#I also want you to not ever go through life without hearing this man's voice

[cinamun]

I'm interrupting your regularly scheduled programming to let you know that I can't stop thinking about how they covered up Donny Hathaway's death by officially calling it suicide. He didn't jump, he was incapacitated and pushed, and it was all because his music and skill in composition was unmatched and white music producers wanted his music, hence his last words.

No one has ever come close to this man's vocal range which is in its own category; Deep Soul.

He was considered the most prolific Deep Soul artist of his time having major influences on modern music. You can't think of soul music without thinking of this man. He was a brilliant musician and created the most beautiful love song ever recorded.

[giuliettagaltieri]

Not Her Man

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Feathers fall gracefully slow

Warning: Girlrotting

Word Count: 3193

Part 1 • Part 3

You were always scared to do drugs.  

You saw Rafe at his highs, you were with him, keeping him from doing anything stupid like when he was so sure he could backflip from Tanneyhill’s rooftop and land on the grass perfectly. 

But you also wondered how difficult it was for him to get clean.  To suffer from withdrawals.  And as you lie on your fur carpet, staring at the glimmering crystals of your chandelier, with your closet half emptied and scattered all around your room, along with rolling wine bottles on the polished hardwood floor of your bedroom, you think you might have understood just a little.

Blocking him was the hardest thing you have ever done in your life, especially when it was your routine to giggle over whatever interaction you had through text that day.  The itch to open his account for any update made you want to bind your hands together.

Your parents are out of the country, busy overseeing their business, forgetting to oversee their daughter.  Your maids were there for you, at least they try to be.  They bring you food on schedule, even sliding in a few scoops of ice cream every now and then in your room when your sobs start to echo around the halls.

Rafe tried to contact you multiple times.  First, through your phone, but you blocked him.  Next, he tried to throw pebbles at your window, but your seventy-six year old gardener fired a shotgun at him, thinking that he was a burglar.  Next, he tried a different approach, he was sending you gigantic bouquets of your favorite flowers, making the hallway leading to your room look like a wedding set up, the flowers perfumed the entire house too, drawing a concerning amount of bees.  One epipen to your chef’s thigh later, Rafe stops sending them.

He never really does anything right.  All he does is mess up, create more problems for himself.  You almost wanted to give in, but you remind yourself of the things he said.  Anger and hurt quickly replaces pity.

A familiar chime of your phone had you groaning.  Your friends are probably going to have another attempt of making you step out of your room, like inviting you to have your nails done or shop, just to get your mind off of Rafe.

You just let the ringtone end and you go back to staring at the chandelier, wondering if you’ll be quick enough to get out of the way if it somehow falls.  Before you can plan a strategic roll, your phone rings again.

Blindly reaching underneath the scattered pillows, you finally locate the buzzing device.  You answer without looking at the caller ID. 

“Y/N speaking.”  You mumble lazily.

“Hey, girlie.”  There goes the high-pitched voice of your friend.  “Sooo, the girls and I-hush!”  You hear a bunch of girls giggling behind the line and your brows crease together in annoyance.  “We’re going on a party tonight and we’re thinking that maybe you’d liketocomewithus?”

You play with the lace of your dress, eyes just following the patterns when you hear your name being called again over the phone.

“I’m not in the mood for parties.” 

“You are never in the mood for anything anymore.”  She whines behind the line.  Her tone prompts you to sit up to pick up the stale wine you left out in the open for too long.  Taking a sip and ignoring the thin coat of dust it caught after you ransacked your closet for something that made you look confident, only for you to end up squeezing in the dress that Rafe got you as a present for your 13th birthday.  He didn’t pick it out for you, of course, but it still made you all fizzy and bubbly and excited inside.

You put down the wine to scratch at the waistband that is digging on the skin of your under bust, the fabric being stretched beyond its capacity.

“I know.”  You tried to sound apologetic.  “I just can’t, okay?”

She sighs, making you let out a grateful sigh.  There’s still some ceiling viewing you had to get back to.

“I’m picking you up at seven.”  She speaks with finality and before you can answer, she continues.  “Please don’t let that awful man get the satisfaction of knowing that he has this much effect on you.”  You can hear her begging behind the phone.  She and the other girls are just looking out for you.

With an unwilling heart, you decide to get on your feet, your socked foot nearly slipping the moment it touches the wooden floor.  Cursing, you finally crouch on the piled up clothes you threw earlier. 

“Fine, I’ll come.”  You roll your eyes.  “Dresscode?”

You hear an airy chuckle and you can imagine her pinching your cheeks if you were within her reach.  “Party’s open to all, Kooks or Pogues.  In the community beach house.  You dress however you like.  I’ll match your vibe, if you’d like.”

This makes a smile creep on your lips.  She’s definitely on the top 10 list of the most annoying people you know but you thank God everyday for a friend like her.  “You know I love you, right?”

She snorts before bursting out in a fit of laughter.  “Duh.  I love you too.”

“See you later.”  You grin.  “Tell the girls I’m coming too.”

“Sure, see you!” 

You hang up and get started on searching for the right outfit.  Well, there’s the classic white flowy dresses, but everybody wears them.  You could wear a short and a cute top, show some belly?  Blech, you’re not exactly in one of your maneater moods.  But perhaps if you covered it with that oversized white pinstriped polo, it could work?  Yeah, something casual yet put together.  It’s not like you’re dressing to impress anybody, or somebody in particular, you’d prioritize comfort over fashion tonight.

A knock on your bedroom door pulls you from your thoughts.  With a shrug, you throw your chosen clothes on your bed.

“Coming.”  You call while trudging over to open the door.  There stood your maid, she was looking anxious, wringing her wrinkly hands.  “What is it?”

She glances at your odd choice of clothing before she looks away so as to not make you uncomfortable.  “Well, uhm, Sir Cameron is here again, miss.  He’s waiting for you downstairs, in the drawing room.”

You press your lips in a firm line.  “Tell him I’m not here.”

Your maid smiles apologetically.  “He…he saw you in your bedroom window before he came in, miss.”

Huffing, you tap your feet impatiently.  “Just tell him I’m busy.”

“He said you’ll say that.”  She mutters, amusement in her tone.  “And he asked us to tell you that he can wait.”

You close your eyes to keep them from rolling.  “Whatever, he can stay as long as he likes, but I’m not coming down to meet him.”  You push the door a little wider and your maid’s eyes widen at the state of your room.  “I’m sorry, I know you’re busy but can you help me clean up?”

The rest of the afternoon was spent tidying up your room. 

It was dark out, a couple of minutes past seven when your phone buzzed.  Knowing that it’s your girlfriends, you pick your bag, filled with the usual party necessities and head downstairs.  It’s a habit, assigning yourself as the responsible friend who stays sober to look after the others.

You are slipping in the pearl bracelet your grandmother got for you last Christmas when you hear your name being called and in instinct, you turn around.

“Oh, right.”  You say with a tone that is drier than the Sahara desert.  “You’re here.”

Rafe’s standing just outside your drawing room, his hands falling to his side.

“Yeah.”  He spoke awkwardly, his eyes glancing at your outfit, familiarity crossing them before he looked at your eyes again.  “I was waiting for you.”

You exhale softly and he just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

“I know.”  You say simply.  “Gotta go.”  You start walking again to your door.

“Wait, Y/N.” He easily catches up.  “You’re…you’re coming to the party, right?”  He asks hopefully.

“Yes.”  You respond without looking at him.

Rafe smiles but it quickly dissipates when he sees a different car waiting for you.  “Hold on, I can drive you there.”  He says quickly, his hand gripping yours just to get you to listen to him.  “I can drive you to the party.”  He says in an uncharacteristically sheepish way.

For a second, you look at him, really look at him.  His smile grows wide.  He missed having your eyes on him.  You’re his best friend, and he’s used to doing everything with you by his side.  He also liked how dependent you were on him too, always asking for his approval.  You have a bit of an overbearing attitude but he would be lying if he’ll say that he doesn’t miss you doting on him too.  Perhaps you’re not the only one who’s dependent on this odd friendship you both have.

“No, thank you.”  You say before pulling your hand away with a sharp look thrown his way.  He watches you walk away to greet your friends.  He’s still stuck there, staring, even after the car drives away.

He doesn’t understand it.

You’re the emotional one, why are you doing so well without him?  You never go to parties with other people, it was always him that you stick close to.  Clinging on him, pulling him to the dance floor when he’s about to do a line of coke, or accidentally knocking his cup when he’s had too much drinks.

Running a hand through his face, Rafe decides to hop on his car and follow you to the party.  You’ll be in the same space as him in the next few hours.  He’ll get another chance there.  He’s certain of it.

He didn’t get the chance.

With you by his side all the time, you memorized his set of activities at parties and you evaded him perfectly.  Rafe decided that it was best to stand by the punch table.  You’d get thirsty eventually, and he’ll be there waiting if you do.

On the other side of the house, farthest from Rafe, there you sit by the porch swing, admiring the push and pull of the waves.  The party was at its climax and everybody was cramped inside the house, dancing and drinking, or doing unholy activities.  You don’t know how you managed to slip away from your friends but you’re glad you did.  You needed the fresh air.

You’re just starting to get comfortable when a man stumbles out the door.  You watch him struggle to keep himself up.  He looked lost? Or just flat out drunk.  You watch in amusement as he scratches his blonde head, he must be having a whiplash from all the blinding neon lights inside and suddenly his vision switches to the bright light provided by the LEDs. 

His feet twist and he starts to fall to the side, your head tilting to follow his fall.  You wince when you hear the loud thud of his body hitting the floor, followed by his muffled but loud groaning.

“Motherfu-”  He sits on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him as he shakes his head like a dog.

“You alright, JJ?”  You chuckle.

He whips his head to you, cursing again when his vision spins.  “Y/N?”  He drawls out while rubbing his eyes.  “You saw everything?”

Still laughing, you get up to crouch next to him.  “I did.”  You smile when he groans out again.  “Are you okay?”

He props up a knee and rests an arm there, he looks buzzed, his eyes are heavily lidded as he stares off into the ocean.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  He glances at you.  “Well, this is a strange sight.”

“What is?”  You mumble as you look away from him, deciding to play dumb.

He shrugs animatedly, hands gesturing to you and the entire space of the porch.  “Usually, wherever you are, your boyfriend is not that far behind.”  He points a thumb behind him.  “And if I wasn’t imagining it, I’m pretty sure I just saw him brooding over the drinks.”

You chuckle dryly as you bring your knees to your chest.  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

JJ looks at you with an unimpressed face.  “That’s all you heard.”

Playfully punching his shoulder, you sigh.  “We fought.”

He frowns, back straightening immediately.  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”  It’s kind of sweet how your words seemed to have sobered him really quick.

“No!  No, he didn’t.”  You reply right away.  “Well, at least not physically.”

You watch him grimace.  “Outside physical fights, I have little to no idea how to respond.”

“That’s okay, JJ.  I don’t wanna talk about it, anyway.”

He gives you a boyish grin, as if to reassure you before scratching at his jaw, your eyes mindlessly follow his movements and you see a scratch.

“You’re hurt.”  You tell him, pointing at your own jaw.

“Huh?”  He touches his jaw and winces.  “Ow!  Must’ve scratched myself when I…uhm.”

“When you decided to attack the floor.”  You finish for him and he clears his throat.  “You’ll have to disinfect it.”

“Pfft, it’s fine.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s just a scratch.”

But you are already grabbing your bag by the swing and you return with a small kit.

“I forgot to bring wipes.”  You mumble before crouching down in front of him.  He swallows at your close proximity.  “Come on, JJ.  It’s just antibacterial cream.”

He hesitantly shows you his face and you gently apply the cream, tutting when he dramatically pulls away.

You grab his face and tilt it slightly and JJ squeezes his eyes.

“It fucking stings.”  He nearly whines, making you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be a baby!”  You huff and he stays still for a second, allowing you to smear the cream evenly and he rolls away from you as soon as you’re done.

JJ was muttering about God knows what while you’re busy putting your stuff away.  When you sit next to him again, he’s much calmer, a lazy smile back on his face again.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You throw him a playful glare.  “You’re welcome.”

He touches the scratch and you almost tell him off but he quickly pulls his hand away. 

“Why didn’t Cameron make you his girl?”

You blow out a big sigh.  “He doesn’t like me.”

“Bullshit.”  He laughs but he clears his throat when you look at him unamused.  “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”  You smile at him genuinely before averting your eyes.  “I wouldn’t blame him.  I mean, you saw how I can be.”  You chuckle this time but there’s no humor on JJ’s face, he’s looking at you rather sadly.  “I care too much and everybody suffocates around me.”

“I don’t.”  He says quickly.  “I was just being dramatic earlier.”  He rubs his nape.  “I’m not used to having people tend to me, I mostly just do it myself.”  He seeks your eyes and you finally look at him. 

You hear a creak behind you but before you can look, JJ cups your face to keep you from breaking your eye contact, making your breath hitch.

“I liked being taken care of like that.”  He whispers and your lips part slightly.

“JJ.”  You say breathlessly and he grins, his face leaning dangerously close to you.  “You’re drunk.”

He gently bites his bottom lip and you have to look away from his blatant flirting.  “I’m sober enough to kiss, I promise.”

This…this isn’t right.  

You gently push him away and his lips immediately form a pout.  “You’re such a kid, JJ.”

He clicks his tongue and angrily stoops as he glares at the ocean.  “You had no idea how long it took me to build the courage to do that.”

“Five minutes?”  You jokingly bump his shoulders, making his act break at the edges, a smile threatening to crack on his lips.  “Seriously, J, I can’t kiss drunk guys.  It’s unethical.”

He mimics you in a childish voice and buries his face on his palms harshly.  He turns to you again, with his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead and red blotches appearing on some areas of his face.  “I’m not as drunk as you think I am.”  The way he glances at your lips had your throat drying up.  “I really wanted to kiss you.”  Aside from Rafe, you have little to no experience with the male attention and frankly, you don’t know what to do.

You place a hand on his shoulder and stiffly pat it twice.  “You’ll get over it.”

JJ looks at you exasperatedly.  “You’re taking this too lightly, this is my feelings we are talking about.”

You stifle a laughter.  “Oh, so you have feelings for me.”  You raise a brow at him and he nods his head enthusiastically.

“Every guy on this island has a thing for you.”  He says animatedly.  “If it wasn’t for your bodyguard, we would have made our move long ago.”

You are deeply flattered, you can’t resist the girlish smile from tugging on your lips, your cheeks slowly heating up.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He looks deeply offended and places a hand on his chest.

“You’re the ultimate dream girl, stupid!”  He dodges a punch from you.  “You’re like the total package.  You’re sweet, and smart, you’re also very pretty, you can be funny too when you let loose.”  He wiggles his eyebrows at you and this pulls a laughter from you, a real, genuine laughter that had your shoulders shaking.

“When are you gonna get serious, J?”  Wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, you get up.  “Wait here, I’ll get us a drink.”

He gives you a two finger salute before lying smack down on the floor, with his arms spread out.  You shake your head, chuckling when you open the door.

And your hair stands on end.

There stood the very person you have been avoiding the entire night.

But for once, he isn’t wearing a scowl or a condescending cocky smile.

He was looking at you like a man defeated and broken.

“Rafe.”  You whisper as you reach for him but you stop yourself before your skin can touch.  He looks at your hand and then your eyes.  You don’t know if it’s the trick of light but you could have sworn his eyes are glassy.

“Hey, Y/N, everything alright?”  JJ calls.

Rafe glances at JJ and then back at you, he nods slowly as he takes a step back.  Your heart aches as you watch him take another step away from you but you will yourself not to follow.  He runs a hand on his mouth and he turns away from you.

You stare at his back as he leaves, torn between choosing your own pride or running after him.  For what seemed like hours, you stood there, frozen.  Still lost in the onslaught of emotions that surged through you.

Not Your Girl • His Girl

[hairmetal666]

After the Russians, Steve learns three important things about himself:

Robin is the best friend he's ever had; the uncontested other half of his heart. His soulmate, the platonic love of his life, his missing puzzle piece.

He's not in love with Nancy anymore. It's really saying something that hearing those words come out of his mouth is the shock of his life. Once the drugs wear off, though, he realizes they were absolutely true. A surprising win for the Russian truth serum

Her bathroom confession...he sits with it for days. Not--not because she's a lesbian, of course not, but because. Well, Robin knows herself in a way he's never allowed himself to. And he thinks that maybe maybe he likes boys in the same way. That he always has, but never let himself acknowledge it, the way his eyes wanted to catch in the locker room, the drunken, fumbling touches between him and Tommy.

The last one...he's not sure, is the thing. How can he be sure? Like, in his mind, his imagination, he's very into it, but what if it's different in real life? And how can he even find out? He tells, Robin, of course he does, and they go to Indy, right, to a bookstore and she throws a few zines at him and he sneaks some porn (he's definitely into the porn), but that's not--it's not practical experience. And he's not ready to go to one of the bars, for sure, so he doesn't--like what's he supposed to do?

It's around this time in his bisexual spiral that the kids start hanging out with Eddie Munson, that he starts thinking about Eddie Munson. He always noticed the long, dark curls and the bright, brown eyes; the slender cut of his waist; the wry slant of his mouth as he shouted insults at the jocks; the glinting silver of the rings on his fingers--fingers that were long and callused, fingers that could grip around Steve's--

Nope, he's not going there. Even though, a little voice in his head says, he cares for Steve's kids and maybe he's not good at school but he's smart and he's also so pretty, with his pale skin and his big eyes--

No. He doesn't have a crush on Eddie Munson. Absolutely not.

And when he picks up the kids from their little dnd club and sees Munson standing against his van, he doesn't feel an electric zing in his chest, the first stirring of butterflies in his stomach; that would be crazy. They hardly know each other. It goes like this every time, and he's almost able to believe he doesn't care.

Until Eddie trips over the threshold of Family Video, stumbling on an untied bootlace and gangling his way through the front doors. The clatter catches both Robin and Steve's attention.

"Welcome to Family Video," Robin says. Steve stares.

"Uhh." Eddie's eyes flit between them, his face getting redder by the second.

Fuck, he's so cute and Steve's saying--without thinking about it, he's saying--"let me help you find a movie, man."

"Yea--sure, yeah." Eddie's hands are stuffed in the tight pocket of his jeans.

Steve takes a few steps down the closest aisle. "So, what--uh, what are you looking for?"

"Horror? Nothing in particular."

They make their way to the horror section, and it's like some insane, deeply horny demon takes over. He starts grabbing movies off the shelf, no rhyme or reason, doesn't even know what most of them are.

Eddie's staring at him with wide eyes and a raised eyebrow, and Steve just keeps grabbing tapes, is sort of doing a running commentary on titles and tag lines, and he can't stop, why can't he stop? it's like smoke is coming out of his ears. Robin is watching him from the counter with her mouth hanging open, gummy worm dangling down her chin.

"You know," Eddie grabs something from the shelf, "I think I'll just do Friday the 13th again. Can't go wrong."

And he leaves Steve standing there with half the horror section collected in his arms. He stays there while Eddie pays, face burning. It's been--well, a really long time since he's struck out so hard, and he wasn't even really trying.

As Eddie's walking out the door, his sad pile of movies shifts, then tumbles to the floor.

"You have a crush on Eddie Munson." Robin accuses.

"No!" He ducks down to collect the tapes, hoping to hide the crimson of his face.

"You do." She points an accusatory finger in his direction. "I haven't seen you this pathetic since Scoops."

"It's nothing."

"You know," she crouches down with him, "you could just, like. Try to hang out with him."

"After that? Are you kidding? I'm surprised you don't already have a new You Rule/You Suck board going."

"Oh, I do, it's up front." She jumps to her feet. "But still. You should try. And you have an easy in with the kids."

He glares at her in response, starts re-shelving all the dumb movies, and then they get busy, so the topic is dropped. He thinks about it thought. He thinks about it and he--

Instead of waiting in the car for the kids to get done at Hellfire the next time, he goes in.

[crispy-armpit]

✧ 𝖒𝖞 𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 ✧

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴇᴀ ɢᴏᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𓇼˚₊‧꒰ა 🫧 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚𓇼

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 10 dollars on a dare leads you to break one superstition that changes your life forever. you begin to learn secrets tied to your family and upbringing, at the cost of your freedom. who is this mysterious Anshumat, and why does he want you?

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺, violence, implied stalking, kidnapping, choking, reader gets called a bride once

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,418

⭒ a/n: yan sea god was inspired by an Indonesian myth called Nyi Roro Kidul! it's a really interesting legend if you want to learn more abt it ^^ also.... man tits...... meow..

will you venture down this path?

growing up, you would stay over at your grandmother's house every summer. her beautiful seaside cottage made the perfect accommodation for a family getaway. throughout your childhood, the superstitious old woman restricted you from doing specific things. rules like never whistling at night, don't open an umbrella indoors, etc.

you'd eventually found out that these were just scare tactics for children to make them listen. but there was one rule that your grandmother seemed to fear the most, a rule that never made sense... never wear white to the local beach. and when questioning her about the rule, she'd tell you the same story every time.

