#So there will be bumps here and there but I think they can do it.

[inseobts]

Captain

characters: luffy, law, shanks, kid and ace

inspired by: 'Captain' - Kang Seungyoon || spotify || youtube || apple music

a/n: hope this doesn't suck tbh

words count: around 1.0k - 1.5k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Luffy:

The sun is hot on your back as you lean over the Sunny’s railing. Waves crash below, sparkling like tiny stars in the ocean.

You sigh, but it’s not a sad sigh, just… tired.

Luffy’s jacket hangs off your shoulders, far too big, smelling faintly of salt and him. He’d dropped it on you earlier without a word, like he always did. Just something that happened now, the way you always saved the last bite of your food for him, or how he tucked your hair behind your ear when you weren’t paying attention.

“Oi! You’re making a weird face!”

You jump a little, turning around fast.

Luffy’s standing behind you, hands on his hips, grinning like he knows something you don’t. Which he usually does.

“I am not” you say.

“You are” he says “That’s your thinking-too-much face. I don’t like that one.”

You squint at him “You don’t like my face?”

Luffy laughs and walks up, grabbing your hand “Nah. I like your laughing face way better.”

Your heart does that stupid flip again. Luffy is always like this… saying small, silly things that hit you like cannonballs. You wonder if he even realizes what they do to you, or if he just lives like this, naturally, saying the exact thing you need to hear without trying.

He tugs your arm “Come eat meat with me.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will be when you see Sanji’s new meatball thing. He said he made it just for me. That means it’s good.”

You don’t want to argue, so you follow him. His hand stays in yours as you walk. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even think about it, like holding your hand is the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe it is. Maybe with him, all the strange, lovely things you thought you'd never have just… are.

The kitchen is loud. Usopp and Chopper are arguing about who can eat more. Sanji is yelling at Zoro to stop drinking straight from the soup pot. Nami rolls her eyes at everything. And through it all, Luffy’s hand stays in yours until he lets go just to sit.

Luffy sits down at the table and pats the spot next to him “Here. Sit.”

You sit.

Sanji brings over a plate with a small mountain of meatballs.

“Special recipe” he says, setting it down.

“Only for idiots who eat too fast and the people dumb enough to love them.”

“Yay!” Luffy cheers “That’s me!”

You raise an eyebrow at Sanji. He just smirks and walks off.

Luffy hands you a meatball. You take it. You chew slowly. He doesn’t. He shovels in three at once and nearly chokes. You thump his back.

“Maybe you shouldn’t eat too fast” you say.

“Too good,” he says between bites “Can’t stop.”

You laugh a little. He grins at you with his mouth full, face messy, eyes shining.

And somehow, in that moment, you feel more at home than you’ve ever felt on land. You bump your foot lightly against his under the table and don’t pull it away. He nudges back without missing a beat.

Later, when everyone’s tired and full, and the stars are peeking out, Luffy sits on the deck with you again. He lies down and folds his arms behind his head.

“Did you still have the weird face?”

“No” you say softly.

“Good.”

There’s a pause. The wind is gentle tonight. Your fingers inch toward his on the wooden deck until they touch. He doesn’t say anything, just shifts his pinky so it loops around yours.

You look at him and wonder if he knows. If he knows how much he saved you. If he knows that before this ship, before him, life felt so small.

“You’re thinking again” he says without opening his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be your captain forever, y’know.”

You blink “What?”

Luffy opens one eye and smiles at you.

“Even if you leave the crew. Even if you fly away like a bird. I’ll still be your captain. Okay?”

Your throat feels tight. You don’t say anything. You just nod and lie down next to him.

The stars look different from here. Brighter. Bigger.

Just like everything since you met him.

That night you have a nightmare... you often dream of fire.

It’s not real, not anymore. But the smoke curls around your chest when you wake up, and your heart races like you’re still running.

You sit up fast, hand on your chest. You're sweating.

The bed is warm beside you, a tangle of blankets and the faint imprint of Luffy’s sleeping form. He must’ve gone when he felt you stir.

Outside, the sea is calm. The ship creaks gently like it’s breathing.

You step outside the bedroom, careful not to wake anyone. The deck is dark, quiet. The kind of quiet that feels too loud when you’re carrying a storm inside.

You lean on the railing, gripping it hard. Trying to stop your hands from shaking.

You don’t hear Luffy approach. You never do.

“Bad dream?” he says softly.

You nod.

He doesn’t ask more. He just sits beside you on the wooden deck, cross-legged like a kid.

You look at him. He’s staring out at the ocean.

You whisper, “I wasn’t a good person before this. I did some things... things I can’t forget.”

Luffy shrugs “That’s okay.”

You blink “Okay?”

“You’re good now.”

Your breath catches “But—”

“I don’t care what you did. I care what you do now. You protect people. You laugh with us. You love this ship.”

You bite your lip “Sometimes I think I don’t deserve to be happy.”

Luffy’s head tilts “Why?”

“Because I hurt people. I made bad choices.”

He frowns, serious now “Everyone hurts people. Even me. You ever see me not punch someone?”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” he says “Because I’m the captain?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

He scoots closer, his leg bumping yours “Listen. I don’t pick people because they’re perfect. I pick people who need a place. You needed one. So I gave you mine.”

Your eyes sting.

“And if you’re scared sometimes... that’s fine. I’ll be scared with you.”

You let out a shaky laugh “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Luffy grins “Thanks.”

Then he does something rare.

He reaches out and pulls you into a hug.

It’s warm and a little awkward, his chin bumps your shoulder, but his arms are strong. Solid.

Safe.

You lean into him, just for a second. Just long enough to feel like maybe… maybe you can breathe again.

“I still got you,” he says “No matter what.”

The next morning, you’re quiet at breakfast.

Not sad, just full in a way that makes your chest feel warm. Luffy sits beside you like always, stealing half your toast without asking.

You don’t stop him. You just shake your head like you always do and let your knee rest against his under the table.

“Oi, Luffy, chew!” Sanji shouts from the stove “Don’t scare them off with your lizard face.”

Luffy puffs out his cheeks “I am chewing!”

You shake your head “Barely.”

He grins at you with crumbs on his lips “You finally smiled.”

“Huh?”

“You smiled at me,” he says, like it’s some great discovery “I like that.”

You feel your cheeks heat up.

Chopper climbs onto the bench next to you “You look different today,” he says thoughtfully “Lighter.”

“Maybe you finally slept” Nami adds, sipping her coffee.

“Maybe someone got a good hug last night...” Usopp says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You nearly choke on your juice.

Luffy doesn’t react “I give good hugs.”

Zoro snorts from across the table “Not with those rubbery arms.”

You stare down at your plate, smiling to yourself.

Later, you’re helping Robin tie down books in the library when Luffy finds you again. He peeks in like a kid looking for snacks.

“There you are!” he says “Come with me.”

You follow him without asking where. That’s just how it is with Luffy. You trust him.

He takes you to the upper deck where it’s quieter. The sea stretches out endlessly, sky blue and soft.

He sits on the edge and pats the spot next to him. You sit.

“I was thinking,” he says, picking at the brim of his hat “About last night.”

You look at him, curious.

“You said you didn’t deserve to be happy.”

Your chest tightens again.

He leans back on his hands “But you look happy now.”

You nod slowly “I am.”

He grins “Told you. I’m a good captain.”

You laugh a little “You are.”

Then, softly, you say it “This happiness I have right now… it was gained simply by listening to you and following your lead.”

Luffy tilts his head, eyes wide and bright “Really?”

You nod “You gave me a place. You didn’t even know me, and you still let me stay.”

“I knew enough,” he says “You were lost. I don’t leave lost people behind.”

You look down, fiddling with the seam of your shirt “I think I was scared to feel like this. Like I belong.”

“You do.”

You glance up. His face is open, honest—Luffy in his rare, still moments.

“You really think I belong here?” you whisper.

He nods “You belong with me.”

Your breath catches.

Not “with the crew”.

Not “on the ship”.

With him.

── .✦ Law:

The storm isn’t just outside.

It’s in the way Law walks the deck—slow, sharp steps, as if each one might cut the wood beneath his feet.

You watch from where you sit near the stairs, arms tucked around your knees. He hasn’t spoken in hours.

The sky above is black. Thunder grumbles like it’s trying to decide if it wants to scream.

He doesn’t flinch.

“Go inside” he says suddenly, without looking at you.

You stay where you are.

“I said—”

“I heard you.”

Silence again.

Then: “The wind’s picking up.”

“I’m fine.”

He turns his head just enough to glance at you, eyes narrowing “You’re stubborn.”

You shrug “You’re angry.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Loudly.”

He exhales through his nose—one of those short, sharp sounds that’s not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.

You unfold your legs and stand, walking slowly until you’re beside him. Close, but not touching.

Close enough to feel the heat of him. Close enough that if you leaned in just slightly, your shoulder would brush his. But you don’t. Not yet.

“Is it about the intel?”

“No.”

“Then it’s about the crew.”

“No.”

“Then it’s about you.”

He says nothing.

The waves crash hard against the hull. Somewhere below deck, Bepo is probably pacing, waiting for the worst of the storm to pass.

But Law… Law doesn’t wait for anything. He carries storms inside him and tries to outpace them with silence.

You speak softly “Be at ease.”

He turns to look at you now, not annoyed, just… tired.

Your hand drifts to his arm, fingers barely grazing the fabric of his sleeve. You step in, gently, like approaching a wild thing. Like you’ve done this before—offering comfort without taking anything away.

“Let me watch your back now,” you continue, voice steady “My captain.”

His eyes search your face like he’s reading something in a language he forgot long ago.

“I don’t need—”

“I know.”

You take a step closer, your fingers brushing his coat sleeve.

“I’m not offering because you need it. I’m offering because you deserve it.”

His jaw tightens.

You shift your hand just enough to slide your fingers into his, letting them rest there—quiet and warm.

“Someone has to carry the weight when you can’t,” you add “Let it be me, even if it’s just tonight.”

For a long time, he doesn’t respond.

Then finally, he murmurs, “You talk too much.”

You smile “And yet you’re still listening.”

He doesn’t smile back but his shoulders drop, just slightly. And when the next gust of wind hits, he doesn’t flinch.

Because you’re there.

Because someone’s finally watching his back.

You lean in and press a kiss to his shoulder, not dramatic, just grounding. A promise. You feel him shift slightly toward you, almost imperceptibly.

The storm passes, but the cold stays.

You and Law sit under the overhang near the helm, out of the rain but not the wind. The ship creaks with each wave, but now it’s calmer. The kind of quiet that always feels like something is waiting.

He hasn’t spoken since you told him you’d watch his back.

But he’s still here.

You’re still here.

And that’s something.

You let your head rest lightly against his shoulder. His arm doesn’t move for a long moment, then slowly, tentatively, he curls it behind you, just enough that your bodies lean into one another.

“I thought you’d leave” he says at last, voice low.

You glance at him “When?”

“After Dressrosa. After the Doflamingo fight. Most people would’ve.”

“I’m not most people.”

He makes a soft sound in his throat, something between agreement and disbelief.

Then he says it.

“I didn’t expect you to stay this long.”

You blink “Did you want me to go?”

“No” he says too quickly. Then quieter “I just thought you would.”

You wrap your arms around your knees, watching the wet deck glisten under the moonlight.

“People leave you a lot, don’t they?”

He doesn’t answer.

You don’t need him to.

You reach over and take his hand again, threading your fingers through his with the same steady warmth you always give him. Your thumb traces soft circles over the back of his hand.

You take a slow breath and shift to face him more fully.

“You don’t always have to be the one doing the saving, Law.”

His head tilts, just slightly.

You lean forward but not too close, just enough to be clear.

“I’ll protect you now.”

The wind blows your hair into your face. You don’t move it.

He’s staring at you like he doesn’t understand the words. Like no one’s ever said them to him before and meant it.

“You think I need protection?” he asks, but there’s no bite in it. No challenge.

You smile “I think you’re tired of carrying everything alone.”

For a second, just a second, his expression softens.

Not in a dramatic way. Not like in the stories.

But his eyes lose that sharp edge.

He leans back against the wood behind him, shoulders dropping just a bit more than before. As if, maybe, he’s letting the idea settle.

Letting you settle.

You shift closer again and kiss his cheek, soft and slow, just near the corner of his mouth. He closes his eyes like he’s soaking in the quiet.

You don’t push it. You just sit with him, in the silence, your presence a quiet promise:

He’s not alone anymore.

The cold settles around you both like a second skin, but here, pressed close, there’s a different kind of warmth.

You lean into him slowly, head resting against his chest this time, right where you can hear his heartbeat. At first, he’s stiff. Not resisting, but still wired tight, like his body doesn’t quite remember how to relax.

You wrap your arms around his middle, pulling him into a soft, secure hold.

He lets out a breath against your hair. It’s quiet. Almost disbelieving.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” you murmur into his coat “Not with me.”

You feel it when something in him finally begins to loosen. Not all at once. Not dramatically. But like a knot unspooling deep inside.

His hand comes up, hesitant at first, then rests on the back of your head. His fingers thread gently into your hair, and you close your eyes at the feeling.

He doesn’t speak.

You tilt your face up toward him.

His gaze meets yours, wary, but no longer guarded. He’s let you in. At least a little. Enough.

You smile softly “Come here.”

And before he can argue, before he can overthink it, you press your lips to his.

One kiss.

Then another. Then another.

Soft and fast, like raindrops. Like a flurry of promises falling out of you all at once, impossible to hold back.

You kiss the corner of his mouth, his top lip, the edge of his jaw, then back to his mouth again.

With each kiss, you whisper:

“I will protect you now”

“My boss”

“My leader”

“My hero”

“My captain”

“My love.”

And something in him just… gives.

His breath hitches. His hands tighten around you, not pulling you away, but drawing you in. Letting you have him like this.

He exhales like surrender. His voice is barely above a whisper.

“…Fine. Do whatever you want.”

You press your forehead to his, smiling against his skin.

“I already am.”

And he doesn’t push you away. He doesn’t retreat behind silence.

He stays.

Wrapped up in your arms. Your warmth. Your words. Your kisses.

For once, Law lets himself be held.

── .✦ Shanks:

The first time you see him, it’s not on purpose.

You’re in a quiet port town, just passing through. Hiding, really. The kind of hiding that doesn’t involve running, it just means standing still long enough for the world to forget you.

Then the bar door opens.

And he walks in like he owns the ocean.

Red hair. Wide grin. A laugh that fills the room before he even speaks.

“Oi, Benn! I told you I could smell meat from a mile off!”

You glance up once and then away. You know who he is. Of course you do. Red-Haired Shanks. One of the Four Emperors. A name that carries storms.

You sip your drink and try not to look again.

It doesn’t work.

He notices.

You end up at the same table, somehow. He’s charming like that, pulls people in like the tide.

“What’s your story?” he asks casually, swirling his drink.

You shake your head “No story.”

“Everyone has one.”

“Not me.”

He smiles “You’re a terrible liar.”

You laugh despite yourself. It’s small. But he hears it.

