#Oh crap I have to tag them all… and then again

[leviathan0000]

Victoria Always Wins Pt.1

F1 Drivers x Original Character! Victoria Rothschild

Summary: Victoria Rothschild is rich, like filthy rich. Her family fortune didn't just open every door for her - it built every one of them. So when the media labeled her a gold digger after she was spotted with F1 drivers, what would she do?

Inspired by Mean Girls by Charli XCX

Faceclaim: Katarinademe from ig.

Warning: Victoria has trust issues and commitment issues and some may think she's mean.

Hi everyone this is my first original F1 fanfiction. English is not my first language so i write in Chinese and English then i use DeepSeek to translate it. Please be kind and let me know how do you feel about this.

Lando met Victoria at a club in Las Vegas. The bass pounded through the space, vibrating the air. Nearly every driver and team member was there, wild and drenched in champagne. Lando was already wasted. He clapped Max Verstappen on the shoulder, congratulating him once again on defending his World Driver’s Championship title. Then he slipped into the dance floor, which had devolved into pure, chaotic revelry.

A group of girls instantly caught his eye—not just because they were stunning, but because they didn’t look like the usual afterparty groupies who tag along the drivers. They moved with an untamed energy, like they owned the damn night.

Lando scanned the six girls, and one in particular seized his attention. The moment he saw her clearly, the whole world seemed to mute itself. The music still blasted, but all he could hear was the hammering of his own heart.

For the love of god, she was breathtaking. A brunette in a tight, V-neck black dress that hugged every curve, revealing a nearly lethal cleavage. Men around her had already undressed her with their eyes a dozen times over. She didn’t give a damn.

She danced like she owned the fucking room. Lip-syncing the lyrics, twerking and swaying her hips with her friends.

“Oh my fucking god,” Lando breathed—or maybe he said it out loud; he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that she glanced his way. Just a fleeting look. Nothing more.

He saw one of the other girls say something to her, and then the whole crew started moving toward the bar. The crowd parted for them almost theatrically. Six gorgeous girls together? People just made way.

They leaned against the bar, laughing brightly, radiating energy. That’s when a guy approached.

Lando watched him stride confidently toward her, say something to the bartender—probably offering to buy their drinks or some crap like that. The girls exchanged a look and politely declined, but the guy didn’t back off. He pushed closer.

“So what are you pretty girls doing here tonight? Girl’s night out?” He wore a smarmy, arrogant smirk. Someone needs to punch that face, Lando thought.

“Yeah,” she replied flatly, already turning back to her friends, shutting him down with a dismissive shrug.

The guy still wouldn’t quit. Lando started forward, but someone beat him to it—fit, gleaming, dreadlocks: Lewis Hamilton.

He said something to the man, a polite but firm smile on his face. The guy fawned over Lewis, shook his hand eagerly, and finally slunk away.

Lando watched Lewis greet her, his hand resting casually on her shoulder. They clearly knew each other, and well. The other girls in the group chimed in, chatting easily with him.

Of course. Classic Lewis charm.

Lando seized the moment. He tapped Lewis’ shoulder with his signature boyish grin. “Hey Lew!”

Lewis turned casually. “Hey Lando, you having fun?” “Yeah yeah, just danced a bit. And hello to the pretty ladies!” He nodded at the group, his gaze lingering on Victoria a beat too long. The girls offered polite but lukewarm smiles.

“Well,” Victoria downed her champagne flute, “who’s up for a drive? This place is suffocating.” “Yeah, Vic!” “Let’s go!” “Hell yeah, I just got my new Porsche!” the girls cheered. “Then we’re outta here! See you, Lew.” She kissed Lewis’ cheek. He gave her waist a brief, familiar squeeze as they said their goodbyes.

Lando’s jaw dropped. He just got here and they were already leaving? No way! “Need a driver?” He intercepted Victoria as she passed, flashing a hopeful smile. Lewis watched, unfazed. Victoria lifted her lashes, her deep eyes finally locking onto his. Their first real connection of the night. “I don’t know. Are you a good one?” Lando’s throat went dry. Damn, it’s just a question. Get your shit together, Norris! “Well, no complaints so far,” he said, holding her gaze steadily. “And I do drive for McLaren.” “McLaren? Wrong brand.” Her retort was effortlessly brutal. She glanced back at her friends. “Maybe next time.”

She walked away, her shoulder brushing his arm. The scent of champagne and roses trailed behind her. Lando stared after her – the swing of her hair, the curve of her hips, her animated chatter fading into the crowd.

“Wow, that’s your game?” Lewis’ amused voice snapped Lando back. “OMG, bro, who is that? You know her?” Lando pleaded, desperate for intel. “That’s Victoria, mate. Lethal weapon.” Lewis’ tone held a clear warning. “Don’t mistake her for those other girls. That’s a recipe for disaster.” Lando was already spellbound. “Victoria who?How’d you meet? You got her number?” “Bro, calm down. You’re whipped already.” Lewis fought an eye-roll. “Met at a charity thing. Shared music taste. Her name’s Victoria Roth.” He eyed Lando’s eager expression – like Roscoe begging for treats. “As for her number? I have it. But I’m not handing it out. I’d need to ask her first.”

[batsandbirdbrains]

Silly little sort of crack idea for the Justice League who still don’t know who Batman is behind the mask. Like they know nothing about him. A lot of them think he’s a Creature of some sort. They certainly don’t know anything about Dick/Robin, either. But he keeps leaving meetings early or abruptly or just straight up not showing up because, “I have more important obligations.”

So they spy on him. It’s the obvious solution. Because what if he’s really a villain of some sort? Gotham is crazy, they wouldn’t put it past someone from Gotham to pretend to be a hero for some crazy, convoluted plan.

And what they find shocks all of them. Because maybe they snuck a bug on Batman, and it only picks up audio. Batman had just left a meeting early. Again. With no real explanation as to why.

First, they hear mostly static. The sound of since rustling as he moves. Then actual bat noises start echoing, and Barry is convinced that Batman just turned into a bunch of bats.

But then they hear a a tiny little voice shouting, “B! We’re gonna be late!” followed by the sound of something colliding with Batman.

And then Batman chuckles. It scares the crap out of all of them. They didn’t think Batman could have emotions outside of anger and annoyance.

“I know, chum, I’m sorry.”

“You said your dumb meetings were only supposed to be two hours!”

“They are,” Batman huffs. “Flash likes to chitchat.”

Barry scoffs. What’s wrong with chit chatting!

“We’re gonna be late!” the child’s voice whines. “I don’t wanna get in trouble!”

“Alright, alright,” Batman laughs. “We’re leaving now, let’s go. Do you have all your gear together?”

“It’s already in the car!” the child huffs. “Let’s go!”

The noise that follows is muffled, and they can tell that Batman has changed out of his gear and they’re now in a car, driving in the road. The radio is playing, and it’s causing some static in the feed.

“And you promise you won’t yell this time?” the boy’s voice whines.

“So long as they don’t make any shit calls this time,” Batman scoffs.

“Language, sir,” another voice says, and they hear the child giggling.

Hal asks the others if Batman has a henchman. They all shush him so they can keep listening.

The noise that follows soon after is full of other people talking, shouting, and loudspeaker announcements. Everything is muffled together, it’s hard to make out what exactly is being said. But one thing becomes very clear.

Batman is coaching a little league game.

And he’s getting very heated about it.

“YOU CALL THAT A STRIKE?”

“HE WAS SAFE! THAT WASN’T AN OUT! NO, NO, THIS INNING IS NOT OVER.”

“OH COME ON, HE TAGGED HIM! THAT KID’S OUT!”

“GET YOUR FUCKIN’ EYES CHECKED, BLUE!”

They hear Batman get ejected. From a little league game. They hear grumbling to himself as he watches from the car in the parking lot.

Then they hear the same little boy whining and complaining when the door opens again an hour later and he slumps into the car.

“You promised you wouldn’t yell!”

“I wouldn’t have had to yell if the umpires opened their damn eyes!”

“Language like that is what got you thrown out of the game, sir. Again.”

“It’s only happened twice!”

“It’s only the fifth game of the season!” the little boy whines. “And you promised me ice cream if we won.”

“Did you win?”

“Duh,” the boy scoffs. “9 to 3!”

“Attaboy,” Batman says, and he sounds so proud.

They stop listening then, because one thing has become very clear. Batman is a dad. And he’s constantly leaving meetings early because of obligations to his kid. And suddenly they all feel like assholes.

A couple months later, they’re all introduced to a little boy called Robin. And they can’t figure out how Batman’s son is so cute and sweet. But they absolutely can tell he’s Batman’s, because he’s also scary as shit.

[lxstxr]

all in | e. prentiss

summary: An innocent girls night ends with you and Emily stuck in a game of strip poker.

word count: 2.0k

tags: 18+ nsfw, dom!emily, fem!reader, oral (r receiving), please lmk if i forgot anything!

a/n: this is my first time writing actual smut and im incredibly nervous to post this (what, who said that??)

Emily’s living room glows under soft lamps and the flicker of a half-burnt candle on the coffee table. Penelope flops onto the couch with dramatic flair, draping herself over JJ. “Okay,” Penelope declares, cheeks flushed and hair wild from the three classes of Cabernet Sauvignon she’d already had. “One more round. 'Never Have I Ever.' Let’s go. I want confessions.”

JJ groans, already holding up three fingers. “I swear, if this turns into another ‘Penelope has done everything’ game.”

“You’re just mad I’ve lived more lives than you, blondie.”

You chuckle and glance over at Emily, who’s lounging in an armchair with her glass balanced perfectly in one hand, legs folded underneath her. 

JJ’s eyes gleam. “Never have I ever... hooked up with someone from the Bureau.”

Penelope rolls her eyes and drops a finger. You and Emily glance at each other, and then both stay still. Suspiciously still.

JJ catches it instantly. “You both paused.”

“I was thinking,” Emily says smoothly.

“I was lying,” you admit, just to watch Emily’s expression twitch into a smirk.

“Ha!” Penelope shrieks, pointing between you two. “I knew there was weird tension!”

“There’s no tension,” Emily says too quickly.

“None at all,” you echo, matching her tone with mock innocence.

JJ just snorts into her wine. “If I have to watch you two flirt anymore, I’m going to gouge my own eyes out.”

Emily raises a brow at you. “Do you call this flirting?”

“I call it beating you at every game so far,” you say sweetly.

“Ouch.” Emily grins. “Don’t get cocky. You haven’t played me at poker yet.”

“Oh my God,” Penelope groans, gathering her purse. “I’m tapping out. I can’t watch this slow-burn enemies-to-lovers crap happen in real time.”

JJ stands, stretching. “Henry’s got soccer in the morning. I’m out too.”

You glance between them. “Wait, really? You’re leaving us?”

Penelope shrugs on her jacket and smirks. “You’ll manage. Or you won’t.”

JJ, already halfway out the door, throws a wink over her shoulder. “Try not to kill each other with your sexual tension.”

You and Emily look at each other. And then away. And then back again.

The door clicks shut. The room is quiet.

Emily swirls the wine in her glass, not looking at you. “So…”

You raise an eyebrow. “Poker?”

She smirks. “Only if you’re not afraid to lose.”

The apartment is quieter now. The mellow jazz from Emily’s endless vinyl collection has softened into the background, and the candle on the table burns low, casting shadows across the walls. You’re perched on the couch, one knee tucked under you, wine glass cradled in your hands. Emily refills hers, then yours, without asking. You watch her move deliberately and unhurried, like she has nowhere else to be. Her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, and her dark hair’s fallen a little looser than it was earlier. She’s flushed from the wine. Or maybe it’s the company.

“Do I need to worry about getting hustled?” you say, swirling your glass. 

She raises an eyebrow. “Please. If I were trying to hustle you, I would have already done it.”

You smile over the rim of your glass. “Okay, Prentiss.”

Emily walks over with a deck of cards and a dangerous glint in her eye. “Strip poker?”

You arch a brow. “You’d like that too much.”

She shrugs. “We could play for pretzels.”

You glance at the half-empty snack bowl, then at her, matching her smirk. “Fine. Strip poker. But I should warn you, I play dirty.”

Emily sits across from you, cross-legged on the carpet, and starts to shuffle the deck with practiced ease. “So do I.”

The cards slap crisply as she deals. “Basic five-card draw?”

“Works for me,” you say, stretching out, deliberately casual. “House rules?”

Emily looks up through her lashes. “One item per loss. Nothing too scandalous at first.”

Your laugh is low and warm. “Trying to ease me in?”

“Trying to give you a fighting chance,” she deadpans.

You shoot her a mock glare and glance down at your hand. Not terrible. Not great. But the point isn’t winning, and you’re pretty sure Emily knows that too.

First round, she loses. Off comes her bracelet.

Second round, you lose. Your hoodie joins the growing pile beside you.

By the third round, things are heating up. Your smiles are slower, and the pauses between glances feel more loaded.

“You’re stalling,” she says, watching you frown at your cards.

“I’m considering my options,” you reply. “Some of us don’t have tell-free poker faces.”

She smirks. “Oh, I wasn’t talking about your face.”

You shoot her a look, but your pulse skips anyway. She wins again. Off comes your sock. You toss it at her, and she catches it with a grin. “This is the most undignified strip poker I’ve ever played,” you mutter.

“Oh?” Emily leans back on her hands, all long legs and quiet confidence. “How many games have you played?” You take a sip of wine and don’t answer. Her smile deepens.

The game goes on. Layer by layer, piece by piece. The room feels warmer. The silence between jokes starts to stretch. She’s watching you now, really watching. You’re both down to your last couple of layers. Emily’s in a tank top and black lace underwear. You’re not far behind. Your knees have migrated closer during the last hand, somewhere in the middle of a story she told about her days at Yale.

You lean in, elbows on your knees. “You’re stalling now,” you say.

“I’m considering my options.” She mimics you and raises her eyebrows. You smile. She matches your smile, slow and unreadable. She deals another hand, but her gaze flicks up too often to be casual. The cards barely hit the floor before she’s watching you again over the edge of her wine glass.

You’re both tipsy. Not drunk. Just buzzed enough that your inhibitions are softer at the edges. Just enough that neither of you feels like pretending this is still just about cards.

“Your poker face is slipping,” she says as she plays her hand.

You scoff. “So is your shirt.”

She glances down at the thin tank top clinging to her, then back at you with a half-smile. “I’m not the one losing.”

You lay your cards down slowly. Full house.

Her eyebrows lift in genuine surprise. “Okay, that’s annoying.”

“Off with the top, Prentiss.”

Emily eyes you like she’s debating whether to obey or find some loophole. Then, with a long exhale and an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she pulls the tank top over her head and tosses it aside, leaving her in nothing but black lace you’re definitely not supposed to be staring at. “Happy?” she asks.

You take a deliberate sip of wine. “Ecstatic.”

She smiles, slow and knowing. “You’re blushing.”

You roll your eyes. “Please. It’s just the wine. Deal.” She does. Neither of you looks away.

You lose the next hand. Of course you do. You half suspect she threw the game before just to lull you into a false sense of security. You pull your shirt off, matching her now in nothing but underwear. You sit back on your heels, hair messy, skin flushed, and try to look unaffected. Emily doesn’t bother pretending. Her eyes drag over you like she’s savoring every inch, and when she speaks again, her voice is quieter.

“You want to call it?” she asks.

You tilt your head. “Giving up?”

She smiles. “Just checking if you’re ready to lose.”

You reach forward, grabbing the deck from her hands. “Let’s raise the stakes.”

Her brows lift, but she lets you take it. “Oh?”

You lean in, close enough that your knees are touching. “Last hand. Winner decides what the loser takes off.”

Emily stares at you. You stare back. The air feels thick. Charged. “Okay, deal,” she says, voice low.

The cards are almost secondary now. Neither of you is really watching them. You both lay your hands down at the same time. Emily wins. You don’t flinch. You don’t even blink. Instead, you meet her gaze and murmur, “Well? What’s it gonna be?”

Her mouth curves. “Your panties,” she says softly.

You don’t break eye contact. You don’t joke. You don’t stall. You rise slowly onto your knees, hands slipping to your waistband, and with deliberate grace, you slide them down and off.

