#and give me physical pages to mess around with

[yummyrevivalfluid]

How To Rizz Up A Scientist

Synopsis: What better way to riz up a scientist than using his science against him?

Chapter 2: Coulomb’s Law and Circular Motion

Reader Chapter 1 here.

Word Count: 1787

Warnings: THIS IS SMUT! NSFW!

Includes male masturbation, improper use of physics notes, male ejaculation, submissive Senku, body grinding, and overstimulation? Body graffiti (sort of)? Degration. I think that's it?

Senku has never done this. He never had the urge or desire to do so, not until he met you. It was like you unlocked some depraved part in his mind, something he buried deep inside. You kept digging at it, digging until you exposed the lewd thoughts.

He’s unsure if he’s doing it right- it felt like he was. His strokes were sloppy, with no set pace. His palm twitched against himself, the pleasure he was giving himself was all new to him, leaving him sensitive to his own touch.

His choice of material to keep him going was questionable. It wasn’t the usual stuff that people tend to go to. It wasn’t a dirty magazine or a video that you went incognito on your web browser. No, not Senku. Instead, his choice of debauched material is the little things he salvaged from you.

A torn page from your notebook, notes from his physics study with you. A pencil that he borrowed from you, one that he doesn’t plan to give back. And finally, his addition, his chemistry book, opened to the last page he studied with you.

His palm squeezes around himself, and his eyes squeeze shut as he recalls the moment with you, the cause of the imbalance in his hormones. The scene replays in his mind, the one that sent a rush of blood between his legs.

“I wish I were a Sn2 reaction….” his hands rest on your thighs, inching closer to the divot between your legs, his fingers digging into the fat of your thigh. “So, I could attack you from the backside.”

“I’d let you.”

You were always quick with your words, but he wishes you weren’t. Maybe he wouldn’t be pleasuring himself to the thought of you if you weren't.  Maybe he wouldn’t be staring intensively at your damn pencil, imagining it was your hand wrapped around him. Imagining that those minor bite marks near the tip of the eraser, caused by your quick mouth, were him instead.

“Hah, you can take it,” he moans desperately. The thought of your mouth, your glossed lips taking him deep into your mouth. He needs to know how it would feel.

He can feel himself getting close. The pace he set is getting even sloppier. There’s no logic to how his palm is stroking himself- long, short, slow, and rapid- he can’t control himself.

God, he can imagine you and what you’d say—using his own love for science against him.

“Are you made of copper? Because I can Cu inside me.”

He remembers the softness of your thighs- what if he pushed them apart, would your skirt hike up, giving him something he never knew he needed?

He’s not used to this, he doesn’t realize he’s finishing until he’s gasping for air. His moans come out broken and needy. Beads of sweat roll down his forehead as he tries to keep his eyes open- the last thing on his mind is the mess he’s making.

Coming down from the high, his mind is rebooting to how it was before he fell victim to his own body. Before he succumbed to his body’s testosterone. He’s feeling the effect of the oxytocin- he has never felt better. He could get addicted to the feeling.  

He’s cleaning up the aftermath. It looks like he kept everything contained, not much of a mess until he’s cleaning up his choice of stimulation.

The only casualty is your crumbled physics notes.

…

He can’t look you in the eye. His mind goes back to what he did hours prior. The same hand he was relieving himself with was shaking as he pointed to an equation in your physics book. His eyes stray from your eyes to your notebook. His hand was itching to pull another page.

He didn’t like the effect you’re having on him. You’re ruining him. You were an acid to his mind, dissolving his rational thoughts- leaving only a deviant version of him.

He’s trying to find something to occupy his mind. Distract it from the sin that was your presence.

“Oh!” you cheer happily.

You’re pointing at something in your textbook, but Senku doesn’t look. His gaze stayed locked onto the tent in his pants, praying it’s not as noticeable as he thinks. “Look, it’s my man.”

Suddenly, it felt like he was in a cold shower. Your words froze him in place.

My man?

He didn’t care if it made him look desperate- he was. He’s leaning toward you, invading your personal space as he looks closer at your textbook. His finger follows the picture you're pointing to and-

“It’s my man Newton,” you drool, caressing his photo with your finger. “God, to be the apple that fell on him.”

“Freak,” Senku replies, bewildered by your response to Newton. You ignore his comment.

“Imagine the size of his…” You pause for dramatic effect, your finger hovering over his photo, “brain.”

Senku rolls his eyes at your poor joke. God, he was relieved it was a joke. If you had a boyfriend, it would only make things worse for him.

“You’re jokes are getting worse by the day.” He tells you, shoving your shoulder playfully, attempting to knock you out of your trance. You shove him back in retaliation.

“You’re to blame,” You stab at his chest with your finger, “you’re not giving me any new material to work with.”

“Maybe if you stayed on track, we would have moved on to the next chapter.”

You mutter something under your breath, but you don’t hide the wicked smirk on your face. It’s your ploy to get his attention- to drag him into a trap.

Senku was always rational and deliberate in his actions. Every action was thoroughly thought through, including its consequences and rewards—until now.

“What was that?” Senku asks, pulling at your waist, forcing you to look at him. You squirm in his hold, his fingers digging into your skin.

“You don’t want to know.” You tease back. Senku doesn’t give up easily. Too stubborn for his own good.

He pulls you into his lap, his body unconsciously doing anything to get you closer. It’s as if you were pulling him into your electric field. Was it Coulomb’s Law- opposites attract? He doesn’t know what you are. Cation? Anion? All he knows is that he’s attracted to you. Something about you is pulling him in.

“Say it.”

You can’t help the smug grin. You were going to ruin him. Plague his thoughts night and day.

“I wouldn’t be so distracted if little Senku would stop making an appearance.” You lean into him, making yourself comfortable in his lap.

He can feel it, so he knows you can too.

“I know you want to slide your oxygen between my hydrogens, but there’s a time and place.”

“Shut up.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“What’s turning you on more?”

Senku doesn’t know how to answer. You’re overstimulating him with more information than he can retain.

His eyes don’t know where to look. They can’t choose where to look. Does he maintain eye contact with you?

But how long will he be able to hold your gaze?

He knows your eyes will be teasing him. You’ll see right through him, you’ll know what buttons to push to get the reactions you want from him. What was the saying, eyes never lie?

Does he choose to look at your bare body?

Does he let his eyes roam your skin, let his mind retain the formulas he littered your skin with? His writing is sloppy against your skin, and his hand is shaking against your body. Smudges of black ink are smeared around your curves, and even the palms of his hand are smudged with ink.

Does he choose to look at where you're pressing against him?

He’s sprawled on his bed, at your mercy. You’re resting on his lap, moving your hips in a circular motion. He can feel your arousal leaking through his boxers. He can feel the heat radiating from you- he wants to be one with you. He wants to feel you. He wants to know what you’re like. He needs to know the sounds you’ll make.

He doesn’t know where to look, so he squeezes his eyes shut.

He doesn’t know how to answer your question, so he skips it. Maybe he’ll come back to it- skip the questions you don’t know and answer the ones you can.

“Circular motion.” His voice is breathy, with a slight pause after every word. “That’s what you’re doing with your hips.”

You slow your movements, pressing harder into him. You can feel him pulsing against you.

“Tell me more, Senku.”

“It’s when an object’s movement follows a circular path.” He's gripping your thighs, but his grip on your hip falters, enough to move the placement to your lower abdomen. He’s careful not to smudge the ink- he doesn’t want to rub the formula off.

“ac=v^2/r,” he's reading the formula off your skin, pressing his finger to note the location.

“What if I do this?” You stop your movements. He thinks you're pulling away from him, he digs his fingers into your thighs, he doesn’t want you to pull away. He needs you.

You raise your hips and slam back down onto him. You’re grinding against him, raising your hips to lower yourself back down onto him. “Is this still circular motion?”

“No”

“What is it?”  you ask him, your voice needy as you pick up the pace. “Tell me, Senku.”

“It’s….”

He doesn’t know. Every physics chapter—angular momentum, tangential acceleration, torque, vertical path—collides in his mind. He can’t think straight, not with how you’re moving. Not when he has you. Are those even the right topics?

“You should know this.” Your tone is degrading. “I thought you were the best, do I need to find a different tutor? Someone smarter than you?”

He’s whining. He tries to hold you down. He wants you to slow your movements and give him a moment to think.

He’s begging. He wants to tell you no. That’s he is the best. You’re not going to find someone better than him. But he can’t. His breathing is labored. You’re pulling all sorts of noises from him, everything but words.

He’s gasping for air.

…

He’s disoriented. His eyes are heavy, his body is sweaty, and his breathing is shallow.

Fuck

He’s covered in a sheen of sweat, and there's an aching feeling between his legs. He’s pulling the sheets off his body, exposing his body to the cold.

He’s disgusted with himself.

It was a wet dream

[gothcsz]

Hands To Myself | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~4k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You get to know the handsome stranger sitting next to you on your overnight flight to Mexico.

Tags: smut, reader is ovulating, hand job, fingering, dirty talk, lust at first sight again, sexual acts in public (on a plane), let's just pretend this is realistic okay, pwp, blowjob to completion, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, reader is a woman of color yet everyone is encouraged to read, no physical descriptions, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: this is all @probablyreadinsmut's fault tbh. coming into my inbox with horny thoughts, knowing i have to do something about it 😩 hehe i hope you guys like this, it's nothing special... i just need this man in any way i can get him! let me know what you thinkkkkkk🖤

You knew you were fucked the second you saw him at the gate. He isn’t just attractive—he’s ridiculously attractive. The kind of hot that only exists in movies or in passing, like some guy you make eye contact with and never see again. Except this time, he wasn’t just passing through. He was standing right there.

To make matters worse, your hormones are out of control. Peak ovulation. Just being around a man has your skin buzzing, like your body is betraying you on a biological level.

So yeah, you looked. How could you not? He’s tall, has broad shoulders, leaner than what you usually go for but still built in a way that makes your brain short-circuit.

Then the universe really had to mess with you—you are assigned the seat right next to him for the overnight flight.

Your stomach drops. Suddenly, your go-to comfy travel outfit, leggings and a cardigan, feels way too basic.

“I’m at the window seat,” you say, trying to sound normal.

He looks up, meeting your gaze, and smiles—actually smiles. His brown eyes are warm and a little intrigued as he gives you a once over.

��Okay.”

Just that one word and you are already overthinking. How good his voice would sound in your ear as he’s—

No, you won’t make things harder on yourself by having intrusive sexual thoughts about some stranger. No matter how good looking he is.

You shove your carry-on into the overhead bin and awkwardly step aside so he can stand and let you in. His body brushes against yours, and you get a whiff of his cologne, something woodsy, mixed with the unmistakable scent of whiskey from the airport bar.

Okay… so maybe you’d been watching him for longer than just at the gate. But who could blame you? The man is truly a sight to behold. It’s not like you were being a creep about it.

You mutter a soft “thanks” and sink into your seat, trying very hard to act normal while the flight attendants go through their safety spiel, though it’s hard to focus when you can feel his presence right next to you.

You need a distraction—fast. So, in a last-ditch effort to stop acting like a feral idiot, you pluck your book from your backpack and try to read.

It works, kind of. Not really.

“So, what’s waiting for you in Playa del Carmen?”

His voice, low and raspy, cuts through your attempt at reading—not that you’d absorbed a single word, still stuck on the same page since you opened it.

You glance over, and of course, he’s already looking at you. His leather jacket is gone, leaving him in a short sleeved button-down, a few undone buttons teasing the tanned skin of his neck, his thick biceps straining against the fabric.

You take too long to answer because he tilts his head slightly, lips twitching like he’s holding back a smirk. “Sorry—abrupt fuckin’ question.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You stumble over your words, mentally cringing at yourself. His brows raise slightly, amused, and you don’t miss the way his mustache tics when he presses his lips together. 

“A friend’s birthday trip. I got caught up at work, so I had to take a later flight at the last minute. What about you?”

He hums, the sound deep and thoughtful. “Work.” That’s all he offers. “Not as fun as what you’ll be getting up to, I’m sure.”

You bite your lip, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your book. “I’ve heard the beaches are beautiful. I’m excited to just lounge and take in the sun. It’s been so long since I’ve gone on a proper vacation.”

Your tongue is loose despite the way you’re vibrating under the weight of his attention.

“I know that feeling. Don’t even think my body knows what a vacation is…” He trails off, leaning back in his seat, thighs spreading in that way men do, which you usually find annoying but something about the way he does it has your pussy clenching, and you try no to let your eyes drop down to his crotch.

“How’s the book?”

You blink slowly, returning your attention to the paperback in your hand. “Got a slow start but so far it’s been alright.”

“I bet. You’ve been stuck on the same page since we took off. Must be the most riveting paragraph ever written.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and if it were anybody else, you’d be weirded out by their observation. Being hot does have its privileges. “Maybe I just like rereading. Really taking in the point the author is trying to make.”

“Uh-huh, right…” He chuckles softly and that sound triggers the desire that seeps into every pore of your skin.

The conversation continues flowing thereafter, which you definitely did not expect. His name is Javier, and he’s constantly traveling for work—though he’s vague on the details, and you’re not about to grill a stranger for his life story.

Instead, the topics meander, easy and flirtatious, both of you toeing the line between casual and something else.

You swear he’s flirting. He leans in slightly when you speak, holds your eyes captive just a beat too long, like he’s in no rush to look away.

You’re noticing everything the deeper you get into this… thing. The way lips form around each word, full and obnoxiously kissable. The way his brown eyes glint when he talks about things that should be trivial but feel interesting because he’s the one saying them. How the tendons in his forearms flex whenever he gestures, his fingers long and strong, the kind of hands that could make a woman very happy.

Your horny brain is spiraling.

“A mango marg is my go to. Preferably one of those ridiculously oversized ones with sugar on the rim.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, that tracks.”

You arch a brow. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He scratches his jaw, flicking his tongue over his teeth. You admire how chiseled his jaw is. “Means you like to have fun. You probably get away with a lot.”

“And you think I get away with things?”

His eyes flick down to your lips, just for a second. “I think you could, if you wanted to.”

You cross your legs, shifting in your seat like that’s going to help anything. It just makes it worse. Focus. He’s just a hot stranger. A hot stranger that smells like whiskey and cedarwood and keeps throwing you these amused little glances like he knows what the fuck he’s doing to you.

You should probably end this before you embarrass yourself. But instead, you just keep talking, keep flirting, and keep waiting to see just how far this can go.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Javier’s voice snaps you back to reality, and you blink, heat settling on your cheeks as your brain scrambles to catch up.

“Sorry, what?”

