#and like. im in my lower TWENTIES now

[t0omanyeyes]

Hey, could i get someone to do me a favour please?

Just, send me an ask or reply to this post or something and tell me to kick my ass into gear (or however else you'd prefer to tell me to Do The Things, phrasing doesnt matter lol)

For context: im joining what amounts to my first real D&D campain on monday, and i still haven't made my character 🙃

basically the problem is that im SUPER excited but that excitement means more anxiety and the lump of meat i call a brain has noticed that trying to work on my character causes anxiety, so now every time i even try to think about it i hit a wall of executive disfunction WHICH JUST GIVES ME MORE ANXIETY ABOUT IT AAAAAAAAAAAA

Anyways.

TLDR: i have Things I Need To Do, but the executive disfunction is hitting HARD rn and i could use some encouragement from anyone who's up for it

[cemetery-blooms]

danny ric out of f1 now i gotta pick a new driver to incessantly loathe for no good reason

[vagueiish]

if anyone has any examples of 30-something+ near/full NEETs eventually doing something worthwhile with their lives, that'd be greatly appreciated

[rafeandonlyrafe]

normal procedure

words: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ only!!, dubcon, gynecologist!rafe, patient!reader, virgin!reader, gyno exam, fingering, p in v sex, protected sex

a/n: we can pretend that this is a roleplay scenario because obviously no real doctor would do this, lets all take a breath and remember this is fanFICTION aka not real or an endorsement by me (or my readers) of anything in this story

“oh, um-” you gulp, blinking as the fluorescent lights shine down on you.

“your feet ma’am.” he repeats, tapping the stirrups. you lift your legs, well aware that you're lacking any sort of underwear underneath your hospital gown.

your doctor secures your legs in the straps before his eyes drift to your center, now on display with your parted thighs.

you gasp and pull your gown down to somewhat cover yourself.

“ma’am, i assure you this is all part of the normal exam.”

“i-i-” you swallow thickly, blinking again, swearing the lights are only getting brighter, hotter, as a bead of sweat forms and falls on your forehead. “what's your name?”

“im doctor rafe cameron. certified gynecologist. you can just call me rafe though.” he explains softly. “and there is no need to be nervous.”

“okay… how long have you been a gynecologist?”

“asking all these questions is just going to delay what we need to get done.” rafe says. “shall we begin?”

“i suppose.” you nod. you know usually girls wait until after they have sex for the first time to visit, but with your twenty first birthday coming up as still a virgin, you decided you might as well stop delaying the inevitable.

“im just going to lift your gown.” rafes hands are slow and gentle as he brings the hem up, revealing your bare cunt to him.

“does it all… look okay?” you question. 

“you look perfect.” rafe says, his voice lowering in tone as he reaches for his gloves, pulling the latex over his long, slender fingers.

“okay.” you nod. surely a doctor would know. it lessens your anxiety the tiniest bit.

“im going to touch you now, okay?” rafe looks up at you, and his eye contact holds you still, blue eyes gleaming with intensity as they look into your brown ones.

“y/f/n?” 

“oh, yes.” you nod quickly. “yes, that's fine.”

rafe hums, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk. “so if i read your chart correctly, you haven't had sex yet?”

“no, s-sir.” you shake your head, eyes moving to the ceiling to avoid that captivating gaze, even if the fluorescents make your eyes hurt.

rafe mutters something under his breath, but you're sure your ears are just playing tricks on you. no way he would whisper “perfect” to himself. surely he's a professional.

rafe lays two fingers on your inner thigh and your entire body jolts, the gloves cold against your bare skin.

“it's okay.” rafes other hand rests on your thigh, rubbing gently with his thumb. “im going to begin the exam, if you feel any discomfort at any point just tell me.”

“okay.” you nod, and you swear despite the chilly gloves, his touch leaves a trail of fire as he brings his two fingers closer to your pussy, before suddenly swiping through your folds.

“oh!” you squeal out, hips lifting slightly before pushing back down.

“it's a normal bodily reaction.” rafe assures you before you can even feel embarrassment.

rafes fingers swipe through again, but at least you're expecting it this time. you blink quickly, trying to keep yourself calm as his other hand moves to join in examining your cunt.

“just going to use my thumbs to look around. let me know if it gets to be too much.”

just as rafe said, his thumbs begin to pull and poke at your skin. you move your gaze from the ceiling back down to rafe, seeing the same intensity in his eyes but now focused on your pussy.

“im going to touch you some place that may make you feel… fervent. please know that any reaction your body may have is normal and all part of the exam.” rafe places his thumb directly over your bud, and your body lights up like a firework.

you don't even realize you're moaning until the side of rafes mouth quirks up again into that signature smirk.

“oh!” you squeal again. “oh my god, im so sorry.”

“it's all normal.” rafe assures you. he gives you a moment to get used to the pressure on your clit, simply touching it with the pad of his thumb before he begins to swipe over it, stimulating your clit while his eyes move back and forth between your pussy and your face contorted in pleasure.

“is this supposed to feel so good?” you question. you didn't do much research on what actually happens when you get in the gynecologists chair, but you swear what you've heard from friends is that the exam isn't comfortable.

“yes.” rafe says simply, and you have no reason to not take his word as truth. “my thumb is going to stay there as i insert a finger.”

you nod, glad to have the distraction of his thumb moving around your clit, even if your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you grow wetter.

“hm, looks like i won't need any external lubricant.” rafe looks up at you. “sometimes i have to with virgins. but your pussy is perfect.”

“thank you?” your thought process is quickly shut off as rafes finger prods at your entrance, getting his gloves significantly wet.

“sorry if this is cold, but i have a feeling you'll warm me up quickly.” rafe pushes his finger inside slowly, and you have to tilt your head back and squeeze your eyes closed to keep more sounds from coming out of your mouth.

“does it all feel normal?” you're well aware at your voice must sound strained as rafes finger rubs against your inner walls.

“yes.” rafe says, this time his voice having an air of shakiness to it. “you're tight, but it's to be expected from a virgin.”

“s-sorry about that.” you can't tell if rafes emphasis on the word is negative or positive. “i didn't see myself losing it anytime soon so i scheduled my appointment.”

“and why is that darling?” rafe questions, his voice a purr as he begins to move his finger in and out in slow strokes.

“why am i a virgin? uhh…” you trail off. “i guess just haven't found the right guy yet.”

in truth, the whole idea of sex gets you nervous. hopefully after getting assurances that everything works okay down there, it'll be one less thing to be anxious about.

“we can take care of that today if you'd like.”

the thumb stroking over your clit flicks upward suddenly, making your hips jump up, legs straining in their spread position.

“what do you mean?” you ask, feeling and hearing rafes finger speed up, your slickness making it easier and easier for him to move.

“i can take your virginity. it's part of my duties as your doctor. only if you'd like, it's an optional part of the exam.”

“you mean like… insert something in me?”

“yes, my cock.” rafe smirks as he pulls his finger out, tapping against your wetness and letting the sound spread through the exam room.

“oh!” you look at rafe to make sure he's serious, but his expression doesn't convey any sort of joking around. “gynecologists do that?”

“for our virgin patients if they'd like. id wear a condom of course and take your virginity so it's less of an ordeal for you. and i can assure everything is working fine.”

“and by everything you mean…”

“making you cum.” rafes thumb applies a bit more pressure to your clit. “although you're already not far off, are you?”

“wouldn't know.” you can feel something growing in the pit of your stomach, an unfamiliar feeling you can't quite place.

“what do you say y/f/n?”

“s-sure.” you nod. “if this is all normal, i guess it's fine.”

“great.” rafe smiles, before looking down at your cunt. “ill have to work two fingers into you before fu- helping you lose your virginity.” he explains.

thankfully, his thumb keeps tapping and pressing down on your sensitive bud as a second finger lathers itself in your wetness, sliding through your folds before dipping into your cunt.

his finger are barely an inch inside before they're back out. “you'll have to excuse me for going one handed for a second.”

rafes thumb moves away from your clit, and you're about to cry out for more, immediately missing the feeling, when rafes mouth drops and his tongue takes its place.

“doctor!” you shout.

“all normal.” rafe assures you, his lips already shining with your juices. “taste is an important part of the exam too. and you're very sweet.”

you watch as rafes head dips again, his mouth working on your cunt as his two fingers that you hadn't even realized have been pushed inside of you begin to move.

rafes free hand reaches for his pants, pushing them down to get his already hard cock out. he begins to stroke as his tongue licks at your clit, fingers opening you up.

you feel another jolt of pressure when his fingers spread to scissor and close, scissor and close, working your gummy walls open for him.

rafe presses a series of wet, sloppy kisses over your cunt before restraining himself and pulling back, licking greedily over his lips to not waste your taste.

“are you ready?” rafe asks, reaching into a drawer to get a condom.

“yes.” you nod quickly. you're more than desperate now for his cock, especially as his fingers slide out and leave you empty to squeeze around nothing.

rafe stands up, bringing his cock up into your sight line. your eyes widen when you see he's much longer and thicker than his two fingers that were already a tight fit inside you.

“don't worry.” rafe says as he tears the foil of the condom before getting the rubber out and rolling it down his length. “im gonna take good care of you.”

your hips already sit at perfect height as rafe steps between your legs. you would close them out of shyness if it was at all possible.

rafe taps his tip over your clit, making you moan out, but you don't bother to hold back, not when rafe lets out a moan as well.

“the room is completely noise proof, and sounds are nothing to be embarrassed by.” rafe assures you as he rubs his cock against your pussy, thoroughly wetting himself before pushing against your entrance.

it's a slow push to break the ring of muscle, and then an easy slide once he's in.

“h-holy shit.” you whine out, hands gripping the side of the bed as rafes hips immediately begin to swing in and out.

“any pain?”

“none.” you answer quickly. there's no hiding the intense pleasure being brought to your body, especially when rafes thumb retakes its place on your clit.

“there ya go.” rafe smiles as he feels your cunt flutter around his cock. “i can tell you're getting close.”

rafe glances at the clock, wishing he could fuck you for longer, but if he extends the time for the exam too long the nurses will surely get suspicious.

“how does it f-ffffffff-” your ability to speak briefly lapses when rafes thrust speed up. “feel for you?” you manage to complete your sentence.

“your pussy feels amazing. you're so tight and warm. any guy would be lucky to be inside of you.” rafe says, his hips moving faster, desperate to cum. “perfect.”

you are practically glowing underneath the praise and impending orgasm, rafes thumb moving faster with real purpose now.

your head tips back and before you know it, a wash of light and pleasure has taken over your body, and you're moaning and twitching as what you're certain is your high breaks.

“that's it.” rafe smiles, feeling your pussy flutter around him, clit pulsing with the strength of your orgasm as he thrusts harder into your pussy, putting all his might into helping you ride out your orgasm and spur on his own.

rafe lodges his cock as deep inside of you as he can as he cums, briefly cursing the barrier of the condom from preventing himself from flooding your womb.

“very- good.” rafe pants, pulling out extra slow despite the clock ticking down, watching as your hole squeezes back tight as he pulls out.

rafe discards the condom and then his soaked gloves, sticky with your wetness before tucking himself back into his pants.

“take all the time you need.” rafe undoes the stirrups and let's your legs flop down. “ill come check on you in five minutes, i need to see if my other patient is here.”

and just as quickly as he entered, rafe leaves the room, leaving you with your pussy a sloppy mess and heart beating fast.

[kitten4sannie]

backstage back shots with san ♡

a/n: listennnnn im still fighting with writer’s block and it’s winning i’m not even gonna lie to you but …… COACHELLA SAN. i wrote this in twenty minutes so please don’t expect a full fledged masterpiece TT that being enjoy the brainrot babes <333

w.c: around 500 words

warnings: reader’s older in this (she’s their manager shjsdh), dom! san, possessiveness, dirty talk, semi public sex, tit play, unprotected sex, back shot

Once San left that stage, he could feel his heart pounding against his glistening chest, his ears still ringing from the intense surge of adrenaline outlining his wired brain and body, and he could still hear their fans chanting and cheering for them, even as he made his way through the hectic backstage area. All of it concocted an invigorating mix of exhilaration inside San that he couldn’t shake. It almost bordered arousal.

It didn’t help when he saw you, Ateez’s precious manager, opening your arms up to him for a hug with a bright smile on your face, tears in your eyes, and an endless bout of praise leaving your pretty lips.

“I’m so, so proud of you, San…” you whispered into his ear, unaware of the state he was in, until you felt something hard pressing into your lower abdomen.

“How proud, Manager-nim?” he whispered back, running his fingers down along your waist, squeezing into them enough to make you squeak. “Do I deserve a reward?”

“A r-reward? I mean, of course you do, but…right here? Right now?”

San slowly led you backwards until you both were just barely out of sight of the event’s employees and your beloved coworkers. He rubbed his thumbs gently over your hips, angling his head down to see the way his hardened cock pressed into your body through his designer pants. “Right here…right now…”

You gulped, knowing everything about the situation was wrong, but you couldn’t help but to give in, like every time before.

-

San had you just how he liked, with your bare ass on full display for him, watching it bounce each time he pushed himself into you, groaning at the sensation of your hot cunt swallowing his cock up like you were made for him. You practically were, considering the way you always spread your legs for him, even as his boss. But, how could you say no?

San leaned forward, his bare, heated chest pressing heavily against your back, his throbbing cock hitting your sweet spot even easier at this new angle, resting his chin on your shoulder. He looked at you through the corner of his eyes, his lips quirked up into a knowing smirk. “Hey, Manager-nim. Whose pussy is this?”

“I-it’s yours, San,” you breathed out, feeling your cunt begin to squeeze around his length, your legs starting to grow weak underneath you.

“Yeah?” San perused, running his hands up under your disheveled clothes to grope at your tits, squeezing them in between his thick fingers, flicking and pulling at your nipples just to hear you try to hold back your pretty moans. “This cunt is all mine? Mine to fuck raw and fill with my load? Mine to use whenever I’d like, huh?”

Just as San’s filthy words left his mouth, you felt him go into overdrive, fucking into you so hard, you could hardly catch your breath, clawing at the walls of the backstage as an attempt to keep from completely losing yourself in the immense pleasure. “Yes, yes, yes…!” you cried out, knowing from the pleased groans and growls coming from San that you were creaming yourself on his rapidly moving cock.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl. You’re so filthy, Manager-nim…” San exhaled against your ear, dragging his tongue up along it, just as his body began to shudder and his rough thrusts were instead replaced by the slow, concentrated rolling of his hips. “Let me make you even filthier, okay?”

You looked back just in time to see him pull out and rest his thick cock against your ass, admiring his flushed, sweat-covered face, the way he could barely keep his eyes open, and the way his blazer was falling off of one of his broad shoulders. You didn’t look down until you began to feel something hot covering your lower back, watching as he painted the rest of your exposed skin and disheveled clothes with white.

San simply smiled back at you, running his fingers through his glistening hair to keep it from falling into his upturned eyes. “Thank you for the reward, Manager-nim. I’ll work even harder during the next stage because of you.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. “That’s wonderful to hear, San.” You shivered, suddenly feeling San’s load drip down your back and along your ass. “Now, if you don’t mind, could you help me clean this mess up?”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[hearts4hughes]

oh, professor - professor!rafe x student!fem!reader

WARNINGS: smut ; mdni ; p in v ; oral (f receiving) ; degradation ; unprotected sex ; age gap (reader is 22 & rafe is 29)

A/N: i started this writing for someone else, but changed it because it gave off so much rafe energy. all im needing rn is to get attention from professor!rafe

you sit in the dimly lit library. your leg bouncing up and down under the wooden table. it was late— too late for a tutoring lesson, especially one with your professor.

rafe, your professor, sat across from you. his presence was both distracting and irritating. you hate the way his eyes pierce through you, reading every thought you tried to conceal. he is only seven years older, but he wore his authority with a confidence that made your blood boil.

“if you actually paid attention, you would understand the material, y/n.” rafe says, his voice teasing and raspy. you shoot him a glare, your arms crossed over your body.

“i am paying attention,” you retort with a tight lipped smile. the lie leaked from the sides of your lips. how could you focus when every fiber of your being is aware of him?

he leans closer, his scent intoxicating as it fills your nostrils. your heart races in your chest. “then prove it.” he challenges, leaning back with a smirk.

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. your mind is blank. rafe grins with pride, his cheekbones highlighted by the lightning in the room.