“You’ve been drifting,” he says “I can tell.”

You pause “That obvious?”

He shrugs “Only to someone who’s done the same.”

Later, you’re sitting with him by the docks, the sea stretching out like a painting. He’s quieter now. Thoughtful.

You speak without meaning to.

“On a sea called loneliness… I’d come to lose my way.”

He turns toward you slowly, listening.

“My vision was dark. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t even know what I was looking for.”

Shanks doesn’t interrupt.

“But a single sailboat came close.”

He smiles faintly.

“And that happy ending became our story.”

He chuckles under his breath “You’re poetic when you’ve had rum.”

You smile, but it doesn’t fade.

“You’re the first person who didn’t ask me to explain why I left. Or who I used to be.”

“I don’t care who you were,” he says gently “Only who you are when you’re with me.”

The sea breeze lifts your hair. His eyes flick to it, and stay there a moment too long.

You don’t speak again for a while. There’s no need.

Two drifters. One sailboat. And, maybe, the start of something that doesn’t have to end in loneliness.

Years Later

The sun hangs low, golden and lazy, casting soft light across the deck of the Red Force.

Shanks is half-asleep in a chair near the railing, hat pulled down over his eyes. You’re sitting not far, feet propped up, notebook balanced on your knee. You don’t write often, at least not like this, but today feels different.

You glance at him. He’s relaxed, arms crossed loosely, the breeze playing with the hem of his coat.

Years ago, he was chaos walking. A whirlwind with a smile.

Now?

He’s still chaos. But he’s yours.

You smile and press your pen to the page.

“On a sea called L-O-V-E,

The sunlight dazzles as it reflects upon the water.

On that sailboat over there, are two people—

Just a captain and a sailor.

And that happy ending is our story.”

You pause.

Then close the notebook, leave it on the small table beside him, and go below deck. You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

Later, just before dinner, he finds you in the galley. One arm wraps lazily around your waist from behind, pulling you in.

“I read what you wrote” he murmurs near your ear.

“Oh?”

“It was missing one thing.”

You raise a brow, glancing back at him “Yeah?”

He presses his forehead to yours “The part where the sailor becomes captain of the captain.”

You laugh, soft and full.

“In your dreams maybe” you tease.

“In our story” he corrects, grinning.

You shake your head and kiss him anyway.

It’s meant to be quick, teasing, familiar.

But Shanks doesn’t let go. His hand cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw as he kisses you again, slower this time. Deeper. Like he’s been waiting all day for this one quiet moment.

You melt into him. The galley fades, the ship fades, even the sea feels quieter.

When you finally pull apart, your forehead rests against his. Neither of you speaks right away. You don’t need to.

He closes his eye, brushing his nose against yours “You still take my breath away, you know that?”

You smile against his lips “Even when I’m just trying to steal your coat?”

“Especially then.”

He leans back, just enough to reach into his coat pocket and pulls out something small, wrapped in an old cloth. He unwraps it with care, revealing a silver ring etched with faint waves.

“Was gonna wait,” he says softly, “but then I read what you wrote.”

Your breath catches.

“It’s not a proposal, not exactly,” he continues, “but it’s a promise. That whatever seas we sail, whatever storm hits… I’m yours. No matter what.”

You stare at the ring, heart swelling in your chest “Shanks…”

He slides it onto your finger, his touch feather-light “You don’t need to wear it if you don’t want. I just... I just wanted you to have something that says what I can’t always say.”

You take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles “You already say it. Every time you look at me like I’m not just part of your crew, but like I'm part of you.”

He chuckles, a little unsteady “You are.”

The kiss you give him now isn’t playful. It’s reverent. Grateful. Fierce and fragile all at once.

Afterward, you whisper, “My captain. My anchor.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your forehead, murmuring between each one:

“My light. My home. My heart.”

Later, beneath a sky dusted with stars, you lie curled in the hammock together—his coat draped over both your shoulders, his hand resting over yours, thumb absently brushing the ring now on your finger.

He presses a kiss to your temple and murmurs, “I used to chase the horizon. But then I found you.”

You smile into his chest.

“I’ll chase it with you,” you say softly “As long as you want.”

He holds you tighter.

“Forever sounds good to me.”

And with the steady lull of the sea beneath you and the warmth of him around you, you sleep in the safest place you’ve ever known.

── .✦ Kid:

The ship is on fire.

Well, not literally. But that’s what it feels like after the ambush.

Scorched sails. Blood on the deck. Your ribs ache, bruised or maybe cracked, and Killer’s bleeding from his arm, trying to stop Heat from collapsing.

Kid is in the middle of it all, rage and metal, torn coat, growling orders no one can follow fast enough.

“Damn it, where’s WIRE?!”

“Dead if we don’t patch him now!” you shout back, dragging your half-burned jacket off to wrap someone else’s wound.

He doesn’t answer. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes scanning everything like he’s trying to hold the whole crew together with nothing but anger and magnets.

But you’re not afraid.

You’ve seen him like this before. Broken knuckles. Cracked teeth. And still standing. Still fighting.

Still trying.

He doesn’t realize you’re next to him until your hand grabs his shoulder.

“Kid.”

He glances at you, blood across his cheek, chest rising like a storm trying not to explode.

“We’re not dead,” you say “We’re still here.”

He scoffs “Barely.”

You shake your head “You always think surviving means losing.”

“Because it is,” he snarls “Every fight takes something from us.”

“Now just breath” you snap, stepping closer “Look at me.”

His eyes go wide.

You don’t blink.

“I’ll follow you. I’ll follow you ‘til the end of my days.”

The words hit the air like thunder, loud, real, and permanent.

You lift your chin with your biggest smile.

“YES, SIR.”

Something shifts in his face, not softness, not yet. But a crack. A flicker. The kind of look someone gets when they realize they’re not alone.

His voice is low.

“You’re not scared of me?”

You grin.

“I was.”

“And now?”

“I’m yours.”

And for once, Kid doesn’t argue.

He just takes your hand, calloused and shaking, and holds on like it might be the only thing left that doesn’t burn.

The ship’s quiet now.

Not peaceful but quiet. The kind of silence that settles after screaming, after gunfire, after the medics say “He’s gonna make it��� and you finally let yourself breathe.

You check on everyone first. Heat’s stable. Killer’s stitches are clean. Wire’s conscious.

Only after you’ve made sure the others are resting you walk down the hall to his door.

It’s half open.

You knock once anyway.

“…It’s open” Kid’s voice grunts from inside.

You step in.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bunk, shirt off, fresh bandages wrapping his torso and arm. His metal hand is still twitching from leftover stress—little sparks crackling at the edges.

He doesn’t look at you at first.

But he doesn’t tell you to leave.

You shut the door and walk over, slow and calm, like approaching a wild thing that might still bite.

“You good?” you ask softly.

“Peachy” he mutters, eyes on the floor.

You eye the bruise on his jaw “Looks like it.”

He grunts, but says nothing more.

You stand there for a few long seconds. Then you exhale, toss your jacket to the side, and without asking, climb onto his lap, straddling him gently.

He stiffens a little “The hell are you—?”

“Shut up.”

He blinks. You settle your weight down, arms looped around his neck, foreheads almost touching.

His breath slows.

“…You’re gonna make me soft” he mutters, voice rough.

“You are soft” you say, brushing his hair back from his face.

He huffs “Right.”

You smile.

Then, quietly, honestly, you speak “My hero.”

His jaw tenses.

“My captain.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Every day in this world feels like a battle… but you’re the captain who brought me to my victory.”

He looks up at that.

There’s a flicker of pain, disbelief, maybe guilt. He shakes his head.

“We lost.”

You don’t flinch. You bring a hand to his cheek, cupping it firmly.

“We all survived.” You lean in, eyes locked with his “Is it really a loss?”

The words hang between you, heavy and warm.

He stares at you for a long, long moment. Then finally, his voice low, almost gravel, he says “…No.”

You nod.

“Good,” you whisper “Now let me hold you until your stupid brain believes it.”

He lets you.

He even wraps his arms around you, tentative at first, then tight, like maybe you’re the anchor he didn’t know he needed until tonight.

You rest your forehead against his, feeling the tension bleeding out of him inch by inch.

His metal hand settles at your back, warmer than it should be. Steady.

“You always this bossy?” he grumbles, voice low but not annoyed. Almost… fond.

You grin “Only when you’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? I got impaled.”

“And still talking,” you say sweetly, brushing your nose against his “Clearly not fatal.”

A quiet sound escapes him, not quite a laugh, but really close. He pulls you closer, jaw pressing to your shoulder, voice muffled against your skin.

“You scare the hell out of me sometimes.”

You smile “Good. Keeps you on your toes.”

You shift slightly, just enough to ghost a kiss across his cheekbone. Then another, soft at the corner of his mouth. Then one more right on his lips, softer and a bit longer.

He exhales, like you’ve stolen all the fire out of him with that one simple touch.

You whisper against his mouth, “I meant what I said.”

“I know.”

“My hero.”

He groans lightly “You’re gonna kill me with that shit.”

“My captain” you say again, this time planting a kiss under his jaw.

“I’ll throw you overboard” he warns half-heartedly, pulling you tighter.

“No you won’t.”

He doesn’t argue.

You rest your head against his chest, listening to the slow thump of his heart, and he buries his fingers in your hair like it’s the only thing grounding him.

“You’re the only thing that makes this worth it” he mumbles after a while.

You grin again, eyes closed “Took you long enough.”

“Shut up.”

You don’t.

You just nuzzle in closer, his warmth surrounding you, his heartbeat steady against yours, and for once, even on a ship held together by bolts and scars and sheer, everything feels unshakably, impossibly whole.

── .✦ Ace:

The waves crash steady against the ship, stars scattered across the sea like someone spilled the sky.

You’re sitting on the edge of the deck, legs swinging over the side, the ocean dark beneath you. Most of the crew’s asleep. Only you and him are still awake.

Ace drops down beside you, barefoot and shirtless, sea breeze ruffling his hair. He smells like smoke and salt and freedom.

"You're gonna fall in one day" he says, nudging your leg with his knee.

You glance over "Then you better be ready to dive in after me. Oh wait, you can't even swim anymore!"

He grins "I'd like to see you try drowning."

You bump your shoulder into his "I did once, remember? Before you even formed this crew... That's how we met."

He goes quiet.

You weren’t joking.

Neither was he, when he dragged you back to the ship half-dead, coughing seawater, chest heaving as he yelled your name like it was the last thing keeping him afloat.

That was the first time he held you like something fragile.

And the first time you knew he’d never let go.

You look out at the sea again "You saved me."

"Hm?"

"Back then. And now. All the time, really."

He leans back on his hands "You act like I’m some hero."

You shake your head "No. You're not a hero."

He laughs "Gee, thanks."

You turn to him, steady “I'm your sailor. You're the captain. You saved me from drifting.”

He blinks. His grin fades, not in a bad way, just... softer. More real.

“I never saved anyone” he says after a second.

“You did, and I'm not talking about that time...” you whisper “You just don't realise it.”

He doesn’t speak, but you feel his hand brush yours, fingers grazing yours like he wants to hold on, but doesn’t know how.

So you do it first.

You intertwine your fingers with his, firm and warm.

“I didn’t follow you ‘cause you saved me that day” you murmur “I followed you ‘cause I finally felt seen.”

He swallows hard.

Then says your name... just your name, but it sounds like a promise.

Not grand. Not dramatic.

Just true.

And that’s all you ever needed.

Years Later

For once, everything’s quiet. No Marines, no missions. Just you, a sleepy harbor, and one very shirtless fire-user leaning against the rail with a half-eaten orange in hand.

You step outside, towel-drying your hair from the bath, and lean beside him.

He grins at you like always, like you’re his favorite sight in the world.

You smirk.

“Hey, Captain.”

Ace groans immediately, tossing the orange peel at your feet.

“You still call me that?” he says, exasperated “It’s been years since I stopped being a captain, Y/N. Drop it already…”

You shrug innocently “But it suits you.”

Before he can roll his eyes harder, you lean in and plant a quick, soft kiss on his lips.

Then whisper, just close enough for him to feel your breath “My boss. My leader. My hero. My captain.”

Ace exhales like you’ve just made his heart do a backflip, but he plays it cool... barely.

“Ugh,” he groans dramatically, gently pushing your face away with one hand “Can’t you just be a cute lover and call me… I don’t know, boyfriend? Honey? My love?”

You blink at him, lips twitching, then smirk.

“Alright, sure. How about... Flamey Hot Dumbass Supreme?”

He stares at you.

“...That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

You grin wider “What? It’s affectionate.”

Ace covers his face with one hand, groaning “What was I even thinking that day I confessed to you and kissed you...”

You press a kiss to his cheek “That I was the only person who could make your life this fun.”

He huffs but he doesn’t argue.

He just pulls you closer, tucking you under his arm, and lets the sunset burn quietly around you both.

The laughter fades slowly.

Ace still has his arm around your shoulders, thumb brushing slow circles on your upper arm. You rest your head against his bare chest, listening to the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

The orange-sweet breeze brushes past. The sun’s dipped lower now, gold turning to pink.

He doesn’t speak for a long while.

And then softly, without teasing “You’ve been sitting next to me all this time…”

You glance up, and there’s something in his eyes that makes your chest squeeze.

“Yeah” you whisper “Where else would I go?”

Ace lets out a breath that almost sounds like disbelief. His fingers move up to touch your cheek, warm and careful.

“I was so busy back then. Fighting. Running. Trying to prove something. I didn’t even see it at first.”

“See what?”

“You” he says “Of course.”

You smile, nudging his nose with yours “Took you long enough.”

His other hand finds your waist, pulling you gently closer until your knees are nearly in his lap. His voice drops “I love you.”

You blink, heart thudding.

He’s said it before, during arguments, in bed, drunk off sake. But this time? This time it’s bare, and slow, and steady.

You wrap your arms around his neck and whisper against his lips:

“I love you too, firebrain.”

You’re both smiling into the kiss when—

“Yo.”

You freeze.

Ace groans out loud, forehead thudding against your shoulder as Marco’s voice cuts you.

You both turn, Ace’s hand still on your thigh, your face flushed, as Marco stands with a completely deadpan expression.

“Am I interrupting?”

Ace doesn’t even lift his head “You think?”

Marco shrugs “Well, you're not in your room, you know? That’s basically an invitation.”

You’re trying not to laugh as Ace flips him off without looking.

“Five minutes, Marco” you plead.

Marco holds up his hands, already walking off “Sure, sure. Just letting you know dinner’s ready... lovebirds.”

Ace groans again, shoving his face into your neck as you laugh harder.

“I swear I’m gonna set that pineapple on fire.”

“Sure you are, Captain.”

“…Don’t start.”

[alchemistc]

"Do you have some time? I could use some help."

Tommy tips his head back against the side wall of the hangar, stares at the rafters, tracks the flight of a starling through the beams. "Not sure I can steal a third helicopter in a little over a calendar year without some consequences," he murmurs, because the sound of Evan's voice is still ringing in his ears and he's fairly certain he'd accept those consequences without blinking, if it came down to it.