His lips curve slightly like he’s fighting a grin, but his eyes give him away. “You keep staring at my mouth…” He trails off, but there’s something in the way he says it. As if he’s caught you red-handed and is enjoying watching you squirm.

Your stomach clenches. Your thighs press together on instinct.

Fuck.

Panic surges through you, and suddenly, the cabin feels way too small, the air too thick. “No, uh—there’s nothing there. I just… I zone out sometimes.” You clear your throat, fingers fumbling with your seatbelt. “Would you mind letting me get to the restroom?”

You sound as pathetic as you feel, but Javier doesn’t let up. His smirk stays put, eyes flicking over your face like he’s contemplating something.

Still, he nods. “Sure.”

He stands, stepping aside, and as you squeeze past him, his hand just barely grazes your lower back. Light enough to be innocent, intentional enough to send a full-body shiver down your spine.

You swallow hard, pretending not to notice—pretending not to feel the slick heat between your legs pulse at the contact—and walk as casually as possible down the aisle.

The moment you lock the restroom door behind you, you press your palms against the tiny counter, breathing hard.

Your reflection stares back at you, pupils blown, lips parted like you just stumbled out of a damn makeout session. 

You’re hot. Turned on from nothing but a little eye contact and some shameless flirting. And the worst part? It’s not going away anytime soon. Especially since you’re sitting so fucking close to him. Your body is wound tight, aching at the worst possible time.

Your panties are soaked, borderline ruined, pussy crying to get some relief, and you actually consider slipping a hand down there and rubbing one out. But you know yourself. Getting off with your fingers is a slow, frustrating process, and the last thing you need is to be locked in an airplane restroom, chasing an orgasm while Javier is sitting just outside, existing like that.

So you suck it up. Splash some cool water on your face. Take a deep breath. Get it together.

When you step back into the aisle, he’s already standing, leaning casually against the row of seats as if his demeanor and charm aren’t totally putting you under his spell. He looks even better now than he did before you left.

You give him a tight-lipped, awkward smile as you slide back into your seat. He follows, sinking into his own with a quiet grunt, the sound low and rough enough to send another spark of pleasure straight to your cunt.

“Everything good?” He asks smoothly, but there’s an undercurrent of playfulness to it, like he already knows the answer.

You force your legs to stay still, clenching your thighs subtly as you nod.

“Mhm.”

He hums. “You don’t have to lie, you know.”

Your eyes snap up to his, heartbeat hammering. “What?”

“I know when a woman’s turned on. And you haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”

Your stomach drops, your whole body flooding with embarrassment. “That’s ridiculous—”

“Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.” He shrugs. “Been thinkin’ about how good your ass looks in those leggings since I saw you back at the airport.”

Oh, you’re so fucked.

Your breath stutters, fingers gripping the armrest as if that’ll do anything to ground you. Maybe this is a dream, it has to be. No way he’s reciprocating the horny vibes you’ve been exuding because of your damn ovulation cycle. 

“Javier…” His name falls from your lips, shaky, uncertain.

His expression doesn’t change—still cool, still lazy, but there’s a darkness to it now. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything…” His knuckles graze your thigh, featherlight, making you shiver before he pulls away. “But I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like I’m not attracted to you.”

You lick your lips, watching the way he follows the movement, how his hand balls into a fist against his leg. The cabin is dim now, most passengers lost in their own worlds or asleep, and the seats around you are conveniently unoccupied. The flight attendants have finished their last walkthrough, leaving you tucked away in a private little pocket of space.

Your pulse thrums, a decision forming in the haze of arousal clouding your mind. “What if…” You hesitate, but then let the thought take control, logic be damned. “What if I wanted to do something?”

Javier’s brows lift slightly, intrigue flashing across his face. The shift is instant—his relaxed posture stiffens, his jaw ticks, and his eyes dip just slightly as if assessing exactly how far you’re willing to go.

You’re barely breathing as he lifts the armrest between you, his body pressing in tight, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. You almost pass out.

“Yeah?” His voice is nothing but a whisper, matching the lust that’s thrumming in your veins. “Like what?”

The warmth of his breath has you letting out a soft, involuntary whimper.

“Anything,” you murmur, fidgeting with your fingers, the need unbearable. “I just need you to touch me.”

Javi exhales a low, quiet laugh through his nose, and you can feel his smirk against your skin. His lips ghost along the side of your jaw, teasing, taunting.

“I can do that.” His fingers then trail up your thigh agonizingly slow, stopping just at the hem of your leggings. “Just need you to keep quiet.”

You nod weakly, head tipping back against the seat as his mouth finds your neck. He starts slow, pressing soft kisses along the sensitive skin before sucking lightly, dragging his teeth over your pulse. You resist the urge to squirm as his large palm moves up your body, fingertips teasing along the curve of your breast over your top.

Your nipples tighten instantly, and when he pinches one between his fingers, both of you let out a quiet groan.

“So sensitive. You need more?”

You bite your lip, nodding desperately again. “Yes.”

His hand slips beneath your shirt and finally—rough fingertips meet your bare skin. He palms your breast, kneading, tugging at your nipple, sending sharp little sparks of pleasure straight to your pussy.

You shift, desperately trying to find any friction. Your horniness is maddening and he knows it.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs against your jaw, tongue flicking out to taste your skin. “So worked up already. Bet you’re soaked.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you whimper, hips rolling ever so slightly.

Javier groans at the movement, shifting even closer, his thigh pressing against yours as he works your tits over with a practiced hand.

His lips move up to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. You turn your head, eyes locking with his for a brief moment before you both give in—lips crashing together, mouths desperate and hungry.

He can kiss.

His tongue slides against yours, tasting and exploring. The fingers at your breast keep working, rolling your nipple between his fingers, twisting just enough to make you gasp against his lips.

“Javi…” His name is exhaled breathlessly. “More. Please.”

He tilts his head slightly. “Yeah?” Leaving your tits, he moves down between your legs and you spread your thighs, giving him enough room to begin rubbing you over your leggings.

You let out a sharp gasp, back arching slightly. The pressure has you melting, chasing the touch you so desperately need.

Javier watches you, drinking in the slight furrow of your brow, how your lips purse. “Goddamn.” He can’t help but nip at your lower lip, gripping your thigh with his other hand as he grinds a little harder against your pussy. “You soaked right through these.”

Your fingers dig into his forearm, the teasing unbearable.

“You’re so—” You shudder, exhaling shakily and he’s living for it. “You’re so fucking hot, I couldn’t help it.”

“I could probably make you come just like this, huh? Needy little thing needs her pussy played with so bad, she’s whoring herself out on a fuckin’ plane just to get an orgasm.”

Your jaw hangs open at his filthy words.

Javier is clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. His fingers keep moving, slow and firm, while your hand drifts down, pressing against the hardness straining beneath his jeans. Even through the thick denim, he’s big, and when you squeeze just slightly, his hips jerk into your palm.

He groans into the kiss you’re sharing, enjoying your touch. “This is risky, you sure?”

You nod, struggling to think through the fog of lust clouding your mind. “I don’t care.”

That’s all it takes.

He pulls back, just enough for both of you to move quickly. You shrug off your cardigan, tucking it beneath you before slipping your leggings and panties down to your mid thigh. You’re not about to put your bare ass on this plane seat.

He unbuckles his belt, freeing himself from his jeans, and holy shit.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s thick, a swollen, flushed cock with a prominent vein running down the side, curving just enough to make your walls flutter at the thought of him fucking your cunt.

Javi catches your lingering gaze and smirks. “You just gonna look, or—?”

You drag your tongue across your palm before wrapping it around his leaking cock, your touch making him shudder. Slowly, you stroke him, spreading the precum with your thumb, gliding it over the sensitive head before giving a firm squeeze, earning a growl from deep in his chest.

His fingers slip between your thighs, spreading your pussy lips open, and he wastes no time in teasing your sensitive labia, dragging his touch up and down attentively.

You moan quietly as to not get yourself caught. He groans at the feeling of you, slick and hot, his digits smearing your arousal all over your pretty pussy before pressing against your swollen clit.

“If we weren’t on this goddamn plane I’d fuck the shit out of you.”

You can’t hold back your soft whine, your head tilting back, wrist still moving, his own fingers working magic between your thighs.

“How? Please Javi tell me how you’d fuck me.”

He buries his head into your neck, licking, biting, sucking at your skin, his thick fingers now breaching the mouth of your cunt.

It’s pure bliss—the stretch so much deeper, fuller than your own fingers ever manage. His thick digits work you open, pressing against every sensitive spot inside you. The way he drags against your inner walls has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, but it’s the relentless pressure on your fleshy pearl that wrecks you, erasing every thought but him.

“I’d have you spread out, my head buried between your legs, fucking you with my tongue until you’re wet enough to take this big cock.” His hips grind into your jerking palm to emphasize his point.

You can only imagine how his wet tongue would feel up against your flesh, tasting every crevice, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you.

“Probably start over you, wanna see that pretty face while I slide inside this tight pussy baby, fuck,” he groans, fingers now knuckles deep inside your cunt and you moan, slipping into this fantasy with him, imagining how good it’d feel to have his dick stretching you out.

“Not really a missionary girl but I know you’d make me feel good, Javi.”

His thumb is slick with your sticky wetness, allowing him to swirl your clit around, massaging it and making your pussy drool even more. Your nipples are hardened and oversensitive, adding to the bliss when they brush against the fabric of your shirt with every deep inhale and exhale you take. 

Javi’s fingers begin to thrust into you more earnestly, the soft squelch of your pussy getting finger fucked thankfully drowned out by the hum of the plane. “How would you want it then? Tell me how you’d take it.”

Another bead of precum dollops from his slit and your mouth waters, picking up the pace to match the stroking of his fingers inside you.

“On top. I’d bounce on your cock until you’re filling me up. Put my tits in your face, make you suck on them.”

A thin sheen of sweat clings to your temples, the heat of his kisses still lingering on your neck making your temperature spike like a fever you don’t want to break.

Javier gets desperate, leaning in to put his lips on yours, imagining the way your pussy would feel while you rode him. You clench around his fingers, your orgasm on the brink of making a mess all over his hand.

“You’d let me come inside you?” His voice is a husky murmur, almost taunting, laden with lust as he cups your jaw with his other hand before sliding lower, wrapping firmly around your throat. Not squeezing, just holding, keeping you in place as he curls his fingers, brazen eyes boring into yours.

Your breath stutters as ecstacy coils impossibly tight. “Mhm,” you nod weakly, tears welling in your eyes from how good it all feels.

A wicked smirk spreads across his lips, his grip keeping you steady as he drags you closer. “Naughty girl,” he murmurs. “Fuckin’ love that.”

His lips crash against yours again, swallowing your cries as his fingers work you harder, scissoring inside you, his fat thumb flicking your clit rapidly. 

It sends you tumbling over the edge, your entire body clenches, muscles locking as waves of pleasure ripple through you, your release coating his fingers while you moan into his mouth, trying to keep quiet, trying not to let the whole damn plane know what he’s doing to you.

Your grip on his cock tightens but you lose your rhythm as he lets you ride out your orgasm, whispering praises against your lips, not seeming bothered by the lack of attention at his shaft.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to catch your breath, blinking away the stars clouding your vision while he pulls his fingers out, a sticky web following.

Javier lifts his fingers between you, still slick with your release, dark eyes flicking to yours as he takes in the scent of your pussy before he’s licking at them, using the hold he still has on your neck to bring you in so you’re both making out with his wet fingers between the two of you, your tongue moving sinfully, getting lost in the act.

You break away when his fingers are licked clean, attempting to catch your breath. After regaining some control, you continue to work his cock, urging him to slide into the unoccupied third seat by the aisle so you have room to take him in your mouth.

Javi blinks, caught off guard, dick twitching in your grasp as he registers what you’re suggesting.

“You sure?” His hands flex like he’s barely holding himself back.

“Yes. Don’t want to make a mess, right? Just make sure no one’s looking.” You purr, pulling your legging and underwear back up before shifting your body and bending over to lick at his tip, circling around his head before you’re taking as much as you can into your mouth.

The positioning is a little cramped and awkward, but you don’t care. He tastes so good, feels even better on your tongue. The blood is roaring in your ears, you can’t even hear any of the quieted noises you’re pulling from him but you do feel his hand landing on the back of your neck and he pushes you further down, forcing you to take almost the entirety of his cock down your throat.

You fondle his balls, sucking in your cheeks and bobbing up and down quickly. His stomach tightens and before you know it, ropes of warm and salty cum are filling your mouth, his fingers digging into your skin. You moan around him, slurping him up before pulling away with a soft pop, wiping at the corners of your mouth where the fluids had smeared.

He looks just as wrecked as you had when you came, his cheeks a little pink, eyes dilated, breathing heavily. He exhales a quiet, breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair before tucking himself back into his pants, watching you with something dangerously close to admiration.

You lean in, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to his lips, returning the favor and letting him taste the last traces of himself.

“Where are you staying? This can’t be the last time I see you.”

You tell him the name of the resort, watching as that familiar cocky smirk creeps back onto his face.

“Okay,” he murmurs, mind already made up. “Can’t let you walk away after that. Pussy’s too good. Hope your friends don’t mind me stealing you for a night or two.”

He caresses your cheek and you melt into him, resting your chin on his shoulder, staring up at him with starry eyes. You already know you’re going to get the lecturing of your life once you disclose what just transpired to your homegirls.

“They will. Maybe I should extend my stay just a little longer…” Your fingers fidget with the buttons on his shirt.

“I’ll pay for it. Anything to see you again.”

Oh god, is this irresponsible of you? Probably. But you’re not thinking with your brain right now, no, you’re straight up thinking with your pussy.

“Deal.”

@almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7. @mandaloriankait . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @thundermartini . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @clubsoft . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk . @theestorm . @pasc4lfuzz . @manuymesut . @biapascal . @angiewatson .

[olderman-enthusiast]

Loki Headcanons

This is just my opinion on how I imagine Loki!! Fluff with just a hint of smut 🤭

He loves simple physical touch like when you take his face in your hands and be gentle with him, forehead kisses and running your fingers through his hair. He just wants to be taken care of. 🥹

He’s very needy when kissing you, he can’t get you close enough to him.

He’s a whining mess when you kiss his neck, give him back scratches and lightly pull his hair.

Loves giving you kisses on your palm of your hands especially in public

In the morning waking up with you he’s very clingy and handsy kissing you anywhere and everywhere he can. Won’t let you go, he’ll keep pulling you back into bed.

He’s a attention seeker, when your busy doing something he just loves to give you kisses to your temples and the sensitive places on your neck to try and distract you and give him attention

He always has a grumpy mad face but Whenever he see you walk in the room his face lights up with the cutest smirk.