"long ago...

a cruel serpent god who once ruled these waters would rise from the ocean and into the islands, devouring innocent villagers and destroying temples along its path.

the gods and humans were furious at its actions. fed up with the destruction and death, they prepared a plan to thwart the serpent; a binding curse.

the serpent was cursed to spend its days rotting in a hidden island, where it was accompanied by its servants. it was also tasked with granting blessings to sailors passing through the rocky tides, where it weighed the sins of each individual to seal their fates.

but over the decades... the serpent grew bored and lonely. through a loophole, the serpent found a way to abduct humans. you see.. the serpent loves the colour white and pearls. so much so, it would use its voice, so alluring, to lure the poor victims who happened to wear such things. and once in the water, the serpent would drag the human to its temple where they would become its slave.. or worse...

its spouse."

here you are today, telling the same tale in front of your young niece and nephew. "well, that's one way to get bitches." your nephew, Keona laughs. a scoffing Kehlani adds on, "nah, who would want to marry an overgrown slimy snake?"

"hey now, take that shit to grandma. she just assigned me to be your storyteller," you shrugged. "and this story has a real reasoning behind it, ok?"

"what? sexy sea snake destroying villages?"

"no, it's so that little rascals like you..." you drill both your index fingers onto their foreheads, "are easier to find if you ever get lost at sea."

how did i end up here...

facepalming yourself, you sigh. you were disappointed in yourself. how'd you let those little punks reel you in a dare? where was the self-respect? the dignity? seriously, breaking your grandmother's number 1 rule for what? 10 dollars?

you walk along the shore while wearing a flowy white shirt and neck encased in one of your mother's pearl necklaces. the dare was simple: successfully walk down the shoreline without chickening out and boom— an extra 10 dollars into your wallet.

you'd prove to the twins that you weren't scared of a little bedtime story. buuut just in case you did happen to go missing (for reasons that are totally not hungry sea serpent related), you brought essentials in a bag, left a letter for your family, and are currently being watched by the twins.

laughing at yourself for the paranoia, you nearly reach the edge of the walk until you hear a feminine wail from between the hidden rocks. is someone hurt? the sound was coming from beyond your finishing point so it wouldn't hurt to check, right?

signalling the twins to come over, you bend down to their heights, "listen, it sounds like someone's in trouble past those rocks. so I want you both to go grab the first aid kit and call Officer Holden over, 'kay?" they nod and scamper off into town.

approaching the rocks, you peek in to find a naked... mermaid?! observing her, you notice the torn skin on her iridescent tail and warily walk over to her. "uh... hey? hola? salve? hallo? i'm ah— good human! no... nooooo bad.."

you notice the air seems to smell... sweeter?

the woman looks up at you from the sand with pleading eyes, "please— please help me! my name is Coralie, my master, he—"

"woah, it's ok! you're safe, help is coming. uh, your master? did he do this to you? are you an underwater criminal?!"

a distant melodious voice interrupts you. Coralie's previously pained face now warps into a sinister grin as her wound disappears. she crawls towards you as your vision fogs up and your knees buckle to the soft sand. the song lulls you into a deep sleep, your body now being pulled into the shallow waters.

you awake to the bright rays of sunshine and lungs filling in with fresh air. but the next in your line of sight knocked all the air out of your body again.

the luminous, barely-clothed body of an unknown man sat above you. his 9'7 self relaxed on the marble throne, with 2 pairs of eyes fixated on you. what the fuck is that?

you gawk at him, "holy mother of god..."

i'm not dreaming, am i?

his gaze shifts into amusement, "wrong. we gods do not have mothers. we were created."

"you're a... a god?"

"is it not obvious enough from my appearance? would you like to see another version of me?" the towering deity begins to warp into a feminine body as if it was melting and moulding itself. "is this preferable?" her new voice is flirtatious, genuinely curious.

then, she tries to warp into a third body. the transformation looks more painful than the one prior, it barely shifts halfway into a gruesome beast before returning back to its first body. he huffs while grasping his golden collar, "this... is not my original form. I have been cursed, long ago, to never set foot on human lands. this island is both my kingdom and prison."

you shakily stand up the marble floor, now noticing Coralie standing beside the throne with a pair of legs. slowly processing his words, you piece together the clues from his story and your memories of the abduction. this couldn't be...

"you are.. you're the sea serpent god! I can't believe grandma was right— shit, shit shit—"

he smirks at your panic, "correct. I am Anshumat; shapeshifter deity of the raging tides, granter of safe travels—"

"murderer and enslaver." you complete.

Anshumat roars, "correct again! you're on a strike, dear y/n. though trust me, my servants are treated well."

"..how do you know my name?"

"oh you poor thing, granny never told you? I know everything about you— a name is barely anything."

"told me what?"

"she used to be my cupbearer. until she escaped with that bastard traitor. isn't that right, Coralie?"

she nods, "yes, master."

"please sir, let me leave. my family— they'll search for me! I have a cat at home! I haven't even finished my favourite show.. so please..." you try to list more life goals.

he chuckled, "oh you are so amusing. and why would I do that? we've barely just been engaged, dear."

"what do you mean engaged?"

"I've been watching you since you took your first breath on earth, y/n. so imagine my surprise— to see you wrapped up in my favourite colour, like a pretty bride. you're my sacrifice."

fear tingles your spine, "wait, that was just a dare! i didn't really mean it!"

"doesn't matter. you will be my pearl."

"no! I have a family, a partner—"

"i said... it doesn't fucking matter." he slams his fist against the throne arm, "and you'll be seeing the head of that twat soon enough."

you don't give him a glance before you're turning your back and run down the staircase of the grand temple. careful not to trip, you focus on the flight of stairs, painfully aware of the loud footsteps approaching behind you. it doesn't take a second for Anshumat to pull on the collar of your shirt and slam you onto the staircase.

he sits atop you, lower region heavily grinding against your stomach. "get off me! don't you have hundreds of other options?! why me?!" you scream.

his bedazzled skin blocks your view of the sun, furious eyes glowing under his shadow, and sharp teeth bared into a snarl. "you do not get to leave me again. you will stay, and worship me. this island will be our eternal paradise."

large hands pressing against your throat, you struggle before darkness begins to cloud your vision.

"this time, you will live."

[elllisaaa]

Would you be making a hard thoughts choi seungcheol from seventeen Bf choi seungcheol or any more hard thoughts Bf from any of the groups you write about?

i freaking love writing these bf!thoughts !! send me more omgg that's one of my favourite thing to write !!

BF!SEUNGCHEOL who is the embodiment of a green flag, who is the final boss of princess treatment because you're the love of his life and you only deserve the best.

you know how he spoils everyone he loves and how he bought a fucking dyson to jeonghan ? yeah, he does that for you too but it's even worse because he's literally crazy over you. no matter the price, if you want something, he's gonna get it for you. and don't ever think about paying for something when the two of you get out, seungcheol doesn't even let you bring your card or any cash with you, insisting that your purse should only carry your lipgloss. even when he's not with you, he wants you to use his card. it's late at night and you're hungry ? seungcheol orders some takeouts for you. you're going out with some of your friends and seungcheol knows you're going to do some shopping ? he hands you his card for the day. you never thought you'll be the kind of girl to let a man pay for anything, but it's not any other man, it's choi seungcheol and you happily let him spoil you.

"i'm going out, baby. i'm gonna do my nails." - "take my card then, and spoil yourself for me, yeah ?"

seungcheol always needs to remind you that he loves you, be that through his words or his actions. he's gonna confess his love to you everyday and everynight, whispering the words when you wake up and just before you fall asleep. as mentioned before, he often offers you gifts too but his main love language is physical touch. as soon as seungcheol gets home, the first thing he wants to do is to hold you close to him. you cannot spend a day without your boyfriend holding your hands, kissing your cheeks, your forehead or your lips. but his absolute favorite are back hugs. he literally engulfs you in his embrace and you feel so safe and protected, which is his only goal in life. he's not ashamed to show his love for you in front of his friends either. they can make fun of him as much as they want because of how down bad for you he is but he doesn't care as long as you're happy and you know how in love with you he is.

"baby, i don't care that my members are here, i haven't seen you in a week, i need to kiss you. so let me, please ?"

another thing about seungcheol is that he's going to praise you for anything you do. you could just tell him that you did the dishes and he would tell you that you're doing good. but he loves it too when you praise him in return, telling him that you're proud of him and everything he accomplished. that has him weak in the knees and he's immediately blushing. also, anytime you're the one initiating the physical touch between the two of you, he melts on the spot. he doesn't mind listening to you rant for hours because he hears your voice and that's enough for him. and the way he's looking at you with so much adoration is enough to make you fold like paper. you're the first one he comes to when he needs something, the first person that comes to his mind every morning when he wakes up. honestly, his members are tired of hearing seungcheol go on and on about how perfect and pretty you are, but they better be prepared because he intends on marrying you one day.

"i can't wait for the day you'll be my wife."

BF!SEUNGCHEOL who needs to remind you of how good he is everytime he fucks you. he needs you to scream his name for all the neighbors to hear.

his princess treatment extends in the bedroom because whatever you want you get. definitely a service top, the type to bury his head in between your thighs for hours if that's what you want. he needs to make you cum at least three times before he even pushes his cock inside of you, loves it when you're all wet and squirmy already by the time he lets you have his dick. seungcheol often brings you to a state of overstimulation without even noticing it, too entranced by the way you're clenching around his fingers and moaning so prettily for him. another thing he wants to buy for you is lingerie. he loves to see your body cradled in pretty see-through or laced sets, and knowing that he paid for them is driving him crazy. when you're telling him that you bought the underwear you're wearing with his money, he's spoiling you for the whole night, that you can be sure.

"fuck, you look so pretty for me… my girl is perfect, look at you. you were made for me."

i know we joke about calling him and daddy and all but i think he would really love it if you called him sir. you just need to look at him with doe eyes, bat your pretty eyelashes and call him sir and he's ready to give you everything you want. you were making fun of him at first, playfully calling him that when he was acting like your father, but it slowly sank down that he liked it a little bit too much and that you did too. when seungcheol is deep inside of you and asking who is making you feel that good, he goes crazy when you answer with "it's you, sir." you also love to call him that in front of other people just to rile him up, because you know he will fuck you harder when you've been a brat and you love it. most of the time though, you're being good and he showers you in praises that makes you shy.

"such a good girl, baby. your pretty pussy feels so good around me."

seungcheol also lives for the moment you're being bad because he knows it's calling for strict punishment. he's being so good to you and that's how you reward him ? not gonna happen. his go-to punishment is spanking you. he bends you over his lap, pushing up your skirt out of the way and landing slap after slap on your cute ass cheeks, until they're all red and you're begging for him. he makes you count how many he gives you too, and start from the beginning again if you lose the number. the best part is when he finally pushes your head inside of the pillow and holds your hips up to ruin you. unlike the sweet nicknames he's usually giving you, in times like these he calls you his little slut, his greedy bitch that always wants more and more. you both like it more rough sometimes, and seungcheol is not going to deny you.

"you're such a brat sometimes, i need to fuck some sense into you, don't i ?"

[ronwestbreeze]

too slow

pairing: miguel o'hara x spider!fem!reader

warnings: angst heheh. spoilers! small scenes of somewhat explicit nsfw. mentions of death!

summary: the both of you would come back from this. you would...right?

word count: 4.9k

author's note: did i come out of hiatus just to post a angsty miguel fic? yes. you know i had to as y'alls fav angst queen

part 2

No matter how far you left that spider life behind, he somehow managed to pull you back in.

And god you tried so desperately to stay away. To refuse him.

Miguel O’Hara just had a way with you. He always did. 

Sometimes you wished you were stronger.

The moment you stepped into your apartment was when all of your senses struck your spine and made you freeze in your doorway.

No one else would have known to continue forward cautiously by leaping up to your ceiling and crawling the rest of the way into the apartment, high on alert. Then again, no one else was you. At least not in this universe.

Your spider senses got worse as you crawled toward your ajar bedroom door. When you were close enough, you dropped down as quietly as you could to the floor. One hand preparing a web to shoot and the other raising toward the door to push it further open.

Only you freeze all together.

A sharp tingle struck your back.

Behind you.

Of course, you were quick. Without turning toward the intruder entirely, you shot a web to grab a large vase sitting on a nearby table in the short hallway and swung it behind you. They dodged the vase just as fast and you instantly shot both of your webs toward the intruder. Only for them to be caught by them with both their hands.

“I’m disappointed, Domino.”

It was a mistake to let your guard down by only a little. It was a mistake to instantly recognize his voice.

“Miguel—AAARGH!”

A sudden yank from the webs caused you to fly forward until an iron grip wrapped around both your wrists. Until you were facing the scarlet and blue mask of the one Spider-Man you never expected to see again.

“Too slow.” Even with the mask, you could hear his smirk.

Now that you were aware of who you were dealing with, the tension in your muscles lessened. Just a little.

Some part of you wanted to say “You shouldn’t be here” but since you weren’t in the mood for a long and exhausting spout with the man, you took the more easy and straightforward route of the conversation.

“Why are you here, Miguel?”

His hold on your wrists loosened but he didn’t let go right away. Which was to your dismay as you really didn’t want to be this close to him. Not when you knew that both seeing him now and now having very little space between the both of you would compromise your senses, your steeled will.

And yet you didn’t pull away.

You watched quietly as his mask disappeared, trying your very best not to get too drawn into his features like you used to. Resisting the urge to run your fingers through his dark locks, tugging on some of them like the old days.

Stop.

That was a long time ago.

And it should remain that way.

Unfortunately, Miguel didn’t appear as strong or restrained. The way he hungrily looked at you wasn’t missed but it certainly wasn’t voiced. By either of them. That was something they wouldn’t touch right now. Probably not ever.

When his forehead gently brushed against yours, when his scent overwhelmed your nostrils was when you forced yourself back on solid ground.

“Miguel.”

Eventually, he also had to pull himself together. Eventually, he dropped his hold on your wrists and walked around you, putting a good distance between the two of you. Warily and curiously, you watched his movements.

He gestured toward the shattered pieces of what once was the vase, “I bought you that, you know. That was rude.”

“So is breaking into someone’s apartment.” You retorted dryly. 

Miguel suddenly took out a small object that shone in the gentle light of the sunset, “I still have a key.”

You huffed, “Imma need that back.” You tried reaching for it, only for Miguel to quickly yank it out of your reach, the beginnings of a smirk forming on his face. That’s when you grew annoyed. 

“I thought you were never gonna come back to this universe again. Remember? You went on a whole tangent about it.”

“Mmm.” Was his response at first. You silently watched him tuck the extra key away into some invisible pocket in his suit. “That was only after you said you were never coming back to the team” You tensed at this as the memories came trickling back. “Or coming back to me—”

“So what’s changed?”

Miguel frowned, “I need you—”

“No.”

You reframed from smirking at the twitch in his jaw, at the way his trained mask momentarily slipped at your obvious stubbornness. You gestured in the direction of the front door, “If that’s all, the door’s over there—”

“It’s Electro.” That, of course—he knew it would—made you stop. It was your turn for your mask to fall, just enough for Miguel to notice as well. The intenseness in his features softened, “It’s your brother…he somehow made it into another universe—”

“When do we leave?” Miguel had the audacity to look surprised. You glared, “I’m not doing this for you, O’Hara. It’s like you said, he’s my brother. After that, I’m done for good, you hear me?”

With that, he schooled his face back to a controlled mask. One that meant business.

“Whatever you say, Domino.”

You wince and send him another glare before stalking toward your bedroom to change.

Ever since he started calling you that name, Domino, you’ve hated it. It originated from a mission gone bad—mostly for you—and he hadn’t stopped calling you Domino since. It was mostly because you had been knocked down into a bunch of trash cans that happened to be in a long line. 

Hobie said you tumbled like a stack of dominos. Miguel never let that moment go.

Fuck him.

Yet despite your hatred for it, you never discouraged it. You just liked the way he said it. You liked the way his voice softened whenever—

No. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck. Him.

After this you wouldn’t ever have to see him again. You wouldn’t ever have to be wrapped up in his shadows, in his overwhelming way of showing…

Fuck him.

It was odd being back in your old suit. Frankly, it felt dated as you swung around in it. There was an itching part of you that wanted to update it, get new designs, and test them out of your suit. Self-restraint was a challenge during that mission. Especially around Miguel.

Thankfully, Jessica and Hobie showed up so it wasn’t just you and Miguel facing Electro—or in other words your estranged brother. It was already enough having to face family drama, but then you add a frustratingly unlabeled drama that kept interfering with your focus.

“Stay on your side, O’Hara!” You snapped when you dodged an electric zap sent your way.

“Don’t be a child!” Miguel shot back.

“I’m not! We agreed Hobie and I’d take left and you and Drew would take right! You are not holding your end of the agreement!” You landed on a nearby pylon. “Which is no surprise!”

Another blast came from Electro, this time aimed at Miguel and Hobie. Hobie was able to swing out of the way and land on the same tower with you while Miguel landed on the other side, “What the hell is that supposed to mean!?”

“She means you’re an asshole, bud.” Hobie added.

“Nobody asked you!”

“Hey!” Jessica shouted from below, steering her motorcycle toward Electro, “Less fighting like children and more getting this guy before he causes the entire city to go dark!”

The fight hadn’t gone on for long. Eventually, you were able to confront your brother up close despite Miguel’s protests against it. Yet you were the one that knew your brother the best, who was he or anyone else to tell you what to do when it came to him? Certainly not, Miguel. Leader of a secret society or not, this was your turf. He asked you here and you would complete the job the way you knew how.

There was a point where you managed to get Electro at a somewhat calm and the thrilled part of you was ready to prove Miguel right. But unfortunately, family bonds wouldn’t save you in this situation. It wouldn’t tie anything up in the neat bow you were expecting.

The blast nearly threw you entirely off the building if not for a bunch of webs catching you in mid air and bringing you back up. Miguel and Hobie managed to subdue Electro thanks to your unintentional distraction while Jessica was the one to pull you back to your feet.

“Damn, babes, that was a close one.” She gave an amused smirk. “Just how long have you been out of the game?”

“Shut up, Drew.” You grumbled despite the other woman’s grin.

Coming back to HQ was the very last thing you wanted to do. But you wanted to make sure your brother was properly dealt with. Even if that meant dealing with Miguel’s bullshit along the way.

As you entered the computer room, Miguel’s mask came off, “What the hell was that back there?”

“Domino doing Domino things.” You mutter dryly.

“Yeah you are.” Hobie held up his hand for a high five, which you reluctantly gave.

Miguel sent him a scathing scowl before turning back to you, “You think this is funny? You could’ve gotten yourself killed back there!”

“I had it handled.” You gritted out, removing your own mask. “He didn’t need everyone coming at him all at once. If you had given me a few more minutes with him—“

“But we didn’t have a few minutes, did we?” Miguel snapped quickly.

“No, of course not.” You crossed your arms, ignoring how he stood taller than you. Ignoring how he would’ve appeared menacing if not for your pissed off mood. “Because everything has to go O’Hara’s way, right? Fuck everybody else.”

Hobie smirked from the side of the room, his mask also removed, “I missed her. ‘ow come she’s not around often, Bossman?” 

Miguel’s jaw twitched dangerously because they all knew Hobie never referred to him as “Bossman” unless to piss him off. because he knew that Hobie didn’t respect him as much, and didn't care for him as a leader. Bossman was just Hobie being a little shit, in Miguel’s words at least.

“It was fucking reckless.” Miguel seethed. “And as usual, you’re too immature to even realize what you did. What could’ve happened—“

“You brought me here!” You snapped back, as venomous as his fangs. “If you don’t like my way then you should’ve left me the fuck alone!”

“Guys, come on.” Jessica sighed, already used to the both of you like this.

Miguel was fuming and trying so desperately to hide the fact that you easily worked him up this way. And him failing at hiding it only made him pissed off even more. 

He hissed, turning his back to you.“I was being considerate. For your sake. It was your brother after all…It was a mistake bringing you in. I should’ve known fucking better.” 

A bitter laugh left your lips, “Finally! We can agree on something!” You stalked out of the room with Hobie trailing behind you—you were used to him following you around—as you muttered, “Let me know when you’ll be sending Max back.”

Just as you left the room, there was a loud crash and Jessica snapping at Miguel.

When your brother was finally sent back to your universe so that he could be sent to a cell powerful enough to hold him, you left HQ and didn’t look back when you did. Swearing to yourself that it would be the last time you would ever allow yourself to step back into that place. To allow yourself to set your eyes upon him again.

Unfortunately, that promise didn’t last too long.

Despite yourself, you started messing with your suit designs. Adding new stuff to make it look less dated than before. But that didn’t mean you were back to that spider life. No. Not one bit.

Hobie swung by your dimension and suggested that both of you went crime fighting for the day. And you only agreed just so your fighting techniques weren’t so rusty anymore. But you weren’t back in the game. Not one bit.

Then Jessica came to visit, claiming that she wanted you to see the progress in her pregnancy and catch up as friends. Which then led you to following her into another dimension to fight another Rhino, which was a great success.

Fuck, you missed this.

And you were tempted. You really were tempted to swing through your city as their Spider person again.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt after all. Didn’t mean you had to face Miguel. Yes. That was fine.

