldn’t have shocked you that she would introduce many kinks to you. Ones you’d never even thought of. And her specific ability enabled her fantasies in many ways. It started small, your desire for her to feel the way you took her strap on in your mouth, the need to feel her inside of you. You’d confessed it one night when you were far down into your submissive haze, unknowingly awakening a beast Larissa didn’t know she housed.

Timing was the key. And Larissa was always impeccable with her timing. The first time you saw her shifted cock and balls you went feral. It just so happened you were ovulating that week, your hormones causing your libido to rise. The idea of her giving into your desires causing you to practically jump the older woman. She practically tutted at you holding your body a fraction away from her very naked frame, “darling. Be a good little kitten and please me before I even think about fucking this pretty pussy of mine.” The green light to fall to your knees and take her impressive length into your now hallowed cheeks only encouraged the arousal to drop down your thighs.

As heavenly as your mouth feels, your tight little cunt was ten times more. “Such a pretty kitten for me. Your slutty little hole is just dragging me back in darlin. God I love fucking you, if I could I’d constantly have you cock warming me. Wanna be stuffing you full of my cock all day kitten. You want that hmm?” She’d grunt as her thrusts continued to work their way deeper towards your cervix. “Want me to fill your pretty little womb with my babies? Keep you so full forever? You’re gonna look so pretty alll round and full for me. A pretty little kitty all for me. Fuck, please let me breed you darling. I need it.” All you could do was take her in deeper accepting load after load of her white hot seed. If only you’d known then what one night of passionate loving sex could do.

Larissa couldn’t help herself, on the rare occasions she got to watch you change for bed she had to stare. It had to be a crime to be as stunning as you are. But recently her keen eyes picked up on the slight darkening of your beautiful areola causing your tits to stand out more than normal. But then again she’d lavished them with loving nips and sucks nights in a row recently so perhaps they were just bruised. “Darling?” She mumbled catching your attention despite how exhausted your throughly fucked body was. “You’d tell me if I’m ever too rough with you wouldn’t you sweetheart? I never want to cause you any pain. You do know that right?” In a confusing sleepy haze you simply murmured reassurances that you were in deed well and truly satisfied and not feeling bad at all before snuggling up close to the woman. She’d have to be more careful with her attention to them. Maybe finding other places to mark as hers.

Larissa knows her girlfriend pretty well. But this was the third time this week you’d caught her off guard with a dinner request. You truly couldn’t stand some foods so to hear you ask for them and your choice of beverage not being something you’d normally buy was a surprise. But then again you’d remind her that it’s on your yearly list to try new foods and this sounds so nice so why wouldn’t you try it? And there is where she’d drop her argument, it’s not as if you’d be pregnant anyway. Right? There’s been no symptoms. Perhaps it’s a phase.

You felt normal, so every time Larissa noticed a change in behaviour you brushed her off. But while making love to the blonde, her lips at the shell of your ear as she whispered all her dirty fantasies and thrusted into your fluttering core you felt werid. Not a bad weird, but a strong urge to let go. To cum. Of course Larissa begged you to let go while dropping a hand to rub tight circles on your clit but neither of you expected for you to squirt for the first time as one of the most intense waves of pleasure tore through your body. You were always more sensitive in sex around the time of your period arriving, so naturally she comforted you and helped clean up before allowing you to snuggle up into her and talk. You admitted that it was scary not knowing what your body wanted but it was so powerful that you wanted to explore it more. It was then that Larissa noticed how shiny your beautiful hair was, the fact your skin was practically glowing and a beautiful pink blush had settled on your cheeks. “You’re so perfect darling” she mumbled absolutely mesmerised by your beauty causing you to chuckle and lightly slap her chest telling her to stop being so horny as you needed sleep now, with a giggle.

A student In your class was sent to the nurse for extremely horrendous period pains a few months later. That’s what prompted you to check. Your period was never regular but it also hadn’t appeared in a while causing the past few months to flash back into memory. But you couldn’t be pregnant. The only person you’d been with is your girlfriend. A chuckle escaped you, of course you wouldn’t be because you’re both girls. But then why was all you could think prompting you to book a doctor’s appointment to be checked out. Just incase.

