#he's so slow most of the time and just sleeps

[onekmaway]

(giving this blog some love 💚)

Rich. men. 🗣️

when he approached you and proposed the idea of being his sugar baby, you thought it would be those cliche stories

but those stereotypes were quickly thrown out when he said that he wanted to be the one taking the backshots 💔 telling you that for every orgasm he have, 10 grand (maybe more) would be inserted into your account ❤️

ofc he takes you to lovely dates outside of the bedroom too 🥰

-🌹

Rich. PATHETIC. men. 🗣️

Imaging you're a college student, your studies having drained you of life, you barely get sleep, and not to mention- you're broke, barely getting by, and not to mention, you had student debt too. But one day, you're scrolling through some dating app (that down bad, huh?), and suddenly gotten a match by some guy- it seems you two had a lot in common (or you simply lied), though, he was older- hell, almost old enough to be your dad, but hey? A pull is a pull- at least he was hot. And after a few dates, you started to like him, though, mostly because on each date, he paid for everything, and I mean everything, which... you did not mind, not at all- hell, you were too scared to even look at the bill, seeing that most of the places you two visited was fancy or expensive at least, so you weren't complaining- it wasn't like you two didn't hit it off, and he was happy enough to pay for all of you expenses.

One day, when you were visiting his penthouse apartment (yeah, he was that rich), and jesus, it made your dorm room look like a cubby, the view was nice too. While you two were drinking a bit, talking and what not- it got quiet, till you heard him ask: "Would- would you mind being my sugar baby?" He asked, making you just pause- god you were a bit scared of him asking this, why else was he spoiling you so much? But god, you were too broke, so pushing your pride away, you agreed. After a month or so, being his sugar baby, it was... well, smooth, he hasn't asked you to do anything, well, maybe a kiss here and there- and hell, he paid for all of you school debt, so that was a plus, you were allowed to live comfortably again. That is till one day, when he invited you to his penthouse, it started slow, talking, and then it turned into kissing, which was slow, passionate- till it turned hungry, needy even- this was the moment you dreaded, when you pulled away, trying to subtly telling him that you weren't really the type to take it up the ass, and that you were kind of a virgin in it- to which he simply chuckled, almost laughing out loud "Wait- no, no, no- I don't want to fuck you- I want you to fuck me" When he said that, you could feel some relief leave your body, but then it turned into a bit confusion- he, your sugar daddy, wanted to be fucked? "Look- I get it, I... probably didn't make it much clear, that, I apologize for... you probably thought I was like- this super dominant CEO type or something?" He asked nervously- everything made sense to you now, the way he acted around you, making sure you well and satisfied, staring at your arms, your muscles, each time you wear a tight shirt or tank top- the fact that you only realized now made you feel a bit dumb "So... will you fuck me?" He asked, bringing you back to the present, the situation finally dawning on you- and like that, you were balls deep inside of him- his hands holding the pillow like a lifeline, your hands gripping his hips oh so tightly as you bounced him back on your cock each time you thrusted inside of him, and god, those moans and groans coming out of his mouth was like a melody- despite him having told you it's been a very long while since he got fucked- he was taking it so well, like he was just made for your cock

His hole was gripping your cock so nicely- much better than the chicks at your college, their cunts pale in comparison of how his walls wrapped so nicely around your cock, "Oh- fuck! I think I'm close, please" He would moan out, his hole gripping your cock even tighter (if that was even possible), moaning each time your cock reached that one spot, that is till you slowed down a bit- wanting to prolong the pleasure just a bit longer, "Oh- fuck, please.... don't edge me now- not now, not when I'm so close" He whined out, pushing his ass back against your hips, trying to get you to fuck him faster again, and after torturing him just a bit longer- you began to fuck him faster again, a moan of delight leaving his lips, gripping his pillow harder as you fucked him into the bed. Now after all of that, he was spent- he knew sleeping with someone younger would drain him, but god, he was much more drained than he thought he would be- and you weren't even tired... yet at least, you were trying to find your boxers, confused where you threw it, he just reached for his bedside drawer lazily, digging around it till he found what he was looking for "Here... buy something nice for you... you made me cum after all" He mumbled out before just simply throwing his wallet at you, practically limp on the bed

Yeah, you could definitely get used to this

[808airsoftbros]

Christmas Wish (Female Idols)

Author: Merry Christmas everyone, here is my special holidays oneshot. I may or may not write a New Year's special sequel as I did plan to write a smut into this but I didn't have the time and energy spent on the Holiday mayhem. Anyway, hope you enjoy and if you want to check out more stories go to Masterlist.

Silent night, holy night All is calm, all is bright Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child Holy Infant so tender and mild Sleep in heavenly peace Sleep in heavenly peace

Silent night, holy night Shepherds quake at the sight Glories stream from heaven afar Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia Christ the Savior is born Christ the Savior is born

Silent night, holy night Son of God, love's pure light Radiant beams from Thy holy face With the dawn of redeeming grace Jesus Lord, at Thy birth Jesus Lord, at Thy birth

Y/N's POV

It was another night of singing Christmas carols in my local church theatre, just like every year on the holidays. Despite the years that had passed, everyone showed up in droves, and family and friends came together.

Some are apart for most of the year for study or work, and seeing them come together again as a union once more makes me envy them.

My whole life I grew up as an orphan, I don't even know what my family looks like or what it's even like to have one. I was unwanted, cast aside, and not even worth a penny in this society.

Then why do I sing these stupid Christmas carols? I don't even know myself... Maybe because it's all I know because there's nowhere to go? Perhaps.

But the real reason doesn't matter much now, does it? No, not really. I don't even know the meaning of life, and I have no idea of my purpose.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for taking the time to come to this wonderful Christmas chorale this evening! It was such a pleasure to always host this yearly tradition in this glamorous town! And it's such a wonderful feeling seeing all of you reunited with family and friends you may not have seen in years, now, please give a warm applause to our singers!" The host spoke to the crowd and they all cheered as they clapped the sounds echoing in the church.

As we all dispersed from our group, I didn't even bother staying for the after-party as nobody cared about me and wouldn't notice I was gone. I knew I was simply a meaningless character in the background of everyone's story.

Once I walked inside the comfort of my apartment I sighed as I closed the door, I sat down on the couch cracking open a bottle of apple soju from the fridge just dazing in my thoughts.

"Silent night~. Holy night~. Yeah, shut the fuck up..." I said to myself as that stupid chorale was stuck playing in my head as if the Universe was mocking me.

Why does my life fucking suck? I don't know and I don't even care at this point... Because what's the point in life anymore?

Everyone has a purpose in life, whether to be working, being a celebrity for everyone to admire and fan over, or whatever that may be. But here I am slouching in my apartment like a waste of space in this world.

What is my damn purpose here? To be a pathetic joke and stain on society? Wow, what a way to start my life and this will likely stay that way forever.

Looking at the clock, I sighed deeply as it was nearly time for me to go to work, I slipped on my shopkeeper's uniform before heading into the store to relieve my co-worker who was wrapping up his shift for the day.

"Ah, Merry Christmas, Y/N, right on time as usual," He greeted and I nodded.

"Busy today?" I asked and he nodded.

"Yup, the store's been packed with tourists all day, but tonight should be slow since nobody is out at night so it should be a pretty slow and chill shift for you," He sighed as he grabbed his things.

I watched as my co-worker walked out of the store and into the winter snow as the sun was slowly starting to set down and darkness slowly began taking over the city.

Settling down on the stand, I placed in headphones listening to chill music to pass the time as I stared at the empty store, even though this was going to be boring as hell it was free money for me and I pretty much had the run of the store.

I did ring out a few late-night customers that I see every night buying beer and smokes along with snacks but other than that the streets are empty.

"That would be all tonight for you miss?" I asked politely and the customer nodded.

"Yes please," She replied as I rang up her items.

Just as I was about to finish up the transaction I heard the doorbell ringing, glancing to see who was entering, it was a woman wearing a black mask and a black winter coat wearing high heels with black stockings.

This made me raise an eyebrow as I had never seen the woman around here before, I thanked the lady for shopping there as I handed her the bag of her stuff, and I silently watched the strange woman as the lady walked out of the store.

I sighed leaning back on the chair as I quietly watched the woman browse the snack and beer section with a hint of curiosity but I kept it subtle so as not to create an awkward situation.

About maybe five minutes later, she grabbed some snacks along with the most expensive wine available which is a bit surprising as nobody has ever purchased it as long as I worked here.

"Hello, miss, will this be all tonight?" I asked in that same professional and polite tone.

The lady didn't reply but just nodded and I shrugged as I assumed she wasn't a talker, I ringed up her snacks but when I rang up the wine the POS locked me out requiring me to enter a date of birth.

"Can I see your ID real quick?" I asked politely and she seemed hesitant.

"Sorry miss, but if you don't show me your ID, I cannot sell you this," I informed her and she sighed as she pulled out her wallet before showing me her ID card.

Reading the date of birth the expiration date along with the authenticity, everything seemed to check out as she was above the age of 18 but the issue was her face as she was wearing the mask.

"Again, I'm sorry, but could pull down your mask? I need to see if the picture on your ID matches yours," I instructed and she seemed a bit irritated.

"Come on, I'm over 18, and I got places to be," She complained and I sighed as it seemed she was another difficult customer.

"I deeply apologize ma'am, but this is the law we're talking about here and I unfortunately don't make the rules here. Either show your face or you'll have to leave the wine behind," I explained to her and she huffed still refusing.

Just as I was about to take the wine off, I heard the doorbell ringing and another lavish woman walked in looking confused.

"Yah, Chewie, what's taking so long?" She asked her.

"Well, this idiot here thinks my ID isn't mine," The woman nicknamed Chewie answered and she sighed.

"Probably because we're wearing masks. Just do it, Chewie, before we're late, and besides, nobody else is here at this hour," the strange lady pointed out, and Chewie rolled her eyes.

Reluctantly, the woman pulled down her mask and picture on the ID, and her face checked out, allowing the transaction to finish up and me to not have to put up with her rich, snotty attitude.

"I'm sorry about that, sir. She doesn't get along with strangers well," the lady apologized on her behalf.

"No worries, it's part of the job," I assured and the lady sighed in relief seeing I wasn't too angry about the petty issue.

As they grabbed the bag of items, I watched them leave making me sigh in relief as I could get back to my other duties. I have dealt with many stupid customers in the past but this was a first, having some rich snot thinking they're above everyone else and the law.

I shrugged it off as I went to cook up some fresh hot dogs for the hot food stock along with pretzels stuffing the pre-made dough in the oven.

After I finished restocking the store, I wiped down the counter when I heard the doorbell ringing again and I looked up to see a couple of women wearing the same masks as the previous two did but their clothing was more casual this time instead of the lavish designer clothes.

Naturally, I kept my guard up and ready for their nonsensical rich crap as I wiped down the counter until the two women walked up to me holding a couple of cases of soju.

"Good evening, ladies, will this be all today?" I asked politely.

"Yup, that will be all, do you need to see our IDs?" One of them asked and I was a bit surprised.

"Uhm, yes, please," I answered they showed their IDs without a fuss and pulled down masks proving the pictures matched.

"Aight, your ladies check out," I informed them.

"By any chance, did our little friend Chewie give you any trouble tonight?" Haseul asked kindly and I raised an eyebrow.

"Who again?" I asked a bit confused.

"You know, the tall Taiwanese woman that just walked in here," Heejin chimed in and I chuckled.

"Eh, somewhat, nagging about pulling down her mask," I answered but also kept it professional and they giggled.

"Yeah, she's like that, that's why we don't often take her out much because she always causes trouble and we can't have news reporting scandals about her, can we?" Haseul mentioned as she inserted her credit card into the pin pad.

"What do you mean?" I asked and they seemed surprised by my question.

Haseul and Heejin looked at each other for a moment, somehow assuming that I might've heard about them like they were some sort of celebrities. Or perhaps they are and I live under a rock.

"N-Nevermind, how much do I owe?" Haseul asked giving a nervous smile and I told her the amount due.

Once the transaction was complete I handed over the receipt and they left without saying another word. I grabbed the cleaning cloth when I noticed Haseul had left her phone on my counter.

I grabbed the phone and rushed out of the store but by the time I got out, I watched them start their car and drive away and I sighed as I went back into the store seeing no point in chasing after them.

Getting back behind the counter trying to figure out what to do next, after thinking for some time I got an idea, I grabbed a paperclip in the drawer and bent it out to make a needle.

I take the phone out of its case carefully making sure I don't damage or scratch anything, I find the hole on the side and insert the needle popping out the SIM card slot.

"Bingo," I muttered holding the SIM card.

Seeing there were no customers around and the store was neat and tightly for now, I had plenty of spare time to kill as I took out my laptop plugged the SIM card into the slot, and used software to decode the information and find her phone number.

When I finished getting the necessary information, I managed to write down her number before sending her a text informing her that she had left her phone at my store.

I placed my phone down feeling rather odd at how she easily trusted me despite being a stranger to her, I guess she must be that busy and desperate to trust me that much.

Welp, there's nothing much more I can do about it unfortunately and I can only wait until my shift is over so I can turn her phone over.

Looking up the address on Google, it luckily wasn't too far away and within walking distance, but it's also impressive that they are located in the most expensive hotel in the city which shouldn't be all that surprising.

When I finally finished my shift, I made my way to the hotel but as I was walking I just wondered why Haseul didn't ask how I got her number in the first place. Strange now I think about it...

Whatever, the least I can do now is return her phone and get out of their hair for good, and it's not like they'll drag me into their hotel room and make me their pet, right? Some sort of delusional Christmas wish.

Anyway, I finally made my way through the hotel lobby after getting the number of their room, I hopped onto the elevator to the top floor, making my way through the corridor filled with pots of plants and statues.

Walking past the various rooms, I managed to find the right one, I took a breath before hitting the doorbell button.

"Who could that be?!" I heard a female voice ask loudly.

"I hope it's not a saesang! Let me check!"

Hearing footsteps coming upon the door, assuming the person was looking through the peephole, the door opened soon after.

"Can I help you?" A squirrel-looking Japanese woman asked and I held up Haseul's phone.

