#Last I heard (...He was Circling the Drain)

[screampied]

ʚ BUBBLE, POP, ELECTRIC ?! ɞ

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. it’s your birthday and your sugar daddy takes you on a spree to the mall. perhaps buying a new set of panties with his initials engraved on it to tease him wasn’t the brightest idea. get in loser, you’re going shopping.

wc. 5.5k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), unprotected, semi-public risky themes, dry humping, implied multiple rounds, lots of praise, squırting, fıngering, dumbification, ōral (f! receiving), dirty talk, brēeding, petnames.

➤ sd!gojo masterlist

“a- anything?”

“anything, darlin,” satoru hums with a teasing smile, burying both hands into his pockets. your face lit up as he happily slides his black card into your palm. it had a glinting shine to it, your eyes gape at the sixteen digit code plastered on the front with his full name in bold, ‘satoru gojo.’ the both of you stood near the center of a busy, packed mall. it was an ordinary hot friday, and since it was also your birthday, he decided why not let you pick your special gift. the older man leans down, planting a kiss against your forehead. “go crazy, yeah? ‘s your day, gorgeous. the pricier, the better. buy something that’ll be easy ‘ta tear off. oh, i mean uh— buy something pretty, heh.”

you felt a wave of heat burn over you. you could never, never get enough his praises. satoru’s eyes remain on you as you clutch on one of the many purses he bought you. “toru, you don’t have to.”

“shh, you’re my baby,” he reassures you, pulling you close. you lean into his embrace, feeling the palm of his hand caress circles against your back. he feels the thin straps of your top glue against your skin. his cologne, it was forevermore intoxicating. in a husky low tone, satoru whispers. “i wanna spoil you extra hard today,” and you gasp, feeling him nuzzle into your neck. “what do ya say, sweets? i heard victoria’s secret has a few new deals goin’ on right now, heh.”

you spent the next good hour shopping, going to any store that just so happened to pique your fancy. you told gojo that you’d save victoria’s secret for last, and he nodded.

of course, he tagged along with you. like the gentleman he was, he carried your weighty bags for you like they were nothing.

“gonna run me for my money, huh sweets?” he snickers, an arm slinging around your shoulder as you stood beside him on the escalator. as it slowly took you both upstairs—you let off a tiny exhale. you were preparing to go toward the second floor of the mall.

with a coy smile, you brush a thumb against the edges of your skirt. “o- oh, sorry ‘toru,” and you knew he was teasing, he’d buy you the world if he could. he was stood so close next to you that you could almost always get a good whiff of his loud scent. “didn’t mean to get so much stuff.”

“sweetheart, i’m joking you know that,” he hums, stepping back to let you get off the moving escalator first. it was so packed, dozens of people walking around each part of the centre. it was full of chatter and laughter. a whirring breeze sets against your skin as he steps beside you, leaning down to plant a kiss near your forehead. “tired out yet? or do ya have more pretty stuff ‘ta buy?”

speaking of pretty, satoru gojo was the prettiest.

he stood out in the mall—he was an elite businessman but people were smart enough to not disturb him while he’s spending time with you.

so classy, he was always wearing the finest richest suits, preferably black or white ones. long, stretched out slacks to show off his legs and his hair. gojo’s hair was always neatly done, as he aged he usually settled with a parted style, a visible undercut to run his fingers through to pass time.

thin white bangs would run down his eyes a few times—occluding his vision. gojo would often find himself digging his hands into his pockets as he happily watches you drain his wallet.

“we can go get some lingerie now,” you murmur out, hearing some random pop song blare through the mall’s speakers.

“we? aw, am i gettin’ dolled up too?”

he peers at you as your expression twists to abashed embarrassment. gojo chuckles, a soft thumb brushing against your cheek lovingly. “you’re so cute, i’m teasing. let’s go then, lead the way princess.”

you ended up getting at least three new sets, including the brand new panties gojo’s been rambling to you about nonstop.

he told you how he’s recently got a partnership with the store.

a million dollar partnership at that — his new ‘satoru gojo’ limited edition panties were finally launched, and at first the idea of his name on underwear made him grouse. thanks to gojo’s hefty contribution to the company, they’ve gained a lot of new customers over the past summer. but, the moment you pick them out with a cute curious smile, he only cared about how you’d like them. so far, he’s heard from the reviews of buyers that it was quite soft, cottony and synthetic.

waterproof also, and gojo being gojo brought that specific fact up to you about a dozen times.

“can i open my eyes now, darlin'?” a low, husky yet playful voice calls out. gojo sat manspread in the dressing room, awaiting for you to show the final results of the product. “mhh, ‘s kinda dangerous to jus’ let my imagination roam, you know.”

“hold on, satoru.” you roll your eyes, slipping on the panties. they were really pretty, they fit perfectly and had tiny blue bows on the side.

you spun around near the nearby mirror, taking in your figure. it had a thong yet bikini type shape to them. stretchy and all, not to mention it was very comfortable—not too tight whatsoever. right on the back, you spot the infamous letters that were sewn in bedazzled rhinestones, front ‘n center.

‘ satoru gojo, ’

you felt a brew of heat tickle its way down your thighs before you strut toward the white haired man. even sitting down, he’s so attractive. long legs stretch themselves out as he’s laid back against the concrete wall. he’s surrounded by colorful bent hangers, the dressing room was spacey enough. as he sat on the bench, he taps his foot. “baby, i can feel you lookin’ at me. are ya done?”

“yeah,” you utter, slowly removing his hands away from his eyes. “you can look now.”

it takes him a moment to register the sight — you stand still, feeling his cerulean blue eyes awe at your beauty.

oh, your curves, his blown irises linger everywhere so intently that it makes you feel small in the best way. your heart’s thumps accelerate as he’s got a growing smug smile curling against his pink lips.

“oh my,” he purrs out, a hand cupping under his chin. his expensive g-shock shimmers against the luminescent ceiling light as also he gently pulls his bottom lip down. his stare makes you nervous and you don’t even know why. “spin around for me.”

you do, twirling your body slowly and his eyes get a front view of your ass. you still wore your blouse, feeling his gaze burn into your rear.

“goddamn,” and you let off a soft breath, feeling his hands gingerly creep up against your thighs. “you look gorgeous in anything,” he whispers, inching his lips toward your backside. gojo then drags his twitching, crooked lips toward the left cheek of your ass. it smooches against the lace fabric, a thumb stroking the letters of his own name. “i’ll buy this entire brand just to see you walk around ‘n these for me, sweetheart.”

“satoru don’t do that,” you protest, gasping once he parts your legs open a bit. with you, his touch was always gentle. he couldn’t ever keep his hands off of you though. his strokes continue to roam, and that’s when he playfully bites your ass cheek. “h- hey!”

“sorry, baby,” he chuckles, giving it a soft teasing smack. gojo hears you whine out in need before he turns you back around. “mhh, don’t give me that pout. come give ‘toru some sugar instead.”

your heart always flutters whenever he says that, those sweet words never fail to strike right into your heart. churning the pit insides of your stomach that’s already packed with butterflies swarming everywhere.

as you slowly make your way toward him, tantalizingly, he cocks his head to the right.

“don’t be shy, i won’t bite today,” he flashes you a soft toothy grin, patting his lap for you to take your favorite seat. wasting no time, you sit on his lap, your bare skin brushing up against his loose fitted slacks. “good girl,” and his hands meet your waist. zeroing his eyes down your sweet physique, he strokes your bottom lip. “closer.”

the moment you finally close the distance, your lips press against his. a cheeky smile curls against his mouth — a groan shortly following out of his throat, betraying his playful demeanor. you moan, finding it impossible to not move a bit against him. as you gradually grind against his lap, delving your tongue between his, he lets off a sharp breath. “mhm,” pretty snowy lashes of his shut tight, fluttering as he’s poking a single thumb against your hip. gojo tastes sweet, sweeter than he’s ever been. peppermint lives on his tongue, running against your tastebuds and with utmost grace, you relish in it. the flavor, its additive and his touch wasn’t helping. a raspy groan slithers into your mouth once your grinding speeds up, the bottom part of your panties grazes against his secret growing boner and he huffs.

“f- fuck, baby,” he snarls, breaking away from the kiss to look down. there, he spots it. he was indeed hard, he’s been hard this entire time you’ve been splurging hefty amounts on his black card. the moment you gave him a little show of the sediment panties, that was the final straw. “you’re such a tease, y’know,” and you gasp once he slides a lengthy finger toward the cottony fabric. “ooh, is someone already a mess? lemme see ya.”

and as you’re just barely hovering over his lap, legs sprawled apart for him, he swipes the fat print of his thumb inside. “s- satoruuu.” you hiss out, the last syllable of his name elongated and cutely dramatic. a bit loud, you had to remind yourself the two of you were in a store. indeed, you were soaked already. part of you thinks it was because of his showering praises.

every time he calls you a ‘good girl’ or his ‘pretty girl’ you felt the stickiness between your thighs dampen. it was just embarrassing.

“can’t believe you’ve been hidin’ this mess this entire time,” the white haired man almost pouts, a tone of playfulness humming underneath his tone. two of his fingers poke their way between the middle part of your panties, prodding against your soppy pussy. “oh, look at that. so fuckin’ nasty,” and cunning blue eyes flicker straight at you, making you gulp in ignominy. “sweetheart, you do know i gotta pay for this. did ya forget?”

“o- oh.” and reality hits you again. he was right, you were soaking panties that weren’t even bought yet.

you could feel yourself dripping, a little damp spot forming its way against the woolen linen.

“yeah, oh,” he mocks your cute surprised word, easing a single thumb past your slit. it’s swollen, he feels the eager twitch of it and your legs rock back in lewd rapture. “awh, how cute. you want my thumb, princess?”

“y- yes,” you whine, tossing your arms over his broad shoulders. the man eyes you with a haughty expression, continuing to flick the edge of his thumb in and out of your puffed clit. the panties were still on and you clenched your jaw before letting off a needy sigh. “take them off, ‘toru. please.”

he gives you a long stare before humming. “nah,” and a pout twines against your glossed lips. with his right hand, it grips your ass, his thumb resuming to fondle your skin before it tenderly starts to go in. “silly girl. panties are for wearing,” he teases, and your lips part themselves open once he successfully eases his way inside. you’re already so sloppy, spiraling all underneath his fingers. a white brow of gojo’s crimps into an intrigued furrow before he buries his nose into your neck. “ah, ah. don’t hold back those moans, let me hear that pretty voice.”

“but- we’re in public.”

“i won’t be crazy this time, i promise sweets, heh.”

total lie,

he says he won’t be crazy yet here you were bent over, face shoved into the wall, legs all parted. you moan, feeling his tongue dip straight into your cunt, slurping a loooong suck of your honeyed sweet. your thighs weakly tremble a bit at the teasing sensation of his stubble gracefully bristling against your skin. your cheek presses up on the glass of the other mirror that sits up against the wall. “f- fuuuuck.” you whimper out, toes curling up in utter ecstasy. his tongue, it was always so messy. messy and long, you whimper out once he dives straight in.

dipping in and out, no manners whatsoever. he’s nose deep, lolling it out all the way until he’s shamelessly drooling down your drizzling folds.

even still,

your panties were still on the entire time — they were lazily pulled to the side. with his eyes closed, he’s letting his tongue wander everywhere. you whine, digging the edges of your teeth into your bawled up fist. “arch more baby,” he whispers, hot breath ghosting right against your cunt. the store was blasting obnoxiously loud music, you hoped no one would walk in, hoped no one would see. the door was closed but still. once he watches your back obediently raise up at his command, he hums, nibbling right against your cunt. “atta girl, gimme that arch, uh huh.”

gojo groans, eating you out from behind, using a single hand to make your legs spread just a bit further. the continuous squeaks that pours out your lips makes him ten times harder than he already was. “ngh, t- toru,” you start to huff, feeling a crushing pull yank its way at your lungs. your breathing only started to get more crazed. as he’s spelling out the ten different letters of his name. you whine out a sobbing mewl, feeling the way his tongue curls once he flicks a sweet ‘s’ in your pussy. the swirl — your back only arches more, the skin of your cheek practically glued against the mirror. “ohmygodd.”

“y’r so fuckin’ hot,” he purrs out, and you’re so busy focused on his tongue that you didn’t even realize he had two fingers shoved inside you already. they’re so long, they reach into the very caves of your walls, specific spots that you didn’t even know could be located. with a swift motion, his fingertips curl around your cunt, feeling the gripping squeeze. “mhm, that’s it. bare around ‘em just like that,” and he’s making out with your cunt, giving it multiple french kisses. your legs were so close to giving up, you could feel that same annoying smile rub against your pussy. as your lip shivers, you start to breath heavier.

puffing and huffing . . heaving as you let off the same pathetic whimpers for more, more of his sloppy tongue.

he slurps everywhere, making sure to not miss a single spot. gojo sucks against your clitoral hood, knowing just how sensitive that spot made you. as you’re coating not only his fingers but his chin at the same time with your sheeny juices, you couldn’t help but swallow your pity. “i- i’m gonna cum,” you moan, a hand of yours reaching behind to grab onto his head. it lands near the top, gripping onto his strands and shoving him further into your pussy. “satoru, agh,” and you had to cup a hand over your mouth, growing paranoid once your heard a few people right outside your stall.

shit, shit, shit,

all you heard from gojo was that same raspy chuckle as he pumps in his two fingers inside your pussy with the most presumptuous grin on his face. as he’s bent on his knees, his chin was soaked with your slick.

every few seconds, he pries himself off to breathe and clean the lower part of his chiseled face with his tongue. “c’mon, baby. wait a little f’r me,” and his tepid breath repeatedly fans against your fevered skin. the pleasure — the pulsation, you were found with your legs spread and jaw dropped. so close, you could merely taste a salty tang that’s forming on your sugared tastebuds.

satoru gojo was a eater, and he could eat you all day if he really really wanted. your pout from his words makes him laugh. he spots your dumb expressions through the mirror propped up directly in front of you before he starts to spit on your cunt. “ugh, look at her. always so shiny ‘n slick,” and with bright eyes, he stares at the way his saliva trickles down your puckering hole. “ooh,” gojo breaks his mouth away again, lustrous cobwebs of spit dripping down his lips. frantically, you were shaking once he suddenly stopped. as his two fingers still plugged inside of your pussy, he gives the outer part of your entrance teasing pecks. “such a wet girl. listen to her with me, sweetheart.”

“s— fuckk, ‘toru,” you babble out, a sharp swat of his free palm hitting against your ass. suddenly, the cramped up dressing room felt hot. blazing, and yet, your thighs were even hotter. with your lips betraying themselves, curling into a circular shape in pleasure, you barely could make yourself stand still. “pleaseplease.”

“no, baby,” he gifts your cunt it’s final kiss, one of his hands running down your thighs. you had glossy slick racing down and he takes the opportunity to lap it right up with his tongue. “only sound i wanna hear is this pretty pussy talkin’ back to me. let’s hear what she’s got ‘ta say.”

the sounds of your own cunt was so lewd. it’s crying squelching rings and reverberates off the walls.

abruptly, you grow quiet and he hums, slowly dragging out his two long fingers before you gush out straight away.

your eyes were as wide as saucers, electric shocking currents travel through every part of your body as you come undone on his tongue. as you whine into your palm, your eyebrows come together into a furrow.

“mph,” you whimper, feeling your thighs shake. it’s so much that within seconds, you feel yourself spraying against his tongue until you couldn’t anymore. it felt like your life flashed before your eyes. the tenderness of it all was almost too much to bare. as you’re still violently shaking on his pink twitching muscle, gojo spreads your ass apart, growing drunk at your taste before he chuckles against your clit - teeth nibbling against your sensitive, puffed folds.

“my baby’s velocity just gets better ‘n better,” he snickers, giving your right ass cheek a frisky kiss.

as he stands up again, he faces you — watching as your eyes were all droopy ‘n hooded.

“c’mere,” and you felt your cunt throb as you fall into his touch, pressing your lips right back against him. right away, your tongue gets met with the taste of yourself on him. you tasted sweet, he’s always described you as sweet anyway. gojo groans, lifting up your thigh before making you lie back. “good girl. ‘s just you ‘n me. let me spoil you today, princess.”

glancing down, you spot his slacks that were just barely hanging on. they were half on, dark blue boxers clinging onto his perfectly sculptured waistline. you spot a bit of a peeking white happy trail that’s curly — sticking against his skin.

“s- satoru,” you pant, pawing your hands at his already open fly. he ogles at you, popping the two wet fingers that were stuffed into your cunt literally just a few seconds ago right into his mouth. you watch, growing more aroused as he sucks on his digits right in front of you.

“satoru what, baby?” he leans down, springing out his cock. it was quick, he fishes through his boxers before whipping it out, wrapping a single bare hand around his fat length. giving it a few pumps, a thumb of his swipes against his pulsing vein and he groans. with a snarl, he bites into your neck. “you don’t wanna wait ‘till we get home, huh?”

“no,” you whimper, and he lets you take control a bit.

with shaky hands, you make him sit flat against his back, a cute shove goes against his chest and he huffs. “want you, ‘toru,” and he smiles at how out of breath you were, still trying to overcome your more recent, nirvana filled high. as you get on his lap, straddling him, you lean right up to the older man’s face. “please.”

he returns your lust-filled gaze, a hand of his creeping toward the curvature of your ass. “such a sweet girl. with manners like that, i could never say no,” he coos to you, helping you align your entrance against his reddened tip. with your panties still on, string passively pulled toward the crevices of your thighs, you whine. “there’s that sweet ‘lil moan,” he brings you closer toward his neck. the veins that ran down his cock pulse even quicker. “mhm, c’mon sweets,” he playfully pulls your hands away from your face. “i wanna see those eyes roll back. don’t be shy, ride me girl.”

and as he’s careful to sink you down on his cock, your legs wrap around his slim waist like a vice.

a hand of yours tugs onto his tie, giving it a little forceful pull. gojo’s hair was all ruffled — white strands everywhere, you had him a mess and right where you wanted.

whenever you straddled him like this, you always took his breath away and that hungry gaze you always give him, fuck you were dangerous.

intaking a sharp, deep breath, he’s halfway in now. gojo’s so thick and bulky that it feels like he’s fully in.

balls fucking deep,

a whimper pulls out of your vocal cords as his tip kisses your sweet swollen insides. his own eyelashes were half-lidded and he’s panting right with you, frigid cold band of his watch rubbing off against your skin. the saturated squelches of your pussy were so loud, he holds onto your hips before a pussy drink grin tugs against both corners of his lips. “attaaaa girl. move those hips, ride me good, birthday girl.”

the friction was so delicious, so appetizing..

you were barely moving but you felt like you were gonna screw up and cream all down his shaft. with your face still burying itself into the crook of his neck, your hips finally start to adapt to some sort of steady rhythm. gojo huskily grunts, feeling the welcoming grip your cunt gifts him every time he goes inside. the elastic stretch always makes him short circuit. as his blushing tip thrashes its way inside, your hips roll and it’s only then that you start to sloppily lurch against his lap.

“t- toruuu,” you sob out in a sweet broken syllable, your own words sticking against your tongue. strong, built arms hold you upright as you’re making steady haste. the music of the store seems to get louder and you don’t even care if you get caught anymore.

with the way his cockhead’s smooching up against your sweet spot, you’re already dumb, stupid ‘n hungry for more of your beloved sugar daddy. your whines always ghost right up against his earlobe, falling on deaf ears every time. your sweet, carnal sounds makes his dick twitch. the electric pulse surges through your cunt and you feel it — shivering, glancing at him and he shoots you a flashy, sheepish grin. “yeah, ‘s okay baby. doin’ so good for me.”

even still, you’re adjusting to his size. the big stretch has your lips parted and circular, moans spilling out of your lips again and again until you were a broken record.

every single time, gojo’s cock extends inside of you through and through. it’s like it comes natural to him. no matter how many times he’d please you, you’d always end up getting a bit more stretched out than the last time.

a constant lewd loop,

“s— satoru,” you start to whine again, swiveling your hips against him. he’s seated down on the bench, taking in your body and the way your breasts bounce. he can’t help but snatch a feel, bringing a hand toward your left mound, squeezing two fingers against your nipples. with your frilly blouse still on, he’s just tugging against fabric but you start feel the familiar incoming shockwaves of pleasure. you let off a tiny squeal, head tossing back and your teeth digging into your bottom lip. “ngh, ‘toru. ‘m sensitive.”

“baby you’re always sensitive,” he teases.

lowering his head down between your neglected tits, gojo pulls up your blouse and leisurely slides his tongue down the sheeny crack of your chest. you’ve got a bit of a glow, probably from your recent teeth shattering orgasm. “mhm, look at my girls. they get prettier every time i see ‘em,” and as you’re still swaying your hips against him, he pops out one of your tits from your bra, sucking against the tender skin. you whimper over and over, he can barely get a good solid suck from the constant movement of your hips. you’re jittery, repeatedly moving back and forth against him, about to erupt as if your cunt was a volcano. “thaaat’s my girl, always taste so sweet.”

you ruffle his hair a bit as he’s latching his mouth against one of your sore nipples. the mobility of your hips so sloppy and unstable. he tends to each nipple, latching his wet lips against the sore mounds before slobbering all over it. as you’re grinding against him in an alluring manner, your eyes start to roll back. “toru, ngh. ‘s fuckin’ big,” you squeak out in a tiny mewl, your voice entirely small.

you’re moving so much that he could barely keep up, burying his face into your chest. his hot breath tickles against your skin — it’s feverish, sending a multitude of shivers to race down your spine.

he grunts in annoyance at your bra in the way, snatching it down to properly attach his plump lips against your neglected nipples. gojo sucked until they were all sore ‘n swollen, madly pulsating from the salacious stimulation. he eyes you with a teasing simper, a crinkle informing underneath his eye as he licks up his saliva dripping down the bare valley of your chest.

“y’r always a perfect fit though,” he whispers, another groan leaving out of his throat. as he’s leaning back again, allowing you to continue riding him, you’re just completely dumbfounded.

irises were dilated, lungs were full, toes curled.

you moan once he spanks your ass at the feeling of your hips slowing down, his way of encouraging you to keep at it. with your frilly blouse pulled up, he gawks at your body and admires how you match his crazed tempo, rolling and mirroring the same amounts of rickety.

“my fuckin’ girl,” he grunts, a hand sliding down your ass again, spanking it again. “uh huuuh,” his tongue slides against his lips, averting his gaze at your seductive looking hips. “just like that, sweetheart. niiiice ‘n slow, ‘toru’s not going anywhere.”

as you’re jerking forward against him, constantly bouncing against his thickset, bulky base — your jaw hangs wide open. he’s reached your sweet spot, it’s out of nowhere and you feel a bundle of nerves scream all through out you. your limbs were getting weary, and as your arms wrap around his shoulders, you nibble on his chin. “satoru, satoru, f— fuuuuck.”

he chuckles, watching as both of your eyes close tight, feeling one of your hands slither its way inside of his dress shirt. “hm,” he looks down, and your fingertips feel against his chiseled washboard abs. your pace was relentless, and with the feeling of just how ripped he was, you felt that same twitch arise in your cunt again. “fuck yeah, baby. touch me anywhere you like. this body ‘s all yours,” and you moan from his provocative words, still moving back and forth. gojo’s scent made itself well known throughout the entire dressing room. his abs instinctively clench from your gentle yet tender touch. “make me feel so good.”

“i- i do?” you moan, his words alone sending you a plethora of spine-chilling chills everywhere. they linger for a long time before you feel yourself starting to tighten. you were hungry for his approval, his praise — anything.

“yes, sweetheart,” he grunts, cupping your face as your hips continue to rock against him. he was reaching his inevitable limit and so were you, gojo’s face turns flustered and his pretty blue eyes flicker backward for a moment. that action alone was sexy, only you made him like this. “you like hearin’ what you do to me, huh?”

his voice was always so low — deep ‘n pitchy, it had the right amount of rasp hiding underneath it.

the timbre, it was a huskiness that always got you soaked. gojo moved his hands back down toward your waist, helping you keep up your frantic rhythm. every few seconds, you felt his throbbing dick plunge in and out of your drooling cunt. it’s so thorough, and every once and a while, it slips out. “fuuuck,” he groans, lifting you up before aligning himself back in. “got me workin’ over time, baby. stay still, yeah.”

your sweet nub was constantly being kissed up against, and you’re already so so stupid.

metaphoric heart eyes form through your pupils as you twitched ‘n fluttered on his cock. the moment you came again, and again, and again, there was barely a thought in your mind. you were always left being a puddled mess, swollen walls perfectly ravaged and stretched out.

it’s probably been about a good hour or two.

the dressing room had a sweet smell of tangy sweat and cologne—you whimper, babbling repeatedly as you’re now bent back over again.

but this time, gojo’s fucking you from behind.

he’s probably had you do various positions, and he was just about to finish again, anticipating to see another load pour right into your puffy pussy.

