#i saw the picture and stopped and stared for so long

[wlwloverwrites]

Routine Check Up

Pairing: Dr. Natasha Romanoff x Reader x Nurse Wanda Maximoff

Summary: After doing some research, you find the perfect gynecologist, Dr. Romanoff and her lovely assistant nurse, Wanda Maximoff.

Warnings: dark themes, medical kink, fingering, humiliation kink, dubious consent, light bondage, vaginal dilators, relaxant drug with use of injection, brief needle mention, 18+ only

Read on ao3

To be transparent, you feared walking in Dr. Romanoff’s office today.

You’ve heard the horror stories, heard about the pain, and the embarrassment. Friends mumbling how they had to scoot down until it felt like they were going to fall to the floor just so their gynecologist could have a ‘good look.’

So you did your research.

You scouted the internet for doctors, reading hundreds of reviews, inputted the addresses into your phone and restarted when you saw they were miles away. Finally, you found Dr. Romanoff.

Stellar reviews, clean office, close to home, and a woman.

When a picture of a beautiful redhead loaded on your screen, a sense of relief filled your body. You figured everything would be more comfortable if your doctor was a woman, so that’s how you found yourself in a medical gown, panties neatly folded - hiding beneath your clothes on a lonely chair.

You tried to leave your panties on, but Nurse Maximoff insisted you took them off, stating it ‘makes things better for the doctor.’

The thin medical gown did little to protect you from the cold and did little to stop the breeze from hitting your backside.

“Are you scared?”

The voice makes you jump, still you reply softly, “A little.”

Not wanting to rip the disposable paper covering the medical table, you carefully turn your head to face the nurse. Still the paper rips and the first wave of embarrassment floods your veins.

“You could always hold my hand. For when it gets too much. How does that sound?”

Your eyes light up immediately by her kind offer and you shyly nod your head.

“Yes please, I’d like that. Personally, I’ve never heard of a great experience at the gynecologist,” you’re rambling, “but I saw Dr. Romanoff - well, I found her online and she had really good reviews…”

”It can be scary, but Dr. Romanoff is very good at her job. She and I will do our very best to keep you comfortable,” she winks.

The smile she sends you has you suppressing a giggle as she walks out of the room, she mumbles that she’s going to bring the doctor.

It isn’t long until you hear muffled voices behind the door, shortly after you hear a sharp knock.

“Come in.”

Oh gosh.

She even more beautiful in person.

Dr. Romanoff sends you a flirty smile. Her red hair is curled, unlike her picture. Long enough to rest just above her collarbones but short enough to let you read her embroidered name on her white coat.

“How are you doing today, sweetheart?”

On autopilot, the doctor washes her hands with proficiency, looking over her shoulder to hear your answer.

“I’m doing good, Dr. Romanoff,” you nod awkwardly as you fiddle with your thumbs.

“That’s nice to hear, sweetheart,” she pauses to look at the clipboard her nurse holds in front of her before looking up at you again, “And please, call me Natasha.”

You only nod, making a mental note to call her Natasha.

”I take it that my best nurse, Wanda, walked you through everything?” She assumes as she puts on a pair of latex gloves - careful not to break the sterile field.

Instead of answering, you stare at her gloved hands, mesmerized by their black color rather than their usual bright blue. The soft call of your name from Wanda has you shaking your head, bring your eyes back up to your doctor.

“Sorry, yes, she walked me through the process.”

“Legs up, feet in the stirrups, and then I need you to scoot all the down.”

The sound of the delicate paper beneath crinkling fills the room as you scoot down, looking up at Wanda who stands next to you. Her hand folds down, telling you to scoot even more, more, more, and stop.

“Just as a precaution we’ll need to strap you down.” Natasha leaves no room for discussion as she signals to Wanda to strap your thighs.

You watch as the nurse clicks the restraints, trapping your thighs - already minimizing your range of motion down to zero.

“Okay,” you mumble, however, your breath hitches when Wanda tightens similar buckles around your ankles, walking between your split thighs as she does. With your feet on the stirrups and the medical gown stretched over your bent knees, you feel exposed.

Wanda then walks back to you, taking your hands, tricking you into submission as she binds them to the table. She only sends you a soft smile as you gape at her actions - surely they didn’t need your hands tied, right? It has to be a mistake?

”It’s just a precaution,” Natasha reiterates with strong eye contact, soothing you by rubbing her hands down your thighs.

”R-right.”

You avoid eye contact the second you see Dr. Romanoff’s eyes peek between your legs. With your wrists locked in place you have no way of covering your face the second you hear the two redheads whisper to each other. Your muscles tense when you catch their eyes looking between your thighs.

“Oh no honey, are you shy?” Natasha coos at you as a latex-covered hand goes to your naked thigh to soothe you.

“A little b-bit,” you stutter shutting your eyes, praying you can just disappear.

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha motions for Wanda to comfort you.

Once again, you jump when a hand reaches for yours. The friction caused by the same latex she wears on her hands feels silly, nevertheless, the soft circles she draws on your hand comforts you enough to open your eyes.

“Better?” Natasha questions from between your legs, only her bright hair is visible over your gown.

“Mhmm,” you nod smiling at Wanda, but choke on your breath when you feel fingers glide between your folds.

“Seems like she’s wet enough.”

”That’s good doctor.”

They speak to each other as if you’re not in the room. Nevermind that it’s you they are looking at, nevermind that it’s you they are touching.

Biting your tongue, your eyes widen when you see Natasha grab a rather large speculum, but lessen when she also reaches for the lube.

You don’t see her use the lube, but you feel it.

”Wanda?”

A pair of green eyes look up from your sex and into yours, you swear you almost see a look of awe on her face.

”Can I hold your hand?”

Your hands waves for hers and she is quick to follow your request, only this time she’s seems annoyed. As if you took time away her new favorite activity - admiring your pussy.

Sighing happily at the comforting hand, you relax enough to let Natasha continue only this time a soft laugh escapes Natasha’s lips when you shiver. Similar to before, her fingers glide between your folds, only thing time it’s easier. It’s obvious she was more than generous with the lube, something you’re thankful for. Again, you’ve heard the horror stories.

Wanda’s hand slips into yours more comfortably the same time Natasha whispers a soft apology when you hiss at the cold metal that’s forced between your legs.

Natasha tries her best to insert the speculum, but it doesn’t budge. She tries harder, pushing the tip inside despite your fluttering walls and the pained whine you let out.

It hurts.

Your hold on Wanda’s hand tightens enough to make your fingers cramp - you can’t imagine how her hand must feel. Restraints wrapped about your ankles and thighs only tighten with every flinch.

Trying your very best to stay quiet, you sniffle and fight the tears that form in your eyes. Wanda catches a glimpse of your tears and shakes her head at her superior.

“I’m hurting you too much,” Natasha sighs, defeated.

You want to tell her it’s okay, you can take it, but when you move to look down and reassure her, the tears fall down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. It won’t fit.”

”I know a way it will feel better, okay?” Natasha hums.

”Yes, Doctor.”

The relief is immediate when she carefully pulls out, only being shoved half an inch the pain is still there.

”Call me Natasha,” she demands sternly.

There’s no please, it’s an order, so you nod.

“And if that doesn’t work I have something else we can try,” she shrugs casually as she shuffles through a drawer next to her.

”Yes, Natasha,” you nod, blinking away your dried tears - anything but that.

Glossy eyes glance up at Wanda, even with her mask on you can see how beautiful she is.

Subconsciously your walls clench around nothing when she sends you another wink. Shy, you break contact and try to close your legs, again you hear Natasha’s familiar chuckle.

“Wanda?”

”Yes, Doctor?”

”Clean her up.”

Almost as if she’s excited, Wanda drops your hand and takes Natasha’s place.

You hear the plastic before you see it. You watch as Natasha hands a small pack of wipes to Wanda. You throw your head back connecting the dots. This has got to be the most humiliating thing ever.

You want to protest, tell your doctor and nurse that you’re more than capable of cleaning yourself, but your hands are tied. A second wave of embarrassment floods your veins when you feel it.

Wanda is gentle as she swipes the wet wipe over your inner thighs, then the lube that’s pooled beneath you left behind from your doctor.

Mentally, you count in your head, trying your best to block out the two intelligent women who seem to have no issue with your nakedness or discomfort.

“I know they look scary, but we will take it slow.”

Natasha’s words bring your attention to the package she holds in her hand. You barely have the chance to read the label before she tears the box open. With new sterile gloves, she sets the multi-colored, silicon inserts, which one more colorful than the last, on the table.

Mesmerized, you stare at the five rod-like devices, each longer, and thicker than the previous, yet all share the same rounded tip.

Before you can ask what they are, Wanda explains Natasha’s upcoming process or inserting the ‘vaginal dilators’ in rounds. You nod, but give your verbal approval when Wanda raises her eyebrows at you.

Finding her familiar spot, Natasha settles between your legs holding the smallest dilator in her hand.

She’s quick, mindful of time, she most likely has another appointment.

You gasp when she pushes the smallest dilator past your entrance. The stretch is minimal, almost non-existent.

The strong and bracing hold on the table loosen when you realize this is much easier.

Whispers are shared between the two scholars as they make the decision to up the stakes, switching to the second smallest.

There’s a sting when Natasha pushes it in. Your chest rises then falls when you feel the base press against your clit.

Despite this only be the second round, there is a fluttering feeling in your lower stomach. Experimentally, Natasha pulls out a few inches, then pushes it back inside you.

“Oh!”

Protected by your gown, Natasha’s smirk is hidden, but Wanda’s isn’t.

”Too much?”

“N-no, I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Instead of replying, Wanda hands Natasha the third dilator, taking back the glistening second.

The third one comes with a stretch. The blunt tip is pressed into your hole, but hardly budges, similar to the speculum.

Peeking down, you watch Wanda staring between your legs and Natasha’s curls bounce when she tilts her head towards you.

The gasp that falls past your lips is loud, your moan is even louder.

Following Natasha’s silent orders, Wanda presses her thumb on your clit. The embarrassment that floods your veins is replaced with pleasure as she rubs meticulous circles on your swollen clit.

Taking advantage of the pleasure that seeps through your veins, Natasha shoves the third inside. The two redheads watch as your walls clench uncontrollably around the thick dilator. The base glistens, similar to the two previous ones, with your wetness.

It feels like hours before Natasha makes the decision to try the fourth dilator.

Same as the large speculum, you get nowhere.

The pleasure fades and is replaced with pain once more.

“I can’t- hurts again.”

Another silent conversation is shared between the medical professionals. Wanda makes her way to the corner of the room, busy searching for something. As a way to distract you, Natasha’s hands sliding her hands up and down your inner thighs, almost in a soothing manner.

It works because you barely notice Wanda reappear between your thighs. Whatever she found is past to Natasha and you swear you hear a finger flicking thin glass.

“Okay, we are going to try that last thing I mentioned before, okay?”

“Yes, Natasha.”

”You’ll feel a small pinch,” she squeezes the meaty part of your inner thighs before continuing, “but we will give it a couple minutes to kick in and everything should feel better.”

You whisper a soft ‘okay’ and that’s when you see it, a large needle in Natasha’s gloved hand.

“Eyes on me,” Wanda calls as the needle disappears between your legs, “This is just going to make you feel relaxed. Your muscles will loosen up, some people say it makes them feel numb. It’s temporary and will allow for Dr. Romanoff to perform her routine check-up.”

You only nod then wince when you feel a painful poke which triggers immediate tears.

“You said a small pinch.”

”I’m sorry, did that hurt?” Natasha’s voice is taunting and dark as she smiles at your glossy eyes.

“That hurt a lot.”

”Promise the rest won’t hurt. Might feel good.”

Her sudden suggestive tone makes you look at the nurse who only shrugs playfully.

“How does that feel?”

Clueless, you look down at the woman between your legs, “Feel what?”

The three of you share a soft laugh, a laugh that’s cut short when you see Natasha reach for the fourth dilator.

Little do you know, the resistance that was there before is gone.

The stretch is painless as Natasha slowly pushes it inside, testing to see how your body accepts it.

It’s silly, how the pain is gone with the help of the relaxant.

Although you wouldn’t describe the feeling as numb, there is no discomfort, only pressure.

“You okay?” Wanda asks, looking at your furrowed brow.

“Uh-yeah. Just feels weird.”

Not only do you feel it, but you hear it.

Sounds of your wetness fills the room as Natasha thrusts the dilator inside you. You watch as fascination fills both Wanda’s and Natasha’s eyes. Even more so, when Natasha replaces the dilator with three of her fingers.

As if your wetness wasn’t loud enough, it’s even louder now. Like your body, despite not feeling most of the pleasurable sensation, is retailating to her touch, leaking at the act of her curling her fingers.

You wait for either of them to address it, but are only met with praise.

“Very good,” Natasha mumbles softly.

“Much better now, huh?”

You nod in agreement, dropping your jaw when you see Natasha stretch her glistening fingers to Wanda’s mouth.

You watch, mortified, as Wanda’s tongue peeks out just seconds before her lips wrap around Natasha’s dripping fingers. You don’t know what you’re expecting, but you most certainly do not expect her to hum and rush to jot down her notes on your file.

Similar to her nurse, Natasha hums rather loudly at your taste.

Your gown has found its new home bunched around your hips, giving you the perfect view of the doctor who stares between your legs, lost in deep thought.

Her fingers dip inside you once more, getting another taste, she hums again, scribbling the words ‘tastes sweet’ next to Wanda’s vulgar words.

Finishing with their notetaking, Wanda moves to point, “Doctor, what about this area, here?”

Pointing to the bud that sits, swollen, begging for more attention, Natasha is quick to follow. With her gloves soaked with her spit and your wetness, her fingers almost slip over your clit making you jump.

“Oh, looks like the injection didn’t work here,” Natasha pouts with deceptive tone. Still she rubs her thumb over your clit, making your eyes roll back and your mouth fall open. “Sensitive, huh? But that doesn’t seem to be a problem.”

Her words barely register in your head as you struggle against the tight straps pinning you down, suddenly realizing what position you’re in. The pressure between your legs builds rapidly.

Panic starts to set when you hear the wet noises paired with Wanda’s encouraging words.

“She’s so wet.”

Your whole body rocks with each thrust of your doctor’s fingers, jolting at every circle she rubs on your sensitive clit. It’s too much.

“Too much? If I didn’t know any better I’d say she’s a whore.”

You shake your head at Natasha’s words, pleading for her to stop, just to give you a second to gather yourself.

“Look here, she can’t even control it.”

You can’t bear it. The way the two woman have no shame in disregarding your begs.

“Wanda?”

”Yes, Doctor?”

“Bring over a mirror,” with a mocking tone she continues, “and bring a tissue for your sweet patient.”

Naively, you mistake her words for love, sniffling your tears and look at her as if she offered the world and Wanda was the one to give it.

Her touch is gentle as she dabs away your tears, shushing you softly until your heart rate goes back to normal. Assessing your calm nerves, Wanda follows the doctor’s next order, holding a round mirror just above her curls - giving you the perfect view of yourself.

You watch, in real time, Natasha’s fingers shove inside you, not three but four of her fingers. You see the way your body reacts to her touch, to the stretch. Your hole strains to fit them.

Again you watch your hole clench involuntarily around nothing when she pulls her fingers out. Wearing the same face of fascination, you stare at your gaping hole. A sinful view that only makes you want to shut your legs.