"I came to return Haseul's phone, I believe this belongs to her," I informed her handing over the phone to her.

"Oh, why thank you but how did you find it?" The woman asked cautiously.

"Haseul texted me to come here, I used the SIM card to track her number... I hope that doesn't sound too creepy, I didn't know what else to do," I explained nervously hoping that they don't call the cops on me.

The woman looked at me checking me out and making sure I wasn't some creepy stalker or hacker coming to steal her information or something.

Soon after, she called Haseul over and she came over soon after sighing in relief that I arrived before handing back her phone.

"Oh, thank you so much! You're a real lifesaver!" Haseul thanked me profusely.

"Yeah, it's no problem, Noona, Merry Christmas," I replied and was about to walk away.

"Hold it!"

I froze in place, slowly turning around to see what they wanted, my stomach hung in balance as I could only imagine the worst about to come.

"You really thought we'd let you leave without thanking you properly~?" Haseul asked with a warm smile and I raised an eyebrow.

"Uhh... What?" I asked.

"What she's saying is that we want you to stay for the party, if you're free of course," Nayeon chimed in and my eyes widened.

Well, I'll fucking be...

"Uh... yeah, I am," I confessed nervously and Nayeon came forward taking my arm and dragging me into their room almost seeming the ridiculous Christmas wish was coming true after all... At least most of it.

As Nayeon got me inside the room, the squirrel woman closed the door behind us, I was taken into the living room where I was astonished to see it was all girls.

"Oh, Haseul, is that Y/N? The one you kept talking about?" A Thomas-looking woman asked and Haseul nodded.

"Well, he is cute,"

"Is he staying for the party?"

"Ugh, why is he here?"

"Yah! Chewie, be nice to our guest for once!"

"Hmph!"

As the Japanese woman introduced herself, Sana seated me on the couch next to her, keeping her arm locked around mine. The girls just chuckled amusingly, seeing how clingy she was around me.

"Yah, miss flirt, you might give the guy a nosebleed if you keep holding him like that?" Jeongyeon pointed out at Sana pressing her boobs on my arm and she giggled only putting more pressure.

"So what if I do? I do enjoy pampering... Especially young men," She replied with a sultry tone as she caressed my chest making me gulp.

"Oh, God, Unnie, you always are a creep. You know that?" Tzuyu rolled her eyes, but Sana took no notice.

"Don't worry about them sweetheart, I have a surprise Christmas present waiting in the bedroom... If you know what I mean~," She giggled in a flirty way and I swore I felt my nose was about to bleed any second.

Soon after, the sassy idol Chaewon approached me, wrapping an arm around mine and forcing me away from her, but Sana brought me back.

"Yah! I saw him first!" Sana bickered.

"No! I won't let you corrupt him! Especially on the Holidays!" Chaewon replied as she continued tugging at me.

"Yah! Girls enough already!" JiU butted in breaking them and sighing in relief as I felt I was gonna get split into two.

"Look, girls, like Chaewon said, it's the Holiday season, and Christmas is around the corner. How about we all just enjoy each other's company while it lasts? We've all had a busy year, and we certainly don't need to add more problems right now, so how about we move on and enjoy ourselves?" Jihyo proposed, and the girls agreed.

"Does that mean I go home?" I asked raising my hand and the girls all shook their heads.

"No!" They all said in unison and I sighed.

When the party was done being set up for tonight, the girls went out shopping, of course, I was dragged along against my will with Gaeul, Handong, Sana, and Chaewon.

We all split into multiple groups, and I stayed with the four girls, who kept me in place and took me around the massive mall full of toy shops, gaming surplus, and much more as the girls shopped for clothes.

"First off, my dear, let's upgrade that Dinosaur of a phone," Handong pointed out.

"But it's the iPhone 4..." I mentioned and Gaeul facepalmed making me confused as this is the latest phone... At least that's what I thought.

"Pabo! Were you living under a rock? Come, let us show you the magic of modern technology," Chaewon said, taking my hand and leading me into the Apple store.

Looking around, I marveled at the accessories for Airpods, Beats, and iPads, and I was surprised to see the new iPhone lineup. I was living under a rock, being so busy with work and staying at my apartment most of the time.

One of the staff members approached, asking if they needed assistance. The girls asked the guy for the most expensive iPhone they had, and he took us over to the iPhone 16 Pro Max, which made my jaw drop as it was a whopping $1,599, the initial price for 1 TB.

Of course, being idols this was nothing to them as they paid for the new phone and soon set me up with the new model.

"Jeez, I know I returned your phone but this is quite a bit much," I commented checking out my new phone.

"No worries, dear, this will not even be close to denting our bank accounts compared to the rest of the shopping trip," Sana giggled.

"So best prepare yourself to be spoiled all day," Chaewon said, and I sighed as I was dragged along with them.

The entire day was spent just the girls buying shit for me like luxury brands like Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and even Lego sets that I've wanted. All of this would've made me broke but I guarantee none of these expenses wasn't even close to making dents to their accounts.

"Come on, Y/N, we still got more shops to look at! I gotta get Christmas gifts for my family!" Chaewon said in a demanding tone as she held my hand.

"Oh, yeah, that reminds me I need to find something for my siblings," Sana remembered as she looked around the stores.

"Same, I gotta find gifts for my parents," Handong mentioned.

"I also have to find a gift for my Oppa and parents," Gaeul chimed as she looked around the stores to see if there were gifts they might like.

Following the girls around various stores, it felt like forever as the girls searched the clothing stores and jewelry shops until they finally settled on the perfect presents.

"Ah, this is perfect! My Eomma is gonna love this!" Sana said in a satisfied manner as she inspected the custom butterfly necklace that was laced with diamonds.

"Wow, that is so pretty, Unnie!" Gaeul agreed.

Wrapping up the Christmas mall shopping, we all reunited holding multiple shopping bags but I saw Jihyo holding the most compared to me.

"You gonna lend a girl a hand~?" Jihyo playfully asked and I looked down seeing my hands were full as it is.

"Kidding, Y/N, I see you're hands look like they're about to fall off and I've handled more bags than this, especially when the girls go out shopping in many places around the world," Jihyo chuckled.

We walked to the two vans we took to drive here placing all the bags into the trunks before I joined Gaeul and the three girls in one of the vans.

"You look tired, my dear, you can lay your head on my shoulder or lap if you want~," Sana offered wrapping an arm around my waist.

"Yah! No, listen to that old hag! My body is more comfy!" Gaeul rebutted and they bickered making me groan as I leaned against the headrest enduring the noisy girls the entire ride.

Once we finally made it back to the hotel, we carried the shopping bags inside the room making sigh in relief as the bags were heavy as hell.

The girls were starving, of course, JiU, Haseul, and Jihyo agreed to order room service making lots of orders as the girls wrote down what they wanted.

"So what do you want, my dear, Y/N~?" Heejin asked handing over the paper and pen.

"Uhm, not sure if I want... Hehe," I politely declined and she pouted.

"Oh, come on, Y/N, it's on us and we did promise to spoil you~," Heejin insisted and I sighed as I couldn't resist that adorable pout.

Writing down what I wanted the girls chimed in money to pay for the food before making the order on the phone, Choerry and Liz sat next to me hugging me from both sides.

"So how do you think of the party so far~?" Choerry playfully asked.

"It's something... Though I never expected to be here for simply returning a phone," I nervously answered and they giggled.

"I know, kinda reminds you of one of those Wattpad fanfictions, huh?" Liz asked and I found it funny now I think about it.

"And would you know that, Liz?" Leeseo asked raising an eyebrow and Liz blushed almost sheepishly admitting she had been reading fan fiction.

"Oh, no worries, Liz! I think we all have read some of them at one point, I do find them interesting and some are quite ho-" SuA was about to say but Yves quickly covered her mouth.

"Hey! We have babies here!" Yves shushed her as she pointed at Leeseo and Eunchae.

"But I'm an adult now, right~?" Eunchae teasingly mentioned.

"Doesn't matter! You are still a baby!" Yves refuted and Eunchae pouted.

Just as I thought Liz and Choerry were enough, I found Yeojin sitting on my lap and curling up to me. She hugged me and nuzzled her face into my neck, which I found oddly cute.

"Yah! Yeojin! I want a turn!" Eunchae demanded but Yeojin stuck out her tongue in a mockery manner making the girls roll their eyes playfully watching the Maknaes fighting over my attention.

Well, my friends, I guess the lesson here is that you should expect the unexpected, especially during the Holiday season. Here I am, a background character being the main protagonist in this new world.

What do I expect next? I don't know, but I do know that I am not going anywhere with them all over me. Merry Christmas.

[levisjinchuriki]

truly, madly, deeply

summary: toji didn't realize what he lost until he did

warning: angst, crying, toji pleading his case, yelling, mentions of toxic relationship

part 1

toji rests until late morning. you don’t disturb him, knowing he needs the sleep after the storm he weathered last night. while he’s out, you sneak into the room to set a glass of water and painkillers on the nightstand for his inevitable migraine. it's not much, but it’s something. 

you linger in the doorway for a moment after, watching him. in his sleep, toji looks so different. the sharp edges of his features are softer now. the furrow in his brow from last night is gone, replaced by a peace that’s rare. it pains you to watch him this way, knowing that the man lying before you carries so much anguish.

when he finally wakes, you hear the creak of the mattress and quiet shuffle of his feet before he appears in the living room, drawn by the smell of you making breakfast. he lingers in the doorway at first, then steps further into the kitchen, his footsteps slow and tentative.

you don’t say anything, keeping your focus on plating the food. you know he’s watching you, debating what to say—or if he should say anything at all.

you plate the meals, just like you always used to, and set his on the counter. still, you don’t make eye contact. it’s not intentional, just the natural result of a mind weighed down with too many thoughts. but toji’s eyes are on you, steady and unrelenting, following your every movement.

should he thank you for last night? apologize for the mess he dragged into your home? ask how you slept, even though he knows the answer? none of it feels right, and the words remain lodged in his throat.

instead, what comes out is something entirely different.

“can you stop?”. his tone is sharp but not angry—tired, maybe. it’s enough to make you pause, your hands hovering over the dish towel on the counter. slowly, you look up, meeting his gaze for the first time.

“stop what?” you ask puzzled. you’re not trying to frustrate him. you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing.

"acting like everything is normal. it's driving me crazy" toji says, his tone edged with frustration. it’s not really what he wants to say. he’s never been good at expressing himself, not in the way you need him to be.

you notice the turmoil flickering behind his eyes. his words only skim the surface of what’s really going on beneath. there’s so much pain there, unspoken and unresolved, that even he doesn’t seem to know what to do with it.

"i don’t like seeing you like this" you admit softly. it’s an honest confession, one you’ve been holding back for longer than you care to admit. your words catch him off guard, and he visibly flinches, his tough exterior momentarily cracking. for a second, he looks like he’s about to say something vulnerable, but just as quickly, he recovers, masking his emotions with sharp words.

"yeah, well, whose fault is that?" he bites out, his tone harsher than he intends. the second the words leave his mouth, regret flashes across his face. 

he knows it’s his fault. it’s always been his fault. every hardship, every heartbreak, every sleepless night you endured in this relationship has been caused by his actions, his choices. and yet, he still lashes out, deflecting because it’s easier than facing his guilt head-on.

you draw in a breath, steadying yourself against the sting of his words. "that’s not fair" you say quietly. it’s not. he knows it’s not.

toji’s gaze drops to the floor, his jaw tightening as the truth of your words settles over him. the blame shouldn’t be on you for leaving him. if anything, he’s lucky you stayed as long as you did, long past the point when most people would have walked away.

in hindsight, he doesn’t even know why you didn’t leave sooner. you deserve so much more than he ever gave you. 

"how many times has this happened before last night?" you ask carefully, afraid of pushing him too far.

toji’s shoulders sag under the weight of your question. embarrassment flickers across his face, and you can see the truth in the way his jaw tightens. he’s lost count. he doesn’t want to say it, but you already know. his bad habits weren’t new, and they’ve worsened since the separation.

"why does it matter?" he mutters, his tone defensive but laced with shame.

you hesitate, your heart heavy with the truth you’ve been keeping to yourself. it feels too big to say, too tangled with all the unresolved emotions swirling between you. but he’s looking at you now, his eyes searching yours, and you know he deserves an answer.

"because i care about you" you say.

for a moment, his expression softens, the harsh lines of his face easing as your words sink in. he doesn’t say anything, but you can see the conflict playing out in his eyes. 

just because you’re not together anymore doesn’t mean you’ve stopped caring. it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped worrying about him. it doesn’t mean you want to see him drink himself into an early grave. and it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped loving him. that part, you don’t say, but it lingers in the air between you, unspoken but undeniably there.

you half-expect him to make a flippant comment, a typical toji move to deflect from his feelings. but instead, his jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. there’s a twitch in his nose—a tell you’ve come to recognize, the small sign that he’s fighting back emotions he doesn’t want to show.

“don’t do that” he warns. you can hear the strain in his voice, like he's on the edge of something he doesn’t know how to handle. he’s so far from the image of the hard, untouchable man he’s always pretended to be. instead, he looks fragile—struggling, hurting, desperately trying to hold himself together while everything inside him feels like it’s breaking.

toji sniffles, his hand coming up to rub over his face, as if he can scrub away the emotion threatening to surface. the sight of it tugs at your heart in ways you can’t control.

“why did you call me last night?” you ask quietly, your voice careful. 

he looks at you then, and for a second, your resolve nearly crumbles. his gaze is so broken, so full of regret. the deep sigh he lets out seems to drain what little fight he has left.

“because no matter how hard i try, i can’t get you out of my damn head” he says.

your heart hammers in your chest. you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. 

“i know i don’t have the right to call you anymore” he continues bitterly—mostly at himself, at the situation, at everything. “but i just—i needed to hear your voice”.

there it is. the truth hurts to hear. despite everything that’s happened, despite the space and pain between you, he still turned to you. when he had no one else, when he was at his lowest, it was you he called. that has to mean something—doesn’t it?

you blink, your chest tightening as you watch him struggle to keep his composure. toji— tough, unshakable toji—looks like he’s barely holding it together.