“it’s hard to think when you’re putting me on the spot.” you roll your eyes.

he stifles out a laugh in response.

at the start of your sophomore year at the university of north carolina, you were assigned to professor rafe cameron’s class. he was new to the college, and his arrival spread like a wildfire. he was tall with piercing blue eyes and a muscular body that was evident even under his formal clothes.

from the moment he walked into the classroom, he wore a confident strut in his steps. the girls practically swooned at him. as the semester went on, the outfits the students wore got smaller— each girl trying to catch his attention. however, he kept it professional, not looking lower than he needed to.

it all made you scoff. professors were supposed to be older and wiser than their students. but he was only twenty-nine! how could you truly respect him when he was barely older than you?

you couldn’t, and it didn’t go unnoticed. rafe had noticed you ever since you stumbled into class. his eyes followed you day after day, week after week, but you never shared that interest. you didn’t attempt to flirt with him or invite him to a party, you were totally indifferent. it enticed him.

however, ignoring your professor wasn’t the smartest idea. as a former straight a student, you were failing one class only— his. even though it was unusual for a professor to directly tutor a student, rafe offered to, leaving you no choice if you wanted to keep up your grades.

the tension between you and rafe was palpable. every week the fog surrounding the two became thicker.

“you’re not concentrating.” rafe spoke, breaking the silence. his voice was softer now, almost gentle.

“i’m trying.” your words were dismissive.

he sighs, closing his notebook. “maybe we should take a break.”

you nod in response.

as he stretched his arms above his head, his shirt pulled taut against his abdomen, revealing the outline of his abs. you looked away quickly, a red flush rising to your cheeks.

“why do you do that?”

“do what?” you ask, feigning innocence.

“act like you hate me,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “i know you don’t.”

you scoff. “why should it matter if i like you or not? you're my professor, not my roommate.”

“it begins to matter when your grades plummet.” he says plainly, tilting his head to the side with a smug expression.

you clench your fists by your side. frustration coursed through your veins like a wildfire. “you think you’re so smart, don’t you? you’re only a few years older than me!”

he chuckles, the sound so entrancing it made you gulp. “i’m smart enough to know that you’re scared to admit that you like me. that maybe, just maybe, you find this as intoxicating as i do.”

your heart pounded in your chest. “this is ridiculous.” you mutter under your breath. “i don’t need this, i’ll figure this class out myself.”

his smirk only grew deeper as you rushed out of the door. as the north carolina air hit your skin, it was hard to ignore the pulsating between your legs. looking back towards the library, you scoffed.

**

the next morning you find yourself back in rafe’s lecture hall. the room is filled with the scent of coffee and the rustle of college students.

you take your usual spot in the middle of the class. as you unpack your books and laptop, a figure sits besides you. you glance at the boy as he smiles, mirroring your action of setting up his academic station.

“hey,” he greeted. “you always sit in these seats, don’t you?” he smirks. “i’m gavin by the way.” you can’t help but blush as he holds out his hand.

you shake his hand, “hi, i’m y/n.” you reply, your hand still lingering in his. “and what can i say, i like routine.” he chuckles at your cheeky comment.

he’s cute with a dirty blonde mop of curls on his head. his eyes brown eyes are doe and kind. his jaw is sharp and his dimples pop when he smiles. he’s the all american perfect boy. the rest of the lecture is harder to focus on as he sits besides you. every so often, he steals glances at you and whispers jokes into your ear.

rafe notices the second the male student sits besides you. he notices how the boy’s gaze lingers on you and your cleavage, and how he’s so desperate for an ounce of attention from you. it makes his body tense and his lungs tight. it’s unbelievably hard to stay on track during the lesson which causes him to end the class fifteen minutes early.

“we’ll pick this up next class. see you all next week.” he clasps his hands together, signaling the end of period.

you stand up, slinging your bag over your shoulder as gavin follows you like a loyal puppy. within steps of the exit, your professor calls out to you.

“y/n, can you stay after class, please?” rafe calls out towards you. his body was stiff and jaw tense. the usual glimmer in his eyes was replaced with a greenish tinge.

girls besides you sneered as you nodded your head, waiting until the rest of the students filtered out before you walked towards him.

“yes, professor?” you said, your voice bitingly sharp.

“we didn’t get to finish our conversation from last night.” he tisked, his eyes raking up and down your body. “you left so abruptly.”

“well, we were done tutoring, so i had no other reason to stay.” the words are sharp off your tongue, only encouraging him more.

he stared deeply into your eyes. his eyes held an ocean filled with lust and secrets. it was as if there was a siren in the waters, singing and drawing you in.

you broke eye contact, allowing your gaze to fall onto the ground. he chuckled as if he had won a bet. your cheeks blushed something fierce.

“make a new friend today?” he asks as he moved his body around his desk. he was now standing directly in front of you, leaning on his desk. his dress shirt pulled against his body, emphasizing his impressively muscular arms.

he is a work of art.

you turn your head, “i’m not sure what you mean.” your voice was shaky and you weren’t sure if it was because of the tension in the atmosphere or the tension between your legs.

“really?” he challenges. “i could have sworn you were talking to that boy during my lecture.”

“it was just a conversation, rafe.” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual. however, your heart rate increased under the confines of your clothing.

he took a step closer, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. “oh, i’m rafe now? what happened to professor? and it seemed like more than a conversation.” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “i don’t like seeing you flirt with other students.”

you swallow harshly. “yeah? and why’s that?” your words were an attempt to maintain steady, but you knew who was controlling the conversation.

his lips curved into a smirk, his eyes darkening with desire. “you don’t have to pretend with me, y/n.” his voice was soft. he reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “i know you want this just as badly as i do.”

the fire burning in your core intensified.

“we can’t do this.” your mind was telling you no, but your heart was screaming yes. “y-you’re my professor, and i’m a student.”

“i know.” his voice was sultry. chills traveled along your skin as his finger traced your arm. “i’m no good for you, but doesn’t that make this all so much better?” he leans in, whispering into your ear.

his lips dropped from your earlobe onto the skin of your neck. he sucks along the sensitive skin, biting ever so gently.

“rafe,” you breathe out. he hums in response, his arms wrapping around your body as he pulled you close. “kiss me.”

without any hesitation, his lips landed on yours. his lips were soft, yet demanding, moving against yours in a fiery rhythm. your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between. the bulge beneath his dress pants began to grow.

you could feel the heat radiating from him, mixing with your own. the kiss depend, his tongue teasing your mouth. a moan escaped you, echoing around the empty classroom. he flipped you around, lifting you up, and sitting you on his desk. your legs separated as he stood in between them.

breaking the kiss, he gazed into your eyes, his lips still a shadow on yours. “do you know how long i’ve wanted to do that?” he whispered, his voice dripping with pure desire.

you were breathless in a haze of pleasure and desire. “what else have you wanted to do?” you look at him through your lashes. your doe, sweet eyes flicking a switch inside of him as he growls in response.

his hands traveled to the hem of your shirt before swiftly ripping it off. you sat clad in a black, lace bra, leaving little to the imagination.

“you’re ethereal.” his words painted a pink flush on your cheeks.

one hand reaches behind your back, unclasping your bra and revealing your perky tits. you gasp as his mouth attaches onto one of your nipples, sucking voraciously.

your legs wrap around his waist as you melt into his touch. every rational thought fled your mind, replaced by a primal need to feel pleasure; to feel him.

“rafe,” your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling every time his tongue swirls around your sensitive nipple. he responded with a moan, dropping to his knees in front of you.

you took in the sight as he unclasped your jeans. his hair was a tousled mess, his lips swollen, face flushed, and eyes hungry with desire.

he pulled the material down your legs, discarding it elsewhere in the room. your matching lace panties made his mouth hang agape.

he looked up at you, “are you sure about this?” you nod, your body squirming in need of touch. he tisked with a grin, “i need words, sweetheart.”

“yes.” the words couldn’t have left your lips faster.

the second he heard your consent, he dropped his head down to your lower body. he began at the edge of your thighs, licking a trail up to your inner thighs. his hands moved with purpose, swirling circles around your legs, but never in the one spot you desperately wanted.

he took his time, savoring each moment as he licked, kissed, and sucked the skin along your thighs and waist.

you wiggled as you grew impatient. he chuckled, taking a hint and suddenly pressing his tongue flat against the thin material of your black panties. your head fell back in pleasure.

he made quick work of pulling your panties to the side and licking a long stripe up your folds. your fingers find their way to his hair, where you tug and pull. that only encourages him more as he begins to lap up your core like a man starved. his nose pushes against your clit as his tongue penetrates deep inside you.

the sight of his handsome face buried between your legs made you whimper, clenching around nothing but his muscle. your juices covered the lower half of his face as he continued to please you.

“taste so much better than i imagined.” he coos, shifting his focus from your hole to your bundle of nerves. you whimpered when his tongue circled around the little nub. he smirked against you.

“i’m gonna-” you interrupted yourself with a gasp as his ring and middle finger entered you. you stretched around his digits, leaving your mouth agape. he pulls away from your legs to look at you as he curls his fingers just the right way.

it wasn’t long before he began pumping his fingers in and out of you at a merciless pace. you felt the knot in your stomach tightening as he continued his assault on your pussy.

and just as you were about to come undone on his fingers, he pulled them out. your eyes shot open and you opened your mouth to argue, but his lips crashed against yours in a hungry battle between tongues. he pulled away with a tisk.

“think i was just going to reward you for being a brat?” he shook his head. “after you flirted with that ass in front of everyone? gotta teach you a lesson, honey.” he undid his buckle and dress pants before allowing them to drop to the ground.

your eyes widened as he freed his thick length from the confines of his boxers. his tip was painfully throbbing, in need of release. he ran his finger over his tip, collecting precum and spreading it across his cock. he hisses at the feeling, only causing the ache between your legs to intensify.

he scoffs as you spread your legs wider for him. “such a needy little slut, huh? need your professors dick that bad? so pathetic.” his words send a shock straight to your core, making your legs twitch. he smirks as he steps between your legs. he grabs himself and teases your entrance. when his tip knocks at your clit that’s when you turn into a cock drunk mess.

“please, rafe. i need you so bad that it hurts.” his smirk widens as you beg. while keeping eye contact, he bottoms out completely in you. you want to scream at the pleasure, but all that falls from your mouth are whiney, pathetic whimpers.

he doesn’t give you time to adjust before thrusting ruthlessly into your sopping cunt. his thick length stretches you out deliciously. his hand drops to your clit, rubbing in circular motions to ease the pain into pleasure.

his hand claps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head feel hazy. he continuously pounds into you. his tip kisses your cervix causing you to yell out in pure ecstasy. he smirks as he looks down at your stomach. with each thrust his cock bulges against your skin.

“rafe, it’s too much.” you breathe out, squirming around. his hand tightens around your throat and his other clings to your hips, holding you down as he fucks you.

“you can fucking take it.” he spat, his lips connecting with yours. it’s a clash between teeth and tongues as the knot in your stomach intensifies.

he leans back in his heels, hitting a new angle. his dick hits your g-spot continuously, bringing you to your climax. you cream around his length and it spills onto the floor below you as he doesn’t slow up on his thrusts.

you lay limp, clinging to his biceps as he spills inside of you. you’re thankful that you’re on the pill because nothing ever beat the feeling of his sperm painting your walls. breathlessly, he slows down his strokes. he pulls out, kneeling down and watching your mixed juices spill out of your worn-out core. using his fingers, he pushes his release back into you, marking you as his.

“i think you just earned some extra credit.”

[hollandsangel]

2:15 am | c. sturniolo

HI yes im alive who’s surprised (me, i am)

self proclaimed mayor of the ‘chris can’t sleep alone’ club (doing gods work, you’re welcome)

summary: chris cant sleep & you’re the perfect remedy

wc: 834

gif by @hotelstares !

you haven’t been asleep very long. maybe twenty minutes or half an hour.

you’re in the midst of a fuzzy dream when your phone starts to vibrate on your dresser next to your bed. the sound is difficult to recognize at first, getting all mixed up with your dream in your mind. eventually it wakes you up, tugging you away from the soft haze you’d been emersed in.

groggily, you reach over for the device, squinting your eyes to try and read the contact. your eyes are bleary, but you’re able to make out your boyfriends name and contact photo after a brief seceond.

“chris?” you wonder through the line upon answering, voice thick with sleep and hardly above a whisper.

“hey ma,” his voice is smooth, like he hasn’t been asleep yet.

“hi…i think i was dreaming about you,” you say as you let your head fall back against the pillow, rubbing gently at your eyes with your other hand.

“yeah?” he says through a deep breath. the smile your confession elicits from him is audible and contagious.

“yeah, either that or i just spent the last four days with you and my brain hasn’t realized we’re apart yet,” you think he must be able to hear your smile as well.

“my brain hasn’t really realized it either,” he mumbles, getting a little bit shy.

you close your eyes, content being soothed by his voice.

“what time is it?” you ask him, even if you could easily look at your phone screen for the answer. opening your eyes feels like too much work.

chris answers of course, without hesitation, “2:15,”

“it’s pretty late, you okay, bub?” you ask him before answering your own question, “can’t sleep?” you know how he gets, always needing someone close by when he drifts off.

you can imagine it’s a bit difficult tonight, considering you spent the last few nights sharing his bed. you’d found it a little harder than normal too, having gotten used to his arms tucked around you, his face pressed against your shoulder blade.

“i miss you,” he mutters and it makes you blush, “and i don’t wanna crawl into bed with matt or nick, i know it won’t help,” he admits, letting out a long breath.

“you wanna come over?”

“would that be okay?” he seems a little bit embarrassed, like he might be inconveniencing you.

“of course, chris,” you open your eyes now, reaching over to turn on your bedside lamp, “i want cuddles now,” you say sheepishly, face still half pressed against your pillow, muffling the words.

“mmk, i’ll get an uber, be there soon,”

“kay, love you,” you sigh, waiting for him to hang up.

“love you too,” he says first, making you smile even if you’ve heard it a thousand times.

in the twenty minutes it takes for chris to show up, you’re drifting in and out of sleep, trying your hardest to keep the lull of exhaustion at bay as you wait, no matter the difficulty.

soon enough, the sound of a key in the lock sends a small jolt of wakefulness through you, and you anticipate the subtle push of the door as he comes through to your bedroom.

“nick or matt’s bed wasn’t good a enough?” you tease, watching him turn a little red as he shuffles into your room.

“i wanted to sleep in your bed,” he mumbles, beanie hanging low and covering his eyebrows, pajama pants hanging lower. he lifts the duvet and crawls in with you, immediately wrapping you in his arms, “nd’ i wanted to sleep with you, not my stinky brothers.”

you laugh, stifling it against the blankets “m glad you’d rather snug with me,”

“you kidding? you’re the best snugger around.”

“i’d say,” you hum, tugging his beanie off and tossing it somewhere on your floor.

he gives you a squeeze before reaching over to turn you so you’re facing him, “thanks for letting me come over,” he mutters, beaming in the low light. he looks so pretty like this, grinning down at you, illuminated by the soft glow of your lamp. he reaches up slightly and brushes your hair from your face.

you have a small moment of realization; he’s admiring you the same way you’re admiring him. you think your heart grows in size, gratitude making it swell up.

“thanks for comin’,” you whisper back, leaning up so your noses touch.

chris closes the gap, giving you a gentle kiss before pulling back and kissing your forehead too.

“night,” he tucks you against him, keeping you close, “i love you,” it’s sweet, how his tone changes. it’s tired now, chalked full of sleep and you can’t help but think it’s because he’s with you now, and that’s what puts him at ease enough to finally relax.

“i love you too,” you whisper into the barely-there space between you, watching as his eyes close and his lashes kiss the tops of his cheeks.

you can’t help yourself, leaning forward just enough to kiss him there too.

.

.

.

.

tags ! @st4rswrld @urfavvev3lyn @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears @its-jennarose @strnilolo @grimholic @tworosesblackthorn @mattscoquette @dazednmatthews @pinkishpearls

[rizsu]

ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤ◟ the infamous instagram live. . . ! ── gojo satoru ﹕ jujutsu kaisen.

﹙ rookie mistake ﹚ ⊹ being a new-gen actor had its perks. it's easy to gain a fanbase, gain recognition, and easy for your show to go viral. what's not easy, however, is privacy. someone's bound to expose..

love, ‘su › the comments are typed out like “@cuntcarti: heyyy” for authenticity bc i am not recreating a real ig live in smau format #lazy

“hey guys! what's up?” satoru's oddly close to the camera. his nose being the most prominent feature in everyone's screen.

he's been on tour for jujutsu kaisen's new movie and it's been far too hectic. if it weren't for the luxurious hotel's service, he would've died in between schedule. the hours the crew were allowed to slumber slowly decreased: from eight to five to three to twenty-five minutes — just unnecessarily busy.

aside from experiencing the dark side to being an actor, he enjoys the fame. the attention that comes with it is nothing compared to the lightheaded feelings he feels everytime it's 8pm. being a crazed attention seeker is the main reason why he's live when he really, really should be asleep.

@satonuts: tilt the phone down lets see whats there

@daily-jjk: back up a little..

@nanamiroleplay: how's it been?

@tojiggle: drop the pants

“god forbid a man gets close to his screen,” he jokingly grumbles, shifting his position to laying down on his pillow.

now the view's better: his arm's stretched upwards to allow half of his upper body to be in frame. of course, he's shirtless. what's an attention seeker without being half naked? nothing! there's a small-sized silver chain around his neck; dare the fandom admit, it adds a special flavour... perhaps this shall be their new lockscreen.