“Nowhere to hide,” Natasha tuts when you strain against your restraints. “Just look at how pretty you are and come for me.”

Before you can ask her what she’s talking about, her fingers slide inside you. Her other free hand rubs firm circles on your clit that has your body jerking once more, chasing the pleasure.

Without knowing, your eyes fall shut from the overwhelming feeling in your lower belly. As a result a firm slap lands on your clit, “Eyes on the mirror.”

The heat and pressure grow as Wanda whispers encouraging words, urging you to let go, humming on how you’re such a good patient, so good at following orders as you whisper a soft, ‘Yes, Natasha.’

You see Natasha’s fingers curl faster, watching as a clear liquid squirts onto her palm. Finally getting the reaction she wants, Natasha praises you.

“Come on, sweetheart, you can do it.”

Masking her order as encouragement you’re forced to listen. She holds all the power, she’s the one calling the shots.

Nodding your head you try your best to listen, but it’s not enough. As if Wanda can read your mind, she whispers something short in Natasha’s ear. As a result, the view of yourself is blocked by her curls. 

Innocent eyes search for Wanda’s, yearning for her gentle comfort. 

Like the good nurse she is, she drops the mirror and goes by your side. Her fingers intertwine with yours as the pleasure builds. 

This time a loud moan escapes your lips when you feel Natasha’s lips wrap around your clit. She’s brutal. Laps her tongue on your clit without warning, desperately seeking out your orgasm. 

The heavy coil threaten to release as expert fingers repeatedly hit the sweet spot inside you. Pressing against the spot that triggers more tears to paint your cheeks. 

“I’m gonna come!”

Her tongue only perfects her rhythm, rolling over your throbbing clit, teasingly letting her teeth join the mix. Looking down you see the hunger in her eyes, craving everything she’s forcing you to give her.

With a sob you whine Wanda’s name, you’re not sure what for, but she seems to know the answer. 

A soothing hand is pressed against your cheek and Wanda tilts your head to face her. Just as you’re about to give your doctor a second warning, Wanda’s lips press against yours. 

The kiss is messy, her tongue moves like Natasha’s. Licking at your lips, pressing against your drooling tongue, sucking it into her mouth with a soft moan. Spit dribbles on your chin, it’s exotic and has you falling off the edge.

Your thighs shake within the constraints, your pussy clenches around Natasha’s latex-covered fingers that still expertly curl inside you. The coil snaps and you spill onto her tongue, so much you drip between your thighs and onto the floor. 

“Such a sweet girl.”

It’s hard to ride out your orgasm, panting into Wanda’s mouth, your hips stay in place - still they try their best to squirm away from Natasha’s torture. Maybe if you play nice.

”Thank you, doctor.”

Your thanks fall repeatedly past your lips, a beg for her to stop, to pull away from between your legs. Tuckered out, you collapse onto the table. 

Oh, you are quite the sight. 

Your pussy is drenched, inner thighs glisten under the harsh light above. Your chin is wet with a combination of yours and Wanda’s spit, and your eyes flutter close as the wave of exhaustion hit you.

You don’t know when your eyes fell shut, but your attention is back on the woman when you feel the straps loosen. The skin that was bounded is decorated with indents of the buckles that held you down. Knackered, you make no move to cover yourself, make no move to stand.

“Is that usually what happens during your routine check ups?”

Your serious question is answered with a serious tone, “Always.”

“When you’re ready you can schedule you next appointment with Wanda at the front desk.”

my last fic, everything’s in check, got flagged. this is my second attempt at it :)

[uvobreakmylegs]

Waiting

part 2 of the Cute Hunter!reader fic but from the perspective of a different troupe member

Part 1 (Chrollo x reader)

Phinks x Cute Hunter!reader

Warnings: captivity, angst, death, body horror, this is a Phinks x reader fic but there's still Chrollo x reader moments

Word Count: 12.8k

Phinks saw Chrollo standing alone, waiting at the top of a short flight of stairs that lead to the entrance of a lone house which stood amid a nearby forest and long open fields. No doubt he had sensed the enhancer coming. There weren't any other structures in sight, and the last time Phinks remembered seeing any sort of home outside of the one he was currently looking at was several miles back along the route he had taken. Being able to tell that someone was approaching would've been easy.

The long car ride Phinks had embarked on came to an end when he stopped in the driveway, and after he collected the plastic bag that had been sitting in the front seat next to him during the entirety of the drive, the blonde stepped out of the car and slammed the door firmly behind him. He then paused for a moment, observing the area that surrounded him.

The multitude of various types of flowers which decorated the area in front of the house caught his attention first. Starting beneath the front porch and heading down the slight incline, rows of flowers stretched across the area, the colors consisting largely of red, orange and yellow. What any of those kinds of flowers were called, he couldn't even begin to guess – he'd never been the type of guy to care about things like that. Chrollo probably didn't care too much about them either. In fact, the entire picture of the home felt weird since it didn't seem to fit with Chrollo's typical aesthetic.

Though it did fit perfectly with yours.

Taking one last glance at the flowers while approaching Chrollo, Phinks noted the section towards one end of the flower bed that was barren as only dirt took up the space.

That seemed a bit odd.

He quickly turned his attention away as he approached the stairs.

“Hello, Phinks,” Chrollo said as the enhancer came closer.

“Hey boss,” Phinks said in turn.

Phinks stopped upon reaching the porch, the plastic bag in his hand swinging slightly as he came to a halt.

“Sorry if this was a bit too last minute,” the blonde said, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head.

“Not at all,” Chrollo said, “it's good to see you again.”

Phinks raised a brow in question.

“It hasn't been that long since we last saw each other.”

“No, but I'm always happy to see you and the others outside of jobs.”

Chrollo leaned against one of the pillars of the porch as he added “and I think this visit from you will be good for them.”

He hadn't needed to specify who he was talking about for Phinks to understand who he meant, and as he was once more reminded of the purpose of this visit, he unconsciously shifted his grip on the plastic bag in his hand.

That action drew Chrollo's gaze downward, noting the object held within with curiosity and slight fascination – it was the entire reason why Phinks had requested this impromptu meeting with you.

“I have to admit, I was surprised when you told me that you managed to get one of those,” he said.

“Same here, honestly. I wasn't expecting to come across one.”

“How did you find it?” Chrollo asked.

“Completely by chance,” Phinks replied, looking down at the bag briefly as he said “some arms dealer had it. Said he'd give me a good price when he caught me staring at it.”

Chrollo looked back up to him as he asked “did you actually pay for it?”

“Of course not. I beat the shit out of him and took it.”

Chrollo chuckled as he said “taking after Uvo again, I see.”

“I'm not that bad,” Phinks huffed, “but the guy pissed me off so I decided not to pay him.”

“But you left him alive?”

“Yeah, but I'm not worried about retaliation. That guy will be too focused on recovering to worry about me.”

“It must have been quite the beat down, then,” Chrollo commented.

“Not really. It was a couple hits at most. Even for a non nen user, that guy was weak,” Phinks answered.

Chrollo chuckled again.

“I'll trust your judgment, then. But if you are hunted down for what you did, I'll expect you to take care of it if there's any interference with troupe business,” Chrollo said, though his tone was more lighthearted than serious.

“If we do have trouble because of that, I'll take care of it,” Phinks answered, “or I'll send Uvo to go do it. It doesn't take much for him to join a fistfight.”

Chrollo hummed in agreement.

Then the boss stepped aside, motioning to the interior of the home with his head as he said “please, come in.”

Phinks nodded.

Chrollo again motioned for Phinks to follow, and then the two men entered the home, cutting through a few different rooms as Chrollo led the way to the back of the structure. The inside matched more with what he knew of Chrollo's tastes, Phinks noted to himself. Lots of art, elegant looking furniture, and several different bookshelves that were filled with what were likely old and very pricey books. There were a few different pieces, both books and art alike, that he recognized had come from previous heists. Pieces that would likely be gone from the home within a matter of months once Chrollo tired of them, though there was a slight chance that some of them might stay permanently if his leader felt strongly enough for them.

But mixed in with all of that were little signs of you.

Often it came in the form of a pop of color that stood out against the deep, rich shades of Chrollo's normal aesthetic, and always in the form of some sort of plant life, sitting among or next to the expanse of a largely stolen collection. The flowers he could see were a mix of the colors you tended to use most often: pink, yellow, purple and white. All different types of flowers, and once again none of which were ones that Phinks knew the name of.

But maybe he should try to learn at some point. For you.

“Where are they?” Phinks asked when he didn't see you.

“Outside, around the back,” Chrollo answered.

Phinks' brows furrowed in question.

“Outside? Alone?”

“It's fine. They know now what's expected of them.”

Chrollo stopped before a pair of sliding glass doors that opened up to the backyard, and beyond a wooden deck attached to the home, Phinks caught sight of a figure that was sitting in the middle of an open field. His grip on the bag tightened a fraction when he looked at you; even with how far away you were, there was a sense of gloom that surrounded you.

“How's it been with them?” Phinks asked.

“I wish I could say that they've been a bit more accepting,” Chrollo answered as he slid open one door, “but even though they don't fight me on everything, there's still too much resistance on their part. They'll listen, but only begrudgingly.”

Phinks' face fell slightly as he asked “should I not go, then?”

“No, you should. You came all this way to see them, after all. And perhaps seeing you will encourage good behavior.”

But before he stepped back, Chrollo glanced over at the enhancer as he said “I'm sure I don't need to tell you not to mention what happened the other week.”

“I figured, boss.”

After hearing that, Chrollo stepped aside, allowing Phinks unhindered access to the outdoors. The blonde obliged, stepping forward and making his way to where you sat.

Having once again returned to the outdoors, Phinks once again found himself looking at the details in the area that surrounded him. Stepping down from the stairway of the backyard deck, he noticed what appeared to be a small vegetable garden to his right. More of your work, he assumed. Being able to grow food from anything was a handy aspect of your ability, he had to admit. With that, you'd never go hungry.

Having something like that would've been nice when you were all growing up in Meteor City, he noted to himself.

It was definitely a better way to use it than your whole thing with the flowers.

Speaking of which, the field that he was walking into was barren of them, as when he glanced about again, all he could see was green grass. That felt odd. In the other places where you'd lived with Chrollo, you made a point to fill up as much of the area as you could with flowers, much like the way you had added greenery to the inside. Much like the way you had decorated the front of the house, actually, though that too had a space that was oddly empty. Clearly you had started on that at one point, so it was strange that you hadn't continued, out front or back here.

Did Chrollo not give your ability back until today?

If that was the case, then it was better not to say anything.

Phinks was able to see more as he came closer to where you were sitting – the way you sat with your legs crossed, the way your fingers grasping at a wild patch of grass that stood next you and the way you stared absentmindedly at the clouds overhead while the breeze ruffled your clothing. It felt slightly picturesque, with you being in the middle of the nature you loved so much, even if it did seem weird that you hadn't yet decorated the field with flowers.

What kind would you choose if you did?

The enhancer found his mind blanking on an answer. The basic flower names that he knew off the top of his head probably weren't ones that you would choose.

Turning his attention back to you, he found that from where he was currently, you looked a bit better than you had the last time he'd seen you.

He frowned to himself.

The last time he'd seen you, you had been blinking back tears and glaring at him when he tried to come close, silently making it clear that you didn't want anything to do with him. While the way in which you pushed him away from you had hurt, he did what you wanted, not wanting to agitate you further.

But maybe now you'd be okay with him coming close.

Phinks continued to walk towards you, his gaze never straying from where you sat in the middle of that field. He saw the moment when you noticed him – though you didn't turn around to look at him, you stiffened slightly as you sensed his presence. While you clearly knew he was there, you didn't acknowledge him, keeping yourself turned away from him while your gaze fell down to your lap.

That wasn't great, but you weren't turning to glare at him like you had last time. So that was something, at least.

When he was nearly upon you, he called out to you.

“Hey,” Phinks greeted.

“….. Hey,” you replied.

“How's it been?” he asked, stopping next to you. You weren't looking up at him and were still keeping your gaze on your lap.

“I don't know,” was your answer.

…. Phinks wasn't sure what to say to that. With Chrollo letting you out and about without any sort of leash to keep you tethered, metaphorical or otherwise, the enhancer had thought maybe you'd be a bit more receptive to him, that you might be in better spirits over the whole situation.

Instead, you seemed rather listless as you sat there, staring down at nothing with a blank expression.

Maybe if he kept talking, he'd break through to you.

“This is a nice place,” Phinks commented as he glanced over the area.

“Is it?” you asked.

“I mean, I thought so? I'm not even that much of a nature lover, but this seems like an ideal spot if you want to get away from everything and go back to your roots. It's the kind of space I usually picture you being in,” Phinks said.

“Hm.”

….. That response of yours wasn't promising.

“You don't agree?” he asked.

“It's hard to enjoy much of anything when you have Chrollo constantly breathing down your neck,” you said.

“Oh.”

Experience told Phinks not to argue with you over your feelings on Chrollo. Doing so was a surefire way for you to become irritated or even outright angry with him. Though he could handle your anger, he didn't like seeing you that way.

But with how listless you were at the moment, he found that he didn't mind the thought of you being upset if just so he could see some sort of emotion on your face.

You didn't give him a chance to say anything, however, as you spoke before he could.

“So,” you began, a sigh in your voice as you asked “did you come here just to have me make you weed again?”

Phinks blinked.

“No,” he answered defensively.

“That's a surprise,” you answered dryly, “did Chrollo tell you not to ask for that anymore?”

“Like he gives a shit about that.”

You hummed. Then finally, you looked over to him, your eyes immediately going to the bag he held.

“It doesn't look like there are beer cans in there. Am I making weed out of something else?” you asked.

“I'm not here for that!” he insisted.

With a huff, Phinks held the bag out as he said “I'm here for you. I brought you something.”

“�� Something for me?” you asked, your tone slightly suspicious.

There was a bit more life in your voice when you asked that, and Phinks found himself feeling more hopeful when you turned to look at him. One of your eyebrows was raised in question as you looked between him and the plastic bag. Even though it wasn't necessarily a happy expression, it was a far cry from the listless, dead look in your eyes that had been there moments earlier.

“Take it,” Phinks urged you, holding out the bag further.

Staying seated on the ground, you reached out, gently gripping the handles as you pulled it towards yourself. Your fingers brushed against his for a moment – only for a moment, as he relinquished the bag once it was in your grasp. When you grasped the handles with both hands and pulled it open to peer inside, there was a change in you.

A light sparkled in your eyes that hadn't been there before as you gazed at the contents of the bag.

That sight stirred up memories from your shared childhood.

The pot with bunches of pink flowers amid green leaves instantly caught Phinks' attention when he stepped into the worn-down structure that served as a home for you, Feitan and himself, and he looked at it in question from where it had been placed in the center of the room while you sat close by, your gaze going to the entrance as Phinks stepped in and smiling at him in greeting.

“Hey, Phinks,” you said to him.

“Hey,” he answered before looking back to the flowers, “what's this?”

“Flowers.”

He narrowed his gaze in annoyance at your response.

“I can see that. But why are they here?”

“Why? Um….. I wanted them? And nobody else seemed interested in them, so…..”

Phinks raised an eyebrow as he asked “are you sure that's a good idea? Last time I checked, you didn't know anything about taking care of plants.”

You shifted slightly as you placed a hand on the base of the potted plant, as if you were worried he was going to take them away.