Emily watches, stone still. And when you sit back down in front of her, completely bare and more emboldened than you thought you’d be, you ask in a whisper, “Now what?”

Emily sets her glass down with a soft clink. And then she leans in, lips brushing yours, and says against your mouth. “Your turn to win.”

Emily’s lips brush yours once more, soft, almost tentative, but the heat of it coils low in your belly. You chase her mouth before she can pull back, hand sliding into her hair to anchor her as you kiss her like it’s something you’ve been holding back for too long. You have.

She tastes like wine and something dangerous. She kisses like she means to unravel you. Her hands are on your waist, firm and sure, fingers splayed across your bare skin as she pulls you into her lap. You straddle her thighs without hesitation, gasping as your bare skin makes contact with her.

“Fuck,” she murmurs against your neck. “You’re gorgeous.”

You smile, breathless. “Took you long enough to notice.”

She nips at your collarbone in response, then soothes it with her tongue. “Oh, I noticed. I just have excellent self-control.”

“Not anymore.”

Emily hums, low in her throat, and slides her hands up your back, pulling you closer. You rock your hips without meaning to, the pressure sweet and maddening as you grind down on the lace between you. Her breath catches. Her head falls back slightly.

You kiss your way down her throat, tasting the salt of her skin, the edge of her control. She lets you explore for a moment, but then her grip tightens, and suddenly you’re on your back on the carpet, blinking up at her as she hovers over you, hair wild and eyes dark.

“You like being in control?” she asks, voice rough.

“Sometimes.”

She leans down, brushing her lips along your jaw. “Not tonight.”

You shiver as her mouth trails down your body, over your chest, between your breasts, and lower until she’s settled between your thighs, spreading them with her hands like she owns you. Her eyes flick up once, checking.

You nod. “Yes. Please.”

That’s all she needs.

She kisses the inside of your thigh first, slow and maddening, then the other. She doesn’t rush. Emily Prentiss doesn’t do anything halfway. When her mouth finally finds you, you gasp, sharp and loud, hands flying to her hair as she licks into you like she’s starving.

She moans softly when you tug at her, and the sound vibrates through you like electricity.

Your hips roll into her mouth without permission. She holds you down, one arm across your hips, the other hand spreading you open so she can keep working you apart with her tongue. Every flick is precise. Every stroke is calculated.

You’re babbling her name before long, thighs trembling, nails digging into the carpet. She murmurs praise between licks until it’s too much. “That’s it, so good for me,” she hums, “Come for me, sweetheart.” 

You break. Hard. The orgasm crashes over you like a wave, sharp and blinding. You cry out, back arching and thighs clenching around her as she rides it out with you, unrelenting until you’re gasping her name and pulling her up into your arms.

She kisses you again, deeper this time, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. You’re still trembling. Still dazed. “Holy shit,” you whisper.

Emily laughs softly against your mouth. “Told you, I play to win.”

You bury your face in her neck, catching your breath. “I want a rematch.”

[sojumamii]

༊*·˚puppy love༊*·˚

summary: a first grade mission goes awry when megumi gets hits by a curses' attack that....turned him into a puppy?! now you, your friends and gojo are tasked with turning him back before it's too late!

tags: megumi fushiguro x f! reader, established relationship in-universe setting, fluff, crack, slice of life. snippy clingy puppy megumi, gojo's grubby hands.

warnings: swearing. unedited.

pt.1 pt.2

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

stupid fucking curse 

stupid fucking itadori

stupid fucking kugisaki

stupid fucking GOJO

are all the thoughts rapid cycling through megumi's brain as he watches the three pairs eyes looking down at him, their statures intimidatingly big and tall from where he stands on the floor. the room is now suddenly bigger than he remembers just five minutes ago, all he can see at eye level are the ankles of every single person on his current hit list.

"ah! what the hell happened to fushiguro?!" yuji yells in panic as he looks down at megumi in confused panic.

the immature snickering coming from gojo and nobara explodes into a burst of rambunctious laughter, nearly falling over as they choke on air.

gojo clutches his stomach as he points down at megumi, teasingly cooing,"wow megumi thanks for taking one for the team!" he crouches down to take a closer look at megumi's new...fluffy appearance.

in front of the trio is a small tiny fluffy ball of black fur, a tiny snout nose, and two wide dark navy eyes that contain the coldest glare a puppy can hold. the toy pomeranian is an exact canine counterpart to their beloved brooding friend and student.

"oh crap...how the hell are we gonna explain this one to (y/n)?!" Yuuji mutters in shock.

"oh my god, the curse got turned into one of those yappy little mutts oh this is gold!" nobara wipes a tear from her glittery brown eyes as her laughter begins to fade out.

megumi growls and barks as he rushes to nip gojo and nobara's legs in retaliation. 

"agh! you bratty little rat! i'll knock you across the room with my hammer if you do that again" the auburn haired girl shrieks, gritting her teeth, matching the ferocious expression on puppy megumi's boxy little face

"aww! meguuuuuumi you're just the cutest little thing c'mere!~" gojo coos mischievously as he reaches down for the poofy puppy

megumi yaps, running away from gojo's chasing hands, running through yuji's legs and circling around them in increasing panic and speed as gojo chuckles devilishly.

yuji grows dizzy following megumi's movements, he sighs to himself as he focuses on his movements before darting his hands out and snatching megumi away. megumi gives fight and thrashes in his arms growling before his new little body grows limp, his pink tongue hanging out his mouth as he pants in exhaustion.

yuji coos and scratches the top of his head,"alright you gotta calm down now fushiguro." he says as he strokes megumi's soft fur

megumi huffs as if saying,'how can you expect me to be calm?!'

gojo chuckles before picking up his phone to dial ijichi,"we should head back to the school, we'll take him to shoko to get him checked out, and in the meantime i'll see if yaga or nanami can find out any information about that curse," he says walking over to yuji and bending forward to be face to face with his now-canine student.

"and oh by the way," he looks up to yuuji's hazel eyes,"i won't be the one explaining to our sweet little angel what happened to her boyfriend, i'm sure you guys got that covered," he smirks before reaching a sneaky hand to scratch megumi's ears, earning him a growl and snap of megumi's teeth. he quickly retracts his hand,"okay okay geez..." 

megumi sighs in his head, mentally wondering how you're doing as today was your long overdue and well deserved day off from missions. he wonders if you're having a better day either doing nothing or cleaning your dorm like said you would

he lets out a groan that in his new form comes out as a sad little puppy whimper when he thinks about how the hell is he gonna explain this new predicament to you...and if he can ever break the curse....

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"Ahh~ it's so clean in here finally!" you happily sigh to yourself taking in the sight of your now neat and tidy dorm room, having been a tornado of clothes, books, and empty beverage bottles due to back to back missions and the never ending cycle of classes. the soft sounds of your favorite music plays in the background and the cozy warmth of the fairy lights adds a more relaxed welcoming atmosphere to your room.

rarely do you ever spend time in here even on your days off or after said missions and classes.

opting to give into megumi's not-so subtle ways of you making you sleep and stay in his own dorm room, which he's progressively losing good excuses just making random nonsense that makes you laugh and wonder why your pretty boy keeps trying to make up excuses when you'd never say no.

'don't you just prefer the direct my room faces? the sun isn't blinding you first thing in the morning?' (you have curtains)

'my water pressure is better' (the dormitories at jujutsu tech have the same exact showers)

your delicate face unconsciously smiles brightly at the thought of your stoic little lover boy, you fondly stare the photo of the two of you on your most recent date at a bookstore-coffee shop that had just opened.(well it was supposed to be a date but yuji and nobara crashed it) 

you clip it onto the wall above your desk, adorned with string lights along with other photos of megumi and yourself, and many with yuji, nobara, and gojo...and a cute one you goaded nanami into.

looking at the photo it reminds you that your friends and teacher should in fact be back soon...and that you actually haven't heard from megumi since he texted you that he got to the mission sight. you can't help but to worry but as if right on cue there's a knock on your door.

you squeal beaming with excitement as you skip to open the door

only to reveal

nothing?

huh?!

you look out left right frantically and confused as to who was just at your door.

did you miss megumi that badly you imagined he knocked?

you're snapped out of your thoughts when you hear a little bark, surprised you look around for the source of the sound until you hear it again.

you look down and see a fluffy ball of black fur, wagging it's tail and running in  tiny circles and yipping for your attention.

you coo and crouch down to scoop up the palm sized creature,"hey little guy, whatcha doin out here?"

it responds excitedly jumping into your hands and sniffing and licking your face affectionately. you giggle and pull it away from your face,"alright alright i get it you're cute but where'd you come from?" you ask as if it can respond.

when you stare at it face to face for a few seconds...the dog feels familiar...in a weird way, even the way it's eyes stare back at you feels almost human...

you did love to joke that if megumi had a dog form it would not be like  the beautiful  wolfy appearance of his divine dogs, but the form of a snappy little pomeranian with his hair and sassy attitude. it almost feels like divine intervention that a yippy pomeranian showed up at your door when you started miss and worry about your boyfriend. was this little guy a gift? no, megumi said his shikigami were the closest things to pets you could have....or maybe this is one the staffs' pet? or maybe just a stray...? 

 then you start to think a little too hard...

bringing the puppy that's still happily wagging it's tail in your hands up to your face you let out a sigh,"You know you kind of remind me of my boyfriend, he's got hair and lashes  just like you-no.no.no. it can't be?" you shake your head in disbelief there's no way this dog is megumi fushiguro himself. the dogs yips as if it to say yes.

'it is me damn it!' megumi thinks to himself as he huffs in your arms, he feels a little off balance as you stand up with him and listens to you mutter different possibilities to yourself.

you perk up and gasp when you realize something off about it and bring the puppy back up to your face to interrogate megumi some more.

"hey! you have cursed energy! are you someone's shikigami? is this how they're getting rid of me?" you step out into the hallway, your senses on high alert but there's no sign of a curse user anywhere.

you gasp again- that's megumi's cursed energy signature.

"oh my god-! gumi?!" you ask incredulously, raising him up in the air in front of you. he huffs in confirmation, his little body having grown tired from his efforts of trying to communicate. man being in such a small body is tiring...

"ah crap she figured it out!" you hear yuuji's panicked voice say from behind you.

"damn it...we're really in for it now!" nobara cuts in like clockwork.

you slowly turn around, staring at them in wide eyed disbelief,"what the hell happened out there? how did megumi get like this?" you're asking but there's a snippy essence in your tone that feels like you're being rhetorical. like you're scolding all three of them (mostly nobara and yuuji, you feel bad scolding megumi right now, I mean, look at that little face)

you hug megumi to your chest, stroking his fur comfortingly,"aw my poor gumi, don't worry we'll figure out how to change you back," you smile reassuringly,"if it's any consolation you're even cuter as a puppy..."

he grunts and petulantly tucks himself into your neck, his wet nose pressed your warm skin he seeks your scent and presence. he lets out a soft huff once he gets comfortable, his little body now limp and relaxed as he succumbs to slumber in your arms. 

your heart squeezes in both fondness and worry. this whole situation while unexpected and slightly worrisome, is rather comedic. much to his dismay, a snippy little pomeranian is what you often compare him to, and now like a metaphorical prophecy: he is one.

you look at the disaster twins, remarking their nervous smiles you playfully roll your eyes and chuckle,”look lets get him to shoko, you’ll explain everything there.” you direct them both, leading the way to the infirmary. after a minute you halt your steps, sharply turning to your classmates,”wait a second,” you look around,”where the hell is gojo?” 

yuji and nobara avoid your eyes stupidly whistling and kicking rocks, wincing when you growl and stomp angrily toward the infirmary.

“stupid white haired bastard good for nothing guardian blindfolded idiot…” you grumble angrily.

the disaster twins sigh, also cursing gojo for leaving them to deal with your reaction to megumi’s predicament. they follow after you, heads down like scolded toddlers.

“not fair that fushiguro gets to be cute and nap…” yuji whines

nobara nods,” y’know i used to wonder how fushiguro bagged someone as good and pretty as (y/n) of all people…but after seeing her temper…they’re made for each other.

though you’re ahead of them, your heightened senses allow you to hear nobara’s words, filling you with warmth and a soft smile gracing your delciate features as you look down at the sleeping puppy in your arms, kissing the top of his head.

“she’s right gumi…we really are. you'll be back before you know it."

to be continued….

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

RAAAAH second (and last.) fic of 2024 and it’s a series! First fic was published on here back at the end of May which is crazy that much time has passed since then! “always a brat” was a spur of the moment drabble and I had no idea it was going to get the love and traction it did, which I am grateful for and  very touched! thank you to everyone who supported it, and I hope you like this new installment! 

Happy New Year! May you have an even better 2025!

-v

[ipushhimback]

Hugs?

pairing: lando norris x reader words: ig around 500? warinings: periods?

summary: you wake up with cramps and your boyfriend comforts you <3

You woke up in the morning feeling like crap. Your whole body was aching and even just the thought about moving just a little made it hurt even more. 

Lando was still softly snoring next to you with his arm wrapped around your waist and his face buried in your neck. You gently moved his arm from your waist as the pain was just intensifying with the pressure. Your boyfriend scrunched his face but didn’t wake up. Luckily.

You didn’t need him to wake up to you being on your period the first time he stayed over at yours. You knew how unbearable you could become when you were in pain and your hormones were all over the place. 

But only a few minutes later you could feel Lando stir next to you as he stretched himself and rubbed his eyes before opening them and looking at you with so much love in them you thought you would melt in a puddle right now.

“Hey, darling. How long have you been awake?”, he asked with a sleepy smile on his face.

“Not long. Maybe ten minutes or so. You slept well?”, you asked as you pressed a kiss to Lando’s lips.

“Yeah. Your bed is comfy. Or maybe I just like having you next to me. You ok? You look a little pale”, Lando said while he furrowed his brow in worry. 

“All good, Lan. Just tired”, you tried to reassure him though you could see that your boyfriend didn’t believe you. 

The next moment you couldn’t pretend to be fine anymore as a sharp wave of pain rolled through you, making you swear under your breath. “Fuck.”

“You are absolutely not ok. Is it your period?”, Lando asked and you just stared at him perplexed. “I have sisters. No pretending here. I did it all. Doing hot water bottles. Going to the store to get chocolate or whatever cravings they had. Buying pads in the middle of the night. Seriously, just be honest. Is it bad?”

You couldn’t help but nod as you felt your eyes well up with tears by how sweet your boyfriend was.

“You want a heating pad? Hot chocolate? Painkillers? Hugs?”, Lando asked again and you nodded while the tears started falling. 

“Oh, baby. No crying, ok?”, Lando said as he wiped the tears from his your cheek. “I’ll be back in a minute”, he continued as he got up.

As promised, he returned only a little later, having a heating pad, painkillers, water, and a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. He placed it all in front of you and sat down next to you, wrapping his arms around you again. You leaned your head on his chest and let yourself just be held.

Lando leaned forward a little and grabbed the painkillers that he then held out to you. 

“Here. They’ll help.” He grabbed that water bottle as well and opened the lid. 

You took a sip and placed the bottle back on the table to swap it with the hot chocolate. 

“I hate seeing you in pain”, Lando said as he kissed the top of your head. 

“Well, I hate being in pain”, you said chuckling a little. “But thanks for being here. For taking care of me. I was scared you might be grossed out”, you admitted.

“Grossed out? Never. You are amazing and I won’t leave over something so small. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Lan.”

a/n: something short bc i am planning to write something else but don’t have any inspiration… also, i think all of us deserve a lando in our life who makes us hot chocolate

tags: @strawberryy-kiwii / @a-distantdreamer / @requiemforthepoets / @martygraciesversion381 / @l-vroom4 / @comicalivy / @sid-is-gr8 / @picklesbuddy93 / @sadiemack9 / @f1fantasys / @cloud-55 / @sunny44 / @widow-cevans / @gigicisneros / @mbioooo0000 / @sinfully-yoursss / @bravo-delta-eccho / @rue-t / @mayax2o07 / @alexanderachillesisgay / @maviesamour / @suhchenjun / @pippyth3hippy / @sweate-r-weathe-r / @joannaln4 / @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy / @aleatorio1234 

[deansbestfriend]

meet the parents 𐙚 dean winchester

dean winchester x gn!reader

tags and warnings: season1!dean, comedy - fluff , dean finally admits his feelings, sitcom plot if you add a laugh track. FIRST KISS! YAY!

summary: after lying to your parents that you’re still in school and not hunting alongside sam and dean, you finally bite the bullet and stop by, along with dean after he insists. during dinner, dean makes a shocking announcement.