“i don’t know how to stop” he admits after another long moment of silence, his voice breaking just enough to make you flinch. “thinking about you. missing you”. his hands hang at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching as if he’s fighting some invisible force. “i screwed it all up. i know that. but you—”. he looks at you then, his gaze so intense it feels like it might break you. “you’re still the only thing that makes sense to me. even now”. 

his words sting, but you can see the pain in his eyes—the regret that’s etched so deeply into his features as if it’s become a part of him. he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t reach for you, even though you can tell he wants to.

you’re not even sure what you want to say. that he’s wrong? that he’s right? that you’ve been struggling too?

your heart twists painfully at his words. you want to be angry. you want to tell him that he doesn’t get to just show up like this, throwing his pain at your feet. but you can’t. because deep down, you know that anger isn’t what you feel.

“do you think that makes it any easier for me?” you ask, your voice trembling. “watching you like this? knowing you’re hurting?”. your eyes fill with tears as you stare into his. 

“we ended things for a reason. for a lot of reasons.” your voice wavers as a thousand emotions swirl inside you. his eyes squeeze shut, and he nods, like he’s bracing himself for the final blow. but when he looks at you again, there’s a desperation there you’ve never seen before.

“i know” he says hoarsely. “and you were right to leave. i know i screwed everything up. i know i don’t deserve this—don’t deserve you—but…” he trails off, his voice cracking. “i’ve never felt like this before. not with anyone else. not even close. and i can’t… i don’t want anyone else”.

you want to believe him. you want to believe that he’s changed, that this time will be different, that he won’t let you down again. but you’ve heard promises before. 

“i can’t trust you” you say, the words trembling as they leave your lips, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. even though you’re the one who left, it feels like you’re breaking up all over again, reopening wounds you thought had begun to heal.

“i know i don’t deserve another chance. but i mean it this time. i swear i do”. his voice cracks, and it’s enough to make your chest ache. 

his words sound genuine, the emotion in his voice undeniable, but how can you trust that? he’s hurt you before, made promises before. still, the way he looks at you now—like you’re the only thing holding him together—makes you hesitate.

“i still love you” he adds, the confession spilling out like it’s been tearing him apart. his gaze locks onto yours, desperate and searching for something—anything—that might give him hope.

you look away, wiping at your tears with trembling fingers. you're torn, trapped between the part of you that aches to believe him—the part that longs for the warmth of the love you once shared—and the part that knows better, the one that remembers the cold, sharp edges of his neglect.

you think of the moments of love and laughter—his low chuckle in your ear, the way he’d pull you into his chest and kiss the top of your head, the rare but precious mornings where the world seemed to stop, just the two of you tangled together in the quiet.

but those memories are eclipsed by others, darker and heavier. broken promises whispered in the aftermath of fights that left you raw, the sting of his absence when you needed him most, the hollow ache of lying awake in bed while he chased after his own demons, leaving you to face yours alone.

it hurts too much.

“i think you should go” you tremble.

toji freezes. for a moment, he looks like he might argue, his mouth opening slightly as if the words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out and plead his case. but they never come. instead, his shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him as your words sink in.

he runs a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling as they rake over the strands. his eyes—those same eyes that once held so much confidence, so much fire—are now clouded with regret.

“okay” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper, as if saying it any louder might shatter what little composure he has left. 

he doesn’t move right away. instead, he lingers, his gaze locked on you, searching your face as if trying to memorize every detail, to hold onto this moment even as it slips through his fingers. there’s a quiet desperation in his eyes, a silent plea for you to take it back, to tell him to stay.

but you don’t.

you stand there, frozen, watching as he takes a shaky breath and finally turns toward the door. his movements are slow, reluctant, like every step is an admission of defeat.

when he reaches the door, he hesitates, his hand resting on the handle. for a second, you think he might say something, one last attempt to change your mind. but he doesn’t. he opens the door, stepping out without looking back.

and just like that, he’s gone.

you press your hand to your chest, the ache there unbearable, and you sink onto the couch, tears streaming freely now.

your mind races, his words replaying over and over. i mean it this time. i still love you. i’m sorry. what if he really does mean it? what if he’s changed? what if this time, things could be different?

but then the other voice—the one that remembers the hurt, the loneliness, the promises that were always broken—creeps in. what if he hasn’t? what if it’s the same cycle all over again?

the tears keep coming, and you let them. the ache in your chest feels unbearable, a mix of anger, love, and regret twisting into something you can’t untangle.

you want to believe him. god, you want to believe him. but trust is fragile, and yours has been shattered too many times.

you picture toji on the other side of that door, his shoulders slumped, his face etched with the pain of rejection. you know what he’s feeling because you feel it too—a deep, gnawing emptiness that no amount of reasoning can fill. 

but you also know the truth.

this is the path you chose because it’s the one that hurts less in the long run. toji has to accept that he’s lost the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you have to accept that some things, no matter how much you want them to, can’t be fixed.

memories of the life you once shared flash through your mind—the laughter that came so easily in the beginning, the quiet nights when words weren’t needed, just the steady rhythm of his breathing as he held you close. 

but then comes the other memories… the arguments that seemed to come out of nowhere, his voice raised, yours breaking. the promises that felt like lifelines at the time but were discarded so casually. the nights you spent staring at the ceiling, the bed cold and empty, wondering why you weren’t enough.

it’s not fair.

you were never the problem.

you clench your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fight back the surge of anger and grief that threatens to overwhelm you. how many times did you tell yourself that love would be enough? that if you just tried harder, gave more of yourself, things would change? how many times did you accept his apologies, his promises to do better, only to be left in the same cycle of disappointment?

still, the tiny flicker of hope refuses to die. it lingers, stubborn and persistent, whispering what if in the back of your mind. what if this time is different? what if he really means it? what if the love you both still feel is enough to mend what’s been broken?

you hate that hope.

it feels like a betrayal of all the pain you’ve endured, a cruel trick your heart plays to keep you tethered to someone you know isn’t good for you. and yet, you can’t bring yourself to let it go completely.

the weight of your decision feels suffocating, but you remind yourself that trust is a fragile thing. once broken, it’s nearly impossible to piece back together. 

toji has to learn to live with what he’s lost. he has to understand that love isn’t enough without trust, without effort, without change.

your tears have stopped, but the ache in your chest remains, a dull and constant reminder of what you’ve let go.

you hope toji will find a way to heal, to become the man he claims he wants to be. but more than that, you hope you can find the strength to move forward, to leave the pieces of your shattered trust behind and rebuild yourself into someone whole again.

because no matter how much you still love him, you can’t keep breaking your own heart in the hope that one day, he’ll stop breaking it for you.

---

taglist: @lavenderdaydream97 @smaranshakthi

thank you for reading my mini series!! i haven't made an angst fic in a long time and as much as i wanted to have them be together in the end, it felt forced. don't be mad! <3

[lipglossanon]

24 December

Real dad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, incest, dead dove, dad/daughter incest, cheating, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh fucking, grinding, cum marking, slight degradation, pillow humping

not proofread, kinda messy but we ball lol

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!! 💜 tune in tomorrow for @ao3-rex1223’s Christmas treat 😘

“Shh, you don’t want to wake up your new stepmom do you?” a voice whispers hotly into your ear. 

You can only whimper into the broad, calloused hand covering your mouth. Leon, your dad, spoons behind you, grinding his hard cock between your plump thighs. Your clit throbs with want as his fat cock presses in tighter. 

“So eager,” Leon murmurs, tongue dipping into your ear before softly nibbling the lobe. “So pretty.”

You pant into the palm covering your mouth—pussy leaking into your thin panties. While your stepmom sleeps on, totally oblivious, you and your dad fool around in your bedroom down the hall. 

He pins you down to your narrow bed and mounts you like a dog in heat. He rips off your panties and plunges his thick cock in your wet hole.

Your eyes roll up in pleasure as he fucks you hard and slow, his favorite. He fucks you so good, he makes your spine bow and your toes curl. God, but having your dad inside you, calling you pretty has your cunt wet and wanting. 

He breeds your sopping wet hole all night until you can’t think of anything except being filled again and again. He cums inside you so much it drips past his own thrusting cock. 

“I love sloppy seconds, sweetheart,” he pants in your ear, sweat dripping from his sharp nose down onto your neck.

Pulling out, he watches his cum drip from your fluttering hole. He groans and pushes his still hard cock into your sopping wet pussy. 

“No harm in sloppy thirds, huh?” He laughs, and you whine. “Such a hungry cunt for daddy’s cock.”

You can only drool and pant, brain complete mush. Leon always fills your pussy so good. You never figured yourself for a size queen, but your dad’s dick is just so big. Almost too big, but he’s been training your pussy til you can take it all. You’re practically gagging for it now. You want his dick all the time.

Most of your nights are spent in bed, being filled repeatedly until your cunt’s swollen and drippy. Then—your favorite part—your dad helps you shower, fingering his thick cum out of your hole before sliding his cock back in your swollen pussy to fill you up all over again. 

A few days before Christmas, your new stepmom has to leave for a work conference. 

“I’ll try my best to be home before Christmas Eve,” she kisses Leon sweetly before smiling at you. “I’ll call you when I land!”

As soon as she’s out the door, your dad pushes you down on his bed—the one he barely shares with her—and fucks you til you can’t see straight. It’s hot and sweaty and totally filthy, but you love it more than anything. The next few days see you being stuffed by his cock repeatedly, bedsheets a complete mess.

“Dad,” you whimper, knees practically shoved up to your chin. “You’re gonna break my pussy. S’too much!”

“Aww, my poor baby,” he coos, pulling his cock out with a wet schlick, precum drooling in sticky strings from his slit onto your puffy cunt. 

He manhandles you up onto your knees, shoving one of his pillows between your thighs. 

“Grind that sweet pussy til she soaks my pillow,” he kneels behind you, cock rubbing across your ass. 

You rut into his pillow, whimpering at the soft friction against your swollen clit. Leon sits behind you, guiding your motions. 

“What a dirty slut,” he groans, nipping at your shoulder and making you shiver. “My gorgeous daughter and her fat, slutty pussy just need to cum, don’t they?”

Clit twitching, you gasp a low keening cry, slick saturating the fabric between your legs. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to bubble over, ass bouncing back to grind against your dad’s dick while you ride out the aftershocks. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he sandwiches his cock between your ass cheeks. “Love watching you cream that chubby pussy, god, gets me off so fucking fast.”

Grunting, he uses your ass as a makeshift fleshlight, gripping each cheek to fuck between them. You hear him groan from deep in his chest before hot streaks of his cum paint your ass and lower back. He grinds against you for a long time, biting and kissing across your neck and shoulders.

He shifts and makes a soft noise of contentment. “Damn, it’s past midnight already. Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he turns your head and kisses you, licking past your lips to suck on your tongue. 

When you pull away, your cunt throbs, feeling empty and achy. He slips his half chubbed cock between your thighs, head bumping underneath the hood of your clit. Whimpering, you wrap a hand into his messy hair and tug him close. 

Before kissing him again, you murmur against his lips. “Merry Christmas, dad.”

[sir-sunawani]

Starling

Omegaverse

Alpha!Crocodile/Omega!Reader

Inspired by @hannahbarberra162's Emperor's Prize

CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet) yeah we full blown yandere babes, dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni

Chapter 5: Endure

Crocodile talked you through what he was doing as he cleaned you. He ended up cleaning you twice, because the first time you were still out of it, but he didn’t seem irritated by it. His voice was soft, and his touch was careful, and while he easily manhandled you, there was nothing left of the beast that had plunged his tongue into you earlier.

He dried you off after, and carefully brushed your hair.

A fresh shirt of his, and he helped you roll up the sleeves, pulling you into bed with him and sleeping beside you with a gentle, almost chaste manner. Nothing happens during the night, except one of the deepest, most satisfying rests of your life.

In the morning he hands you a small box after breakfast. You look at it a little oddly, but open it to find a black leather choker, with a simple golden clasp on the back, and a twist of gold on the front.

“It’s a collar.” He explains. “One you can remove with a single hand. You’re not required to wear it, but it will act as an effective warning to anyone on the island that you are my… guest.”

Taking it out of the box you put it around your neck, surprised at how well it fits, and how easily it clasps and unclasps. You leave it on with a smile and see a smirk pull at Crocodile’s lips. He’s pleased, and you imagine that’s as close to a genuine smile as you’ll see on his face.

After breakfast, Crocodile was back to work. You didn’t know what the island full of pirates did, but it apparently created a massive amount of paperwork. As far as you’d sorted the last couple of days, Crocodile dealt with expenses. Pages and pages of numbers and accounts, and it all blurred together no matter how often you tried to watch him work.

“You can sit in my lap while I work.” He says evenly, eyes not even shifting over to you as you stand nearby watching him. “You’re so small it won’t hinder me.”

He leans back, and opens his legs, patting the space on the chair between his legs. You aren’t sure why you decide to accept the offer. You just know that the room smells nice, and he smells even better, and the space he’s offering to let you sit probably smells the best.

The leather of the chair is a smell that doesn’t linger. Instead the sweet scent of old scotch, honey, and warm sand curls around you. The steady scratch of his pen along the paper, the faint whiffs of ink that lead your nose back to his smell, it’s all a little mesmerizing.

The even pace with which he works is probably from years of practice. Not so slow he’s easily distracted, not so fast he’s burned out before the day is done.

The only breaks in his work come from the people who come into the office space at seemingly random intervals. You didn’t pay the much mind, the vulgar scents of harsh salty air and often unwashed pirate dissipated quickly. No one ever lingered long, giving their report and then leaving.

Sometimes a stern man who said nothing would come in and leave more paper, or take papers. He didn’t smell vulgar, but he seemed to pay little attention to Crocodile and even less attention to you.

The scent, the steady thrum of work, the soft lighting of the room. It was relaxing. Terribly relaxing. Some part of you was concerned you were too relaxed, but a larger part of you was happy for it. Happy for the contact. You knew the concept of touch-starved, but since you had been allowed contact with your omega attendants, you hadn’t considered it. You weren’t devoid of physical contact.

But you had been denied a kind of it. The pleasure of physical intimacy and the relaxation that came with having that euphoric feeling flood your senses.