“s- shit,” he swallows a lump residing in his throat, catching your secretive hand trying to reach down and touch yourself. “princess..”

you pause, your hand staying still and he chuckles — pressing right up against your ass. he’s still pumping you full mid-thrust, a free hand wrapping its way around the back of your throat. his tone sounded like you’d just been caught redhanded. “aw, someone’s eager. but you always ask before touchin’ this sloppy pussy, right?”

with your breath hitching, he’s continuing to reel you back into his sharp hips within each piston of a thrust. with your mouth opened wide, you moan. “y- yes,” and as he’s jutting his cock into your gripping walls, you whimper out a sweet question of want. “can i touch myself, ‘toru?”

“let me think, baby.”

and you whine, a pouty expression marinating against your features as he’s got you pressed up against the mirror once more. gojo chuckles, clammy hands squeezing against your ass. “oh, you big baby. ‘m joking, go ‘head princess.”

as your fingers skid down your sopping pussy, it’s immediately coated with your slick. you whine, feeling his pace go faster before he groans. after a while, he’s just about there. gojo’s eyes remain fixated on your pretty rear — skin against skin clashing onto each other in such sync ‘n harmony.

his orgasm hits him like a truck. as a pretty translucent ring forms around his heavy cock, lust foils at his brain. “hah, fuck, pretty. such a mess, arch more for me, good girl. good fuckin’ girl.”

with the way he’s praising you continuously, you felt the constant twitches of your pussy cling onto his length. as your limbs were shaky ‘n on their final concluding hinges, you grow quiet at the feeling of him dumping in yet another sweet sticky load of cum. in the process — he coats the fabric of your panties with his mess, luxuriating in how sloppy you looked.

everything feels so slow - it’s probably been hours.

the current song that’s playing on the speakers, you’ve heard that same chorus for at least three times now.

it’s so warm inside, the flushed left temple of your cheek sticks against the mirror as you’re pressed right up against it. “f- fuck.” you wheeze out, allowing him to pump you full of creamy, velvety loads. he groans, throwing his head back and letting off a deep exhale. pretty lashes of his flutter shut as he’s staring openly at the way your cunt swallows its favorite bittersweet meal. with his mushroom tip still thrashing against the bulb of your sensitive clit, he gradually pulls out.

gojo’s eyes remain at your backside — gazing at the way he’s overflowed you with ropes ‘n ropes of hot wads of cum.

he licks his lips, staring in awe at how it dribbles down your thighs so effortlessly. it’s so messy,

a thumb of his swipes down the inner crevices of your thighs, getting a taste of it himself. “such a pretty girl,” he huffs, bringing the same thumb up to his lips to get a good enough taste. with the honeyed concoction of both flavors, he hums in contentment. “awww,” he stands up, taking in your dumbed down state. you were still panting, cum dripping out of your swollen hole.

you’ve still got a brief portion of your fist in your mouth - trying to suppress your sweet noises, split knuckles tickling against your tongue. “cute. c’mere, princess.”

you shudder, feeling him reposition your panties whilst pulling up your frilled skirt. with a teasing smile, he kisses your forehead, giving the fat of your ass one more squeeze. “you did so good,” and once he’s making sure you’re okay, with glossed eyes—you leer as he drags his slacks back up, zipping up his fly. as you gawk, gojo looks so handsome. ruffled white strands all over the place and his once professional dress shirt was now all unbuttoned ‘n scruffy. “hm,” he catches you staring, and he strokes the bottom of your chin. “you look hungry for more,” and his voice gets a bit low, he pressed a soft kiss against your lips, watching as you pout once he devastatingly pulls away. “happy birthday baby.”

“t- thank you, ‘toru,” you speak, trying to catch your breath. abruptly, you’re suddenly being lifted up by him, bridal style. a gasp wrenches out of you before you involuntary hurl your feeble, numb arms over his tense shoulders. he smells so good, you sink your face into the collar of his tux, feeling his body rumble from a chuckle.

“welcome,” and he unlocks the dressing room, walking out with you in nowhere but his warms. glancing at you, he whispers in a sweet low tone. “let’s get you outta here, hm? a nice warm bath ‘s waitin’ for ya at home. don’t want my baby’s limbs to be all sore.”

and as gojo’s carrying you and your bags with one arm supporting underneath you—he continues to make his way toward the front of the store.

he’s met with a few eyes yet he could care less. all he cared about was you, his pretty princess.

you shift a bit in his arms, still feeling creamy remnants of his cum plug you full even while being protected by your panties and skirt. it sticks against the fabric and you couldn’t help but grow flustered, feeling your thighs glue ‘n stick together. as he’s just about to leave out the door, he’s interrupted by the loud sound of a beep.

it’s the anti-theft security alarm, and gojo groans once he’s stopped by one of the employees.

“sir, i think you forgot to pay.”

“oh right,” the white haired man rubs the back of his neck, gently placing you back down on your feet. you glance up at him and your forehead’s met with another one of his tender, sweet kisses. “stay put, baby.”

you nod, watching as his back turns. he trods toward the cashier, whipping out his black card that he had you use for the majority of the day. as he’s paying for your items, he apologizes for the inconvenience with the most faux unknowing expression. gojo leaves a big tip in advance before making his way back toward you.

his staggering height stands tall and he slings an arm over your shoulder. he grabs your bags, having you lean against him as you both finally make your way out of the store.

“c’mon, darlin,” gojo mutters in a low tone, guiding you out of the mall. he’s still holding you close, but he stops briefly to plant a kiss near the inside of your neck. “still not done makin’ a mess out of my messy baby girl.”

[sturnsluttz]

Let me~Chris Sturniolo ꣑ৎ

——————————————————————🪽

After a shitty day all you want is your boyfriend Chris who’s wants nothing more than to make you feel better, especially if that means softly fucking you till you can’t move.

WARNINGS: Soft dom Chris x sub fem reader, established relationship, smut, p in v, fingering, oral-fem receiving, slow sex, gentle Chris, slight overstimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it plz), aftercare

enjoy xx

You sat lazily across your bed, drained from an equally horrific morning, day at work and drive home. You had stained your last white work top, rushing out the door, been screamed at by your boss and when you thought the bad luck was over you nearly got rear ended on your way home.

As soon as you had arrived home all you wanted to do was cry your eyes out then call your boyfriend, Chris. You didn’t expect him to come over but you just wanted to hear his voice. Attempting to call and not cry you picked up the phone laying by your side, clicked his contact and it began ringing. You caught a faint glimpse of your reflection on the screen, Jesus, you looked rough. Quickly sniffing and wiping away the faint mascara stains off your face you recollected yourself before he answered.

“Hey ma” Chris talked through the phone enthusiastically, “Hey Chris” you responded, smiling to yourself at the goofy nickname. Chris sensed your dull tone immediately questioning if you were ok. “I had a really rough day, I didn’t mean to bother you, just wanted to hear your voice” you honestly admitted, “aww y/n I’m sorry, I’ll be right over, do you need anything while I’m omw?”

“Chris it’s ok you don’t have-“ you were cut off “No y/n tooo late, I’m leaving now” you giggled at his sassy response, “thanks” you huffed, “course ma”.

It wasn’t long before you heard a knock on your front door, you were too physically drained…and comfy to get up and open the door so you texted Chris to let himself up, but by the sounds of it he was already doing just that.

A glint of light hit you as your door was slowly cracked open. Standing there was Chris, with a sympathetic smile on his face, “hey y/n”. You didn’t know why, you were happy he was here but you began to feel that hot burning sensation in your eyes as a tear dripped down your now lowered face. “Shh sh it’s ok, I’m here” Chris spoke dropping his bag (presumably to stay the night) at the door and rushing to wrap his arms around you. He sat cradling you as you cried pathetically into his chest, squeezing him tight.

Chris held your shoulders lightly prying you away from him so he could see your face. You dropped your head to look at your twiddling thumbs, not wanting him to see you in such a state. “Hey baby, look at me” Chris spoke, lifting you head to look at him. You sniffled not even wanting to imagine how horrific you looked right now. “There’s my girl” Chris responded smiling at you, wiping away your tears and dripping snot shamelessly.

“Can you let me look after you ma?” Chris spoke softly, you nodded confused on what that ment but grateful nonetheless. He moved carefully from your comforting side, directing you to lay down. He adjusted around you comfortably laying next to you, drawing circles on your arm with his finger. Before you nearly nodded off to sleep at the calming sensation you felt a hand tap your hip, your gaze shooting down to meet his, “Can I take these off and make you feel good baby?” Chris said gesturing to your shorts with his eyes. You nodded back at him, helping him pull them down as he threw them lightly to the floor.

Chris stared in awe at your pink lace panties, toying with the waistband he glanced at you for permission and with a nod of your head they joined the pile on the floor. “So pretty” Chris praised, lowering himself between your legs, opening them. Your breath hitched at his new position squeezing your legs back together “it’s ok baby, let me see how wet you are for me”, you felt Chris’s breath on your thighs as he spoke sent light shivers up your spine. “Relax y/n, let me make you feel good” Chris whispered, reverting your legs back to their previous open position.

“Please” you muttered, your cheeks turning a dark shade of red, snapping Chris out of his admiration trance. “Of course baby” he responded placing a hand on your thigh. Chris inched closer to your heat, without warning placing a small kitten lick across your folds “mhm Chris” you whimpered at his touch somehow already sensitive. “I know baby, I know” Chris continued, licking up and down your slick, stopping to give a gentle kiss to your clit. He paused before carefully running a finger against your cunt “can I” he questioned before going any further. “Mm yes” you panted out, desperate for more of his touch.

Chris knew the control he had over you, he knew he could rail you to pieces if he wanted too. But he didn’t, he cared. All Chris wanted in that very moment was to take care of you. You felt his finger delicately enter you, your back arching him further into you. Strangled whimpers left your mouth as he began to pump his finger in and out of you. “Mfm-fuck—Chris” you moaned as he moved, “Mmore—please” you muttered. Granting your wish he added a second finger, his angel blue eyes locked on your contorted face as he continued pumping into you.

“Mm-Chris—Ddont stop” you chocked out, “I’m close”. His free hand lay holding your waist, the other still thrusting into your dripping pussy. “I won’t baby” Chris answered, and without slowing the pace of his fingers his tounge joined his fingers licking circles around your clit. Sweat beaded at your forehead as you felt your orgasm burn inside you, and without warning the knot snapped with a loud moan. Chris slowed his movements helping you ride out your high. Detaching his tongue from your swollen clit.

His face moved to meet yours, slowly pulling his fingers out of you in the process. His hands moved to hold either side of your face, kissing your lips. You could feel your own cum still on his fingers as they moved back down to reach under your shirt, squeezing your tits lightly. “Chris, I” you began “yeah” he replied, his eyes never leaving your face as he continued caressing your boobs. “I want you—“ you paused, “inside of me, not just your fingers” a light grin crept across his face as you spoke, “are u sure ma? I don’t wanna overstimulate you” he responded, care in every word. “I-im sure, I need you” you continued, your stomach fluttering with embarrassment.

Only second had passed before Chris’s pants and boxers grew the pile of the floor. He held himself over you while he pumped his length in his hand. Warm precum dripped onto your stomach before you felt his tip graze against your puffy folds. “You ready sweetheart?” Chris questioned, you nodded frantically as a reply, feeling his tip push into you. Your hands shot up to hold his waist for support, your nails digging into his soft pail skin “Mhmp—sorry” you apologised as the little red indents you left became visible “don’t be, I’ve got you” Chris whispered back. You felt his dick sink further into you, your insides stinging as you adjusted to him. “I’m halfway baby, you talk to me—tell me when you want more” Chris assured, so careful not to hurt you, “now” you exhaled while giving a light nod.

Chris finally bottomed out, his tip kissing your cervix “tell me when I can move baby” Chris says holding painfully still as his dick throbbed inside you. “Mfmm-uh-n—now” you whimpered back to him. Chris granted your wish as he began carefully thrusting in and out of you.

It wasn’t long before your pussy started to ache from overstimulation. Your previous organs hit you so fast and Chris’s dick was already inside you giving you no time to recover. You squirmed under him, his thrusts slowly rocking you back and forth. His speed picked up likely to chase his own orgasm, “C-Chris—mhm-sensitive rem-member” you reminded “sorry baby” his hips immediately slowed “your pussy just-uh-squezin me so—t-tight”

His thrusts continued at a much slower pace as your orgasm began to rebuild. Your pussy aching around him. “Mm-im c-close” you moaned. “Let it out gorgeous” Chris responded, and with that your orgasm hit you with a painfully guttural moan. A tear ran down your cheek as you tried to recover, Chris still thrusting deep inside of you.

“Mhmpf—C-Chris!” “T-too much” you cried, your thighs shaking from overstimulation. “I know ma-I-im sorry” Chris moaned into the crook of your neck, making your brain go fuzzy. “I’m so c-close I promise” he continued, you only whimpered in response before your insides were filled with that warm sticky sensation.

Chris panted loudly, trying to regain his composure “im so sorry baby” he spoke, his dick still holding his release inside of you. “You ok?” He asked, obviously concerned, you nodded tiredly in response as he let out a sigh of relief.

He pulled out of you, making you wince from overstimulation-him immediately apologising. The white liquid began to leak from your pussy onto your bed, “shit sorry ma, I’ll clean that up” Chris spoke. He stood up from the bed pulling his sweats back on, leaving to go get a towel.

A minute or two passed before Chris was back, with a wash cloth in hand. You attempted to get up but the shake in your now jelly legs prevented you. “Here, I gotcha” Chris chuckled, picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom. He sat you carefully on the edge of the cold bench, wetting the cloth with warm water. Chris leaned between your legs, your core still throbbing “im just gonna clean you up baby, I’ll be gentle” he spoke softly. You felt him wipe your thigh lightly, you shivering at his touch “too cold?” He questioned “no-it’s fine, thank you Chris” you assured him as he continued to clean you up.

You returned to your spot in his arms as he carried you back to your room, dressing you in your favourite pjs. “Chris why is there a white stain on my favourite sheets” you questioned looking at your bed, “whoops” Chris replied, a guilty look painted on his face which made you laugh. “This what happens when I let you look after me? You giggled at him, “maybe” he replied.

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LMK IF YALL LIKE THISSSSSS-it’s also not proofread so sorry if there are any mistakes😚😚

-ari xx

[florawrites-blog]

Here for each other - enhypen

-Having each other backs at hardships

#beliftletenhypenrest

I got to carried away and made this long but oh well

Lee heeseung - 이희승

There for him

Heeseung’s schedule had been relentless lately, filled with nonstop trips to events, concerts, and promotions. You could see the toll it was taking on him, even through the screen of your phone during your late-night chats. At first, you both tried to keep up with the conversations, but as time went on, it became harder for him to focus on anything other than his work. He was exhausted, and you understood. You knew what you signed up for when you started dating him, so you never complained, even though you missed him terribly.

It had been days since you last heard from him when, late one night, you were startled awake by the sound of your bedroom door quietly creaking open. You turned over in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and saw a familiar figure entering your room. It was Heeseung.

He looked exhausted, far more than you’d ever seen him before. His eyes were shut tightly, his lips slightly parted as he made his way to your bed and collapsed next to you. It was so unlike him to show up unannounced, especially at your parents’ house, but it seemed like he didn’t care. He just needed to be with you.

You were startled by his sudden appearance, but when you saw the soft tears slipping from the corners of his closed eyes, your heart broke. Heeseung wasn’t one to cry, especially not in front of others, and seeing him like this shattered you.

You reached out, gently whispering his name, “Heeseung?” But he didn’t respond. He was completely passed out, too drained to even notice he was crying in his sleep.

You knew better than to wake him. Instead, you carefully began taking care of him, hoping to ease some of the burdens he carried. You started by slipping off his shoes, wincing at the sight of the dark circles under his eyes and the tension in his face. Next, you wiped away the tears on his cheeks with the sleeve of your shirt, gently brushing your fingers over his skin.

Heeseung’s breathing slowly began to even out, but the worry on his face remained. You removed his jacket, peeling it off his tired frame with as much care as you could manage. With each piece of clothing you removed, his body seemed to relax just a little more, the lines of stress gradually fading from his features.

Finally, when he looked more at peace, you took his face in your hands and guided it to rest in the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, and you could feel the exhaustion radiating off of him.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, murmuring softly, “It’s okay, Heeseung. I’m here. Just rest.”

As if hearing your words in his sleep, Heeseung’s body seemed to melt against yours. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, holding you close as he finally found some semblance of comfort.

You stayed like that for what felt like hours, holding him and whispering soothing words into his hair. The weight of his stress was palpable, but knowing you could provide him with a small moment of peace was enough.

Eventually, you drifted off to sleep as well, your hands still tangled in his hair, and your heart heavy with love and worry. You knew this wouldn’t be easy, but as long as you had moments like these, you were willing to endure it all for him.

Here for you

The room felt suffocating, the once cozy space now overwhelmed by the chaos of packing. Boxes were scattered everywhere, and clothes were piled high, waiting to be folded and placed away. You were supposed to be packing, but instead, you found yourself lying in the middle of the mess, the weight of the world pressing down on your chest. The thought of leaving your parents' house, the place where you’d grown up, where every corner held a memory, was too much to bear. It was like a part of you was being left behind, and the realization made your heart ache.

You lay there, eyes shut tightly, trying to calm the storm of thoughts in your mind. Inhaling deeply, you could almost smell the scent of your mom’s cooking drifting up from the kitchen, and the faint sound of your dad’s laughter echoed in your ears. Memories of every moment spent in this room, from your childhood to now, flashed before your eyes. The sleepovers, the late-night talks, the tears, the laughter—it all played like a movie in your head, making it even harder to let go.

Just as the emotions began to overwhelm you, you heard the door quietly creak open. Heeseung stepped into the room, his eyes immediately finding you lying amidst the pile of clothes. His heart clenched at the sight of you, looking so small and lost in the chaos. Without a word, he walked over and lay down beside you, his presence comforting and familiar.

You didn’t move, not even when he reached for your hand. Heeseung held it gently, bringing it close to his lips as he pressed soft, reassuring kisses to your knuckles. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you kept them shut, afraid that if you opened them, the tears would spill over. Heeseung didn’t push you to talk. Instead, he continued to hold your hand, his thumb gently rubbing circles on the back of it, grounding you in the moment.

“It’s a big change,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. “But you’re not alone. You’re strong, and you’ve got so many people who love you, who are here for you. And it’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed.”

His words were like a balm to your aching heart, easing the tightness in your chest. You turned your head slightly, finally opening your eyes to look at him. His face was so close, his eyes filled with understanding and love. Heeseung leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual.

“We’re going to get through this together,” he promised, his breath warm against your skin. “You don’t have to do it all at once. Just take it one step at a time, and when it gets too much, I’ll be right here, okay?”

You nodded slightly, feeling the first real sense of relief you’d had all day. Without thinking, you shifted closer to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent. Heeseung wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as if he could shield you from the worries that plagued your mind.

For a long time, neither of you moved. The world outside your room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a moment of quiet comfort. You wished you could freeze this scene, to hold onto the feeling of safety and love that Heeseung gave you. It was a moment you wanted to save in your mind, to return to whenever the weight of the world felt too heavy.

Eventually, the stress that had been suffocating you began to lift, replaced by a calm that only Heeseung could bring. You knew that the journey ahead wouldn’t be easy, but with him by your side, you felt like you could face anything.

And as you lay there, snuggled up together amidst the chaos, you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

Park jongseong - 박종성

There for him

Jay had always been the rock, the strong one, the one who everyone leaned on. He carried the weight of his responsibilities with a steady hand, always projecting confidence and control. But lately, that weight had become unbearable. His packed schedule, the constant pressure, the never-ending demands of his job as an artist—it all began to chip away at the armor he’d carefully constructed.

You knew something was wrong. You saw it in the way he moved, in the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. But Jay was stubborn, and he hated feeling weak. He refused to admit that anything was wrong, refused to show any cracks in his facade. So, you gave him space, hoping that he would come to you when he was ready. But days passed, and he still didn’t open up, not even once.

Then, one evening, you received a text from Jungwon. Jay’s been isolating himself. I’m worried about him. That was all it took for you to know that you had to step in. Jay might not ask for help, but you weren’t going to let him drown in his own struggles.

You quickly made your way to the dorm, your heart heavy with worry. When you arrived, you knocked softly on Jay’s door, waiting for a response. There was none. The silence was thick, almost suffocating. Slowly, you opened the door, your eyes immediately landing on Jay, sitting on the cold floor. His head was bowed, his hands clutched around something familiar—his guitar. But it was broken, the neck snapped clean off, pieces of it scattered across the floor.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sight. Jay’s guitar was his prized possession, an extension of himself. Seeing it in pieces was a clear sign that he had reached his breaking point.

He looked up at you, his eyes red and tired. “I don’t know how it broke. I mean, I broke it, but I don’t know how I broke it,” he mumbled, his voice weak and shaky. He was trying to make sense of it, trying to find the words, but they came out disjointed, reflecting the chaos inside him.

You didn’t need him to explain. You didn’t need to hear the words to understand what he was feeling. It was written all over his face, in the way his shoulders slumped, in the emptiness in his eyes. He was done. He had given all he could, and there was nothing left.

Without a word, you crossed the room and sat down beside him on the floor. The coldness of the floor seeped through your clothes, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was Jay. You reached out, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close. At first, he stiffened, resisting the comfort you were offering, but you held on, refusing to let go.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice steady and soothing. “You don’t have to do this alone, Jay. I’m here.”

He didn’t respond right away, his body still tense against yours. But slowly, you felt him begin to give in, the walls he had built up starting to crumble. His hands, which had been clenched tightly around the broken pieces of his guitar, slowly released their grip. He let go of the shattered wood and instead, his fingers found their way to you, intertwining with your skin as if grounding himself in your presence.

And then, finally, he broke. The tears he had been holding back for so long started to fall, silent at first, then with deep, shuddering breaths. He buried his face in your shoulder, his body shaking as the emotions he had been suppressing came rushing out all at once.

You held him tighter, pressing your cheek against his hair, murmuring soft words of comfort. “You’re not alone, Jay. I’ve got you. It’s okay to let it out.”

For what felt like hours, you stayed like that, holding him as he released the pain, frustration, and exhaustion that had been eating away at him. You didn’t let go, not even when your legs began to cramp from sitting on the hard floor. None of that mattered. All that mattered was that Jay was finally letting you in, finally letting you see the parts of him he usually kept hidden.

Eventually, the sobs subsided, and Jay’s breathing began to even out. His grip on you loosened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into you, his head resting on your shoulder, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away.

You stroked his hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “I’m so proud of you, Jay,” you whispered. “You’ve been so strong for everyone else, but it’s okay to let someone be strong for you too.”

He didn’t say anything, but you felt the slight nod of his head against your shoulder. The weight of the world had been lifted, even if just a little, and you knew that from this moment on, you would be there to help him carry it.

Here for you

The past week had been nothing short of a nightmare. What was supposed to be a family reunion had turned into a harsh reminder of the disdain your father's side of the family held for your mother—and by extension, for you. The judgments, the shady comments, the pointed looks—it all left you feeling like you were drowning in a sea of resentment. You had always known there was tension, but the way they treated you, like you were an outsider, an unwelcome reminder of your father's defiance, broke something inside you. You loved your mom fiercely, but you couldn't shake the anger and frustration at how she had quietly endured all of it, how she had let them walk all over her and, by extension, you.

When you returned home, you couldn’t face anyone. Not your friends, not your boyfriend, not even yourself. The weight of the entire week settled on your shoulders like a heavy cloak, dragging you down into a pit of isolation. You shut yourself off from the world, not wanting to burden anyone with the pain you were feeling. After all, you had inherited that same trait from Jay—both of you carried your burdens alone, unwilling to share your sorrows with even the people closest to you.

But Nudsie, your best friend, knew you too well. She knew something was wrong, and when you wouldn’t talk to her, she called Jay, worry lacing her voice. Jay didn’t waste a second. He rushed over to your place, heart pounding in his chest, not knowing what to expect but fearing the worst.

When he arrived, the sight that greeted him made his heart drop into his stomach. You were sitting on the floor, barefoot, surrounded by shattered glass. The coffee table had been upended, and the broken pieces of a glass vase were scattered around you. You looked so small, so fragile, sitting there in the middle of the wreckage, your face streaked with tears and frustration. Jay’s breath caught in his throat. He could see the anguish in your eyes, the way your shoulders slumped under the weight of everything you’d been carrying.

Without a word, he moved quickly, his concern overriding everything else. He scooped you up from the floor, his arms strong and steady as he lifted you away from the mess. His heart ached at the sight of you, so defeated and broken. You didn’t resist, didn’t say a word. You just let him carry you, the exhaustion of the past week making it impossible to fight back.

Jay carried you to the couch, sitting down with you in his lap, cradling you as if you were made of glass yourself. He didn’t ask what happened; he didn’t need to. He knew you, knew your body language, knew the signs of someone who had been through hell and back. And he could see it in your eyes, the storm of emotions that you had been bottling up, the anger, the frustration, the hurt—all of it swirling inside you, threatening to consume you.