@daily-jjk: my fault king

@itasaki: i love you <3 i told my father about us <3

@tojiggle: drop the pants

@crazygetofan: is geto around?

reading the last comment, satoru does the lick -lips-and-bite-lower-lip combination.

“yeah, but he's in the shower—” he pauses and furrows his eyebrows, “no, i'm not gonna show you butt-naked suguru.”

@crazygetofan: worth a shot bye

@stsgshipper25: its bc he's hiding his bf!!

@fushigurosbitch: @stsgshipper25 wym im right here ??

@tojiggle: drop the pants

he doesn't respond to any comments, nor does he make any stupid comment himself. he's silently admiring himself while going through a bunch of saved filters. while satoru was too immersed in loving himself, he failed to notice suguru entering the room.

it's a win-lose situation that'll occur here. the win is obviously suguru making his entry which would mean that he'd join in satoru's live. the lose here is that he has a big mouth. suguru's mouth talks before his mind analyzes the outcome of what he'll say.

suguru walks over to the space in between his bed and satoru's, fiddling with the items on the bedside table until his hands fall on satoru's wallet. like a moth to a flame, he mindlessly opens it, counting the bills and how much it totals up to.

“damn, satoru, you only have ninety dollars?”

“don't out me like that, bro,” a sigh leaves satoru, “there's a reason i have a card.”

“alright bro.”

@crazygetofan: show me my man

@jjkhateropbetter: nah dawg u broke

@tojiggle: drop the pants

@satonuts: @tojiggle QUIT IT

“anyway guys,” satoru stands up, “let's have a mukbang.”

walking towards the television stand, satoru slams his hand on the chips, gripping it like it's the last time he'll ever have a meal. once he acquired his meal, he goes back to the bed, propping the phone with stacked pillows so he's in frame when he sits.

suguru can be seen in the background, pacing around the room in a white robe that's loosely tied. this was more than enough for the geto suguru fans that joined satoru's live for that purpose.

“wait bro,” suguru calls out to satoru but doesn't turn to him. he's occupied with rubbing moisturiser into his cheeks vigorously.

satoru hums, acknowledging his roomate. he, too, doesn't look at suguru.

“did you get the thing for (y/n)? you've been talking about that all day.”

satoru's silent. this time he's not falling in love with himself. the chip that's halfway into his mouth falls. can he consider this to be doxxing? no way suguru just did him like that.

“...oh come on, bro.” his shoulders drop. a clear indication of disappointment.

as suguru's still has his back turned to satoru, he's unaware of his expression and thinks that his comment was meant for him to shut up about the gift/souvenir. after all, suguru has been teasing satoru about it.

“seriously? you still haven't figured out what to get your girlfriend? lame ass.”

“can you say it any louder?!”

“YOUR GIRL— what the fuck?”

satoru forces him silent by throwing the air conditioner's remote at him. it worked, kind of. if only it had an effect on his rapidly beating heart. he's now anxious and a tad bit afraid to look at the comments.

slowly, his eyes glance at the comments. they sure are coming in fast!

@itasaki: killing myself <3

@fuckgojo_wasdailyjjk: cant have shit on earth

@jjkhateropbetter: nah dawg u gonna get jumped

@tojiggle: don't drop the pants

@miadollypie: check out twitter link in bio for spicy stuff

@chosoballs: couldnt be my man!

@kystoru: @chosoballs thats why yo bitch dying next season

@chosoballs: ?

@fwkuna: love seeing ppl i hate miserable

@fushigurosbitch: they gonna break up next two weeks

@satonuts: guys rmbr we do not know satoru irl, be nice

@fwkuna: @satonuts ykdw ur crying on the inside

@satonuts: @fwkuna DIE

the comments are overflowing in such a speed that it overwhelms even satoru. he swallows hard, switching his eyes to suguru.

suguru's back to busying himself with his skincare routine, unaware of the damages he's done.

‘fuck,’ he curses in his mind, nervously laughing before he speaks up.

“oh boy, would you look at the time!” he says ever-so enthusiastically. “i'll see you guys later, sleep well, ‘kay?”

“huh? why'd you end it?” the damager dealer questions, turning around to finally face satoru with a charcoal facemask on. it's good for whiteheads!

“ask one more fucking questions and i'm killing us both.”

the aggressive comments makes suguru recoil. he didn't expect that — he's also confident that he did nothing of the sort to result in such violence.

“damn, did she block you or something? i get it, i get it. i'd be mad too.” he nods, showing satoru that he understands and feels for his friend.

satoru's face twists in annoyance. the man gifts suguru a middle finger before he moves the chips onto the bedside table.

he's tired now. not in the sleepy way, though. in the ‘what am i gonna do now’ way. nothing good comes up in mind to lessen the damage on the internet, so he falls back on the bed.

with his phone face down and an arm over his eyes, he tries his best to sleep.

[gyuswhore]

Shut Up (don't)

anniversary event [closed]

lee seokmin x reader

prompt(s): carrying on the argument between sloppy kisses and heavy make out

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut (MINORS DNI), mean words are thrown at one another while they're fighting, heavy makeouts, fingering (f. rec), breast play, p in v, unprotected sex, soff ending bc im a sap

[a/n]: i have nothing to say. enjoy.

masterlist

Nearly getting rearended, and then breaking the heel of your shoe, to becoming the receiving end of another plethora of snarky remarks from the department weasel; it was all beginning to spill over the rim of your too warm, too full cup. 

All you wanted was to eat a good meal in front of another mindless TV show and nap the weekend away in the arms of your favourite person. Hence why the excitement at your front door was overflowing, creaking the door open to find a darker than usual hallway. You can only slip off your broken shoes and deposit your keys and bag so quickly, barely considering the amount of noise you’re making with all the shuffling and clanging in the doorway. 

“Seok! Babe, are you home?” you raise your voice a little as you enter the kitchen, slamming the grocery bags down on the counter with a loud huff. You peek out the door into the dark halls, brows furrowed. 

Opting to put away the perishables first, you grunt as you stand back up after stuffing all the frozen packages into the freezer, hand supporting your lower back. You were more tired than you’d initally thought.

Shuffling into the living room, your turn on the lights, remaining confused as ever as to why they were off. Even in an empty house, at least one of the lights would remain on. 

You nearly jump out of your skin when you register the lump on the now visible couch, taking a moment to realise it was your boyfriend, still in the clothes he had left in this morning. 

He’s shifting, groaning as he comes around to reveal his face, eyes bleary and face slightly red from sleep. 

“Oh,” he grimaces as he realises you were the one to turn the lights back on. “You’re home.”

“Why are you sleeping on the couch? Have you eaten yet?” you ask your boyfriend who’s now attempting rub the sleep out of his eyes. 

“No,” he confirms, voice still scratchy. “I’m gonna change and go to bed.” 

“Wait, I did the groceries before coming home. I can make you your favourite. You can go to bed after you eat,” you insist. 

He doesn’t answer as he simply rises and makes his way towards the hall leading the bedroom. 

“Seok? Honey, I’ll be quick, I promise. Twenty minutes tops and then you can go to bed.”

Catching up to him, you grab his hand in an attempt to get him to look at you, which he does. Except he looks…annoyed? He brushes another hand across his hair and face, looking more exasperated by the second. 

“I’m not hungry,” he says, slower than usual. Like it was taking an effort to get the words out. “Now can you please just—”

“You can’t go to bed empty stomached, you’ll wake up with a headache!”

“You’re giving me a fucking headache right now.”

You freeze. 

On instinct, you drop his hand, letting it ball into fists at his side. He blinks for a long moment, pinching his nose bridge, before turning around entirely to continue his retreat back into the bedroom. 

It’s like you’ve snapped out of a daze when you register his retreating form, zero comment from either of you after the bomb he’d planted in the room. 

“You don’t get to say that to me and then walk away,” you say, and he’s still not stopping. “You aren’t the only one who’s had a shit day, at least I’m not being an ass about it.”

That seems to do it for him, turning around with furrowed brows and an open mouth that’s ready to shoot back. “This is your problem, you can’t leave things alone.” 

“I’m sorry that I care if my boyfriend’s starving himself?” Your voice comes out louder than intended, the heat of the situation creating an emerging buzz in your head. 

“Don’t care then! Your idea of helping is whatever you want done for you, have you considered that I just want to be left alone?” He tries to control his arms movements but they explode into some waving motion anyway, eyes meeting yours in a wide, angry, accusatory hold.

“Seokmin.” His name leaves your mouth in an unbelievable laugh. “Are you listening to yourself?”

“How can I over all that clanging and banging you do the minute you step foot into this house?!” 

“You know what?” you begin.

“God, just shut up, I can’t do this with you right now.”

“This is beginning to sound like you have a problem with me.”

“I just said—”

“No! Just fucking say it. Moving in together was a bad idea and you wish you’d never asked!” You know you sound hysterical, arms thrown over head as you fight the urge to push something over. 

“Stop it.”

“I’m trying to make this work with our schedules but if you’re gonna blow up anytime you don’t get your way—” 

Seokmin tries to shut you up again, only this time he succeeds. 

In the midst of your rampage he’d crossed the distance between the both of you, opting to slam his mouth onto yours instead of using his words. 

Both of his hands have gotten hold of your face, keeping you from moving your mouth in an way except against his own. He’s taken away your power, your hands come up to grasp his forearms. 

“Seok—” you start again, but he only plants his lips on you again, sliding his tongue at the seam of your mouth to intrude even further. 

You’re mad at him. It’s taking alot to remind yourself of that. He’s trying to shut you up. He doesn’t want to listen to you. He…

Even Seokmin, with all his other worldly breath control, can’t keep his mouth on your forever, leaving your swollen lips to let you both breathe for a moment. 

“What the fuck is this supposed to be doing?’ you ask, breathless but angry.

“Shutting you up,” he reponds, gripping your waist so hard it almost hurts, shoving your entire body right into his personal space. 

You aren’t any better than him, bringing your hands up to his hair, tugging at the strands just to have something to grip on to. 

“This isn’t over,” you mumble between wet, sloppy kisses, already half gone. 

“Like hell it isn’t,” Seokmin grunts, letting go only to pull you onto the warm couch, caging you between the armrest and his own overbearing body. He’s taking over you from all sides, the muddle of your mind unbecoming of the anger that coursed through you just minutes prior. 

Pairing that with your existing exhaustion, your mind seems to be skipping over most of the filler scenes that unfold. 

Your top is gone to wind before you can register his fingers working the buttons. His hands have reached underneath your tight skirt, fiddling with the waistband of your stockings. He’s struggling with the overlapping fabrics, the existing difficulty of handling stockings earning a dissatisfied grunt from his throat. 

Opening your eyes, shifting them to focus on Seokmin’s face, you don’t doubt you look just as fucked out as he does. Pupils dilated, hair dishevelled and sticking out from everywhere, clothes barely framing where they belong. He’s growing frustrated as he instead attempts to shuck your skirt off. 

“Just—” He cuts you off again, even as you try to help with the wretched zipper. 

“Not a word out of your mouth,” he says, almost like it’s a plea, shielded under his scratchy growl. “Not until I’m done.”

This is nothing like you’ve ever seen before, your sweet, gentle boyfriend had turned into some deep monster from hell, like the events of tonight unsheathed some unfed entity that only festered on its ignorance. Despite everything, you can’t seem to complain, enjoying every bit of this as every passing moment only stacks the already leaning tower. 

And when you thought he couldn’t get any more unhinged, you hear the distinct sound of a rip! 

He’s ripped your tights. 

“Seok, I just bought those!” you blurt before you can stop yourself. 

He doesn’t answer you this time, opting to let his fingers do the talking. You feel a distinct pressure on your hot core, and you’re immediately putty. Seokmin is rubbing slow circles over the damp crotch of your panties, steady, but just enough to have you bucking your hips uncontrollably every so couple seconds. Your breathing is loud, bordering whimpers as you squeeze your eyes shut. 

It’s criminal the way he pushes into your core, stuffing you with bulk of his finger and the fabric of your underwear. And just when you feel like you can’t take it anymore, he removes hands entirely. 

You nearly scream, the ache becoming near unbearable. He’s shuffling around to take his clothes off but you couldn’t care less if he fucked you half dressed. He’s naked before you can do something about it yourself, immediately planting himself back on you. 

“Put that mouth to better use,” he whispers, bringing two of his fingers to your lips, letting them push past and rest on your tongue. You start sucking on them instantly, tongue running over his long, beautiful fingers, letting him shove them as far as you’d let him. 

When he relents, he only slips them somewhere else. You watch between your flushed bodies as his sticky, glistening fingers disappear, sliding inside your ready, coated walls. Hands finding purchase on the bulk of his shoulders, he lets you dig your nails into his pristine tan skin as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. Throwing your head back you can only groan into the empty ceiling at the feeling. 

“God, Seok that feels so good.”

He goes faster, deeper, separating his fingers inside you to test your limits. Finding that spongy spot, he shows no signs of relenting, now pistoning into you. 

When he stops, you come round to watch him line his hard member up to your entrance, not giving you a moment to register the emptiness. Except, you stop him. 

“Wait,” you breathe out, pushing yourself on your elbows. 

“What?” he asks, like he’s been snapped out of a trance. You maintain eye contact as you push him into a sitting position on the couch, letting his back hit the plush of the pillows. You take the opportunity to slide out of your torn and tattered tights, feeling the muscle of his thighs as you sit on his lap. 

“Fuck,” he curses when he realises what you’re doing. 

You readjust, grabbing his hard shaft, pumping him slowly as you prepare to line him up to your entrance again. Pushing your chest into his face during the process, he wastes no time in latching his mouth over the lace of your bra, licking over the fabric, pushing the tip of his tongue right where your nipple was. 

It send waves of shocks right into your core, busying the tip of his cock to rub itself on your dropping hole, savouring the feeling. Seokmin’s thrown your bra away, his mouth now in full contact with your breasts, tongue flicking across the nipple as he nips and sucks to his heart’s content. His fingers flick over your other nipple, pinching and stimulating it just the same. The sight of his fingers is doing so much to you, enough to encourage you to sink into his cock with finality. 

It’s a stretch, but nothing you haven’t been practiced to handle. He has a hand low on your hips, guiding your ass to sit on him fully. When you move it’s easier, the pleasure returning in its waves and sparks. 

“Fuck, Seok,” you whimper, as you start moving faster, bouncing on his cock, ass slapping his thighs. 

You find a place holder behind you on his knee, reaching one of your hands back to clasp his skin, the other finds reprieve in his hair, mouth still sucking on your breast. 

His palm rests on your ass, guiding you up and down his shaft in a constant rhythm, moaning into the plump of your breast. Letting go of your nipple, he throws his head back in a guttural moan, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your walls engulfing him whole. He continues to play with the swell of your breasts, fondling and groping. 

Taking advantage of the access, you lean into neck, pressing kisses onto the expanse, suckling on a spot near his ear, savouring the salt of his skin on your tongue. Your hips continue to bounce on him, but inevitably slow as you feel the burn on your thighs and hips. 

One particular landing is felt with a harsh buck of Seokmin’s own hips and you realise with a loud moan that he’s meeting you halfway, finishing what you started. Soon he’s created a pace of his own, thrusting his well oiled hips into you so good it has you blinking away the gleam of stars. 

“Baby,” your voice comes out pleading, and he knows exactly what you’re trying to say. 

“Come, baby, it’s alright. Come all over me.”

Taking his words to your cunt, you oblige, letting yourself come undone. It’s loud, it’s desperate and it’s raw, needing to wrap your arms around him in a latch for support. He smells like him, and it’s making the high continue to wreck your body in waves that won’t end. 

Seokmin cums just as your coming down from your own high, tightening his hold on you as he rams his cock into your overstimulated cunt to get his own fill of pleasure. His thighs stutter beneath you, his sounds deep and loud.

By the time he’s done neither of you have enough air in your lungs to say a word, slumped over one another as you catch your breaths. 

Seokmin is the first to recover, and your fluttering eyelids drift open at the feeling of his lips on your shoulders, leaving butterfly kisses as you remain curled into his chest, head on the crook of his neck. 

You’re uncomfortably warm, but you cuddle into his chest closer, feeling the heat that radiates off of his body. His lips have found your temple, seemingly not caring for your sticky, sweaty skin as he trails his kisses to your cheek, right next to your ear. 

“I’m sorry for blowing up on you like that. I always want you to care, please forget about what I said,” he whispers into your ear, and it’s enough to have you shuffle impossibly closer into his naked chest. It’s like you’ve molded into each other’s skin. 

“I’m sorry too, for not being understand and for blowing up on you as well. I should’ve handled my emotions better.” You lift your head for a moment to plant a kiss on Seokmin’s jaw, and then find his lips. 

He kisses you so softly it hurts, pecks of affirmation between his “sorry”s. 

“I love you,” he mumbles into your lips, and you cup his jaw as he pulls away ever so slightly. 

