#I wanted to wait a bit so I could think about your words

[faeyun]

ˋ 🗯️ ⨾ I’M YOUR SECRETARY

𝖎𝗻 𝖜𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𓈓 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗹.

❛ 박성훈 𝑥 𝑓!reader ❜ ╱ 𝖒. list 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗎, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗒𝖾𝗋!𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇, 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗒!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ✴︎ 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 / 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘵, 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘺), 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰 𓈒𓈒 16OO

( 𝖓 )。 this is directly inspired by the secretary (2002) movie because i am still not over it lmaoo.. hehe thank you my lilypad, @prkhaven, for sending this thought eeeee!!! clearly by the word count i got a little carried away with it… and a special little tag for my love @bambiihee because i can freak out with her about the movie and young james spader now (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)♡

You had to try and hide how giddy you were for this moment—how your body tingled with excitement and how no matter how hard you tried, your hands wouldn’t lay perfectly flat on the mahogany desk.

It took everything in you to look forward, your bottom lip between your teeth and just begging to draw blood. You could feel him behind you, the heat sweltering between your two bodies, and how he faintly trailed his hand along your hip. The excitement that coursed through you was so great that you didn’t even think to hold your breath and wait for it.

“How long has it been now?” Sunghoon asked you, his voice almost monotone, but you could still hear the anger swirling underneath it.

“Weeks, sir,” you replied.

“Weeks,” Sunghoon repeated, “and I’m still finding all these typos on my documents. Do you not understand how this makes me look? Do you expect me to send documents with red circles all over them?”

The typos were on purpose, but you wouldn’t tell Sunghoon that. It was the only way you could get the two of you to this moment—you bent over ninety degrees on his desk while your nose practically touched the paper and him standing behind you, a hand itching to raise in the air. You awaited the spanking—you were desperate for it. So much so that you had to stop yourself from wiggling your ass back towards him.

“No, si—” Smack.

You lurched forward, a half-gasp and half-moan spilling from your already parted lips. The corners of your mouth raised. Inhaling deeply, you repeated yourself. “No, I'm sorry. I’ll do—”

Smack.

Lurching forward again, the sound that escaped you was definitely a moan this time. Your head fell towards the desk as you tried to catch your breath. Sunghoon ran his hand along the fabric of your skirt, fondling your ass right before stopping right where you would be soaking through if it hadn’t been for the layers you were wearing. You bit your lip to try and muffle the groan.

“I’ll do better,” you said, your voice wispy. Sunghoon’s cupped your ass again, before you felt his hand leave and the sound of it hitting fabric reverberated through the quiet office.

Another moan escaped you and you had to lean more on the desk to hold yourself up. Still, you didn’t dare to look back at him and break the unspoken rules that he had placed for you; but you so desperately wanted to. Your knees felt weak and the heels you were wearing didn’t make stabilization any easier for you. You were grateful for the momentary pause that let you both seemingly catch your breath.

“Lift up your skirt,” Sunghoon cuts through the thickness in the air. You pause, unsure if you heard him correctly, and you look back at him.

He sports the same blank face, but you can see how he unravels at the edges around it. You notice the wrinkles in his suit and the way his tie is skewed to the side. His dark hair is in his darker eyes as he stands back and waits for you to obey his command. It almost looks as if he let the words slip from his mouth and it’s too late now to take them back. Like he inadvertently exposed his deepest desire to you by accident. “W-What?” you ask in a small voice, nervous that it’s all in your head, that the excitement has carried you away.

Sunghoon repeats himself, only this time, he adds to what he said. “Lift up your skirt and pull down your stockings and panties.” 

You open your mouth again to ask if that’s what he really meant, but he speaks again before you can. “I’m not gonna fuck you,” he says.

A little disappointed, you inhale sharply at his words. “At least, not in the way you want—though I should after your behavior. You can’t even take a simple punishment without moaning like a damn whore.”

Sunghoon looks you up and down, but you can’t quite read his gaze. He’s too stonefaced. You hesitate, but you face forward again and lift your arms from the table to reach behind you. Slowly, you pull up your long skirt with shaky fingers, and after you pull down your stockings and panties until you’re completely exposed for his eyes to see.

You hear him inhale, but you don’t turn around again. The tips of his fingers trail along the skin he just repeatedly smacked, and the burning you feel there intensifies. A small whimper emits from you that you quickly try to swallow, but Sunghoon’s fingers pause anyway.

This time you feel the wind from his hand before you hear the echo of his palm slapping your ass. Unashamed now, you let your loud moan out freely. Smaller ones follow as you readjust yourself, ready for his next action. The thought that Sunghoon could see how soaked through your panties and stockings were didn’t even cross your mind until it was too late, but your back arched from the thought nonetheless.

Sunghoon’s hand caresses along the bruising skin, and his thumb gently rubs circles into the flesh. Then, his hand moves down, further and further. “Your behavior has been unacceptable. You know I value professionalism above all else, and you are a direct reflection of everything my firm stands for when they walk through that front door. Yet, you parade around, playing with your hair and cutting squares out of your skirts.”

His other hand yanks your skirt further up your back as if it was a nuisance and in his way. At the same time, his fingers delve into your wetness, at the arousal sliding down your inner thighs and coating your waiting pussy. You gasp.

“Are you trying to spite me? Do you want me to treat you like the fuck toy you’re acting like? Because I have no problem doing so.” Sunghoon’s fingers plunge into your entrance and another loud moan is ripped from you, your body lurching forward again as you immediately clench around his slender fingers. His fingers move without hesitation and curl inside of you each time they can’t be pushed in any farther.

Your mouth hangs open and your airy moans fall freely throughout the room. Sunghoon leans down so his face is hovering near yours, and you turn your head ever so slightly to the side so you can see him. His hand doesn’t stop, and neither does the sound from your lips. You can feel the boner through his pants as he leans against you more so you’re almost eye to eye.

Just the sight of his stare through his pretty lashes almost makes you cum. His hand slams down onto the table next to yours and you take the risk to put your pinky over one of his fingers. Sunghoon holds onto that action like it’s his lifeline. In a low voice he says, “I respect you as an employee too much to treat you like a slut. But—just for this moment—I’ll lower my standards for you, slut.”

His fingers move faster, and you feel like all the build-up to this moment was a mistake that you were now feeling the consequences of. You were seconds from breaking completely—and Sunghoon was front row center for the show. Mewling, you bit down hard on your bottom lip and tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to look away from his stare.

You refused to turn away from how heavy his eyes got at each and every single one of your moans. Like he wanted to close his eyes and enjoy the sound, but wanted to witness the face you made as well. Or how his mouth was open and his jaw slack. You especially didn’t want to miss the quiet moans he occasionally voiced, the sound too busy being drowned out by the sounds that you made.

It was all so glorious that your body took over and made the decision for you. Your eyes rolled back as your body went limp. Sunghoon cursed under his breath at the way your pussy held him in a vice grip and refused to let go as you broke around him, covering his hand in a pearly white.

The two of you stood there for a moment, clinging to each other as you struggled to let the oxygen reach your starved lungs. You leaned your head against his, and Sunghoon nuzzled into you before ripping himself away completely.

He pulled his fingers out from inside you, still glistening with your arousal and coated in your cum, and stumbled a couple steps back from you. You turned to look at him, and for a brief second the two of you stared at each other.

Sunghoon then rounded the corner of his desk before falling heavily into his chair, his face mere inches from yours. He closed his eyes for a moment.

“A coffee, please,” Sunghoon said thickly. His eyes fluttered open to look directly at you. You hesitantly stood straighter, confusion written all over your face. Sunghoon plucked the papers off his desk with the hand that had just given you so much pleasure that it was currently dripping down your thighs and puddling in your panties right now like it was nothing. “And this time… add more sugar,” he continued.

Awkwardly, you hiked up your panties and stockings and pulled down your skirt. You grabbed the stack of files that you sat on his desk before standing in front of it for another awkward moment.

“Y-Yes, sir,” you stuttered before rushing out of his office. Sunghoon didn’t spare you another glance.

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏   ͏  ͏ ͏ ͏͏ REBLOGS ◜◡◝ FEEDBACK APPRECIATED!

✉️   ⦂   godddd i need young james spader so desperately it’s not even funny anymore… anyway are we fw the hard thoughts layout?

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿ @innocygnet @ghstzzn @heechwe @tinycatharsis @prkhaven @bambiihee @fangel @xylatox @izzyy-stuff @hyukascampfire @sunoosgfv @whosserina @jellymochii @sumsumtingz @riribelle @minaateez @everythingvirgoes @lvrs-street2mmorrow @beomieeeeeeeeeeees

© faeyun - all rights reserved. do not repost on any social media or sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[mattrempeswife]

LITTLE QUINNY BEAR

pair: quinn hughes x f!reader

genre: fluff, domestic, emotional hurt/comfort, family.

warnings: mentions of surgery/recovery (c-section), postpartum insecurity, emotional vulnerability, soft crying, implied breastfeeding.

summary: after months of waiting, you and quinn finally welcome your baby boy into the world via c-section. from the moment he hears his son cry, quinn becomes the gentle, devoted father you always dreamed of and the partner who never lets you forget how deeply he loves you. as the days in the hospital blend into sweet exhaustion and late-night feedings at home, quinn proves again and again that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. but when insecurities about your healing body begin to creep in, quinn’s emotional and heartfelt reminder of his love for every inch of you might just be the thing that saves you.

fia’s note: this piece can be read as a standalone, but it also works as a part 2 to ‘a mini hughes on the way’. totally up to you how you want to experience it! you might be wondering where i’ve been since i’ve been a bit inactive lately, i was actually on vacation! even though i haven’t had the time to get to your requests just yet, i’m totally free to chat if you want to talk hockey or just hang out a bit.

He hadn’t let go of your hand since you were wheeled in the operating room. He kept whispering gentle reassurances like soft petals against your skin, even when your nerves felt like fire under your hospital gown. The anesthesiologist gave the okay, the nurses moved around you like clockwork, and still Quinn never wavered.

His grip never faltered.

“You’re so strong,”

He said, forehead pressed to yours.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

And then it happened, forty-five minutes into surgery, a cry pierced through the room.

Loud. Clear. Perfect.

You barely had time to react before tears flooded your eyes. Quinn’s body shook beside you, a soundless sob catching in his throat as he looked over the curtain. The nurse held up a tiny, red-faced baby, and Quinn melted like snow in spring.

“That’s him,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours.

“That’s our boy.”

When they laid him in Quinn’s arms, he looked down at the wrinkled little face as though it was the most sacred thing he’d ever seen. And when he brought him over to you, both of you cried quietly together, hearts wide open in a way nothing could ever prepare you for.

You named him Finn Hughes.

And the world felt whole.

The hospital days were a dreamy blur of exhaustion and newborn cries, but through it all, Quinn was your steady constant. He learned how to hold Finn before you could even lift your arms fully. He guided him to your chest, helped adjust your gown for breastfeeding, always whispering sweet encouragements while balancing a plate of food to feed you at the same time.

“You’ve done enough,”

He’d murmur, nudging a fork to your lips.

“Let me take care of you now.”

Every evening, he’d sneak home just for an hour, long enough to shower, grab snacks, and come back smelling like home.

Sometimes he returned with fresh clothes for you, or photos from the nursery you hadn’t seen yet. Sometimes it was just a quiet, long hug that said more than words ever could.

And when it came time to help you walk again, Quinn was your crutch.

Ellen took Finn in her arms while Quinn wrapped one hand firmly around your waist and the other held your hand. Your first steps were shaky, your body weak and unfamiliar.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Tell me if you need to stop. I’m right here.”

When you leaned into him, too overwhelmed to speak, he looked at you with guilt flooding his eyes.

“I think… I think Finn might be our only child,” he said softly.

“Seeing you like this, I feel so guilty, like I made you go through too much.”

Your heart twisted at the sound of his voice. This man, your gentle, golden-hearted man felt pain just watching yours. You reached up, cupping his cheek, grounding him.

“You gave me the greatest gift of my life,” you whispered.

“I’d do it again a thousand times.”

First week home was chaos. Finn fit into the house like he’d always belonged there. His crib sat under soft mobile lights, his name spelled on the wall in muted blue letters. Every night, Quinn would take the night shift with a sort of peaceful determination.

“You need sleep, mama,”

He’d always say, cradling Finn close.

“Let me take care of our little guy.”

Diaper changes, bottle warmings, rocking chair lullabies, Quinn handled it all with love. Even when you insisted on nursing Finn, he sat beside you everytime, whispering to him like it was the most normal thing in the world to stay up till 3 a.m. with his whole heart poured into this little boy.

Sometimes, you’d urge him to sleep.

But he never did, at least, not before kissing your temple and saying.

“I like watching you two like this.”

Then came the quiet storm.

More than three months postpartum, you stood in front of the mirror one evening, looking at the scar that marked your belly. You traced it lightly with your finger and felt a pang of self-consciousness. You didn’t feel ugly, but you didn’t feel beautiful either. You didn’t feel like you.

And you never said a word to Quinn. You tried to hide it.

But he knew you, really knew you.

He came into the bathroom quietly, arms around your waist, and kissed your shoulder before noticing where your eyes had fallen. Without a word, he slowly dropped to his knees in front of you. And then…

He kissed your scar.

Soft. Long. Meaningful.

You gasped, tears rising uninvited.

“Don’t ever think that this makes you anything less than the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,”

He whispered against your skin.

“That scar… it gave me him. It gave me everything. It’s the most sacred part of you now.”

His voice cracked slightly as he looked up at you, eyes glossy but sure.

“I’d give anything to trade places with you. But since I can’t… I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never feel like this scar makes you anything less.”

And then he kissed it again, this time slow, reverent like it was the beginning of every love story ever written.

You broke.

In his arms, you cried for every fear, every ache, every second of doubt and in return, he held you like you were his whole world.

Because you were.

And now, you had a piece of that world swaddled in blue in the next room, waiting for the two people who loved him most to tuck him into the next chapter of forever.

[eri-pl]

Be he friend or foe— wait, wrong lyrics. XD

Nice thought anyway, I respect it.

I don't hate AI as much as y'all (yes, ik, it is bad for enviroment and unethically sourced, just like half of the things we buy, but also I find it pretty cool in what it can do, hate me all you want), but yes, when I publish something it's written by me.

I may use tools (AI or not) to check grammar, do low-level beta reading (to tell me stuff like "this needs more descriptions), or use it to kickstart my brainstorming when I'm out of ideas, and use it to "what's the word for [a complicated concept that I remember had a word for it]" when normal search can't do it. Generally the kind of things I could ask a friend for and not feel like needing to add them as a co-author. Except I have very few friends and most aren't native English speakers, so this option is not always possible.

And now I'm not doing even that because a) environment b) people's reactions and I am not going to just go use it and than lie. Well, I do use Google Docs and they have a grammar/style check feature that may be ai-adjacent. IDK.

If it was less controversial, I would use AI for things like "translate this dialogue line to more archaic English" for certain characters. Because this doesn't feel to me like outsourcing creativity, and sometimes is not something I can do by myself. Also grammar / synonyms stuff; low-level editing stuff. Like fixing my commas (if it can do this). Especially when I don't think I know any human both good in English and interested in helping in that particular thing.

Cancel me if you want, whatever. I'm not gonna go and pretend I didn't do a thing I did or that I have a different opinion.

But my fics are written by me, and my pictures are drawn by me and if I post something that's generated it will get a clear caption that it's generated, and one time a year ago I couldn't get something from my head to screen and made AI-gen pictures because I wanted to have a clear vision of how some characters actually look, I did caption it clearly and then I get anon hate for doing it anyway. (They are removed now, less for the AI part and more for the "nobody seems to care anyway" part)

TBH I feel like maaaaybe d4 people in whole world care about whatever I do creatively but also if I admit even looking at any AI tools, suddenly 10 people will take offence, who never even commented at any of my actual work. And I feel discouraged by this, and somewhat bitter.

Oh and also if you want people to admit it when they use AIs, maybe reduce the stigma a bit. Because the surest way to make people lie about doing something is piling a mountain of shame on top of the thing.

No, I'm not saying that I am lying. I am adult enough to admit doing things that are cconsidered shameful. But also, I am over 40 and have close to nothing to lose in terms of social clout. Most people don't have this privilege.

[This is only about using AI with things I publish / share publicly in any way. Using it for having fun on my own (make things I enjoy in private, make songs for phone rings, tell me a bedtime story, give me ideas what new things to try...) is a different thing. I now do it very rarely, because environmental impact, but if it didn't have such an impact, I would do it, because it works for me and is fun.]

PS: Just in case: OP, this is not supposed to criticize what you said. I just saw the post, thought "um, nice, I should make something like this too" and then "ok but what do I want to actually say, what is honest to say for me here" and it got nuanced, and compared to tumblr average, quite pro-AI maybe. No, as I said, even if I'm more nuanced about it, I deeply respect your stance. If anything, I'd say calling people "uncreative dweebs" doesn't encourage them to admit to their past Ai use, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it's just a detail, I overall respect your post and thank you.

NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.

[muqingslover]

I just wanted to ask you (since I saw this prompt before and I wanted to hear your take on it), in a Cherry Magic AU setting, MC can hear the thoughts of the lads men. Who do you think would have the most unhinged train of thoughts/ stream of consciousness?

I just have a feeling that Zayne would be the most surprising/unhinged since he's so calm and collected, even cold on the outside, so he has to keep a lot inside. (Or maybe I'm just biased because I'm a Zayne girlie and he's my pookie)

I absolutely love the way you write! The flow is so nice and easy to follow. Overall, it's relaxing and entertaining to read what you write!!

[ AAA THANK YOU SM FOR THE KIND FEEDBACK! it means everything to me I'm so so so glad you enjoy it! 💕🫂 I actually didn't know what Cherry Magic was but omg?! it's so cute!? I just had to do this! ]

Coming in hot in first place we have the IT boy himself.

His thoughts are not technically unhinged as they are just OVERWHELMING.

You would be having lunch and Caleb's sitting across of you like 😊 while his mind is filled with so much stuff.

'Their lips are a bit redder today...Is it because of the spice? I should tone it down next time, oh but they look so cute like that. Their eyes are all watery it's so damn cute, so cute so, so so cute— Huh? They're staring? Oh *I* am the one that's staring. Look away look away, yeah, alright, smooth.'

His thoughts are extremely noisy all. the. time. It's pretty much about everything, but especially you.

I also feel like he repeats a lot of words regarding you like he'd immediately go 'Cute, cute, cute cute cute—' when you laugh at what he said or have an internal panic if you did something to tease him 'Too close oh god— They're close, close, close, too damn close— I can feel their body warmth—'

CATCH HIS LYING ASS POOKIES, I mean ahem.

Guys this man will have the most innocent smile on his face when he claims he'd never do something and when you take a peek inside his thoughts he is most definitely thinking about doing it.

"I have no reason to steal your clothes. C'mon now pipsqueak— Yes, yes, I pinky promise I'm not messing with you this time."

'Shit shit shit shit shit. I didn't have time to wash it yet— Why are they doing laundry today anyway? They usually only do it on Friday nights.'

Second place belongs to none other than to the neighborhood freak.

Now Xavier is a mix of absolutely empty no thoughts at all to freaky ahh stuff.

He will have a nonchalant face but his thoughts? oh dear lord.

"My throat feels a bit sore because of the weather recently."

"Let's buy some cough drops for you on our way back."

'I wonder if I can still do it tonight...I wouldn't want them to hurt their throat more. Oh. If I cover their mouth shouldn't it be fine? What should I use...Wait, I should ask them later about it...........I wonder if they'll sit on my face again.....that was nice..........Kinda sleepy.'

He is also the only one of the crew that is not particularly embarrassed, freaked out or even worried that you can read his thoughts.

If anything, Xavier believes it makes communication a whole lot easier. Sometimes he's so tired that even speaking takes a lot of energy from him so being able to tell you what he wants just by touching you is an advantage.

Yes, he will absolutely think about freaky things on purpose only to see your face turning red.