He held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, as if he could shield you from the world. His chin rested on top of your head, and he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent, grounding himself in the fact that you were here, with him. You melted into his embrace, the tension in your body slowly ebbing away as the dam you had built around your emotions finally broke.

The tears came then, silently at first, then in a rush of sobs that shook your whole body. Jay’s hold on you tightened, his hands gently rubbing your back, his voice murmuring soft words of comfort, even if they were more for him than for you. He hated seeing you like this, hated that you had gone through so much pain and that you had felt like you had to face it alone.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shirt, holding on as if he were the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. And in that moment, he was. He was your anchor, your safe harbor in the storm of emotions that had been threatening to drown you.

Jay didn’t let go, even as your sobs began to quiet down, even as your breathing slowed and the exhaustion finally took over. He stayed right there, holding you close, his cheek resting against your head, his heart breaking for you. He wished he could take away your pain, wished he could erase the hurt that your family had caused you. But all he could do was be there, holding you, loving you, letting you know that you weren’t alone.

And as you finally drifted off into a fitful sleep, your tears soaking into his shirt, Jay continued to hold you, vowing to himself that he would be your strength when you had none left. Because no matter what, he would always be there for you, just as you had always been there for him.

Sim jaeyun - 심재윤

There for him

The room was quiet, the soft hum of the night providing a peaceful background as you and Jake slept side by side. The weight of the day’s exhaustion had pulled you both into a deep sleep, but something pulled you back from your dreams. A faint sound—a soft, labored breath—disrupted the calm. You opened your eyes, blinking away the sleep, and turned toward Jake.

In the dim light, you saw him lying on his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His face was tight with strain, his eyes darting beneath his closed lids, his lips parted as he let out shallow, frantic breaths. Your heart sank as realization hit you—Jake was having another episode of sleep paralysis.

Ever since his schedule had gotten more intense, his body had struggled to adjust. He’d mentioned how weird it felt to sleep in a bed after spending so much time on flights, and now it seemed that rest was becoming a nightmare for him.

You moved closer to him, your hand gently resting on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath your palm. "Jake," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing. "It's okay, I'm here."

He didn’t respond, his body still caught in the grip of the paralysis, but you knew that somewhere deep in his mind, he could hear you. You kept your hand on his chest, a steady presence, and began to talk him through it.

"Breathe with me, Jake. Slow down… just focus on my voice." You spoke slowly, calmly, guiding him through the terror that you knew he was experiencing. "You're safe, love. Nothing can hurt you here. Just focus on your breathing."

You watched as his breaths started to slow, his chest rising and falling in a more measured rhythm. His eyes, though still closed, seemed to relax just a bit, the tension in his face easing ever so slightly.

"That's it, Jake. You're doing great. I'm right here with you. You’re safe, just let go… let your body relax."

Your voice was a gentle anchor, pulling him back from the edge. You kept talking, reassuring him, reminding him that he wasn’t alone, that you were there to protect him, to help him through it.

After what felt like an eternity, you saw him begin to stir, his fingers twitching slightly. His breathing slowed to a normal pace, and you felt the tension in his body release as he finally broke free from the paralysis.

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at you with a mix of confusion and fear. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, brushing his hair back from his damp brow. "It’s okay, Jake. You’re okay now."

Jake exhaled deeply, his voice shaky as he whispered, "Thank you… I hate this."

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "I know, love. But I'm here with you, always. You’re not going through this alone."

He nodded, burying his face in the crook of your neck, holding onto you like a lifeline. The fear that had gripped him slowly ebbed away, replaced by the comfort of your embrace.

As you lay there together, you kept whispering reassurances, your hand stroking his back in soothing circles. Eventually, you felt the tension leave his body completely, and he started to drift back to sleep, this time peacefully, with you by his side.

You stayed awake a little longer, holding him close, watching over him to make sure he stayed in a deep, restful sleep. The night resumed its quiet hum, and you knew that, no matter how many times he faced this, you would always be there to guide him back to safety.

Here for you

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that usually brought peace. But tonight, it felt suffocating. You had just drifted off to sleep, your mind heavy with worry. Your mom hadn’t answered your calls, and though you knew it was just the time zone difference, the anxiety gnawed at you. You missed her voice, the comfort of knowing she was okay. But exhaustion finally won, and you let yourself fall into slumber.

The dream started innocently enough—a familiar scene from your childhood, a memory of a day at the park. But as dreams often do, it twisted, darkening around the edges until it became something else entirely. The park faded, replaced by shadows and a growing sense of dread. You found yourself standing alone in a cold, empty space, searching desperately for something—someone. And then you saw it: the horrifying image of losing your mom, the nightmare that had haunted you for so long.

You tried to wake up, to pull yourself out of it, but you couldn’t. The fear gripped you, sinking its claws into your mind, dragging you deeper into the nightmare. You were trapped, unable to escape the terrifying visions that flashed before you, each one worse than the last. It felt like hours, maybe days, that you were stuck there, reliving your worst fears over and over again.

Then, suddenly, you jolted awake, gasping for air, your heart pounding in your chest. But as soon as you opened your eyes, you realized you weren’t truly awake. You were still dreaming—stuck in a nightmare within a nightmare. Panic set in, your breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as you tried to figure out what was real and what wasn’t.

That’s when you felt it—a warm hand on your arm, gently shaking you, pulling you out of the darkness. “Y/n, wake up. It’s just a dream, love. You’re safe.”

Jake’s voice cut through the terror, a lifeline in the chaos. You blinked rapidly, trying to focus, to ground yourself in the reality of his presence. Slowly, the nightmare faded, and you realized you were in your bed, in Jake’s arms. His eyes were filled with concern as he looked down at you, his hand still holding yours tightly.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “You’re okay now. I’m here.”

You didn’t say anything at first, just clung to him, your body trembling with the remnants of fear. Jake wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back. “It’s okay,” he repeated, “It’s just a dream.”

But it wasn’t just a dream. It was the same nightmare that had haunted you for so long, the one you couldn’t seem to escape. And now it had come back, stronger than ever. You buried your face in his chest, tears welling up in your eyes. “I-I can’t stop thinking about it,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I’m so scared, Jake. What if something happens to her?”

Jake held you tighter, his hand stroking your hair. “Nothing’s going to happen to her, love. She’s safe, just like you are. And even if she doesn’t answer right away, it’s just because of the time zones. She’s probably asleep.”

You nodded, trying to believe his words, but the fear was still there, lingering at the edges of your mind. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I know it’s silly. Everyone says I overreact, but…”

Jake pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression serious. “It’s not silly,” he said firmly. “Your feelings are valid, baby. I’m here for you, no matter what. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

His words broke through the fear, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you. He understood—truly understood—and he didn’t judge you for it. You nodded again, this time more confidently, and leaned into his embrace.

Jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his voice soft. “We’ll get through this together, okay? You’re not alone.”

With his arms around you, the fear began to fade, replaced by a sense of safety and comfort. You closed your eyes, this time knowing you were awake, and let yourself relax in his embrace. The nightmares might not go away, but with Jake by your side, you knew you could face them. And eventually, you drifted back to sleep, the warmth of his presence keeping the darkness at bay.

Park sunghoon - 박성훈

There for him

Sunghoon had always been the quiet, composed one. In front of others, he wore his strength like armor, keeping his emotions carefully guarded. But with you, all of that melted away. Tonight, after finally finishing the exhausting promotions for his latest comeback, he came home drained. He showered, trying to wash away the stress and fatigue, but the weight of everything still lingered.

He avoided you at first, not because he didn’t want to see you, but because he didn’t trust himself not to break down. He wasn’t planning on crying—he never did, or at least he tried not to. But when he finally saw you, standing there with that gentle, understanding look in your eyes, something in him crumbled.

He hesitated for a moment, shame flickering across his face. Then, almost in a whisper, he asked, “Would you please hold me, please?” His voice was small, like a child seeking comfort after a bad day, and it tugged at your heartstrings.

Without a second thought, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him. You didn’t care about anything else—just about being there for him. You pulled him down to your level, hugging him tightly. The moment your arms enveloped him, Sunghoon let out a shaky breath, as if he’d been holding it in for too long.

And then, without hesitation, he hugged you back, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The strong, silent Sunghoon that everyone knew was gone, replaced by the vulnerable side he only showed to you. His grip on you tightened, as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded, and you could feel the tension in his body slowly start to ease.

You didn’t say anything, knowing that words weren’t necessary. All he needed was to be held, to be reminded that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders by himself. So you stood there, holding him close, letting him take whatever comfort he needed from you.

As the minutes passed, you felt his breathing start to even out, the last of his walls crumbling away. He didn’t need to be strong all the time—not with you. And in that quiet moment, with nothing but the sound of your heartbeats filling the space, Sunghoon finally allowed himself to let go, knowing that you would always be there to catch him.

Here for you

After the long, grueling work trip, all you wanted was to avoid Sunghoon, knowing that if you saw him, you’d break down completely. The week had been overstimulating, pushing you to your limits, and you didn’t trust yourself to keep it together if you had to face him. You made it home and managed to dodge him, slipping into the bedroom as quietly as possible.

Just when you thought you’d succeeded, you heard Sunghoon’s voice coming from the entrance. The sound of it, so familiar and comforting, made your heart squeeze in your chest. You quickly scrambled onto the bed, pretending to be asleep, hoping he wouldn’t notice your trembling hands or the tightness in your chest.

“Y/N?” Sunghoon called softly, his voice closer now.

You heard him enter the room, the soft rustle of something in his hand. When you dared to peek through your lashes, you saw him standing there, holding a bouquet of flowers. The sight of them—a small, thoughtful gesture—was enough to send you over the edge. Your eyes welled up, tears spilling over before you could stop them.

Sunghoon noticed immediately. “Y/N…” he began, his voice laced with concern. You quickly shut your eyes again, pretending that the tears were merely a reaction to the flowers. But it was too late. The dam had broken, and your emotions were flooding out uncontrollably.

You tried to smile, to make it seem like you were just moved by the gesture, but Sunghoon knew you better than that. The two of you had taught each other a secret language, one that only you and he understood. He could read you like a book, and no amount of pretending could hide what you were truly feeling.

“This isn’t about the flowers, Y/N,” he said softly, kneeling beside the bed. “What is this about?”

His words were like a key turning in a lock, and without even thinking, you leapt into his arms. The force of your movement caught him off guard, and he stumbled, both of you tumbling onto the floor together. But he didn’t let go. He held onto you tightly, his arms wrapping around you as you clung to him.

“Hold me, Sunghoon,” you muttered, your voice breaking as the tears flowed freely now. “Please hold me.”

And he did. He held you as if his embrace could shield you from everything that had overwhelmed you during the past week. His hands gently stroked your back, his breath warm against your hair as he whispered soothing words, reassuring you that it was okay to let it all out.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the flowers, not the stressful week, not even the fact that you were both lying on the floor. All that mattered was that Sunghoon was there, holding you, grounding you, and reminding you that you didn’t have to face anything alone.

The tears eventually slowed, replaced by the comfort of his presence, and as you lay there in his arms, the weight you’d been carrying began to lift. Sunghoon had always been your safe place, and in his arms, you knew you could finally rest.

Kim sunoo - 김순우

Here for each other

Backstage, you were glued to the monitor, watching Sunoo's performance unfold on the screen. The stage lights danced around him, illuminating his every move, and the audience's cheers filled the air. Sunoo had always been a hard worker, never cutting corners when it came to his health or his performances. He made sure to eat well, sleep well, and practice tirelessly—all to give his best to his fans. You’d seen him put so much into this comeback, promoting his group’s second full album, and yet, through it all, he never lost his adorable, bright spirit.

As you watched him on stage, your emotions began to overwhelm you. The memories of all the nights he’d spent away, the countless hours he’d dedicated to his craft, and the sheer determination he carried with him—it all hit you at once. You felt so incredibly proud of him, so moved by his unwavering dedication. Your heart swelled with pride, but it also ached from missing him during those long stretches of time.

When Sunoo’s performance ended, he came backstage, having been informed by the managers that you were there. The moment he spotted you, your emotions spilled over, and you couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. Your eyes turned into a faucet, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to smile at him. Sunoo, always so in tune with your emotions, noticed your tears immediately. Instead of being worried, he flashed you the prettiest smile, one that made your heart skip a beat, but also made your tears fall even faster.

Seeing you cry like that made his own eyes well up. The tears that had been threatening to fall finally did, and as you rushed to hug him, he let himself cry too. Both of you sank to your knees, holding each other tightly, your tears mingling together as you found comfort in each other’s embrace. The other members, who had been watching from a distance, couldn’t help but laugh at how adorable the two of you looked, sitting there on the floor, crying like children.

But in that moment, it didn’t matter how you looked to anyone else. All that mattered was that Sunoo was there, that he was safe and sound after his performance, and that you could finally let out all the emotions you’d been holding in. You were proud of him beyond words, and he, in turn, felt the weight of your love and support. You both stayed like that for a while, letting your tears cleanse the emotions that had built up, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could face anything.

Yang jungwon - 양중원

Here for each other

Jungwon had always been the epitome of strength and resilience. As the leader of his group, he bore the weight of countless responsibilities with a smile, always putting his members and his work first. You, too, were a leader, balancing the demands of your own group, but Jungwon’s dedication went beyond that. He lived and breathed his job, pouring his whole life into it.

Lately, though, things had changed. Jungwon had asked for space, telling you he needed to focus. It hurt, but you understood. His love for you ran so deep that it scared him, making him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. That vulnerability was a distraction, one he couldn’t afford with the pressures of his role.

You hadn’t spoken in a while, each day dragging on with a heavy heart. Then, one day, in the middle of practice, Jungwon couldn’t take it anymore. Without a word to his members, he left, his mind only on you. The moment he arrived at your place, he didn’t give you a chance to ask what was wrong or even greet him. Instead, he kissed you—desperately, deeply, as if he was trying to pour all the emotions he’d been holding back into that kiss.

You could feel the intensity, the urgency in the way his lips moved against yours, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. He didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to break the connection. As you melted into his kiss, you tasted the saltiness of his tears. Your heart ached, realizing how much pain he’d been in, how much he’d been holding back.

You tried to pull back, to ask him what was wrong, but he refused to let go, pressing his lips harder against yours, his tears continuing to fall. It wasn’t about anything physical—he just needed you, needed to feel close to you, to have this moment where nothing else existed but the two of you.

Eventually, he had to pull back for air, his breath ragged, his eyes shut tightly as if he was trying to hold back more tears. Seeing him like this broke something in you. You started to scold him, your voice shaky with emotion, but before you could finish, you felt your own tears starting to fall. The weight of everything—the distance, the pressure, the love you both felt but couldn’t express—came crashing down on you.

And so, there you were, both breaking down, tears streaming down your faces. But amidst the pain and the overwhelming emotions, there was also a sense of relief. You were there for each other, holding on tightly, letting the tears flow freely. No words were needed; just the comfort of knowing that, despite everything, you had each other.

Ni- ki -남편

Here for each other

You were lying on your bed, tears streaming down your face as you watched Ni-ki’s latest video clip. The first clip played, and you couldn’t help but cry even harder, overwhelmed by how much he had changed since his debut. Ni-ki, who had just entered the room, noticed your tears and immediately rushed to your side, concern etched on his face. He glanced at the screen, realizing what you were watching, and chuckled softly.

"Why are you crying over this?" he asked, his voice gentle but amused.

Through your tears, you managed to give him a speech about how much he had grown. "You were such a baby duck back then, and now… now you're this emo puma. You've changed so much, Ni-ki. You've grown up so fast."

As you spoke, choking on your tears, you didn’t notice the way his expression changed, how his head lowered, and how his own tears began to fall. Ni-ki had been feeling out of touch with himself lately, the endless demands of his schedule making him feel disconnected. Seeing him cry, something so rare, broke your heart even more.

Without hesitation, you pulled him into your chest, holding him tightly as you both cried together. In that moment, the two of you found comfort in each other, sharing the weight of your emotions, and just being there for one another.

[gamemakerm]

In honor of Mermay and the current trend of Animal/Therian HRT going around (inspired by @ayviedoesthings's Dragon HRT series, @welldrawnfish's Fish HRT, @kaylasartwork's Bat HRT, @nyxisart's Puppy HRT, @deadeyedfae's Human HRT, etc etc etc, love all your work), I wanted to share the short story I wrote last year about medically turning yourself into a mermaid. This got published in WriteHive's Reclaiming Joy anthology, and we're now just outside of the six-month publishing exclusivity, so I can make it publicly available.

This was really raw to write for me, and there are trigger warnings for transphobia(/whatever the equivalent would be for mermaids?), implications of violence and hate crimes. However all the stories in the anthology were ultimately about perseverance, courage and love. I hope you enjoy, and if you want to get this and eleven other uplifting stories I can't recommend the anthology enough (though this is the only one relevant to the tags as far as I know). And if you really, really like it, you can buy me a kofi!

Scales

When the scales began to break through skin, they said you were becoming a monster. Blue and green, seafoam to pearl. You weren’t certain at what point you started to believe them.

You began to wrap yourself in tighter layers, a futile effort not to draw attention to the rough patches. Elbows, knees, along your arms, mottled with foundation and concealer caked on like spackle. Toner to offset the iridescent shine so that a passing glance wouldn’t be drawn to it. Constant checks and double checks, bathroom visits far beyond the routine. 

Your careful camouflage is usually enough to deflect scrutiny, but occasionally a stranger catches on. Nobody has said anything to you yet, but you have noticed more glances on the train. The old woman’s frown of disapproval. The young man with something to prove to you, himself, the world. His jaw tightens as he calculates his ability to start something. You tuck your chin and pretend to be busy with your phone. In the dark screen you can see the skin flaking on your cheeks. The beginnings of another patch betray you.

As you touch up in the bathroom mirror you tell yourself you wanted this, that you were prepared for the hardships. 

You walk to the public library after your shift ends. You walk most places these days, telling yourself it’s a last hurrah. The fact is you sold your car to make a dent in the cost. You’ll sell everything eventually. You’re going to have to. 

The forums have a list of books everyone checks out when they choose this path. There aren’t many and most are fantasy. There’s a running joke: if anyone mentions Hans Christen Anderson, run. You spot The Little Mermaid on a small display. You don’t run. You check out your books. The librarian gives a knowing nod, but doesn’t remark. You silently thank her for the discretion.

You take a long shower, makeup swirling down the drain. You can’t help but scratch at the itching patches on your thighs, peeling skin tearing away for new growth. Shampoo and blood circle under your feet. Your fingernails are sharper than they were this morning. You exfoliate, letting the city, public transit, the glances of strangers be cleansed. Your reflection in the mirror, a colorful smattering of new scales dusting your cheeks, is tear-streaked, ethereal. Beautiful.

You knock the concealer into the trash bin.

Your mother left a voicemail. She avoids the elephant seal in the room, talking about her gardening, your cousin’s new baby. She lingers for a moment, then: You’re being selfish. She burns brightly as a beratement begins, emboldened. But without someone to riff with she loses her steam, trails off and repeats it. You’re being shellfish. She can’t help it; she laughs despite herself. There’s a minute where she doesn’t speak, but you can tell she’s waiting for the sob in the back of her throat to settle. She promises she’ll come to your party and the voicemail ends.

You still haven’t heard from your father. You don’t expect you will. You’ve made peace with that.

You do your weekly injection on the alternating leg, needle piercing deep in a gap between scales. The plunger delivers 200mg of concentrated hope directly into your bloodstream, salt water in salt water. You put a hello kitty bandaid over it and wait for the feeling of ice in your veins to settle, the tension to go out of your muscles. It doesn’t.

You pass an enraged man on the street, spit flying, a home-made sandwich board making his message clear: The Siren Is The Devil’s Agent. The back offers an equally cogent argument: Go Back To Atlantis, Fish Freaks. You would if you could, you think dryly. He notices you and seethes, but the current of the crowd carries you away before he can curse you out.

You drag your potted plants down to the front stoop and post a craigslist ad: free to a good home. They’re gone within the hour. You allow yourself the rare indulgence of posting a selfie, eyes closed, serene, to the reddit: Learning to love my scales <3! It’s still difficult to type on your phone with the new claws. The upvotes start to come in; everyone loves a guppie.

You catch up on the shows you haven’t gotten to yet. Where there was once only the metaphorical List, there is now an actual list. Despite your best efforts it’s becoming increasingly clear you’re not going to finish all of them. You knock a few off, restructure it based on length. It still looks too long.

You have dreams about choking on toxic waste, getting minced by a boat propeller. You keep a running count of the number of times you’ve dreamt of getting your head stuck in a six-pack of soda rings. You’re up to four. 

Every few days you do laps in the local pool. You’re getting faster, but you feel exposed. There are whispers around the locker room. 

Your cat knows something is happening, but doesn’t understand what that means for her. You hold her whenever and for as long as she’ll allow, give her as many pets and treats as she wants. Despite clearing out your apartment you’ve spoiled her. She licks the scales on your cheek as you cry over her. This seems to inspire something in her; she demands her tuna crunchies. Dutifully you give her the tuna crunchies. She can have as many tuna crunchies as she wants.

You doomscroll your twitter feed, making sure this isn’t the day you lose access to your meds because of some white man in a suit. A sister is assaulted by a violent extremist with a sense of humor: he shot her with a harpoon gun. Her crowdfunding campaign starts on the maidens reddit and goes viral.

You triple check to make sure your friend is still willing to take your cat when you go. They promise to spoil her and tell her stories of you every day. You continue to cry over it. They invite you out for sushi to talk about it, then backtrack to ask if that’s a microaggression. You go to sushi. You’re thankful for the distraction.

By the time your legs are more scale than skin and your fingers begin to develop webbing you’ve given up on pretense. The looks are now constant, but you get reflective sunglasses and a new patch for your jacket: Don’t like it? Drown, with a scaled hand reaching out of water and flipping the bird. You put the energy out into the world, and the world doesn’t fuck with you.

Children love you. Their parents do not. 

On the train a young girl quietly asks if she can feel your scales. You allow her to touch her little fingers to the aquamarine pattern running up your arm, giving her your most reassuring (but still fanged) smile. She’s fearless, enamored, reverent. Her mother pulls her daughter away and hastily apologizes for her, not looking you in the eye. But you know that girl believes in magic now.

A group of white supremacists go out on a boat loaded with assault rifles for “no reason” and get lost at sea. This is somehow your fault.

The day your fins begin to push their way out from your arms, your boss calls you into his office. You both know he can’t fire you in this and seven other states, but you both also know you won’t be staying much longer. He’s done his best to make you aware you’re making his life more difficult. You put in your two weeks before he can flounder for another excuse. He moors you with paperwork for the rest of the afternoon.

Someone leaves a rotting fish in your pool locker. You don’t go back, and you don’t file a report. You tell yourself the chlorine was bad for the gills freshly forming under your ribs anyway.

Your friends take you out clubbing. You lose yourself under the waves of music, submerged under strobe lights and the salty sweat of dancing bodies. You whisper sweet nothings into a stranger’s ear, entrancing her as you move against each other. You can see iridescence shining around her eyes, shimmering glitter and an emerging pattern beneath makeup. You brush a thumb against her cheek and she melts into your touch. You don’t get her name. You don’t need to; you’re both not long for this world. You catch up with your friends smoking outside, your lips still tingling with vermouth.

Weeks pass. Work ends. Your apartment is down to furniture and cat supplies. You take longer showers. News stories continue to come out, the machine churns and roils: monsters walking among humans, the mark of the beast, sacrificing daughters to the ocean. 

You make sure your meds are reupped for the final stretch.

When your legs start to merge you know you don’t have much time left. You donate the last boxes of your clothes. Your friends get first dibs on furniture before it’s put on the street. They bring drinks and sit on your floor, an impromptu celebration and wake. They ask all the usual questions: what are you going to do for food? Shelter? What if you get hurt, or attacked by a shark? Do they have waterproof laptops yet? Will they ever see you again? What if it isn’t right for you? Can you ever come back?

You don’t know how to answer most of those questions. The group stays with you through the night. At 4AM you put on The Little Mermaid and the group drunkenly sings along. Everyone knows the words. It’s juvenile and you can hear the maidens on the reddit rolling their eyes and tutting about misrepresentation, but you know everyone in your position does it. You try not to cry, but the waterworks start and don’t stop.

At daybreak you put your cat into her harness and everyone piles into a friend’s van. It’s not far to the beach, but they take the long way around. One final tour of the land. Your cat sits on your lap and stares out the windows as you pass old haunts, your grocery store, your gym, your high school. You realize you still have library books to return and almost get them to turn around, but someone promises to go back for them afterwards.

There’s an isolated area on the beach where a canopy and tables are set up; banners, food, friends. It’s a regular going away party, as if you’re going on a short trip abroad. You suppose you are, in a way. Someone rented a wheelchair with fat tires to help you get down to the beach.

When your mother arrives she pulls her shirt off to show her custom-made clam bra. Her eyes are already red and puffy, but she’s doing her best to be energetic and upbeat. She holds you for a long time and says she’s happy for you, that you’re beautiful, that you’re so much stronger than she ever was, and then she puts on a brave face to help everyone get served at the buffet. Your cat chases small crabs across the beach around you, and you sit in the sand. The party goes strong.