Evan's sharp burst of laughter sounds brittle, stale.

"No, I uh - actually I could use some advice?"

Tommy pushes himself up from the overly casual lean. "I'm all ears."

"You're mostly nose and cheekbones, actually," Evan says, that lilt to his voice teetering on dangerous ground for just a moment before he clears his throat.

In the entirety of the six months they were together Tommy heard about thirty individual stories about the times Evan went to someone for advice. About work, about his personal life, about the barista at his local who might have had a personal vendetta against leggy brunettes.

Tommy'd considered it an ill omen that he never made the roster.

"I just, um. I just got off the phone with Chief Simpson?"

Tommy wishes he was there. Sitting next to him, across the room from him, on the other side of a window just looking at him. He sounds - small.

"He's not disciplining you, is he? Because I know a union rep who -."

Evan cuts him off. "He just offered me the 118."

Tommy swallows. Tommy mulls the words over. Tommy tries to think of a delicate way to ask if the rumor that Hen turned it down is true, then.

"And how are you...feeling about that?"

Tommy will be perpetually in Evan Buckley's corner, he knows. From a distance or up close and personal, Tommy will always, always want the best for him.

He's so fucking young. He's lived so many lives at this point Tommy imagines he must sometimes feel ancient, trapped in a body and a mind that hasn't quite caught up to his soul.

Tommy knows he's thought about it, before. Taking on that role, using the skill set Bobby taught him to make another house into a home. But he'd likely never thought about it in the context of not having Bobby a phone call away. Certainly never thought about replacing Bobby.

"I don't - I don't know. How I'm - how I'm feeling. It's - I just - I want -."

Tommy checks the time. Watches the starling flit across the ceiling towards the nest Donato had threatened to beat them all about when they mentioned trying to find a way to dislodge it. Twenty-seven minutes until the end of his shift. His replacement is already here, fucking around in the weight room, bag already stuffed in his locker and flight suit already laid out on the bench because Goggins has zero respect for anyone else who might need the locker room. Melton won't mind if he takes off early. Might even be pleased to shave two hours and twenty seven minutes of OT off the books when Tommy asks if he can leave, instead of staying late. "Do you want to meet up, somewhere?"

"I... Tommy." He's not sure what his name means, sounding like that, in this particular context.

"Wherever you want. I can be almost anywhere in an hour or less. This just feels like something you might need to wrap your head around for a minute and -." He has to be vulnerable, here. In a way he fucking hates. "And it sounds like you could use a hug. I'd - I'd like to give you a hug."

Evan had never exactly been precious, about how much he craved the casual touches as much as the intimate ones.

He has to wonder who got bumped, to make Evan call him. Why not Howie, Hen, Maddie, Eddie?

"Are - are you serious?"

"As a car crash. Time and place and I'll be there."

Hopefully it won't actually require him to steal another bird to make it happen, but he'd do it, no questions asked.

"Is it out of order to suggest your place?"

Tommy can feel his brows quirking. Is Eddie still in town? Why the hell isn't Evan going to him with this?

"It's incredibly convenient for me, actually."

It's short work to let him know about how long it'll be, that he doesn't need to bring anything ("Evan, I'm serious, just be safe getting there."), to start his search for Melton. He's halfway through a rushed goodbye when Evan blows out a breath.

"Thank you, Tommy."

It's unnecessary, but it hits him right in the sternum. He'd never needed the thanks, actually preferred most of the time to have the things he does for other people go unacknowledged - thanks for that one, dad - but the tenor of Evan's voice, the tremble on his name, makes Tommy want to break the speed barrier to get to him.

Fuck.

He's never shaking loose from this one.

"Hey, you call, I come."

It feels like glass scraping it's way up his throat and out of his mouth. It feels like the type of confession he can't take back.

"I...same. Just so you know."

He hadn't known that. It's...terrifying.

"I'll see you soon, Evan.*

He still sounds small, as he says goodbye.

Tommy would fight the whole damn world to never have to hear his voice sound like that again. Best he can manage now is making his way home as quick as possible.

Maybe it'll be enough.

Maybe.

[recalcitrantlycaffeinated]

This is so delightful to me because like I have NEVER imagined this was an option I roll the boulder as far up the mountain as I can I secure it with a log I go to sleep in my bedroll I wake up at the bottom of the mountain Once again I roll the boulder

But THIS This is like SLEDDING It is still a slog It is still effort It is still harder and more tiring every time Every day But here, every time you reach the top You get JOY at the end

This is not defeat This is not a sad story! I am a little boy rolling a big rock down a hill! I am watching it bump against things Thinking "I did this! Me! I am small but look what I did!"

And the glee of the watching is so great I do it again the next day And the next day And the day after that Even though it seems impossible Despite the ache in my back

One must imagine sisyphus giggling like a schoolgirl As his giant boulder obliterates the countryside yet again

Who's up watching their boulder roll down again

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

──── JAKE'S THING . ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka when you realize exactly what jake's thing is.

── sim jaeyun x f!reader ౨ৎ wc. 566 ⌗ fluff, y/n makes fun of jake, jake LOVES y/n,,,yadda yadda what's new...

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── this one is short & sweet,,,a preemptive apology for the next one...it won't be as fluffy that's for sure (that's my spoiler .) hehehe i'll post the next one sooner since this one is quite short :)

Jake does this thing.

It’s a small thing.

Barely even worth noticing.

But you notice.

Of course you do.

Because it’s Jake.

You’re at a party. A big one—one of those industry events that Jake frequently gets invited to. Filled with producers, idols, people you’ve really only ever seen on screens. The kind of event he hypothetically should be thriving in—music pumping through the walls, flashing lights, and endless people he should be schmoozing the hell out of.

And yet—

Jake is right next to you.

Still next to you.

Unmoving.

“Shouldn’t you be talking to people?” you murmur, eyeing at him over the rim of your drink. “This is, like, prime mingling real estate.”

Jake hums thoughtfully, blinking before glancing around like he just remembered where he is.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. I guess.” A shrug. Then an easy smile. “But I’d rather be here. With you.”

Your stomach flips traitorously. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small quirk of your lips, “I know I’m great company and all, but you don’t have to babysit me. I’ll find Jungwo—”

“I’m not,” he insists, tilting his head at you with a simple grin, like the answer is obvious. “I’m just…staying where I’m happiest.”

You choke slightly on your drink—to his amusement.

“That’s stupid,” you mutter once you recover, feeling your cheeks burning.

Jake fakes a gasp from beside you, “Loving my girlfriend is stupid?”

“You're so silly, Sim Jaeyun."

“And yet, here I am,” he sing-songs, bumping his shoulder against yours. “Next to you. Choosing you. Again and again.”

Your chest tightens.

Because—

It’s true.

You think back—to all the late-night drives when he lets you pick the playlist—even though you play the same five songs on loop and he probably secretly hates it. To how he always goes twenty minutes out of his way just to stay over at yours, even though it means waking up at an ungodly hour in the morning for practice—just so he can end every night and start every morning with you. To how he will always carry a hoodie on him whenever you’re together—because he knows you never check the weather app and the slightest breeze gets you cold.

To how he always—always—shows up.

Quietly. Consistently.

Just Jake.

Your Jake.

Your Jake—and that’s why you notice it. Jake’s thing—

Jake chooses you.

Every time.

Not just in the big, grand gestures. But in quiet, certain ways. Ways so soft, they’re like a whispered secret shared only between the two of you.

Like now—

Standing here, in the middle of a room filled with important people. People who could elevate his career. People who could change his life. And yet—

He’s looking at you like you’re the only future he’s interested in building.

Like you’re the only person worth knowing.

You laugh under your breath, tilting your head to hide the sudden burn behind your eyes—because if you keep looking at him you might just combust.

And when you glance back—Jake’s already watching you, patient and warm. Like he’s been waiting for you to catch up to the thing he’s always known.

You set your drink down.

You step closer.

And you grab his hand—intertwining your fingers with his, anchoring yourself to the feeling you now know by heart.

Jake doesn’t say a word.

He just squeezes your hand, twice—

Once for hi.

Once for I love you.

Like he always does.

Like he always will.

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[hughes-your-daddy]

Do you think jack and reader will be having any more babies in "oh baby"

(Totally fine if not I'm just so curious)

Do the two they have ever learn about their sister in heaven?

Love it so so so much, I was full on sobbing reading she's gone. You portrayed the emotions of infant loss so well. Props to you friend 🫶🏼

-🐥

what about sissy?

pairing: jack hughes x fem reader

i’ve not thought about more kids yet but here’s brooks asking about his sister

summary: brooks has a few questions about his twin

warning: mention of pregnancy and miscarriages

you and jack lounge on the sun lounges, near the end of the decking at the lake house, brooks playing with quinn, luke and trevor on the glass, toys scattered on a picnic blanket.

you hear his squeals, smiling softly at the two children running around, brooks almost 5 now. jack moves his arm to lay across your shoulders, you dressed in a bikini, your small showing bump on display, a pair of shorts on your lower half while he just wears his swim shorts.

“mmh, im gonna go make him some lunch, he’ll be getting hungry soon.” you smile stretching, moving your sunglasses onto your head to see jack better, turning to press a small kiss to his lips, “want anything?” you ask, getting up and sliding jacks discarded tshirt over your small but visible bump.

“just a bottle of water please baby.” he smiles before you head back inside, making a ham sandwich and cutting it into 1/4’s, taking off the crust.

you carefully hold his plate on one hand, your drink in the other. jacks water tucked under your arm before heading back out calling him over.

“brooks, come get some lunch.” you call out, brooks immediately coming over, but insisting on bringing luke and quinn with him, each holding one of his hands.

“mom, can we go out on the boat today?” brooks asks taking his plate from you, immediately eating his sandwich.

“take your time baby,” you say a small giggle coming out at how hungry he is, just like his dad, before brooks climbs into your lap, luke and quinn sitting in the other vacant chairs.

“if your good bud, im sure we can take the boat out.” jack smiles, taking a sip of his own water, brooks smiling.

“you gotta be early tonight cause we’re going out with grandma and grandpa remember.” you say, moving to wipe the side of brooks mouth, crumbs covering his face.

“can i ask you something mommy?” brooks asks, quietly, moving off your lap to slot himself between you and jack.

“course baby.” you smile, placing brooks now empty plate down beside your water.

“was i in your belly like my little sister?” he asks, finger poking your belly hidden under jacks shirt.

“yeh baby, you were in the for only a little bit though,” you say, jack clocking you, “you see mommy got a bit ill and you had to come out earlier than normal.” you say, lifting the top up to see the scar from your c-section.

“you see there?” you ask, brooks finger tracing the scar, “that’s where you came out baby, the doctors helped mommy.” you smile, seeing his eyes scan your stomach.

“why were you ill? did i make you ill mommy?” he asks, tears welling up in his eyes.

“no buddy,” jack chuckles pulling brooks sideways into his lap, the boys head falling against his chest, “the thing is, you weren’t in mommy’s belly by yourself.” he says and brooks head snaps up looking between you.

“what you mean?” he asks, his little brows furrowing.

“you had a twin baby, but she got ill which caused mommy to get ill.” jack says, looking between you and brooks, you sending him a sad smile.

“why don’t you talk about my twin that much?” he asks and you and jack freeze, quinn and luke too absorbed in the own conversation to hear.

“uh, i don’t know.” you say, brows furrowing slightly as you look down, gently pushing brooks hair off his forehead.

“it’s hard for mommy and daddy you know,” jack says, looping an arm over you, hand resting on your shoulder.

“but that doesn’t mean we don’t talk about her you know.” you say nudging brooks with your shoulder, “we do talk about her a lot actually, you’ve just been a bit too young in the past” you smile, seeing him look between you and jack brows furrowed.

“and now my little sister is in there?” he asks, hand back on your bump.

“yeh, but she’s not quite ready to come out yet.” you smile before pulling jacks that back over your exposed bump.

“so where’s my twin now?” brooks asks looking between you and jack.

“she’s in heaven baby, she’ll be watching over you, making sure your doing ok.” you smile seeing brooks nod, resting back against jack.

“get some rest baby, we’ll was you up when it’s time for the boat ok?” jack says, shuffling further down to make it more comfortable for brooks who just nods eyes already dropping against his chest, before falling into a peaceful sleep.

jack tucks you under his arm, you head falling to his shoulder feelings sense of peace and love for the frost time in a while.

[baby-yongbok]

Could you pleaseeeee keep doing ASD based stuff? 🥹 Maybe a fluff where Fem!reader receives something she has a hyper fixation for from chan and he stands and admires here as she stims and lightly jumps in circles 🙏🏻❤️

A little something

Bang Chan x Autistic!reader

⤷ Fluff ⤷ WC - 0.6k ⤷ a/n - this took me forever but let's pretend it didn't... I'm sorry. It's hard for me to write ASD stuff despite being on the spectrum myself but I finally did it. I used my own special interest for this & this is based off of my experience with autism and not to meant to reflect how every person with ASD may operate. I hope that you enjoy! ♡ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ Masterlist ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You found Chan by the window, sleeves shoved up, wrestling with something in his hands — a tangled mess of clear plastic and suction cups. He muttered under his breath, so focused he didn't notice you come in until you leaned your shoulder against the doorframe with a small, curious hum.

He glanced up, sheepish, and immediately tried to hide the mess behind his back. Which was pointless, because a second later a suction cup popped loose and fell to the floor with a sad little thunk.

You blinked at him, heart already starting to race the way it did when you could feel something good was about to happen. Chan smiled — a real one, the kind that crinkled his eyes, the kind he didn’t use for anyone else.

"I, uh..." He toed the suction cup across the floor with the side of his sock. "Had an idea. For you. For, y'know, spring and stuff."

He crouched down to pick it up, grumbling to himself, before straightening up and holding the whole thing out toward you. Finally letting you see it properly.

A bird feeder.

Clear plastic, simple design, with little perches and trays. Small enough to stick directly onto the glass of your bedroom window.

“So you can see them whenever you want,” he said, voice soft, almost shy. “You shouldn’t have to go looking for them.”

For a second, you just stared. Not because you didn’t get it — no, you got it too much. The thought behind it hit you straight in the chest, so much louder than any words could’ve been. 

Your hands twitched before you could even think. You squeezed them into fists, You rocked on your heels in what slowly progressed into a small bounce, and then you burst — your hands fluttered up, half-formed movements in the air, your feet carried you in excited circles as you tried to get the fuzzy feeling out. A high, shaky noise slipped out of your throat, this bright, raw little laugh you couldn't even contain.

And Chan... God, Chan just looked so stupidly proud. Like he'd just handed you the entire sun.

You didn’t know what to do first — say thank you? set it up? hug him? cry a little because someone thought of you like this?

You did a messy mix of all of it — Chan set the feeder down carefully to catch you when you fling your arms around his waist, laughing and half-crying into his hoodie.

"I love it," you mumbled against him, voice muffled. "I love you." 

He chuckled low against the top of your head, squeezing you so tightly it felt like he was trying to put all the unspoken things into his arms instead.