He loves foreplay, loves taking his time with you. Kissing every inch of your body tell he has you begging him for more. He’s definitely a huge tease.

He loves aftercare, he loves to take care of you; he’ll run the shower for you both, clean you up, gives you a massage and cuddles in bed tell you both fall asleep.

Loki loves going down on you while he’s wearing his helmet; so you can hold onto the horns. 😏

His pet names for you include “kitten” “my love” “darling” & “princess”

When he’s away on missions he carries a picture of you in his suit that he’ll glance at when he’s missing you, But won’t ever admit it.

Loki has a way with words but with you he stumbles on his words, distracted when you look him in the eyes, makes him blush.

He loves giving you gifts for no reason except that he just loves you.

He loves to watch you read, He finds it fascinating and adorable how your facial expressions change with each page.

He LOVES to cook for you, he’s a very good chef.

Loki could listen to you talk for hours, he loves the sound of your voice so much

He loves to make you blush by his words and actions. He gets a kick out of it; like i said he’s a big tease, he is the god mischief.

When you wear green it makes him go feral, he automatically gets horny.

He’s very protective over you and can get jealous easily. If anyone just tries to hurt/touch you, they're DONE.

He loves how you can see through his facade and understand the pain and loneliness that he feels. You’re the only one he can be vulnerable with.

You both Understand each other without needing to talk, you know each other so well.

He loves when you lay your head in his lap while he reads.

Loki likes to sneak up on you, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around you.

He is desperate for your Moans. He loves to hear you Scream his Name

Loves to take showers together, He especially Loves to wash/brush your hair. But he definitely loves shower sex even more.

will always Express how happy he is that your his "You're everything to me" “Your my world” “I don’t know what I do without you my love”

Lokis kinks

- Praise Kink: when you praise him he loves when you call him a good Boy and when he praises you “your doing so good for me, kitten” and “You Look so good under me”.

- Knife Play: using his Knife to free you from your Shirt/Bra. Using the cold side of the blade on your skin. But he could never hurt you.

- Love bites: He loves leaving hickeys and bite marks everywhere, especially where everyone can see so they know your his.

. ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + . ๑・° ๑

For more writings/fics check out @joelmillermylove & @olderman-enthusiast 💕

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton, p4

Masterpost late, tired, still emotional and physically fragile. please no editing <3

“—ir? Sir?”

Danny mumbled something incoherent that was supposed to be a response to that, or befuddlement about being called ‘sir’, or at least something better than ‘wadamehaaftz’. The bite of a tightening blood pressure cuff around his arm helped bring him a little be back to the world. He opened his eyes right into too bright light and winced back in reaction.

“Sir? Do you need us to call an ambulance?” the panicked looking barista asked. She was crouched down next to him where he lay on the floor.

Great, now he could never come back to this coffee shop. That was a damn shame, they had really good bagels.

“No,” Danny managed to make his mouth say. “Seizure. Newish thing for me. I’m fine—will be fine. Sorry.”

“Maybe you should stay laying down for a moment longer?” The barista suggested.

Danny hummed. “Don’t want to be a bother.”

“Dude,” someone said off to Danny’s right. He didn’t think it was worth the effort to turn his head and look, “you just had a seizure. You were screaming. Like, I think we’re all okay if you lay there. We can step around you.”

There were murmurers of agreement.

“Okay, yeah, you know what, great,” Danny said and summoned the willpower to lift his hand and give there room a thumbs up. He let it drop listlessly back down onto his chest.

At least the floor was cool against his back. And he did feel a bit better not trying to get up immediately. When he finally pulled himself back up into his chair, the nice barista brought him a glass of ice water with a straw. Danny drank every drop of the first glass and a refill until the paper of the stupid straw started to turn to mush between his lips.

Knowing that he wouldn’t be up for doing much especially that day, Danny got a bagel sandwich to go, left a generous tip, and fled the cafe with his proverbial tail between his legs.

Penny was was at the apartment. She shoved a still warm load of banana bread at Danny as she bitched about her latest failed relationship. Apparently her girlfriend had been hooking up with the bouncer at their favorite bar. Not that Penny would have minded if they had talked through it before hand and Penny was allowed to join every now and again.

Which, fair, the bouncer did have amazing arms.

When Penny’s phone rang, blaring a dated pop song, Danny was able to make his escape with the added load of his two liter water bottle and bag of little oranges. Or not oranges—clementines? Tangelos? Whatever, little oranges.

He set everything down on the end of his bed before flinging himself onto it.

Another seizure. A worse one.

But a clearer vision of the ghost than he’d ever had before.

Groaning, Danny dragged himself to hang over the edge of his bed so he could pull out one of the storage cubes from under it. After a bit of shuffling, he got the one he wanted out from the back: a long ignored stack of art supplies. Danny rummaged around in it for a pencil and eraser before he pulled the sketchbook out from the bottom. He flipped past old game ides and idle doodles to find a blank page and started to work.

There was so much of the ghost that he still couldn’t define, but the more he worked at the sketch of the ghost’s face, the more he started to narrow it down.

Danny stared down at the page.

Overworked eyes stared back.

Feeling frustrated at how close it was, Danny grabbed a blue marker from the page and filled in the eyes carefully. Then, with almost irritated strokes, Danny roughly messed in the strikingly orange hair.

Now his ghost started back.

“Hello there…"

[crueltyserpent]

When she introduces us, she’s either my girlfriend or my mom. She’s neither of course, she killed my mom and my girlfriend so long ago at this point. Sometimes I think she chooses whichever she thinks will make me more uncomfortable; it’s not like whoever she introduces us to will live long enough for their thoughts on it to matter. If I were to choose a name for what I am, I would probably go with captive. Victim also comes to mind, but it’s hard to feel like I’m the most victimized person in the room when she’s cutting off the fingers of a naked woman one by one.  At least she’s not making me eat them this time. The “here comes the airplane” bit with raw human flesh isn’t nearly as funny as she thinks it is.

If I guess why she keeps me around, why I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere like every other poor bitch who get’s her attention, I’d guess it’s because simply torturing attractive women to death every other day doesn’t fully sate her appetite for cruelty. Sure, her ability to wring physical pain out of a stranger is staggering, but there’s a special type of satisfaction she gets from the form of psychological torture that is only possible to inflict on someone she keeps close for an extended period of time. I don’t know if she chose me because something about me was uniquely appealing to hurt or she just liked how my dick felt inside her, but at this point I’m fairly confident she’s sunk too much work into messing with my head to casually replace me.

The woman bleeding out on the floor is the owner of the Air BNB we’re staying at, a chipper blonde thirtysomething who was now karmically paying for the fact that nothing in her life had ever gone wrong before. I used to vomit seeing a girl taken apart like this. Now it’s boring enough that I can sit on the bed reading a romance novel while barley acknowledging the poor cunt’s slowly decreasing number of body parts. This is an easy one, relatively speaking. I don’t really have enough emotional energy left to feel bad for well to do women a decade older than me who’d never give me so much as a smile if I weren’t a customer.

I call myself a captive, but it’s not like I couldn’t walk out of the room if I wanted to, physically speaking. She wouldn’t stop me, she’d continue her ruthless execution and not even remark on me leaving. I was never bound (except for sex), never locked in a room, always free to go where I wanted. It had just been incredibly clear to me that if I ever made an attempt to do something she disapproved of, she could make my life so much worse than it already was as her unwilling partner in crime. One time she had left me alone for three months, letting me think I was free, only to return and kill every single person I had met and liked to any degree. I was trapped with her because she had created a situation where helping her murder people every few days was the decision I could make with the lowest innocent body count. And it meant that sometimes women like this died instead of the cute queer girls my age who used to blow me in alleys. Seeing someone I might have been friends with in a different life die was a whole different story to something like this.

I turn the page, working my way through a particularly arbitrary love triangle as I hear the death rattle. I don’t remark on it, but I’m not at all surprised when my bloodstained captor sits at the foot of the bed, looking at me with those hungry eyes. Don’t get me wrong, this woman is evil, the worst person I could even imagine who I would do anything to be free of.

She’s also probably the hottest person I’ve ever met. She was the first woman ever to be hot enough to make me cheat on my girlfriend, in what was either the greatest mistake of my life or the sole decision that kept me alive, depending on what would have happened if I turned her down. Her nude body sprayed with fresh blood is a powerful sight, and her toothed smile makes me shiver as blood rushes between my legs.

“Anything spicy happening in your book, honey?” She asked in a soft, motherly tone, her hands moving to undo my belt buckle. I hate how much her sexy mom routine works on me. It’s humiliatingly effective. I should be anywhere else right now, doing anything else, doing anyone else, but as she rides me, her other victims blood dripping off her chest over my face, I can’t do anything but whimper in enjoyment.

[bullet-prooflove]

What Puts You On That Ledge: Jack Abbot x Reader

Tagged: @kmc1989 @dizzybee03 @noxytopy @flyinglama @yousigned-upforthis

References to:

Masochist - You and Jack have an indepth understanding of one another.

Companion piece to:

Boston - You reflect on the past after your ex-husband makes an appearance on a trying day.

This God Damn Fucking Day - Jack steps into the fray with things get messy between you and you ex-husband.

Misdemeanour - Jack's forced to step in when you get arrested because of your ex-husband.

Fishtail - Jack helps you decompress in the aftermath of your ex-husband.

Love Language (NSFW) - Jack has his own unique love language.

Jack tries to hide the magazines, the ones with your ex-husband’s face on the cover. He doesn’t realise they even exist until he starts his shift and sees Myrna sitting there in her wheelchair engrossed in the glossy pages.

“You have got to be fucking with me.” He mutters as he snatches one up off the counter and flicks through it.

The main feature is a tell all article by one of the celebrities he fucked, Madeline Jaeger. She details the salacious affair that started when she was a patient of his, undergoing treatment in his recovery centre. The light touches that turned into a hand up her skirt, the hour long ‘sessions’ on his couch, then there’s the other stuff, the depraved stuff that Jack knows featured in your own bedroom throughout that marriage.

Did his wife come into your mind any point, the interviewer had asked.

Yes, Madeline had answered. He told me she couldn’t give him what she needed. She was emotionally cold, frigid. She didn’t enjoy the things that he wanted, not the way that I did. 

His stomach drops because your secrets are right there in print, for all the world to see. He wants to scream, to maim something, to destroy every single part of the man that hurt you but he can’t because the asshole has sequestered himself into one of his friends rehab clinics. Sex addiction he claims. It has your mother’s handiwork written all over it.

He destroys the magazines instead, collecting every single one of them he can find before he sets fire to them in the dumpster outside, an extinguisher in his hand as he watches the pages turn to ash.  

“You may have burned the physical evidence.” Myrna reminds him when he sits back down at his work station. “But the internet is forever Sweet Cheeks.”

“Fuck.” He hisses because that article is the first thing that comes up when he Googles your name. All of your achievements, the papers you’ve worked on, the journals you’ve submitted to it’s all pushed down underneath the weight of this story.

“You’ve got to tell her.” Myrna counsels, squeezing his arm lightly. “Better coming from you than anyone else.”

As much as he wants to protect you from this bullshit she’s right, he doesn’t want you to get blindsided by this mess, to have someone throw it in your face. He takes the elevator up to Psych, his heart palpitating in his chest with every floor that ticks by.

The moment he sees your face, he knows it’s already too late. Your jaw is clenched, your expression completely impassive. You’ve shut down completely, he understands. It’s the only way you can contain the damage to your psyche.

It’s how you got through your first marriage, don’t react, pretend it doesn’t touch you, that it doesn’t hurt you.

He finds you on the roof after his shift, standing on the same spot that he does from time to time. He hasn’t realised how terrifying it is until this moment, how there’s nothing to stop you from taking that step and hurtling over the edge.

“I understand now why you do this.” You say as he approaches you, his hand tangling in your lab coat, gripping it tightly. “How sometimes it can be the only thing that makes you feel alive.”

He understands the reality of what’s happening in this moment, you’re suffering the same affliction that he does. You’ve numbed yourself so much to what’s going on around you that you can’t seem to be able to flick the switch back on.

“It’s not the only thing.” He tells you as he lands a sudden sharp pinch on your ass.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You yelp and he tugs you back against the safety rail with his grasp on your labcoat.

“Hurts doesn’t it?” He murmurs, his breath ghosting in your ear. “Makes you irrationally angry?”

“Oh you fucker.” You mutter as you turn to face him and he can see the fire in your eyes, the life flooding back into you. “You just shrinked me didn’t you?”

“I learned from the best honey.” He says as he takes your hand and helps you back over the railing. “You’re the only one that’s ever been able to get me off that ledge.”

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[rivalswrites]

Hi okay what if Iron Fist was dating a guy who is very affectionate :3

Iron Fist w/an affectionate boyfriend

Before you read, please be warned that I'm writing based on my impressions of them not only in the game (though it's the biggest inspiration), but some of them with the movies/shows in mind too.

I had to pull up Lin Lie’s Wikipedia page for this, obviously I'm a fake fan (⁠･⁠ω･⁠;⁠)

OMLLL y'all are feeding me too much w/these requests AND I'M THE ONE WRITING EHEHE

Scheduling this to post on Sunday because I'll be busy all weekend and school is starting back up after!!

Masterlist

Affection probably isn't something Lin is too familiar with, but not deprived of. He had a lot of love growing up, seeing as he was able to survive as a normal person up until college until life took a turn. After he received his sword, he didn't have much time to think about it- much less when he had worked to become the Iron Fist.

But again, he wasn't deprived of it. Plenty of his friends were decently affectionate, as much as friends should be. He never minded, but then you came along and the definition of affection changed for him. It went from just people giving him some kind of small gesture of their friendship to a whole other level- something he couldn't describe, a different level of love he didn't really know.

Obviously, he doesn't mind at all, he even encourages it. Never has he ever told you to not touch him, he loves it- and you- too much to try and stop anything of the sorts. And of course, you also enjoy it- because your beefcake of a boyfriend is basically allowing you to crawl all over him 24/7 with no issue; it's everyone's dream come true.

One of his favorite times to receive affection is during free time, no interruptions allowed. He just sits on a recliner or the couch and does some sort of puzzle (extremely difficult ones you've probably never seen before, and you will sit behind him uncomfortably and lean on his back. Just pure dead weight on his back, arms around his neck and head on his- watching without a clue as he worked away with no issue.

And it becomes a pattern, he's just chilling around somewhere and you crawl all over him and put him in a chokehold! (Affectionately) He loves it, your weight on him in any way is great. It's a consistent calm, like it becomes such a calm for him that HE'LL sometimes look for your affection.