The tides come up until your fin is tickled by the seafoam. Everyone knows that means it’s time to go. You pass your cat off to her new owner and she gives you a last headbutt. She seems to understand. You kiss your mother’s cheek one last time and she clings to you. The group raises their drinks as you paddle out, disappearing beneath the waves. You give them the money shot and leap out of the water on your way out of the sound, and you can hear cheering from the shoreline. You hope someone got a video for the maidens.

You keep the city in sight for a while, but the currents lead you further into open waters. There are boaters out on the water who wave to you. You wave back and keep swimming up the coast. 

At dusk you rise to the surface and watch the setting sun turn the horizon from blue to pink to purple and orange. There’s nothing for leagues around. As the sun sinks below the waves and the skies darken you sing your first real siren’s song. Shaky and imperfect, it soon resounds over the ocean breeze. You leave everything behind in it. There are no words, only feeling and sound. It’s a lament, an invocation, a dirge. It is many things, but it isn’t an apology. You have nothing to apologize for.

In the seas beyond a chorus joins in with a language you never learned but understand, integrating your song into theirs. You swim to join them.

[yoyomomiko]

AAAA we seriously need more Daisuke x reader fics (|||´Д｀)

May i request something fluffy for the boy? (-ε- )

Drift to Sleep

Pairings: Daisuke x F!reader (gender isn't mentioned)

Summary: You've been having trouble sleeping properly, maybe your boyfriend will help out with that.

Warnings: a bit cringe, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

(A/N): I'm sorry this is so short!!😔 Btw just to throw this out here I wish Jimbo didn't exist. -> m.list

You dragged your feet on the ground, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes as best as you could. Your eyelids drooped down, threatening to shut completely over your eyes and lead you to sleep.

You can't remember the last time you've had proper sleep ever since you stepped foot on the Tulpar. You've had trouble staying awake, yet you couldn't even take a nap.

You don't understand why you can't sleep for more than two hours. Seriously, you keep waking up in the middle of the night, either by nightmares or simply because fate has other plans for you.

At least you had Daisuke.

The way his smile would click something in your brain and instantly power you on, matching his energy. He could easily brighten up your day, even when you felt dull.

"Good morning!" Daisuke beamed, immediately grinning as he saw you entered the room.

"Morning..." You muttered, forcing yourself to smile back, barely managing.

"Not 'good'?" He tilted his head to the side, noticing your tired expression.

"If it was good I would be sleeping." You mumbled in a flat tone, taking a seat next to him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, genuinely concerned at the way you were so drained out.

"It's hard to sleep... I don't know why or how, I just can't." You explained, furrowing your brows. "I'm tired, but I just can't..." You added, gazing in front of you as you zoned out.

Daisuke only gave a head nod in response, smile faltering for a bit. He didn't like seeing you in such a state, he just had to figure out how to make you feel better.

"Maybe you can get Anya to check on you." He suggested, gently wrapping an arm around your waist loosely to keep you closer to him.

"It's not worth it... I'll just waste her time." You replied, closing your eyes but to no avail. You knew you had work to do, had to force yourself to stand up and do your chores. It was just so hard...

୨୧ • ★ • ୨୧ • ★ • ୨୧

You turned in your bed from side to side, forcing your eyes closed as you tried to control your breath and count sheep, hoping that you'd fall asleep that way.

You tried every sleeping method you could think of, but none of them have worked so far. You figured out you could just give up and walk circles around your room to exhaust yourself even more.

Just then, you heard a soft click, and then a creak coming from the door. Light came in through the crack, revealing Daisuke's smiling face.

"Daisuke? What's wrong?" You asked in a hushed tone, sitting up on your elbows to look at him. You squinted your eyes due to the blinding light as Daisuke made his way into your room and shut the door silently.

"I can't sleep either." He shrugged with a big, dorky grin on his lips. He started walking towards you with light steps, just so that he's not being too loud to alert any other crew member.

"So... Why not try to fall asleep together?" He suggested, silently making his way over in your bed as it shifted under his weight.

You chuckled at him, watching as he layed down with open arms, waiting for you to throw yourself into him so he can cuddle with you.

You shook your head, pulling the blanket over the two of you as you placed your head on his chest, throwing one of your legs over him as his arm wrapped loosely around you.

His body was so warm, the embrace you two were in felt heavenly, and you certainly didn't want to pull away from it.

You felt your eyes close themselves, feeling Daisuke's chest rise up and down from his soft breathing.

You could hear the way his heartbeat was increasing, his hand gently rubbing circles on your back while you were slowly drifting to sleep under his touch.

If you knew it was this easy, you would've done this from the start.

★yoyomiko ★miko

[concreteangel92]

Acting up

Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

18+

Warnings: spanking, clit spanking, dom/sub relationship, oral (m&f receiving) PiV sex, over simulation, aftercare of course

A/N: so I got this idea into my head last week and just had to bring it to life!

Apart from the small writing I uploaded the other day, this is my first proper one shot and deffo the first smut I’ve done in about 7/8 years so I felt incredibly rusty and have prayed that this turned out ok haha I’ve re-read and changed things so many times in the last week 😂 but after finally feeling more or less happy with it, here we are and I hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist

You knew you were in trouble, you’d been winding Noah up all day at an important work event.

Noah hadn’t long been home from yet another tour, but he’d hardly paid you any attention over the last couple days, he was either sleeping or working in his studio and although you love and support everything he does and you understood work has to come first sometimes, you were feeling incredibly needy now.

So you started off small, you wore a dress that left little the imagination. I’m talking bending over too far and everyone sees everything kind of dress to which Noah wasn’t impressed.

“You’re not wearing that to the event.”

“Yes I am.”

Noah’s eyes locked with yours and he had an irritated expression on his face.

“No, you’re not! I’m not having every persons eyes on my girls ass all night because she can’t be bothered to dress appropriately. The car is already outside, I’ll meet you in there. Go change, now.”

You turned away and headed to your shared bedroom with a small smirk on your face, he was too easy to wind up. Instead of changing the dress, you put a long coat over the dress to give the impression you’d changed and jumped into the car.

Noah, having been on his phone texting the whole journey, didn’t seem to notice anything until you arrived at the party, it was full of his management team, the rest of the band, friends, crew, you name it and they were there. Drinks were being served, music was blasting out and everyone appeared to be having a good time already.

You slipped your coat off when you walked into the main room, all eyes were immediately on you but Noah’s became dark.

“What did I say back at home?”

“Can’t remember to be honest”

Noah stood very close to you and put his hand firmly on your upper arm. “I need you to behave yourself tonight.”

All you heard in your mind was “test me more.”

You smiled up at him sweetly, playing the innocent and said “I always behave baby, especially at such an important event.”

Noah gave you a firm look but relaxed his grip on your arm and he let his fall around your waist to guide you around while he mingled.

The night seemed to go well, Noah became a bit more relaxed and was enjoying himself and never strayed too far from your side, often you felt yourself leaning into him, his hand always rubbing small circles on your side absentmindedly. Noah wasn’t someone who displayed massive amounts of affection in public but he loved to always have you in touching distance. And he probably wanted to hide how short your dress was from prying eyes as best as he could.

You let Noah do his thing for a few hours before you started to become impatient, and you knew Noah better then anyone and knew he would be drained by now, he doesn’t do well in big crowds of people and avoids them unless he has to for work, so you decided it was time to start upping the game.

A few throw away comments or jokes at his expense is how it started, your particular favourite was when you offered to grab a drink for him and Jolly but only returned with two and you started to drink one yourself.

“Did you get my drink babe?”

“You have legs right? Do what comes after February….March”

Noah tensed next to you every time and then when you both walked over to both the Nick’s and Jolly who had excused themselves to the sofas, you knew it was time.

You said hello and sat yourself right next to Jolly and Folio which meant Noah had no choice but to sit with Nick opposite you on the other sofa, Noah looked a bit disappointed as there was room for both of you but that look didn’t last long.

After glancing around and making sure that Ruffilo wasn’t watching, you uncrossed your legs and opened them up just enough for Noah to realise that you hadn’t got any underwear on tonight. Noah’s face instantly hardened and he glared straight at you, you couldn’t help but smile and giggle quietly to yourself as you knew this was it, Noah would never let you get away with this, you could feel yourself growing wetter just at the thought of what he’s going to do when you’re alone.

Jolly turned to you after hearing your giggle and said “what’s got you giggling?”

You crossed your legs back over and replied with “oh….erm I was just thinking that if it rains tonight, I don’t have a hood or umbrella so I’d end up getting very wet tonight”

Jolly looked ever so slightly confused but commented back that he didn’t believe it was forecasted to rain. You looked back over to Noah with a smile and you watched as his jaw clenched and his eyes were dark, he gave a very menacing look in your direction at the comment you’d made, he suddenly cleared his throat and jumped up.

“On that note guys I’m not feeling very well, I think I’m going to call it a night now, come on y/n.”

Ruffilo looked concerned “you alright man?”

Noah didn’t take his eyes off you “bad headache”

You stood up and fixed your dress, you smiled at the guys and said goodbye, Noah made certain to pass you your coat and grabbed your hand very firmly and said under his breath “we’ll talk about this at home.”

The ride home was silent, Noah’s grip hasn’t left your hand, and although it was starting to hurt slightly, it was simply causing you to ache elsewhere. You knew Noah was extremely angry, you’d technically crossed a line and was playing up in front of his friends which he doesn’t like but you couldn’t help it, he looked very attractive to you right now.

Not a word was said until you both walked into your house, you went to turn around and then found yourself pinned up against the door with Noah’s hand wrapped around your throat.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What was what baby?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, you knew exactly what you were doing, you’ve been acting like a brat all day and at one of my work events, are fucking serious?”

You stared up at him with big eyes, between your thighs was already wet and his hand became just that bit tighter which made your breath hitch.

“I just wanted some attention off you for a change.”

Noah ran his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly.

“Is that so?”

Without any warning he stuck one of his fingers into you and your mouth fell open with a silent moan, head falling back onto the wall.

“You’re so wet for me baby, been thinking about this all day eh?”

“Ye-yes.”

“You want me to make you feel good?”

You nodded while he moved his finger slowly but then removed it, take a moment to clean it off with his mouth.

“Too bad, you think after your performance tonight that you can just get what you want? I don’t think so. Get up those stairs and into our room, only good girls get rewarded.”

Your brain felt fuzzy with excitement as you followed his orders, you went up to your room, Noah not far behind you closing the door and then he sat himself on the edge of the bed.

Noah then stretched his neck from one side to the other, as if preparing for what was about to happen and watching him do that, you practically came on the spot.

“Lay across my lap.”

You went to remove your dress but he stopped you

“Leave it on. You wanted to wear it so badly.”

You walked over to Noah and got comfortable across his lap and he pulled the dress up so he had complete access to you.

“Now for your punish today, I think 15 will do, count each hit and if you miss then we shall start again, understand?”

You nodded in response.

“Use your words angel”

“Yes I understand”

“Remember your safe word?”

Your heart swelled at that as he asks every time he knows he’s about to be rough.

“Yes I do”

“Good girl”

That phrase made your pussy throb, as much as you love being a brat, you also adored his praise.

Noah ran his hand over the back of your legs, he gently parted them slightly and saw the slick coating on the inside of your thighs. Your heart rate increase and you could feel yourself clenching around nothing.

“My dirty girl is looking forward to this huh?”

You were going to respond when out of nowhere he spanked you hard and you let out a deep groan.

“One”

He spanked you again, on the opposite cheek, making sure to keep his hand slightly cupped and not to go to high up so not to hit your lower back.

“Two”

“Are we starting to learn our lesson yet?”

You smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “No.”

“Very well”

Noah was then smacking your bare behind multiple times in a row and you done your best to keep up calling out the numbers with his fast pace, all while you could feel the beautiful stinging pain begin the more he spanked you.

“Ten!”

“That’s my good girl, you’re going a beautiful shade of red baby, shall we take it up a notch for the last 5?”

“Yes sir”

Noah hummed in approval of the name you used, the pain was coming through more now but Noah started to rub you down to soothe you. His hand pulled away briefly and you felt it be replaced with your leather paddle that you didn’t even realised he’d got out ready.

“5 hard smacks angel and then it’s over, you’re doing so good for me.”

You squeezed your thighs together more to try and get relief from the aching you felt, you prayed Noah would reward you soon.

He smacked the paddled down extra hard then he normally did and you cried out and called out “el..eleven!”

“You know what that was for, you get your reward when I say so.”

You nodded and moaned and your body jolted when he then continued the last 4 smacks on you.

“Fifteen!”

You relaxed down on his lap, your backside feeling hot to the touch and was no doubt bright red but you felt his soothing touch as he rubbed over his work for a minute.

Noah gently brought you up and gave you a soft kiss

“You took that so well baby, almost made me feel bad seeing how red you’ve gone, that will definitely bruise later.”

You leaned in and kissed him harder, now straddling his lap and feeling how hot your whole body was. You could feel his erection through his trousers and you started to grind yourself down until his hands stopped you.

“Oh no you don’t angel, we haven’t finished yet”

You stared at him and he brushed your hair out of your face.

“You may have taken your punishment but I don’t feel like I’ve had a proper apology yet”

“I’m sorry Noah…”

“On your knees.”

You dropped down onto your knees immediately, wanting nothing more than to please him however he wanted.

“Suck my cock baby and then maybe I’ll forgive you for acting up today in front of my friends, show me how sorry you are.”

He pulled his boxers and trousers down his hips and legs, just enough to give you access. You watched as his dick fell back onto his stomach, a small amount of precum already leaking out. You wasted no time and licked up his shaft before taking him completely in your mouth and hollowing out your cheeks

“F-fuck baby that’s it”

You grabbed his base with one of your hands while you bobbed your head up and down, no teasing tonight, you cupped his balls with your other hand and gently massaged them making Noah throw his head back letting out guttural growls that you’d normally only hear on the stage while his hand came to rest in your hair guiding you up and down on him.

Next thing you felt was Noah pulling you off him and he brought you in for a kiss, while lifting you onto the bed and pushing your thighs apart so he could rest between them.

“You really are so perfect for me angel”

Noah gave no warning before he dived straight in. A choked cry fell from your lips and he sucked onto your clit and parted your lips with his fingers, to then move down and push his tongue straight in for a taste. Noah was the type of guy who could be between your legs for hours, he was like a thirsty man in a dessert, and he was very smug that he was the first man to ever make your legs shake uncontrollably while eating you out, man is a munch for a reason.

You reached your hand down into his hair and pressed his face into you, trying to grind onto him as you felt yourself getting closer, Noah pulled back and slapped your clit which caused you to jump and moan out.

“Don’t forget your place tonight baby”

You nodded in response but clearly that wasn’t good enough as he delivered another spank down.

“Words”

“Yes Noah, I’ll be good I promise”

You were desperate to cum now, you’d been on the edge for ages and those last two spanks nearly sent you over but you had a feeling Noah wasn’t done with you yet.

Noah kissed your shaky thighs gently, he then gripped your hips down and went straight back in, his face being literally buried in your warmth and your hands are gripping the sheets beneath you while he groans against you, still licking and sucking all over you like you’re his last meal

You could feel your orgasm building up again, your thighs started to shake more and as Noah was sucking on your clit, you felt his fingers at your entrance. Your back arched as he pushed one in, your walls finally having something to hold onto, your cries getting louder and louder. Noah continued as he was, almost with no need for breath, his mouth and fingers working together while he grounded your hips down on the mattress.

“I’m so close Noah”

Noah then pulled away once more with a devilish smirk while you let a choked gasp.

“Have we learned our lesson yet princess?”

You had tears in your eyes, he couldn’t be serious, you were nearly there but Noah loved to edge you as a punishment, he loved to see you beg for him.

“Noah, please I’m so sorry, I won’t ever be a brat in front of your friends again. Please, please let me cum, I’ll be so good for you I promise!”

Noah leant forward, wiped a tear away that had slipped out and gave you a sweet kiss.

“Shhhhh it’s ok baby, I’ve gotcha you”

Noah ran his hands down your sides and settled himself back, he licked a big strip from your opening up to your clit and attached his mouth there while he pushed two fingers back in, Noah wasn’t playing this time, he relentlessly brought you back up to your high, legs shaking, back arching and tears forming in your eyes as you cried out

“Please don’t stop Noah”

And he doesn’t, the arm that’s been holding your hips down, he moves his hand onto your lower tummy and pushes down while he curls his fingers up inside and that’s all it takes for you to feel your orgasm wash over you with a scream.

He doesn’t pull away from you until you’re whining and crying from the overstimulation, you push his head away as the aftershocks are still shaking your body every few seconds and Noah crawls up from between your thighs with his face drenched in your juices. He held you while you came back around, placing small kisses around your collarbone.

“Colour?”

“Green, so green”

Noah let out a small laugh “ok baby, you ready for me?”

You could feel him hard against your thigh, you nodded and leaned up to him for a kiss which he returned. He pulls away and gently removes your dress up over your head and quickly removes the rest of his clothes.

“Turned around, ass up for me.”

You rolled onto your stomach and Noah helped positioned your hips up for him, he ran one hand over your cheek which was definitely sore now but that was forgotten when you felt his head at your entrance. Noah pushed in with no resistance and bottomed out straight away with a loud moan.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good”

Noah held onto your hips and then started a fast, unrelenting pace which caused you to cry out and push back into him. You swear you could feel his tip hitting your stomach with every thrust and Noah wasn’t shy about letting out his own growl’s and groans. You felt your walls closing on him again, your head pressing into the sheets as you called his name. You could only imagine how beautifully sinful he must have looked right now. Noah reached around and started rubbing your clit again.

“One more angel, give me one more, I know you can do it”

Practically screaming you felt yourself crash over the edge and Noah soon followed, his body coming down onto yours, both sweaty and breathless.

You felt Noah pull out gently and rolled you into him, he held onto you as you snuggled into him, your body sore but beautifully spent.

“You ok baby? I’ll be back in a minute ok?”

You nodded as you curled up on the bed, Noah came back in a few minutes later with a glass of water and a warm wash cloth. He gently cleaned you up in between your legs, made you drink some water and then got some cream out of the draw and he rolled you back over to gently rub it over the bruises that were already starting to appear.

You scrunched up your face a little bit, something Noah didn’t miss.

“You done so well for me tonight princess”

Noah got out a comfy t shirt for you and he put on a pair of sweats and then got you both under the covers.

“Is there anything else I can get you baby?”

“No, all I want is a cuddle”

Noah smiled “I think I can manage that”

You curled up into side and he wrapped his arms around you, you felt so warm and safe with him.

Thinking back to the last few hours you let out a small giggle.

“What’s funny?”

“I should play up in front of your friends more often.”

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 133 }

season's call.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ my beloved season calls me | because i always feel you in me. }

most people would cower in fear at the thought of walking alone in the middle of the night-

yet you could say with confidence that you were not one of those people.

despite being a young woman living in the midst of the big city like seoul, you found a strange safety while walking within the darkness of the night-

a comfort, even.

with your job requiring you to work many hours, it came as no surprise when you came home most days feeling completely drained. the exhaustion seeming to seep within your very bones as your drooping eyes could barely stay open the moment you came back to your apartment.

sometimes, your boyfriend was around, but most times, he would often be working. taking on his duties as the latest s-rank hunter and dominating various gates that appear across the city. but you would never worry too long about him, simply falling back in bed while re-reading his last message that was sent to you until your eyes could barely remain open.

my monarch 👑 [ you just go home and focus on resting. i'll be home soon, i love you. oh, and please, do dream of me. ]

those were the last words you recall reading until your cellphone slipped from your fingertips, ready to land against the hardwood floorings of your shared bedroom had it not been for a certain shadow gently catching it before placing the device on your nightstand.

it wasn't until several hours later that you finally woke up from your nap, which was what lead you to your current predicament.

being well past midnight, you felt groggy from your nap and became aware of the lack of sustenance felt within your system. after freshening up within your bathroom, you allow your eyes to stare blearily at your reflection. your hand touches at your cheeks, noticing the dark circles as you sigh and began to wash your face once more.

"my queen... are you alright?"

as you dry your face with the plush towel, you trail your eyes down towards your shadow, seeing several, glowing purple eyes looking back at you. normally, such a frightening sight would be enough to cause someone to feel an immense fear-

but not to you.

"i'm fine. since there's not much to eat here, i plan to buy something to eat for me and jinwoo at the convenience store. do you mind accompanying me?"

"of course, my queen. our king will be delighted with your decision."

with a smile painting your lips, you nod before grabbing your phone and bag, extracting your keys as you decided to explore the city and buy a late dinner for you and jinwoo to enjoy later on once he comes home. the city was bustling with activity, and you allow the sensation of the wind to course through you, humming a favorite tune as you walked with confidence across the sidewalks.

as you enjoy the sights of the city, you felt danger quickly approaching you. goosebumps were felt erupting all across the expanse of your arm as a low whistle was heard trailing from close behind you. you stiffen momentarily, but ultimately decide to stop walking.

you allow your eyes to follow the voice, seeing a man sneering at you as he came out from a random alleyway. your heart was felt racing slightly, summoning your flight or fight response-

yet your fear was short lived when several, tiny whispers were heard coming from your shadow.

"hey hey hey, what's the rush babygirl? you're lookin' a little lost."

the faint scent of alcohol was evident when you felt the man's calloused hands grabbing on to you. you had to fight back the repulsion that threatens to course through you, mustering the coldest look you could manage when you stiffly tell the drunkard, "i'm taken. my boyfriend will be livid if he sees you forcing yourself onto me."

he gives you a smirk now, his piercings glinting from beneath the moonlight while his hold on you seemed to tighten when he tells you.

"aw, don't be like that, babe. heheh, i bet you're just stiff because you need a good fuckin' to help with loosening you up, that's all."

he was about to get closer to you when he saw the wisps of shadows surrounding you. you close your eyes, already basking in amusement when you saw the panicked look within the bastard's eyes.

"w-what the hell? you a fucking hunter?"

no, but my boyfriend is one.

you keep your thoughts to yourself, allowing the cold shadows to surround you as you briefly wondered what shadow soldier would appear, ready to defend you with their life.

would it be igris? or beru?

"you." within mere seconds, you found your answer, gasping when jinwoo himself appears in front of you.

your knees were weak, feeling your heart began to pound when you were met with jinwoo's broad back. he keeps a powerful hand behind you, using his body as a shield between you and the poor bastard who dared to hit on you.

"a-a-ah..."

you hear the shakiness in his voice when jinwoo grabs a hold of his shirt, slamming the bastard against the harsh, brick wall of the alleyway with a click of his tongue. the bastard never stood a chance, losing his consciousness immediately as he slumps against the concrete.

jinwoo was breathing heavily when he finally faces you, eyes still glowing a bright purple when his shaky hands gently frame at your face.

"are you alright, sarang?" his voice was shaky, still assessing your features for any trace of fear or discomfort. "i'm sorry if i was a little late, but... when i saw that bastard coming on to you-"

he trembles, letting out a shaky sigh when you felt his hands clutching at your shoulders in a tighter manner. "i nearly lost myself to my rage, ready to rip that bastard into shreds if i had to."

finally snapping out of your reveries, you sigh and wrap your arms around jinwoo's neck, your embrace and the way your warmth seemed to surround him being enough to calm him down.

"i'm alright, jinwoo... i'm just so happy to see you again."

you laugh before pressing gentle kisses against his jawline, slowly calming down your beloved boyfriend as he basks in your presence. he lets out a sigh of your name before wrapping his arms around your back, resting his head against your shoulder while gently holding you in his arms.

"did you just finish your raid?"

you look at him with amusement in your eyes when he gives you a gentle nod against your shoulder.

"yeah, i'm done."

"then, let's get some dinner together, shall we?"

you feel jinwoo place a lingering kiss against your shoulders before moving away from you, the rage in his eyes finally dying down into a gentle simmer as you could see the clarity of his grey eyes once more.

"yes, let's go." he nods, with the two of you completely forgetting about the man who was foolish enough to hit on you, leaving his unconscious body near the alleyway he had came from.

and as you continue to explore the city while in the arms of your beloved shadow monarch, you knew that he was the sole reason you had no reason to fear the night-

for sung jinwoo would always be right by your side when danger struck, ready to protect you with all that he had.

a.n. - hhhhhh the jinwoo brainrot is real... please save me jinwoo, my daydreams for you can't seem to stop 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[ruewrote]

𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

PAIRING: stiles stilinski x fem!reader WARNINGS: none GENRE: FLUFF SONG INSPIRATION: can i call you tonight? by dayglow WORD COUNT: 479

navigation | ask | stiles stilinski masterlist

There weren't many moments like these anymore, the ones where you and stiles would see each other the majority of the school day and then you’d continue to facetime each other as soon as you got home.

Sometimes helping with homework, but most of the time you guys just yapped about anything and everything, what happened that day, what either one of you was looking forward to. A Lot of the talk was about what lego set you wanted to build together next.

Hours go by and you’re still on the phone, the talking slows down almost to a halt, now just existing in each other's presence. The silence was comforting, there was no such thing of a social battery when it came to stiles.