"Let's stick it up now," he said, pulling back just enough to wipe your cheek with his thumb, grinning like you personally kept the stars lit.

The two of you ended up perched on the windowsill, crammed side by side, sticking the feeder to the glass with too much excitement and not nearly enough coordination. Your hands kept fluttering every time you touched the feeder — tap, tap, tap — a little dance of your fingers against the window, almost like you were coaxing the birds to come faster.

Chan caught you doing it once, and instead of saying anything, he just bumped his knee against yours, soft and understanding.

It didn’t even take an hour. A tiny, brave sparrow fluttered down, landing on one of the perches like it had been waiting for the invitation. You gasped so sharply you clapped your hands over your mouth, then started bouncing where you sat, fists clenching and unclenching in wild, giddy excitement.

Chan watched the bird for maybe two seconds — then he turned to watch you instead. Like he couldn’t imagine a view better than the way you lit up.

And honestly, maybe he was right.

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[holymolyyikes]

what if indeed...

I / VI.

We exited the store, making our way to the park. Ellie, my friend, had to duck the doorway. Somehow, I never failed to note how tall she was – of course, she was almost two metres tall, so it’d be even harder to miss.

‘I don’t think they liked us,’ She said.

‘Why?’

‘We look like a comedic duo. Me, tall, you…’

‘Yeah, thanks. You know, I’m actually really grateful I’m short. Could you imagine not fitting into / around anything?’

‘Ever heard of standpoint theory?’

‘Yes, actually.’

‘You know, I think there’s quite a few parallels to be drawn here from Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morals, where – ‘

‘Nerd.’

‘Speaking of, I actually read a study about the subconscious effect of doorknob height on – ‘

‘Geek. Square.’

‘Who else is going to talk about it, if not us?’

I suddenly dashed away into a major road, bag dangling in the wind. Suddenly, I was hyperaware of the breeze flowing dangerously close across my body, or maybe that was the wind of the cars. After an exhilarating few seconds, I had crossed. After a dull minute of waiting for Ellie to cross through the underpass (she had to duck, again), she had crossed.

‘Brooke!’ She shouted from across the park.

‘Yeah?’

‘Dumbass.’

‘I saw a gap and I took it. It’s not even that heavy anyway.’

‘I don’t want to see you hurt.’

‘Then think of it like this.’ We started walking. ‘If I live, cool. If I get hit, sure there’s pain, but what happens happens. I’m fine, I’m fine. I go to the hospital, either I’ll be fine or I won’t be. If I’m not, I won’t be around to know. None of those routes includes me in any considerable suffering.’

‘Not the being run over bit?’

‘It’s like whatever.’

‘You know that’s not true. What about all the… incomprehensible joys of society?’

‘I always found them too incomprehensible.’

We settled on a park bench, and went to make our way towards it. It was afternoon, but the brief gap in the afternoon where nobody’s at the park. Ellie handed her bag to me, and attempted to jump off a stray bench and over a hedge, practically successfully.

‘Fine,’ she said, reclaiming her bag. ‘Have you seen these new super-tariffs in America?’

‘No?’

‘Oh, man. Well, Trump, or one of his guys, said they’d be putting ‘super-tariffs’ on selected currencies. Economists still don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.’

‘I didn’t hear. Let me check.’

I pulled out my phone as we approached.

‘Can you do my bag? I’m looking it up.’

‘Sure.’

‘… There’s nothing here.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Give me like a keyword.’

‘Uh… nevermind actually. Misremembered something.’

‘Guess you’re the dumbass.’

‘Oh, shit, I dropped something.’

We stopped walking, and I leant down to pick it up. It was shaped like a coin, but not one from this country. It was slightly bigger – maybe even slightly oval shaped? – and the ridges on the side that blind people use were oddly curved. I looked closer, shifting into the light. The coin was a purplish gold, with a downwards bump in the centre. Didn’t some countries put holes in the middle of their coins? It was like that. There was some guy on it I didn’t recognise with some text I couldn’t read, but the flip side – which depicted what was either a ladder or a ruler – featured eight visibly embossed letters. I could hear Ellie murmuring beside me. I turned back to her.

‘Does this say – ‘

‘Oh, that’s my tall coin.’ She seemed oddly dismissive, for reasons I couldn’t quite yet discern. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘Is this a, coin for tall people? Do you just like, go into a store and give them one of these and they give you an extra tall drink or somethi – ’

‘I said don’t worry about it.’ I certainly didn’t mean to, presuming it was some sort of fake currency Monopoly-style, but she seemed oddly stressed about it. It was weird.

‘Fine. Can I keep it?’

‘No! No, I really don’t think that’s best. It’s important to me.’

‘Okay, pal.’ I gave it back, but not before I had taken a sneaky little picture.

what if people over a certain height had a special currency called tall coins that short people didn’t know about. And one day you’re walking with your friend (huge) and she drops something and you pick it up and say what is this and she says oh that’s my tall coin don’t worry about it. But you did worry

[rhiannonsknife]

incessant drooling

mhm pregnant Rhiannon.... need to be her sweet younger girlfriend who she met during her stint at Craig's parents house because I was Tink's dogwalker....

-🍭

your thoughts & asks actually never miss 🍭 anon what the fuck?? (also “in bloom” spoilers!)

oooh dogwalker!reader in this scenario i’m thinking thoughts…

you show up twice a day to walk tink, same time every morning, same polite smile, same softly murmured “hello”, or “good morning” that makes rhiannon’s arms twitch where they rest on the arm of craig’s mum’s godawful floral settee.

you’re sweet and helpful and nice and rhiannon hates it…

…no, she craves it.

the kindness. the shy glances at her growing bump you’re too polite to ask about. your gentle comments along the lines of “get some rest” when she’s scowling about her ankles or the twinge in her back, instead of offering her some sanctimonious comment about how beautiful motherhood is supposed to be.

at first, rhiannon is just having a little fun with it: turns out toying with the sweet dog walker is a great way to pass the time now that craig is in jail for her crimes murder and she’s merely the killer’s girlfriend, unfortunate enough to get herself knocked up by him.

she shows up at the doorstep in just a loosely tied robe and makes sure it constantly slips from her shoulder or walks in the background when elaine opens the door for you, wrapped in just a towel. she compliments you and relishes in your cheeks flushing red.

once she let you in, pretending she hadn’t noticed her leaking breasts, purposely embarrassing herself for the sake of watching you blush and fumble for the right words.

then, on a sunday, when craig’s parents are out for church and some follow up lunch with friends rhiannon claimed she was too tired for, she takes it farther than just observing from afar:

you’re crouched by tink’s leash in the doorway, flushed from the wind, and she’s watching you from the hallway in an oversized jumper, fabric stretching a little too tight over her bump, her nipples visibly outlined where her fabric clings. her chest is sore. she wants to be touched.

“you know,” rhiannon says lazily, “you could stay in for once. it’s raining out there. why don’t you sit with me for a bit?”

you’re standing awkwardly in the doorway, still holding tink’s lead in one hand. rhiannon doesn’t wait for you, she just moves to the kitchen, briefly glancing over her shoulder to make sure you’re not leaving.

“tea?”

you look up from where her dog’s tail is already thumping in anticipation. “sorry?”

“tea,” she repeats. one hand rests on the counter, the other curved under her stomach. “do you want one?”

you know you should take tink and go. that’s your job, the one you always step into when rhiannon can’t, or when the driveway is swarming with journalists again. they’ve been circling all week, too; you spotted one on wednesday, half-hidden behind a car, camera lowered the second you walked by. you’re just the dog walker, not a guest. nothing to see here.

rhiannon is already grabbing a second mug. “just ten minutes,” she says. “tink will be fine.”

you follow her into the kitchen before you can talk yourself out of it. she smiles and gestures to the table. as you sit, you clear your throat. “how are you…coping?”

she’s been through hell, half the country at her heels for carrying a killer’s baby, so asking something so obvious feels stupid. saying nothing feels worse, though.

rhiannon snorts softly, dropping a teabag into each mug. “with what, exactly?”

“with, uhm…all of this. the baby. the press. the…situation”

she finally turns. “you mean craig being locked up for all those…terrible crimes while i nest in his childhood bedroom and waddle around like a beached whale?”

“i didn’t mean it like that!”

“i know,” rhiannon assures. “i’m just winding you up.”

the mugs clink onto the table between you and she slides yours over, then sits, sighing as she adjusts her weight.

“the press has been quiet this week,” she says conversationally. “at least until this morning. caught one of them trying to peek through the hedge again”

you face tightens. you’d seen them before, lurking behind the postbox, clicking their cameras trying to get a good picture.

rhiannon studies your expression. “what?” she finally asks. “you feel sorry for me?”

“no. i-” you shake your head. “it must be a lot.”

“it is,” she agrees, lifting her tea. “hormones don’t help.”

you give a soft laugh, a little unsure.

rhiannon leans in just a touch. “you wanna know the worst part?”

“sure”

she hums, steam rising between you. “the fucking leaky tits”

“oh” you blush.

“oh?” she echoes, tilting her head. “it’s horrible. can’t even wear a normal top anymore, can you imagine?”

you squirm, thighs tightening together. “that…sounds rough”

“oh, sweetheart,” she purrs, resting her chin on her hand. “didn’t think the nice little dog walker would go pink just from a bit of biology…?”

you start to stammer something but rhiannon lifts her hand, silencing you. “relax,” she rasps. “i’m just saying…it’s nice to have someone to talk to. someone who looks at me.”

she shifts, her knee bumping yours under the table. you reach for your mug again and the ceramic is hot between your clammy hands, the heat doing little to ground you.

“what? you thought i didn’t catch you staring by now?”

rhiannon stands, slowly, and circles the table. she moves behind you, fingertips trailing lightly across the back of your chair, then your shoulder.

you gulp audibly. “rhiannon, this isn’t-“

“isn’t what?” she presses closer. “a good idea?”

her body radiates warmth behind you, and your heart’s hammering in your chest. rhiannon smiles, you can feel it, more than you see it; the curl of her lips against your skin.

“craig’s mum and dad won’t be back for hours.”

“i shouldn’t,” you whisper.

she doesn’t back off. if anything, rhiannon leans in further, her hand slipping from your shoulder to graze down your front.

“i haven’t had a decent orgasm in weeks,” she confesses. “can’t even reach past the bump most days. you’d think with all these pregnancy hormones i’d be glowing. but no. i’m aching” she exhales slowly, her mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “let me have this,” she whispers. “let me have you.”

pregnant!rhiannon who eyes you every time you kneel down to clip tink’s leash. especially when craig’s parents are around and she knows she can’t have you that day, so she has to get off on the memory of the last time she got to fuck you.

possessive!pregnant!rhiannon guys….possessive!pregnant!rhiannon who scrolls through your socials at night, one hand resting over her belly and the other clenched around her phone, teeth gritted at the sight of someone else’s hand on your shoulder. she doesn’t ask about it the next day. she waits until you’re at her feet, gagging around her fingers, before whispering: “do they know you let me fuck your face like this?”

pregnant!rhiannon who takes secret pictures of herself after your visits, then sends them to you with no warning whatsoever. your phone almost slips from you when you open the picture she sent, seeing rhiannon with one hand on her stomach, the other in her panties. your phone buzzes again while you’re still catching your breath. “should’ve stayed” her texts says. “you know i can’t come on my own anymore. need you to fuck me properly next time”

speaking of: pregnant!rhiannon who gets increasingly frustrated and angry with her own body. “you think it’s funny?” she pants once, your fingers between her legs while she lies on her side in bed, one hand gripping the curve of her stomach. “try doing this when you can’t even find your own bloody clit!” you hush her with a kiss against her thigh and she bites back a moan, legs spreading wider as best she can. she’s wet enough to soak your palm and her chest is flushed, nipples puffy and aching. when you tease them, rhiannon whines, arching into you.

pregnant!rhiannon who gets so jealous she invites you over twice in one day, claiming she needs help with tink, only to pull you into her bedroom. “prove it,” she says, grabbing your jaw. “prove you’re not fucking anyone else.”

pregnant!rhiannon who kicks her swollen feet up on the couch the moment you walk in. “my ankles” she whines. “are you gonna come rub them for me?” once your fingers are on her skin, she moans in relief, eyes fluttering shut. “god, you’re so good at that…” rhiannon watches you under her lashes as her thighs inch open.

(everyone say thank you 🪐 anon for making me post the following headcanon. in my defense for the record, this actually happens in the books, so…there’s that!!)

pregnant!rhiannon who has painfully sensitive tits and makes it your problem job to help her. she’ll sit you down like she’s asking for something innocent, then tug her top up and straddle your lap with a sigh. “they feel like they’re going to burst,” she huffs. “just…here, use your mouth!” she’s right: her skin is taut and sensitive, nipples already leaking. when you give in and rhiannon leans forward until one brushes your mouth, her hips grind in response and she claws at your shoulders. “just like that!” she gasps. “such a good girl for me.”

pregnant!rhiannon who feels the bulge of your strap against her when you hug her from behind and immediately slips her hand down the front of your jeans with a greedy, “what the fuck is this?”when you ask if she wants you to take it off, she snaps, “don’t you dare”, already dragging you to bed with her.

pregnant!rhiannon who starts to rut against your strap with zero patience the moment she’s on her hands and knees, belly cushioned by pillows, moaning into the mattress. “fuck, i can feel it,” she cries out, rocking back harder. “fuck me already.”

pregnant!rhiannon who acts like it’s the real thing from that point on. strokes it like it’s yours, moans like you bred her yourself & whispers filthy things to you. “feels like you put this baby in me. like it’s yours. do you want that? want to fill me up again?”

pregnant!rhiannon who wears something ridiculously sheer when she knows you’re coming by, her bump outlined, nipples visible through the fabric, face smug when you try not to stare. “oh, this?” she hums. “it’s the only thing that fits” then she bends over slowly, making a show of arching her back while picking up tink’s toy.

pregnant!rhiannon who lifts those clothes up when you’re alone, not even bothering with a proper greeting, swollen belly on display, no underwear underneath. “sit down,” she orders, already climbing onto your lap. “christ. you’re so easy.” rhiannon grinds down. “you feel that? that’s what you’ve done. just being around me. fucking- watching”

pregnant!rhiannon who gets so greedy one day she makes you sit on the edge of her bathtub, legs spread, strap on, while she fucks herself on it from a squat. “don’t move. just let me…fuck, just let me use it”

pregnant!rhiannon who makes you fuck her slow and deep when she can’t take it anymore. she lays on her side, eyes fluttering every time you hit her g-spot just right.

pregnant!rhiannon who keeps the curtains open and the windows cracked on purpose. reporters have been lingering outside the gate all week and she leans in, breath hot against your ear, hips grinding slow and hard against yours. “go on,” she whispers, “make it worth the headlines.”

pregnant!rhiannon who insists on sitting on your face because “it takes the pressure off her back”.

pregnant!rhiannon who won’t shut up about how you’ll never get away from her now. “you’re mine,” she breathes against your throat. “i’ll have this baby and they’ll still want me to stay here. you’ll keep walking the dog, and fucking me in secret, and you’ll love every second of it!”