The car rumbled to a stop in front of the modest two story house, its porch light glowing faintly in the gathering dusk. By the time he put the car in park, Dean’s voice broke the silence.

“Remind me why I’m playing house with you again?” He peered over at you, one arm on the door, there was a smirk on his face. It was both charming and infuriating to you.

“Because— you insisted.” You start, “Something about ‘watching the show’ and ‘laughing at my expense.’”

Dean laughed, “Right, right. You’re cute when you’re concerned.”

You roll your eyes, shoving the passenger door of the impala open to be met with the brisk summer air. Before he could follow your path you turn, your eyes meeting his.

“Leave the gun in the car, Dean.”

He froze halfway out of the vehicle, with a look on his face that screamed incredulity. “C’mon—really?”

“Yes! Really!” You fold your arms in disbelief. “This is my parent’s house and I would like them not to know I’m riding around with a cool gun-wielding, monster hunter.” You kept your voice at an aggressive whisper as if you could be heard.

Dean scoffed—but there was a flicker of something in his expression. Maybe amusement, maybe begrudging respect. With a dramatic sigh, he slid back into the car, tucking the gun underneath the drivers seat.

“Happy now?” He asked joining your side as the two of you made your way to the ominous looking front door. “So you think I’m cool?” He smirked looking over at you.

“Shut up,” you mutter, a smile on your face before you finally knock against the door.

By the time you had finished your first knock the door flung open. Your mother lurching herself forward into your arms. “Oh my goodness!” Her voice rang. “It’s so good to see you, it’s been ages!” Then her eyes landed on Dean. Her eye brows lifting. “And who’s this?”

Crap, you hadn’t thought about that. After all you didn’t even know who he was to you. “This is Dean, he’s—uh,”

“The boyfriend.” Dean cut in smoothly, his hand out to shake hers before you could protest or stammer on any further.

Your mom’s face split into a smile, “Well isn’t that lovely! Come in, both of you, your dad’s just finishing up in the kitchen.” She ushered you both in.

You shot a glare at Dean, he winked at you, entirely too pleased with himself.

The plan wasn’t to stay for dinner. It was suppose to be a quick in and out, a “hello” and a “goodbye” then back on the road. But here the four of you sat.

Dean to your left, your mother and father across the table. Plates of food in front of all of you.

“So, Dean.” Your dad hadn’t said much until now. “What do you do for a living?”

You nearly choked on the water you sipped.

“Security work.” He said, leaning back in his chair with practiced ease. “Family business, private gigs—keeps me busy, lots of traveling.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You didn’t know whether to keep yourself from laughing or to calm your nerves. You couldn’t tell if your parents bought his lie either—their expressions unreadable.

“Oh, wonderful. I feel safer already.” Your mother teased. “So, how did you two meet then?”

Dean leaned forward, “Funny story actually,”

“School!” You blurted out, cutting him off. “We met at school.”

Deans lips twitched, you knew he was biting back a grin. He let you have that one, though, much to your relief.

The evening carried on, smoother than you expected. Despite your initial nerves, Dean kept up the facade with an experts ease.

But maybe with too much ease, you thought, as now desert was being passed around the table.

Just as everyone settled, Dean cleared his throat. “I just wanna say,” he began, glancing around the table till his eyes found yours. “You’ve got a helluva’ kid here.”

Your cheeks burned, you were mortified in what was next to come, but you hoped he was done. You met his eyes and figured out he was not.

“Brave, smart, more guts than anyone I’ve ever met. You should be proud.” Neither of your eyes left one another, the fear of what he would say next subsided—you actually wanted him to continue.

Your heart raced, “And I think I’m fallin’ in love with ‘em.” He finished.

His expression was soft, caring. He wanted to reach out for you, but he resisted.

“Thank you for having me.” He broke away from your locked eyes, your parents were in awe of his speech—captivated by it even.

There were only a few more bumps in the road during desert. But it was nothing you or Dean couldn’t maneuver around. The read on your parents was still a plain one—until the end of the night.

Your mother stopped you at the door, giving you both hugs. Encasing you in her arms, and giving Dean a side embrace for extra measure before sending him out the door.

“He’s different.” She says to you.

“Different in a good way?” You worried she saw through his act.

“The best kind of different.” She gives you a peck against your cheek before sending you on your way as well.

You practically skip out the door. Dean stood waiting for you outside the impala, leaned against its cool metal.

By the time you cover the distance, he welcomes you into his arms, snaking his hands around your waist and your arms connect behind his neck.

“Thank you for doing this.” You say.

“Anything for you.” He replies, his eyes locked onto yours—his voice low and full of meaning.

“Did you mean all of that? That you said in there?” You asked, now realizing that the two of you had never embraced this long—or even looked at each other in this way before.

“That’s the only thing I didn’t lie about.” He smirked, “and my name.” Which prompted a chuckle from him.

Before you could respond, he craned his neck forward. Your lips pressing into his for the first time. He took the lead, and you fell in sync with the way his lips moved.

You felt as if you were melting into his arms, leaving you two meshed together, becoming one. You felt his hands move lower, past your hips. His firm hands groping you in the process that connected the two of you.

His tongue glided between your lips, acquainting itself with your own. You even heard yourself whimper underneath his lips, the muffled sound making him hungry for more.

But, the echo of someone clearing their throat broke you apart. Your father stood in the doorway of your childhood home shaking his head from left to right.

You made a face that read, “I’m so sorry.”

Dean on the other hand gave a polite wave, with a smile as if nothing happened. He opened the passenger door for you to retreat inside. Flustered but amused.

[silvermistcosmos]

▬▬ enhypen’s reaction to you crying after another member scares you (Hyung line)

PAIRING: Enhypen x reader

GENRE: fluff // headcanon

WARNINGS: not proofread

A/N: uhm, hello…it’s been 2 years….just wanted to test this out. wrote this on my phone in 15 minutes. not proofread…just wanted to write a little bit.

#Heeseung:

If it got to the point of you crying, it went too far.

The moment he heard small whimpers coming from the hallway, he spun on his heels to your direction

When he found out that Niki had scared you, he pulled you into his arms to calm you down first

He didn’t want to act mad in front of you, but he would definitely reprimand him later

“i’m so sorry he did that, my love. Do you want to get your favorite hoodie of mine and we can watch our show together?”

When your tears stopped and you look up with a small smile, he taps your nose. “i’ll make the popcorn.”

and then you dash off to his room to find a hoodie. fears forgotten.

#Jay:

Oh, the man was furious.

How dare Jake and Niki team up to scare you like that?

They KNEW you would react badly, yet they still did it.

“I’m going to kill them.” Jay said as he kissed your forehead. “Or worse”

You frowned, “it’s really alrigh-“

“no.” this was all he said before he stormed off to jake and niki laughing in the kitchen

jay slammed his hands on the counter, grabbing their attention, “if any of you dare scare her like that again, you better believe i will make your lives miserable.”

best believe nobody had the guts to scare you again.

Jake:

Jake is usually a very patient person….but when it comes to you, he will not put up with crap.

when you run up to him screaming with tears streaming down your face with Jay chasing after you, he flipped.

“Jay, what the hell?” He didn’t know what was happening yet, but he had an assumption it had to do with jay.

When you told him what happened, Jake picked you up bridal style and took you to his room, laying you on his bed.

He pouted and hugged you, “why are we friends with these people?”

Though he was calm with you, he felt like he was going to scream more at jay, so instead, he offered to take you out to your favorite place to help cool down.

It helped some but when you two got back to the dorms, he lectured jay for almost an hour about how he should respect you.

#Sunghoon

Pity the people that make sunghoon mad.

When he heard what happened, he suddenly started packing his bags, “We are moving. we aren’t gonna have this” he said as a matter of fact

When you tried to tell him it wasn’t that big of a deal, he shook his head, “you’re right, they made you cry. that’s a HUGE deal.” and he continued packing his bags.

somehow you convinced him not to move, but for the rest of the month, he gave the silent treatment to Heeseung.

Jungwon asking where heeseung is? What do you mean? There is nobody named heeseung in this place.

and he treated you even more like a princess than he ever did

Eventually after a while, after multiple attempts of heeseung apologizing to both you and sunghoon, he finally stopped completely ignoring his existence.

but nobody will ever mistake hurting you again. even on accident.

taglist: @love-4-keum @flo-i @deafeningballoonnacho @luveuly @tyunni​ @sulkygyu @quokkasunggie  @niktwazny303

if you want to get tagged when I post new writing pieces, just send me an ask and I’ll add you to my taglist

[emmiesoverthemoon]

𖦹 who needs desks anyway

Pairing: t.o.p / choi seunghyun x reader

Word Count: 1,807

Summary: Building furniture from IKEA is annoyingly overwhelming when you have to do it alone. Thankfully, your husband comes home to help your stress and handiness.

Tags: just short sweetness really, overwhelmed easily/here to help type beat

cross posted on ao3 here

You and your husband Seunghyun had made a trip to IKEA as you had recently begun your turn at working from home as opposed to the office, and you needed a surface to work from that was not your dining table. You claimed that a whole new desk was unnecessary and your dining table would suffice, as this work situation was temporary, but Seunghyun insisted on buying you one brand new, one of his favourite pastimes was spoiling you with his money at any given opportunity. To him, a new one had presented itself.

The smell of fabrics and freshly cut wood lingered in the air as you both meandered through the labyrinthine maze, your fingers loosely laced with Seunghyun’s. The warehouse was bright and bustling, a maze of furniture in assorted aesthetics and mock living spaces that made you want to impulsively refurnish your entire home.

Seunghyun tugged you by your arm gently toward a display, stopping in front of a brown, vintage yet modern looking desk with clean lines and just enough drawer space for all your clutter. “What about this one?” he asked, leaning against it like he already owned the piece. “It says, I’m productive, but I also have impeccable taste.”

You tilted your head, considering. “Hmm. I don’t know. Does it say I’m productive, or does it say “I will absolutely fill these drawers with unused, random crap and tiny drawings?”

He grinned, giving you a playful nudge. “My love, you do that with every drawer you’ve ever touched.”

You gasped in mock offence, pressing a hand to your chest. “I do not.”

“Oh?” Seunghyun quirked an eyebrow, crossing his arms across his torso. “Then tell me, what’s in the bottom kitchen drawer right now?”

You opened your mouth to argue your case—then closed it. Okay, maybe he had a point. You rolled your eyes, amused. “That’s beside the point.”

“Mmm, sure it is.” His eyes were twinkling as he straightens, running a hand along the wood, feeling the grain. “I like this one. Feels solid. Like it’ll last forever.” He glanced at you, the warmth in his gaze making your stomach flip. “Kinda like us.”

Your heart squeezed in that familiar, wonderful way, and before you could stop yourself, you reached his shoulders to tug him down into a short, soft kiss, right there in the middle of a dimly lit fake office. You could feel a smile against your lips, and when you pulled away, you see it—that quiet, content happiness in his expression that made you fall in love with him all over again.

���Alright, Romeo,” you say, giving the desk a glance. “Let’s get it.”

The next morning, you were home alone for a short while and decided to tackle the desk’s construction before Seunghyun came home. What a bad idea that was. You exhaled slowly through your nose, trying to steady the simmering frustration that bubbled under your skin. The living room looked like the aftermath of a hurricane that had torn through that damn IKEA warehouse where that damn desk had come from—flat cardboard boxes ripped open, plastic bags spilling tiny metal screws and wooden pegs across the floor, and the instruction manual lying beside you, a mess of confusing diagrams and mockingly simple steps. The half-built desk in front of you stands there in defiance, taunting you with its sheer refusal to come together. You could swear you could hear mocking laughter directed at you, but you also could have very well been driven insane by Swedish torment.

You rolled your shoulders, trying to shake off the tension creeping up your neck. The legs. The stupid, uncooperative desk legs. They would not fit no matter how many times you tried to reposition them. You tried angling them differently, to no luck. You swapped them out, possibly thinking you could have mixed them up. Still nothing. You clenched your teeth together, forcing the leg into place with more strength than necessary, only for one to wobble pathetically the second you let go.

Your pulse is starting to quicken, your head began to pound, overwhelming you. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s just a desk.

Deciding to move on, you attempted to tackle the drawers instead. Maybe some progress elsewhere will make you feel less like throwing the whole project off of the balcony. You followed the instructions to a T, lining up the pieces, tightening the screws—and when you slid the drawers into the frame, they sat crooked, challenging you.

A sharp, helpless sort of frustration surged through you, and your vision blurred at the edges. Your chest was tight, breathing shallow. It should not have been this difficult. Are these products not purposely designed to be easy to build while inexperienced? You shoved the drawer back in and then out again, over and over, as if somehow that would magically fix it. The repetitive motion did nothing to help, but instead fuelled the teetering hot prickle of annoyed overstimulation behind your eyes.

The sound of the front door opening made you stiffen. You barely had time to compose yourself before Seunghyun’s warm, familiar, teasing voice filled the room. “Darling I’m home—What bomb went off in our living room!? Are you unscathed?”

“Shut up.” Your eyes did not tear away from the carnage.

“Oh my God.” His lips twitched as he struggled—albeit poorly—to contain a laugh. “What happened?”

There was a beat of silence, and you could feel the smirk on his face, and you had no energy to respond. You imagined the way he was probably standing there, leaning his weight into one leg, watching you with that infuriatingly entertained expression.

Seunghyun’s footsteps approached closer until he stood beside you, surveying the disaster with a slow nod and a low whistle. “Hmm,” he mused, reaching for the manual. “I see. We’ve reached the rage portion of IKEA assembly.”

You scowled, turning to face him at last. The second your eyes met his, his teasing expression softened slightly, like he could see straight through your façade of bursting irritation, exasperation—and maybe the tiny bit of defeat—beneath. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, and then—

“Wow,” he murmured, brushing his fingers over your forehead. “You’re all flushed.” A grin pulled once again at the corner of his mouth. “Look at you, working so hard. My little home improvement warrior. You certainly made this desk…your own.”

You swatted his hand away, though the ghost of a smile was present at your lips. “I was handling it.”

“Oh, obviously.” He gestured to the scene around you both, eyes twinkling. “And you were doing so well.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I was.”

“Sure, sure.” He grasped onto one of the uneven drawers, wiggling it for emphasis. “I mean, this is practically a work of art. Picasso would be jealous.”

Your glare deepened, too overwhelmed for his incessant teasing, but before you had the chance to retaliate, he caught your chin between his fingers and tilted your face up slightly, studying you with a knowing softness. “Okay, okay,” he muttered sympathetically, “You’re actually worked up over this, aren’t you?”

“No,” You huffed, and Seunghyun’s face switched from softness to a one of disbelief, and you folded immediately, confessing.

Your shoulders sagged slightly as the tension started to drain from you. “I just—why is it so hard? It’s a desk.” Your voice wavered, more exasperated than angry now. “The pieces don’t fit, the screws don’t line up, and—ugh, I hate everything.”

He did not dare laugh this time. Instead, he shifted closer, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Alright,” he muttered, voice warm and soothing. “You need a break before you explode.” He pressed a quick, featherlight kiss to your forehead before standing. “I’m making you tea.”

You stared at him as he moved to the kitchen, your heart unwinding a little as he hummed under his breath, grabbing your favorite mug without even having to think about it. The simple familiarity of it—the way he knew exactly what you needed without you having to say it—made your chest ache in the best way. You could feel your overwhelming negative feelings fade at the thought.

By the time he returned, he guided you to take your seat on the lounge, hanging you the mug once you were ready to receive it. He begun ramble on about random events that had occurred while he was out of the house, his voice that was spewing mundane topics was unwinding the tight cog in your back, calming you down from your stress.