You can see a stretch at the corner of his lips and you realise he’s smiling; you almost weep at the sight. 

Kissing him again, you whisper right back, “I love you more.”

“Please don’t ever leave.”

“Never.”

“Promise?” 

You let out a little giggle, “Promise. As long as you won’t ever leave me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, nothing but love in his eyes.

“We still have to talk about what happened,” you say, brushing the pad of your finger across his cheek. 

“I know, and we will,” he gulps. “I think we need to sleep on it.”

You agree quietly, but quip anyway. “If I had to take a shot, I’d bet it on all that pent up energy you just unleashed. I think you feel better right now.”

He exhales through his nose, slightly embarrassed at being called out, but replies nonetheless. “It…it probably was. I do feel less tense.”

“Hm,” you hum, bringing you arms to wrap around his neck, tucking your mouth right near his ear. You trace a lone finger down the center of his chest. 

“Since we’ve decided this is a topic for tomorrow, do you think you’ve got a little more frustration in there to let out?” 

He’s still sheathed inside you, and you can feel his length begin to harden. 

You don’t realise what’s happening as you feel yourself being jerked forward, suddenly suspended in his arms as he struts towards the bedroom. Arms tightened, a hint of a squeal escapes you, and you can only giggle as he tickles whispered promises into your neck. 

Promises that you can count on him to fulfill. 

[hyukakisses]

-emo taehyun accidentally knocking you up!

pairings: taehyun x fem reader

plot: random headcanons of taehyun knocking up reader, (vv old re-edited request repost from my old page)

warnings: smut, cursing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), disapproving family (on reader’s side)

“t-too much!” your voice came out in desperate pleas due to feeling overstimulated from taehyun’s brutal assault against your needy pussy

the man above you, taehyun let’s out a deep chuckle, his lips finding your ear as he whispers. “you can take it. i know you can”

“you’re strong baby, aren’t you? my strong girl” the emo boy rasped in attempt to comfort you by encouraging you

your mind was in a daze, you could only think taehyun taehyun taehyun “i-im your strong girl”

taehyun cups your face very much enjoying your response as his thrusts quicken, loud squelching noises echo throughout the room as he can sense you’re about to cum again.

“that’s right you are my strong girl, you’re so brave baby and you can take everything i give you can’t you? my good girl” taehyun kisses you, the kiss needy and desperate as your whines increase. you were too spent to even reply, so you just nod at your boyfriend’s words.

taehyun snickers at your fucked out state, loving how you’d get when you were fucked too dumb to reply back to him. “you’re so good for me baby, taking everything i give you like a perfect little girl.”

his head lowers to the crook of your neck again as he releases the grip on your face, “my good girl. you want to cum don’t you?”

“y-yes” your poor body trembles at the pace of taehyun’s thrusts, he was so close you could feel him budge at your stomach

“you can cum baby” taehyun grants you your release before speaking up again. “but only if i can breed this pretty pussy”

you were too blissed out to remember if you were on the pill or not, so you dumbly nod signaling it was okay immediately cumming around your boyfriend’s member your little legs giving out as you whine in relief.

taehyun could only coo at you, finding how you got after cumming so hard so cute as he releases his white robes deep inside you stilling his movement. his big arm pressing down your tummy budge to calm down your trembling, afraid that his cum would go to waste if you both weren’t still.

“ssh baby just relax, you’re doing so well being good just taking my cum in your pretty pussy” taehyun presses tiny kisses around your face this action calming you down as you melt away into a deep slumber.

taehyun smiles down at your sleeping state, pulling out of your sloppy cunt reaching over for a rag because even if you were asleep taehyun always cleaned you, scooping you into his big strong arms as you lay there defenseless deep into dreamland :(

the next few weeks taehyun has noticed your change in personality, although you were your cute yapping self he’s just noticed you’re more clingy than normal. “d-don’t go don’t go!” you’d let out a shriek as your arms loop around your boyfriend’s neck pulling taehyun into a tight embrace. “baby im just going to the gym i’ll be back in an hour” taehyun sighs “then take me with you!”

taehyun start connecting the dots, you were moody, clingy and your period hasn’t came yet so you definitely had to be pregnant.

taehyun groaned quietly, seeing the notification of an incoming phone call from your father. already assuming the worst since you were always such a daddy’s girl of course you told about your pregnancy, you told him everything.

although you and taehyun now wish you hadn’t, since your pregnancy was the only thing your father could ever talk about

“i can’t believe this!” “what were you thinking?” “you’re both only twenty two give yourselves some time!”

“you really think taehyun is going to help out with the baby? he’s in a rock band for crying out loud and he wears makeup!”

part of taehyun wanted you to get an abortion so he wouldn’t have to deal with your father anymore but anything you wanted to do with the baby taehyun will support even if that meant dealing with your annoying dad ):

a/n: im sorry im a golden star lesbian i don’t know how pregnancy works :( enjoy enjoy!

[daddyhausen]

｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ 「 KINKTOBER DAY TWENTY TWO : STIGMATOPHILIA 」 ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

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「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 KINKTOBER 2023/2024 」

「 COMMISION INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」

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「 SUMMARY 」 — rhea is mesmerised by your new piercing

「 WARNINGS 」 — smut, 18 +, [ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ], tattoo!artist!rhea, dom!rhea, sub!reader, sadism/masochism nipple/clit piercings, mommy kink, public sex, oral sex, fingering, praise, squirting

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 2.3k

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x rhea ripley

「 GENRE 」 — smut

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「 TAGLIST 」 — @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @mjfass @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @heartbreakkidsangel @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @janetreader @bonehead-playz @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @romanreigns-supreme @rubyred1980 @harmshake @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @selena-tyler-564 @alyyaanna @nightmare-freakin-viper @nev-danielgarciawife @teenagedramaqueenlisa @them4lice

「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」

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rhea’s eyes marvelled at the design you had procured for her

it was a grand, cyber-sygial inspired piece, a heart at its centre, that would reside underneath your belly button, branching out around the soft flesh of your lower abdomen, across your hips, finally resting at the axis of where your thighs meet your hips

It was an intricate design, filled with sharp symmetrical points

definitely something that was outside of rhea’s traditional style but one that she attempted nonetheless

after all, anything for her favourite client

“and you want this piece where, exactly?”

rhea questioned with a curious quip, a small cock of her eyebrow as she examined the piece further.

you lifted up your shirt, the fabric two sizes too big, bunched up in one hand, while the other pried down your shorts ever the slightest

teasing, just a glimpse of your panties visible to rhea’s gaze and she could not help but wish her hands were in place of yours in that moment

“i was thinking around here”, you pointed out the space where you envisioned the tattoo would be and explained in detail how you wanted it to go

to be fair, your body barely had and blank canvas left at this point

your skin inked with rhea’s work, your arms held the first memories.

it was your first tattoo, a timid soul you were, staring up at her with doe eyes as she marked you with her art permanently

it was a simple design, albeit overdone in rhea’s eyes.

birth flowers of your parents and older brother, done in a fineline style on the inside of your forearm

the design now faded, melded in between various other designs of hers

her favourtite was the piece across your throat, not so because of the design itself, a neo-traditional black and white death moth, but moreson because rhea had to hold your head still between her thighs on the more intricate details

the intimacy of it, the closeness she craved.

she almost wished that you’d crane your head back just the slightest so the tip of your nose would rub against her clit through her jeans

even now thinking back on it her cunt quivered and drooled with excitement.

“i can do that for you”, rhea remarked with a subtle smirk

“go sit while i draw up the stencil for you”

you beamed excitedly and offered a toothy grin in return as you made your way to the back room, a more private area reserved for more intimate piercings and tattoos

rhea made her way to the back room, stencil drawn up in hand.

her eyes rose from her hands to see you lying on your back, expectantly awaiting her arrival,

shorts disregarded, leaving you just in your panties

“all ready for me i see?” rhea teased, a flirtatious undertone in her voice

“always“ you remarked as you mimicked her tone, eyelids heavy with a sultry gaze.

rhea hummed in response, her eyes fluttered down to the black lace, thong that adorned your pristine skin

gods, how rhea just wanted to rip it off with her teeth and devour your heavenly cunt right then and there.

rhea lined up the stencil as she tried to get precisely the right angle before she adhered it to your skin.

“you, know what, you're gonna have to take ’em for me, sweetheart.”

she tried to play it off as casual, but on the inside she was dying to just get a glimpse of your cunt.

her means were not nefarious in truth, she did need you to remove them to place the stencil on.

“forward arent you? at least buy me dinner first”

the playful words leaving your lips as you slide your panties dow your thighs as you threw them to the same spot where your shorts lie.

“spread ‘em for me a bit”, she manouvoured your thighs slightly after sticking the stencil to your stink, to gain better knowledge of how it would look from different angles

she caught a glimpse of a pearlescant bud between your thighs

“what’s this?”, rhea cocked her head in faux suspicion.

she new it was a clit piercing, the metal shimmering against your slick folds

clit still slightly puffy and swollen, the piercing only being applied recently

“cheating on me now? naughty girl”

“surely you don’t mind, damian did it for me last week”

your words only roused dangerous thoughts in rhea’s mind

sure damian was like a brother to her, and the relationship between the two of you was strictly professional

rhea could not help but let the jealousy overcome her over the fact damian has seen your precious cunt

“oh, so you let a man see that pretty cunt but not me?”

rhea’s eyes stalked across your cunt, her tongue parted her lips, licking the bottom one as her mouth watered with arousal

“i’m offended, sweetheart”

she leaned in closer, her hand resting atop your thigh, lightly massaging the supple flesh, she adored how it would fill the gaps between her fingers as she pawed at your skin, so soft so pliant .

“you know i only got eyes for you”

your response was somewhere half between the truth and a joke

rhea has always been someone who caught your attention,

you’ve always been hesitant to explore your desires with woman despite your attraction to them

“i know, pretty thing.”

rhea’s lips ghosted yours

“but i still gotta punish you for letting a man touch you”

her fingers dip lower, tracing around your piercing, clit still sensitive against her touch

your soft whimpers flooded her senses, a wave of adrenaline coursing through her veins as her fingertips ghosted over your swollen clit

“i can fuck you better than a man ever could, you know that, sweetheart?”

you whimpered out a small “yes”in response, already completely enamored with the way she was making you feel

small jolts of pleasure rushed up your thighs with each subtle stroke of her fingertips

“men dont know how to touch please pretty girls like you”

her tongue lopped out past her lips, licking and sucking small shapes into your jawline and neck

“when was the last time a man even made you cum, huh?”

it took you a while to think, her worlds spiralling in your mind.

upon your recollection, you came to notice that not a single one of your male partners ever had the decency of allowing you to orgasm

you’d come close but it would never reach its peak, it would always end with them leaving and you having to finish the job beneath the sheets, fingers buried deep in your cunt and a vibe against your clit

yet with rhea, even with her fingers languidly stroking your aching clit, you’d never felt more pleasure in your life.

“can’t think of any, huh?”

a smirk crossed rhea’s lips as she gazed upon your bewildered expression, a cocky chuckle leaving her throat

“don’t worry, pretty girl. i’ll make it happen”

her lips attacked yours in a flurry of feverish kisses. A mixture of lips, teeth and tongue colliding together in heated passion

her fingers dipped between your folds, gatherling your slick on the pads of her index and middle fingers, feeling you out to see just how deep you could take her.

“so wet for me”

her words buzzed against your lips, an ecstatic moan ripping through your throat as she inched her fingers deeper inside you

your gummy walls clenching around her inked digits, squeezing and pulling her in, welcoming the force that she brought along with it.

“shh not so loud” she scolded, biting your bottom lip, not enough to draw blood, but enough fo you to heed her warning.

her free hand fell to your breast, palming the mounds of fat and flesh in between her slender fingers, feeling the swell of your nipples graze against the fabric,

“take this off” she groaned, the hand once on your breasts not tugging up your shirt.

her wording more or less a reminder to herself than direct intrusion.

your breasts not exposed, the swell them freely bouncing against the force of her fingers, shee leered down at them, her gaze predatory as she examined the small bars that pierced both your nipples

“these have healed nicely havent they?”

she licked a stripe against your nipple, her tongue twirling around the pebbled bud, a deep moan reverberated through her throat

leaving your skin, bursting and bubbling with arousal

“mhm…”

the sound left your lips in a mere hum of response, barely able to open your eyes to gaze upon her as she worked you over

her fingernails, coffin in their shape, painted black with an iridescent shimmer each time the studio lights would reflect at certain angles

the sight itself vampiric in nature, her especially, hovering over you like a succubus ready to claim what is hers

her fingers tugged and toyed with the bar, twisting it.

the sensation riveting, like volts of pleasure directly to where she touched

and combined with the feeling of the metal, so delicately pierced through the sensitive skin

it was nothing short of extraordinary

“good girl” rhea mused, her words muddled within a mixture of tongue, flesh and lips

sucking and biting your skin

spit dribbling from her lips, across your nipple and down the underside of your breast

all the while her right hand filled and fucked you cunt much like a cock would

not that a cock could ever compare to rhea’s fingers

“gonna give mommy a taste hmm?”

her words like honey, so sickly sweet on the tip of your tongue

you nodded, bottom lip tucked tightly between your teeth a desperate and futile attempt to stifle your moans

you felt empty within seconds, your void now free of her fingers

staring up at her through half-lidded eyes, already so worn and fucked out despite the silent denial of your orgasm

her fingers made contact with her lips, grool and spit dripped from them, her tongue working around the digits just how she did your nipple mere moments ago

parting them with her tongue, licking slowly upwards, until her fingers were clean, only how you wished she’d taste your cunt

your taste lingered in her tongue, a mixture of tangy and sweet. perfection.

you could not help but admire how she towered over you, so dominant despite doing nothing of that nature in the mere seconds between actions

she kneeled before you, palms smoothing across your inner thighs, the tip of her nose grazing against your clit

she smiled into you, her breath fanning against your cunt

your thighs shook with wondrous tremors at the feeling

your back arching slightly, a small whimper catching in your throat

“easy pretty thing. relax for me”

she kissed your inner thighs letting her tongue lay flat against your cunt

allowing your taste to mingle with her tastebuds

“fuck..mmm” your thighs almost instinctively clenched around her head as her tongue danced around your clit

your skin heated, burning like furry embers as a blush crept upon your cheeks

almost embarrassed to look her in the eye as you let her tongue explore every crevice of your sweet void

she smirked against your folds

hands placed on your inner thighs, pushing them down to reveal her gaze to you once more

“dont get shy on me now, sweetheart”

she littered kisses against your clit, tongue swirling around the piercing

“wanna see you fall apart, cum all over my tongue…”

she dove into you, biting, licking, sucking, kissing any part of your juicy pussy her mouth made contact with

your taste euphoric on her tongue, ascending her beyond this mortal realm

“wanna see how good i make you feel…”

your hand weaved into the died tendrils of your hair, the black, choppy strands being tugged and pulls by the roots as she continued to consume your sweetness

“oh fuck…that’s it sweetheart, pull it harder, mommy likes that”

the sound of slick and spit accompanied her ravenous words, each syllable, each breath drawing your orgasm closer and closer

“m-mommy” you whimpered, the honorific so foreign on your tongue is almost sounded like a question

she only responded with a simple hum, far too preoccupied for ilde small talk.

your taste was too sweet to ignore

her lipstick smeared, streaks of burgundy stained your under thighs, skin to blood as it the pigment mixed with your slick

not that you minded

“gonna cum? hmm?” her voice like liquid velvet, lowered an october to display her dominance

“i can feel how close you are..mmm…you’re clenching around my tongue baby.”

you gave a meek nod, tightening your grip on her scalp

your breath shudder, release nearing, a moan ripped through your throat, so load that you immediately had to clasp a hand one your mouth

forgetting momentarily that you were still in her place of work

a sight that made rhea chuckle.

“god you taste so fucking good”

she kissed around your folds before returning to your clit

“want be to put my fingers back in, sweetheart? make you feel nice and full again while you cum? you’d like that hmm?”

“mhm…please” your chiseled out through a broken moan, feeling two of her finger slip past your folds, pumping into your at a ravenous pace

“oh fuck mmm…mommy that feels so good-“

her fingers curled up into you, tracing imaginary shapes into your cunt.

“c’mon baby, cum for me.”

she could feel your walls tighten around her

sweetness gushing around her fingers, clit sparking against your tongue, the piercing only heightened the sensation

“that’s it baby, taste so fucking sweet for me”

she pried her self away, allowing your a moment of respite as she gingerly stroked your thighs

“my pretty girl, you made such a mess”

she placed a kiss to you cunt, once which made you involuntarily shudder

“how’s about we get you clean up and finish that tattoo of yours huh?”

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[megalony]

I Was Worried

This is my first time writing Evan Buckley from 911 but I am in love with that show and re-watching made me want to write. I'm open to take any requests for Buck or Eddie from the show. I hope you all like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) tries to convince everyone at the station that she is fine, especially her boyfriend Buck. But when she takes a bad turn out on a call, he gets panicked.