I think fishie takes third place.

#Meangirl alert. /hj

Rather than it being about you it's more about his brutal honesty in general. Lord have mercy when he is grading projects from his classes.

Rafayel is someone that calculates his words (and actions) A LOT, which means this is a nightmare for him. He doesn't want you to see past the fun, sassy persona he shows you.

Especially if the subject about his past came up because then things could get real ugly, real quick.

"I would never hurt you like that, Raf."

'...That sounds like a cruel joke. You don't know that. You don't know anything about me. About us. How is this fair? How can I tell you about what you did— About what *I* had to do when you look at me like that?'

"...I know. I trust you."

You would also realize he is actually a lot more apathetic towards others than expected. The humans' opinions/ problems are simply not something he can bring himself to genuinely care about unless they affect him or you directly.

Lastly, he hums and sings A LOT in his head. Usually they're very old, beautiful songs from his homeland and it's really nice to tune in his private radio station.

Maybe controversial but this man's thoughts are clean as a whistle.

Unless he is actively doing something sexual Sylus is not thinking about anything remotely dirty.

Personally I believe his mind is quiet in general. He has an internal "To-do list" and that's what you will hear for most of the time.

'Oh, their water bottle is cracked. I should get them a new one soon. The twins' new jackets are being delivered today, that's good. It's getting colder already I don't want them to get sick again. The new supplies will need my signature so I must return before the sunrise. Tomorrow the new restaurant they mentioned opens, I'll make sure to ask them for dinner. '

On the other hand, his thoughts can also be quite vulnerable and insecure towards your relationship with him.

Almost every night when he holds you in his arms you will hear him think 'Please stay with me.' and he sounds so genuinely afraid.

You will also hear him think a looooot of 'I love you' during the day at random times. He's just a large, lovestruck puppy looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

The calmest thoughts but the cutest of all of the boys.

Like, you don't understand he's sooo damn cute.

Zayne may look like he'd rather be anywhere else but here and then you touch him and what you get is

'...I wish I had gotten the limited cat keychain from the cafe. Perhaps they'll rerun it next spring. I'll take them with me then........We could get matching ones....Well, if they agree to go with me. Or I could bring it to them as a gift, that would be nice too.'

Another one that has an mental "To-do list". During work hours he's extremely focused and his thoughts rarely, if ever, stray from what he's doing.

When with you his mind is calm (unless you're teasing this poor man because then his mind is going into OVERDRIVE.) and his internal comments are suuuuper soft and loving.

'Their hair is styled today...it looks really nice. Should I tell them? ....No, it's best not to. Hm....Oh, right. I have some leftover candy from my appointments today, I'll give them some instead.'

10/10 experience guarantee.

[prettydaisygirl]

can you do a part 2 about the bf james and peter story? maybe james ghosts her and she runs into remus one day, tells him what happened and he goes back and tells james

Just for you, love! This one turned out way longer than I thought it would, haha! Hope you enjoy <3

(ex)boyfriend!James Potter x fem!reader who finally talk about Peter ✿ 1.7k words

cw: fem reader, break up, Peter is the worst, Remus is the best, angst with a happy ending

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

please read part 1 here

You hate breakups.

Not that you’re entirely sure that is what is going on, but you haven’t heard from James in three weeks. That has to mean you’re broken up, right?

The first week, you’d held out hope that James might call you. Even though deep down you knew, when he’d kissed your hair instead of your lips and Peter looked at you with that smirk… It was pointless to wait around, but you’d been hoping for an opportunity to explain yourself. To tell James that it’s Peter who was saying horrible things, not you. You were trying to defend him!

But the call never came.

So your days go by in a blur, aimless routines and rituals that keep your body occupied and alive while your brain and heart ache for him. Things aren’t the same without James’ bright smile and beautiful aura. Your home feels dull without the promise of his shoes by the door next to yours, or a goodnight kiss where neither of you really want to fall asleep. You miss him. 

The park is your only escape. The light on your skin and the breeze in your hair makes you feel lighter, even if it’s just for a moment. You let the excited dogs and giggling little kids make you happy. It’s enough to get you out of the house. Enough to keep you going. Enough to make sure your heart doesn’t fully shrivel up and die. 

It’s one of those days, the ones where you feel a bit lighter sitting at the park bench and letting your mind go, when you suddenly find that you aren’t alone.

“Hello.” You know that voice. The smooth, honeyed tone you know to belong to James’ friend, Remus. 

“Remus,” You greet him with a smile that doesn’t entirely reach your eyes, “How are you?”

“I’m alright, love. But I’m more interested in how you’re doing. You look…” Remus’ words trail off but you can think of a million different ways he could end that sentence: bad, tired, upset, broken, etc.

“I’m… alive.” You decide on, but the words sound empty even to you. Remus eyes you, clearly deep in thought. 

“It was Peter, wasn’t it?” He asks the question like he already knows the answer. His words surprise you, head turning and brow raising, especially when he continues. “Peter said something that made you upset.”

You nod, throat tightening as you remember that horrible dinner all those nights ago. Your fingers pick at the wood of the park bench, your shoulders sagging.

“Peter is horrible.” You say, and you don’t care if you sound cruel, “From the moment I met him, I knew he was horrid. I know he’s your friend but you all let him say the most disgusting things about people. About each other!”

“What did he say?” Remus asks, and when you turn with your mouth open ready to argue, ready for Remus to defend his friend, he doesn’t. His face is only open, understanding.

You wring your hands in your lap and purse your lips as you think about what you want to say. Remus sits in patient silence, giving you time without complaint.

“He asked me if I think James is obnoxious.” You start, and Remus’ brows raise just an inch on his forehead. But he doesn’t speak. “He told me that… James would be getting bored of me. That someone new would catch his eye and everything we had would just…” You look around the park, eyes scanning everything without really seeing. You just will yourself not to cry. 

“I mean, I guess he was right? James and I haven’t talked in three weeks, he won’t even respond to my texts.”

Remus nods slowly, and your heart sinks a bit more. Maybe Remus agrees with Peter. Maybe he is just here to destroy your last bit of hope and put the final nail in the coffin.

“Peter and James have been friends since before I ever met either of them.” Remus says, finally, his voice cutting through the rest of the peaceful park sounds. “Peter has always been… for lack of a better term, a small man. James is larger than life, and Peter has always been jealous of him, even when we were young.”

“As boys, Peter would scare off anyone who wanted to be friends with James. It was only through Sirius’ stubbornness that he managed to break through them and become a part of the group. And Peter only allowed it if he was there too. I came along a bit later.”

“But even in our group of four, it was obvious that James is Peter’s best friend. He would get… antsy if we ever spent time together without him. It’s gotten better now as we’ve gotten older but it seems as though Peter has shifted his attention.” 

“What are you saying?” Your voice cuts through Remus’, eyes wide and your body turned almost fully toward him at this point.

“I’m saying you aren’t the first girlfriend of James’ that Peter has gotten rid of.” Remus runs a hand through his hair and sighs heavily, face turning serious. “I should’ve known he was going to do this.”

The two of you sit in silence for a while, a mutual anger bubbling in the air around you both.

“Has he said anything?” You ask finally, your voice weaker than you’d like it to be. “James, I mean.”

“Oh, he’s devastated.” Remus’ voice is thick with emotion and his face morphs into obvious frustration, “The man is so in love with you.”

“Then why-” It’s like Remus can read your mind, he answers before you can even get the words out of your mouth.

“James loves Peter like a brother. Peter has been by James’ side since before the two of them were in diapers. I think… I think James doesn’t want to see what Peter is doing. He wants Peter to be good but…” Remus’ voice trails off again and you find your stomach churning.

“I love James.” You say, and you’ve never said anything truer in your life. “I just want him to be happy.”

“You both deserve to be happy. I’ll talk to him.” Remus says, and he continues to speak before you can open your mouth to argue, “I mean it. Then, if he doesn’t want to be with you, we’ll know. But he does. And you both deserve to be happy together.”

“Thank you, Remus.” You say, and you hate the way hope creeps back into your soul.

But four days pass after your conversation with Remus, and you still don’t hear from James.

It’s been devastating, almost worse this time, like breaking up all over again. You really tried not to get your hopes up when you spoke with Remus, but you can’t help it. All you want is James back.

You’re in an old t-shirt and putting a frozen meal in the oven when there’s a knock at the door. You groan, moving through the living room to the front door and you open it. 

Your heart stops when you see James’ face. He looks… dull. Not that bright, bubbly ray of human sunshine he always is.

“Jamie.” His name leaves your lips as a breath of relief and also a cry of pain.

“I’m sorry,” He says, and his voice is just as strained and pained as your own. “Remus told me about what you said. About what Peter said…”

You lean against the front door a bit, letting it hold some of your weight since you don’t trust yourself to stand fully on your own at the moment. You watch James, heart pounding in your chest. You’re sure it’s loud enough that he can hear it too. 

“I tried to tell you, but you all just left.” You say, and your eyes burn as the emotions resurface. “And you never called. I just wanted to explain…”

“I know.” James’ eyes squeeze shut and you feel your heart squeeze too. “I know, I’m sorry. I thought Peter was my friend…”

“Friends don’t talk about each other like that.” You step out onto the porch, standing in front of James. You miss being close to him, even just like this.

“No. They don’t.” James agrees, and you find yourself wanting to reach out and touch him. He seems to read your mind, placing a hand on the side of your neck and placing his forehead on yours. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You say, your voice cracking at the end. “I don’t want to break up.”

“I don’t either.” James agrees softly and it’s like you can feel the broken parts of yourself start to let him put you back together. 

“What about Peter?” You ask, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. You’re worried this is too good to be true. 

“I’m done with Peter.” James shakes his head, his curls swinging in front of his forehead as he moves with vigor, “I confronted him about what happened after I talked with Remus. And he admitted everything! He bragged about it, he said he thought he was helping me out because he thinks you aren’t good enough for me.” James rolls his eyes, but you can still see the emotional turmoil he must be going through.

You pull him close, your two bodies fitting together like the pieces of a puzzle, reuniting after weeks apart. 

“I’m sorry.” You say. “I know you love him.”

“I love you.” James says, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m sorry I believed Peter.”

“I’m sorry he wasn’t a good friend to you, Jamie.” Your voice is muffled as you bury your face in his neck. His scent is comforting, soothing the ache of weeks without him. You squeeze him a bit tighter.

And this time, you’re not letting go.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[madamechrissy]

Losing Control Now - part four preview

Pairings: Mobster Gojo x bartender F!reader

Warnings- just suggestive in this, but the story is NSFW, reader and Gojo are on their date hehe. After like over a month and a half (sorryyy) of no thoughts on this, it finally came to me today, so expect the update this week! <3

The wind is gently blowing your hair around your face, the soft light of the setting sun casting pinks and golds across your skin, and for a moment his breath catches, seeing your tired eyes light up, your pretty smile. It makes any and everything he’d have to do to protect you worth it, your giggle as you lean forward, a hand brushing across his thigh now, making him ache for you.

“This is beautiful, Satoru. Thank you so much for this.” Your lips press on his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, the salty sea spray mingling in the air with your perfume, heady and intoxicating.

He swallows a bit, arm wrapping around you now as the two of you sit at the table, food plated by the best chefs he could hire, on his own damn boat he bought for a date, but all you can focus on is him. In his pretty blue eyes, and the way the sun is casting shadows from behind him, illuminating his tall figure when he leans low, brushing a thumb across your cheek.

It’s warmed from the sun, but soon hot under his touch, his bright blue gaze that makes your heart pound. “It’s all worth it.” He murmurs quietly, he knows you don’t grasp his meaning fully, but you kiss him softly, drinking in his sighs, while his touch drifts to the small of your back.

Anything is worth your presence.

“This food looks amazing but I doubt I can pronounce it. It’s insane.” You say softly, eyeing the plates then, and he tries to hold back just lifting you on it, swiping every fancy dish across the wood planks beneath you, and eating you instead.

He doubts that will wait much longer, not with the glimpses of thigh from your high cut dress, not with the way that necklace is dangling precariously against your collarbone that he wants to litter with bites. He takes a breath, putting on an easy smile then. “I don’t either, I just asked for super fancy shit.”

You giggle at it, his sincerity, and he grins so boyish and charming, it melts your fucking heart. “I feel like you can’t be real, and it scares me.”

“Not real?” He frowns a bit, while you take a nibble of one of the perfectly set dishes, sighing as it hits your taste buds, nodding a bit. “What’s that mean?”

“Too good for me? More than I deserve? Too amazing-”

“The fuck?” He glares at you, gripping your chin now, snowy lashes lowering as you sit there, fork clattering from your hand.

“Sorry I-”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that. You fucking deserve everything. Okay?” You blink back emotions, words that shouldn’t spill yet but threaten to, taking a shaky breath and nodding.

“I’m just so tired, Satoru. I’m sorry.” He relaxes his grip, long elegant fingers dancing along your jaw, sighing now as the boat gently dashes through the water beneath you two, and for a moment he’d like it to carry you both away. Far the fuck away. “Thank you for everything, for every moment with me.”

“Don’t thank me for it, right now all I can think of is-” Your phone starts going off then, lighting up at the table, he frowns over at the name as you sigh, ignoring the call. “Your mom?”

“She’ll stop after a few, it’s for money.” You’re so used to this, it infuriates Satoru then, the next call he answers, before you can stop him, covering your mouth in shock, eyes wide as he casually answers.

“Your daughter is on a date, Mom. She can’t give you any money I’m afraid,” you hear her yelling and panicking, but he just sips on a glass of wine, winking at you, as if to tell you he’s got it. “I’ll make a deal, leave her alone all day and night, and I’ll give you some instead.”

“Don’t do that!” Your whisper is brushed off, as he smirks, and you can’t hear her voice anymore.

“Your daughter deserves a day where she’s not carrying all your fucking burdens, mmkay? Great, I’ll send that over tomorrow, meet you soon I’m sure.” He hangs up now, eyeing your shocked face with a shrug. “She’ll leave you alone for a bit.”

“You can’t just pay everyone to leave me alone, this is my mess, it’s-”

“It’s not your mess. You got stuck with hers. And baby Imma fix it all, okay?” He cups your face with both hands, and you’re ended, any resolve, or waiting for the right time, it all falls from your brain, replaced with one thing instead-

You need him.

You need him in every way.

You slam your lips on his then, hot and desperate, he exhales and drags your body against him, until he’s picked you up, sliding plates over and stepping between your thighs, feeling the heat of your needy cunt even over the layers of his pants and the dress he’s slipping up. You cry out against him when he bites the lower lip, the one you’ve bitten to hell, the pain sharp and sweet, soothing it with a swipe of his tongue.

“I need you, Satoru,” you whisper now, eyeing him with a dilated, lidded gaze, your little hands grabbing at his dress shirt, feeling the hammering of his heart against your palm. “Please.”

Who was he to deny you anything?

I'm so excited to get back to this oneee I can't wait

perm tags- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

[jsbluu]

just the tip? | r.hirota

➨ pairing: maki x fem!reader

➨ genre: smut

➨ word count: 1.1k

➨ warnings: none other than him and reader being FREAKS

➨ a/n: writing for maki again.. was gonna post this tomorrow but i Had to get this out. also pierced myself again hehe 「(°ヘ°) pt.2 perhaps..

you should’ve known it would come to this. maki had been staring at you all night like he was ready to devour you (spoiled: he was!). it started with an innocent kiss, but of course that’s never enough for him. he picked you up like you weighed nothing, plotting you right on his lap, and kissed you til your lips were pink and swollen.

then it turned to him grinding his hips up against yours, his hands gripping your waist like you were about to run away from him. you could feel his member twitching through his jeans everytime you’d press yourself a little too hard against him, and it only made you want him more.

that’s when you really feel him, really feel him. and he’s big. bigger than expected.. and that’s because you already knew the rest of him was huge. his height, his hands, his shoulders. but this.. this was different.

“maki..” you whisper, pulling back just enough to look at him.

his hands slide under your shirt and up your bare back, his eyes dark, basically pleading.

“we can stop.” he says, his voice a little raspy. “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

you nod, trying to breath, but you’re completely soaked. you’ve never needed him this badly, and if you don’t get fucked within the next 5 minutes you’re going to lose your mind.

you shift your hips a bit and he groans, his eye rolling back and his head falling against the couch,

“.. what if” he almost pants, looking up at you through half lidded eyes, his voice cracking, “just the tip?”

he’s so desperate, you could almost moan at the sight. his glossy eyes and pink cheeks, completely fucked out expression and you haven’t done anything father than kissing him. he’s cooked.

you nod before he can think, and he curses under his breath when he realizes what’s about to happen.

“just the tip.” he promises again, almost like he’s trying to convince himself. (he’s lying)

he pulls you off his lap and effortlessly lays you down on his bed, your body trembling with need.

you watch as he slips his shirt off, his completely toned chest has the slightest layer of sweat and you wanna lick it off. he smiles when he sees you watching him, and he wants to say something cocky so bad but it’s hard to think when he has the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen underneath him.

“can i?” he asks softly, the sincerity in his voice making your heart pound against your chest.

you nod and his hands slip your shirt off, leaving you in just your pretty lace bra you wore especially for him. he bites his bottom lip softly, like he’s holding himself back.

“you’re so beautiful” he whispers as he leans down and trails kisses from the middle of your chest down to your navel. he looks up at you, silently asking permission once again. you give him the green light and he unties your sweatpants, slipping them off your legs. you both giggle at how much he’s struggling to pull them off, like he can’t wait any longer. he really can’t.

he lets out a groan when he sees your matching panties, makes him think, was she planning for this to happen? but he could care less about that right now, he just wanted you.

he quickly sits up and takes off his sweatpants and boxers, leaving him completely bare in front of you. your eyes widen when you see how truly big he is, his tip already leaking with precum, and you have no idea how that’s gonna fit in you.

you don’t even have to say anytime before hips lips are back on yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he’s trying to take over you. his hands invade all over your body, trailing down to your soaked panties and cupping you in just the right places. you let out a soft moan against his lips and it immediately goes to his cock, twitching against his thigh.

“ready for more..?” he whispers, one of his hands sliding down to stroke himself, his precum dripping down his hands at this point.

you nod, unable to form words. all you can do is feel.

he teases your entrance with his cock, rubbing his tip against the lacy fabric of your panties. the feeling of the lace against his already sensitive tip makes him go insane, he could cum right there if he wanted to, but he couldn’t. he needed to be in you.

he teases you a few seconds longer before moving your panties to the side, moaning at the sight when he finally sees you in full.

“so wet for me” he mumbles under his breath, his finger swiped against you and he brings it up to his lips, popping it into his mouth. you’d usually be embarrassed by this and want to hide, but you’re way too turned on to care.

he rubs your entrance with his tip, his breath becoming shakier as it slides just past your folds. the pressure builds and builds as he slides into you, watching your face contort in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

you gasp, trying to hold still, but your body betrays you and your hips involuntarily buck up, wanting more.

“f-fuck, don’t move” he says desperately, doing everything he can to not push himself fully into you and fuck you til you forget your name.

even with just the tip you feel so full, you can’t imagine how it would feel if he was fully inside you right now. but you know it’s not the right time, and this would have to suffice.

maki curses under his breath, barely breathing and gripping your waist like he’s afraid to move.

“shit.. fuck you’re so tight” he presses his forehead against your shoulder, sucking in air through his teeth. “don’t move.. don’t move yet please”

you nod helplessly, trying to adjust, but you’re clenching around him like a vice, beyond desperate for more. you instinctively shift your hips in an attempt to get more comfortable, and he accidentally slides into you another inch. the guttural whimper that rips from his throat nearly kills you.

“baby” he whispers, voice cracked and sounds like he’s on the verge of tears.

“you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

you whimper, clenching around him again and your whole body filling with need.

“maki” you moan, your voice barely able to make out any legible sounds besides his name.