[fallingcoups]

Tiniest Little kick🍼

♡ Seungcheol x reader

♡ word count : 579

♡ part 1

It was a quiet evening in the apartment Seungcheol and you had made your little space. You were 30 weeks pregnant now, and the baby was starting to make their presence known more.

Seungcheol, ever the curious and VERY excited soon to be dad, had been waiting eagerly to feel the baby's kick for weeks now. Every time you would laugh, his eyes would light up. He will lean in close, his hand touching over your belly gently, as if it might just take one more second to feel that magical movement.

"You think she's sleeping again?" Seungcheol asked, glancing at your stomach with that same hopeful expression he always had.

"She never sleeps," you replied, "She's too busy doing some gymnastics in here."

Seungcheol chuckled, “I want to feel her move. I’ve been patient enough. I’m sure she'll be a little more cooperative this time.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. "You're acting like she's gonna come out and give you a hi-5 or fist bump. She'll kick when she want to."

Seungcheol's lips curled into a mischievous smile. "What if I sweet talk our baby girl?" he teased, leaning forward to place his hand gently on your belly. "Hey baby, can you give daddy a kick? please?" he asked, his voice soft trying to coax his baby girl out with his sweet voice.

You couldn't help but laugh at how serious he looked, "She don’t respond to bribery, you know."

Seungcheol puffed out his cheeks dramatically, like he had just failed some big mission. "I was sure I had her on my side."

"Maybe if you sang a lullaby she will move" you said.

"A lullaby?"

"Yupp I just think she----"

Before you could speak any further, you felt a soft kick on your side. You froze for a second, eyes wide with surprise.

"Wait! wait! wait! She moved!" you exclaimed.

Seungcheol's eyes lit up immediately, and he quickly shifted to face you more directly. "What!?? You’re not kidding???" He placed his hand gently on your belly and you could see the absolute excitement in his eyes.

"Yes! I just felt something,"

For a second, it was quiet, just the two of you holding your breath, waiting. Then it happened. The tiniest little kick against your side, followed by another one. Seungcheol's face broke into the most genuine smile you’d ever seen.

"OH MY GOSH!" He gasped, his hand pressing more firmly but gentle against your belly. "I felt it! Oh my gosh, I really felt it!"

You chuckled at his excitement. "Told you she will kick when she's were ready."

Seungcheol was practically glowing with happiness, his fingers gently rubbing over the spot where he had felt the little movements. "I just felt our baby move. This is insane."

You reached out his hand, squeezing it softly. "You did, and it's only going to get more exciting..."

Seungcheol looked at you with so much love and affection. "I can't wait to meet and finally hold her in my arms." he said softly.

As the evening went on, you both settled into a peaceful quiet, the feeling of your baby moving under Seungcheol's hand creating a bond that felt deeper than words. In that moment, the world outside faded away. It was just the three of you. Him, you, and your little one.

And even though the road ahead would be filled with challenges, you both knew it was moments like this that made it all worth it.

Feedbacks

English is not my first language, sorry if my grammar is incorrect.🍒

[hellinistical]

Thinking about pregnant sex with Caleb

Okay first off the bat let’s talk about how he 1,00000% has a lactation kink

Imagine he’s doing his usual tit sucking and milk comes out unexpectedly. The fact that this man didn’t cream on the spot is a MIRACLE

And why it was a miracle is because he was sucking ur tits in the dressing room while you were trying on maternity bras and clothes

+ sure he was calling you mama before but now you would think it’s YOUR NAME with how much he uses it

“ pretty mama all wet and ready for this cock hm”

“ look at this bump, your glowing mama “

You carrying his child is ultimately the sexiest thing to this man.

EXCUSE ME?????

NO HI OR HELLO???

NO SIGN OFF???

WHO ARE YOU???

lactation kink and caleb go hand in hand im afraid. dude starts sucking the second you start lactating im afraid. god forbid you have tender tits. that just wont do, he'll get right to business. and ngl i think he'd be great at edging himself so like busting a load at the first chance aint even a risk he's been holding back forever now that shit is muscle memory atp. but also just fucking you while your pregnant and having you ride him so he can just have a lil bit of all of you all at once?? bro is in heaven. dude i dont even know what to say.

i'm just baffled

you come here. to my inbox- kept your shoes on at that- and just

but yeah hard agree.

bro probably kept you knocked up again and/or fucked you throughout each pregnancy.

But yeah YOU gotta come here more often cause this behavior is just.

...

[enimsiyobeht]

munch (tae’s version). short drabble.

mdni 🪽 !! boypussy taehyun x amab reader. implied ot5 harem. implied 6th member reader. use of cunt, pussy, folds, slit, clit, entrance, hole as tae’s gential. risky setting (except tae purposefully didn't lock the door), tae’s a lil mean (but it doesn't last for long), needy tae w/ an attitude, oral (t. receiving), could be seen as a quickie, subtle/minor dirty talk, subtle exhibition kink if you squint.

“You have five minutes before someone comes looking,” Taehyun whispered, his back pressed to the cool tiles of the dorm bathroom. His eyes darted to the door—but he didn’t lock it.

You raised an eyebrow, stepping close, fingers ghosting over the waistband of his joggers. “So dramatic. You dragged me in here.”

“And you’re taking too long,” he snapped quietly, but the heat in his voice faltered the second your hand cupped him between the legs. Already warm. Already soaked.

“I thought you could be patient,” you said, smiling as he exhaled shakily. “Always so serious, Taehyun. What happened?”

He shuddered as you pressed your palm firmer against his cunt through the fabric. “You kept looking at me like that during dinner,” he muttered, refusing to meet your gaze. “Didn’t even touch your food. Just—watched me.”

Your voice dropped, mouth brushing the shell of his ear. “I was thinking about how good you taste.”

He choked out a sound halfway between a moan and a curse, hands gripping your shoulders. “Then get on your fucking knees already.”

You grinned.

He hissed when you pulled his pants down just enough to expose his dripping pussy, the slick mess of him glistening in the dim light. He was flushed and needy, trying so hard to stay composed even as his thighs trembled slightly. You didn’t tease—too much. You kissed the inside of his thigh first, then again closer to where he needed, tongue flicking just shy of his folds.

“Fuck—don’t be a dick,” he whispered harshly, but his hips chased your breath anyway.

You licked him once—flat and slow up his slit—and he almost buckled.

“Taehyun,” you murmured, hands tightening around his thighs, “don’t make a sound.”

Then you buried your face in his cunt.

He gasped through gritted teeth, head thudding softly against the tiled wall. Your tongue worked slow at first, easing between his folds, lapping at his clit, teasing his entrance. He was dripping for you, pussy pulsing, practically pulling you in. Every soft moan that slipped out, he tried to swallow—but his body kept betraying him, hips twitching forward, thighs tensing under your grip.

“Fucking mouth—” he muttered, breath catching. “Why do you always make it feel so—nnnngh—”

You hummed into him, letting the vibration spread through his core. His back arched slightly. The more you devoured him, the more he crumbled. Your tongue slid into his hole, curling and stroking deep, and he whimpered before he could catch it, one hand slapping over his mouth.

You pulled him closer, your tongue steady and deep, your nose bumping his swollen clit every time he rolled his hips. He was shaking, legs spread wide, cunt throbbing against your mouth.

“You sound so good when you fall apart,” you said against his soaked folds, voice rough.

“I—I can’t—" he gasped.

“Yes, you can. Give it to me.”

He came hard, clenching around your tongue, slick spilling down your chin as he trembled silently, only the desperate hitch of his breath giving him away. You didn’t stop until he was twitching from overstimulation, thighs clamping uselessly around your face.

When you finally pulled back, your mouth was slick and swollen from how hard you’d eaten him out, and Taehyun looked ruined—eyes glassy, chest heaving, hands shaking as he tried to fix his pants.

“Next time,” he rasped, “lock the fucking door.”

You smirked, licking your lips. “You didn’t want it locked.”

He didn’t deny it.

(previous solo) | (next solo)

[k-aemi]

Hi Miu!!! Hope you doing well><

May I request a Reo x collegestudent!reader where she's having trouble making money and was getting frustrated so she went to a bar to drink her frustrations and get completely drunk, all she's blabbering is about making money then went to go to the bathroom but bumps into Reo and he can't can't helped but be amused by her and proposed that he'll give her 10,000 everytime she cums.

If you're able to write this, I give my biggest thanks to you!!❤️

mikage reo ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lets make a deal.

smut, praise, overstim, unprotected sex, squirt, some bdsm :>

it was pointless. everything was really. youre broke, cant even afford to buy your supplies and the amount of work weighted heavy on you which didnt help at all. seriously what were you thinking attending college without any financial aid?

you just needed something to get your mind off of it. youre broke, but not broke for a time at the bar. you just needed to relieve some stress, what better way to do it than to get drunk? not like you had any friends at the college anyways.

you slouch at the bar with your oversized hoodie, scrolling through your cracked phone, with a cheap drink on the other hand. bills looming, assignments just piling, and sleep? nonexistent. you sigh, cheek hitting the cold bar table, not caring if anyone was judging you at the moment.

eyes hazy, just little mumbles coming from you followed by hiccups. before you get up, a voice speaks.

"rough night?" a smooth voice interrupts. a guy couple stools away from you speaks. you had to squint your eyes to really get a glance at him, and damn was he handsome.

hes striking—designer clothes, hair too perfect, like he just walked out of a magazine. he stood out from everyone in the bar, now you felt self conscious about how you dressed.

"yeah, drinking my problems away." your arm rolls on the bar table as you bump your forehead on it.

"you look like you just lost a fortune." he takes a sip of his martini glass cup as he smirked looking down at you.

"youre probably right about that. failing a class, and i think my landlord wants to fight me." you grumbled. and the handsome man can only chuckle with a curious smirk.

"i swear—if i can just do something, a favor or whatever, i can clean their house, kiss their feet, do whatever weird kinks they got, i dont care. i just need that money." you put your head down with a loud thud while the bartender refills your drink.

the purple-haired man sips his drink before spinning the glass in his hand around before your head shots up at the realization. why did he even come up to talk to you?

"wait—do you know me...or do i know you..?" you raise an eyebrow. he glances at you with an amused look again.

"nope. but looking miserable enough for me to know your entire life story." and you scoff. you sat up with you elbow hitting the bar table, taking a shot of the vodka.

"didnt mean to make you part of my downfall." and he lets out a laugh.

"kind of entertaining. ive never seen someone as miserable as you. most people here drink and flirt."

"i dont flirt with strangers who look like they own stock in hair gel." you laid your head on your palm.

"i do own stock."

"well unless youre here to give me money, i dont think youre much help." you hiccup in between your words as you took another shot in one full gulp. slamming the cup down with a sigh of refreshment.

"and if i did?" he sat on the stool next to you, leaning closer.

"right. and what, in return i sell you my soul?" he chuckled. breath tickling your earlobe. you dont push him away, this stranger intrigued you. who would give out money like its candy?

"of course not. just a little something. 10000 yen each time you finish under my touch." his hand stroked your thigh in an unexpectedly endearing way—one that made your breath hitch and your body go still. this flirt was making you feel… strange.

you said youd do anything for the money, but that was clearly so unexpected. this random was offering you money for...a weird favor and were you to accept or decline that? still, the money was tempting...maybe too tempting to walk away from.

"im sorry, what did you say your name was again...?" your gaze shifts to his purple irises. with graceful ease, his finger lifts your chin—grinning from ear to ear.

"mikage reo princess."

"o-oh my god fuck—" you pull on the restraints that were tied to the bed post. your legs and thighs quivered from the amount of stimulating he made you go through. you dont know what you had signed yourself up for.

"doing so good f'me princess." he rubbed your sides, applying more pressure to your bud. the vibrator was at its maximum and he was making sure you feel every single bit of it.

your senses were heightened, with the blindfold covering you, you couldnt see anything. thus making it hard to anticipate where hed touch you next. it was weird, but in an exciting way.

you threw your head back at the immediate touch of his fingers that curled up inside your gummy walls. he inserted in with such ease you felt like you were going to cum on the spot. his fingers were long and reached so deep, just the lewd squelching sounds and your moans echoed throughout the room, and it fueled reos drive to continue.

"feel good?" he chuckled, staring at the way your body trembled. with the stimulation of the clit vibrator and his fingers, youll be coming in no time. just make sure to keep up with him.

you nod eagerly, moving your hips in a circular like motion. he loved the way your juices spilled onto his sheets and fingers, it was so sticky and the smell was intoxicating too. probably the best pussy he ever played with, your walls were warm, and youre so fucking wet<3

unexpectedly, you come. you didnt even register you did until he drags his fingers out of your cunt, but its like sucking him back in, just wanting more and more. the vibrator just overstimulated you so much, he wouldnt take it off. its like hes a sadist and wants to see you beg for him to stop.

"thats a 10000 right there." he cooed, licking a stripe up your cheek. the wet muscle made you wince while you tried to control your breathing. it felt so intense, you dont even know if you could withstand anymore, even after coming once.

"think you can handle my cock?" he slapped the tip of his cock onto your cunt, rubbing it against the vibrator. he bit his lips, almost drawing out blood. you just looked so hot under him, he definitely would of regret it if he hadnt strike up a conversation, or else he would of missed out on best pussy of the year.

he lets out a low growl, prodding his tip at your entrance, god you were so slippery he can just insert it in now. but he wanted to hear your sweet voice beg for his cock.

"n-need it." you mumbled out. you were referring to the money he said (thats what you told yourself) hed give you every time you came, but he took it as your neediness for him.

and just like you said, he sheathed himself in your velvety walls. he bottoms out inside of you with a whine he thought he never knew could come out of him. shit, the way your walls pulsed around his cock like it had a mind of its own made him feel incredible. he feels like hes going to cum this instant.

"oh, did you cum again—?" he raised his eyebrow at your fucked out face, he felt your cunt tighten around him and the way your breathing became heavy again indicated your second time. no way you just came twice in the span of two minutes. you didnt know sex could get this good.

you grind yourself onto him, you need more. his touch was so addicting you cant get enough of it. he can feel the vibrator from the outside and it just added more to the pleasure to him and you. the smell of sweat filled the room and two horny fucks getting it on.

he leans down to your neck, marking you up and planting light kisses on the skin. your nails dug into yourself from the intensity of everything.

"shiiitt, can i come inside?" he pleaded, he wasnt going to miss this opportunity to do it inside of yours. his thrusts gradually becomes faster but sloppier, losing that rhythm he had set before. he loved the sound of your ass clapping against his balls, it was so hot.

"yes, yes please." your breath hitched as your breathing became erratic. the third time youre going to come alone from this mikage guy. you dont even know what youre saying right now, you werent on pills or anything, you just needed to feel him fill you up.

he latches his lips onto yours, tasting the drool that slipped out from the corner of your mouth. it was filthy, tongues fighting each other while you both exchange saliva, creating a string whenever you broke the kiss.

his tip kissed your cervix and your back arched at an impossible angle. youre at your breaking point by now.