Enjoy.

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"Whatever you're cooking smells good," Buck folded his arms and leaned forward onto the counter, pushing his hips out and arching his back a little to stretch out.

It didn't really matter to Buck what Bobby was cooking, it could have been anything from cats to crocodiles and he would eat it. Half a bowl of cereal wasn't enough to keep Buck going through a hectic morning shift and it was almost two o'clock now, way past dinner. He was starving and he was desperate to eat anything Bobby cooked.

"Pasta bolognaise," Bobby looked up from the large serving bowl he was pouring the pasta into, smiling when he could see Buck's eyes widening happily.

"And garlic bread." A smile worked its way onto (Y/n)'s lips when she walked past Buck and patted his shoulder as she went. She knew her boyfriend like the back of his hand and he was very food orientated.

She felt his hand graze her lower back as she passed him and grabbed the plates from the side to set the table. They didn't know how long they would all get to eat so dinner was usually fast. Set the table within a minute, everybody down and chug the food and drink to get as much as possible before a call sounded. Half the time they gobbled food and ended up with twenty minutes left to spare and they actually got to sit and digest their food and talk. But more often than not, food was partially eaten and left to go cold while they hurried out on a call.

(Y/n) could feel a headache burning behind her eyes and igniting through to the back of her head.

For over a week now (Y/n) had been feeling off, her headaches were becoming more common and persistent and she was feeling sluggish no matter how much sleep she managed to get or how she tried to eat enough and regular to keep her energy up.

Buck had said she was starting to come down with something and now (Y/n) was slowly beginning to believe him.

When the plates were all in place and utensils were laid out in the middle of the table, (Y/n) curled her hands around the back of one of the chairs and took a second to clear her foggy head. It felt like someone was slowly pumping her head full of air and any moment it was going to burst.

"Alright, are we ready?" Chimney clapped his hands and approached the table with a grin as Hen and Eddie followed behind.

(Y/n) tried to keep smiling and slowly shuffled away from the table and towards the cupboard near the sink where they kept the glasses. She couldn't stop her breaths from becoming shaky when her fingers curled around a glass and started to tremble.

"(Y/n), you coming?" Bobby glanced back over his shoulder when he approached the table with the food. She was awfully quiet all of a sudden when normally she would be first at the table to dish out the food and pour out the drinks.

When he didn't receive an answer, he glanced over at Buck who was halfway between the kitchen and the table before he stopped in his tracks and looked across at his girl. He looked back at Bobby with furrowed brows but waved his hand out at them to signal that they could go ahead and get sat down. He turned on his heels and headed over to where (Y/n) was stood in front of the kitchen counter with her back to him.

"Babe… you okay?" His voice was quiet but when he reached out to rest a hand on (Y/n)'s arm, he could feel her subtly shaking. "What's wrong?"

"Buck…" Her head was splitting like someone was banging a drum so harshly that her head was ripping open at the seams. The thudding of her heartbeat pulsed beneath her skin and pounded through her head so badly that she couldn't even see anymore. All she could make out were the black and white sparkles blinking in front of her eyes.

She could feel Buck's hands both coming up to rest on her shoulders and his lips merged against the back of her head but she couldn't hear what he was trying to whisper to her. Everything was turning to static in her ears.

Both Buck's arms moved to bind around (Y/n)'s waist when her knees gave out and she buckled. Her fingers slipped off the edge of the counter and her arms fell limp at her sides.

"Oh shit!" Stooping over, Buck braced himself a little better and slowly moved down until he was kneeling on the floor with (Y/n) hoisted up against his chest. Her head fell forward onto her chest as her legs curled up beneath her but she was still shaking. Buck kept one arm secured around her lower waist and moved his other arm round so he could carefully rest his palm against her temple and tilt her head up so she could lean her head back on his shoulder.

With a mouthful of garlic bread, Eddie pushed his chair back and jogged over to the pair while Hen busied herself grabbing a medical bag from near the stairs.

"Alright, here we go." Eddie knelt down in front of Buck and reached out for (Y/n)'s crumpled legs, carefully pulling them so they were straightened out and she was laid a bit more comfortable up against Buck. He pressed his fingers against (Y/n)'s wrist as Hen came over to them. "Pulse is a bit fast, not too bad. (Y/n), you with us?"

A muffled groan escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she tried hard to open her eyes but the lights suddenly felt like spotlights shining down on her and they were burning her eyes. She could feel Hen carefully taking her arm and sliding a blood pressure cuff up over her elbow and the tightening sensation sent a shiver down her spine and cleared her mind just a little.

"Open your eyes, babe," Buck coaxed while he smoothed his hand up and down (Y/n)'s arm. And something tingled to life in his chest and bubbled through his blood when he felt her hand shakily reach back and squeeze his thigh.

"Do you feel dizzy or sick?" Hen shone a light across (Y/n)'s pupils when she finally managed to open her eyes and something flickered on her face like a brief smile when she managed to follow Hen's finger from left to right.

"Dizzy… I- I'm good, probably just hungry." (Y/n) shuffled herself a little higher against Buck's chest so she was sitting up properly and she could feel the blood rushing back down to her feet and the storm in her head was starting to calm down, finally.

"You blacked out and you think you're good?" Buck rolled his lips together when Eddie gave him a look. He wasn't being rude but he knew (Y/n) better than any of them, he knew she was more likely to brush this under the rug than consider there might be something more serious than just a little dizzy spell. He for one didn't want to act like this was something small when he had said for the last week that she was coming down with a bug from how uneasy she felt and the constant headaches.

"Alright, if she thinks she's gonna be okay then let's all try and eat lunch, but you're benched today (Y/n). Any callouts, you hang back here to be safe I'm not taking any risks."

(Y/n) pressed her lips into a thin line to supress the groan burning at the back of her throat. She didn't want to hang back and wait around for them to come back off a call when she could be needed, she was here to do her job not sit back and worry. But she could see Bobby's reasoning, she would be a liability today if she went on a call and felt rough or this happened again. It was a safety measure.

She let Eddie take her hands and Buck loop his arms beneath hers so they could hoist her up between them. Her legs felt wobbly like setting jelly but she could shuffle them towards the table without worrying that she was about to collapse again.

It was just a blackout, she probably needed something to eat.

Loosening the suspenders on his shoulders, Eddie pulled them off his arms and shimmied out of his overalls and boots. He picked them up and shuffled tiredly through into the locker room, smiling softly when he glanced over and saw (Y/n) sat on a far bench near the glass wall.

"How you feeling?" He dumped his things into his locker but when he didn't hear a response, the smile slowly slipped from his face and he glanced back over at her.

He knew Buck had been worried for the rest of the shift when they went out and left (Y/n) behind at the station. She had kept herself busy, they all saw the tidy kitchen and the mopped floors implying she had been desperate to occupy herself when she got left behind for the afternoon. Buck had been the first one to run up to her when they got back and make sure she had been fine while they had been out. He worried; a lot.

"(Y/n)?"

Eddie walked over and gently perched himself beside her on the bench before he clasped his hands together in front of him and stooped over a little. His head tilted to the left to try and see her since she was sat at an angle but he sucked in a sharp breath when she turned to face him.

Her hands were full of used, bloodied tissues and there were streaks of blood smeared all across her mouth and chin and a lot of dried blood caked around her nose.

"What happened?" He was careful when he gingerly reached his hands out to tilt her head back. It looked like the blood had mostly stopped now but there was a hell of a lot on her face and the pile of tissues she had crumpled up in her fists.

"I had a headache, then the heavens poured out my nose for over five minutes. Has it stopped?" (Y/n) tightened the tissues in her hands until she could feel them starting to shred and pull apart between her fingers.

She had barely walked away from Bobby after reassuring him she felt much better, and her nose started to pour like a tap. Her head started to go fuzzy and heavy like it did earlier and no amount of tissue or pinching the bridge of her nose seemed to stop it. And Buck had gone for a shower so he didn't have to bother when they got home, the last thing (Y/n) wanted to do was run to him and ask for help. She would only panic him more than he had been earlier and she didn't want that.

"Yeah, I think it's stopped, are you sure you feel alright? You know this doesn't look so good." Eddie couldn't help but feel nervous, constant headaches, blacking out and a nosebleed on a large scale weren't signs of something minor.

"I feel better than this morning… Eddie, please don't tell Buck. You know he worries."

(Y/n) swiped the last crumpled tissue against her face before throwing them all in the bin. She would have to dart into the bathroom and wash her face clean of the blood if she didn't want Buck or any of the others realising what had happened or getting the wrong impression.

"I won't." A nosebleed could just be that and not mean anything else, it could be a one off and Eddie certainly wouldn't want to worry Buck unnecessarily.

He wouldn't say anything; yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft smile flooded (Y/n)'s face when the man whose name was John, grabbed her hand and held it tightly to her heart. He needed reassurance and (Y/n) would help him as much as she could and calm him down, it was all part of the job.

"Am I dying?"

"Of course you're not, we won't let that happen. We're going to free your leg and get you to the hospital, you'll be right as rain soon." It always felt easier to reassure someone with minor wounds like this.

It was when the victim had organs spilling out or a crushed chest or third degree burns that wouldn't heal that made (Y/n) panic about giving reassurance to them. When she knew there was no way she could guarantee they would survive, telling them everything would be okay felt like a lie and that wasn't always the best course.

But this man only had a leg crushed by some rubble and a few broken bones, nothing fatal that they needed to worry about. He was going to be fine and (Y/n) knew it.

"Alright, I'm going to let go of your hand so we can get ready to move you, okay?" (Y/n) gave his hand a gentle squeeze before she let go and moved so she was crouching behind him with her hands hooked under his armpits.

Eddie was going to lift the metal beam from the man's leg and Buck was in position to free his legs and help slide him onto the board so they could carry him out. He was the last person trapped in here, everyone else was out and taken care of and after this, the team could head back to the station and wait for the next call of the day.

(Y/n) wasn't sure if it was the dust and smoke filtering through the air that was making her head spin or if it was the headache she'd had since this morning but whatever it was made her feel off. Every part of her felt sluggish and slow and her head felt like it had cotton wool stuffed in it.

"Go!"

On command, (Y/n) pulled him back and lifted him up and she and Buck quickly laid him down on the read board and shuffled him up until his head was safely in the foam brace to keep his neck still and straight.

"Alright let's get out of here."

(Y/n)'s arms had never felt so limp and heavy than they did when she lifted her end of the board and followed Buck back through the small break in the wall they had created to get in. Her hands were tensing and twitching in the grooves of the board and it felt like her centre of gravity was shifting more to the left like the world was tilting at an angle. It made (Y/n) want to lean to the left to balance herself back out but when she tilted her head, she felt like she was about to topple over.

She had carried people out like this thousands of times, she'd hooked people over her shoulders and ran from burning cars before and gone quicker than this but today she couldn't seem to catch up. Buck was going too fast and her feet were heavy and weighted in her boots but she did her best to kick the rubble out the way and keep up. She could feel Eddie close behind and her eyes focused on looking up at Buck.

He was wearing his overalls and his coat and helmet so she couldn't see the way his biceps would twitch and strain or the way he would hunch up his shoulders to tense his muscles and go faster, but she could imagine the way his body would move beneath the jacket.

As soon as they were outside, all of them were coughing from the wave of fresh air that hut them like a truck.

Something burned in the back of (Y/n)'s head like she'd been struck with a knife and as soon as they were clear, they set the board down as close to the ambulance as they could manage. Two paramedics filed over and Buck busied himself reeling off the injuries John had sustained.

Forcing herself to smile, (Y/n) leaned down and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"T-they'll fix your leg and have you up and walking in no time, you will be okay." She couldn't wait to hear his response or wait for a thank you or even a smile, she had to move.

Her feet stumbled beneath her and she could feel herself beginning to shake down to her boots. She didn't feel good. She wasn't sure where she was heading, she just had to get away from the victim so she didn't worry him and be away from prying eyes.

When she couldn't walk any further, (Y/n) threw off her helmet and unzipped her jacket and launched it down on the floor. She was sweating, she was cold, she was burning up and shaking and feeling sick all at once.

"(Y/n), hey, what's up what's going on?"

Running her fingers over her face, (Y/n) turned her back to Eddie and shook her head. She didn't know what was going on or what the problem was but there was just something that didn't feel right. Her head was pounding like it was going to explode and since she'd blacked out, it had been progressively getting worse. All of her symptoms had been getting worse whether she wanted to admit it or not.

There was caution in Eddie's movements when he gingerly placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her round to face him but when he did, he could see that her eyes weren't able to focus on him.

"I think you should sit down,"

"I… wh- I want-"

Eddie couldn't fathom what she was trying to say or what words were passing through her lips, none of it made a sentence or any sort of sense but it didn't matter.

(Y/n)'s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she tumbled down like the collapsed building behind them and Eddie couldn't catch her in time to break her fall, but that didn't matter either. He barely managed to go down on his knees when (Y/n)'s limbs tensed and tightened up like she was a puppet whose strings were being pulled.

Both her hands bent at odd angles and her arms pinned against her chest that pushed off the floor while her head started to tremble and jerk back and forth.

She was having a seizure.

"Cap! Captain, go get Buck! Now." Eddie threw his helmet to the floor and leaned over (Y/n) whose body was taut and tense and looked like she was shivering all over. He was the least bit relieved to see that she wasn't fully thrashing around on the floor and her arms and legs weren't being thrown about at all angles, it was more her head that was jerking than the rest of her body.

He carefully turned (Y/n) over so she was laid on her left side and tried to keep his hand pressed against the back of her neck to keep her head forward. He had no way of knowing if she was going to be sick or if she might bite down on her tongue and make it bleed. Either way, he couldn't risk her choking.

"Hey, what-" Whatever Buck was about to say fizzled into the air when he looked over at his girlfriend, laid on the floor spasming and shaking.

He'd never seen her have a seizure before.

"What happened?!" Fury boiled over in Buck's voice as he roughly grappled with his helmet and chucked it down to the floor before he went down on his knees in front of (Y/n). "Babe? (Y/n), baby it's me, you're okay, it's alright." He tried to keep one hand on her arm to let her know he was there while he pushed his other hand beneath her neck and the floor to feel her pulse and check her airways were still open. They couldn't be trying to intubate her while she was seizing like this.

"Hen, get over here! Don't let that second ambulance go, get it here now!" Bobby waved Hen over and pointed over at a paramedic who was about to take the other empty ambulance away from the scene now that all the people were accounted for and safely being transported.

"Has she had an accident, hit her head? Had a reaction to something?" Hen kneeled down next to Buck and took Eddie's place keeping (Y/n)'s head tilted forward while she tried to clip a monitor onto (Y/n)'s finger and listen to her heartbeat.

"No, nothing. She, she doesn't have seizures, this isn't normal." Something violent flashed across Buck's pupils as his jaw locked shut.

This wasn't normal for her, (Y/n) didn't get seizures or get seriously ill other than the odd bout of flu or a cold. She had never collapsed before, never had a seizure and she hadn't hurt herself or had any reaction to anything that would bring this on. Nothing had happened to her today or even this week for this to happen, Buck had kept a close eye on her to make sure she was alright. Clearly she wasn't.

"Okay, okay I think it's starting to wear off. (Y/n), it's Hen can you hear me?"

(Y/n)'s arms stayed pinned against her chest like she was protecting herself from something and her body started to calm down with the shakes but her upper half was still tilting and pushing back and forth like she was being pushed and pulled.

Hen gently pulled up her eyelid to flash a light across her pupil but her eyes were only half visible, still looking up towards the top of her head. Now that she had stopped shaking, Hen tried to listen to her heartbeat and put a blood pressure cuff on her arm.

"Buck…"

"I'm here baby, it's me." Reaching forward, Buck carefully slipped his hand into (Y/n)'s half-curled fist that felt tense and stiff and unusual to him but he knew he could feel her fingers trying to press against the back of his hand. It was enough to make his erratic heartbeat calm down and he brought her hand close enough so he could kiss the back of her hand before he pressed it against his chest.

"Her pulse is steady and her blood pressure isn't too low, she's stable enough. Get her on the stretcher, she needs an MRI."

"On three, Buck. One, two, three." Eddie slipped his hands beneath (Y/n)'s shoulders and Buck lifted her lower half and legs and they carefully laid her down on her back on the stretcher the paramedics wheeled over. She felt so tense and stiff like she was in rigamortis, Buck had never felt her so taut like that before and he hated it.

"I'll ride along with you," Hen patted Buck's shoulder nd glanced over at Bobby for confirmation. One nod of his head was all it took for Buck to shed his jacket which he handed to Eddie before he and Hen climbed in the ambulance.

"We'll meet you at the hospital,"

He wouldn't be able to focus on shift without being by her side and making sure she was alright and everybody knew and understood that.

"Buck, it hurts," (Y/n)'s words were slurred and she could barely keep her eyes open for long but he managed to make out what she said and it broke his heart.