“fuck it.” he almost growls against your collarbone, and he’s thrusting up into you. he bottoms out into you, stretching you so full in a way you’d never imagine to be in your life. you cry out and claw at his back, completely overwhelmed by how good it feels.

it was definitely not just the tip anymore. not even close.

© jsbluu | please do not copy, reupload, or translate my work.

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Angstrom Levy plays his hand. You fuck it up. [Invincible Variants x reader]

[Part one]  [Ao3] [5]

6 * Bad Dog [5.5k]

"Since all those lost years when I thought I was the monster,

It turns out I was really the prey

Masturbating and waiting for the raid,

And hating every little thing about you all the way!"

The Ruminant - Go Hang

        The acrid breeze makes his blue curtain of a mask flutter. "Give us our shit." You almost don't think it's Mark talking, his voice is so different, so stereotypically New York native.

        The man standing on solid air ignores him. Good eye sliding from one Mark to another. "You're down one."

        "We're down a lot more than that, numbnuts." Mohawk throws his arms out. Gesturing to the empty space where other Marks could have been, but weren't. 

        "To be expected. This reality is much more resilient than most." At that, the men surrounding him bristle.

        "You meant for us to die." Baldie accuses, crossed arms tensing with the need for violence. "You were never going to deliver."

        The man, Angstrom, though you don't quite know it yet, laughs. Holding a scarred finger out to point at you. "I have though, haven't I? More than half of you wished to see this one again."

        You are slack in the arms of your savior. Conscious but head spinning with the sudden change of atmosphere. It was a good thing none of them could see your face behind the mask, see that you were awake and biding your time. 

        But he knows you're awake. The one holding you, the warrior raised on Viltrum from birth. He feels your pulse pick up under his hands, hears the skip of your heart, the faint smell of fear induced sweat under your armor. The others aren't close enough to sense it, you hide your feelings well, play dead good as a possum, but he knows. And he tells nobody.

        "You've all had a turn, so I think my end has been delivered." He finishes.

        The one with a bare face looks at Angstrom, confused. "I have no idea who that is. Where's William?"

        "Yeah." Backs up the long masked one. "Like I'd even give a fuck about some... whatever." he waves his hand, uncaring to find a word for some insignificant bug.

        Despite the backlash, Angstrom smiles pleasantly. "I'm aware in your realities, you didn't know or care for (Y/n) (L/n). That is perfectly acceptable. Don't think I've forgotten about the deals we've all made. But to fulfill them, I'll need you to find this dimensions Mark Grayson and bring him to me."

        Eyes twitch. Lips curl.

        "No," Scars finally says. He looks to you in the arms of that straight-laced Viltrumites arms and barely contains a smirk. He's going to enjoy ripping you out of them. Tearing his arms off for touching you. "I've got what I want. I'm done with this place."

        "You are aware I could leave you here or somewhere worse, correct?" Angstrom doesn't sound the least bit concerned regarding the mounting tension. The cracking knuckles. The nasty grinning-snarls, thirsty for a little more blood. 

        "You won't." Lensless hums, "We'll kill ya before you get the chance."

         "Then we'd actually be stuck here forever, dumbass." Mohawk barks. "We'll just torture him instead, duh." 

        Angstrom rose a brow. "There's only one of her left in all existence, remember that before you threaten me."

        You are consumed by crackling green light that seems to statically stick to your armor. You are falling, then not, draped over Angstrom's arm like a coat. Still trying to play knocked out. "I have the perfect reality ready for her if any of you move." He says before you're settled. "Pit of man-eating octomen I've been starving for months, waiting right here." A ring of power encircles your body, not touching you but threatening with its presence. "Move and she's there."

        "I don't care, man." Long Mask says. 

        Angstrom ignores him. "Get me Mark Grayson."

        "You've got ten of him right here," Emperor says. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll drop it."

        Angstrom laughs, nastily. So hard he shakes you in his grip. "Am I dog now, Mister Grayson?"

        "You're no better than one," Emperor replies.

        "Look at you all- looking at me like you want me to die. After everything I've given you." Spit flies off Angstrom's lips, landing on your visor. "I met so many of you with snot dribbling out your noses over this thing," he jostles you in his grip as you grit your teeth, "this worthless animal who in so many dimensions joins your conquest. Just some regular human who adds absolutely nothing to nearly every timeline. I don't get the appeal, but I don't have to. Do as I say or she dies."

        You observe the Marks. Ready to pounce. To throw caution to the wind. Some are hesitant, actually using their brains but enough of are ready to fucking shred you think you might get eaten by whatever an octoman is.

        It leaves you with no other choice. It was just a bonus it'd get him to shut up. You were dead tired of hearing this guy's voice. Hearing any guy's voice.

        You let out a weak, groggy groan. Catch Angstrom's attention, which is all you need. Watch the grin spread across his busted face. "Look who's awak-"

        "Bite off your tongue." Blood comes out of your nose in such a rush it splattered against the inside of your helmet. Power ripped from you all at once, used on this guy you didn't know, but definitely didn't trust. 

        Drip, drop atop your helmet. Then came the rivers of blood down his chin. Weaving through his beard. Tongue stuck all the way out his mouth, teeth grinding down, down, down. Sawing, squelching. He blinks, tongue half removed from his mouth, when your hold snaps. A scream that was more a gargle, splatters more blood across your visitor. You're thrown, ass over heel.

        His words are thick with pain and a brand-new lisp as he says, "Bad dog!"

        The sickly green light surrounds you as a portal opens up behind your back, snapping shut before the closest version of your ex could reach you. The last thing you saw was him smiling with blood bubbling over his lips. 

        Your landing was surprisingly soft. Skidding to a slow stop on silky tan sand. Scrambling to your knees to see where the portal was. Gone. No green, just a cloudless, hazy sky. Sun fat in the sky. Beating down harsh on the black metal of your armor. Around you there is nothing but more sand and ruins of a society long forgotten. 

        You don't know what happened. Don't know how to process what happened. Calling out to the nothingness, "Bring me back!" To no reply or help at all.

        ***

        "You-!"

        Biting off your own tongue was something the deeply deranged and suicidal did. Despite that criteria, Angstrom Levy had never wanted to do such a thing, but there you'd been- making him do it. 

         He was in acute shock. Slow. Unable to dodge the hands grabbing him, the fists beating him, not with his tongue dangling half-cut out his mouth. Threats came pouring in quick as they were delivered. Ribs broken. Ligaments torn, good eye gone red with burst blood vessels. 

        It'd lasted thirty seconds, maybe less, but a voice cut through the violent haze. "We can't get her back if he's dead." Said the boy who killed his father and wore his cloak. God, if Freud were still around. 

        The words didn't calm them, but soothed the blows like a balm. Mohawk had him by the collar, choking him with it. "Open the portal, cocksucker."

        Angstrom rose a hand, the only one he had left after that Viltrumite loyalist chopped the other off. He let it open slow, teasingly so. Power roiling under his skin, revenge on the mind. They'd thought they'd had him down and out, but he was nowhere near dead. He never planned to keep them along for the full ride. The plan was always to betray them. This was much sooner, and much bloodier, than planned. So be it. 

        "There." He heaved. They turned, looking into the opening to a new world. A world so dry it'd evaporate the marrow out of your bones. 

        Phantom didn't speak. Just shot his black and blue body through. One down, nine to go. 

        "That world," he begins, tongue awkwardly flailing over the bottom of his mouth, blood spilling down his throat just to be hacked out, "-that world has major time dilation. She could be very far from the origin point by now. Miles. It'll take him too long to find her... I can't-" He let the portal waiver, looking unstable, "I can't hold it long."

        "You can and you will." The ex-prisoner grabbed him by the balls. Through Angstrom's pants but still. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. 

        If guilt tripping wouldn't work, he had no other choice. "Wait... I can.. I think I've found her." More portals zap open all around him. Nine in total. "Do you see?" They turn, just to watch the portals shoot closer, swallowing them all whole before snapping shut. Leaving them to fall in the sand and Angstrom alone to his devices. 

        ***

        You'd tried it all. Screaming. Looking for an exit. Digging. Trying to call someone, anyone on your phone that had not a bar. All while the sun beat at your back. You didn't give up, not really, just resigned to moving somewhere else. Powers, you knew, were stupid. Angstrom could find you again even if you'd left the dropoff.

        You walked. Migraine gnawing at your temples. Power stores drained out. Boots dragged in the sand, prints sifting away as soon as they were made. Moved from wreck to wreck for the tiniest slivers of shade. Baked inside your helmet until you popped it off, wiping at the drying blood with your gloves. When there was a breeze, it felt like a hairdryer, making your eyes water.

       Two hours, you'd walked to find nothing.

       The sun moved slow, the sky fading to a dull purple, but you knew the second it dipped below the dunes, you'd be dead without a fire. Deserts don't stay hot without sun. Planks were easy come by, old wood waiting to disintegrate into the sand. You rooted through the tool belt attached to the body armor. Tear gas, a high-powered taser, a flare, a knife, ammo for a gun you didn't have, and a to-go first aid kit. 

        You tried the taser on the wood. It made the old thing crumble in your hands. You tried again to the same result. Again and again as the sun crossed the sky and the heat began to ebb. 

        ***

        He flew through the desert, combing it in a gird. Square mile by square mile, searching. Growing more desperate by the second. Head filling with what if's. 

        It's faint, a mere vibration in his left ear. He banks hard. Following. Forcing his hearing to it's limit- catching grains shifting below his flight path. Then it comes again. Audible this time. Bzzt. Lil more to the left. Bzzzzt! Not long now. He starts to slow right as the sound pinged from below. BZZZT!

        "Fuck you, motherfucker." Came out from a line of beams fallen together to make a concrete tent.

        He landed gently, trying not to make a dust cloud and scare you away. Watching your back as you tried to light a plank ablaze with a taser. It crumbled in your hands. You scoff, kicking debris into a cloud that makes you violently cough. 

        You could turn and see him. Husky purple dusk not yet camouflaging his blue-black body suit. But you don't. Instead, you keep trying to tase the remaining sawdust into flames. It doesn't work. 

        He floats above the sand, slowly rolling into your view. 

        ***

        Chaos. Total, absolute, chaos.

        Nine of them in the middle of some desert planet, tenth fucked off God knows where. No Angstrom to take them out. No (Y/n) to soften the blow. The rage settled in like a beat behind their eyes, a thrum under their fingerpads. They wanted to choke each other for existing. 

        Their personal genie had betrayed them, left them for dead. 

        He wasn't the first to blast off into the desert. Searching for a way out, for you. He was, however, first to shoot into the sky for a birdseye view. The atmosphere thinned, going from an ugly yellow to the familiar dark of space. Above the sphere, he hovered, seeing only sand. Around the planet he went, hoping, then finding those hopes were something juvenile. 

        The search extended into space. For other planets. He noticed then, flying through the cold dark there were no stars or gas giants or distant worlds. Only the planet they landed on and the too-close sun. 

        As if Angstrom Levy had found the one reality in all of existence with one dead world. One big, sandy, uninhabitable world. The perfect place for them all to die. The search could be expanded later, with more of them looking, but he doubted even their Viltrumite bodies could reach any planets if he couldn't see them. 

        He was angry, but couldn't fault the guy. He was going to rip off Angstrom's balls after all. He'd find a way out of this, the same way he'd found a way out of that hell of a Viltrumite prison. Scarred beyond recognition. Coming home to find the love of his life dead and long buried. 

        Except that now you were down on that sandball, somewhere. Hopefully alive. So why was he angsting up in space? 

        ***

        The taser shot out, connecting thick prongs to his suit. Electricity traveled fast through the carbon fiber, penetrating to his skin. He didn't seize and drop. He took it like he was nothing but thin air, like you were imagining him in a wave of heat induced hysteria.

        The prongs retracted and he took that as cue to step down into your concrete hut. Coming closer, slow, hands up over his chest like he wasn't going to hurt you- as if you'd believe that.

        You hear it. Something moving so fast the air splits around you. 

        You don't know what you're going to do. Shout? Duck? Gasp? You don't get to decide because he's on you. Holding you hard against himself, feet inches off the ground, hand pressed firm over your mouth. Head tracking the sonic spec in the sky as it passed over. When the coast is clear, he sets you down and backs off. Not leaving your nothing of a camp, but any space willing given by these freaks was noticeable. 

        "Leave." Power doesn't even bother to tickle your throat. You had jackshit left. Wouldn’t have jackshit for days if your luck stayed bad. You'd only blown yourself out like this one time- that day at the beginning of the end of your life. You'd never used your power on someone else powered before. Barley used it period. Only on little, meaningless, petty things. Until you used it all at once to save his life. Then on him. Blowing out you out like a tire. Failing. 

        Now you were here. Staring at a fully masked version of him, unable to control him or your life again. 

        Yet you try, "Go." The taser finds its home in your belt, replaced by the tear gas canister held over your head. "Or I'll set this fucking bomb off if you get any closer." It's a lie so obvious you couldn’t put your chest behind it. "I'll kill us both, I swear to God."        

         He doesn’t move. Your helmet sits on the ground at your feet. You wonder how fast you could set the tear gas off and put the thing back on. If the GDA-enhanced tear gas would make you go blind.

        As you fingered the pin, he pulled something from his belt. A short, metal pin. He approaches the pile of wood you’d made. You back up, knowing he'd catch you if you ran. Knowing you didn't have energy for any more running. He cracks the metal against a shred of concrete. Sparks rained down on the dry material and then there was fire. Small but as he stepped back, blaze growing. 

        Technically, you knew what he was doing. Starting a fire so you wouldn’t freeze to death, the breeze as the sun went down already cool. But mentally? You had no idea what he wanted. You knew that he was one of the ones that asked for you, that knew some version of you and decided thousands dead was worth it. Even though he was the first to your side on multiple occasions, you couldn’t know what he wanted. If he wanted something in exchange.

        The sky had gone a deep gray. Cold settling in between the sand dunes like an old bone's ache. You could leave, but the growing fire was your one and only shot of living. Just a guess, but the taser thing wasn’t going to work. 

        "What do you want?" You asked, shuffling closer. Still gripping the tear gas hard, reared over your shoulder like a weapon. "Tell me or I'll set it off."

        "I'm not going to hurt you." Through that demon of a modulator, you catch a softness, Mark whispering a secret he hadn’t told anyone else. More genuine than you’d heard from any of these alternates. 

        "How do I know you're not lying?" But there is no reply, and you don’t think he is. He's done talking and you're done fighting. 

        He sits first. On the edge of an uneven slab, leaving plenty of room for you. You watch him carefully. Sure he's going to lunge, a lurking predator luring you into a false sense of safety. So you lean against the wall instead, watching him and the fire. 

        He does lunge eventually, ten minutes later. Dashing forth to stomp out the fire as another body streaks across the sky. Tense as you both watched it go by. Waiting until there’s nothing but the night. Then he was back on his knees, cracking the stick onto new planks.

        "What is that?" You're still standing. Arm lifting the canister overhead once again.

        He looks up from the fire at you. Black going brown in the light. Tentatively, tortuously, and against every nerve in your body, you sit. Slip the tear gas canister back into your belt. Hoping he'd talk if you seemed a little less hostile. 

       "Tell me where I am. Who the fuck was that?" 

      You’re not shocked when he says nothing, only annoyed by your acceptance of it. He can’t bring himself to ruin this moment with you, finally alone. Hearing your voice, even angry, was like an angel’s song for the damned. Your face like something out a dream. Any nervous tics, little movements, shifts in your weight, was studied and tucked away to categorize and compare to what he knew. 

        You at seventeen, nervous and shy and sweet. Could you have become this bitter thing had you lived? Surely not. He'd have made sure you were taken care of. Made you into a wife with nothing to fret over. He hates him. The Mark of your dimension. Wants to turn him inside out for letting whatever happened to you- happen.

        You watched him right back with no knowledge of what his gaze meant. None of the same interest, but watching for the same things, instincts of being prey. Wondering when the slowly stalking fox was going to pounce, if the gaze was a challenge. In the thickening night, he was starting to blend in. You could still see his outline and the dark lenses reflecting back your stare. You try to look past them but can't, can't read anything from the blank, dark slate. You look away, wanting a momentary reprieve, backing down from the challenge. Movement. Your gaze right back, tense all over. Hand on the taser holster.

       The mask is off. Chin up, he is bare. There is stubble dark on his jaw, skin paler than you recalled Mark ever being, his hair a shaggy mess that hung past his ears, eye bags deep, nearly purple. He was Mark, no surprise there, the surprise was the slate blue of his eyes. Just like his father's. 

        You pull the taser out, but not wanting to escalate further, voice almost a whisper after you’d grown used to the quiet. "What do you want?" He looks up at you under dark brows and long lashes. It reminds you so much of your Mark you want to strike him, but think better of it. "Answer me." 

        It comes out breathy, hardly audible. "I just-" Two syllables and his voice breaks. Cracks right down the middle. He shuts his mouth, hand going to his throat, thumb massaging. He swallows, tries again but all that comes out is a hoarse sigh. His brows knit in frustration. He’d talked more than he was used to in the past few days, and with the dry air and nerves, what was left of his vocal cords wasn’t going to cooperate. 

        You don’t know what’s wrong with him, but now you understand why he wore that modulator.

        The mask goes back on. He's given up trying to talk, trying to show his belly like he wasn't a threat. You suspect violence, harassment, almost get up anticipating it, but it doesn't come. You're about to settle down when the ground shudders just outside your camp. You don't get the chance to check what it was because it steps inside between the concrete pillars.

        "We've been working together to find a way out of this shithole and here you two've been, love shackin' it up." His mask flutters in front of his face as he talks. Sand stuck to his tracksuit where blood had wet it. "Jesus, yer lucky I found you. Those other dudes have been losing they's fuckin' minds."

        Phantom rises, dashing the small fire away. He'd know his alone time with you would be short. They'd find you both eventually, but he was glad to have had it. Even if you looked at him with such disdain. For so many years, that's all he wanted. His voice failing him was punishment for letting you die, for letting this version of you get stuck in an unending desert. He'd make it up to you. Find a voice to say what needed to be said.

        He steps towards the other. Long mask, long face, you don't quite know what to mentally call him yet- steps back. Making room for Phantom to exit the ruin. 

        "I'm not leaving." You tell the newcomer, though you grab the helmet. To throw at him? To cover your head from the cold now that the fire couldn't ward it off? 

        "You dunno if I've found a way out or not and yer just gonna act like that?" His laugh is humorless, "Glad we weren’t a thing in my world."

        Behind him, Phantom jerks his head, a 'come' gesture. Wind, not a breeze, cuts through the dunes and sends winter cold through the cracks in your armor. Settles under the fabric, making you shiver. 

        "Do you have a way out?" You demand.

        "Would'a left your ass behind if I did." He says, stepping further back. Annoyed but understanding you wouldn’t come within a certain distance; despite how fast he could liberate your head from your shoulders. "Come on," he lifts inches off the ground, "the longer you're gone the edgier those shitheads get. I can't take it anymore." 

        You really, really, really did not want to see any of them. You look back to your concrete shack. But. Survival is easier in groups, right? You know what else is easier in groups? Mass murder. The second you got your powers back, you were taking them out like you'd set out to do. Sure, you'd probably only kill one or two more of them but it'd be enough to kill Mark Grayson four times before you went to hell. Only then did eternity of torture sound bearable.

        You also couldn't make a fire, it was freezing, you had no food and you'd be starving soon, and you had nothing to drink but codeine, which was a bad idea. 

       Phantom waited for you on the ground. Tracksuit, ah there's that convenient nickname, hovered low in the sky waiting. "Let's go already." You can't fly and something tells you Tracksuit isn't willing to walk however many miles it is back to camp. 

        Phantom taps his masked cheek. At first you're disgusted, thinking he wants you to lay one on him but realize, he's telling you to put the helmet on. You'd seen those old stories of superhuman and regular-Joe-human romances going bad because their lover flew too fast and all the human's skin was flayed off. You didn't want to go to the others, but you really didn't want to go without skin.