The appointment was relatively painless, the doctor took some blood and asked all the usual questions about when the last time your period came and the last time you had sex. While slightly embarrassing you informed the doctor you were sleeping with another female. So they almost ruled out pregnancy. Almost. Yet no other explanation made sense and the more you thought about it the more you felt anxiety rising up in your stomach. The feeling of dread gluing you to the spot.

Your phone rang on your lunch hour, the number clearly stating this was what you were waiting for. The answer to whatever was causing your lack of period. Perhaps you need to go on some contraception to regulate them. That had to be it. “Congratulations you’re pregnant” rang in your ears as your phone crashed to the floor. Pregnant? How? What? You couldn’t be. It had to be a mess up in the lab. Right?

Wrong. After gathering yourself the doctor explained how you were experiencing a cryptic pregnancy, you actually were nine months pregnant and ready to deliver a baby, meaning you needed to pop by the Emergency Department and request and emergency scan, just to check the baby was healthy. How could you not know you were pregnant? Were you a terrible mother for not knowing this whole time? What would Larissa say? Would she believe you that the baby was hers? How could you have a baby? All these questions and more swirled round your brain as you rushed to the emergency room.

After being scanned and told you were due any day now but the baby was healthy, choosing to not know the gender, you drove home on autopilot. Pregnant. You a mother. It all seems too impossible to be real, yet the scam photo in your passenger seat was very much real. You’d heard their little heart beat in away. Reality.

Telling Larissa was absolutely nerve wrecking, emotions drowning you as you stumbled to get the words out and handed her the scan of your unborn baby. You expected shock, denial perhaps even screaming or tears. Larissa fainting on you wasn’t something you were prepared for. However, like life itself now, nothing was going the way you thought it would. You did your best as a heavily pregnant woman to help your lover even though tears were streaming down your cheeks. You’d always imagined telling your lover your pregnant in cute ways where she’d kiss you senseless instead of fainting.

Hours faded into days as you both processed the information and tried to frantically gather the items the baby would need urgently. Until your water broke three days after finding out you were indeed pregnant. You had three days to prepare when most couples had nine whole months. It was only natural Larissa spent the entire labour panicked trying to find ways to help with your pain and keep both of you calm. It hurt her to see you in endless amounts of pain as you waited for your body to dilate and the little surprise to work its way down the birth canal. You’d snapped at the blonde many times without meaning to, but it hurt so fucking much. You were definitely not enjoying pregnancy or giving birth and you told her as much. The nurse checking on your dilation couldn’t help but giggle when you told Larissa to keep her magical dick away from your core. If you so much as saw it again you’d snap it for causing this pain. You didn’t mean it, she knew that, but that’s the first time she’s ever been afraid of you.

Screams filled the room as your child took their first breaths. A beautiful baby girl, a perfect mix of you and Larissa laid bundled up in your arms. Tears of love and joy slipping down your cheeks as you gazed loving at her. Your daughter’s small hand wrapped around your little finger, she was real. Something so small and perfect and a complete surprise. Larissa couldn’t help but snap many pictures of you both together. Her queen and now beautiful little princess simply captivating her. She’d never get over how stunning you both are. How special you both are. “Rissa she’s so perfect” you gushed “she has your hair, do you want to hold her?”

Coming to settle with her little family she couldn’t help but feel now was the perfect time. You already had a daughter together, and seeing her whole world sat in a hospital bed made her more determined to keep you both. “Hi little one, you’re so gorgeous like your mommy” Larissa gushed before turning her attention to you, “what do we name our little surprise darling?” It took some time to decide together but ultimately felt right that the little girl in her arms was named Nova Lillie. “Well Miss Nova Lillie Weems, we should make momma a weems then too huh? Darling I want you forever and always will you do me the honour of being my wife?” A small ring made its way out from her pocket causing you to smile and nod. A Weems. Marrying Larissa Weems and raising your beautiful little surprise together would be everything you need. Nova was everything you both needed and more, you just didn’t know it yet.