In the next month forward, you had started your crime fighting as the spider person of your dimension. A new suit and refreshed skills, you felt unstoppable. You even brought out your dimension traveling bracelet. Just to go and visit Hobie and Jessica whenever. Just that.

Soon, Jessica took on a new protege. Spider-Gwen. She was a nice kid and started coming over to your dimension with Hobie whenever they had the time. You liked her alot. She was like a little sister whenever she came around. Same as Hobie being like a younger brother to you.

At one point you found yourself back at HQ—you were honestly terrible at keeping your steeled will—but only to return a few bad guys to their respectful dimensions. You had fully planned on avoiding Miguel—at this point you hadn’t seen each other since your spat a month ago—and going back to your dimension.

That was the plan at least.

“How come you never go with us to see Miguel?” Gwen asked while the two of you watched one of the villains being sent back to their dimension. “You two don’t get along or…?”

Spider-Byte snorted and you sent the hologram a glare, “They have a special history, newbie. You’ll see someday.”

“Quiet, kid.” You mumbled, crossing your arms before addressing Gwen, “Yeah…we don’t get along. It’s best for the both of us that we aren’t in the same room together, right now.”

“Is it?”

You tried your very best not to allow your face to fall into shock at his voice coming from behind you and Gwen. Really, you should’ve expected that to happen.

Miguel approached the two of you, glancing briefly toward Gwen but his eyes remained glued to yours. “Drew’s asking for you. Says she needs your help on Level 4.”

It took you a few seconds to realize he had been talking to Gwen as the blonde nodded her head and disappeared out of the room. Spider-Byte threw on some headphones and continued with her work. In other words, it was just the two of you. The very opposite of what you had planned and wanted.

“I hear you’ve been coming around here a lot more often.” Miguel mused as he brushed past you, his arm grazing yours as he did. You watched him, a lot less hostile than you thought you would be. Instead, you only stared at his back muscles. “I didn’t know you’ve become quite the contradicting person.”

You shrugged, hugging your arms closer to you, “I’ve just been helping Jess and Hobie out. S’not a big deal.”

A sound came from his throat, similar to a chuckle, “I also hear that the White Spider is back on the news.”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?” You instead said, one of your brows raising slightly. “When did you start that up again?”

Miguel glanced over his shoulder, his face unreadable, “Who says I ever stopped?”

You smirk, trying to hide how tight your chest felt at his words. At how soft his voice had gotten.

“Look who’s become contradicting now.”

Miguel was quiet at that.

You tried to continue your original goal after that frustratingly vague interaction. You weren’t really sure where you had stood with him after that. Sure, you still were hesitant to rejoin the society fully—mostly because of him—but now you were going on missions with some of the members and helping Jessica train her protégé. At this point, you were practically back, just without the official stuff.

And now you were on a mission with Miguel. You hadn’t been on one of these since your fight. Piece by piece you were just breaking your own promises, your stubbornness was weakening. Your spine had shaken.

Damn him.

No matter what you could never resist Miguel.

You could tell it was the same for him.

“You should go home.”

“Do you know how many times you’ve said that and I’ve still ended up staying?” You leaned on the doorway entrance to his quarters with a smug look on your face. “I think you should give it up by now.”

Miguel was topless. After a particularly long mission, a lot of the team had come out with some cuts and bruises, Miguel wasn’t exempt from that.

You watched as he was cleaning his wound on his left shoulder, only that put too much strain on his bruised side every time he reached his right hand over to tend to that shoulder. For a few more minutes you watched him keep going at it before you sighed and eventually stepped in.

“Stop.” You smacked his hand to the side gently and took the bloodied cloth from his hand.

Miguel tensed, “Domino—”

“I’ve got it.” You told him sternly. “We don’t need you reopening your stitches. Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Your words had disarmed him and caused him to loosen the tension in his muscles at your gentle touch. The wound wasn’t too bad, at least not as bad as the one under his right arm. Once the blood was wiped away, there was just a bit of purple coloring. The blood must’ve been from someone else.

His breaths fanned against your own shoulder. You didn’t forget how close the two of you were in that moment. It was more like you were trying to distract yourself from the fact.

Instead, a small smile tugged at your lip, “It’s been a minute since you’ve been injured.” You noted the light scars on the other parts of his arm.

“Not really.” Miguel grunted, ducking his head down as he rested his elbows on his knees. “I got hit a couple months back. Only difference was that you weren’t there to lick my wounds clean.”

“Do you always need me to?” You joked halfheartedly.

A small tug upward in his lip made your heart skip, “I would prefer it better than being alone.”

“I thought you liked being a loner.”

“Not these days.”

You knew you were treading dangerous territory but the question left your lips before you could rethink it through.

“Did you really want me to go?”

Underneath your fingers, you felt him inhale, slowly.

“Honest?”

You scoffed, “I wouldn’t be asking if I wanted to hear a lie.”

Over his shoulder, he stared at you. A part of you wanted to shift under his intense gaze, a part of you wanted to look away sheepishly but you bravely held it. Though the change in your grip was probably a dead giveaway at your nervousness.

“If it were up to me, you wouldn’t have ever left my sight.”

You tried not to feel too overwhelmed by his words, knowing it was your own fault for asking. For even bringing it up in the first place.

So instead you snorted, “Wow. Sounds awfully possessive—”

His other hand grasped the back of your neck and brought you toward him, your lips connecting. His desperation for you was clear. And your resolve had slowly fallen—no that was such a lie. It had quickly crumbled the moment you felt his touch, the moment his lips were on yours, the moment you felt his desperation sink into your skin just as easily as his fangs would.

When his larger body moved on top of you, you knew your resolve had fully broken. Completely gone. When his lips found your neck, you were gone. When his hips rutted against yours, your mind was gone. When you finally felt him sink into your being, when you felt him inside you—god you never realized how much you had wanted this until now.

No. You knew.

Miguel held your hands down to the bed sheets, only you managed to slip them from his grip and find them tugging and running through his hair, legs wrapped around his hips to pull him closer.

You felt him smirk against your neck, “My stubborn girl.”

And just like that you were back into a cycle in which you swore not to fall into again. Only, this time the two of you didn’t make it known to the others. It was a silent choice between the two of you to keep whatever this was to yourselves. It was better that way you realized.

But as time went by, you knew it would be a little more difficult to hide it. Miguel was touchy. It was fine on days where it was just the both of you, when the both of you were working on something together. Yet on the days where you are around others, such as missions, you know he can’t help himself. And neither can you.

The both of you were terrible at hiding it in the end.

Hobie was surprisingly observant.

“You’re lookin’ cozy now.”

You glanced up to find Hobie lounging about as you were looking at videos of different dimensions. “Let it go, B—”

“I ain’t sayin’ shit.” He shrugged. “Just noticed a few things is all.”

And the two of you left it at that. Never really spoke on it again. Hobie now knew. And Jessica had eyes and a brain, she probably already put two and two together. Especially with you coming to HQ a lot more often now. Even the newbie, Gwen, took double takes every now and then whenever she saw you and Miguel together.

“You seem particularly stressed tonight.” You hummed to him on another night—this time in your apartment, squirming as his cock twitched inside of you.

Miguel looked down at you, a brow raised in challenge, “Can’t take it tonight, baby? Usually you like it a little rough, hmm?” He buried his face into your neck, his thrusts slower than before. Gentle nips at your neck that would sure to leave bruises the next day. Just the way he liked it. The possessive shithead.

“And yet, you’re still stressed.” You whisper next to his ear, breathing out a sigh of pleasure.

Miguel grunted in reply and remained at your neck. Until he slowly pulled away to rest his forehead on yours. He sighed against your skin, “Just another anomaly. Nothing we can’t fix.”

You smiled with a soft hum, “You always do anyway.”

His lips were pressed into yours, a hint of a smile shaping his mouth, “Not just me.”

The anomaly problem never went away it seemed. Soon Miguel got buried deep into his work. You were fine with it, already used to his committed work habits. Besides, you had your own world to manage. You weren’t just waiting all night for him to come home like some girlfriend slowly practicing patience. No, instead you had your own thoughts to keep you busy. But you still managed to find time and visit HQ. To visit the others. To visit Miguel.

It wasn’t until the anomaly was formed into a single person. Another Spider-Man. A kid.

Miles Morales.

Gwen told you about him a few times. How he was the first friend she made after her Peter’s death. You remembered wanting to meet the boy with how much Gwen kept talking about him. And you told Gwen this as well. That they should plan a day to go visit him. Unfortunately, that day never came to fruition.

The unfortunate part was the why.

“What are you not telling me about this Miles guy?” You already knew the answer. You weren’t stupid. You just wanted to know if Miguel would tell you. Would trust you with the information.

Miguel had his back turned to you, facing the screens when you stalked into the room to ask him this. “He isn’t your concern.”

“Bullshit.” You cross your arms. “Clearly, you said something to Gwen. And Jess. Hell, even Hobie. What are you not telling me, Miguel? Why is Miles Morales so important?” You narrow your eyes challengingly, “Or rather, why does he make you so nervous—”

“Enough, Domino.” Miguel said through gritted teeth, trying desperately not to snap at you. “He isn’t your concern. Let it go.”

Hobie had already filled you in on the details before you had come to Miguel about it. The information in itself was troubling, yes. But what was even more troubling was why you were hearing it from someone else other than Miguel. Why did he want to keep you in the dark about this?

That’s when your eyes landed on the old video of him and his daughter. The daughter he lost on another Earth.

“Fine.” You frowned. “Don’t tell me.”

Miguel still had his back toward you. You scoffed and turned to leave. You would’ve been fine to leave it there. That was the one thing the two of you disagreed on the most. The canon stuff. Your sister had to die for it. That’s why Max had become what he had become. That’s why you had left the society, left him in the first place.

Restarting all of this. Thinking you could forgive.

But there was no way you could’ve ever forgotten.

You had to stand by and watch your sister die because it was a part of canon. Because Miguel cared for you and your world so much that he did not want to see it unravel like his did. A part of you wanted to believe that—maybe there was a small part that did—but that didn’t change the grief nor the terror. You just hoped.

Hoped. And hoped. And hoped….

Eventually, you did some research for yourself. Apparently, this Miles guy hadn’t lost his parents but his uncle. Apparently, he was supposed to lose his dad once he became captain. There was nothing you could do about it if it was supposed to happen. You certainly couldn’t tell him that was going to happen.

You couldn’t do anything….

Until you could.

Hobie appeared in the middle of your living room that night.

“I quit that place.” He shrugged, flopping down onto the couch next to you. “But I suggest you suit up, yeah?”

“Why?” You furrowed your brows, placing down your book you had been reading until he unexpectedly arrived.

“Because I ‘ave a good feelin’ you are the only person that wouldn’t like what’s about to happen. What’s currently happening.”

This time you frowned, an aching feeling tugging at your chest.

“Hobie. What’s going on?”

It wasn’t long until you were flying through the HQ, following all of the spider people as they chased after one thing. One person.

Nobody had known you were there. Nor what you were there for. You had blended into the crowd of spider people, flying around, swinging around until you spotted a blip of the boy that they were chasing. And you saw Miguel, Gwen, and Jessica going after him.

All that you knew was that he was alone. The boy was alone. He needed at least one person at his side. One person who understood what he was going through right then.

By the time you had gotten to the speeding trains, Miguel had Miles pinned down to the top of the train. He had yet to see you. But there was no doubt he would sense you. There was no doubt that he would see your flashing figure, zipping toward him. There was no doubt that in the corner of his eye, he would see you flying at him with a kick and landing it just perfectly, and in time before he could prepare to block you.

Now you stood in front of Miles as Miguel rolled away before clawing his hand into the top of the train to keep him on it.

You removed your mask and grinned, “Too slow, O’Hara!”

“Y/N!” Gwen stared at you in shock.

“Who’s that?!” One Spider-Man with a pink robe—and a baby—attached to him questioned in confusion.

Miguel crawled to his feet. In the corner of your eye Miles jumped off the train and disappeared in seconds. “What have you done?!”

You shrugged, “Nothing yet. That depends on you.”

“Y/N, don’t!” Jessica shouted. “You can’t beat him!”

Miguel’s face was twisted into a scowl, mixed with both betrayal and anger, “She’s right, Domino. You can’t win. You’re on the wrong side!”

You pulled your mask back on and melted into a fighting stance, “I don’t have to win. I just have to give the kid more time.”

For a brief second, the scowl was gone. This look was only for you to see. The same look he wore when you first quit the society.

They were back to where it all began. This was the cycle. It was bound to happen. You knew this. He knew this.

“I don’t want to fight you.” He gritted out. “Stand down, Domino. I’ll only ask this once.”

Not once did you budge.

“I hope we come back from this, Miguel.”

You dashed forward.

Miguel let out a roar of anger and dashed toward you.

The two of you would meet in the middle. And for a second, you really wondered…

Would you? 

Would you come back from this?

[robo-writing]

I saw your requests were open, so I have to ask for… pain 😔

Can I request a Logan x afab!reader HCs or full fic about how reader is getting older and he kinda isn’t yk? Like going from when they first met, to readers deathbed, and how he has to live without them for the rest of his life 🫶🫶

Also take care of yourself DRINK WATER 🥰

Oh yeah, it’s angst time.

It's sooner than later that you'll be alone Synopsis: You live a long life, but not as long as Logan's. Warnings: 3.2k words of gut-wrenching angst, mentions of blood, grieving someone after they're gone Author's note: Hope you're happy anon, I cried five times writing this <3

He had first met you in your twenties—twenty-three, to be exact.

Young, bright eyed, naive. You were kind, where he was not. You were hopeful, where he was jaded and angry at the world. He loved your innocence, how you always saw the best in others—suppose that’s what made you such a good counselor to the children. You listened—really, truly listened—made anyone that walked through your office doors feel welcomed.

Maybe that’s why he found his way to you. When the nightmares wouldn’t let him sleep and the voices wouldn’t let him think, he shuffled to your bedroom door without a goal in sight, bare feet padding against the polished floors. His knuckles meet your door, seconds passing by before he asks himself why the hell he’s even here in the first place.

Before he could walk away he heard your feet shuffling, followed by the click of your doorknob.

He felt guilty for waking you up, eyes red and face puffy, but you didn’t even question why he was at your door, just rubbed your eyes and opened the door wider for him to walk in.

It was silent at first. You offered him some water, passed him a blanket, and just sat there. You never pressured him to speak, and he didn’t feel compelled to. Maybe five minutes later he said something and you just nodded in his direction, encouraging him to continue.

For the first time in a long time, he talked. And you listened.

It became a ritual between the two of you, staying up late at night just to chat. It wasn’t always about his past, sometimes he just needed to let it all out, and you were the perfect outlet. He felt like you didn’t judge him, and that’s all he ever needed.

Eventually he wanted to hear you too—he preferred it that way. Talking about lesson plans and movies, little things that seem mundane but made him feel less like a patient and more like a friend. You were a welcome distraction, and an added bonus was that you were really cute when you were talking.

He was the one who made the first move. He remembers every detail, from your pajama shorts to the over-worn tank top sliding off your shoulder, your eyes bright as you went on about a new baking recipe you wanted to try. Sat on your bed, looking so relaxed he couldn’t help but stare and marvel at your beauty.

“Logan?” You ask, waving your hand in his face. “Hello? Earth to Wolverine?”

The moment you called out his name he was already making his way to your bed. The mattress sinks beneath his weight, and you let out a soft noise of surprise before he plants his lips against yours.

Yours are soft compared to him—everything about you screams softness, innocence and purity, and he’s not sure if a man like him even has the right to be next to you, much less kiss you. He’s certain his soul is filthy, tainted—a layer of black that’s sure to muck up your own if he keeps this up. He knows this deep in his heart, but greedy man that he is, he keeps his lips locked to yours.

Once, and then never again. He can’t be with a girl like you, and he knows it.

You hold him by the neck and pull him back when he tries to leave your embrace. Maybe it’s pity, he thinks, the way your hands tug him by the shirt and cling onto the fabric. Maybe you’re only entertaining him, stringing him along just to laugh in his face, mock him into ever thinking he had a chance. If you are, he doesn't care, because at least now he’s got a taste of what he could never have.

The two of you finally separate, a silk-thread of spit connecting the both of you, looking at each other with a mixture of shock and confusion. What happens after this? How does he return to what you had before—how can he, when he now knows your chapstick tastes like cherries?

He makes a move to leave, but against all odds your hand is still clinging onto his shirt. In that moment he knew he was the luckiest man alive because you begged him to stay in that cute voice of yours, begged him not to leave when his hands made their way up the front of your shirt—begged him for more when his lips wandered lower.

By your thirties you already had a shiny ring on your finger, one that he can say he proudly put on your finger. A gold band adorned by diamonds, it shines in the orange light of the sun, staring at you from its red-velvet housing. 

It’s the first time the X-Men see him cry, tears running down his face when you run into his arms screaming yes, yes, over and over as he holds you in his arms, sunset illuminating your features. He always thinks of you as beauty personified, but watching you admire the diamond-studded band with awe—the one thing that signifies you as his—he can’t help but look at you like icarus does to the sun.

The wedding was small—neither of you minded. Hank was the ringbearer, and Charles walked you down the aisle, and when your vows were said and done the priest could barely finish the ceremony before Logan lunged forward and kissed you, dipping you at the altar accompanied with a cheer from the people you consider your family.

Scott has the video saved on his phone. He pretends it pisses him off, but he had Jean send him a copy later. Sometimes he watches it when he thinks you’re asleep, but little does he know you are very much awake.

In your fourties’ you have a house together, somewhere upstate where no one can bother you. A cozy wooden home where it’s just you and him, relaxing by the fireplace and watching tv every day. When he’s not helping the X-Men he works at a local lumber yard, the highlight of his day being when he comes to work, grabbing his equipment from the truck. 

His co-workers jeer at him every time, call him whipped like butter, but they wouldn’t understand what he feels. He certainly doesn’t seem to care, especially when it’s your kiss pressed to his cheek.

He can safely say his life is perfect. It’s domestic, it’s everything Logan ever dreamed of, everything he thought he could never have—and it’s all thanks to you. He wakes up every morning grateful to you for giving him the greatest gift he could ever receive: serenity. 

Between the fairytale ending and his rose-colored glasses, he doesn’t notice it, not until you’re in your fifties and he’s—he’s not.

You’re aging, and he’s staying the same.

You still love each other and he’d never, ever, think about leaving you, but the realization sticks with him. He thinks about it late at night while you sleep next to him, pressed against his side. Your scent, your touch, he memorizes it all because he doesn’t know when he won’t be able to feel it again.

In your heart you know it too, but you don’t say anything—you don’t want to scare him away. He’s only just begun to get used to normalcy, and you don’t want to take that away from him. You don’t want to watch him fall into the honeyed trap of isolation again, return to that shell of a man you only just helped him shed.

So when you’re watching tv together, he makes sure to cradle you to his chest extra tight. When you’re sitting by the fireplace, heat radiating off your skin, he makes sure to memorize the way the fire illuminates your face. When you’re whispering his name after a night of love-making he etches the sound deep into his synapses, memorizing each syllable.

No matter what, he’ll remember you.

By your sixties you’re faced with an awful truth, one neither of you want to admit but your smile lines and crows feet stand contrast to his barely aging face. You get stares when you mention he’s your husband, some curious, some judging. You were called a cougar once by a shopper, finger pointed accusatory while Logan told her in no uncertain terms to go fuck herself.

He was there to reassure you then, but he can’t be there all the time. You don’t tell him that this wasn’t the first time you were accused of being a predator, and you don’t plan on doing so. 

Maybe this counts as acceptance, faced with the truth in the worst kind of way, but at least the both of you can say it out loud now—

You’re going to die, and he’s going to outlive you. It’s just a fact, but it still makes the both of you terrified.

Your seventies are rocky—you want to enjoy the time you have left, but Logan wants to make sure you’re safe. In his eyes you know he has only love for you, but you can see the fear in them too, how he coddles you every day. Your bones are starting to ache, you’re getting slower. Where you used to go on hikes with him you now choose to stay home, your stamina not like what it used to be. He thinks you don’t notice how he watches you carefully around the house, how he’s so eager to help you. You’re flattered, but also annoyed—it’s a short-lived train of thought when you look at him.

He still looks at you like he did when you first kissed. 

He still loves you, and you still love him. For now, that’s all you need.

He finds you on the floor in your eighties—eighty-three, to be exact.

The moment he sees your resting form behind the counter he sprints into the kitchen. There’s broken glass, a trail of blood running from your temple, and you’re completely out of it, eyes closed shut. He calls your name, shakes you, but nothing. He knows you’re still alive, he can hear your heart beating but he can feel how weak it is under his clammy hands, the soft thump nowhere near as strong as it should be.

He doesn’t know what to do—he’s long since been familiar with blood but this time it’s you, and he’s panicking. He doesn’t know what to do.

The ambulance arrives, longer than usual because you live far away from the city. Maybe if they’d gotten there faster they would have been able to do an infusion. Maybe if the phone wasn’t so far you’d be able to call 9-1-1 before you passed out. Maybe if he was at home he would’ve been able to see the early signs—

“Sir? Are you alright?”