“It can't be that hard, right? I just need to make sure it gets plenty of sunlight and water,” you answered.

“We only have so much clean water to go around. We can't spare any for that,” he countered.

“I'll give it some of my share. You and Feitan won't need to worry about it.”

“I'm not letting you go without water for a plant.”

“I'll be fine.”

“No, you won't.”

“I will. I'm sure I can find a way to make it work.”

“Yeah, by letting yourself go thirsty, which I'm not gonna let happen,” Phinks said.

“I'll be okay.”

You said that as you went as far as to gather the pot into your arms and on your lap, making it even more clear that you feared he would attempt to take it away from you. He was tempted to do just that, but only because the idea of you going without water for the sake of some flowers was astronomically stupid and again, not something that he was going to allow to happen.

But as he stared at you and saw that nervous expression on your face, the one that threatened to turn into full-on sadness if he should take the plant away from you, he found his nerve faltering. He never liked it when you cried.

Phinks sighed as he crossed his arms.

“Why does this matter?” he asked, “they're just flowers. You can see them anywhere.”

You shook your head, saying “not like these ones. I've never seen these in Meteor City before. And they're prettier than the ones that grow here.”

“That's supposed to be a good reason for keeping them?”

“I think so.”

“That's stupid.”

You frowned upon hearing Phinks' statement, but when you looked back at the pink flowers that sat on your lap, he saw a swell of emotion in your eyes as you gazed at them. Of happiness and hope.

“Maybe there's a way I can grow more of them, that way Meteor City can be filled with them. That way everyone can see how pretty they are,” you said.

“I wouldn't get your hopes up. For all you know that thing could be dead by the end of the week,” Phinks told you.

You pouted that time, more annoyed with his lack of confidence in you.

“I can grow more,” you said.

“How?” Phinks asked.

“I just can,” you answered defensively.

At that, he sighed once again.

“You know,” Phinks began, “stuff isn't going to happen just because you really want it to. The world doesn't work like that.”

“But you never know. Maybe it can. Maybe I can figure it out,” you said.

That time, your tone was less defensive and more hopeful.

Despite his reservations, Phinks didn't have the heart to make you throw out the flowers. Neither did Feitan when he returned and saw the mass of pink petals that stood out from the cracked, plastic pot. You again spoke of your wish to grow more of the flower so everyone in Meteor City could see it, again with no explanation with how you were going to achieve that. Both Phinks and Feitan shared a look when you said that, and both were aware that it wasn't good that you honestly believed you could do that, but neither had it in them to say anything further on the subject.

You held onto that potted flower for the rest of the evening, staring at it with no small sense of amazement and wonder. When you went to bed that night, you placed the pot on top of a small step stool and you gazed at it from where you laid in your bed until you eventually fell asleep. Neither Phinks nor Feitan understood what exactly it was about those flowers that had enraptured you like that, but with life in Meteor City being as hard as it was, they mutually decided to let you hold onto that little piece of happiness for as long as it was able to last.

It turned out to only be two weeks, for despite all of your efforts in keeping it watered and placing it in the sun, the flowers slowly wilted and lost their soft pink color. The day that the plant died, Phinks found you staring at it again, and this time your mood was much more somber and that sparkle of happiness within you had vanished completely.

It was expected – no one can have nice things in Meteor City.

But even though this was the exact thing that he had told you would happen, Phinks felt bad for you.

Walking over to where you sat, he caught your attention when he placed his hand on top of your head as he ruffled your hair encouragingly.

“I'll find you more,” he promised.

You stared up at him for a moment.

And then your face broke out into a small but grateful smile, the sight of which sent a surge of warmth lighting up inside of him.

It felt like it was the first time in what felt like a long while that Phinks saw you look at anything with that sort of excitement.

Made sense. Growing up was a surefire way of killing anyone's childlike sense of wonder. But it seemed like you'd caught it again as you held the bag he had brought you.

“Is this real?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

“And you're giving this to me so I can change it?”

“Why else would I give you that thing?”

You glanced up at him before returning your gaze down to the bag, once again looking at the rectangular shaped box that held one of the worst things ever created: the Miniature Rose bomb.

A device that was used to wipe out hundreds of thousands in the initial blast, and was designed to devastate even more lives once the initial blast had gone off, as the smoke that came from the ignited bomb produced a deadly poison that spread to every living thing in its vicinity. With one of those bombs now in your possession, your mouth pressed into a small, determined line as you suddenly stood up, the bag that held the bomb inside swinging once more.

“Do you have a pen?” you asked.

Phinks reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain black pen, which he handed to you with no preamble. You were quick to grab it before you began to walk, heading towards the middle of the field. The enhancer walked with you, matching his pace with yours.

“I've never seen someone be this excited over a weapon of mass destruction,” he commented.

“It's not every day that I find one of these,” you answered, “despite how many still exist, they're stupidly hard to come across.”

“Isn't that a good thing? Less people are being blown up that way.”

“Yeah. But it'd be nice for me if I could find them easier.”

Phinks hummed.

“How many times have you changed a Miniature Rose?” he then asked.

“Today will make eight,” you answered, “I tried to keep an eye out for them when I was doing my job as a Hunter, but like I said, they aren't easy to get ahold of. And when you can find them, they're incredibly expensive, even for a Hunter.”

You turned your head to look at him as you asked “how did you find this?”

“This arms dealer who was talking to me had it.”

Your eyebrow raised again upon hearing that.

“Why would you of all people need to do business with arms dealers?” you asked, “what do you need weapons for when you can use your fists?”

Phinks shrugged.

“I dunno. I just wanted to see what he had. And I'd say it was a good thing I bothered since I found that for you,” he answered.

“That's true, I guess,” you conceded. Then you pursed your lips, seeming to have a hard time getting your next words out. Eventually, you were successful as you let out a soft “thank you.”

“No problem,” he answered.

The smallest of smiles graced your lips after he said that, and seeing that had him feeling good about everything.

This was better, he thought to himself. You weren't upset and you weren't emotionally dead. Instead, you walked forward with a spring in your step and clear purpose in mind as you went towards a particular spot in the field. Like maybe you had temporarily forgotten the situation you were in under Chrollo's care.

Though you wouldn't need to be in a situation like this is if you could just accept what the troupe wanted for you.

But voicing an opinion like that at this point in time would definitely make you upset, so he kept his mouth shut.

No need to ruin things so soon.

You stopped when you reached what was about the field's center. Phinks stopped with you, his hands in his pockets as he watched you place the bag down onto the ground.

“Why did we come over here?” he asked as you summoned your watering can.

“Changing a bomb like this causes there to be a lot more flowers to form than you might expect,” you explained as the seed packet fell into your hand, “if we're too close to the house, part of it could get overtaken.”

“What, the house will get turned into flowers?”

“No, but there'd probably be a good portion of the house that would get covered in them.”

“Can't you just cut them away?”

You gave him a stern look as you said “what's the point of changing the bomb if the flowers are going to be killed immediately after?”

“I thought the point was getting rid of the bomb,” he answered.

You let out a small huff of annoyance, but turned your attention back to the packet as you listed both the Miniature Rose Bomb and the plastic bag on one side before flipping over to write on the back. When he leaned in closer, Phinks was surprised that he actually recognized the name of the flower you were scribbling down.

“Turning the Miniature Rose into actual roses?” he asked.

“It feels appropriate, don't you think? Instead of being something terrible that might look beautiful to some, it can turn into something actually beautiful.”

Phinks hummed as he continued to watch the process for your ability. After handing him back his pen, your movements were hurried as you ripped the seed packet open and dumped the contents into the yellow watering can, as though you were impatient with the conditions you had set for yourself. After throwing the packet into the can and watching as the water swirled within, your finger tapped against the heart shaped handle incessantly.

Having seen your ability in action before, he was aware that the part where the energy required to change the desired object built up within the can would likely take some time.

Though it'd be interesting to see if the Miniature Rose would take a longer time than what Chrollo had used your ability for. It had been a little less than thirty minutes, if he recalled correctly.

Clearly you anticipated this taking some time, as you soon settled down onto your knees in front of the watering can, your hands resting on your thighs as you periodically glanced at the bag that held the bomb. Phinks joined you on the ground, watching the soft purple glow that emitted from the can's interior.

After a few moments, he commented “this feels like it's going to take a while.”

“It's a bit different than turning beer cans into marijuana, Phinks.”

“I mean, I figured, but…..”

His voice trailed off as he leaned in closer to get a look of the interior of the watering can, and he found that the water was still lapping about at the very bottom.

“We're gonna be here a while, aren't we?” he asked.

“Yep,” you answered plainly.

You seemed pretty relaxed about the whole thing. Made sense given that you'd changed seven of those bombs. Regardless of how terrible they were, by this point you knew what you were doing. Plus, if there was even a hint that something could go wrong, Chrollo wouldn't have allowed you to touch the thing.

Thinking back to the boss, Phinks wondered – what had Chrollo's reaction been when you told him of how you used your ability for the Miniature Rose? Phinks remembered he was mostly impressed that you had the nerve to mess with them like that while he overheard Feitan mumbling about how you were an idiot.

How did you figure you would be okay transforming the bomb, anyway?

“When you first changed a Miniature Rose, how did you know it'd be safe?” he asked.

You glanced over at him in question as you asked back “how did I know what would be safe?”

“How did you know the bomb wouldn't go off in the middle of it?”

“Oh, that.”

You stretched out your arms as you continued to wait for the can to fill as you answered “I didn't. I just crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.”

The nonchalant way in which you had said that pissed him off a little.

“That's fucking stupid. And reckless,” he said.

“Like you're one to talk.”

“I'm not the one who chose to dabble in experimental bomb disposal,” Phinks countered.

“Figuring out if I could change the bombs was worth the risk. And since it worked, it's not a big deal,” you said.

“Not a big deal? You could've blown up with the bomb.”

“It was worth it. The less of these things that exist in the world, the better.”

Phinks huffed.

“There's still thousands outside of the ones you've changed, though,” he pointed out.

“I know. But the more of them that I can change, the more lives that can be spared the awful fates that these horrible things bring on their victims,” you said passionately.

There was a fire burning in your eyes when you turned to face him as you continued with “even though that agreement exists to not use the bombs anymore, there way too many people in power that keep them 'just in case'. And because of the refusal to get rid of the bombs entirely, it's a fear at the back of the minds of millions of people every day: that the bomb could go off near them and destroy everything.”

“It might only one, but getting rid of this still makes a big difference. It's one step closer to making the world better for everyone,” you declared.

You then turned your attention back to the watering can, that fire still in your gaze as you stared at it while impatience was thrumming through you again as you once more waited for this part of your hatsu to finish.

Throughout your speech and then after it, Phinks remained silent.

There it was. Your childish idealism – that notion of yours that you could make the world a better place. While Phinks could admit that getting rid of nuclear bombs in the way you did was effective, you failed to understand that getting rid of the weapons that were used to blow away the masses wouldn't change much of anything. People would always hate, fight and kill each other, regardless of if they could get rid of thousands of lives all at once or if they needed to take their time doing it one by one.

Nothing was going to change no matter how many bombs you turned into roses.

But you had changed a lot.

Another thing that was normal. He and the founding members of the troupe had changed significantly since they were all kids in Meteor City. That was part of growing up. Yet you still held onto those things you had clung to as a child, such as your aforementioned idealism and your focus on the things that made you happy, that you firmly believed could lead to the happiness of others. Namely, your love of flowers and your belief that just the sight of them could lead to some sort of positive change.

In that regard, you were still the same as when you were younger.

But still, you had changed.

“No way,” Machi said.

“How come? People love a good princess,” Uvogin countered.

“Then you play her,” she told him, “I don't wanna do this unless I get to be a baddie!”

A discussion among the entire group started after that on who could play the Princess in their performances of the Power Cleaner episodes. Suggestions on who else in the group could play the princess were being shot down just as fast as they were being put forward, and for a moment, it seemed as though everyone was stumped on what to do.

Through it all you were staying quiet, sitting next to Sarasa while you watched Phinks and Feitan practicing for the next show. But Phinks had caught sight of that hopeful look in your eye as you heard the discussion continue, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt in nervous anticipation.

He knew what you wanted – he had seen the way your eyes lit up the instant the word “Princess” had been spoken.

Just ask them, Phinks thought to himself. Just ask if you can play the part, and they'll give it to you.

But no. A full minute passed, the discussion was still ongoing, and you weren't saying anything. Unlike when you were with him and Feitan, you were a bit more closed off with the rest of the group, and now your shy nature was getting the better of you and keeping you from making that request.

They won't know you want it if you don't ask. Were you really going to say nothing and let them give the role to someone else? Already, Phinks could imagine the dejected look you would make when they chose another kid to play the role, and you would have no one but yourself to blame for that.

While it pissed him off a little, Phinks decided to give you the push you needed, to ask you outright if you wanted to do it. Maybe then you'd speak up.

Only someone else beat him to it.

Calling out your name, Chrollo asked “why don't you play the part?”

You blinked in surprise, staring at Chrollo with an awestruck expression as you asked “you mean…. Me, as the Princess?”

Chrollo smiled.

“Yeah. I think you'd be perfect for the role,” he told you. Some of the others in the group seemed surprised, apparently assuming you would be too shy to want to perform in front of the other kids, while the rest echoed his sentiments as they encouraged you to accept. That was enough to get you on board. You smiled shyly, averting your gaze out of bashfulness as you quietly agreed to do it.

Everyone was in good spirits after that; Pakunoda assured you that you wouldn't regret it, Sarasa offered to give you tips on what to do if you felt scared on stage, Feitan smiled to himself on seeing how happy you were to get the role, and Uvogin was now teasing Machi on losing out on the chance to play the Princess while Machi reiterated that she didn't want to participate unless she was a bad guy.

Gathering up a couple of scripts, Chrollo went to where you were sitting and settled down next to you as he handed you one of them.

“The Red Power Cleaner and the Princess share a lot of scenes in this episode, so we should practice together,” he told you.

“Okay,” you answered softly while your body brimmed with barely contained excitement.

Though the others had their attention elsewhere, Phinks was still watching the two of you. And while he watched as you rehearsed your lines with Chrollo and the smiles and laughter shared between the two of you, Phinks suddenly felt a strange feeling of tightness in his chest.

It was only much, much later, when he happened to reminisce on that day, that he realized what he had been feeling was jealousy.

All of a sudden, it felt like there were eyes on the two of you.

A glance back at the house revealed it to be Chrollo, as Phinks could see the dark haired man looking out through one of the windows, keeping an eye on you while your hatsu went to work. It felt a little like having a chaperone. Slightly annoying, Phinks felt, but it was expected. Even though you fought hard against him and even though Chrollo had been harsh with you in the past, he only did it all because he was worried about you. They all were.

You seemed to notice his presence as well, as when Phinks looked back to you, that light of determination had gone out and the air around you was more somber, the corners of your mouth turning downwards in a frown.

As much as Phinks wanted to be annoyed by your change in mood, it was bound to happen eventually. The enhancer just wished that the relatively good moment between the two of you hadn't ended so quickly.

He still didn't like to see you upset.

Phinks stayed where he was, staring up at the sky while he the wait for the watering can to fill seemed to go on indefinitely.

Maybe he should've brought something to help pass the time.

“Do you still see Feitan a lot?” you asked.