It was addicting.

Or at the very least, you weren’t against feeling it again. Certainly not at Crocodile’s hands. Hand. His very large hand. Large, broad shoulders. Large tongue.

You can’t help squirming a little at the idea, but you force yourself to stay still. You want to stay perched in this space for as long as you can, and if you make a fuss he’s likely to make you leave. You’ve only been around him two days, but he’s disdainful of idiocy and inefficiency, that much is obvious.

“Will you help me relax?” He hums, setting down the pen.

You nod, mind a little fuzzy from the scent of him. You wanted more of it, more of him. You needed it to be stronger, but you didn’t know if saying so was rude.

“You can tell me to stop whenever you want,” he explains, large hand cupping your breast. His finger brushes your nipple through the shirt and you gasp, shivering in his lap. “Or beg me for more.”

He rolls his finger over your sensitive flesh until your nipple is hard and you have a hand over your mouth to try and stifle the sounds of your panting. You hadn’t realized how sensitive you were, the warmth rolling through you was already maddening and he’s only just begun.

Rolling the small nub between to fingers he tugs a little, a slight smile forming on his lips when you gasp, biting your lip and moaning. Your body is trembling against his chest, and he wants little more than to pin you down and fuck you until you cry, but he wants you to beg for it.

Needs you to beg for him.

The whimper that falls from your lips causes him to reach over and play with your other nipple, his forearm brushing against the tingling right side as he teases your left with his fingers.

“This… this relaxes you?” You question, the shivering pleasure skittering through your chest and heating your body.

“It does.” He answers honestly.

“To-touching me?”

He flicks his finger lightly over the tip of your nipple. “Yes.” The cool metal of his hook rests on your thigh, sliding and pulling the hem of your shirt up with it. “Everything you do when I touch you like this relaxes me.”

“It’s… it’s not relaxing for m-me.” You admit. You’re squirming and whining, but you’re not pushing him away or asking him to stop.

“It’s not?” He questions, knowing amusement in his voice as he twists your nipples, tweaking one then the other. “Should I stop?”

“No! No, ah, no, it feels good… it does.” You cry. He’s gone back to rubbing lazy light circles around each stiff peak, moving back and forth between them, never leaving one unattended long enough to soften and relax. You’re worried you’re going to stain the chair, you can feel the mess pooling between your thighs at the attention.

But it’s not enough to bring you over the edge.

He leans down, lips close to your ear. “Do you want it to feel better?”

“Buh-better?” You need a minute to pull your thoughts together. “Orgasming, you mean, like last night?” You question, body rolling in his as his hook threatens to expose you at his desk.

“You want me to make you cum, little flower?” He purrs and you feel the sound coil around your thighs and lick at your ears.

“Yes! Yuh-yes please, please.” Nodding, you mewl as you’re shifted easily, turned around and sat up on his desk.

Hand and hook grab the top and rip it open, sending buttons flying. He leaves the shirt on you otherwise, your back to the door.

“Put your feet on my thighs, and your hands on the desk.” He instructs, helping you and guiding you as you move into the position he wants. Your face is flushed, and you’re panting with need. It’s not a heat, but you’re so desperate for him to make you cum again that you’re not thinking clearly. Your ass is barely on the edge of his desk and you can see and feel sand moving up your stomach.

The small handfuls of sand brush your nipples, teasing your skin.

“Haaanngh!” You gasp. “Rough, it’s… rough,” your breath falls down your lips as the gritty sensation sends thrills into your chest.

“Painful?” He questions and you shake your head as the sand rolls and shifts over your stiff nipples. “Good.”

His thumb rubs against your slit and you wonder if he’s going to put his lips down there again. Instead he rubs your clit once before pushing your labia apart and slowly working his middle finger inside of you. It’s an easy intrusion, you were wet before he started teasing your breasts, and now you’re almost painfully needy.

The sweet stretch of his thick finger pushing inside you makes your hips buck. He moves with you so he doesn’t go too deep too fast. Once his entire finger is inside you he presses his thumb against your clit and starts rubbing slow circles.

“Haa, haaa… that’s…” You gasp. Your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding into his thumb and riding his finger. You’re pushing off the desk and bracing yourself against his legs, practically fucking yourself on his finger while he teases your clit and nipples.

Pleasure ripples through your muscles, curling around your lungs and leaking from your pussy so much you can hear the soft drops with each wet shift of your hips on his finger.

You don’t care about the sounds. You don’t care about his eyes on your body, but you do like that he’s watching you. It’s the high you’re chasing, the one he’s letting you reach for. It felt so good yesterday, and you can feel it coiling through you again. Building. Tightening.

A knock at the door stutters your pace for a second, but one look from Crocodile has you continuing to move. Your lips are pressed together and you’re trying to be quiet.

“If you stop, I’ll edge you until your next heat.” He warns softly. His eyes stay on you even as shame pricks tears at the corners of yours. You nod, lips still pressed tightly together.

“Come in.” He calls out and your body tenses for a second as the doors swing open.

“Please,” you whine softly, still riding his finger. His eyes shift from your body to the figure beyond.

“Don’t dawdle in the doorway.” He growls and you hear the footsteps approach.

“Please, I-.”

“Keep doing what you are doing, or I will strip you bare and take you in front of this man, do you understand?” He snaps the words and you nod your head, focusing on him, and his hand, and his sand and trying to desperately ignore the other person.

“Report.” Sir Crocodile snarls and the poor messenger stammers a few times unsuccessfully until he finds his words.

You have no idea what the report was. Even if you weren’t trying to ignore him entirely, you hadn’t really kept up with what people had come in and reported earlier. Crocodile’s sand was tugging at your nipples making you whine and moan no matter how tightly pressed you kept your lips.

“No,” you gasp softly, voice barely above a whisper. The pleasure was building and you knew you weren’t going to be able to hold out until the messenger left.

The messenger goes quiet and Crocodile shifts. His hook presses harmlessly into the middle of your back and he holds you close, bending down enough to look into your eyes as he fucks you with his finger. The lewd wet sound of his finger pumping in and out of your vagina is all you can hear, and his thumb against your clit pushes you over the edge.

You hold onto his shirt, mouth open and gaze hazy as you come undone for him, fluttering against his finger. He keeps going until you’re a panting, shivering mess, your orgasm dripping onto the floor. Pulling his finger out he licks the tip before pushing it into your mouth.

“Get out.” He says, never taking his eyes off you. You’re licking and sucking the finger in your mouth, too focused on him and the taste of your pleasure against your tongue to care about the man. You can hear the hurried click of his shoes against the floor, and the door closing behind him.

Crocodile lays you down on his desk, letting the shirt fall to either side of you. His finger is still in your mouth as he leans down and licks your body. His tongue starts against your throbbing pussy, and trails a thick, heavy line up to your breasts. You squirm beneath him, hands holding onto his arm as his teeth graze your skin.

An impossibly large bulge presses against your soaked slit as his cock strains against his pants. He pulls his finger out of your mouth and puts the curve of his hook under your chin, teeth nipping at your collarbone as you hear his belt being undone.

“Beg for it,” he growls into your skin, the sound of his zipper the last thing you hear before a hard and throbbing length lays against you.

You can’t look down, but it feels massive. Far too large for your body.

“Please,” you sob, the hazy pleasure in your eyes quickly being replaced by cold fear. “It’s… you’re too big, Sir, please.”

Even as you say it, your legs stay open and two thick fingers push inside you. The stretch is sweet, and taut, fear tightening you up, but it doesn’t hurt. The loud squelch of pleasure lets his fingers go in deep. Your cry is half pleasure, half surprise, and he looms over you, keeping your face tilted back with his hook, but still looking into your eyes.

“Beg for it.” He repeats, scissoring his fingers gently inside you. “Beg like a good girl and I’ll make sure it feels good.”

“Buh, I-.” You moan as he pushes a third finger inside, gritty sand wrapping around your legs and pushing them wide. “Please-please, I… I want you… you, inside me,” you stammer the words, hands holding onto the gold guard that attaches his hook to his wrist. “I-.”

“Say what it is you want,” he instructs.

“Your… your…” Your mind whirls through all the possible words, but the aching pleasure inside your vagina is distracting. “Thing! Your cock!” You gasp the word as his fingers push in deeper. “Please! Please p-put your kuh-cock in my… my heat, my … you’re going to split me in half.” You sob.

“I won’t.” He asserts, licking your scent glands. No one’s ever even run fingers over that part of your body. The new pleasure sends a shiver through your whole body and you can feel the rush flood over his fingers. “Relax. Tell me where you want it.” He urges you on, your hands trembling against the gold.

You mewl, blood rushing to your face, and close your eyes. “Puh… my pussy… please.” You suck in a breath as his fingers curl inside you, sending stars into your vision. “Please, please put your, your cock, in my, my pussy, please, Sir, please. I’m buh-begging for it, please, please.”

He licks at the delicious parts of your skin more, sending shivers through your body and ripping gasping cries from your lips. When you could form words you continued to beg him to take you, even though the idea of it scares you.

More than the sand that held your legs open, and more than the tongue, teeth, lips, and fingers that licked, nipped, kissed and pet you, his scent was driving you to the brink. No one’s smell had ever bothered you. None of the other omegas that cared for you, none of the rare few alphas they let watch you writhe in pain, no one else until now had a scent that sank into your skin and clawed at your brain.

“Please!” You scream. “Fuck me, I can’t take it!”

His hook moves away, and his hand is under your head, holding you and forcing you to look at him as he begins to push in to your hot, wet, needy cunt.

Crocodile’s POV

His eyes were blown wide, taking in every detail. The way your cunt shivers at his tip as he pushes in slowly. The way your mouth hangs open, unable to say anything more, your tongue slipping past your wet lips, tears dropping down your cheeks.

You’re not in your heat, but the scent of fear has turned to need and he feels like he could tear pieces of the savory smell from the very air. What fools thought your scent had been ruined? What utterly worthless people dared to tell you that you needed fixed?

He can feel your toes curl as his tip pushes in deeper, the pleasure finally over taking the sheer stretch and you breathe in. Your lungs fill and you clench against him, hands pawing at his chest, fingers flexing against his vest.

You gasp air in once, twice, unwilling to let it go, or unable to think of such an action as he stretches you to a degree that must seem impossible. If you weren’t so deliciously wet, if he hadn’t stretched you with his fingers, you’d be in incredible pain right now.

And by the seas he almost wants to break you.

“Breathe,” he commands gently and you finally breathe out, the clenching pressure turning to a fluttering shiver and he takes the moment of relaxation to push the rest of the way in. His hips snug against your thighs, the sands dissipating now that there’s no way for you to close your legs. You’re not in a heat, and he’s not in a rut, so there’s no throbbing knot at the bast of his cock, making it easier for you to take him.

“See? You took it all.” He purrs, guiding your gaze so you can see it. “You’re made for me. A perfect fit.”

Your POV

He pulls back and you watch as the thick, bumpy shaft slowly exits you. You can’t believe something that is easily the size of your own forearm can fit between your thighs. That it isn’t actually splitting you in half, tearing you apart from the inside, is beyond you to really comprehend right now.

It does, however, feel amazing, and as he pushes back in, your body shivers and jolts, as pleasure licks you from the inside. You writhe on the desk, held in place by his hand on the back of your head, and mewl as he slowly hilts again.

Only to slowly pull back out.

It’s almost painful how carefully he pushes back inside you, leaving your body desperate for something it had never had before.

“Fuh-faster, please, faster!” You cry, as he hooks your leg in the crook of his left arm, pushing it back and pinning you more securely to the desk.

He grinds into you for a second before pulling back out faster this time. The long, smooth motion is still slow, but he presses back in faster, pulling out a little more quickly. Your body is shaking, and the building pleasure is both similar to the times you’ve cum before, and very different.

His first heavy thrust in pushes the air from your lungs, it rushes past your lips and out into the air in a breathy moan. One hand is on the bell of his hook, the other clutching the forearm that disappears into your hair and holds you in place. Fear tenses your body, but it’s not fear of him, or fear of pain.

It’s that as he speeds up and falls into a faster and faster pace, the loud, wet smack of his thighs against yours, you just keep ascending. The pleasure is only building. It’s an overwhelming climb and when you look at him you know he knows.

He’s not going to show you mercy.

“Too much!” you squeak. “It’s - it’s gonna be- too much! I’ll die! I’ll die!”

“You’ll live.” He husks and the way his words drip from his lips and grab your throat makes your heart pound.

Your breath falls out of your mouth in short bursts, forced out with each heavy thrust as he starts to properly fuck you. You can’t plead with him, you can barely pull air back into your lungs as your heart pounds and your body flushes with heat.

Crocodile leans down as your pleasure finally starts to break, his body rubbing against yours and teasing your throbbing clit. You suck in a breath as the orgasm slams into you and he claims your lips, devouring your scream and your mouth as you cum hard against his cock. Your legs kick and twitch as your toes curl and flex.

The heavy kiss steals what little air you had, and you’ve not the sense to try and breathe any other way. The pleasure and lack of oxygen is a dizzying combination, and you don’t know if you’ll pass out from pleasure or lack of air. As the orgasm subsides, he breaks the kiss, leaning back as you gasp and cough to catch your breath.

 He doesn’t let up, letting go of his hold on your head, and pressing his thumb into your clit. He’s still holding your leg with his other arm, and he moves enough to carefully put your neck inside the curl of his hook.

You don’t need him to tell you not to move.

You focus on breathing as the pleasure builds again, worried each uncontrollable twitch of your legs and fingers will prove to be too much. You’re caught in the beasts jaws, completely immobilized, and any useless thrashing on your part would only lead to harm.

You carefully put your hands on the hook, steadying yourself against it as the second orgasm threatens to overtake you. You don’t want to defy him, or even appear to do so, but you can’t control your own body right now.

“Please,” you gasp. “I can’t… can’t stay still… I can’t, it’s-.”

He growls, and you see what you saw before. Eyes that seem too reptilian, and teeth that seem too sharp. A face that’s terrifying and beautiful. Protective and inevitable.

“If I hurt you,” he growls, his voice deep and grinding between his teeth like rocks. “It would be on purpose.”