Once you had relaxed, he stood in front of you again, rolling up his sleeves and holding his hand out. “Okay,” he says, exhaling dramatically. “Let’s defeat this monster together.”

You sipped the last amount from your mug, letting the warmth settle in your chest before placing it on the coffee table. “Fine,” you grumble. “But if you fix it in two minutes, I’ll be so mad. Divorce. You’ll be on the couch tonight.”

He smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He knew your threats were empty.

Of course, in Seunghyun’s ways, he did fix both the leg and the drawer problem in about thirty seconds.

You groaned, slumping against his shoulder. “I did the dirty work for you.”

“Obviously,” he agreed, patting your back as if you were a hardworking champion. “You did all the heavy lifting. I’m just the humble assistant.”

You snorted but made no move away, letting his warmth press into your side. He smelled like home, like something grounding and safe.

Between the two of you, the desk finally came together. The drawers slid in and out smoothly, the legs stood firm, and when you both stepped back to admire the finished product, Seunghyun draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

“Look at us,” he boasted. “Still married and handy. A true power couple. Nothing could stop us, we’re too strong.”

You rolled your eyes but leant into his embrace anyway, the frustration long forgotten, replaced by something soft and smooth sailing. “Yeah, yeah, thanks for saving my sanity. I guess you can sleep in the bedroom..” You say, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Seunghyun grins, celebrating his awarded sleeping arrangements, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Anytime, princess. But next time…” He paused, eyes mischievous. “Maybe we just buy a desk that’s already built?”

You giggled, pinching him on his nape lightly. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Seunghyun’s boisterous laughter occupies the room, warm and bright, causing your heart to melt on the spot. There was nothing more you loved than your husband, and seeing him as happy as this. Maybe IKEA isn’t so bad.

Maybe.

thanks for reading! lmk if you like this little sweet moment

[darlingdaisyfarm]

a small gift

tags: Stan x fem!reader x Ford, birthday, humour, fluff, just had to write this wholesome little fic for them because they deserve to be happy, singing, awkward Ford, sfw, inspired by Lana del Rey song

Stanley Pines leaned back in his old armchair, glancing at the calendar on the wall. His eyes landed on the circled date — June 15th, their birthday. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought of his brother, hunched over his never-ending stack of research papers, buried in his makeshift lab. Typical Ford. Always with his nose deep in some crackpot science theory, instead of, you know, enjoying life.

"Yeah, no way I’m lettin’ him get away with that this year." Stan muttered to himself. This time, he thought, Ford’s gonna get outta his damn cave and actually have some fun for once.

Stanley strode towards the stairs, stopping at the basement door. He gave it a sharp, rhythmic knock. "Hey, Poindexter! You better not be down there doin’ more of your ‘save-the-universe’ mumbo jumbo! It’s our birthday, ya know!"

There was a brief pause before a muffled voice responded. "Yes, Stanley, I’m fully aware of the date. Just let me finish these calculations—"

"Calculations, schmalkulations! You been finishin’ calculations for forty years, Ford. Trust me, that last decimal point ain’t gonna make a difference to the end of the world or whatever. Now c’mon!" Stan rapped the door again, growing impatient. "I got somethin’ special planned for us tonight. And don’t even try pullin’ that ‘I’m busy’ crap on me this time!"

Ford’s face appeared at the door, peeking through his glasses, which were just a little too smudged from the constant tinkering. "Stanley, I’ve told you, I’m close to a major breakthrough with this—"

“Yeah, yeah, ‘major breakthrough,’ like I haven’t heard that one before." Stan cut him off, grinning as he leaned against the doorframe. "Newsflash, nerd, we ain’t gettin’ any younger, and you’ve barely stepped foot outside since you got back from that other dimension. So, guess what? I’m takin’ ya out tonight!"

Ford frowned. "Out? To where exactly?"

Stan waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, you’ll see. Let’s just say it ain’t the library."

Ford looked at his brother with disbelief. "Stanley, I have absolutely no interest in your usual haunts, whatever dive bar or—"

"Whoa, whoa, slow your roll, Stanford! It’s our birthday! You’re actin’ like I’m draggin’ ya to a strip club or somethin’." Stanley chuckled, already imagining Ford’s awkward reaction if that was the plan. He slapped a hand on Ford’s shoulder. "Nah, I’m takin’ ya to a place with some class. . . and somethin' that'll remind ya why the real world’s worth livin' in, instead of buryin’ your head in books all the time."

Ford adjusted his glasses, still hesitant. "Stanley, I really don’t think—"

“Ah, save it! It's out of the question, buddy, tonight’s gonna be a birthday to remember! Trust me." he turned, heading towards the door, already sensing his twin following behind reluctantly. "And don’t forget, you owe me for all the times I’ve bailed your six-fingered butt outta danger! So, tonight, you’re gonna relax, have a drink, and maybe even talk to someone who ain’t made of equations or alien technology."

***

Stan grinned smugly as looked at Ford’s face. Neon signs flashed ahead, but this wasn’t one of those rough, rundown places Ford hated. It was something fancier. Classier, at least by Stan’s standards. From the open door came the low hum of jazz, mixed with the clink of glasses and soft chatter.

Stan slapped Ford on the back, ushering him forward. "Don’t make that face, Ford It’s nothin’ crazy, but it’s got live music, good drinks and a whole lotta people who don’t speak in alien gibberish. It’s a start, huh?"

Ford blinked, looking genuinely surprised for once. "This. . . isn’t what I expected."

"Yeah, I bet it ain’t!" Stan chuckled. "thought I was gonna take ya to some cabaret joint, didn’t ya?"

Ford didn’t respond, but his silence said enough.

“Look, Ford, I know you’re allergic to fun, but tonight’s our night. No weird science, no alternate dimensions. Just you, me, and a stiff drink. Let’s enjoy it while we can, alright?"

Ford hesitated, looking at the customers sitting at candlelit tables with soft jazz swirling around them. He slowly nodded, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Alright, but only because you’re my brother."

Stan clapped his hands together, beaming. "That’s the spirit! Now, come on, let’s get some drinks in us. You might even get lucky and find someone who actually understands all that nerdy crap you talk about."

Ford smirked, adjusting his coat. "I highly doubt that, Stanley."

Stan winked. "Well, let’s hope so, Sixer. Let’s hope so."

Stan and Ford made their way deeper, the soft jazz filled their ears. The place was packed, but not in an overwhelming way. Couples sat at small round tables, sipping drinks, while a few loners nursed their glasses at the bar, heads swaying to the music.

Stan led Ford to an empty table in the corner, claiming it like he’d been there a hundred times before. He slid into his seat with a satisfied grunt, slapping the table lightly with the palm of his hand. "Alright, Poindexter, sit your six-fingered butt down. I’ll go grab us a couple drinks."

Ford eyed people with a mixture of curiosity and discomfort, still adjusting to the unfamiliar scene, a little anxiety crept into his head. "Stanley, I really don’t think this is—"

"Ah, none of that thinkin' stuff tonight, Ford. You’ve done enough of that for ten lifetimes." Stan got up, heading for the bar with a mischievous grin. "Just sit back and let me handle the drinks. Somethin’ a little more exciting than your usual black coffee or whatever sludge you drink."

Stanford couldn’t help but observe the people around him. They were just different. Lively. Engaged in conversation. Present. It was strange to him—an entire room full of people who weren’t obsessed with solving the mysteries of the universe. They were just living. He sighed, running a hand through his graying hair.

Stan returned a few minutes later, balancing two glasses of amber-colored liquid. He slid one across the table to Ford with a satisfied smirk. "There ya go. Whiskey. Nothin’ fancy, but it’ll do the trick."

Ford picked up the glass, inspecting it with confused face. "Stanley, you know I’m not much of a drinker—"

“Yeah, well, tonight you are." Stan raised his own glass in a toast. "To another year of not gettin’ ourselves killed, huh? And maybe to you actually takin' a break from savin’ the world for once."

Ford hesitated, then clinked his glass against Stan’s and finally smile appeared on his face. "Alright, to surviving another year."

They both took a sip, though Stanford immediately winced, the burn of the whiskey stronger than he’d expected. Stan, on the other hand, downed half of his glass in one go, letting out a contented sigh.

"Ahh, now that’s the good stuff, that's what I call life." Stan leaned back in his seat, eyeing his brother with a knowing smile. "So, how’s it feel to be out in the real world again, Poindexter? A little better than starin’ at equations all night, huh?"

Ford looked around again, enjoying the warm golden glow of the place. It was nice, he had to admit. The music, the atmosphere. . . it was different from his usual solitude. "It’s certainly a change of pace," he said, chuckling softly.

Stan smiled, shaking his head. "I swear, Ford, you could be sittin’ in a room full of clowns on fire and you’d still be playin’ it cool."

"I’ve seen stranger things, Stanley."

"Yeah, yeah, I bet you have. But look around!" Stan waved a hand at the room. "All these people? They’re just livin’ life. No wormholes, no time anomalies. Just fun, just drinks and music. And trust me, you could use a little more of that."

Ford stared into his drink, swirling the liquid around before taking another small sip. "You’re probably right," he admitted, though his tone was still a little stiff. "It’s just difficult to switch off sometimes. My work, it—"

“Your work ain’t goin’ anywhere. You’re always gonna have some world-endin’ thing to worry about. But that don’t mean you gotta shut yourself off from everything else." he leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly. "I mean, you spent thirty years away from here, Ford. I’m just tryin’ to make sure you don’t spend the next 30 stuck in your own head."

Ford was quiet for a moment, listening to his brother’s words. He knew his brother was right. As much as he valued his research, his wish to understand the universe, he had to admit—there was something refreshing about being out here. With real people. But much better, with his family. With Stan.

Stanley must have noticed the gears turning in Ford's head, because he suddenly slammed on the table, breaking the silence. "Alright, enough of this sappy crap! Let’s get you another drink and maybe we’ll even see if there’s a lady in here who’s crazy enough to listen to you talk about multiverses for more than five minutes."

Ford nearly choked on his whiskey. "Stanley, I’m not here to—"

"Ah, come on! It’s your birthday too, ya know. And don’t pretend you ain’t lonely down in that lab of yours. I saw the way you looked at those nachos. Pretty sad, Poindexter. And frankly, disappointing.”

Ford thought he was imagining it. “I didn’t—“

***

Their evening was going great. Stan entertained himself by cracking jokes at the expense of the room’s more eccentric patrons, while Ford watched, occasionally interjecting with his dry wit. They argued about everything from the proper way to run a business to the existence of life on other planets.

Stan leaned back in his seat, nursing his third glass of whiskey, and let out a long, satisfied sigh. "Y’know, I gotta admit, It’s good havin’ ya back."

Ford looked at his brother and a genuine warmth was reflected on his face."It’s good to be back, Stanley."

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything because they simply didn’t have to. The jazz band played on and the low murmur of the bar filled the silence between them.

Then, just as the moment threatened to get too sentimental, Stan ruined it in classic Stan style.

"Now, let’s see if we can’t find you a nice gal who can keep up with all that crazy stuff in your head."

Ford groaned, rubbing his temple. "Stanley. . .”

Just as Stan was about to say something to embarrass Ford once more, the lights in the room dimmed slightly, drawing everyone’s attention toward the small stage at the center of the club. A soft spotlight illuminated the area, casting a golden glow over a lone figure standing in front of a vintage microphone. There you were,breathtaking, wrapped in a dark red dress that shimmered in the light like velvet. The fabric hugged your form perfectly, falling to the floor in gentle waves that wrapped around your legs. A high slit revealed a teasing glimpse of your leg as you stood with one hand resting lightly on the microphone stand.

The dress was luxurious, dark crimson in color, like wine aged in the shade. It clung to you in all the right ways, that made you look like something out of a classic movie, a femme fatale come to life. There was something called old-Hollywood glamour about you.

You scanned the audience, searching for faces in the dimly lit room, but two figures near the front caught your attention. Mysterious twins, two men, were both staring straight at you. Their eyes widened, and in unison, as if connected by the same thought, they spoke under their breath.

“Wow.”

But Stan continued. "Well, I’ll be damned. Now that’s somethin’ you don’t see every day."

Your lips curved into a small smile as you began to sing, letting your voice fill the room and as you sang, their attention never wavered.

"I've seen the world, done it all, had my cake now,

Diamonds, brilliant, and Bel Air now,”

Stan couldn’t stop admiring, resting his arms on the table, his grin spreading wider with every passing second. “Well, look at this. Ain’t she somethin’,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. He tipped his head slightly in your direction, his eyes trailing the line of your dress. “Charming girl, isn't she, Ford?”

Stanford sat frozen, his eyes never leaving you, completely entranced by the way you moved, by your voice, dress, face, by everything. He swallowed hard, shifting awkwardly in his seat, his mind racing but his body still, as if locked in place.

“You hearin’ that, Ford?" Stan nudged his brother without taking his eyes off you. "That voice. Like honey, huh? Bet she’s got every poor guy in here wrapped around her finger."

Ford finally said something. “She’s. . . remarkable.” he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

Stan, of course, couldn’t let it go. “Remarkable?” he gave a short laugh. “C’mon, Poindexter. Don’t be shy. You can’t tell me you’re not feelin' that.”

You let the lyrics spill from your lips, your voice rising with the music. “Hot summer nights, mid-July, When you and I were forever wild,”

As you sang, your gaze drifted back to them, and you caught Ford, he stared at you dumbfounded, biting his lip. God, he was flushed, was it really that stuffy here? His fingers tapped lightly on the table. He was hooked and he didn’t even realize how obvious it was.

Stan, on the other hand, couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Just look at that,” he said, shaking his head in admiration. “This girl’s got it, yeah? Ain’t often you see a performer like that. It’s the whole package - looks, voice, everything.”

But Ford’s compliments weren’t loud, weren’t teased out like Stan’s, but they were there, written all over his red face. The way his brow furrowed slightly, the way his lips parted just a bit when you hit a particularly emotional note, it was clear that he was just as captivated, if not more so, than Stan.

"I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will, Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?" as you hit that line, your gaze settled squarely on them, locking eyes with both brothers, one after the other.

“Now that’s a question, huh?” Stan said with a smirk, leaning closer to Ford. “You think she’s askin' us that? 'cause, uh, if so, I ain’t complainin'.”

Ford’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes fixed on you. He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t.

You moved into the next verse.

"I've seen the world, lit it up as my stage now, Channeling angels in the new age now,” you didn't just perform, you lived every note, every lyric.

“Look at ya, Poindexter. You're sittin' there like a deer in headlights. Ain't you ever seen a girl before?" he chuckled under his breath, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hell, you’ve seen aliens, damn demonic triangle! this should be easy for you.”

Ford tried to hide it, to look anywhere but at you, but useless, his gaze kept drifting back. He was still speechless, lost in your performance.

Then came the line that took both twins' breath away.

“Dear Lord, when I get to Heaven Please let me bring my man,”

Here, the crowd melted away. It's just you, the music and these two mysterious men. Your voice softened, and you sang with all your heart, with all your soul and love. You looked directly at them, first at Stan, whose grin widened even more, then at Ford, whose breath caught in his throat. You held both their gazes and you smiled at them. It was playful, teasing, what made both brothers mutter another “wow” at same time.

Stan almost spilled whiskey on himself.  “Well, darlin’, I sure as hell hope they’re lettin’ me in, ‘cause if you’re up there, I’m signin’ up early.”

But Ford still couldn’t find his voice. He tried, opened his mouth, closed it again, then opened it again. You had him completely disarmed, and he didn’t know how to handle it. As you continued to sing, you knew their attention locked on you. Stan’s gaze was open, unashamed, drinking you in with every word, while Ford’s was more cautious, but no less intense. They were both falling and you could see it plain as day.

Ford glanced at Stan, then back at you, clearly wrestling with himself. He finally managed to speak, but his voice sounded shaky. “She. . . she has a beautiful voice.”

“A voice? Told ya, she got the whole damn package, Ford! Look at her!”

You smiled, even if you didn't hear what they were talking about as the song drew to a close. You hit the final note, letting it linger in the air, and when the applause came, it felt like a distant sound compared to the connection you’d felt with them, both of them.