"f-fuck!" you squirt on his cock, your juices flying everywhere and reo came inside, painting your gummy walls white with his seed. your thighs quivered and your toes curled.

"s-shit that was so hot. keep it up okay?" he stared in awe how his cum seeped out of your pussy even with his cock intact. you were definitely in for a long night if you wanted the money.

hi so sorry i no posttt! so busy but i will start posting more now c: i will try to get all requests done! have so many so i am sorry!

tags ✎: @rinrinniebaby @theirlimerence 

[a-sweeter-sin]

Thunder ~ Part 2

- George Clarke

You roll like thunder, pouring all your drinks. The party’s lit and you, my friend, half-cut when it begins. You roll like thunder, you’re tryna catch that wind…. -Lana Del Rey

College/high school George Clarke x reader

-I’m still so new to this, I don’t know how to link parts one and two, but part one should be just under this on my page…

Summary: School starts again after the holidays, but this time things don’t feel quite right. There’s this unspoken tension between the two, and it feels as if it could break at any second, George can only handle it for so long…

Her writing program was coming to a close, and so were the holidays, meaning back to reality, or the quiet, mundane, bubble that was her home town.

This writing program had been like a retreat, she was surrounded by people much like her, that challenged her and made her think on things in different ways, much more so than she had ever experienced back in school.

She came back, with a week left before school started back up, before her last year. It didn’t really feel like she was coming back to anything, the trees were still bare from the winters harsh touch, the town itself still quiet. She dragged her hefty suitcase down the familiar footpath, past the same park, the same bus stop where people just stared, glued to their phones like they were scared of being present. She felt different, not in the physical sense, or any cliché way, just more at home within her own skin.

When school started back up, the other students were louder, brasher. One girl cried during History on the first day back and no one knew what to do. She didn’t cry once, not during school, but she wrote like her chest was splintering. It felt good. Like she could channel everything she was feeling, like being scraped clean.

Back home, she stayed in her room longer than she needed to. Her mum asked if she wanted to see her friends, she had to remind her she didn’t really have any close ones here, she had a small group to sit with at lunch, she had acquaintances, people she’d sit next to in class, people who sometimes liked to talk to her in passing, but never invited her to parties.

She hadn’t expected to think about George. But she did, more than she’d like to admit.

He’d stopped speaking to her after exams. No goodbye, no text. He just slowly vanished, like they’d imagined the whole thing. She tried not to romanticise it. She told herself he was just a boy who didn’t know how to hold a mirror to himself, and she was just a girl who made him nervous by doing exactly that.

Still. She found herself walking by the rugby pitches one evening just to see if he was there. He was, standing with a group, laughing too hard at something. His voice reached her before his eyes did. And he saw her.

For a moment there was nothing.

Then he looked away.

She stood there for a few seconds longer than she should have, before then walking on. Her face scrunched up, eyes watering like they did after these times.

Later that week, they bumped into each other in the same park, the one where they’d sat and talked about everything and nothing. He was on a run, she was walking with her headphones blasting. He said “Hey,” like it was just another day. She nodded. He shifted his weight, like he wanted to say more but he didn’t know if he was allowed.

“How was your writing program?” He asked, searching for her eyes.

“Interesting, good,” She responded. “I wrote a lot.”

“That’s great,” he said, and it sounded like he meant it.

She wanted to ask him why he had disappeared. She wanted to ask if it had mattered to him at all, the walks, the silence, the things they almost let happen, the things they felt, or at least she felt. But she didn’t. She didn’t want to give him the power to confirm what she already feared.

Instead, she just said, “You look the same.”

He blinked, his eyebrows furrowed. “Is that a good thing?”

She shrugged. “It’s just a thing.”

They stood there, a while, just two people pretending they were still the versions of themselves who once had a quiet understanding. But she could see it in his eyes, the guilt, or maybe the confusion. And all she felt was tired. Not angry. Just tired of being the only one who knew how keep hold of fragile things without dropping them.

She walked away first this time. She didn’t look back.

That night, she wrote a poem about absence. About a silent longing. She didn’t name him. She didn’t have to.

-

The year had droned on, term three rolled around and George welcomed the nearing end to his college years.

They hadn’t spoken since their last encounter in the park, yet George found himself looking for her, in the halls, during lunch breaks, and in any classes they shared. He never thought he could miss someone yet be in their presence almost every day.

George didn’t plan on going to her house. He didn’t even know for sure if she still lived in the same one. But his feet carried him there anyway, on instinct, not desire. Or maybe that was the same thing now.

It was raining in that indecisive, misty way that didn’t drench you all at once, just crept in slowly, soaking your clothes. He stood tentatively across the street from her place for a good minute before doing anything. His jumper was almost soaked through, his fists scrunched and jammed inside his pockets. He felt childish, putting off something after he’d come all this way.

Then he crossed the street.

Her mum answered. He remembered her vaguely, from the times they’d spent going between each other’s houses. She had soft eyes, and a warm smile, but she seemed like the kind of woman who always knew more than she let on. She didn’t look surprised to see him.

She called upstairs to you, no judgment, nor hesitation in her voice, before slinking away leaving him shivering in the doorway.

Then came a pause. Footsteps.

Then there she was.

She looked exactly how he pictured her, which annoyed him in a way he couldn’t explain. She was wearing cozy clothes, fitting for the weather, her sleeves reached past her wrists, she tugged on them in a nervous manner, her face formed in a frown when she saw me, not a smile in sight. She folded her arms up as if to protect herself, like a barrier, like she was already bracing herself for disappointment.

“What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” he answered her, and it was honest.

She stepped aside against the door, allowing him inside anyway.

He followed her into the kitchen. The light was low and warm, everything too quiet, the atmosphere awkward and cracking, bursting at the seems just waiting for something to be said. She made tea without asking if he wanted any. He watched her move about like he wasn’t even there.

When the tea was done, she headed upstairs, he followed after her, the two of them entering her room. She placed the tea down at her desk, not before finding an uncluttered space, then went to close the door behind him.

“You can’t just show up out of the blue,” she said finally, breaking the silence.

“I know.”

“You didn’t even say goodbye.”

“I know”

“You ignored me. Pretended you didn’t know me around your friends.”

“I know.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes were squinting slightly, her voice had begun to tremble but she held her head high. She looked at him hard then.

“You’re not sorry, George. You just feel bad now because I didn’t wait around for you, didn’t chase after you like I’m sure many other girls have.”

That stung, he could feel his chest tighten. Maybe because it was true. Maybe because he wasn’t sure what he had expected her to do, write about him? Stay quiet? Disappear politely?

He didn’t answer her yet, just shifted to reach for his tea, hoping the mug might help him think of what to say, might offer him a script.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said.

“What, be decent?” She shot back. “Not just disappear from my life for months, then expect me to welcome you back in after you show up at my door.”

He flinched, just slightly.

She sighed, and for the first time that day he saw her properly, she looked tired, not just of him, but of the whole thing, of being the one who had to say the hard part, of being the one who won’t just give in when given some form of apology.

“I liked you,” she murmured quietly. “I really did. But you made me feel like I should be embarrassed for it, or that you would be embarrassed of it.”

“I liked you too,” “I like you too,” he said, but it came out too fast, and overall, too late.

She laughed, but not in the way he loved, she laughed, bitter. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“I was scared.”

“Of what? Your reputation, harm coming to your image?”

“Of you,” he said.

That stopped her. She blinked once, then twice, taken aback. Then she laughed again, but it wasn’t bitter this time. Just surprised.

“Of me?”

He nodded. “You saw things, I mean really saw. I’m not used to that.”

She looked down at the floor, then back up at him. For the first time in months, she wasn’t wearing armour, her wall had fallen before him.

“I could say the same, you’ve seen more of me than anyone, you know more of me.”

And maybe that was the last bit of permission he needed, or maybe it was something else entirely, something he couldn’t name but had been building inside him since that first walk home, since their first proper conversation.

He kissed her. Soft, and a little hesitant, like testing something out that you’ve only ever imagined. She kissed him back. Her hands gripped the damp fabric of his jumper like she didn’t trust him not to vanish again, and maybe she was right to.

When they eventually pulled apart, they just stood there, foreheads close, noses touching, breathing unevenly, like they’d finally surfaced something that came from deep down.

He didn’t say anything straight away.

And neither did she.

But this time, the silence felt different, like something beginning, not something breaking.

- Again this is partially based on Normal People, and I don’t usually post stuff like this… I’m not a George Clarke super fan, this is me, yet again projecting. Sorry if this bothers anyone that I used him for this little story thing. 💃🫰

[sturniololuvz]

Could you do one where their little sister is learning to drive and Matt’s teaching her but she hits a curb or something and he goes mad and starts screaming and makes her cry, and when they get home Chris goes to comfort her in her room whilst Nick shouts at Matt for making her cry and eventually he apologises

“The Curb Incident”

Matt wasn’t a bad teacher.

But he was a terrible passenger.

“Okay, slowly ease into the turn,” he said, pointing at the intersection. “Watch the curb—watch it—Y/N!”

Thud.

She winced as the tire bumped hard into the curb. Not over it — but enough to make the whole car jolt.

Matt’s hands flew up. “What did I just say?! I told you to watch the curb! Were you even listening?!”

“I was!” she said, eyes wide, hands still frozen on the wheel. “I just—”

“You’re not even paying attention, Y/N! You can’t just drift into the turn like that! You could’ve popped the tire! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?!”

Her bottom lip trembled. “I’m trying, Matt.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Well, trying doesn’t matter when you’re behind the wheel. You mess up here, people get hurt. You wanna learn how to drive? Then take it seriously.”

She blinked fast, trying to push back tears, but one slipped anyway.

“Pull over,” Matt muttered.

She did.

The ride home was dead silent — except for her sniffles as she stared straight ahead, fists clenched on her lap.

When they got home, she didn’t say a word. She just rushed inside, straight to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Matt walked into the kitchen, still visibly frustrated.

Nick looked up from the counter. “What happened?”

“She hit the curb,” Matt said, pouring a glass of water like it would wash the annoyance out of his mouth.

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Okay… and why is she crying upstairs like you just ruined her entire existence?”

“I corrected her. Loudly. Maybe. But she needs to learn how serious driving is.”

Nick’s face darkened. “You yelled at her?”

“She could’ve damaged the car!”

“She’s sixteen, Matt. She’s learning. You think yelling’s gonna make her better, or just scare her into never wanting to try again?”

Matt sighed, defensive. “I didn’t mean to make her cry.”

Nick stepped closer, voice low. “Go apologize.”

“I—”

“Go. Now.”

⸻

Upstairs, Chris had already knocked once. She didn’t answer.

So he cracked the door open.

She was curled up under a blanket, hoodie pulled over her head, tears still fresh on her cheeks.

“Hey, kid,” he said softly. “Can I come in?”

She shrugged.

Chris sat down on the edge of her bed and gently rubbed her back through the blanket. “Nick told me what happened. You okay?”

“No.”

Chris waited.

“I was doing good,” she said through a tight voice. “I practiced parking and turning all week. I was trying, Chris. And then I hit the stupid curb, and he just—he acted like I’d crashed the car into a wall.”

Chris sighed. “Matt gets panicky sometimes. You know how tightly he holds onto control. But that doesn’t mean he was right to yell. You are trying. And you’re doing better than most kids your age.”

“He made me feel like I shouldn’t even try again.”

Chris frowned, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Don’t let one bad moment take away your confidence. You’re allowed to mess up. That’s how we learn.”

She nodded slowly, still curled into herself.

Just then, there was a knock.

Matt peeked in.

His face was already filled with guilt.

“Hey,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “Y/N, I’m really sorry.”

She didn’t answer.

“I overreacted. That’s on me. You didn’t deserve to be yelled at for something as small as hitting a curb. And I should’ve been more patient. I was scared, and I handled it the wrong way. I’m sorry I made you feel like you shouldn’t drive again.”

Chris gave her a small look, letting her decide.

Finally, she peeked out from the blanket and muttered, “It really hurt my feelings, Matt.”

“I know,” he said immediately. “And I hate that I made you feel that way. You’re doing great, Y/N. Seriously. I shouldn’t have made you feel small.”

She gave him a tiny, watery nod. “Okay.”

Matt stepped forward and wrapped her in a careful hug. “Wanna practice again this weekend? I’ll be better, promise.”

She sniffled. “Only if you don’t scream.”

“I’ll bring a stress ball.”

Chris chuckled. “And I’ll follow behind in case one of you drives off a cliff.”

She laughed — soft, but real.

And just like that, things felt a little lighter again.

⸻

[makeitworse]

BITTER

you thought whatever you and se-mi had going on didn’t need a name. now you wonder why she’s bitter.

contains: f!reader x semi. thanos squad au. drugs & alc. fwb. jealousy. misunderstanding. fluff | angst | smut (oral). 18+

se-mi stood with her back to the bar, her head being among the many that were turned in the direction of the dance floor.

she’d long since forgotten what drink min-su (who was still sat at their booth) had asked her to order. while waiting to be served, her eyes drifted across the club, wondering where you had ended up— and everything else fell away once her gaze found you.

swaying your body under the flashing neon lights, moving with the crowd to the bass of the song pulsing from the speakers. su-bong was beside you with an arm in the air, face beaming as he cheered you on.

he was barely maintaining the thin gap between your bodies— you could so easily close it, press against him in front of everyone. in front of her.

se-mi sighed, grounding herself back in reality. it’s not like you owe her anything. she’s just a friend to you.

she faces the counter again, deciding that she’ll need a shot.

nam-gyu stumbled besides her, rubbing at his nose with a snort. se-mi scoffed.

“seriously? this isn’t even a club,”

the group had settled for a modest hotel bar with a live band playing. club pentagon was the designated spot for nights-out, where nam-gyu could flaunt his employee privileges— but to entice min-su to come out, downsizing to a less intimidating venue was necessary.

but clearly, time and place was irrelevant to nam-gyu. he’d snort a line during the birth of his child.

nam-gyu rolled his eyes, turning his attention to the bartender. “tequila shot, please.”

“two.” se-mi piped in.

nam-gyu eyed her. “min-su boring you?”

“no, he’s not.” her eyes flickered back to the dance floor— where you were linking arms with su-bong, skipping in a circle.

nam-gyu notices, and cranes his head to stare too.

“twenty bucks they’re fucking.”

“shouldn’t you know?” se-mi turned to him, tone too forced to sound casual.

“nah, he— oh hey, we can ask her now.”

se-mi distantly hears the bartender tap the shot glasses on the counter as she faces you— jogging up to them with a smile blown wide on your face.

she tries (and fails) to still her racing heart. you looked so beautiful, even while panting and with your hair all frizzled. could be a sight mistaken for something else.. but she suppresses the thought.

“are we doing shots?” you say, out of breath.

before nam-gyu can tap his card to pay, you snatch a shot glass and tilt your head, chucking the shot back.

you grimace, then take se-mi by the hand. “okay, come with me!”

nam-gyu’s voice protesting bleeds into the thumping music as you drag se-mi to the dance floor.