[seiwas]

the blade bleeds longer than the wound takes to heal | simon riley

wc: 2.2k

summary: progress is non-linear. simon is learning just that. 

contains: any warnings that apply to cod, blood, mentions of serious injuries, recovery and healing, kind of non-linear, simon-centric with a splash of romance, hurt/comfort

a/n: first time writing simon and he's a tough one!! but i'm really happy with how this turned out! + a very belated birthday gift for @vierisqe! forgive the jumble of american + british english in this one (i've reread this so many times that it's mushed together in my head and i can't tell the difference anymore djhfbjas) i hope i wrote him well!!

Simon picks up a knife in the dead of the night. 

At 2:00 a.m., the wind whistles outside your window, a wayward branch being thrown aimlessly against glass. The branches drag roughly against the delicate surface, scratching and banging in the gust of a predicted storm. 

Simon wakes up, eyes shooting open as his fingers instinctively reach for the small blade slotted underneath your mattress, sandwiched between soft cushion and the wooden panels of your bedframe. He keeps it there—

“For monster hunting. Sneaky fuckers only appear when lights’re out.”

—in case anything happens, he doesn’t say. 

(But you know old habits die hard, and Simon sleeps better with a weapon only layers away from his skin.) 

You’re curled up on his chest, hanging tightly onto his bicep as your breaths lull in the steady beats of slumber. His eyes blend dark blue against the backdrop of the night, and the only light casting itself into your bedroom diffuses from the streetlamp a few flats down. 

“We should keep a night light,” you’ve told him a few times before—if only to avoid small accidents, like tripping over folded carpets or bumping into the sharp edges of your dresser. 

“No ghosts here but me, love.” is all Simon replies.

(You take his cheekiness and keep it close to your chest, sporadic as it is, snorting as you let go of the topic.) 

He sees better in the dark—better than most, he’d like to think. 

His gaze flits to the window, watching intently as the branches move haphazardly; the sound hits the glass like bullet cases clinking against marble flooring. The same white marble bloodied deep red—

An inhale tickles his side, a phantom sharpness despite his ribcage being fully healed. There is no puncture, no gaping wound like that day 8 months ago—only scar tissue formed thickly along the outline of the knife that pierced through him. 

He breathes out, slow and steady, taking one last look at the window, before moving over to the door, checking for shadows and any suspicious movement. Then, his gaze rests on you—your hair splayed across his shoulder as you sleep soundly.

It’s okay. You’re okay. 

Everything is okay. 

.

Some days, he can breathe just fine. 

Spring blossoms through the flowers in your garden, white chrysanthemums that give Simon the worst spring allergies but he insists you keep. Despite the morning sniffles, when pollen seems to dust his dawning breath, he finds breathing easier on these days than most. 

You do your best to snip away at the blossoming buds, preparing to bundle them far away from the burly man they weaken. 

But Simon stands beside you with a watering pot, tilting the spout to drizzle life onto the blooms he knows are your pride and joy. 

He owes it to them, he supposes, for keeping you company months at a time. 

. 

It’s at the fizzling end of summer when Simon returns to you. 

Captain Price had contacted you weeks prior to inform you of the incident—just three things Simon requested be divulged: 

One, that he had incurred a stab wound to be monitored for a few weeks, most likely in military facilities. 

Two, that he’ll be discharged soon after. 

And three, that you stay put and be calm; that you not worry. 

(Your hands shake throughout the entire call, your knees giving way as you fall to the bunched up carpet of your bedroom floor. 

To you, Simon is untouchable. 

To you, Simon is impenetrable. 

He never divulges any more than he has to, but you’ve always known he was good at his job. The silent yet commanding confidence he carries can only be born from years of expertise, his senses sharpened and tuned to the slightest sign of danger. 

Over the years, without fail, Simon has always come back to you in one piece. 