The stage lights dimmed as you walked off, your dress sweeping behind you like a crimson river. The applause rang out across the room and you slipped behind the curtain, disappearing from view. Back at the table, Stan and Ford sat frozen, their eyes still locked on the now-empty stage.

Stan was the first to speak, his usual swagger returning full force. “Well, that was somethin’. Hell, she practically dedicated that song to me.” he smirked, tapping his fingers on the table in satisfaction. “She’s got good taste, I’ll give her that.”

Ford shot him a side glance, his expression annoyed a bit. “Stanley, she doesn’t even know you,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Calm down.”

“You jealous? ‘cause I’m pretty sure she was lookin' right at me when she sang that whole ‘Dear Lord’ line.”

Ford stiffened. “I’m not,” he replied quickly. “I’m just pointing out the facts.”

“Sure, sure. No need to get worked up, Ford.” Stan laughed, watching his brother’s obvious discomfort. “Looks like she’s got both of us good, huh? don’t you worry, Poindexter, I’ll let you have a shot. Maybe.”

Ford muttered something under his breath, avoiding Stan’s teasing gaze. He couldn’t shake the image of you, standing there in that dress, your charming voice echoing in his mind. It was magnetic. He wasn’t one to get distracted by things like this, but something about you had hit him hard. Harder than he was willing to admit, even to himself.

Stan, meanwhile, was already planning his next move. He stood up, all cocky swagger again. “Alright, Ford, let’s go. We’re meetin' her.”

Ford blinked in shock. “Wait— what?”

“You heard me!” Stan’s grin was all confidence. “we’re gonna find her dressing room. Gotta congratulate the girl on a performance like that, right? Besides,” he added with a wink, “she might want a closer look at the Stanley Pines himself.”

Ford shook his head, already regretting this, but deep down, he couldn’t deny that he wanted to see you again. “This is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? Nah. It’s genius.” Stan patted Ford on the back as they made their way toward the backstage area. “C’mon, Ford, live a little. Believe me, she’ll be all over us. And hey, if you get nervous, just let ol’ Stan handle it. I’m great with the ladies, y’know.”

Ford sighed, not bothering to respond. His heart was already racing in his chest, his mind replaying the song over and over.

And then they reached the dressing room.

Stan took a deep breath. “Alright, here we go. Follow my lead.”

He knocked on the door and then there was a moment of silence before it slowly creaked open. You stood in the doorway, your stage dress still clinging to your figure.

For a second, neither of them said anything. Stanley suddenly found himself at a loss for words, his usual cocky grin faltering. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His mind scrambled for something to say, but all he could think about was how stunning you looked up close.

Ford, standing behind him, wasn’t much better too. His eyes met yours, which took his breath away. Every thought he had prepared vanished the moment he saw you again. Oh god.

You looked at them a bit confused, but tried to hide it with curious smile. “Can I help you?”

Stan blinked, finally snapping out of it. “Uh— yeah, we— uh, just wanted to say,“ he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “That was, umm, one hell of a performance!”

Ford nodded. “Yes, it was really beautiful.”

Stan gave him a quick glance, then forced a grin, trying to recover his usual confidence. “Yeah, what he said. You were amazin’. Best thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

Ford shot him a glare, but said nothing, still too flustered to form a coherent sentence.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by their obvious struggle to compose themselves. “Thank you,” you said softly, stepping aside to let them in. “I didn’t expect to have such enthusiastic admirers.”

Stan’s grin returned, a little more confident this time. “Well, y’know, when a girl sings like that, it’s hard not to be impressed.” he winked, but it was so obvious he wasn’t as sure of himself as usual.

The room felt smaller now, air not enough, the three of you standing in this intimate space and this damn silence isn’t making it any better. Stan shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling strangely out of place for the first time in decades. Hell, they were both pushing sixty, damn sixty, and yet, standing here in front of you, they felt like awkward teenagers all over again.

Stan glanced at Ford, mentally asking for support, but his twin looked equally as lost.

For all the things they had seen and done over the years, monsters, mysteries, the paranormal, nothing had prepared them for you.

Surprisingly, Ford spoke up. “What we meant to say is—” he paused, realizing he was rambling, and cleared his throat again. “It’s rare to find someone with such talent. And, um, charisma.”

Stan nodded. “Ya know, we’re not exactly the youngest guys in the room, but damn, if you didn’t make us feel like a couple of teenagers again.” he chuckled awkwardly. “Never thought I’d be this tongue-tied at my age, y’know?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at their awkward flirts, it was clear they were both trying hard to impress you, even if they were struggling to find the right words. “You guys really don’t have to flatter me like that,” you said, feeling your cheeks turning a little bit red. “but I appreciate it.”

Stan looked at his brother and then at you. “See? Even Poindexter here’s smitten,” he teased. Ford flushed, shooting his brother a glare, but didn’t protest. If he was being honest, he couldn’t deny it. Being around you, he felt awkward and unsure.

You took a step closer, smiling gently as you regarded them both. “You two are adorable, you know that?”

After that, the room felt lighter now, like the tension had eased into something more comfortable. Stan and Ford, for all their differences, were in this moment, together, both stunned by you, equally out of their element, but somehow, that was okay. You had them both wrapped around your finger without even trying.

Then Stan leaned closer to you, whispering. “If anything, choose me, not this weirdo, he has a fetish for triangles.”

[lance-thunder-reporting-live]

Hi, it’s Danny Phantom again, not Lance Thunder. Sorry, it looks like some ghosts are taking a while to come back. But I’m here, So that’s something.

So yeah, only one ghost attack today so far. Which is so weird, like usually there’s like fifteen of them or so. But you guys wouldn’t know that since I get them all before you realize they’re there. The Red Huntress too I guess, she’s pretty good at ghost hunting too.

This ghost was kinda weird though, like, he was screaming about ‘all y’all city slickers don’t know shi- uh, crap about how to live yer life,’ and how we’re ‘too dependent on all them newfangled machines.’

And so I was like, ‘shut up, machines are good and helpful and all that,’ and he did something weird to all the tech around us and made it start attacking me and I was like ‘I thought you didn’t like technology?’ And he was like ‘I don’t.’

So anyway, he’s in a thermos. The computer lab is wrecked though. The Casper High one.

So I guess the computer related classes will be cancelled til further notice? Or maybe they’ll get new computers or something. I’m not sure.

And for the news, let’s see, oh! The arcade on seventh street just finished building their lazer tag area! It has three levels! It’s so cool and everyone should definitely go play lazer tag.

And to everyone saying that I have a crush on Danny Fenton, you are wrong and I am shocked and appalled that you would think that I had a crush on him. Not because he’s not cool or anything because he’s very cool and awesome, and there’s nothing wrong with having a crush on him in any way, but I don’t. Have a crush on him, that is.

You can appreciate somebody’s many many great attributes without having a crush, people do it all the time. You guys are the weird ones for like, saying that I like him like that. Not because a guy liking guys is weird, because it isn’t. I figured out that like, a whole year ago, but still.

Yeah I’m just gonna turn this thing off. Where’s the butto-

[tales-of-wocdes]

okay i saw this on another blog and had a fun scenario prompt if it's not spoilers/hasn't been done before

it is possible for MC to not talk already in the demo, but say along the lines MC gets more comfortable with the cast. how would the cast react when MC perhaps said something (quietly) for the first time?

Firstly, please see this. So, non canon as always.

-----------

Havard

It was evening, and by all accounts it had been a good day. Havard was just cleaning up MC's room while the child was already sitting on their bed, waiting to be tucked in.

He picked up a wooden toy dragon, and set it to a shelf. He could feel the child's gaze on him, and turned to smile at MC.

"All ready for bed?"

A nod.

Havard approached the bed and lifted the duvet up.

"In you go." He said, and waited for MC to lay down. He tucked the child in and was just about to turn away to deal with the lights when it happened.

"Thanks..." It was a small voice. A quiet one.

He kept his smile steady. He should not make a big deal out of it and scare MC. If he made a fuss, the child might be reluctant to talk again... But he was happy. Oh, so happy to be trusted so much.

He turned back to the child.

"You are welcome, MC." He said gently, reaching out and placing a hand on MC's shoulder. "Always."

-------------------------------------------

Lexia

It was a fine day. They were playing tag in the garden.

"Too slow!" She said and dodged MC trying to catch her. "Try again, kid." She jumped up and down, keeping herself loose.

The kid had tenacity, she had to admit. Lunging for her time and time again.

Such determination.

She dodged another attempt, and another.... A few more... After the most recent one, MC lay down in the grass panting.

"Good job, kid!" Lexia said, sitting down nearby. "You didn't get me, but you sure put in a lot of efforts."

The kid just focused on breathing... before swiping at her with a hand. Too bad Lexia had been expecting that, leaning out of the way again.

MC panted harder... "No fair." The words were small, quiet really. And a bit unclear amidst the panting.

Lexia froze a moment, and spun to stare at the kid. They spoke! To her! Lexia decided that deserved something.... but what? Oh well, time to improvise.

So she scooted closer... and... "Tickle attack!" Her hands shot out, catching the panting kid and giving them the tickling of a lifetime.

Lexia beamed at the kid, now glaring at her and panting even harder. She was unrepentant.

"Oh, crap... Does that count as you catching me?" She pondered.

MC narrowed their eyes at her and huffed indignantly. As if saying "obviously."

"Oh... that's fine." She smiled and fell to lay next to the kid.

"Hey kid. You have a nice voice, and should use it more often."

Another huff was her only response.

[harrywavycurly]

I still think about how soft Harry turned for his sunshine girl and I imagine all the random voice notes he’d send her during the day when he can’t call her or maybe the voicemails he’d leave and how sweet his little rants would be😩🥹

Hiii babes!! I miss my little lovey dovey HWC Harry so I’m gonna give you some examples of his rant-ish voicemails and voice notes to his sunshine girl! I hope you enjoy!!💖

Find all things Handle With Care here✨

Tag List: @gmikaelson @ell0ra-br3kk3r @tulips4harry @mellamolayla @mads3502 @empathyroad @idk199o @sassamanda77 @maudie-duan @macy-tpwk @namoreno @coralferrio1 @stylesftcher @mema10 @cherryloveshs @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @triski73

Summary: These are some voice notes and voicemails your lovely ex frat daddy boyfriend Harry sends you during the week✨

Monday’s Voice Note: “Good morning sunshine it’s…uhh shit…oh sorry don’t be mad…ah okay it’s seven fifteen in the morning and I’m about to go for a run and then come see you before you go to work. I hope you slept good? How did that weird sleepy tea taste? Did it work?…m’not totally sure all those things are actually good for you but if they help then I’m all for it because my sunshine girl needs her full eight hours or she’s a bit prickly…but I don’t mind when you’re a little grumpy..makes you more cuddly and we both know how I feel about cuddling so-oh bloody hell why is all my coffee gone? m’gonna kill that Irish fuck-I mean I love you baby I’ll see you in a bit…I wonder if you’re dreaming about me right now? Hmmm…you’ll have to tell me what you dreamt about when I see you. Love you!”

Tuesday’s voicemail: “Hey baby I’m just seeing if you’re free for dinner tonight? I forgot you had a meeting during lunch today so just call me back whenever you can…I miss you…oh and I love you…yeah okay that’s it. Love you…I already said that didn’t I? Oh well you can hear it again…I love you…bye sunshine.”

Wednesday’s voicemail: “I am so sorry I couldn’t walk you to work this morning I forgot to set an alarm and when I woke up I saw all your missed calls and…god I’m-shit I’m so late…I’m sorry sweetheart but I hope you have a good day and I’m going to come see you for lunch! I’ll bring your favorite…I love you! I’ll see you soon! Make sure to save a few smiles for me okay? Don’t give them all away…love you.”

Thursday’s Voice Note: “Goodnight my sunshine girl…thank you for letting me pick the movie tonight even though it’s technically your night…I love you and I can’t wait until you finally stop telling me no when I ask you to move in because we both know you want to live with me…or maybe it’s that we both know I really really hate not being able to wake up next to you everyday..two floors of separation is killing me baby and I know one day soon…you’ll just stop fighting it and just accept the fact we are going to be together forever so might as well start forever as soon as we can…and before you say anything yes I stole parts of that from when Harry met Sally but it’s the truth…remember when you said you’d be okay with the wife thing after our first kiss? Well that was almost a year ago…but anyway…I love you…a lot…actually it’s more than just a lot but there’s not a word to describe the amount so…a lot will just have to do for now…I know you’re just now getting out of your bath and putting on all your lotions and potions that make you all soft and uhg…I miss you…fuck this…ohh sorry baby…let me just grab my sweatshirt and—where are my socks? Oh okay here they are…I’ll be there in three minutes and forty five seconds…prepare for a sleepover because I miss you too much. I love you! Don’t fall asleep before I get there!”

Friday’s Voice Note: “Hey sweetheart did you know Niall has a key to your apartment? I didn’t until he walked in while I was in the living room and he scared the shi-crap out of me…when did he get a key? Did he steal it from you?…oh and I’m making pizza for dinner does that sound good? I hope you’re having a good day at work…Miss you and love you like crazy.”

Saturday’s Voicemail: “Hey baby…m’a little drunk but s’all Niall’s fault and god I love you. I’m gonna marry you when you finally let me. But you know that yeah? Yeah…yeah you know that…god hallways are so long and…and ugly? Why are the hallways so hideous? M’gonna come cuddle you is that okay? If it’s not just…kick me off the bed okay? Yeah..yeah I’ll see you soon sunshine…my sunshine..you smell like flowers and sunshine because you’re my sunshine girl…that I love so…so much a lot…m’gonna go now okay? M’at the door! Love you!”

Sunday’s Voice Note: “Baby where are you? You just left me in bed with a bottle of water and some aspirin with a note on my forehead saying…br…feast? That’s…that’s not a real word?…wait oh it says…breakfast…did you go get breakfast? God I’m so lucky that you’re my…my everything…you’re too good to me. I’m gonna go shower because I smell like the floor of a shitty bar…but I love you and miss your cute face so hurry back? Please?”

[woncheolisms]

kinktober 2023 -> day 17

dirty talk - miya atsumu x reader

word count: 583

kinktober masterlist

Everyone in Atsumu’s life knew he had a big mouth. He was the guy who didn’t know when to shut up. And it annoyed the crap out of everyone. His friends, his teammates, his twin brother. However, you had never once complained about it.

When you first said you didn’t really mind Atsumu’s lack of filter, everyone was rightfully shocked. Osamu had questioned you on multiple occasions about it (“how do you fight the urge to just deck him across the face?”) and Suna had straight up declared you a psycho (he was being dramatic, of course). You had a feeling that if they knew exactly why you loved Atsumu running his mouth, they would never look at you the same.

You looked on at your boyfriend right now, eyes shining with adoration and pure lust as you watched him fall apart at the feeling of your pussy clinging to his cock in a death grip.

“H-ha~” Atsumu’s moan was high and broken, his hair disheveled and matted to his forehead by sweat, red flush covering his cheeks, his neck, all the way down to his bare chest. His arms flexed when he gripped your thighs hard, pushing them further up to rest on either sides of your torso, bending you in half. You sighed when it made his dick hit deeper in you, and Atsumu cursed.

“B-baby, fuck.” His voice sounded so wrecked, you were sure you could cum just from that. “Pumped ya full of loads of cum and yer still tight as hell. God, yer so perfect. Pussy made just fer me, yeah?”

You moaned at the words and nodded furiously, the slow slide of his cock growing torturous. He was throbbing inside you, balls tight and ready for him to cum again. Your pelvis was covered in your own juices and his cum, your legs wobbling and shaking in his hold. Your core was tingling with overstimulation, but you wanted more, more, more.

“Tsumu.” you gasped, trying to convey to him what you needed. Your tear filled eyes saw his own face stretch with a wide smirk.

“Whatcha want? Another load? Ya want more cum?” His voice dropped low, eyes like molten earth, burning into you. He leaned over you, resting his weight on you, before he pulled back to slam his hips down hard against you. You yelped when he hit your sweet spot.

“You greedy slut. How much more ya want? Yer spillin all over the place. Can’t even hold this much cum in ya. But ya still want it. Fine, then. Princess gets what princess wants.”