He looks at the clock on the bedside wall: 7:38 pm. 

It’s well into the night, five hours have passed since you were admitted, and an hour since you died.

He’s been staring at your body for who knows how long. The doctor pronounced you dead, said you had a heart attack and hit your head on the way down. An accident.

A fucking accident.

“Sir, was she related to you?” The young nurse asks, contemplating whether or not she should even speak. Wordlessly, he nods.

“I understand you’re grieving,” she continues, standing at his side. Her words are full of empathy, none of which he needs but lets her speak anyway. “I saw on your hospital logs you share the same name, I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose a loved one.”

He nods again.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old was she?”

“…eighty-three.” He answers. “Her birthday was in a month.”

She shakes her head. “That’s a shame.”

“It sure is,” He says, reaching out to touch her hand. It’s cold to the touch, a cruel reminder. “It sure is.”

You would’ve been eighty-four now.

He still lives in the same house but it’s not the same without you. It’s lifeless, empty—all the love you poured into the decor now just an awful reminder of what he lost. He thinks about tearing it all down sometimes but he knows you’d probably kick his ass if he so much as touched your crystal vases.

Your side of the bedroom is untouched, he moved all his stuff to the separate one the week after you died. It hurts to sleep there knowing you’re gone, but sometimes he’ll sit by the nightstand, a drink in hand and stare at the empty spot where you would be. Sometimes if he stares hard enough, he can see you through tear-rimmed eyes, hear your laughter through the dull buzz of the alcohol.

He misses you. He’s not sure if he’ll ever stop.

He doesn’t know what possesses him, but he opens your closet. It’s an indulgence, a moment of weakness—he promised he wouldn’t touch your stuff and here he is, rummaging about. 

Coats, dresses, shirts, all memories flooding back to him as he moves past them. The black dress you wore on your first date, the sundress you wore for your anniversary—

When his fingers brush against the lace, his heart lurches. He doesn’t need to see it to know, but he tugs anyway, revealing your wedding dress hidden deep inside. The most beautiful thing you’ve ever worn.

He takes the gown between reverent hands, as if the fabric would fall apart, disintegrate if he was anything but cautious with it. It still smells like you.

He finds the box labeled “wedding” next to it, and without hesitation pulls it from its corner. Wedding invites, flowers, old videos, everything that you could have taken as a memory, you had it. You even kept the cake toppers.

What surprises him though, is a notebook. It’s tiny, leather bound and slightly worn, every page a new entry. He flips to the first page and his heart nearly stops.

Dear Logan,

If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead.

His eyes widened. When did you write this? The small book suddenly feels like lead in his hands, it’s a struggle to pull his eyes back to the ink-stained pages, but he does so anyway.

I hope I managed to give this to you before I pass. I wish I could explain to you how much I love you, and how much I worry about you. You’re a stubborn asshole, could never see the good in yourself but I did—I still do. I’ve known you for thirty years now so I’m willing to bet you’re probably reading this drunk, blaming yourself for my death.

He doesn’t know when he started crying but your words make him laugh through the pain, wiping the palm of his hand against his cheek. He used to say you were secretly a telepath, always able to read his mind. Seems it’s a talent that extends beyond the grave.

Anyway, rambling aside, I wanted to give you something to remember me by. You’re going to live longer than I am, we both know that: but maybe my memory can live along with you.

His hands are shaking, fingers stumbling through the next page with bated breath.

Entry one, not sure how I should start…I’ll figure it out later. Your beard grew out a little so I offered to help you shave…

I think I did a shit job but you didn’t seem to mind, or maybe you were trying to save my feelings? I don't know which one. In any case remember to take care of yourself, I might be gone but like hell if I’m gonna let you let yourself go!

Attached with a paperclip is a photo of the two of you in the bathroom, you smushing his face while he stares at the camera annoyed, or at least it seems. There’s a hint of a smile on his face.

He remembers that day. You were cuddling him and complained his beard was scratchy. He let you sit on his lap while you gave him a trim, you said your lines were crooked but he didn’t give a shit—he had you all to himself, and that’s all he needed.

A small huff of laughter escapes him, even in the afterlife you’re still bossing him around. He flips to the next page—

Entry two, don’t isolate yourself! I know you Logan, that lone wolf shit doesn’t work and you know it too! When’s the last time you talked to the other X-Men, huh?

Your words rattle in his head, feelings of guilt blooming. They call occasionally, but he never picks up. Charles is the only one he ever gave the time of day and even then the mention of your passing is a sore subject. One time Scott showed up at his house, helped him clean up a bit before leaving; he never said thank you.

His eyes flick to the phone on his nightstand before continuing to read. 

Entry three, don’t starve yourself! I left a couple of my recipes in the last pages, just in case you missed my cooking…

Entry four, I have a secret album of us on my phone. The password is…

Entry five, stop being so hard on yourself…

Entry after entry, all stories with advice for when you’re gone. Clean up after himself, don’t try to find peace at the bottom of a bottle, remember to find a hobby…every single page, accompanied by a description of what you did that day. Went hiking, went on a dinner date, stayed at home and watched tv—almost an entire year's worth of reminiscing in the form of a tiny brown journal.

By the time he got to the last one the sun had begun to rise. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but the thought of stopping never crossed his mind.

The big three-six-five, happy anniversary! It’s been a year since I started this project and I think I should end it here, so I’ll end it with the best advice I can give you.

Logan, you need to move on.

I know it hurts, but I’m gone, and you can’t spend your life chasing after a woman who isn’t here anymore. You deserve more in life than to grieve. I love you more than anything in the world, which is why I’m telling you it’s okay to move on.

I’ll always be with you, so don’t think that you need to feel guilty. I know you love me, and I love you.

I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself, and let me go.

He re-reads your words. Once, twice, even three times before they really sink in. I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself, and let me go.

At that moment it all comes crashing down on him. Your death, the funeral, the pain and longing, the grief—all of it. Everything he’d ever tried to push aside by drinking, culminating into this single release of emotion.

He cries. A full-bodied, pathetic display, he sobbed while holding your last memory to his chest until he was red in the face, until his lungs burned. He sobbed until he had no more tears to give, then sobbed some more.

Even in death, you were still listening.

[inkskinned]

they don't see it, because it is around them like air. to them, it would have to be through movies, through magazines. they think it happens outside of life, like it must be selected to be interacted with.

but you discovered in the fifth grade that you couldn't wear shirts with words on them, it was an excuse for someone to look at your chest. you were catcalled before you were in middle school. sometimes you look at that memory and deny it - surely that can't be right, you were young. but you were in a skirt, so maybe that was a natural byproduct. it was a skirt from that place "justice by limited too" - a store literally for kids. it was popular around then. you wore that skirt twice and then never again.

you can't wear headphones, because what if a man wants to talk to you? there's a guy on the internet who complains that women shut themselves off from being approached. at night, you often keep the headphones positioned but with the sound off, just in case you need to hear something behind you.

you learned at 12 that you can't make eye contact, don't acknowledge the aggression. just walk faster and hope he picks on somebody else. don't wear your hair like that. do not park next to that kind of car, park an entire cityblock away if you must.

you can't go to the museum, you're sitting and tying your shoe when he approaches you and mentions that nobody understands art anymore. that in the whole world, it's just you-two. you have no recourse for eating a meal (it's rabbit food if it's salad, and someone will roll their eyes, eat a sandwich. it's pick-me behavior if it's a burger, we get it you're a cool girl). if you like mushrooms you are cottagecore, which is cheesy. if you like video games you're an egirl (similar to a pick-me). boys do not get categories, but if you point out the categories are sexist, you are told okay but these girls really exist.

it is somehow developing, a little undercurrent that you've been uncomfortable with. the nickname "karen" went from being "a white woman that uses her whiteness as a weapon, particularly against people of color," to now mean "any woman raising her voice or being even a little upset." the reappropriation of a term used specifically to call out white women for their racism has set your skin on edge. now it is just another version of "bitch," one that can be said on television. recently you saw a woman get called a karen because a drunk driver sideswiped her, and she screamed when it happened. the comments on the dashcam video all say "why do women always scream about everything." "when has the world ever been bettered by women screaming." "this fucking karen. she deserved to get hit."

in the sitcom, it's a joke that the wife is furious; slamming her hands down into the sink. i do everything around here, might as well do this too. in your house, your father is always in-his-office. before you know better, your first boyfriend is the type to say it's just easier for you. you used to beg him to take you on dates. he used to make a big deal about it, about the sacrifice of effort, even if you were the one who did most of the planning.

someone on the internet makes a "POV: the most boring person you've ever met" where he puts a towel on his head and just talks like a normal person. his impression of a boring woman is just a woman that is talking about her pretty-average life without exaggeration.

you are sometimes actually sad in the reverse, because actually you did used to struggle to pay attention in conversations. you were also easily bored of normal things, your adhd pinging off of every radio tower in the vacinity. it took time and therapy and patience, and now you delight in the small things about your friends. you like having them show you their organizational systems and talk about their taylor swift tickets. you are entertained by them because you learned to be, even though your brain is structured to only be excited by novelty. you kind of hate the idea that the reason your father will never actually pay attention to you is that you're no longer interesting. eventually the shine wore off, and you were just a person, not a spaceship. he never learned how to just, like, form an actual intimate friendship. it was always at a distance, this sense - emotional closeness was too much. (and yes. he's homophobic).

you're already tired of whatever the fuck is happening with the words "divine feminine", a rancid take that is basically just a rebranding of the patriarchy in action. what the fuck do they mean "being small and delicate and needing protection" is feminine. the words they are looking for are that they want a partner, not that their desire for equivalent support is relegated to gender. the human desire for community is not actually gendered at all. also, what fucking wolves are these "divine masculine" men even battling. fuckken taxes? shouldn't their "desire to protect" also mean "protect you from emotional neglect", or are all emotions off-limits (and how sad would that be. that's a horrible bar to set.)

and they tell you it's really not bad actually, because it's just there. they suggest you get off the internet or you stop reading that book or you stop thinking so hard about the movie or you stop just-being-a-feminist because honestly it's a killjoy sort of thing and then you tilt your head to the side and there's that little siren in the back of your head. if things were actually fine, being a feminist wouldn't put a stop to anything, it would go completely unnoticed, because you wouldn't have any comment to make about any of this

but you are ruining your own life, they tell you. also, girls don't sit like that. also, all girls are catty. also, all girls are bad drivers. also, all girls just need a cute bracelet and an iced coffee.

you do like iced coffee, is the thing. when you close your eyes, the world around you has this strange note to it. and once you hear it, it never stops ringing.

[chlmtsdoll]

FULL OF LOVE

Anonymous: PLEASE MORE DAD ART AND PREGNANT READER

ilysm anon and THANK YOU for this cute little idea 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Notes 🎀 : fluff | breeding kink-ish | dilf Art | I think we all can agree Art is a certified girl dad, so this is heavy on that. Also ! Since in my first dad Art fic he and reader have a two year old, we’re gonna continue that plot line & also give her a flower name to match Lily’s 🤍 this was cuteee to write.

You and Art couldn’t say you’d been too taken back by your little surprise.

Everything had just been getting settled when Lily began tennis lessons after school and Paisley, your smallest baby, had been getting out of the way just in time for the news. It wasn’t that you and your husband were even trying for another baby, especially with how your busy family life could be. And soon enough, Arts championship season being only just around the corner — but you could actually admit, you did often dream of another baby to keep you and your husband on your toes.

So, with the last couple of weeks, that rooted feeling deep down that you just knew you were pregnant was getting harder and harder to ignore.

The night you found out your womb had in fact been no longer empty, you’d been coming home from dinner with Art when not even a couple seconds after stepping through the front door you got sick. And without any precaution, Art rushed to the store to get a handful of pregnancy tests for you. Each of which all came back with the same result. And your poor overtly anxious man couldn’t take the responsibility of waiting for you to tell him what the results were showing — Art even wanted to be in the bathroom with you while you were taking them, read your expression right then and there so his heart would stop beating in anticipation so quickly. But being the princess you always could be, you made him wait outside anyways.

“Baby.. Baby, what’s going on ? Talk to me.. are you okay ? Is-is it positive ? ” Arts concerned muffled voice from the other side of the door chimed in every couple of minutes that we’re probably only seconds, he’s preciously just been begging you to let him, he promised to turn around even while you took the tests. And though you weren’t in complete shock of the results in your hand, that feeling still wouldn’t ever become not indescribable. You chuckled softly with steadied tears forming in your ducts, as you knew you husband had to have been freaking out on the other side of that door.

“Art, you’ve got to chill. Okay ?” You say as you were completely not chilling.

Art went from having his ear pressed against the wood to hear you, to resting his forehead there with a deep exhale. His palms clenching and unclenching. “Can I just come in ? Please ?” Your husband asked softly, and you sincerely couldn’t hold off the news from him any longer as you stared at the three positive tests in your hands.

“Okay, fine..”

When Art finally opened the door slowly, he saw you look up at him as you stood with your smile ear to ear while you wiped away a tear falling down your face. He could feel his heart skip a couple beats right then. Art walked over to you with his wide doe eyes already being filled with euphoria.

“Yes ? Is- - it a yeah ?” Your husband whispered out as he searched your face for more signals and you bit your lip feverishly with a joyous smile tucked underneath, nodding as your husband approached you and you stood to your toes, wrapping your arms around Arts neck and he practically swung himself around your figure. The man blissfully lifted you up from the ground, leaving squeals to exit your lungs along with the happiest tears.

“We’re having another baby!” You choked on your own giggles mixed with sobs, Art closed his eyes and brought you in to plant his face into your shoulder as he hugged you tighter than he maybe ever has. He just let the wondrous news wash over him right then.

“Oh, baby,” your husband breathed out in the heat of your skin as he held you, his everything, carrying his third child.

The blonde pulled back to look at your expression again. He panted as his excitement was bouncing within him and it was almost like had to make sure he wasn’t just about dreaming by now. Your own eyes glistened with your ecstatic smile, you cupped his face in your palms, noticing your husband’s teary eyes looking into you.

“we’re having another ? Really ?” Art questioned with a soft but breathy tone.

“Yes. My love, round two is happening. For real.” You beamed and Art melted into you again as you laughed fondly and squeezed your arms around him.

“My god, I knew it.. I just knew it, baby.” Art peppered kisses down your shoulders like he could worship your being right then. Taking your hands and kissing them too. “You’re so beautiful, the baby’s beautiful, this is all- - amazing, I can’t believe it.” Your smile grew along side Arts as he set you down on the bathroom counter behind the two of you.

“You’re not even a little bit upset, are you ? I know it won’t be like planned… since your gonna play this season you won’t be home as much before the birth like you were with Paisley.”

You eyes followed Art as he shook his head and snaked his hands around your waist, thumbs even gently caressing your tummy which made your blush heighten.

“No, no- this is like planned, angel. We wanted another little one at some point and the ‘right timing’ is just a myth. I don’t care, I promise I’ll make time, love. Yeah ?”

You felt butterflies fill up your senses as Art spoke so tenderly to you, eyes full with emotions of gratitude for you being the one he gets to bring love into the world with. Grateful for you letting him be the father to your beyond gorgeous kids. You couldn’t have gotten luckier.

You rested your forehead against Arts as you simpered under his caress and he brought his lips to smooch yours sweetly.

Being a wife was always in your queue for your future — but being a mother to the tennis star’s children was a true blessing with just how much Art truly loved being a dad. When it was time for you both to tell Lily about her new sibling, explaining to her that her dad was having another baby with someone who wasn’t her mom was always interesting to see the way her little brain could comprehend it all, but she handled it so well. Lily’s a sweetheart and she loved you like a mom, and you loved her as one of your own.

Art reminded her that she was always going to be his greatest love in life — it was achingly sweet to see her feel so safe with the two of you and her half sister also being her best friend. They grow together every day. You’re a family and bringing a new addition to something already so perfect was going to be that next chapter of your lives making it all tie together.

A couple months passing by and there had been so much your little crew had been up to with all the perks of getting ready for the new baby, and even just getting around all of your schedules. You told Art you wanted him to be able to play this season, feel like you were secure enough even in your second trimester to be home with the girls and handle the pregnancy alone on the day to day. But Art was always thinking ahead — made sure you knew he’d pass up. Tennis could wait if something as important as you going through any difficulties carrying the baby, or simply anything that he’d need to be home with you for. So even though all your checkups and ultrasounds went stunningly, you’d been feeling better than ever before with a healthy baby and a bump that was perfect to your body and daily lifestyle, once it was confirmed you were having another baby girl, Art stepped down from campaigning to compete this season.

He was too over the moon about it all. He became a full time stay at home dad to be with all four of his girls.

One afternoon when you’d been taking a rest with your two year old who was napping alongside you, and Lily bad been with her mom for a few hours — you’d noticed Art disappeared for a while not just so he didn’t wake you and Paisley, but busy with something else. So when you waddled your way around to search for him, you found your husband in the nursery. Hunched by Paisley’s crib with a measuring tape in hand, wearing his glasses that he brought out when he was getting serious with his cooking skills or helping out around the house. It made your smile widen across your lips as you leaned in the door frame to observe how occupied he was with whatever he was doing.

“What are you up to, Mr. Donaldson ?”

Art heard your sweet yet sleepy voice, like honey to him, the blonde faced you with a grin as you strolled over while holding your stomach.

You reached to run your fingers through his curls, disheveled as he started letting his hair grow out now that he was home and you were more than into how it took on his boyish but manly look in a new way. His eyes ran over you, icy and in love with just the way you looked at him.

“I’m starting on our little girls crib. I wanna do it by hand, and- - you can paint it however you want.” He beamed down at your figure as his sideways smile showcased his teeth, you giggled softly.

“I’m sure it’ll be just fine if she and Paisley share a crib, right ? She’ll be closer to her sister and it’ll save you time, energy.. building a crib from the bottom up is a lot of work.”

Art pulled you closer into him with one hand, the other placing his pen just above his ear and you bit down on your bottom lip at just the sight. “But I have enough time and energy to put towards it, sweets... If I can give my girls the world, I will. And I want to do that for her. It’ll be so fun. You know it will.”

Art was the kind of man who just wanted to give to the people he loved. The ones most important to him and it was a priority that since he had the funds and the access to give you and his daughter’s whatever was needed to make you the most comfortable and happy, he would. It was why you didn’t mind giving him as many more as he wanted. He was the best husband and dad a girl could ask for.

He leaned in to kiss your cheek then near your ear, warm hands on you immediately and your fond smile grew as they went to rub around your bump with tenderness. Art wanted to stay connected with his new little girl as early as possible. Always kissing, hugging and talking to your tummy on the daily like she’s already been born. It could of made you cry that someone loved you, and all versions of mini you’s so much. These past few months with him has been the softest you’ve ever experienced with your lover.

It was a little hard not to constantly get emotional on how grateful you’d been — but you blamed it mostly on the fact that you are pregnant after all, and can get away with tears.

Art still made you get flustered even now when he did little gestures like this with you.

Your husband took your hands in his as he led you to the rocking chair nearby the crib and sat, of course bringing you to relax on his lap with him while going in for another kiss. Holding the back of the blondes head with a sugary smile you melted your lips with his till you only pulled away to speak. “You sure I’m not too heavy ?”

“Never,” Art chuckled as he went to peck your girly smile again. “Let’s not pretend like you won’t end up here again anyways, I ought to get used to it.”

“Artie!” You pushed on his chest as he laughed and you joined him, not even surprised by the fact he was already thinking about getting you pregnant again while being less than six months in with his current baby.

“What !? Wouldn’t you agree ?”

“I mean, I can’t say I’d be up to stop any time soon..” you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip while holding your own wrists around his shoulders. Art held you close, thumb rubbing at your waist like always as he eyed you down, tongue darting out just before licking over his lip in carnality of you. It was like you could feel the exact moment when your face had the reaction of falling flustered under his gaze. Thinking about the day Art wouldn’t make you blush terribly was non-existent in times like these.

“Yeah ? You gonna make me a daddy a couple more times, pretty girl ?” Arts tone lowered as he grinned into the side of your neck, going to pepper kisses on to your skin as he held you on him. You were so used to the way he could go from zero to a hundred once he was alone with you. You laughed and leaned into his tender smooches, but kept a hand on his torso to keep the man at a warning distance.

“Careful, Donaldson… I’m learning that I get pregnant very easily and this baby needs her daddy first.”

Art chuckled but slightly groaned as he let up only a bit from nibbling on your neck, his hand rested there on your stomach due to your caution, “mmm, but you know that doesn’t scare me, baby. I don’t want to be careful. Wanting to have a fuck ton of babies with my gorgeous wife can’t be a crime.”

“You can’t say that in the baby’s room!” You laughed.

“We’re the only ones in here!”

You two were a giggling mess in the corner of the nursery. You’d blushed like crazy at your husbands choice of words and feverish attraction to you like this. All pretty, in his lap, with your flowy dresses, healthiest smelling hair, belly round and full with his love for you, he couldn’t even fathom getting tired of it any time soon.