You’d often find it draining being around other people, your anxiety at an all time high whether that be with your other friends or strangers. It was strange, how you didn’t have to speak one word between the two of you and he already knew what you wanted or knew how you felt.

Like right now, the chaos had died down, you’re laid in bed, your phone propped up against a book on your bedside table, watching stiles type on his laptop. Either doing homework or playing a game. You watched sleepily as you snuggled into the pillow that was tucked under your chin.

Even after a week or two of not talking all that often you were finally able to really look at him. The circles underneath his eyes were a little bit darker, a tinge of worry spread through your chest as you continued to look over him.

His eyebrows lightly furrowed, biting his lip as he narrowed his eyes down at the screen, concentrating. That made you chuckle, grabbing his attention. His eyes flickered over to his own phone.

“What are you laughing at?” he jokes as he takes in your surroundings.

“Your face.”

“My face?”

“Mhm…”

“What’s wrong with my face?” he questions, self consciously rubbing one of cheeks.

“Nothing, just missed it.” his eyes soften at your words. A flash of guilt crosses his features.

“I missed you too, ya know.” 

You nod as you look away from your camera, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. Your attention is quickly back on your screen when you hear the sound of his shutting and the sound of his own sheets shuffling.

Minutes passed, not one of you talked, fighting sleep was becoming a struggle now, well that was until you heard him speak, “sleep, i'll still be here in the morning, i promise,” his words were as truthful as the last time that he spoke them, he was also finding it hard to keep his eyes open too.

“Goodnight…” your eyes flutter shut,

“Sweet dreams.”

Just as you fully fall into slumber you hear,

“I love you."

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[scary-grace]

the crying game - a shigaraki x f!reader oneshot

You gave up on love a long time ago, but you keep getting invited to weddings, and after eleven receptions spent at the single's table, you're almost at the end of your rope -- until first-time wedding guest Shigaraki Tomura asks you to show him how it's done. (5.7k words, modern AU, no quirks.)

This fic is for @arslansenkai, who saw my milestone post and requested the prompts ‘holding hands’ + ‘listening to the other’s heartbeat’ + ‘whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin’ from this list. Thank you so much for the prompt! I really enjoyed writing it and I swear all three of your prompts made it in here or there.

You hate weddings. You don’t remember when you started hating them, but you know why you started – right around the time when you realized that you’d never have another one of your own, that you’d always be attending someone else’s, and doing that all by yourself, too. Add in the cost of a new dress and new shoes (God forbid you wear the same thing twice in one year) and travel accommodations and a wedding present, and weddings become a big, expensive, depressing waste of a weekend. No matter how much you like the people who are getting married.

And you do like them, this time, even though they’re the twelfth couple from your department at Ultra, Inc. to get married in the last three years. Ochako and Himiko are the kind of couple who shouldn’t make sense, but somehow do – the kind of against-all-odds couple who’d make you believe in love if you didn’t know better. You were rooting for them, you’re glad they’re together, and getting their save-the-date still made you want to drown yourself in the toilet. You opted to drown in vodka instead. You need help.

You need help, and you’re going to get it. After this wedding. So you can figure out how to say no the next time you get an invite. Because out of all the indignities about going single to a wedding, getting stuck at the same table at the wedding reception as the other people who couldn’t snare a date is possibly the worst.

Most couples have at least a few single friends, but Himiko and Ochako are the last of their respective circles to couple up. Or almost-last. The singles table at their wedding included exactly five people at the start of the reception. You, an older woman named Magne, a guy your age whose place-card says Todoroki Touya but insisted that he goes by Dabi, another guy your age whose place-card says Takami Keigo but insisted you call him Hawks, and one more guy your age whose place-card says Shigaraki Tomura and who barely looked up when you introduced yourself.

It wasn’t the worst singles table you’d ever sat at, at the start. Then Magne bailed to sit with somebody she knew at a different table, and Dabi and Hawks hit it off and then snuck off to God knows where, and then it was just you and Shigaraki sitting at your table in the far back corner of the reception hall. That’s how it’s been for an hour, and the only interaction the two of you have had is when you’ve passed the table’s bottle of champagne back and forth, filling your glasses and then draining them out of sync. It’s depressing. After going to eleven weddings in two years, you can hang in there with the best of them, but you’re pretty sure you’re about to crack.

Your glass is empty, and when you reach for the bottle, you find that it’s empty, too. You want to get more, but you’re not going to look like a lush in front of your weird tablemate. “Hey,” you say, and Shigaraki looks up from the screen of his Switch. “This is empty. I’ll go get more if you want it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shigaraki says. You raise your eyebrows. “This will suck just as bad whether I’m wasted or not.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “But then you’ll be able to pretend it sucks because you’re wasted, not because you’re stuck at the singles table yet again.”

“Yet again? Sounds like you’re projecting,” Shigaraki says. You shrug. It would hurt more if you hadn’t heard the same thing from at least one person at the last three weddings you went to – usually towards the end of the reception, usually when everybody’s getting weepy and ridiculous. You’re ahead of schedule this time. “Sure. I’ll take more.”

Two tables over, a group of happy couples have abandoned their champagne bucket in favor of the dance floor – or the photo booth, or something. You swap your empty bottle for their full one and come back over, hoping Shigaraki will have gone back to his game and forgotten you existed. No such luck. He’s sitting up, watching you, as you sit down, fill your glass, and slide the bottle back across the table to Shigaraki. “Yet again,” he repeats. You down half your glass in a single swallow. “I’m only halfway through the first one of these stupid things I’ve been to and I’m already done. How many times have you put yourself through it?”

“Eleven,” you say. Shigaraki’s red eyes widen. “No, that’s just people from work. If I count friends from school, it’s, uh – sixteen.”

“If you’re this miserable, stop going.”

“Is that what you do?” you challenge. “When your friends invite you to celebrate the happiest day of their lives, you just don’t go?”

“My friends know better than to invite me to shit like this.” Shigaraki copies you and drains half his glass in one go. “I wouldn’t have come to this one, except Toga critical-hit me with this guilt trip about how we’re her family and she needs her family to be here –”

You did notice a conspicuous lack of parents or relatives on Toga’s side of the aisle. “And I said I’d go if I didn’t have to go alone,” Shigaraki continues. “Dabi was supposed to be doing time with me. Figures he’d score a hookup and bolt.”

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” you say. They barely talked when Dabi was sitting here. “How do you know Himiko?”

“Juvie,” Shigaraki says, and you’re not sober enough to keep the surprise from showing all over your face. He snickers. “Not what you expected?”

You shake your head. “Is that where you know Dabi from?”

“And Spinner,” Shigaraki says, pointing out a purple-haired guy at a different table. “And Twice. Magne was a peer counselor or something. If I hadn’t met them I probably would have killed myself in there.”

You can’t stop your surprise from showing this time, either. Shigaraki grimaces. “Don’t read into that.”

“No promises,” you say. Shigaraki snorts and lifts his glass partway, then drains it. “So you’ve known each other for a while.”

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re friends with the girlfriend. Wife.” Shigaraki refills his glass again, but leaves it alone for the time being. “How long have you known her?”

“Work,” you say, then facepalm. You’re lucky you manage to do it with the hand not holding your glass of champagne. “Two years or so. I already worked there when she was hired. I kind of watched the whole thing with Himiko from the sidelines.”

That’s how you always watch relationships play out at work, or anywhere, really. Pretending to be happy, really being happy, and still feeling like you’re pulling a tarp over the sinkhole in your chest. “So the wife invited you and you showed up even though you knew you’d hate it,” Shigaraki concludes. “You’re crazier than me. I’m never going to another one of these things again.”

“Not even your own?”

“Do I look like the kind of person somebody marries?” Shigaraki finishes his whole glass in a single swallow. You were thinking about trying to keep up with him, but if you try that, you’ll throw up all over the dress you had to buy, which is probably dry-clean only or something worse. “I don’t get why anyone goes to these things.”

“They’re supposed to be fun,” you say. You feel bad picking on Ochako’s wedding. It’s not Ochako’s fault that you’re single, bitter about it, and this close to drunk on alcohol she paid for. “But they’re usually only fun if you go with someone.”

“I went with somebody. He ditched me to hook up with a guy who named himself after a bird.”

You snicker at that. “I meant a date,” you clarify. “If your date ditches you to hook up, then you’ve got bigger problems than whether you’re having fun at a wedding.”

“He’s not my date. I’m not gay.” Shigaraki looks up. “Did you think I was gay?”

“I really didn’t – think,” you admit. You didn’t come to the wedding looking for a hookup. If you had, you’d have tried to put a move on Hawks before Dabi could. “The activities are more fun with a date.”

“Activities?” Shigaraki asks. “Like games?”

“Uh, sometimes,” you say. You know Ochako set up lawn games outside, and the sun won’t set for a while. “Sometimes there’s an art project you’re supposed to do for the couple, as a keepsake or something. I went to one last year where you were supposed to write a good wish, fold it into a paper crane, and then hang it off a branch of this tree they’d bought.”

“Too much work. What else?”

“Dancing,” you say, although you felt like that was pretty obvious. “And Himiko and Ochako have a photo booth.”

Shigaraki’s nose wrinkles. “Why?”

“As a keepsake for the guests, I guess,” you say. “Again. More of a couple thing.”

“Huh.” Shigaraki pours half a glass this time but still finishes it in one swallow. Then he stands up. “Let’s do it.”

You freeze in the act of pouring yourself another glass. “What?”

“I’m never coming to another wedding. You’re bored and drunk –”

“I’m not the one who’s been treating glasses like shots.”

“So let’s do it,” Shigaraki says, like you didn’t say a word. “If this is the last one I go to, I want to get my money’s worth. Do you have something better to do?”

You were this close to taking out your phone and opening up Tinder. You shake your head. “Finish that,” Shigaraki says, and you finish the half-glass you just poured and get to your feet. “Where’s the stupid photo booth?”

You lead the way. Even in heels, you’re faster than Shigaraki – he’s meandering a little bit, possibly due to all the champagne. You reach out and grab his hand to pull him back on course. He jumps, stumbles into an empty table, and glares at you. “What are you doing?”

“You wanted the wedding date experience. Holding hands is included.” At least you think it should be. If you had a real date you’d want to hold hands with them. Shigaraki follows you a little more closely than before as you make your way up to the photo booth. “It looks like they have props. Should we use them?”

Shigaraki hasn’t let go of your hand. He picks up a fake mustache on a stick. “Who would use this?”

“Me, maybe?” If you had a wedding date, you’d want to be spontaneous and fun. You lift it out of his hand and hold it up to your face. “What do you think?”

“No.” Shigaraki takes it away, puts it back, and picks up a flower crown. “Here.”

“No, that’s for you,” you say. Shigaraki argues, but you pluck it out of his hand and settle it on his head anyway. “See? It looks great.”

“If Dabi sees me wearing this stupid thing –”

“He’ll be jealous,” you say. The crown would look stupid on Dabi’s spiky black hair, but the pastel shades of the flowers look nice with Shigaraki’s blue-grey hair. “Okay. Now you can pick one for me. I’ll even do the mustache.”

“No,” Shigaraki says again. He sorts through the props and comes up with a headband with bunny ears. “This one.”

You two are going to look ridiculous. It’s hard not to laugh, and you haven’t even seen the full effect yet. You put on the headband, thankful that you went for a low-effort hairstyle that’s easy to fix, then pull the curtain on the photo booth and wedge yourself into it. Shigaraki follows you in.

It’s a really tight fit. You were pretty sure the photo booth was a couple activity, but now you’re sure – you love your friends, but you wouldn’t want to end up most of the way into any of their laps. You have to stop holding hands to try to get situated, and while you’re still trying to figure yourselves out, the photo booth takes the first picture. Shigaraki grimaces. “Wait. That probably looked stupid. Where –”

The booth takes the second picture while he’s talking, and you snort. There’s about a ten-second interval to get positioned correctly. You manage to face front in time, but your elbow lands on Shigaraki’s thigh as you’re trying to steady yourself, and he flinches away. You drop out of the frame as the booth snaps the third photo, and it occurs to you that the only part of you visible in the picture will be the bunny ears. Based on the location of the ears in relation to Shigaraki’s body, it’s going to look pretty compromising. You hope no one sees that picture. Ever.

Shigaraki’s snickering as you sit up. “Nice one. I want a copy of – hey!”

You’ve elbowed him on purpose this time, just in time for the fourth photo. The fifth photo’s probably going to be blurry. You’re both lightly shoving each other, trying to get each other out of your personal space without pushing either of you out of the photo booth itself. The sixth photo’s probably the only one that’s worth anything, and it won’t be very good, either – Shigaraki’s flower crown is off-kilter, and you’re pretty sure your headband’s falling off. The printer begins to whir, and the two of you sit in silence as the booth prints out two sets of photos. You pick one up. Shigaraki takes the other. A second later, you’re both laughing.

The photos look even worse than you thought, and somehow that makes them better. The photo where it’s just your ears in the frame features Shigaraki staring down into his lap, looking all kinds of startled, while the photo where you’re pushing each other is blurry enough to be a still from a found-footage horror movie. In your opinion, the first photo is the funniest. “We look like that meme with the cat,” you wheeze. “The one with the loading circle over its head.”

“The last one looks like a mug shot,” Shigaraki says, his laughter so raspy that it borders on a witch’s cackle. “After a bar fight –”

The idea of getting in a bar fight in your wedding outfit sets you off. You slump sideways at an angle and end up with your head against his chest for a few seconds, surprised that you can hear his heartbeat and surprised at how fast it’s beating. “Which of us won?”

“We both lost,” Shigaraki says, and you laugh harder. The two of you look disheveled as hell, and not from anything fun. “Number two is the worst one. You look good and I look like a dumbass.”

“You just had your mouth open,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’re probably smearing your makeup, but who gives a shit. You didn’t do that good of a job on it anyway. “Anyway, that’s the wedding photo booth experience. What do you think?”

“I want to go again,” Shigaraki says. This time, you manage to turn to stare at him without throwing any elbows. “For good ones. No way do people’s girlfriends let them leave with just the stupid ones.”

You would, but then again, there’s not a big enough difference between how you look in bad photos and how you look in good ones for it to matter. “We can do one more,” you agree. “Let’s lose the props.”

Without the flower crown and bunny ears, the silliness factor drops significantly. Now you look less like a couple of drunk clowns pretending to be a couple and more like two people who could actually be together. It weirds you out, but you promised the whole wedding date experience. In the seconds before the first flash goes off, you tilt your head onto Shigaraki’s shoulder.

Shigaraki startles, and as soon as the flash goes off, he pushes you away – but only so he can tilt sideways. He’s taller than you, enough so his cheek rests against the top of your head. Four photos left. When you glances over at Shigaraki, you see that his tie’s crooked, so you fix it for him, burning another photo in the bargain. The fourth photo is Shigaraki shifting the neckline of your dress to cover your bra strap, which is weird but plausible for a couple’s photo booth experience. He has a birthmark just below the right corner of his mouth. You aim for it when you kiss his cheek quickly for the fifth photo.

Shigaraki startles again, and you sit back – but not too far. You’re still close enough that Shigaraki only has to lean forward a few inches for his lips to meet yours.

You weren’t planning to kiss him. It’s not much of a kiss, and it doesn’t last long, but your heart is still racing as the booth spits out your second sheet of photos. You’re almost scared to look. Shigaraki’s hesitant, too, and when you both flip the sheets over to check, he says exactly what you’re thinking. “Shit.”

The first set of photos were a joke. The second set – either you and Shigaraki are really good actors or you’re both really drunk, because they look way too plausible for comfort. The ones where you’re fussing over each other’s clothes are probably the worst offenders on that front, but you’re most alarmed by the last two. You’re smiling as you kiss his cheek. You can see the corner of your mouth turned up. And you didn’t see where Shigaraki’s hand was when he kissed you, but the photo’s preserved the evidence. It’s right by the side of your face, curved like he wants to cradle your jaw in his hand.

Exactly sixty seconds ago, the two of you were screwing around in here. Now it feels like there’s static running back and forth between you, and you scramble out of the booth in a hurry, almost tripping over your feet. Shigaraki gets out, too, leaning against the booth to steady himself. Without a word, he takes both of your sets of photos and tucks them into his suit jacket along with his sets, then fills your suddenly-empty hand with his own. “Now what?”

The static shock is between your hands now. “My hand is humming,” you say, like an idiot, and Shigaraki tightens his grip. “Um, I think there are some games outside.”

“Fine.”

It’s warm outside, but getting cooler as the sun begins to set. There are a lot of games, and most of them are being ignored in favor of a bunch of the goofiest guys from your office playing cornhole while their girlfriends/boyfriends watch. You determine instantly that you’re not coordinated enough for anything that involves throwing something, which leaves you exactly one option. “How about that one?”

“Jenga?”

“Jenga XL,” you say. Shigaraki snorts. “My hand-eye coordination’s too bad right now for a throwing game. This will be safer.”

Whoever was playing the oversized Jenga last left the blocks in a heap. You and Shigaraki can’t hold hands while you stack them up, and as you do, your assumption that Jenga would be safer than something else gets tested in the most embarrassing way possible – and of course Shigaraki points it out. “You’re short. If this thing falls on you it’ll flatten you.”

“It won’t fall,” you say with more confidence than you feel. “I’m good at this.”

“Go first, then, if you’re so good at it.”

You get a block out without trouble, but you have to rely on Shigaraki to re-stack it for you, which he does, wearing a really frustrating smirk. “You should have worn taller shoes.”

“I can’t walk in taller shoes,” you say. “Or dance. Are you going to want to dance?”

“If it’s part of the wedding date experience, yeah.” Shigaraki carefully extracts his block and sets it on top of the tower. He’s not all that much taller than you. If the game goes on long enough, he’ll have trouble re-stacking. “They don’t exactly teach dance classes in juvie.”

“It’s not that kind of dancing,” you say. Shigaraki looks relieved. “If it’s going to be that kind of dancing, they warn you on the invitation. A friend of mine who got married last year only played swing music at her reception. She sent out a certificate for free lessons with her save-the-date.”

“Control issues?”

“I think she just wanted stuff her way,” you say. You ease another block out of the tower and hand it over to Shigaraki. “Hers was nice. Everything ran on time, and she sent out thank-you notes six weeks after the wedding.”

Shigaraki stacks your block, then pulls out one of his own. You realize with a jolt that he’s missing the index and middle fingers from his left hand. “What’s the worst one you’ve ever been to?”

“Um.” You don’t want to say this. You really don’t – but you drank too much, and you should be honest. “Mine.”

“You’re married?”

“Divorced,” you say. “Three months after the wedding. I didn’t have the ring on long enough to get a tan line.”

Shigaraki doesn’t say anything. The tower is getting unstable, so you’re careful as you wiggle out one of the side blocks on a row about halfway up. You keep an eye on Shigaraki’s shadow as you do it, bracing yourself for him to walk away. Would you walk away if he told you he was divorced? No, but you’re divorced, so it matters less to you. “Three months,” Shigaraki repeats. “How’d that happen?”

“You’re lucky you aren’t asking me that six years ago,” you say. “With how much I drank tonight, I’d have gone off.”

“Go off. I want to hear it.” Shigaraki actually looks interested. “Anyone who fucks this up deserves it.”

He’s gestures at you. You don’t know what to make of that, and you’ve got a block halfway out of the tower. You go back to work on it. “How do you know it wasn’t me?”

“I know,” Shigaraki says. “How’d it happen?”

“This is pathetic,” you warn. Shigaraki gestures for you to go on. You sigh. “We were together since high school. Midway through college I got a bad feeling that we were drifting apart and I couldn’t take the suspense, so I tried to end it. And he popped the question. We got married six months later and three months after that he knocked up my cousin.”

“Damn,” Shigaraki remarks.

“They’re still together,” you say. “The kid’s in primary school this year. And every year around the holidays my aunt and my cousin pick a fight with me about how I need to be nicer to him, because we’re all a family now.”

You finally manage to extract the block, and Shigaraki takes it from you before you can offer it to him. You can’t read his expression, and just like when you sensed things with your ex were falling apart, you can’t take the suspense. “Pathetic?” you prompt.

“Your ex is a loser.”

“You haven’t seen what my cousin looks like.”

“He’s still a loser,” Shigaraki says. He pulls out a block. “I get it, though.”

Your stomach clenches. “What do you mean?”

“If my girlfriend was leaving me because I was dicking around, I might do something like that, too.” Shigaraki sets his block on top of the tower. Your options for blocks to pull are getting slimmer by the turn. “Popping the question. Not knocking up your cousin.”

“I have other cousins,” you say. Shigaraki snorts. “I thought you said you weren’t getting married.”

“I said nobody was going to marry me,” Shigaraki corrects. What’s the difference? “Your turn.”

You’re out of blocks at shoulder height. And chest height. And waist height. You crouch down instead, doing your best to balance in your heels, and start trying to wiggle a block loose on the fourth level up from the ground. Shigaraki’s voice follows you down. “If you were ready to ditch him, why did you say yes?”

Now you’re at a real risk of crying. Six years of intermittent only-when-you’ve-got-the-money counseling hasn’t made a dent in this one thing. You remind yourself that Shigaraki can’t see your face and work on keeping your voice steady. “I was the one who asked him out in the first place, back in high school. I always had this weird sense that we wouldn’t be together if I hadn’t. So when he proposed I thought it meant he was choosing me, like I chose him. Which was a stupid reason to say yes.”

You wanted to believe. You wanted to believe so badly that you were worth it, and now you’re divorced at twenty-eight, barely talking to the half of your family that took your cousin’s side, going on a grand total of one real date in the entire time since then that you got up and left partway through because you couldn’t fake hope or excitement for one second longer. The kiss you planted on Shigaraki in the photo both was the most action you’ve gotten in two years, and you’ve put more effort into the fake wedding-date experience than you have into even looking for a hookup. You’re pathetic. This is pathetic. You should be embarrassed, and you are.

But you got your stupid block out. You straighten up and hold it out to Shigaraki, who stacks it for you. You can’t read his expression, and you’re a little too dysregulated to be anything but blunt. “That’s my tragic backstory. What’s your damage?”

“What, going to juvie doesn’t count?” Shigaraki crouches down to pull a block from the opposite side of the same row you just weakened. He’s doing it right-handed; he’s waving his left with its missing fingers at you. “This doesn’t count? The fact that I don’t have eyebrows doesn’t count? Your problem is being a dumb kid with a shitty family and a shitty ex. My problem is that I exist. We’re not the same.”

He straightens up and drops his block on top of the tower. You can see that he’s tenser than before, and you can’t think of anything to say that won’t sound patronizing. “I didn’t notice about the eyebrows until you said something.”

“Great.” Shigaraki won’t look at you. “Your turn.”

You crouch down again. The row below the row Shigaraki just knocked down to one block seems like the safest bet. You start pulling at it, frustrated at the way it sticks. “Careful,” Shigaraki says after a second. “If you don’t watch out –”

The tower topples. You’re crouched down, with no chance of getting out of the way in time, and all you can do is sit there, stunned, while three dozen giant Jenga blocks crash down around your head. The corner of one catches your temple, digs in, and you flinch. But the blocks are light. You’re startled, and humiliated, and possibly bleeding a little bit, but you’re fine. “Are you okay?” Shigaraki asks. You give a thumbs-up, and he crouches down next to you. “I don’t believe you. You look – shit, your face is bleeding.”

“I’m good,” you say. “It’s a good thing we took pictures already. This is not part of the wedding-date experience.”

“I’m done with that,” Shigaraki says, and your heart sinks. Even though it shouldn’t. Even though none of this mattered to begin with, even though you know better, you hoped. You weren’t hoping for anything much – just to keep having fun, just to not spend the rest of the wedding alone. “You have a purse, right? Do you have napkins in there or something?”

“Your suit comes with a pocket square.” You pluck it out of his pocket and press it to your temple. “I’ll pay for cleaning it.”

“Don’t bother. It was my dad’s. He doesn’t have much use for it in solitary.”

Shigaraki helps you up while you’re still processing that one and tugs you away from the wreckage of the Jenga tower, onto a bench. The view of the sunset is really good from here. Further down the lawn, you can see Himiko and Ochako and their photographer doing a last round of pictures, and you slide your feet out of your shoes. It’s that point in the wedding. You’ll probably stay here for the rest of the night.

“Do you need ice?” Shigaraki asks. You shake your head. It doesn’t hurt, or maybe the fact that the sinkhole in your chest is eating the tarp you put over it just hurts more. “Do you still want to dance?”

“You said you were done with the wedding date thing.”

“Yeah. I’m done with the part where it’s fake.”

Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought you did. “What do you mean?”

“Seriously?” Shigaraki sounds annoyed. “I let you put a flower crown on me.”

“Is that some kind of mating ritual in juvie?” The instant you say it, you feel bad, but Shigaraki laughs. “If you’re trying to say something, say it. I don’t do very well with ambiguity on my best night and I’m still kind of drunk.”