Your question was unexpected – not just because a quiet had settled over the two of you, but also because you didn't tend to ask about the others these days. Looking over to you, he found that you still had your gaze on the watering can, and you didn't seem any happier than you had moments ago.

Still, he chose to answer your question as he said “yeah, we're in pretty frequent contact.”

“Just in contact? You don't live with him anymore?”

“Nah. I think we both like having our own spaces. More breathing room that way.”

As soon as he said that, he noted the way your frown deepened while your gaze narrowed to a glare.

Fuck. He'd said that to you when you were basically under house arrest with Chrollo. Hadn't you said something earlier about the boss breathing down your neck constantly? Of course that'd piss you off. He needed something else to talk about, something that would get you in a good mood again.

He thought he had it when he said “I saw Fei the other week, actually. Though we were both pretty miserable; Chrollo made both of us dress in tuxedos. I don't think either of us will get used to those things. Don't know why boss keeps using us for that kind of shit.”

“…. That was last week?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

“With Chrollo?”

“Yeah.”

“And that was during the time he had my hatsu?”

“….. Yeah.”

Fuck

Chrollo's words rang in his skull, reminding him not to mention anything with that last job, and there he was, managing to mention the one thing he'd been told not to. How the fuck had he managed that?

Why was he like this when he was around you?

Now the air around the two of you was uncomfortable, and he didn't know where to go from here.

You apparently did, however, as you were the one who chose to take the reigns of the conversation. Turning your head back to look at him, you asked “Phinks, what happened last week?”

Phinks remained silent as he stared at you.

“Why did he need Revival Gardener? Why didn't he use me?” you asked.

“……”

You remained undeterred as you said “Phinks, you need to tell me.”

The enhancer held your gaze for a moment longer –

And then looked away.

“….. Really, Phinks?”

You almost sounded disappointed in him.

But there wasn't anything he could do. He wasn't going to betray Chrollo's order. Not for you.

Not when it would hurt you.

The boss wouldn't have said much about it, but you weren't stupid; you caught on that it was strange, that he hadn't forced you to go on that particular job and had instead borrowed your ability to use for himself. After all, the entire reason Chrollo brought you along on jobs was to help you get used to the death that the troupe dealt with on a regular basis.

Why then, you must have wondered, would he use your ability and leave you behind?

The only answer that you would have come to would be to assume he had done something that, in your mind, would have been horrific.

And now you knew that Phinks had been present for that.

It felt impossible to say anything now. If he tried to change the subject, you would notice and call him out on it. If he mentioned any small detail on the other week, even if he did it as nonchalantly as possible, you would press him for more. And when he flatly refused to tell you, you would become upset, and it would devolve into a mess.

Phinks couldn't think of anything else to say.

So he chose to stay silent.

You did the same as you returned your attention to the watering can, the water that had continued to swirl within not even coming close to the halfway point. With the two of you now at an impasse and still a long way to go before you could do what you wanted with the bomb, Phinks dreaded just how long the awkward silence would last.

Chrollo's presence vanished not long after, giving the two of you privacy. That seemed to relax you slightly.

When the can was a quarter of the way full, Phinks felt an urge to speak, but as he still didn't know what to say to you, he ultimately chose to remain silent.

He couldn't tell if you had noticed that or not.

When the can was halfway full, you spoke again.

“You don't need to stay here with me,” you told him.“I want to stay,” he answered.

You didn't respond to that.

When the water was beginning to make the last legs towards the top of the can, Phinks glanced up towards the sky, taking note of how the sun had clearly dipped slightly since he had first arrived. It had been noon when he got here originally, hadn't it?

Chrollo could've given him a heads up on how long this was going to take, he thought to himself.

When the water finally, finally reached the top of the can and stilled, it felt like a small eternity had passed. His legs almost didn't want to cooperate with him when he followed your lead and stood up from where he had been sitting, having remained in that position for a bit too long. If you were bothered in the same way, you weren't showing it as you immediately went to pick up the watering can, gripping those heart-shaped handles as you hoisted it off of the ground and moved so you were standing above the bomb.

Without a word, you tilted the can and began to pour the conjured water over it, and the bomb as well as the plastic bag were quickly soaked as the contents of the can rained down on them.

Phinks then sensed Chrollo's presence once again, the boss no doubt noting that there was a development out in the field. As much as he had criticized you for your ability and how he found it to be largely useless, Chrollo was no less fascinated by the process of change that came whenever you used it.

At least this second time around, you didn't react to Chrollo's presence in any way that Phinks could see.

The enhancer found himself wondering how much longer this would take as he watched the purple-tinted water cover every part of the bomb, and part of him dreaded it taking as long as the conjuration process had. Luckily for him, emptying the can was much less time consuming, as not too long after, the water ran out and the last few drops dripping from the sprinkler head before the can disappeared completely, its purpose served.

Your hands dropped to your sides as you took a step back, keeping your eyes on the bomb.

Finally, you were at the last step.

Wanting to gauge your current state, Phinks dared to speak as he asked “there isn't any chance of the roses changing back, right?”

“Changing back into the bomb?” you asked.

The fact that you were quick to answer was a good sign, he felt.

“Yeah.”

“There's no chance,” you murmured, your gaze still on the bomb as you added “once something has been changed with Revival Gardener, it can't change back. That's one of the conditions.”

“Huh. No wonder it can do so much, then.”

You hummed noncommittally at his reply.

Then after a few minutes had passed, you began walking backwards while you kept your eyes on the bomb. That time, you spoke up on your own.

“You won't want to be too close for too long; once it gets to a certain point, the area is going to fill up with rosebushes and you'll need to fight your way out of all the thorns and branches,” you told him.

“Is that something you learned the hard way?” Phinks asked, turning around as he began to walk with you.

“Mm.”

That answer seemed to indicate that he was correct. Though he doubted that you would have been injured much by something like that, whichever one of those frilly outfits that you liked to wear probably didn't survive a trek through thousands of scratching thorns.

Though considering that Chrollo was the one who supplied you with your wardrobe, it surprised him a little that you wouldn't have it destroyed on purpose if just for the sake of being spiteful.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw you stumble slightly when you walked over a tiny hill of dirt that had acted as an obstruction in the otherwise empty field. Without a second thought, Phinks placed his hand on your shoulder as he continued walking, intending to guide you while you kept your attention on the bag.

You glanced at him briefly, and while your expression was indiscernible, you didn't protest against the physical contact. Your gaze returned to what was in front of you as you continued walking backwards, this time with his assistance, allowing him to guide you while you kept your focus on your ability.

When you came to a halt, he stopped with you and looked back to where the bag had been left.

It wasn't too far away. Only about twenty steps or so, he noted.

“Is this far enough?” he asked.

“No, we'll need to move again. I just can't get too far for now.”

Turning his gaze away from the bag, Phinks brought his attention back to you, hoping to find that you were at least in slightly better spirits. Outside of the work you were doing for the troupe, you always seemed a little bit happy when you were allowed to use your ability. Even though you were angry with all of them for what you had been forced into, using your hatsu for the changes you wanted to see never failed to make you forget what your life had become, even if it was only momentarily. Phinks hoped that would be the case right now. It should've been the case, as you were erasing something that you desperately didn't want to let exist in the world.

But when he looked to you and saw that you were frowning as you stared across the field, it was not only disappointing, but also confusing.

Why weren't you happy?

Just then, you stiffened and began to walk backwards again. Phinks once more moved with you, guiding you again while he glanced over his shoulder.

There was a burst of movement across the field.

Originating from the spot where the bomb had been placed, thin brown branches spread across from that area within the blink of an eye, bursting through the plastic bag before they crawled forward, slowly growing larger as they overtook the grass that sat beneath them. The once empty field was filling up with long brown limbs that dipped and swerved with random patterns as they spread out wide, continually breaking off and forming separate branches, some of which began growing upward and turned green in color. As the stems came closer to the two of you, Phinks caught sight of the multitude of thorns that decorated the newly formed greenery alongside what appeared to be unopened flower buds.

When he looked again to the site where the bag had once laid, he couldn't see any sign of it or the Miniature Rose within. All that could be seen in that area was the writhing thorns that continued to come out like a geyser.

A few seconds later, the area where the both of you had been standing was obscured by the stems and thorns, and still there was no sign of it stopping. The long stems continued to reach out, growing as if they intended to cover the entire field.

“I see what you were saying about it covering the house,” he said.

“Mm.”

It didn't seem like you were really paying attention to him as you kept your eyes on the growing flowers, watching as the rosebuds began to bloom and set a striking red color against the sea of green that occupied the field. Just as the stems seemed to be coming to an end, the red began to overtake everything as more red petals opened up one by one, revealing the result that you wanted: the most deadly weapon in the world, now a mass of harmless flowers – or mostly harmless, as long as you ignored the thorns. He continued to watch with you as the flowers continued to grow, hiding the thorns and dark branches as they continued to bloom, the roses moving about like waves as the sheer amount of energy that had been placed into the Miniature Rose was converted by your hatsu. Phinks was once again impressed as he watched the red fill up the field, spreading far within the blink of an eye.

You were right when you said that it was different from turning beer cans into weed.

Finally, the movement of the plants began to still, slowing down as the branches ceased their bending and writhing, now finding stationary positions within the mass. The roses came to a halt as well, their petals open and soaking up the sunlight that came from above, and after that, the only movement they offered was a result from the breeze that blew by them, rustling the petals softly.

It felt like it was over.

“You weren't kidding about how many of them there were going to be,” Phinks commented as he looked about the once plain field that was now covered in roses as far as he could see.

When you didn't respond, he chose to take it as you still concentrating on your hatsu. Even though it looked like it was finished, maybe you weren't done quite yet.

“They look nice,” he then said after another few moments.

When you didn't respond that time, he felt a sense of unease rise inside of him.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“….. This doesn't feel right,” you answered.

Phinks blinked in surprise as he asked “what do you mean?”

“My hatsu. It feels wrong,” you said. Staring at the field in dismay, you added “ever since I got it back from Chrollo, it doesn't feel the same. Like it's been altered somehow.”

He grimaced, dismayed that the topic was again going back to Chrollo's use of your hatsu.

“I don't think boss changed anything about your ability,” Phinks told you, “maybe it just feels weird because it was taken away temporarily.”

You shook your head.

“It's not that. There's something different about Revival Gardener. Something he did when he used it,” you insisted.

Then you turned to him with a pleading look in your eyes.

“Phinks, you need to tell me what happened when he took it. I need to know what he did with my hatsu,” you said.

The enhancer stared at you for a moment before he shook his head.

“If boss says you don't need to know, then you don't need to know,” he said.

“I do need to know. It's my ability, and he used it for something awful, I just know it,” you insisted.

“Why do you want to know the details of something that you'll think is awful? Aren't you happy that he gave you a break from that?”

“Because it's my ability and I deserve to know.”

“If boss says no, then you don't.”

Phinks turned to leave, sensing that the conversation was going to go around in circles and ultimately end with you being upset. While it frustrated him, he knew by now that no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't going to be able to do much of anything to reassure you or calm you down. The best option he had was to remove himself from the situation.

He didn't even get to take a single step before he was stopped.

You grabbed at him, both of your hands wrapping around his wrist and wrenching it back as you kept him in place with a strength he hadn't been expecting. Unable to free his wrist, he looked back to see a desperate expression on your face. Your lip was wobbling and tears threatened to fall down your cheeks. You looked a lot like you did whenever Chrollo was about to make you change a body.

“Phinks, please,” you begged, “I need to know.”

“Please,” you said again as your grip on him tightened ever so slightly.

Phinks stared at you before looking down where you were touching, and as had been the theme for today, another old memory came rising to the surface.

“Let go of me, brat.”

The words came growling out of him as Phinks stared down at you, his grip tightening on the bat he had borrowed from Feitan in his hand. You were standing in front of him, shuddering, frail, looking like you were ready to cry, and the whole time you stood with both of your hands wrapped around his wrist. No matter what he did, he couldn't shake you off.

“I mean it – let go of me,” he snarled, “I have better things to do than look after some snot-nosed crybaby.”

Phinks pulled on his wrist again, only to be frustrated when he was once again unable to free himself of you.

“I'm not playing around!” he snapped.

He lifted up the bat after, holding it over his head as a threat. You bit your lip as you inhaled in fear, but you still wouldn't let go.

“Last warning,” he said, “let go before I beat the shit out of you.”

Your lip wobbled as tears finally came streaming down your cheeks.

But you still wouldn't let go.

Phinks tsked.

“Fine. You asked for it.”

And then he gritted his teeth as he prepared to bring the bat down on your head. As you sensed the impending violence, you clenched your eyes shut as you braced yourself.

But even then, you refused to let go.

Not far from where the two of you stood, the backdoor of the house slid open, then slid back shut.

Chrollo was out here now.

You froze when you realized that.

When you heard his steps descending the wooden stairs, you averted your gaze down at your feet as you released Phinks' wrist, pulling your hands back to your chest while you hunched up your shoulders with an obvious tension.

You looked like you were waiting for your executioner to reach you.

That wasn't the way you usually acted. Every other time the boss felt a need to interject himself in the middle of your visits, you reacted with defiance, not even bothering to hide the contempt you felt whenever you looked at Chrollo.

Now you couldn't even bring yourself to look at him, seemingly too scared to do that.

The sudden change in your attitude bothered Phinks, and he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to make you react like that.

The enhancer turned his head as Chrollo came closer, the two men's eyes meeting as the raven haired man walked at an even pace.

“It just finished, I take it?” Chrollo called out in question.

“Yeah, I think so,” Phinks answered as he looked back to you. You weren't answering, and you had shifted your body slightly to the side in order to turn away from Chrollo.

All of that spirit from earlier was gone now, replaced by that of pure dread.

Phinks hated seeing you like that.

Chrollo came to a stop when he reached the two of you, humming as he surveyed the newly grown mass of rosebushes that bathed the field in red.

“They look lovely,” he said to you.

“Mm.”

Chrollo smiled at your minimal response, pulling up one of his hands in order to place it on your shoulder and give you a reassuring squeeze. Both men caught the sharp intake of breath you made as a result of that action.

“After all of that, you must be tired,” Chrollo told you, “I think it'd be best for you to come back inside, don't you?”

“Mm.”

The noise you made wasn't really an agreement, but it wasn't necessarily a disagreement, either. You didn't fight with him, either, when Chrollo began to guide you back towards the home.

That didn't stop you from giving Phinks a desperate pleading look as Chrollo wrapped his arm around your shoulder, something that, by now, the enhancer had seen more times than he could count.

Don't look at me like that, Phinks thought to himself.

When you saw that he was doing nothing, the look that served as a cry for help turned into a harsh glare.

Don't look at me like that either, the enhancer again pleaded internally.

You know it's for your own good, so please don't look at me like that.

Despite his wishes, you wouldn't stop, so Phinks was forced to avert his gaze as he once more stared out at your field of roses.

Even though he couldn't see you now, he could feel your disappointment in him when he did that. When, for the second time that day, he turned away in order to make it easier to ignore you. Yet again, it felt childish and stupid for him to do, but he didn't know what else he could do. Not when you made things to needlessly difficult. As he looked over the roses, the sign of the 'good' you had been allowed to do for the day, he sighed to himself.

You were being kept safe with Chrollo, you got frequent visits both from him and other members of the troupe, and you were still allowed use of your ability.

Why couldn't that be enough for you?