But he doesn't say he wants affection, no, he's stubborn about it. He finds you and, no matter what you're doing, will grab your hand and will proceed to lay on your arm and shoulder. Usually you get the hint, but if you want to mess with him go ahead and ignore his advances, he'll scowl and slowly drop more of his weight onto you until you both fall to the ground because he is HUGE (lovingly, even if you're strong- he's stronger).

Casual affection and PDA, such as hand holding, kissing, and all the other stuff is perfectly fine with him- kiss and hold away. Though if you smother him in public he'll for sure get flustered, especially if it's around friends- at least one person will tease him for it and he knows it.

Really enjoys when you cuddle up to him, especially during the winter. Due to all his muscle and constant physical activity he just naturally started running hot, so he's the perfect heater whenever you need it. Your cold feet will be warmer and he won't mind, because it's physical touch from his lovely boyfriend.

Overall: he loves it, and absolutely doesn't mind it. Cling to him like a koala and he would go into battle like that, for he'd rather die than make you let him go.

[crescenthistory]

hey! it's the anon who asked about the poly!dorlene thing, so here's the resquest! yay!

from the fluffy prompt "i didn't know it was possible for you to be more beautiful" + trope "firsts" with poly!dorlene, where they are going on their first date? just, very fluffy and three girls being in love?? (sorry if it isn't really specific)

hi my lovely dorlene lover, thank you so much for your request<33 three girls being in love COMING RIGHT UP

Words: 2k

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, you wear a skirt, established relationship (dorlene) opening up to a third (you, lucky bastard), light anxiety/nerves, idiots in love, bsfs!marylily in the background, slightly suggestive teasing, platonic and romantic physical affection

Note: this one goes out to the four (4) sapphics i know frequent my page, with the hope of reaching even more of us<33 dorlene and marylily are the best things to have ever happened to me tbh

"Lily, do I look stupid? I look stupid. You would tell me if I looked stupid, right?"

Words are spilling out of your mouth before you have had the time to truly process or consider them, or even enunciate them properly. If you didn't have the self-awareness to already be embarrassed about how nerve wrecked you were acting, Lily's expression would have done the trick.

"Breathe, my lovely, you're fine," she reassured through poorly bitten back laughter. "You don't look stupid."

Stood in front of Mary's pocket mirror that you had charmed to grow into full-body length, in the fourth outfit you had tried on, you felt decidedly, wholeheartedly stupid. Even worse, surrounded by your two best friends and waiting on your two other best friends to take you out on a date, you felt stupid for feeling stupid.

Truly the whole thing was a chaotic, hormonal mess that you wanted to run away from. Yet, you ached to stay, ached to know how it goes.

Mary had done your make-up earlier and was now lounging on her bed, giving you a rather salacious up-and-down in an effort of support. "If that is stupid, then I don't think I can see anything better while keeping my skirt on," she quipped, arguably aiming for appeasing. You're not sure if she hit the mark, but you appreciated her with heated cheeks nonetheless.

"Not to mention, this outfit is by far the best one," Lily said through a hum, walking around you to continue to appraise the skirt, top and accessories the three of you had pulled together from your separate closets. "It matches the atmosphere of a Hogsmeade date while also distinguishing it from what they see you in every day. It's perfect."

"You really think so?" You found yourself asking for more reassurance as you smoothed out the already wrinkle free skirt, turning back to take in your form in the mirror.

Lily came up close behind you and gave you a half-hug from the side, squeezing your shoulder. The apples of her cheeks were bunched up beautifully, highlighting her freckles, as she smiled warmly at you in that way only she knew how. "I know so. These are your friends, remember?"

"Your best friends that you have been pining after quite literally forever," Mary reminded you while flipping through her magazine, though you could tell it did not capture her attention as wholly as she pretended.

"Excuse me, but you are in no position to judge someone for waiting forever to ask her friend out, missy," you argued, finding some of your usual spark once more. You gave her a teasing finger wag to underline your point, to which Lily snorted and let go of you to move over to her lovely girlfriend and pry the magazine from her hands.

"She has a point there, dear." Lily stage-whispered conspiratorially as she grabbed Mary’s now-free hands to pull her up and off the bed. Mary pretended to groan, but slumped happily against Lily when they stood beside each other, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of her lips.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she faux grumbled. Then, she looked you over properly, blooming smile back on her face. She reached out to fix a part of your make-up that you were sure did not really need fixing. "Truly, babe, this is perfect. You look smashing."

You took a deep breath and regarded your friends with a weary smile. "Alright. I trust you guys. I'm right to do so, yeah?" The last part was teasing, but they both groaned and rolled their eyes at you through their smiles. You had been over this a few times this evening.

"I'll show you trust," Lily warned before tackling you into some sort of a crash-hug. Mary screeched with glee, joining into the slight tussle between the three of you that was essentially more of an embrace than a fight, just with the quips and attitudes of the latter. Lily had her arms wrapped around you, wrestling you around to “shake some sense into you”, while Mary did not pass up the opportunity to tickle you, drawing genuine laughter from you at last.

"Oi! Are you manhandling our date?"

Marlene's voice startled the three of you out of your play-fight, but only drew more giggling laughter out of you as you straightened up.

The blonde had a wide grin on her face as she took the scene in, standing with her hand still on the handle from where she had – surely dramatically – opened the door. She was wearing the most delectable pair of patterned multi-coloured jeans paired with a tight white baby-tee with a red graphic in the middle. There was a red carabiner in her belt loop and her neck and fingers were covered in her standard silvery jewellery. Her hair was pulled up by small fluttering clips that seemed to be Pandora's doing, that showed off her light pink streaks. She was absolutely beautiful. You were a goner.

Slightly behind her, Dorcas leaned against the doorframe, hand on her hip, already looking at you with an entertained, knowing smile. The green short skirt that hugged her hips perfectly complemented the black, lacy top she was in, both of which stood in stark contrast to her astronomy-themed jewellery that was bright and eye-catching. The silver seemed to radiate off her skin, and Dorcas looked just that – radiant.

You were stunned for a second, your laugh morphing into an almost awestruck smile as your lips slightly parted. You already knew you were going out with arguably the most ethereal creatures to walk this campus, but to see it for yourself this up-close; gods, you were lucky.

This was likely the part where your anxiety would have reclaimed its hold in your chest. Mary and Lily had stepped off to the side slightly, giving you space as you and your dates had this odd first look of sorts – taking in that this is what your friend looks like when she is getting ready to go out with you. You and not some sleazy guy that would not deserve her even if he fought a hundred lifetimes to do so, not some awkward, stumbling person who did not know to appreciate what they had in their hands. You.

Yes, this was the part where your mind would be rewiring itself within the span of a mere few seconds and getting ready to scream in panic – but then your eyes met Marlene's. Drifted to Dorcas' and then Marlene's again. You found nothing short of pure admiration there. Your heartbeat slowed into secure affection.

"Holy Merlin," Marlene breathed out when she gave you her own once-over, letting go of the door in favour of taking a few steps further into the room. Closer to you. "You look..." She trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.

Dorcas let out one of her more quiet laughs, directing your wide eyes from Marlene back over to her. You found she had been side-eyeing Marlene's response smugly before looking at you once more in marvel. "Gorgeous. You look absolutley gorgeous, babe."

"I didn't know it was possible for you to be more beautiful," Marlene said, lined eyes steadfast on you in a way that felt entirely too much. Tingles shot up and down your back and a nervous laugh spilled over your lips. “I’ve been falling over my feet at your beauty for ages, and now here you are, upstaging yourself again?”

"Me?" you said, resisting the urge to point to yourself. "You two are breathtaking. Stunning."

While you and Marlene stood in some sort of gaping, stupefied stare-off, Dorcas pushed off the doorframe and carried herself elegantly over to you, taking both of your hands in hers. Slowly, giving you time to back out should you want, she brought them up to her lips and gave the backs of your hands one gentle kiss each, eyes never leaving yours. "How about we chalk us up to being the three most beautiful witches in Hogsmeade," she said, looking between you and Marlene knowingly. "And get going before all the seats are taken?"

Marlene was looking at the place on your hands where Dorcas' lips had just grazed with a dumb smile before meeting her two loves' eyes happily. "I reckon that sounds like a good plan. Yeah, gorgeous?" The last part was directed at you, and you giddily nodded.

"Sounds perfect, actually." Your cheeks hurt from smiling. "I just need to get my bag."

As you turned around, you saw Mary and Lily sitting on your bed – the closest one to the view of their three friends finally taking the leap – grinning knowingly. You had to fight off a yelp, but couldn't stop your body from jerking slightly in surprise from seeing them. Admittedly, you had forgotten they were there from the second Marlene's voice caught your attention.

"Hey, babes," you said cheekily, aware from Lily's arched brow that they understood how wholeheartedly distracted you had gotten. The second-hand happiness flowing across their faces, though, told you they did not mind one bit. You quickly grabbed your bag from beside your bed, and while you were there, you pressed a quick kiss to each of their cheeks in appreciation. Lily merely smiled warmly at you, as always, while you swore you saw Mary blush at the blatant gratitude. "Thank you for helping me get ready. I guess I'll see you back here tonight?"

"Bringing her home already after the first date?" Mary recovered quickly to quip with her eyes on Marlene, mirth swimming in them at her poor attempt at a joke.

Marlene stuck her tongue out at her before she volleyed, "We share this dorm, Maryam."

Mary's full name wasn't Maryam. It was just what Marlene insisted on calling her when she was goofing off, usually at Marlene's expense.

You let out a proper laugh at that, finally at ease and feeling all the love, both platonic and romantic, simmering beneath your skin. When you turned around to meet your two girls head on, Marlene instantly grabbed your purse from you and slung it over her shoulder before throwing her arm around yours. "Though, I would never pass up the opportunity to take you home, dolly," she whispered in your ear then as she steered you towards Dorcas.

Your breath caught in your throat for a moment, but you swallowed it happily, giving Marlene's side a slight shove before grinning up at her. You swore the blue that you met in her irises shone straight into your heart, and you found that you didn't mind it.

Dorcas was shaking her head affectionately by the time you turned to her in the doorway, no doubt having heard Marlene's comment. "Try not and scare her off before we can even start the date, yeah Marls?"

Feeling emboldened by their clear devotion to you, you held your hand out in offering to Dorcas. "It’s going to take a lot more than tempting promises to scare me away from something so perfect." You weren't sure how the words rolled so smoothly off your tongue, but you were spurred on by the flicker in Dorcas' eyes, followed by her biting lightly down on her bottom lip. She happily accepted your hand, intertwining your fingers and wasting no time in dragging her thumb over your knuckles.

"Perfect indeed, baby," Marlene said. She caught the edge of the door with her foot, turning over to half-shout to Mary and Lily, who were still sitting on your bed. "Don't wait up, you swots!"

She let the door shut behind her with a cackle before she could hear any protests about "hey we actually have a test tomorrow to study for". 

With the ease that at last settled in your bones and a beautiful girl on each arm, you knew in your heart that this date would be the one for you.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Game Masterlist here

Summary: After the death of your brother and his wife. You find yourself adjusting to a new role in your life. A single parent to your teenage nephew. How do you help him heal? How do you help yourself heal? You're not sure. You don't think you can, until an annoying basketball coach enters your life and turns everything around.

Pairing: Basketball Coach Yoongi x Single Aunt F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Strangers to Lovers,

Warnings: Death Of Parents / Brother/ Family, Car Accident (Cause), Swearing, Explicit Sex, Arguments, Physical Fighting, Past Abusive Relationship, Talks Of Domestic Violence,

!WARNING! Talk of domestic violence !WARNING!

The entertainment center was lopsided. You and Nicky had spent the better part of two hours putting it together in his bedroom, and it was lopsided. Not just skewed a little to the side, but full-on lopsided and ready to fall to the floor. Nicky lifts his leg and gives the wooden mess a slight shove with his foot. You watch in horror as it rocks and completely collapses.

“I don't think we did it right,” he says, looking at the pile of wood.

“Well, they clearly messed up the directions. I mean, look, they gave us extra pieces of wood and a bunch of extra screws,” you tell him.

“We should call grandpa,” he says.

“No, absolutely not. I can do this,” you tell him. “I must have missed a step….or two….possibly three. I'll just…” you start, but the doorbell ringing through the living room stops you.

“I'll get it,” Nicky says, leaving his bedroom.

“Don't answer if it's a stranger,” you call out softly. “Unless they are selling cookies.”

Sitting on his floor, you grab the instruction manual. Going back to page one, you examine the book every which way. Where did you go wrong, and why were there so many extra parts?

“Sunshine,” your nephew says, coming back into the room.

“Maybe we were looking at it upside down,” you tell him, turning the book around. “Wait, then the words are upside down.”

“Sunshine,” he tries again, and you finally look at him. Your heart stutters. Yoongi is standing right beside him with some flowers in his hand, looking awkward and out of place amongst your mess. Nicky looks between the two of you silently before moving and taking his phone from where he had placed it earlier on his bed. “I’m going to watch tv in your room. There's a tv show about some old ladies getting catfished coming on in a few minutes. I've been wanting to see it.”

“He watches interesting things,” Yoongi says jokingly as Nicky leaves the room, but you don't say anything. Instead, you go back to looking at the manual in your hands. “I got you flowers.”

“I'm allergic,” you say, still avoiding his gaze.

“Are you really?” He asks, voice wavering in uncertainty.

“Shove them in my face and find out,” you dare him.

You throw the book down and pick up your drill. Crawling to the mess on the floor, you start to unscrew the wooden pieces from each other. Placing the screws safely off to the side, you struggle with moving some of the bigger pieces. Yoongi is at your side in an instant, taking the heavy material from you.

Damn him and his flowers.

Damn him and his help.

Damn him for making your heart feel this way.

“You're going to let me explain,” he tells you, taking the drill from your hand.

“Oh, is that so?” You sass, trying to take the drill back from him, but he won't let you as he moves the drill further from your reach.

“Yes,” he answers. “I'm going to explain, and then if you don't want anything to do with me….I'll leave. I don't want to leave, but I will,” You look at him, giving him an impatient stare. “Okay, well…..yes. Ara and I did…”

“That's enough. You can go,” you say, stopping him.

“Ara and I did have a small moment,” he continues, ignoring your attempt at stopping the conversation. “I wouldn't even call it a small moment. It was hardly anything at all.”

“I'm getting bored,” you warn him, cutting him off again.

“It lasted two weeks. She and her husband were going through a separation. My girlfriend just dumped me, and one night after practice, her husband picked Jake up. She stayed and we…”

“Spare me the details,” you snap. “I don't need to hear how you fucked her in the gym or something.”

“It meant nothing, and I wish it never happened. Her husband absolutely hates me. I get it. He thinks that it went on before the separation even happened. I know I should have told you, especially since the two of you have issues, but I thought you wouldn't want anything to do with me if I had. It was selfish of me.” He explains.

