#I haven’t worked all that much and this the first time I am working full time

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈, 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

— pairing; itoshi sae x reader  

— summary; in which you and sae meet again in japan after a messy breakup in spain. set in the blue lock manager au.

— notes; please donate to my kofi if you like my work. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ It’s not really something you like to broadcast, how you and Sae were close when you were in Spain with your parents for that brief, wonderful period of time. While he honed his skills with football, you would balance your studies while helping out at Re Al.

❋ Things had been so simple back then. Late-night walks in Madrid, your fingers intertwined with his. Sneaking kisses in quiet corners, away from prying eyes. Sharing popsicles and everything else. Sae was cold to the rest of the world, his softness reserved entirely for you.

❋ You were each other’s first everything — first kiss, first love, first heartbreak.

❋ Some part of you had to have known that this was only temporary, considering how often your parents travel for work. But it still comes as a shock to you when you parents abruptly decide to return to Japan to help fund the Blue Lock project.

❋ And Sae, so full of potential. Sae, whose career is finally taking off. You aren’t about to let him leave it behind; and Sae, too driven, too focused on his dreams, wasn’t about to throw it all away and return to Japan either. Not like this. Not for you.

❋ You hadn’t expected to see him at the airport to see you off. Sae’s expression was closed off, and it was like the two of you were strangers once again, the distance and silence already stretching endlessly between you. As if your relationship had never existed in the first place.

❋ The breakup was messy, yet silent. Both of you knew instinctively that this was the end. And just before Sae left without looking back, his final words to you were, “If you’re going, don’t expect me to wait.”

❋ The last image you have of him is his retreating figure, back rigid, leaving as the words die on your lips.

❋ And that was that.

❋ You’d returned to Japan with your parents to work as a manager at Blue Lock (Ego had agreed to take you in under the promise of free labour, apparently). Ego’s lectures aren’t fun, but you’re actually learning something under him and Anri when you’re not being driven insane by a group of rowdy, immature teenaged boys.

❋ You try really hard not to think about Sae. Even if the occasional headline reminds you of his burgeoning career in Europe. But the memory of him is a quiet ache in your chest that surfaces in random moments — when you see the colour teal, or hear a song he’d used to like.

❋ You’ve been to JFA headquarters only once or twice before, but it’s bustling with activity as always. Your purpose here is purely business; you’ll act as a secretary for Ego and Anri while they finalize plans for the U20 match with the top brass.

❋ You didn’t think that he’d be there.

❋ Right at that very moment.

❋ In that very room.

❋ Fate is cruel, sometimes.

❋ He looks . . . The same, yet somehow different all at once. His hair’s a little longer, his expression sharper, but those piercing green eyes haven’t changed at all, and the realisation makes your chest throb painfully all over again.

❋ You wonder how you appear to him, underneath your professional blazer and veneer of carefully controlled calm. Does he think you still look the same? Or does he think that you’ve changed, become a total stranger to him, much like how he is to you right now?

❋ His gaze is intense, scorching. You can feel it the second you enter the room, but you keep your head down and try to pay attention to the meeting. (The thought of having to present incomplete notes to Ego certainly does a marvellous job at helping you focus.)

❋ A breath of relief soughs out of you the moment the meeting ends. Quickly, you gather your things, following Ego and Anri out the door. You’re eager to avoid the lingering eyes of the association’s board members.

❋ And perhaps most of all: you’re eager to avoid unnecessary small talk with Sae.

❋ But you catch a final glimpse of him out the corner of your eye; Sae, still staring at you. His expression seemingly softer, almost hesitant. It’s almost as if he wants to call your name, to stop you from leaving, but something — Pride? Anger? — holds him back.

❋ The door to the meeting room clicks shut behind you with a cold finality, and this time, you’re the one leaving first.

[blueskylinesx]

Welp, I haven’t shed this many tears from experiencing so many emotions while reading anything, EVER.

I sobbed when @thefallennightmare first sent part of this chapter to me & @artificialbreezy last night. Just full on tears running down my face and neck…

And here I am again, drenched from the amount of tears I just shed.

I am feeling SO many emotions, the fact that we are officially at the end is just so surreal. This journey has been so incredible and being able to watch Angel & Mochi’s growth from the beginning to now is just so incredibly special.

Just Pretend was the first fan fic I ever read. I remember instantly being drawn in from the gif of Noah bouncing on the chain link rope. Never did I expect to instantly connect and fall in love with a story as hard as I did with JP.

I remember once I finished the chapter I went all the way back to the beginning so I could binge it all the way up to the current chapter at the time.

JP is easily THE most reread story of mine. Any time I needed to escape from the world or whatever I was going through JP was always there. I knew that Mochi & Angel could help just take it all away for a little while.

I’ve spent so many nights staying up until 3am just binging this story over & over again and now that it’s reached the end, I cannot wait to start all the way from the beginning to binge it again.

@thefallennightmare I am SO incredibly proud of you. What you have accomplished with this story is just something so special. You’ve created such a safe space for SO many with JP and you’ve put so much time and hard work into this story to give it what it deserved.

I’m so thankful I clicked that read more button all those months ago because it brought me to you and to so many other wonderful people. JP saved me in so many ways and I cannot thank you enough, Tina, for sharing something SO special and incredible with us all.

This may be the end of JP but Mochi & Angel are forever. They are forever worthy & everything is okay.

🦋🪽🍡💍🌸🐈‍⬛🐕🍜🍊🍓☕️🇸🇪🧚🏻🦝⚪️⚪️⚪️

Just Pretend-Thirty One[FINALE]

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut(18+), star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse, talks of death, depressive thoughts, talks about not being able to conceive, and endometriosis.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: After over a year of writing this story, we finally are at the end. I have so many things to say yet I think I will bask in the moment for a little bit before I bore you with my emotions. So please take this for now: Thank you all so fucking much for your endless love and support for this silly little fic. It started off as a simple request(i hope you're still around 🎧 ). But it brought me so many friendships. I owe you all so much. Forever grateful for every single one of you.

My inbox will forever be open if you want to talk about the finale. 🖤

Huge thank you to my loves @blueskylinesx and @artificialbreezy for your endless support and helping me with the vows. I love you both immensely.

Angel and Mochi forever. 🪽🍡

Tags[CLOSED]: @blueskylinesx @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @shayzillaaaa @badomensls @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @joe9cool @ozwriterchick @happi-goth @dsireland86 @cncohshit @heyyoplayer @rain-down-on-mee @respectfulrebel @malerieee @myownthoughts12 @noahsbong @laurpartyprogram @cloudykoookie @sideeyenoah @bellaboo967 @rxdlstgn @anthemheatwave @lobolocaamo @amelia-acero @karenfrancoespinosa-blog @collidewiththesavannah @xserenax-13 @supersquirrel1996 @themodern-daywednesday @oxythoughtin7715

THIS IS FICTION. NONE OF THIS IS REAL.

READER

ONE MONTH LATER.

“Noah,” I choked out while gazing up at the familiar home with tears filling my eyes. 

He stood behind me with his arms wrapped around my waist and his chin resting on top of my head. We both swayed with the sudden rush of wind which caused Noah to hold me tighter, bringing the warmth from his body to my own. 

“Are you mad?” He asked. 

I couldn’t remove my eyes from the SOLD sign on the front yard of the familiar house and the key Chase was dangling in front of my face with a shit eating grin. A month ago on that night underneath the fairy lights, Noah proposed with the ring hanging on Kuma’s new collar. When I found the ring and looked over at Noah that night, he said two simple words. 

“Marry me.” 

I accepted before he finished the words, nearly tackling him to the ground. We connected that night underneath the fairy lights, his cock slowly dragging in and out of me while I rocked my hips up into him. Afterwards, we lay together tangled underneath the stars with the blanket barely covering us as we talked about our wedding plans. Our conversation during our many 2pm Facetime calls was something we both remembered fondly. 

With a hesitant sigh, I nodded. "Japan is just such an important place to me, for several reasons. I have this little fantasy that I’d run off and get married there. It's so peaceful and quiet with my closest friends and family. One and done romance type shit."

Noah stiffened while scratching his chin.

"What? I freak you out, girlfriend?" | joked with a teasing smirk.

He chuckled nervously. "No. I- uh, who's the groom?"

"I don't know, never got that far. It's always been the small child in me's dream."

It took some time with many nights of wondering if I was worthy enough but I found my groom. 

So when we broke the news to everyone two days later, wanting to bask in it privately beforehand, we told everyone that we’d be getting married in Japan. But with the future shows both Bad Omens and Hollow Souls had planned, we knew we would either have to push off the wedding for a couple years or get married before the shows. 

Now, a month later, all of us were in Japan for our wedding that was happening in a few days. It wasn’t anything big and lavish, something small with our family; some old and some new. 

“You bought my dad’s house?” I asked while peering over my shoulder at him. 

Noah turned me around so I could face him head on and pressed my hands against his chest, the diamond on my left ring finger catching the light of the setting sun.

“I contacted a realtor shortly after we left about buying your dads house. It didn’t feel right letting it go to someone else. Your dad lived here for half of his life, Y/N. It deserves to stay in the family,” he explained. 

I blew out a shaky breath while resting my head against his shoulder, those strong arms wrapping around me yet again. 

“Thank you.” 

Noah brushed his lips over my forehead. “You’re not mad I bought a house without asking you? Especially your dad’s house?” 

“Not at all. I was at a dark point in my life the last time we were here that all I wanted was to forget about this place. But I’m so thankful you bought it,” I slipped my hands up his sweater over his stomach, grazing my nails over the warm skin. 

Chase stepped into my view as my face was buried into Noah’s chest and he was twirling the key around his finger. “We replaced most of the furniture you had sold before you put it up on the market. Noah hired a paint crew to come through and put a fresh coat everywhere. It’s like a new house but still has the old bones of when your dad lived here, if that makes sense.” 

Stepping out of Noah’s embrace, I pulled Chase in for a hug while smushing his face into my chest and kissed the top of his head which due to how tall he was made it difficult. 

“I love you, bud.” 

He grumbled under his breath while pushing me back into Noah’s embrace and adjusting his messed up shirt. Even with his teasing, I could see the love in his bright blue eyes. 

“Keep it up and you’re walking yourself down the aisle,” Chase taunted and then turned on his heels to walk over to Malcolm, who had been unloading the rental car. 

As the two of them shared a kiss, I called out to them while Noah and I continued to stand on the front step of our new home. 

“I’m going to drag you guys down the aisle with me if I have too!” 

Noah chuckled, brushing a kiss across my lips. “I can’t believe we’re getting married.” 

“I know!” I giggled while wrapping my hands behind his neck. “Do you think we kind of jump the gun, though? We don’t have a venue. The only thing we have planned is my dress, your outfit, and the bridal party.” 

“About that,” he sprawled his hands over my lower back as everyone else moved around us, bringing in their suitcases into the house. 

It was decided that we all would stay here because we had plenty of space. 

“How would you feel about getting married in the backyard? I know it might not be your dream wedding but I just thought it would be perfect. Lots of space for all of us, privacy fence so no one can spy on us, and the girls already have an idea on how to decorate it. If you’re alright with that. We don’t want you to feel pressured-.” 

I placed a hand over Noah’s mouth to stop his rambling. “Mochi, you know you ramble when you’re nervous?” 

He nodded as I continued. “We could literally get married in the bedroom with just us two and it would be my dream wedding.” 

Matt suddenly appeared over Noah’s shoulder. “Technically it wouldn’t be legal unless you had someone who was ordained.” 

Rolling my eyes, I let my hand drop from Noah’s mouth only to link my fingers with his as we began slowly walking up the rest of the way towards the front door with Matt. 

“Speaking of being ordained, did you do what you needed to?” Noah asked. 

“Yes. I am officially ordained in Japan,” Matt wore a big smile. “So I get to marry my best friends.” 

“How’s Dove feeling?” I asked while motioning towards Matt’s cousin, who was off to the far side of the yard with Faye, having their own conversation. 

“She’s okay, might take some time but she’ll get there,” Matt nodded while stuffing his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “I appreciate you guys letting her come, given you don’t really know her.” 

Noah waved him off. “Dove is your cousin, Matt. Which means she’s family, just like you.” 

“I’ve always watched out for her when we were growing up so whatever I can do to protect her, I’ll do it.” 

Once Matt left us to run towards Faye and Dove, I felt Noah squeeze my hand which caused me to gaze over at him with furrowed brows. 

“Did your mom ever call you back?” He wondered. 

I scoffed, doing my best not to let the anger I felt festering inside of me not ruin the whirlwind high we’d been feeling since our proposal last month. 

“Nope. I left her a voicemail all three times that I called her to tell her what’s going on,” I answered. 

Noah’s shoulders fell. “Does that make you upset?” 

“Honestly?” I shrugged. “Not really. She’d never been around for any other big moments of my life. I have everyone here that’s important to me. That’s all that matters.” 

With a smile, he motioned towards the house behind me. “Are you ready to go inside?” 

“Oh,” I muttered as my shoulders fell because I realized that this would be the first time I stepped inside my dad’s place since his funeral. 

Well, now I guess it would be our house.

Glancing over my shoulder to the front door less than a few feet in front of us, I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. Chase and Noah mentioned that it was basically a new house inside with a fresh coat of paint and new furniture. Deep down I knew that even though everything was new inside, my dad’s spirit would be lingering there. 

“Yeah,” I finally nodded while looking back at him. “I’ve been telling myself it’s a fresh start, ya know?” 

With a tender kiss to my hand, Noah led me through the front door as we took the first step together towards our future. 

READER

“What the fuck!? JOE!” I yelled while pushing away from the table and running towards the familiar face that had just walked into the ramen restaurant. 

Joe broke out in laughter as I nearly tackled him to the ground. “Hey kid.” 

All of us were having a little makeshift rehearsal dinner at a ramen place that my dad loved the night before the wedding. We all made plans for when Bad Omens, ERRA, and Hollow Souls played Inkarceration. Then spent most of the night reminiscing on past memories. Every so often, I’d catch Noah looking at his phone before letting his gaze linger on the door of the restaurant but never thought much of it. I’d been in a deep conversation with Dove as she talked about what happened when she was on the road a month ago. 

“What the hell are you doing in Japan?” I asked Joe after pulling away from our hug. 

“Oh you know, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d come by to say hello,” he playfully smirked. 

I rolled my eyes as I felt Noah walk up beside me, giving Joe a handshake. “Thanks for coming. I know it was kind of last minute.” 

Joe waved Noah off. “All good. Thank you guys for the invite.” 

My stomach dropped when I realized from the craziness of the last month, I’d forgotten to invite one of my good friends. Forever thankful that Noah thought of it, I rose on my toes to place a kiss on his cheek. 

“You thought of everything, huh?” I breathed in his ear. 

Noah looked at me, something mischievous in his ember eyes. “You have no idea, angel.” 

Dragging both Joe and Noah back to the table, we all eased back into the dinner and every so often I’d feel Noah squeeze my thigh before inching his fingers up closer to my core. With the amount of people in the house, we decided that we would hold off on sex until our wedding night. 

Needless to say, both of us were extremely wound up but I kept telling myself that it would all be worth it in two nights' time when we finally had the house to ourselves.  

Once we all finished dinner, we all piled out of the restaurant with a suggestion from Nicholas to check out the local market in town. While most of the group dispersed in their own directions, Noah and I found ourselves alone for the first time in hours. 

“I’m so stuffed,” Noah groaned while rubbing a hand over his stomach. 

I wrapped my arms tighter around him while burying my face into his chest as we walked down the market block in Japan. 

“Are you happy you finally got your real ramen?” I teased while poking his chest. 

With a playful roll of his eyes, Noah brushed a kiss along my forehead as we walked through the crowds of people that gathered at the market. Earlier before dinner, I’d bought about four different mangas that had characters on the cover that looked like Noah, something he made sure to grumble about. 

“How the hell does this Yamada guy look like me?” He asked, utterly confused while holding up one of the mangas. 

I snatched it from him, holding it close to my chest. “I bet if I found a picture of you with this exact hair cut and did a side by side comparison, you’d see I’m right. Too bad you cut your hair yesterday.” 

Noah’s hair had been unruly lately so with the wedding coming up, he’d shaved the ends while still keeping the levi cut up top. Even though I'd always love his longer hair, I had to admit he looked absolutely gorgeous this way as well. 

“Y/N, look,” Noah pulled us to a stop, his arms around my shoulder, and pointed in front of us. 

Following his long finger, my eyes landed on a familiar older figure standing at one of the book tents in the market. 

“It’s older you!” I squealed, a little too loudly. 

The older gentleman looked over towards us at my outburst and when the look of remembrance crossed his face, he gave us a small wave. 

“Well, look who it is!” Older Noah smiled while walking over to us. “What are the odds I’d run into you guys in Japan?” 

Throughout the years, this was the third time we’d run into the older gentleman and his wife. The first time at the coffee shop back when Bad Omens and Hollow Souls toured together, the second time when Noah and I spent the afternoon at the pier where he bought me ice cream, and now here in Japan. Yet it was then that I noticed he was alone. 

“Ah, yes,” Older Noah tapped the book against his chest when he noticed me looking around. “My Allie passed away a month ago.”

Both Noah and I sucked in a breath, something the older one waved off. “Please, no pity. She lived a good and long life before the Alzhiemers took her.”

“Are you in Japan alone?” Noah wondered. 

“No,” the older one shook his head before adjusting his glasses. “My granddaughter, Lori is around here somewhere. What brings you two to Japan?” 

Noah linked my hand in his and brough the ring up to his lips, peppering it in kisses. “We’re getting married.” 

Older Noah’s eyes lit up at the news. “Well, good for you two! I still remember seeing you two in that coffee shop so long ago. The love in your eyes when you looked at her.” 

A crimson hue covered Noah’s face and I giggled while swinging our hands together. 

“I can’t explain it,” Old Noah began while flipping through the book he always seemed to have with him. “Something told me that I’d be running into you two again and soon which is why I made sure to bring this book with me. I read it to my Allie almost every night since it was her favorite.” 

Through the hustle and bustle of the market crowd, we barely could hear the soft sob that fell from Older Noah’s lips before he continued. “Since there’s no use for it anymore, I think I’ll give it to you two as a wedding gift.” 

Noah shook his head. “We can’t. That book means a lot to you-.” 

“Nonsense,” Older Noah smiled. “Please take it. My Allie would want you to have it.”

Gently I took the old book from his shaking hands and immediately brought it to my chest. “Thank you, Noah. You barely know us but for you to trust us with something so special to you, means a lot.” 

He stuffed his hands in the pocket of his tan coat. “You two remind me of me and Allie when we were young.” 

My Noah pressed a kiss to the side of my head and pulled me into his chest. “Do you have any advice for us to make our marriage last as long as yours did?” 

Older Noah gave us a faint smile while someone from behind him waved after him, calling his name. 

“The second you stop loving each other and pretending that your love story isn't real is when one of you starts to think you’re not worthy of the other.”

Just as a young woman tapped her hand on Older Noah’s shoulder, Michael appeared next to me, almost out of breath. 

“Whatever you do, don’t ask Dove for a race. She’s way to fucking fast,” he took a large gulp of air. 

“Grandpa! You can’t just wander off like that,” the woman next to Older Noah chastised him while adjusting her red cat eye framed glasses. 

Something in the air shifted around us when Michael and the woman, who I assumed was Lori the granddaughter, caught sight of each other. I could see something change inside of Michael as his eyes lit up with something I recognized so often in Noah’s eyes. 

Tapping my Noah’s chest, I glanced over at him while Michael introduced himself to Older Noah and Lori. 

“Think we can add two more to our guest list?” I asked. 

Noah smirked. “Already two steps ahead of you, angel.”

NOAH

Hiding a yawn behind my hand, I eased back into the couch a bit more while stretching my long legs out farther. The house finally settled down, all of the girls retreating to the larger bedroom to do whatever girls did the night before a wedding while us guys were scattered throughout the living room. Joe was staying at a hotel down the road and he left a bit ago. 

Both Nick’s and Jolly were on one of the couches trying to decide on what to watch. Matt was pacing the length of the kitchen practicing his speech for tomorrow. Chase and Malcolm were in the office working on a special project for Y/N for tomorrow. Davis and Bryan were playing a card game at the kitchen table. 

Michael, however, was still out on his walk with Lori. After our encounter yesterday, they exchanged numbers and Michael asked her if she wanted to go out on a walk with him.

I was sitting on the couch with Jesse next to me as I scrolled through listings on my phone. Earlier today when Y/N and I were talking about our future after the wedding, the topic of where we would live came up. Even though we both knew Michael and Jesse would never kick us out now that we were married, Y/N felt it would be better for us as a couple if we finally had our own place together. 

So after discussing it with her and promising I wouldn’t buy another house without her permission, I had been texting her every possible listing I found. Y/N’s main concern with every single one: Is it too far from everyone? 

She knew my end goal in life, after everything settled down in Bad Omens so she understood why I kept sending her listings from far. 