So when he walks into your flat with staggered breaths, smelling of antiseptic and sterile sheets, your heart aches.) 

You give him a look, eyes glassy with your hands clenched on your sides as if avoiding to touch, should he be fragile; he holds that stare for a few seconds too long until he decides to fuck it, pulling you closer to his chest. 

Fuck doctors’ orders that his stitches haven’t fully healed. Fuck doctors’ orders that he should ‘minimise thoracic pressure’. 

Fuck doctors’ orders that he should watch his breathing, keeping it slow and steady only. 

“Quit all ‘o that,” he clears his throat, hiding a wheeze from the impact, “Didn’t get me killed, ‘n it won’t. S’no grave to cry over.” 

You can’t help it though, he knows, your fingers clutching tighter onto the ends of his jacket as you rest your forehead on his collarbone. The pain muddles together in his chest, soaked by the tears seeping through the fabric of his t-shirt. 

There are many things Simon doesn’t tell you, many more that he won’t—

His body holds a litany of injuries, scars built upon scars; some lie on the surface of his skin, others residing deeper than any knife can sink into. 

—last month, he nearly died. 

A miscalculated raid had led him straight into a trap, isolating him from the rest of the 141. He was concussed and sedated, senses dulled by the chemicals injected into his bloodstream. It happened too fast—a blade, inconspicuously small but sharp, piercing through his ribcage; the hits that followed dealt greater damage. 

Price found Simon lying in a pool of his own blood, deep red against the white brinks of death. 

Three broken ribs—two that stabbed through his lungs along with the knife, and one that managed to puncture his heart. Doctors warned that breathing during recovery would be difficult, but he hardly finds it to be the most challenging part. 

The paranoia is worse. 

He’s been more fidgety since, constantly wary; uneasy. Worse compared to usual. 

Every professional he’s spoken to has told him that progress is non-linear—

“So, give yourself some time. Some days can be easy and difficult the next, but the day after that might be—” 

To that he says, fucking ‘ell. 

.

You cut yourself while trimming your chrysanthemums. 

It’s a small nick on your thumb, but that finger always bleeds more than the others do; blood red drips onto a few white petals—a striking contrast.

Simon finds you that way. 

He moves on autopilot, rushing in to grab the first-aid kit you keep in one of your kitchen cabinets. On the surface, he is calm, face set straight and hardly rattled by the accident. This is the only good he sees in the snail-pace of his recovery—his jagged breaths conceal the real reason his hands tremble slightly holding yours.

A small cut shouldn’t need bandaging. A small cut shouldn’t need gauze and waterproof plaster. Simon shouldn’t insist on taking over, especially when the pollen clogs his nose. 

But your white chrysanthemums should not be red. 

He tells himself he’ll get you a pair of those cut-resistant gardening gloves. 

Those petals should not be red. 

.

The knife isn’t the problem, it’s what surrounds it. 

Simon hasn’t been the same since his return, and you’ve begun to notice.

For a big and hefty man, he prefers keeping himself away from as much fuss as he can. Weekend markets with him have always been pleasant; he carries all the produce and you stop at food stalls to feed him bites of whatever catches your eye.

Not this time.

This time, Simon glues himself behind you, your back pressed against his chest as he navigates you both through crowds. He zeroes in on every single person brushing against you, searching for anything sharp. 

When you wait by a food stall, he scans the area; his focus shifts from a family of four settling their toddler on a stroller, then to a man older but not nearly as large as he, bringing in sacks of flour inside a bakery. Off in a corner is a teenager, swallowed by the thick fabric of a hoodie similar to his own; Simon observes him a little longer, drawing suspicions about the movement concealed inside the kid’s pocket. 

(You notice it when you ask whether he prefers peaches or mangoes for the crepe’s filling, only to be met with no reply.) 

Then, a faint trail of smoke wafts out of the boy’s nose—it’s just a vape. 

Simon turns away. 

By brunch, which you always somehow seem to drag him into, you settle into your seat and ask the server for a butter knife. 