        You put the helmet on and he moves towards you. Slower than the first time he scooped you up and took you to the sky. He definitely felt bad about dropping you. Elbows move under knees, strong hand supporting your back. Lifting off gently this time. Accelerating slowly enough for Tracksuit to scoff and shout, "Dude, move it!"

        You'd never been flying like this. Before, it was too quick to process, too much adrenaline. Now you were burnt out and empty enough to actually process the passing dunes. To feel your body relying on his for support. You would have liked it, really, if it wasn't one of the crazy Marks- which was pretty much all of them. Horrified at any time he'd drop you or dangle you by an ankle until you cried, "Uncle." He hadn't seemed the type, but he also ripped off Psychopomp's arms the second time you met him. He wasn't as forward as the others, which made him less predictable. 

        The whole flight you were scared shitless, because the second it was over, things were only going to get worse. The bright side was, things were always awful before they got better. Thinking about killing Mark calmed you down a fraction.        

        Even in the distance, you could see the camp. No mountains to hide its orange glow. The only thing of note for miles upon miles. 

        Tracksuit sighed with relief, "Thank God." He shot forward, gone, leaving you and Phantom to meander along. You'd noticed he'd significantly slowed. Sucking up all the remaining alone time with you he could get. Hovering hundreds of feet over a massive bonfire. Figures below, waiting with baited breath. 

        Phantom contemplates the success rate of leaving. Running with you. Surviving alone together. His black boots touch down on the sand. He sets you down, keeping a hand at your back as you wobble to your feet. Unaccustomed to flying. Human heart fluttering in your chest.

        You get no peace or relief. 

        Just Mohawk flying forward and almost knocking you over "Dickhead," he hissed before his fist sent Phantom careening into the desert night. Phantom catches himself, but stays further back, hidden in the dark. It was chilly but this planet was nothing compared to the vacuum of space. To what his life had been before seeing you again. The fire, here and there, were for you. Warmth and signal. He would keep watch from the shadows. 

        The perpetrator turns to you, sand stuck in his mohawk. "You good?"

        You don't meet his eye. Opting to stumble closer to the bonfire, trying to avoid eye contact with the Marks standing around.

        "I thought you'd need it," Omni-Wannabe says. 

        "Where are we?" You stare into it. Hoping they don't notice the answers aren't forced out of them. That they don't piece together the only reason you're not going batshit is because you're powerless.

        "A desert," Lensless kicks at the sand, "Duh."

        "What desert?" It's hard to keep the venom out of your voice. 

        Emperor stretches his legs over a rock. Leaning back in his low earthy chair, looking like he meant to be stranded. "You tell me. You're the one who got us trapped here."

        You don't bite the bait. You can't fight back, so opening your big mouth is the last thing you should do. But he's looking at you like he wants to chop you to pieces. You go for fawning but not too out of character. "Wasn't expecting anyone to end up here with me."

        Under the yellow fabric, his brow twitches. "After all the chasing and defending, you didn't expect backup?"

        "I didn't ask for backup." You say, "I have no idea what's going on. One second I'm working, the next this guy," your arm gestures to Mohawk who grins, "is beating the shit out of my boss."

        Emperor's muscles tighten. You'd said the wrong thing. Towed the line too willy-nilly. He says, "You really must be dumber in this world if you haven't figured it out yet. Don't speak to me until you do." And goes back to watching the fire.

        Crisis averted.

        Somebody thinks it's a good idea to rest their fat, meaty hand on your shoulder and say, "Are you okay?"

        When you turn it's the bald one. Wearing an expression you think is concern.

        You can't help moving away and snapping, "Get off." 

        "D'aww, somebody mad their geriatric handler didn't pick them up?" Scars is right behind you. Not close enough to touch, but too close for comfort. He could push you into the fire and you'd be roast dinner. "Not expecting to deal with the consequences of your actions, were you?"

        This time, for real, you hold your tongue. Stuck straight to the roof of your mouth. You are not fucking with this guy.

        He touches you the same place Baldie did. You're scared to shove him off. Baldie was a mistake, one that could've gotten you killed. Scars would be a mistake that would get you killed. 

        "Hey, look, she's afraid of me!" He announced like it was an honor. "That's a smart girl, but where's that fighting spirit? Come on, I wanna see you try n' hurt me again."

        You don't reply. Don't move. Don't breathe. 

        "Your heart just skipped a beat, there, Dregs. Don't tell me you're gonna avoid me by killing yourself again." His fingers tighten on your shoulder. Nearly bruising. "I won't let it happen again." He's masking his anger being here with nine of himself by playing with you. Relieving stress. 

        "You're wasting your energy antagonizing her." The grip lightens immediately, someone else to play with. Scars' violent attention turned toward the bare baby-faced version of himself. 

        "You telling me what to do?" Tension cracked off his split lip.        

        "No." The other says evenly, "But we're stuck in an alien desert. Now's not the time to pull some master-slave dynamic bullshit on some girl you don't even know. Be smart."

        Scars slipped around you, prowling toward the sat man. "And how do you suggest I 'be smart'." 

        He started counting off on his fingers, "Get more firewood if you don't want her to freeze to death. Search ruins for something that could get us out. Look for food. Rest, conserve energy, because we don't know how long we'll be stuck here. My guess is until we get ourselves out because there's no way Angstrom is coming back for us."

        "He will," Lensless says with unwarranted confidence. "He has to know we'll find him and kill 'im. It's dumber to let us be mad n' stuff."        

        Maskless shakes his head. "He chose this planet because he expects us to die. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not fighting you guys over some human I don't know. If you're smart, you'll do the same." He slides off the rock and lies himself sideways in the sand. Head propped on his elbow like a pillow. "At least shut up or go to sleep so you can kill echother quicker tomorrow."

        Scars took two steps toward him before an arm jutted out, stopping him. Omni-Mark stood between the two like a wall. "He's right. We should sleep while it's cool. Search more tomorrow."

        "Who said you're in charge?" Emperor snipped despite being deeply unhelpful.

        "I'm not trying to be," he said, "it's just a suggestion."

        One you take. Moving away to the other side of the blaze while their bickering went on and on. You sat on a rusted pipe. Maskless a few feet to your right, brow furrowed but eyes closed. The Viltrumite to your left, arms folded behind his back. Posture painfully straight. His eyes flick over to you, head not moving. 

        You don't see it, but he's content with the situation at hand- for now. He could take the others. Savvy enough to survive in the harshest conditions where the others surely weren't. He'd conquered harsher planets than this without help. Atop of all that, you were choosing to be by his side. That is enough for him, for the moment.

[sh4nksslvt]

Espionage and Eavesdropping

You just wanted to surprise your Yonko boyfriend with something sweet. Shanks, however, misunderstands everything and thinks you're hiding a lover aboard.

shanks x reader | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, sfw, chaotic

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing

word count: 1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

You should’ve known better than to try anything secretive on a ship full of pirates with nothing better to do.

But here you were, crouched behind a stack of rum barrels in the ship’s lower deck, notebook clutched in one hand, whispering into a den den mushi like you were planning a military coup.

“I just need it by Thursday,” you hissed. “And don’t forget the edible glitter! It has to sparkle like Shanks’s ego.”

The den den mushi blinked at you slowly, mimicking your furrowed brows. “Sparkle. Got it. Any other unreasonable demands?”

“Make it look dangerously romantic, but also incredibly cool.”

“Sounds like you want a wedding cake without the wedding.”

You paused. “…Don’t say that out loud. He’ll hear it and assume I’m trying to marry someone else.”

And two decks above you, curled beneath a conveniently placed hammock and eavesdropping like a man twice his age, Shanks the Red-Haired Yonko of the Sea, whispered into his own den den mushi.

“I think they’re marrying someone else.”

“What?” Benn Beckman’s voice was dry.

“I just heard them say ‘don’t say that out loud, he’ll think I’m marrying someone else.’ That’s exactly what someone who’s definitely hiding an affair says, right?!”

“Shanks—”

“I KNEW they were too beautiful to be loyal.”

“You’re the most dramatic man on this ship.”

“I’m going to fake my own death and see if they cry.”

The misunderstanding began three days ago, when you asked Lucky Roux to quietly sneak into town and pick up something discreet and delicate. You’d given him a long list with unnecessary glitter stars and bold underlines, swore him to secrecy, and told him, “Tell no one. Especially Shanks. Not even if he’s dying. Especially not if he’s dying.”

Unfortunately, someone else heard that.

And Shanks? He took it personally.

Now you were organizing a surprise celebration for his birthday (which he had claimed he didn’t care about, like a liar), enlisting crew members with the stealth of a sea cat, and every time Shanks looked at you, you panicked like a criminal caught red-handed.

So of course he thought something was going on.

You’d whisper to Yasopp, run away from Hongo, disappear for hours, and dodge Shanks with the finesse of someone avoiding a breakup talk. He started following you in secret, wearing a cape and fake mustache, hiding behind crates that were nowhere near his size.

Benn walked past him one day and muttered, “This is why we can’t have normal relationships.”

Day Four.

You were on the main deck, whispering into your notebook.

“Benn’s distracting him with fake wine. Hongo’s handling the fireproof sparklers. Yasopp is swearing on his son’s life not to tell. I just need to—”

“—tell me who you’re seeing.”

You jumped so hard you nearly tossed the notebook overboard.

“Shanks! What the hell—how did you sneak up on me like that?!”

He was squinting suspiciously, arm on his hip, shirt loose, and hair windblown in a way that made him look far too attractive to be pulling this level of paranoid nonsense.

“I have connections,” he said ominously.

“Okay?”

“Lucky Roux saw you give a note to a pigeon.”

“First of all, it was a cake-ordering pigeon, and second—wait, that’s not the point. What?”

“You’ve been sneaking around. Whispering into things. Saying suspicious phrases like ‘don’t tell Shanks even if he’s dying.’ What am I supposed to think?!”

“That I’m planning something nice?”

“That you’re cheating!”

You blinked. Then blinked again.

“…Cheating? Shanks. Darling. Love of my life. Who on this ship could I possibly be cheating on you with?!”

He pointed dramatically toward the horizon. “Someone from another crew! A beautiful stranger with a strong jawline and a charming laugh—”

“That’s literally you.”

“Wait. Is this a reverse surprise? Am I the stranger?!”

“No!” you laughed, smacking his chest. “I’m planning a surprise party for you, you idiot!”

“…Oh.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you… spy on me?”

Shanks hesitated. Then lifted one leg onto a crate like a theater actor mid-monologue. “I’ll have you know I was on a noble quest for truth, love, and the prevention of heartbreak.”

“You wore a mustache and tried to climb the rigging, didn’t you.”

He coughed. “Irrelevant.”

You groaned, laughing despite yourself. “Unbelievable. You thought I was cheating, so you started counter-spying?”

He nodded solemnly. “It was a matter of pride. Also, Benn said if I was wrong, I owed him all my sake.”

“…And were you wrong?”

Shanks looked at you. Then at the crew. Then back at you.

“…Maybe. But in my defense, you are very suspicious when you whisper.”

Cue Party Day.

Despite the chaos, the confusion, and the unnecessary disguises, the party was perfect.

The deck was transformed with string lights, stolen silk drapes, a truly dangerous amount of glitter, and a cake shaped like his own face (your idea, obviously). A very confused seagull in a bowtie delivered the final decorations.

Shanks walked into the surprise party pretending to be shocked—even though he’d definitely heard the band warming up from below deck—and laughed like it was the greatest moment of his life.

“You did all this for me?” he beamed.

You crossed your arms. “Yes. Even though you accused me of having a secret affair.”

He grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Well, I would cheat on me for you, so I get it.”

“…That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t have to. I’m handsome.”

He kissed your cheek before you could argue, then pulled you onto the dance floor—barefoot, wild, and surrounded by pirates singing off-key. At some point, Lucky Roux accidentally ignited the fireproof sparklers (which were not fireproof), and Benn had to douse the deck while muttering about retirement.

You and Shanks ended the night lying on a picnic blanket made from stolen tavern tablecloths, eating leftover cake straight from the tray.

“Next time you plan a surprise,” he mumbled, mouth full, “just… tell me it’s not a secret affair.”

You poked his cheek. “Only if you don’t go full spy-movie mode again.”

He smiled. “Deal. Unless you start whispering to birds again. Then all bets are off.”

The next morning, you woke to find Shanks crouched on the figurehead, holding a long telescope and muttering, “The pigeon is back. I repeat. The pigeon. Is. Back.”

You dragged a pillow over your face and groaned.

Some things never change.

[airybcby]

So it’s Canon that isagi is a really awkward guy and barely had any friends in skl, so imagine Reader takes interest in isagi bc she finds him really cute and starts to slowly then constantly invading his business, and starts going to his school games.

But they were only really connected to each other by skl, never really hung out outside of school so they become incredibly distant when isagi goes to Blue Lock womp womp 😔 so when U20 games finishes, isagi low-key forgets Reader existed, just that she was the girl who made school a bit more bearable, but he meant everything to Reader

I’m into bittersweet Isagi these days, no happy Isagi 😔

now this...this is something i can work with ;)

used feminine she/her pronouns since you used them in your ask! so fem! reader!!

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i know that i should hate you

( isagi yoichi x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — i love this ask :) added my own lil twang to the end

♡ word count — 1.4k

♡ content — isagi yoichi x fem! reader, set before he leaves for blue lock, goes into the U-20, let's pretend they have a winners parade :) , school friends but not friends friends, awkward! isagi, unrequited love, i think that's it, not proofread!

♡ synopsis — You told yourself you would forget Isagi Yoichi, just like he forgot you. You were a good liar when you wanted to be.

── .✦ i should hate you, i feel stupid

The bleachers creaked when you sat down. Same as they always had. Same cold metal pressing into your legs, same battered field stretched out in front of you.

It had been a long time since you'd been here. Long enough that the rust was winning over the paint, long enough that the lines on the field had started to fade.

Long enough that it almost didn't feel real — those afternoons you spent here, pretending you just liked the fresh air, pretending you weren't looking for him.

But you had been. Always, it was him.

Even when no one else noticed, even when he was just another boy chasing a ball across a dying field, you saw him.

You cared first. You cared too much.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them, and closed your eyes.

If you tried hard enough, you could almost hear it — the dull thud of cleats against dirt, the quiet grunt of effort when he ran too fast, the sound of your own hands clapping louder than anyone else's.

Maybe that's why it hurt so much now.

Maybe that's why you couldn't seem to let it go.

You first noticed him in third period history.

He wasn’t anyone special, not really ��� slouched in his seat near the window, scribbling in the margins of his notebook, half-listening.

But there was something about him that made you look twice.

Maybe it was the way he bit the end of his pen when he was thinking.

Maybe it was the way he laughed — rare, startled, boyish — when someone said something funny.

Maybe it was just the way he seemed so lonely, even in a room full of people.

Isagi Yoichi.

A boy with too-big dreams scribbled between math notes.

A boy who ate lunch with his teammates sometimes, but never quite belonged even there.

He was awkward.

Sweet, in a way.

Cute, in that quiet, stubborn kind of way that made you want to sit beside him just to see if you could make him smile.

So you did.

You started sitting next to him when you could — ignoring the open seats elsewhere, ignoring the way he stiffened like he didn’t know what he was supposed to say.

You borrowed pens, asked about homework you didn’t actually need help with, lingered at the door after class to ask if he was coming to practice.

At first, he barely managed full sentences around you.

A nod here.

A stuttered "yeah" there.

A shy glance that skittered away too fast.

You were patient.

You learned to fill the silences.

You learned that he was better at listening than talking — that if you kept your voice soft and steady, he’d relax eventually.

And he did.

Sometimes you’d catch him already looking at you when you turned around.

Sometimes he'd wait, clumsy and obvious, just outside your classroom so you could walk to the next one together.

It wasn’t a friendship, not really.

But it was something.

Something fragile and hopeful and new.

Something that only existed when you both allowed it to.

You learned he played forward on the soccer team.

You learned he hated cold weather, but loved playing in the rain.

You learned he liked instant curry, and video games, and that his biggest dream — the one he barely said out loud — was to become a striker the whole world knew by name.

You decided you liked him before you even realized you were falling.

You started going to his games because you said you were bored.

Because your friends had other plans.

Because it was easy to slip into the stands, hoodie pulled over your head, pretending you were just there.

But really, you were there for him.

Only him.

You didn’t know the rules, not really, but you learned to recognize him by the way he moved — sharp and quick and a little reckless, always chasing something only he could see.

Sometimes he would glance toward the stands, searching.

And sometimes, when he caught your eye, he would smile — small and shy, like it was a secret between you.

You clapped until your hands were sore.

You screamed his name until your voice went hoarse.

You watched him shine, even when nobody else noticed.

You wanted to be someone he remembered.

Someone he needed.

Someone he thought about when the world felt too heavy.

You let yourself believe you were.

When the rumors about Blue Lock started, you didn’t believe them at first.

A special program?

For the best of the best?

It sounded like something out of a manga.

But then he stopped coming to class.

His name was called for attendance, and no one answered.

You waited.

One day, two, three.

You kept thinking — hoping — he would show up late, laughing, apologizing, telling some crazy story.

He didn’t.

The realization hit slow, then all at once.

He was gone.

And he hadn’t even said goodbye.

The months dragged.

You still sat in your usual seat.

Still caught yourself looking at the empty desk beside you.

Still found yourself walking past the soccer field after school, even though there was nobody left worth watching.

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

You barely knew him, after all.

You told yourself you were being ridiculous.

Clinging to something that was never really yours.

You told yourself you would forget him, just like he forgot you.

You were a good liar when you wanted to be.

When the U-20 match aired, you weren’t ready.

You thought maybe you could handle it.

You thought maybe you could just watch — like everyone else — and cheer for the boy from your hometown who made it big.

But the second you saw him on screen —

The second you saw the way he ran, the way he fought, the way he smiled when he scored …

The ache in your chest returned, raw and sharp and ugly.

He wasn’t the awkward boy from third period anymore.

He was electric.

Magnetic.

Bigger than the world you knew.

You whispered his name into the empty room.

You cried when you remembered he wouldn’t hear it.

The parade was louder than you expected.

Crowds pressing in from every side, banners waving, people screaming his name.

You stayed on the edge, heart hammering against your ribs.

And then you saw him.

Isagi Yoichi.

Smiling, waving, accepting praise like he didn’t know what to do with it all.

Still a little awkward — still scratching the back of his neck when he got overwhelmed — but brighter somehow, more sure of himself.

He looked nothing like the boy everyone watched win his first big game.

But he also looked nothing like the boy you sat next to in history.

You held your breath when his eyes skimmed the crowd.

And then — for just a second — they locked on you.

Something flickered there.

Recognition, maybe.

Or maybe you just wanted it too badly.

He pushed through the crowd, coming toward you — awkward, determined, so him it made your throat close.

"Hey," he said, grinning.

You smiled, too, too shaky, too hopeful.

"Hey."

"You’re...uh...you were in my history class, right?"

The words sliced deep.

You nodded.

"Yeah. Third period."

He laughed, scratching his neck again.

"I thought you looked familiar. You used to come to the games, right?"

Another nod, a flicker of hope sparking in your chest.

"Yeah. I did."

"Thanks for that," he said, sincerity shining through. "It really meant a lot back then."

Back then.

Before everything.

Before you became a stranger again.

As if it wasn’t only a few months ago.

Someone shouted his name, and he glanced over his shoulder.

"I should get going," he said, apologetic.

"But...it was good seeing you."

"Yeah," you whispered. "You too."

And just like that, he was gone — swallowed by the crowd, by the noise, by the life he built without you.

You stayed there long after everyone else left.

The streets emptied, the banners sagged, the excitement faded.

And you stood alone, heart cracked wide open, wishing you could hate him.

You should.

You should hate him for forgetting you.

For outgrowing you even though, really, you were too small of a pot for him to be put in anyways.

For making you believe you ever mattered.

But you don’t.

You hate yourself more — for still loving a boy who barely remembers your name.

You wipe your eyes, set your shoulders, and turn away.