He slows a little, his thumb still teasing your clit.

“Beg.” He commands.

“Please,” you let go of his hook and reach out to him. “Devour me.”

The growl that rolls in his chest, the light behind those amber gold eyes, the smile that splits his face. You let your arms fall to the desk, submitting to him completely as he resumes fucking you. The pleasure rolls through your body, but it’s not your will that moves you. Every twitch and whine pulled from you is because he commands it.

Every shiver and gasp is because he’s granted you the pleasure of it.

You’ve given in for now, drowning in the vice-like grip that forces another orgasm into your exhausted muscles, but you know. You cry out in euphoria as the pleasure drags you under, and you know. His thick cock throbs inside your hot cunt and he fills you full of his seed, and you know.

You know if you don’t escape him, he will claim every fiber of your soul when you go into heat.

What you don’t know, is if it’s what you want.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Baking Christmas Cookies With Sanji

Sanji Vinsmoke X FemReader

Rating: G

Warnings: None just some Christmas fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

(A/N:) Just an idea I had last year that I never got time to write. I have so much I want to write but everything has been so chaotic and busy it's hard to find time to sit down and write. I'm hoping after the Christmas season my job will start to slow down and I can get back into the swing of writing! This is the second time in a month that I've wrote for Sanji so hopefully this makes his fangirls happy! Merry Christmas everyone and I will try my best to get my other two Christmas fics wrote in time for Christmas! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The Sunny was quiet for a change as Christmas Eve evening turned into Christmas Day. The excitement kept you from being able to sleep deeply and a little after midnight you finally gave up. Tossing and turning wasn't restful and you rather be up and about anyway if you weren't going to be able to sleep. Climbing up onto the deck, you shivered a little at the chill and rubbed warmth into your arms. A clear sky overhead and the magic of Christmas floating on the chilly breeze. You breathed deeply watching the stars wink back playfully. You joined Luffy's crew about a year ago and since day one it had been an adventure worthy of a thousand books.

But it was this time of year that made you miss home the most. You had set out for a grand adventure to shoot for the dream you wanted to accomplish since childhood. Leaving home had been one of your toughest decisions. But when Luffy offered, you couldn't say no, no matter how much it tore you to pieces to say goodbye. The friends you made along the way and the battles you faced made you forget for a little while. Special times, like Christmas always brought your attention back to the hole that was left when you began your journey.

The kitchen door opened behind you and Sanji stepped outside with a steaming mug in one hand and a blanket draped over his arm. He wore an apron with a generous dusting of flour and a smear of butter on his cheek.

"I thought I heard the ladies' cabin door open. You okay," Sanji asked, handing you the mug and wrapping the blanket around your shoulders but kept his arm around you. His concerned expression melted your heart and you leaned in deeper into his embrace.

"Yeah. Just feeling a little homesick," you sipped at the hot beverage. Sighing as peppermint and chocolate coated your tongue and the heat radiating from your insides.

"I'm sure Christmas time makes it a little more lonely," Sanji squeezed you.

"I'm not lonely I have you and everyone else. But I would be lying if I said I didn't miss my family," you swallowed while trying to blink back tears.

"It's okay," Sanji whispered.

You both stood quietly watching a shooting star, letting the moment remain until you started to shiver a little harder.

"Why are you up Sanji," you asked clutching the blanket around your shoulders tighter and taking another sip of cocoa. "Surely you didn't wait up to hear some kind of sob story from yours truly?"

Sanji chuckled, "While I would do that any time for you. I'm actually working on some Christmas cookies. With Luffy around I have to make an obscene amount so to make sure there is plenty for everyone on Christmas morning, so I have to work through the night."

"That sounds like a lot of work," you were concerned about Sanji doing so much by himself. "But it also sounds really fun. Can I help?"

"Only if you want to and not feel like you have to help me because you feel sorry for me."

"No I want to," you argue! "I can't sleep anyway and the kitchen will be much warmer."

"Then your wish is my command."

Leading the way Sanji opened the kitchen door for you and swept you inside. He closed the door behind you both quietly before he unhooked another apron from the wall. You relished in the warmth as the oven was preheating and the smell of sugar and cinnamon tickled your nose. Sanji had to have been busy for several hours now as the counter was full of different types of doughs and several pans of Christmas shaped sugar cookies waiting to go in the oven. Icing filled up the mixing bowl waiting to be dyed and piped onto baked and cooled cookies. It felt like a winter wonderland bakery, it would make Santa jealous by default. In your awe Sanji gently slipped an apron over your head and tied the strings at the back with deft fingers. He kissed your cheek before leading you behind the counter.

"Wash those hands and you can start rolling out dough and cutting out shapes," Sanji winked.

"Aye chef," you saluted before pumping soap into your hands and washing them thoroughly in warm water. With freshly cleaned and dried hands, you got to work. Humming Christmas carols as you worked, there was something relaxing about the process. Roll. Cut. Place. Bake. Repeat. It felt like a dance and Sanji was just happy to watch. Your spirits rose with every carol you hummed and the kitchen filled with a warmth that the oven couldn't make. Sanji mixed food dye into the icings as you removed cookies from pans onto cooling racks. With two working it didn't take long for the counter to be overrun with cookies of all shapes and flavors.

"Now we just have to decorate the sugar cookies and we're done," Sanji wiped his hands on a towel. He set out piping bags he had been filling while you finished baking the last of the cookies. He rummaged around in the cabinet and placed several bottles of sprinkles next to the piping bags. He pulled up a couple of stools and you both sat close to one another, quickly getting to work on decorating. A peaceful silence settled between you two as you both worked. Sometimes your fingers brushed against Sanji's dyed ones as you both reached for something at the same time. You thought the little splotches of red and green staining his fingers were cute as they contrasted against his skin. A heat bloomed in your cheeks that the temperature of the kitchen had nothing to do with.

Once again you started filling the kitchen with Christmas carols and this time Sanji joined in. He didn't sing much, and if he did it was quietly and to himself. But now he sang out boldly, harmonizing with your voice as you both worked. When the last cookie was finally finished you stretched your back and rubbed at your sleepy eyes. You were covered in sticky icing and you were pretty sure there was sprinkles stuck in your hair, thanks to the minor sprinkle war you and Sanji waged, but your heart was full and the sadness you felt earlier had dissipated. That's when you caught Sanji staring. Once again your cheeks warmed at the steady gaze of the Sunny's gourmet cook.

Sanji leaned in, lips brushing against yours, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Sanji," you whispered before his mouth claimed yours.

You tasted the sugar on his tongue and the strong hands gripping your arms as your present came early in the arms of the cook you adored for so long. Sanji pulled away, his cheeks a bright red and suddenly becoming bashful he stood up awkwardly.

"Sorry," he muttered. Though he lied he wasn't sorry at all.

"Don't be," you replied. "Thank you Sanji for everything."

He nodded grabbing platters to start stacking cookies. You eased over helping him place cookies in neat little piles on the decorative platters. You nudged him a little with your arm causing him to wobble and you knew something had shifted between you both. And you knew it was for something good as your time with Sanji this Christmas morning was a present all in itself.

[niallerspayno]

Black and White - Part 2

Masterlist

As One Direction’s hair and makeup artist, you’ve always had a flirty friendship with Niall. But one wild night in Las Vegas changes everything when you wake up married—and management insists you stay that way. Will you keep hiding your feelings, or finally admit there’s more than friendship between you?

Tags: Niall x reader, friends to lovers, forced proximity, fluff, kinda slow burn

Part 1 | Part 3 - coming soon

You wake up slowly, your head still fuzzy from sleep—and maybe the lingering effects of last night’s drinks. The first thing you notice is warmth, the kind that makes you want to burrow deeper into it and never leave.

And then you realize the warmth is coming from Niall.

Your eyes snap open, and sure enough, there he is, his face mere inches from yours, his arm draped snugly over your waist. Your legs are tangled together, and his hand—his hand is resting on your hip.

Your breath hitches as you try to make sense of the situation. You promised—promised—last night that you’d both stick to your own sides of the bed.

Clearly, that didn’t last long.

You’re just about to wiggle out from under his arm when he stirs, pulling you a fraction closer.

“Mm,” he mumbles, his voice deep and gravelly with sleep. His lips brush lightly against your hair as he murmurs, “Mornin’, love.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you freeze, unsure what to do. This is...way too cozy.

“Uh...morning,” you manage, your voice embarrassingly weak.

“Sleep alright?” he asks, his arm tightening just a little, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You try to keep your voice steady as you respond. “I—uh, yeah. You?”

“Best I’ve slept in years,” he replies, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You groan internally. Of course he’d say that.

“Niall,” you hiss, keeping your voice low so as not to wake the entire floor. “We talked about this. We said we’d stay on our own sides!”

He cracks one eye open, giving you a lazy grin. “Yeah, but your side looked lonely. What was I supposed to do?”

“Not break the rules we literally set last night,” you say, trying—and failing—to wriggle out of his hold.

“Rules, shmules,” he says with a yawn, resting his chin against the top of your head. “C’mon, admit it. You were just as comfy as I was.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can say anything, there’s a sudden knock on the door.

Before you can react, the door swings open, and in strides Louis.

“Oi, you two,” he says without looking up, “Breakfast downstairs—” He stops mid-sentence, his eyes locking on the two of you tangled up in the bed.

His face splits into a wide grin, “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

You and Niall spring apart so fast you nearly tumble off the bed, and Louis cackles, leaning against the doorframe.

“I knew it!” he crows, his voice practically echoing in the room. “You lot couldn’t even make it 24 hours without—”

“Louis, shut up,” you snap, your face burning.

“What? I’m just saying,” he says, holding his hands up innocently, though his grin betrays him. “This fake marriage thing might not be so fake after all.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Niall says, though his easy tone makes it clear he’s not bothered in the slightest.

“Right,” Louis says, smirking as he backs toward the door. “Anyway, breakfast downstairs in fifteen, so maybe get yourselves...untangled by then.” He winks at you both before closing the door behind him.

You bury your face in your hands with a groan. “I can’t believe this.”

“What’s there to believe?” Niall says, his grin audible in his voice. “We were just cuddling. Happens all the time, right?”

You glare at him, but your heart betrays you with its rapid thudding.

“No,” you mutter. “This doesn’t happen. Ever.”

“Well,” he says with a shrug, standing up and stretching, “maybe it should.”

You groan again, standing and grabbing your things. “I’m taking the first shower. Don’t follow me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, though the smirk on his face suggests otherwise.

As you close the bathroom door behind you, you lean against it, exhaling sharply.

The warmth of his arm around you lingers, and you hate how much you liked it.

…

You walk into the hotel dining room, doing your best to appear composed despite the lingering embarrassment from that morning. The air is thick with the smell of coffee and pancakes, but the low buzz of conversation stills the moment you and Niall step through the door.

“Oh, look who decided to grace us with their presence,” Louis announces loudly, his grin already reaching his ears.

You glance at Niall, who just shrugs, as if to say, Might as well get it over with.

“You know, you didn’t have to rush out of bed,” Harry quips, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Bet it was cozy,” Liam adds, smirking into his mug.

Lottie sits next to Louis, her chin propped in her hand as she studies the two of you. “Good morning, newlyweds. Sleep well?”

You groan and drop into a seat across from her, grabbing the nearest cup of coffee to hide your burning cheeks. “Can we not?”

“Nope,” Louis says, leaning forward with a gleeful smile. “You’re officially the most entertaining part of this tour.”

“Is that why you barged into our room this morning?” Niall retorts, his tone sharp but playful. “Couldn’t wait to see what trouble you could stir up?”

“You were cuddling,” Louis says simply, as if it’s the most obvious justification in the world.

“We were not—”

“You were,” Niall cuts in, his voice steady but teasing. “And it wasn’t bad, was it?”

You whip your head toward him, your heart skipping a beat. “Don’t start,” you mutter, but the way his smirk deepens tells you he already knows he’s won.

“Alright, alright,” Harry says, raising a hand as if to settle things. “Let’s move on to the important stuff—like figuring out how you’re both going to survive this circus you’ve created.”

“We didn’t create it,” you argue, shooting him a glare.

“True,” Lottie says with a laugh. “But you’re living it now. How’s that going for you?”

Before you can answer, the table erupts in laughter, leaving you wondering how you’re going to get through breakfast without losing your mind—or your carefully constructed walls.

Zayn slides into the seat next to Lottie, his eyes darting between you and Niall with an unreadable expression. “You two are impossible,” he mutters, barely looking up from his phone.

“Tell me about it,” Louis says, winking at you. “Can’t even pretend anymore.”

You shoot him a warning glare, but it only makes him laugh harder.

“You two were practically glued together last night at the concert,” Liam adds, his voice teasing but with a softness you didn’t expect. “Didn’t help that everyone could see it.”

Niall shrugs, unconcerned. “So? It’s not like we’ve got anything to hide, right?” His eyes flick to you for a second, warm with that familiar playfulness, but there’s something else there too—a quiet confidence you can’t ignore.

You force a smile, feeling the walls you’ve spent so long building up start to crumble. “Sure. No big deal,” you mumble, hoping they can’t see right through you.

“Don’t pretend like it’s no big deal,” Harry says, his voice a little too knowing. “You two have been dancing around each other for ages. It’s only a matter of time before you admit what we’ve all known.”

You roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. “You don’t know anything.”

“Actually,” Zayn cuts in, still focused on his phone, “we do. But it’s not like you’ll admit it anytime soon.”

“Exactly,” Lottie says, glancing between you and Niall. “We’ve all been waiting for you two to finally figure it out. And now... well, here we are.”

The silence that follows is thick, as if everyone is waiting for you to crack, to admit something you’ve been trying so hard to hide. You can feel Niall’s gaze on you, steady and warm, but you keep your eyes down, focusing on your coffee cup like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“We’ve got a lot to sort out,” you murmur, hoping to deflect. “And breakfast is definitely not the time for that.”

Niall leans back in his chair, his easy grin never faltering. “You’re right. But we’ll get there, won’t we?” His voice is light, teasing, but the weight of his words lingers longer than you’d like.

You swallow hard, wondering just how much longer you can keep pretending everything’s fine.