The blonde never even dared to keep his hands off of you, ever. No matter what time of the of the day or night, he was getting you somewhere private and alone. Even if it was just under an hour, he couldn’t resist. In moments when you felt your most unworthy of a fun time, Art still had it over you that he was so down bad for your sexiness even domestically. It drove him to be painfully obsessive with wanting you all to himself. So he was totally right.

You would end up here again in no time.

It had partially been your fault with the way you egged him on. It was radical the way Art loved just being called daddy. By the girls, you saw the way his face lit up and the sparkle in his eye enhanced whenever they called him just by seeing him first thing in the morning as he made breakfast for you all. Proud and ready to kiss your two year old. Make her heart or princess shaped pancakes. He adored her and Lily’s “add more sprinkles, daddy.” even at eight am. His endearing smiles and effort would confirm it all. And of course even when you referred to him as daddy, especially in other settings, he’d be precisely pleased as well.

With the maids you usually had around the house being paid but laid off seeing as Art thought there would be no need since he was home to clean up after the girls — you always naturally fell into picking up their toys and doing their hair, dressing them every day as a motherly instinct, but Art wanted you off your feet as often as possible.

He made it his responsibility to clean up around the place before you could get to it and even make fun games out of it with the girls so they’d get used to tidying up even without a maid. Brushing their hair at night before bed he never skipped, and attending to their bath time on the dot. Of course you couldn’t help yourself to help out even if he insisted, it was in those little moments you got to cherish Art for all he was as a husband. It was the sweetest you might had ever seen a man in your life put into his duties.

Shopping was plentiful of fun too when Art wanted to take you and the girls out for the day. He figured the baby would need new clothes once she arrived as you’d been nearing your third trimester and making room for it even with the shower gifts you’d surely receive.

“Hold hands, girls.”

“Okay, mommy!” came from Lily and Paisley as they hurried out of the house before you and Art. They were always over the moon to go shopping knowing Art would get them whatever it was they wanted, even if you protested because they have more than enough doll houses and friendship bracelet kits. He’d still find a way to sneak them toys and Barbie’s being as you couldn’t complain once he already bought it. You should of learned to give up now when it was obvious he’d never stop spoiling all of you.

“You can’t spoil them to death this time, Art.”

“I can’t keep any promises, you know that.”

Your husband scoffed and you rolled your eyes playfully with a small titter. One of his hands carrying the car seat and the other was placed on the small of your back as he guided you from the front door towards the car, his pearly smile showing as he kept an eye on the girls.

Art opened up the doors for the three of you, “alright, ready ?” He grinned before reaching to pick up the little girls in his arms, they bursted in squealed and giggles as he loaded them into the car. You got yourself in as well and the corner of your lips stretched with a smile as you observed the way he made sure every day was special for them — their faces showing just how much they adored their dad.

“Give the Cinderella one to daddy,” you heard Lily mention to her sister while Art was finishing up buckling her into the car seat. Paisley causally took the sticker and placed it on Arts cheek while giggling through her pacifier.

“Thank you, princess.” The blonde laughed before reaching over to make sure Lily put her seatbelt on correctly, he carried a soft smile. “I want you to start making sure your sisters are all buckled in when we go on car rides, sweets. You’re getting bigger and mommy’s going to need your help watching for the little ones, okay ?”

“Okay, daddy.” Lily nodded gladly in response to Art. You admired the way he spoke to her so gently about everything and maintained their relationship beautifully. You had no doubt in your mind he’d keep it up years from now with all of your kids. He circled the car to check on you with an endearing little look on his face. “You all good, my love ?” Your husband spoke to you with lightness as he placed his hand on the top of the car to lean into you a bit and your eyes meet his lovingly, he’d been taking you in as he always did and you simper at his charm.

“I’m okay, Prince Charming.” You noted to the sticker stuck to his face with a soft giggle, Art smirked before pressing a kiss to your lips tenderly.

“One for you.” He never forgot to kiss your stomach as well, making you feel treasured for the last couple of months of this new journey with him. “And one for you.” Art happily prided himself before closing your door to get in the drivers seat. Not even a minute after you’d been out the driveway, he grabbed your delicate hand to hold in his, pressing a few kisses there as he drove.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

leon takes out his frustrations on you (sexually)

pairing: leon x afab reader

cw: smut, pwp, somewhat rough, selfish sex

summary: little leon x reader drabble that i wrote in the middle of the night while i was half-asleep after playing re6 (so in my mind this is re6 leon)

wc: 676

When Leon comes home from a hard day at work or a grueling mission, before he collapses into bed and becomes comatose, he takes whatever he needs from you.

Leon’s typically a giver, a life saver, a people pleaser. He’s the type of man who feels guilty for being the hero - he’d never call himself that, though, but you would. The hero who got little recognition and a whole lot of stress. He’s often come home from long days at work and grueling missions pissed off, and rightfully so. Still, he tried to hide his anger, tried to drink it away, especially tried to hide us from you. But you wanted to help, so you devised an agreement with him - when he felt like he needed to get his frustrations out, he didn’t have to say anything, he could just carry you to the bedroom and fuck his feelings away. This was better - he hated talking about his shit and you got off on him using you like a sex toy. 

One night he came home after working late. You were about to offer him dinner, but he took your hand and muttered, “bedroom”. Without another word, he led you to your bed and gestured for you to lie down. He shrugged off his jacket and slipped out of his shoes. You discarded your shirt, but before you could take off your pants, he yanked them off along with your panties. He dipped his fingers into you - he hadn’t bothered to remove his gloves - and thrusted them roughly in and out, curling them so they hit your g-spot every time. You were already moaning and dripping wet when he flipped you onto your stomach. You couldn’t see him but you could hear the clinking of his belt buckle and his zipper being pulled down. You were flat on your stomach so he lifted your hips and parted your legs to give himself better access. He slid into you in one stroke, giving you no time to adjust. When you moaned, you felt his hand smack your ass. He fucked you harder which made your moans into sobs. Leon responded to your desperate sounds by saying, “shut up” in a deep voice through gritted teeth. If he’d ever told you to shut up outside of sex, you’d be offended - and horrified since that’d be incredibly out of character for him - but now, you were soaking the sheets. 

Leon didn’t talk much about his professional life outside of the bedroom. While his hips slammed into yours, skin slapping against skin over and over, he complained about his day. It was nearly incomprehensible, not only because you had no frame of reference for the DSO’s day-to-day, but also because he would repeatedly get interrupted by his own moans and expletives. 

“I can’t fucking stand him and his stupid bullshit plans - ah fuck,” - all they care about is - Jesus Christ - themselves and I - fuck you’re so tight - none of them could take half of the shit I go through and they still have the audacity to - oh god, fuck yes, do that again - they’re a bunch of assholes who - fuck, ‘m gonna cum inside you.”

After he came, you gave him a minute to catch his breath while you got yourself cleaned up. Then, when you hopped back in bed he was all over you, kissing your cheeks and telling you how much he loves you. 

He asked, “how was your day, baby?”

“It was okay.”

“Do you wanna come sit on my face and complain about it?”

“I already came while you were fucking me,” you told him. 

“Oh so that’s what that puddle on the sheets is?” he teased. 

In reality, his proposal to have you sit on his face was a selfish one. Leon was a pussy addict, but as usual, you’d let him have his way. 

[tikosblogg]

Watching You…18+

Summary: Your life takes an unexpected turn when you meet your new landlord, Noah. He's unlike anyone you’ve ever met..

Warning: Stalking, smut,(DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THIS TRIGGERS YOU), piv smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), Male masturbation, female masturbation, light choking, DomNoah, SubReader. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: I was so excited to write this, sorry if it’s a lil sloppy, it unedited I just really wanted to get it posted. I’ll be going through and fixing things soon. Plz enjoy!❤️

I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves as I approached the modest little house for rent. The pale blue paint looked quaint in the cool morning light, a charming contrast to the whirlwind of emotions brewing within me. I had just broken up with my long-term boyfriend Ryan—something I once thought would end in happily ever after. It hadn’t. So here I was, a freshly single woman standing at the threshold of my new life.

At 8 a.m. sharp, I parked in the driveway and stepped out of my car, my heart racing with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. My first thought upon seeing Noah the landlord was that he was not what I had expected. I had envisioned some elderly, mild-mannered man in his fifties. But no, standing before me was a man maybe in his late twenties. He towered over me at no doubt 6’0+”, with dark brown hair that framed his face nicely. I noticed his tattoos, which peeked out from under his black t-shirt. His brown eyes held a mysterious glint that sent a shiver up my spine.

As we exchanged greetings, his grip was firm and confident, leaving me strangely anxious. “You must be Y/N,” he spoke, his tone low and dark. “Ready to check it out?”

I nodded, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling swirling within me. Noah led me through the front door, and I couldn’t help but notice how he moved with a certain dangerous grace. Each step echoed a sense of dominance, making my unease flare like a flame left unattended.

The interior of the house was warm and inviting, adorned with rustic charm. As he showed me around—pointing out the quaint kitchen, the airy living room, and the cozy nooks—I found myself distracted. His voice was silky smooth, his words enveloping me, and I didn’t quite understand why I was simultaneously drawn to him and frightened.

“As you can see,” he said, gesturing towards a window adorned with delicate lace curtains, “the morning light that comes through is nice. perfect place to just chill and relax.” He flashed me a grin, his eyes trailing down my body. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks.

“Um, yeah I like this. It’s nice,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the fluttering in my stomach.

He tilted his head, observing me with an intensity that made me swallow hard. “It’ll be great, then. There’s also Lots of space for whatever you decide to do with it.” His eyes traced my features, lingering just a moment too long, as if I were a puzzle he was trying to solve, casting an intriguing shadow across the enthusiasm I tried to muster for my new beginning.

By the end of the tour, I had already made up my mind. This house, with its charming imperfections and aside from the strange enigma of Noah, felt right. “I love it,” I said, my voice steady now. “I absolutely want to rent it.”

“Happy to hear,” he replied, his face lighting up with a genuine smile. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a set of keys, handing them over with a flourish. “Welcome home, Y/N.”

In that moment, Despite the weight of my recent heartache, this house sparked a glimmer of excitement. Without hesitation, I decided to move in that very day. The few possessions I had left—all dumped in storage—were easily gathered and loaded into my truck.

After a few trips, I had unloaded my boxes into the living room, arranging them haphazardly as I took in my new environment. It felt both empowering and overwhelming, a mix of liberation and nostalgia tugging at me.

It’s been a few days since I moved into the house, it was nice but there was a weird feeling that I felt in my gut since stepping into this house. I can’t put my finger on it. Lights that I remember turning off are back on when I arrive home. Things are moved around here and there. I eventually chalk it up to me just being stressed, and not remembering.

I jumped into the shower before heading to bed steam engulfed me as I stepped in, a comforting veil that momentarily erased the uneasiness of the day. I watched the water swirl down the drain, just as my thoughts spiraled around the same few questions that clung to me since I moved into this place. Why did everything feel off? I couldn't shake this sense of being watched, even in the safety of my own home.

The house appeared quaint from the outside. Yet there was just something about this place. My belongings had found their place, but I had yet to find mine.

As I lathered shampoo into my hair, I remembered the light in the kitchen. I distinctly recalled turning it off before I left for work, but when I came back, it blazed with its usual brightness. At first, I brushed it off, but then it happened again. And again.

A chill ran down my spine as I rinsed the suds from my hair. Maybe I was just adjusting to the change maybe I can convince myself that I wasn't losing my mind. But there is a nagging thread of doubt that wormed its way into my consciousness. I could have sworn I heard soft footsteps echoing in the hallway when I was in the living room earlier, a lingering sensation that I wasn’t alone, despite the silence.

The water turned a chilling temperature, and I stepped out, wrapping a towel around myself. I glanced at the fogged mirror, My reflection stared back, still adjusting to the woman in the unfamiliar space. I tried to shake the feeling away, reminding myself that fear often manifests from the unknown. But I couldn’t ignore the shudder that rippled through me at the thought of what might be lurking in the nooks and crannies of this place.

After getting dressed, I settled down with a book in the living room, hoping the it would draw me away from the creeping dread. The pages turned, but my mind was elsewhere. I finally closed my book, the words blurring as I fought against the tightening grip of anxiety. I needed to confront this feeling, to understand what was happening. I decided to take a late-night stroll, hoping to make sense of the oddities.

No perspective

Noah sat at his desk, the late evening light struggling to penetrate the heavy curtains of his dimly lit bedroom. His fingers drummed absently on the wooden surface, creating a rhythm that mimicked the pulsing hum of the computer screen before him. The glow illuminated a stark contrast to the intricate tattoos that spiraled across his forearms, each inked line a memory etched into his skin—moments of joy, pain, liberation, and regret.

His brown eyes narrowed as he focused on the live feed that streamed from the hidden cameras he had discreetly placed around the house—a house that he allowed you to rent, to call your own. He had been hesitant about sharing his space, but the thrill of having someone new around was too enticing to resist. The first time he caught a glimpse of you, something inside him stirred—a mixture of attraction and obsession. Your soft voice echoed through the halls, bouncing off the walls so beautifully. He found himself drawn to you, even in your absence.

Tonight, however, was different. He had been roused from a hazy daydream as he realized the steady sound of rushing water had filled the silence of the house. He switched views to the bathroom feed—his heart quickening as he peered intently at the blurry figure behind the frosted glass of the shower. The rush of the water created a soothing backdrop that only deepened his focus. You were there, completely unaware of his presence.

He leaned closer to the screen, entranced by how the steam curled around your silhouette like a soft embrace. There was something intoxicating about witnessing you in such a private moment—your usual work scrubs replaced by the melodic resonance of water cascading down your skin. Part of him wrestled with the morality of his uninvited voyeurism, and yet another part was simply captivated by your essence, the way you seemed completely at ease, freeing yourself from the demands of the world beyond those four walls.

“Will she hate me if she finds out?” he mused quietly, his breath barely breaking the stillness of the room. The thoughts tumbled around in his mind, as his pants got tighter. 

As his thoughts spiraled, his gaze was fixed on the current play of her movements—rivulets of water sliding down your shoulders, glistening like diamonds. You lifted your arms to wash your hair, and his heart raced as you turned slightly, the contour of your profile framed by the curtain of steam. In that instance, he felt a surge of need that was both exhilarating and suffocating. He was an intruder in your sanctuary, savoring the glimpses of vulnerability that you unwittingly revealed to him.

He leaned back in his chair, carefully pulling his hardened cock out of his sweats, stroking softly. His eyes stayed glued to your body, as he stroked himself. Your name softly falling from his lips over and over again. He watched as you rinsed your hair, wishing it was his hands running through the long strands. 

Time slipped away unnoticed until he spilled all over his hand, with one last groan of your name, and a subtle shudder. The shower finally turned off, The abrupt silence that filled the room was unnerving, yet he never looked away as you toweled off, your soaked body. Guilt washed over him, but he brushed it aside, fixated on the routine that unfolded—a ritualistic choreography of drying off, dressing, and preparing for whatever the night would hold outside your temporary sanctuary.

Y/N’S POV

As I wander down the sidewalk, the deep hum of crickets fills the air, their rhythmic serenade providing a sort of comfort. I trace a habitual path through the neighborhood, passing houses with their dimmed windows, curtains drawn tight—everyone tucked away into the warmth of their homes. But then, as I make the turn onto Maple Lane, I see him.

Noah's house is always a little different; the illumination from his porch creates shadows that dance along the walls, a juxtaposition to the stillness of the rest of the street. He sits outside, casually leaning back against his porch railing. His silhouette cuts against the porch light. He's smoking a cigarette, the thin stream of smoke spiraling upward into the night.

He catches sight of me approaching, a smirk blooming on his lips. My heart does an awkward flip in my chest. He’s undeniably attractive, a fact I can’t deny, even if I wish I could. His skin, adorned with all those tattoos, and the way his hair falls framing his handsome face. As I close the distance, I can feel the warmth of his gaze enveloping me, making the night air feel thicker.

"What are you doing out so late?" he asks, that infuriatingly charming grin still plastered on his face. His voice is smooth, it sends a jolt of inexplicable nervousness curling through me.

“I couldn’t really sleep,” I reply, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. My cheeks heat up under his scrutiny; I can feel the color creeping up from my neck. It’s ridiculous how he makes me feel this way.

He nods in understanding, but there’s a hint of something mischief-laden in his eyes. “Insomnia? Or something on your mind?” he quips, exhaling a thin cloud of smoke.

I could tell him about the multitude of thoughts crowding my mind—the job I hate, my relationship that fizzled out, or even the creepy shit going on in my house. But the words catch in my throat, and instead, I feel my lips curve into a soft smile. “A bit of both, I guess.”

He leans forward slightly, the cigarette hanging between his fingers as he seems to evaluate me—my posture, my face, the way my hair flutters in the night breeze. It’s a gaze that feels invasive yet tender, like he’s peeling back layers I didn’t even know I wore. I fidget under the intensity of it all, the air buzzing with something electric, unfamiliar.

“You know,” he begins, his tone shifting casually, “it’s usually easier to talk things out than to keep them in your head.”

His words wrap around me, opening a door I wasn’t sure I wanted to explore. Usually, I detest conversations that delve deeper than surface-level chit-chat. I’ve been working on building walls, keeping people at bay so they don’t get too close. It’s safer that way.

A shiver travels down my spine, and I bite my lip, a whirlwind of emotions colliding inside. I glance down the street, realizing I’ve lingered a little too long; the cool breeze brushes against my skin, and I take a shaky breath.

“Maybe next time. I should probably get going,” I smile, hoping I didn’t come off rude.

His eyes linger on me, and I can read the question unspoken in the silence that stretches between us. "You sure? I was just about to pour myself a drink. You can join me."

The invitation hangs in the air, tempting me. My mind races, weighing the possibilities against the safe haven of my bed. But there’s still that strange feeling gnawing at me in the pit of my stomach—the kind that flutters when you’re teetering on the edge of something exciting and terrifying all at once.

“I wish I could, but I really should go,” I tell him, almost apologetically.

“Alright,” he replies, though his smile falters for a moment, as if disappointed. “Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight,” I manage, forcing a smile before I turn on my heel and head back home, my heart a mix of exhilaration and longing, what is going on with me right now? I barely know this dude.

With every step I take, I can feel his gaze still on me, lingering like a warm touch long after it’s gone. I can’t escape the feeling that this night is significant, something that perhaps should have kept me awake. As I finally lay down in bed, the thought of Noah—his smirk, his eyes, the whispers of our words—wraps around me like a blanket, creeping into my dreams, making my heart race with possibilities I never expected.

I woke up in a panic, my heart racing as I struggled to catch my breath. My skin was hot and sticky, my shirt clinging to my body as if I had just run a marathon. I could feel the dampness between my legs and realized I had been having a wet dream about Noah. The thought of him made my cheeks flush, and I groaned as I kicked off the covers, feeling suddenly too warm.

I ran my hands through my messy hair and tried to calm my racing heart. Noah was my landlord, a man I barely knew, but I couldn’t get him out of my head. I groaned at the ache in my cunt, that’s not gonna let me sleep until I take care of it.

I slipped my hand beneath the waistband of my panties, my fingers finding my swollen clit. I was already soaking wet, and a moan escaped my lips as I began to run my fingers up my slit. I slid my them back down, dipping them inside me, Noah's name falling from my lips.

I pumped my fingers in and out, matching the rhythm from my dream, imagining it was Noah's thick cock filling me up. I needed to cum again, to feel the release that only a real orgasm could bring. My other hand rubbed my clit in tight circles, my breathing becoming ragged as I built towards another peak.

“Fuck Noah," I whispered, my eyes closed as I lost myself in the feeling. “Ohhh fuuckk.” I whined, pumping harder.

My fingers worked faster, and I bit my lip to stifle my moans as I spiraled towards my climax. I imagined Noah's tattooed body above me, his hard thrusts fucking me deep, and with a cry, I tumbled over the edge, my body shaking as waves of pleasure rippled through me.

NO PERSPECTIVE

Your soft, seductive voice called out to him, pulling Noah from his sleep. Groggy at first, he opened his eyes, his brown orbs fixing on the source of the sound—his computer screen. A sly smile formed as he recognized the sight before him. It was you. The woman he'd been longing to have, your fingers buried deep inside yourself, moaning his name. Noah's heart raced as he stood up, his bare feet padding quietly across the room. He approached his desk, his gaze fixed on the screen, and took a seat.

Noah leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, as he watched you through the hidden camera in her room. You had no idea he was witnessing your most intimate moment. Your fingers moved in rhythm with your soft, wanton moans, your eyes closed as you lost yourself in pleasure. Noah's cock twitched in his boxers as he took in the sight of you, your head thrown back, your soft hair forming a halo around your head. He could almost smell your arousal through the screen.

He loved the power he held in this moment. Knowing he could expose you, humiliate you with this very recording, made his heart pound with excitement. But he also knew that you were an innocent, naive soul, and the thought of corrupting you, making you his, was irresistible. Noah's smile turned devious as he imagined the plans he could put in motion to finally have you underneath him.

As your moans grew louder, your fingers working faster, Noah couldn't help but notice the wet, shiny evidence of your arousal. He imagined himself licking your fingers clean, tasting your sweet cum. His cock stirred, straining against the confines of his boxers, begging to be set free. He reached down, adjusting himself, as he continued to watch, his eyes glued to the screen.