“what about su-b—”

“ugh, he left me to shit. come on!”

more like to snort a line in a toilet cubicle, but se-mi thanks him for this opening anyway.

you weave through the crowd before settling on a spot. you turn to her with a playful grin, and she can’t help how her mouth curls at it. you’re too cute.

her breathe hitches when you pull her in close— enough that her nose almost bumps yours. your arms wrap around se-mi’s shoulders, and she could damn near melt at how you’re looking at her.

lashes heavy, lips parted slightly. if she didn’t know any better, she’d think you’d want to kiss her.

but you didn’t swing that way.

you’re swaying your body side to side, and you get se-mi to rock with you. you giggle when she follows your lead. the noise makes her chest warm.

se-mi dares to brush her fingers on your side, and when you don’t protest, both her hands find purchase on your waist.

“you look really pretty tonight,” se-mi breathed. “everyone here’s thinking it.”

you giggled. “i think they’re looking at you.”

se-mi scoffs, glancing away. but you’re not joking.

you lean in, voice low at her ear. “maybe.. it’s ‘cause they’re jealous.”

se-mi composes herself, goosebumps tingling on the back of her neck.

“yeah?” she replies breathlessly. “and what’ve i got over them?”

your hand comes to cup se-mi’s jaw, thumb tracing over her cheek.

“me.”

you’re just drunk. she keeps repeating it in her head like a mantra. this doesn’t mean anything.

her thoughts dissolve as you lean forward on your toes, pressing a placid kiss to se-mi’s lips. she doesn’t move— just stands there, moving her hand to lightly hold the small of your back, while your lips melded against hers.

at her lack of response, you pull away, giggling shyly. you almost look embarrassed. se-mi’s blood was buzzing. okay, i guess this is what we’re doing.

so she kisses you. and there’s no hesitation before you kiss her back harder.

this time, you’re parting your lips, and se-mi responds in kind by sliding her tongue against yours. you couldn’t care less about the people around— you kissed her like she was the air you breathe.

se-mi tries not to get carried away, but you’re not making it any easier. she reminds herself that you’re only into boys. but with the way you’re pressing your body against hers, se-mi could doubt that fact.

her hands come to anchor your hips, since you were damn near grinding on her. a noise escapes your mouth— was that a moan?

se-mi’s last resolve almost snaps at that— until she hears nam-gyu’s voice (insta turn-off).

“alright, get a room.”

you pull away from se-mi’s lips with a wet smack, turning to the boys with a dazed smile.

“let’s do schnapps!” su-bong whooped, already extending a hand for you to take.

se-mi wishes you’d keep your hands on her instead. but of course you take su-bong’s.

“are you coming, se-mi?”

she doesn’t hide how she purses her lips. she nods, because she’ll go with you— but she won’t act glad to see the boys.

nam-gyu squints at her, like he’s gauging something. se-mi just flips him off. probably doesn’t do much to deter what se-mi’s certain he must be thinking.

…fuck, she never got min-su his drink.

se-mi had found herself waking up on su-bong’s couch— squinting to make out the room around her.

“oh, mornin’.”

she rubbed at her eyes, the blur of purple hair coming into focus. su-bong blew out smoke, and offered his vape to se-mi. she shook her head.

se-mi glanced around. “where’s..?”

“you’re up!”

her neck practically snapped in the direction of your voice. you jogged over from the hallway, leaping onto the cushion next to se-mi. you landed unapologetically close— the side of your body pressing into hers.

you’ve always been a touchy person. it’s how you showed love. but it’s not the same, not after last night.

you kissed her. yes, you were drunk, and yes, you don’t see se-mi that way, and yeah you don’t even like girls— but she does. and she can’t just act like it meant nothing.

“how’d you sleep?” you smiled, knee bumping hers.

you’re pretty chirpy for being hungover on the amount of alcohol you tanked last night.

se-mi shrugged. “i miss my own bed.”

“yeah, me too.” su-bong piped up. “i was in between these two fuckers playing tug of war with the blanket all night.”

he jutted a finger at you before turning to nam-gyu, who was shuffling over with a scowl. his comedown isn’t as pretty as yours.

se-mi bit the inside of her cheek. she hadn’t considered where you ended up sleeping last night. she would’ve dragged you to the couch with her, if she knew you’d be sharing a bed with two guys.

se-mi sighs, silencing that thought. they weren’t trouble like that. well, su-bong at least.

nam-gyu pawed at su-bong for his vape. se-mi turns to you, opening her mouth to speak— and you lean closer with a playful grin. are you.. flirting?

“when are you leaving?” she tries to keep her voice from cracking; your breath was fanning her face. she could think you want to kiss her again.

“mm,” you tilted your head to su-bong, who was showing off blowing a smoke ring to nam-gyu. “what’s for breakfast?”

“whatever you can make, mama. mi casa su casa.”

se-mi and nam-gyu rolled their eyes in sync. they both take notice. neither of them mention it.

“i can take you home.” se-mi continued.

she parked her car at the street over from his place before they went out, in preparation to take min-su home early in the morning. but clearly he left before anyone else even woke up.

“okay,” you hum. “but only if you cook with me.”

you clasped your palm over hers with a smile, enticing her to agree. se-mi grins stupidly, nodding. you drive a hard bargain.

⏦ﾟ♡︎

se-mi stood there whisking eggs in a bowl, listening to you whistle as you turned the stove on— pretending like she wouldn’t rather just make out with you here instead.

she could so easily slide her hands around your waist, hike you up onto this counter…

like some damn perv would think. what was she, nam-gyu? she could choke herself out.

“you making meringue or something?”

your voice snaps se-mi back into reality. she glances down— realising that she’d been stirring the eggs like crazy while deep in thought.

“i think they’re whisked, se-mi. thanks.” you chuckle, slipping your hand under hers to take the bowl from her hold. the noise has her eyes falling to your lips.

you linger for a second longer, like you noticed— before you’re gone again, turning to the stovetop with the bowl. if you did notice, you don’t say so.

the eggs sizzle as you pour them into the frypan. se-mi decides she’ll bite.

“sooo, was i your first kiss with a girl?”

her tone’s casual, playful. not strained. it’s just a little joke between friends. she hopes it’s not screaming letskissagainpleaseimsofuckinggay—

“oh, yeah— fuck, i’m so sorry about that.” you’re caught off-guard, covering your face as you cringe. she probably only just reminded you it even happened. funny, since it hasn’t left her mind. “i should not have had that shot—”

“—no, no. it’s okay.” se-mi smiles reassuringly.

“oh. alright.” you straighten up. “well, yes. was i good?”

se-mi scoffs, leaning against the counter. “do you ask the guys that too?”

“i don’t care what they think.”

se-mi nods along, trying to read your face. what’s that supposed to mean? “yes. it was a nice kiss.”

you’re silent for a beat, scraping the pan with a spatula. you look conflicted.

“did you like it?”

se-mi almost chokes. “okay, what are these questions—”

“i’m sorry! i’m just…” you sigh. “i haven’t done that before.”

you glance at se-mi with furrowed brows. you’re speaking to her as a friend still, shy over something you did on impulse— not someone you kissed because you’ve got feelings for them. because it meant something.

se-mi exhales. she knows better than to crush on a straight girl.

“i’m not complaining.” she smirked, placing a reassuring hand on your arm.

for a moment, you smile at her, and se-mi swears your gaze drifts to her mouth. but then you’re gone again— clearing your throat and turning back to the stove.

“hope you’re hungry.”

not for breakfast— but yes, she was.

like promised, you rode passenger in se-mi’s car as she drove you home. you laughed at the irony when chappell roan started playing on the radio.

se-mi smiles as she hears you softly singing along to the lyrics. she resists the urge to ask you if you’re certain you’re straight.

se-mi pulls up to a red light, taking the chance to glance at you: twiddling your thumbs, looking like you’re contemplating something. se-mi opens her mouth, but you speak before she can:

“i’m sorry about being weird,”

“what do you mean?” se-mi cut you off before you could continue that train of thought. “you’re not, you—”

the traffic light flashes green, so se-mi has turn her attention back to the road.

“the kiss.” you continued. “i wasn’t trying to force myself onto you or—”

se-mi states your name sternly, glancing at you briefly. “it wasn’t like that to me.”

you sigh in relief. se-mi almost says more, but she’ll leave it up to you to steer where this conversation goes.

“i just.. had this sudden urge to kiss you. y’know? it felt right.” you giggled, glancing at se-mi for her reaction. “it’s weird to me, ‘cause i don’t even like girls.”

ouch.

“or maybe i do, i don’t know.” you put your head in your hands, flustered.

se-mi could cry tears of joy.

she feels confident enough to tease; “is this you asking me to help?”

you balked at her, mouth open. se-mi laughs it off (just in case you’re not serious). but in her peripheral, she can see you chewing your lip in thought.

“okay. fuck it.”

“huh?” se-mi snaps her head at you, almost missing a turn on the road.

“let’s just do it.” you smile at her, giddy.

“wait, what do you—”

“—but only if this isn’t.. weird for you.”

se-mi would slam on the breaks in the middle of the highway right now if it means you’re letting her hit.

“of course not.” she replies way too quickly.

you play with the hem of your dress in your lap. se-mi sneaks a glance at your thighs— and impulsively slides a hand from the wheel to grab you there. a little gasp slips from you.

“i’ll take us somewhere quiet,” she breathed.

“can’t wait.”

she’ll probably get a ticket for speeding.

⏦ﾟ♡︎

se-mi reroutes to a shopping mall, settling for a dark corner in the underground parking lot. fortunately, it’s not busy this time of day— but she can tell you’re still on edge as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

her hand comes to your knee, thumb softly rubbing the skin.

“we don’t have to,” she starts.

“i want to.” you finish.

se-mi smiles. you smile back. she reaches for your face, cupping your cheek in her palm. you lean in to her touch. her lips part with a shaky exhale. se-mi almost can’t believe this is actually happening— she could pinch herself.

“yeah?” she says breathlessly.

“yes.” you whisper back.

her lips find yours first. soft, pensive. a question. your mouths move together slowly, the kiss gradually deepening— until your tongue pushes past her lips, and you mewl into her mouth when you taste her. a demand.

and se-mi’s here to please. she frees her seatbelt, the buckle banging the car’s wall as she practically tears it off.

you giggle at her haste, the noise blending into a gasp as her other hand trails up your side.

you angle your neck, allowing se-mi to bury her tongue deeper in your mouth. likely sensing her uncertainty, you snatch her hand and press it against your chest. her kisses stammer for a split second— before she starts kneading your breast. you whine as her thumb swipes over your nipple, and she swallows the sound.

reluctantly, she presses a kiss to your lips before pulling away, half an inch from your face. “what’ll you let me do?”

your breath’s hot on her face as you pant. “anything.”

se-mi sits up on her knees, planting her lips on yours as she reaches down the side of the passenger seat. you yelp as your seat slides back suddenly. she chuckles, crawling over the centre console and onto the floor, sitting between your legs.

you’re about to speak when se-mi’s hand reaches out to the side of your seat again, and you fall back as it reclines.

you’re stunned as look down at her. she knows what she’s doing, and she’s damn good at it.

you shift in your seat as her hands come to rest of either of your thighs, pulling them further apart and sliding up— pushing the hem of your dress till her fingers tap your panties.

se-mi glances up, checking. when you respond with a small nod, her fingers curl around the fabric. you hoist yourself up to let her tug your panties down your legs, dropping at your shoes.

se-mi’s agonisingly slow with her movements: creeping her hands up your skin and feeling the goosebumps under her touch, leaning her face in so her breath fans your pussy.

you inch closer, eager— evident by how you’re glistening wet in the low light. she wonders if a man’s ever been able to get you this turned on.

se-mi presses a soft kiss to your clit, and you shudder, eyes falling shut. your back arches when she licks a stripe up over your cunt, tasting you on her tongue.

she starts with small sips, only lightly bobbing her head against you. her teasing doesn’t last long— se-mi was drawing out such pretty sounds from your mouth, and she was greedy for more.

se-mi closes her lips around you, letting her tongue swirl circles around your clit. you cry out, and her hands firmly anchor you in place by the waist.

when you un-tense, she slips a hand under her chin, prodding a finger at your entrance. her brain short circuits when you rock your hips, whining as you slide over the tip of her finger.

you’re hot to the touch, and you’re pleading for more. she’s never needed anything like she needs you right now.

se-mi responds in kind by stretching you open with two fingers. she kept lapping at your clit, fingers thrusting in and out of you— each time hitting the right angle to make you see stars.

you’re blabbering, writhing under her hold on you— helpless to taking what she’s giving you. se-mi feels you pulsing around her fingers, and a noise slips from her throat, rumbling on your clit.

you start moaning in short stutters, until you gasp; hands coming to grab at se-mi’s hair as you cum with a cry.

her tongue flicks fast swipes over your clit through your orgasm— fingers knuckle deep in your pussy, hand rocking to hit you in the g-spot over and over.

when your thighs clamp over her ears, she closes her lips to suck your sensitive clit for a second, making you squeal before she pulls away.

you look down at se-mi like she hung the damn moon in the sky. you mumble c’mere, cupping her under the jaw to pull her up. se-mi lays on top of your body— your juices still splayed across her chin as you kiss her.

se-mi thinks; if you’re still not into girls after that… well, she definitely wouldn’t mind helping you out again.

and she does.

the following week had no end of you and se-mi stealing moments together. her house or yours, or no house at all— it didn’t matter.

bending over the counter with se-mi fingering you from behind in a restaurant bathroom, ditching the boys at the table.

some movie you weren’t even watching playing in the background as se-mi pressed you into the couch, rutting her cunt against yours.

waking up in the sun next to you. kissing each other good morning. shower sex, fixing you a coffee as aftercare. acting like you’re something you hadn’t actually said.

se-mi thought that this meant you were something. maybe it was meant to start as just casual fun— but something shifted after she ate you out in the car.

it was in the way you’d look at her. that was charged with more than just friendship.

you made a playlist for her to share. her name had fucking hearts in your phone.

was she so wrong for assuming what this so clearly was?

one day, se-mi invited you to ‘hang out’ as per usual— but you weren’t responding. she even waited 15 minutes before freaking out. she was almost certain you didn’t have anything on today…

se-mi tries to silence her racing thoughts of this being something else, something that was her fault. but the unread texts and missed calls just kept racking up. se-mi felt like a desperate ex.

reluctantly, she checks life360. and then she’s livid.

your icon, right next to su-bong and nam-gyu’s, all bunched together at his place. instead of launching her phone into the closest wall, she finds su-bong’s contact.

se-mi why are you all at nam-gyu’s???

shitbong 🙀 😻😻

se-mi okay fuck you

she doesn’t care if it’s pathetic or if it makes no sense; she’s driving over and making sure you’re alright, that they’re not up to anything.

that’s what she kept repeating in her head on the way there, at least. like it’ll replace what she’s actually feeling.