"Way down the road maybe one day in the future- to live in the middle of nowhere with a dog, cats, and a family of my own. In my wooden home that I built."

Jesse shifted on the couch next to me causing me to glance over at him. “How’s Salem and Kuma?” 

“JT said they’re good. He took Kuma on a three mile run earlier so he’s currently passed out in the middle of his kitchen floor,” Jesse chuckled. 

Since most of us were in Japan, we needed someone to watch Salem and Kuma. JT immediately offered when Jesse brought it up. 

“Have you found a place yet?” He asked while motioning to my phone. 

I sighed while dropping it to my lap so I could rub out the stress from my temples. “There is one that looks promising. Has everything we need. But the neighbors are about a mile away which is a little too close for us. We envision complete solace. Is that bad?” 

He shook his head while running a hand through his unruly curls. “Not at all. It’s fine to want some privacy. I mean, it’s why you guys are thinking of moving out anyway.” 

“I know,” I nodded before showing him the listing. “It wouldn’t be so bad if one of you guys moved in next door since the house next door is for sale too so maybe I could talk Y/N into buying both so we can have extra space. I emailed the relator earlier so now it’s the waiting game. ” 

Over my laughter from my joke, I nearly missed the way Jesse let out a low hum as he clicked on the listing for the house next door. 

THIRD PERSON POV

A soft breeze blew through the bright cherry blossom stems, bringing a sense of calm to everyone who sat, patiently waiting to watch a harmony of two people becoming one. They all waited with baited breath for Y/N to emerge from the back door while Noah stood at the end of the aisle with Matt. Noah radiated nerves and did his best to keep his shaking hands hidden behind his back so he didn’t run them through his hair. It had been slicked back perfectly for the wedding and he couldn’t risk messing it up before Y/N saw it. 

Even though a lot of aspects of their wedding wasn’t traditional, Y/N still wanted to keep some parts. They hadn’t seen each other since late last night after Noah and her snuck into the bathroom for a sweet kiss goodnight. While the guys got ready, the girls went out for breakfast. When it was time for Y/N and the rest were time to get ready, all of the guys went for lunch. Anything they could to stay away from each other. Noah didn’t want to risk ruining her big moment so he did his best to stay far away from her; even if it was killing him on the inside. 

Noah was dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white button up shirt, something he didn’t wear often. On the lapels of his dress shirt were angel wings pins that connected with a golden chain. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showcasing not only his tattoos but also the silver bracelet; the one that mirrored Y/N’s. 

Matt bumped his shoulder with Noah’s. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I’m going to throw up all over my shoes,” he admitted with a staggered breath. 

“Just take deep breaths like Dr. P instructs you. It’s just Y/N, no need to be nervous,” Matt assured Noah before pressing down the front of his shirt. 

When Matt asked Y/N last night if he could still wear his hat during the ceremony, Faye immediately smacked him upside the head causing said hat to fall to the ground. 

“These are your best friends, Matthew! You’re not wearing a hat during the ceremony!” Faye chastised him. 

So now, here Matt was standing next to Noah, ready to officiate the wedding while wearing a black button up with pants to match and his blonde locks pulled back into a low bun. Faye couldn’t stop staring at him as she stood off to the side, one of Y/N’s bridesmaids. 

Astrid was the maid of honor, followed by Tay and Faye as bridesmaids. On Noah’s side it was Nicholas as the best man, given their years of friendship and history. Jesse and Joakim were the other two groomsmen. Although they had a big family, Noah and Y/N decided on keeping the bridal party small. 

The backyard was littered with vast amounts of Japanese lanterns that illuminated the space around them as the sun was beginning to set. There was a large cherry blossom tree in the yard where Noah stood, waiting for his bride. A few petals managed to fall off a branch with a sudden gust of wind and lingered on his shoulder. As he was about to brush them away, there was a soft voice that seemed to whisper in his ear, halting Noah. Just as the patio doors opened, a butterfly landed on the other shoulder and that voice from earlier spoke in his ear again. 

“Think I’d miss this?” 

Noah’s eyes snapped over to the two empty chairs in the front row. One with a picture of Y/N’s father and the other, the one that had his immediate attention, was a picture of Keaton. 

“Glad you’re here, buddy,” Noah spoke under his breath. 

The speakers that Matt had set up in the yard began to play a familiar tune; an instrumental version of You and I. Like a lot of other things in their wedding, the song that Y/N chose to walk down the aisle wasn't the typical song played at every other wedding. They wanted to be different, to show that their love was different than anyone else's. Their love story wasn’t like any told in existence or written in books. 

The clouds above in the sun kissed sky opened up to let those rays paint the figure at the end of the aisle who was flanked by Chase on one side and Malcolm on the other. Suddenly, a flash of every moment between them flashed in Noah’s eyes; the good, the bad, the private ones. Everything they’d gone through the last couple years, from the moment he stepped off the tour bus to right now. It was all worth it. 

Noah was worthy. 

Y/N was worthy. 

And now, in a matter of minutes, their bodies and souls would collide while they danced together in the moonlight as the stars aligned for them. 

The moment Noah’s eyes locked with Y/N’s, all of the breath had been stolen from his lungs. He felt frozen in a time loop, trying to gather if this was real life and he wasn't still stuck in his dreamstate. Tears welled in his eyes as he let out a choked laugh when he saw Malcolm needing a moment before they began their walk towards Noah. 

It was evident that everyone was affected in some way or another by seeing Y/N in her dress. Malcolm blew out a few deep breaths before he nodded over to Chase. 

“I’m ready.” 

Chase raised a brow. “You sure? We can wait another minute if you need.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened. “No the fuck we can’t. Noah is waiting for me.” 

She was thankful her hair was pulled back by an angel wing hair clip with only a few strands falling in her face because the heat emanating from her body brought a thin sweat to her skin. 

“Alright,” Malcolm hooked his arm with hers again. “Let’s get you married.” 

With the song still playing, all three of them took a shared breath, before they began the walk down the shortened aisle. While everyone's eyes were on her, Y/N only had eyes for one person. 

Noah. 

Who currently had tears rolling down his face and made no effort to wipe them away. On one of his shoulders was a few petals from the cherry blossom tree above him while on the other shoulder there was a pretty blue butterfly that made no effort to move. She noticed the angel wings pin on the collar of his shirt as when her gaze fell to the buckle on Noah’s belt, Y/N sucked in a breath. 

Her dad. 

Noah wore her fathers belt buckle that had his initials. Her dad only wore it on special occasions and he had it in the family for the last 30 years. 

As she walked past all of her friends, Joe gave her a wide smirk with a wink; an action that told her one thing. 

Told ya you guys would be here. 

For a brief moment, Y/N remembered how Joe was there for her when they toured together and assured her that the break between Noah and her were exactly what they needed to get to this moment. 

The invisible string that bound them together began to vibrate deep within their chests as Y/N closed the distance to Noah. All day, she’d felt sick because of the nerves that ate away at her. But now that she stood in front of him, all the worry fell to the grass beneath her feet. 

With kisses from Chase and Malcom to her cheeks, they gave Y/N away to Noah who took her hand happily. 

“Hi, angel,” he let out a giggle. 

“Hi yourself, mochi,” she blew out a shaky breath. 

One they stood across from each other, Y/N handed her bouquet of Violets over to Astrid while Faye handed her something special. 

“Before we get started, I have something for Matt,” Y/N spoke while placing a hat on top of Matt. 

The word Officiant was bold and large in white letters on the front. 

“Oh thank god,” Matt let out a long breath while adjusting the hat. 

“There’s the Matt I know and love,” Y/N smiled before linking hands with Noah again. “Alright, now marry us already because I’m dying to kiss Noah.” 

A chorus of laughter echoed in the backyard before finally settling and Matt cleared his throat. Even with the shaking of nerves from Noah, the butterfly on his shoulder didn’t falter and that’s when Y/N got a good look at the three dots on one of the wings. While Matt began his speech, a flutter of wings caught Y/N’s attention for a brief moment. A butterfly with black and yellow stripes landed on her wrist as she continued to hold Noah’s hand. She sucked in a breath when the realization hit what kind of butterfly it was. 

A Japanese Luehdorfia.

Y/N’s father spent a lot of his free time while living in Japan studying butterflies and these ones were his favorite. With the butterfly on Noah’s shoulder and the one on her wrist, the final two guests had arrived. 

“I love you,” Noah mouthed to her as Matt rambled on about how everyone has a soulmate in their life. 

Y/N squeezed his hands. “I love you more.” 

“Alright everyone knows how much I love to yap but now it’s time for Noah and Y/N to exchange their vows,” Matt smiled as he took a small step away from them to give them their own space. 

Noah cleared his throat before taking a deep breath and did his best to calm the rapid beating of his heart. 

“This is about to be long so please bear with me,” Noah jokes. 

Jesse parted his lips to say something but with a sharp glare from Tay, he snapped his mouth shut. 

“Angel, I never knew truly just how much my life would change when we got the call about us touring together. When we met, I was in a weird place in my life but never knew that in such a short amount of time that everything was going to be okay again. Every moment spent with you that summer was something I could never forget; I didn't want to forget. That was the summer I knew we'd be here, together.”

Y/N squeezed Noah’s hand, both of the butterflies still resting on them, as he continued on with his vows. Everyone realized that he wasn’t reading from something, everything he spoke came from his mind on the fly.

“There was always something that held us away from each other, whether we sucked at communicating. More so, I really sucked at communicating. Or the fear that I wasn't worthy to be loved so strongly by you. The world stopped moving when you walked out that hotel room door. Which is why I made a promise to myself never to see you walk away like that again. Everything that's happened in our lives has led us to this spot. I wrote some silly little words in a hotel room years ago "Would you say I'm worthy?" and not a day goes by where you don't find a way to show me I'm worthy of you. That bracelet on your arm where the butterfly rests, Every morning you're in my bed, every time you burst in the room to share with me an idea for a song or painting you have. After all that time, after all those tears and pain and wondering if I was worthy, I can finally say out loud that we both are worthy. I won't drown you out, and I will wait for you no matter where we are. You were my angel before, and you're my angel now and forever.”

Y/N brushed away the tears with the hand that didn’t have the butterfly resting on her. “Thank Hades for waterproof mascara.” 

With his eyes lingering on the silver chain and locket hanging around Y/N’s neck, Noah continued on. “Y/N, I spent so much time overthinking the past, where it slipped away all the time we let escape from the both of us while we tried to heal ourselves so we could be better for each other. At first I succumbed, kept myself numb while I tried to deal with the fact that I may be losing you. But I was not okay, I was not alright. How many times have I survived trying to feel like I’m alive? Never being able to change and get outside of my own head. I thought I knew that you couldn’t change me anyway but that’s where I was wrong, Angel. Because you had already changed me.”

Something shifted in the air around everyone and the butterfly on Noah’s shoulder began flapping its wings, almost like it was ready to take off. Y/N saw something ignite in the dark embers of Noah’s eyes as he spoke the final words of his vows. 

“I was a helpless mess but you stole my pain, Novocain. You made me feel alive the moment I first saw you. I know now that I no longer have to survive because now, I have something that makes living so worthy. It’s you. In time the price we pay in pain brought us eternal peace. There is no Angel without Mochi, and there is no Mochi without Angel. I look at you right here before me and the same voice that’s been with me from the first time I met you is singing that it’s all okay. Everything is okay Angel, it’s you and me until forever.”

Just as Noah finished his vows, the butterfly on his shoulder fluttered up into the air to fly around both of them before shooting up into the air. 

Swallowing thickly, Y/N adjusted her wrist to grab the papers that Astrid held out to her and yet again, the butterfly on her wrist remained unmoving. 

“How the fuck am I supposed to follow that?” She chuckled. 

“You can’t,” Noah winked. 

Playfully rolling her eyes, Y/N took a centering breath and began reading from the papers in her hands. 

“Noah, or Mochi if you will, I was stuck in an endless cycle of never knowing what love truly felt like. I spent so many days and nights wondering when I would bloom. The day I stepped off that bus and saw your face is when I started. I couldn't help myself but wonder if the look in your eyes was real or not, I was so scared you wouldn't see me for more than what everyone made me out to be. Yet you never saw that version of me that people created. You only saw me.”

“That day in the hotel when I walked out, I felt my world break. I knew at that moment it was you and only you but I was so scared I wouldn't be what you wanted or needed. I was so worried I was holding you back from the life you dreamt so heavily of because of my condition. You never saw the endometriosis, you never held those struggles against me. You love me despite all my faults.” 

“Those are not faults, Y/N,” Noah wiped a tear away from her face. 

Leaning into his palm, she pressed a tender kiss. “I know. It took a lot of sessions with Dr. Poulos for me to realize that I can't let my condition define me, shout out to her for that and put my head on straight.” 

Everyone let out a small chuckle of laughter as Older Noah watched with a faint smile on his lips because he knew how well his Allie would relate with Y/N and their shared conditions. But with his granddaughter sitting next to him, Older Noah knew that a miracle could happen for them as well. 

“I came from a broken home and was made to believe on one side that I wouldn’t get this; would get this life I created on my own and with you. I was told that no one would love me despite my condition. Not only you, Noah, but everyone here never saw me differently. You all took me in like one of your own, took Chase and Malcolm in. You all were a family but let us in on that first day of tour.” 

Bryan snapped away picture after picture, cementing these vows forever with something Y/N and Noah can look back on. Especially when the butterfly on her wrist finally moved for the first time and now rested on her abdomen while Y/N spoke the final proclamation of her love for Noah. 

“I always knew it was safer by your side and knew I just had to give it time. Chase and Malcolm always told me "if you can keep the love alive, you'll survive." It was so deep in my soul and I held on to that. Noah, from the moment I walked in your house for that party to the moment we finally admitted it was always going to be you and I. You will forever be worthy of my love. Every breath I take will be for you, from now until the last and after that, meet me in the epilogue so I can find that smile. Mochi, our stars aligned and I'll keep them there for as long as you let me.”

By now, there wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd, especially Nicholas who watched his best friend bounce on the soles of his feet. Noah was ready to kiss his bride. But first, they exchanged rings. 

“Well,” Matt cleared his throat, doing his best to mask his emotions. “We’re going to skip over the part where I ask if anyone objects because we all have been waiting for this to happen. So with that being said, by all the powers invented and by that one website, I announce you two husband and wife. Noah, for the love of the Gods, kiss your bride!”

Right as Noah reached for Y/N’s waist, the butterfly fluttered away in the same path the other had done moments ago. With a wink, Noah pulled her to his chest and brushed his lips across hers. It was slow at first, both savoring the moment as the world faded away around them, then all at once the pace increased as the invisible string between them tied the final knot to connect their souls once and for all. 

“Mrs. Sebastian,” Noah brushed his nose across Y/N’s. 

She broke out in a fit of giggles while wrapping her arms around Noah’s waist to bury her face in his chest. “About fucking time.” 

THIRD PERSON POV

The moonlight glimmered high in the sky, bathing everyone in the yard in a luminescent glow. It was well into the evening, everyone calming down from the long day of celebration. 

After the ceremony, Noah and Y/N immediately went into the house where Nicholas had his tattoo equipment set up. They each got one simple tattoo on the inside of their wrists. 

Worthy. 

Now they sat together in one of the large outdoor chairs with Y/N in his lap as Noah buried his face in her neck. His heart would not stop beating wildly in his chest because finally, after all the hell they overcame, they were finally where they were meant to be. They danced together for the first time as husband and wife to Just Pretend-Acoustic; the same version Noah sang to her the night he proposed. 

Jolly and Astrid hung off to a secluded corner of the yard while he rested a hand over her bump. She was only a few months along but now she was showing which caused Jolly to not stop wearing that bright smile. He was beyond proud of the family he created. 

Faye and Matt were in the middle of the made-up dance floor as she rambled on about all the little ideas she loved about the wedding and how she wanted their wedding to go. Matt listened intently without saying a word, simply watching his fiancé with adoration in his eyes. 

Tay was sitting with Dove, both of them giggling about something, while Jesse watched from a distance. He’d been planning things all evening in his head, mapping out his life and it was evident in the way his heart lurched in his throat when Tay continued to laugh that he was feeling an emotion that was new for him. Closing the distance between them, Jesse extended a hand towards Tay, who titled his head at him. 

“May I have this dance?” He asked as Repay by The Plot In You began playing through the speakers. 

Tay glanced over to Dove, feeling bad it was interrupting their conversation but the brunette waved her off. “If you don’t dance with your man, I’ll push you into him.” 

Once Tay was finally in Jesse’s embrace, they began to slowly move about the yard and he brushed his forehead against hers. 

“I love you,” he proclaimed for the first time. 

Tay’s eyes widened and leaned away from Jesse to get a good look in those chocolate boba eyes. “What?” 

He cupped her cheek to lay a small yet forceful kiss to her lips. “I love you so much, darlin. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, I just needed to-.” 

“I love you too. So fucking much, Jesse. I’ve realized it for a while but was so afraid you wouldn’t feel the same yet.” 

As new love blossomed, new beginnings were starting for Michael and Lori as they sat in front of the bonfire as they divulged about themselves to each other. Bryan and Davis offered to take Older Noah back to the hotel and were booking rooms for everyone else because for the first time in a week since they first arrived, Noah and Y/N would be alone. 

“I have a surprise for you,” Y/N whispered in Noah’s ear as she continued to sit on his lap. 

“You do?” His brows peaked as his cock twitched underneath her. 

She said nothing, simply pressed a kiss to his cheek before sauntering into the house. 

READER

I shook out the nerves from my hands as I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. The white lace stood out against my complexion and I double checked to make sure my breasts were pressed up perfectly. Turning to the side slightly, I peaked at my ass that was barely covered by the end of the lingerie. When I found it in the store a few weeks ago, I knew immediately I had to buy it from the angel wings alone. 

I never wore anything like this for Noah before which is why I was extremely nervous. While our sex life was extraordinary, I was still very unsure on how he felt about me dressing up in something like this. 

“Stop being a pussy!” I pointed at my reflection. “You’re hot. You married THE Noah Sebastian!” 

I quickly shook my head. “No, he married THE Y/N L/N, well now Sebastian. But that’s beside the point. You are going to bring this man to his knees. He loves you and would fuck you even if you wore a potato sack.” 

Realizing I was still rambling to myself, I shook my head and quickly spritzed myself with my perfume; Noah’s new favorite of mine that smelled like peaches. Fluffing out my hair, I gave my reflection a curt nod before flipping off the lights and stepping out of the bathroom. The house was quiet, only the floor creaking beneath my feet as I crossed the hallway into the bedroom Noah and I dubbed ours. We decided to make my dads bedroom the new office, the old office our bedroom, and still keep the guest room the same. 

As I walked into the bedroom, I saw Noah sitting on the end of the bed with his gaze down on the floor between his feet. He’d changed out of his wedding attire and wore only a pair of red briefs. His shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath as his hair dangled in his face but made no effort to brush it away. When he played with the new black band around his ring finger, I took in the sight of the new tattoo on the inside of his wrist, the same one I had. 

Worthy. 

Clearing my throat, I stood a few inches in front of Noah with my hands behind my back, trying hard not to knock into the ends of the angel wings. His head snapped up from the floor and when they landed on my form, his pupils bled darkness. 

“Uh, do you like it?” I shifted on my feet, waiting for his answer. 

Noah was still silent, only keeping his eyes on my breasts that were barely hidden underneath the white lace. He made no move towards me which made me start to second guess this idea. 

“This was stupid,” I muttered before turning on my heels. 

A hand shot out to grasp my hand, halting me, and when I glanced back I saw Noah staring up at me. 

“You’re a literal fucking angel,” he mused before yanking me down to his lap. 

The head of his cock pressed against the thin material of his briefs and I bit back a moan when I felt it brush along my core. 

“My angel,” Noah praised while fingering the end of the wings. “Keep these on.” 

I raised a brow at him while brushing away the hair from his face. “The wings doing it for you, Mochi? Do you want to chase me through the woods while you wear your mask and fuck me with them on?” 

“Don’t tempt me,” he groaned while dragging his teeth over my collar bone. 

With his hands on my hips, Noah guided me along his cock as I let my head fall back in bliss. I’d been wound up all week due to us deciding not to be sexual with each other and knew that if he even breathed on my clit, I would orgasm. 

I gently pushed him away from me to lay him down on the bed while I fell to my knees between his legs. 

“Oh fuck,” Noah ground out while letting his head fall to the bed as I dragged his briefs down the length of his thick legs. 

My lips parted over the leaking head of his cock with my fingers wrapping around the base. I hummed in pure delight as the salty taste lingered on my lips when I sank my mouth down on him. 

"So good," I praised looking up at him through my lashes

He groaned with pleasure as I took my time with him. I wanted to savor the way he always tasted. 

"Angel," Noah warned. “Please. I need you."

I popped off of him and wiped away the drool from my chin as I rose to my feet slowly. "Is Noah Sebastian begging?"

“For my wife? Yes I am.”

"Well, who am I to make you wait," I straddled his hips once again. 