(Simon stays silent most times, with the occasional dry retort or witty quip directed at any silly thing he notices, but he’s been completely quiet this entire day. The slightest bit of tension pinches the skin between his brows as his eyes dart from one person to the next—like roaring waves rushing to catch the shore.) 

It happens all too quickly, how he pins the server’s wrist down onto your table when you’re handed the butter knife. 

Everybody in the restaurant pauses to look at you two.

The shock on your face mirrors the server’s. 

Simon lets go immediately, mumbling his apologies as his hands dig inside the pocket of his hoodie. You turn to the server sheepishly, standing up to follow him to the cashier. 

(You know Simon well enough that he hates all the attention, so you quickly settle everything with the manager, explaining as best as you can that it wasn’t intentional. The server is kind enough to let it go, his wrist red but otherwise uninjured from Simon’s grip; you still give him a tip, for the shock and trouble.) 

The whole trip home is tense. Simon can’t look you in the eyes, and even when you both walk into your flat, he heads straight for the kitchen, preparing to clean and wash the vegetables.

He rolls up his sleeves and opens the tap, rinsing carrots and potatoes, along with some of the lettuce you managed to pick up for half off. 

(Something stabs at your heart seeing him curl into himself even more, but Simon will talk when he wants to—never before or after. 

So, you walk towards him instead, wrapping your arms around his waist as you rest your cheek against his back.) 

He stops moving, and the water continues running. 

(You can hear his heartbeat, feel each slow breath he’s taking.) ��

Simon doesn’t tell you of the sleepless nights, of the terrors that plague his waking mind more than nightmares do. He doesn’t tell you that he sees you in his spot that very same day, on that same marble floor—your own pool of red against the very same white that your chrysanthemums bloom into. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper against his back, landing kisses on each of his shoulder blades. The fabric of his hoodie is soft and thick, but he feels you through it. 

“You always do a good job of keeping me safe.” 

Your words layer on him like tactical gear, arms tightening around his abdomen akin to the belt that holds his ammo. 

“Let me take care of you now,” you close your eyes, voice a little shaky, pleading, “okay?” 

Simon holds his breath. 

.

Your chrysanthemums sit in a vase by your kitchen sink, water droplets catching onto the petals and leaves. 

Simon sneezes every time he washes his hands, but he’s the one who put it there—

“S’called exposure therapy, love.” 

(And who are you to argue with a man on a mission?) 

—along with the cut-resistant gloves he stores in a drawer near your kitchen tools. 

From the corner of his eye, he watches you drag your chef’s knife to fillet a chicken breast. He keeps his gaze locked on your every movement, fingers twitching as if they itch to reach for you. Pain tingles at the side of his chest, a faded remnant of how it felt when the wound was still fresh. 

You fillet the breast successfully, and he releases a breath.

Simon has keen sight and he uses it to his advantage—sniping, scoping, watching. He notices the sharp edge of the open cupboard door over your head and reflexively lays his palm over it, cushioning the impact when you hastily move to the side.

If you notice, you don’t show him any signs.

Tonight’s menu is honey glazed soy chicken, a recipe you’ve been wanting to test out. He’d offered to help but you insisted that he sit back and relax; and of course, in typical Simon- fashion, he only partially heeds your advice. 

He sits back and relaxes all right, but on the barstool by the kitchen island, ready to spring into action whenever you need him. 

And he sees it all—that near-mishap by the cupboard, how dangerously close your fingers are from your chef’s knife; your cut-resistant gloves are ready-to-use in the drawer next to your garden tools. He still keeps that small blade between your mattress and bedframe. 

Old habits die hard, the aftereffects of near-death moreso, but Simon is a man on a mission, and when he watches you hiss away from the brief ‘pop!’ of oil splattering from your pan, he stays right where he is, convincing himself he can leave you to handle it. 

You’re okay. 

This is progress. 