⏦ﾟ♡︎

se-mi doesn’t even need to knock, since she turned the knob and the door swung right open.

she’s got a singular foot in the house when the smell hits her.

weed. no wonder they invited you behind her back, she wouldn’t have let you go. you were drunk when you first kissed her— she doesn’t want to imagine what you’d get up to, smoking alone with two boys.

or maybe she’s just projecting.

she finds you all in the living room, limbs sprawled out across the curved couch.

nam-gyu had his lips puckered around a joint, squinting at se-mi. you were laid up close to su-bong— way too fucking close.

you were leaning back, head almost resting on his shoulder. and his arm— it was slung around you on the headboard.

she knew you and su-bong had been friends for years, but this was way closer than that. this looked like she walked in on something else.

you glance up, and your face splits into a smile when you see her.

“oh! se-miiii,” you coo, reaching your arms out for her. you’re excited to see her. normally, she’d find it cute. but she’s pissed.

“i’ve been trying to call you.” she doesn’t try to hide her annoyance. su-bong forehand crinkles as he eyes se-mi. she ignores him. “we were meant to go out for lunch, remember?”

you rubbed at your eyes, hazy. she sighs.

“i’m sorryyy, this guy called me,” you poked su-bong’s cheek. her stomach curled. “and i didn’t think i’d be long…”

se-mi’s arms crossed tight over her chest. “what’ve you been doing.”

nam-gyu groaned. before se-mi opens her mouth to tear him a new one, you move to get up.

“we can go now, se-mi,” your voice is almost pleading.

she wants to believe that you really did just get caught up— wanting to make everyone happy.

but then you stand from the couch, and su-bong— his hand slides down your waist, brushing near your ass. he doesn’t even hide that he’s staring and you? you don’t even flinch.

se-mi knows. she fucking knows.

she’d heard su-bong brag about sleeping with you, always when he was high as a kite and you weren’t in the room.

she never believed him. she didn’t think you would with him. she hasn’t even considered that you still liked boys since you’ve been seeing her.

but he wasn’t lying. you’ve really been with him. and se-mi was an idiot.

she turns her back and walks off without a word, ignoring you calling after her.

she’s fumbling with her keys, about to unlock her car, when she hears nam-gyu’s front door slam shut.

“se-mi, what are you doing?”

“i’m interrupting something, that’s fucking what.” her tone’s cold. colder than she’s ever been with you.

you’re silent for a moment.

“what happened?”

se-mi glares at her reflection in the car window, before her eyes flicker to yours, stood behind her. your face is searching— oblivious. she turns to face you.

“i thought—” she sighed, stilling her voice. “i thought maybe this was real. that you seriously liked girls.”

“it is real, se-mi! fuck, i do like you—”

“—well i’m not being just another su-bong to you. i’m done, yeah?”

you frown, voice coming out soft. “what does that mean?”

“i’m not doing some situationship, friends-with-benefits bullshit. if you want him, then you’re all his. i’m going.”

she pivots to turn back to her car, but you step forward.

“i’m not with him, se-mi. i want you—”

“—so what the fuck was that?? why’d you let him just, touch you like that?”

your gaze faltered from hers, falling to the ground. you’re quiet. she’s sure that’s your answer, so she sighs, ready to leave.

“we’ve been friends for years,” you glance to check that she’s listening. “and i don’t bring it up, because it’s so fucking insignificant to me— but yes, we’ve kissed before. like, drunk make-outs.”

se-mi grimaces. you clear your throat.

“look, i’ve never wanted him that way. yes, we’re close, but i’m certain of it— because it’s nothing compared to what i’ve been feeling for you.”

se-mi bites her lip before it can tremble, shaking her head.

“i didn’t know if you were the same,” you continued. “i’ve only been with guys until you, i’m probably nothing compared to your—”

in a breath, se-mi closes the distance between you two, her lips crashing onto yours.

you stand there, desperately grasping at each other’s bodies, kissing like she’s the air you need to breathe. you’re pressed impossibly closed together. this was all you both needed.

se-mi pulls away suddenly, panting. “let’s do this right, okay? you and i,”

“together.” you add.

you smile. she smiles too. this time, you both lean in, and kiss sweetly— agreeing on this newfound establishment.

you both jolt as nam-gyu’s door slams open, and his head pokes out of it.

“alright, get this gay shit off my lawn!”

notes: i’ve been meaning to write for semi for aaages. and yes this was inspired by ellie n dina okay baii

tags: @lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @ferrarifinnick @namsgyu @riddlerloveb0t @loveesiren @ttturnitup @bcfcpsh @avsarchivez @frontwomann

[theseventhdimension]

hi,

i have a rq for s!10 spencer reid, nsfw, the whole point is that he’s really sloppy while kissing. i have a dim restaurant on a first date in mind, really great chemistry, sexual undertones in conversation. they can end up either on one’s apartment or in the restroom

thanks so much, waiting xx

Loose at the Neck

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Top! Male! Reader

Word count: 2.1k+

DNI: Fem Aligned and Minors

Author's note: Ugh this is such a great idea oh my gosh. I'm.. gonna be so real with you guys, I'm only up to s!9 💔 I looked up some photos of him in s!10 for reference, saw the tie, and got this idea. Hope you enjoy!! :)

It’s times like these where Spencer has no idea if he likes wearing ties or not. Sure, he loves it when you grab it—fist curled tight in the fabric to yank him in for a kiss—but it also takes longer to strip off and just get to you.

But right now? Yeah. He thinks he enjoys them.

Dinner ended a few minutes ago. You’re both tucked away in the darkest corner of a booth at the restaurant Derek insisted was “classy but with potential.” Potential for what, you didn’t ask—but you’re starting to understand. So this is how he gets the girls, huh?

Thankfully, the BAU pays a pretty penny, so neither of you are sweating over the check. The only thing you have to worry about right now is if someone sees Spencer—unbuttoned, flushed—and you, clearly grinding under the low table.

You have him on your lap, his legs straddling your thighs in a position that would look ridiculous if it weren’t so hot. Both of you are hunched down just enough to stay hidden, trying not to rise above the privacy of the booth’s high back.

Spencer loves kissing you. He really does. But every time… he just gets so dumb for it. Can’t think straight. His brilliant mind fogs up, thoughts scattered like static electricity. All he knows is you.

It starts with a brush.

The corner of your mouth catches his when you shift, and that’s all it takes. Spencer freezes for a second—his lips barely parted, his pupils wide like he’s been hit with some kind of chemical high. Then he leans in again, chasing the warmth like he can’t help himself.

His mouth lands a little off-center. His kiss is open, wet, and just shy of desperate. He’s not neat about it—not at all. It’s like he forgets how to kiss with precision, all those sharp edges of his mind turned soft and unraveled under your touch. He sighs into your mouth, then hums, and then groans softly like the sensation is dragging something deep out of him.

It’s messy. His nose bumps yours. His bottom lip drags against your upper one. When he pulls back for breath, a faint string of spit stretches between you for half a second before it breaks, and god, he’s flushed everywhere. Cheeks, ears, even the tips of his fingers where they’ve curled into your shoulders, trimmed fingernails leaving marks through your dress shirt.

“Sorry,” he breathes, blinking like he’s just come up for air. “I—sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“You did,” you whisper, grabbing the knot of his tie again, pulling him back in. “You want to apologize?” you murmur, fingers sliding along his jaw to tilt his head up again. “You can do it with your mouth full.”

And he melts. You feel it—the way his spine gives, the way his mouth slackens and turns hungry, the way his long fingers clutch your shoulders through your shirt like you might vanish. He kisses you like he’s never kissed a man before. Or maybe like you’re the only one he's ever wanted to. He kisses like he’s never been allowed to want something this much before. Like it’s hunger, not habit.

And the thing is, you love it.

You love how he forgets himself. How he doesn’t care if it’s too eager or too much. How he falls apart with every touch of your mouth. Right here in the back of some overpriced restaurant, wrecked and panting. His tie’s already loose. His curls damp at the edges. And still—he doesn’t stop. He kisses you again and again, tongue against yours, then your cheek, your jaw, the space just below your ear.

The table creaks slightly as you shift, pulling him closer.

“This is…” he murmurs between kisses, “...probably not what Derek had in mind when he recommended this place.”

You laugh against his lips. “He never should’ve given us the booth in the back.”

Spencer grins, and then kisses you again—hot and open-mouthed, with more tongue than finesse, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Not even dessert, considering he's sweet enough.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are flushed and unsteady. His curls are wrecked from your hands, your shirt is tugged halfway from your waistband, and your lips—his especially—are red and spit-slick.

You thumb at the corner of his mouth, wiping a smear of your own lip balm from his skin. He licks instinctively, tongue flicking out—and it’s done. You’re lost.

“I need you,” he whispers.

The words are soft, but you feel them like they’ve been shot into your chest.

You barely manage to breathe: “Okay. Your apartment or mine?”

He doesn’t hesitate. His eyes flick toward the hallway.

“That’ll take too long,” he says, already climbing off your lap, tugging you after him. “I need you now.”

The tension between you snaps like a rubber band. In a blur, you're both standing—though calling it “standing” is generous when Spencer’s dragging you behind him by the wrist, half-hiding your joined hands in his suit jacket like two teenagers up to no good.

You slip into the hallway unnoticed, heart thundering in your chest. The lighting is dim back here too, golden and quiet, the music from the main room muffled like it’s been swallowed in velvet.

Spencer shoves the door to the men’s restroom open with one hand. It clicks shut behind you a second later.

You spin him and press him hard into the wall. He gasps, lips parted—ready—but you just look at him for a second. Let him feel how much control you’re holding back.

“Now?” you ask, voice rough, just to watch him nod.

“Yes. Please,” Spencer whispers.

You smile, dragging him in for another kiss—hard, hot, claiming. His hands scrabble for your shirt, but yours are already there, gripping his waist, grinding your hips into his until his knees tremble. You keep him pinned, kissing him like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

He moans into your mouth, needy and soft.

You barely pull away to mutter against his lips, “You’re gonna have to keep quiet for me.”

“I’ll try,” he pants, eyes wide, voice wrecked.

“You will.”

His knees nearly buckle.

Being a germaphobe, Spencer never imagined he'd willingly do anything in a public bathroom. But then again, he’s never had someone like you.

It's now you realise you haven't even made it to a stall.

It’s the wall. It’s always the wall—cold tile against Spencer’s back, your palms braced on either side of his head like you’re caging him in, devouring him whole, the back of his pants pull down slightly, with two of your very own fingers searching his insides for that spot that makes him go wild.

He's moaning and crying out, honestly a little scared that someone will walk in, but the pleasure from his lower half pretty much drowns it out, especially when you reach another hand around to his front to rub his very red tip.

"Mmmmph, fuckk.." He bites down on his lips. "S'mbody's gonna walk in.. in on us.." he moans breathily as you bite down on the junction of his neck.

His eyes cross a little inwards as your ring finger presses down on his walls, dead center on his prostate. Seeing his reaction as you put your head on his shoulder to stare at his pretty face, you know you've found it, and, admittedly, decide to abuse that spot.

Fuck, he wants to scream and cry and cum, but you told him to be quiet. So he will.

you gently run your hands over his torso, your fingers light touches contrasted the way your fingers thrusted into his hole, and it drove Spencer crazy, he wasn’t expecting you to be so rough and gentle at the same time, it was mind breaking and almost too much to handle — but he always handled it, he always took everything like a good boy and you made sure he knew that.

“m’gonna cum- oh fuck-” Spencer groaned, his eyes watering desperately as his hands claw at your wrist, blunt nails leaving little marks in their wake as he tries, and fails, to push your hand away from his leaking tip.

He’s so wet, the loud squelching sound causing his ears to go red, a constant reminder of just how horny you can make him — it’s a bit embarrassing really.

“please—, I can’t- fuck” Reid blabbers on, his eyes rolling back as his thighs quiver, ass clenching around your fingers. he’s close, he’s so fucking close and he’s sure you’re about to make him cum, hopefully for the first time that night.

“c’mon baby, can’t have you cumming this hard without my cock, hm?” you say, and by the time you finally, finally slow down and pull out your fingers, Spencer’s lips are wrecked—red and kiss-swollen, spit-slick.

His curls are damp with sweat and frizzing at the edges from where you dragged your fingers through them. His tie hangs off-center, rumpled and caught on one of the buttons you half-ripped open on his shirt.

He looks ruined.

And god, he looks good.

You keep him there for a second longer, body flush against his, your breath ghosting over his neck while he gasps softly in the crook of your shoulder. Your hand slips from his hip to cradle the back of his head, grounding him as his knees wobble.

Eventually, you pull back just enough to look at him.

Spencer’s eyes flutter open. They’re glassy and dazed, like he’s not entirely sure what dimension he’s in. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths. He licks his lips, blinks once, and then leans forward like he needs to kiss you again just to stay upright.

You stop him with a hand under his chin, thumb brushing his lower lip.

“Breathe,” you murmur. “You with me?”

He nods, but it’s lazy. Distant. Like his brain’s still playing catch-up. “Mhm.”

When you finally let him go, Spencer sags a little, head tilted back to rest against the cool tiles. You reach down to fix his collar, tucking the edges of his shirt in just enough that he looks barely decent again.

He watches you do it, eyes fluttering every time your fingers brush his throat.

“…You are dangerous,” he mumbles, voice low and hoarse.

You huff a quiet laugh, smoothing his tie. “You dragged me in here, remember?”

“I didn’t know I’d survive it.”

You lean in again, brushing your lips over his jaw as you murmur, “You did more than survive, baby.”

The word makes him shiver. You feel it all the way down his spine.

Spencer stares at you, lips parted, absolutely blissed out. “You can’t just call me that after—after that—”

You raise a brow. “After what?”

He whines, quietly, and thumps the back of his head on the wall once. “You know what. You know what.”

You chuckle and offer him a hand. “Come on. Before someone walks in and you have to crawl out the window to save face.”

He takes your hand but doesn’t let go when he stands. In fact, he twines your fingers together and holds on like he doesn’t trust his legs yet. When you open the door to peek out, he ducks close behind you, still breathing just a little too fast.

The hallway’s empty. You pull him out, keep walking until you hit the front of the restaurant again. The maître d’ glances at you both—then quickly looks away. Spencer’s tie is crooked. Your shirt’s unbuttoned at the collar, your hair mussed. You look thoroughly disheveled.

Neither of you says anything until you’re outside, the warm night air hitting your face like a wake-up call.

Spencer blinks up at you, flushed and glowing. “So…”

You smirk. “Still glad you wore the tie?”

He laughs—soft and breathless—and nods, squeezing your hand. “Yeah. Though next time I might just wear a collar and save you the effort.”

You raise a brow. “Careful, doctor. I might take that seriously.”

He shrugs. Innocent smile, flushed cheeks. “Maybe I want you to.”

You stop dead on the sidewalk.

He keeps walking a few steps before turning back, smirking now—full of mischief, eyes glinting in the low light.

You take one slow step toward him, then another.

“I hope you know,” you murmur, catching him by the tie again, “you’re not getting out of my sight the rest of the night.”

“I was counting on that,” he says, breath catching as you pull him close again. “Your place?”