After a moment, Phinks followed behind the two of you while Chrollo continued to lead you back into the home. He took note of the way Chrollo handled you, his touch soft as he guided you gently, and much like how he had felt all of those years ago when he saw you and Chrollo practicing your lines together, Phinks couldn't help the pang of jealousy that hit him once again.

He wished he didn't need to leave you behind with Chrollo – he wished he could be the one to look after you, to help fix you so your values were in line with that of the troupe.

But Phinks knew that he wasn't suitable for that sort of thing. It was better to leave it to Chrollo, who knew what he was doing.

So despite the jealousy within him that made itself known, Phinks shoved it down and told himself to get over it. His personal feelings didn't matter right now. All that mattered was fixing you, and Chrollo was the only one who could do that.

No matter what, Phinks needed to believe in the boss.

No matter what he did, it was for the greater good for both you and the troupe.

Even if he found himself doubting that belief from time to time.

What had happened the other week wasn't a job. Not really.

It was an experiment.

The event Phinks found himself at seemed to be nothing more than an overly fancy dinner party at a rented out venue. What exactly the occasion was, Phinks hadn't caught, but it didn't feel as though that fact was important to know; those kinds of parties were always the same. The ones where guests were dressed from head to toe in ridiculously priced suits and dresses that the average person couldn't hope to ever afford while the meagerly paid waitstaff balanced large trays of drinks and food while they catered to the guests on hand and foot.

It looked to be the sort of thing Phinks loathed – trying to fit in with pretentious people always left him feeling pissed off, and despite expressing how much he hated pretending to be a guest at one of these things, he nearly always managed to get put in that kind of a role.

Chrollo had noticed Phinks' look of apprehension and was quick to reassure him that his role in the event would be a brief one and he wouldn't need to deal with the guests long. When Phinks asked what exactly Chrollo wanted him to do, his boss only said one thing:

“Lock the doors.”

So that was what he did.

Despite his misgivings on being made to wear a suit while he was knee deep in snooty assholes, Phinks entered the event and quietly kept to himself as he waited for the signal to leave the room. Feitan had also been present, and had the same role as Phinks, waiting for when the time came to exit the room where everyone had gathered and lock the doors behind him. The only one who wasn't in that room was Shalnark, as his role required him to remain away from the throng of guests.

And then there was Chrollo, sitting in the corner of the room that allowed him on unobstructed view of everyone within the room while he sipped at a glass of wine.

When the signal to move came, both of them had been ready. After what felt like hours of endless drivel coming out of the people who surrounded him that had Phinks feel as though he was slowly loosing his mind, he was quick to notice when the staff that wasn't meant to be in the main room – those of whom were supposed to be in the kitchen – suddenly entered, led by the manager of the establishment who had a pink bat needle stuck in his arm beneath his sleeve. The appearance of the kitchen staff was just as confusing to them as it was to the guests and waitstaff, but Phinks and Feitan both moved upon seeing that, getting up from their seats and heading towards the only other exits in the room. They were almost in sync with one another as they closed and locked the double doors, ensuring that everyone within the room was firmly sealed in with Chrollo as both men secured the handles with heavy chains.

Phinks heard the confusion of those within the room as some noticed the locked doors, and then he heard that confusion turn into surprise and slight panic as the sprinklers within the room went off, dousing everyone in water.

He and Feitan arrived at the security room together, finding Shalnark sitting in front of the screens that showed the scene within the ballroom they had just left. Some people were bordering on frantic, fearful that there was a fire and that they had been locked into the room, as none of the exits would open no matter how hard they banged their fists or kicked at the solid surface of the doors.

Other were annoyed as they seemed to believe that the water had been set off as some sort of prank, and the organizers of the event could be seen yelling at the manager on behalf of their ruined event while that manager, now free of Shalnark's control and thoroughly confused as to how he had ended up in the middle of the chaos, stuttered as he tried to calm down the situation.

All the while the purple-tinted water continued to rain down on all of them, and Chrollo continued to sit calmly beneath it, becoming just as soaked as everyone else within the room as he waited for the water to cease and the next part to begin – and to see if it would work in the way he believed it would.

Eventually the water stopped, the tampered tank at the top having run out. When that happened and there was no sign of any sort of emergency, the atmosphere in the room changed again as many within became angry, now certain that the dinner had been ruined on purpose. Arguments began breaking out amidst the efforts of those who were still trying to get the doors open while others were lamenting the water damage done to their clothing and phones.

In the middle of all of that, one elderly woman suddenly cried out and fell to the floor.

That got the attention of nearly everyone in the room, and most rushed over to where she lay, clutching her stomach as she let out another painful wail. Those around her made efforts to help alleviate her distress while others returned to the doors, determined to get outside.

Then another person, one of the waiters, cried out as he fell to the floor in the same manner as the woman. He wasn't able to get the same attention as the woman before him, however, as almost immediately after another scream of utter pain echoed within the confines of the room.

Then there was chaos.

More and more people began to double over, screaming in pain as they felt that something was wrong within them, something that was spreading through their bodies while they were left to writhe in agony. Those who had been at the doors were still pounding against them, still trying to get them open, but their attempts were much weaker now as they also began to succumb to the effects of the water.

The woman who fell first was also the first to stop moving, one last painful gasp leaving her mouth before she ceased her movements.

But she didn't remain still, as beneath the barrier of her skin, something was moving. And those who were closest and were capable of noticing her while dealing with their own pain cried out in horror as they saw the first signs of the vines and leaves that began to exit through her open mouth.

Phinks and the others watched on in silence as they looked at the scene through the monitors, seeing firsthand the result of Chrollo's experiment:

Revival Gardener could, in fact, transform living material.

The sun was starting to set by the time Phinks left. The drive back from the home would be a long one, after all.

And he knew he'd be thinking about you the entire time.

You had remained quiet for the rest of his visit, refusing to respond to either him or Chrollo with anything more than a soft grunt. You wouldn't look at either of them from that point onward, instead choosing to keep your head down and your gaze on your lap.

The dead look in your eyes Phinks had witnessed when he had first arrived was back, and the second time around, there was nothing he could do to change that

.It was only when he left that you looked at him again.

As Chrollo walked him to the door, Phinks turned his head one last time and met your gaze from where you sat on the couch.

That pleading look was there again as you silently begged him to save you.

Once more, he didn't do anything like that, and this time Phinks didn't hang around long enough to see that look inevitably turned into anger.

At least you weren't angry with him all the time, he thought to himself after saying his goodbyes to Chrollo. He walked down the stairs towards his car with his hands in his pockets as he insisted to himself that it was something to be happy about. You still spoke to him whenever he came around, and sometimes you were able to laugh with him, just like you had when you were both kids.

And while it was depressing that the times where that happened were few, Phinks told himself that it was really your fault, all because of the way you had managed to be so different when compared to the rest of them and your stubborn refusal to listen to what Chrollo told you.

Based on the way you had acted today, it was still going to be a long way off until you were ready to be part of the Phantom Troupe. And Phinks couldn't help but let out a long sigh as he started up the engine and began to drive away.

As he pulled away from the house, it felt as though someone was watching him through one of the windows as he left, and Phinks chose to believe that it was you.

You wouldn't need to be away from him if you would just accept that you needed to change. Accept that your way of thinking was wrong, and then the two of you could be together like you were in the old days.

And then, maybe, things could go beyond that relationship you had once had, to something deeper than that.

But for now that was only a pipe dream. You weren't anywhere close to accepting their way of life, and so, you didn't need to know about that.

Just like you didn't need to know about Chrollo's experiment with your hatsu.

You didn't need to know that the night began with a room full of people and then ended with those people being turned into plants. You didn't need to know that writing down someone's name on the conjured seed packet was all your hatsu needed to change them, and you didn't need to know that the only survivor was a traumatized waitress who had only avoided painful death because she was filling in for someone else that night and therefore her name hadn't been included on the list Chrollo had snatched beforehand. You didn't need to know how much pain and destruction your hatsu had caused.

Because if you found all of that out too early before you were prepared for it, it would break you.

That wasn't what the troupe wanted – they just wanted you to be like them. To be their ally once again. Nothing would ever bring them back to the way things were before Sarasa's murder, but if you could be by their side – by his side – again, that would be good enough.

The thought of Sarasa's death coincided with a glance towards the side of the road, and Phinks caught sight of the dense line of trees that made up the edges of a forest.

An unpleasant memory came to surface. One of a bag that was hanging from a tall tree branch.

Phinks squeezed his eyes shut, willing the memory away before turning his attention to the road. He didn't need to think about that.

So his thoughts returned to you.

The way your hands had felt against his skin.

And that memory of your first meeting that played in his mind once more.

“Fine. You asked for it.”

And then he gritted his teeth as he prepared to bring the bat down on your head. As you sensed the impending violence, you clenched your eyes shut as you braced yourself.

But even then, you refused to let go.

Seconds passed.

Nothing happened.

Then the seconds turned into longer moments of nothing happening, with Phinks' bat still raised overhead and you still awaiting the impact of the wood upon your skull.

Why couldn't he do it?

Phinks' brows furrowed as he stared down at you, the resolve to punish you for grabbing him like you were wavering. Why? If anyone else had been doing this to him, he'd have already beaten them up. Why was he having such a hard time with the thought of hurting you?

It probably wouldn't take that much to make you back down – one well-placed hit to your skull would knock you out cold, and you'd go tumbling down to the ground. Hell, with how frail and starved you looked, he could easily see you dying from the blow.

The thought didn't bother him, Phinks told himself. The weaker ones in Meteor City die all the time; you just weren't meant to survive long in this world.

That was your problem, not his.

But instead of bringing the bat down and putting you out of your misery, he stood there while his arm began to grow tired from the awkward position.

The entire time, your grip didn't relent even once.

You weren't going to let go unless he made you.

The light of the setting sun spurred him to make a decision – it would be dark soon, and it was never a good idea to be out at night in Meteor City.

“….. Fine.”

You opened your eyes when you heard him say that, looking up at him curiously as he continued “but I'll bet that you'll regret it, especially when you get a taste of Feitan's terrible cooking.”

Phinks refused to offer any explanation after that as he turned and began to walk back home. You followed behind with some difficulty, your shorter legs unable to keep up with him without jogging after. Still, you managed, and your grip on him remained strong.

After a few minutes of walking, you spoke to him for the first time.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Shut up.”

The memory of that first meeting was bittersweet – Phinks hated himself for the way he had treated you, that there had ever been a moment where he seriously considered hurting you. It was something that made him want to yell at his younger self for threatening you like that when you were desperate, alone and scared.

But he thought of the way you had looked at him, silently pleading for help as you held onto him tightly, and how the feeling of being needed somehow felt right. Even though he had agreed with Feitan not to take in anyone who was weak, and yet Phinks had caved for you. Someone who was so fragile and had needed protecting.

Don't you still need protecting?

The thought of the way you had looked at him gave him pause. You looked even more miserable than you had that very first time he met you. Every time he saw you, you only looked more and more depressed, as your will was slowly but surely being chipped away by Chrollo.

How could that be a good thing?

……. Because Chrollo says it is.

The turbulent feelings within Phinks were pushed down yet again as he continued his drive back, the setting sun causing the sky to grow darker and making it harder to see the outline of the tree branches he sped by. Things would be made right by Chrollo's hand, and then they could go back to the way it had been, with you by the side of the troupe where you were supposed to be.

Phinks allowed his mind to drift again as he continued on his journey, but this time his thoughts went to the happier memories in Meteor City. Like the way you would greet him when he came back to that little home, or the late nights spent talking with Feitan, or the way the two of you practiced cooking together as you tried your best to make something that was edible. Things were rough in the early days, but even when things ended in disaster, you still found some reason to smile at him.

He would have that again. He was sure of it.

All Phinks needed to do was wait.

[bloomiize]

OMG i got an idea what if we get a pov from reader that she was/is just like gooner!jake

ok so my original plan was to make yn a perv like jake and then they can be gross together LOL but it didn't fit into the story so I scrapped it </3 here's a snippet of what could've been

YOUR POV

This all started because of him. At first, it was just one glance; he was staring like he was gonna eat you. And now? You can’t stop thinking about it— about him. Jake was just another guy, but he was cute, shy and always a little too nervous around you but he was sweet regardless.

You saw how his eyes lingered a little too long on your chest and how he stared at your legs when you wore that skirt. You never meant for it to spiral like this, but you can't stop. Teasing him a little, calling him "Jakey" softly, looking at him like he's the entire world. It's not your fault though! He's just so adorable!

Sometimes when he’s sitting across from you, his shirt rides up a little, just enough to show off his abs— god you wish you could ride them— and you can’t look away. Or when he shifts, and you catch yourself glancing at the outline of his bulge. Is he hard or his dick just huge? Fuck. Slowly, he plagues your mind, thinking about what it’d be like to have him against you, pressing into you, his hands all over. You can’t control it.

At night, it’s even worse. You're in bed, fingers between your legs, moaning his name desperately, picturing what he’d feel like—how he’d sound, how needy he’d be. Your fingers are getting tired after you force another orgasm one after the other. It feels good but not good enough.

It's obvious he wants you too but he has so much self control. You want him to lose it. You want to be the reason he can’t think straight, the reason he can’t stop touching himself. You want him so fucked up over you, so ruined that he won’t even remember what life was like before you. You want him needy. You want him begging. You wonder if he's just as desperate as you are right now.

As the overstimulation makes you tremble, you get the idea to turn it into a little game, wondering how long Jake would hold out if you just left your panties out next time he came over.

[silens-oro]

But I'll Always Remember (pre-Well Enough Alone Companion Piece)

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV Trespassing (companion piece) Part V Part VI Slowly We Unfurl (companion piece) Hold on to the Thread (companion pieces)

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

General Synopsis: Hawk reminisces on a good memory of Julia and six year old J. Word Count: 1.6k Content Warning: addiction AN: @livefromnormandysr2 sent me the wonderful idea of a pre-wea companion piece of Hawk's dynamic with Julia and J when he was younger and this is what I immediately ran with. I hope you like it! The title credit goes to Timbre Inaudible by The Huntress and Holder of Hands. The song is absolutely beautiful (as are all of their songs), but it perfectly encapsulates loss and the grief that sits with you long after someone is gone. If you do anything today, please go give it a listen. please comment & reblog :)

Hawk yawned, rubbing her eyes, as she padded out of the bedroom. The sun was just starting to rise, and it was earlier than Hawk usually got up, but once she opened her eyes on that particular morning, she couldn’t go back to sleep -try as hard as she might. 

Pope was already out of bed by the time she woke up, which wasn’t surprising, and she didn’t hear Lena up quite yet so she got up to start on a quick breakfast while the house was still quiet. Hawk stopped three steps out into the hall when she saw Pope standing at the end of it, looking at the pictures that hung on the walls. His brows were down-turned and his eyes held a sadness to them as he stared at a picture of Julia and J that was hung up in a 5"x7" frame that was definitely decorated by a kid -J, Pope surmised, at his eye level. 

Pope twitched, then sighed lightly when he felt Hawk’s arms wrap around his waist, her hands sneaking under the front of his t-shirt to rest on his stomach just above his jeans. The more comfortable Pope got with their relationship, the more Hawk knew he craved skin to skin contact with her -mostly in an intimate, non-sexual way. It was rare that he ever initiated it other than holding her hand or wrapping his arm around her here and there -especially in a public setting or around other people, but Hawk knew he wanted it. It was unspoken but completely understood between them and she was more than happy to take the leap for him. 