And there was his mouth, running and running, words getting filthier and filthier, slurring together as he picked up the pace. His thrusts were getting more and more sloppy, quicker, desperate. You could feel, for the thousandth time, the knot in your lower stomach tightening. You were so close.

“Make a mess on me, baby. C’mon. Need ta feel ya gush all over me. I know you have it in ya. I know what this sweet pussy can give me. Ya want my cum? Gimme yer cum first, sweetheart. C’mon. Milk my cock-”

And you toppled over the edge, feeling more and more wetness coat your thighs and his hips, babbling nonsensical words while Atsumu talked about how good you looked and how fucking amazing it feels and oh god, he was gonna cum too….

Miya Atsumu’s big mouth came in handy sometimes. The people in his life just didn’t know that.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[yuurayuura]

kiss me again (part 1)

🎬 kim sunwoo is not a professional actor, yet somehow he's making it very hard not to fall for his performance.

PAIRING 🎬 sunwoo x fem!reader TAGS 🎬 actors au, fluff, suggestive (smut in the next part) WORD COUNT 🎬 4.8k WARNINGS 🎬 nope! AUTHOR’S NOTE 🎬 i'm obviously not an actor so i don't know how any of this really works :p

"Time doesn't stop... Doesn't stand still... Ah, fuck. Line?"

Sunwoo breaks into a disbelieving grin for the third time that evening, shaking his head and feeling like a complete amateur. Y/n smiles in that subtle way she does when he fucks up his lines, flipping through the script and making the room echo with page noise. That smile has become too familiar to him now. She smiles like you would when a child says something unintentionally funny, but you don't want to make them feel stupid by openly laughing. It's that vibe. He needs to get it together.

It's so quiet and warm, almost humid, in the little meeting room they have table readings in nowadays, and he can feel the heat from his palms resting on his thighs. The little oscillating fan in the corner doesn't help in the slightest.

"It's okay," the director comments, scribbling something in the margins of the script that Y/n hands her. "We might change it. But as it is, the line is 'time never stops for anyone. It certainly hasn't for me, even if I wished it would. Many times.'"

"Right, sorry," Sunwoo says, pulling his collar in an attempt to let some cooler air in.

"Why don't we take a break?" The lead actress suggests, stretching her arms out. "We've been at it for hours."

Sunwoo keeps forgetting her name, but that's because they don't have any scenes together. In fact, most of the scenes he has are with Y/n, his on-screen love interest, and both of your roles are quite small. He suspects that much of it will be cut in the end, it's just a short film after all. He's only doing it because it's fun.

Y/n meets him by the water cooler, and hands him a copy of the script that sits warm in his hands, feeling like it's fresh off the printer.

"Thought you could use it," she says, with a twinkle in her eye like she's teasing him, but being nice about it. Maybe too nice? He's sure he deserves a lot more after his dismal display lately. It seems that's just the way she is, carefully teasing, maybe because they haven't known each other for that long. She's probably holding back, sticking to polite banter.

"I could, yeah," he mumbles through a smile, sipping his little paper cup of water. "I spilled coffee on mine earlier, that's why I didn't have one. Ugh. I feel like I'm just annoying everyone in there. I don't know what's up with my brain today."

Y/n shakes her head. "Nah, everyone has those days, I think. It's just your turn."

That makes him look up at her, and she meets his eyes with another gentle smile.

"I'm glad you're the one I'm paired with," she says, too casually, for that kind of statement. "I think it'll come out great."

"Ditto," Sunwoo says, more airy than he means to. "I mean. Yeah. I agree."

He wants to say that he's glad too, and we have good chemistry, don't you think?

He doesn't say that, though, that might be pushing it. They only met a couple of days ago. Although, from what he's read ahead in the script, they're going to need as much chemistry as possible to do the upcoming scenes. Their story is a tragic romance after all, with a lot of tension, eye contact, and desperate kissing.

He can't think about that now. It's not like either of them are professional actors, and that should lighten the pressure, but it doesn't, not really.

There's something about her that makes him want to be great, fantastic, so maybe she'll see him in a good light afterwards.

"Oh, duty calls," she smirks, and his heart does a little maneuver that he doesn't anticipate when she touches his arm to make him follow.

Y/n's POV:

Sunwoo is a good actor. Too good to do crap like this, you think, thoughts drifting in the parts of the table read that don't involve your character. He has this aura surrounding him that makes him so believable, even when he goes off script—or maybe especially then. 

When the casting director introduced them, you thought there had been some sort of mix up, because what in the world were you doing next to someone like that. Someone who commanded the room like he did, not to mention how good-looking he was. You saw his audition, and expected him to be the lead, or at least a major role. Not doing some tiny side story with you.

Your obvious bewilderment had made him chuckle, seemingly not understanding the confusion. Just like that, something you just did for extra credit in college became the highlight of your summer.

"Y/n," the writer hums, clicking her pen. "That's your cue."

"Shit, sorry," you mumble, and you don't miss the happy little twitch on Sunwoo's lips. He's probably glad he's not the only one who's messing up.

"So," Sunwoo says, when you're done for the day, and you try not to openly look at his lips when he's talking, but it's an impossible situation. They're very nice lips. "I had an idea, and tell me if I'm out of line, but I thought maybe we should do our own read, just us. I'm just not getting this middle part to stick, and Lord knows the scenes coming up aren't going to be easier."

"No, I was thinking the same thing," You nod, chewing the back end of your pencil. "I think that's a smart move for us. Then we can show up on Monday and dazzle the hell out of everyone at the reading with our amazing acting slash memory."

You smirk and Sunwoo chuckles, looking over at you for a second. His eyes are also very nice eyes. It's almost too much for just one person.

"Okay, then," he says, raising his eyebrows. "Who lives closer? I'm about fifteen minutes from here."

"Oh, then I win, my place is ten," You grin.

"Make yourself at home," you yell, disappearing to the bathroom to tidy up, just a little bit. "I'm sorry it's not sparkling here, I'm barely home lately."

You can hear Sunwoo's quiet chuckle from the living room, toeing off his shoes before he enters.

"Don't worry, I'm blind as a bat without my glasses anyway," he assures. "Won't be seeing anything tonight."

"Good," you joke, getting the light on your way back.

You make tea for yourself and instant coffee for Sunwoo, it's all you have to offer but he doesn't seem to mind, sipping it blissfully.

"This is somehow better than the coffee at the studio," he mumbles, making you grin.

"Damn. My condolences."

He laughs, and you flip the scripts to the right pages, settling in comfortably on the sofa. Sunwoo has put on his round reading glasses, and it might be the late hour and the tiredness speaking, but he looks so unfairly beautiful. Especially when the glasses slide down on the bridge of his nose a little, and he uses the back of his hand to push them back up.

He gives you a half timid look over the glasses. "Ready?"

"Yup, I can read us in, since you start."

You clear your throat, preparing to use your best narrator voice. "June's apartment, night time. June is sat by the window, looking out at the city. Minsoo enters, cold from the blizzard."

"I got the job," Sunwoo says, in character, looking at you with what feels like genuine excitement. "I finally got it."

You smile down at the script, getting into character as well. "That's really great. Congratulations."

You go through the scene several times, giving each other pointers and trying to make it fit as well as you can.

"This, wow," Sunwoo mumbles, running a hand through his hair. "Are we nailing this? I might just be tired, but I think we are."

His smile is so infectious, your cheeks are hurting from reciprocating it all night.

"Dude, I think we are," you agree, and Sunwoo snickers. "We could move on to the next one? But I feel like we should be standing if we do."

"Yeah, you're right."

You stand up and move to approximate positions in the small living room. It's a bit ridiculous at first, but it feels more real when you actually have to look at each other over some distance, and move across the room.

"Minsoo's apartment, night time," you say.

"June..." Sunwoo says, and it's crazy how good he is at doing that, flipping the switch from Sunwoo to the character instantly. His brows furrow when he looks at you, and you can feel it, how his body language is so in tune with what he's trying to say, the longing and the pain in his voice.

"We can't," you say, as June. "You know we can't."

You're pretty good at crying on command so you think, what the hell, might as well pull out all the stops tonight, feeling tears form in your eyes as you look over at Sunwoo.

He seems surprised for a second that you're crying, and you don't know if it's acting or not. Which really says it all about his skills.

"Please don't cry," he mumbles, starting to close the distance between you, but stopping halfway, holding himself back, and letting his arm fall from the outstretched position where he was reaching after you. "Please."

You blink and let a few tears escape, and the room is so silent you can hear them hit the floor beneath you. You follow the script and get down on your knees, vision blurring from the tears.

"Let's not end like this," Sunwoo pleads, closing in with gentle steps, stopping to lower himself to your level on the floor. "June. I love you so much, I don't want to make you cry."

He takes your hands in his, squeezing them, and then lets them go in favor of wiping tears from your cheeks with such tenderness, it's hypnotizing.

"Don't leave me, Min," You say, voice quivering in the quiet room. "I don't know what I'll do, when... When..."

You trail off and Sunwoo tilts your head up to meet his eyes, sending shivers down your spine.

"Shh," he breathes, his thumb wiping the edge of your lower lip, catching a tear.

You look into each other's eyes for five long seconds, trying to really convey the inner battle going on in your characters. You know he's counting, just like you are, and then Sunwoo pulls you in for the kiss.

You knew it was coming, of course you knew, you read it about a thousand times just to make sure. But it still makes your whole body light up. Your mind goes completely blank, forgetting any and every line you just rehearsed. All you can process is the feeling of Sunwoo's soft lips on yours, the longing in it, the collapse of his restrain. Minsoo's restrain, but, you know.

Sunwoo cups your face and you stand up on your knees, closer, but not close enough. You never want it to end but have to keep reminding yourself to be professional. Not let it slip how much you're enjoying this. He's a good kisser, not too forceful, but sweet and just desperate enough for this scene. You can't help the way your hand lifts and runs through the hair at the back of his neck, making him sigh into your mouth.

When you break it off, you're both a little out of breath, and you don't want to, but remember the script.

You push him away, almost making him lose his balance.

"We can't," you repeat, whispering. "I... I can't do this."

"June," Sunwoo pleads, watching you like a kicked dog as you get up and leave him there.

"Aaand, scene," You mumble, wiping the tears with your sleeve, chuckling. Not really ready to meet his eyes.

"Holy shit," Sunwoo breathes, now on his feet in front of you. "I didn't expect you to actually cry. That was impressive."

You laugh in disbelief. "That was impressive? You could be on TV, or like. Huge stages. I'm speechless, honestly. I don't know how you do it."

"Thank you," he mumbles, his ears pink. "I hope I didn't overdo it, with the... Um. With the kiss," he says, scratching his neck, and you want to pull him in for another one then and there.

"No, uh. It was excellent. Very believable."

"Back at you," Sunwoo smiles.

There isn't enough air in the room for this.

"Actually I thought I might try something, if it's alright," Sunwoo says, as you sit down on the couch again. "Regarding the kiss."

You can tell he's trying not to make it awkward. Which is cute.

"Sure, shoot," You reply, very hard at work to not seem so affected by this.

"I'm thinking, you know. Minsoo needs to show her what she means to him, how much he wishes he could stay... So I'll try to put some more emotion behind it. Maybe we can "choreograph" some moves into it. I'll show you what I mean."

You look at him and he looks almost shy, running a hand through his hair.

"If that's okay, of course."

"More emotion," You reply, a little breathier than intended. "Alright. Show me. You want me to cry? Set the mood?"

Sunwoo laughs, airy and wonderful. "No, that's alright. I'll pretend."

You shift a little, so you're on your knees on the couch, facing him. "Okay. I'm on the floor, Minsoo approaches. Go."

"Let's not end like this," Sunwoo says, his voice soft as he looks into your eyes, pleading. He knows the lines now, the script is abandoned on the floor where he left it. "June..."

He takes your hands, and his own are warm and gentle. "I love you so much, I don't want to make you cry."

He does what he did last time, except now you aren't crying, so when he touches your face it's just that—a touch. Very careful caresses across your cheeks. You try to focus, try not to let yourself get lost in his eyes.

"Don't leave me, Min," you whisper, and somehow it feels so much more intimate now, sitting like this. "I don't know what I'll do when... When..."

You lower your gaze and Sunwoo tilts your head back up, like he's supposed to. His eyes are so emotive, it's incredibly impressive to see the nuances he's able to work into a simple look. It makes you want to do better too. Try to even it out.

"Shh," he breathes, and this time it's barely audible at all.

He looks into your eyes and you can feel the thump thump thump of your heart, like a clock running too fast. You forget to count the seconds, but maybe that's good, maybe the sharp, surprised inhale that slips past your lips will make it more believable. Sunwoo's lips move against yours with purpose, but also a tender compassion that has you melting into his touch, wanting more. He pulls at your bottom lip when he sits back, just barely moving away, speaking against your mouth.

"Maybe," he breathes, breaking character, forehead against yours. "Maybe I could do something like this."

He wipes slowly at the imaginary tears, then presses a careful kiss under your left eye, then the right, before he captures your lips and takes your breath away once more.

"Or, maybe," he continues, still against your lips, voice so delightfully hushed and low, "I can move my hands?"

His left hand brushes through your hair at the side of your head, before coming to rest and holding you in place. The right hand slides over your shoulder and stops at the collarbone, thumb dipping into the groove there, and you can't help the slight sound that escapes you.

Sunwoo quickly looks at you to see if he's done something wrong, but you just blink quickly and nod.

"Yes, um. That's. Very good."

"Good," he breathes, smiling, and, fuck. Fuck. Jesus.

"I'm a worse actor than I thought," You confess, biting your lip in a smile.

"No, but, isn't it good if you actually... like it?" Sunwoo smiles, tentatively, still holding you. "Then you won't have to pretend as much?"

You can't argue with that logic.

When you kiss again, for the third-ish time that night, you know it's coming. But it doesn't help, it doesn't stop being mind-blowing for that reason. Sunwoo tries a few different spots to touch you, all very PG but still a lot. At one point, you decide to do that as well—why not—work in your character's desperateness a bit more acutely.

You touch his neck and put a hand on his chest, pulling his shirt a little, and he gasps, making you pull back in worry.

"No, no, do it again," he mumbles, looking flushed.

It's good to know he's also a little flustered. That boosts your confidence enough to pull him a little closer when you continue where they left off, change the angle a little, move a little over to offense rather than the defensive, slightly passive, and timid stance you've taken thus far.

He doesn't seem like he expected that, inhaling through his nose when your tongue experimentally touches his lower lip and your hand slides over the side of his neck again. You can feel his pulse knocking hard and steady under your fingertips, and it's difficult to say if it's the same tempo as your own. They sort of melt together into one, erratic beat.

"God," Sunwoo mumbles, and he smiles against your lips, making you break into a smile as well.

"Maybe that was a little too... Forward," you grin.

Sunwoo laughs again, and it's such a lovely sound.

"I don't know, I liked it," he says, looking bashful once more, sitting back on the couch.

You know that you'll get plenty of takes for this, and probably a lot of directions. These aren't decisions that are entirely up to you two, there's no real need to practice this much.

But you won't say that out loud. you know he must be aware of it too, he's more experienced, he knows how it works. Why would you bring this to an end, if he doesn't?

"You're a good kisser," you comment, unusually bold, looking at the table. Shooting him a quick grin.

"So are you," Sunwoo smiles, fiddling with your copy of the script that was on the couch.

"They won't see this coming."

"No, they won't," you laugh.

You nudge his leg, and you don't want the night to end yet, but you can barely keep your eyes open.

"The couch is yours for the night, if you want it. I think I have to go to bed now."

"Thanks," he smiles, nudging you back. "I was hoping you would suggest that. Was really dreading the walk home."

"Of course, silly," you mumble. Still smiling stupidly.

You take turns brushing your teeth (you actually had a spare toothbrush, pretty incredible), and when it's all done, you come out to say goodnight. Sunwoo sits on the couch, stifling a yawn, and you walk over to give him a pillow.

"You know," you start, voice raspy and tired. You sit down on the opposite end. "I had a friend, an actor friend, who told me that after doing pretend-kisses for jobs, regular kissing never held up anymore. That it changed, somehow, and real kissing didn't have the same spark."