You were just a girl who made school a little more bearable.

He was the boy who made it out.

He was someone unforgettable.

You were someone he already forgot.

airy stop indenting after the smallest sentence challenge GO!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

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[604to647]

Wrong Number

3.4K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: Detective Tim Rockford receives an unexpected text after leaving for work.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls). Established relationship, nicknames (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous), roleplay (sort of), possessive!Tim, bratty!reader (but not really, just loves to prank her man and gets exactly what she wants), PWP, oral (f receiving; Tim eats it from the back), unprotected PiV, spanking (ass and pussy), roughish sex, dirty talk, pussy pronouns.

A/N: Been feeling out of practice with writing smut lately so... I practiced 😂😁😇 As with all instalments of The Rockford Portfolio, can be read standalone, takes place anytime after their relationship has been established. Inspired by this TikTok prank/trend (a reminder that Tim does not have TikTok - as confirmed in Macarons).

Dividers by @saradika-graphics - tysm 🥰 / Series Masterlist

You couldn’t.  It’s too mean.

Biting your lip to stifle your own giggles, you practically skip back to your and Tim’s bedroom - pretty pink sheer nightgown flouncing as you contemplate going through with your prank.

Settling on top of your now cooled sheets, your mind flashes back to scenes from the previous night: Tim’s smoldering gaze washing down your body as he towered over you, playing you like his own personal instrument - three fingers strumming and curling until you sang the demanded melody for which only he had the sheet music.  You came twice before he finally fed you his cock - taking you pressed up against the window overlooking the friendly neighbourhood street in front of your building while growling anything but friendly filth in your ear about how anyone could look up and see how you were born to bounce on his dick.

Then there was this morning: Tim’s head between your legs as your thighs quaked, threatening to close over his ears as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from your cunt with his talented tongue; only letting you repay the favour after you had thoroughly soaked his facial scruff and the front of his sleeping shirt with your nectar.  You can still taste the salt of him on your tongue and feel the rawness in your throat from the scape of Tim’s thick length, now much soothed having been coated with the creamy balm of his cum.

You should be contented, fulfilled - but you’re not; the greedy ache between your legs growing by the second and making its presence known like a horny little devil.

As a matter of personal principal, you never say “I wish you didn’t have to go” or “Please don’t leave” to your detective when duty calls.  Though these thoughts are not unfamiliar to your heart, you have no desire to ever ask your man to choose between you and his work, nor do you think it would sit well with either of you if Tim were to shirk his law enforcement responsibilities at your request.

Instead, you just wrap your arms around Detective Rockford’s thick trunk a little tighter, chase his lips a little bit longer like you did only five minutes ago when he left for the precinct this Saturday morning.  You and Tim recited your usual ritual, simple and familiar words dressing feelings of worry and longing that run deeper than either of you can ever articulate in these moments:

Come back to me safe, Detective Rockford.

Nothing could keep me from you, Shutterbug.

This morning, however, these soft declarations don’t calm your heart or abate your want for your handsome detective as they usually would.  Your little devil clenches on nothing, demanding and egging you on – it’s Saturday and he’s only going in for a few hours of paperwork, what’s the harm in reminding Tim of what he has waiting at home?

The words, copied from a couples prank trending on TikTok, loaded with innuendo and implication is already typed out on your phone; your thumb hovers over the SEND button of the fake “wrong number” text: He just left, you can come over now 💋💋💋

You press SEND and wait - the read receipt indicates it’s seen right away; chewing your bottom lip, you watch as three little dots pop up to show that Tim’s typing a response.  Eagerly, you wait for his text - but it never comes; the dots vanish, reappearing a moment later only to disappear again without any message coming through.

Then you hear it.

A siren. 

At first a faint wail, the sound quickly crescendos to a blaring horn as the source approaches at an impressive speed.  You bound to the window and watch as Tim’s Crown Vic, cherry light flashing on the hood, roars down your street and parallel parks back into the spot he only just vacated with a precision that makes your mouth go dry.  Tim climbs out and slams the driver’s side door closed, long legs already taking him halfway to your building.  He looks pissed.

For a second you panic, he does know it’s a prank, right?  He must – Tim’s a brilliant detective after all; there’s no way he would actually believe the text is real and that you’re cheating on him – just as Tim never gives you any reason to doubt his devotion and fidelity, you’re sure Detective Rockford knows that he’s your one and only.  The message has done its job: Tim’s back and he’s definitely riled up - you race back onto the bed, positively giddy with anticipation of your detective’s return.

Faking interest in your phone, you pretend to be unaware of your front door being flung open, then ceremoniously slammed shut with a forceful bang.  Heavy footsteps echo through the apartment, growing in volume before coming to a stop in your bedroom’s open doorway.

“What have you been doing, Shutterbug?”

You look up, the perfect picture of innocence, as if only just noticing Tim’s return: he’s leaning against the doorframe, one flexed forearm braced above his head – you squeeze your thighs together at the sight.

“Just scrolling through Instagram.  You’re back already, Detective?”

“Got a text I couldn’t ignore,” he stalks towards the bed and holds up his phone, the prank text you just sent displayed on the screen, “what’s this all about, baby?”

“I don’t have the foggiest clue, but you’re the detective, not me,” you goad him, unable to keep your lips from curling into a smirk.

Tim studies the dancing mischief in your big doe eyes – he’s seen through this type of feigned confusion from plenty of perps in the interrogation room, but on you, it’s cute.  He begins to crawl over your body, grinning to himself when your breath hitches at the obsidian of his eyes, “I think you wanted me to see this text, wanted me to go nuts.”

You flutter your eye lashes, “Why would I want that, Detective?”

Tim advances, predatory and dangerous – with nowhere to go, you fall back onto your soft bedding with a sharp exhale, “Maybe my pretty baby needs a reminder on who she belongs to?  Or perhaps, you’re just being a greedy girl?”

Still relishing your role as the bright-eyed innocent, you say nothing – Tim’s hulking frame hovers and you happily breathe in his intoxicating scent, a mixture of his cologne, clean soap, and authority.  He’s so, so close but has yet to touch you since returning; it takes all of your self restraint not to reach up and grab Tim by the leather holster straps bracketing his thick arms and pull him down for a kiss.

“Is my little Shutterbug not satisfied? Didn’t I fill you with enough cum last night? You seemed plenty happy this morning when I was eating your hungry hole like a cream puff.”

Fuck.  Your only answer is a pathetic whine.

“You need more, gorgeous?”

Your vigorous nod is almost comical - Tim chuckles darkly and leans in.  You arch up, eager to meet his lips - but the sweet connection you’ve been craving never comes; Tim is stilled above you, teasing eyes fixed on your growing frustration.

“Maybe I’m not the man for the job since I was the one who left you sooooo needy?”

You could cry, “You are! I want you, Detective!”

Tim pulls his handsome face away, escaping the reach of your clawing hands, “You sure you don’t need someone else, baby?  Maybe the lucky man who was supposed to receive this text?”

Fisting his crisp white dress shirt so hard it might rip, you beg, “I’m sure, Tim! You, I only need you!”

No match for Tim’s strength, you watch helplessly as Tim easily breaks free from your grip and moves backwards off the bed, “I don’t know, Shutterbug.  Just a couple minutes ago you were inviting someone over to give you what I couldn’t – you can’t be that sure. Maybe I need to convince you?”

Before you can register what’s happening, Tim grabs you by the ankles and pulls you down the bed towards him, flipping you onto your stomach with a blinding speed that knocks the breath out of your lungs.  His hands travel up your thighs, thick fingers digging into the meat of your hips and yanking up so you’re now on your knees, face still smothered into your bedspread, moaning.

Smack.

You yelp, dizzy from the pleasure of the sting left behind on your ass cheek from Tim’s generous palm.

“Love the way this ass bounces for me.”  Smack, smack. “She dances like this for anyone else?”

Turning your head to press your cheek on the soft covers, you look back to admire the dominating stance Tim takes at the foot of the bed, whimpering, “No, Detective.”

He smiles at you indulgently, but his eyes remain hunter-like; flipping up the thin skirt of your night gown and roughly pulling down your panties before dropping to his knees.

“Hello again, beautiful.” A puff of cool hair hits your glistening pussy and you clench from the syrupy sweetness of Tim’s baritone.

Two thick fingers part your sticky folds and massage your slit, collecting and spreading the slick that continues to drip from you.  You curve the slope of your back further, pressing your chest into the mattress and wiggling your ass for more.  At the two sharp slaps to your pussy, you lurch, moaning heady and unabashed as Tim soothes his reprimand with gentle butterfly kisses all over your cunt.

A smile is pressed to your heat, “Hmmmm, she said she didn’t have anything to do with the text, baby - that it was all you. She’s my good girl.”

“Traitor,” you mutter into the sheets, but beam as Tim nuzzles and strokes his nose over your core, you feel rather than hear his barely audible purring:

Such a good, good girl.  So perfect.  You know who you belong to, don’t you?

“Timmmmmmmm…” you whine, reminding him that you’re the one who needs tending to, you’re the one who called him back.

Tim ignores you and continues to lay soft, sweet kisses to your pussy, singing her praises, “You know you don’t need anyone else - isn’t that right, beautiful?  Doesn’t matter who she texts; no boy is ever going to give it to you like I can.”

A completely irrational, hot surge of jealousy nearly snaps your head around when your body jumps and shudders, words of protest stuck in your throat as Tim dives face first into your blooming cunt and starts to devour you.

There’s no gentleness, no build-up, Detective Rockford simply feasts – guided by hunger, determination, instinct.  Every lick and slurp of Tim’s tongue substantiates the claims of his earlier words, there’s no inch of your pussy that’s safe from the resolve of his mouth.  He power strokes your wet folds and torments your hole with his tongue, his lips, his nose; every switch up, change in direction or pattern is purposeful, meant to disorient you – and it’s working: you think you’re going to lose you goddamn mind.  Arousal flooding down your inner thighs, there’s nowhere for you to find reprieve - Tim’s rough hands grip bruises into your ass cheeks, spreading them wide and keeping you at his mercy.  By now, you’re mewling and clawing at the sheets above your head, the only coherent sound that escapes your drooling mouth is the repetition of your detective’s name.  Tim’s own growls and the wet smacking of his continued raid on your cunt echo off the walls in your other otherwise silent and serene bedroom; impossibly, your detective doubles down with a snarl, sucking and gnawing a practiced path from your clit to your ass and back, over and over and over.  He’s barely breeched your opening and you’re already about to come.

“Fuck, fu- Tim, I’m so close, so close, I’m gon-, gonna… fuck, baby, please!!”

Detective Rockford comes off your cunt with the loudest pop you’ve ever heard, and continues to conspire against you in a playful yet domineering tone, “Should we let her come, beautiful?  Let her be a good girl, too?”

Throwing your head back in a howl, you tighten, empty and desperate – this answer apparently placating Tim enough for him dive back in, he latches directly onto your pulsing clit and starts sucking.

Your orgasm slams into you like a freight train and you scream and pound your fists into the mattress.  Tim’s soothing palm rubbing your ass as you ride out the aftershocks of one of the most explosive highs you’ve ever experienced distracts you enough that you don’t hear the clinking of his belt buckle and the undoing of his work trousers.

Jaw slack and eyes still partially unfocused, you remain faced down and ass up, unmoving, when out of the corner of your eye, you see Tim lift and press one of his knees on the bed for leverage.  He wicks his swollen head through the honey of your release and you shiver in anticipation; later, you would look back on the last thing you hear before Tim pushes in as a clear warning:

“I’m not going to make the same mistake of leaving you needy again, Shutterbug.”

He pounds into you.

Every one of Tim’s thrusts is unrelenting on your sopping hole; she does her best to hug and console his cock with her warm embrace, but Tim’s drive is unforgiving – this is about proving a point.  Panting and grunting with the intensity of his exertion, Detective Rockford ruts into you animalistic, feral and with his vice grip on your waist, he bounces you to meet each punishing jab.  Bottoming out every push, Tim’s balls slap against your clit like the crop against a racehorse’s hind and you neigh and whinny in response - high and wild, trying to run.  He grabs your wrists and pins them behind your back, then lifts his knee to place his foot down in its place; with you pinned to the bed and trapped, the steepness of this new angle is delicious.

Tim repeatedly sheaths himself into your warmth, withdrawing wholly and waiting to witness the cry of your gushing cunt before slamming himself back in again.  You whine and plead, for what you don’t even know – the pleasure that Tim’s giving you is so intense, so merciless, you’re feeling like you might actually float away when your man’s dirty mouth brings you crashing back to Earth.

“Your pussy looks so good like this, Shutterbug – stretched wide and taking dick.”

“Knew exactly what you were doing sending me that text, didn’t you?  Knew even the idea of another man touching you would send me racing home…”

You think you might pass out.

“… to give you this cock.”

“This what you wanted, baby?”

You mumble something incoherently into the pool of drool that’s collecting on the bedspread.

“Yeah?  You wanted to be fucked hard and dumb?”

“Just a little plaything for me to tear apart and put back wet and bare before leaving for work?”

“Omigod, Tim!!  Yes, yes!”  Lightheaded and unable to take a full breath with the way your chest is being driven into the mattress, your pussy throbs - pleasure blossoming from Tim’s possessive and dominant tone.

“Could the little boy toy you text make you feel this way?”

You shake your head into the wet sheets, the welcomed hurt from your arms being pulled back only amplifying just how good Tim is making the rest of your body feel.

“Who is it you need, Shutterbug?”

You want to reply that it’s him, only ever him, but your eyes are too busy rolling to the back of your head and your body is being jolted too violently by the force of Tim’s thrusts for you to collect your thoughts, nevermind form words.

Known for doggedly getting to the truth of any matter, Detective Rockford pulls you up and holds you flush against his chest, strong forearm banding below your tits while his other hand comes to a rest at the base of your neck.  You loll your head back against Tim’s shoulder, sighing at the coolness of his holster leather against the heat of your skin.  Tim fucks up into you from below and you both gasp from the electric shock of this new position, “Fuck, you’re so deep, Detective.”

Your detective bounces you on his cock and with every punch, reaching those part of you that only he’s ever explored and marked.  An alarmingly low growl ghosts the shell of your ear, “I asked, who is it you need, baby?”

 “You, oh god, only you, Tim!!”

“And who do you belong to?”

“You!”

“That’s right.  You’re mine, gorgeous.”

“Gonna make you come so hard, your pretty head will never forget.”

“That you belong to me.”

“This pussy belongs to me.”

“The way it comes belongs to me.”

“You ONLY come for me.”

He’s ramming into you so hard, you can only attempt a pathetic nod against his shoulder, whispering against Tim’s lips, “Yours.”

“Fuck.”

Tim’s lips crash against yours in the first kiss you’ve shared since he left this morning; you both moan loudly at the much-missed contact, mouths unable to conceal the affection and love you hold for one another despite the way Tim continues to destroy your needy cunt.

He tastes of you and when your tang transfers from his tongue to yours, you shudder and clamp down on his cock; sinfully, you lick behind Tim’s teeth and suck on his lips, returning your essence back to its rightful owner - See?  Yours, all of me is yours. 

Grabbing fists full of your tits, Tim squeezes the soft flesh and pulls on your aching peaks, causing you to cry out and break the kiss; he gives it to you so rough and punishing everywhere, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.  The stranglehold of your pussy is sucking him so tight and deep, Tim knows he won’t last much longer, he continues to twist and roll your diamond hard nipples while snipping at your earlobes, “I’m close, baby.  Give me one more and I’ll stuff my pretty cocksleeve to the brim with cum.”

It's the dirtiest, filthiest, hottest thing Tim has ever called you, and wailing something catastrophic, you come instantly at his words.  Tim follows soon after, painting your velvet walls with ropes of white as promised.

While you wait for your heartbeat to return to normal, Tim holds you tender and protective, fluttering sweet kisses all over your face, across your neck, along your shoulders - murmuring with genuine concern, “You okay, Shutterbug?  Was that okay?”

You nod, spent and pliant, “It was perfect, Detective.  Better than anything I could have imagined.”

He lays you down gently and you melt into the bed as Tim goes to fetch a cloth for cleanup.  As he gently wipes the mess that’s begun trickling out of your sore and satiated cunt, you think you hear him whisper to himself, amused, “Stuffed to the brim”.  Sitting next to you on the bed, Tim brushes the hair out of your face and rubs your limp body with his now gentle hands until he’s comfortable with the condition he’s leaving you in.

Grabbing a blanket, he presses soft kisses down your exposed back and at your quiet exhale of contentment, smiles before covering you with the cozy fabric.  He sneaks one last loving kiss to your hair and stands, admiring the angelic serenity that’s taken over your dozing face.

“Tim?” you murmur into your pillow, barely audible.

“Shutterbug?”

“You know that text wasn’t real, right?  There isn’t anyone but you,” somewhere halfway between consciousness and dreamland, you crack open your sleepy eyes, voice vulnerable and small.

Tim kneels next to the bed so you can see the affection in his eyes, “I know, baby.  Just as there isn’t anyone but you for me.”  Lightly stroking your pretty face with the back of two of his thick fingers, Detective Rockford continues, good humour on display, “Besides, what kind of detective would I be if I believed that text at face value when I already have all the evidence in the world that the woman I love is beyond loyal and trustworthy?  She’s perfect and true.”

You give his fingers a sweet peck, too exhausted at the moment to express the depth of your gratitude for Tim’s faith in your love - you’ll have to show him later.  “Ok, good.  Just making sure,” your eyes close again, smile dopey, “come back to me safe, Detective Rockford.”

“Nothing could keep me from you, Shutterbug.  I love you.”

“Love you,” you coo, already drifting off into a deep slumber.

Leaving you to your rest, Detective Rockford departs with a silent promise that he’ll return home as soon as he can - walking to his car for the second time this morning with a little extra spring in his step.

[adonisbeloveds]

The Main Twisteds being jealous that you're trying to farm for Bassie.

Based off my lovely lovely experience of trying to get Bassie only to get EVERY SINGLE MAIN TWISTED AT LEAST 3 TIMES IN 3 DAYS. Anyway, yes I am alive hello hello, and apologise if any of the twisteds personalitys are not like the canon ones because I suck at writing in character! Reader is GN and doesn't use any pronouns, and Vee, Shelly and pebble are all meant to be seen as platonic. Also you can view them as yanderes or just really possessive.

ASTRO

"Please be- .....you're not Bassie." "Starlight..."

.Stay's as close to you as he can, he already know's who you are looking for -- and so do the rest of the mains. It's not like they hold any personal problems with Bassie, it's merely because they knew you first is all. .Remeber his old blanket? He makes sure that it's always wrapped around you, so when you leave and possible see Bassie -- at least she will know who you are close with. .With the way his hat moves I like to think it's either because A) he can control it or B) it has a mind of it's own -- either way it always ends up wrapping around you when you do the machine's, not that he minds though. you do astro please remove it the Ichor is staining your clothes for the 40th time. "Cuddles? Like we use to?" "Astro you always stain my shirts black with the amount of Ichor-" "......" "Sigh, Fine..." .Four arms equal 4 times the comfort of cuddles, and wrapped in his old blanket? It could almost make you forget about your whole Bassie situation. sadly it didn't but hopefully soon you will finally give up and sleep with him like you use to. .What happens when both him and Bassie are on the same floor? Well you barely see Bassie, it seems like he made it his life mission to keep you two apart whenever he could. .You also swear you hear him grumble everytime you pick up research labled as Bassie's, but at this point you can't distinguish between grumbles and weird purring noises he makes. "You are awfully clingly this time around" "mmm...." "That wasn't an invitation-" "......" "...You know I can't stay mad at you, you cuddlebug" "Mhm.."