Neither of us wanted to wait any longer so he undone the buttons of the lingerie teddy to expose my bare cunt to his awaiting cock. His eyes snapped up to me for a moment so I gave him a nod right before he guided himself past my wetness, the thickness of his cock filling me completely. It pulsed inside of me, earning a desperate groan.

Noah's eyes fluttered shut as his lips parted, his hands gripping my hips so tight I was sure there would be bruises in the morning. But I didn't care. Having him finally inside of me felt so fucking good.

Having my husband inside of me made my soul come alive. 

I rocked my hips against him with my swollen clit rubbing against his warm stomach and I shivered at the sensation, the coil in my stomach pulling taut. Noah’s eyes jumped to the silver chain around my neck and gripped it with force to pull my lips down to his, devouring me 

“Mine,” Noah demanded while fucking up into me. 

I let out a silent yell when he hit the spot that made my spine ignite but the chain tightened around my throat, nearly cutting off my airway. 

“Say it,” he panted. “Say your mine, Y/N.” 

“I’m yours, Noah. Forever yours.” 

He attacked my lips with so much force I had to rest a hand on his chest, our tongues exploring each other's mouths in a kiss so vicious it made my head spin. Noah's hips finally moved in a slow, steady stroke, and I whined into the kiss.

"More," I mumbled into his lips.

"Fuck, angel." He groaned. "It's too good."

I cupped his face to look at him. "Cum for me, Noah. Fill me up, please. I need you to cum with me.” 

That's all he needed before his arms wrapped around my back, nearly crushing the angel wings,  pulling me closer to his chest as his hips snapped up into me in violent strokes, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot. I yelled out my pleasure, exposing my neck to Noah who immediately attacked it with his teeth leaving bite marks all along it.

My body hummed in a prayer-like awaking, the flames and heat burning high in my belly as my organs crested higher; so fucking high I was afraid I would combust into nothing but a matter of air. His name fell from my lips in devotion, a woman praying to her husband, and my toes curled when I finally came apart, Noah slowly falling behind me. 

THIRD PERSON POV

As Y/N and Noah lay together in a mess of tangled limbs, both coming down from their shared high, he let the sounds of her deep breathing ease him into his own slumber. Her discarded lingerie and wings lay scattered on the ground and Noah made a mental note of asking Y/N on how she felt about hanging them up in their home. 

He couldn’t stop watching her sleep with a smile that no one could erase. She was his. Finally Y/N was his wife and he would do whatever he could to make her happy. 

Long fingers dragged up and down the snake tattoo on her back, almost like how he had the night they first lay together. The long day was coming to an end, the new chapter of their lives began tomorrow, which caused Noah to sweat all over because he couldn’t help but let the anxious thoughts creep in.

Take a breath, Noah. It’s okay. 

Doing just that, he eased into the warmth Y/N proved and rested a hand on her stomach, finally letting himself succumb to the darkness. 

“Love you, mochi,” she mumbled into the skin of his chest. 

He kissed her forehead. “Love you more, angel.”

The rain that surrounded them in the beginning was no longer something that drowned them. It couldn’t rain all the time. Their love was forever unbroken. It created lines upon lines of memories, some old and some new. It brought about friendships that tied together as one family. All because of a miracle that had yet to present itself. They were no longer afraid of the wars that were waged against their sins. They weren’t okay in the beginning but their love proved that they no longer had to pretend. They waited each other out and Y/N would forever stay until morning. 

All because they both were worthy.

[girl4music]

Okay. So I have a lot to say about the CaitVi relationship because - as expected - it was what pulled me into the main story of the show even further in understanding the narratives and themes better. Which… that alone is a remarkable achievement for WLW representation in TV art/entertainment. I haven’t seen that in a long time.

I love Love LOVE that Vi and Caitlyn are opposites. Vi handles everything directly. Usually with her fists first. Caitlyn is more cautious. She likes to understand the situation of something before attempting to confront it. That immediately stood out. But then what really worked for me besides the different approaches is how they want the same things but try to attain them through those different approaches. This meant they had a common goal but had contradictory ways of achieving it. Which is peace and prosperity for their respective cities, right? Only, they don’t always feel at home in those respective cities. In all understanding of who they are as people - they really should clash a lot as a couple. But they don’t because their motivations are the same. Vi only ever feels animosity for the Topside but Caitlyn is very curious about the Undercity. Again, there is a contradiction - an opposition - but because of what they can’t understand about each other, they can relate to each other and show one another that there’s more to the divided cities. It’s actually very clever how they use theme and nuance and tone to constantly quietly build on the progression of their relationship into companionship trust and eventually romantic love.

They use the two divided entirely different cities: the contrasting environments and oppositional experiences to make them form a bond which grows into romance.

That’s not the way it’s usually done so it stands out a lot. They’re such a contradiction as a ship that their misunderstandings help them to actually fall in love.

I think it’s fantastically written because the romance is not purposefully in your face. It’s not made a spectacle.

What is is the contrasting worldviews the other has. But that’s the point. That’s what cultivates the romance. Because the only real thing that’s similar is that of their goals. Protecting their people until they become each other’s person. The only real thing they’ve got to lose because they’ve already lost everyone and everything. This should make them enemies but it doesn’t. Instead it makes them friends and then lovers and life partners.

Vi goes against everything Vander says. Caitlyn is often silenced into submission by Cassandra. They contrast so much in their individual identities and environments that they’d absolutely fit in with each other and work well together. So when they finally interact, it all comes out in colours. And it just makes them so much more multi-dimensional and worldly both as individuals and as a ship. It’s fantastic. It really is great representation precisely because it’s not written and portrayed to be.

That in itself is one huge contradiction and yet look what was achieved through adhering to contradiction.

Honestly I think it’s because ARCANE itself is full of contradiction. I think it may even be its main theme.

I mean look at Jinx. Look at her. Would you think a character that looks like that would be so complex? Would anyone? No. They really flipped the switch with her to the point where her appearance actually helps broaden the complexity of her characterization. 👏👌

I am so very hopeful for the future because of Arcane because the creators have proved that you can take heavily negative tropes and subvert them into positive and deliver exceptional storytelling and representation. Yeah, I believe they faulted a bit in the final Act but that doesn’t take away from the fact they knew what they were doing and people should follow in their example.

[hobisexually]

x

[seongieluvr]

— [3:53am]

AUTHORS NOTE ; this is a repost from my old blog ( chrisbahng-old ). this is the only place this has been reposted and any other reposts are not me nor are they allowed. I am hoping to have new content soon and appreciate all the support so far <3

warnings ; chan is called alpha, breeding, petnames (puppy, angel, baby)

“Channie, it’s s’ big,” you wined as your boyfriend filled you only halfway full of his thick cock.

“I know, baby.” Chan cooed, bringing his hand to rest on your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears that threatened to fall. “But look,” he brought his eyes from yours to where you two connected. “Alpha’s already halfway in you.”

“Only half?” your gaze left Chan’s as you peered down to see if he was telling the truth. A moan escaped your lips at the sight of him slowly pushing the rest if himself into you.

“You’re taking me so well, pup.” Chan groaned as he nearly bottomed out in you. “Taking my cock like it was made for you, yeah?”

You whimpered in response; hearing him praise you was something you would never tire of hearing.

“That’s my good puppy,” Chan whispered as his hips met yours for the first time that night. Chan let out a blissful sigh and brought his attention back up to you, your puppy-dog eyes watering with tears again and Chan leans his forehead against yours.

“C’mon, I know you can take it, love. I haven’t even properly fucked you yet.” He said, closing his eyes as he starts to pull himself out of you.

“Hurts, alpha, it hurts,” you finally mumble out and Chan smiles down at you softly.

“Shh, angel, you’re gonna be alright. I’m here, alpha’s here.” Chan kissed your lips before pulling out to the tip and thrusting himself back into you. “Shit, puppy,” he cursed as his hips met yours. “How the fuck are still this fucking tight,”

His words made you tighten the grip you had on his shoulders, your nails digging into his soft skin and leaving little moons. “You think your little cunt would be sloppy and messy, but fuck,”

You clenched at his words and whimpered  when he pulled himself back out again. Chan repeated his motions, pulling out to the tip before slamming back into you, but progressively got more and more merciless.

Your mind went hazy, trying to think of any coherent thought or word to say was like reaching for something that wasn’t there. The only thing you knew is that you were reaching your end.

“Channie,” you croak, “‘m close,”

“Aww, is my puppy gonna cum? Hmm?”

You nodded, not knowing how much longer you could hold on. “Please,” you begged. “Please let me cum on your cock,”

Chan’s jaw clenched at your words. He hears you mutter them enough, but it still gets him every single time.

“Fuck, pup. Alpha’s gonna cum,” he said through gritted teeth, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“Cum in me, please,” you whine, bringing your hips up to meet his.

Those four words was all it took for Chan to lose it, he thrust himself into you harder than he’s ever done and bit down on your supple flesh. You could feel his cock twitching as he let go inside you. You felt warm, not hot, but warm.

A soft smile spread to your lips when Chan pulled out of you for the final time that night.

Chan sat up on his knees, admiring his work. “You look so pretty, my love. All my cum spilling out of you like this. You’ll be even prettier when you’re all pregnant with my pups, yeah?”

Chan leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, then nose and forehead. “Thank you, alpha,”

“Of course, pup. Now why don’t we run a bath, get us cleaned up a bit.” He replied.

You nodded in return, stretching your arms out for Chan to pick you up, not trusting your legs at the current moment. Chan lifted you up and kissed the top of your head. “You did so well tonight, I’m so proud of you.”

[mayakern]

I honestly don’t know how to write this; I have spent all week attempting to figure out what to say.

Last Monday I was informed by our factory that our merchandiser and direct point of contact with the factory passed away unexpectedly two weeks ago. She was someone who I have spent a great deal of time speaking to ever since we switched factories two years ago. She helped us realize designs for new products, sent us samples of garments extremely quickly and kept track of all our orders. She went to bat for us if something went wrong with our print shop or if I was unhappy with how a garment pattern was interpreted by their team. As their first American client and a brand that focuses on size inclusion, something that is not typical of their other clients, she handled a lot of crazy requests from us without blinking and she was dedicated to ensuring that both us and our customers were happy. We talked nearly every day, and though it was work related she was one of the kindest people I have had the pleasure interacting with daily.

She was beyond dedicated to her work and to working with us. Turkey has an 11-hour time difference from me in California, which means when she was emailing me at 2pm in the afternoon it was 1am there. You can sure bet that I extended her the same courtesy and tried my best to answer her emails at night too, even when I would rather just be sleeping.

It was also clear just how much she loved her job, and now much she loved you guys. She had been silently watching our social media since we first started working with them. She got just as excited as we did on launch days and would often email me unprompted about how she was glad people were leaving such positive comments and reviews. She read your feedback when no one ever asked her to do that or even expected it of her. She did it because she really, really cared.

Even though she was miles away and we never met in person, she was like a coworker to me and the loss of her is like losing someone on our team.

The Maya Kern team, as a whole, has been dealing with a lot lately. I personally just moved (which took far longer than we expected) and Maya and Devin are gearing up to move back to Minneapolis pretty soon. With the loss of our merchandizer, it has taken the wind out of my sails a little bit. I was trying to push through, even though I am exhausted, and carry out the photo shoot for our new products this weekend, but it has become clear that my body just can’t handle it. My arthritis has finally told me to stop moving, so unfortunately, we are going to have to reschedule the shoot for later on.

We are doing everything we can to make sure our next product drop on the 21st still happens. But as of right now, due to this sudden loss, the garments haven’t even shipped from the factory yet and I am not optimistic that they will clear customs and get checked into the fulfillment center in time for the launch. This means the drop is likely going to be pushed back to December 5th and instead of a full photo shoot, we will probably have to settle for taking quick photos of everyone at home, and likely with our phones. 

We work really hard to deliver not just garments we believe in, but also pictures of said garments on bodies that our customers can relate to, and unfortunately I just do not think that is possible this time. As always, we really appreciate your patience and understanding during what has been a very difficult time for us.

Ash

Chief Operations Officer

[reidrum]

wine or wine not | s.r

spencer reid x bau!reader

a/n: i think i love writing buildup to smut than actual smut, but i hope you guys like this lmk what you think. this was requested with the prompts "look at me when you come on my fingers" and "muttering compliments kissing down their body" and it was so much fun to write aaaaahh, my requests are open so please send more!!! guidelines in pinned <3

summary: you're hopelessly pining after spencer at a rossi party, and when you run into him in the kitchen when you're getting a refill and he asks if you want to explore the mansion with him, who are you to say no?

cw: 18+ minors dni pls, fingering, p in v, nipple play, soft!dom!spence, spencer being ridiculously hot its criminal, ooc penelope but it was for the plot, pining idiots, wine cellar sex wine cellar sex wine cellar sex, public sex, morgan and prentiss being dumb, rossi being a smug lil shit, a dumb ass title sorry i didn't know what else to name it lol

wc: 4.1k

★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★

these days rossi was always finding some reason to throw a party at his mansion. you’re not exactly sure what it was tonight, a birthday? an anniversary? regardless, you and the team appreciated the excuse to unwind, dress up, and have non murder related fun.

the sun is setting over the rolling hills the mansion is perched on, and you’re sat at a table with the girls— penelope, jj, and emily discussing penelope’s latest dating escapade. you’re trying hard to pay attention, you really are, but it proves to be difficult when you’re focused on the man showing magic tricks to the kids across the room.

you look on yearnfully as spencer pulls a coin from jack’s ear, all the kids are laughing and cheering and he has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hellooo?” penelope waves a hand in front of you dramatically, “i’m getting to the good part and you’re off in space!”

you jolt back to the present, “sorry pen, i’m listening i promise. so he shows up to your door with maple syrup and feathers?”

“YES, anyways so then he’s like i have a proposition for you…” penelope continues her story but you can’t help but zone out again. your eyes drift back to boy genius as he finishes another trick for little henry before rising up to his full height. it’s in that moment his eyes meet yours and softens as he offers you a small wave. 

you return the gesture back which causes the girls at your table to look in the same direction and they come to a glaring conclusion too quickly.

“ah, that’s why you’re not paying attention. too busy ogling mr. houdini over there.” jj remarks.

“i am not!” you scoff.

“oh you so are,” emily says, “when are you going to let yourself feel your heart’s full content.”

“first of all, i can’t stand you. second of all, it’s not worth it. he would never feel the same about me.” you say as emily rolls her eyes.

this time penelope interjected, “oh don’t be so cynical. you haven’t even tried how could you even know?”

but you did know. it’s not that spencer didn’t like you, he treated you the same as any team member, but that was just it. you wanted him to see you as more. during cases you would try to impress him or make breakthroughs in the hopes he would tell you ‘good job’. a couple times you brought him coffee when you got yours, just to hear him say your name and thanks. work conversations rarely seemed to move past small talk, but you’re a little sure that’s on your part because he just made you so nervous. and like, he’s a profiler. so you’re sure to some degree he knows how you feel, and it just makes you regress into your safe hole even further because you think he’s being nice by not acknowledging it and saving you the embarrassment.

the girls knew about your harbored crush for a month now, since the last bau drinks night you got a little too truthful during truth or dare. you were much younger in comparison to your colleagues, so they offered their sympathies at your unrequited love and tried to get you to come out more and let loose.

which is one of the reasons you’re sitting in rossi’s living room, wine glass in hand, as morgan recounts the craziest date hes ever been on. the other reason, which you wouldn’t admit to anyone, was so you could admire your (not) lover from an acceptable distance and not risk embarrassing yourself.

so here you are, two glasses deep, rising up from your spot on the floor telling everyone you’re going to get a refill. your heels click against the hardwood floors all the way to the kitchen where you just so luckily run into the (your) man of the hour.

“hi.”

you were looking down at your feet as you walked to the kitchen, your head snapping up to meet the voice, “hi spencer.” you said softly.

“if you’re looking for more wine, i think emily just grabbed the last bottle,” you must have outwardly deflated as he continued, “that bad out there?”

“only so much wine can get me through penelope’s sexcapades and derek’s crazy one night stands.” you joke.

he chuckles back, “oh i know, why do you think i’m hiding out in here?”

you laugh again before an uncomfortable yet strangely comfortable silence falls between you both. unknowingly you both take turns gazing at each other, indexing the others features as if this moment would be the only chance you got.

you’re about to take your loss and leave when spencer speaks up again, “you know, i wouldn’t put it past rossi to have a secret wine cellar somewhere.”

“honestly, you’re probably right. what kind of italian just runs out of wine.”

spencer pauses slightly before saying, “do you want to see if we can find it?”

you look at his eyes again and catch a glint of mischief? concern that you’re wine-less? whatever it is, you take the bait.

“i’m game.”

—

rossi’s mansion was humongous. it was well known that he was loaded from his years in the bureau and multiple book deals, but holy shit, the rooms just seemed never ending, and none of them were a wine cellar.

“i don’t know spence, i'm starting to lose hope, and debating to revoke rossi’s italian card.”

you’re both in one of the many studies and are about to leave to find another room, when spencer notices a smaller door next to the study. he slowly opens it and peaks inside to find a descending wooden staircase. he looks at you with a smirk, “i think we just found it.”

he holds the door open and gestures you to enter first, following shortly behind you as he shuts the door. he makes sure to check that it’ll still open even after it’s shut, and you both relax a little seeing it still unlock. you move down the stairs, gripping the handrail and praying you don’t trip over your heels and fall to an embarrassing demise.

spencer descends a step behind you, trying so hard not to let his eyes wander down your bare back to the curve of your hips. once he steps off you both go in opposite directions to explore. you take in the vast amount of shelves and wine racks, taking note of how it seems to be separated by year and by type. running your fingers over the labels, you’re intrigued by a shelf with the year you were born, and pause in front of it. you reach up to a shelf that is just a smidge taller than you, hoping to grab the neck of an old wine bottle.

even in your heels you’re struggling, attempting little hops to try and reach. you’re about to give up when you feel a warm hand on your right hip, while an outstretched arm on your left seamlessly grabs the bottle and brings it down to you, “careful sweetheart, don’t wanna break that pretty head of yours.” spencer says lowly.

excuse me, what the fuck did he just say.

you inspect the bottle he so kindly brought down for you, but it’s a futile effort. you can’t even remember why you wanted to see it. all you can think about is your hands clamming up, sending threats to the wine bottle it’s holding. your mind is fogging up fast, and you’re trying to order your brain to say something instead of going mute while he’s still an inch behind you. with his hand on your hip still.

“oh god,” you start shakily, “you scared me spence.” you angle your body to the left so you can attempt to show how unbothered you are and look at his face.

good save (not).

he’s staring down at you with a hint of a smirk on his lips, like he’s keeping a secret from you. his eyes are intently focused on you when he speaks again, “just didn’t want you to get hurt. s’all.”

with his close proximity, you’re sure he can hear your heart beating through both of your chests, hell it was so loud they could probably hear it upstairs. he’s still got you caged in front of him when he continues, “any particular reason for this bottle?”

“yeah no, i just, wanted to see what bottles of wine he had from the year i was born.” you answer, watching as spencer moves back to give you space when you turn to face him.

he nods, “did you know that wine is associated with the greek god dionysus?”

“no i didn’t, actually.”

“it’s really interesting,” he moves forward a tiny inch, “they call him the patron god of wine, but a lot of people often forget that he’s also the god of fertility and ecstasy.”

oh. “ecstasy?” you whisper confusingly.

“yes, he believes when you drink wine it gives you emotional and physical pleasure.”

“how does that even work?” you nervously laugh.

spencer reaches his arm above your head, never breaking eye contact, and grabs two wine glasses by their stems, “you wanna find out?”

with only so many words, you give another nod. he uncorks the bottle with ease and pours out two glasses, with his having a little less than yours, most likely due to his slow but steady return to drinking casually. clinking your glasses, you take a big gulp hoping it’ll satiate the building nerves. but you’re watching the way his fingers wrap around the glass, his veiny hand showing prominently and you’re unable to focus on anything else.

“you know, i’ve been running something of an observation the last few months.”

you take another small sip, starting to feel less nervous, “oh yeah, what about?”

“you.”

it took everything in you not to spit your drink out all over his suit. 

“me?”

he nods after another sip, “i’ve been watching you, and not in a creepy way i swear. but i’ve been keeping track of your habits; how you take your coffee, your tells when a case gets too much, things like that,”

that didn’t seem overtly terrible to you, you knew spencer was an observer of his environment, always seeking out patterns to aid his predictions. you’re about to speak when he cuts you off.

“i’ve also been noticing how you seem to change, when i’m in your presence.”

you feel like the sweat and nerves are just oozing out of you at this point, and he continues his verbal taunt.