“Did he really catch you in bed with her?” You ask, turning your head to look at him. He licks his lips, biting his lower before nodding his head yes.

“Dragged me right out of there. Busted my lip,” he said.

“Good,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Don't be like this, please,” he begs. “It was in my past.”

“Is that why she runs everyone off? She doesn't want anyone to have your attention?” You ask, remembering what Mark had said to you. She always runs the new moms off. “If her husband tells her what he thinks he knows. She is going to make my life hell, and I will end up in the back of a police car for beating her ass.”

“I won't let that happen,” he promises.

“Oh, come on, Yoongi,” you say, laughing. “She wants you. She wants me gone because she wants you. She can probably smell you all over me.”

“I know she does,” he admits. “I have already told her that would never happen, and that was long before you came along. I do not want her. I can't stand her.”

“Then why keep her around?” You ask, and with that question, he finally looks defeated. “Money?”

“Doll,” he sighs.

“They are thirteen year old boys. I thought it was all learning about teamwork, but it's not. It is about rich parents throwing money around to treat others like garbage and coaches, letting it happen,” you snarl.

“Hey,” he snaps back. “I stopped that! I can't throw her out. She and Jake haven't violated anything in the handbook or our contract. Trust me, I would get rid of her if I could.”

Trust him? You barely know him, and he wants you to trust him. How the hell are you supposed to trust him? You haven't trusted anyone in years. Your fingers pinch the hem of your shirt as you look at him. Uncertainty shoots through you at the thought of trusting him. If you put your trust in him, then he holds all the cards, and that makes you nervous. Can you put your trust in him and eventually have him crush you? Although everything in you is telling you to trust him, your head is screaming at you not to do it. It was a tiring fight, but here he was, trying to fight for you. While you were trying to run, he was trying to fight for you. He was clearly the stronger one of the two of you.

Dammit!

“But I don't know how,” you admit quietly as your chin starts to wobble. Yoongi takes the chance to gather you in his arms, and you rest your head on his shoulder, surrendering to him. “I want to trust you, but I just don't know how.”

“Well,” he says,“That’s a good starting point.”

“She's the reason for the whole conflict of interest, isn't she?” You ask, pulling back to look at him, and he hums, confirming your question. “So…there weren't any other moms, right? He made it seem like you slept with them all.”

“No, absolutely not,” he assures you, pushing some hair out of your face. “It was a stupid choice that just made me miserable afterward. I told myself to stay away from the parents after that. No friendships and definitely no relationships. Then you came along and happened to be the exception to the rule.”

“I don't know….” you say uncertainingly.

“You have a past. I'm allowed to have a past too,” he tells you.

“Not with the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” you say, making him cover his mouth, trying to hide his smile.

“You told me that you don't give second chances, and here I am asking you for one. Can we start over again? I swear I have no more secrets. No one you have to worry about. We could have a fresh start. I'll get on my knees and beg If I have to,” he tells you once he gathers himself.

“What about Nicky?” You ask. “What if you get tired of him being around because he's not going anywhere. He will always come first. It's not always going to be fun and games with him. He's a moody teenager who lost his parents.”

“I know this,” Yoongi assures you. “You're a packaged deal, and I accept that. I would never force him out, and I'm not going to force my way to parent him. I'll just follow your lead.”

“Dammit, why don't you have to be so….great,” you say with a disgusted face.

“I'm…sorry?” He apologizes in confusion.

“A fresh start?” You question, and he nods his head, yes. “I guess that I can do that, but on one condition.”

“What's that?” He asks.

“Can you put together a media center?” You ask, quirking your eyebrow.

Laughing, Yoongi picks up the drill and hands you the instructions. Taking them from him, you move yourself out of the way and onto the bed. He busies himself, taking everything apart as you watch him. Maybe giving him a second chance wasn't a bad decision as you feel those tight chains start to shake and rattle. You're not ready for them to fall away yet, but maybe you'll let them loosen.

Just a little.

“I told you we didn't need grandpa,” you tell Nicky as you bring in his playstation from the living room into his bedroom.

“That's only because coach put it together,” he says as he shakes the newly put-together media center with his hand to test it.

“You can call me Yoongi as long as we are not with the team,” Yoongi tells him.

“Yea, but I like calling you coach. Maybe one day,” he says, leaving to grab the rest of his stuff.

“I think we will be just fine,” Yoongi comments as he inspects the work that he did.

“Oh, why is that?” You ask, piling up the mess on the floor.

“We put this together without fighting,” he says, like it's obvious. “That's not an easy task.”

“I didn't do shit. I just read the instructions to you,” you say laughing a little bit.

“Which is amazing because I thought you couldn't read,” he jokes and you pinch his side, laughing with him.

“Thank you for helping,” you say softly. “And … thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful. I never got flowers before. I mean, you know, other than from my dad.”

Yoongi maneuvers you to stand in front of him. Gently he cups your face, making you look at him. He studies you for a minute before nodding his head.

“You're welcome,” he says just as softly. “You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to woo you.”

“Woo me,” you look at him like he was crazy. “What century is this again?”

“I mean it,” Yoongi says, looking serious. “I'm going to date you properly.”

“I've had boyfriends,” you say. “I've been on dates.”

“But you said that they were toxic,” he reminds you. “I'm going to do this right. Show you what you have been missing. After we win our game on Saturday. Let me take you and Nicky out.”

“You're serious, aren't you?” You ask, as Nicky comes back into the room with a stack of wires and games. He tosses everything on his bed before leaving again. “You accept us as a packaged deal?”

“Very serious,” he confirms.

“Are you sure you know what you are getting yourself into?” You ask, staring up at him.

“Nope, but I'm good at thinking on my feet. I won't let you down,” he promises. “And maybe one day…. you'll let me help you carry your baggage.”

“But it's really heavy,” you warn.

“Good thing I'm stronger than I look,” he says quietly.

Yoongi pulls you into a hug as Nicky comes back in with an arm full of his things that were lying around the living room. He doesn't seem bothered by you and Yoongi in the slightest as he starts to arrange his mess onto his media center. It gave his room a little life, making it look less bleak. Maybe that's why Yoongi came into your life. Maybe he was here to make your own life look a little less bleak. He makes you want to trust him. You just hope that he has the patience of a saint because you have no idea how long learning to trust him will take. Closing your eyes, you breathe in his calming scent of laundry detergent and a hint of coffee. You'll work on it. You swear you will. After all, you think you deserve a little happiness.

“Why do I have to dress up?” Nicky asks as he pulls at the collar of his blue dress shirt.

“The email said dress shirt and tie,” you say, swatting his hands away so you could do his tie.

You giggle, looking him over. He looked so grown up in his outfit for his team dinner that they would be listening to special speakers. Where they were going to learn about the importance of teamwork and blah, blah, blah. Thankfully, Chris offered to take him tonight in exchange for helping Elly with some wedding stuff. You had quickly agreed. Nicky would have someone with him who cared about basketball, and you wouldn't have to be around the parents.

It was a win-win situation.

“Ready to go?” Your brother asks, and Niky nods, pulling at his collar one more time. “We will see you later.”

“If he hates dressing up, then he will hate his tux for the wedding,” Elly says as the two of you make yourselves comfortable on the floor, surrounded by several boxes.

“He will be fine,” you say, opening a box and pulling out personalized shot glasses one by one. “He's excited to be Chris's best man.”

“I'm glad,” she says softly as she arranges black gift boxes for you to place the shot glasses in. “Do you have a plus one yet?”

“Nicky is my plus one?” You answer like the answer was obvious.

“Absolutely not,” she disagrees. “He's leaving midway through the reception with your parents. You need a date. I figured you would ask his coach.”

“Yoongi?” You ask.

“Unless I completely misread the whole finding you bed with him and the blowjob joke at Nicky's game,” she laughs.

“It's too soon to ask him for something like that. Besides, mom….” you start.

“Your mom needs to mind her own business,” Elly says. “You're allowed to have a boyfriend, and you're allowed to bring a date to my wedding. I don't think you're going to get into too much trouble at the reception. The police station is right across the street, and the retirement community is right next to them.”

“Very funny. It would still be weird,” you argue. “You and Chris don’t even know him.”

“Yet,” she says suspiciously, and you give her a look. She smiles at you all too innocently and cuts some white ribbon to wrap around the gift boxes, acting like everything was normal. “Chris offered to go tonight so he could officially meet him without you around.”

“WHAT!” You exclaim. “I'm going to kick his ass.”

“No permanent damage, please. I need him to look good for our wedding pictures,” she comments, not taking you seriously. “He's just wanting to look out for you.” You make a disgusted noise and start placing the shot glasses into the boxes. “I know you can take care of yourself, but he feels really guilty. After Jay….”

“Don't say his name,” you say harshly at the name of your ex-boyfriend, and right away regret fills her features.

“I'm sorry,” Elly apologizes. “He told me that he was going to be a better brother to you. He was going to start to pay more attention to your life. He made a promise to himself that he wouldn't let you down again.”

“Elly,” you say, trying to crack your neck, but you never could figure out how to do it.

“I know, I know, but your brother is the love of my life and the way it haunts him…..” she pauses and looks you over. “Just let him do this if it makes him feel better.”

You dig your nails into the meat of your thighs. Distracting yourself from the memories of your past and the hurt that came along with it. You hated it when your family would bring him up. You wish they would just leave it alone. Instead of responding, you pass her a gift box and continue filling the others.

“Did you decide on an open bar or a cash bar?” You ask.

She gets the hint and doesn't continue with the conversation.

The two of you spend the next hour and a half ignoring the elephant in the room. Neither one of you mention Yoongi, dating, or your mom again. You had kept the conversation light until your front door opened and the semi tense atmosphere lifted.

“How was it?” You ask, not looking up as you try to finish tying your last few bows out of that white ribbon.

“Pretty good. We had spaghetti, and Uncle Chris dropped some all over his shirt,” Nicky says.

You wanted to laugh, but the two male voices walking into your home stopped you. Your brother with Yoongi walking right beside him seems to be in some sort of conversation. Elly has to take the gift box away from you so you don't smash it by how hard you were holding it before she looked at her fiancée.

“You did drop it all over yourself,” she said, crossing her arms. “That shirt was new. Help me pack up so I can get that soaking in the sink. Thanks for your help, Y/N. It was nice seeing you again, Yoongi.”

Yoongi nods his head politely at her.

“No problem,” you say, as you watch your brother quickly help the two of you clean up before they head for the door.

“Don't be mad,” your brother whispers when you give him a hard look.

“I'll see you at dinner tomorrow,” you reply. Elly gives you a hug on her way out, and you finally turn to Yoongi, who stood there awkwardly in the middle of your living room. “How nosy was he?”

“He wasn't,” he answers, but you don't believe him. “He apologized for our first meeting, and we just talked a bit.”

“So, you just talked about….nothing,” you say, walking closer to him, clearly not believing him.

“Pretty much,” he nods before giving you a knowing smile. “I mean, other than him telling me you were arrested once.”

“I was not arrested,” you deny, slapping him lightly on the arm.

“Skinny dipping, huh?” He smirks, pulling you closer to him by your hips.

“I was seventeen, and the cop was an asshole who had nothing better to do,” you say.

“I think he was scoping me out, but our talk wasn't that serious,” he tells you, and you bite your lower lip as you grab his tie, pulling him down to you. Pressing your lips to his, his fingers sink into flesh just under the hem of your shirt. He looked so good all dressed up. You couldn't help yourself.

“You should stay,” you whisper against his lips, trying to tempt him.

“That's probably not a good idea,” he mumbles back.

“Why?” You ask, trying to tug him closer. “I think it's a great idea. Do you have a curfew? We can be quick.”

“I'm trying to be a gentleman,” he explains.

“I don't need a gentleman,” you argue lightly.

“I think you do,” he says before he bends and captures your lips once more. Inhaling deeply, he pulls away, taking a step back from you. The newly created distance felt forced, like he didn't want to move away. “I'm going to leave before I change my mind about that quickie. I just wanted to drop in and say goodnight.”

“Are you sure I can't tempt you into staying?” You tease, and he bites his bottom lip.

“Weellll,” he presses his lips to yours once more, letting you sink into the kiss before abruptly pulling away. “Nope, I'll see you at practice. Have a good night.”

“I hope you have to take a cold shower,” you say in parting as he walks out the front door.

After he leaves, you plop on the couch, and Nicky joins you with a take out container from the night before. You look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Didn't you just eat?” You ask.

“Yeah, but I'm hungry again,” he tells you as he shrugs his shoulders. “Uncle Chris said he thinks that coach seems like a good guy.”

“What did they talk about?” You ask, trying to get information out of him.

“I don't know,” he answers and you huff.

“You need to learn to spy,” you tell him. “I have so much to teach you.”

“I'm sure grandma would love that,” he jokes, standing up to retreat to his bedroom.

“Hey!” You exclaim. “I take offense to that.”

Crossing your arms, you stare up at the ceiling. He wasn't lying. Your mother would hate it if he turned out like you. Honestly, a part of you would hate it, too. You didn't want him to run from his feelings and be bitter over things in his past. You wanted him to be better than you. You needed him to be better than you. After all, isn't that what being a parent was all about?

“Where do you want to eat after your game tomorrow?” Your mother asks Nicky as everyone sits around the table for family dinner night. “We pass a lot of different restaurants on the way back home. We can go anywhere that you want.”

You and Nicky make eye contact from across the table, knowing that you two already had plans with Yoongi. Nicky had chosen some expensive family restaurant where they had arcade games you could play. He said he was determined to beat the high score playing Hoops, the arcade basketball game. You tried to change his mind, telling him to pick something cheaper, but Yoongi quickly cut you off, telling him that he was going to win first, challenging him. You wanted to argue. You wanted to let him know that you didn't need him spending that much money on the two of you, but it was a waste of breath. He wouldn't hear it. You were accustomed to being the one to always pay, and this made you feel guilty. It made you feel like you were taking advantage of him, and that was not the impression that you wanted to make.

“We already have plans,” you say quickly, stuffing your face with the mashed potatoes on your plate. “Maybe we can have dinner again next time.”

“What do you mean you already have plans?” She asks, focusing solely on you.

“Exactly that,” you say back. “He and I already have plans. We can have dinner next time.”

“Well, I wasn't aware of any plans,” she tells you. Your shoulders droop, and your eyes find their way to your brother and Elly, who both give you a knowing look. “What was that?”

“What?” You and Chris answer at the same time.

“That look you gave each other. What was that look?” She asks suspiciously.

“There was no look,” Chris says, lying to your mom, knowing damn well what that look meant.

“There was a look,” she argues. “Y/N, who do you have plans with?”