He shuffled closer to the stretcher and brought her hand to rest against his cheek to let her know he was still here with her. He leaned his head to the side a little so he could kiss her wrist and he rubbed his other hand up and down her arm and shoulder to try and stimulate her and keep her awake with him.

"What hurts, baby?"

"My head." (Y/n) tried to lift her free hand to rub her temple but her limbs were so stiff she could barely curl her fingers to her palm.

"It's okay, the doctors will make you better, don't you worry baby. Just keep talking to me, eh? The team will come up and meet us at the hospital, they're all worried 'bout you."

"Stay with me," (Y/n) tried to smile and managed a half smile in Buck's direction and she tried to keep her eyes on him and his baby blue orbs that were staring down at her intently. She could feel his fingertips grazing up and down her skin and his wet lips pressing on her wrist like he was kissing her pulse and helping her heartbeat calm down.

"I ain't going anywhere, baby." Buck smiled down at her and he could feel himself slowly starting to calm down. Maybe this was just a one time thing, maybe she would just need her head checking out and some tablets and be perfectly fine. That was what he was hoping for. But when he looked down at her again, his smile started to fade. "What's wrong with her eyes?"

He glanced between Hen and (Y/n) until she carefully leaned over and pulled (Y/n)'s eyelid higher to get a better look. Both her eyes were trembling from left to right so rapidly it was making Buck's head hurt just from looking at them.

"Baby, talk to me… what's wrong?"

"She's having another seizure." Hen held her wrist and checked her vitals before she sat back down but kept close watch.

"But she…" Buck didn't know what he wanted to say. He'd never seen someone have a seizure like this. Sure, (Y/n) was tense again like her muscles were about to snap, but she wasn't shaking or spasming and her head wasn't moving. Nothing was moving apart from her eyes, he'd never seen anything like it but then again, the fire department didn't deal with seizures all too often.

This wasn't right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buck's knee juttered up and down like he was a drummer hitting the bass beat over and over again and it caused his elbows to shake and his neck to strain. He had his shoulders hunched over, his elbows perched on his thighs and his entwined hands propping up his chin.

Something burned to life in his chest when the rest of the team came down to the waiting room to sit with him and wait for any news. He didn't have much of a family out here apart from Maddie who was currently still on shift, but the station had become his make shift family.

He almost clocked himself in the jaw when Eddie gently elbowed him and pointed over to the doctor who was fastly approaching them.

Panic was all Buck could feel and in a moment of desperation, he turned his head until his eyes locked on Bobby who got the silent plea. He advanced over to Buck, laid a hand on his shoulder and followed him to meet the doctor a few feet away from the rest of the team. If it was bad news Buck didn't want everyone else listening in, he wanted to hear it for himself first but he wanted Bobby there too. He was like his dad now and he needed that support.

"Is she okay?" Buck tucked his hands into his pockets to stop himself from scratching his arms to pieces out of nervous habit.

"The MRI showed she had a small bleed on the brain which we've managed to fix, the pressure caused the seizures."

Buck didn't know what to make of that, he wasn't one of the paramedics, sure he had the basic training. He could do CPR, he knew the basic recovery positions and he could help someone in respiratory distress, but this was beyond him.

"What caused the bleeding?" Bobby tightened his hand on Buck's shoulder, it mattered more to know why this happened than how they fixed it.

"We ran a few blood tests which showed her red blood cells were shredded, this is caused by a condition, TTP. It's brought on by pregnancy."

Buck's shoulders slumped and his mouth hung agape as he turned to look at Bobby as if for confirmation and reassurance that he was hearing this correctly. (Y/n) was pregnant. She never said anything to him or to anyone else, surely she couldn't have known about this either. He was going to be a dad. He was gonna have a baby.

"Is she- I- is she okay, though?"

"With medication and close monitoring she will be fine, you can go see her now. Congratulations."

In an instant, Buck had his arms around Bobby, reeling him in for a crushing hug and a breathless laugh before he reeled back and shot down the corridor. He had to go and see her right now, (Y/n) had to be the first person Buck talked to about this, she had to be the one to see his ecstatic face and feel how fast his heart was beating out of his chest at this news. He had to reassure himself (Y/n) was indeed alright after today, he couldn't get excited or relieved until he saw with his own eyes that she was alright.

"Baby," Buck could barely speak from how breathless he felt as he stumbled into (Y/n)'s room and his eyes set on her.

She was sat up in bed, her lips rolled together to supress a smile and tears drenching her exhausted features. He ignored the horrid look of the IV cannula in her hand and the white patch taped to the side of her head where he guessed they had managed to drain the bleed on her brain. All he could focus on was how she was trying to smile at him and just looking at her had his eyes watering.

(Y/n) couldn't help but giggle when Buck hazardly collapsed on the side of the bed and wound his arms tightly around her middle. She smiled when he nuzzled his face in the crook of her shoulder and kissed her neck while she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head.

"I- I was so worried,"

"I know… are you happy?" Deep down, (Y/n) already knew the answer to her question but she had to ask anyway, just to be sure. She could feel him laugh into her neck, unable to believe she even had to ask him that and his arms tightened around her until he was pulling her up and crushing her into his chest trying to stuff her into his heart.

"Happy, are you kidding? I'm gonna be a dad!"

[buckys-little-belle]

Im scared to but my first Barbie, but I really want one! Sooooo bad. Can you maybe write Steve and Bucky meeting a she/her reader in the Barbie spot in a store and being nice to her? Maybe buying her a Barbie and some clothes? And they are just nice?

Barbie Aisle Buddies

Stucky x Shy!Little!Reader (She/Her Pronouns Used)

Warnings - The reader is generally a worry wart so she has a bit of 'panic' and worry during this fic, it gets resolved by the end and fluff ensues after her worry.

Notes - I honestly pulled inspiration from a fic I had written a while ago about a shy reader in a toy aisle, so I hope it's okay that I made the ready shy. This is also pretty short! But also so cute!!! Also I know it can be scary going to a store and buying toys but I promise you it's okay! I have bought so many Barbies and Barbie toys like clothes, and I described a Barbie I own in this story! Don't let worry eat you up, go buy the Barbie! Trust me when I tell you it's worth the worry, having fun dolls that I get to play with and dress up is so fun and I don't regret getting them! You only live once bubba, don't let the worry get you down for too long! I hope you get a Barbie soon!!! <3

SFW - Keep all interactions with the post, and this blog, SFW!

. ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ .

Y/n had been hyping herself up for a month now. Twenty dollars in her pocket, and a determined state of mind were all she had as she walked up and down the Barbie aisle of her local grocery store. It was a small selection of dolls, yet so overwhelming at the same time.

Some dolls had different jobs, chef, doctor, fashion designer. Others had fancy outfits or animal sidekicks. It was hard to pick just one doll, but seeing as she only had enough money for one doll, she knew she had to pick just one.

"Hello." A man's voice broke through her overthinking, a man stood just a few feet away, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, some worn out sneakers on his feet. He looked familiar, though Y/n couldn't place just where she had seen him before. "I'm Steve." He smiled, turning to look at the same shelf she had her eyes on previously. "It's hard to pick one, isn't it?"

"Um." Y/n panicked, trying to remember the excuse she had made up regarding why she was in this aisle. Did she land on 'getting a toy for a friend's kid' or 'I have a birthday party to attend'?

"Steve!" Another man's voice called out. This time a man dressed all in black, combat boots and gloves included, planted himself a few feet away. "Hi there, Doll." He smiled, Y/n couldn't help but smile back, the man's charm winning her over. "Which one do you have your eye on?" He asked as he scanned the shelves, hands crossed over his chest, looking at the plethora of choices like he too was thinking about getting one.

"Oh, I'm not, I'm just, you know, a, I don't, I." Y/n began stuttering, trying to get out an excuse, any excuse, to make them believe she wasn't buying a Barbie doll for herself.

"Dolls don't have an age, Doll." The man without a name chuckled. "If you're looking for a Barbie to play with I would suggest one that comes with a few items." He began pointing to a few sets she had looked at, but sets that were over her budget.

"I like this one." Y/n quickly grabbed a doll she had her eye on. She was a chef and came with a pan and what looked to be a fried egg. She had a chefs hat and coat, and looked fun enough, but the biggest pull was it was the only doll with accessories that was in her price range.

"She'll need some everyday clothes." Steve squatted down to a lower shelf, rummaging through some small containers for a set of clothes.

"I can't, I just. This is all I can get." Y/n smiled with a hint of self conciseness. Admitting you didn't have a lot of Barbie money to strangers wasn't the end all be all, but at the same time it still felt extremely venerable.

"Well, Doll." The unnamed man with a smile full of charm spoke again. "It's your lucky day then." He pulled the cart Steve must have brought closer to the shelf. "Pick whatever you want."

"What?" Y/n shook her head taking a step back, confused as to what he meant.

Steve was the one to speak up this time. "You don't know who we are, I'm guessing." His smile was softer, more gentle. "I was formally known as Captain America." The truth felt like a weight had been lifted off Y/n's shoulders, her happy to know that she wasn't crazy for thinking he looked familiar.

"And I'm his sidekick, Bucky Barnes, formally known as The Winter Soldier." Mr Unnamed added on.

"Oh." Y/n nodded her head, taking in the two men, even more confused as to why they were wasting their time in a local stores Barbie aisle with her. "Sorry for bothering you."

Y/n was ready to dash with her doll, worried that the super soldiers she just met would grow tired of her quiet demeanor. "Doll." Bucky called out, his voice commanding yet it still had a joking tone to it. "Come back here and pick at least four things."

"Buck." Steve whispered loudly.

"Steve." Bucky said back, his tone condescending. "Doll, please let us but you some dolls. It would make our day." She still hadn't turned around and had half a heart to run, yet for some reason she turned around and took a good look at the shelf.

There really were some sets she'd love to have, like the farmers market stand and a little dog set, and Steve was right, her doll needed everyday clothes. "You won't make fun of me?" She asked, worry surrounding each word.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Steve put his hand over his heart, an action that made her giggle.

"I'm Y/n." She finally gave them her name, a small smile breaking past her worried expression.

"It's nice to meet you, Y/n." Bucky and Steve said at the same time, the three of them laughing.

"Which outfit do you think your doll would look best in?" Steve held out a few options, letting Y/n ponder over them as Bucky tried to convince her to pick the Barbie camper as one of her choices, as if she had a spot for such a big play set.

"I like this one." She pointed to a package that help a blue dress, pick shirt, and jean skirt. The shoes were cute too, and she got excited at the idea of dressing her doll in the outfit.

So there they all stood, Steve and Bucky trying to convince Y/n to get super expensive things, and Y/n trying to figure out how she got so lucky to have two super soldiers worrying over her new doll collection.

[garlicisgodsbestinvention]

perfect dimensions

(Carmy x Designer!Reader)

Summary: The Bear is weeks from opening, and Sugar hires an interior designer to bring the vision to life. Part 1/3.

Warnings: cursing, WILL contain smut later 👀NO use of Y/N because this is the 21st century. Carmy x female!reader, reader is described as having longer hair but that’s it for physical descriptions. NOT EDITED because I’m lazy girl tehe

—————————MINORS DNI——————————

“I hired a designer,” Natalie tells them in passing on Thursday, waving a vague hand when both Syd and Carmy open their mouthes to ask, “She’ll be here in like, twenty minutes.”

“Okay, heard, but we already have a design,” Carmy says, gesturing to the wall covered in layouts.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had a degree in architecture and engineering. Those are fake dimensions, Bear; we don’t know shit about anything, so someone is going to come in and make sure that we’ve got the right fucking shade of white!” Natalie shouts before the office door slams shut, leaving Syd and Camry to stare after her with equal confusion.

“Pregnancy is making her…” Syd starts to say.

“Mean?”

“Yeah, mean. Definitely a little mean,” Sydney sighs, “She’s right though. Vibe doesn’t get us to opening night.”

And that’s how Carmen finds himself stuttering through an introduction from a now much-more-pleasant Natalie when she shows a woman through the front doors.

Carmen extends his hand to you, clearing his throat, nodding like a fucking idiot when you tell him your name.

“Yeah,” he says, “I’m uh, I’m Carmen.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, mouth spreading into a smile that makes his heart beat a little faster. “Walk me through?”

Natalie takes the lead while Carmy and Syd hang back. One glance at the look on his partner’s face should have sent Carmy scrambling for something else to do, but he’s not fast enough to remove himself from her presence before a laugh is bubbling from between her closed lips and he’s desperately hoping his face isn’t turning red.

“Im, uh, Carmen,” Syd lowers her voice in a mocking tone.

“Fuck right off,” Carmy shakes his head at her.

“You literally forgot your name!”

“I didn’t forget my fuckin’ name—“

“Like oh my god, a pretty girl with pretty eyes appears and you forget how to talk!”

“Are you done?”

“Absolutely not. I can’t wait for Richie to meet her.”

Carmen wishes the day would never come.

Ten minutes later you appear back in the dining room, Fak following close behind with a shit-eating grin that makes Carmy wish he had never gotten out of bed this morning.

“Carmy! Did you know she likes to bake?”

“No, Fak, we’ve only just met. Would you let her do her job?” Carmen sighs, rubbing his fingers into his eyes to stop an oncoming headache. Syd snorts.

“We’ll chat more later, Neil, I promise,” you say.

“You might have just made yourself a new best friend,” Syd laughs.

Carmy looks away the moment your eyes swivel over to his, trying to disguise that he’s staring as best he can.

“So,” you say, “Natalie said you had drawings. May I see?”

Camry’s fingers itch in a weird way, but he manages a nod before striding over to his backpack to pull out the notebook while you scan the wall of swatches and inspiration photos. You nods your head a little, like you’re concocting an idea.

Carmy wants to twirl a finger through the strand of hair hanging loose out of your updo.

“So, uh, this is what I’ve come up with so far.”

He then spends the next ten minutes walking you through each of the drawings, explaining himself a little too thoroughly, and making random comments about lighting and booth fabric. You look intent the whole time, brow furrowed at the page, occasionally pointing and you don’t even have to say anything—Carmy just starts to over explain immediately following the point of your painted fingernail.

When he’s done, you nod your head slowly, the corner of your mouth twitching up. You’re wearing some sort of lipstick that reminds Carmy of the stain of touching a cherry pit.

“These are amazing,” you say finally, and Carmy feels his face heat. “I like the vibe. I love the vibe, actually. Are you a sensitive person?”

You look up at him and Carmy short-circuits.

Syd says yes, at the exact time he says no.

“Conflicting signals,” you say, “Anyone else to weigh in?”

It takes a second for him to realize that you’re making a joke, and he has to shake himself out of a stupor caused completely by the sight of your smile.

“Uh, no, no I’m good. Gimme feedback,” he says, and you reach out to flip the pages back, landing on the entry.

“Great. I’m going to tell you what we need to fix,” you say, straight to the point. “This entry is too small. Either we need to extend out into the sidewalk, or we need to push the kitchen back by at least five or six feet. The bar is going to create a bottleneck right here, and we need to inset these shelves to give you a little more working room. The lighting here needs to be sconces, and the bathroom doors need to slide to maximize space—this is too small for a swinging door.”

Carmen is fully intent on taking in every word you’re saying, but out of the corner of his eye he can’t help but see Syd’s face transform into something mildly resembling devious.

“Heard,” Carmy says, nodding his head as you looks back up. “Let’s rock.”

——————————————————————————

You become a fixture in Carmy’s life in the same way that Sydney or Richie or Nat are, appearing every time he turns the corner and whispering a hello in passing before you start barking orders to the contractors who listen to your every word. Strangely, he can relate. A week ago you told him, Carmen, please decide which side of the bar you want the ice machine on, and do it quickly so I can tell the water guy when he gets here. He’s never made a decision so fast in his life.

Even Nat had popped an eyebrow when he replied, on it, before you’d even really finished your sentence.

Usually, he’s on autopilot—walking in and straight back to the office or the kitchen and hardly ever stopping to notice what’s going on. He’s the first one in and the last one out by design, so he doesn’t even see everyone else arrive until they’re already there.

This morning, though, Carmy walks into the kitchen to see you already there, writing something out in a notebook as Natalie talks, waving her hands wildly.

“Okay, I got you,” you’re saying only glancing up when Carmy’s shoes shuffle too loudly on the floor. “Oh! Good, you’re here. I need you.“

Carmy raises his eyebrows. “Need me?”

“To look at paint swatches,” you say, ushering him into the main dining area. The words ring in his head like bells as he follows you, the scent of your perfume surrounding him as he walks through the crowd of it. You smells so good, and it reminds him of New York City somehow, the faint scent of rain.

He figures that you must have come in even earlier than he and Natalie both, because you’re dressed more casually than usual, and there’s a charm necklace dangling over your tee shirt that he tries to identify when you turn without you realizing he’s staring. He makes out a paintbrush and nothing else.