“i’ve seen your breathing rate get faster,” he moves a step forward, “how your cheeks rise with the faintest red, kind of like right now,” another step forward, “and how you try to avoid looking directly at me because you think i’ll find out everything if you do.”

the room has to be at least a thousand degrees at this point, heart beating so fast it’s probably gone to the moon, and your brain just unable to have any coherent thoughts at the realization that maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought.

he takes one final step to close the gap between you and delicately places two fingers on the pulse point of your neck, “i couldn’t figure out your heart rate from afar,” he pauses to count, “but now that i know it, i can come to my conclusion.”

the air in your lungs has all but escaped, nowhere to be found. “and wh- what is your conclusion d- doctor reid?” your voice betraying you by dripping with anticipation.

“that i make you nervous. do you agree? do i make you nervous?” he says while you feel the hot breath of his whispers ghosting on your lips.

your mouth opens to say something and then shuts, because what the hell are you supposed to say? any and all logic has left the room, but the last working neuron works to make an unthinkable conclusion of your own. there is no way.

spencer moves his fingers to grip your chin between them, guiding your face to look directly into his copper eyes, “i asked you a question angel, do i make you nervous?”

you’re cornered, “y- yes.”

“why’s that?”

“spencer..”

“is it because you’re thinking of me the same way i think i about you?” his thumb starts tracing the outline of your lower jaw. he’s pressed right up against your chest, his other arm covertly moving to snake around your waist. the way you lean in subconsciously towards him, paired with your silence is all the confirmation he needs.

the pad of his thumb traces your lower lip, dragging it downwards a little. there’s a hitch in his breath when his eyes flicker from your lips back up to meet your eyes again. he quietly mumbles, “can i?”

your eyes widen slightly, relishing in the way his arms are holding you firm and steady. this was about to really happen. you’d been pining after him all this time, believing you were destined for unrequited love. but as spencer stands in front of you, looking at you as if he’d been poisoned and the only antidote is your lips, you can’t help but wonder if there’s been a similar weight on his side that’s been holding him back too.

so you nod once again, and trust your voice this time, 

“yes.”

you’re fully expecting him to go into it full force, and kiss you like a man starved. but he lets the premonition bubble for a little longer as he so agonizingly leans down and closes the gap, teasing you with the ghost of his lips on yours without making contact. he waits a moment, and just as he predicted your subconscious betrays you again and you impatiently lean up in an attempt to meet your lips together. spencer can’t help but smile before he softly pressed himself against you.

the feeling of his mouth on yours is something you can only describe as cosmic, like a star exploding into a supernova, emitting a powerful and luminous show of energy. it’s all consuming, the light reaching every neuronal end of your body and electrifying it ten times over. your hands reach up to tangle in his curly hair and he lets out the faintest whimper, spurring you on to grab it more earnestly.

spencer loses all restraint. his hands begin furiously mapping out your body, running up and down your back, reaching down to grasp a handful of your ass. he moves his hands down further to grip your thighs, effortlessly lifting you to sit on the counter behind you. spencer slots himself between your legs and continues kissing you, his mouth marking a hot trail to your neck as he mutters between, “is this okay?”

“please don’t stop.” you moan softly.

his fingers move to deftly slide the straps of your dress off your shoulder, mirroring the movement on the other side while continuing to work his down your neck. he slides the dress far enough down to expose your chest, immediately taking the swollen nub into mouth and running circles around it with his tongue. you let out a sharp gasp at the sudden warmth, whimpers leaving your throat. he repeats the motion to the other one as you cradle his head closer in an attempt to keep him there, as if spencer had any plans of leaving.

he moves his mouth back up to meet yours again, in a lust filled attack sending shock waves straight to your core. you move your fingers to work the buttons of his dress shirt and spencer moves his hand further south and under the hem of your dress, something you don’t notice until his thumbs are rubbing circles onto the plush of your inner thighs. it makes you falter on his last button as he pushes your legs farther apart,  inches closer to where you desperately need him.

spencer looks directly into your eyes as his thumbs reach up to hook onto the side of your panties and slowly move them down your legs. he groans outwardly at the resistance caused by your slickness, “all this for me, baby?”

you’re rendered speechless watching spencer and his ministrations but he continues, “you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?” his fingers are less than an inch away from your cunt, “i see you walk around the office in those tight pants, your hair and makeup all done, and those blouses jesus,” he reaches your entrance and dives in to collect your wetness, you brokenly moan as he begins to spread it all over. “couldn’t tell if you hated me for the longest time.”

“c- could never hate you.” you whine.

“i know baby,” he slides his middle finger into your hole, “just imagine the fun we could’ve had if we figured this out earlier. but it’s okay, we have all the time now.” he sets a steady rhythm before inserting his ring finger, actively working you towards a barreling orgasm.

“spencer, fuck, oh god.”

“you’re so fucking wet, bet you’re gonna come soon, right? gonna make a mess on my hand?” he baited.

you’re in shambles, one hand deathly squeezing onto one shoulder the other turning white from the grip you held on the counter. the moans won’t stop falling out of you, he works his fingers so skillfully within you it’s impossible to hold any resolve when he curves upwards and hits that spot.

your head tilts back, reeling from the intense pressure coil building inside you, the peak about to hit you any moment now. spencer uses his free hand to move your head back down, “look at me when you come on my fingers.”

that was all it took for the white hot to ravage through you, engulfing every sense and leaving you breathless. he continues moving his fingers through your orgasm, watching as you come back down to him. you don’t waste a second reaching for his belt to unfasten it, slipping your hand down to palm him through his boxers. he moans in your ear as he feels you slip inside, your small hand moving up and down, and getting impossibly harder when you take your hand back up to spit on it to then return to your movements.

you take the moment to lean into his neck and leave bites of your own, finding his sweet spot right behind his ear and sucking hard. spencer’s hands have taken a spot on your lower back beneath your dress, pressing so hard with his fingertips you know there’ll be evidence of this night tomorrow.

“spence..” you mutter in the crook in the neck.

“yeah baby?” he whispers back.

“can you fuck me now?”

he preens at your boldness, and wastes no time pulling his pants and boxers down enough to fully free himself. he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter before pulling his length out and giving it a few strokes. he lets it glide between your folds, gathering your wetness as lubricant as it hits your clit. both of you are panting hard realizing the anticipation has led to this moment. spencer positions himself at your entrance, never breaking eye contact with you, and watches your face drop into a perfect ‘oh’ as he pushes in.

spencer is absolutely wrecked as he hears your breathing pick up, reveling in the vice grip your cunt has on him. you’re no better above him as you’ve broken eye contact to stare at where the two of you connect, watching as he disappears into you and the feeling of being so full overtakes you and you’re letting out soft expletives. he bottoms out and stalls for a minute, waiting for you to signal that you’re okay for him to move. in the time he’s waiting, he takes a moment to really look at your face, how absolutely ruined you look, your cheeks are deeply flushed, hair flying in every direction, and he can’t help but tell you, “you look so pretty.”

your eyes soften as you gaze back at him and nod slightly, and he pulls back all the way to ease in again experimentally. once he hears you moan out loud at the movement, and feels you tighten even more around his cock, he loses any and all restraint he’d been holding onto this entire night.

his hips pick up the pace in harsh snaps to your core, sending ripples of pleasure all over you. your arms are wrapped around his neck attempting to pull him impossibly closer to you, “spencer…fuck…” you drawl with a whine.

“i got you baby, gonna take good care of you, promise,” he says back in between grunts. the sentiment causes you to squeeze on his cock again as he attempts to continue, “if you keep…fuck…keep squeezing me like that i’m n- not gonna last long.”

one hand in his hair and the other leaving dark red scratches on his back, you feel your second orgasm of the night hastily creep up on you. he can tell you’re close and quickens his pace as he thumbs your clit. you moan his name out once more before reaching your peak, feeling like your body is on fire as he continues to fuck you through it. 

spencer feels his own release building up, “wh- where should i..?”

“inside, i’m on the pill just please come inside me.”

it was more than enough for spencer’s movements to stutter as he released his hot load in you, groaning out loud as he finished.

he slows to a half, still hilted inside of you but softening post orgasm. you’re both breathing heavily as you look up at each other and take in the other’s fucked out faces. spencer presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before resting his own on it, “that was..”

“intense,” he quirks his eyebrows at you, “in a really really good way.” you add quickly.

he smiles down at you, “i wasn’t kidding, what i said earlier. i think about you an embarrassingly high amount each day. i’d love to take you out and make this a real thing.”

“yeah?” you gape incredulously, “thought i was the one embarrassing myself if you were able to notice all those things i did when you were near me.”

he laughs, “no, no it was endearing, definitely made it easier to be as forward as i was tonight knowing you wouldn’t freak out.”

you’re about to respond when you hear the door to the cellar open, you’re both hidden from view but know it’s only a matter of seconds before someone catches you. you both look at each other in panic as spencer pulls out of you, tucking himself back in and zipping up his pants. you grab your panties from the floor and begin to pull them up your legs when he notices his come dripping down your thighs. he swiftly gathers the release on his fingers and shoves it back inside you, causing you to let out a near pornographic moan as he pulls up your underwear all the way.

“did you guys hear that?” a voice sounding like emily said.

“see this is why i don’t do big houses like this, too many creepy ass noises.” morgan.

“mansion,” rossi corrects, “and for a couple of profilers, you both are stupid if you don’t know what that sound was.”

your eyes widen to match spencer’s, you’ve been caught.

“was it a mouse or something?”

“no more like, bunnies,” he joked with an innuendo, “come on, i found the bottle i was looking for, let the bunnies do their thing so they can leave and go home to do whatever it is bunnies do.”

“you’re a weird old man david…” emily muttered.

the door closes and you both let out a big breath, and burst into a fit of laughter, “how the hell are we gonna show our faces to him on monday?” you whine.

“that is a monday us problem,” he starts, “but right now, i think it’s time for me to take you home.” he winks.

two stuffed bunnies show up on yours and spencer’s desk on monday. you’re both redder than a tomato as rossi chuckles when he walks by. prentiss and morgan are still confused.

[m-owo-n]

.

[satoruhour]

LAUNDRY DAY

a/n: I AM ALLIVEEEEEEE 🔥🔥🔥🔥 sorry i had a crazy week! can be read as a standalone piece but based off gojo’s roommate au of here and here / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody ☆

wc: 4k

warnings: sub!gojo that turns into dom!gojo, fem!reader, fantasising? gojo is a pervert too, mentions of semi-public sex, implied somnophilia, panty sniffing, pillow / dry humping, m! masturbation, oral (m receiving), deep-throating, praise, pet names, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

living with you was hard. brushing his teeth with you was hard. being around you — hard. both figuratively and—

there’s a loud sigh from you.

clearly tired from the day’s activities of ushering in freshman after freshman, you lugged your body into the bathroom. the same rehearsed words have been leaving your mouth as your cheeks hurt more and more by the hour, only to repeat it all over again the next day.

“you look like shit,” it’s muffled by the way the toothbrush is stuffed into his mouth, foam peeking out from the corners of his mouth and you’re trying not to tell your roommate (and boyfriend) to shut up — you didn’t have the energy to do, much less say anything and you certainly didn’t have time for your lover’s clever quips so late in the night.

it didn’t help that you recently had an argument too; well, trivial to him but much more major to you. it was a matter of getting gojo to keep his laundry properly and to clean up after himself once he’s gotten himself comfortable in the relationship. it’s not like he doesn’t want to — he was cleaning up in the first place to impress you — but now since he’s got you, it’s like he simply expects you to act as his little wife when it was a shared space. the exact argument you used against him.

“satoru— this is a shared apartment! you can’t just leave tteokbokki cups lying around with the gochujang sauce still inside! it’s going to attract cockroaches and ants!” you gesture wildly, the sheer amount of trash lying around making you even sicker than you thought possible. getting paid to usher in freshmen and then coming home to this? it felt like every cent of your hard work had gone to waste.

there’s only a grin on his face, “you’re so attractive when you’re mad, baby.”

that was another thing: the lack of seriousness that gojo possessed at times, simply talking to piss you off, simply living to be the bane of your existence. “and you’re fucking unbelievable, gojo satoru. clean up— or don’t,” you made sure to lace that last word with venom, “i don’t care.”

that seemed enough for gojo to snap out of his stupor, “no, no— princess, fuck, i’m s—” his brows furrow when he briefly spots the thickening glaze of your eyes, possibly filling with tears before you’re marching into your room to slam the door and he swears to himself. satoru had never felt embarrassment and shame and sadness like that day; having just taken a shower but his skin was sweaty and uncomfortable and his heart sat right at his feet.

gojo swears he never wants to hear you say his full name ever again.

since then, it’s been a little tense between the two of you. geto had noticed it on movie night, shoko realised you haven’t been looking at your phone as often. hell, even prof. yaga had to tell you that you were distracted way too much lately, and it’s only been two days.

satoru tried to possibly take back what he said with whatever powers he didn’t possess, but he only gets another sigh from you as you squeeze the toothpaste out and start brushing your teeth, not even sparing him one glance in the mirror.

and yet while he was the first one to start his nightly routine, he’s left to be the last again from the way he’s unable to stop staring at you, a recurring trait of his whenever you were in the same room with him. it’s a testament of how attracted he was to you — at how his shirt slips off your shoulder from how big it was because even when you were mad at him, you forgot about that little detail. gojo’s eyes trail from your exposed shoulder to your legs and back up again to your fatigued face. he skims over the shape of your eyes and down to your nose and he thinks he’s the luckiest man to be brushing his teeth beside you now, blessed with seeing such an intimate side of you even if it’s as simple as this.

until gojo’s eyes fall upon your mouth as your toothbrush is doing its job of perfect innocence, cleaning some teeth, scraping off the bacteria on your tongue, except when you’re switching it from side to side all your roommate can think about if it was his dick instead. and the thought leaves him as fast it comes.

all you do is shoot him a weird look through the mirror when gojo exclaims like he was a vampire whose skin burned under the bathroom lighting, and he regains composure with ease.

“i’m fine! fine. doing a-okay.” satoru speaks through the foam and it’s spraying everywhere and you’re too tired to care before you hear another gulp when you move your toothbrush again, “sorry! sorry— continue please.”

gojo is starstruck for an entirely different reason, now, watching the toothbrush making bulges at the side of your mouth as it moves in and out and he’s left to fantasise about the many, many times you’ve gotten him in you and the warmth of everything. he can feel himself get hard under his sweatpants when you start brushing your tongue and you gag and he wants to die standing in this 30 square foot bathroom because the last thing he wants to do is sexualise something perfectly mundane.

gojo isn’t like that (well, most of the time. can’t blame him for finding you smokin’ hot).

“what the fuck is your problem?” you’re speaking through your foamy mouth now, spitting it out and proceeding to clean up with no clue of what you do to him. satoru on the other hand — terribly excited that you’d even open your mouth to talk to him after two days of endless silent treatment. 

“nothing, baby. it’s nothing, i promise.” you can’t lie at the way your heart jumps at the familiarity of it all, of being in such proximity to your lover, doing domestic things like these and the ‘baby’ and yet your pride is holding you back on everything.

you go straight to sleep, too, not wanting to entertain anything related to gojo satoru and you feel just a little bad when he looks at you with those baby blues and a sweet pout on his face. he looked especially pathetic in the bathroom, like a deer caught in headlights at just the presence of you and you want nothing more to apologise. it’s never that easy, though; you needed a promise, you needed the reassurance that he wouldn’t be leaving you to clean up after him again.

all these worries are willed away when you finally fall into slumber in your own room, body craving the warmth of satoru unknowingly. you had stolen a pillow the day before and it’s been the sole source of his scent, the only thing to keep your mind sane.

gojo’s heart drops again upon seeing you already deep in sleep, thinking he had a chance to catch you before you did, but the needines for you never goes down even now. he cannot take his mind off the way you’d run your hands through his hair or tangle your legs with his, satoru’s limbs recall the memory of you playing with his fingers and how you like to curl your arms around his neck. 48 hours is enough for him to go insane, and also maybe at how your leg was propped up on his missing pillow, hugging it so tight to your chest. you hadn’t bothered to wear pants either, so all he can see is the shape of your cunt under.

he stalks into the room and kneels in front of you, finger so tempted to run along your folds and make you wet, staring a whole minute and weighing his options until decides he doesn’t deserve it, turning away and closing your door softly.

“going now, satoru.” it’s soft when you mumble it, not even wanting him to hear before you’re stopped. you’re donning the uni orientation shirt and eyebags, a soggy sandwich from yesterday staining your bag with its smell. “what?”

“made you somethin’,” gojo’s cute like this with a frilly apron and hair band, still managing to tower over you despite the adorable get-up he’s got on, “it’s a bento.”

and you wish you could just melt the pride that runs through your bones and kiss him all over, and you break just a little. a small smile and you walk up to him, grabbing the lunchbox and pecking him softly on the cheek, turning away fast enough to not catch his fangirl moment — because you knew you wouldn’t be able to make it on time if you did.

“we still have to talk later when i come back, okay?” you call out as you put on your shoes and you steal one last glance at him, “and today’s laundry day. you know what t—”

“yes ma’am!” gojo salutes and you roll your eyes with a small smile, locking the door behind you with heat on your cheeks and the pounding of your heart. it was difficult not to break when it came to satoru, when he’s trying so hard to win back your words and love, and so tonight you’ve decided after the tiring week is when you’d finally stop running away over such a small matter.

although, gojo got caught up in something way beyond your expectations even if he had his initial intentions (which involved ordering your favourite takeout and kneeling at the front door in apology). 

your roommate lays around for a bit before grabbing some lunch and heading to the back room, a little extension attached to the kitchen with a tune on his lips. it’s clear he’s a little driven by your little innocent peck, a sign that maybe you weren’t so mad any more. for the next hour, satoru is contently doing the laundry with a smile, until—

the panties you threw in before showering must have fallen to the bottom of the pile, the same one he saw you wear last night and he thinks maybe the low humming buzz he heard last night wasn’t his imagination because when he picks it up he can smell your arousal. there’s a stain from the previous night and another pool of juices from this morning and he now knows that it wasn’t the kettle.

“dirty girl,” he grins, “both yesterday and this morning?” he’s thought about this for the longest time, always holding himself back because you found him weird enough even before you were dating, always letting you do your own separate load for your undergarments. but since you’ve gotten together, you were more comfortable, throwing it into the same laundry basket — the compulsion has never been this strong before.

gojo puts it up to his nose and smells like the pervert he is, among other times: teasing you with a hand down your pants when the two were over at your dorm, fucking you in the kitchen as they focused on the movie, pounding into you with the windows open, and he almost ascends at the scent of your pussy juices. there’s a spark that goes down right to his core and he palms his bulge unconsciously, coming to his senses when the washing machine beeps.

he impatiently puts in the settings and leaves, heading straight for your room and is hit with all reminders of you. the perfume you used this morning and the body wash you share with him, walking almost under a trance to your bed where he moans at the softness of the sheets as he falls face first. it doesn’t take him much to scoot to your pillows, but the need for you is just too much.

gojo grinds his cock into the bed, whining softly as he whiffs up your natural body smell, hips moving on their own accord as he manoeuvres a pillow between his legs. he humps it like a dog, groaning and moaning and the strain on his dick is just too much, balling up the undies in his hand and his body tenses at the friction. 

“baby . . f-fuck—” satoru’s voice is high-pitched and choked, all the thoughts of you culminating into one big ball of desperation for you and he cums in his pants, tainting the fabric a darker colour than before. but he’s not done — his hips still move against the pillow, thrusting into the fluff as he rides out his orgasm, moans muffled by the pillow. “miss you . .”

gojo misses you more than anything, feeling so much distance even within the house that he flips over — by now the sun shines its golden rays a little less. the afternoon is winding down into a cool evening — and pulls at the waistband of his pants. he’s still sensitive, wrapping a hand around his hard cock and pumping and the sound that leaves his mouth is borderline slutty. with another smell of your cunt, he strokes his dick, using his cum as lube.

“oh . . r-right there— mhnng . .” satoru’s hips buck into his hand, squeezing and thumbing at his cock before unbundling your panties and wrapping them around his shaft. the sight drives him insane. sure, it’s one of your more everyday underwear, neutral in both design and colour but he can feel the fabric get wetter and wetter from how much cum he’s pushed out earlier and that’s enough to keep his hand pumping. “s-sweetness, cummin—”

gojo’s head makes a dent in your other pillow from how hard he was pushing it, back arching at how the warmth in his hand will never compare to your mouth or pussy. he can already feel his second orgasm approaching, your room filled with the squelch of his cock and his sounds and he shoots his load with a drawn out moan all over your panties and his stomach. his cum is always so much, dripping down his pelvis and onto his hand and also . . yours?

your boyfriend lets out the girliest scream you’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing, scrambling up to the headboard when he sees you hovering over his body. he accidentally kicks your chest in the process and you have to clutch it with a small “ow”, although a small smile is still present on your face.

“having fun?”

“dude, what the fuck?” 

your smile drops, “dude?”

gojo suddenly has his hands moving frantically, “nonono— no, sorry, i meant baby!”

you sigh, sitting back down on your heels as you take in the sight: his still hard cock and the sweat lining his body. his bangs are wet and your eyes flit down to your soiled underwear.

“uh . . i was just borrowing it,” gojo nervously chuckles, handing the cum-filled panty to you and your brows furrow.