“Coach Min,” Nicky speaks up.

Your mother looks sharply at you as you look at your nephew with wide eyes for ratting you out. There is a lot you are going to have to teach this kid, and not ratting you out is at the top of your list.

“Which one is he?” She asks him. “The tall tattooed one? The one you called a horrible name?”

“I think he’s the blonde one,” your dad speaks up. “I think he’s the president of the program.”

“He is?” You asked, surprised by the new information. “How do you know that?”

“It's on their website,” he tells you.

Website? Damn, you really need to get your shit together and invest more of your time learning about this whole basketball thing. He was the president? Now it all makes sense why he could break a few of his own rules for you. He wasn't worried about getting in trouble because it was his damn program.

“Can I talk to you….. outside?” Your mom asks, pushing back from the table, not giving you an option to object.

Following her out to the backyard, she closes the patio door a little too harshly. Crossing her arms, she stares at you, waiting for you to explain what was going on, but you were not going to give in. Running your tongue across your teeth, you stare back at her, waiting for her to make the first move.

“Of all the men you had to go after. You had to go after one of his coaches,” she scolds.

“I didn't go after him,” you grit your teeth, denying her words. “It just happened.”

“So, what happens when this goes south?” She asks. “What happens if it ruins everything for Nicky?”

“When this goes south? Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you snap. “He's a good guy.”

Your mom laughs.

Literally laughs.

It's a very bitter laugh.

“Remember that guy that stole your bank card and completely wiped your bank account because he owed his drug dealer money. Your dad and I had to bail you out of that one by loaning you money. How about the one who had the stolen car that left you in the middle of nowhere? Your dad and I had to drive two hours in the middle of the night to come and get you with Nicky in the backseat.”

“I get it,” you say.

“We thought Jay was a good guy,” she tells you. “Look at what happened there.”

“Stop,” you tell her quietly.

“He actually fooled all of us,” she says just as quietly as you. “Then he beat you. Beat you so bad that he put you in the hospital.”

“Knock it off,” you say, tears welling in your eyes.

“Do you know what that was like? Hmmm, do you know what that was like for your little brother? Finding you on the floor of your apartment thinking you were dead. Do you know how distraught Chris was finding you like that? Trying to find your pulse while he was trying to call for help.”

“I don't want to talk about it,” you growl.

“Of course you don't,” she responds. “You never want to talk about anything. You keep everything bottled up until it all explodes. Do you know how selfish that is? That didn't just affect you! He's so scared to talk about it because he doesn’t want to upset you, but it affected him too. God damn it, I almost lost you too, and we are not allowed to talk to talk about it!”

“What is going on out here,” Chris asks, coming to stand next to you. You and your mother go quiet before quickly looking at each other.

“You know that she's seeing that coach, don't you?” Your mother asks, turning her attention to your little brother and changing the subject. He stays silent. “That's just great. It's such a good feeling when your children turn against you.”

“No one is against you,” Chris argues, in your favor. “So what? Y/N is dating Nicky's coach. It's not a big deal. She's an adult and can choose whoever she wants to date.”

“Nicky….” she starts but is cut off.

“Nicky is fine with it,” you speak up. “If he wasn't, then I would put an end to it. He likes spending time with Yoongi. It's been good for him. He seems happy.”

“You can not replace his father!” She snaps.

“No one is replacing anyone,” your brother snaps back. “Nicky needs support. Y/N needs support. He is giving that to them.”

“We support them,” she says.

“No you don't,” you butt in. “All you do is make me feel bad. All of your little comments upset him, you know? Nicky is young, but he's not stupid. He understands that you don't want him with me and he doesn't like it.”

“Well if he was placed with me in the first place, all of this could have been avoided,” she explains.

“JUST STOP ALREADY!” You scream.

“See, right there it is,” she says, crossing her arms as if she proved her earlier point.

“If you think you're such a great mom and that you can do a better job than me. Then why did you give up on me? I made some bad choices, and I'll be the first one to admit it, but where were you when I needed you the most? The long sleeves on hot summer days. The clumsy excuse to cover up the black eye. The way he would never let be alone with anyone. Why didn't you see it? Why didn't you care?” You ask calmly. She stares at you, a single tear slipping down her face. Your brother stares down at the ground. No one answers any of your questions. All you could hear was the chirping of the crickets in the evening air. It was such a calm night. “Yes you had to clean up my messes but only when it was too late. I will never let Nicky slip through the cracks like you let me. Now, you can stop throwing your little comments at me and be on our side, working together, or we can work out a visitation schedule with a lawyer because I will not be around this shit anymore.”

Quickly, you turn to go back into the house and gather your things, as you call for Nicky to gather his things before she can give you an answer. Getting into your car, you wait for him. You feel good. You feel lighter. You laid everything out there for her. If she didn't accept it, then that's on her. You were done putting her feelings first. You were moving forward. It was you and Nicky from now on.

You, Nicky and possibly…Yoongi.

And….. you were okay with that.

A/N: HELP IS AVAILABLE

NATIONAL DOMESTIC VIOLENCE HOTLINE

CALL 800-799-7233

TEXT: BEGIN to 88788

Website: thehotline.org

Tagged Readers:

@busanbby-jjk , @meelismee @jajabro , @wicked-game-black-butler @wobblewobble882, @damn-u-min-yoongi @mintedagustd , @Granataepfelchen @yoongiiuu93, @jimeg629 @jincapableoflove , @minghaosimp @redragdoll, @ot72025 @seoullove96 @our-cool-jenny @kam9404, @momma1 @amarawayne, @militrybarbi @haileyborig, @bettytta @mar-lo-pap, @lattejimin,@butterymin @thelilbutifulthings, @cannotalwaysbenight @muchwita, @maryhopemei,@rinkud,@misfits1a,@ktownshizzle

[thefreakandthehair]

I just wanna see that smile

wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-compliant injury/recovery, hospital setting, getting together, (brief and inferred mutual) pining, first kiss

a/n: happy (belated) birthday to my pal, @firefly-party! kei drew this piece last year and it was one of the first artworks we talked about when we became friends. this series has continued to live in my brain ever since, so I decided to write a little something in the universe!

Eddie woke up on March 26th, 1986 and Steve’s waited patiently for this moment ever since. 

Well, patient is a misnomer— he’d waited quietly to anyone not named Robin or Dustin. Robin, because she knows him too well and there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her and Dustin, because he’d apparently grown up overnight and pieced together that Steve sitting at Eddie’s bedside and holding his fucking hand every time he waltzed into the room meant something. 

Or maybe it was when Steve gave Eddie all of his rings back, sliding them carefully onto his shaking fingers with a comforting smile. 

Or maybe when Eddie sat up unassisted for the first time and Steve nearly hit the ceiling, bracing him in a panic as if all of his stitches and staples would burst with the tiny movement he’d been working toward in physical therapy. 

Hell, maybe it was Steve taking over some of Eddie’s care for himself, washing his hair and braiding it because the staff at Hawkins Memorial are doing nothing more than the bare minimum to make sure they don’t get sued, or even more frightening, reamed out by the new duo of Hopper and Wayne again. Either way, his hair was making Steve’s own scalp itchy. 

Dustin never tells Steve what it was exactly that tipped him off but whatever it was, it’s enough for Dustin to give Steve the floor when Eddie’s getting ready to discharge back home. And that’s how, exactly two months later to the day from Eddie waking up, Steve enters Eddie’s otherwise empty room armed with a special treat in the form of milkshakes to find Eddie pouring over an unfortunately familiar stack of papers. 

“NDA?” Steve asks, nodding at the papers in Eddie’s lap. He’s upright, fully dressed in the black sweatpants Jeff brought by and a cut off Metallica tee shirt, bandages around his stomach and neck. 

Eddie mutters as he reads under his breath, eyes flitting across the page. 

“How the fuck do they expect any of us common folk to understand a fucking word of this? Hereby? Wherein? Hitherto? What fucking year did I wake up in, man?”

“Yeah, I think the whole point is that you don’t read what you’re signing but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose as he steps carefully around Eddie’s crutches. “You may as well just sign it because if you don’t, they’ll forge it anyway. Now finish signing your life rights away so you can have this milkshake with me.” 

Eddie perks up, looking away from the mess of papers and smiling up at Steve with a smile so genuine, it punches the air out of his lungs. He keeps looking at him like this, like Steve’s a breath of fresh air, like he's someone Eddie wants to have around. 

Steve isn’t sure what to do with that look yet, but he’s sure glad it’s there. 

“Celebration milkshakes? Is this a freedom gift?” Eddie signs the NDA quickly and sets the pen down on the bed next to him. 

“It sure is. Figured this could make up for all those lame popsicles from the cafeteria.” 

The mattress creaks as Steve sits down on the edge, just to the side of the railing, and hands Eddie the strawberry treat. Their fingers graze, Steve’s chilled and Eddie’s warm. His hand is still a little shaky, trembling as he takes hold of the cup, but they’re warm and warm means alive. 

Eddie’s hand can tremble for the rest of his goddamn life so long as it’s always warm. 

They each take a sip, smooth ice cream slurping up their straws, and after a moment, Eddie sighs.

“Is it weird that I’m actually sort of worried about leaving?” 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, looking down at Eddie’s rings glinting beneath the offensive fluorescent lights above them.

“What are you worried about?”

“Uh, well, I did almost die. And the town still wishes I did. It’s a lot easier to make those dreams a reality outside of these walls, y’know? And I’m uh…” Steve watches as Eddie takes a breath and Steve suddenly misses the early days when Eddie was connected to the heart rate monitor. 

“You’re…?” Steve presses, sipping his milkshake again to appear casual. 

“I see you all the time here. Guess I just don’t want that to change.” 

Steve’s heart skips a beat, clattering in his chest and pounding at his ribs, desperately trying to crack him right open and run to the man who’s claimed it. Eddie watches him with cautious eyes, opens his mouth to say something else but Steve cuts him off before he can take it back. 

“Why do you think that’d change? Forest Hills is a lot closer than this shithole, and you won’t be kept under lock and key. And as for the first thing, well, Wayne and Nancy have a lot in common and I have a bat loaded up with nails in the trunk of my car.” Steve rests his free hand on Eddie’s knee. “No one's gonna fuck with you. Don’t worry about that.” 

“You sound a little cocky there, Stevie.” Eddie lifts one eyebrow, glancing from Steve’s hand up to his eyes. “Ready to fight for my honor or something?”

“Yep.” 

He hadn’t brought the milkshakes intending to use them as props, but he’s glad he has something to do to fill the space as Eddie watches him with questioning eyes. As he slurps through the straw, grating noise still preferable over the awkward silence, Eddie’s pinched expression turns softer, realization dawning between the stark white walls of the hospital and the pink ice cream in both of their hands. 

“You’re serious.” Eddie says. 

“Took you that long to figure that out?” Steve teases. 

“I’ve been a little busy with learning how to breathe and walk again. Y’know, just little things.” Eddie rolls his eyes with that same fond smile, free hand lacing its fingers through Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll see you just as much outside of this prison as I have inside of it?” 

Steve shrugs. “Probably even more, honestly. There are no visiting hours at Wayne’s, and it’s not like I have a job to rush off to these days. You’re stuck with me, Ed. At least for as long as you want me around.” 

Eddie snorts, unceremoniously scoffing in Steve’s face as if in disbelief.

“Don’t make promises like that. What happens when I never want you to leave?” 

The air shifts, growing heavier as they find themselves leaning closer, two satellites orbiting one another by nothing but gravitational pull. 

Steve’s not sure who actually closes the gap, but he finds himself with his lips pressed against Eddie’s— sweet, chilled, a little chapped but smiling against his. Months of waiting, of hoping that he’d get this opportunity, come to a deafening crescendo and it takes all of his discipline to not push. Instead, they pull apart and Steve smiles, tucking loose hair behind Eddie’s ear. 

“That’s easy. I’d just never leave.”

fun fact: kei, I wrote your birthday down in my calendar as the 28th for some reason, a solid ten days late, so know that this was planned from the get-go but was just a tad bit late.

[rosemariiaa]

~Casual~

pairing: Paige x Oc

a/n: i need to fix my posting schedule lol.. this is my first collab fic with the lovely karly @makethemhoesmad , part 2 will be on her page!! happy reading lovelies 💌

themes: angst, sexual content, language

Enjoy!!!

I was in the locker room, mind all over the place. Honestly, I hadn’t been this unfocused in ages. And it wasn’t just me who noticed—KK and Azzi were side-eyeing me from across the room, probably wondering why I’d been so out of it. Then I heard Ice laugh under her breath and mutter, “Paige, you’re so pussy whipped.”

It was brutal, but she wasn’t wrong.

The buzz in my pocket had me scrambling. A message from Vanessa.

We’d been “hooking up” for the past few months—nothing serious, just something casual, atleast that’s what she tends to remind me about all the time. That’s how it started, anyway. But for me, it felt like it was turning into something more, whether I wanted it to or not.

V: u busy? come over?

I didn’t even hesitate, typing back a quick, On my way.

———

I was out of there in record time, showered and changed, and at Vanessa’s place within twenty minutes flat. My heart was already racing when she opened the door, leaning against the frame in my shirt and black panties. Damn.

She didn’t waste a second, pulling me inside by the collar and crashing her mouth against mine. All the frustration, the waiting—it was all there. In moments like this, it was easy to forget that she kept me at arm’s length, that I wanted more than just a physical connection. But when she had me like this, I didn’t even care.

“Missed you, V,” I murmured against her lips, hands trailing down her waist, then down further gripping her ass.

She smirked, threading her fingers through my hair as she leaned back, her breath hitching. “Shut up and show me.”

Her lips found mine again, urgent. I let her hands slide down my back, pulling me closer as I trailed kisses along her neck, whispering, “You have no idea how much you’ve been messing with me.”

Vanessa let out a quiet laugh, breathless, leaning into my touch. “Paige, you think too much,” she murmured, tipping her head back sighing. “Can’t help it,” I whispered, grazing my teeth against her collarbone before meeting her gaze, something hungry in her eyes. I tightened my grip, keeping her close, practically pinning her to the wall. “You make it impossible to focus baby.”

Her only response was to pull me back into a kiss, sliding her warm tongue to meddle with mine. I moan softly into the kiss, lifting her up and carrying her to the couch. She sank down, tugging me with her, eyes dark and inviting. I know that look. That look she gives me when she wants me to shut up and take her.

I lean down, pulling her shirt up realizing she’s not wearing a bra. Fuck. I take a moment to admire her perky tots and her pink hardened nipples, she shakes them a little signaling me to move closer. I move closer wrapping my lips around her nipple while sliding my hand up from her stomach to her other breast. I swirl my tongue around it making her shudder and sigh as she moves her hand into my hair. “Mmm..more.” she pleads.