Your breath quickened, your chest heaving as you built towards your climax. "Noah," you whimpered, his name dropping from your lips like a prayer. Hearing his name spoken so intimately sent a jolt through him, and he bit his lip, fighting the urge to touch himself. He wanted to save that pleasure for later, when it would be your hands on him, your mouth wrapping around his length.

With one final, desperate cry of his name, you found your release, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. His breath hitched as he watched, his own body tense with unspent desire. He longed to be the one to make you feel like that, to feel you tighten around him as you came. The thought of finally fucking you made his heart pound with anticipation…soon.

Y/N POV (next night)

It was ten at night when there was a knock at my door. The sound pulling me away from the haze of the late movie I had surrendered to. It was one of those nights where you find comfort in the dim light and predictable plots, but now an unexpected interruption threatened to unravel my cozy solitude.

I hesitated, the warm glow of the living room making me feel safe and enclosed. I wasn’t expecting anyone. As I approached slowly, an edge of anticipation tingled in my veins. I paused to glance through the peephole and my heart raced when I saw him on the other side—Noah.

His soft hair that fell effortlessly around his face and a smattering of tattoos that ran down his throat. I felt heat rush to my cheeks, a familiar tingle sparking to life. Unlocking the door, I felt as if I had unwittingly breached the barrier between dreams and reality. He grinned, that little boyish smile that could slice through my defenses. “Hey,” he said, his voice low.

“What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound more composed than I felt. I didn’t move aside; instead, I leaned against the doorframe, concocting the semblance of control. “I’m here for you,” he replied, his voice dropping to a whisper that wrapped around me like a comforting shroud. Confusion danced in my mind. “What do you mean?”

Without answering, he reached forward, cupping my cheek with his hand. His skin was warm, intoxicatingly so, and all at once my resolve weakened. He moved closer, dark eyes burning into mine. That familiar throbbing in my core ignited, feelings haunting me since my dream about him last night. That dream where I could feel his hands on me, his breath against my skin; it had felt so vivid.

“I’ve been watching you sweet girl,” he murmured, and my breath hitched. Then, he stalked forward. The way he moved bore an animalistic grace, confident, predatory. I felt the wall pressing against my back, a solid reminder of my confinement as he closed in on me.

I should have been terrified. He had just insinuated that he had been watching me, lingering just outside the threshold of my sanity. But instead, my pulse quickened, and I fought against the uninvited thrill that coursed through me. I never thought I’d find danger alluring, but here I was, breathless and drenched in curiosity.

Another chuckle escaped him, dark and almost playful. “I saw you,” he continued, leaning closer until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. My mind raced. I could smell the remnants of his cologne, something earthy and wild.

“I don’t—” I started, my throat dry as I tried to form coherent thoughts. His lips hovered just above mine, brushing ever so lightly, igniting a fire I thought I had tucked away. “I heard You whining my name.”

Despite myself, I bit down on my lip, wrestling with the conflicting emotions swirling within me. The pulse of fear intertwined with insatiable desire, and I was unable to decipher which was stronger.

“I—I don’t understand.” My voice faltered. “It’s okay baby,” he said softly, his breath warm against my mouth. “I’m here to help you.” Images from my dream flashed in my mind—no, not just images; sensations. The way his hands would glide over my skin, igniting every nerve ending. The way he’d whisper dirty words as he took me apart piece by intricate piece.

“This is insane,” I murmured, shaking my head. But Noah only smiled, stepping even closer until the space between us disappeared. My heart thundered as he reached out, fingers brushing against my collarbone, sending sparks down my spine. “Noah…” I breathed, caught between fear and longing. God, how could I resist?

“That’s it..Just say my name baby,” he urged, tilting my chin upward so his gaze was fixed on mine with an intensity that burned away my rationality. I swallowed hard, the room spinning. “Noah…” I whispered, and in return, his lips crashed against mine, and I lost all sense of structure.

The kiss was feverish, consuming. His tongue slid against mine as he pressed me deeper into the wall; I melted into him, surrendering to the tempest that was all things Noah. It was wild and electric, igniting every secret yearning I had repressed. He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, a series of heated stares exchanged between us.

He pushed me harder against the wall, his hot breath on my neck sending shivers down my spine. His hands were rough as he grabbed my ass, lifting me up and making me wrap my legs around his waist. I could feel his hard cock pressed against me, and I let out a soft moan as he carried me upstairs to my bedroom.

He tossed me onto the bed with surprising gentleness, and I looked up at him, my heart racing. His hair fell into his eyes as he leaned over me, his hands roaming over my body.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his voice deep. "I love hearing my name come from those pretty lips."

I blushed, feeling shy and exposed under his intense gaze. He leaned down and captured my lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue invading my mouth possessively. I moaned into the kiss, my hands tangling in his hair as I pulled him closer.

Then, suddenly, he pulled away, leaving me breathless and wanting more. With a dark glint in his eye, he reached down and grabbed the hem of my shirt slowly pulling it up over my head. I lifted my arms to help him, and he threw the shirt across the room, leaving me naked except for my panties.

He took a moment to admire the view, his eyes roaming over my body hungrily. "Perfect," he breathed, reaching out to pinch my nipples gently between his thumb and forefinger. I gasped at the sensation, my breasts feeling heavy and sensitive.

He leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling gently while his hand massaged the other. I arched my back, moaning softly as pleasure shot through me. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was driving me crazy.

Then he stopped, leaving me cold as he pulled away. I whimpered at the loss, but then felt his hands on my thighs, pushing them apart. He hooked his fingers into the sides of my panties and slowly pulled them down, kissing and nipping at my inner thighs as they became exposed.

"Such a gorgeous pussy," he murmured, running a finger along my slit. I was already wet and aching for him, and I spread my legs wider, inviting him in.

He smiled at my eagerness, and then lowered his head, licking and sucking at my clit. I cried out, my hands tangling in his hair as he ate me out with expertise. His tongue flicked and circled my most sensitive bundle of nerves, driving me wild. He added two fingers, thrusting them in as he sucked and licked, and I bucked my hips, softly riding his face.

"You taste so fucking good baby," he groaned, pulling his face away momentarily. "I could eat you all night, but I have other plans for that tight little pussy."

Before I could respond, he flipped me over, grabbing my hips and pulling me up on all fours. I felt exposed and vulnerable in this position, but also incredibly turned on. Noah spread my ass cheeks apart, revealing my dripping wet hole to his gaze.

"So fucking beautiful," he breathed, lining his cock up with my entrance. With one smooth thrust, he slid into me, filling me up completely. I moaned loudly, the feeling of being stretched around his thick cock sending pleasure coursing through me.

Noah gripped my hips tightly as he began to fuck me, his thighs slapping against mine with each deep thrust. I cried out with each stroke, feeling his cock hitting all the right spots. He was driving me insane, and I could feel my orgasm building already.

Then, without warning, he pulled out, leaving me empty and whimpering. "Get on your back," he ordered, his voice hoarse with desire.

I did as I was told, lying on the bed and spreading my legs wide for him. Noah laid between my thighs, his eyes dark. He lined himself back up with my pussy and slowly slid into me, groaning as he buried himself to the hilt.

"Wrap your legs around me," he growled, reaching down to grip my thighs. I did as he asked, locking my ankles together behind his back and pulling him deeper into me.

Noah began to move, his hips snapping as he thrust into me. I met his movements, pushing my hips up to meet his with each stroke. We found a rhythm, our bodies moving together as he fucked me thoroughly.

He leaned down, his lips brushing mine as he whispered, "You love my cock, don't you, baby?"

"Yes," I whined, my voice hoarse with need. "I love it.."

Hearing those words seemed to push him over the edge. His eyes darkened further, and he grabbed my throat with one hand, squeezing gently as he continued to thrust into me. His other hand reached down to rub my clit in circles, his fingers slippery with my arousal.

"That's it, baby, cum for me," he growled, his voice deep and rough. "I want to feel you squeeze my cock."

His dirty words sent me spiraling over the edge, and I cried out as my orgasm ripped through me. My pussy clenched around Noah's cock, and I felt him throbbing inside me as he found his own release, his warm cum filling me up.

We lay there for a moment, catching our breath, our bodies still connected. Then, with a soft smile, Noah leaned down and kissed me gently. "I’m not done with you," he murmured against my lips. This is gonna be fun.

[hueningsloverr]

౨ৎ kiss her you fool !

pairing: established relationship!beomgyu x reader summary: dating beomgyu was rocky, simply because he didn't know how to kiss you. or how to ask. or when. luckily, he had his friends to guide him through it. word count: 1.0k extra: inspired by kids that fly's 'kiss her you fool'! apart of my valentines day series

beomgyu was not one to do things simply because it was asked of him. he 'marched to the beat of his own drum', or so his mom always told him growing up. and while it was his best quality, it was also his fatal flaw.

"no, we haven't kissed yet." he groaned, throwing his head back on his pillow as kai and taehyun laughed at him. it was an embarrassing thing to admit. six months dating, and he still hadn't worked up the courage to ask to kiss you.

he'd never kiss you without asking. his mom had raised him 'right'. and soobin would kill him if he tried.

kai continued snickering, even after beomgyu had practically rocket launched his pillow at the younger teen.

kai of all people was not one to laugh at others romantic endeavours, not with the state of his own love life.

"you gotta just ask man!" taehyun howled, falling back on himself as he clutched his sides, laughing so loudly beomgyu worried his parents would hear.

"you try to have a significant other!" beomgyu shot back, "a partner, who at that, is the prettiest person alive!"

kai's voice held a mocking tone, and then it was taehyuns turn to harass the boy. "it can not be that hard man!" kai giggled, as if he was a teenage girl on the phone. "just be like, hey, your lips and my lips would make an awe- ow! taehyun!"

taehyun grinned, turning his attention back to beomgyu. "the idiot's not wrong. just be polite. she's probably waiting for you to kiss her."

bviously, beomgyu was aware of that fact. he had long since stopped making excuses of his behalf, at this point it was simply a lack of guts. he had the rest of his life to live, so what if he embarrassed himself once in high school?

"don't be afraid dude," kai chimed in, and taehyun had half a mind to tell the teen to shut it. yet, kai was kai. he always made somewhat decent points at the end of the day. "dreams aren't found, they're made."

taehyun cackled, an exasperated, unbelievable, cackle. "shut up man!" he laughed, but beomgyu drowned out his younger two friends. they both were right.

quickly grabbing his phone, he texted you to meet him outside your house in 10 minutes. and with that he set off.

"i'll be back in a bit, you guys can leave whenever you want." he mumbled to his friends as he grabbed his coat and scarf off of his desk chair and sped out the door.

kai and taehyun were left completely clueless, but still giggling like mad men.

a quick walk through the park by your side, you practically freezing the entire way, was all beomgyu needed for a confirmation. he knew in most situations in life, he had endless attempts, yet somehow in that one moment it felt like he only got one chance.

stopping briefly at the steps to your house, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. he had half the mind to check it, but then he noticed you walking away.

"hey," beomgyu called out, his hand loosely reaching to grasp your wrist. it felt like every cliche moment in a movie ever. you always liked watching those movies this time of year. when the snow piled up so high outside it was a surprise school wasn't canceled, and the only thing left to do was watch movies.

"hm?" you grinned, turning back to look at your boyfriend. the streetlamp above gave you an etherial glow, and beomgyu felt his heart stop beating for a moment.

"don't go just yet." he whispered, inching closer. "there's more i want to say - more i want to do."

a soft look of surprise coated your face, and suddenly it was far too hot for it to be the middle of february. "what was it you wanted to say?" you mused, leaning closer to your boyfriend.

he felt his brain shut down.

there was no where to go.

no place to hide.

life presented him with two options, and neither seemed truly appealing. he could either let you go, or ask.

"i really like you," he blurted out, noticing how antsy you had become. you looked as uncomfortable as he felt - how fitting. "and i was wondering, you know, since we've been going out for so long…"

you leaned in again, as if following so closely behind his words you could guess what would come next.

"can i kiss you?"

your words caught him off guard. it wasn't supposed to go down like this - he was supposed to be the one to ask. it was supposed to be his romantic gesture.

beomgyu felt as the heat rushed to his cheeks, and he felt like all his defences had been knocked down. "oh," he managed to let out, eyes wide yet still so soft. all he could do was nod; a hesitant nod that said it all.

'i've been waiting for this'.

and before he could react, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his in a gentle yet determined kiss. his heart skipped a beat as he melted into the embrace, his mind going blank as he lost himself in the moment.

pulling away, beomgyu let out a soft gasp, and he watched in awe as you melted away from his grasp, up the steps, and into the warmth of your home. he could slowly feel the world around him shift back into focus, and the cold breeze began to penetrate his jacket.

it was still february after all.

and so, as he made his way back home, stumbling like an idiot drunk in love, he finally remembered to check his phone. his home screen was littered with notifications - mostly mundane things like a 394 day streak on duolingo to uphold, and pinterest board recommendations - but the most prominent was the oldest.

a simple text from taehyun that read "kiss her you fool!"

authors note: part 3!!! i've yet to have my first kiss... this may be wildly inaccurate. it most likely is. idk. also this is so late oh my god i meant to post it on like tuesday or wednesday but kept rewriting the kiss part😭

©2024 — all rights reserved to hueningsloverr , please do not plagiarise or translate any of my work

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

I know your probably not going to see this since you have so many asks but I’m going to try anyway

Could you do relationship headcanons with the Elden ring girls?

(Whatever ones is up to you since I want to see which ones you will pick)

Oh ye of little Faith Anon!

Also, I decided to go the angst route for Marika and Melina so fair warning for that.

Now, since you gave me free rein to choose… My Wish Is My Command!

Malenia was not much of a talker.

She liked her alone time.

That said, she did like listening to others talk on occasion.

She especially liked listening to people talking about normal, everyday life.

It was a guilty pleasure of hers.

To hear about the simple things.

Hugging those they care for close.

Kissing the ones they love.

All the things she rarely ever felt.

But then, one day, she met you.

It was a complete accident, something that, if she had stepped on a different piece of the cobble path, never would’ve happened.

While she was walking the path, her head in the clouds, she caught her still flesh and bone foot on a broken piece of stone.

She, of course, was able to return herself to being upright near instantly.

Though… not without accidentally smacking you in the nose with her prosthetic.

Her unalloyed golden metal prosthetic.

Needless to say, you were bleeding.

Badly.

And Malenia, for all her grace and strength on the battlefield, was absolutely horrible when it came to people.

So, Malenia being the expert in Diplomacy she is, grabbed you by the back of your collar, and dragged you off without a word, nose still absolutely pouring blood.

And that is how you got here.

Sitting on a chair in THE Malenia’s room, pieces of cotton stuck up your nose as the red headed woman paced the room, not saying a single word.

This was an absolutely surreal experience.

An actual Demi-God, someone who could cut down an army with ease, had just accidentally wacked you in the face, dragged you into her room, and was pacing the floor like she had just committed some grand, unforgivable crime.

It was just a bloody nose, not even broken.

She looked like she was about to collapse from stress.

You were pretty sure she was about to wear a hole into the ground with how fast she was pacing.

“U-uh Lady Malenia?” you tentatively asked.

The red head went rigid and turned to you in a manner more akin to an automaton from the Academy Of Raya Lucaria than a humanoid creature.

“I am Malenia, Blade Of Miquella.” Malenia declared without room for response or retort, leaving the room in complete and utter silence as you looked directly into the helm she wore.

It was now that a knock on the door rang through the room, and a wave of relief ran through both parties.

“Malenia! I heard you dragged someone into your room! Did you get a Consort and not tell your favorite sibling!?” a joyous and booming voice cried through the door.

“Consort? Me?” you muttered in confusion.

“Miquella is my favorite sibling.” Malenia stated bluntly, seemingly causing a physical impact to the person on the other side.

“Then your biggest Sibling!” the voice declared joyously.

“Radahn is my biggest sibling.” Malenia stated in the same tone of voice, causing direct harm to the speaker.

“I am going to smite you with lightning.” the voice declared in an oddly happy voice despite the very real threat.

“You can try, Godwyn. I will simply cut the lightning.” Malenia declared.

The door was promptly thrown open and the giant blonde man in the doorway shouted.

“YOU CAN’T CUT LIGHTNING!!!”

“Has anyone tried it before?” Malenia asked.

“No-” Godwyn began before getting cut off.

“Then I shall be the first, and I shall succeed.” Maleina declared in her eternally even tone of voice.

Godwyn moved to advise against this ill fated endeavor but then, he noticed the guest in the room.

He looked at you for a few moments, perplexed, before walking over to Malenia and dragging her out of the room by her ear.

A few moments later, a young Blonde poked his head into the room.

“Excuse me, but have you seen my sister Malenia?” the blonde asked.

“Uhm… you just missed her. Lord Godwyn dragged her off somewhere.” you responded.

“Hmm… I see. Thank you.” the blonde muttered before walking off.

Then, you heard the stomping of running feet and the blonde shot into the room, shouting.

“WHO IN THE ERDTREE ARE YOU!?”

This was how you met the children of Queen Marika The Eternal.

The Demi-Gods that are feared and respected by all.

Malenia, The Blade Of Miquella, a woman of impossible strength, grace, and to you, beauty. She was also pathetically inept when it came to social interaction.

Godwyn The Golden, a man of immense power and lauded as one of the greatest diplomats in history. He had a habit of saying terrifying things with a happy voice and a smile.

Miquella The Unalloyed, a being of unparalleled intelligence and magical power. He tended to have his head stuck in the clouds.

It was such an odd thing to see.

Especially considering your new job that you received as an apology for Maleina accidentally striking you.

You were now the official “Cultural Examiner”.

Also known as, the person who Malenia pays to hear talk about the day to day life of those who lived normal lives.

If there is one thing Marika needs in her life, it is a singular fixed point, an unmoving and unbreaking rock in a rough sea.

That was all she asked you to be, and the only thing she would ever request of you.

To be someone to lean on when she needed it.

She wasn’t supposed to catch feelings for you.

She wasn’t supposed to spend her nights thinking about you.

She wasn’t supposed to start to see you as more than an advisor.

But, she did.

And for years, she suffered for it.

She said she would only ever ask one thing of you, and that is an oath she intended to keep.

No matter how much she wished to ask you what you thought of her as only you had ever truly seen.

A person.

No matter how much she wished to ask you who if anyone you liked.

She occasionally caught herself thinking of you telling her that she was the one you liked.

She wanted to ask you if she was a fool for acting like a young love sick maiden in her private moments.

She knew she was.

But… she still liked to have her dreams.

Even if the nightmares were far more numerous.

Still, even if you felt the same feelings for her… could she even reciprocate them?

The blood on her hands… Her chains to the Golden Order… Her own innumerable sins… she couldn’t force that on you.

And yet… the want to simply sit with you and mumble and grumble about whatever minor inconveniences came to mind overpowered her again and again and again.

She knew she needed to stop on the off chance you reciprocate her feelings since she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from saying yes.

But she couldn’t.

And that was the only thing related to you she didn’t know how to feel about.

Melina The Kindling Maiden

Melina was born to burn.

She knew that from the moment she could comprehend the world.

Her existence was to find a Tarnished without a maiden, serve that role, and then when they reached the mountaintops, use herself as the match to burn the Erdtree.

Not once had this ever bothered her.

But now, as she stood on the edge of the forge with you, her Tarnished, on the ground behind her…

She wished she had a little bit more time with you.

To watch the person who charmed her with their strange antics and many eccentricities.

To eat Prawn with you and Boggart.

To sit by a grace and wait out the rain.

To spend the night under the stars.

To simply spend the day as the two of you always did.

But… Now that was but a sweet dream.

There was only one thing to do before she burned.

She knew better than to turn and face you.

But, that did nothing to stop the tears pricking at her eyes.

“Torrent, please, I beg of thee. Watch over My Tarnished as best you can.”

“Beloved Ranni, you know all someone would have to do to ruin that oh so perfect persona you have cultivated is to knock your books out from under you.” You told the witch with a cheshire grin.

“I have no idea what you mean, I have no mask to wea- FATHERS BALLSACK!!!” Ranni squealed as a single book was removed from the stack, sending her tumbling right into your arms.

“There she is! Ranni, the one whose mouth your mother had to wash out with soap more than anyone can ever hope to count.” you told the doll-like woman with a teasing grin as you twirled around with her.

“Wh- You son of a-” Ranni began to say, preparing to go on a tirade before stopping.

That was exactly what you wanted out of her.

For her to prove your point.

Instead-

“Ack! Cold! Cold!” you began to cry as Ranni wrapped her arms around you.

Ranni was never the type to be above pettily pranking someone.

Especially not you.

After all, if you were to be her Consort you had to know what you were getting into.

[mollyrolls]

hey cupid! ☆ iwaizumi h. x reader

5. Maturity

warnings: language, implied kms joke, iwaizumi might be a little ooc but its fine, lmk what i miss

an: ignore timestamps they’re misleading

prev. / mlist. / next

taglist is open!

☆ this chapter contains written content! ☆

Iwazumi was finally safe. He had made his peace, started to get over whatever weird spell she’d put on him, and was ready to forget her forever.