Louis, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, nudges you with his elbow. “You know, if it were anyone else, I’d say they’re pretty much together already.”

Zayn smirks. “But it’s you two. So, we’re all just sitting here waiting for the inevitable.”

You want to protest, want to say that they’re wrong, but the truth is, you’re not sure anymore.

Niall’s hand brushes yours across the table, just for a second, but it’s enough to send your heart racing. He doesn’t pull away. In fact, he seems more at ease than ever, while you’re doing everything you can to keep your feelings buried.

“See? That’s progress,” Harry says, watching you both closely.

“Yeah, it’s called being married,” you snap, unable to hide your frustration any longer.

That only makes the table laugh harder. “Don’t worry, mate,” Zayn says to Niall, his grin wide. “We’re all just waiting for the real fireworks.”

You wish you could be as confident as Niall. Instead, you find yourself wondering how much longer you can keep pretending that nothing has changed.

...

The day passes in a blur of busy schedules, rehearsals, and travel. You’ve been doing your best to avoid Niall, keeping your focus strictly on work, but it’s not easy. Not when every glance in his direction feels like a magnet pulling you closer.

By the time you’re setting up for the band’s evening talk show interview, your nerves are frayed. You’ve spent the entire day dodging his gaze, pretending not to notice the way he casually lingers in your periphery or the soft smiles he’s thrown your way when he thinks no one’s watching.

Now, with Niall seated in the makeup chair in front of you, there’s nowhere to hide.

“Finally,” he says, grinning up at you. His tone is teasing, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes it impossible to brush him off. “Thought you were avoiding me all day.”

You force a light laugh, your fingers busying themselves with the brushes and tools laid out on the counter. “Just busy. You know how it is.”

“Sure,” he says, but the disbelief is clear in his tone. He doesn’t push, though, which almost makes it worse.

As you step closer to him, raising your hand to comb through his hair, you catch the way he’s watching you—soft, steady, and completely unguarded. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you quickly look away, focusing instead on getting his hair camera-ready.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

“Trying to concentrate,” you reply, not meeting his eyes.

“On me?” he teases, and the smirk in his tone makes your heart skip a beat.

“On your hair,” you correct, though the quiver in your voice betrays you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach for his phone, holding it up in a quick movement. Before you can protest, you hear the snap of a photo.

“Niall!” you scold, reaching for his phone, but he pulls it away, laughing.

“Relax,” he says, tapping at the screen. “Just keeping up appearances, yeah?”

You groan, your face heating as you imagine how disheveled you must look. “I probably look terrible.”

“Nope,” he says, still focused on his phone. “You look beautiful.”

You freeze for a moment, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. It’s not the first time he’s said something like that, but tonight it feels different.

“Stop messing around,” you mutter, trying to shake off the way his words make you feel.

“I’m not messing,” he says simply, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re beautiful.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you do the only thing you can—focus on finishing his hair. Stepping in front of him, you smooth out the strands with quick, practiced movements, desperate to keep your hands from shaking.

But then his hands find your waist.

Before you can react, he pulls you down into his lap, his grip firm yet gentle.

“Niall!” you gasp, your balance thrown off as you clutch at his shoulders for support.

“Relax,” he says again, his voice soft and amused. “You’re way too tense.”

“I can’t—I need to finish—”

“You’re done,” he interrupts, his eyes searching yours. “And you need to stop running.”

You’re not sure if he means running from him or running from how you feel, but either way, you can’t deny the truth in his words.

“You’re impossible,” you whisper, your resolve cracking under the weight of his gaze.

“And you’re stubborn,” he counters, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I like that about you.”

The moment stretches between you, the air thick with something unspoken. You know you should stand up, brush it off like you always do, but for the first time, you’re not sure you want to.

You’re hyperaware of everything—the solid warmth of his thighs beneath you, the gentle but insistent grip of his hands on your waist, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the lingering trace of hairspray. Your fingers, still resting on his shoulders for balance, flex unconsciously against the soft cotton of his shirt.

The air feels thicker now, weighted with unspoken words and simmering tension. His eyes lock onto yours, searching, daring, waiting.

“Niall,” you start, but your voice falters, too quiet and too unsure.

His grip on your waist tightens just slightly, grounding you. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. “Just... don’t overthink for once.”

Your breath catches as he leans in, his forehead nearly brushing yours. His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up again, and you feel the magnetic pull drawing you closer. It’s dizzying, intoxicating.

Your heart pounds so loudly in your chest that you’re sure he can hear it. Every nerve in your body is screaming at you to close the distance, to finally give in to the years of longing you’ve kept buried beneath layers of denial.

He doesn’t move further, though. He’s waiting—for you.

The realization sends a jolt through you, a mix of exhilaration and fear. You want this. You’ve always wanted this. But crossing that line feels like stepping off the edge of a cliff, and you’re not sure you’re ready for the fall.

Your lips part, your breath mingling with his, and for a split second, nothing else in the world exists but him.

“Niall!”

The sudden voice from the doorway shatters the moment like glass. You jolt back instinctively, your cheeks burning as you twist to see Louis leaning against the frame, arms crossed and a knowing smirk on his face.

“Interview’s starting, mate,” Louis says, his tone casual but his grin unmistakably teasing. “Unless you’re planning to skip it for… other priorities.”

“Coming,” Niall replies, his voice slightly hoarse. His hands slip from your waist, but the warmth of his touch lingers like a brand.

Louis raises an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as he glances between the two of you. “Right,” he says, dragging out the word. “Don’t take too long, lovebirds.”

You scramble to your feet, your face flaming as Louis retreats down the hall, his laughter echoing behind him.

When you glance back at Niall, he’s watching you with a mix of amusement and something softer, something that makes your chest ache.

“We should—”

“Yeah,” you cut him off, grabbing a comb from the counter and busying yourself with tidying up. Anything to avoid the weight of his gaze.

“Hey,” he says softly, and when you look up, his expression is open, earnest. “We’ll finish this later.”

Your throat tightens, but you manage a small nod. He stands, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as he passes, and the simple touch sends a spark racing through you.

As the door clicks shut behind him, you exhale shakily, your fingers gripping the counter for support. You don’t know what “later” will bring, but for the first time, the idea of falling feels a little less terrifying.

...

You’re standing off to the side of the bustling studio, arms crossed tightly over your chest. The makeup station behind you feels like a safe barrier between you and the whirlwind of cameras, producers, and bright lights. Across the room, the boys are settling onto the sleek leather couch under the glaring stage lights, grinning and joking as the host greets them warmly.

Niall catches your eye. Even from this distance, his gaze feels like a tether, pulling your focus no matter how much you try to avoid it. He gives you a quick wink, his easy charm on full display, and it’s enough to make your heart stutter.

The interview begins with the usual playful banter—questions about the tour, favorite moments on stage, and funny stories from the road. The boys are in their element, bouncing off each other’s energy and keeping the audience laughing.

Then the host leans in, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Now, boys, we have to talk about the latest buzz. Niall, you’ve been quite the topic of conversation this week. Care to share what’s going on?”

Your stomach twists as Niall’s name draws a wave of cheers and laughter from the audience. The cameras zoom in on him, and he flashes a cheeky smile that’s both endearing and infuriating.

“Oh, you mean the marriage thing?” he says, his tone casual, but there’s a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

The room erupts in gasps and laughter, and the host’s jaw drops in exaggerated surprise. “So it’s true? You got married in Vegas?”

“Well,” Niall says, leaning back and rubbing the back of his neck, “things happen when you’re having fun, don’t they?”

The audience roars, and you feel like you might sink through the floor. Your hands clench into fists at your sides as Harry, ever the instigator, chimes in.

“To be fair,” Harry says with a grin, “it’s not every day you see Niall that brave.”

“Or that drunk,” adds Louis, earning another wave of laughter.

“And your mystery bride?” the host presses, her curiosity genuine. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Niall hesitates for a fraction of a second, his eyes flicking to where you’re standing. “Let’s just say,” he begins, his voice light but steady, “she’s amazing. Beautiful, talented, and someone who puts up with me better than anyone else could.”

The host melts at his words, clasping her hands dramatically. “That’s so sweet! You must really care about her.”

“Absolutely,” Niall says without missing a beat. The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and you find yourself holding your breath.

Liam, ever the voice of reason, steers the conversation back to the tour, defusing the tension with a comment about their next city. As the interview wraps up, the boys thank the audience and head off stage, their energy high as they make their way back toward you.

Niall is the last to approach, his smile easy as always, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes when he stops in front of you.

“So?” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “How’d I do?”

You want to be annoyed, to scold him for being so casual about the whole thing. But the way he’s looking at you—hopeful and just a little nervous—makes it impossible.

“You didn’t embarrass me as much as I thought you would,” you say, your voice softer than you intended.

His grin widens. “That’s a win, then.”

Before you can respond, Harry sidles up beside Niall, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Good show, Mr. Husband,” he teases, winking at you. “The two of you are going to have to step it up, though. The world’s watching now.”

Your cheeks burn as you watch Harry stroll away, and when you glance back at Niall, he’s already watching you.

“Guess we’d better figure out what we’re doing, huh?” he says, his voice quieter now, the playful edge gone.

You nod, your throat tight. “Yeah. We should.”

...

The soft hum of the elevator fills the silence as you and Niall ascend to your floor. His hands are stuffed into his hoodie pockets, his hair still slightly tousled from the interview, though you’d carefully styled it hours earlier. You can still feel the ghost of his fingertips brushing your wrist as he snapped that photo of you, and the way his gaze lingered on you in the dressing room keeps playing on a loop in your mind.

You shift uncomfortably, the tension between you feeling sharper now after nearly kissing him. Neither of you has addressed it, but the weight of it presses down on the quiet space between you.

When the elevator dings, you step out first, desperate to get to the shared room even though the thought of spending another night in close quarters with him makes your heart race.

At the door, you fumble with the key card, but before you can swipe it, Niall’s hand comes to rest gently on your shoulder. “Hey.”

The softness in his voice makes you freeze. You glance back at him, your heart thudding in your chest. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet all night,” he says, his brows furrowing slightly. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“I’m just tired,” you mutter, brushing him off as you finally get the door open and step inside.

He follows you in, closing the door behind him, but instead of giving you space, he lingers. You drop your bag on the armchair, hoping he’ll let it go, but his voice cuts through the quiet.

“Is this about earlier?”

You stiffen, your back to him. “What do you mean?”

“In the dressing room,” he says simply. “When we almost…” He trails off, but the unfinished sentence hangs heavily in the air.

You spin around, arms crossed over your chest. “Nothing happened.”

“Exactly,” he counters, stepping closer. “Why not?”

“Niall…” You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “Can we not do this tonight? It’s been a long day.”

He ignores your plea, his blue eyes locked on yours. “You’re avoiding it. And me.”

“I’m not avoiding—”

“Yes, you are,” he says firmly, cutting you off. “You’ve been dodgin’ me all day. You barely looked at me during the interview, you wouldn’t sit next to me in the car, and now you’re actin’ like this.”

You let out a frustrated breath, dropping onto the edge of the bed. “What do you want me to say, Niall?”

“The truth,” he says, moving to stand in front of you. “Why are you running?”

You look down at your hands, your fingers twisting in your lap. “I’m not running.”

“Yes, you are,” he insists, crouching down so he’s at eye level with you. “Talk to me. Please.”

You bite your lip, debating whether to brush him off again, but the look in his eyes—earnest, patient, and so undeniably Niall—makes it impossible.

“I’m scared, okay?” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Scared of what?”

You gesture between the two of you, frustration bubbling to the surface. “This. Us. What if we ruin everything?”

Niall’s shoulders sag slightly, his expression softening. “You think we’d ruin it? After everything?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “We’ve always been good at being… us. And now everything’s different.”

“Different doesn’t have to mean bad,” he says quietly.

You glance up at him, your chest tightening. “And what if it does? What if we mess this up and it’s never the same?”

Niall sighs, running a hand through his hair as he sits back on his heels. “I can’t promise we won’t mess up,” he admits. “But I can promise I’ll never stop tryin’ to fix it if we do.”

Your throat feels tight, the weight of his words sinking in. He’s always been like this—steady, kind, and unwavering.

“Niall…” you start, but he interrupts gently.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he says, standing and offering you a hand. “But stop shutting me out. Please.”

Hesitating for only a moment, you take his hand and let him pull you to your feet. The warmth of his palm lingers even after he lets go, and you know you’re walking a fine line.

...

The soft glow of the city lights filters through the curtains, casting faint patterns across the bed. You lie on your side, your back to Niall, gripping the edge of the blanket as if it could shield you from the swirling mess of emotions threatening to spill over.

The bed shifts as he moves, his voice soft in the stillness. “You don’t have to stay on the edge, you know. I’m not gonna bite.”

You glance over your shoulder, catching the faintest smile tugging at his lips. His hair is still slightly mussed from earlier, and the quiet vulnerability in his expression tugs at your heart.

“I’m fine here,” you murmur, but the words feel hollow even to you.

He hesitates, then shifts closer, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. “C’mere,” he whispers, his tone low and soothing.

Your breath catches as his arm lightly brushes yours. For a moment, you hesitate, your walls screaming for you to stay put, to keep the distance. But then you feel the warmth of his hand resting gently on your arm, and something inside you gives way.

Slowly, you roll onto your other side, facing him. His blue eyes search yours, cautious but hopeful, and he lifts his arm in invitation. “Only if you’re okay with it.”

You nod, your throat too tight to speak, and let him pull you closer. The moment his arm settles around your waist, you feel the tension begin to ebb, replaced by a comforting warmth that spreads through your chest.

He pulls you just close enough that your forehead brushes against his shoulder, his scent—a mix of clean soap and something uniquely him—filling the space between you. His thumb moves absentmindedly against your back, tracing slow, soothing circles.

“This okay?” he asks again, his voice barely audible.

You nod against him, your fingers curling lightly into his shirt. “Yeah.”

For a while, neither of you speaks. The steady rhythm of his breathing matches the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand, and you let yourself sink into the moment. His touch is grounding, his presence a balm for the doubts that have been clawing at you.