It’s a start.

a/n: this turned out a lot more serious than i intended, but i enjoyed picking simon to see how he would act in a period of adjustment back to regular life, especially after something potentially traumatic. i find simon an incredibly difficult character to write because he carries so much with him and i could go on about this, but the tldr is: i think he's become desensitised to a lot of things, which is why i don't think he's afraid of wounds or knives no matter how much he's been hurt by them. i don't imagine him being afraid of dying either, because it's what they do—it comes with the job. i do think though, that his close call with death here shifts his fear to the idea of loss, particularly, losing you. and as a protector, he finds himself responsible for that.

thank you notes: to @soumies my gawd!! for helping me with dialogue and proofreading, practically beta reading this entire thing!! you are the heart of this fic 🥺 simon would not be simon in this without you!! love u love u love u!!!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[superblysubpar]

oh you sweet lovely angel, happy birthday week @palmtreesx3 - you've had your cake, now it's time for steve to eat too💛

warnings: minor mentions of body image concerns/letting them go, "public" smut (aka, you're outside by the pool, and maybe a neighbor *could* hear or see, but they won't), mentions of alcohol, steve telling you what to do you and both of you liking it, a praise kink sort of, and oral - steve performing | my blog is 18+

1495 words

Maybe it’s something only people in love can do, or perhaps only that sweet bubble of lust and love joining together to create this totally new feeling that allows it. 

Maybe it was just something you and Steve could do. 

Because, without opening your eyes, you can feel his eyes on you. 

And they’re making your body warmer than the rapidly fading sun has all day. 

They’re on your ankle now, traveling up the curve of your calf, the bend of your knees and your lips twitch. You know if you turned your head and blinked open your eyes, you’d find him with just his eyes out of the clear water that mirrors the pink and tangerine in the sky above him. 

You decide you’ll let him have his moment. 

Steve’s currently deciding he hates the color red. 

He hates it on your toes, because it’s reminding him of you painting them earlier. A moment where your sunglasses were pushed onto the top of your head and your body was curled over itself, letting curves and rolls and things happen you’d normally try to cover just to reach them, your mouth forming the words of top forty after top forty song.

Happy. Content. Totally in love with the day. With him. 

Which is what you told him from where you laid in a floating tube a few hours later as he handed you a can. Sweating droplets over red aluminum as your head fell backwards and your smile was more dazzling than the sun in the middle of the clear blue sky.  

He had watched you a little greedily, swallowing when you did, wishing he was the red can you were drinking out of. 

You’d laughed, flicked water at him and said he needed the beer more than you. That he needed to cool off, reading him better than the actual book in your hand. 

But how could he cool off when you were still wearing that? 

Red little bows against your hips. 

Red triangle of fabric rudely separating him from you.

Red that traveled up your shoulders and disappeared behind your neck resting on the towel beneath you. 

Red that teasingly let the curve of each breast taunt him all fucking day. 

Your hands twitched from where they laid flat against the pavement as the sound of water falling off of his body near the stairs alerted you Steve was finally getting out of the pool. 

Steve’s watching your eyelids flutter, the way your knees tap together tighter as he slowly approaches you. 

The air pulses with each step he gets closer, the cicadas buzz louder and despite the sunset taking away the heat, your body is on fire when Steve finally speaks with a tap to the top of your knees. 

“Open these up for me, honey.”

The words are a command, despite how softly they’re spoken. 

Your stomach fizzles and warms as you do as you’re told and a cold drop of chlorine scented water drips onto your stomach accompanied by praise. 

“That’s my girl,” his hands aid you, palming over the inside of your thighs as they drop open for him, “There you go.” 

Steve clicks his tongue when you flinch at the second drop, a soft and teasing remorse in his tone as a large hand roams low again, circling your knee and back up. 

“You cold?”

A breath huffs out of your nose when your back arches as his fingers play with the bow at your hip. 

Your eyes finally open, a dazzling sunset above the man grinning smugly at you as you shake your head and let out an even shakier, “No.”

Water clings to his tan skin, a particular drop convincing you to never look away from his cupid’s bow ever again. Darker, chestnut hair falls over his forehead as he cocks his head to the side in a silent ‘That so?’ while one singular fingertip travels across the band of your suit. 