“That was J’s first day of kindergarten.” Hawk informed Pope as she placed her chin on his left shoulder, kissing his neck sweetly. J’s gap-toothed smile was so big as he beamed up to the camera. He held Julia’s hand in both of his tiny palms and Julia smiled down at her son, though it never fully reached her tired eyes. “He looked a lot like you did as a kid.” Pope grunted softly in acknowledgment, his hands coming to rest on the backs of Hawk’s as she held him. Pope saw the uncanny resemblance, and it shook something within him. 

“Julia was fresh out of rehab and was so excited to be there for him on his first day of school, and J was elated that she was joining us in doing something, especially when it involved school. I remember him yapping about going to school for that whole summer -it was the only thing he cared about. He talked my ear off for two months straight about anything and everything, asking me what it was going to be like, if he’d make friends -recess. He’d wear that Justice League backpack everywhere, putting things he’d find around the house in it so it made a sound when he walked around. He’d sit at my desk in the shop and pretend to do homework. The kid was a trip, let me tell you.” Hawk chuckled softly as she pressed a kiss to Pope’s shoulder. 

“I need this to stick. For Josh, for me. I can’t can’t keep doing this to him or you. I feel like it’s gonna stick this time. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted to be clean, Hawk.” Hawk and Julia just dropped J off for his first day of kindergarten and were now parked at the beach so they could talk. Hawk tried to keep her out of the apartment as much as she could when Julia was sober. The less time she was there, by herself, the less opportunity she had to fall back into the temptation of the heroin that Hawk knew sang a siren’s song to Julia. 

“You’ll always have my unwavering support, Julia. You know that. No matter how many times you need to pick yourself up. Healing isn’t linear, but the effort needs to be. This is the most difficult thing someone can do, but I know you’re strong enough to do it.”

“I know.” Julia wiped her eyes, looking down at the fingers she’s picked raw since she left the inpatient treatment center two days ago. It was her fourth time admitted in the last six years, and every time she said the same thing. The first time, Hawk believed it. But by the second and third relapse, she took what Julia was saying with a grain of salt. “But I mean it this time.”

Hawk believed Julia wanted to stay clean. Of course Julia wanted to be present for her son and all of his milestones, this one included, but Hawk also knew the demons that Julia was chained to -the demons in the form of Smurf that would never, ever leave her side- held Julia in such a tight, unrelenting grip that she would never be free from. 

At some point Hawk knew Julia would either overcome the damage that Smurf caused and live alongside it, or she’d succumb to it. Those were the only options, and Hawk wasn’t confident that the first option would be around much longer if she continued the sober and relapse cycle she was in. For now though, she’d take advantage of the lucid time she had with her best friend because she hoped to god that there would be more days like this to come. 

“He knows how much you love him, Julia. I make sure he does. And he’s still young enough to not really understand what’s going, so there’s still a chance for you to work through this. We’ll do as many inpatient or outpatient treatments as we need to do so you can kick this, alright?” Hawk encouraged her, as she did every other time. She hoped the cycle wouldn’t repeat itself this time around, but history often repeats itself when it came to addiction. “I know it probably feels like you’re alone in this because that’s what addiction does to you, but we grew up together, Julia. I know this isn’t your fault.”

“But it’s my fault that I continue the cycle. That I let Smurf do this to me.” Her eyes were glassy when she looked over at Hawk from the passenger seat. Hawk reached over and took Julia’s shaking hand in hers, squeezing it in reassurance. 

“You didn’t let Smurf do anything. You were a goddamn  child, Julia. She got to you before I ever stepped foot in that house. Smurf didn’t give you a chance because she saw you as competition when she realized she couldn’t control you. She did what Smurf always does -she destroys.” Julia nodded, trying to breathe in and out in counts of five to calm down. “Look at me,” Hawk coaxed. Julia’s bloodshot eyes raised up to meet Hawk’s. “She doesn’t hold power over you anymore. You got yourself out of there. You did that. You got out of there before Smurf could get her hands on Josh.” 

“You did that.” Julia insisted as she shook her head. “I may have made it out, but if it wasn’t for you, I probably would’ve gone crawling back.” 

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“It’s true though. The things you’ve done for me and Josh…that’s not something I can ever repay you for and that eats away at me.” Hawk squeezed Julia’s hand again, this time keeping her hold. 

“I’ve never expected any repayment from you, Julia, and I’d never take it. You and Josh are my family and this is what real family does. You’re all I’ve got in this world and I will protect you both until the day that I die, do you understand me?” Julia believed her, but in the back of her mind she knew nothing ever came without a price -especially kindness. Julia trusted Hawk, but she always waited for the other shoe to drop. It never did, not with Hawk. “I mean it, Julia. I do what I do because I love you and I love Josh unconditionally. I do this because I can and I want to. I do this because you deserve support and you shouldn’t be doing this alone.” Julia finally relented, nodding with shame clouding her features. 

“You know, you’re the only person I’ve ever met in my life who never expected anything from me -who wouldn’t take until there was nothing left. You and Josh, that’s it. I have nothing to give and you still stick around.” 

“And I'll continue to stick around. Just like I told you when I moved into Smurf’s -you’re never getting rid of me.” Hawk smiled at Julia, breaking the tension in the car. “How about grabbing some breakfast before we head back?” Julia smiled back, something that Hawk never saw when she was in the throes of her addiction. Hawk tattooed it into her memory. 

“How long was she sober?” Pope’s voice was raspy, his mouth tight. 

“That time?” Hawk thought back to 2005, “She made it a little over a month -thirty six days to be exact, and Hawk was proud of every one of those days. "It was the longest Julia stayed clean and I genuinely thought she’d stick with it that time, but…” Hawk trailed off, lowering her chin off Pope’s shoulder to rest her cheek against his warm back. “I miss her.” She whispered against him, the words muffled, but Pope heard her -felt her. 

Hawk felt the sting of tears springing to her eyes suddenly, her throat constricting, and when Pope felt her breath shudder, he gently turned in her arms so he could hold Hawk to him properly, kissing the top of her head as he comforted her in the quiet recesses of the dim hallway. 

Pope felt a lot of things regarding his late twin, and the more of her life he saw through Hawk’s perspective, the more regret gnawed at him. On the surface, it was easy to cut Julia off, to lock the door and throw away the key, but the older he got the more he realized that sooner or later those locked doors would need to be opened and the pictures that lined the hallway would always be a reminder of that every time he passed through.

please comment & reblog

[wbbobsesserr]

ᯓ sweet spot — chapter three

pairing: paige bueckers & azzi fudd

wc: 2.6k

paige laid on her stomach, face half-buried in her pillow, phone in hand. the screenshot of azzi’s private profile stared back at her like it was daring her to do something.

she wasn’t doing anything, though. she had decided that.

until nika texted again.

nika: i bet she’d accept it

paige: i bet i’d implode

nika: stop being so dramatic. it’s not that deep

paige groaned dramatically, flipping onto her back. she tapped her screen off, then on again. back to azzi’s account. still private. still untouched.

she wondered what kind of stuff azzi posted on there. stories? rants? screenshots of text convos with her boyfriend? paige tried her best not to flinch at that last one.

azzi had mentioned him so casually. “my boyfriend.”

like it wasn’t a knife to her goddamn chest.

it naturally got brought up again the following day, when paige was shooting around early, headphones in, trying to look chill. emphasis on trying. she caught herself glancing toward the doors every five seconds like some romcom loser.

then she saw azzi walk in, hoodie on, hair pulled back, yawning like she hadn’t slept. paige’s heartbeat tripled.

azzi waved when she noticed her— just a small one. paige waved back. cool. normal.

totally not weird.

then nika appeared, completely ruining the illusion of calm.

“so,” she whispered, bumping shoulders with paige mid-dribble, “you follow her yet?”

“jesus, nika.”

“she posts the funniest shit. like crying selfies, bad song lyrics,” she laughed. “it’s like a whole different side of her.”

paige blinked once. “you followed her?”

“duh. we’re friends.”

paige hated how jealous that made her.

“she hasn’t posted about noah in a while, though,” nika added, almost too casually. “that’s all i’m saying.”

paige said nothing. just stared at the rim and tried not to read into that.

the blonde laid in bed, lights off, hoodie on, thumb hovering over her screen again. she couldn’t stop thinking about azzi yawning that morning. or the way she’d smiled yesterday. or nika’s dumb snarky comment.

without giving it another thought, she hit the follow button.

instant regret.

she tossed her phone across the bed like it caught on fire. then crawled under her blanket and pulled it over her head.

her phone buzzed twenty seconds later.

follow accepted.

paige peeked out from the blanket. her heartbeat might’ve actually stopped.

azzi had accepted her request.

paige unlocked her phone with trembling fingers and opened the profile.

the first post was a close-up of azzi’s face, clearly crying but also clearly laughing. the caption read: “i swear this was about a group project and not a man. probably.”

paige nearly dropped her phone all over again.

she scrolled, curiosity growing.

more chaos. rants. song lyrics. selfies of her and with some friends. a mirror pic with the caption: “am i cute or do i just have anxiety?”

and then, finally, a pretty sunset over some beach in california. captioned: “miss this sometimes.”

the post was from one week ago.

paige didn’t like anything. didn’t comment. didn’t breathe.

she just stared.

and she knew— knew— that she was so, so royally fucked. because azzi was so impossibly beautiful that there was no other way to be.

paige scrolled back to the sunset post. the caption hit harder than she wanted to admit. she knew what that kind of homesickness felt like— how it crept in during the quiet moments, curling into her ribs like smoke.

she stared at the photo for a long time, thumb tapping the edge of her phone like a metronome. the caption was simple— miss this sometimes— but paige felt it in her chest.

the picture wasn’t even anything dramatic. just a hazy sunset over rooftops and a caption typed too fast. no filters, no nothing. just a soft sort of sadness, and something unspoken.

before she could talk herself out of it, she opened azzi’s dms. clicked her name.

typed. deleted. typed again.

paige: just saw ur post about missing california. i get that. sometimes it hits out of nowhere, and then it’s all u can think about. if u ever wanna chill or smth, i’m here

she sent it. then quickly added:

paige: just thought id say that

immediate regret flooded her. not because she didn’t mean it— god, she meant it— but because it felt personal, a little vulnerable.

she turned off her phone and tossed it to the foot of the bed like it burned her. a few minutes later, she turned it back on. no response.

then suddenly— three dots.

azzi: that’s actually really nice to hear right now. it’s been a weird week. sometimes it feels like i’m walking around in someone else’s life. thank u for saying that

paige exhaled. her heartbeat sped.

paige: no problem. really. i mean it

another pause.

azzi: honestly? i wouldn’t mind hanging out

paige: i got u. wanna come over? paige: i’ve got snacks and a bunch of shitty netflix recs from nika that i’ve been putting off

azzi: deal. i’ll be over soon

around thirty minutes later, azzi— in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie—knocked on paige’s door like they’d done this a hundred times before.

paige flung it open, trying not to look like she’d been pacing for the past ten minutes.

“hey,” azzi said quietly. “thanks for inviting me over.”

paige smiled. “yeah, sure.”

they sat on the floor with a shared blanket between them and a bowl of popcorn that neither of them touched much. the movie played in the background, but neither of them watched it.

instead, they talked.

not about basketball. not about school. just… stuff. small stuff. azzi mentioned a diner she used to go to back home, how they served pancakes all day. paige talked about her favorite childhood memories from when she lived in minnesota.

at some point, azzi leaned her head against the wall, eyes half-lidded.

“i don’t miss california,” she said. “not really. it’s more like i miss who i was there. before everything got so complicated.”

paige didn’t answer right away. she just nodded in understanding, watching the soft flicker of light play across azzi’s face.

“yeah,” she said quietly. “i know what you mean.”

the popcorn went cold. the movie ended. but neither of them moved.

it wasn’t a date. it wasn’t anything like that.

but it mattered.

and paige knew she wasn’t going to forget it anytime soon.

after that night, azzi started hanging out in paige’s room a lot.

it wasn’t like they planned it. it just sort of happened. a post-practice cooldown turned into ice cream. then it became watching film together. then music. then nothing at all. just existing. together. paige definitely wasn’t complaining. except… she was, internally. constantly. because being near azzi and not being able to kiss her was basically slow, romantic torture.

azzi would curl up on paige’s bed, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, brown curls framing her face in a way paige adored, legs tucked under her. paige would sit at her desk pretending to do homework while her entire brain short-circuited from the proximity.

tonight, azzi had her head on paige’s shoulder while they watched love & basketball on her laptop.

“this movie’s so dramatic,” azzi mumbled, half-asleep, “but i love it.”

“same,” paige whispered, very aware of how azzi’s cheek was resting against her collarbone. “you’re the q to my monica.”

azzi laughed gently. “that makes you the love interest.”

i’d like to be. paige didn’t say it. but the words pressed up against her throat. instead, she said, “you doing okay?”

azzi was quiet for a second.

then: “honestly, i don’t know.”

paige looked down. azzi was staring straight ahead, lashes long, voice soft. “i talked to noah yesterday,” she said. “he got mad i couldn’t facetime right after class. it’s just… hard, lately. the distance. everything.”

paige felt something clench in her chest. she hated that he made azzi feel like this. that he could.

“you don’t deserve that,” she said, firm and direct.

azzi shrugged. “he’s just stressed. i get it.”

paige didn’t. but she kept that to herself.

there was a pause. then azzi nudged paige’s side gently.

then.

“you’re so sweet, you know that?”

paige scoffed, blushing hard. “me? no. you’re literally… like, the kindest person i’ve ever met.”

azzi smiled, eyes soft. “that’s not true. you’re not like how everyone thinks you are.”

paige shook her head, was silent for a moment. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

azzi tilted her head. “what do i do to you?”

paige blinked. shit.

“uh— nothing,” she said too fast. “i mean— like— not nothing, but not—”

azzi was smiling now. “are you nervous?”

paige buried her face in her hands. “you cannot just ask that.”

azzi laughed and bumped her shoulder. “you’re adorable.”

she’s going to kill me, paige thought. this is how i die. at the hands of sweetness.

later that night, paige was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. she hadn’t stopped replaying every word since azzi left.

fuck it. she gave up trying to sleep and texted her.

paige: u make it back to ur dorm okay?

azzi replied instantly.

azzi: yup. thank u again for letting me hang in ur room. i swear its cozier than mine

paige: that’s bc its been blessed by ur presence paige: scientifically proven

azzi: lol ur too much azzi: fr tho ur such a good friend. its been nice having u around lately

paige’s fingers hovered.

fucking friend. paige tried her best not to roll her eyes.

paige: always here for u. friend or otherwise

azzi didn’t reply for a minute.

then—

azzi: goodnight paige azzi: sleep well <3

paige turned off her phone and curled deeper into the covers.

she wasn’t going to sleep. not with that stupid little heart pounding in her head.

it was a rare night off, and coach had ordered team dinner at this little family-owned italian place downtown. long tables, red-checkered tablecloths, warm lighting. the whole team packed in tight, plates of pasta being passed around, laughter echoing off the walls.

paige sat at the end of the table, half-listening to nika’s story about a tinder date gone rogue, when she felt it— azzi sliding into the empty chair beside her. her breath caught. she hoped nobody noticed.