“darling, you can’t just give someone back their clothes with your come on it.”

and your boyfriend pouts again, “i really am sorry. and for everything else, too. for not cleaning up and for being a general bum,” this is why you also (sometimes) favoured his unseriousness when you were talking about difficult things. the amount of times you had succumbed to his touches and kisses when you were mad at him was much better than your pride. gojo brings you onto his lap like his dick wasn’t just out, and you relish in the closeness you’ve missed.

“i need you to show me you mean it, ��toru,” he lights up at the nickname he loves just as you point a finger in his face, “aht! calm down. don’t think we’re all buddy-buddy again.”

“i will try,” gojo is smooth, taking your hand into his while the other brushes the hair away from your eyes. you lean into the touch, “and i will try until you see my efforts.”

you smile at his honesty, “and i’m sorry for ignoring you as well. it was childish of me.”

gojo hums, bringing your face in to plant a kiss to your lips, “i missed you like crazy, princess.”

you laugh, “yeah i can tell, i miss you too.” you gesture to all of him and he whines softly at the joke, squeezing your waist.

“you’re not weirded out?”

his breath hitches when you move down his body and situate yourself between them, finger tracing his tip and teasing him, “why would i be? i’ve literally fucked myself wearing your shirt.”

gojo gulps loudly, “you did w-what?”

“i’m just better at not getting caught.” all words are taken from his lips then, when your mouth engulfs him and the feeling of it is just pure insanity. gojo pants and his thighs tense, a hand gathering your hair into a ponytail to keep it from interfering. his eyes fixate on the way your suck him off, recalling the last time he’s watched you do that was in a damn bathroom. 

“y-your mouth—” satoru swears under his breath when you swirl your tongue around his shaft, the tip of his cock making bulges on the side of your mouth and it only leaves him calling out your name time after time.

“y’know,” you gargle on him, slurping up his cum, “i know what you were thinking starin’ at me last night.”

gojo snaps his fingers and mumbles out a shaky damn, because he can always be read like an open book. he just didn’t know he was that obvious.

“looked cute staring,” you mutter around him, “like a little puppy.”

you slap his thick length on your tongue, moaning when you feel just how heavy it is, “you just wanted this so bad, didn’t you?”

gojo whines at your words, nodding, and you go back to the abuse on his dick, bobbing your head up and down as your hand plays with his balls. the other moves over his torso, at the porcelain skin there and you can feel his stomach heaving at your ministrations.

“are you close, baby?” you ask mindlessly, the lewd sounds of his fat cock in your mouth sending sensations right down to your sex as well. you never really listen to his answer, taking a deep breath and sucking in your cheeks and soon you’re deep throating your lover.

“mh— mmf . .” sounds deep from your throat as your nose buries itself in his pubes, and satoru struggles to hold your tantalising stare. he can feel his tip hit the back of your throat and his moans are quick and high-pitched.

“cumming— ’m cumming,” before you come off and you go back to your pace and gojo’s small moans descend into longer ones at the feeling. his eyes roll back right into his skull as he twitches in your mouth and soon he’s spilling right into your throat and tongue.

“baby—” satoru’s eyes are squeezed tightly shut, “s-shit . .” and the sheer amount of cum always takes you off guard, sputtering over it when you drag your lips off of him. your boyfriend’s eyes are hooded and darkened, looking at how the strings of his semen droop from your mouth and connect right to his weeping tip.

“eugh, eat more veggies, ’toru. you’re bitter as fuck.” you say with a giggle, swallowing nonetheless as you wipe a hand across your mouth, “thanks for the meal.”

his spirit has certainly ascended, chest heaving and legs jelly from that mind-blowing orgasm. even he takes solace on the headboard, looking down at you with tired eyes.

“but i’m not done,” you truly weren’t, driving satoru to the brink after you’ve milked him to his limit, and yet he wouldn’t have it any other way as he thrusts into you, having had a new burst of energy after seeing your confidence wane once you’ve gotten his dick in you.

it was cute — your words breaking up and staggering as you sink down for the first time after two days, reduced merely to whines as you ride him. gojo lets you have your fun for a bit before he properly flips you over, pressing down on your lower back.

“fuck yourself onto me, baby,” he can tell you’ve missed him too by how you squeeze around him, a sly grin on his face when your hips push back onto him. he sees the tight hold you have on the silk sheets and the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. “good girl . . juuust like that.”

you’re jerking forward when he slaps your ass, letting it ripple from the force of both of his hand and your hips. but he takes over soon enough, grabbing both your arms and pulling you gently off that you’re hanging limply. and even while he does that, he’s still focused on the way your lips spread to accommodate him together with a ring of white at the base of his cock.

“that feel good? huh?” gojo mumbles, loving the way you arch your back and your head lols forward, just letting him do whatever he wants to you. you’re too far gone to even quell the ache in your thighs, too distracted by the wetness of your pussy.

“feel s— s’good, satoru—!” you moan out and like always satoru is indecisive in everything, now tugging you up to rest chest to back. “g’na cum!”

your legs spread more and more as your lover keeps you tightly pressed against him, an arm around your neck and the other, waist. wordlessly, he guides your face to the side, meeting your mouth in a sloppy, drooling kiss and his hips stutter at the way you mewl into his mouth.

“that right, princess?” he asks into your lips, relishing in your face contorting in pleasure. eyes reaching heaven and your mouth parted cutely even more when he props a leg up and his cockhead presses against your cervix ever so lightly.

“y—yeah . .” it’s a mix between a whine and a moan before the only rub of your clit from satoru’s hand sends you reeling and you’re trembling in his hold. you can feel your juices coat his length just as he cums as well, too obsessed with the way your cunt feels aeons better than his pathetic hand. he litters your skin with groans of his own, continue to fuck his cum back into you as you milk him dry with ropes and ropes of semen painting your womb white.

“good little girl,” he hums, and you sigh at the feeling of him cumming again, sensing him removing himself with you with an obscene pop! and you want to continue. you’re already moving your hips yet again, begging with small please’s but the happy-go-lucky song of the dryer interrupts the both of you. you scowl.

gojo laughs into your neck, and you’re left grumbling as he sets you down gently, letting you catch your breath before he presses a kiss to your sweaty cheek.

“i’ll handle it, baby,” satoru made a promise to you and he’ll keep it. he hurriedly pulls his sweatpants over his bottom half, “you just rest up.”

it’s not even two minutes later that you already miss him, trotting over to the laundry room in nothing but his shirt and you just watch as he removes the clothes with a certain tranquillity and delicateness that you’d like to see this sight more often and all you can muster in the moment is your arms around his middle.

and the sweetness of the moment is immediately ruined by gojo, “let’s fuck here. whaddya say?” 

your roommate and lover can only grin when you turn him around to smack him (“it’s!” slap “not!” slap “sanitary!” slap “here!” slap), finally happy everything’s back to normal. satoru simply presses a kiss to your temple.

[batchilla]

False Accusations (You know I KNOW right? Chapter Two)

Let me first say thank you for all the kind reception part one received. It was … a surprise, and a welcome one.

Also, a massive thank you to @sunnie-angel for beta reading. If you haven’t read their work… Do yourself a favor and check out their masterlist!

This Chapter takes place over a few days in two mini stories., and I would appreciate being told if at any point this causes confusion. Currently how I’ve done it is as tilted segments. Content warning: this chapter has themes of sexual harassment in the workplace up to the point of groping (from an OC), and corruption. Proceed with caution. Be safe.

The morning after. You are going to murder your partner, Grayson. Perhaps with a gun. Maybe your own two hands. Or maybe you just need coffee.

It's probably the coffee thing. Coffee, then you’ll decide if you're going to kill him and how. As you sit at your table, surrounded by notes you’d made at 4am, the urge to throttle Grayson slowly subsides. You hadn’t slept a wink. You’d had a weird night. But if you were going to do this, help him find this killer… you’d need a plan for if it all goes to hell. A diversion. A plan so that if you’re made, maybe the killer will think you’re on the wrong track. A dummy investigation. But simultaneously one that you won’t overthink, so that you can devote your time and brainpower to the truth. Luckily for you, you have the perfect person to pretend to accuse. After all, your partner, Grayson, is an incredibly weird guy. 8:55 am finds you walking into the station sipping your third coffee of the morning, only to find Grayson sat at his desk. Shirt pressed, tie perfect, hair shampoo commercial glamourous yet slightly messy. The urge to murder your partner returns, just a little. How dare he be so… normal? So unaffected? How dare this man fight crime by night, and be smiling at you as he is now, chipper and bright and perfect, before 9am? The nerve. Maybe you could hit him with a patrol car and claim it was an accident. “Morning detective… Long night?”

Oh.. This fucker. Your partner, Grayson, is the most annoying man alive. You hate how badly you have to fight the urge to grin at the sheer audacity.

She looks exhausted, the poor thing. Dick remembered the feeling, but at some point he’d adapted to running on less sleep than was by any means reasonable. He hoped she wouldn’t need to. That this would be over in a few weeks and she’d be back to getting a full eight hours. “Morning Detective… Long night?” She glares at him like he’s caused personal offence. He raises an eyebrow at her to prompt a response. Inside though, he panics. Had he done something wrong? Could she suspect? No. no of course not. But whatever she said next would surely be important. It was a test of sorts. What would she say she’d spent the night doing? Would she betray his alter ego? Could she sell the lie if she didn’t? “Just had a night in, had a little too much to drink,” she shrugs, opening her bag and removing a notebook. Casual, calm, partially true and nearly impossible to disprove short of a blood test or breathalyser, and even then there was deniability. Dick nods, and looks back down to his computer to hide the grin that splits his face in half. He knows he can’t dwell on it, knows he can’t act on it, but it’s completely unfair that she was that smooth. That helpful. She’d agreed to help him - as Nightwing - instantly. Her words about how Blud owed him a debt had played in his mind on loop for the rest of his patrol. He knew what it felt like to fly. To flip through the air at dizzying heights, gravity a mere afterthought. It was cruel, frankly, that he’d found someone who made him feel even better than that, only for her to be someone he couldn’t be with out of principle and professionalism. It wasn’t that he objected to her as a partner - short of his family, she was possibly the best he’d ever met. Frankly, if she was transferred to Gotham, the bat signal would be turned on far less frequently. And he didn’t object to rules about dating fellow officers, especially one’s partner. Objectively it made sense. But it didn’t change the fact that her smile was the best part of his day. That on the rare times she laughed he could swear he heard an angel just straight up quit its position in the heavenly chorus out of pure envy. That when she’d said she’d help he’d wanted nothing more than to grab her face and kiss her till she was breathless. But he can’t. Or at least Dick Grayson can’t. A new voice breaks him from his spiralling thoughts. “Detective Grayson.” The man standing behind his partner's desk has a hand on the back of her seat, preventing her from swivelling around. 

“We haven’t met yet, I’m Sergeant James McElroy. Seems you spent most of my first day back stuck on a stakeout.” “Pleasure.” he responds, with all the charm he’s learnt to use at galas and parties, forcing down the venom incurred by the way his partner had seemed to lose a gallon of blood at the sound of his voice, and the way she had seemed not to breath since the name was spoken.

He's not touching you. Of course not. He knows better than to do anything so blatant. It's how he’d gotten away with it for so long last time. He doesn’t touch you, or say the things he was so clearly thinking. He would masterfully walk the line between making you feel unsafe, alone, and naked, while never crossing over into anything actionable. Till one day he had. It had been in a crowded lift where he’d used the crush as an excuse to grab and to feel, whispering something vile in your ear. 

He’d figured he’d gotten away with it when you tried to tell your captain and he’d asked if you had a witness. You’d thought he’d gotten away with it too. Till a uniformed officer, Janet Rodwell, had stepped up to have your back. You should have known, really. For the second time in 24 hours you feel like a fool. But while the first time it had been accompanied with a dizzying realisation of love, this time the realisation is dark and chilling to your core. You’d thought you’d won, that it was over. But he’s back and he’s not touching you, but you feel the ghost of his hands all over. You can’t win. He’d been sent away and you thought you were safe again, but he’s back and he’s a sergeant now. Because Bludhaven, as it is, rewards men like him. You can’t bring yourself to look over your shoulder at him, so you look straight ahead, across your desk and to your partner’s adjoining one.

It's not Dick Grayson’s eyes you meet though. They aren’t cheerful, carefree and beautiful. Well, they are beautiful. But they are angry, intelligent, and fierce. You meet Nightwings gaze, and you feel the claws around your lungs relax, even if they do not recede. 

His partner did not rattle easily. Did not panic unnecessarily. 

Pinned down by the Penguin’s smugglers, he’d thought their goose had been cooked unless he could work at his true capacity, so he had shot out the lights and gotten to work. He’d taken out nine, but been unable to find the tenth, until he’d heard the struggle. 

She’d taken him down blind, without drawing her gun. When he’d asked her why she hadn’t, she’d told him she’d lost sight of him in the chaos, and was unwilling to risk it. He wished he hadn’t shot the light out so he could have seen it. 

Still, he had been oblivious. It had hit him like a batarang to the face last night, in that moment where she agreed without hesitation to help him find a serial killer. He’d known she was beautiful, and brilliant. That he had a crush. 

He’d realised last night he was in far, far deeper trouble than that. So, if she was frightened and upset by the presence of this man, then Dick would take his looming over her as a serious threat. He trusted her gut. “You haven’t introduced yourself to my partner, Detective—-” He’s cut off with a dismissive wave that boils his blood. “Oh we’ve met. In fact, she was my partner first. Until the misunderstanding.” There are many ways to snap someone out of a panic. He’s seen sheer rage do it many times. As it does now. “There was no misunderstanding,” she says, her voice firm, her teeth gritted. “Well. I want you to know-” he moves from directly behind her, to her side, leaning down over her, invading her space. Dick wanted to hit him. “I understand that what I did could have been seen as invasive, and you may have felt that I overstepped. I have completed a course, as demanded by HR, and will attempt not to cause you to feel that I have been inappropriate again.”

She takes a deep breath. He can practically hear her count in his head. He stands, moving around the desk to stand beside her, not quite a barrier but a comforting presence, or at least he hoped. “Well. Whatever occurred, we have work to be getting on with, if you don’t mind.” It takes a great deal of the restraint his training has given not to add the words ‘you bastard’, or something far more creative. “But of course. Detective. Detective.”  

Your hands shake as you sit back down in your seat. Your partner, Grayson, returns to his own, his gaze - Richard’s gaze, never leaving your face, crumpled in concern. “I don’t want to overstep… but are you alright? What … did he do?” “I…” you want to tell him, in part. Or maybe you don’t, and you want him to know without having to go through the ordeal of rehashing it all. Maybe by consulting whatever ‘oracle’ he used as nightwing. But you can’t right now. So you don’t. “I… need some air.” Your partner just gives you a comforting smile, a nod, and lets you leave without question. Wingding in the window 

It's five days later, on his patrol, when he notices it. The wingding left in her window. He stops on the roof of the building adjacent to her. As far as city roofs go, this one’s relatively nice. Someone’s placed some potted plants around, in an eclectic attempt at a rooftop garden. Some of these pots contain small pebbles as cover for the soil from the wind. Grinning to himself, he takes a handful. 

Was this a good idea? No. 

Was it deceptive? Well, no more than anything else he did as Nightwing… well, maybe a little more. 

But it hurt, holding her at arm's length, when a part of his soul he tried to ignore yearned to be as close as she would allow. He knows it’s not good. He knows it’s a violation of the utter trust she seems to hold in Nightwing. Really, it would only make things even more messy for his chances as Dick. But he wants to make her smile. Blush, even. He knows she finds him attractive, and in both contexts, but he wants more than that. Over the last week he’s realised just how much he wants to have with her, and it terrifies him. 

If it was simple lust he could deal with it.  But it wasn’t, and so here he was, about to attempt the cheesiest move known to hallmark films, just to see if it would make her laugh at him again. 

He’d managed to be professional while surrounded by highly capable, badass women in skintight clothes for most of his life. He’d had crushes before and gotten over them. He wanted everything with her. And that was not something he knew how to handle, given the mess of their situation. Dick shakes his head, snapping himself out of his doom spiral. He had a detective to meet, and a serial killer to find.

Bap. Bap. Bap. You look up from your book. You’d been getting ready for sleep, wearing your cosy pyjamas, curled up in bed with a book and a hot chocolate. You go still, listening. Bap. Bap. A pause. Then, the rap of knuckles on glass. “I ran out of rocks”

You know that voice. “With you in a moment.” You pull on a dressing gown, and take a moment to curse the fact that your slippers are rabbits before pulling the curtains aside. Nightwing is crouched on your windowsill. You lift it, stepping back as he enters through the window with all the grace of a cat. You know that you shouldn’t be embarrassed to be in your pyjamas, it's late, you had no means of knowing when he’d arrive. But he looked divine in that suit. An adonis. And you're in your old bathrobe and bunny slippers. Truely, you must have done terrible things in a past life. “Nice footwear.” Nightwing says with a smirk. Curse him. Curse his cheekbones and the way his lips look so damn inviting. “You picked up what, five rocks?” you sass right back. Nightwing makes a noise you suspect was supposed to be a scoff, but is more of a squeak. “Do you see a lot of pocket space on this?” 

“Fair.” you say, leading him out of your bedroom and into your living room. He sits on your couch, one leg spread wide, the other’s ankle resting on its thigh, as you open a drawer on your coffee table and produce your masterpiece. Nearly five metres of red string. Names, photos, dates, all studded with pins so pressed so tightly in they haven’t a prayer of accidental removal. You prop it up on the coffee table. 

Maybe your friends were right. Maybe you did need to touch grass. A line of thought for later. You look at Nightwing, who’s no longer relaxed and laying back on your sofa like he owned the place. 

Its years of maintaining a poker face in interrogations and more recently, dealing with his shenanigans that prevents you from grinning. 

He's as pale as you’ve ever managed to see him, and leaning forward now, elbow on knee and chin in hand. “Well, this is… impressive.” He sounded like he’d inhaled helium. “Shall we start with Sergeant McElroy?” you offer, smiling your best ‘there’s nothing wrong’ smile, enjoying making him squirm. “You seem to have … a significant amount of evidence against Detective Richard Grerson?” You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you take a ruler, poking your picture of him between the eyes. You hadn’t planned to do him first, you’d hoped to discuss evidence that would actually lead somewhere. 

This was still going to be fun though. You take a deep breath, and pause for a suitable level of dramatic effect, and begin your game. 

“Detective Richard Grayson. He’s my partner. He’s an excellent detective, and a good man. You might have heard of the charity he founded.” Nightwing makes a noncommittal humming noise. “But is it all too good to be true?” you ask, moving to your first notecard. “Exhibit one. He asked about the file. On its own, innocuous. But then, exhibits two through four. He’s prone to frequent disappearances on cases. He often knows a little too much about the criminal underside of Blud. Things that I have triple checked are not in any police database.”

You run a hand through your hair. “He’s a highly trained combatant. I once saw him take down nine men armed with guns, in the dark. They don’t teach that at the police academy.” “No? No.” Nightwing says, clearing his throat. “I mean yes. That is… suspicious.” “Incredibly. Which brings me to exhibit five. Now I’m no behavioural analyst or shrink. But I know my basics. Childhood trauma and instability can have… lingering impacts. I… don’t feel the need to dredge up his past, but I did look into it… and it’s grim. He was then taken in by Bruce Wayne. His relationship to his father, whatever it is, is something he’s even tighter lipped about then… everything else honestly. It’s not on the board because it’s circumstantial at best… but he has this skill of being able to hold long conversations and yet you come away not having learnt anything deeper about him.” 

He was pretty sure he’d been nodding for a good thirty seconds at this point.  

It would be funny if it didn’t hurt so much. 

The worst part was that it was all well reasoned. Practical. He had done everything she accused him of. She had just drawn a far more down to earth conclusion, that he was a corrupt cop, rather than Nightwing. 

It made sense. Too much sense. How could he shut this down without seeming invested in his own innocence? 

That isn’t what causes his lungs to burn though. No. The root of that was that even if he’d forced himself to maintain a professional - if friendly - distance from her, he would have hoped that she trusted him. 

But in this moment, looking at the evidence, looking at her holding that ruler to his photo’s face like a judge's gavel ready to condemn… he knows. He knows that she will never look at Dick the way she does as Nightwing, happy to see him, believing in his mission, ready to help as soon as he’d asked. Even if he clears himself of this crime, she would surely suspect him of others. 

He’d known it, at least on one level, ever since he’d first met her. He knows it now all the deeper, and he wants to scream. Dick Grayson will never get to tell her how truly wonderful she is.

How highly he regards her. 

How she is one of the reasons he keeps fighting for Bludhaven. 

Dick Grayson will never get to tell her that he loves her. 

But… perhaps Nightwing could have something. Because if she was his north star, then the way he’d felt when she agreed to help him had been like being engulfed by a supernova. 

If she was water, then seeing her cosy and ready for bed and smiling as she let him in through the window had been an oasis in the Sahara. 