But even in this closeness, your fears whisper at the edges of your mind. The warmth of his embrace feels too good, too safe, and the thought of losing it terrifies you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, unsure if he even hears it.

“For what?” he murmurs, his voice drowsy but curious.

“For always being you,” you reply, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you can’t bring yourself to say.

He hums softly, a sound of quiet contentment, and you feel the slight press of his lips against your hair. “Always.”

It doesn’t take long for his breathing to slow, the tension leaving his body as he drifts off to sleep. His arm remains firmly around you, holding you as if he’d never let go.

He shifts slightly, nuzzling closer in his sleep, and the movement sends a pang of bittersweet ache through you. You know he’s out, his breathing deep and even, but it feels like he could wake at any moment, like you shouldn’t risk it.

But the words are there, teetering on the edge of your tongue, demanding to be spoken into the quiet.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper so faintly you can barely hear it yourself. The lump in your throat threatens to choke you, but you push on. “I’m sorry for running. For being such a coward.”

You wait, but he doesn’t stir, only tightening his hold around your waist slightly, as if his subconscious could sense your turmoil.

Your breath shakes as you exhale, eyes burning with tears you refuse to shed. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, Niall. Too long. And it’s terrifying.”

The words spill out, unrestrained, carried by the weight of everything you’ve held back. “You’re everything to me. You always have been. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re kind, and talented, and brilliant. And me? I’m just…” You pause, choking on the thought. “I’m just a makeup artist. Just the girl who hides behind brushes and combs while you light up the world.”

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, the familiar texture grounding you even as your voice wavers. “You deserve someone who’s extraordinary. Someone who doesn’t hold you back, who fits into your world without hesitation. And I—” Your breath catches, and you close your eyes tightly, willing the tears away.

“I’m so scared,” you admit, the words trembling as they escape. “Scared of ruining us. Scared of not being enough for you. Scared that if I let myself have this, if I let myself have you, it’ll all fall apart, and I won’t know how to survive it.”

A tear slips down your cheek, but you don’t wipe it away. You let the confession linger in the stillness, hoping it might ease the ache in your chest, even though you know it won’t.

“And I know you’d never say it,” you continue, your voice barely audible now. “But part of me keeps thinking you’re only doing this because of the marriage, because you have to, not because you want to.”

The thought makes your chest tighten unbearably, and you let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to lose you, Niall. Not as my friend. Not as… anything. But I don’t know how to do this.”

For a moment, you’re met with silence, the kind that feels both comforting and crushing. His breathing stays steady, his arm still wrapped securely around you, and you convince yourself that he’s fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the weight you’ve just spilled into the darkness.

You glance at him, his features softened in the dim light, and a small, bittersweet smile tugs at your lips. “I love you,” you whisper one last time, letting the words fall into the space between you like a secret never meant to be heard.

As your eyes close and sleep begins to pull you under, you tell yourself that maybe this moment is enough. Maybe it’s okay to love him in the quiet, to let yourself have this fragile, fleeting sense of peace—even if he never knows.

...

The morning sunlight seeps through the thin curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. You stir beneath the duvet, slowly becoming aware of the warm weight of Niall’s arm draped over your waist. His steady, even breaths caress the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. For a fleeting moment, you let yourself melt into the comfort of his presence, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest pressing gently against your back.

But then reality crashes in, and your stomach twists. What if he heard you?

You carefully shift, trying to slide out from under his arm, but the movement stirs him. His arm tightens instinctively around you, pulling you closer.

“You’re not sneaky, y’know,” his voice rasps, still heavy with sleep, a teasing lilt to it.

Your breath catches, your entire body freezing. “What?”

He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow. His tousled hair is sticking up in every direction, and his blue eyes, though bleary, are far too focused on you. “I heard you last night,” he murmurs, his voice soft but sure.

Your heart stops. “You—what?”

“I wasn’t asleep,” he says simply, his lips curving into a small smile.

Panic flares in your chest as you sit up abruptly, clutching the duvet tightly around yourself like it’s a shield. “You… you misheard. I was rambling. Half-asleep—didn’t know what I was saying.”

Niall lets out a soft chuckle, sitting up as well. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” you insist, your voice sharp with nerves.

He leans closer, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight, and the proximity makes it impossible to breathe. “You sure about that?”

Your cheeks burn as you scramble to look anywhere but at him. “Can we just… not do this?”

“No,” he says firmly, though his tone is still gentle. “We’re not brushing this under the rug, not this time.”

“Niall—”

“Why?” he interrupts, his voice low but steady. “Why do you think you’re not good enough? For me?”

The question feels like a punch to the gut. You shake your head, biting your lip. “Because look at you!” you burst out, your words spilling over in a rush. “You’re—you’re Niall Horan. People scream your name. You’re famous. You could have anyone. And I’m just—”

“Don’t,” he says, cutting you off sharply, his voice firm enough to make you stop mid-sentence.

His eyes are burning with an intensity that makes your throat tighten.

“You’re not ‘just’ anything,” he says, his voice softening as he moves closer. The warmth of his hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that’s escaped down your skin. “You’re the smartest, kindest, most talented person I know. You’re the one person I need with me, no matter what.”

Your chest tightens, the weight of his words overwhelming. “Niall, you don’t understand—”

“Stop,” he says quietly. “I understand more than you think.”

“I’m scared,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the words claw their way out of you. “Of messing this up. Of losing you.”

“You’re not gonna lose me,” he murmurs, leaning closer. His breath is warm against your skin, and the hand cradling your cheek moves to the back of your neck. “But I need you to stop talking, just for a second.”

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours, soft and searching.

The kiss steals the breath from your lungs, and for a moment, the world tilts on its axis. His hand slides into your hair, holding you gently but firmly, and every nerve ending in your body sparks to life. You can taste the faintest hint of mint on his lips, feel the heat radiating off him, and the way he pulls you closer like you’re the only thing tethering him to earth.

For a fleeting moment, you forget your fears.

But then they come crashing back.

You pull away, your heart pounding as you put a hand on his chest to create distance. “Niall, I—”

He searches your face, his brow furrowing as if he can see the storm brewing behind your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I just…” You shake your head, the words tangling in your throat. “I need time.”

His hand drops slowly from your hair, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he nods, his voice soft. “Okay. I’ll wait. As long as you need.”

Your chest aches at the tenderness in his tone, but all you can manage is a nod before you turn away, trying to calm the whirlwind inside you.

…

Part 3 - coming soon

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Sweet Dreams.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist.

in which, its christmas eve, and harry is tucking his daughter into bed, just like he does every night.

word count - 800.

Bed time had always been Harry’s thing.

Every night, after his wife would give there daughter a bath, he would be the one to get her to sleep, she claimed he had the magic touch, whenever she would be unsettled as a baby, his hands running through her hair would instantly soothe her into a soft sleep.

It was Christmas Eve.

And this was the first year she was properly going to understand what Christmas was.

The nursery is filled with the soft glow of the nightlight, and Harry sits in the rocking chair, his little girl curled in his arms.

Her damp curls are pressed against his chest, her tiny fingers clutching at his shirt. She’s cozy in her sleep sack, but her wide eyes sparkle with excitement, far from ready to close.

“Dada,” she whispers, her voice soft and slightly garbled, still touched with the babyish lilt of her words. “Santa comin’, wight?”

Harry smiles down at her, brushing a stray curl away from her forehead. “He is, love, but only if little girls go to sleep. That’s the rule, you know.”

She shakes her head, her pout exaggerated and dramatic.

“No sweep,” she declares firmly. “I wait fow him.”

“Not even a little bit tired?” Harry teases gently, tilting his head as he rocks her.

“Nuh-uh.” She shakes her head again, her curls bouncing slightly. “I see Santa. He gonna bwing pwesents.”

Harry chuckles softly, his heart swelling at the sight of her determined little face. “He is, but Santa’s very sneaky, you know. He only comes when everyone’s fast asleep. If he thinks you’re awake, he might skip this house altogether.”

Her eyes grow wide at his words, her tiny mouth forming a surprised “O.”

“Nooooo,” she whines, clutching his shirt tighter. “No skip my house, Daddy! I be good!”

“You’ve been very good,” Harry reassures her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But he still needs you to go to sleep. That’s the rule.”

“You want your bottle, love?” he asks softly, his voice low and tender.

She perks up immediately, nodding her head eagerly, her curls bouncing with the motion.

“Baba, pwease,” she says, her small voice filled with enthusiasm, as though it’s the most exciting thing in the world.

“Alright, m’darling,” Harry says, reaching for the bottle on the table beside the rocking chair. He holds it up to her lips, even though she’s perfectly capable of holding it herself.

But this is their ritual, his way of making her feel small and safe, and she leans into him without protest, her hands lightly brushing his as he steadies the bottle for her.

She takes slow, content sips, her eyes fluttering as the warmth and familiarity of the moment begin to lull her closer to sleep.

Harry watches her lovingly, his free hand gently stroking her hair, smoothing the damp curls against her head.

“You’re my clever girl, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice soft and melodic. “Santa’s going to be so proud of you this year. So many presents waiting just for you under the tree.”

She hums softly around the bottle, her eyelids starting to droop, but she fights it, her little fingers reaching for his shirt as if to keep herself grounded in the moment.

“You’re safe, m’love,” Harry whispers, his voice warm and reassuring. He begins to hum a soft tune, the familiar notes of her favorite lullaby wrapping around the room like a gentle embrace.

As the hum turns into words, his voice fills the quiet space, tender and soothing.

“Sleep, my baby, close your eyes,

Santa’s magic fills the skies.

Dream of reindeer, dream of snow,

Christmas morning’s not far to go…”

That was the words his dad used to say to him as a child and so it was only right he repeated the same ones to his children.

Her body relaxes completely against his chest, the bottle slipping from her lips as her breathing evens out.

Harry smiles, his heart swelling as he watches her drift off, so small and peaceful in his arms.

Carefully, he sets the bottle aside and cradles her closer, rocking her gently as he continues to hum.

“Sweet dreams, m’darling,” he whispers, pressing a final kiss to her forehead.

He stands slowly, his movements practiced and deliberate, and lays her in the crib that, for now, still feels like the right place for her.

Pulling the blanket up to her chin, he lingers for a moment, watching her sleep before softly padding out of the room.

[badomensgoodomens]

BAD DECISIONS

CHAPTER FIVE

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Merry christmas!!!! haven't touched bad decisions in a while because ive been hella busy, but wanted to get this out before christmas. enjoy!!

taglist at the bottom

Sunlight poured through the cracks of the floral and fading curtains, illuminating Noah's sleeping form on the bed. The room was nostalgic, filled with memorabilia from his teen years, and even his first guitar. Across the hall was Nicholas’s old bedroom, the two seeking refuge here during every work break. As the town gradually transitioned into winter, the apple trees in Nicholas’s parents backyard began to lose their leaves. Christmas was approaching rapidly. 

Christmas was a particularly hard time for Noah, his strained relationship with his family being the cause of that. Sherene welcomed him with open arms during Christmas, always buying him gifts. Her kindness was very apparent in Nicholas as he grew older,   mother like son. She made a mean mint hot chocolate, and always made it a mission to bring Noah and Nicholas one every morning. 

For Y/N, Christmas was the absolute worst time of the year. No matter how hard Nevada and Dawn tried to make December enjoyable, the memories of growing up in a dysfunctional household had left a mark that couldn’t be easily erased. The holiday, meant to bring joy and warmth, only served as a bitter reminder of everything Y/N wished they could forget.

She poured her feelings into journals – a common christmas present for her. Even when life felt right, it still was such a melancholic period of her life. Her mornings were spent sitting on the windowsill, watching the snow fall. 

Sitting beside her was a pile of letters, a series of festive cards from distant relatives. Almost all of them asked ‘how are your parents?’ It seems as though her parents couldn’t acknowledge the fact they abandoned their children, much less let the rest of the family know. Tired hands scribbled relentless harsh poetry into a leather-bound book, words poured out as tears streamed down her face. 

Most Christmases ended like this, and birthdays too. 

Christmas eve she spent sitting in bed, staring at the wall. The boys gave her time off work for Christmas, mainly so they could spend it with their own family. Instead of putting up decorations, or wrapping presents or making cookies, she soaked her pillows with tears. 

It wasn’t like she necessarily had a reason to cry, seasonal depression was a real bitch. Therapy wasn’t helping anymore, the ‘urges’ were still there, it was like a hole in the heart that could not be fixed. The city was still, for the first time in a long time. 

The clock read 12:00 am. 

The ringing of her phone made her jump out of her skin, eyes wide, once full of tears. Glancing down at the phone number, immediate recognition filled her body. She could recognise that number anywhere, the same number that used to call her every evening, asking her to come over. 

She fumbled with her phone, shaking fingers struggling to unlock it. Her body froze, contradicted between accepting or declining. It disappeared just as quickly as it came, her breathing slowed down. With shaky hands she pulled up her chats with him, sobs wracking her cold body. 

Merry Christmas, please don’t call. 

Read 12:02 am. 

NOAHS POV 

Fuck. that was a complete accident i didn’t mean to call her. 

I’d almost forgotten about her, completely wrapped up in my own life. It was dark, I was tired, and her name was right next to Jolly’s contact. The soft sound of rain echoed through my childhood bedroom, the window cracked ajar. I would most likely catch a cold considering it was the peak of winter, but the freshness kept my anxiety at bay. It was roughly the 3rd night I'd spent, staying up until midnight doing nothing. What's one to do without someone to hold close? 

Matt had found this really cute girl who works at a record shop, nicholas was still head over heels for ivy, nick was all over his neighbour, and jolly liked some redhead. It was almost like I was falling behind, I mean I'd always considered poppy an option, but that girl gets into too much controversy for my liking. With a sigh, I pulled up my notes app. The screen brightness was blinding, but I typed out some 2025 new year's resolutions. 

Get over this train wreck 

Find a new girl to cry over

I fell asleep quickly after that, not even bothering to plug my phone in, just letting whatever depressing song that was playing drown out the ridiculous thoughts flooding my mind. 