“Same here. Otherwise I’d sit on this, and my friends would spend the rest of their lives listening to me bitch about how I didn’t ask out the girl from Toga’s wedding.” Shigaraki’s hand lifts from his lap, rises to his neck, then falls back. “I want to dance with you. Toga and her wife are having an after-party at their place, and I want you to come to it with me. And I want your number so we can hang out again sometime when we’re not wasted. Because I like you.”

You must have hit your head really hard. “We met three hours ago.”

“So? Toga said she knew she was going to marry the wife the first time they made eye contact,” Shigaraki says. That sounds like something Himiko would say. You’ve met her a few times at work parties and she’s always struck you as a little intense and a little off-the-wall. “Do you want to dance or not? Make up your mind.”

You want to say yes. What comes out is something really stupid, so stupid that you can’t look at him while you say it. “This is the kind of thing that happens to other people.”

“What, meeting somebody who asks you out?”

It sounds stupid when he says it like that. You keep his dad’s pocket square pressed to your temple and try to explain. “The whole thing where you meet somebody when you weren’t expecting to meet anybody and things click, at least on your end, and since you know it’s just on your end you try not to get your hopes up – but the other person tells you that it clicked for them, too –”

“That’s dumb.” Shigaraki doesn’t sound like he’s being mean. You could almost call it affectionate. “Forget who it happens to. I’m asking you out. Do you –”

Screw it. If this is some kind of hallucination, you want to enjoy it. If it’s real, you don’t want to miss out. You turn back to face Shigaraki. “Yes.”

He grins, and you notice a scar over his mouth, too. “Good. Now what?”

You think about kissing him. You decide to try hugging first, which involves getting at least as close to him as you did when you were in the photo booth, on purpose this time. Shigaraki isn’t particularly tall or bulky, but when you hug him, you’re surprised to notice that he’s hiding some muscle underneath his suit jacket. Kind of a lot of muscle. Huh. Shigaraki notices that you’re investigating a little bit. “What?” he asks, his mouth against your ear. “Did you think all I do is game?”

“I don’t know what you do all day,” you say. “We didn’t get to that part yet.”

“We will.” Shigaraki draws back from you, and you loosen your grip even as his hand rises to cradle your jaw. This time you see the kiss coming from a mile away, and this time, you lean in.

Everything’s different this time, except the thing that startles the two of you apart – the bright flash of a camera going off. “Tomura-kun!” Himiko squeals from somewhere nearby. “I told you you’d have fun at my wedding. Who is that? She’s so cute!”

For a second you’re worried Shigaraki doesn’t know your name, but he must have been paying more attention than you thought he was when you introduced yourself, because he introduces you to Toga without missing a beat. “She’s one of my coworkers,” Ochako explains, smiling at you. Even through the smile you can see the incredulity on her face, and you know you’ll be getting a lot of questions about this when she gets back from her honeymoon. “I’m so sorry we had to put you at that table. I wanted to put you with everybody from work, but they all had plus-ones –”

“It’s fine,” you say faintly. Himiko’s photographer takes another picture, this time of all four of you talking. “It worked out.”

“She’s coming to your party,” Shigaraki informs Himiko. “I invited her.”

“Oh, good!” Himiko turns her attention to you. “It’s going to be so fun! We have games and movies and we’re going to stay up all night.”

“You should come inside now,” Ochako says. “There are mosquitos out here, and we’re supposed to have cake soon –”

“And we’re going to do the Time Warp. I put that on the playlist for you special, Tomura-kun,” Himiko says. She glances at you. “It’s the only dance he knows.”

Shigaraki flushes, grimaces, but you tilt your head against his shoulder again, lacing his fingers with yours for the third time tonight. You don’t know what he does all day when he’s not at weddings he doesn’t want to go to. You don’t know if what he said about his dad being in solitary confinement was a joke or not. You don’t know what happened to his hand or where he got his scars, or even where his eyebrows went. But you know he likes you. You know you like him enough to give things a shot, at least for tonight, and that’s better than you’ve felt in a long time.

And you know he can dance, even if it’s only the Time Warp. For right now, you don’t need to know any more than that.

[kissitbttr]

frat!miguel gets into an argument bc someone says cheer isn’t a sport 🤭

“what the fuck did you just say, compá?!”

the room falls into silence once the head of the frat begins to speak. everyone’s eyes go wide when they realize his ruby eyes glare at one guy from the frat spewing some ridiculous comment, hands balled so hard into fists that his veins begging to be popped,

your eyes dart between miguel and the man who stands like he realizes that his life span about to be cut off short,

“miggy just leave it—“

“you want to say that again?” his tone carries anger and venom, slowly taking large steps towards the guy who gulps nervously,

“i mean come on o’hara i—“

“because if i heard you correctly, you underestimated my girl’s capabilities by saying what she does isn’t as good as the rest”

the guy scoffs, crossing his arms. “come on man, it was a joke. even if it wasn’t, you know that cheerleading is a girl thing. ain’t manly about that”

now it’s your turn to be pissed. the fuck he means by that?? not manly?! being put on hours and hours of physical training and lifting people’s body weight isn’t a true sport?!

miguel chuckles dryly, “that so? if you think that, would you mind haul my ass out to the front door then? since you’re a tough guy, eh?” he shoves the guy’s shoulder a little too hard making the colors in his face drains,

the crowd starts to circle, silently hoping that there would be a chance for them to fight. or perhaps, more like miguel beating the shit out of him

once more, he gulps. head shaking as a response before putting his hands up in defense.

“i’m good, man. i’m good” he tries to brush it off as if he isn’t intimidated. “sorry”

miguel hums. “any of you start shit by saying that, you’ll deal with me, got it?” he watches how the guys nod furiously,

he gives the guy one last hard stare before turning on his heel to walk away as the crowd begins to break and move back towards you. not before catching a glimpse of beck and glen’s matching smirk. miguel shoots them a ‘not a fucking word’ look,

his smile returns when he sees you, who wears a shy grin.

“you didn’t have to do that, miggy. i know how people can be when it comes to my sport.”

he shakes his head, frowning. “nonsense, muñeca. you’re my girl. it’s my job to defend your honor, no?” he kisses your cheek and you feel your cheeks warm,

“now” he circles his arm around your waist. “let’s go get some wings. i’m starving”

[hd-junglebook]

Little Dove

Part 3

a:n This is just full-on fluff and also my first attempt at something a little heated which probably sucks. If anyone wants to write smut for me pls lmk your girl is struggling. Also warning this is not proofread AT ALL.

Masterlist Link

Summary: To forgive you have to be strong, but all y/n needed was love before her last piece of resolve crumbled for the man she found herself so in love with.

Word Count - 4782

The house was enveloped in an unsettling stillness, a heavy silence that seemed to permeate every room. The only sound that pierced the quiet was the steady drumming of water from the bathroom, where steam billowed out from behind the shower curtain like a ghostly veil.

Inside the shower, Y/N stood motionless, her eyes closed as the scalding water cascaded over her skin, enveloping her in its comforting warmth. The heat of the water mixed with the salt of her tears, creating dark rivulets of melted makeup that swirled down the drain in a hypnotic dance.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/N didn't hear the soft creak of the bathroom door opening, nor the rustle of clothing being discarded on the tiled floor. It wasn't until the sudden yank of the shower curtain that she was jolted from her reverie, her eyes flying open in alarm as she instinctively reached for a towel to cover herself.

But instead of an intruder, she found herself staring into the intense, stormy eyes of Quinn. He stood before her, his chest heaving with barely contained emotion, his hair already damp from the steam that filled the room.

Without a word, he stepped into the shower behind her, the heat of his skin pressing against her back as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Y/N tensed for a moment, her heart racing at the unexpected intimacy of his touch.

But as Quinn's fingers splayed across her stomach, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on her skin, she felt herself melting into his embrace.

A deep, shuddering sigh escaped Quinn's lips, the warmth of his breath tickling the sensitive skin of Y/N's neck. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I should've told you how I felt. I waited too long, and now things between us aren't okay."

She shook her head, droplets of water flying from her hair as she turned to face him within the circle of his arms.

"I was happy having you here like this," she whispered, her voice trembling as she met his gaze. "But I won't keep waiting for you to be ready to love me."

Quinn's eyes softened, a flicker of pain crossing his features at the hurt he heard in her voice. He raised a hand to her face, his fingers gently brushing away the strands of wet hair that clung to her cheeks.

"You don't have to wait anymore," he said earnestly, his voice low and filled with conviction. "I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his words. She searched his face for any sign of doubt or hesitation, but found only a raw, unguarded vulnerability that made her own eyes sting with fresh tears.

Quinn leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers as the water continued to beat down on them, steam rising in lazy tendrils around their bodies.

"I don’t want to be with anyone else, Y/N," he whispered, his lips brushing against hers with each word. "I'm sorry it took me so long to say it but I just want to be with you. I’m ready to make things work with us."

…

In the soft, ethereal light of dawn, Y/N stirred from her slumber, the gentle rustling of sheets accompanying her movements as she turned over in the bed. The comforter, a whisper of silk and down, slipped from her arms like a lover's caress as she sat up.

Beside her, Quinn's sleeping form lay still, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breath. At the sudden shift in weight, he groaned, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to emanate from deep within his chest.

His eyelids fluttered, fighting against the pull of consciousness, before finally blinking open to reveal eyes still hazy with the remnants of sleep.

Y/N couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, his features softened by the golden glow that filtered through the curtains. In that moment, she knew with a certainty that burned bright and fierce within her chest that there was nothing she wouldn't do for him.

If Quinn asked her to move mountains, she would find a way to reshape the very earth beneath their feet.

As if sensing her thoughts, Quinn's lips curled into a slow, lazy smile. A quiet laugh escaped him, the sound rough and honey-sweet in the stillness of the morning. "Stop staring at me," he mumbled, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep.

With a tender touch, he reached out to brush away the strands of hair that had fallen across Y/N's face, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of her cheek. The simple gesture held a world of meaning, a silent promise of the love and devotion that flowed between them like a river, deep and endless.

Y/N leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the warmth of his skin against hers. In that moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist, the only reality the cocoon of their bed and the love that enveloped them like a second skin.

She thought of all the moments that had led them to this point, the trials and heartaches they had endured to find each other. But as she looked into Quinn's eyes, she saw a future stretching out before them, a path illuminated by the light of their love.

With a contented sigh, Y/N lay back down, her head coming to rest on Quinn's chest. She listened to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the sound a soothing lullaby that seemed to whisper a secret language only they could understand.

Quinn's arms encircled her, holding her close as if he never wanted to let her go.

The morning light continued to dance across their skin, painting them in shades of gold and amber. Quinn's eyes sparkled with a sudden idea. "Hey," he said, his voice still slightly raspy from sleep, "why don't we do something fun today? Just the two of us."

Y/N propped herself up on her elbow, her curiosity piqued. "What did you have in mind?"

Quinn's brow furrowed in thought for a moment before his face lit up with excitement. "I know! We could go horseback riding. Or maybe I could teach you how to ice skate. There's nothing more romantic than gliding across the ice together, hand in hand."

Y/N's heart swelled at the thought, a giddy excitement bubbling up inside her. "I love both of those ideas," she said, a wide grin spreading across her face.

"Let's do it." they both climbed out of bed, Quinn headed to the bathroom to freshen up, Y/N padded into the kitchen, her bare feet cool against the tile floor.

She filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, the soft click of the burner a comforting sound in the quiet of the morning. As she waited for the water to boil, she busied herself with preparing Quinn's favorite tea, measuring out the loose leaves with care and arranging his mug just the way he liked it.

Lost in her task, Y/N didn't hear Quinn enter the kitchen until she felt his arms wrap around her waist from behind. She leaned back into his embrace, a contented sigh escaping her lips as he pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

"You're too good to me," he murmured, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder as he watched her work.

Y/N turned in his arms, her hands sliding up his chest to loop around his neck. "You deserve nothing less," she said softly, her eyes shining with love and adoration.

As they stood there, swaying gently in the middle of the kitchen, Quinn's expression grew thoughtful. "You know," he said, his voice taking on a wistful tone, "growing up, it was always just me and my younger brothers, Jack and Luke. We were inseparable."

Y/N's heart warmed at the fondness in his voice, the love he clearly held for his siblings. "Tell me about them," she urged gently, her fingers playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

Quinn's eyes took on a faraway look as he lost himself in memories. "Jack was always the mischievous one, always getting us into trouble with his crazy schemes. And Luke, he was the sensitive one, the peacemaker who always knew just what to say to make everything better."

Y/N listened intently, captivated by the snippets of Quinn's past, the pieces of himself he was entrusting to her. She could picture them in her mind's eye, three young boys with the same sparkling eyes and infectious grins, their laughter echoing through the halls of their childhood home.

But as Quinn continued to speak, his voice grew tinged with sadness. "I miss them," he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I hardly get to see them anymore, except for a few weeks in the summer when we all manage to get together."

Y/N's heart ached for him, for the longing she heard in his voice. She cupped his face in her hands, gently tilting his chin up until his eyes met hers. "Hey," she said softly, her thumb brushing across his cheekbone, "why don't we plan a trip to visit them?”

Quinn's eyes widened in surprise, a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Really? You'd want to do that?"

Y/N nodded, her own smile bright and earnest. "Of course I would. They're a part of you, Quinn, and I want to know every part of you."

With a sudden, desperate need to show her the depth of his feelings, Quinn surged forward, his hands cupping Y/N's face with a tenderness that belied the urgency of his movements.

His lips found hers, the contact electric and all-consuming, a kiss that seemed to hold within it all the words he had never been able to say.

Y/N melted into his embrace, her own hands coming up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as if she couldn't bear even the slightest distance between them. Their lips moved together in a dance of passion and devotion, each brush of skin against skin a silent promise of forever.

Quinn poured every ounce of his love into the kiss, his touch reverent and worshipful as he memorized the feel of her in his arms. He tried to convey with his actions what he couldn't find the words to express, the sheer magnitude of his feelings for her, the way she had become the very air he breathed.

Y/N responded in kind, her own love for him evident in the way she clung to him, her body molding perfectly to his as if they had been crafted from the same star-strewn clay.

She kissed him back with a fervor that stole the breath from his lungs, her lips parting in silent invitation as she welcomed him into the very heart of her.

Quinn lost himself in the taste of her, the scent of her skin, the soft sighs that escaped her lips as he trailed kisses along the column of her throat.

It was a kiss that spoke of forever, of two souls finally finding their way home to each other after a lifetime of searching.

When they finally broke apart, their chests heaving and their eyes glazed with the heady rush of desire, Quinn rested his forehead against Y/N's, his breath mingling with hers in the scant space between their lips.

The kettle began to whistle, the shrill sound breaking through the tender moment. Y/N turned back to the stove, pouring the boiling water over the tea leaves, and watching as the liquid bloomed with rich, earthy colors.

She handed Quinn his mug, the steam curling invitingly from its surface, and together they settled at the kitchen island.

…

The ice rink was a glittering expanse of white, the soft scrape of blades against the frozen surface mingling with the laughter and chatter of the other skaters.

Y/N clung to the side of the rink, her knuckles white as she gripped the railing, her legs wobbling unsteadily beneath her.

Quinn glided up beside her, his movements graceful and effortless, a stark contrast to Y/N's unsteady shuffling. He bit back a grin at the look of intense concentration on her face, the way her brow furrowed and her tongue poked out slightly as she focused on keeping her balance.

"Okay, now move your left foot towards me," he instructed, his voice gentle and encouraging.

Y/N shot him a skeptical look, her eyes narrowing as she caught the hint of amusement in his tone. "Easy for you to say, Mr. Hockey Star," she grumbled, her words laced with a playful sarcasm. "We can't all be born with blades attached to our feet."

Quinn let out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and rich in the crisp air of the rink. "Stop laughing at me, it isn't funny," Y/N whined, her bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Quinn said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I promise I'm not laughing at you. I just find your determination incredibly adorable."

Y/N's cheeks flushed pink at his words, a pleased smile tugging at the corners of her mouth despite her best efforts to maintain her pretend annoyance. "Flattery will get you nowhere, mister," she said, wagging a finger at him.

Quinn grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, come on, you've got to admit this is fun. And just think, by the end of the day, you'll be skating circles around me."

Y/N snorted, the sound decidedly unladylike. "Yeah, right. The only circles I'll be making are the ones my butt leaves on the ice when I inevitably fall."

Quinn laughed outright at that, the force of his amusement causing him to wobble slightly on his skates. Y/N's eyes widened in alarm, her hand shooting out to grab his arm, steadying him even as she struggled to keep her own balance.

"Whoa there, hotshot," she said, her voice teasing. "Looks like I'm not the only one who needs a lesson or two."

Quinn's eyes softened, his gaze locked on the point where her hand rested on his arm. "Maybe you're right," he said, his voice low and filled with a sudden intensity.

"Maybe we should forget about the skating and find something else to do. Something that involves a little less clothing and a lot more body heat."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat at the implication behind his words. She swallowed hard, her gaze darting to his lips before meeting his eyes once more. "I thought you'd never ask," she murmured, her voice husky with desire.

But just as Quinn leaned in, his intentions clear, Y/N's foot slipped on the ice, sending her sprawling backwards with a yelp of surprise. Quinn's arms shot out, catching her just before she hit the ground, his laughter ringing out across the rink as he pulled her close.

"Looks like we'll have to save that particular lesson for later," he said, his breath warm against her ear. "For now, let's focus on getting you comfortable on the ice."

Y/N groaned, her head falling forward to rest on his chest. "Fine," she said, her voice muffled by his jacket. "But you owe me a hot chocolate after this. And maybe a foot rub."

Quinn grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Anything for you, my love. Anything for you."

…

Y/N and Quinn glided around the rink, their hands intertwined and their laughter echoing off the ice, Y/N couldn't help but notice the attention Quinn was attracting from the other skaters. A group of girls, all long legs and perfect hair, kept skating by them, their eyes locked on Quinn's handsome face and athletic frame.

One of the girls, a blonde with a dazzling smile, broke away from the group and skated up beside them, her movements graceful and assured. "Hey there," she said, her voice low and flirtatious. "I couldn't help but notice your technique. You're really good on the ice."

Quinn smiled politely, but Y/N could see the discomfort in his eyes. "Thanks," he said, his voice neutral. "I play hockey, so I spend a lot of time on skates."

The girl's eyes widened, her interest clearly piqued. "Hockey, huh? That's so cool. I love a man who knows how to handle a stick."

Y/N's jaw clenched, her grip on Quinn's hand tightening involuntarily. She knew the girl was just flirting, but the blatant innuendo made her skin crawl.

Quinn, sensing Y/N's discomfort, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Thanks, but I'm actually here with my girlfriend," he said, his voice firm but polite. "If you'll excuse us, we'd like to get back to our skate."

The girl's smile faltered, her gaze darting to Y/N as if noticing her for the first time. "Oh, of course," she said, her voice slightly strained. "Sorry to interrupt."

With that, she skated away, rejoining her group of friends who were still watching Quinn with undisguised interest. Y/N sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as they continued their circuit around the rink.

"I'm sorry about that," Quinn said, his voice low and apologetic. "Those girls are just puck bunnies. They're always hanging around the rink, trying to get the attention of the players."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "Puck bunnies? Is that what you call them?"

Quinn chuckled, the sound warm and rich in the cool air of the rink. "Yeah, it's a hockey term. They're like groupies, but for hockey players instead of musicians."

Y/N shook her head, a rueful laugh escaping her lips. "Well, I guess I can't blame them. You are pretty irresistible, after all."

Quinn grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, is that so? And here I thought you were just with me for my skating lessons."

Y/N laughed outright at that, the sound bright and joyful in the crisp air. "Well, that's definitely a perk," she teased, bumping her hip against his. "But I guess your rugged good looks and charming personality don't hurt either."

Quinn's gaze softened, his hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. "I'm the lucky one," he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "I get to be with the most beautiful, amazing woman in the world."

Y/N's heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his gaze making her feel like the most cherished person in the world. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, the taste of him warm and familiar on her tongue.

…

Y/N pushed open the front door of her apartment, the warmth of the interior a welcome respite from the chill of the ice rink. She stepped inside, her cheeks flushed from the cold and the exertion of their skating adventure. Quinn followed close behind, his presence a solid, comforting warmth at her back.

As Quinn shut the door behind them, Y/N couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation run through her body. The air between them seemed to crackle with electricity, the tension that had been building all day finally reaching a boiling point.

She walked towards the bedroom, her steps slow and deliberate, acutely aware of Quinn's presence behind her. She could feel his gaze on her, the weight of his desire a tangible thing in the stillness of the apartment.

Just as she reached the threshold of the bedroom, Y/N turned to look at Quinn over her shoulder, a coy smile playing at the corners of her mouth. But the words died on her lips as she caught sight of his expression, the raw hunger in his eyes stealing the breath from her lungs.

In two quick strides, Quinn closed the distance between them, his hands coming up to cup her face as he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss. Y/N melted into his embrace, her own hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as she opened to him, welcoming the slide of his tongue against her own.

Her fingers danced below his stomach, softly caressing the skin before tugging his waistband forward. Her hand sneaks into his boxers finding his hard length, hot and dripping. She squeezed the base leaving Quinn to do nothing but groan. 

Y/N gasped as Quinn's mouth found the sensitive spot just below her ear, his teeth grazing the delicate skin and sending shivers of pleasure racing down her spine.

She arched into him, her fingers pulling harder, holding him close to her body as he trailed a path of open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat.

When her hand came up to tangle in the curls of his hair, something snapped in him. Strong hands gripped her hips, tight enough to bruise the skin even through the fabric of her jeans.

They tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, the softness of the mattress a welcome contrast to the hardness of Quinn's body above her. Y/N's hands found the waistband of his jeans, her fingers fumbling with the button in her haste to feel his skin against her own.

Quinn groaned, his hips rocking against hers, the friction delicious and maddening all at once. "God, Y/N," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "You have no idea how you drive me crazy."

Y/N smiled, a wicked gleam in her eye as she leaned up to capture his lips once more. "Then show me," she whispered.

And with a growl of need, Quinn pulled her smaller form below him, her knees on either side of his hips. Quinn left a trail of love bites down to the line of her pants where he struggled to get the tight jeans off her thighs.

The feeling of him moving against her and around her had her eyes fluttering closed. They moved together in a dance as old as time itself, their bodies perfectly in sync, their hearts beating as one. Quinn exhaled, leaning back to tug down his briefs.

Her core throbs when he wraps his long fingers around himself, the sigh of relief he lets out as he touches himself makes her squirm from her position under him.

Adjusting his weight, he rested lightly on her and heavily on the elbows that were now on either side of her head. He tucked his head into her neck as they he lined himself up, using one hand to push himself inside of her.

y/n gasps at the intrusion, the feeling of her nails digging into his back hard enough to draw blood.

In the afterglow, as they lay tangled together beneath the sheets, their skin slick with sweat and their chests heaving with the force of their release, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the love she felt for the man in her arms.

Quinn was everything she had ever wanted, everything she had ever needed, and she knew that she would spend the rest of her life loving him with every fiber of her being.

As if sensing her thoughts, Quinn pulled her closer, his arms tightening around her waist as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "I love you," he murmured, his voice soft and filled with wonder. "More than anything in this world."

Y/N smiled, her heart so full she thought it might burst. "I love you too," she whispered, her words a promise and a vow all at once. "Always and forever."

…

Y/N sat at her desk, staring at the email that had just arrived in her inbox. The subject line read "Job Offer - Senior Marketing Manager," and as she scanned the contents of the message, her heart began to race.

"What?" she whispered to herself. "They actually chose me?"

With trembling hands, Y/N clicked on the email, her eyes scanning the contents of the message. As she read through the details of the offer, her excitement grew, a smile spreading across her face. "holy fucking shit," she muttered, her mind already racing with the possibilities.

The prestigious marketing firm she had interviewed with weeks ago was offering her a position that perfectly aligned with her skills and a chance to leave her parents’ miserable company.

However, there was one significant caveat: the job was located in another city, far from her current life and the comfort of her family's business.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, her mind whirling with the implications of accepting the offer. She knew that taking this job would mean charting her own path, changing her relationship with Quinn.

She knew that he would be supportive and encouraging, but she couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness about how this change might impact their relationship. They had grown so close, and the idea of starting a new chapter in a different city without him by her side was daunting.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N resolved to discuss the offer with her parents before making any final decisions. She hoped that they would understand her desire for growth and independence, and that they would support her in this exciting new venture.

Y/N stood up from her desk and made her way to her father's office. She knocked on the door softly, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for his response.

"Come in," Derek's voice called out from behind the closed door.

Y/N entered the office, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she approached her father's desk. Derek looked up from his work, his brow furrowed in concern as he took in his daughter's serious expression.

"Dad, I need to talk to you about something important," Y/N began, her voice steady despite the nervousness that fluttered in her stomach. "I've been offered a job at a marketing firm in another city, and I'm considering accepting it."

As Y/N shared the news of the job offer with her father, Derek's expression shifted from one of mild concern to intense disappointment and anger. His brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched tightly as he processed the information.