VEE

"Vee...Vee this is the 7th time, the 7th time you have shown up." "We can make it 8th" .My darling Vee, the one who never frigging left me -- appeared so many times I got her to 100% in 2 days and she wasn't even on the board once. .She's already standing there when the elevator opens, already waiting for you -- and before you can even get a word in her tail is wrapping around you and she's walking off. "Come on Vee, put me down" "mmmm, nope" .She's talking your ear off about everything and anything, as long as your attention is on her she's over the moon -- though she rarely shows it. .She likes to tease you, with her being insanely taller than you, she uses it to her advantage -- but if she genuinely makes you upset about it she's quick to stop, even throughout all the fun she would never want you to be upset over something she did. .If you compliment her in any way her screen will bug out for a moment before she thanks you -- her voice a bit staticky. Of course you have complimented her before, and so have others, it's just she hasn't had much compliments in this form yet is all. .Somehow she always knows where you are -- what floor you're on, where you are in a blackout, even if she can't make it to the elevator before it arrives, she eventually finds you and picks you up. .You have a small suspicion it's because of her ability but at the same time she's been near you so much you've started to think she's just learn't your habbits. "Do you think I could play games on your screen" "I wouldn't let you test it" "You so would though" "....You might get a virus." "Aw man" .Unlike the others, Vee doesn't really care for Bassie -- in the sense that she won't try to take you to the other side of the map to be away from her. .What she will do though is stay very close to you -- sure you can go to Bassie for whatever reason but make sure to keep your main attention on her, she isn't as possessive as the others. .That's the biggest lie ever, you just don't need to know that or the fact she purposefully kept Bassie off the floors for so long. .If you do spend to much time focusing on Bassie you would hear a sound that's almost like a computer overheating, when you check on Vee she simply raises an eyebrow at your question before saying it's a silly idea, even though both of you can feel heat radiating off her. "Come on, she isn't that bad!" "I know my show star, but that doesn't matter"

SHELLY

"rrrrrr....." "No way, and what happened next?" .Unlike the others Shelly at least tries to help you with the machine, as she tells you -- or at least tries to tell you -- about everything and anything. .In blackouts she makes sure to stay close so you don't bump into anything -- even though she isn't as tall as the other main's, and is usually hunched over, she will try to stand as tall as she can while observing the area. .She love's it when you talk, whether you are talking about something, simply humming or just saying random words. Shelly love's the sound of your voice, and if you don't speak? She just love's being around you, it always makes her tail wag no matter what you do! "How does your tail wag if its just your spine?" "rrrrhhhh?" "Yeah I figured" .She really doesn't like sharing your attention, and it's only worse when you are actively looking for someone else. Don't get it wrong! Deep down she knows it isn't Bassie's fault, but her more protective mindset always seems to win her over. .She use to only growl or roar whenever someone went a little to close to you, but lately she's seem to pick up the habbit of biting people when she gets really mad, causing you to drop everything you are doing and running over to her. .You can't possible decide if she's doing it on purpose for your attention or doing it from protectiveness -- at this point you are more than convinced its at least a bit of both. "I- Shelly- Shelly no- no doN'T BITE HER SHELLY-" "Rrrrr."

SPROUT

"ahusfjhasfhassa" "Sprout I love you dearly but please put me down, the tendrils are cold and wet and-" "hasfsafhhas" "....that didn't mean hold me-" .You thought the others were clingy? Well get ready for mr overprotective here -- he doesn't want you leaving his line of sight, no matter what. .Hmm? You want to collect baskets for the...easter toons? Oh, well it's okay, he can...sort of help with that -- I mean you are only trying to make new friends is all. just don't talk about them to much, he's trying to hold back his possessiveness towards you but he doesn't know how much longer he can take .He can't necessarily voice his complaints but he can sure as hell try, from grumbles to simply picking you up and holding you as close as he could -- he could try to keep you away from the baskets and other twisteds but you seem so adamant about them. .No worries though, he can simply use his tendrils to carefully pick you up and hold you above -- making sure you can't get whatever it is you wanted. You don't like how they feel? No worry! He doesn't mind holding you the whole time. "Sprout, you're like...breathing down my neck right now-" "hsdfiajeidfng" "I just want the baskets..." "Hisdjmfkd!" "I thank you for wanting to bake for me, but I think the ichor would contaminate it-" .God forbid Bassie is on the same floor as you two, there's no way you are even touching the ground with how possessive he becomes -- scarf wrapped around and everything! .What do you mean you need to see Bassie? Don't you know how dangerous it is? and what if he loses sight of you? what if you get hurt, what if- no, the simple answer is no. .But please don't get mad at him! He can't help it! He just wants to protect you is all, it's simply out of his control what happens! "....." "....dfgrf?" "Hmph...." "iodkfjgddf?" "....ugh I can't do this silent treatment anymore, just behave okay?" "sjdngd!"

PEBBLE

"Pebble no- bad dog." "Don't whine at me that's called guilt tripping" .Have you ever wanted a guard dog before? Well now you have a very large and very vicious guard dog, yay! .He's such a happy boy, tail's wagging, he's almost trotting from happiness but that all goes down hill when he notices you paying more attention to the easter twisteds than him. .This causes very loud whining -- the only warning you get before you're jumped by him, causing the both of you to fall down and for him to stay on top of you. not to hard he would never want to hurt his favorite caretaker! .Now you have to play fetch with him! and give him treats galore! Just make sure there's no one around -- he WILL trample over them just to get to you even if you tell him to stop. "I'm such a good pet owner aren't I? Much better than Dandy who can't keep his DOG ON A LEASH" "Pebble with how fast you wag your tail you are going to knock someone out with it, or worse because it's a rock" .You already know Bassie's on the same floor, you can hear his growling and barking from a mile away -- be sure to get to him quickly or else he might just attack the poor basket. .When you get there it's almost like he was never angry -- kew word almost, if it wasn't for the fact he picked you up by the back of your shirt and bringing you somewhere far away from her. .When the two of you are far enough he puts you down before laying his head in your lap and very politely asking for pats for protecting you like a good boy! "Peb-Pebble do not growl and Bassie she didn't do anything wrong-" "PEBBLE PUT ME DOWN YOUR TEETH WILL RIP MY SHIRT"

DANDY

"....okay so I can explain-" "You purposefully wanted this, not that I'm complaining my flower!" .If you were anyone else you would of had a heart attack when you heard Dandy's music coming towards you at max speed -- but you aren't anyone else, and you already know how much favoritism leaks out of that flower. .Whenever you finish a machine -- you are always faced with a smiling rainbow face, his sharp teeth would probably scare others to death but you've seen it so many times it's become normal. .Such a patient gentleman he is, waiting for your signal before pouncing onto of you -- still being mindful of the tapes sticking out of him, making sure none of them accidentally scrape you. "You are such a cat" "Nope! I wouldn't say 'cat'..." "Dandy, you are literally kneading into me." .As long as you give him full permission he will knead on every spot on your body, of course he's careful of his claws -- he would never hurt you. .At most floors you wouldn't even know Bassie was there if it wasn't for her flowers on the ground. Instead of the others avoiding her it seems like she's avoiding you -- well, not YOU persay, rather the toon that follows you. .Say you finally get to see her, you immediately sense the tension in the air before watching Bassie run away as fast as she could on her four, yet small 'legs'. .Turning your attention to Dandy you witness the most deadliest side eye you have ever seen. If this is how he acts when she's not even close to you guys, you think it's best off that you don't get close to her. .You would want the Ichor to be the physical bad thing that's happened in her life. "omg stop giving the poor girl the side eye" "Hmm? I'm not." "'I'm not a cat' my ass, your eyes literally just dilated when you looked at me."

[blade-dressed-in-red]

» [FUCK, I’M LONELY] «

0:00 〇────── 1:22

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paring: noah sebastian x f!reader

content warnings: MDNI, oral sex (male receiving), protected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool). if you believe i missed anything please let me know! i never want to make anyone uncomfortable :)

word count: 6.1k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. While inspired by real individuals, the characters and events depicted are entirely fictional and should not be considered as factual representations of any real persons. This story is solely for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to be taken as truth or to cause any harm or offense.

A/N: fluffier chapter, hope you enjoy :) also this is my first time writing actual smut so apologize in advance if it sucks lmao

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Reader’s POV

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| But I still think about you all the time

When Tessa and I returned to my apartment the night of Ian’s party, I relayed the time I spent with Noah to her, including the dance floor incident which resulted in her almost yelling “You did what?” in response. Noah and I had kept in contact since that night a couple weeks ago, but both of us had been too busy to actually meet up until today. We actually texted quite frequently, him giving me his number the morning after Ian’s party. We had finally found a good day and time to see each other again, our schedules starting to clear up a bit. I made my way into my apartment after a meeting with a newly recruited band at the record label. I debated on grabbing a snack, but didn’t want to ruin my appetite for the “date” with Noah later. We thought about going back to Ernie’s, but we decided on grabbing some food and coffee, neither of us really being in the mood for getting drinks. I mentioned to him there was a cute cafe down the road from my apartment, so we settled on meeting there at three o’clock. 

I started getting ready for the outing, stepping into the shower to wash the work day off of me. Deciding on an “everything shower” to look and feel my best. I washed my hair with a shampoo that I was less than comfortable admitting the price of, only using it for special occasions (this counts, right?). After applying a hair mask and throwing my hair in a claw clip and exfoliating my whole body, I shaved my legs, underarms, and bikini line. After rinsing out the hair mask, I finished off by cleansing my whole body with some vanilla scented body wash, which lingered on my skin as I stepped out of the shower. I started my elaborate after-shower routine, applying vanilla body lotion to my whole body, focusing on the areas that tended to get a little drier than the rest. I did my skincare, making sure to fully moisturize my face so my makeup could apply as best as it could. Finishing off by rolling on some deodorant and spritzing the same vanilla perfume as that night onto my pulse points. 

As I made my way out of the bathroom to my vanity to start doing my makeup, I glanced at my phone to check the time, 2:13pm. I also noticed Noah has texted me..

“I’m about to head out, can’t wait to see you :)”

The message caused nervous butterflies to flutter in my stomach. I’ve gone on numerous dates with other attractive men, I even enjoyed their company, but something about each one of them made me question the possibility of a second date, whether it be how they didn’t understand my jokes or the way they would stare at me as if I was a piece of meat and they were a starved wolf. The memories made me cringe as I sat down to get started on my makeup. There was something about Noah that made me feel completely different to his company than anyone I had ever met. Ever since Ian’s party, I craved to be back in his embrace. I spent the rest of my time getting ready with an excited nervousness slowly building up in my body. Once finishing my makeup, I checked the time again, 2:39pm. Shit, I need to leave soon. It takes about fifteen minutes to walk over there, and driving there would be almost pointless for the distance. I quickly got dressed. My outfit consisting of a cropped black tank top, black jeans that had rips in the knees, a black and white flannel, and my Docs. I put in some small hoop earrings and adorned my neck with the same chunky silver chain from that night. I grabbed my bag, headed out the door, locking it behind me and made my down my apartment’s stairwell onto the sidewalk. 

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| I don’t know how I’m gonna make it out

The bell over my head rang as I entered the cafe. I immediately noticed Noah sitting at a table with two chairs as he was scrolling on his phone. I checked the time on my phone to see if I was late, it read 2:57pm. Not only was I on time, Noah was early, seeing as he already had a drink of sorts for himself. He was wearing black joggers and a black hoodie with various red and orange designs on it, realizing it was one of his band’s merch pieces as I approached, I noticed I could still only see the same tattoos as last time. As I reached the table to meet him, his eyes immediately averted from his phone onto me, making the butterflies in my stomach start swarming around even quicker.

“Hey! Long time no see, huh?” I half-jokingly greeted while setting my bag on the back of the chair while Noah stood up to give me a small hug. God, I didn’t even realize how much I missed his scent until now. 

“Yeah, it’s been a minute. I’m sorry about that, the band and I have just been so busy these past couple weeks.” He promptly responded before continuing,

“But how have you been?”

“I’ve been pretty good, it hasn’t only been you that’s been busy.” I said with a light laugh,

“Ephemera just signed a new band, so I've been spending a lot of time in meetings and helping organize their recruitment to make it as seamless as possible.” He nodded while giving a small smile in response. Fuck, he’s so pretty. His eyes quickly lit up in realization,

“Did you wanna go order something?” he asked while shifting in his seat to lean his elbows on the table.

“I mean, that’s why we’re here isn’t it?” I quipped while grabbing my purse to head over to the register, him following behind me. I didn’t question it, assuming he was going to order some food for himself since he already had a drink. 

When it was my turn to order, the cashier greeting me as I approached, Noah following behind me.

“Hi, I’ll have a medium dirty chai latte please. Could I get that with vanilla syrup as well?” The cashier confirmed my choice before I continued ordering,

“I’ll also have a caprese panini please.” The cashier typed my order into the register, Noah joined in on ordering which confused me, and also slightly annoyed me. I had no problem paying for him since he covered my bar tab, but he could’ve at least asked first. 

“I’ll just have a garden salad please.” 

The cashier relayed the order to us, confirming it. As I was about to pay with my card, Noah pushed my hand out of the way while handing over his card instead. I tried protesting since he already paid for my bar tab, but he insisted and I didn’t want to cause a scene in the cafe over a bill. I was quickly handed over my drink before Noah and I made our way back over to our table. We made small talk about what we’ve been up to, I told him a little bit about the band we had just signed, he talked about the production of some of the songs he’s been working on with the guys. Our food arrived soon after, us still making idle chatter while eating. Once we finished, he took our plates to the shelf above the trash for the workers to clean up later. When he came back, he began questioning me,

“So.. I heard you met Folio after we.. hung out at Ian’s party.” He smirked at me, with a glint of something in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. 

“Oh yeah, he’s super cool. When I introduced myself to him he kissed my hand as if I were a princess. Oh and when we were doing final shots with Ian he downed his whole glass of whiskey,” I recalled while letting out a small giggle at the memory. 

“Yep, that’s Folio for you,” he replied matter of factly while pressing his lips together. I decided to tempt fate to see how he’d react,

“Kind of unfortunate I met you first, I could’ve totally seen myself being on the dance floor with him that night.” I humorously stated, I knew I was lying. Sure, Folio was pretty attractive, super funny, and a sweetheart, but I knew the second Noah sat next to me that night, I was done for. Something within Noah’s eyes shifted at my remark, something darker, but he tried hiding it with a dry laugh. 

“Well I guess it’s fortunate for me I got to you first, huh?” he quipped, his eyes still hiding something behind them. This was exactly the sign I needed from him. I brushed off his reaction and decided to talk about the other guys I met that night. I found out Matt is obsessed with raccoons and one time Folio had to play a show with food poisoning while on a boat, I almost heaved at the thought. I also learned a bit more about their bassist, Nick. He was a tattoo artist and lived with the rest of the guys. The conversation between us flowed freely, as if we’d known each other for years. 

It was nearing five o’clock, the time the cafe was supposed to close. Noah and I didn’t even realize we were sitting in there for almost two hours until a worker flipped the open sign to close, which we took at our cue to leave the establishment. As we headed out, my heart sank at our time together coming to an end. Before I could wallow in it longer, Noah spoke,

“I have to meet the guys for something in a bit. Let me walk you to your car.” I could tell he wanted to stick around longer, but his work came first and I wasn’t going to be put in the way of that.

“Oh I actually walked here, my apartment is just around the corner.” He looked surprised for some reason, probably taken aback I chose to walk in a city that prioritized transportation via car. 

“Well in that case let me give you a ride home.” He had the same look in his eyes that he had when offering to order me a drink at the bar; hope. But I knew he had somewhere to be soon and didn’t want to impose.

“It’s no big deal really, it’s just around the corner.” I tried assuring him.

“Even more of a reason for me to drive you, come on let’s go.” He grabbed my hand to walk me to his car, the warmth enveloping my permanently cold hand. Once we got to his car, he walked me over to the passenger side and opened the door for me.

“Wow, what a gentleman.” I joked to him, Noah went along with the bit by bowing like a prince before shutting the car door, making me giggle more. Once he got into the driver's seat, I directed him to my apartment’s parking lot, telling him to turn at a corner store to get to my street. He pulled up to the curb, put his hazards on and quickly got out of the car and ran over to the passenger side, determined to open my door for me. As he opened it, he bowed once again while gesturing with his hand,

“M’lady,” resulting in me going into a fit of laughter. If there’s one thing Noah is, it’s preservant. He grabbed my hand as I stepped out and he closed the car door behind me. We stood in front of each other for a few beats in a comfortable silence, just staring into each other's eyes. Wow, his irises looked like tapioca pearls. He softly raised his hand up to the side of my face, grazing his thumb over my cheekbone. The butterflies immediately came back, fluttering faster than ever. I could tell what he was about to ask, but I felt his nerves course through his veins through his hand on my cheek. I decided to take the words out of his mouth,

“Can I kiss you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. His eyes widened at my proposal, eagerly nodding his head once the words sank in. I grabbed the front of his hoodie and pulled him down for our lips to meet, his other hand going up to hold my face. The kiss was soft and tender, nothing like the kisses he planted on my throat the night we met. He held me as if I was the most precious object he’s ever found and if he held me too tight, I’d break under his touch. The kiss slowly came to an end, our foreheads pressed together. Noah broke the comfortable silence first,

“I had a really nice time with you today,” he said while staring into my eyes.

“Me too, we should do it again sometime,” I responded while planting a kiss on his cheek. We stayed in each other's embrace for a few moments longer, neither of us wanting to pull away but we knew we had to. Finally, I got the courage to let him leave and join the guys for whatever they needed to do. I gave him one last peck to his lips, said my goodbyes, and made my way up the stairwell as Noah leaned against his car and watched me get inside safely.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| Fuck, I’m lonely. Fuck, come hold me

It’s been a week since Noah and I went to the cafe. I didn’t want to be too overbearing, but the second I stepped foot back into my apartment it took everything inside of me to not ask him to come back whenever he was done with his obligation with the guys. I tried keeping myself busy with work to get my mind off of him, but anytime I received a text from him my heart soared in my chest. I couldn’t wait to see him again. 

He brought up the idea of getting dinner together, nothing too fancy. We settled on going to a small Italian restaurant about a twenty minute drive from my place. I debated on driving there myself, but the thought of possibly dealing with traffic on top of the anxiety of seeing Noah again didn’t sound too fun, so I ordered an uber. Since it wasn’t anything fancy, I wore casual clothes. I settled on a black knit sweater, loose-fitting blue jeans, and my Docs (of course). I got the notification that the uber would be arriving soon, so I quickly left my apartment. I made my way to the curb and waited for the uber, which didn’t take too long. After confirming with the driver, I got inside and let Noah know I was on my way. The ride was mostly silent, which I wasn’t sure if I was thankful for or not. The nervousness was slowly building up in my stomach, so I just scrolled on my phone as a distraction until I arrived at the restaurant. 

Noah let me know he had arrived about five minutes before I got there, keeping up with his punctual track record. I quickly found my way to the booth he was sitting at, water and bread already at the table. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, black slacks, and his usual white slip on Vans. He stood up as I approached the table, engulfing me in a hug as he mumbled “I missed you” into my hair. I could feel my face heat up at the sudden display and words of affection, his face matching my own. We made ourselves comfortable in the booth, asking each other how our week has been since we last saw each other. I gave him updates on the band we had signed the week prior, the production side of things working on a new single. He told me a story of him and Jesse, one of his housemates, attempting to clean their pool which resulted in Noah falling in when he lost his footing on the edge. The idea made me tear up in laughter. Soon, we ordered our food, both of us deciding to stick to water for the night. I ordered chicken alfredo and Noah got toscana soup. We continued talking over dinner, making jokes to one another. At one point, I thought it’d be funny to play footsie with him under the table, at first he paused all movements but quickly leaned into the bit, gently kicking my leg in response as a blush creeped onto his face. Eventually, we finished our dinner, the waiter offering us dessert options we politely declined to. As the waiter came with our check, I quickly handed him my card so I could pay this time since Noah paid twice now, and I was determined to make it up to him. As the waiter walked away, Noah spoke, a surge of random confidence entering his voice,

“You know, I told you you could make it up to me in other ways.” Which I playfully rolled my eyes at, the waiter coming back with my copy of the receipt. Noah and I got up to leave, and as I was about to place the order for my uber, an idea came to mind. As we exited the restaurant, I asked,

“Would you like to come over?” As the words left my mouth, I knew he knew what I was probably insinuating. The memory of him making me climax with just his hand on the dance floor flooded my head, causing my face to heat up. He blinked down at me a few times with a slightly shocked expression written on his face.