I move my mouth from her breasts, looking up at her as i trail open mouthed kisses down the valley of her tits, down to her stomach, until i reach her very dampen panties. She bucks her hips up, the look in her eyes telling me to dive straight in and eat her like my last meal. I run my two middle fingers up and down her clothed pussy. “Paige..stop teasing.” she says, knuckles turning white as she grips the couch.

I oblige, sliding her panties off and taking in her glistening core. I press my palm against her clit. “God, Paige,” she breathes, trying to grind against it. I run my middle finger up and down her wet folds as she bites her lip hard enough to draw blood. “Mmm fuck ma, who got you this wet? I smirk, clearly enjoying the effect I have on her, and I lean in closer, “Y-you baby please..inside.” She pleads.

I slip one finger in. “This good?” I ask, knowing damn well it’s not. Vanessa shakes her head and I smirk, sliding in another, slow and steady, listening to how wet she is and how beautiful she moans. I could listen to that shit on repeat.

“Still not enough ma?” I murmur, cocky as hell, adding a third without waiting for her answer. A gasp slipping out before she can stop it. “Fuck!” she yells. I keep my eyes trained on her, curling my fingers just right , just the way I know she likes.

I lean in , my breath warm against her ear. "Yeah, thought so," I whisper.

My grip on her waist tightens as she arches her back up moaning, watching her struggle to keep up with the pace as I fuck her faster. "Daddy..." a soft moan in my ear.

My eyes flash, and I raise an eyebrow, "say it again," she brings her hand down to her clit rubbing it in tight slow circles, moaning at the sound of my fingers going in and out her dripping pussy. I’m so wet right now. "Fuck daddy..mmph feels so good please faster." My fingers push deeper, stretching out her tight hole with each thrust, slow at first, but quickly picking up speed as I watch her fall apart.

"Yeah, just like that baby." My voice dark, commanding, and I can see her barely keeping her balance, her body moving faster, desperate for every bit I’m giving her. My hand slides up to her neck, making her look at me as I push my fingers in deeper. Vanessa grips my shoulders, moaning, loud.

"Paige, please..." she manages, barely recognizing her own voice. My smirk just grows, fingers are moving faster now, curling to her spot, stretching her out so much.

"That's it, baby. Just let go, cum for me. You can do it," I babbled. Her breaths came faster, mingling with the squelching of my fingers thrusting in and out. "Paige, I... I can't," she breathed, but it sounded like a lie.

"C'mon V. I want to feel you, want to taste you. Just for me mama."

With each thrust, I could feel her teetering closer to the edge. "I'm trying," she gasped, her voice shaking as I moved her fingers deeper and faster . "I promise it'll feel so good. All over my fingers, just like that." I cooed and I can hear the desperation in my voice.

It was like a dam breaking.Her pussy clenching violently around my fingers. Her hips started to stutter as I curled my longest finger deeper massaging that gummy spot. Waves of pleasure washed over her, body trembling as shs fell apart under me, juices dripping on the couch h and my palm.

"Fuck, that's it," I murmured, fingers still moving in her as I guided her through it. "So good for me. You did it, baby."

Vanessa could barely respond. All I could think was how fucking good it felt to make her cum. For me.

———-

When it’s finally over, we’re both breathing heavily, tangled together in a haze. For a second, I think she might let me stay, that this time could be different. But then she’s reaching for her shirt, slipping it back on, a familiar guarded look settling on her face. And just like that, the walls are back up.

I wandered into the kitchen to wash my hands. The water ran cold, the silence between us loud. Once I was done, I turned around and spoke, "What're you doing later?"

She didn't even hesitate. "Hanging with my sister."

I shot her a side-eye. That was bullshit, and we both knew it. She was too quick with the excuse, not even trying to make it sound real. I smirked. "Sounds like bullshit to me."

She crossed her arms and shrugged, her face going a little tight. "Don't you have someone else to see? ! mean, I saw you after your game with that girl. What was her name again? Leah?"

My stomach twisted. She was bringing that up, huh?

It was funny how she could act like she didn't care about me, but then get all territorial when I wasn't looking.

"Seriously? You're bringing that up now?" I chuckled to mask the weird tension that was bubbling up in me.

"Yeah, I am," she snapped. "I don't like sharing Paige.”

The words hit me in a weird way. I hated and liked how possessive she could be, yet she wouldn't commit to anything. It didn't make sense. I could feel the pull between us, and the way she kept holding back while also keeping me at arm's length, all at once. It was frustrating as hell.

I looked at her, my voice dropping a little. "I don't share either. But I can't exactly do anything about that, can I?"

She was quiet for a second, her eyes shifting around the room before she shrugged again, like she didn't want to deal with the weight of what was just said.

"Tread lightly, okay?"

She was trying to put me in my place, make sure I knew who was "in charge". But it was fucking confusing, because she couldn't make up her mind about us. She wanted me, but she didn't want to admit it. And it drove me nuts.

Her face flickered for a second, and I could see she was holding back-just like always. "Fine. Enjoy your 'sister time' then."

We both knew what was really going on.

———-

A few nights later, I walked into Ted's with Azzi and KK, the noise of the bar flooding my senses. It was a usual after-game stop-loud, crowded, and full of people-but my mind wasn't on the win against Creighton. It was on something else entirely.

Someone else.

I didn't even have to look around to know where she was. My eyes found Vanessa almost instantly, like they always did. She was perched at the bar in a black leather romper, the zipper pulled just low enough to show off her tits, just enough to make my stomach twist. I couldn't help it. I wanted to walk up to her, grab her by the waist, and kiss her right there.

I wanted to feel her lips on mine again, to lose myself in the way she tasted, the way she felt.

But then, as I got closer, my heart slammed in my chest. I saw it.

Her arm was wrapped around Leah.

Leah. Fucking Leah.

I tried to keep my cool, to ignore the tight knot forming in my stomach, but the sight of them standing there, so close, it hurt. Leah had her hand on Vanessa's waist, while Vanessa? She was barely paying attention. She wasn't even looking at Leah.

Her eyes were darting around the room, scanning for... something. Or someone. Then, as if she sensed me from a mile away, her gaze finally landed on me.

"Paige!" Vanessa called out, her voice louder than it needed to be. Her smile wasn't a real one-it was forced, like she was trying to make everything seem normal. "What's up? What you doing here?"

I could feel the frustration bubbling up inside me, threatening to spill over. I didn't want to show her how much it hurt, but it fucking did. She was standing there with Leah, looking so unaffected, like she didn't give a damn about the mess she always left me in. I forced myself to respond, but it came out tighter than I expected.

"I'm here with Azzi and KK for a bit," I said, trying to sound nonchalant, but I knew the irritation was obvious. My voice was clipped, my jaw clenched. I couldn't hide it. The way she was acting-being so close with Leah, acting like nothing ever happened between us, like she wasn't the one who kept pulling me in and pushing me away-it was eating me alive.

Vanessa gave a little nod. "Yeah, well, me and Leah are heading to the bathroom. Catch you later."

She turned without another word, leaving me standing there, alone, feeling like the biggest fucking idiot.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the ache in my chest spreading. Every time I thought I was getting a handle on this, every time I convinced myself I could just let it go, she did something like this. Every time, I found myself right back where I started-confused, angry, hurt.

I stood there for a long moment, my head spinning.

My eyes followed them as they walked away, Vanessa's back turned to me like she didn't even care. But I knew better. I knew how she worked. I could read her, even when she tried to hide it.

What the hell was I doing? What the fuck were we doing?

And right then, I wanted to scream. I wanted to ask her what the hell she wanted from me, why she kept doing this to me. But I didn't. I couldn't.

I hated how much I still wanted her. How every time she pulled away, I let her, and it fucking killed me.

And I hated how much llet her see the hurt in my eyes, even when I didn't say a word.

But she didn't look back. And that made everything even worse.

———-

a/n: posted at 4 but atleast i posted ayeeee!

taglist ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @sierrale8ne @ohbueckers @absolutelydreadful @authentic-girl03 @mrsarnold

[destinyisastar]

Lost in your Love pt 2

read here for: pt 1

Summary: It's been seven years since you've been with Vox, what will occur on this hellish day?

Vox x Wife reader (Alastor x reader)

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

Hell’s morning red hue shines through your window as you twist yourself beneath the covers on your bed. You reach hand out to your left but are meant with an empty space.

You sit up stretching your arms and look around your bedroom searching for your lover.

There's a piece of paper on your nightstand you grab it, yawning.

“Had an early morning meeting, I’ll see you later this afternoon, buy yourself something nice sweetheart 💕.

-Vox”

Giggling you get yourself ready for the day. You head into the bathroom looking into the mirror “Today’s going to be a good day!”

You decided to pick out a dark blue dress with white short sleeves, Vox asked Velvette to make it specially for you.

“What should I do today?” You walk over to your shelf, “No I have enough books, oh wait….” You walk over to Vox’s closet and pull out his most recent tux.  He recently had an argument with Valentino, which lead the moth to scratch him, therefore ripping his tux.

“I’ll go to the tailor!” You know you can ask Velvette to patch it up but she’s more busy than ever with an upcoming fashion show.

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

As you exit the building, you can hear the hellish screams of sinners being tossed about.

Humming to yourself, you spot a camera and walk towards it blowing a kiss to the screen, you know that vox is always watching you, even if he can’t be there physically.  You like feeling protected, knowing that your husband cares for you.

A ding from your phone stops your humming.

“Don’t be out for too long, love you❤️”

You feel all giddy, you’ve never felt more loved.

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

Finally, you made your way into the Tailors shop.

“Hello! There’s a couple of rips here and there, do you think you could repair it?” You ask the owl sinner.

The sinner trembles, “Yes, o-of course I can give me a m-moment.” The owl takes the tux and goes toward the backroom.

There are a couple of seats, so you take one and pull out your book from your purse and flip through the pages to find the chapter you left off on. You take note that there seems to be a big commotion going on outside, but you don’t pay any mind.

The bell from the door rings, signaling that a new customer has walked in.

You don’t bother looking up, but you feel the presence ,a static like sound, of someone standing right in front of you.

You don’t move because why would anyone mess with Vox’s Wife?

“Y/n?” The voice sounds like a radio, no…. it can’t be… it can’t be the radio demon?!

You immediately look up.

The presence you felt was indeed The Radio Demon. The demon whose been missing for seven years.

What does he want with you? Is he planning to kill you? Does he want your soul?

You start to breathe rapidly, clutching your hand to your heart, “What do you want with me!?” You reach for your phone in your purse.

“Darling, calm down its just me.” Alastor the Radio Demon tells you calmly. “I’ve been looking for you.” He moves towards you even closer, but you shoot up from your seat making him back away, startled.

“NO! Stay away from me!” You start backing away from the demon, making your way slowly towards the door.

Just before you can turn the knob the Radio Demon grabs your hand.

“Y/n, my love what are you doing? Why are you running away from me?” His radio voice is turned off.

You feel yourself trembling, “Please! P-please don’t hurt me! I won’t tell my husband  that you were here! Let me go!”

Alastor lets go of your hand and you rush out the door.

You can see Vox on the television screens, he seems to be in a rage. The phone in your hand starts to vibrate rapidly.

“Y/n where are you babe?”

“Y/n?”

“Y/n come back home.”

“I’m not playing around.”

“Get home now”

More messages start to pour in from assistants to Velvette and even Valentino.

Whatever the Radio Demon did had stopped all services from your phone.

You run back to V Tower.

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

Alastor watched as you ran out of the tailor shop his mind seemingly blank.

His signature smile stretches even further up his face.

‘My Husband’

What did you mean by that?

Alastor was your husband.

No, is your husband.

Why are you afraid of him?

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

Give me your thoughts is it good? is it bad? critique my work please! (sorry if it seems short)

destinyisastar 2024

taglist: @songbirdpond @diffidentphantom @ginny-higgins

Word Count: 759

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡Sketches 🎨

You've ordered: a fizzy plum soda w/ mint! enjoy!

"Painter, baby, you could be the muse"

Gregory Violet x reader | word count: 597 words

Summary: gregory seems to have a new muse :) 🎨

Warnings: none! just fluff <3

Note: he's literally so cute, i love him pls- 💜 might be ooc, idk, i tried

You sat in the art room with Gregory, lightly chatting with him as he sketched away. You kept trying to sneak glances at what he was working on, only to be stopped as he clutched the leather bound sketchbook to his chest, an almost unreadable expression on his face as he'd shake his head.

"Come on, Gregory! Please let me see what you're drawing. Pleaseeeeee?" you begged, your boyfriend rolling his eyes as he shook his head once again.

"No, it's not done." he said the same thing the last time you asked and the time before that. You frowned, laying down and resting your head in his lap (you two were sitting on the floor).

You could see his concentration break a little as a tinge of pink dusted over his cheeks, his eyes glancing down at you for a split second before he went back to drawing. So you decided to patiently wait, rather than continuing to pester him about it.

"Gregory, would you ever draw me?" you asked, messing around with the rings on your fingers.

Gregory stopped mid pencil stroke and glanced down at you, your eyes meeting his.

"Depends..." he muttered, his two toned hair falling in his eyes a bit.

"On what?" you asked, reaching your hand up to move the black and white wisps away from his violet eyes before letting it settle on his cheek.

Gregory was obviously affected by your actions, his cheeks warm to the touch. Gregory didn't answer and instead, placed his sketchbook down. He gently held your hand that rested on his cheek and kissed the inside of your palm, your heart skipping a beat.

"You really want to see what I've been drawing?" he mumbled into your hand, your head nodding.

He let go of your hand and picked up his sketchbook again, flipping to the page he'd been working on for what seemed like hours.

"Here..." you took it, your fingertips brushing against his for a moment. When you turned it right side up, you felt like your heart would burst. On the page was a drawing....of you.

You were smiling brightly, your eyes half closed as a result. He'd done an amazing job capturing the likeness of your face, it was as if you were looking at a photograph.

"Gregory....this is beautiful..." you muttered, still surprised by the drawing.

"I was going to give it to you on your birthday, but since you were so eager to see it-" you mentally slapped yourself as he said that, realizing you'd ruined his surprise.

"This was going to be my birthday gift? Oh...I-I'm sorry I ruined the surprise...." you hung your head, feeling bad that your impatience got the best of you.

You felt gregory place a hand on your shoulder, telling you to look up at him. And when you did, he cupped your cheek, just like you'd done to him. You knew he wasn't very keen on physical affection, but he was slowly getting used to it.

"Don't beat yourself up over it. I can always make you a new one." he reassured you, a small smile on his lips.

You wrapped your arms around him in a hug, catching him a bit off guard. But he still hugged you back, gently holding you as you two sat on the floor of the art room.