Sunwoo looks at you in the low light, brows furrowed.

"I guess I could understand that. Since there's a lot of suspense and build up that maybe there isn't in real life, a lot of the time."

"Yeah," You breathe. His eyes are so warm.

"But at the same time... Nothing beats the real thing, in my opinion. It's not the same when it's planned out."

He cocks his head to the side a little. "Are you worried?"

"I wasn't when she said that, way back," you admit, hands twisting. "But... I don't know. That was pretty amazing, back there."

Sunwoo blinks, feigning innocence. "Our kiss?"

"Yeah," you mumble, blushing. "So now, I. Well. I don't know. Maybe she was on to something."

"No way," Sunwoo says, grinning, scooting a little closer. "There's nothing like that rush of uncertainty and just pure... realness that comes from a true kiss. You'll see, next time you do it. I'm sure of it. Don't worry."

You smile, and give a little shrug. "Okay. If you say so."

"And if not, well, I can't help it if I'm such a good kisser that no one else will compare."

Sunwoo giggles when you swing the pillow at him, eliciting a yelp.

"Should've known that would boost your ego too much."

"It's an excellent pickup line, though," he grins, hugging the pillow so you can't assault him with it. "Like, after kissing you, I'm not sure real kisses will do it for me... You should save that for future co-stars that you want to woo."

"I'm not trying to pick up or woo anyone, I was honestly worried!" You protest, glad that the lighting is low so he can't see your blushing cheeks as you get up.

"No, I know," he says quickly, "I'm not making fun, it was just... cute."

"Cheeky," You grin. "Goodnight, Sunwoo. Don't let the monsters and evil spirits drawn to big egos get ya."

Sunwoo chuckles. "I won't. I'm monster repelling. Goodnight, Y/n."

"Cut!" The director yells, and you turn your head, looking back and Sunwoo with a grin. He's already smiling at you, and it widens when your eyes meet.

You'd been right, the practice session did blow everyone away at the reading, and it helped even more now when they're actually filming.

"Love the energy," the director comments, flipping through the script. "But I'm thinking, maybe we could get even more passion in here? Heat it up a little?"

The writer scribbles notes and Sunwoo nods quickly, getting back to the starting position. You swallow thickly. More heat, eh? Great idea.

"Sunwoo if you can grab her more, like, intensely, that'd be great. And Y/n, really lean into it, like the character is giving in a little more. Show how much they want each other."

Splendid.

"Action!"

You do the scene as usual up until the kiss, and Sunwoo does like he's told, he ups the ante. Grabs you by the small of your back and molds you together until you don't know where you end and he starts. He bites your lip and you gasp, trace his jaw, his neck, and feel your pulse beating in wild protest. This is not good for your heart at all.

Pro actors are probably able to separate realities and not become so affected. But, like Sunwoo said, isn't it better if you like it and won't have to act so much?

"Cut! Wonderful, guys—let's do one more where we barely keep within the rating. Just to see."

Sunwoo eyes you, almost a little concerned, drinking his water.

"I just need a drink, I'll be quick," you yell, jogging to the water cooler.

Sunwoo's there when you turn around, looking that way again, like he's almost shy.

"Is there anything that's... off limits?" he asks, timidly fiddling with his cup. "I really don't want to overstep, but since we're going off script, I just. Yeah. Tell me and I won't do it."

You smile, swirling the leftover water in the cup. It's very attractive that he asks.

"I mean, no, I don't think there is... I don't know what you could do that would be crossing the line, really? Obviously, I'm not going to undress or anything. But other than that... I think... touching is okay."

Sunwoo guffaws and you laugh a little, obvious tension in the air.

"Okay, uh. Good," Sunwoo breathes. "Then. Let's go, I guess."

You get back into your positions, and you shoot him a thumbs up before it starts. Even though this—this is dangerous for sure.

"Aaand, action!"

This kiss feels different, maybe because this is something you haven't rehearsed for, in the same sense. You're both unprepared. You're not sure what Sunwoo has acted in before, but you can't imagine it's been quite this heated.

Sunwoo kisses you like it's his last hour or something, and you try to keep up, let yourself be swept away. Normally, you're very aware of your surroundings and the numerous people filming, watching and moving around in the room. Now, strangely, your mind blanks. It's a power Sunwoo has that scares you a little bit, making you forget everything.

The two of you push it. Sunwoo bites your lip again and makes you blush, pulling your hair a little. You let your hands roam properly, feeling his chest rise and fall and tracing the lean muscles on his abdomen. When you rest your hands on his hips, you boldly push one of them under the hem of his t-shirt, making contact with warm and soft skin, and Sunwoo full on moans into your mouth.

To say that it's affecting you would be an understatement.

Sunwoo traces the outline of your bra over the shirt you're wearing until he's fully cupping your breast, and wow. Wow.

It isn't until you finds yourself wanting to undo his pants, that the acute realization of the setting and people surrounding you dawns on you once more.

"Cut!"

There's scattered applause in the room, and you fall away from Sunwoo, panting, blushing, and sort of embarrassed that you let it go that far. But it was what you were supposed to do, so after a few seconds of catching your breath you get up, brush dust off your knees again, and look into Sunwoo's eyes almost defiantly, as if to prove to everyone that you're no wuss. This was nothing, you're no worse than a real actor.

And Sunwoo looks back up at you like a deer in the headlights, shuffling awkwardly on the floor while he waves off your outstretched hand.

"Um. Just. Give me a minute," he breathes, grinning sheepishly at the ground, face pink, and you could die when you realize why he can't get up yet.

"Oh, oh. Sorry—" you blurt, apologizing for some reason, and Sunwoo bites his lip, still grinning, his hand balled in a helpless fist next to him.

When you meet again, it's sundown, and you stand outside next to the food truck, watching beads of condensation roll leisurely down the closed hatch. Sunwoo stops next to you, hair wet from the shower, and leans on the truck, not realizing it's all slippery from the humidity.

He slips a little and bites his lip again like he wants to laugh, but thinks better of it. You watch him amused, eyebrow raised.

"Hey, uh," he starts, scratching his neck. "I just wanted to check that we're good, or that—well. Check if I need to apologize for... Before. Because I will, if you were... Um. If I made you uncomfortable. That was not my intent."

He meets your eyes, blush rising stubbornly on his face, and you aren't the slightest bit surprised by the urge to kiss him now. You can feel it in your fingers how they long to pull him in by the collar of his shirt and kiss away any awkwardness between you.

"Don't worry," you smile, and watch his shoulders relax a little more. "In my book, that was just superb acting."

Sunwoo finally lets out a breathy laugh that trills through the air as if it's been caged in. As if he was genuinely nervous that you were cross with him, which is ridiculous but endearing.

"Good," he mumbles, and you notice the tips of his ears are red now as well. "Good, um. Yeah. Final day of filming tomorrow, huh?"

You grin at the subject change and put your hands in your pockets, following Sunwoo on reflex as he turns slow, and starts walking to where his car is parked.

"Time flies," you agree, a twinge of something sad in your stomach. "It felt like it would last longer."

"Yeah," Sunwoo mumbles, stopping, clicking his keys. "It did."

You watch the car unlock and Sunwoo makes no move to get in, just stands there, looking at his keys jingling in his hand.

"Hey, you need a ride?" he says then, and you don't know if it's wishful thinking, or if he actually sounds hopeful. If he wants to drag this out for as long as possible, like you do.

"Yeah!" you say, a little too enthusiastically, even though you don't need a ride and you both know it.

Sunwoo's grin is wider than it's been all day.

Follow for part 2! It won't be very long, I'm working on it and it's about to get steamy🌞

[tune-on-in-folks]

Day 10! This prompt is CNC/Dub-Con/Non-con, so sensitive topic. Vox doesn't explicitly ask for Reader's permission.

I struggled with this prompt, but hey I did write something!

Tags/Warnings: CNC, dub-con, non-con, top Vox, desk sex, fingering, p in v sex, fem!reader Word Count: 2,060

There was a long list of reasons why Vox could be upset. From Alastor to Valentino, to something not going as planned. You were used to Vox’s volatile moods, watching him swing from one to the next. He could go from berating the incompetence of a lowly worker, threatening them with being Valentino’s target practice, one minute; To charming the public with his suave personality and handsome smile, in the next. It was enough to give you whiplash.

Luckily for you, you had never been on the receiving end of his frustrations. You were careful, almost to an anxious degree. You ensured that everything you presented Vox with was top notch, not a word mistyped, or a single smudge of ink. In turn you never got yelled at or talked down to. Which was nice…You adored your boss, admired him. Wanted to stay on his good side, and the occasional wet dream of him was something you ignored. After all, it was Vox, who hadn’t fantasized about him?

Unfortunately today, you were a mess, distracted and bumbling. Everything seemed to be going wrong, but that was okay, you could handle it with grace. What you couldn't handle was the fact that your incompetence was directly affecting your boss. Enough so, that he personally came to your office to demand an explanation.

The door opened, catching your attention as you tried to get your computer to stop freaking out.

“One moment!” You call, muttering curses under your breath about the incompetence of your VoxTek issued laptop.

You hadn't realized that it was your boss who had entered, or you would have dropped your task immediately. And you certainly would not have been cursing out the computer he had designed.

“Stupid piece of shit!” You curse loudly, slamming the laptop shut.

This brought you face to face with Vox who quirked an unamused eyebrow at your outburst. You felt the blood drain from your face.

“Oh. Um, S-sir! What can I help you with?” You stammer, aware of how unprofessional your display was.

He held up the report you had sent up an hour ago. “What is this crap?” He asks, sounding exasperated.

You blink, your heart dropping at the sight of it. “I..ah, well it's my latest report.”

“Uh-huh.” He prompts, “and it's utter crap. So you should?”

You swallow. “Rewrite it, I know.”

You opened your laptop back up, pressing the power button. Only for it not to power on. You held the button down again, a groan of frustration slipping from you.

“And I would, if my computer didn't just fucking die on me.” You sigh, gently closing it as you meet Vox's gaze again. “I'm sorry, Sir.”

He clicks his tongue, entering into your office further, slamming the report down on your desk. “Unfortunately, sorry isn't going to cut it, Dollface. Your report was lackluster, forcing me to improvise in a very important meeting.”

You swallow nervously, anxiety blooming in your chest. You open your mouth to apologize again, but Vox quickly grabs hold of your chin, closing your mouth.

“You’re going to make this up to me, got it? And if I hear another “I’m sorry” from you, I'll make sure that your mouth is put to better use.”

You swallow hard, blush settling on your face at his words. You could only imagine what he had meant with his threat. 

“I-I'm sorry?” You ask, wanting clarification, not for one second interpreting that the words were also another apology. 

At the quirk of his eyebrow you realize what you'd said, “Shit! I mean- fuck! Clarify?”

He chuckles darkly, standing up to his full towering height. Vox comes around your desk, pulling you up from your chair.

“I mean…that I will fuck that pretty little mouth of yours if you apologize one more time.”

Your face flushed with even more heat, you had thought that was what he meant, but to hear him actually say it? A slight amount of panic ran through you, tinged with a warmth that settled in your core. “I uh…didn't mean to say it again.”

“I'm sure you didn't.” Vox muses, a wicked glint in his eyes. “But you still need to pay for your report… and a new computer.”

“A new computer?” You echo softly, brows furrowed in confusion.

You watch as Vox turns to your desk, sweeping everything off, including your laptop.

“Vox!” You yell in surprise, gasping as he grabs your hand.

He pulls you to him, bending you over your desk and pulling up your skirt. Your eyes widen with panic as you try to sit up, only for him to press you back down. His hand trails up the back of your thigh to your panties, the sensation causing you to shiver.

“Lucky for you, I’ll let that last apology slide.” He says softly, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your panties.

“S-sir?” You ask hesitantly, trepidation in your voice, mixing with arousal. “What are you doing?”

Vox presses his chest against your back, sliding your panties down your legs. “I’m collecting my dues. Now, say my name again, doll. I want to hear you say it.”

You take a deep breath, your voice wavering. “V-Vox.” 

Why were you following his commands? He hadn’t asked your permission one bit, taking advantage of you.

“Atta girl.” He chuckles, his fingers finding your clit.

You gasp at the contact, a moan spilling from your lips as he rubs tight circles into the sensitive nub. You weren't doing anything to stop him, you wondered if you wanted to stop him. You bite your bottom lip, hands coming to grasp the edge of the desk as he slipped two fingers inside your sopping cunt. You cried out at the sensation, your eyes fluttering as he began to finger you. You knew if you wanted to stop him you would have, and you truly didn’t want him to stop. Your body betrayed your arousal, showing Vox just how much you wanted him to keep going.

“So wet for me.” His voice is full of lust and desire. “you know it's taken everything in me to wait to fuck you? Unfortunately, I can't wait anymore, babydoll.”

You whine, rolling your hips back against his fingers “W-what?” You ask, confusion biting through your arousal.

You never thought any of your fantasies about Vox would come to light. Yet here you were, pressed against your own desk, getting fingered by him. You couldn’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop, to point out that he was your boss. That he shouldn’t be doing this.

He speeds up his pace, the wet sounds of your cunt filling the air. “I've seen the way you look at me, doll. And I won't deny that I've thought about it. Thought about you.”

Your walls clench around his fingers, your eyes shutting tight. You hear the clinking of his belt behind him, the unzipping of his pants. You moan softly, trying to keep quiet. He was really going to fuck you, you realize. The thought sends a thrill through you, the idea of him fucking you just made you more aroused.

“Vox.” You moan, breath coming in short gasps.

“That’s right babydoll, say my name. I love when you say my name, it makes me so hard.” He murmurs, his voice right in your ear.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, not having expected those words to turn you on as much as they did.

“Let go for me doll, cum for me.”

You whine at his words, your release sneaking up on you. You moan loudly, cumming around his fingers. When your walls stopped twitching, he pulled his fingers from you. You were left feeling empty, wanting.

“Please.” You whimper, feeling his cock-head pressing against your entrance a moment later.

Vox hums, his hands grasping your hips as he runs his cock through your slick, “Please?” He asks, “Please what?”

“Fuck…” You whine, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Please-”

He thrust forward, his cock sliding half-way inside you, your own moans cutting you off from whatever you were going to say. He watches you as he begins to press the rest of his cock inside you. You whimper, your body trying to pull away from him with how deep he pressed inside you. He felt big, impossibly big.

“Too much.” You gasp, trying and failing to pull away from him. “Vox, you’re too big!”

He chuckles darkly, “Oh darling, I’m perfectly proportioned.”

He thrust forward again, his cock-head pressing against your cervix, causing you to cry out.

“And you will take all of me.” He whispers, pressing further in until you feel like you can’t take anything more.

Vox groans, his face pressing against your shoulder as he bottoms out. He begins to pull from your weeping cunt slowly, until just the head of his cock was inside you. Vox thrust forward, snapping his hips back into you. You gasp, the pain from his thrust blooming into pleasure. He felt too big and not big enough all at once. Everytime he pulled from your cunt you missed the feeling of him being buried inside you. But when he was inside you, it felt like too much. Vox shifted slightly, angling his cock deeper as he began to pick up his pace. Your office was filled with the obscene noises of him fucking you, hard and fast. You were faintly aware that anyone passing by would be able to hear.

“Vox!” You moan, his hips slapping against your bare ass. “Oh, fuck…”

One of his hands moves from your hip, slipping down to rub at your clit. “Fuck you feel sinful, so tight and perfect, like this cunt was made for me.” He mutters. 

Your body shuddered with the pure pleasure you were feeling. Every sharp snap of his hips planted seeds of pain that quickly bloomed into pure pleasure. His finger rubbing small, fast circles around your clit had your walls squeezing his cock in a vice-like grip. You were so close to your release, it was almost painful.

“Fucck!” Vox gasped, his voice glitching as he pressed into you, past your fluttering muscles. “Cum for me, babydoll, let me feel you cum around my cock.”

You moan, a second release crashing over your body for him. It was like your body was his at this point, following his every command without hesitation. Vox’s pace faltered, his breaths coming heavier.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum inside your tight little pussy, fill you up.” He growled, “Make you mine.”