If music was the food of love, her attempts not to laugh and stifled giggles over his peeps popcorn had been a symphony orchestra. 

But he’d never have her as himself. Not at all. Nightwing though? She at least found him attractive. Aligned with his ideology. No, he’d never feel that warmth of 10,000 stars directed at the real him. 

No, he’d never be able to be quenched by her life saving presence. 

No, he’d never feel her laughter shaking his bones as if in a musical crescendo.

But even the dimmest and most distant star gave off some light.

Even the last drop in an empty water skin was better than nothing.

Even the memory of a melody could be sweet. True, he would only ever have scraps of her affection. True, he could flirt, and perhaps go even further… but he’d never truly be with her. 

But who was a starving man to deny scraps of sustenance? He’d take what he could have and try to ignore the lingering hunger. 

“Perhaps we should discuss… another suspect?” he prompts, realising how long he’s been silent. How long she had been too, watching him with a strange, concerned look.

She nods, and moves on to their Captain.

Dick is almost relieved when some ten minutes later Oracle calls in a robbery downtown. “Well - sorry Sherlock.” He takes a picture of her board for further study. “I’ll be around next week to continue this discussion, and look over this in my own time till then. Duty calls.” “Be safe,” She says softly, as he’s halfway through the window He looks over his shoulder. “As you wish.”

Taglist: @jasontoddproblems

@sunnie-angel

@stormz369

@love-theangel-blog

@torchbearerkyle

@interwebseriesfan24

@love-theangel-blog

@alwaysnervouswitchprince

@underlinekasis

@tiredsleepyandreading

@soradragon Banner credit is to @strangergraphics

If you would request to be added to my taglist, please reblog the fic. Honestly please just reblog it anyway? I worked hard on this. Nothing more demotivating than a fic getting only likes. If you want part three, reblog part two. 

[raydargraydar]

Rambling in the tags that unfortunately doesn’t include much metaphors just a lot of praise.

Update! 2/3

Click here

[boltonbritreads]

🗣️Eddie Munson Fic Recs

This is gonna have a sappy start before I get into the fic rec portion: but I just wanted to say that at the end of May 2022, I was finishing up my first year of law school. It was rough, challenging, lonely, and basically everything you’d expect and I was in a bad place and the fandom I’d been in was slowing down just naturally. I truly wish I could remember how I even became aware of Eddie Munson because stranger things wasn’t really on my radar anymore and whoever I followed at the time that started to veer off into Eddie-mania, thank you. In the two years since then, I’ve graduated and become the worlds babiest lawyer and I genuinely owe a lot to this fandom and community on here for giving me a fun, usually safe, creative place to escape to when it got rough.

I’m just hoping to maybe remind people that there are already an incredible, incredible amount of existing stories to read and talk about that deserve your attention and love if you’re looking to read some Eddie stories. Some of these will be fics I’ve recommended before but I’m going to try my best to pull together writers and fics that I love and think everyone should read in the hopes that someone like me who still scrolls through eddie tags looking for my nightly bedtime story can find something new to them to read! ✨

Previous Fic Rec list here!! some overlap but there’s no such thing as too much hype for these writers

@munson-blurbs I hope it’s ok but I’m linking Bug’s full masterlist here because I have genuinely loved everything she has written. There are blurbs, series, and special events which are all incredible and worth a read! Bug is currently still writing the “Living after Midnight” series which is my current obsession and features rockstar!eddie x motelheiress!reader and it’s angst and lust galore

@corroded-hellfire also sharing the Eddie Masterlist here because there’s so many fics to read!! As You Wish, Big Brown Eyes, Where the Heart Is are all incredible but truly there’s so much here to enjoy

@upsidedownwithsteve SIMMER!! jk I’m actually linking the Eddie Masterlist here too because I love them all but “I Want You To Want Me” and “Simmer” are out of this world

@pinkrelish The Yes Policy I love it, you love it, we all love it and if you haven’t caught up yet oh my god I wish I was you and could read these chapters for the first time again

@ghost-proofbaby I’ve previously told people to go read 24 Hours, and you should, that’s an order; but Maroon is ongoing! and it’s actually infiltrating my every thought so go on over and get caught up bc I think it’s safe to say things are getting amped up

@trashmouth-richie I have also previously recommended Honey, I’m Home because it’s a work of art but Ziggy has a new mini series “Crash + Fall” that I’m completely obsessed with the concept for and I’ve loved every piece so far!

@tiannasfanfic I just reblogged Conviction again but I genuinely am not exaggerating when I say I think about this story and these two monthly and try and find this story all the time to re-read it endlessly. It’s a really lovely story of unplanned pregnancy and two characters not realizing they’ve been smitten for each other the whole time and I love it

@carolmunson I’m sharing another Eddie Masterlist here because I’d be making this post far too long but Carol’s stories are all incredible, complex, and honest. “Let’s go, don’t wait” just got updated and I had to read it like 3 times last night because it was too good to just read one and done

@rebelfell I just discovered Sarah’s blog after reading the most recent “Frenemy” fic and idk what I was doing wrong to not already follow her and not have already read her whole Masterlist but I’m linking the whole thing bc she’s so good!!

@the-au-thor I also only just discovered Elle’s blog and that’s criminal but thank god I found Babysitting Mun because I am a sucker for rockstar!eddie and this series has me on the edge of my seat rn

@storiesbyrhi I’m sharing the Masterlist folks because I have genuinely loved every single story and series and I have read them all now (some several times). So many of Rhi’s stories have a wonderful warm witchy vibe that I crave and I’ve read Siouxsie and the Soulmates, The Cabin in the Woods, Our Patron Saint of the Arts, Vintage Reeboks, and Burning Yarrow (insert screaming fan gif) multiple times now

@heart-eyed-love this fic is the epitome of a soft, cozy, domestic night with Eddie and if you need a hug read this 🥹

@eddieandbird I JUST got caught up on Eddie/Tour Manager series and I’m fully obsessed and desperate to know how they’re gonna navigate this - for folks new to the story, Eddie and his tour manager accidentally drunkenly get married- what could go wrong??

@eiightysixbaby the scream I scrumped when I finished reading Princess Leia, and Other Wishes - look bffs to lovers is already my absolute weakness on this earth but then you had to make it witty and funny and FLUFFY I just can do nothing but re-read and pine

@superblysubpar I’m still obsessed with this addition to The Boy is Mine writing challenge and oh god it’s so good 😩

…and while we’re talking about it - here’s the entire The Boy is Mine masterlist with an INSANE amount of incredible stories to read

@the-unforgivenn !!! tumblr hates me and deleted this bullet (so if you already saw this post, no you didn’t) but And I Need You to Know is a proper novel! I can’t imagine how much time, love, effort, planning, and work went into creating this insane and absolutely incredible world but everyone needs to read this!! and then follow up with She’s So Cold bc I love it and I am so reader

~~ this is not the end nor an exhaustive list! I just wanted to put something out there now that I plan to build on because I know I’m always scrolling and searching for new things to read or old things to revisit ♥️ ~~

[lovebugism]

steve request for adjusting back to normality with him after the upside down ends? however much u wanna write 🤭🤍🤍 ur writing is gorgeous btw

ty angel! hope you like it!! — steve helps his agoraphobic gf leave the house for the first time since the world ended (established relationship, hurt/comfort, cw for mentions of agoraphobia | 1.5k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

You sit on the stairwell and tie your shoes, trying desperately to ignore the trembling of your anxious fingers. The thin laces threaten to slip from your tremoring hands as you knot one loop into the other. You couldn’t hide from your worry if you tried.

Steve’s heavy footsteps sound behind you in a steady, even rhythm as he walks down the stairs. You can hear the dull clapping of the boy patting his pockets to ensure his keys and wallet haven’t yet fallen from them. You know he’ll do exactly that another ten times before you step foot out of the house. He’s just as anxious as you are these days.

“Almost ready?” he says, huffing, though a smile is evident in his voice.

You nod to yourself and make careful work of fastening the laces. “Mhm,” you hum.

“Did you make sure to pack those Ants on a Log things? ‘Cause Dustin’ll kill me if we don’t bring ‘em,” Steve frets, for the second or third time that morning. He stills on the step just behind you and crosses a pair of golden arms over his chest. “Because, you know, he’s the only kid in America who actually likes celery.”

You tilt your chin to look up at him, smiling despite the fear pinching your chest. “Everything’s in the basket, Stevie.”

“Including the—”

“Yes, including the drinks. And the sandwiches. It’s all in the fridge,” you finish for him. “And the blanket’s in the car, so… Everything’s ready.”

Steve’s chest deflates with a distant sigh of relief. He’s been so used to doing everything on his own — carrying the load of that burden entirely by himself — that he forgot what it meant to have someone else to lean on.

“God, I’m so in love with you,” he murmurs fondly, mostly to himself, as he bends at the waist to kiss your hair. The plush of his lips brush your temple in a warm touch you lean instinctively into. 

With a wide hand on your shoulder, Steve feels for the first time how tense you are. All rigid, muscles taut, like cradling a rock in his palm. You’ve kept a brave face for him all day, but there’s only so much hiding you can do.

“You’re still okay with this?” he wonders aloud as he stands to full height again. 

His scruffy face is all twisted with concern, but you’re not looking at him to see it. You tie your right sneaker with a pair of graceless hands, where you seem to hold most of your anxiety, and scoff at the silly question. “Am I okay with the… picnic?” you echo.

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, lips jutted, as he walks past you down the steps. He turns and leans against the railing, trying hard to be casual. “‘Cause, you know, if you weren’t, we could just have it in the backyard or something. Make all the little shits come here.”

It takes you a moment too long to catch his meaning.

Sometimes you forget that you haven’t left the house all year. You’ve fallen into such a routine here, at Steve’s house (which you’ve come to see as your own), that you’ve forgotten there’s a whole world outside of it. A whole world you shut yourself out of after it nearly ended — after it chewed you up and spat you out again.

You tell yourself that you survived. You tell yourself that you lived in spite of the unfavorable odds. But sometimes, when you feel like shards of flesh and bones instead of a real-life human being, you wonder if you’re alive at all.

“I’m good, Steve,” you assure despite the waver in your voice. Your hands fumble with the laces, and you have to start all over again. “It’s just the park, babe. I can make it to the park.”

Steve nods in response, raking an anxious hand through his hair. He swallows down any attempts to remind you that you’ve barely made it out of the garage, let alone to the park.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to be this pale in the middle of July, anyway,” you joke with a forced laugh. 

The only time you really see the sun is when you’re sitting out on the patio — sipping at your morning coffee or watching Steve languish in the pool. You hardly last more than an hour, though, before a plane rumbles overhead or a car engine thunders too loudly. That’s all it takes for everything to come rushing back to you. The monsters, the soldiers, the blood. Then you lock yourself away all over again.

You hope this time is different.

Steve nods again, always hopeful, if only for your sake.

“Okay. Just… Just making sure, you know?” he trails off, then scrunches his nose. “Should we have a codeword, anyway? Like, for when the kids annoy the shit outta me, and I wanna get the hell outta there?”

You squint to yourself, pretending to ponder the question, as you rise from the stairs. You take a few steps downward until you’re standing just ahead of Steve — a few inches taller than him now. 

“How about… Get me the hell outta here?” you offer with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A wide, pink grin blossoms on his mouth. “That’s perfect, actually,” Steve muses sarcastically, then meets you halfway when you lean down to kiss him. 

It’s a chaste and very innocuous peck that tastes faintly of Steve’s mouthwash and the peanut butter you licked from the spoon after making Dustin’s Ants on a Log. 

Despite its fleeting nature, you hang onto the simple kiss your entire way through the front door.

The first step out of the house is the hardest. 

You struggle to feel the ground beneath your feet as your mind threatens to wander. Thoughts of death plague your mind despite your attempts to push them away — roaring demogorgons, exploding guns, screaming teenagers. You have to fight the urge to cover your ears when a helicopter whizzes overhead, hidden somewhere in the clouds but sounding much closer than that.  

Steve holds your hand the entire way. “Almost there,” you hear him mumbling beneath the heartbeat woosh, woosh, wooshing in your ears. Your eyes squeeze shut. He leads you to the car and squeezes your hand. “You’re doing amazin’, babe. Just a couple more steps.”

You’re at the car in five seconds flat, though it had felt like five minutes at the time — and took approximately five years off your life. You feel eons better when you’re tucked into the passenger seat of Steve’s 733i. You feel more grounded there — with the tires against the asphalt, and Steve’s hand on your thigh, and the radio cranked all the way up.

You’re still a shaking mess when you get to the park, but the kids are a good enough distraction. 

You opt to busy your anxious hands with the picnic — handing out food, protecting drinks, and ensuring the emptying basket doesn’t blow away. You sit in the shade in the center of Steve’s quilt as leaves rustle in the warm breeze, allowing bits of summer sun to peek through and glitter on your skin. 

You keep a watchful eye on the kids around you as they scatter mindlessly about, making sure no one ventures far enough where you can’t see them. Steve yells at them for it so you don’t have to — shouts at Max and El for getting too close to the tree line while he tosses a ball to Lucas. 

He’s slowly mastering the art of throwing with his left hand. He hasn’t been able to lift his right one over his head since Starcourt. There’s a persistent ache in his shoulder he hasn’t been able to get rid of.

He walks over to you when the distance grows too much to bear, twisting his arm with a screwed-up face as he tries to find the root of the pain. “Whaddaya got for me, sweet thing?” he asks with a lopsided smile.

You reach into the basket beside you and pull out the last sandwich of the bunch, which you kept aside especially for him, wrapped neatly in plastic.

You hiss playfully through your teeth, then squint faux apologetically up at him. “All that’s left is tomato-avocado…” you joke, feigning horror.

Steve’s face twists. “Ugh. Seriously?” he huffs in disappointment.

“No,” you hum in response, smiling as you pass him his favorite sandwich. “Here you go.”

It’s a simple turkey, ham, and bacon number with all the fixings, but he particularly likes how you make it. (You argue that it can’t taste any better than a diner-made sandwich, but Steve always insists otherwise.) 

Your fingers brush when it takes it from you. Steve finds it difficult not to melt for you entirely, and not just because of the sweltering summer heat. 

He’s spent half of his life believing that no one ever gave him a passing thought — or that, at the very least, he was only ever an afterthought. But you remind him every day that he’s so much more than the nothing he often sees himself as. You remind him, through silly picnics and sandwiches made with love, what it means to be truly cared for.

“I love you,” Steve hums quietly, adoration melting in his honey eyes. “You know that?”

You nod once, hiding a smile as you squint one eye from the beaming sun. “I know.”

[eoieopda]

insomniac | ljh (m)

there are certainly worse ways to tire yourself out.

summary: it’s 2:00 am, and you can’t turn your brain off. thankfully, your boyfriend knows just how to scramble it. pairing: lee jihoon x reader au: established relationship type: one-shot (smut) word count: 5.2k rating: 18+ cw: reader is afab but no pronouns are used; reader has insomnia (unspecified re: prof. diagnosed or self-diagnosed); there’s a sentence about reader taking “an inadvisable amount of melatonin gummies” — don’t do this! — but they’re not impaired in any way; reader’s internal monologue is kind of angsty/self-deprecating at times; blonde!woozi has his hair in a bun, which is a warning in and of itself; completely unedited because my perfectionism has killed every wip i’ve attempted for months. ✰ minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my work. smut warnings: big dick lee jihoon™️, nipple stim, v fingering, unprotected p in v penetration, wee bit of aftercare. there are a total of six (6) orgasms in here because i believe in going big from home, incl. nipple stim & a-spot orgasms. a/n: i haven’t written anything in forever, due in large part to the fact that i’m exhausted but can never fucking sleep. i truly hope this isn’t incoherent garbage. 😵‍💫 dedicated to my fellow woozi-simping insomniac, @sailorrhansol. may we eventually rest in peace. multi permanent taglist. seventeen permanent taglist.

You should be asleep.

With the day you’ve had, you should’ve drifted off the second your body hit the sheets; and you should’ve stayed that way — unmoving, unconscious — for several hours, at minimum.

If the week’s worth of sleep debt wasn’t exhausting enough in and of itself, every single circumstance surrounding you begs you to give into the weight of your eyelids. To let yourself be lulled, just this once. Soothed.

From the vent in the corner, the gentle hum of the aircon goads you. It does its very best to convince you to curl up under the softness of your comforter, and to some extent, you’ve listened. You’re burrowed beneath your blankets with only the upper half of your face exposed, which should be more than enough to sway you. 

It’s not, though.

With no ability to keep your eyes closed, you stare dejectedly at the wall in front of you. Laying on your side, gazing straight ahead, you watch the faint echoes of the city lights as they wash over white paint. Not much bleeds through the blinds, leaving only hints of cobalt and red to blend into some sleepy shade of lilac. Whether or not you want to be awake to perceive it in the first place, you have to admit it: it’s beautiful.

But it’s not enough.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing down the groan building in your chest. With how closely he’s got you nestled against his body, Jihoon would feel it if you let that frustration manifest. You already ache from the sheer amount of time you’ve been policing your own posture; making any amount of noise now would interrupt the slow, delicate breaths he’s aiming into the back of your neck. Frankly, you’d rather die.

Taking his silence as a sign that you’ve remained off his radar, you let out a measured sigh, too worried that the full rise and fall of your chest will disturb him. 

Nothing.

But then, the arm draped over your waist shifts. 

“Fuck,” you mouth to no one.

It wouldn’t be out-of-character for Jihoon to feel the restless energy pouring out of you in waves, even in the depths of a sleep cycle. He senses every tiny change in your ecosystem long before you do. As unlikely as he is to ever admit it, it has to be exhausting to be attuned to someone so neurotic. He deserves every second of sleep he can manage to get.

You grit your teeth and demand yourself to calm down, all while refusing to acknowledge how completely your actions and commands conflict.  

Maybe, you attempt to bamboozle yourself, you can sleep vicariously through him. 

He’ll wake up rested, and when you look in the mirror later, the first thing you see won’t be the cartoonish bags under your eyes.

It’ll be fine. 

It’ll be fine.

If you go to sleep right now, you’ll get five hours and thirty —

“You haven’t unclenched a single muscle since you climbed into bed,” notes the world’s groggiest voice from over your shoulder.

Jihoon’s lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck when he speaks. Without that tickling sensation, you might’ve deluded yourself into thinking that you were simply hearing things just now. That it was merely a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation and the inadvisable number of melatonin gummies you ate before brushing your teeth.

He shifts again. This time, there’s no mistaking his movements. The arm slung over your side pulls you closer. So close, in fact, that you can feel the contented sigh leave his body, like his isn’t separate from yours at all.

With the distance erased, his face — the cold tip of his nose and the sheet-creased warmth of his cheeks — can nuzzle properly into the crook of your neck. You swear you feel the hint of a smile there somewhere, too. If you had to guess, it matches the upward curve on your lips.

“What are we spinning our wheels over tonight?” He asks without a hint of judgment, as if your burdens are automatically his, too.

The fact that he can’t see your face doesn’t stop you from frowning. Yet again, you’ve managed to drag him into your insomnia. Jihoon may never fault you for it, but you don’t need him to. You’ll hold it against yourself — grudge by proxy. 

“I don’t even know,” you admit with a frustrated huff. “There’s nothing coherent going on up there.” You lift your hand and gesture vaguely in the dark. “Nothing articulable, just… blender brain.”

“Mmm.”

Jihoon sounds so fucking sleepy, so at peace next to you, that it makes your stomach hurt. You wish you could be like him. For as calm as his presence makes you, you’ve learned that you’re incapable of feeling fully relaxed. At least, not in the way he is when he’s got his arms around you. He deserves to have that effect on you.

A beat passes in silence, save for his soft breathing. For a minute, you’re convinced that he’s fallen back asleep; and you pray to whoever that he has. He deserves that, too.

“How do we unplug the blender?”

You have to bite back a smile for two reasons: the way his words sound slurred when delivered directly to your skin, and the distinctly Jihoon drive he has to fix a problem that isn’t his.

When the love sickness leaves you down bad, and you forget to respond with words, Jihoon prompts you softly. “Hmm?” 

He punctuates this reminder with a kiss to your shoulder, then lets his lips linger against your skin, musing, “I can think of two things that usually do the trick: getting you hotteok from that cart down the block, which is currently closed, and —”

The rest of that thought fades out. Leaving you on the edge of your seat, Jihoon continues to kiss a languid line along the perimeter of your shoulder, as if he’s conducting some meticulous, geographical survey. Like missing a single spot will have grave consequences. A perfectionist through and through, even half-asleep.

You feel yourself melting, bit by bit, into his torso; the warmth of his bare chest against your back only expedites the process. Nevertheless, you peep, “What’s the second thing?”

His answer comes with a slip of his hand, down down down along the slope of your waist to your hip, long before he verbalizes it. It’s simple, delivered in that rough, early-morning voice you love so much. It’s more than enough to make you shiver:

“Making you cum.”

But as crazy as that statement makes you, you can’t make yourself act on it.