His lips twitch as goosebumps rise to the surface of your skin. 

He brushes over a fresh wave of them, just above the tie of the suit, with his thumb, and leans down, eyes remaining on yours as he blows a warm breath against the pebbled skin. 

“Steve,” your hands lift with the plea, only for Steve’s much larger ones to wrap around your wrists.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he shakes his head, the honey turning amber in his eyes as you freeze and blink up at him with a pout on your lips. Until he reminds you, warmly, softly, “Just painted your nails baby. Wouldn’t wanna ruin ‘em, yeah?”

Your chest fucking aches as he gingerly lays them back down and reassures, “How about you just lay there and look pretty?”

It’s hard to breathe from the eye contact, from the way he takes the end of the red bow between his teeth and tugs. 

Steve’s nose nudges your hip, it skates across the looser band of the suit, till he’s at the other side. 

He doesn’t undo that bow though, he just follows the suit’s seam lower, dropping with the crease where it meets your thigh. 

You jolt, torso lifting and hands doing the same as his tongue licks you once and boldly through the red fabric. 

Steve lifts too, quicker than you, reading you just as well, hands circling your forearms and giving you a look beneath raised eyebrows. 

A silent question of if you’re going to behave lingers in the honey that’s turned amber that’s turned molten. You give a single nod, Steve drops your arms and his adams apple bobs as you slowly and patiently, let your hands drop back down to the towel. 

Your clit fucking throbs, pulsing faster than your heart as you blink away spots that compete with the lazy clouds above you. 

Steve’s lips press a kiss to your thigh and you squirm beneath him. The kiss lingers and his lips drag up to the wiggling and needy hips moving. 

“So,” he grumbles against the red fabric, nosing at the second tie, “Impatient.”

You whimper as the suit falls open, and Steve licks the path of it as he removes it, like he’s following the outline he’s been memorizing all day and determined to not actually ever put his mouth where you want it. 

His thumbs spread you open though, and finally, his tongue lazily licks through you once. 

Your fingers flex against the towel as your stomach burns, desperate to just grab his hair and pull him closer, but you know if you move one more time, he might never stop teasing you. 

Except you’re so wrong, because while Steve does love teasing you, he’s about 2.7 seconds from coming in his swim trunks and it’s all the color red’s fault. 

Which is what he sees as he looks up your stomach as his mouth makes contact with you again. Red fabric tightening over pebbling nipples as you arch higher and gasp out his name a little too filthy and a little too loud for a neighborhood, even if there are fences hiding the two of you. 

But it only spurs him on more, fingers bruising into your waist as he picks up the pace, tongue traveling up you once, twice, three - fucking keep going Harrington you need her to cum -, his nose tapping at your clit each time and getting rewarded with a, “Ye-yes. Steveohmygod.”

Your eyes blink rapidly, fingers scrunching into the towel and your thighs press against his ears as you gasp through his steady and brutal rhythm. A fluid and practiced drag of his tongue over and over and over again, until his lips are molded around your clit and you swear there’s fireworks going off in the sky right now. 

Steve squeezes his own eyes shut, because if he looks at the way your back arches higher or the way your lips look saying his name like that or the way your chest heaves with a new layer of glistening of sweat, he really will come and he can’t, because he’s absolutely not done with you. 

He blinks, mouth sucking slower, tongue lingering until he knows you can’t take anymore. He pulls away and smiles as your bright red fingers cup your cheeks as you breathe deeply, in and out, through your nose. 

Steve pretends he’s not just as worked up, carefully and slowly tying your suit closed again. 

He kisses your stomach as you sit up and before your parting mouth can say anything, he nods towards the house. 

“Go lay down on the bed.”

Steve bites his lower lip as the retreating view of your ass bouncing under the high cut of red disappears into the sliding door faster than he’s ever seen a person move. 

He waits a solid ten seconds to calm down, grabs the bottle of polish you left behind and makes note of the name. 

He’s buying every bottle the store has tomorrow.