You couldn’t do much else but whimper, your body on fire with how sensitive you were. Vox managed only a few more thrusts before slamming his cock as deep as he could go, his seed filling you. You moaned lowly, the sensation of your boss cumming inside you, sending you tumbling into a final release. Your walls squeezed around his cock, milking him for every drop he had to give you.

“Fuck, babydoll.” Vox gasped, slowly pulling his cock from you.

He chuckled at you whining at the loss of him, admiring how his seed leaked from your cunt, the sight made his cock twitch again. You tried to press yourself up onto your arms, but they quickly gave out from beneath you. Vox leaned forward, reaching for your panties that hung loosely around your knees. He pulled them up, patting your cunt through them, making you gasp and moan at the sensation. He pulled your skirt back down, covering your ass, before he helped you up off your desk. He turned you to face him, holding you in his arms, his softening cock pressing against your stomach.

“I’ll ensure you have a new laptop sent to your office tomorrow.” He says softly, making sure you could stand on your own before tucking himself away.

You nod, slightly dazed. “R-Right. I’ll rewrite that report tomorrow then.”

Vox heads to the door, pausing before leaving, “Don’t bother. Just ensure the next is better. Oh and y/n?”

You glance up, surprised he had used your name. “Yes, sir?”

“I’ll see you tonight, I’m not done with you yet. And use my name, you deserve to after taking my cock so well.”

You flush in embarrassment, watching Vox leave your office with a promise that you knew he intended to keep.

[dsireland86]

LOVE YOUR ONE SHOTS BESTIE

I have a lil request for another Noah one..

So like we all know that that man would 100 percent talk you through it right? 😭

So all im saying is best friend Noah.. Mut mastubate situation

🫣🫣

Sorry I live for the best friend Noah trope 🤪

Bestie🥹🥹🥹🫶🫶🫶 I love best friend (with benefits.... hehehe) Noah, too!

Can I Talk You Through It?

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h @disappearintothegrey @jilliemiw86 @pathion @fear-its-beauty @an0mallly @potterheadquinn @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @montgomery-929494 @missduffsblog @lilcazy011 @Lonelydragonlady @Mattysbitchvic @athenexe @pipidoll @flowery-mess  @bloody-spades

The feeling is insatiable, an overwhelming need and hunger that can't be quenched on your own. You're trying, but something's missing. It feels good, and you've brought yourself to the edge plenty of times, but never has the stimulation taken you completely over.

"Y/N!"

Noah's voice up the stairs scares the crap out of you. Quickly, you sit up and search for your short, unable to find them fast enough before your bedroom door swings open.

"Y/N, what are you,"

You grab the nearest blanket and throw it over yourself, hoping it covers your secret.

"Shit! Noah!" "Oh! Sorry," he apologizes, but you know it's not authentic.

Hanging your head because you can't bear to look Noah in the face as you try to recover from almost giving yourself your first orgasm, you're afraid that your vulnerability can be seen and it's nerve racking.

"What's wrong?" he asks, letting go of the door handle and letting himself into the room. "Are you alright?"

You shake your head knowing your cheeks are blood red.

"What's wrong? What happened?" "Nothing," you mumble. "Then look at me," Noah begs, standing in front of you.

You don’t respond, let alone raise your head.

"Hey," he says, shaking you by the arm a little. "It's nothing. Just forget it."

When you finally raise your head and look up at Noah, you see the genuine concern on your best friend's face and give him a half smile.

"What did you need?"

Noah's brows crease in confusion, unwilling to drop the subject.

"Not until you tell me what's going on with you. You seem really flustered. Did something happen? Or not happen," he asks, his perfect lips forming into a soft smile.

You want to tell him, you really do, but you're way too embarrassed to.

"Um, yes and no, but it's fine. Really, forget it," you say, shaking your head slightly. "What, a, what are you, were you going to tell me? What were you yelling for me for?

"Alright. Fine, don't tell me."

Noah's scowl is so Noah, and it makes you giggle, and when he smiles at you, your heart starts racing and a familiar tingle warms you on the inside so well that you feel your wet arousal seep between your thighs.

"What?" "What," you shrug, trying to hide the shakiness of your voice. "Alright, something's seriously up with you! Spill it."

Noah has always been the observant type, never letting anything about you go unnoticed, so it shouldn't surprise you like it does that he knows something's up.

"No," you lightly laugh, shifting on the bed. "Nothing is going on. I'm just," but you hesitate, unsure of your next words. "Just what?"

You look up at Noah again, and the tingling feeling hits you again. 

"Fuck!" you curse, covering your face. "Okay, this is stupid. Get up and come with me. I need to show you something," Noah orders, grabbing your hand and almost pulling you off the bed.

You panic, remembering you’re not wearing anything under the blanket and pull away from his grasp, almost screaming the word “no”.

"What the hell, Y/N!"

Noah turns back and looks at you, eyes wide with surprise, as you fix the blanket over your lap.

"I can't come with you right now." "Why not?" "Because! I just can't, okay," your voice fades slowly as you look away.

Noah comes closer to you, so close that you can smell his cologne on the bright yellow hoodie he chose to wear today. The way his brow furrows as he looks around your sitting area tells you he's thinking hard about what's happening at the moment.

"Get up." "No," you scowl. "Why not? Get up," Noah orders, a small smirk forming in the corner of his mouth as he pulls on your arm again.

"Noah! Stop!" you yell, holding on to the blanket, but part of it falls when you accidentally step on it as you try not to fall, revealing most of your bare bottom.

Scrambling to gather the blanket, you fall back onto the bed once you do, absolutely traumatized by what just happened. You're too embarrassed to look up at Noah because you already know what he's just seen.

"Well, damn." "Noah, just don’t, okay," you say pathetically, shielding your face with your hand. "What? All I was going to say is you have a really nice ass. That's all."

At first, you think you didn't hear him correctly. Risking a glance, you find an amusing look on your best friend's face, and for a moment, your embarrassment simmers.

"What?"

Noah raises an eyebrow and smiles.

"I mean, I'm not gonna deny that I've never checked out your ass before, but seeing it with nothing covering it, damn," he chuckles, "yeah, it's pretty nice."

You stare him dead in the face and try not to laugh, knowing he's just doing what a good best friend would do.

"Oh, whatever," shaking your head. "Look, if you're not going to tell me what you wanted, then maybe..."

"Why aren’t you wearing any pants?"

You stop mid sentence at Noah's question.

"What?"

Noah reaches for the blanket, but you grab it tightly.

"Where's your pants and underwear, Y/N?" "I, um, they're..." but you can't find the right words to say.

Noah comes up to the side of the bed so that his waist is eye level with your face, forcing you to stare at what's directly in front of you until he lifts your face with his finger beneath your chin. A sudden burst of stimulation that you've never felt before hits the center of your sex and it almost feels as if you could reach the high you've been aching to feel right then. You feel your arousal gather between your folds as you clench your teeth together.

"Aww, you're blushing," Noah teases. "I Like that look on you."

The playful look on his almond shaped eyes has your core aching.

"Come on, tell me what's going on, Y/N. And don't say nothing is. I'm your best friend. I know you better than you think."

You try to look away, but Noah won't let you.

"It's stupid, really stupid. And it's not your problem, so I won't burden you with it." "It can't be that bad." "Oh, it is. Trust me. And it's really embarrassing, so yeah." "Okay, fine," Noah sighs, sitting down next to you, implying he has no interest in giving up the game. "If you won't tell me, then I'll guess."

Your heart hammers against your chest.

"Fine. Good luck," thinking he'll never get it right.

Noah's big hand touches the side of your face, his tattooed touch sending chills throughout your entire body as he turns your head to face him. His long thumb, calloused on the pad, caresses your cheekbone as he looks from your eyes to your lips to your lap, then back up to your eyes again. The tip of his tongue sticks out between his thin, moistening them perfectly.

"You were trying to make yourself have an orgasm, weren't you?"

Your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach. How did he know? And why is he looking at you like that? The slight twinkle you see shows Noah's amusement, making you more nervous than before.

"Oh god, no," you shake your head, pulling away from the grip Noah has on you, "shit, no, it's not what you think. I, uh," but your denial comes out all shaky, and now you're even more confused than before

"Y/N," "Look, Noah, I think, uh, you should go," "Y/N," "I need a second to clear," "Y/N!"

You stop speaking and look up at Noah, fighting back the urge to cry. The small grin you see settles your stomach slightly, but you still feel like you're about to pass out from all the embarrassment you feel.

"What?" "It's okay," Noah says softly, reaching over and caressing the side of your face. "What?"

Noah laughs softly.

"It's fine. It's a normal thing to do." "No," you disagree, shaking your head. "No?" Noah asks, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "No, not for me, it's not." "What do you mean?"

You wipe away the single tear that manages to slip out and lower your face in shame.

"Come on. It's me, Y/N; your best friend. You can tell me," Noah encourages.

Sniffing and clearing your throat, you try to make your thoughts make sense.

"I, uh... I can't."

"You can't. You can't what?" Noah asks gently, laying his hand on your leg that's covered beneath the blanket.

"I mean, I can't make myself have an orgasm," you confess, twirling your fingers.

"Seriously? Like ever?"

The genuine surprise you hear in Noah's tone only makes you feel worse, and you start to cry out of pure humiliation.

"Yes, seriously! I've tried so many freaking times, and I just can't, and it's frustrating as hell!"

You're trying not to yell "at" Noah, but you're just done at this point, wanting to hide under a rock for the rest of your life.

"Okay, easy, killer. It was just a rhetorical question," Noah kids, earning him a slap in the chest.

"God, this is so fucking embarrassing," you cry in frustration sniffling and wiping your eyes with your hands. "Hey, relax, it's not that big of a deal," Noah urges, caressing your back.

His touch sparks every fire burning inside you, and you're not sure if it's his touch alone that's doing it or if it's just the unquenchable need you have at the moment.

"Easy for you to say. Guys can just whip it out and do their thing and be completely satisfied in just a few minutes. I've been trying this for months now, ever since the last time I had...," but your voice drops, realizing what you were about to confess.

"Since what," Noah asks softly, moving closer to you.

With his one hand still on your lower back, he reaches over with his other and slips it inside yours, threading your fingers together. You swear your ovaries explode inside you from the feeling and how Noah has nestled up beside you as if wanting to be as close to you as possible.

"Noah?" you whisper as his lips come down softly on your forehead and leave a small kiss behind. "Since when, Y/N? Since the last time you had sex with that shitty ass boyfriend of yours?" "Ex-boyfriend," you correct Noah after clearing your throat. "Whatever. The point is that it was four months ago. You're telling me that was the last time you had an orgasm?"

You groan, dropping your head into your hands again.

"Hey, look at me," Noah orders, pulling your shoulders back and lifting your head so he can see you.

Noah's eyes are full of so much emotion that it's hard to read them all. But you see the small little half smile that brushes across his lips briefly as his thumb strokes the skin of your cheek.

"Can I talk you through it?" "Huh? What?"

Noah continues to stare at you, his face expressionless.

"Talk me through what, Noah?"

But you feel like you might already know the answer to the question.

"Let me talk you through making yourself cum," he suggests, his face dead serious.

At first, you can't say anything because you don't know what to say, but the longer you look at Noah, the more you know he's serious. You swallow hard, closing your eyes for a moment then opening them again.

"Why?" you whisper. "Because you deserve to feel amazing."

It's the little smirk at the end of his words that does it for you.

"Alright, fine," you agree before you lose your courage. "Good answer," Noah says approvingly, getting up to close the door and lock it.

You're so nervous you think you might get sick, so you start breathing quickly, in and out through your nose then your mouth.

"Hey it's alright. You keep breathing like that, you might end up hyperventilating. This is meant to feel good, alright? Lay down. Relax,” Noah urges, caressing your hair before helping you lay back into your pillows.

Your eyes meet and you can see the genuine care for you that you've always seen in his and it eases your mind a little.

"Are you sure about this, Noah? Isn't this weird? Friends don't usually do this kind of thing with each other and, I mean, isn't this going to change stuff between us now? I'm not sure if I'm ready for my heart to go through..."

You're silenced by the weight of Noah's lips on yours. At first the kiss is hard and dry, one that you would deem a typical friend on friend kiss. But then Noah breaths in and opens his mouth, leaning in closer to you as you follow his lead as if by some magnetic force. His tongue slips slowly into your mouth and you allow him access, returning his touch as if it's the most natural thing to you in the world. Your hands slither around his neck as he finds the small of your back and pulls you up closer to him, allowing the blanket to slip from off your lap. Noah pulls back and looks at you, his usually soft brown eyes, now darker, and for a moment the two of you just stare, wondering what the other is thinking, before realizing what's just happened.

"But we're friends," you remind Noah. "I think we've been past the point of friends for a while now, Y/N," Noah confesses. "Ever since the night your shitty ex broke up with you and you kissed me right here on your bedroom carpet," he grins, looking down at the spot below his feet.

Noah's right. You've known it all along, and it's the reason why pleasuring yourself has been so difficult.

"Now, relax, and let me talk you through this, okay." "Okay."

Finding a spot where you're finally comfortable, Noah tells you to close your eyes. As you do, he helps you bend your legs until your feet are flat against the mattress.

"This is only going to work if you relax and keep your eyes closed." "Alright." "Do you trust me?"

A warm smile spreads across your lips, making Noah's heart flutter.

"Yes, Noah, I trust you." "Can I touch you?"

You want to open your eyes, but know this will all work better if you don't. Noah is trying to help after all.

"Yes. You can touch me."

Noah places his hands on your knees and tells you to let them fall open. You hesitate, naturally, but then you do and hear the quick intake of breath that comes from him and the quiet curse that slips through his lips. It makes you giggle a little.

"You're beautiful," Noah whispers and for a moment it feels like the world stops spinning. "Thank you," you manage to say through a crack in your voice.

He takes your hand and brings it your sex, placing your fingers over your center.

"The first thing you should do is visualize; a scenario, a place... a person," Noah begins.

You grin and clear your throat, shifting slightly.

"Once you've done that, you're going to ease the tip of your finger in between your folds, just like that, and back out to produce some wetness. Good. Now each time, go in a little further, a little deeper," he coaches gently.

Using your middle finger, you follow Noah's instructions, already feeling your arousal building from the vision inside your head, coating your fingers.

"Now, when you're ready," he adds, gently taking you by the wrist as you pull your finger out, "add another finger," lining up your pointer finger next to your middle and guiding your hand back to your center.

Slowly, you slide them inside you, feeling the tightness and pressure yet because of the vision you have playing out in your head, all you can feel is what your imagination is telling you. It's powerful enough to make you moan softly, yet not enough to get the reaction that you're needing.

"You need to do this a few times," Noah encourages, placing his hand around your wrist, pushing and pulling with you as you move your fingers in and out of yourself.

The whimpers come and fall like quiet little prayers. But it's still not enough.

"Alright, finally, you need the stimulation. Bring your other hand," he says, taking it and placing it where he thinks it belongs, "and place it right there on your pretty little clit. Perfect. Now, massage gently in small slow circles as you continue doing what you're doing with your other fingers. That's it. How does that feel?"

You're completely breathless, unable to process the feeling that's quickly building inside you. The fire in your lower abdomen is one you haven't felt in so long and the feeling is incredible. You moan, bite your bottom lip, arch your back and just when you thought you'd never be able to, you reach your climax as your much needed orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave. Once it's over, you lay back against your sheets, breathless and with a pound heart.

"Well, how was it?"

When you open your eyes you aren't quite sure what you expect to see, but when you meet Noah's eyes, and you see the spark in them that you do, it makes the stimulation you just felt a million times more wonderful.

"It was euphoric," you grin, following it with the cutest little giggle Noah's ever heard. "You're really adorable you know that," he says, running his finger down your cheek after he hands you your shorts and panties. "Hmm, really?" "Really." "And dare I ask how it was watching on your end?" you ask timidly, hoping you haven't overstepped.

Noah pauses to think and then smiles.

"Euphoric," he answers right before tackling you and engaging in one of his infamous Noah tickle fights.

Some things really never do change.