"You can't be serious, Y/N," Derek said, his voice low and filled with disapproval. "After everything we've done for you, after all the time and resources we've invested in your career, you're just going to throw it all away?"

Y/N flinched at her father's harsh tone, but she stood her ground. "Dad, this isn't about being ungrateful. This is about my future, my dreams. I have the opportunity to build a career that truly fulfills me, and I can't just ignore that."

Derek scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Fulfills you? What about your commitment to this family, to our business? We've been grooming you to take over, to carry on our legacy. And now you're telling me you want to abandon all of that for some job in another city?"

Y/N could feel her frustration growing, but she tried to remain calm. "I'm not abandoning anything, Dad. I'm trying to create my own path, to find my own success. Why can't you understand that?"

Derek's face reddened, his anger boiling over. "Understand? What I understand is that you're being selfish and disloyal. You're not ready for a change like this, Y/N. You don't have what it takes to make it on your own. Mark my words, you'll come crawling back when things don't work out, begging for your old job back."

Tears stung Y/N's eyes at her father's belittling words, but she refused to let them fall. She had worked too hard and come too far to let his negativity tear her down.

"You're wrong, Dad," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I am ready for this, and I will make it work. I'm sorry if you can't see that, but I won't let your doubts hold me back."

Derek's eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward in his chair, his gaze intense and unyielding. "We'll see about that. In the meantime, I expect you to invite Quinn over for dinner on Sunday. And before you even think about arguing, know that this isn't a request. It's a demand."

Y/N's stomach churned at the thought of subjecting Quinn to her father's scrutiny and control, but she knew she had no choice. With a curt nod, she turned and left the office, her heart heavy with the weight of her father's disappointment and the challenges that lay ahead.

As she walked back to her own office, Y/N pulled out her phone and began to compose a text to Quinn.

…

Tag List <3

@jamieeboulos, @shawnshoney, @fearfam69691 , @njdkatie

@dancerbailey3,  @alwaysclassyeagle, @snailss

[minkdelovely]

love and power

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chapter four

“take what you want.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: blood, flies, poisoning, mentions of nausea, descriptions of: violence ; cannibalism. ; suffocation ; and murder, kinda angsty?, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 3.4k

author’s note: just a quick little note here for something i felt the need to clarify. there’s a moment that would have been perfect for alastor’s microphone but i am working under the fact that it’s still broken, which (to me) carries too much significance for his character and i don’t know how to magically fix it for him 🥲 i just realized i haven’t explicitly addressed why it hasn’t been mentioned at all and wanted to explain myself lol

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

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Seeing the distress on your face, Angel put a hand on your shoulder and tried to do damage control. “Whoa, babe, it’s okay! It’s probably just a coincidence — forget I said anything, all right? It was a gag!” 

You had been doing so well at keeping Donny from your mind today, but you could feel the panic welling up again. As the blood drained from your face, your mind raced with questions. How did Angel know it was Donny that you had attacked yesterday? How did they know each other — through work? Was someone looking for whoever had been responsible for it? What would happen if they found out it was you?

He peered over you and gave Alastor a nervous look. If you were shrinking against the static you felt building behind you, you didn’t even want to know what his face was looking like right now. But the thought of Angel being in Alastor’s line of fire was worse.

“But that was his name,” you said, giving them each a quick look. “Or at least that’s what I heard his friend call him.”

“Perhaps the elevator isn’t the best place for this,” Alastor said cooly, stepping forward to push the button that re-started your descent. He pivoted to face you and Angel and you felt admonished under his gaze. “Sylvie and I are on our way out, but if you’re free this evening Angel, we can discuss this more in private. I have some questions of my own.”

“It’s a date, Smiles,” Angel cooed, happy to diffuse the tension, and you felt yourself relax when he gave your shoulder a little squeeze. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you’d invite me up to your room.”

Alastor’s smile strained as his gaze wandered from Angel to you, leering. “Who said anything about my room?” 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The walk into the city had been quiet, the tension from the elevator ride not yet fully gone. You knew Alastor’s good mood from yesterday wouldn’t last forever, but nothing could have prepared you for Angel’s ambush. How were you just supposed to sit with this until tonight? Your mind was still going in circles with questions, but what you really couldn’t let go of was how upset you had gotten at the sound of Donny’s name. Last night you thought you had made some kind of peace with your actions, but apparently you weren’t quite there yet.

It wasn’t so much the murder that bothered you, since you knew he’d eventually recover. Besides, it’s not like it was something you technically hadn’t done before. Though what happened with your grandmother was different; you’d poisoned her for starters. The rest was damage control and you died in the process so… karma. 

It was the rage you displayed that was chilling. You had never lost control like that before, no matter how upset you had been. And even though you had thrown up, you never thought — no. It was still too much to think about and your stomach turned in response, threatening to evacuate what little was in there.

You were so lost in thought it wasn’t until you were nearly standing in it that you realized Alastor had brought you to the alley. He really was such a menace. Donny was nowhere to be seen but the large pool of blood left behind had baked into the concrete. The bag with the liver was there as well, rotting in the afternoon sun.

“Is this the bag you were muttering about earlier?” Alastor asked, leaning over it with his arms crossed behind his back. You had forgotten about letting that slip while you were cleaning, your headache getting the best of you in a moment of weakness. Alastor hadn’t been moved.

He seemed unbothered by the putrid smell that you were actively trying not to gag on. Flies escaped the bag as he inspected it with the tip of his shoe and you grit your teeth in disgust at the sight. Alastor looked over at you when you didn’t respond right away, his neck bent at an unnatural angle to make eye contact. You managed a nod in confirmation, too nauseous to dare open your mouth to answer. Had he really brought you here just to see if you had been lying about it? Or did he just want to see you squirm? Probably both.

You nearly fainted when he reached inside the bag, sending more flies on their way, and held the soggy, rancid parcel in his hand. Enjoying your repulsion, he made a show of inspecting it. The glittering smile on his face one of the more genuine displays you’d witnessed. 

“Such a shame. This would have made a great surprise,” he said as his hand turned over, the liver falling to the ground in a resounding, wet slap. 

Almost instinctually, your hand went to your mouth, drawing out a lighthearted chuckle from Alastor. He wiped off his hand and made his way back to you then, and you trailed slightly behind him down the street. Neither of you noticed the drone.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor was beginning to feel… impatient.

Considering the ordeal yesterday, he hadn’t expected you to be in the best of moods but you had started the morning off with some promise until Angel Dust appeared in the elevator. His lip twitched at the thought. What a fucking disaster that had turned out to be! The gray cloud hanging over you since then had only seemed to build, despite his effort to snap you out of it by popping into the alley.

Of course that had been mostly, if not solely, for his own pleasure. It was disappointing but not surprising that your victim Donny had been retrieved. Alastor had recognized the name of course, recalling how Valentino was shouting at his phone as he left the dry cleaners. It just had to be one of his little toys that you messed with, didn’t it? Not that you had known, but it was only a matter of time before that garish buffoon would find out about you. And despite it all, the dried blood that nearly reached from wall-to-wall was such a marvelous sight — what a mess you had made! A job well-done indeed, though it had put him in a bind. 

He knew you weren’t going to have the same appreciation for it that he did, and your disgust at his performance with the spoiled liver had been fun enough. He hadn’t been lying when he said it would have made a great surprise. But none of that had done anything to cheer you, and now you weren’t even keeping pace, walking behind him like a kicked dog. Hell, you certainly looked like one, the sullenness on your face threatening to break his own composure by the second. This wouldn’t do, not for the last free afternoon that he had you at his disposal. 

Alastor paused, ignoring how you ran into him and cursed, his attention on a cafe across the street he was fairly certain he had visited before. Perhaps sitting down to chat would help. It was lunchtime, anyway.

“Let’s stop in there,” he said, looking down at you, taking care to point out the cafe. Lord knows your poor soul needed all the direction it could get right now.

“I thought you wanted something from the butcher?” you questioned, eyeing him and the cafe with suspicion. 

The Radio Demon narrowed his eyes, smile tight, his shadow pulling free of him for a moment. If he wasn’t on the verge of being pissed off your question would’ve been funny; a feeble attempt at seeming to know his mind. And as of now, he was not in a laughing mood. Were you really so self-absorbed that you couldn’t tell you were on thin ice? A reset was definitely in order.

“Can’t a fellow change his mind? That rigidity of yours puts such a sour mood on everything! You seem to be full of nasty little habits,” Alastor sneered, pleased to have gotten under your skin as you scowled at him.

He didn’t wait for you as he made his way across the street, knowing you’d follow whether you wanted to or not.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Being treated to lunch wasn’t something you had ever expected from Alastor. Impossible didn’t even begin to describe this scenario. It was just so… cordial. He always took his meals alone at the hotel, making Rosie the only person you knew he would willingly dine with. And there was no way sitting down to a table with you would equate to that. Rosie was a peer — a friend! You were not and never would be.

That much was evident when he had held the door open for you, clearly forcing his hand. Outwardly, it would have appeared a genteel act but you knew better, even without the self-righteousness on his face as you quietly entered the cafe. What else could you have done but obey? It’s not like you could run away, having already felt the ominous tug on your neck as he walked across the street. 

He had left you at the table to order at the counter, and you watched as the cashier struggled to maintain his composure in Alastor’s presence, seemingly scared to death. It was the first time you had ever seen someone outside of the hotel interact with him, you realized. Alastor was being polite enough, though nothing seemed to reign in his air of superiority. The look in his red eyes told you all you needed to know: he loved having power over others. Whether it came from a place of fear or respect didn’t matter as long as he had the upper hand. This was the demon you belonged to.

When he joined you at the table, you could tell he was in a bit of a better mood. Despite the means to get here, you silently thanked the cashier for cowering. Hopefully he had softened whatever blow Alastor had in store for you. Though the placid look Alastor was giving you made you fidgety. Could be the calm before the storm…

“You’ve been testing my patience,” he finally said, waiting for the boy from the register to leave the table after dropping off two coffees. “But luckily for you, there are more important things I’d like to discuss. I’ve had quite a busy morning, not that you bothered to ask.”

It took all you had not to roll your eyes but you managed to keep a straight face, feeling his temper writhing just under the surface of his calm facade. But you had been with him nearly all morning. Or did his suite magically clean itself? What could possibly have happened in between those few gaps? Especially something you’d want or even know to ask about. And if I’d asked, you wouldn’t have told me, you thought indignantly.

“I’m sorry… the whole thing with Angel just really threw me off,” you said as sincerely as you could. It wasn’t a lie, after all. “And I don’t think going to the alley helped, either,” you added, eyes flitting from him to your coffee. Bold, but also not a lie.

He chuckled into his cup. “I’ll concede to that. I thought it would be funny, but I shouldn’t expect you to share my taste in humor. You’re still so new, and all that. But I worry if you don’t shake that mortal way of thinking you’ll wither, my dear, and that would be a shame. If you’ll allow me, I’d take great pleasure in helping you fix that.”

You were unsure of how to react. Technically, he didn’t need to ask your permission for anything, so was this just the illusion of giving you a choice only to end up as a trap? It felt as if there was always something just out of reach whenever he spoke to you like this, like the fine print in a contract. He was only direct when he was upset, which you’d prefer if you were being honest. Anger you could take — understand, even. But this? You were just spinning your wheels. 

“So, what, I’m not doing the afterlife right, or something?” It had been somewhat of a joke, but the look he gave you was smug.

“That’s precisely what I’m saying. You’ve been dead a few months now, yes? But the moral compass you’re adhering to won’t benefit you here. Take Donny for instance,” he said, eyes brightening as you flinched at the name. “What’s bothering you so much about it? He provoked you, didn’t he? Regale me with your account!”

He made a show of settling in his chair, adjusting his coat and crossing his legs, apparently content to sit for hours if that’s what it took for you to open up. You remembered him asking you to tell him what Donny had done when you were walking back to the hotel yesterday, but wasn’t that just teasing? The expectant look on Alastor’s face begged to differ. 

So you told him.

To your surprise, he sat there and listened as the words spilled from your mouth. Your intent hadn’t been to ramble, but he didn’t seem bothered by it as you took him through the events of yesterday morning. Eventually getting to how you had been so close to making it back in time, only to be cornered and harassed; a sick twist of fate just for wanting to be prepared. He was calm as you told him how Donny had grabbed you and licked the tears off your face, but you could’ve sworn you saw his eye twitch.

“And then I just… lost it, I don’t know,” you sighed, hiding your face in your hands. “I was just so mad! Like who the fuck did he think he was, touching me like that? And my body just reacted before my mind could catch up. But then when it was all over, I…,” you paused and let out a breath, fighting against the turmoil in your stomach from what you were preparing to say next. “I can still feel how my teeth punctured his skin. I can hear the sound it made, even more than the screaming. I didn’t even know I was swallowing it all until…”

You stopped then, the tingling in your throat painful, your coffee long forgotten and cold. He had been there for the rest of it, what more was there to say? Did he really want to know how every sip of liquid or bite of food since then had been nearly-impossible tasks? How you had sobbed in the shower as you watched the blood stream down your legs and into the drain? Or how you barely managed to look yourself in the mirror because it felt like someone else was looking back? Those didn’t seem like details he’d be interested in.

In fact, weren’t they the very things he was inferring your morality had burdened you with? You’d only be making his point for him, and somewhere in your mind you concurred. You didn’t want to be saddled with this misery forever, but the person you always thought you were was slipping away, and you just wanted to cling to whatever pieces you had left. Horror was a welcome pill to swallow. It meant that you hadn’t completely enjoyed what you had done. 

Because part of you had enjoyed it.

You thought of your grandmother again. In life, there had been countless times you made yourself small for the sake of accommodation. No telling how many words had died in your throat because it was easier not to say them. So as you watched her fall out of that godforsaken chair she loved so much, gasping for air that wouldn’t come as she crawled on her hands and knees, you relished it. She had pushed you to your limit and was finally paying the price. Appalling as it was, for the first time in your life you had felt strong. 

Killing Donny hadn’t left you with the same feeling of victory as killing your grandmother had, though. What his intentions for you had been, you’d probably never know, but they definitely weren’t anything good. In that sense you were very glad to have gotten to him first and, to a certain extent, would do it all over again if need be. But none of this was information you felt like confessing to Alastor.

“And here I was, hoping that the cannibals had rubbed off on you,” Alastor mourned, resting his chin in his hand. “So eating him is what’s upset you, not the murder?” You couldn’t ignore the glimmer in his eye or the insinuation behind it.

“You’re generalizing,” you chided, sighing as you crossed your arms. You were feeling very tired now. “But yes, if that answers your question. He’ll heal eventually and he would have hurt me if I hadn’t done what I did.”

“That’s true enough,” he agreed, pushing back from the table to stand. He offered you a hand and you took it, feeling slightly stiff from sitting so long. “I suppose you’re not as hopeless as I thought, but my offer still stands. I think under the right circumstance, you could learn to enjoy it.”

You scoffed. Was he serious? “Was that really what you wanted to talk to me about? I’m not trying to eat people for fun.”

Alastor didn’t answer, but his smile was wicked as he took your arm in his as you left the cafe. You did your best not to imagine what thoughts could be passing in his mind, but felt relief all the same seeing him in a better mood again.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The two of you had barely entered the lobby when Angel sprang off the couch in the parlor, looking irritated and worn out. “Fucking finally! We need to—”

Alastor couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only creature in this realm that understood the art of subtlety. Hadn’t the debacle in the elevator been enough for one day? Was he doomed forever to salvage any bit of decorum that he could come across? It was truly lamentable.

“Sylvie, why don’t you go prepare my room for the evening? I’d prefer to speak with Angel alone,” Alastor said, removing your arm from his as he turned to face Angel Dust. He could feel his shadow threatening to separate from him, but scaring the boy would be counterproductive. “Shall we head to yours?”

He ignored your huff of frustration at being dismissed, but was grateful you didn’t fight him on it. It’s not a battle you would have won anyway. As soon as he saw that you were in the elevator, Alastor’s shadow enveloped the two of them, re-materializing in Angel’s room.

“Remind me to never let you do that again,” Angel grimaced, rubbing his arms squeamishly. “I feel dirty, and that’s sayin’ a lot.”

Alastor’s patience was threatening to snap, and he didn’t succeed in maintaining a pleasant tone when he spoke. “Why don’t we discuss whatever it was you were about to shout in the lobby? Or was the urgency just an act?”

Angel scoffed. “Hey, fuck you, all right? I was just tryin’ to help, and now I’ve been roped into your bullshit! Val’s been blowin’ up my fuckin’ phone all afternoon — he said a drone caught you and Sylvie in an alley or some shit?”

Alastor’s eyes went black, his pupils switched to dials. Fuck. This was all happening much sooner than Alastor had planned for. He had originally planned to ask Angel what Valentino had known in regard to Donny, hoping to have the upper hand and confront the cretin on his own terms. But now the ball was in Valentino’s court… and he had brought it upon himself. He just had to go back to that fucking alley earlier, didn’t he? Alastor could feel the rage threatening to consume him, but that would have to wait until he had a moment to himself. 

“What does he want?” he managed to ask without venom, antlers growing despite himself.

“I don’t know, but he won’t quit houndin’ me,” Angel huffed, sitting on the edge of his bed. “He wasn’t even pissed off about Donny, he thought it was funny! That piece of shit barely gets work anyway. But now he knows you’re involved and said he wants to meet up you know where. Whatever the fuck that means…” 

Alastor sighed, eyes returning to red, and wiped off his monocle if only to keep his hands busy. He’d hate to strangle Angel Dust by mistake. It would be difficult to explain, and besides, he wasn’t one to shoot the messenger.

“Tell him I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. I’ll do what I can to ensure he keeps you out of it going forward,” Alastor said in a clipped voice, blood dripping down the corner of his mouth. He disappeared from the room before Angel could respond.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold

[howmanyholesinswisscheese]

More Sherlock & Co Headcanons

Because y'all like the first ones so much.

Mariana is one of those heathens who eats the kernels at the bottom of the popcorn bowl and enjoys it.

John and Sherlock have a rotating cast of answers to the age old client question, "So are you two...?" which only serve to confuse the asker even more. It's an incredibly enjoyable sport. Sherlock often just plays dumb, to John's enormous amusement. It's their favorite inside joke.

When he does actually eat it, Sherlock's go-to breakfast food is a boiled egg and soldiers. Fight me. I will not stand for boiled eggs and soldiers slander they are amazing and Sherlock knows it.

John keeps a collection of bloopers/funny moments he's recorded during cases in a folder on his computer. When he's feeling down, he puts in his earplugs and listens to them. He never fails to get a laugh out of it.

Speaking of language headcanons in the last post, Sherlock speaks fluent Spanish (because of course he does). Sometimes he and Mariana have innocuous conversations in Spanish just to mess with John. He finally gets what it's like to be a stranger watching them all converse in BSL.

Sherlock has a strong appreciation for the musical arts. Once, after a particularly sour case, John took Sherlock to the orchestra to lighten his mood. Sherlock didn't express much outward enjoyment, still drained from the previous week's labor, but the next day the pieces they'd heard rang out through the flat as Sherlock's touch brought them to life from memory on his violin. John found this version infinitely more beautiful than any orchestra. and he even glimpsed the ghost of a smile as Sherlock lost himself in the music.

You know how everyone has a different little doodle they do when they're bored and they've got a pen and a bit of paper around? Well, Sherlock does mandalas and circle scribbles, John does little smiley faces and zig zags, and Mariana writes peoples names in calligraphy.

@obsessed-sketches and I both agree Sherlock wears a really heavy, well-worn coat for the deep-pressure stimulation. And a scarf, because those are absolutely splendid to play/fiddle with and being all wrapped up just adds a whole nother dimension to it all.

John uses Microsoft Edge as his default browser. Mariana's exasperated protests have been completely futile in convincing him to switch and to be honest, who knows if there's any hope left for him anymore.

Speaking of browsers, Sherlock would be such a boss at the 2048 game.

Someday I'm gonna have to write a dance lesson fic, because the idea of Sherlock teaching John to dance for a case lives in my head rent free for literally every SH rendition but these two especially. Sherlock freely infodumping about the history of each song he plays as he shows John how to waltz, John filling the silence with nervous rambling, that rapport setting in and them just falling into step after a few minutes and forgetting time is even passing... I know I mostly HC them as a QPR but dear god the intimacy in that may kill me.

Mariana once introduced Sherlock to the National Day Calendar. National Cellophane Tape Day, National Life Insurance Day, National Raspberry Popover Day, and the likes are now slipped happily into conversations at 221B under Sherlock's firm belief that each one is on par with Christmas in terms of their significance in the public eye. Slay, Sherlock. National Days are awesome.

John makes the cutest sleep noises.

Yk how i said Sherlock likes rainbow sour straps. If you've ever eaten sour straps, you'll know there are two ways to eat them: whole, or by tearing the colours into strips. Clearly, as a civilised human being, Sherlock does the latter.

SHERLOCK WOULD TOTALLY WRITE AWESOME POETRY AND READ IT OUT AND JOHN AND MARIANA WOULD BE STUNNED INTO AWESTRUCK SILENCE

Mariana wears those really big hoop earrings. You know the ones.

AAAAH i should stop before this becomes a mammoth block of text. Maybe I'll make a part three.

Thank you kindly for being unwillingly subjected to my opinions coming to my TED talk.

[squinch-depraved]

Schlatt piss kink? 😳🫢🥸

hehe sorry i haven't been posting today's my anniversary and things have been intense lately normal content SHOULD be resuming tomorrow sorry friends

CW: PISS. DON'T FUCKING READ IF YOU DONT LIKE PISS. facefucking also

steam fogged the mirror as you finished combing through your hair, admiring your clouded reflection after setting the brush down. a small smile played at your lips when you heard schlatt call from the shower, “would you hurry up? there’s no point in showering together if i’m almost done by the time you get in.” with a giggle, you stepped in to join him, snaking your hands up his back to wrap around his shoulders and enveloping him in a tight hug.

“eugh, you’re all dry! don’t hug me with dry arms while i’m all wet, it feels weird,” he complained.

“oh, so now you’re the wet one?” the joke made him laugh, and he spun around to kiss you, the water dripping off of his taller frame and down onto you.

“bet i could change that,” he muttered against your lips, bringing one hand up to grip a fistful of your hair and the other down to rub gentle circles into your clit. “see? you’re already putty in my hands.” he wasn’t wrong; you were undeniably turned on by how assertive he was being.

you let out a whine as he tugged at your hair, wrapping your arms around him again and pulling him flush against you.

“get on your knees,” he instructed simply as he pushed you down by your shoulders. you obeyed with a grin and stared up at him in adoration, so focused on his beautiful eyes that you didn’t notice him taking himself in one hand and aiming for your chest. and then, before you could process what was happening, he was pissing on you, the liquid hot on your skin as it touched you for only moments before disappearing down the drain.

“oh, fuck!” you squealed, looking down at your body as he relieved himself all over you.

“eyes up here,” he ordered, taking your chin in one hand to force you to meet his gaze. “wanna see how pathetic you look getting used like this.” his words drew a moan from your lips, and after he finished, he moved out of the way and rinsed you off. as soon as you were clean enough for him, he helped you up and pulled you in for another kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with ease. schlatt smirked against your lips when you let out another noise at his fingers returning to trace circles into your sensitive bud. the sensual kiss lasted so long you felt the water temperature drop slowly.

he softly shoved you down onto the wet floor of the shower once again and this time gathered all of your hair in one hand, preparing to use your mouth however he saw fit. “open, doll.” following his instructions earned you a cock jammed down your throat. you gagged at first, but managed to make it through the abuse he was delivering to your face. his moans made the soreness that was developing in your throat worth it, the heavenly noises echoing off the walls of the shower and reverberating in your ears. he was rough with it, your nose pressing flat against his abdomen with every thrust into your mouth. tears pricked at your eyes, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

you couldn’t stop the whimpers that left you as he fucked your face mercilessly. good thing they just turned him on more. his grunts were speeding up now, and his grip on your hair was tightening by the second. the pain of him pulling it to drag you off his length just to slam you back onto it again was intensely pleasureful; you couldn’t wait until it was your turn to be rewarded for how good you were doing. a few more aggressive bucks of his hips later and he was cumming down your throat, letting out a long, drawn out groan of relief as he did so. you swallowed before he told you to and stuck your tongue out to show him it was all gone when he pulled you off of him with a lewd pop.