He's decided to take the road of Maturity. Not letting the little things get to him, but focused on supporting himself and his friends.

And he's going to support himself with a large iced americano to cure the worst hangover known to man.

He tipped the barista extra today. He's not bothered by his friends using twitter over private messages. Even the song playing in the cafe was pleasant. Maturity really is the way to live a life.

“Iwaizumi?”

No. Nope, nope, nope. He must be dreaming. No, not dreaming. Having a nightmare. The only way he would be hearing this voice again is in his nightmares. Reliving the worst night of his life on an endless loop. 

“Iwaizumi, I know it's you.”

Okay, great. She’s here and unavoidable. He takes a minute to think over his options. Maturely.

Continue to ignore her and let her run her mouth until he leaves (promising). 

Talk to her and get her to leave him alone (unlikely).

Pretend he doesn’t know her and say she has the wrong person (embarrassing for both parties. Not worth it).

As he's pondering this she lets out a defeated sigh. Somehow, without even trying, he’s won. 2-0 Iwaizumi, and it's all because of Matur-

“I’m sorry.”

He blanks, not expecting those words to even be in her vocabulary. Realizing she's not joking, he doesn’t fight the self satisfied smirk that spreads across his face as he finally looks up at her.

“For what?”

She clearly doesn’t want to be doing this. Even less so now that he's got leverage on her.

“For whatever you want. I’m sorry for talking, I guess, even though if I hadn’t then-”

Clearly, Maturity was a one-way street.

“Yeah, I’m not doing this.”

He shouldn’t be surprised really, rehashing an argument for the sake of it seems like it’s right up her alley. He goes back to his phone.

“Wait. Just hear me out.”

He almost laughs. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you care about Bokuto and his happiness. I think. I don’t really know though, you don’t seem to have that much of a heart at all.”

God. It’s like she went back to the time of his birth, got a manual for ‘how to annoy the ever-living shit out of Iwaizumi Hajime’, and studied it cover to cover. “If you want me to hear you out this is not the way to start.”

“Fine. God. You care about Bokuto and want him to be happy with Akaashi, right?”

He nods.

“And I care about Akaashi and want him to be with Bokuto. We have a common goal.”

“What are you getting at?” He knows what she’s suggesting, and he’s thought about it himself. It makes him nauseous but the life of Maturity demands it. 

“If they ask us to come along with them again, can we both agree to be civil? You don’t have to like me because I certainly don’t like you, but we can’t argue through the whole thing again.” 

Even in her peace treaty, she can’t resist getting a jab in. She truly might be the death of him.

But Hajime can also see that she means it. She must really care about Akaashi to be putting herself- and him- through this.

He pauses, lets her sweat for a minute. “Fine. On one condition.”

She lets out an obnoxiously loud sigh and gestures for him to continue. Any growing respect he had for her is immediately squashed. 

“I won’t pick any fights as long as you give them some space to talk.”

He might be being overly cruel to her, knowing full well that he plans on being cordial. But this seems to get to her in the same way that anything she does gets to him, and he can’t resist.

She physically bites her tongue twice. The internal debate going in her head almost makes him laugh because she has no poker face and Hajime can see how badly she wants to push back.

“Iced Americano for Iwaizumi?”

Wait. That’s not her voice.

It seems she unknowingly sucked him into a time warp. He’s almost late for class, and he can tell by the panic on hers that she’s in a similar situation. If his coffee hadn’t been called, they might have been talking there for the rest of the day.

“Um, I have to go. We can discuss your…condition later.”

She’s gone within the second. Iwaizumi picks up his coffee, feeling overly cold in his clammy hands, and waits just a bit too long before leaving too.

fun facts!

☆ akaashi is kinda regretting ever asking Bokuto out because he's never fought with yn so much and its getting to him.

☆ tsukki and kenma are TIREDDDD. they know something went down and are considering real threats to get yn to spill.

☆ bokuto has fully doxxed a hangout spot once because he constantly forgets he's semi twitter famous

and most importantly,

☆ having to tell yourself you're being mature is the most mature thing out there! yep! an: i know the end is rushed but i don't want to fix it sorry

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@chemiru, @whosmarjj, @seroh, @skrunkly-soaked-rat, @yessimo,

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[daisykihannie]

𝙳𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍 | 𝙱.𝙲

Pairing: Sub!Chan x Amab!Reader

Warnings: sensory deprivation, smut, Nsfw, established relationship, unprotected sex, anal sex, spanking, Chan cries just a little, begging, rough and soft??, manhandling, slight bondage, i love when men whimper, etc.

A/N: i was honestly really trying to keep this shorter and mostly just the smut but i’ve now learned that i can’t help but write my fics in detail:/

Today was extremely exhausting and Chan honestly just wanted to have his brain clock out and bed rot for the next 8-10 business days but realistically, that’s not an option. Luckily he had enough mental strength to send you a message to let you know the state he was in. You and Chan have been boyfriends for 4 years now, you both knew each other better than you knew yourselves. That being said, you knew exactly what your boyfriend needed to shut his brain up.

“I’m home.” Chan groaned out, exhaustion heavy in his voice. He noticed the dim lighting in the living room, slipping out of his Vans and walking toward the couch where you were seated with just the lamp next to the sofa on. Chan wasted no time in straddling your lap as he took his seat on your thighs and wrapped himself around your rigid form like a koala. “Welcome home my love~” you purred out and began to drag your fingernails across his scalp in a soothing manner similar to the way you’d scratch a cat on the head.

Chan nuzzled his nose against your throat, breathing in the smell of your cologne and humming in satisfaction. “Have i ever told you how incredible you smell?” chan mumbled, refusing to remove his nose from your neck. “hmmmm i don’t think you have baby.” you teased, knowing he tells you multiple times a day just how much he loves how you smell. “mmm well, you smell so fucking sexy, it’s insane.” chan retorted softly, pushing his nose further into the skin of your neck.

You two stayed there in a comfortable silence for a little while longer before you used your free hand that wasn’t scratching Chan’s scalp to dig into your little chest of secrets next to the couch to fish out the special sound proof headphones you used specifically for times like this. They made it very difficult to hear anything, even without any music playing, and genuinely impossible to hear with music playing. You removed your hand from Chan's black locks, earning a whine of protest from the man still clinging to you like his life depended on it. “Shhhh don’t get all bratty on me just yet baby.” you sighed as you slipped the white headset to rest comfortably on his head.

At the realization of the head set and the muffled and very very faint noises that could make it through, he pulled away from your neck and looked at you with giant puppy dog eyes, hoping his suspicions are right about what you’re about to do. You gave him a soft, fond smile and showed him the blind fold you had also pulled out. If Chan was a dog, his tail would be wagging at 100 miles a minute right now.

It wasn’t very often that Chan was able to fully let go like this. He was someone who was too focused on his partners pleasure to really allow himself to give over his control and submit to you fully like he did with sensory deprivation. Often times he’d end up in his head too much and over think everything if he wasn’t as exhausted as he was right now. He needed permission to allow his brain to log out and know he’d be completely and utterly cared for and right now, you were giving him that permission and he was beyond grateful.

You slipped the blindfold over your boyfriend’s eyes, the strap wrapping around the headphones to further keep them in place on his head. You decided it’d be best to go ahead and turn on the playlist for times like this before the next part of the full sensory deprivation experience. Once the music started, Chan started to bob his head gently and rock slightly to the music, allowing himself to begin to let go and drown in what senses he still had.

The next step was removing his ability to touch, two of his five sense already removed from him. You slipped the leather gloves over each of his hands and placed each gloved hand onto his lap, one hand on each thigh. You noticed that his rocking movements had now been focused to his hips as he softly began to grind his half-hard cock against your still flaccid one. A soft groan falling from your lips as you tried to focus back on the task at hand and not how the blood rushed straight to your cock at the feeling of your boyfriend's arousal.

Now that Chan’s hands were gloved, you took out the leather and suede wrist cuffs and began to buckle the material to his left wrist first. Insuring that the cuff was snug enough to almost completely restrict his movements but not so tight that they’d become painful. Once the left wrist was perfect, you moved his arms behind his back, resting his right wrist above the left and pulling the man on your lap forward so his muscular chest was resting against your own, bracing his body weight against you fully now that he couldn’t use his hands to keep himself up.

You placed your chin over his shoulder to peer down the expanse of his back, the muscles rippling and flexing as he tried to continue rolling his hips but the new position didn’t allow much movement. Now that both arms were securely fastened behind his back, you landed a sharp smack to the plush of his ass, a yelp falling from the other male’s lips in response and you could feel Chan’s cock twitch against your stomach where he was braced against you.

You landed a second sharp smack to the same cheek, a whimper leaving your boyfriend’s lips now as he chased the feeling for a moment, the pain and excitement coursing through his veins like a drug. He didn’t know what you were doing and wouldn’t know what was going to happen to him and the thought of being good for you, allowing you to take him apart by every individual thread and fiber of his being just to rebuild him all over again, had his brain feeling like cotton candy as Apartment by BOBI ANDONOV pounded in his ears.

Next thing Chan felt was you sitting him back up, having to flex his abs and his thighs to hold himself up now that his balance was slightly off kilter with his hands behind his back. Then, your index and middle finger were pressed to his lower lip, tugging down on the plump, pink, tissue and showing his teeth slightly. Saliva began to pool from his mouth and wet your fingers before he let his jaw go slack, opening his mouth to you like the good boy he is.

You took this opportunity to drag your fingers along his pearly white teeth for a moment, watching as they glistened beautifully under the dim light of the lamp as you dragged his saliva along the smooth surfaces. You added more pressure to your finger tips as you dragged them across the slick surface of his gums, taking your time to feed Chan’s slight oral fixation before your next step. You languidly dragged your fingers across the wet pink muscle that was Chan’s tongue, letting him lazily lap at your digits, coating them thoroughly in his spit.

When you removed your fingers from the wet cavern, Chan let out a disgruntled whine, the empty feeling in his mouth almost had him crying. It just wasn’t enough, he needed more, so so much more from you. He needed you to touch him, use him, take over his senses in every sense of the word. He needed you to melt him down into a puddle and fuck him dumb. You were going to use the gag but he always sounds too pretty in the rare times he allows himself to fully submit to you that you couldn’t do that to yourself.

Chan was now completely deprived of most of his senses, smell being the only one he’s left with. You always allowed him to have his sense of smell considering how much he adored the way you smelled, losing the other senses only made your scent that much more overwhelming and satisfying to your boyfriend. Now that your hands had left Chan’s body, soft whines and whimpers left his lips as he wiggled on your thighs, quickly becoming desperate.

While Chan was struggling on your lap, you took the chance to pull the waistband of your sweats down. Your cock sprang free and recoiling off your stomach and leaving a small wet patch on the black fabric of your muscle tee from the beads of precum that were leaking from the reddening tip.

Seeing your muscular, domineering, boyfriend become a whining and whimpering mess for you and only you was definitely doing things to you. The way no one would be able to imagine THE Bang Chan submitting like this, becoming nothing but a submissive puddle of need for no one but you had your head spinning every time you made him like this.

After tucking the waistband underneath your balls, your hands gripped Chan’s defined hip bones and leaned forward, moving his body off your lap and allowing him to get his feet underneath himself and securely on the floor. Now that the both of you were standing, you made quick work of removing his jeans and underwear. You wanted his shirt off too but the fact that his hands were secure behind his back would make the removal impossible.

Grabbing the collar of his black Adidas compression shirt in both hands, you used a considerable amount of strength to rip the fabric apart, tearing the material to shreds until all that was left was the sleeves clinging to his shoulders. The action had Chan letting out a whiny moan, knees threatening to buckle at just how arousing it felt to have his shirt physically ripped off his body.

Now that Chan was sufficiently naked, you spun his body around and pressed your aching cock between his ass cheeks, rocking your hips languidly to drag your length through the flesh, surprised to feel something cold buried there. It had to be a plug, apparently he already prepped for you like the good boy he is. He leaned his head back against you and pushed his ass back to meet your movements with a moan. “P-please… n-need my baby… need you i-inside me” he whimpered, luckily he learned how to control his volume now so he wasn’t screaming but truly whimpering in a low and sultry tone.

You pulled away from your boyfriend, earning a disapproving whine and a slight stomp of his foot when your body heat left him. He was quickly getting more and more desperate as time dragged on, showing just how mentally gone he really was. Chan’s body felt fuzzy, like cotton candy was threaded through his muscles and tendons. The blood in his veins melting the cotton candy into a syrupy goop in his body. Everywhere you touched him felt like fireworks erupted across his skin and every touch was just as unexpected as the last and his brain was melting into the beats that thrummed through the speakers of the headphones as he struggled to keep up.

You dragged just your finger tips in feather light touches across the muscles of his thighs, allowing Chan temporary sensation before you ripped it away again. Dragging your finger tips from his chin, down his throat, and scratching a soft line from his collar bones down to the middle of his sternum. His skin was pale enough that the skin immediately lit up in a pink hue before you were pulling away from him again.

You continued to touch random parts of his body, with no pattern at all so he couldn’t predict your next move. You alternated the pressure of your finger tips from heavy and bruising touches to light and barely there touches. You’d point your tongue to lick his skin occasionally or drag your teeth across his flesh, still keeping every touch unpredictable. “S-stop teasing… please… m-more i-i need more p-please” chan quickly became a stuttering mess from the assault of your sporadic touches.

With a smirk, you watched Chan and admired the way he shuddered as you blew a steady stream of air across the back of his neck, then across his nipples. You watched them pebble up and a long, needy whine left Chan’s lips again. “Please please please… need to be filled please… fuck baby- i can’t take anymore…” he was getting louder now, frustration evident in his voice. You could see tears slip from under the blindfold, painting his cheeks with clear streaks. He was always so pretty when he cried.

You placed a chaste kiss to either cheek, covering the tear tracks as you made your way to be behind him again. With his back facing you and the couch behind you, you took ahold of his hips, digging your nails into the soft skin and leaving crescent shaped marks along the bones on either side. You pulled him into your lap as you sat on the couch, your still leaking cock pressed against his ass and lower back. He yelped at the sudden feeling of falling, feeling safe in your arms again once he was settled in your lap.

“need you so bad Jagi… please please… give it to me? i-i’ve been a good boy” Chan begged, if you hadn’t tormented him enough you’d definitely drag this out a bit more. You couldn’t help it, he just sounded too pretty begging for you but the submissive moans he lets out in this head space are so much sweeter.

Taking out the bottle of lube, you poured a generous amount on your length and used your fist to coat yourself generously. Even though Chan currently had a plug keeping him stretched for you, you still didn’t want to risk hurting him too bad. Removing your hand from yourself, you pushed your index and middle finger against the metal end of the plug and pushing it in just a little further. Chan arched his back and gasped at the pressure as you rocked the plug in and out of him just barely, only enough to feel the change in pressure.

Chan was panting on your lap now as you held his wrists in your free hand and pushed him forward. You were the only thing keeping him from plunging face first into the floorboard as you began to fuck his needy hole with the plug, stretching him repeatedly over the thickest part of the plug before removing it with a pop. He was crying again, needy and desperate as his hole fluttered around nothing and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

Throwing the plug to the side, the metal clattering across the floor loudly as you lined the tip up with his hole again and used your hold on his hands to slam his hips back against yourself so you could immediately bottom out inside of him. A guttural groan leaving your lips at the feeling of his warm walls wrapping around you again. “Fuck! oh my fucking god! yes yes yes yes more please!” Chan was almost screaming as he tried to fuck himself back on your cock but not having any leverage to move himself.

He felt way too good to take your time, both hands finding his hips and holding him up slightly with both his feet planted firmly against the cushions of the couch on either side of you and allowing himself to rest his upper back on one of your shoulders. You immediately began to thrust up into his heat at a brutal pace. The sounds of his screaming and skin slapping together every time your balls slapped against his own mixing into the air of the apartment.

You loved how loud Chan got when he didn’t have a chance to be self conscious about it with the headphones downing out every single sound. You abused his prostate, slamming into the bundle of nerves everytime you buried yourself inside him, just to drag across it as you pulled out. It really didn’t take long for Chan to be drooling and babbling as you fucked him dumb on your cock. “cl-close… please please please let me cum- c-can i cum p-please? fuck please!” Chan begged as his cock twitched painfully against his abs.

You moved one arm from his hip to wrap around his torso to keep him balanced on your shoulder and never slowing down your thrusts. Using your now free hand, you wrapped it around his throbbing cock as he leaked all over your hand. “yes yes yes yes fuck please g-gonna cum-“ Chan’s words began slurring together as you brought him to his high, your hand and his abs getting covered in his warm white ropes of release.

The way he clenched around you when he came had you hissing and groaning as you buried yourself to the hilt again, filling him up with your own release and painting his walls white. You rocked your hips through your climax before Letting Chan slump against you again. You two stayed like that for a moment just panting and catching your breath before you began removing the cuffs, then the blind fold, then the headphones. Chan was still floating through his post-nut bliss, this being the only time you’d be able to smoothly return his senses and not completely overwhelm him.

Chan’s eyes fluttered open again, fully cleaned and both of you wearing clean boxers and wrapped in the comfort of your bed. Chan was curled into your side with his head on your chest. The sound of your heartbeat and the gentle drag of your nails along his scalp being the things to bring him back to earth. The sound of you lazily singing to him allowing the transition to be as smooth as possible.

Noticing Chan stirring in your hold, you placed a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Welcome back my love~” you cooed. “Hi Jagi, thank you for taking care of me” Chan hummed in response. Bliss, love, safety. Those are the things you could make Chan feel so easily and only you were capable of it. Chan was so completely whipped and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[yunjardi]

my heart bel♡ngs to daddy [series]

[young sugar daddy!jake × fem!reader]

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[click here for this series' masterlist to read previous chapters, general warnings, and playlist]

[!!chapter warnings!!: smut [mdni], DADDY KINK, unprotected sex, fingering, handjob, oral, gentle sex, cockwarming, angst, crying, arguing, minor possessiveness (???), mentions of negative body image near the end, some fluff, lmk if i missed anything!]

*sorry for any grammar errors

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-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-

chapter 16: the ugly truth?

"y/n, please, i really do love you," jake begged you breathlessly, "you're seriously such a big part of my life. what would i ever do without a friend like you?"

a friend.

a friend.

friends.

that's what you and jake are, huh?

the bubbly and shocked feeling that took over your body after hearing jake tell you that he loves you quickly fizzled away once jake uttered that 6 letter word.

that stupid 6 letter word.

how were you even supposed to react to this?

well, you reacted the only way your body would let you.

with anger.

"jake, i need you to do something for me, okay?" jake nodded as you took a deep breath inward before continuing, "once you walk out that door, never come back again. don't bother contacting me either because i don't wanna hear it. friends don't do what we do. you led me on, you asshole. now get out."

"y/n, i meant- i-"

"i said i don't wanna hear it!" you raised your voice, helpless tears falling again, "i-i think it's best if you leave now." your voice softened as tears uncontrollably rolled down your face, causing jake to cry too.

"i'm not going anywhere, y/n," jake declared with a stern tone, "i'm not letting you push me away, not after everything we've been through." you scoffed. "after everything we've been through? you're unbelievable, jake. i'm not gonna fall for your pretty-boy antics anymore, so you can forget about all that."

jake was at a loss for words. he'd never seen you be so cold before, not to him, not to anyone.

"listen, let's both just calm down. i know we're both heated right now, and we shouldn't be arguing when we're mad like this and-"

"will you shut up with your preaching and just go already?!" you yelled out in frustration, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a ball and be left alone. you didn't want to face the man who was actively breaking your heart into tiny little pieces any longer.

"fine," jake gave in, not saying another word and simply walking out of your house.

secretly, you wanted him to keep fighting for you even though it wouldn't make sense if he did.

the millisecond you heard the door shut, you immediately began bawling your eyes out.

you had no idea what was gonna happen next, if anything that is.

all you could do is sob helplessly in the same spot he left you in.