“you look nice,” azzi said quietly, nudging paige’s knee under the table.

paige blinked. “sorry— what?”

azzi grinned. “didn’t think the team dinner dress code included looking like a low-key goddess, but here we are.”

paige laughed a little too loud and immediately looked down at her outfit. she was in jeans and a black zip-up. casual. nothing special.

but azzi was looking at her like she was wearing dior.

“you’re one to talk,” paige mumbled, hoping the restaurant lighting masked how pink her ears had gone. “you could wear a trash bag and still look perfect.”

azzi’s grin widened as she sipped her lemonade. “so dramatic.”

“you started it.”

they smiled at each other for a beat too long.

that’s when kennedy— one of paige’s flings she’d forgotten all about until this moment— walked up out of nowhere, and immediately leaned in.

“so, paige,” she said, twirling her straw in the drink she was holding. “you dating anyone?”

azzi blinked.

paige flinched like she’d been slapped. “uh… no. not really.”

kennedy smirked. “crazy. someone like you? i just assumed.”

across the table, azzi was quiet. still smiling, but not quite the same.

paige tried to steer the conversation away, suddenly hyperaware of azzi’s leg brushing against hers under the table. she didn’t dare to move.

halfway through dinner, paige reached for the bread basket, and so did azzi. their fingers touched.

azzi didn’t pull away. neither did she.

“you’re warm,” she whispered.

paige looked at her, heart in her throat. “so are you.”

they froze like that for a second, hands still barely touching.

azzi opened her mouth to say something, but—

nika’s voice cut in from the other side of the table. “hey azzi, what’s your dog’s name again? the one in your story?”

azzi blinked, pulling her hand back. “oh— stewie. she’s tiny and thinks she owns my parent’s house.”

paige stared at the empty space between them like it had just betrayed her.

only a few hours later, however, paige— comfortably positioned on her bed— typed out a message.

paige: u were gonna say something earlier. what was it?

she stared at the text.

deleted it.

she tried again.

paige: i like when u sit next to me

fuck no. she’d never send that. not in a million years.

she deleted that too.

in the end, she sent nothing. just stared at the ceiling and thought about how good azzi looked tonight— pearl earrings, soft smile, words lingering behind her teeth.

almost.

the gym was nearly empty.

most of the team had left after practice, but paige lingered, shooting free throws in silence. her earbuds were in, but no music played— just a shield, something to make it feel like the world was further away than it was.

she didn't hear the door open.

but she did feel the presence.

“didn’t think anyone else would still be here,” came a voice she knew like the back of her hand.

azzi.

paige turned, saw her in gray joggers and a uconn hoodie, hair pulled back, cheeks still flushed from practice. paige pulled out one earbud and tried to act casual, even though her heart was now sprinting.

“you caught me trying to live out my late-night kobe fantasy,” paige said, grinning.

azzi smiled, walking toward her. “mind if i join?”

paige tossed her the ball. “only if you promise not to show me up.”

azzi smirked and drained a three like she wasn’t casually pulling on the strings of paige’s heart.

they played for a while— just light shooting, taking turns. no talking. just the sound of bouncing rubber and squeaking sneakers. paige was too busy watching the way azzi moved, like everything she did was effortless. beautiful, even when sweaty.

at one point, azzi missed a shot and groaned. “ugh. that one was for pride.”

paige grabbed the rebound and passed it back. “guess your pride’s mine now.”

azzi raised an eyebrow. “is that how it works?”

“yeah,” paige said, stepping closer. “you lose a shot, you owe me something.”

azzi’s lips curled. “what do i owe you, then?”

paige paused. she hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“dinner,” she said before she could stop herself. “like, i dunno. team dinner. or— if you want— just us.”

azzi’s smile faltered, just a fraction. “paige…”

paige knew that tone. that soft, sad, hesitant tone. her stomach twisted. “it doesn’t have to be a thing,” she said quickly. “i just like being around you.”

azzi dribbled once, staring down at the ball.

then: “i like being around you too.”

paige took a breath, let it out slowly.

azzi looked up again, something unreadable in her eyes. “noah called me earlier. said he might fly out next month.”

“oh,” paige said. her voice came out flat. she hated that it did.

azzi stepped forward. “i don’t know what i’m doing. with him. with any of it.”

paige didn’t move.

“you don’t have to figure it out right now,” she said, softer this time. “i’m not asking for anything.”

azzi nodded. “i know.”

a beat passed.

then, quietly: “but sometimes i wish i met you first.”

the world felt like it tilted on its axis. her heartbeat was definitely thudding at an abnormal, mildly concerning rate.

paige opened her mouth. closed it, unsure what to say.

azzi looked at her like she regretted saying it, but didn’t take it back. she simply said, “let’s get out of here, yeah?”

paige nodded.

she didn’t say it out loud, but in her head, she screamed:

fuck noah. i’m right here. i’m all you need. you’re all i need. i would never treat you like he does.

those words stayed put in paige’s brain, never leaving once. because god, did she mean them. every single word, every letter.

© wbbobsesserr

[yvaineseleneposts]

hi! i was wondering if i can request a fic with angst with a fluffy ending if possible for mat barzal? :) maybe he unintentionally snapped at her and is grovelling? totally up to you, thank you so much!!

Requested? Yes!

Pairing: Mat Barzal x reader

Words: 2k

Warning(s): none

The front door slammed so hard the picture frame above the console tilted. You winced, peeking around the corner from the kitchen, heart already tightening in your chest.

Mat dropped his bag with a thud, kicked his shoes off harder than necessary, and ran a hand through his hair, pacing like he couldn't sit still. His jaw was clenched tight. Shoulders tense.

They lost.

And you knew—you knew—how much he was blaming himself.

You gave him a minute. Then two. Then quietly stepped into the living room.

"Hey…" you said gently. “Tough night, huh?”

He didn’t respond, just collapsed onto the couch and buried his face in his hands.

“I saw some of the game,” you continued carefully, trying not to push. “It wasn’t all on you, Mat. Everyone—”

“Can you not?” he snapped, voice sharp and cold. “Seriously. I don’t need a pep talk right now.”

You blinked. “I’m not giving you a pep talk. I’m trying to be here for you.”

He scoffed bitterly, then grabbed his phone and threw it onto the coffee table hard enough to make it skid. “You think I don’t know how bad I was? Go online, it’s all there. ‘Barzal’s a ghost on the ice,’ ‘He’s all speed, no brains,’ ‘Overrated piece of—’”

He cut himself off, breathing hard, eyes wild. “I shouldn’t have even gone out there tonight. I let everyone down. I let—” He stopped, eyes flicking to yours. “You don’t get it.”

That hit harder than it should have. You stood a little straighter. “I don’t get it?” you echoed, voice low.

He rubbed his hands over his face. “Just—leave it, okay? I can’t deal with this and you right now.”

You froze. That last part cut deeper than anything.

You and him. You were his safe space. His quiet. His home. And now you were another thing he couldn’t “deal with.”

A beat of silence stretched too long.

“Okay,” you said quietly, grabbing your jacket off the hook. “I’ll make it easier for you.”

“Wait—” he started, already realizing, but you were out the door before he could finish.

You stayed at your best friend’s place. She didn’t ask many questions—just opened the door and handed you a blanket. “You don’t need to explain anything. Just stay as long as you want.”

The next morning, you checked your phone.

No texts. No missed calls. Not even a single “Are you okay?”

Day two passed the same way. Silence.

Each hour that ticked by hurt more than the last. You wondered if he even noticed you were gone. Or if the version of him who said “I can’t deal with this and you” was the one who’d taken your place.

Your friend found you staring out the window late that night.

“You gonna call him?” she asked gently.

You shook your head. “If he wanted to talk… he would’ve.”

Still nothing by day two. By then, the anger had faded, replaced by a deep, dull ache. The kind that came from being made to feel like you weren’t worth fighting for.

You hadn’t told anyone exactly what he said, but the words replayed in your mind on a loop.

"I don’t need you hovering every time I screw up."

Like you were a nuisance. An annoyance. Like love from you was a burden.

Your friend left for work, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You debated going home. Thought about writing him a message. Just something.

But he had to make the first move.

If he didn’t, maybe he never cared the way you thought he did.

Later that night, your phone buzzed.

Mat calling.

You stared at the screen for a long time before answering.

“…Hey.”

There was silence for a beat, then a breath. Not a casual one—a deep, breaking inhale, like he was bracing for pain.

“I messed up,” he said, his voice thick. “I messed up so bad, and I didn’t know how to fix it, so I did nothing. Which made it worse. And I don’t deserve you picking up right now, but I’m so glad you did.”

You didn’t respond, just waited.

“I lost the game,” he said quietly, “and then I lost you. I thought I hated myself after that final whistle, but it was nothing compared to watching you walk out and not calling after you. I was just… stuck. I thought if I said it out loud, I’d have to face how bad I hurt you.”

“You didn’t even check if I was safe.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I thought about it every minute. I kept staring at the door and telling myself to go after you, but it was like I’d already broken it too far to fix.”

“Mat…”

“I’ve never hated myself more than I did when you didn’t come back.” His voice cracked. “Please, just tell me where you are. I don’t care if you don’t want to see me—I just need to know you’re okay.”

You exhaled, long and shaky. The anger hadn’t fully left. But it had been replaced with something else. A slow ache. A tired sort of hope.

“I’m at Emily’s. I’ve been here since that night.”

“I’m coming to you.”

You didn’t stop him.

Twenty-five minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door.

Your friend gave you a look. “He’s yours to deal with,” she said, and left the room.

You opened the door slowly.

Mat stood there, looking like hell. Same hoodie from two days ago. Hair a mess. Eyes red and tired, like sleep hadn’t come easy.

He didn’t speak—just stepped inside, pulled you into a hug like he thought you’d disappear if he didn’t hold tight enough.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “For the words. For the silence. All of it.”

“I know you were hurting, Mat. But so was I.”

“I never meant to make you feel like you were just… extra noise. You’re the one thing that cuts through it.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, then reached up and touched the side of his face.

“I’m still angry,” you said honestly.

“You should be,” he whispered. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait. However long it takes.”

And then he rested his forehead against yours.

“Just tell me I didn’t lose you too.”

Your hand found his. Fingers lacing through his tightly.

“You didn’t,” you whispered back. “But don’t ever let silence speak for you again.”

The flat felt different when you walked back in with Mat.

Not because anything had changed—his gear bag was still by the door, the blanket was still crumpled on the couch, and the mug from your half-finished tea still sat on the counter.

But something had shifted.

This time, Mat didn’t disappear into himself. He didn’t run from the tension. He followed you into the living room like he was afraid you might change your mind and leave again.

You sat on the edge of the couch. He took the spot next to you, but didn’t speak right away. His knee bounced. Hands clasped. You could see him trying to find the right words.

So you spoke first.

“I wasn’t just hurt that night, Mat. I was scared. Scared that you saw me as a weight instead of someone trying to lift some of yours.”

His eyes snapped to yours, guilt flashing like lightning. “You’re not a weight. You’ve never been. I was—God, I was so far in my own head I couldn’t see anything clearly. You were the only good thing in the room, and I treated you like noise.”

You nodded slowly. “And then two days of silence?”

He looked down, jaw clenched. “I kept thinking about calling. Every time I didn’t, I made up another excuse. ‘She needs space.’ ‘She doesn’t want to hear from you.’ Truth is, I was ashamed. Not of the game. Of how I treated you.”

You watched him for a long moment. “I didn’t need a perfect boyfriend, Mat. I just needed you. Honest. Even if that version of you is hurting.”

His throat bobbed. “I was hurting,” he said. “Still am, if I’m being honest. But I’m learning I can’t bury it. Especially not when it turns into something sharp.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder. He let out a soft breath and rested his cheek on top of yours.

“I don’t want to be someone you have to tiptoe around,” you said quietly. “But I also can’t be someone who gets left in the dark every time the noise gets too loud in your head.”

“You won’t be,” he promised, his voice thick but steady. “I want to do better. For you. For us.”

You tilted your head up. “Starting with?”

He gave you a tentative smile. “Starting with deleting my Twitter account.”

You snorted. “Okay, that’s a solid first step.”

“I want more steps. Like... therapy. Or at least talking. To you. About everything.”

You leaned into him fully then, letting the comfort sink in. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Mat. You don’t have to be okay all the time. But you don’t have to fall apart alone, either.”

His arms wrapped around you, holding you tighter than before. Not desperate. Not panicked.

Just sure.

Safe.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair.

And for the first time in days, the knot in your chest finally began to loosen.

“I love you too,” you whispered. “Even when you’re a mess. Especially then.”

[flowery-mess]

polaroid kisses

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

reader has a name (Ella Thompson, but the story is written in 'your' POV)

Warnings: oral both receiving / protected sex / taking pictures while having sex - consentualy / let me know if I missed something please

Words: 5,8k

Author's note: long time no see with frat boy Noah💗 if you wanna know the story of how Ella got her polaroid camera, you can read it here. Find the picture that inspired this one shot under the cut🤭 it's not really proof read so any mistakes should be a warning too

frat boy Noah masterlist

“You wanna come over?”

Noah’s message showed up on your screen. It was Tuesday 4PM, a weird time for him to want to hang out with you, unless something bad happened or he’s really in the mood for sex.

“To do what?” you texted back.

“Sit in silence and stare at the ceiling.”

“Funny.”

“Well, what do you think?”

“That makes me feel like your booty call.”

“Shut up, I’m not paying you and won’t kick you out of the door after.”

“But you’re gonna call me a taxi to get to your place.”

“You can walk if you prefer that.”

“You can jerk off if you prefer that.”

“Got it, I’ll be there in 20.”

He must be badly in the mood.

You got up from your bed where you were watching some random Netflix show and got ready. No need to dress up for Noah, but you felt like some nice underwear would be nice to boost his mood, because you knew that you’ll benefit from it.

You threw some decent underwear on and then black tshirt dress over it. After grabbing your phone, wallet and keys you checked the time that showed you had 5 minutes to walk to the parking lot, perfect.

Clara and Molly were out, that saved you from annoying questions and comments as you put on your shoes and left the small dorm.

As you walked through the campus you saw people walking in and out of the school building, some people were laying in the middle of the grass with books in their hands and enjoying the nice warm weather that finally arrived.

As you got to the parking lot, Noah was already parked in his usual spot. His black car was still on and you could see him scrolling on his phone.

You walked over to the passenger side and knocked on the window, finally catching his attention. His hand reached to push the unlock button and then you heard the short snap, signaling that you can open the door.

“Hey.” he said when you sat down and closed the door behind you.

“Hey.” you greeted him back and looked him over. His hair was a bit messy, probably because he didn’t have to leave anywhere today. He was wearing a plain white shirt with black sports shorts, his usual home attire.

“You wanna get some food?” he backed out of the parking space and gave you a quick glance to see what your answer was going to be.

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

You managed to agree on chinese take out, both of you were surprised that you didn’t have to fight and play rock paper scissors to see who wins and picks the food.

You stopped by your favorite place and got your meals, then it was straight to his place. The drive was silent, Noah’s filled only with the music and his fingers tapping along on the steering wheel.

You like driving with Noah, you have the perfect opportunity to stare at him and all the little details you find attractive.

Like his thighs that are spread on his seat, the muscles in his right thigh that are moving when he needs to press on gas or break. Especially when he wears shorts like today, so you can admire his tattoos.