“Right, so,” you start, gesturing to the wall. There’s a beat of silence with them both staring at the three swatches on the wall, and then Carmy turns towards you.

Your words overlap.

Carmy says, “I hate them.”

At the same moment, you say, “They’re horrible, right?”

Carmy laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, not it.”

“Okay, so hear me out.” You say, leaving his side to pull something from your folder. “Pink.”

“Pink?”

“Like, oyster shell pink. Neutral enough that in the low light it’ll look pale, almost indiscernible from white. And this wall—“ you point to the back where the booths will be and shake your head. “Has to be a mural. It’ll look unfinished if it’s bare.”

Carmy nods along with everything that you say, trying to envision it. “What kind of mural?”

You tilt your head, chewing at your lip. Carmy completely short-circuits for an embarrassingly long second.

“I might have some ideas,” you say in a soft voice, crossing over to the table where you’ve set your things and pulling out a black sketchbook.

“Two artists in residence, huh?” Carmy jokes, his stomach fluttering when you smile.

“Do you draw anything other than food and restaurant interiors?” You ask.

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” you repeat, looking up at him. He knows that you want him to elaborate—he would never admit out loud that he spends the hours he’s not cooking trying to replicate the way your necklace hangs off of your neck and the curve of your wrist.

Occasionally he doesn’t do weird, obsessive, borderline creepy things—sometimes he sketches the buildings outside his window as the sun goes down, or tries to remember what the boat in Copenhagen looked like, or that one place he used to drink coffee at in New York.

Your eyes narrow at him just a little, like you’re trying to read all the things he’s not saying.

He dips his head, half to look at the page you’ve opened the notebook to and half to get out from under the scrutiny of your pretty eyes.

“That’s insane,” Carmy finds himself saying, looking down at the waves of color on the page. “It looks like, almost like wood? Or marble. That’s—fuck, that’s so cool.”

The page is covered in shades of brown and deep green and black, melding together into something that reminds him of tree rings or stained wood panels, muted like an old chinoiserie river painting.

“You could hire someone to change it out seasonally maybe, it’d be cool, but I think something like this would look nice with the color of the wood we picked for the tables—“

“Will you do it?” Carmy asks, fingertips tracing over the edge of the paper and coming away brushed with color—oil pastels. “Could you, I mean, I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it like this.” He tells you, rubbing the tips of his fingers together and watching the color meld together before meeting your eye.

Your mouth is parted, eyes wide as you look at him, and he gets the urge to flick your bottom lip to see if it’s as soft as it looks.

“I,” you start to say, “Yeah. I can do it. If you want me to.”

“I do,” he says, too quickly. “Want you to. Paint it.”

Because what else would he be asking you to do? He wants to throw his entire brain into the blender on high.

“Okay,” you say, “I’ll start tomorrow.”

He makes a mental note to make sure he’s there all day to peer through the windows and watch you work.

[a66-1]

starving.

Simon x Fem!Insecure!Reader.

Part 1 | ???

TW: Talk of ed's, negative self talk, low self esteem, bad mouthing (from reader to herself, comes with the territory) cursing, self harm. i tried not to be too descriptive with the reader, so EVERY insecure girlie who reads this feels seen. (these tw are for the whole thing, im pretty sure this is gonna be a series)

a/n: hey. if you need help, dm me. ill talk to you if you need it :). (also i made my banners. if you want one dm me! i make them for free, just with credit :)) NOT PROOF READ

i hope your doing okay honey.

Stepping out of the shower, the towel around you just big enough to touch ends is slipped around yourself. Showering is getting harder. You can barely stand glancing at the mirror now.

You dry yourself off, and hand the towel back up. You can do it, just walk past the mirror to grab your clothes.

You take the steps past the mirror, and turn your back to the mirror to change. Slipping your bra on, and it squishes the skin on your back and you grimace.

Once your dressed, you turn back around. The nagging voices are just waiting to pounce. I mean, what? You used to be so skinny.

You used to be pretty.

You decided to let your hair air dry, and you walk into your bedroom. You had work today, but you really wish you didn't. It was a bad week, you'd skipped 3 meals in the last few days and you know what your therapist would say.

'The progress you've made, hun. You can't go back now.'

The bad days are getting too close to each other now. You used to have at least a week between them, but now it's barely 48 hours. Maybe being off medicine isn't working good anymore.

Maybe you're no good.

You throw in a big hoodie, one that covers you, and some sweat pants, glancing at the big mirror in your room.

You can't stop analyzing yourself.

There's not one good thing on you is it?

Fuck.

The rest of the day was spent at your stupid 9-5, with your stupid boss, in your stupid, lonely life. Christ, being off anti-depressants is really hitting you hard. Everyone at your job is stupid and today every customer who wants to blow you ear off about how you kids these days, by the end of the day, your so tense that your shoulders are aching.

You got about 30 minutes left at this off-brand kroger store, when a big, big ass man walks in, shoving a mask with a skull print on it on. You curse to yourself, you really don't want to have to call the police for a robbery, you just want to go home.

To be honest, if he had a gun, you'd be half tempted to let him shoot you-

"Ma'am?" A heavy British accent came from your right. You turn your head, and scan his few items. You don't bother with the how are you's and you sigh.

"It'll be 16.84." You drag your eyes to his, and he reaches to his pocket, pulling out..

A wallet. What else were you thinking?

He hands you a twenty, and you hand him his respective change. He bags his own items, because honestly, you seem like the only worker in the store. Your face is written with exhaustion, whether it be from this job or something else, and the guy notices.

"Have uh... A good day." He nods to you, and walks off.

You purse your lips, and sigh, closing your cashier, because fuck finishing today. You're too close to a breakdown, and you're not trying to let anyone see.

You drive home, your hands tight around the wheel. You know it's a bad idea to be driving this emotional, to the point you wonder what would happen if you swerve your car into a tree.

You won't do it though.

You need to get back out there. It's why you stopped taking your meds.

You promise yourself that tomorrow you'll go out, and at least get a one night stand, you want need, anything.

Once home and in bed, you scroll and scroll and scroll. Doom scrolling is too common on these longer nights. You have a pillow tucked into your arm, and your hand squeezes it every time that pang in your lower chest rings out. Loneliness, you think.

You always scroll through your old friends instagrams or snapchats, seeing their nice bodies and nice boyfriends. You've been so nice and kind and karma should be on your side, but it always failed.

Especially after your last boyfriend.

Your friends say to wait.

To wait.

To wait.

But waiting is getting harder. Days are getting longer, and your head seems to spin more when left to its own devices. Why do you have to wait?

Your looks.

Your personality.

Who'd wanna be seen with you?

You flip your phone over, and shove your face in the pillow, your breathing staggered.

You fell asleep late, that night. The tears brought you to exhaustion.

woah why did this take 2 tries to write.

be waiting for pt.2

TRUST FINALS ARE SOOM COMING TO AN END and summer i will be STEWING TRUST!!!

Taglist!

@i-am-hungry-24-7

thank you for all the support. drunk simon blew up and im crying bc i came back after a 2 year hiatus and i wasn't getting the same feedback as usual so to finally seeing people enjoy my work again makes me feel great. <3

sorry simon wasn't in this part much. you gotta know the reader first tho, right?

bye babes..

-a661

[slater-baby]

im a mess right now😞my dog just died…could you please write some comfort?

my dog had a heart disease but he was doing fine…but today he started throwing up blood…he got to the vet but it was too late…his little lungs were filled with blood….im devastated. i went to see his body and he looked like he suffered so much…the vet tried to bring him back but he didn’t….

tomorrow he’s going to be cremated 😞

hello, hon, I am so sorry to hear that your dog passed away <3 I'm sure your dog was loved just as much as family, and I'm sure he took that love with him when he passed. Here's some comfort for you ❤️ sending so much love and hope in your direction!

**small note: I wrote comfort over fluff, so it’s emotionally heavy. Sorry if you wanted something lighter!!

Broken, Together

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!Reader

Tags: slight blood and injury, hurt/comfort, reunion, fluff, confessions, flirting, implied sexual content, implied relationship, getting together, literally just straight tension between the two of them Word Count: 5.5k

-

“Hah—fuck,” you groan, not even bothering to mind your volume. Birds—what few of them were left—fly wildly from the tree next to you, running away from the pain of your shivering voice.

Let them, you think, resting your tired face against the plain of rock beneath you, There’s no helping this now.

The rain falls in merciless sheets, pelting you like miniature balls of ice with every minute of this miserable downpour. The river behind you is overflowing now, running red with untreated cuts and gloomy skies, and whirls around your dragging feet with every move, swallowing you up in muck. Listlessly, Scarlet trails of blood follow your path, but you can barely feel it pouring from the gash in your stomach.

You’d given up on walking a long time ago. Compared to the pain in your side, the fracture in your ankle was nothing, but they’re both a unique agony in their own right. You’d walked on the injury long enough, stumbling through the forest with your rifle and helmet. However, one wrong footfall had sent you tumbling down a cliffside, shards of rock and rubble imprinting themselves on every broken bone in your body—and not gently, either.

That had been half an hour ago. You’d barely made it a quarter of a kilometer since. 

The moss of the river bank tears into clumps within your grasp, washing away in the stream as you heave yourself up onto the bank. The scream you let out rings throughout the forest like a siren, and there was no doubt about it now: anyone who might have heard that would be coming soon enough. If they hadn’t trusted the sound the first time, they’d be running come the third.

Somewhere behind you, the war zone rages on. Dropping bombs paint the sky an eerie, smoke-shade of reddened blood. The nightscape is starless, hidden beneath a layer of dust and grime that not even the most powerful of telescopes could have seen through, but you look anyway.

Uselessly, you flop onto your back atop the river, unable to contain the tears of pain that leave you with the movement. 

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself once more, shakily setting your hand atop your bleeding cut. The treetops dance above you, swaying with every gust of the wind. It’s a gentle movement. Serene, almost. 

It’s not a bad place, you think idly, Wouldn’t mind staying here for a bit…or forever, at that.

Your lower body floats in the stream water. The rain washes away the dirt on your face. The searing pain of your injuries continue, but for the first time in days, you manage to take in a single, clean breath.

No one was coming for you. Your teammates had forgotten you—not that you blame them. If anything, you should be the sorry one. When the bombs had dropped and the five of you had been tossed in different directions, they were hardly the first thing on your mind—that’s not to say they were the last, however. Though, to claim that you’d even thought of them within the last twenty-four hours would be a stark lie. No, you were much too focused on your own dripping blood to do anything more than sit in the darkness and lick your wounds.

You sigh, trying desperately to find a star between criss-crossing tree branches, but your mind ranges on.

You didn’t come for them.

So they wouldn’t come for you.

If they aren’t already dead, that is, your mind helpfully supplies, Forty-eight hours alone, wandering through a war zone without backup and with no ammo reserves to speak of…better men had died from less.

Your fingers slip when another swathe of blood pours from the wound.

Well, at the very least, if they were well and truly gone, you’d probably be joining them soon, you smirk at the thought, Apologies can be saved for then…

The idea should have been a grim one, something that made your skin crawl and tears spring to your eyes. Yet, you find that it does the exact opposite. Instead, it falls over you like a worn blanket, painting yellow strings of warmth up your exhausted skin. An easy smile overcomes your face, and with little more to spare, you let your eyes fall closed, imaginary clouds swirling in the mass of darkness. Like that, you fade into the grass and rocks, fall away into the clutches of the earth underneath you, until it’s impossible to discern where the moss begins and where your camouflaged body ends.

Every breath is a trembling affliction, some sort of well-endured soreness. And for what seems like hours, you relish in the idea that soon enough, this will all be over. Soon enough, you really will fall back into the place you come from, back into the cradle of the distant star your very atoms were born inside of.

The moss is like a pillow.

The rocks feel like home.

The sky hangs overhead like a mobile, and with it, everything spins…

…and spins…

…and spins…

Until it doesn’t.

A loud snap resounds from the edge of the riverbank, and before you know it, something solid rams itself against your shoulder, falling headfirst into the stream at your feet. All at once, what feels like five hundred pounds of weight crushes down on top of you, replacing your comfortable end with a set of broken ribs instead.

“Fuck—,” you scream, automatically shocking into action despite the agony curling in your stomach. Uselessly, you try to push yourself back up the bank, but whatever—or whoever—just interrupted your reverie has a different plan.

A set of shaking hands grapple at your clothes, protruding from the water like a leering monster. They thrash though the waves, yanking you back down the rocky bay. You shriek as they pull your body into the water, nearly shoving you beneath the surface as they stagger to their feet. The shadow of them—the enormous, looming ink of it—consumes you when they emerge, haphazardly digging their claws into the collar of your uniform.

“Don’t—” they pant urgently, like they’d been suffocating mere seconds before, “Don’t you dare fucking move, you hear me?”

Flecks of water and spit rain down on you with his every word. Through the haze of your pain, you note that his voice is hollow and grisly, like he’d been choking up blood for hours before he came. With wide eyes, you clutch at his meaty forearms, trying to shove him away.

“Don’t fucking move!” He shouts again, jostling your body in his grip as he stumbles over his own two feet, “One more move, and I swear—swear to god, I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out.”

Something cold and wet is shoved up against your forehead. The barrel of the gun shakes with the force of his shivering. Between words, white plumes of breath fan over your face, and just barely, you can make out the shine of his irises through the fog of night.

“Woah—woah,” you tremble, limping lifting your hands in surrender, “I’m—I’m unarmed. Swear to god. I’m…fuck, I’m dying anyway. Couldn’t—couldn’t hurt you even if I tried…Swear it.”

For a few seconds, only the stunted sound of your shared breaths taints the air.

“I swear,” you whisper, like you still had anything left to plead for.

The man above you pauses, breathing deeply, and for a second, you take in the look of him. His face is…

Well, it’s a mess, to put it lightly. He’s covered in blood—watery rivulets of it—from bones to teeth, gathering in the slits of his gums. His lips are blue and split down the middle, front teeth broken crudely. His hair is matted with sweat and dirt, and mottled wounds cover his hollowed cheekbones. And his eyes are…Well, you can’t even see them. They’re swollen shut almost completely, a shade of purple so dark you might have mistaken it for black. Judging by the way his muscles contort around his words, he’s feeling every ounce of the violence inscribed upon his face.

“Just let me go,” you ask him gently, “Let me go, and—and I swear I won’t follow you. The allied FOB, it’s—” you point over his shoulder into the tree line, “It’s back that way…at least, I think. Whatever country you’re f-from, they’ll take care of you.”

The longer you continue speaking, the more skeptical the man becomes. Though, ‘skeptical’ might be the wrong word to describe it. If anything, he seems…confused. Shakily, he lowers the barrel from your forehead, and the purple skin around his eyes draws tight for a split second, almost as if he were trying to squint at your face.

“Rogue?” His voice is gentler this time, softer, “Rogue…is that you?”

At the sound of your callsign, your blood runs cold, brain shocking back to awareness.

“How—” you grab onto his forearm, ready to fight for your peaceful death if it comes down to it, “How do you know my name…”

A sharp breath escapes him, and all of a sudden, he’s holstering his gun, grabbing you under the arms to haul you up. His broken lips curve into a hazy smile.

“‘Cause—’cause it’s me, Rogue!” he huffs, a shivering laugh following the noise, “It’s me, Ghost.”

At that, you force your eyes to open impossibly wider. Puzzled, you squint at his ravaged face, fingers tightening around his wrist.

“Ghost?” You furrow your brows, “You’re not—you’re not Ghost. Ghost doesn’t show his…”

“Rogue, just—just look.”

He reaches down towards his belt, haphazardly sinking to his knees in the muck when your weight becomes too much for him to support. Like that, both of you fall back into the freezing lap of the stream, an odd peace overcoming you. It takes him a minute to find it. However, soon enough, he pulls a sheet of sopping, black fabric from under the surface, shakily holding it up in front of his face.

There, against a muddy background, stands that familiar white skull. It’s chipped around the edges and somewhat sad looking, what with the water. Yet, there’s no denying it. That’s Ghost’s mask, the same one you stared at over a hand of playing cards or over a couple drinks at the bar. Instantly, his hands hardly feel like chains around your wrists anymore.

“Ghost?” You huff, sitting up with more strength than you can remember having in the past forty-eight hours.

The man—Ghost—can’t contain the smile that overcomes him, not even when you’re sure the pain of it must be blinding.

“Yeah,” he answers happily.

“Ghost!” 

Without even thinking, you grab him around the strap of his vest, yanking him into a tight hug. The water pushes in between your bodies, in between your beating hearts, and yet, his warmth sustains you. It survives you. You, with your cold hands and trembling body. Him, with his warm chest and blue lips.

“Holy shit,” you laugh into the crook of his shoulder, feeling more alive than you have in days, “How did you—Fuck, where have you been? Are you hurt? How are you?”

“Fuckin’ better now that I found you, love,” he chuckles, locking his arms around your waist. You can feel him resting his chin against your shoulder, stubble scraping over your cheek. It’s weirdly close, to feel him like this—to feel his arms, chest, cheek, and smile bleeding life back into your body after you’d gone so long without it.