“good fuckin’ slut,” he breathed, patting your cheek a few times before helping you up. “now take your shower, can’t believe you just let me piss all over you like that. no self respect…”

[yesimwriting]

https://www.tumblr.com/yesimwriting/745776818108366848/when-best-friend-felix-and-reader-kiss-not-a-kiss

That kiss was HEATED. I had this thought of Felix and reader have their moment in which the kiss turns intensely passionate considering their relationship, and you mentioned that Felix wants to hook up with reader so would he ever push it. Like maybe he leads his hand on the skin of her inner thigh, but the real question is how does reader react. Would she fall into the group of people who always lets Felix take the reins and be in to the situation or would it simply freak her out because “we’re best friends.”

so happy you felt the theatrics of it all,, writing that kiss made me go hm..

i think felix is the master of pushing/blurring lines in the most lighthearted, casually dismissible way possible,, like most of the time when things are getting a little too touchy, it's when both of them are drunk/tipsy so it's easy to laugh off and dismiss,,

and whether they're drunk or sober, felix is an expert in reader's body language bc they are that close, so he's constantly subtly checking in and reminding himself that not everyone's as comfortable/casual about those things as felix

reader having an easy out is so important to him for so many reasons,, it protects the friendship and also keeps everything comfy

i feel like reader's reaction depends on so many factors...if she's fun, giggly tipsy and she's happy she'll probably be more open to things,, only pulling away/slowing things down if she realizes she wants things to go further bc while felix might be okay with hooking up with friends, she's scared of getting lumped into the group that obsessively hangs off his arm

if she's feeling a little insecure/jealous,, i can see reader being even more okay with things,, can also see felix picking up on that and trying to use it to his advantage, but that's another thing

however they are not perfect and felix is the type to border on being a little too into the reader and he's also so pretty and reader is just a girl

so let's have a drabble on that :))

"And what--" A laugh tumbles into the words, clumsy and a little breathless. The sound leaves you warm all over, not unlike the feel of sunlight soaking into your skin after an English winter. "What was--what was that last guy on about?"

The question is so enthusiastic, you can't help but grin. Felix is so determined to piece together the words he barely heard as you--with Farleigh's help--attempted to guide him into a cab. "I think he was trying to kick you out."

Felix turns onto his side, head shifting to rest against the edge of his pillow, the angle awkward enough to strain his neck. You make a mental note to not let him fall asleep like that. "I don't think so."

You laugh. "I do."

"You're very cyclical."

Another laugh as your elbow presses into his mattress for support as you try to sit up a little more. You're an odd combination of drained and giddy. Your limbs feel weighed down, making each movement a major commitment, and yet everything's okay. Fuzzy and warm and happy. "You mean cynical?"

In an impressive display of focus, Felix pushes himself so that he's almost sitting, most of his weight resting on his forearm. He pauses, staying there for a beat before sitting up fully. "I said that."

"No," you mumble with an exaggerated shake of your head. "You said cycli--cyclical, which is when something's a circle." You pause, mind not exactly catching up with your mouth. "Goes. It goes in circles, like a cycle--because it's a cycle." You sigh at your uncertainty, turning your head to look at him. "Cycles are just circles?"

Felix presses his lips together, spine straightening as he shifts even closer. "They go in circles, Lovie."

The corner of his mouth tugs itself upwards. His knee close to yours. You straighten your legs, the exposed skin of your thigh pressing against his leg. "Very astute."

Felix's chin dips downwards, his gaze falling towards the bed. You look down, squinting at wrinkled sheets and resting limbs in an attempt to understand what he's looking at. His fingers move to rest against your leg. "All from trying to keep up with you."

You lift your head at the sudden lowness of his voice. How long has he been this close? "Well, you're doing a really good job."

"High praise."

He angles his head forward. A strand of his hair falls forward, but Felix doesn't react. His attention remains solely on you.

Being able to openly examine Felix this closely is a rare luxury. The low lighting of the room tinges his skin with a warm glow. His features are always lovely, but when he's this relaxed they seem better suited to him. There's a lightness that contrasts from any sharpness, a softness that makes him such a gentle giant not even his eyebrow piercing can redeem him.

You've seen people be intimidated by him, have picked up on the way that some avoid his gaze when wandering around campus and how they twist themselves to please him. You fully aware that it's possible, but you're having an extremely hard time grasping it.

You tilt your chin up a fraction of an inch without a second thought, your lips now so close to his jaw it'd be so easy to...

You dismiss the train of thought as assuredly as you can manage anything right now. Your resolve feels unsteady as you part your lips. There's something you should say...some second joke or something else entirely.

Felix's hand shifts forward, his fingers now closer to your inner thigh than the edge of your leg. He drags his thumb against your skin carefully, a steady back and forth pattern.

His eyes find yours before dipping his head forward. He presses his lips against yours, the contact steady and soft. Questioning. You tilt your head upwards, your bottom lip dragging against his.

A hand finds the back of your head, guiding you back. He's everywhere, fingers in your hair, hand inching further up your inner thigh. And yet it's not close enough. The urge for more of this, more of Felix is dizzying.

You part your lips further, letting his tongue slip into your mouth. He moves without breaking contact, settling his weight against his knees. His fingers press into your thigh, gently encouraging your legs to adjust to make room for him. You register a faint tug against your hair. Felix pulls your bottom lip between his teeth.

He pulls back slowly, teeth grazing against your lip before releasing you. The loss of contact, of total distraction, leaves you breathless. So breathless you're shocked that you didn't notice before.

Still panting, the reality of all you didn't notice hits you hard. You and Felix are comfortable with each other...more comfortable than a lot of best friends are. But he's--he's close in a way that you're not sure he's been before.

You're quiet, eyes focused on a spot just above Felix's shoulder. This can't possibly change things between the two of you. You've been drinking and--and what's a tipsy kiss between the two of you? Besides, Felix started it, so he can't feel weird about it. You press your lips together, forcing yourself to not think about the fact that you did nothing to stop it, or even slow it down.

He takes his time untangling himself from you. His hand moves away from your head, fingers trailing down to your shoulder. He squeezes your thigh once before taking his hand back. Felix shifts back, moving to sit next to you.

Felix exhales, body relaxing. He reaches forward, hand searching for yours. You squeeze his palm to yours. "You're getting good at that."

You're not sure you've done much of what just happened, but his praise feels so light and genuine, you have to smile. "All from trying to keep up with you."

Felix lets out a breath that feels like a laugh. He turns his head, pressing a quick kiss against he side of your head. "You're a natural."

You grin, moving your head to rest against his arm. Maybe that wasn't that weird--not for Felix. You know for a fact he's done a lot more with girls he considers friends. "I'm tired."

"Tired you out?" You can hear the grin in his voice, which forces you to keep your lips pressed together to keep from laughing. In protest of his smugness, you start to attempt to slip his fingers out of his grasp. He squeezes your fingers in an attempt to hold you in place. "Sto--stop. I was kidding." You still, lifting your head enough to look up at him. He watches you with eyes to plead for you to believe his innocence. "Kidding."

"I don't believe you, but I'm too tired to argue."

"Wow," he whispers, pulling your hand towards his lap, "That is tired."

Felix bends and straightens your fingers. "What's even more tired is that I'm letting that go too."

Ignoring your attempt at snark, he lifts your hand to kiss the back of your palm. "Then I guess we have to go to bed, so that you'll be ready to argue in the morning."

You're still as he traces the lines of your palm. Despite wanting to go bed, you don't move. "Good idea."

He sets your hand down before carefully moving his arm away from you. Felix expertly ignores the dirty look you throw in his direction. "C'mon, bed, Lovie."

With a sigh, you nod, pulling your legs forward to crawl beneath his sheets.

----

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[madameminor]

In More Ways Than One, Part 10 - Bad Batch x F!Reader - Crossed

Summary: You just want to restock the ship - but Crosshair has other plans.

Tags: (the series is) 18+ smutty mcsmutterson, porn with plot, basically, all the good stuff

Warnings: P in V sex, 'ownership' mentioned, rough sex (hand on throat, some throwing around), squirting, sensual sex, use of pet names. Top! then soft Crosshair.

Notes: I hope you all enjoy :). People have been asking after this chapter for awhile, which brings me SO MUCH HAPPY! Please share the happy by reblogging. (For real, if you love it enough to ask for more, my dears, please reblog. It brings me such joy - don't you want to bring me joy?? 😭)

Word Count:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 4.5 Part 5 Part 5.5 Part 6 Part 6.5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 9.5 Part 10 Part 10.5

“That didn’t count!!!”

Crosshair smirks around his toothpick. “A pin is a pin, Wrecker,” he drawls, continuing down the corridor with you and the big guy in tow.

“But she was WIGGLING.” Wrecker pouts as he follows, wiping some of the sweat from his brow. You smile mischievously, a little extra flounce in your step as you walk.

“You heard him, babe, a pin is a pin. And I’ve been holding back that tactic for ages.”

Wrecker shoots you a look before looking forward again, moving to avoid two oncoming troopers. “Well that’s not fair.”

You laugh. “I’m really just doing you a favor. What if some sexy clanker has you pinned and starts doing the same thing? You'll be so unprepared!”

Wrecker’s eyes open in surprise. “Do they make those??”

“You never know, those Seppies are sly.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively. He goes back to pouting, realizing you're joking.

“Hm.”

You laugh, circling your arms behind his neck and kissing him on the nose. "Sorry, honey," you coo, not bothering to hide your enjoyment. "I won't do it again."

"Hm. You better not," he grumbles as you slide back down.

"Speak for yourself," Crosshair says quietly to himself. You wink at him, then stretch your arms over your head with a contented sigh.

“Oof that shower is going to feel good,” you breathe, rolling your neck. “I think I'll head to the ship, use the fresher there."

Crosshair's eyes dart to yours, irritated.

“What for?” Wrecker asks, equally let down.

"Because three of us need a shower- and I actually need to get clean.” You smile at Wrecker’s crestfallen face. “Besides, I need to take stock of our supplies - since now I know where ALL THAT GAUZE WENT.” Wrecker grins, recovered in light of their combined mischief. Crosshair just smirks. You playfully turn on your heal, starting to head down the corridor towards the ship with a wave. “Don't miss me too much, ok?”

"We'll try!" Wrecker calls after you. He starts back to their barracks - then stops, realizing that Crosshair isn’t following him. 

“You comin’?” 

Crosshair turns his body, eyes staring for a moment at your receding form before fully turning to follow his brother, a glint in his eye.

“I’m showering first.”

Wrecker looks over at him, confused. “Why, you got somewhere to be?”

“No.” Crosshair smirks, approaching the door to their quarters. “I have something to do.”

Wrecker's brow furrows as the barrack door opens before him. “What?”

Crosshair looks at him out of the corner of his eye as he enters, making his way towards the fresher.

“Let's call it some… unfinished business.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sigh contentedly as you step under the hot water for a last rinse. the final suds disappearing down the drain. Clean. Well and truly clean, even for just five minutes.

These moments are sacred. Peace, calm, relaxation. It can happen so rarely as a soldier - especially surrounded by a bunch of large, smelly boys. And battle. And sex.

...

...and then your brain pulls you to the chore waiting outside the fresher walls.

Dammit. Moment over.

Well, the sooner it's done, the sooner you can stop worrying about it. You turn off the water, dry and wrap yourself in a towel, then head to the medical supplies storage unit, already reviewing the list in your head.

You sift through your stores methodically. Hm.

You needed more adhesive spray (dammit, Tech was CONSTANTLY stealing yours!!!! That fucking...)

Good on grav press bandage cuffs…

Good on Medical bandage patch…

Need plenty more Bacta patches - need more glue stat…

Laser suture- where the heck was the laser suture? Did kriffing Tech take the fucking LASER SUTURE???? (You were going to KILL HIM! SADISTICALLY! FOR SCIENCE!!)

And gauze. Lots and lots of gauze. Fucking Hunter. These boys. What were you going to do with these boys getting into your damn med supplies?! Give them a hefty helping of Queenly whoop ass, that's for damn sure-

You hear the hatch start to open behind you, crankily curious to see who was coming aboard… maybe Tech had heard about what you were doing and was coming to give back the fucking laser suture, hoping you would spare his fucking life-

You see Crosshair's silver hair before you see the rest of him, dressed in his armor, but freshly washed. He closes the hatch, tossing his helmet onto a cockpit chair as he makes his way to you. 

You turn, fists on your hips and a scowl on your lips. “You had better be coming to give me some life or death information right n-"

He bends and lifts you by the back of your legs, slamming you against the bulkhead, your towel falling to the floor. Arousal spikes through your shock - god you love when he manhandles you. (He knows you like it, too- dammit, why did you ever tell him that?) His eyes glue you in place with their amusement, his slithering voice wrapping around you like a coil.

"Hello, princess."

You feel your breath catch at the sudden pulse in your pussy. Fuck, that smirk looks dangerous...

"You owe me.”

Wait, what?

“The hell I do! You remember I'm here to replace gauze, don't you?”

“No," he drawls. Damn that smug glint of satisfaction making you wet. Jerk. "You started something the last time we were on this ship.”  Oh, his voice is caressing your skin, possessive and inarguable. "its time you learn to finish what you start."

Crap, more coming back to haunt you. You sputter, trying to find the words to save you. “Cross, that was DAYS ago-”

“I have a long memory.”

“-and, it was only to tease you, which I already paid for-”

You hear the click of his codpiece before it falls to the floor. 

“W-wait, Cross-” you mean to protest, but the words come out as a breathy moan.

“A promise is a promise, Princess.” He purrs, freeing himself from his under armor, eyes hungry and dangerous. You lose yourself to shivers as you feel his cock hard against your back. “And I’m tired of waiting.”

His voice darkens, sending the shivers lower, tightening the possessive coil it holds over you. "And since this is the second time you've riled me up on this ship, I'm going to take you the way I want to. Do you understand, Princess?"

You whine a greedy ascent as he lines himself up with your entrance.

He leans in, purring in your ear. “Safeword?”

“Meiloorun,” you whine, giving in, desperate for him. “Green.”

“Good girl.”

You gasp a cry as he slams into you, sheathing himself in one lengthy stroke. His head falls back as he sighs a grunt, letting himself enjoy the tightness of your slick, unprepared walls.

“FUCK.” He swears before lifting his head, a smug glint in his eye. “That’s better.”

You feel his grip tighten on your ass cheeks as he leans in close to your ear. ‘Hold on tight, princess.’

You whimper, arms wrapping around his shoulders, surrendering, already on the verge of begging him to take you like this-

He pulls out and slams into you so hard you swear you feel the ship rock. 

You cry out with near-painful pleasure, hoping that somehow they don’t hear you outside of this ship - you can’t imagine the looks from the hanger clones if they hear Crosshair forcing his pleasure into you, ripping your begging cries for mercy yet for more from your lips while he grunts his pleasured staccato in your ear. 

“Too big, Crosshair, you’re too b-big for me right now!”

“You can take it Princess. I - FUCK - I know you can.” His breath quickens, nose buried behind your ear, short groans announcing his oncoming orgasm.

"KARKing hell, so tight, I'm already going to-"

Without warning, he groans a growl as he cums, pulling out to spill on the bulkhead behind you. You feel his thrusts, his cock sheathing between your ass cheeks to help him ride it out. You catch your breath as he pants into your neck, until he lifts his head with smug satisfaction. You look at him with your best pitiful eyes, hoping to lessen your sentence, praying that it doesn't.

“S-Satisfied?”

He smirks through his panting. “Hm. That was just to take the edge off.”

Shit.

He turns, still holding you up, before benching you onto his bunk and ripping off his armor. He pulls himself up behind you, crowding you against the bulkhead that serves as a headboard, pinning you there with a hot, hungry kiss. 

Dammit all to hell, all of this is making you so wet, and he must know it. 

With no finesse, no patience, he slides down your body, diving into your pussy like he hasn’t had a drink in weeks, laying waste to every curve and fold. He is RAVENOUS, like he would win the fucking war if he could just make you cum. Its completely overwhelming. You cry out in huffs, you can’t help it, brain barely catching up to the pleasure being sucked through you. “Crosshair, c-crosshair, holy fuck oh GOD.”

It almost hurts with his insistence, but his ferocity only makes you wetter, his ownership of everything you have to give like a fire in your cunt.

Two fingers slide inside of you, pulsing in and out of you at a rapid pace, rubbing against your G spot like he’s trying to beat a record, the lewd sound of your slick as he fucks you making you croon. His mouth sucks your clit hard enough to send your eyes back into your head, hands tangling in his hair. 

“Uh, uh, NNCrosshair! I’m- its too much- its going to make me-”

Its like you’ve lost all control - he’s going so fast that you can’t keep up, your body completely at his whim, so hot, so high; your mind can only lay scattered while your body reaches its peak.

“Ah, aH, Cross, Crosshair!” 

Your cum with an unabashed scream, letting go of any control of your pleasure - and you feel more wet than you’re used to squirt out onto the sheets, soaking your thighs with sticky wet warmth.

“OH shit oh god, Crosshair, I-I think you made me-”

“Kriffing right I did.” His eyes glint with that smug, hungry look again. He pulls your hips towards him, leaning over you to prop himself against the bulkhead, lining himself up with your entrance. “That pleasure belongs to me.”

He pushes into your sopping hole, making you cry out with overwhelm and need, still sensitive from your orgasm, but desperate for another one.

His hand clasps around your throat, tightening slightly as he starts to thrust. You whimper as you look up into his eyes, dazed, subdued, submissive, just for him. He’s panting, eyes boring down into yours. 

“That’s right, Princess, I’m taking what's mine. Your pleasure belongs to me.”

He grits his teeth as he sets a relentless pace, fucking you like it would save his life. You can only lay back, full with sensation, boneless, euphoric, feeling your breasts bouncing to the rhythm of his skin slapping against yours. 

Your voice comes out as a whimper. “Yes, Cross, yes, god you’re so big, please don’t stop, please let me squirt all over your cock.”

OH his GROWL as his hand tightens around your throat, not to choke you, just to make you blurry, remind you who’s mercy you’re at. 

“That’s right, my little cockwhore. You love me taking you like this, taking your pleasure all for my own, don’t you?”

You squeak from beneath his hand, his words sending you towards your climax, walls squeezing around him.

He pinches your clit, making you cry out and look back up at him.

His eyes are serious, daring you to disobey. “I didn’t tell you to cum yet. You’ll do it when I tell you. I’m in control here, not you.”

“Y-yes sir. I- AH!” He changes his angle, making you cry out as he thrusts deeper. His breath is more labored. Kriff he’s getting close, so close to giving you all his cum. You want to be so good for him… his good little cockwhore.

“Are you ready to take my cum, Princess?” He demands, already knowing your answer as he speeds up, his thumb finding your clit.

“Y-yes sir, all of it, please, dump all of it in me!” You whimper, your mind lost, spewing whatever comes to mind, whatever he wants to hear, so long as he keeps making you feel like this…

You both cum together with a cry, his a growl, yours a shriek. He grunts with each thrust as he empties himself into you, pushing inside you as far as he goes. He lets you ride out your wave on his cock, his hands flying to either side of your head to prop himself up as he pants in release. He eventually slows, looking down at you, satisfied, approving.

"That's my good girl. Taking my cock so well," he purrs, the thumb around your neck tracing your jaw line as he leans in to kiss you.

"Anything for you, Crosshair" you breathe, unthinking- and meaning it.

Everything seems to slow around you, the two of you breathing together while you come down from your play. He...something in his eyes changes while he pants down at you. Your words... he's taking in your words. You see... that openness from when he let himself cum down your throat, that... click.

You feel the energy change between you.

And slowly, so slowly, he leans in and kisses you.

Its totally different from how he was before. His kiss is slow, possessive, tender - the hand around your neck comes up to cradle your cheek. He lowers his body to yours, propped up by his elbow, bringing him skin to heated skin.

An ember glows in your belly, his kiss slowly feeding it as it glows hotter, and hotter. Your tongue flicks against his lips. He opens them to meet you, his tongue pushing in to dance with yours in his own. Fuck. You can taste his desire, his yearning, as it feeds your burning ember into a flame, flaring with yearning, hunger, need. Your hands find your way into his hair, eager to be close, to touch him more, more, to meld with him, join with him like only lovers can. And you NEED it.

You feel him firming up inside you again as he starts thrusting, as if he can’t help himself. You moan under him, growing desperate, frantic for more of him. You can't pull your lips away, getting swept up in the need to be close, to be closer than close, to have him inside of you as far as he'll go.

“Princess…” he breathes, barely pulling away, his thumb tracing your cheek bone while he moves in you. “Missed this pussy. Missed having you cum all over my face. Missed…” He pulls you into a kiss again, his lips saying what his words can’t.

Your fingers tighten in his hair to pull him closer, and he groans into your mouth.

His hips move, but he’s not aiming for the finish line anymore. He pulls away from your lips to look down at where he’s entering you with long strokes, taking his time, his breath ragged. You both watch where he thrusts into you, joins with you, makes sweet fucking love to you the way he wants to. You both moan at the sight. Then he looks up, his forehead back to yours.

“Crosshair…” Your voice is breathy, so full of this feeling he’s bringing to you, sensually taking you one stroke at a time.

His own voice is quiet, caressing you like the hand on your face. “Kriff. So good, Princess. You always feel so damn good. You taste so sweet, I'm so hungry for you all the damn time...”

He buries his face in your shoulder, breath touching sound as he pants his pleasure. His pelvis rubs along your clit, his body so close to yours, your arms clutching him, nails digging into his back while he continues thrusting you into the mattress with long, hard thrusts, pushing cry after cry from your lips. His breathy moans make you clench around him, trying to take him in farther, just a little bit farther.

You feel your crest approaching, slow, but steady - and overwhelming.

"Cross, I’m so close." You could cry with how good it feels.

"Fuck, mesh’la, yes." His own voice is breathy, lost in sensation, desperate with desire. "Need to feel you cum on my cock again. Cum around me, just for me."

"Cross, Cross, Cross," you pant, tears falling back into your hair.

"That’s right, cum with me, precious. Cum with me again. Don't stop, don't hold back. Let me watch you cum for me."

He’s up, forehead to yours, rocking and grinding you right where you need it to send you over. 

You breathe, moan together for a few more moments, connected, devoted, while you both soar up and over the edge.

He kisses you as you cum together, the two of you swallowing each others desperate moans as your lips meet again and again, bodies convulsing against each other as he releases into you, your walls squeezing him for every last drop he has to give.

You kiss until you’re both starving for breath, and only barely manage to pull away. You meet his eyes. They're open, assured, sincere, speaking volumes without saying anything, before his head falls to your neck, slowly kissing his way to your shoulder and resting his head on your collarbone, panting out his exertion. 

Then, amid his panting, quieter than a pin drop, so quiet you almost miss it, you hear him breathe out:

“Ah, cyar’ika. My cyar'ika."

!...

“...Hmm?” You turn, nuzzling into his hair, hoping beyond hope he'll repeat it.

“…nothing, Princess.” He leans up and kisses your forehead slowly, tenderly. He slowly pulls out with a combined groan from each of you. He lays beside you, pulling you close to him, his face nuzzling into the top of your head. You hold him tight, nuzzling in turn against his chest with a secret, sated smile.

You understand. You know what he said with his kisses, his body, but it's not ready to be said aloud, not ready to become a part of your relationship. And that's alright. You drift off to sleep, breathing in his scent as your body molds to his.

Its not time yet.

And you can wait.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You wake up slowly, unsure if its been hours or minutes, but still swimming in the bliss of your earlier experience. You slowly look up to find Crosshair still asleep, deep breathing guiding the unguarded moment.

He's beautiful.

Peace looks so good on him. You gently brush your fingers along his cheek, taking in this unguarded moment that so few get to see. But you do. Because he's yours. Your Crosshair, your sniper, who craves the touch and comfort you give him, even if he's too proud - or is it unsure? - to ask for it by name.

For now.

You smile to yourself, eyes tracing along his unknit brows. He's yours. And you vow then and there - you'll take good care of this trust he's given to no one else but you.

.....

Jeez, were you going to get more sappy than this?-

-The quiet of the ship is interrupted by your com's insistent beeping. Crosshair’s eyes open quickly, peace falling from his face as he’s instantly alert. You sigh to yourself, rolling over to jump off of the bunk - the outside world calls. You check the transmission before answering with a smile.

"Yes Tech darling?"

“Have you been locked inside the Marauder? Do you need rescuing?” His matter-of-fact-yet-irritated voice makes your smile wider.

“No, just… fulfilling a promise.” You chuckle, glancing up at Crosshair. He rolls his eyes and falls back onto the bunk.

“I see," Tech admonishes. You can practically see him adjusting his goggles. "Need I remind you that it is also time for your next inoculation? They are asking for you at the med bay.”

Ah, shoot. You had forgotten that, and you were the damn medic. You hit your forehead, hand sliding down your face with embarrassment. Ok yeah, that one is on you.

"Also," Tech continues, still a hint of lecture in his voice, "the Commander has been looking for you. He is hoping that you will join him for the next meal. I would quickly compose yourself and seek him out. You wouldn't want him believing the... rumors going around, would you?”

"Alright, alright, I understand." Your head falls back with a sigh. You glance over at your unfinished storage count, wondering if you should take the time to finish your checkli-

Wait just a damn minute.

He wanted to play 'you did this wrong'?

Alright. You'll play.

"Oh!" You start brightly, as if remembering something. "By the way, Technically Jangoson," you continue into the com, words dripping with honeyed venom. "I have a small teensy, tiny question just for you."

Silence.

A throat cleared at the other end. "...Yes, my queen?" The full name. Oh, he knows he's in trouble.

Good.

Your voice turns harsh, your tone angry, and your Queenly control is fully back in place.

"Where.

The FUCK.

Is my laser suture?!?!"

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

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