The next morning I woke up to Nicholas pounding on my bedroom door, rousing me from my slumber. I fumbled to turn the music off, smooth my hair over and open the door. “Hey man, you look like shit. C'mon we need to head into town.” I shut the door with a groan, heading towards the ensuite. Turning the shower on, hot steam filled up the room, fogging up the mirror. A random sleep token playlist on shuffle echoed through the green tiled bathroom, accompanied by soft humming as I shampooed my long hair.

The smell of citrus lingered in the confined space, long after I had gotten out of the shower, mixing with the scent of my cologne. I sat on top of the bathroom counter, tying my shoes when Nicholas walked in, mumbling about buying Ivy the perfect present. Downstairs you could hear the clatter of Sherene’s utensils as she prepared for this evening's Christmas dinner. The familiarity of it was soothing, but as I got older Christmas started to lose all meaning. 

NEUTRAL POV 

The two of them cruised into the small, snow ridden town. It was rather busy for Christmas morning, small families bundled up in winter coats, rosy cheeks and presents in hand. It was bitter sweet, remnants of noah’s broken family threatened to still linger, but noah brushed them off. It took Nicholas approximately two fucking hours to pick a present for ivy, why he didn’t buy one earlier was beyond noah, especially considering ivy would be arriving THIS EVENING. He blames it on how long TDOPOM to produce, but we finished it a month ago, and it was on its way to be released. 

Eventually Y/N returned to work, needing the money more than anything, the atmosphere was sluggish and quiet, winter still being in full effect. She sat at her desk, replying to some angry emails from suppliers and whatnot, occasionally glancing outside at the snow fall. Soft music echoed through the intricately decorated office as she drew up some plans for the new album, her tongue sticking out slightly as she focused. Vessel, who unbeknownst to y/n, had been leaning against the doorway, cleared his throat. She yelped, turning around to face him, “what?!” “will you be able to work on feb the 25th?” he asked, stepping further into the room. “Uhh, hold that thought,” she replied, flicking through her phone. “Yeah i’m free, why?” He pulled out the chair next to her, sinking down into it. “Me and the boys got invited to Bad Omens release party for their new album. I'd bring you as a plus one, but we don’t have any extra staff to run the place other than you.” he explained, resting his hands on the back of his head. “No thanks, don’t like that band,” she waved him off, turning back to her drawing pad. 

“How come?” Vessel asked, straightening up. The air in the office was seemingly thick, awkward silence filling the air. “I don’t fuck with the main dude,” she responded vaguely. He quirked a brow, “come on, spit it out.”

…

“Quite the story if i do say so myself,” Vessel laughed, standing up from his spot. “Have fun though!” she called out as the door clicked shut. She turned back to her computer with a grumble, pulling up facetime and calling her sister. 

“Who the FUCK is natasha??” Her hurried typing fills the room, accompanied by her sister. “Wait wait wait have you seen the drummer hes really cute,” “who?” “his names nick folio” “okay i’m searching him up now” 

“OH MY GOD NEVADA IVE MET HIM BEFORE” 

“OH EM GEE WHERE?!?!” 

“AT WORK!!!”

“OH MY GOD SURELY HE’LL COME BACK AND I CAN GET HIS NUMBER AND-”

“WHO THE FUCK IS NATASHA???!!!!”

hi cuties!! How is everyone??

taglist @emluvsuxo @lacy1986 @lilcrazy011 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @briefpersonenemy @niicolelynn @looney-goose @sister-sebastian @dominuslunae @supersquirrel1996 @jilliemiw86 @amelia-acero @littlebear423

[elpida]

it was probably and very ironically, the most at peace she'd looked for a while, she didn't stir, she just continued to breath softly and at ease until she was blinking. everything was quiet, for the most she didn't remember what'd happened, she couldn't really put it together, the moments she'd reached out for him, or when she passed out, but she knew the sound of the children and their peaceful heavy breaths of sleep. turning her head, she saw asher, the way his head was in his hands.

"i owe you answers..." she spoke softly, a whisper into what was now delicate hours of the night. she felt the coolness on her forehead, saw the damp cloth in his hand and wandered just how long he'd sat there, making sure she wasn't burning up or suffering. she wondered but daren't ask, had the children cared? she knew that in her heart it was best for them to not see her as mommy but... without a doubt when they saw her on the ground, they'd fretted for their mom. maybe not by birth, but she was meant to be theirs. they were meant to be each others. ever so gentle in her movements she shuffled, enough that there was a space beside her and pulled at the blankets bundled around her. "lay down, you'll get cold sat there all night." even then, when she must have felt so fragile, she cared about him. god, she cared about him so much that she'd turned to him in those moments of feeling so vulnerable. the children lay sound asleep, she'd always said that they slept as if nothing was wrong in the world, heavy and undisturbed.

"i was sick.. before everything went wrong with the world." this was the hard part, the part she'd not told a single soul, because she felt so.. incapable. what good was she if she couldn't even keep up now? "and i suppose and i'm sick again, my medication ran out a while ago... that's why i started keeping more to the house and when i went out, i was hoping i'd find something that'd make do, or at least help in some way until i figured a way to tell you." the more she tried to find the words, the more she felt tears well up in her eyes, a clog in her throat when she first tried to open her mouth to say it. "i have a heart murmur.. i have for a long time it was just.. to a point where they were going to do something about it. they never got the chance to operate and i only had enough medication to last me a couple of weeks. i was really sparing with it, i'd have kept up better had i had more and it's not always bad, not all the time, some days are just worse but.." eden couldn't look at him for this growing fear he'd turn away from her, that he'd be angry at her, that he might see her as useless. "if i'd been the odd one out, the weakest of the group, if i'd been everyone's burden-" she closed her eyes, lip quivering. "i didn't want to be... your burden. i didn't then and i don't know so if you.. if... you want to go, i'd understand. if it's a matter of knowing your chances are better without me slowing you down... i'd get it."

he'd wanted to get some sort of answer that night, but the opportunity had never presented itself. it had quickly become clear that this stop was only temporary - that the need to move on would fall far sooner than he would have liked. the house was largely picked clean of any essentials, leaving the four of them cramming into one room that evening rather than spreading out more comfortably, and eden was asleep just as quickly as the children ( and that was not something he'd disturb ). it hadn't stopped him from eyeing her skeptically the following morning - from considering staying at least another day before ultimately deciding they needed to push forward. he'd led them slower that day - his steps more cautious, his frame stiff and alert ( on the lookout for others and eden ).

when they'd stopped that second night, asher had once again left the little trio at the front door as he'd moved to clear the rest of the house and ensure the windows were properly covered before ushering them further into the space. distracted by the excitement of the two children when they'd learned there was a playroom, asher didn't hear the first call of his name. it was only his need to ensure the woman was alright that caused him to look back. his brow furrowed when he took her in - skin far more pale than usual - and when she seemed to sway forward, he was already moving. a curse escaped him - just managing to snag onto her frame but not preventing them from tumbling down to the floor. the next few moments were chaos - the kids were screaming, asher was groaning in pain from ramming his side into the corner of a table while scrambling to push eden's limp form away from him - hand taping at her face to try to wake her up before pressing against her throat. the uneven thump-thump-thump that met his touch was the only thing to get him to calm.

picking her up and bringing her up into one of the bedrooms, he'd slouched against the side and cradled the two children - murmuring soft reassurances until they'd grown drowsy. dragging a second mattress into the space and convincing them onto it rather than curled against eden's side proved more difficult than he'd anticipated, but by the time they'd truly settled, asher was exhausted and fucking terrified. seated beside the bed with a damp washcloth, the man was hunched over himself - head cradled within his hands, mentally berating himself for not just questioning her the night before as he'd originally intended.

[friendly-jester]

As Oliver's gotten older we've started taking him on supervised visits to the backyard so he can wander and chomp on some grass. Him just walking around in the yard is the most active I've seen him in months 🥺

[littleplantfreak]

'When', not 'if'

("I'm not a romantic" I cry and scream before dropping the most sickening thing i've written to date. Blame @stunie because i did tell her i would write the most ume thing ever and maybe this is it. The title in my docs for it is 'Fucking disgusting' but i figured i better not title it that here because I'd be seeing it in my notifs lmaoo)

SFW/no cw unless you hate fluff

When you wake up from your nap, one of your slippers is gone, and there's a blanket on you that wasn't there prior. Looking at the clock, it's been about an hour since everyone had left your apartment once your birthday party ended. The day as a whole had been chaotic, your boyfriend shoving you out the door with a note to go see Kotoha.

The note took you farther than that, though, as it seemed Umemiya created a whole scavenger hunt for your birthday that had you running into all of your friends, having dessert at your favorite cafe, and eventually ending up at your shared apartment to find that all that time spent around town was a distraction so that he could set up the space for your party. After it had ended, you were banished to the couch because princesses aren't allowed to help clean up their own birthday parties, which had you huffing and falling face down into the chicken shaped pillow affectionately called Mr.Clucky.

It was a product of your boyfriend's endless cycle of hobbies when he took up sewing. A little lopsided and overfilled with stuffing, you complained to and into Mr.Clucky with your face pressed into him. Apparently, he was soft enough to fall asleep on because before you knew it, you had been drooling on him the entire hour. Prying yourself off the couch took more effort than was almost worth it before your eyes fell on the reason you were so tired to begin with.

Hajime smiles and hums looking at your bleary eyes. "Good morning sunshine, I was just about to take you to bed," he says, folding a dish towel over a chair. You toss off the blanket and grab on the slipper that fell under the living room table before padding up to him. Dipping your hands under both of his arms to lock them together behind him, now your face is in his chest instead of the chicken, which is entirely preferred.

"Don't wanna go to bed just yet," you muffle, sinking even deeper into him when both of his arms wrap around you in support. He smells like dish soap and birthday cake, and you turn your head to hear the heartbeat in his chest.

"What do you wanna do lovey? You know I'd give you the world if you asked," you can hear the rumble of his voice in his chest with your pressed ear. He's cheesy, but half asleep, you feel just as much, if not cheesier.

"I have the world if I have you, they're one in the same. So just you is more than fine." Your eyes are closed, but you feel him shiver a little. "I wanna dance with you, though," you say, voice still soft and kinda raspy from sleep.

"Dunno if I can top what you just said even when I propose," he chokes out a laugh, or at least you think it's one. He shifts his hold a bit and starts leading you both in a lazy sway that starts near the toaster and ends next to the potted plant at the back door before starting over.

"When? Not if?" You tease him, a hand going to scratch the nape of his neck lightly.

"I'll never meet another you, so I'm pretty set on When."

"I'll say yes." Because you will. You can't imagine a life where you wouldn't.

"And I'll still cry when you do." You can tell he's crying now because it comes out shaky and his hold tightens a bit, before you lean back, stopping your impromptu waltz. Both of your hands come up to cup his face and look at his teary grey eyes before cooing at him.

"You big baby! Save those tears for When please. You'll be congested and sniffley all night if you don't stop." You start cleaning off his face with your sleeve, but he stops one of your hands and starts peppering your palm and wrist with small kisses. "I think I'm ready for bed now. Princess's orders," you say, dragging him towards your bedroom. You'll have to figure out tomorrow just how soon When is going to be, but for now you can hear the slow thumps of Hajime's steps as he follows behind you, squeezing your connected hand. It's not pressing in the least, you think, because it feels like there will be plenty of tomorrows too.

-----

When you wake up in the morning, it takes you an hour to realize Hajime had put the ring on your finger while you were asleep.

It takes you five minutes to run through town in your pajamas, barefoot to find and full on tackle him in front of the place he was about to get your breakfast in.

And it takes about two minutes of unintelligible blubbering on both your parts before anyone understands what is going on.

No one timed it, but if they did, it would've taken less than ten minutes for the whole town to find out via texts, calls, and yells down the streets and through windows that you're engaged.

[dykedvonte]

I think the most baffling thing about the Tulpar as a vessel to me is the fact that the ship really did only have a one way communication system.

I know it was cheap but even the most basic of vessels regarding major transport would have some way, shape or form for outside communication. Not only that but there was absolutely no form of innate emergency signal to show they may have been offline or in trouble despite clearly having a system to dock credits if they went off course. It's another factor that really shows that bad situations are made to get worse by design. One person who is required to relay all information to the crew and make all the choices without feedback. No way to update or call for help in case of a dire situation. No way to inform of inner personal conflicts and acquire procedures accordingly.

It really is like they are all in some sort of fucked up solitary confinement. They have their own world with strict roles that are meaningless in the end, as long as the cargo makes it, it doesn't matter what happens on that ship to the company. They don't want to hear anything and will come to conclusions on what happened based on how much pay they can withhold from the workers. Even what they do send is short, sterile and corporate to the extent it was likely written and sent out with a command by some random unmanned computer in an office.

There's something to be said about how unfair it is to force absolute power and control onto one person when you as an entity could do so much more to offload it but I've said it many times before so I won't again.

[moth-flowers]

moth-flowers #17

[pastafossa]

Some sad health stuff about a pet so scroll on if not your thing.

So my poor old kitty Cato. I don't post as many current pics of him cause he's not looking great. He's lost a ton of weight in the past year or so, upset stomach, fairly skin and bones now. Vet put him on prescription food and an elimination diet 5 weeks ago. And while he's stopped losing weight, and stopped vomiting so much, he's still not gaining his weight back, either. I'm technically feeding him more than the bag recommends, too. He's getting fed four times a day, almost an entire cup of food total which is HUGE when - even at a healthy weight of 9 pounds - you were a small animal.

I'm worried there's something wrong at a deeper level. He should be gaining weight back, and he's not. He's always, always hungry. He's sore if touched around his back half unless you pet him very gently. And you can feel all his little spine notches when you pet him.

I have had this cat for 13, almost 14 years. I realize that might not seem like a lot depending on age. But at mine that's a very large chunk of my life. And the idea of having to weigh what his quality of life is of this cat I've raised from a kitten, who has curled up with me by my pillow every night until fairly recently, who always follows me and sings to me and bonks his head on my face... this feels way too soon.

[positivelyapunovexponent-good]

it would be really cool if I could have a day this month where I wasn’t so chronically afraid it felt like my intestines were twisted into a möbius strip. Because ya’know- I really like my digestive tract being an orientable manifold. If that’s all the same to the universe.