“God, me too,” you exhale, relaxing inside of his grasp. You’d never considered it before, but something inside of the way that he holds you—like he’d sincerely missed you all these hours—is so comforting you can’t even begin to describe it. No, you can only melt into it, counting every beat of his heart as they come and go against your sternum.

“You’re…” Another sharp breath; this time, worried, “You said you’re dying…?”

His arms weaken around your body, almost like he wanted to pull back and look at you, but you don’t let him. Instead, you hook your arm around the back of his neck, pressing him into your shoulder. Some part of you—small and nagging—doesn’t want even an inch to separate you any longer.

“I—I don’t know,” you shake your head stupidly, some dumb smile on your face, “I guess…I thought I was. It definitely felt like it. But I’m not so sure anymore. God, now that you’re here, I…”

Your words trail off, their meaning too heavy for you to shoulder alone. Unconsciously, your fingers tangle in the hairs at the base of his neck, and you squeeze them lovingly, chest stuttering with a sort of happiness you never thought you’d feel again. 

Unwillingly, you can feel as tears gather in your eyes. They burn against your freezing cheeks when they fall.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Ghost,” you whisper, voice trailing off into a small cry. 

He doesn’t say anything—he can’t. The only response to your words is the way that his muscles tighten, the way that his chest rises and falls rapidly when he pulls you in all the harder, holding you steadfast against his thrumming pulse point.

“Me too, love,” he rasps, voice choked, “Me too.”

For a minute, it all fades all. From the fires raging in the distance, to the death you thought was waiting so near, they all fall limply in the face of your embrace—in the face of the emotions coursing through you.

Maybe you wouldn’t die here.

You didn’t want to die here.

Not anymore.

Not now that you have him.

Not anymore.

“Fuck,” you pull back with a sniffle, crudely wiping snot away from your face. You reach out with your dirty hands, gently cupping his swollen cheeks. He winces at even the smallest touch, instinctually grabbing your wrist to lighten your touch.

“Where have you been?” You ask with a grimace, looking at his battered body, “Are you dying?”

“No,” he chuckles, but it cuts off into a small grunt. He drops his face, tucking the mask under his belt, before reaching up a finger to play at the cut of his split lips.

“Hope not,” he huffs gleefully, lifting his face into the light for you to look at, “Probably got a pretty good concussion going on. Head sure fuckin’ feels like it. But…I think m’alright.”

You nod, pulling your hand away from his cheek to run it through his buzzed hair, checking for cuts along his scalp.

“You don’t look like it,” you joke, “I mean, I’ve never seen your face before, but…I don’t think it’s supposed to look like that.”

At that, Simon laughs heartily, not even trying to resist the grin on his pale lips any longer.

“Yeah, that,” he sighs, running a hand over his jaw, “After the first fire run, I ran into the tree line. Wasn’t much cover anywhere else, so I figured that was the best shot at survival—and I wasn’t wrong. Only problem was that I was running in the wrong direction,” a grim countenance overcomes him for a minute, “Ran East for just a minute too long, accidentally ran straight through their bloody lines. For what it’s worth, the bastards didn’t notice me for a few hours…but, once they did…”

He sighs, rolling his eyes—like this were all just some stupid inconvenience for him instead of a life-threatening injury. You resist a laugh. Simon was like that, always confident in himself and his abilities, even when one simple mistake could prove so deadly.

“Some prick from Kortac thought it’d be a right laugh to get a look under the mask…paid for it with his life. But, not after he banged me up good,” he continues, “He tried to smash a rock over m’head, but couldn’t manage it, so he brought my head to the rock instead. That was yesterday. The swelling’s flared up pretty bad, and when I tried to put the mask on, the faceplate felt about two sizes too small…”

He huffs, looking down at his sodden mask.

“Figured I’d rough it for the night,” Simon chuckles, “Hasn’t been too bad. Mask woulda gotten in the way, anyway. M’eyes are so swollen I can barely fucking see…Didn’t even know you were there ‘till I tripped right over you.”

He looks down at your body and at the swirls of red blood cascading through the ripples around you.

“Sorry about that, by the way,” he breathes, reaching down to idly put pressure on your seeping wound.

“It’s alright,” you grit, hurriedly grabbing a hold of his shirt at the sudden sensation, “Better—than the fucking stab wound, I’ll tell you that…Though, you could do to lose a little weight, LT. Swear to god you almost cracked a rib when you fell on me like that.”

“Well,” he snarks, “Noted, love. Guess I won’t be on the cover of Vogue anytime soon, anyway. Not with a face like this, at least.”

“Exactly,” you giggle, but it quickly turns into a pained gasp when his fingers pull the two sides of your flesh back together. You writhe in the water, curling into his chest in some vain attempt at hiding yourself from the pain.

“You good?” He asks absently, rubbing over your stomach without hardly batting an eye at the way you cling onto him.

“I’ve been better,” you mewl, eyes wrenched shut, “Still—still not sure I’ll ever do better, though…”

“Don’t say that—”

“Ghost—”

“I said, don’t say that,” he scowls (or, well, as much as he can with his bruised façade), “Not yet, at least. I won’t let you.”

For a moment, all you can do is sit there against his chest, looking at where the scant moonlight phases through the colors of his blonde stubble. Although his face isn’t a pretty sight at the moment, you can’t help but memorize it, running your eyes over his each and every detail, like you were looking at him for the first time all over again.

“You promise?” You ask hesitantly, grabbing onto the back of his collar.

“I promise,” he answers without a second thought.

At that, you take in a low breath, before nodding in response. The hand against your stomach tightens for a beat—a token of reassurance—before he’s shifting on his knees.

“Here,” he huffs, getting his feet underneath himself, “Over that hill, you see it? There’s an overhang. Might give us a bit o’ cover from the rain.”

“Okay,” you follow listlessly, hooking your arm around his neck. However, just when you begin to come to your feet, the crackling bones in your ankle <em>scream</em> in protest. Limply, you fall against him.

“Fuck,” you grunt, looking down at where your feet disappear in the water, “Stupid legs…”

“Can you walk?” He huffs, stumbling over his own two feet. It nearly sends the both of you tumbling back into the water. Mentally, you chuckle at the pitiful image the two of you must make.

Maybe that concussion was worse than he was letting on, you raise your brows, staring at his grisly face.

“Far enough,” you reply instead of speaking your mind, carefully curling your hand around his back. Although your strength is marginal, even just the suggestion of your touch seems to straighten him up—enough to get onto the bank of the stream, at the very least.

“Good, ‘cause—” Simon’s voice peaks on your first step, a deep, hollow noise escaping him, “‘Cause once we’re there, m’not sure how much longer I can—bloody stand.”

“Right—back at you...” You grit, wrenching your eyes shut with another blistering step.

-

Fire-starters were a fickle thing, you’d learned.

Especially in the rain.

“Damnnit,” you curse, scowling down at fingers once more. The rain had done a number on Simon’s dwindling supplies, and none but a single fire starter remained. Good thing he was a heavy smoker, otherwise you’d have to light this fire caveman-style.

Yeah, you take a deep breath in, Maybe you could lay off all the warnings about lung cancer…it all seems like a trivial fucking problem in the face of this.

“Here,” Simon weakly shuffles closer, jacket halfway down his arms.

He pries the lighter out of your hands, flicking his thumb across the wheel. Without further persuasion, the flame blinks to life, a stark burn against your frozen skin.

“Fuck—!” Simon’s arm jerks, and he hurriedly covers his eyes, nearly dropping the lighter against the ground.

“Woah—you okay?” You yank the lighter out of his hand, hurriedly nestling the sparks against the kindling. It goes up in flames (thankfully) hardly a second later.

“Yeah, s’just—” he furiously rubs over his eyes with the palms of his hands, shoulders tight in agony, “The light is just…This—fucking headache won’t go away…”

“Ghost,” you shuffle closer to him, wrapping your arm around his shoulder, “Maybe you should lay down for a minute. I’ll—I’ll finish setting everything up, and we can figure things out in the morning.”

“No—no, Rogue, I won’t fuckin’ leave you by yourself,” he rakes a hand through his hair, under-eyes blackened and tired, “You’re hurt, too. That cut needs cleaned and dressing—and don’t you dare fuckin’ tell me otherwise.”

At that, you snap your mouth shut, swallowing the very words he’d just predicted. His eyes are woefully deadpan beneath all the swelling.

Gotcha.

“Ghost, you’re just as bad,” you come closer, holding his shoulders.

“Don’t say that,” he pulls your hand off of his shoulder, clutching it in front of his chest, “Don’t compromise yourself for me just because of a stupid little—”

“I’m not compromising myself—”

“I said no, okay? So just—”

“Ghost, your face is fucking purple right now—”

“And that’s okay so long as I know you’ll make it through the fucking night!” He whisper-yells, voice strained, like even the act of talking were painful in and of itself, “This headache can last as long as I know that you’ll last, okay, love? You get what I’m saying? Do you understand now?”

With every word that he speaks, his fingers curl tighter and tighter around your own, until you’re sure the shaking in your frame is from the blistering way he melds your skin and not the frigid winds whipping up your back. Unbidden, you’re speechless, and eventually, his voice dwindles into nothing. However, his hold remains.

“Ghost…” you begin, but you don’t know how to continue. His breath materializes like falling snowflakes between the two of you, and from his height, he curls over you closer.

“You remember what I said back then? That night at the bar?” He leans his face down, forcing you to meet his eye.

Your breath hitches at the mention, a glowing heat gathering in your cheeks. You barely have the bravery to raise your lashes to look at him, but when you do, he remains the same, bloodied man that he’d always been.

“I’m done letting you think that you’re unimportant, Rogue,” he whispers, his very words woven into the plains of your skin, “Not to me. Not to any of us. I’m done. Do you hear me?”

Shakily, you nod your head, looking down at your intertwined hands. Something inside of you—small and fragile—revels in the heat of his skin, and yet, another part of you shudders in the shadow of it. The cast of its unfamiliarity. The way that he touches you. The way that he speaks to you. The thoughts you know he has of you…and your own inability to muster your bravery.

“Let me take care of you. For once,” he continues, pleading.

Briskly, you swallow, closing your eyes. His scent wraps around you like a blanket, and with shivers running up your spine, you submit to the uncertainty of it. To a man whose face you’d never seen before…to a man whose lips you hardly remember the taste of.

Unwittingly, your brain thinks back on that night in the bar.

Kentucky bourbon.

Slurred dialogue.

Linen sheets. 

Dripping sweat.

The truth of him—one that you didn’t even know had existed…

God, you remember the way he tastes. In the recesses of your drunken memories…

Lime and hops. Stringent alcohol and cigarette smoke. Victory, virility, vitality and all of their counterparts. It was wasted on you. Or, at least, you thought it had been. Ghost, on the other hand, had never given up quite so easily.

“Simon,” you say for the first time in months—for the first time since that night. His chest stills against you.

“Then,” you press your hand to his sternum; it looks inconsequential against the mass of him, “Let’s do it together. Take care of each other, I mean. Can we do that?”

You look up at him from where you sit, shadowed beneath everything that he is. Through the darkness, you can see the way his jaw grinds for a few seconds, before he gives in.

“Only if you let me make the first move,” he huffs, a small smile overcoming his lips.

You can only scoff, eyes dropping back onto the ground between your legs. Blood rushes to your face, and your fingers fidget against his chest.

“Don’t you always do that?” You quip under your breath.

“Well,” he shuffles closer, gently grabbing your shoulder, “You tell me, love. Was that night in the  bar a one-off or…?”

“Simon,” you keel forward with an embarrassed laugh, looking over his shoulder instead of his face, “You—you can’t just say things like that…”

“Why?” he turns his head, lips brushing against your cheekbone. His fingers fumble at your collar, painting shivers into your being with every brush of your touching skin. The sound of the zipper is stark when he begins to edge it downwards, “Afraid you might like ‘em?”

At that, you don’t even have the strength to make a joke. No, you hook your arms around his neck, placing your chin on his shoulder while he slowly opens your jacket. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” this time, he presses his cheek into yours; it’s so dreadfully, beautifully warm, “But I know you’ll listen.”

His words are like a balm, distracting you even when his fingers begin to pluck at the hem of your shirt.

“Can I push it up?” He asks you gently, “Just enough to clean the cut. I won’t look if you don’t want me to. I swear.”

“Why?” You mumble, hiding your face in the crook of his shoulder like that might give you more bravery, “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before…”

“Trust me, love, I remember,” he shifts on his knees, nose brushing your hair, “But I know how you get about that stuff…All delicate ’n whatnot.”

“M’not delicate,” you giggle, even as something cold and wet presses into your bloodied stomach.

“You’re not,” he replies mindlessly, “But you felt that way. That night.”

That night.

Your skin bristles viscously at the thought, but even more viciously at the feeling of his fingers holding your wound closed. Instead of focusing on the pain, you try desperately to lose yourself in the memory of it, of how his bare skin had felt against yours that night. He doesn’t see it, but you can’t help but smile dreamily at the thought of it.

That night.

God, that night.

You were younger than him. Callow, too. Half the time you felt like some bloodless kid standing next to the rest of them. Unintelligent. Unimportant. The charity case that somehow made it to the big leagues. 

Of course you’d always had eyes for Ghost—who wouldn’t—even before he’d dropped the pretenses and admitted that he thought of you as friends. You still remember the night he’d finally told you. You’d nearly drove yourself insane with all of the swirling thoughts that had swallowed you up when you’d laid down for bed.

After that, you felt like a teenager writing his name in the margins of her diary, in looping hearts and gel pen. 

He was so far above you, and you, so beneath him. By all means, you were nothing to him.

Until that night.

Until you were in your cups, falling off of your barstool.

Until he pulled up his mask to take another drink, and you saw his smile for the very first time.

Until the boys went home and only you remained.

Until he pulled you close and told you that he thought you were beautiful—that he thought you were everything.

Until the only thing you could sense was the whiskey on his breath and the slick heat of his sweaty hips pumping back and forth between your legs.

Swallowing, you pull your fingers into his jacket, holding onto him like he might disappear into the very earth that had encompassed your tomb not an hour ago.

That night, you weren’t some small thing any longer. You weren’t some crushing high-schooler or immature teenage girl. You felt like the woman you’d finally become, the one you swore he’d made you.

If only you could’ve had the courage to look him in the eye and admit to all of it in the months that’d followed…

“I think you’re delicate,” you murmur in the swathe of his shirt, “Not back then, but now…”

You pull back, cupping his jaw. His skin and taut and thin, mangled and grisly. You can tell that the singular point of contact is agonizing to him, but he doesn’t resist it. No, he lets you hold him there, even when a wince works its way up his throat.

“Is that how I seem to you?” He asks, breathing you in.

“Simon, like this…” you follow the marks with your eyes, from his chin to his hairline, “With everything that’s happened to you…I guess, I thought you were invincible, but…”

Listlessly, your hands drop to his collarbones, plucking at a loose string on his shirt.

“But you’re fragile,” you whisper, lips brushing against his chin, “Human.”

The words are chock full of some unspoken emotion, something that had been boiling inside of you for so long, but had never quite managed to spill over. Until now.

“I guess that I…” you take a deep breath in, “I guess that I thought I couldn’t hurt you. That nothing could. And…I’m sorry for that, Simon. For thinking that of you.”

When you raise your head, he looks deep into your eyes, into the flickering shadows and dancing firelight. They burn his senses, grate on his nerves, rip out his heartstrings—and yet, he remains still. Fighting, still.

“Rogue, listen…”

He pulls his hand from underneath your shirt, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you close. When your bodies meet, when his chest becomes flush with yours, hips nestled just above yours, a warmth you’d nearly lost in that freezing stream returns to you. Everything you’d felt that night—the night when you’d finally done right by yourself and by him—comes rushing back, just as jarring as the headache that rocks his world.

“Everything out here—everything that’s happened…” he speaks, “The light, the sound, the people, this world—they hurt me…but you don’t. You never have. Never could.”

Transfixed, you push your hand into the pocket of his jacket, pulling him closer.

“I promise you, love,” he whispers, “Nothing you’ve done, nothing you’ve said has ever done that to me. You’ve a kind heart. A soft one.”

The words are raspy and low, a salve or medicine.

“Sometimes, though, I just wish you’d hurry up and give it to me,” he chuckles, though it quickly transforms into a wince.

At that, you can’t help but chuckle too, muscles tightening around his comforting embrace. Here, the world is just as peaceful, just as calm. It’s just as serene as the stream or woods, just as bright as the furthest shining stars. But unlike the rest of this world, you don’t want to leave it. Not now. Not yet.

“Then…” you swallow the emotions in your throat, “Would you mind waiting for me for just one more night?”

His chest rumbles with a hearty laugh, his big palms sliding over the curve of your back.

“Hardly,” he answers, “As long as tomorrow comes, I’ll have you. I promise.”