At any other time, you’d jump on that opportunity — jump on him — in a heartbeat. All you’re able to do now is jump to the worst conclusion in a single bound. 

Somewhere, deep down, you know he wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t truly want it, want you; but that goddamned, sleep-deprived goblin taking up space in the far reaches of your mind is far louder than the voice of reason.

He’s only offering so you’ll stop keeping him awake.

He’s as exhausted as you are, if not more so for having to deal with your disorder again.

Burden.

Placing your hand on top of his, you slip your fingers into the spaces you find and squeeze once for emphasis. “I love you,” you start. He stills. “But, Jihoon, you’re so tired. I can hear it in your voice. Please, go back to sleep. It’s okay — I’m okay.”

Jihoon doesn’t push back. He stays within bounds, honors your shitty decision because, after all, it’s yours to make. With another kiss to your shoulder and a squeeze to your hand, he murmurs, “Love you,” before relaxing back against the pillows.

Minutes pass.

Maybe hours, for all you know. 

As the window of opportunity creaks shut, regret seeps through the gap. You know you’re wrong; you know he meant it; and you know that someone would have to be out of their fucking gourd to politely decline what he’s offering.

The unbearable heat licking up your neck is either embarrassment or the ghost of orgasms lost coming to haunt you.

Maybe you’d be better equipped to tell the difference if you could just — fucking — sleep.

Driven half mad, you try to keep from squirming.

You fail.

Maybe, since you can’t sleep, you and your wilted little brain should’ve let your perfect, empathetic boyfriend fu —

“That’s enough,” Jihoon grunts.

The hand underneath yours is suddenly above it, overtaking it and tugging carefully until your whole body moves. In the time it takes for you to roll from your side, Jihoon sits up and clears space for your frame to settle. You barely have time to blink dumbly up at him from your back before he cages you in with one hand on either side of your head, knees now on either side of your thighs.

Your breath seems to have gotten lost in the fray, but it’s not the sudden moves that shook it loose; it’s the sight of him looming over you, damn near scowling despite his lead-lidded eyes. It’s the disheveled bun of platinum hair at the crown of his head, which must’ve shifted in his sleep and spilled out the tendrils that now frame his set jaw.

The very best you can come up with is, “You’re awake.”

“So are you,” he retorts without missing a beat.

That face — god, that face — doesn’t budge. On the contrary, your stomach flips. This the most stern you’ve ever seen him. Confusingly, his tone isn’t even remotely harsh when he continues, “If those gears in your head grind any louder, the whole neighborhood will be, too.”

Grimacing, you open your mouth to apologize, but Jihoon’s eyes are searching your face with a distinct flicker of concern. You know that look. You also know that nothing you can think to say will make it disappear.

He speaks when you don’t, hard edges softening slightly. “I can fix it,” he insists, though you know him well enough to hear the plea hidden in there. 

Let me take care of you.

That little spark of desperation burns you up in a flash. You wonder if he can feel the fire spread when he lifts his right hand off the mattress just to swipe his thumb slowly over the edge of your cheekbone. Without thinking, you let go of the tension in your neck. Your head tilts automatically, seeking comfort you’ve only ever found in him, and rests against his palm.

“I have to admit it, though,” Jihoon confesses. “Yours isn’t the only mind that’s restless.”

He moves his hand away from your face but keeps his eyes trained on you. The incessant need you feel to apologize bubbles up yet again, uninvited. You swallow it. As you do, his fingertips trail down the length of your neck at a snail’s pace, effectively turning your thoughts to static.

“I’ve been holding you for hours now, and all that time —” 

He pauses just long enough to glance down at his hand, which hasn’t.

“— I’ve been wondering if I should have you channel that energy and tire yourself out on top of me —”

His touch whispers over your collarbone. It’s the only proof that you have any bones at all. Until now, you were sure that the rest of you had melted entirely, puddling uselessly on the sheets below. This time, when you bite your lips and swallow weakly, it’s not an apology that you’re keeping to yourself but a whimper.

“— or lay you back against the pillows —”

You don’t mean to directly contradict his statement the moment he makes it, but you can’t help it. The thin, cotton fabric of your top does nothing to dull the sensation of his hand on your left breast; leaves you with the unmitigated brush of his thumb tracing delicate swirls over your nipple. The breath you’ve been holding comes out shuddered, back arching off the mattress to chase his touch.

Emboldened by your reaction, Jihoon pulls his gaze off his own ministrations and directs it through his lashes back up at you. One eyebrow momentarily flexes in challenge. “— Take my time, and —”

Whatever desperate look you give him earns you some amount of mercy. He picks up where he left off in that dizzyingly deep voice of his, words molten, and drags the hem of your shirt up your torso. “Fuck you deep, until the only thing you can do is relax.”

Gobsmacked is too weak a word for the impact that suggestion has on you. The idea alone sparks a kind of relief so foreign and so sorely needed that it almost makes you cry. 

You don’t, thankfully. 

Instead, you stagger along the borderline of babbling. 

“I want that,” you announce on a shaky exhale. Then, with a shake of your head, you correct yourself, “No, it’s not even want. It’s —” Frustration over your inability to form a coherent thought drives you to scrub your hands over your face. “— need. I need you.”

You accompany that declaration by slapping your hands down at your sides, finishing off with a muted thump when your palms hit the mattress with enough force to bounce them upwards again. 

Even with your eyes screwed shut, you know Jihoon is sitting back on his knees, watching you with equal parts surprise and amusement. There’s no need to open them to confirm it, but you do anyway. His pupils have dilated widely enough to rival the moon floating over the skyline.

Though he’d be well within bounds to tell you to chill the fuck out, he doesn’t. He never has, as far as you can recall. In fact, Jihoon doesn’t say a thing. His hands speak for him, reaching for the shirt he so nearly got off your body before you lost whatever was left of your mind.

Keeping his word, as always, Jihoon takes his time. He takes care in sliding that tank top up and over your head without snagging your earrings, then he wordlessly drops it off the side of the bed to be forgotten about.

With your chest bare, it’s obvious how rapid your breathing is. Noting the quick rise and fall, he traces the curve of your waist with the side of his right index finger and softly says the quiet part out loud: “Let me take care of you.”

And you do.

You let him maneuver your body so he can settle with one knee between your thighs, rather than straddle them. You let go of your death grip on the sheets and thread your fingers through his hair when he leans back down to kiss you; and when he licks into your mouth, you let him swallow the moan that builds under the delicious weight of his body on yours.

Already, you feel every shitty, stupid thought begin to dissolve. You should’ve known this would be the case. 

He said he’d fix it, didn't he? 

And here he is, proving to you that his touch is magic. All it takes to coax the tension out of your muscles is the tender pass of his hand.

Whatever effect Jihoon has on you seems to be mutual. When he pulls back, he’s equally as breathless, likely just as starry-eyed. Awash in that lilac glow peeking in from the outside, he’s downright celestial — almost too divine to look at directly without watering eyes.

Undeterred, you stare right back at him and sigh, “You’re beautiful.”

His nose scrunches for a split second, just like it always does when you make him suffer through a compliment. Your exposure therapy is working, though. For once, Jihoon doesn’t groan or tell you to keep your praise to yourself. The corner of his mouth curves upward — just barely — and he shakes his head.

“I mean it,” you quietly insist.

Smirking slightly, he extends the index finger on his right hand and holds it to his lips. “You’re relaxing, remember?”

Though you could double-down, any fight you might’ve had in you fizzles out the second he bows his head and connects his lips to the underside of your jaw. Your head tilts further back with every centimeter he trails down the length of your neck, granting him increased access to wreck you even further. You have to keep your hands on whatever you can grip of his biceps — which ultimately isn’t much at all — to keep from floating away.

“Bold of you to call me beautiful,” he murmurs against your body, “When you just exist like this.”

You don’t argue. You can’t argue with a man who sounds so fucking reverent. Not in good faith, anyway. He says it with the kind of sincerity that underlines an undisputed fact; and you know better than to debate an expert.

With nothing to say, all you have left is to keen and melt even further into the mattress.

Like everything else he does, the way Jihoon kisses you is rhythmic. Steady and thoughtful, each feather-light graze of his lips on your skin causes your eyelids to flutter until you eventually decide to keep them shut. To cut out the visual and hone in on the physical sensation; to be truly present in the body he can’t get enough of.

As it turns out, being present earns the gift of his tongue circling one of your nipples. Soon after, you get the plush heat of his mouth enveloping the sensitive bud; the slow, deep pull of the suction he creates.

Eloquent as always, you moan, “Fuuuuck.”

The hand not holding up his weight massages your other breast, too considerate to leave half of you lonely. Whatever gentle pressure he maintains there builds inside you, further down.

It’s incredible.

No, it’s fucking perfect.

Jihoon switches sides, grazes your other nipple carefully with his teeth, and it’s over for you. You shudder beneath his body, back arching and a breathy sigh floating out of your chest.

Apparently, he’s just as surprised by this turn of events as you are. Your eyes blink open and find him hovering over you with his jaw partially dropped, still smiling somehow.

Your questions overlap.

“Did you just —”

“— make me cum from this?”

His bemusement switches in an instant to something you can only describe as bewitched. Voice gravel-lined, Jihoon groans, “Oh, shit.” Adding immediately and twice as earnestly, “Goddamn.”

A flash of conflict makes him freeze. You know he’s facing the same internal debate that you are: he needs to be inside of you in the worst way, right now, but that’s not a conclusion the pair of you can just — leap to. 

There’s simply too much of him to take if he doesn’t fuck you open with his fingers first.

Jihoon shakes his head, as if he’s telling himself no. Like he’s reminding himself of what he promised — or threatened, more like — earlier, that he’s taking his time.

As much as you want to beg otherwise, you know you shouldn’t. So, you don’t. You reach out, encircle his wrist in your hand, and bring him back within reach. 

With undivided attention and darkening eyes, Jihoon watches you take his index and middle finger into your mouth, cheeks hollowing and tongue circling. He fights to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, all the while professing, “You’re perfect.”

Not generally, no.

However, Jihoon has a habit of ending up correct, even if you disagree. This isn’t a battle worth picking. In this moment, you’re willing to entertain the possibility that you’re perfect for him.

A soft pop underscores your choice to release him. His mouth must’ve gotten jealous; it swiftly replaces his fingers, tongue reclaiming any territory he wrongfully assumes he’s lost.

You’d be content to stay this way forever — and likely could, if it came down to it — but Jihoon has an agenda. He sticks to it, to the letter, and in dropping his hand down your body, he lets his knuckles drag softly over the trail he blazes. The little sleep shorts you wear are moved aside, and your thighs part for him, too, offering unrestricted access.

Two fingers slip inside of you easily, no doubt aided by the orgasm that snuck up on you — the one you’re still thinking about; the one he’ll secretly hang his hat on forever, having brought it on without touching you here at all.

“Listen to you,” he smirks against your lips with a curl of his fingers. 

As if you weren’t already acutely aware of the way you’ve drenched him to the base knuckles, he rolls his wrist, stroking your g-spot while the heel of his hand nudges your clit. Even the dulcet hum of the aircon isn’t enough to mute the obscenity; you hear the slick rush with every slow thrust of his fingers.

You respond with some sort of whimper. The sound barely registers without any breath behind it. If Jihoon hears it, he doesn’t let it affect his pace — just the stretch. He scissors his middle and index on the way out, then returns with his ring finger, unearthing a proper moan from the very bottom of your lungs.

His head tilts to the side. Warm breath hits the shell of your ear, prompting a contradictory shiver. “I think you’ve got another one for me, don’t you?”

Buried in you, he taps his fingers against that same, spongy spot. Every neuron you have begins to buzz.

“In fact, I think you want to cum all over my fingers,” he whispers, goading you with his rough voice dropped low. “Think you wanna soak my fucking hand, so I can fill you properly.”

You think you’ll have to apologize later for the crescent-shaped indents your nails leave on his shoulders.

When your second orgasm overtakes you, you feel it tingling all the way up at the crown of your head. Just like the first, it’s not a clap of thunder but a roll — patient. The intensity only builds, the longer it lasts. Jihoon makes sure it does — makes no adjustment to the slow, steady tempo, as it pulls you fully apart.

Every muscle you tensed as you came goes limp. It’s anyone’s guess whether you have any bones left. You’re sure that the only thing keeping you from seeping like honey through the mattress, or pooling on the floor below, is Jihoon’s body caging you in.

“Don’t ask me what my name is.” Your head droops to the side, and you mumble, “I do not remember, and I do not care.”

He kisses the temple that isn’t smushed against his left forearm, which, coupled with his elbow, now holds both of your weight. “If you’re spent, I can sto—”

“Don’t you dare.”

The emphatic look you muster lacks energy, you’re sure, but the point still stands, even if your stamina doesn’t. Half-lidded, you stare at him with all the force you can find.

“I’ll stay awake for the rest of my life if you stop now. I swear to you, Lee Jihoon, I will die on this hill.”

“Easy, tiger,” he purrs. Out of the corner of your narrowed eyes, you clock the fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The whole point of this was for you to relax.”

To prove that you haven’t lost the plot entirely, you close your eyes, rather than roll them. Then, you cave completely. 

You whisper, leaving no question as to how badly you need him, “Jihoon… Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He nudges your temple with the tip of his nose. “But I can’t fuck you unless you give my arm back.”

Begrudgingly, you scoot your head several centimeters across the pillow, heaving a put-upon sigh as if he’s asked you to move a mountain instead. You give yourself a moment to mourn the loss of your headrest, then you open your eyes. As you do, any thought of pouting flies out the window.

Having crawled back to the end of your bed, Jihoon gets to his feet. Once there, he drops his hands and eyes to the loose knot cinching the waistband of his sweatpants. It’s a sight you’ve seen a thousand times — his naked chest so pale in contrast with his usual, all-black attire — yet it’s one you’ll never truly get over. Even harder to cope with is the fact that he’s never been in a hurry; not once in his goddamn life.

If you’re being honest, that’s one of the things you’ve always loved most about him. Envied, even. You fret endlessly about the process, whatever that may be; he trusts it. You scale the walls in anticipation; he’s never been caught sweating.

The best example of this comes the second he finishes addressing that knot. His sweatpants pool at his ankles; he kicks them aside; and you immediately set to wondering how in the motherfuck he managed to be so patient with you when he’s this incomprehensibly hard.

Really, you don’t deserve him.

Nevertheless, you get him anyway. 

Him pushing his flyways out of his face; him reaching out slowly to hook his fingers under the elastic band of your shorts; him cursing under his breath when he tosses those shorts over his shoulder and finds you wet and wanting.

In return, Jihoon gets you right where he wants you — trembling underneath him, with pliant legs opening wider at the request of his hands on your thighs. When his body fills the space between them, those same legs wrap around his back to keep him close, just like the arms you slink around his neck.

“Deep breath,” he reminds you as he lines himself up, only half-jokingly.

It’s good advice — something Jihoon probably should’ve heeded. 

He doesn’t. 

You keep your eyes on his when he slides inside of you, and you swear you see his mind blow in real time. Not that you have room to judge, however. In fact, that’s precisely what’s causing you to short-circuit: the perfect pressure of his length within your heat, sinking in slowly so as to not shock the system.

When he eventually bottoms out, low moan splintering from the depths of his chest, you have to blink quickly to keep tears within your waterline.

To check in, Jihoon runs his hand along the side of your thigh then back again. “Alright?”

Whatever you say in response comes out through a dreamy sigh, framed in quotation marks by fluttering lashes. Nonsense, most likely, or never better. In either case, he’ll understand; he always does.

Placing your hand on his, you slip your fingers over the top and pull him forward. He lets you, comes down carefully until the comfort of his weight against your frame makes you feel anchored. With every inch that’s erased between you, he fills you further, pushing out whatever air remains in your lungs through some needy little whine.

Among the million sensations you have to grapple with, the most hard-hitting, ironically, is comfort. Pure and unadulterated. You enveloping him, enveloping you.

To prove it to yourself that you’re not dreaming, you slip your fingers into his hair, nails scratching delicately over his scalp. In return, he rolls his hips forward, just like he promised — slow, steady, deep. You clench around him involuntarily, a reflex your body must’ve learned to keep him close.

“Love the way you grip me, but...” Jihoon exhales a sigh against your neck, head tilted to keep your face in his periphery. Pulling out further just to thrust in deeper, he warns, “You keep that up, and I’ll cum too soon.”

He’s one to talk.

Every time he grinds his hips languidly towards yours, you have to talk yourself off the ledge. 

If you let him wear you down again, you fear that there won’t be enough left of you to savor this; and you never want this moment to end. You want to live in it — to feel the delicious drag of his cock along your walls — to hear that obscene tide ebb and flow whenever he fucks himself further in you — to feel so fucking full —  for as long as he gives you. 

It was a valiant effort on your part, if you do say so yourself. Futile, though, because Jihoon pulls out all the stops. The next time he pulls himself from you just to roll back in, he swivels his hips as he thrusts, ensuring that you feel him everywhere.

“Oh.”

One syllable on a gasping breath, then you forget every single word in your vocabulary. Like warm molasses, bliss washes over you at half-speed, seeping in and sticking until the blender motor in your brain is fucked beyond repair.

At least you’re not the only one.

“Fuck, fuck —” 

Holding him as closely as you are, you feel each muscle in Jihoon’s body tense one-by-one, rippling as your third orgasm steals his first, going lax when his release floods. “— Fuck,” he groans, all the while twitching inside you.

Though he slows, he doesn’t stop. It’s not until he pants, “Kiss me,” that you realize it: Jihoon doesn’t intend to stop.

Neither, it seems, do you.

Maybe you’re greedy. Maybe you’re too obsessed with the brush of his tip against your cervix with every gentle, shallow thrust. Maybe, above all, it’s the way his cock doesn’t soften inside of you but his face does when he catches you looking at him from under a heavy curtain of lashes.

You catch him by the mouth, just like he asked. It’s indulgent — messy, echoing the other point where the two of you connect. Licking into him while he fucks himself into you, ragged breaths barely loud enough to overpower the explicit, sodden sound below.

“Can you still speak in sentences?” He pants in a rare moment when his lips break from yours.

Can feel you in my stomach, you want to say. 

“I’m — you’re gonna make me —”

You can’t choke out the words, though you suspect Jihoon gets the point. This far in, his touch reaches a detonator you didn’t even know existed; there’s no way he misses the explosion of pleasure throughout your entire goddamn body.

He’s caught in your blast radius, your walls pulsing and spasming to such an insane degree that he can barely move. Mind blown to fucking smithereens, your ears ring too loudly to hear whatever he says to you when he cums again — hard — and the arms bearing his weight buckle.

Jihoon’s flushed cheek winds up pressed to your shoulder. He stays there while your joint trembling subsides, then any muscle that could make him move is too spent to do so.

“What just happened?” He sounds as delirious as you feel. “That was… shit. What did your body just do?”

You have no idea. 

You have no capacity to form any.

All you have is the weight of his frame on yours and that of your eyelids, which flutter as you try and fail to keep them open. The best you can give is a non-responsive, utterly fucked-out sound — not enough shape to be a word, not enough breath to be a sigh.

Eventually, although you can’t imagine how, Jihoon finds enough strength to shift himself off of you. You don’t see anything that happens next, but you feel it all — the kiss to your temple; the hollowness when he pulls out and the sticky rush that chases him when he leaves.

“I’m coming back to clean you up,” he promises in a hushed tone from a million miles away. Chuckling despite his own sleepiness, he adds, “Don’t move.”

I won’t, you think but don’t say.

And you don’t move.

At least, not until the smell of hotteok reaches you eight hours later.

svt taglist: @ashonheavenscloud @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @rasparagus @bouclesdefeu @ourkivee @sourkimchi @gyuguys

multi taglist: @bahng-chrizz @jihopesjoint @notevenheretbh1 @borabitsch @bubbly-moon

also paging the cap gang: @daechwitatamic @yoongukie-ff

[love2write2626]

Chasing The Wind (Tyler Owens x OFC)

Summary: Five years have gone by since the life-altering storm chase that impacted Y/N and her sister Kate. Through the years Y/N has experienced Highs and lows, but eventually found her place with Tyler and The rest of the Tornado Wranglers. However, when Kate returns home to collaborate with Storm Par, Y/N attempts to mend their relationship only to be rebuffed. It appears that Kate is solely heeding Javi's words and disregarding reality. Will she be able to make Kate see the truth?

Read the Prologue here

Chapter 1

5 Years Later

“Bye Mama” I said hugging her

“Bye sweetheart, thank you for coming to visit” I smiled

“Of course, Mama” I got out of the car, and as I’m walking to the diner she yells “Y/N!” I turn around “You tell Tyler to be careful” I rolled my eyes

“We will be careful” She squinted her eyes suspiciously

“I’m telling you, if you get hurt, I am coming for him” I laughed

“Ok mom, I’ll tell him”

“That’s all I ask. Love you sweetie”

“Love you too” I waved as she drove off. I looked around the old Diner, I haven’t been here in a while. It looks pretty much the same, just a little worn down. The parking lot is full of wanna be storm chasers waiting for news of a big twister coming so they can go and take lots of pictures.