“I.. I’d love to,” he said with a soft smile.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| Spent all night just trying to get closer

We repeated the actions from the previous week, him opening the passenger door for me, then darting over to the driver’s side to join me in the car. I instructed him on how to get to my apartment complex from where we were at, but he remembered most of the way once we were in my neighborhood. 

“Turn at the corner store,” I directed him.

“I remember, Y/N.” He said sardonically. 

As we arrived at my complex, I pointed to where the visitor parking was and he pulled into a spot, turning off the ignition. We sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just softly staring at each other and enjoying each other’s presence. Figuring if we stayed there a little longer it’d turn awkward, I swiftly got out of the car and inhaled a deep breath to try and steady myself. Noah followed suit, meeting me behind his car in front of my building. He looked at me for further instruction, I grabbed his warm hand and made our way up the stairwell to outside my apartment. 

“Well, this is me.” I stated as I unlocked the door. 

My apartment wasn’t too big, but I made it cozy and comfortable for myself. The entryway flowed directly into the living room where I had a black couch with various pillows and blankets I got from Homegoods during Halloween time, with a black coffee table littered with remotes, an empty mug I forgot to put in the sink before leaving, and some random papers from work I hadn’t found a place for yet. The TV stand was on the opposite wall of the couch, adorned with various DVDs (physical media isn’t dead) and movie memorabilia. I had fairy lights surrounding the room to give off some ambience in the later hours of the day. My walls were covered with various movie and music posters, and even a couple vinyl records displayed above my record player between the living room and kitchen. As Noah entered, his expression softened, like he realized that welcoming him into my home was far more intimate than he originally thought it would be. I put my bag on the hook near the door and quickly untied my boots and took them off. Noah noticed my action and repeated it by kicking off his Vans. 

I walked over to the couch, Noah trailing behind me as I made myself comfortable in my corner. He sat a bit rigid, resting his hands on his knees while he looked over at me. 

“So.. Did you wanna watch something or are you just gonna stare at me the whole time?” I teased him. He quickly looked away as a blush crept onto his cheeks, not realizing he was staring. 

“Sure,” he quietly stated. Anxiety and awkwardness started seeping into me, so I handed him the remote as I got up.

“Put on anything you’d like. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna use the restroom.” I’m not sure why I was getting nervous, his fingers have literally been inside me. The memory of him licking his fingers replayed in my head on a loop, making my body heat up at the thought. When I stepped into the bathroom, I ran my hands under cool water, hoping it could literally and figuratively cool me down. After drying my hands, I gave myself a once-over in the mirror and fixed my hair. I realized I was a bit warmer than I preferred, so I stopped into my bedroom to switch into a black tank top and grey sweats. As I returned to the living room, I noticed Noah got himself more comfortable on the couch, removing his hoodie while I was out of the room. He had turned on an anime I hadn’t seen yet which piqued my interest. I realized just how heavily inked he was, tattoos littered up and down his arms and further down his chest from what I could see near the hem of his t-shirt. 

“I see you’ve made yourself at home.” I stated while sitting back in my spot on the couch.

“Well, I found a good show to watch and figured I might as well get as comfortable as possible.” He responded while nuzzling into a blanket he was using as a pillow. We sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, just watching the characters on the screen. After a bit, I felt his eyes on me again, which I looked over at him and met his gaze. 

“Come here,” I requested, wanting to be closer to him. He sat up from his spot, leaning closer into me. I placed my hand onto his cheek, admiring the pretty boy sat in front of me. I could feel how warm his face was becoming, his blush returning to his cheeks. He placed his hand on my thigh, longing to have any physical contact with me but not wanting to cross boundaries.

“I really wanna kiss you,” he whispered to me, his eyes flickering between my eyes and my lips.

“Then kiss me, idiot,” I grinned at him. He swiftly leaned down and our lips connected. It started off soft and tender, but quickly heated up. It was evident both of us were yearning to be in each other’s space again. Without breaking the kiss, I sat up and threw my leg over his thighs so I was straddling him. I felt his cock quickly growing through his sweats beneath me, making me let out a small moan against his mouth. His hands were placed on my hips, slightly rocking me back and forth against him. I broke from our kiss to trail kisses and bites down his neck, similar to what he did to me that night at the bar. I rested one of my hands against his arm and tangled the other in his hair. He was breathing heavily and let out small whimpers and groans whenever I sunk my teeth into his neck. I spent much of my time on one area between his neck and collarbone that seemed to be his sweet spot. I returned to his lips, the kiss was a mess of spit and teeth. I put my hands under his shirt, hinting at wanting it to be removed. He got the signal, and quickly took it off. I sat in awe at all the ink displayed over his chest and tummy. I traced my fingers over the various designs, but he quickly put one of his hands behind my head to bring our lips together again. Our tongues fought for dominance, a dance that went on for a few moments as I kept grinding against him, both of us letting out small whimpers into each other’s mouths. I finally pulled away to ask him.

“Did you wanna move this to the bedroom?” to which he nodded while putting my arms around his neck to secure me against him as he sat up to carry me into my bedroom. The action made me giggle, feeling like I was climbing on him like a tree. There weren’t many other rooms in my apartment so he quickly found my bedroom in the small hallway from the door being open with purple fairy lights on to brighten the room. He delicately placed me on my bed as he stood at the foot of it, admiring my bedroom. It was decorated similarly to the rest of my apartment with a few more personal touches added. I hooked my leg around his to pull him towards me, bringing his attention back to me. He leaned down between my legs and caged my head between his arms. We continued our kiss as I ran my hands up and down his lean arms up into his hair. He pulled away, leaning up a bit to bring his hands down to the hem of my shirt,

“Can I take this off?” He politely asked me, I quickly nodded, wanting to feel his skin against my own. I sat up a bit to assist him in removing the fabric, he threw it somewhere on the floor behind him. His eyes trailed all over my bare chest, making me feel both nervous but turned me on even more. I grabbed him by his arm to pull him down, to feel him against me. He rocked his hips into me as his hand ran up and down my torso, exploring the curvature of my body with a delicate touch. He grabbed one of my boobs in his hand, rubbing his thumb softly over my nipple. His other arm was next to my head to give him stability. I decided he had already tasted me, so now it was my turn. I quickly flipped us over so I could be on top of him again, bringing my lips to his neck, continuing to kiss and bite all over. I slowly made my way down, trailing wet kisses and soft bites down his chest and tummy. As I reached the top of his sweats, I looked at him through my lashes,

“May I?” I breathed out as I curled my fingers around the waistband. He eagerly nodded as he bucked his hips up, giving me access to remove his sweats and boxers, throwing them somewhere behind me on the floor with my shirt. His cock slapped against his stomach as I removed them, my eyes widening at how big he was. I knew he was going to have a big dick, but jesus christ. Before I could think anymore, I brought my hand around the base of his cock, licking a stripe from the bottom to the tip, slowly licking his head with my tongue. My teases resulted in low groans and whimpers from Noah’s throat. I looked up at the boy I wanted to unravel, seeing I was close to being halfway there already. His brows were furrowed together, his lips swollen from our kisses, and his hazy eyes were half-lidded while meeting my gaze. While maintaining eye contact, I put him in my mouth, watching as he threw his head back against the pillow from the action. “Fuck,” he muttered, grabbing my hair in his hand but didn’t push, it being more of an attempt to ground himself. I started working my tongue around him, bobbing my head up and down as he let out the most beautiful noises I’ve ever heard from a man. The size of him resulted in me producing a lot more saliva from my attempts to take in all of him. I had never really ever been that into giving head, but I had a change of heart this time around. I continued working him until he softly pulled my head back. “If you keep going, I’ll cum..” He practically gasped out as I sat back on my heels, wiping away the mess of saliva and precum from my lips.

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” I retorted, raising an eyebrow. I quickly got up and grabbed a condom from my dresser drawer. I returned to my spot by his legs.

“Can I put this on?” I asked while holding up the condom, his eyes slightly widening at the request, but accepted it by a nod. I took the condom out of the wrapper and rolled it onto him. I quickly removed my own sweats and panties in one go. He sat up and quickly grabbed me to turn us back over so he was above me again. He kissed me deeply, pulling away and looking me in my eyes. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked softly.

“I’m one hundred percent positive.” I responded, smiling at him as I pulled him down to kiss him again. He leaned back onto his heels, staring at my pussy. He spat on his fingers, bringing it down to lubricate me a little with his saliva. The contact made my hips buck against his hand as he trailed his fingers over my clit and entrance. He bent down to hover over me again, giving me a peck to my lips before he looked down to guide himself into me. His eyes flicked up to me as he was about to enter,

“If you need to stop at any time, please tell me.” He politely told me.

“I will Noah.” I assured him. I felt him slowly slip inside me, I gasped at the pressure. His strokes started small, almost teasingly. He gave me time to adjust to his size, at first it hurt a little bit, but was quickly replaced with pleasure. I grabbed his head to bring him down to kiss me as he finally fully slipped inside of me.

“Noah..” I breathed out, his thrusts started off slow so he didn’t possibly hurt me. I bucked my hips against him to signal to move faster, which he followed up on. I could already feel my orgasm building inside of me.

“Fuck, Noah.” I whimpered out. 

“I know, baby. God, you feel so good.” He grunted. He placed all his weight onto his elbow as his other hand made its way between our bodies. I felt his thumb start tracing circles on my clit, making me let out a whine as my eyes practically rolled to the back of my head. The contact is exactly what I needed to come undone underneath him. I felt my walls tightening around him, and I could tell he was fighting off his own release by his growling and whispering swears into my ear while his thrusts were becoming sloppier and harder. He started slowing down.

“I’m not cumming until you have at least one more.” He quipped, grabbing my leg to rest it over his shoulder, making his cock sink further into me. His thumb was still tracing messy circles over my clit, determined to draw another orgasm out of me, which I felt quickly approaching. The stimulation of the new angle, driving himself deeper into me, feeling all of him, made my head fuzzy. After a few strokes, my second orgasm hit me, this one more intense than the last. I felt my vision start to blur at the edges, making me shut my eyes as his hips continued snapping into me. I felt myself still pulsing around him as he removed my leg from his shoulder, craving to be closer to my body, his head settled in the cook of my neck. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” He breathed out while haphazardly thrusting into me, making me clench around him more, which was all he needed to finish. I felt his cock twitch inside of me before slipping out as he relaxed his body over my own. This would usually feel overwhelming from the size of this man, but something about it made me feel safe, like he was a security blanket. He raised his head, grabbing my chin with his fingers and kissed me. The kiss felt deep and meaningful, like he was saying everything he wanted to express without speaking a word. He eventually pulled away but continued gazing into my eyes, his own still had a slight haze over them with his swollen lips curved into a soft smile.

“That was..” He started but trailed off at a loss for words. I giggled before responding,

“I won’t speak for you, but that was amazing.” I softly stated, him nodding in agreement before resting his head on my chest. 

We stayed in bed for a few minutes as I played with his hair and rubbed his scalp. We were both coming down from our highs and just enjoyed the feeling of the other’s skin pressed into our own. Noah eventually got off of me and out of the bed to discard the condom. He found his underwear in the pile of clothes we left on the floor and put them on while throwing my shirt and panties over to me. Before he had the chance to further dress himself, I asked,

“Do you wanna spend the night?” Shit, was that too much to ask? I started rambling to cover for myself, not wanting to seem too needy. 

“It’s fine if you don’t.. I.. uh.. just figured it probably already kind of late so I thought I’d ask. B-but it’s completely fine i-” He cut me off by bending down and kissing me.

“I’d love to spend the night, Y/N.” He stated as he pulled away, giving me a grin which I matched. 

Noah returned to the bed and I rested my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he lazily played with my hair. We stayed like this for a while before I realized I should shower before I fell asleep. I perked my head up, resting my chin against him as I looked up at him, his eyes were barely open but widened to meet my gaze. 

“I’m gonna go shower, would you care to join me?” I asked him lightheartedly as I sat up. He quirked a brow before answering,

“It would be my pleasure,” he replied with a smirk. 

The shower with Noah wasn’t sexual in nature, but sensual. While we both ran our gazes over each other's bodies numerous times, it felt like it was out of adoration rather than ogling. We shampooed each other's hair, him needing to bend down in order for me to lather his hair up properly. After thoroughly rinsing conditioner out from our hair, we washed the other’s body. I took my time while scrubbing the loofah over him as I admired the various ink adorning his skin. While all of them painted stories that I wasn’t aware of and didn’t feel the need to question him about them in the moment, the one that really caught my eye were the lines across his chest that went over his nipple. I had a couple smaller tattoos so I knew the pain associated with getting one, and the thought of a needle going over my own nipple various times made me cringe on the inside.

“So, how bad did that hurt?” I asked as I wiped away the soap from his chest. He looked down to see which ink I was referring to. 

“Like a bitch, but thankfully didn’t last long.” He stated. 

After our shower, I made sure to do my usual skin and body care routine and managed to find a spare toothbrush for Noah to use for the night. Once I was done, I came back into my bedroom to find Noah already tucked into the bed scrolling on his phone but quickly averted his eyes up to me.

“Hi.” He stated while giving me a toothy grin.

“Hi.” I replied as I made my way over to join him in bed. I was quickly engulfed by his large arms. The fairy lights were still on, engulfing his face in a purple glow that somehow made him look even more ethereal. 

“I had a good time today.” He softly spoke.

“I did too.” I responded. We stayed like that for a bit, just admiring each other until exhaustion from the day caught up to us. I remained in his arms, the feeling his breath against my neck lulling me to sleep. 

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| i don’t want to get over you

» [FUCK, I’M LONELY] «

0:00 ──────〇 3:37

⇄   ◃◃   ⅠⅠ   ▹▹   ↻

tag list: @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lil-garbitch @fadingangelwisp @dontwantthemoney @heyyoplayer @death-ofpeace-ofmind @thatchickwiththecamera @shayeanna-ashlie @supersquirrel1996 @overmydeadbodysblog @lacy1986 @renegadebirch @bloody-spades @pipidoll @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h

[melwnst]

────── ⋆⋅☆SECOND HUNDREDTH CHANCES, D.W

summary. Dean breaks your heart, again. When he comes back to apologize, you know you’ll run right back to him.

warnings. angst, tiny bit of smut. Dean’s a toxic cunt in this. make up sex.

⭑.ᐟ two smut plots in one day… who am I?????? Please interact/follow and send requests if u have any! <3

word count. 1,2k

supernatural masterlist/full masterlist

──────────୨ৎ──────────

You wake up to the feeling that something is about to happen. Your heart is heavy, it’s tight in your chest, it’s pounding. You’re sweaty, your palms almost sticking to each other. And soon enough you hear it. You hear the buzzing, the sound of heartbreak, of uncertainty. You don’t have to think about who it is- you know it’s him. It feels like hours pass before it comes to a stop. It’s only a minute later that it happens again.

And again.

And again.

Until you have no choice but to turn your phone off- but not before seeing that he’s left 6 voicemails. Voicemails you don’t want to listen to because nothing he can say will make it better. It won’t ease the ache, the hurt, the sadness you feel or the feeling of missing him so much you feel like you can’t breathe and you’re running out of air every time you allow yourself to even think about him.

Dean knows. He knows why you won’t answer, he knows you probably won’t listen to the messages he leaves you, and he’s almost glad because he’s embarrassed. He hates how vulnerable he is. How he can be- when he pours his heart out to you. Except he has to- because he wants you to know that he’s sorry. That he doesn’t mean to push people away, it’s just what he does even if it’s not fair to anyone around him.

You force yourself to go back to sleep. You know it won’t do any good because you have absolutely zero chances of falling asleep tonight, not really- not with him running in your mind like he belongs there.

He doesn’t. Not anymore.

If you could reach inside and pull him out yourself, you would.

You can’t help but wonder how he’s doing, though. Because heartbreak isn’t going to help falling out of love with him. It’s still Dean. It’s still the guy who hates flowers but gets you some every week because he knows you love them. Still the same man who would rather sacrifice his sleep to watch you, to make sure that you’re safe and sound even when you’re sound asleep next to him.

So, it doesn’t help. He’s still there like a stain you can’t get off. And you don’t think he’s going away anytime soon.

You do manage to fall asleep though. It feels like 5 minutes before a knock on your door wakes you up. Your eyes open in one swift motion, and you know exactly what’s waiting for you behind that door.

Rather, who’s waiting.

It’s heartbreak, love, anger, sadness, grief, all mixed up together. It’s Dean. You don’t have to see him to know- you feel his presence. He could be thousands of miles away, and you still would.

You pull yourself out of bed, but you don’t open the door. You don’t want to. Because you know that the moment he apologizes, you’ll run right back to him. And maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing- but you’re just so used to it, it’s exhausting.

For what feels like the millionth- another knock collides with your door.

And then a voice.

‘Please open the door, I know you’re in there.’ His voice is hoarse, like he’s been crying.

‘I need to talk to you, please. Please stop ignoring me.’ He’s desperate. He’s like a completely different person.

You hear him mumble, you’re pretty sure you can decipher a small ‘fine, I’ll just talk through the door then.’

‘Okay. Hear me out, alright?’ He takes a small pause, and you take a small step forward.

You wince when the wooded floor cracks under your steps.

‘I didn’t know what to do. I suck at this, clearly. Please just open the door, I want to see you.’

Silence. It cuts deep, it breaks his heart, he closes his eyes, bangs his head on the door.

‘I love you, okay? I’m begging you, talk to me.’

Dean doesn’t beg. He’s not one to crawl towards someone, or get on his knees til they bleed to make someone understand something, a point. But he would for you. He’d do anything.

Dean gives up. He figures, maybe you need more time, more space from him because he’s agonizing.

You hear him sigh, and soon enough he walks away.

You step forward hesitantly, before you swing the door open.

Dean turns back in an instant, he’s not that far. Maybe he’s too close,even. Because you can feel him, you can smell his cologne, you can see that he just shaved because his skin is smooth, and you can tell he cried because his eyes tell you that he did.

You regret opening the door the second you do, though. Because you see him, and it’s Dean. It’s your Dean. It’s the man that you love- and that’s when you know you’re fucked. Because you want to run into his arms, kiss him, pull him in, feel him everywhere, all across, from all over.

Dean’s even closer now, you can feel his breath, hear his heart beat fast for you.

The tension is thick, and he knows you’re about to give in. He sees the hunger in your eyes, he sees the anger too. And he plays with it. Not because he’s a bad person, but because he genuinely wants to be better for you, he just doesn’t know how to.

‘I hate you.’ You tell him, he can barely hear it, but he does.

‘I know.’

You want to punch him. You want to scream, lash out.

But you don’t.

Instead you pull his shirt, and crash your lips into his. There’s flames all around, it’s burning, it’s hot, because the anger’s too strong. It’s so strong that you step back, still attached to his lips, into your apartment.

Dean closes the door with his foot, while his hands travel. They explore as if they’ve never been there before.

‘I love you.’ You mumble against his lips, his flannel already on the floor, his shirt halfway taken off.

‘I know.’ He answers, pulling your sweatshirt over your head, and collapsing on the bed with you.

His mouth isn’t on yours anymore. It’s on your jaw, your neck, your ears, it travels down to your breast, your belly. Your core heats up, your thighs tighten together because it just can’t wait.

Dean looks at you as to ask. You give him permission, and soon enough your shorts are off.

You see stars, your voice goes hoarse because of the cries of pleasure. You pull at his hair, and you swear it feels like best make up sex you’ve ever had.

He’s not even inside you yet, and you already know it’s going to be.