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you made sure to sob your eyes until you could no longer feel tears in your eyes before heading to work with heavier makeup than usual to cover your tear-stained skin.

calling your manager beforehand, you let her know that you were able to work from opening to closing for which she was quite pleased to hear.

you needed to be as distracted as possible so that you wouldn't think of jake's pretty, yet also cute, puppy face, and the way his hair flowed whenever he'd turn to look at you, and also-

damn, you were already failing your mission miserably.

you managed to pull yourself together on the bus ride to work and walk into the bar without any trouble.

lucky for you, the bar extra was packed this evening which meant you'd be too busy running around to think about anything besides alcohol and more alcohol.

there was no room to think about how much you missed jake's presence, how much you wanted him to kiss you and tell you that everything was going to be okay, and you definitely weren't thinking about how much you missed the way his scent blinded you whenever he pulled you into an embrace.

it seemed nothing else could gain control over your clouded mind the way jake does. the way that only he could possibly do.

you were so distracted by faded thoughts of him that you nearly spilled drinks multiple times during your shift and nearly dropped a crystal wine glass floor because of how zoned out you were.

luckily, your mishaps were enough to keep you on your toes plus distracted for a teensy amount of time and by the time you checked the clock, customers were already on their way out for closing hours to come.

you volunteered to stay later than usual to lend a hand and clean up around the bar as an excuse to stay away from your thoughts for as long as possible. your manager found it strange, but she was thankful nonetheless to have some extra hands on deck helping out.

waving goodbye to your manager after cleaning tables and counters, you finally exited the building with a deep sigh and began to walk to the bus stop.

as soon as the night time air hit you, you were suddenly plagued with the most extreme wave of loneliness you'd ever experienced. you feared that you would feel lonelier at night because of the jake situation, and you hated that those fears were steadily becoming a reality.

your brain began to run laps as you started to wonder how things could have turned out if you'd been less nit-picky.

maybe you overreacted. maybe you made something out of nothing. maybe everything was your fault.

you couldn't help but sigh.

the walk home from the bus stop was when you finally let all the tears you were holding in pour from your eyes. you almost couldn't see where you were going due to the tears blurring your vision, but you eventually got to your house. your eyes jaded with tears, you turned the corner to enter your house only to be greeted by a figure sitting at your doorstep.

none other than jake.

he simply could not bear the pain of you not being by his side. he was determined to get through to you; whatever it would take, he'd do it ten fold. jake refused to let you go.

ever since you popped into his life, his greatest fear became losing you, and he refused to let that fear become a reality. he swore to himself that he'd do anything and everything to prove himself to you.

"w-what are you doing here?" you questioned jake between sobs, "i though i t-told you to stay away."

"i'm not going anywhere, y/n. hell, i'll sleep out here all night if i have to," jake declared firmly, his bloodshot and teary eyes gleaming in the moonlight, "trust me, you're not getting rid of me that easily." his tone turned slightly sly.

"jake..." you sighed out, "come inside. how long have you been sitting out here?" you asked whilst opening the front door. he shook his head, not wanting to answer as if it wasn't important for you to possess the knowledge of his time camping at your doorstep.

you let him step inside before you, locking the door once you both got inside.

"so, what is it?" you questioned him again with a sigh, "are you here to collect your things or something?" you tried to keep your voice steady, not wanting to show just how badly you were hurting.

"why would i? it's not like i'm never coming back," jake responded with the same stern tone as before, "you told me to leave and never come back, but i know you better than that, y/n. we both know that we're not just gonna let each other slip through our fingertips. well, at least i'm not going to.

you hated the ease that jake had when it came to seeing right through you and/or literally reading your mind.

he always joked that his sixth sense was 'reading y/n's mind,' but it was scarily true, especially in this moment.

pondering on how attentive jake had always been toward you was enough to have you bawling your eyes out again. thinking about all the little things he did for you every since the beginning made your heart feel like it was about to burst.

jake cautiously stepped toward you, testing the waters to see if you'd push him away if he got any closer, but to his surprise, you didn't. he took this as an opportunity to hold you in his arms, and he was relieved that you even let him do so.

he let out the most intense sigh of relief at the feeling of your head falling against his chest, certain that you were able to hear how quickly his heart pounded.

"shh," jake whispered quietly as he held you tightly, "i'm here, princess. don't cry. you're gonna make me start crying again, baby." you simply melted at his touch as he gently rocked you from side to side, comfort rushing through your body. once you calmed down, you were able to wipe your tears away from your eyes and look up at his tear-stained face. the sight of his upset expression made you bury your head back into his chest, a slight guilt creeping up on you from making him cry along with you.

but you began to feel guilt for another unrelated matter.

unfortunately, you were seconds away from ruining the endearing moment because you couldn't help yourself from expressing your thoughts.

"you're all dirty now," you uttered a soft whine as you wiped a few stray tears away from your eyes, "i was all over the bar cleaning up which made me all gross, and now you're probably all dirty now too."

all of jake's clothes were expensive, and knowing that the hoodie he wore most definitely had remnants of unsanitary bar grime, makeup, and tears made you shudder with unease. his cashmere prada sweater would definitely be unforgiving when it came to attempting to get makeup stains cleaned off of the material.

"is that really what you're worried about, silly?" jake asked with a refreshing yet shy smile whilst tilting your chin upward to look up at him. nodding, you felt your face shifting into a pout yet again and wanted to hide your face as a result.

"give me a second to wash up, please?" you gave jake another pout, embarrassed as you wiped the last stray tears away from your face, tears finally coming to a halt.

"only if i'm allowed to join," jake remarked with a cheeky expression, slightly too soon.

"fine."

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you should've seen this coming.

you should've known that you'd be under the warm water, letting it trickle down your skin, getting lost in a make-out session with the man who can't seem to make up his mind.

you could never seem to gain a sense of morality when the subject of the situation is jake.

you let him overtake you physically and mentally.

there was something about seeing you covered in droplets of warm water whilst steam surrounded the two of you that steadily made jake's desire for you grow deeper and more intense.

jake never knew until now that he had a 'thing' for seeing you with body wash suds all over you; it was like he unlocked a new part of his already-filthy brain.

"hey," jake uttered between kisses as his hands explored your soapy body, "everything i said earlier, it was all a misunderstanding. i love you, y/n, i really do. i just got nervous saying it out loud and started talking out of my ass as a result. please trust me when i tell you that i love you so badly."

your kiss with jake deepened, shutting him up before he could say anything else.

you didn't feel like responding, mostly because you didn't know what to say, so you simply kept kissing him as his hands continued to wander themselves around your body, unknowingly making your core heat up.

as soon as things began to wind down, you turned off the water, handing jake a towel as well as taking one for yourself.

upon arriving to your bedroom, the two of you put on some comfortable clothes as if you weren't about to get undressed in the next five minutes.

you two found your way onto the bed, kissing each other on the lips softly until the situation turned more erotic.

"you're so pretty," jake mumbled into your lips, "all mine." you nodded your head at his comment, "yours." jake seemed to be pleased with your response, it becoming more apparent that his boxers were growing tight.

you let your hands feel down his torso until you got lower, and lower, and eventually down to the waistband of his boxers, ready to take them off after only a few short minutes of them being on. jake followed suit, hastily getting your panties off and discarding them onto the nightstand.

continuing the intimate kiss, jake began to rub gentle circles against your sensitive clit whilst you took his hard length into one of your hands, slowly stroking it at the same pace as he touched you. amorous moans were the only sounds filling the room as jake smoothly slipped a finger inside your needy hole. he moved his hand slowly, feeling every bit of your walls against his slender finger as you began to moan helplessly into his mouth, gripping his cock and stroking it a little harder than before. the two of you moaned in tandem, using your hands to please one another until you reached your limits.

"wait," jake quickly broke the kiss, causing you to look at him as he still continued to rub your clit, "i need a taste."

his statement made your face flush red as you let go of his throbbing cock, letting it fall against his toned lower abdomen as he slid his finger out of your pussy, now positioning you comfortably against the headboard.

"don't be shy, princess," jake chuckled at your coy demeanor, "i've seen you before, silly, and i love what i see." he arguably made you more shy once he parted your legs, biting his lip at the sight of your wet cunt. jake wasted no time, going in for a taste half a second later. the feeling of his tongue against your warmth making a moan escape your lips as your fingers tugged on his pretty brown hair.

"fuck, that's so good, daddy," you mewled as his tongue worked wonders against your hole. you could feel the way he smirked against your clit every time he earned a little moan from you. jake practically lived to please you whether you realized it or not. "i need your cock, please, please, please?" you begged as he stuck his tongue into your soaking hole. jake looked up from between your legs, smirking at how needy his tongue made you.

jake positioned you onto your side, wanting to hold you while he fucked himself into you. he held your leg up, stroking his cock a few times before letting his tip enter you. you squirmed at the feeling, letting out a little moan at the feeling of his thick tip passing through you. slowly, he inched his length into you, his breath hitching at the way your walls clenched around him.

"good girl, so tight for daddy," jake breathed out as he began to thrust softly.

you could feel him so deep inside your cunt, your core quickly burning up at the sensation of his tip steadily bumping against your sweet spot.

jake somehow managed to fuck you like a whore whilst holding you like you were his precious princess.

his thrusts were gentle but very affective, making you twitch as you brought your hand down to your clit, wanting badly to reach your climax.

"daddy, right there," you whined quietly as you brought your hand from your clit up to his spare hand, bringing it around to cup one of your boobs. jake moaned at the way you held his hand against your chest, his core tightening and heating up alongside yours. the stimulation was too much. you found yourself cumming around the base of his thick cock, coating his pretty member with your arousal. "such a good girl," jake praised you as he brought his hand down to your lower abdomen, "you're so pretty when you cum for me."

"your turn, jakey," you urged him by reaching down to play with his balls, causing his head to fall back with a loud groan. he had no choice but to fill you up, ropes of cum shooting deep into your pussy as you both moaned at the feeling.

calming down from your orgasms, you two stayed in the position you were in before inevitably falling asleep as jake kept you close to him throughout the entire night as you both slept.

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the morning after, you felt deviously groggy as if you'd gotten drunk the night before.

the first thing you noticed was jake being gone.

for a second your heart shattered yet again, but your drama queen moment was interrupted when you noticed a handwritten letter on the bedside table.

my lovely princess,

i had to head home early this morning, princess, please don't alarmed by me not being there. i'm not sure if you're working this evening, but it would be great if you could stop by my place beforehand if you are.

-jakey <3

you let out a sigh of relief knowing that jake didn't leave out of pettiness or anything like that.

you rolled out of bed earlier than you would've liked to so that you could go and visit jake before heading to your shift. you couldn't help but wonder why he wanted you to be there. shrugging it off, you quickly got changed into your work uniform, the usual tight and cropped button-up that you barely had buttoned, and a short skirt.

after getting into your work clothes, you put on a significantly less amount of makeup than yesterday before feeding the fish and slipping on a pair of pretty black heels that were easy to walk in.

and you, of course, couldn't forget to bring (one of) your favorite bags that, of course, jake bought for you. since you believed that your recent fight with jake was now behind the both of you, you felt comfortable with using the clothes he'd gifted you throughout your time together.

feeling thankful for the fact that you made up with jake, it was now time to head to his place.

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after the lengthy train journey to jake's house, you walked up to his door and rang the fancy doorbell, waiting for him to come to the door.

you were greeted with a soft kiss from a handsome-as-always jake before he looked you up and down, seeming surprised and shocked at your skimpy work clothes as if he hadn't seen them before.

i mean come on, he literally met you while you were wearing these clothes.

"here," jake reached over to you, buttoning your shirt up higher and practically trying to cram your boobs back into your shirt in the process. he could've sworn they'd gotten bigger, but maybe it was just his dirty imagination. "much better," he sighed with relief. you couldn't help but giggle at his antics; you never saw the day where he'd but buttoning your shirt up.

"you're so silly, puppy," you chuckled as you gazed into his sparkly eyes, completely entranced by his handsome face.

you two stood there, your arms around his neck and his around your waist until you were brutally interrupted by a loud "ahem!"

startled, your head snapped in the direction in which the voice came from.

you couldn't believe your eyes.

"jake, w-what's going on here?" you questioned him with urgency as you stepped away from him, losing physical contact.

it had been so long since you've seen her face that for a second you believed that your eyes were playing tricks on you.

there she was, stood right in front of you.

the girl from the bar.

"y/n, just give me a chance to explain myself," jake begged to which you motioned for him to go on as you tried not to roll your eyes, "i just thought that maybe by bringing you both here, you'd bring this drama to a close, call a truce or something, you know?"

"you're joking, right?" you questioned him a second time, feeling like you were about to lose your mind, "there's no drama that needs to be 'closed,' and i don't appreciate the fact that you're bringing me face-to-face with someone who belittled me for months and went on to physically assault me. there is no drama; she's just- she's- a bitch! that's what she is, and i never want to see her again, jake!" your tone was firm, clear, and serious until you panicked after calling her a bitch. you couldn't help but feel your stomach fall into the depths of hell as you tried to hold back tears.

"now just who the fuck do you think you are, y/n?" she began aggressively moving closer to where you and jake were standing, causing your body to tense up, her knowing your name while you didn't even know hers making you fear her presence even more, "you- you're the bitch in this situation, so don't you get it twisted! why are you in jake's life in the first place? all you've done is take up all his time while you sit around and spend his money all while ruining his reputation! before you were around, he dedicated his whole life to his family's business, and once you waltzed in, he started wasting his time taking care of you like a liability. you're ruining him whether you want to admit it or not!"

her words brought you to a standstill. why did she seem to know so much about you and jake's relationship? more importantly, why does she think she has the right to say these things? more, more importantly, why hasn't jake said a single word?

"who are you to say any of that?" you blurted out furiously, "why are you so concerned about what we're doing? just mind your business! none of this would be happening if you just decided to leave him alone! leave us alone while you're at it! blaming me for random shit isn't going to change a thing; jake and i both know what's going on between him and i, and that's none of your concern. leave me out of this."

trying to remain calm, you took a deep breath only for her to start coming closer to a point where you could smell her flowery perfume.

"his business is my business," she stated firmly, looking into your soul via your eyes, "you better believe and internalize when i say that you're a no-good, useless commoner who could only dream of living the life we do. just because you think you're in cahoots with jake doesn't mean you're gonna snake your way into his life, you got that? you're just a bit of fun for him, someone he can use for a little while before he realizes that you're just a pathetic commoner who he shouldn't associate with. god, when will you realize that you're just an object that he can put his arm around and fuck when he has nothing else to do?"

at this time, you wished that your ears were deceiving you; you truly couldn't believe that anyone could say something as cruel as that seemingly without feeling any shame or guilt.

you also couldn't believe that you were basically having a cat-fight with another woman over a man. you never ever thought you'd get to this point, but jake... he just means so much to you to a point where you couldn't bear the thought of someone trying to take him away from you. god you felt pathetic for letting a guy take control of your emotions like this, but you couldn't help yourself; jake was so precious to you.

"soyeon, that's enough!" jake suddenly spoke up, shocking both of you.

well, at least now you finally learned her name after all this time.

"i'm not just gonna sit here and let you say disrespectful things to y/n! she did nothing wrong, and i'm sick of you thinking that she did. she's not ruining anything, and she's especially not ruining me! just leave her and i alone and find someone else."

"seriously, why did you bring her here?" you asked jake quietly, "you knew she wasn't going to be civil about this."

"y/n," jake looked into your eyes as he spoke, "i really thought things would be settled. in hindsight, i should've seen this coming, but i never meant to hurt you by doing this."

she seemed to smirk at the way you finally began to tear up.

"well you did," you spoke out, gently wiping your waterline to avoid messing up your makeup, "i honestly don't know how much more i can take. you told me that you loved me last night; was it all a lie? were you just sweet-talking me? i don't know what you want anymore, jake."

at this point, jake's feelings were as clear as mud.

"look at me. please don't cry," jake begged, wanting so desperately to wipe your tears away, soyeon watching the situation from just a few paces away.

"see, there he goes again," her voice making you tense up again, "taking care of you like a child. it's sad to watch, really. you're only stressing him out by acting like this, so go take your tears somewhere else-"

"haven't we heard enough from you already?!" jake raised his voice at her, "look, if you can't suck it up and leave her alone, then get out and never show your face around her nor i ever again!"

"how could you say that, jake?" she began crying out, "if it weren't for her, things would've played out perfectly! if it weren't for her, we'd be married!"

"m-married?" you managed to speak out as you looked over at jake in disbelief. after that, you couldn't get another word out, only mustering up the courage to take your phone and wallet out of the bag you brought with you (that was, of course, from jake) and leave it on a chair before walking out the door.

no matter how many times jake called your name, you couldn't find the courage to turn around. hearing the words that she said made your entire world crumble around you.

marriage? is that why he invited you to his house to meet her formally?

whatever.

you didn't want to think about it anymore.

you wished that jake's front yard and driveway wasn't such a strenuous walk because you could still hear him calling your name endlessly, begging you to come back.

"let her go, jake," you heard soyeon's loud and mocking voice, "she doesn't understand this lifestyle, and she never will."

maybe she was right. maybe you'd never understand because you weren't born into a rich and noble family like they were.

you couldn't hear much else once you got to the end of the excruciatingly long driveway, only being able to hear a loud "get out" that you presumed came from jake.

after finally making it out of his residence, you took a second to tell your boss that something came up and that you couldn't come in after all. luckily, she was understanding and thankfully didn't make you explain what went on which was a relief.

at that, you took your sad ass back home and planned to stay there for the next couple of days.

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"that's absolutely insane," yeji's jaw dropped over the phone.

you decided to call her and tell her the sequence of events because, come on, you can't hide anything from your best friend.

"and i'm a wreck over it," you admitted lowly as you spoke into the phone, "i think i just need some time to myself, you know? after all, i've spent virtually all my time with him since we met, so maybe some time apart will do us some good."

"who knows, maybe he'll finally make up his mind," yeji shrugged before letting you go, reminding you that you could call her any time no matter what.

you sighed softly once the call ended, feeling more alone than ever.

stupidly, you decided to open up his designated drawer in your bedroom where he kept some clothes and put on one of his hoodies. the smell of his clothes only made your heart shatter into even smaller pieces as you curled up on your bed in hopes that you could get some sleep, your eyes sore and tired from crying.

a sudden panic filled your body once you heard the sound of your front door being unlocked, causing you to jolt up from your bed.

"y/n, are you home? it's just me," you heard a familiar voice call out to you from the living room. you peeked from underneath your covers to see jake standing before you, holding out his hand for you to grab it, but you refused.

as much as you wanted to curl up in bed with jake and act like everything was dandy, simply seeing his face made you start crying like a baby.

jake's heart shattered into a million pieces at the sight of you crying.

he did this.

he fucked up.

and he was unsure if he could do anything to fix it.

"g-get out," you managed to stutter through your tears, "y-you're a liar; you d-don't love m-me. s-shouldn't you be g-getting ready f-for a w-wedding with h-her or s-something?"

"for fuck's sake, y/n, i'm not marrying her!" jake raised his voice at you unintentionally, "i don't even want her in my life, so what makes you think that i'd do anything of the sort?" you could only let out sniffles in response, letting tears trickle down your face as jake slowly approached you.

upon seeing you up close, he noticed that you were clad in one of his hoodies which only made his heart soften even more. he couldn't stop himself from climbing into your bed and sitting next to you, his back against the headboard as he looked down at you.

you turned away from him, not wanting him to see your puffy, tear-stained face.

"is it because she's prettier than me?" you asked, your emotions suddenly spilling out, "because her figure is better than mine? or maybe how her hair always looks perfect? is it the way that she always dresses up no matter where she goes? or how you and her probably have a lot more in common in a sense that you two both come from noble and rich families? if you really think i'm an unattractive nobody just say it."

you couldn't see it, but jake's face was in a state of shock, absolutely refusing to believe that your mind came up with all of those ideas.

"you don't really think that, right?" jake asked softly, getting his answer from the way that you stayed still and silent, "princess, how could i ever? don't you know that i only have eyes for you? please, look at me." you felt jake's warm hand meet your shoulder, helping you turn your body to face him.

you sat up against the headboard next to him, your eyes glistening as you looked into his eyes that seemed to be saddened upon finding out what was going on in the depths of your mind. jake couldn't help but stop and wonder how long you'd been feeling that way, and it caused a sinking feeling to bubble up within him.

"if there's one thing i want you to know right now, it's that i think you're the most gorgeous woman i've ever laid my eyes upon," jake declared, pulling you closer and closer, "i don't care what you say, i don't care if you disagree because this is my truth." jake eventually pulled you close enough to where you were sat on his lap, your forehead against his while he lowly mumbled sweet nothings to you.

"you know, ever since i first put my hands on you, i never wanted to touch anyone else," jake admitted in a whisper as his hands began to travel around your waist, "even the thought of being in this position with anyone else makes me sick to my core."

you let jake's hands feel all over you as you felt his obvious hard growing underneath you, letting a small whimper pass through your lips.

some would argue that your relationship with jake was in too fragile of a state to be intimate with each other, but you couldn't disagree more; you needed to feel jake in the most intimate and vulnerable way possible.

"please," you whined in a whisper, jake knowing exactly what you were asking for and following suit.

in the blink of an eye, you let jake slip his hard cock inside you, his hands still wandering around your waist as he pushed his hoodie off your body. you let out quiet moans as goosebumps formed all over your body from his touch. the combination of the slow movements of your hips against his along with the way his hands ghosted over your chest was enough to send your body into a frenzy.

not wanting to rush the pleasure, you slowed the movement of your hips to focus on jake's beauty.

you took time to adore the way his lips looked against your chest as he left gentle pecks along your skin, the way he ran his fingers through your hair, the way his eyes would meet yours, causing you to become shy.

"see how beautiful you are?" jake began, his lips finding their way back onto your skin, "i couldn't even imagine anyone else who i'd give myself to almost every goddamn chance i get. i want you all the time, you have no idea." his breathing slowed down as you began to kiss his soft lips.

it's impossible.

he's impossible.

jake sim is impossible not to fall in love with.

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a/n: sorry this one is so long and isn't exactly an easy read. i hope you still enjoyed it anyway and are looking forward to the next one <3 ily all and tysm for being super patient with this series. i love it so much and don't want to give up on it, so your support really helps <3

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