As I walk further I let out a scoff when I see Storm Par waiting in the wings. Javi and I started Storm Par and I was so excited. Then Javi brought in a new business partner and I kind of got pushed to the side, which I didn’t mind all that much at first, but when I saw the shady investors they were dealing with I packed up my stuff and left. When we started we were in the business of helping people, now It seems they are in the business of just making money.

Scott, Javi’s business partner saw me and gave me a cocky smirk before turning around and went back to his conversation.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After quickly running to the bathroom I walk back out and stop in my tracks when I see Javi, and “KATE?” I yelled. Her head snapped up and she gave me a slight smile, but didn’t seem that happy to see me. I walked over and gave her a hug, even though she didn’t return it I didn’t care

“Hey sis” Kate said “What are you doing out here? Are you still chasing?” She asked

“Yeah, You would know that If you answered my calls” I said with a laugh, she frowned

“I’m not that good with communication Y/N” I nodded, Javi walked over to us and I glared at him. This man use to be one of my best friends now I can’t stand the sight of him.

“Hey, Y/N”

“Javi” I greeted, turning my head back to Kate

“So what are you doing out here?” I asked her

“I convinced her to come out for a week, to help us get our data. You know she has the best instincts.”

“I believe I was talking to my sister, not you” I said

“Y/N, Chill” Javi said, I know my face was full of anger “Kate is in safe hands with Storm Par… you know better than anyone we have some of the best safety protocols” Kate looked in-between the two of us.

“Y/N, you chase with Storm Par? Why didn’t you tell me Javi?” She asked confused

“No, No she use to work with us, hell this company was her idea… Our baby if you will” I rolled my eyes, and let out a sarcastic laugh “Then she ditched us to go be with some less funded storm chasers”

“That’s not the full story Javi and you know it, maybe you should tell her the truth about where all the money comes from and how you are nothing but a fraud” Kate put her hand up

“Y/N stop, Javi is our friend”

“Maybe your friend, he hasn’t been mine in a long time” We were cut off by loud music coming into the parking lot, and even though I was not in a particularly good mood, I still couldn’t help but smile when I saw Tyler drive up

“Behold, Tyler Owens” Javi said

“Who is he?” Kate asked, but before I have a chance to answer Javi said

“Redneck storm chasers with a youtube channel” I rolled my eyes “Him and his group including Y/N, call themselves Tornado Wranglers. The go around and do crazy stunts and stupid shit that is going to get them all killed one day” of course he leaves out the part about how we help the community and help get people food and water, but whatever. Kate turned to me

“You left Storm Par for that”

“I did, but I’m not going to explain myself to you sis. Go ahead and believe every word out of Javi’s mouth, but when you’re ready to hear the true story you have my number” I said walking over to the truck. I pushed my way through the adoring fans, and When Tyler saw me he smiled brightly.

“ONE MORE TIME, IF YOU FEEL IT…”

“CHASE IT” everyone yelled back, He hopped down off the running board and took my hand in his.

“Hey baby” he finally said to me, I wrapped my arms around him, and he immediately hugged me back. “You ok?” he asked.

“Not really, but I’m happy you’re here” He ran his hands up and down my back

“C’mon” He said, he grabbed my hand and pulled me with him, I couldn’t help but giggle, I have no idea where we are going but I don’t care I would follow Tyler anywhere. I love this man with all my heart. He is the smartest, funniest, kindest, hottest man I have ever met in my life. He pulled me around the back of the diner, and once we were out of sight of everyone. We stopped walking.

“I have a good idea of what we are doing back here Ty, but do you wanna tell me why you dragged me back here?” I smirked. Without saying a word or breaking eye contact. He walked me back against the wall.

“You look so fucking sexy when you wear my shirts” I looked down at what I am wearing, Tyler’s shirts get torn up a lot so most of the time instead of throwing them out, I will cut them into a crop top or something, and it turns him feral. He nuzzled his face into my neck, and started leaving light kisses “I missed you, next time you are coming to Arkansas with me”

“I missed you too, and you got it” I giggled. “What?” I asked when I noticed he was staring at me.

“Nothing, just Sometimes I just like to look at you just because you are so beautiful” I frowned

“Ty” I said attempting to push him away. He knows I hate being called pretty, or beautiful because I’m not. My body is covered in horrible scars from the accident 5 years ago. My car flipped 10 times, I know I am lucky because I could be dead, but it doesn’t make it any easier. His hard strong body stopped made it easy for him to keep me pushed against the wall.

“Y/N, Baby” He whispered into my ear. I felt a shiver run down my spine “You are a fucking goddess, the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. You are beautiful, funny, smart, and a whirlwind and I love you more than anything in this world. The scars are just proof of how strong you are, in my eyes they make you 10x more beautiful than you already are.” I know I have tears in my eyes. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck.

“I love you too, Now will you please kiss me?” he smirked, he leaned down and brought his lips to mine. I sighed into the kiss, He has been gone a week, and a week without kissing him has been torture. I felt his hands run down my back, and down to my butt. He squeezed my ass, and I broke the kiss to let out a little laugh and squeal.

“TYLER” I giggled. Without warning he immediately lifted me up, I wrapped my legs around his waist and made sure I held tight as he pushed me back against the wall and we continued to make out.

“Tyler and Y/N! Can ya’ll stop sucking face for 2 seconds so we can go chase a storm?” Boone yelled, I giggled.

“We’ll be there in a minute Boone” Tyler said. Once Boone walked away, I Jumped down and sighed.

“That was cut much shorter than I would have liked” I mumbled

“Don’t worry baby, tonight we make up for a week of no alone time” I giggled. He grabbed my hand and we started walking toward the truck. When I heard

“Y/N” I turned around and saw Kate running over to me. Tyler looked at me suspiciously, I smiled

“Go ahead I’ll be there in a second” He nodded before walking off.

“Javi just told me all about Tyler and ya’ll Tornado Wranglers” I smirked

“And?” I said waiting for her to continue

“Y/N, how could you abandon Storm Par, and Javi for that jerk. Are you sleeping with him?” I looked at her shocked.

“I see Javi didn’t tell you the truth, so don’t come over here and make me out to be some sort of bad guy. You don’t know the full story, but by all means listen to Javi and not your own sister.” I started to walk away, and she yelled.

“Javi wouldn’t lie to me” She said I nodded

“Sure he wouldn’t” I started to walk away again when I yelled back, “Oh by the way I am sleeping with Tyler by the way, it’s quite normal for women to sleep with their fiancé’s”

“You’re… you’re getting married?”

“You would have known that if you answered any of my calls” I sighed “You know sis, I don’t know what Javi did or said to get you to come back out here… but just so you know he has other motives.” I walked back toward the truck, I opened the passenger door

“Boone get in the back” Tyler said

“Why?” I sighed

“Boone get in the damn back, before I make you stay here” He grumbled and climbed in.

“Ready baby?” Tyler asked

“Always”

What do you think??? Is this worth being continued???? Leave a comment and let me know.

[cakelitter]

Apple Of My Eye

Older! Leon x Fem! Reader (oneshot)

warnings: angst, fingering, oral (f recieve), p in v, daddy kink, makeup sex

summary: Leon and reader get into their first argument, but Leon apologizes in his own way.

words: 3.1k

a/n: i'm writing so much older Leon fics but this man lives in my head rent fucking free omg

Everything is going to shit.

Words were said, things were done, that all cut through you like a knife. This is your first actual argument, not just a simple misunderstanding or a silly disagreement. But a full-on fight.

To rewind, you and Leon were supposed to have a nice dinner date, romantic and sweet. Something the two of you haven’t had the chance to do since he’s busy all the time. You got ready, all dolled up and looking the best you’ve ever looked. You wore his favorite dress, painted your nails his favorite color, put on the kind of make up he likes. You wanted this to be special, a night to remember.

But he forgot, leaving you sitting at that table in the restaurant for an hour and 37 minutes to be exact, like an idiot. No text explaining why he was late, and wouldn’t pick up his phone either. By the time he arrived you had already downed most of the bottle of wine the two of you were supposed to share, and was feeling full from the sympathetic stares the waiter and other guests were giving you.

Worst part, he didn’t even apologize. No “Sorry baby, I had something come up at work” no nothing, just sat down, looking at you like what he did was normal. You decided to suck it up and continue on with the night. Trying to be the bigger person even though he’s twice your age and your size. Sure, you still had a bit of an attitude, some short answers, and not clawing to get closer to him like usual, but you have the right to.

Apparently not, cause he decides to get all pissy with you. Giving you glares from across the table, and in general being petty. It was clear to you, and to everyone around, that your nights wasn’t going great. You both end up leaving the restaurant after 30 minutes of his arrival, neither of you finishing the meals you ordered.

The car ride back to you shared apartment was quiet, but the tension was no joke. Instead of the normal sexual tension you both experience after these usual dates, or even just being around each other in general. There was the tension that made your heart sink and your throat tight. His eyes fixated on the road, both hands on the wheel gripping it firmly till his knuckles turned white, instead of having one in between your thighs like usual. You can’t tell who’s ignoring who, or who is more pissed at the other person more. Your mouth didn’t utter a peep, when shaky breaths and pleading words should be escaping it at this point. You hoped that once you get home, the two of you would have cooled down a bit and would talk it out like you always do.

Yet again you were wrong. As soon as you arrived back home, he slams the door behind the two of you. And starts to speak through gritted teeth.

“What he fuck was that whole fuss about?”

Turning around, you don’t know if you’re more shocked at the tone he is addressing you with or the fact that he genuinely doesn’t see what he did wrong.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that you left me there for almost two hours without explaining even why?!”

He scoffs, fucking scoffs. “What, am I supposed to give you reports on everything I do now? What I’m doing and who I’m with?”

“Leon, you can not be serious right now. All I wanted was for you to simply give me a heads up telling me that you were gonna be late.”

“Well, I was clearly busy. I’m sorry that I have a real job and responsibilities that I have to deal with.” Why is he acting like you don’t know that? like this is new information to you? In the past 2 years of your relationship, you have understood how demanding Leon’s job is, and have always been patient.

Going on missions for days and not being able to contact you. You get it, he should focus on his mission and getting home safe. Canceling plans with you last minute cause he was needed at his work. That’s fine, he can’t control it anyways.

But he always made it up for you. Taking the next day off to spend time with you, consoling you, spoiling you with gifts if he couldn’t be there physically with you. He has never gotten angry at you or talked to you in this tone before. He has never refused to apologize, and always tried to reach a solution. But now he is choosing to argue with you.

“You know how much I respect your job and how patient I am when it comes to this topic. But I can’t always brush off the feeling of neglect sometimes.”

“Well maybe you need to stop being so fucking needy.”

Ouch.

He always had loved it when you were needy though, loving the way you’d sit on his lap and shower him with kisses as he worked, loving how you needed to be close to him on the couch while watching a movie, loving the pout you do when he leaves for another mission.

You compose yourself, and start thinking of why he’s acting this way. Is he having a bad day? Did he get bad news before he came to see you?... Is he done dealing with you?

The last possibility makes your heart drop as you try to shoo that evil thought away, but it sticks like cigarette smoke on clothes.

“Are you having a bad day? Is there something bothering you?” your voice is gentle and understanding, trying to deescalate the situation. But he replies with the same harsh tone.

“Yeah, I’m tired of constantly dealing with your bullshit.”

…

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair and looking away from your face. You stand there, not knowing what to do. Feeling so stupid, just staring at him, praying he tells you that he didn’t mean that, that this was all a mistake. To pull you in his arms and whisper sweet nothings in your ear like he always does when you’re upset.

He was always so gentle with you, from his actions to his words. Scared to be too rough with you while play fighting as if you’re going to break. He constantly reminded you of how much you meant to him, how much he missed you on missions, and how much he couldn’t wait to be with you again. His sacred treasure, the apple of his eye, the love of his life.

But now, it all came crashing down with the venomous words he’s saying. Dropping your glass welded heart from what feels like a 13-story building, then proceeding to run over whatever survived. The burning sensation in your throat is starting to get hard to ignore, you try fight it off but to no use.

“What, are you gonna cry now like you always do?”

And that’s all it takes for tears that have been brimming in your eyes to finally break free dropping down to your cheek as your lip quivers. Yes, you are crying like you always do. Feeling so humiliated, tears blur your vision as you turn around and walk to your room shutting the door behind you.

You’re so upset. Sadness mixing with anger creating a disastrous cocktail causing your throat to burn like hell. And to make things worse, you can’t even go to the person that knows how to comfort you best, cause they are the reason why you feel like this in the same place.

Laying down on your side of the bed, tears are practically soaking your pillow. You’ve been crying for what feels like hours now and you’re sure your eyes are going to be swollen as fuck the next day. Multiple sobs, tears, and sniffles later, you fall asleep. Pass out is a better word for it actually. Only to be awaken by a knock on the bedroom door. You ignore it, and close your eyes again.

“Baby, please, let’s talk.”

You ignore again, hoping he takes the hint and leaves you alone. But he doesn’t. He opens the door slowly and looks over to your huddled figure laying on the bed. You’re clearly cold, legs tucked close to your chest, and your face nuzzled into your pillow as much as possible. He sighs, walking over to the bed, and lays down next to you with you back facing him. He stares at you for a bit, knowing that you’re not asleep, he knows your breathing a little too well. He scooches over placing an arm around you, and places a gentle kiss on top of your head.

“I’m sorry baby, I was being an asshole.” He whispers, planting another kiss.

You don’t reply, but you do open your eyes. Noticing that, he continues.

“I was just stressed from all the bullshit going on at work and… took it out on you. It’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have done that.”

…

“Those hurtful things, I don’t mean them. God, I don’t mean a single word I said.”

That last sentence was all it took for you to start crying again. But this time, those arms are around to pull you in. He turns you around and places you against his chest as you let it out. An arm is behind your back rubbing up and down soothingly, while the other helps getting your hair out of your face.

“Shhh it’s okay.”

“I know sweetheart, I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Are words he repeats in a tone juxtaposing the one he was using a couple of hours ago. This is the Leon you’re used to. Calm, and feels like home. The warmth of his body helps warm you up and the arm rubbing your back, helps ease your breathing back to normal. After a few minutes you calm down, and look up at him. He smiles kissing your forehead.

“Was Daddy mean to you earlier?” he asks and you nod.

“Want him to kiss it better?” you nod again.

He smiles softly and starts tenderly kissing your lips, your forehead, cheeks, and jaw.  Each kiss was full of affection and pure sincerity. You started sensing that warm feeling in your chest, heart beat regulating, and lips curling up into a smile as he kissed every single inch on your face. You’re not sure you quiet understand the science behind this technique and how he can manage to lift up your mood with a few kisses and his heart-warming voice. But it somehow always works.

However, can’t tell if it was the sudden change in your mood or his hot breath and soft lips on your face, but the wholesome warm feeling in your heart switched at one point, to heat pooling between your thighs. And soon enough you started being needy again.

“Daddy. Want more.” You muttered, making him stop momentarily to respond.

“Want what baby, you need to tell daddy what to do so he can help you.”

You start feeing a little shy to word it out for him. Normally he would keep you being a needy squirmy mess till you say it yourself. But he was already mean to you today, so it’s only fair to help his girl out.

“Want Daddy to kiss you somewhere else?”

“Mhm”

“Where?”

“My pussy.”

How could he say no to that face. Lips puffy, eyes glossy, and lashes wet from your tears. Humming in agreement, he places one final kiss on your lips and moves down between your thighs, spreading them open for him. You were still wearing your dress, so he was immediately greeted with the lace panties you wore for him. Running his finger up your cunt, he can already feel the dampness through the thin fabric.

“Damn baby, you wore all of this for me? God, I don’t deserve you.”

He says planting an opened mouth kiss on your clothed clit making you whine. Bunching up your dress, he grabs the hem of your panties sliding them down and shoving them in his pocket. He runs his tongue up your slit, and it feels warm as he tastes you. Spreading your cunt open with his fingers, his mouth starts sucking on your clit as shaky heavy breaths escape your mouth.

His blue eyes meet yours as he continues guzzle your pussy up while occasionally fucking his tongue into you. He laps up every single fluid that comes out, appreciating every drop. Eventually, he rewards you with one of his fingers penetrating inside of you and fucking into you at a slow pace as he pulls the hood of your clit back and continues sucking on your bundle of nerves.

Moments later he removes his mouth off of you, wanting to watch your expression as he sticks another finger into you. Your mouth opens slightly as a broken sound leaves your throat. His fingers were thick, much thicker than yours. The rough skin on them making your back arch at the sensation.

“So fucking pretty.”

You can’t tell if he’s addressing you or your dripping pussy as your eyes flutter shut when his palm makes contact with your cunt. He starts moving his digits in and out of you, mouth finding it’s way back to your clit once more. Your hips start squirming in place as he uses his other hand to hold you down in place. His digits then begin scissoring you open while his tongue flicks your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Amidst the intense feeling of pleasure, you grab his hair pulling his face towards your dripping cunt even more. Grabbing Daddy’s hair and not being gentle with it is against some of the rules the two of you have established. Leon is going above and beyond to make sure he doesn’t go bald, avoiding it like it’s the plague. Hence, pulling it, is something he would normally spank you for, fuck you roughly while pulling yours to make sure you always remember. But he’ll let it pass this time.

You start babbling, the pleasure fogging up your field of vision, and the ability to form a coherent sentence, but he knows your having a good time.

“Daddy, can I please cum?”

“Do whatever you wanna do sweetheart.” As soon as you get his permission, you reach your peak with a squeal, letting go of his hair and clutch instead on the white sheets beneath you. His fingers continue moving, easing your way back down from your high. And he eventually removes his fingers out of you, placing a final kiss on your clit before looking up at your blissed out expression.

He gets up, ready to run you a nice bath to relax, but you refuse.

“Want you.”

You say looking up at him. He smiles and replies.

“I don’t know baby. Don’t think it’s fair that you get punished for not behaving and I don’t.” You whine, a pout forming on your lips. Even though you just came, you fear that you’ll never satisfied till he’s deep inside you.

 You tug on his shirt, eyes pleading, batting your lashes at him the way you do, decreasing is chances of saying no to zero.

“It’s okay, I forgive you. Plus, that boner of yours looks pretty painful.” You retort, pointing at the way his dick is begging to be released out of his jeans.

“You sure?” You eagerly nod, and before you know it, your hands are already undoing his belt. He helps you out, taking his pants and shirt off while you strip out of your dress as well.

“How do you want me?” he asks as the two of you sit naked on the bed.

You put your finger on your chin, squinting your eyes as you think.

“On your back.”

He complies, resting his head against the pillow as you crawl over you him, placing a gentle peck on his mouth. Your legs straddle him, grabbing his dick and rubbing it up and down your leaky slit. He grits his teeth, eyes fixated at your motion before you start nudging it as your entrance.

You drop down on his length, making the two of you moan in unison as you bottom out on his dick, his hands involuntarily reaching over to grab the fat on the side of your hips. You don’t take too long to adjust thanks to his fingers warming you up earlier, and soon enough you start bouncing.

Placing a hand on his chest to balance yourself as you increase the pace while occasionally grinding your hips on his skin to get more friction on your clit. One of his hands leave your hips, making its way to your lips as you take two of his fingers into your mouth. He groans at the view in front of him.

“Fuckkk, such a good fucking girl.”

Moments later however, you start getting tired. Poor thing, doing all the work by yourself. You were always destined for princess treatment anyways.

“Getting tired?” he asks through heavy breaths, and you mindlessly nod.

Grabbing your hips once more, he plants his feet on the bed and grabs you pulling your body closer as he starts drilling into you. Your head falls back, all of that sadness you experienced before disappearing with each thrust of his hips. His dick feels amazing inside of you, hitting all of the sweet spots with each move.

The familiar sense of release starts approaching. The sound of skin slapping fills the room as you start chanting “daddy” over and over. You don’t even need anything from him, but he’s all your mind can think about.

“I’m right here, cum for me.” And you do. Your body convulses as sweet release takes over you. Leon moans from how tight your walls are gipping him. Dick throbbing inside of you as he fucks you through your release and starts chasing his. Picking up the pace even more, he feels himself getting closer and closer to his own climax.

“Where do you want it baby?” he asks through greeted teeth. You mind is complete mush at this point, completely and utterly cock drunk. “Inside please.”  Look at you, still using words like please and thank you even in this state.

He was hoping you would say that, he doubts he’ll make it in time to pull out anyways. Leon’s releases washes over his as he spurts his cum all over your walls, while crashing his lips into yours. You kiss him back, moaning as you feel so full and warm from the inside. His hips slow down and eventually reach a stop, and both of your bodies relax. Lips separating, you stare into each other’s eyes for a bit, one of his hands runs through your hair delicately, before cupping your cheek. You tilt your head, resting its weight on his palm as he strokes your face with his thumb.

“I love you. I’m sorry.”

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