"You're the best partner I could ever ask for." you hummed and gregory felt his heart warm up. He really did love you a lot, more than he could say. "I'm glad my sketch made your day." 🎨

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[heartfullofleeches]

Good Boy

Male Sub Yan Bully + G.N Reader

"I only need a good boy by my side, and I don't mean someone who'll have me home by eight. I want an obedient pet. Will you be that for me?."

Warnings/Tags: Top/Dom Reader, Anal Sex/Pegging, Cross-dressing, Light Degradation and pet play. Reader's gender is (obviously) never stated, but their parts are referred to as dick for ease.

Anyone with working eyes could see how whipped that boy was for you.

From the day he pushed past you in the hall, a faint spark started his heart stemming from the dismissive glare you back shot his way. That flicker was the match that blew everything into an explosive mess for your attention, igniting any obstacle in its wake. Your fellow peers avoided you for the continued safety of their fingers and social life, and every which way you turned he was there. His physical harassment didn't go beyond shoving you out of his way or snatching pencils and things meant for trash.

You never acted out against him - to his. Never ratted him out or even raised your voice. You hardly talked to him at all and that pissed him even off more. To make matters worse you were cordial in your brief encounters, and even threw off-handed comments his way. Trailing your fingers up his bicep when he forced himself at your table. Saying he looked "nice" with his hair up and out of the way of those pretty eyes. It drove him mad. He knew you knew he was too chicken shit to actually put hands on you and didn't bother wasting your energy to provoke him.

Recently, your dynamic had taken yet another turn. One, uneventful Monday morning, you strolled right up to his locker and patted him on the head as you walked off to class. His knees turned to jelly, and he nearly had a locker door slammed in his face following your hand as it left his soft locks. At lunch that very same day, you sat in his lap and even fed him his food - so long as he rushed through that project for his next class he was intentionally planning to fail. When the grades were sent back and you caught wind of his score, you kissed him on the cheek and ruffled his hair like you did before. His goons spread rumors of the two of you dating, but now everyone believed it with the leash you had around his neck. If he didn't get himself into detention, another pat. Good grades? Two kisses - if he work school appropriate clothing. Your switch from pretending he never existed to dotting on him like you were actual lovers boggled his mind to no end. What made you see him differently?

"This thing is way too damn short. I told you I'm not putting on fucking her bra - that's gross. Where the hell is my phone.. What the fuck?... give it to me. Post that and I will fucking ki-"

Oh - that would explain thing. It would explain a lot actually. All those weeks back, Erin had been asked by a friend to help deliver his sister's clothing to a nearby shelter with a few beers as payment. One of them had the brilliant idea to have a drinking contest with the loser having to try on her clothes. When it was discovered he had been pouring his into the grass, Erin was immediately disqualified and given his dues. They took video and posted it to his private page - forgetting about the person he made follow back. In all honesty, Erin had no problem wearing feminine clothing. It was just that everything that girl had absolutely shit tastes in fashion and not at all to kiss liking.

What he had on now was exactly his style.

Sliding a hand up his outer thigh, you loop two fingers through the heart shaped buckle attached to his garters and thigh highs. The spaghetti straps of his crop top hand loose and torn off his shoulders; neck and chest decorated in dark bruises and teeth marks. Circling your tongue around his puffy nipple, you pull it between your teeth - just to watch him squirm as your lips break contact with his chest; the strip of leather hanging from his thigh crackling against his skin as you retch your fingers free. He whimpers mutely, rubbing the stinging flesh into the mattress to prolong that fading bite. Grabbing his knee causes him to stop immediately, looking up at you with those pretty, pleading eyes through the whispy, dark ginger locks clinging to his sweaty forehead and cheeks. You smirk.

"What a good boy."

It had all been a test. You saw that video, and you had to have him. You knew he could be obedient with the right motivations and there was none better than giving yourself - and a little praise, to him. As usual, Erin was pissed when he found out you were training him like some.. dog, but he couldn't deny the guilty pleasure of you turning him into your bitch in front of the whole school. His cock throbs in his panties as his hazy mind replayed the billionth loop of you calling him yours; the phantom heat of your breath against his ears sending chills. Erin bucks away from the hand placed over the bump in his skirt so you wouldn't notice the pulse, but you certainly had. You close your fingers around his length, stilling him as another gloop of drool rolls past his lips.

"Eager Boy! I would love to help you with this, but.... I only need a good boy by my side, and I don't mean someone who'll have me home by eight."

You drop your lips to his ear, teasing the shell in just the way that made him cry out everytime. His little bated moans were the cutest thing.

" I want an obedient pet - and lover. Will you be that for me, Erin."

His cock ached at the first title; his heart sung at the next. He'd do anything to relieve the tension in both areas. Anything to be yours. Licking his bitten lips, he nods.

"I'll be good...."

You reach up to stroke his cheek. Erin nips at your fingers, rolling the metal ball of his piercing between each. He spits directly in your hand.

"Freak."

His chest rises with a shaky laugh, yet there's nothing but obedience in those eyes. It's a work in progress. You smack the meat of his thigh with your spit covered hand; the sound and force of the saliva hitting his send immeasurable. The e way his mouth falls open as he gasps - you would've thought he came right then and there if his solid erection wasn't in your opposite hand.

"You're lucky I'm nice. Turn over, pretty boy."

Leaning back, you help Erin lift his leg over your head as he turns over onto his stomach. Scooting forward, his ass falls into your lap as he sinks down. You raise the skirt that barely covered much to begin with and slip those lace panties down; pre-ejaculate smeared into its crotch. You wish you hand more time to appreciate his attire or shove those frilly garments down his throat, but as soon as he came through your door it was too your bedroom - and you wanted to hear his sounds nice and clear for your first time together. There would be plenty more nights in the future for you to do whatever your heart desired. Reaching forward, you tap his lips with your finger.

"Spit? Since you've already proven you don't mind getting your drool all over your master."

Erin opens his mouth - letting out a gagged yelp of surprise as your fingers shoot down his throat. He's never been more thankful for the lack of a reflex. Regaining what little composure he hand, Erin swirls his tongue around your fingers and hollows his cheeks as he suckles them as you drag them out his mouth. His head falls into the pillow as you draw your arm back to position; spreading his asscheeks as your lubricated thumb teases his hole. It slips in easier than you imagine and his back muscles go taught.

"Have you fingered yourself before?"

Erin buries his face in the pillow, eyes avoiding your stare. ".... toothbrush."

"Pfft - you whore. I was wondering what happened to that. Guess I don't have to ask who you were thinking about while you did it."

"At least you go your brains if anything ever happens to your face."

Frowning, you yank the hair still trapped in the scrunchie he wore. "Bad dog. Guess you won't need the prep then."

Removing your finger, you lend your cock to his hole. He hooks one arm under the pillow and reaches the other behind him. You take his hand and lock your fingers with his as you slip inside; pinning the limb to his back as you sink in. You pull your knees from under him and plant them in the mattress as you drag your girth out of his tight hole. Erin drops his free hand between his legs, but you quickly add your weight to his arm - immobilizing him.

"Ah-ah, I didn't say you could do that did I?"

Erin grumbles something under his breath, but thankfully you don't hear it. As a reward for staying still you kiss along his back up to the nape of his neck, right below his choker where you plant your teeth as you start off at a gradual pace. His skirt falls pack down a couple times which you lose care of after a while and let drap at your thighs. He keeps his lips separated from the pillow so his heavy breathes are audible - just like he knew you wanted. Such a good boy. Dropping your grasp to his waist, you tug him back with each thrust - virtually bouncing the drooling boy on your cock. His greedy hole and desperate whimpers suck you back in. Pleads he tempts to conceal with his moans ringing longer no matter how exaggerated his sounds become. Like everything when it came to you - he just couldn't keep it in.

"ngh...y/n...please...hah... give more."

"You want more this so soon? Hm, you've been good enough so far."

Yelping as your hips snap against the curve of his ass, Erin rocks his with a stutter - rutting his aching cock into the mattress chasing friction you refuse to provide. Your hand cracks hard against his right cheek and his back arches against your sweaty bare chest as he all but screams into the pillow now forced into snuffing his cries. You grab his jaw and his head pivots back to look up at you.

"So noisy.... It's unsightly of you, Erin. Like you're a different person now you've got a few inches in you. Tell me, are you my good little puppy or some bitch in heat using my dick to get off?"

Tongue petaled around your thumb, Erin cries out beneath its weight. "Mmph.." You lift your finger, smearing his drool into his cheek as you turn his head to face you.

"What was that, boy?"

"y-yours... 'm yours, I promise. I can be both. Please let me be both."

"We'll see about that." Standing on your knees, you yank Erin along with you and lock your arm around his neck to keep him from falling as you drill upwards into him. His cock bobs with each hammer of your hips into his and you have enough mercy to stroke him to completion as his eyes roll back in his head. You mouth more marks into his neck and shoulder blades, scrapping your teeth on the bone. Your name bleeds off his tongue like it's the only he's ever known and right now there couldn't be a truer statement. You suck one more fresh hickey to his neck and work on to his jaw, licking the stray tears that drip down to the corners of his mouth as you crush his windpipe in your hold - darting your tongue past his gasping lips. Erin groans in the blissful heat of the thirsty kiss, cumming into your hand and onto his thighs and your pillow. You rub the sensitive flesh for a few more strokes before letting him fall into his own mess. You join him on the unstained pillow and scoop your arm under his neck. He scoots over, resting his head on your chest - eyelids droopy and body slack. You brush his hair out of his face, pressing a kiss to his clammy temple.

"A quick rest, then it's the showers before bed for you, Mister.. You did amazing for me. Clean?"

You extend your hand; palm glazed with his spend. Erin scoffs, lips twitching into a faint smile.

"You're such a dick."

He sweeps his tongue over the salty fluid and licks it off the ball of your fingers, cringing at the taste, but doing as asked for once.

"True, but I'm your dick now."

He stops - eyes soft and more vulnerable than the entirety of your session. "You... were serious about that?"

"Of course. You're a good boy, Erin - when you want to be. I like you."

His head falls back to your chest, hand finding yours. "i... love you."

-

The next day at school, you walk in together with your wrist in his hand. You'd let him keep his big dog act for just a little longer. Stopping at your longer, Erin spots the one that got away - some little shit that snuck a note in your locker and fled his fury due to the teacher standing in the hall. His right hand tightens into a ball.

"Erin."

The student looks your way, shocked seeing the two of you so close. His shoulders relax as he shoves the fist into his pocket. Thankfully, you didn't have every period together. "See, i wasn't doing nothing."

You peck his cheek with a smile. "Good boy.

[technically-a-kiwi]

Part 1 | Part 2

Dear god, to think this journey began with this little goober I drew back in March...

I'm serious when I say all of this I've never planned, it was litteraly ment to just be a post with the title "Oh shit, Nebula Noise" and then bam, I'd go down my marry ways, but no, it's as if the story wrote itself in my head, it's the main reason why this AU has so little bound lol, it's as if C Noise had a mind of it's own from then on and decided to continue his story. I'm so glad all of this happened, so so grateful, I guess the journey choose me and not the other way around :)

Here's the evolution of the main two

It just got a lot cleaner as I learned as an artist, quite satisying to see hehe

now for the chef:

Holy shit how I absolutelly STRUGGLED with C Pep, design and colors, everything was a mess, I just have pages and pages of failed attemps. Funny how the character that wasn't ment to exist in the first place turned out to be my personal fav and the most important face of the AU lol. I'm so glad I went ahead and design him, you little ray of sunshine ❤ .

And finally, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who went through with me in this journey, by making fanarts, writing stories, commenting or just liking my AU, it means a lot for me that so many people complimented on my designs, on the colors I choose, it always went strait to my little kiwi heart ❤ .

Btw, do you know how the multiverse came about ? "Oh, it's Cosmic Peppino who bakes it", yeah sure, but that's not all, C Pep bakes the universes to bring them to reality sure, but do you really think he invents all those universes ? Ha ! C Pep is a terrible writer ! He only gives universes a physical form, the one making the multiverse... is you :)

You who draws your favorite characters, you who writes amazing scenarios, you who daydreams of incredible adventures. All of you is an importent part of the multiverse, so never stop imagining, never stop drawing and never stop writing ;)

Either that or Cosmic Pep gets unemployed...

Anyway, many thanks to all of you and good bye 🥝✨✨✨

[yawnderu]

Have you ever thought about paparazzi simon?👀

{Need that picture of you

It's so magical

We'd be so fantastical}

The last part would be so delulu paparazzi simon~

And maybe reader could be a high fashion model I don't know... You're free of choosing.

Ps: it's okay if you don't write about it, it's just my kinky brain that is messing with me🫠

ANON UR BRAIN. I love this concept sm omg. This man is so damn sneaky during his missions, and he'd apply those skills for taking pictures of you only. You ARE his only superstar efhjbhbjfe I def wanna write more Paparazzi!Simon, this is a small drabble fehjfebhj

Paparazzi!Ghost would be SO absolutely obsessed with you! Sure, it is his job to take pictures of you, but does he need to keep a collection of them in a physical, private folder?

Paparazzi!Ghost, who is fully smitten with you the moment you give him a smile so bright he almost forgot to click the shutter. He's the only paparazzi who doesn't invade your privacy or asks you extremely private questions to get a reaction out of you for his photos.

Paparazzi!Ghost, whose page consists exclusively of pictures of you and some of himself— never once revealing his face, of course, yet once you come across his Instagram by chance, you're able to see more pictures of his body, hobbies, and bike.

Paparazzi!Ghost, who replies to your DM surprisingly quick when you ask to meet up, curious about the behemoth of a man. He sometimes disappears for weeks and months, and you were lucky to catch him when he was back home.

''Ready?'' He asks, setting up the camera and crouching, trying to get the angle you asked for. You're currently leaning on his bike, tight jeans adorning your legs and his big leather jacket covering most of your skimpy blouse.

''Ready.'' The lights flash as he clicks the shutter multiple times, switching positions at the same time you change poses, each and every single one of them looking more alluring than the other. He makes sure to get a few pictures with each pose and new angle, wanting to remember this moment forever and hoping to keep the pictures he doesn't upload to social media on his private folder.

''Wait— I have an idea.'' Your hands reach out for the camera and he surprisingly allows you to hold it, getting up as he looks down at you, curious as to what you'll do. You motion for him to come closer until your back hits his chest, pointing the camera up and trying to get both of you in the frame. He gets the message instantly, arms wrapping around your shoulders from behind and leaning down, masked cheek against your own while you click the shutter, taking in his scent.

That picture of both of you never makes it out to his socials— a memory like that doesn't have a price.