Later, when you’re both sweaty and out of breath, your back turned to him, Dean stares at the ceiling.

‘I’m sorry.’ He looks at your bare back, and he hears you sigh. He knows it too well because it’s a sigh you let out every time he lets you down and builds you right back up again.

‘I know.’

You close your eyes, and even though you feel Dean’s chest touch yours, you don’t turn around, you don’t say anything else, because you know it’ll happen again, again and again.

But you wouldn’t dream of stopping it.

Because he’s still your Dean.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist: @tinas111 @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis (comment to be added!🤍)

[mommyslittlebird]

How does puppy!reader handle thunder and the like? 🦝

Wanda knew it was bad when she walked through the front door and you were nowhere to be found. She walked through the house and called your name while she checked all of your usual hiding spots: under her desk, behind the couch, in her closet, but you weren’t there. It wasn’t until there was a particularly loud boom of thunder that she heard the bed whine.

She lifted the bed skirt and found you huddled in the back corner, in between the wall and the nightstand. You were trembling and you had your paws over your ears, blocking out the noise.

“Baby,” she said softly, trying to get your attention without scaring you. “Do you think you could come out of there sweetheart? Let mama hold you.”

You didn’t even open your eyes to look at her until you heard the word “mama”. Even in the darkest times the word stuck out to you. “‘m scared, mama,” you whined, unable to drag yourself from the corner, even at the prospect of being held.

“I know you’re scared, honey,” she cooed softly, “but do you think you could be a super duper brave puppy for mama and crawl out from under there? You’ll feel so much better once we put your thunder jacket on and get you all nice and snuggled into bed.”

“You left me in the storm all by myself,” you cried in a way that broke Wanda’s heart. She had been at Natasha’s when the storm started suddenly. She came home as fast as she could, but she had to wait until the weather cleared up a little bit before she could drive home. She thought about you the whole time, knowing how scared you would be at home alone while it was storm, but that was little comfort to you.

“I know I did, and I am so sorry,” she apologized. “I came home as fast as I could. But I’m here now, and you don’t have to be scared anymore. Just come out and we’ll have mama and puppy snuggles for as long as you want.”

Your eyes shone even in the dark of the corner as you look up at her. “As long as I want?” You asked, clearly very tempted.

“As long as you want,” Wanda confirmed.

Slowly, you started to scoot towards her, eager now to crawl into her open arms.

Her face lit up with a bit of hope as she watched. “That’s it, sweetheart. Come on out. You’re almost there.”

As soon as you were close enough, she grabbed your arms and helped drag you out, picking you up and cradling you to her chest. “That’s my brave puppy. Mama’s got you now. You’re okay. You’re safe,” she cooed, gently bouncing you on her hip.

The relief was immediate, washing over you like a wave. You found yourself crying into her shoulder immediately, as if a dam inside of you crumbled and all the tears came pouring out. “I don’t like the thunder mama!” You sobbed. “I feel in my whole entire body even when it’s not booming yet. It feels like the whole world is shaking.”

“Oh, angel,” she soothed, gently rubbing your back as she swayed you back and forth. “That’s so scary. I’m so sorry mama wasn’t here to hold you.”

“And I…” you stammered, looking a nervous to say the words, “I got so scared that I tinkled on the floor a little bit…”

“That’s okay, baby,” she reassured. “You just got scared. Mama will clean it up.”

“Am I a bad puppy, mama?” You asked, curling in closer. Wanda’s disappointment was the only thing scarier to you than thunder.

“Of course you’re not a bad puppy,” she answered, kissing your head. “You’re still the best puppy in the whole world. Now, let’s get you in your jacket, angel.”

She took you to the closet, holding you nice and steady as she wrapped the thunder jacket tightly around your chest, providing you with comforting pressure all over your body. It was like a full body hug, second only to mama’s cuddles.

After the jacket was secured, she carried you back to bed, lying down with you still in her arms. She wrapped you both up in the heavy comforter, pining you to her chest. She wiped the tears and sweat from your face.

“You know what I think? I think the thunder was just the skies way of letting mama know that it was time to come home and have warm snuggles with her favorite puppy,” she explained, placing a soft kiss to your temple. “Smart sky.”

[celestialgallaghers]

White Mustang: Tuesday [18+]

I don't even have a note for this one.

Prelude | Saturday | Sunday | Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday | Friday

Summary: You were younger then, and it was only a crush. Something harmless born in the long hours of a studio summer. But now Noel’s here, newly divorced and quieter then you remember, sharing a house on your family’s holiday. He’s more distant, harder to read, and somehow even more gorgeous with age. Suddenly the feelings you thought had faded are back in full force. But he’s still off limits… isn’t he?

Word count: 3.3k

Tuesday

As soon as you opened your eyes, a wave of dread hit you. 

You’d kissed Noel. And he’d run off. 

The thought of facing him now made your stomach twist. How were you supposed to walk around pretending you didn’t know what his mouth tasted like? How soft his lips were. The weight of his tongue…

You groaned and rolled over, squeezing your eyes shut in the hope that sleep would come again. Anything to delay seeing him.

A knock at the door woke you again. Your heart jumped into your throat until you heard Emily’s voice call your name.

You dragged yourself out of bed and let her in, squinting at the morning light. She bounced in, bright and chipper.

“Get up,” she said. “We’re going on a yacht.”

You blinked at her. “Whose yacht?”

“Noel’s got a connection,” she grinned.

Of course he did.

You showered quickly and got dressed, slipping oversized sunglasses onto your face in the hopes they’d shield you from Noel as much as the sun. You weren’t ready to face him. To see the look on his face. You had a feeling it wouldn’t be good.

When you arrived at the dock, the yacht was already teeming with people. Noel’s friends, a few others you didn’t recognize. God, it must be nice to live like this.

The boat was big enough that you could lose yourself among the crowd, and you gratefully stuck close to Emily. There were even a few people your age milling around, easy enough to strike up conversation with. It was just enough to keep your mind busy and away from the sharp pit in your stomach.

A few hours passed. The sun was high above you, beating down. You were mid reach for another drink when you saw him. Alone at the end of the boat, staring out into the endless sea.

You hesitated for a moment. Neither of you had said a word to each other all day. But you knew you couldn’t leave it like this. And maybe it was the champagne fizzling through your veins, but you found yourself crossing the deck before you could second guess it. 

You stopped beside him, a careful distance away, and leaned against the rail. The sea stretched out in front of you, shimmering and blinding.

“Hi,” you said, speaking more to the water than him. 

Noel stiffened almost imperceptibly but didn’t turn to look at you. His eyes stayed trained ahead.

“Hey,” he replied gruffly. 

Silence hung heavy between you. You stared at the horizon, willing the words to come out.

“I’m just gonna say this,” you began, heart thudding. “What happened last night… it didn’t feel wrong. Not to me.”

He said nothing. Just lifted his drink, took a slow sip, and kept his gaze fixed on the water.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” you said, forcing a shaky breath, “but I know you’re not happy. And I know this trip was supposed to help. So if I’ve made it worse, I’m sorry. That wasn’t the point.”

Still nothing.

You swallowed hard. Every word felt heavier than it had in your head.

“I meant what I said. About a fling.” You paused, heart hammering against your ribs. “We’ve only got three more days. That’s all I’m offering. No strings. No expectations. Just...whatever this is. If you want it.”

You let the silence stretch, hoping for any sign from him. 

But Noel stayed still. Staring ahead like you hadn’t even spoken.

Your stomach sank. 

“If you change your mind,” you said quietly, “you know where to find me.”

You didn’t wait for a response. You bit down on your disappointment, turned around, and walked away, heart pounding in your ears.

You kept your distance for the rest of the day. He seemed to keep his distance too, though whether it was intentional or not, you couldn’t tell.

The boat docked just as the sun began to sink low over the horizon, casting the sky in gold and pink. As soon as you arrived at the house, you went straight to your room, claiming exhaustion. 

But really, it was just easier not to see him. 

Hours passed. You heard the others say their goodnights, voices drifting down the hall.

By midnight, you tried to sleep, but it wouldn’t come. Your mind spun circles, full of everything you wished you’d said differently to Noel.

By one a.m., you were still wide awake, staring at the ceiling, stomach knotted tight with regret. You were starting to lose hope, starting to believe you’d ruined it for good. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, hot and stupid, just as a soft knock sounded at your door.

You bolted upright, heart thudding against your ribs. For a second you thought you’d imagined it, but then crossed the room and cracked open the door.

Noel stood there in a loose T-shirt and sweats, hair messy, looking like he hadn’t been able to sleep either.

You stared at each other for a long moment, the air between you heavy and uncertain.

He cleared his throat. “Can I come in?”

You stepped aside without a word. He slipped in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. 

The room felt too small now. Or maybe he was just taking up all the air. 

For a long stretch, neither of you spoke.

Then, voice low, he said, “I tried to leave it alone. Tried to ignore you today.”

Your heart kicked hard in your chest. But you said nothing. 

He let out a breath, almost a laugh but not quite.

“Didn’t work.”

He looked at you then, straight on. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

You could feel your pulse in every inch of your body.

“I meant what I said,” you whispered. “I'm not trying to mess with your head. I'm not expecting anything after this trip. I just...want you. I could help you. If you want me too.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything. You wondered if you'd pushed too hard, misread everything.

But then he exhaled sharply. 

“You have no idea how much I fucking want you.” 

And then he moved.

One heartbeat he was standing there, the next he was on you—hands at your hips, tugging you close, his mouth crashing onto yours.

And when he kissed you, it wasn’t tentative. It was desperate. Starved. Like he was trying to erase every second he’d wasted pretending he didn’t want this.

You gasped into him, arms winding around his neck, tasting the bitter edge of the cigars everyone had smoked earlier sharp against the heat of his mouth.

You clung to him, kissing him back just as fiercely. His hands roamed your body, slower now as he deepened the kiss, tongue stroking into your mouth with a soft, wrecked sound that sent molten heat flooding your veins.

You barely registered falling back onto the bed. Mouths crashing, hands frantic. You tugged at the hem of his shirt, and Noel pulled back just long enough to yank it over his head and toss it aside.

For a moment, you just looked at him. His chest rising and falling, mouth parted slightly, eyes burning.

Then you surged back in, kissing him harder, hands exploring the warm, bare skin of his back.

He let you. Breathed hard against your lips. But you could still feel it. Tension drawn tight beneath his skin.

He wanted this. But he didn’t know how to let it happen easily. Didn’t know how to let go

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

“Noel,” you whispered. “It’s okay. I promise.”

You kissed him again, slower this time, then gently nudged at his shoulder. He tensed, uncertain, but let you guide him until his back was to you.

If he couldn’t get there in his head, you’d have to help get him there through his body.

You climbed onto your knees behind him, hands finding the rigid line of his shoulders. You pressed your fingers in, slow and firm, into the tight knots beneath his skin.

At first, he was stiff under your touch. Not pulling away, but not giving in either.

“Stop fighting me so hard,” you murmured near his ear, your breath warm against him. “You need to relax.”

A rough breath left him. Almost a laugh. His head dropped forward slightly, letting you in without even meaning to.

Your thighs bracketed his hips, holding him close, your chest warm against his back. He grunted softly as your fingers kneaded into his muscles, slowly working through all the tension he’d been carrying for far too long.

Your hands moved lower, pressing into the space between his shoulder blades. You leaned in, lips brushing the nape of his neck in a lingering kiss.

Noel flinched, then stilled. You caught the tremor in his breath, the way he leaned, just barely, into your touch.

You stayed patient. Steady. And slowly, he let himself sink deeper against you, his resistance softening.

You kissed along the curve of his neck, tasting salt and heat, his pulse fluttering beneath your tongue. A soft, low groan slipped from him, unguarded, and heat bloomed low in your belly in response.

Your hands drifted lower, massaging the small of his back, the tension easing with every slow stroke.

He tilted his neck, baring it for you. Offering it. You kissed the tender spot just below his ear, teasing. Another broken sound escaped him, and you tightened your thighs around his hips, aching for any friction to ease the throb building inside you.

Your nails raked lightly down his back, and he shivered so hard it echoed through your bones.

Your hands slid around to his waist, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of his stomach. The muscles there fluttered under your touch, tensing then easing as he surrendered a little more.

You leaned closer, voice low and coaxing at his ear. “Let me take care of you.”

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Just breathed shakily. 

Then he nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Okay.”

You smiled against his skin, kissing just behind his ear. You could feel it now. The way his body had slowly yielded into your hands. How badly he needed this without knowing how to ask for it.

Your hands moved lower, fingertips brushing the waistband of his sweats, skimming lightly over the hardness straining beneath.

You felt, more than heard, the breath he let out. The way he shifted under your touch, like he couldn’t stop himself, sent heat pulsing between your legs.

His head dropped back to your shoulder, a ragged, almost soundless sigh escaping him. Relief. Or maybe just gratitude.

Carefully, you shifted around in front of him, slow enough to give him every chance to stop you if he needed to.

You sank to your knees and stopped cold.

Fuck.

He looked like something out of a dream. Chest rising and falling, eyes hooded and wrecked, his whole body humming with want. And his face… Christ. He was beautiful like this.

Then your gaze dropped, and your mouth went dry. The thick bulge straining against his sweats made your mind reel with the full weight of what you were doing. What was about to happen.

You hooked your fingers into the waistband, looking up at him.

“This okay?” you whispered, voice almost trembling with how much you wanted him.

He nodded, his eyes locked on yours. Something had shifted in him. Like he’d finally allowed himself to just feel.

You swallowed hard, dragging his sweats down and off. For a moment, you just stared, heart pounding, feeling the heat rolling off him in waves.

All worked up. All from you. 

You’d done this to him. He wanted you.

The thought made you dizzy with need. You rose up, straddled his lap, and cradled his face in your hands as you kissed him again.

Noel let out a needy sound as you settled over him, hands digging into your hips. You rocked against him, feeling the hot, throbbing press of him against your soaked center, pulling a soft gasp from your lips. 

He shuddered beneath you, and the feeling of his body against yours sent a sharp, sweet pulse between your thighs.

One hand slipped beneath your shirt, rough palm skimming up your spine. When he cupped your breast, thumb brushing delicately over the peak, it was almost too much. 

You whimpered into his mouth, a helpless sound, and his hips jerked beneath you in response, another rough groan tearing from his throat.

For a while, you just stayed there. Kissing him. Touching him. Rocking slow and lazy against him, stoking the fire between you without letting it catch all the way.

You needed to feel all of it. Everything you’d ached for. Everything you'd wanted years ago and never let yourself take.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were dazed, shining a little in the low light. You kissed the corner of his mouth one more time, then slipped off his lap and knelt before him.

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers. You looked up at him once, just to be sure. 

He gave a shaky nod, lips parted, chest rising in shallow, desperate breaths.

You swallowed thickly and pulled them down.

When he sprang free, you went still. You couldn't even breathe.

He was... breathtaking. Flushed and heavy and beautiful in a way that made your pulse stutter. Your mouth went dry. Your body clenched with such sharp ache you nearly whimpered.

You’d felt him before, hard and pressing against you. But seeing him now was something else entirely.

It wasn’t fair, you thought dimly, half-dazed by the size of him.

You looked up through your lashes, offering him one final out. But he just stared down at you, utterly still.

Your hand curled around him slowly, feeling the heat and hardness of him throb in your palm. He was so fucking hard already, straining toward you, aching in a way that sent a fresh rush of arousal flooding through you.

Noel sucked in a breath, chest rising sharply. 

Then you lowered your mouth to him, letting the heavy weight of him settle on your tongue.

Noel let out a guttural moan that sounded torn straight from his chest. His head snapped back, eyes squeezed shut like the pleasure hurt.

“Oh—”

“Quiet,” you hissed, pulling off briefly, voice thick with amusement and desire.

You couldn’t help it. You loved how undone he already was.

His eyes flew open, wide and wrecked, and he nodded frantically, biting down on his fist to keep from making another sound.

You took him back into your mouth, moving slowly, savoring every twitch, every muffled breath. Watching him struggle to stay quiet only turned you on more.

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked hard. He bucked helplessly into your mouth, another broken whimper lost against his hand.

He reached down, fingers tangling tightly in your hair.

You moaned low around him, feeling him twitch on your tongue. He cursed under his breath, hips jerking again.

You pulled back, spit slick and glistening across him, and stroked him with your hand as you took him deeper, until he hit the back of your throat.

Noel's hips bucked up involuntarily and a ragged, muffled sound escaped him, like he was trying with everything he had to stay quiet for you.

You bobbed your head faster now, filthy, wet sounds filling the room as you pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

His body was trembling so hard now you could barely hold him still.

You didn’t stop. You wanted all of it. Every broken sound, every shiver. The way he unraveled for you made you ache to take care of him.

His grip on your hair tightened. He pushed at your shoulder in warning, but you stayed firm. You wanted to be the one to carry him through.

You sucked harder, tongue dragging alone the sensitive underside, and with a strangled groan, he lost it.

Noel came hard with a violent shudder, spilling hot and heavy down your throat, biting into his palm to keep from crying out. You swallowed him down, not stopping until he sagged back against the bed.

You sat back on your heels, breathless, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Your heart pounding wildly as you watched him. Completely wrecked.

You couldn’t stop the small, satisfied smile that curled your lips.

Judging by the thick, staggering amount you’d just swallowed, one thought struck you hard:

How long had it been since anyone had touched him like this? 

The question hit deeper than expected, sparking something protective in you.

Your legs trembled slightly as you stood. Noel lay sprawled across the bed, chest heaving, sweat glistening at his temples. He looked heartbreakingly beautiful.

Eyes closed, body loose and heavy with satisfaction.

You moved carefully, easing his head into your lap. He didn’t resist. A low, contented sound escaped him as he settled against you.

You carded your fingers slowly through his hair, letting the silence stretch.

You tried to ignore the ache still pulsing between your thighs. Tried to ignore the way his breath against your bare skin made your body shiver.

He needed this more than you did.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The room felt heavy with the weight of what had just passed between you.

Finally, he cracked one eye open, looking up at you with a lazy, ruined sort of smile.

“I can't remember the last time I had a blowjob like that,” he muttered, voice thick and slurred from pleasure.

You laughed softly, brushing it off even as warmth crept up your neck. “That good, huh?”

Noel let out a shaky chuckle, the sound rumbling against your thighs. “Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed.

He looked lighter somehow. Less burdened. Like you’d taken something heavy from him, if only for a little while.

“Feeling better?” you teased, smoothing his hair back again.

“Better,” he echoed. He gave your thigh a gentle squeeze. Like a silent thank you.

Silence fell again. You wondered if you were the first person he’d touched since the divorce. The first person to touch him back.

Eventually, he stirred, like he was about to get up. But before he moved, he spoke, low and reluctant. Like it cost him something.

“Needed that,” he muttered.

Not you, not your touch. Not your mouth.

Just that. The release only you could give him.

You smiled softly, letting him keep the illusion. Your fingers slid through his hair one last time before you nudged him upright.

“Come on,” you whispered. “Get dressed. You’re about to pass out.”

He blinked up at you, sluggish but teasing. “You calling me old?”

You tossed his shirt at him, grinning. “Never.”

He dragged it over his head with a rough huff of laughter. But he paused halfway, something still on his mind.

He reached out and tugged at the hem of your shirt like he might keep going.

“I’m fine,” you said quietly, even though your whole body throbbed with want.

He shifted. “I’m not usually...like this,” he muttered, not quite meeting your eyes.

“Like what?” you asked gently.

“Selfish.”

The word was gruff. A little defensive.

Before you could respond, he reached out and cupped your jaw, kissing you slow and deep.

“I'll make it up to you,” he murmured against your lips.

The promise in his voice made your stomach flip all over again. 

Before you could say anything, he ruffled your hair with a lazy smirk and slipped out the door.

You sat there for a long moment, heart pounding, staring at the closed door.

Then you collapsed back onto the bed, your body still humming, your lips tingling, the taste of him still on your tongue.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

You couldn’t wait to see what he had in mind.