Or his face. He’s a calm driver, focused on the road and paying attention to his surroundings. He won’t yell when other drivers get in his way (sometimes he does), but usually he just furrows his eyebrows and slows down or you see him take a deep breath and grip the steering wheel.

He knows you’re staring everytime you’re in the car with him and most of the time he teases you about it, but not today. Today he feels a bit cheeky so he flexes his thighs on purpose or rests his hand on his thigh, gripping it when someone pulls in front of him the last second.

“I have to take this home today, or you’re gonna think I don’t want it.” you said when you entered your living room and saw the pink polaroid camera on his table. You managed to forget it every single time when you were at his place, either because you were being late and had to run out or because you simply forgot.

“Nah, I know you can’t hold a thought in your head for longer than a minute. You forget so many things here that I started wondering if I should take that as a sign.” he said with a smirk and went to grab two forks for you.

“A sign?” you sat down on his couch and wondered what he was talking about.

“That you fell in love with me and want me to ask you to move in.” his smirk grew bigger and he threw one fork in your lap before sitting down next to you.

You rolled your eyes at him before saying “You wish, you’re just surprised that every girl doesn’t have to fall in love with you.”

“You know you love me.” he said playfully.

You rolled your eyes again and opened your food. You enjoyed this side of him, relaxed and playful.

After you finished food you expected Noah to take you straight to his bed, but he got himself comfortable on the couch and resumed the show he was watching before he went to pick you up.

You fiddled with the polaroid camera, exploring all of its settings and pushing different buttons. You lifted it up to your eyes and took a picture. Of Noah.

“What are you doing?”

“I did some new settings and wanted to see how the picture looked.” you shrugged your shoulders and started shaking the paper.

“What settings?”

“I don’t know, I just pushed some buttons.”

“You should stop before you break it.” he shook his head and continued to watch the show.

“You don’t wanna see it?” you asked him as the picture finally came to live on the small piece of paper.

“No, I hate pictures of myself.”

“But you look cute, aw look at your little nose!” you said in a baby voice and crawled to the other side of the couch where he was sitting. You put the picture in front of his eyes so he had to look. He was captured from his side, his body relaxed into the couch, but his face was focused on the TV and he was scrunching his nose.

“Amazing.” he replied with an annoyed voice and pushed your hand that was holding the picture down. “I know about different pictures that we could take.”

“What do you mean?” innocent you had no clue what he was talking about, but you felt the change in his mood.

He kept your hand with the picture in his lap, his fingers wrapping around it to keep you from moving back to the other side, away from him.

“You’re so sweet Ella, so pure.” he said and his eyes scanned your face, making sure that you really didn’t know what he was talking about. “Have you ever taken a nude picture?”

Your cheeks got red after his question and you immediately tried to move out of his space, but he didn’t let you.

“No.” you answered and kept looking anywhere but in his eyes. His hand took your jaw and made you look at him. His thumb caressed your skin and he kept thinking how to ask you without scaring you off.

“Have you ever thought about it?” he saw the answer in your eyes, but also saw your shyness and hesitation and didn’t want to make you feel pressured, so he said “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer.”

Silence followed, his eyes were still scanning your face and his thumb was slowly and teasingly moving over your lips. He pulled at it and you let him, you let him push the tip of his thumb in your mouth and drag your lip down.

“Can I?” he ask and took the polaroid camera from your hand. You just nodded your head and waited for what he was going to do with it.

He put it to his left eye and closed the other and snapped a picture of you. He could see the mixed feelings in your face as he took his finger away, your saliva connecting him to you until you closed your mouth and tried to pull yourself together.

Noah mimicked your actions from earlier and started shaking the picture in his hand, before looking at it.

You haven’t seen the picture yet, but you analysed his facial expressions when he was looking at it. His eyes grew darker and his lips had a playful smirk on them.

“Look at you.” he turned the paper around so you could see it.

Your eyes were so big in the picture, staring somewhere higher that the camera, probably at Noah. His thumb was the reason your mouth was opened in a way that you thought was something you could call sexy. You stared at the picture and thought about how it made you feel. You felt yourself get warmer and suddenly more nervous. You wondered what would Noah look like if you took a picture of him, with your fingers in his hair or maybe your hand gripping his jaw.

“Can I keep it?” he asked.

“Yes.” you said with a trembling voice. Noah put the picture on his coffee table and the camera in his lap.

“Come here.” he said before pulling you in a kiss by your chin. His lips felt familiar and you felt grounded after the new wave of experience.

He tugged at your leg to make you straddle his lap. When you did, he got himself comfortable and leaned back into the couch. Your hands went straight to his hair, making it even more messy and pulling a silent growl from him.

You felt his hand slide between your bodies where the camera was before he pulled away from the kiss.

“Do you wanna take one?” he put it in your hand and gave you an encouraging squeeze. You just nodded your head and started thinking of how you want to do it.

You let your free hand trace his face, you pulled his hair out of his face, then slid your fingers over his cheek, lips until you settled on his jaw.

He saw the hesitation in your eyes, so he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, keeping your hand in place before he said “Like this.”

You lifted the camera to your eye and tightened your grip on his jaw which caused his lips to turn into a smirk once again. You pushed the button and second after the paper rolled out. You set it down and before you felt confident in looking at the picture, your fingers continued to trace Noah’s jaw and then down his neck. You pulled your lower lip between your teeth and pulled the picture out.

Noah felt your thighs squeeze around his waist when you looked at the paper. His head laid back against the couch and his chin was lifted up by your hand. His lips were smirking and slightly swollen from the kissing before. His hand was holding your hand in place and his eyes were looking straight to the camera. Your breath quickened a little and you asked “Can I keep it?” before you could think about what you were saying.

“Of course you can.” he whispered and let your eyes linger over the picture.

When you felt like you had it memorised, you felt something snap inside you.

You put the camera and picture down and dove straight back for Noah’s lips. You didn’t hold back, feeling turned on by those two simple pictures.

Noah returned the hungry kisses, his hands all over your body and soon you felt him lift you both from the couch. You couldn’t help it, you did it before you could think what you’re about to do, you reached down to grab the polaroid from the couch.

“That’s my girl.” Noah giggled at your eagerness and continued walking in the direction to his bedroom.

Noah sat down on his bed with you in his lap, slowly moving on the matters so he could lay down and keep you straddling him. He would never admit it, but he loves it when you’re on top. Not just sexually, it can be only kissing on his couch like minutes before, he just loves when you’re the one on top.

You let him lay down and fiddle with the camera in your hands, unsure what to do with it now.

“You wanna take another one?” Noah’s fingers traced slow gentle circles on your thighs.

“I don’t know, oh god I don’t even know why I brought it here. Let me-” you leaned on your right hand and were about to put it on Noah’s nightstand, but he stopped you.

“Wait. You like it, don’t you?” he asked, but not to tease, he wanted to help you decide if you want the camera involved or not.

“I don’t know Noah, I’ve never done anything like this.” he could hear the frustration in your voice.

“Hey, it’s okay if you like it. You can take pictures of me if you want. At any time, I trust you with them.” he said and he meant it. He knows that taking pictures during sex is risky and he wouldn’t let just anyone do that, but he trusts you. He trusts you that you will keep them just for yourself.

“At any time?” you repeat his words.

“Yeah, at any time.” he saw the wheels in your head turning and pulled you down to distract you with kisses.

You imagined all the possibilities, all the times where you looked at Noah down between your thighs and wished you could take a picture, or when you were on top and he was a mess under you, or when you were on your knees for him and you dared to steal a glance up at his face in bliss.

You reached down to tug at his shirt, telling him you want to take it off without words. He let you roll it up his body and lifted himself so you could take it off completely.

You sat straight, looking down at him and your fingers were twitching with need to take a picture.

Like if he could read your mind he said “Do it.” and you took the small camera in your hands and lifted it to your eye again.

He was smirking up at you, enjoying the way you rested your hand on his chest. Like if you wanted to be part of the picture with him. The picture complimented his tattoos with making his skin very pale so all of the colored ink could be seen. You looked at the picture and felt the excitement in you grow even more.

“How do I look?” Noah asked.

“Mhm, like I’m gonna keep this one too.” you put it on the nightstand and went back for Noah’s lips.

You rolled your hips and felt the bulge in his shorts. You rolled your hips again and this time you let out the sweetest moan for Noah’s ears.

His hands rolled your dress up to your waist and you took the hint, you lifted your hands so he could take them off of you and threw them somewhere on the floor.

His gaze fell to your chest and you felt his grip on your thighs tighten. It seemed like your choice of underwear worked exactly like you expected. It wasn’t anything special, just a matching set of black bra and panties and both of them had some lace around the hem. It wasn’t too much, but it was more than nothing.

Noah’s eyes fell to the polaroid camera that was laying next to your bodies and then he looked at your face.

“Can I?” he asked and you knew what he was asking for.

You chewed on your lip and thought about your answer. You trust him too, he makes you feel sexy, but there was still something inside you that made you feel almost guilty for doing it. Before the racional part of your brain could take over, you nodded your head.

“I need words for this baby. You don’t have to let me do it, it’s okay if you say no.” how could you say no to him? He always asks for your consent, especially when he sees your hesitation about some things.

“Yes, you can do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am, I just don’t know what to do with my face.”

“It doesn’t have to be in it, would that be more comfortable for you?” he reached for the camera, the pink item looking so small in his hands.

“Yeah.” he just nodded in return and focused on you. He leveled the camera in a way where only your neck and the rest of your body was visible. You suddenly got nervous, not knowing what to do with your hands and where to look.

“Here, hold my hand.” Noah offered you his free hand and you grabbed it with both of yours. Your hands rested on his tummy, this position making your chest look more full and he had to hold a growl back. “So fucking hot.” he said after he took the picture and you could feel your cheeks turn red.

He looked at it, staring at the colors appearing and showing your curves on the small paper. He put it next to his picture on the nightstand and grabbed you by your neck to meet him in a kiss.

It was messy, his tongue was inside your mouth and fighting for dominance. You started grinding against him and grabbed his shoulders for some support.

Noah slowly lifted himself to a sitting position, never breaking the kiss and switched the position so now he was hovering above you. You had more space to reach down and tug his shorts down with what he helped you with, taking them off of his legs and kicking them on the floor.

He gave one more kiss and then kissed his way down your body.

He stopped at your neck, kissing and biting a little in places that he knew drove you crazy. If there will be a mark of his mouth, he will definitely take a picture of that later.

He left open mouth kisses on your chest, teasing your nipples through the lacy fabric first. His hands slid down under your body and you arched your back, burying his head between your boobs and giving him space to open your bra at the same time.

Once your chest was bare you said something that surprised the both of you.

“You wanna take a picture?” in a voice that was barely a whisper.

“Are you serious?” Noah’s head was laying on your chest, looking at you with hoping eyes.

“I mean without my face in it, and maybe I would just cover myself with my hands a little.”

“Are you sure?” he wanted to take that picture so bad, so fucking bad, but he didn’t want you to feel like you had to let him.

“Yes.” he kissed you between your boobs and then your lips before he straddled your lap and grabbed the came. You used your hands to cover your nipples, squeezing them a little.

“Can I use my free hand?” Noah asked. He wanted to be in the picture, he wanted to be part of that, in case someone else saw it, they would know that he was the one touching you.

“Mhm.” you nodded your head yes and laid your right hand next to your body. Noah’s left hand reached out to your boobs, teasing your nipple before he cupped the full breast, making sure your nipple is covered. Once he was satisfied with the hand placement he snapped a picture.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, fuck.” he muttered through his teeth once the picture was done. It probably wasn’t his intention, but all of his words, stares and touches gave you more and more confidence.

Throwing the picture on the pile with others, he threw the camera on the pillow next to your head and went back to worship your body.

He played with your nipples, powered by the hunger he bit on it and then licked around to soothe the pain. He heard your little whimpers and moans, wishing he could capture them too. Maybe another time.

When he moved down on your body, he kissed the soft skin on your tummy before he reached your panties.

Before he could even look up at you or ask you, you were lifting your hips for him. He took them off and sat between your legs, leaning back on his heels to take the view in. He pushed your legs apart so he could see your pussy. Already wet, already waiting for him.

He would do anything for a picture of you just like that, but it would be too much too soon. He took a mental picture at least, thinking about moments like these when he was alone and picturing his hand stroking his dick was yours.

Noah laid on his front and at first used his fingers to spread your lips apart. The movement of his fingers was smooth, thanks to your already wet pussy.

He pushed just an inch of his fingers in you to gather your juices and then spread them over your clit. Both of you moaning at the feeling.

“Noah.” you moaned his name and that was like a last push for him to dive in. He replaced his fingers with his mouth, his tongue skilfully circling around your clit.

His movements were steady, just teasing you at first. He kept his fingers in place, spreading you apart for better access. His tongue slid down to your entrance, teasing you there with circling movements before he pushed in. Something that he knew made you go crazy.

You closed your eyes and focused on the movements of Noah’s tongue. You felt him push in and out of you a few times before he returned back to your clit. You dared to open your eyes and look down at him and then the filthiest idea struck you.

Your eyes were on Noah who was sucking on your clit with closed eyes, enjoying it as much as you. You reached for the polaroid, your movements making Noah look up at you, but his mouth never left your core.

“Can I?” you managed to breath out, your hands shaking.

“Of course.” Noah smirked against you, happy about your sudden confidence.

You angled the camera at Noah, he lifted his eyes to look in it and while tongue fucking you he managed to give you one of his boyish smiles. You didn’t look at the picture, you immediately put it on the nightstand along with the camera, but if you would spare a second to look at it, you’d see Noah smiling at you and his face covered in you, which made his face shiny in the picture.

You threw your head against the pillow and focused back on Noah between your thighs. He picked up the pace and you found it harder to stay still. He felt you squeeze around his tongue when he slid it in as deep as he could and used his fingers to rub at your clit. The wave of pleasure came soon after that, making your back shoot up from the mattress and your thighs close around Noah’s head. He kept licking you through the aftershocks until you pushed him away.

He kissed his way back up, leaving wet spots at every place he chose to kiss.

“You’re gonna keep that picture? Use it when you’re alone? Huh?” he spoke dirty things against your mouth and you just nodded in response, still high from your orgasm. You pulled him down by his neck, eager to taste yourself on his lips.

“You’re gonna touch yourself while looking at it, wishing it was me?” he didn’t stop with his dirty thoughts which made you squeeze your thighs together.

“Shut up.” you said and pushed him away, using the moment of his surprise to push him to his back so you could actually give him something so he’D shut up and stopped making you flustered.

You pulled his boxers down and reached for his hard dick, not giving Noah even a second to process the change in positions.

“Fucking hell Ella.” he moaned at the sudden warmth of your mouth around him. You tasted his precum, smirking to yourself, because you know what giving you oral does to him. Not only one time has he come from eating you out and humping against the mattress.

Taking a picture of you didn’t even occur to his mind, there was no way you’d agree. But you were still dizzy from your orgasm and the view of him between your legs that you wanted him to look at you the same way you looked at him.

“Take a picture.” you rested your head on his inner thigh and kept stroking him with just your hand.

“W-what?” Noah stuttered, his eyes were closed and he was sure he didn’t hear you right.

“Take a picture, so you have something when you’re alone too.”

He lifted his head from his pillow, looking at you with an open mouth.

“Or don’t if you don’t want to.” you shrugged your shoulders and took him in your mouth again. You were moving your head up and down when you saw his hand reach for the polaroid. His hands were shaking too, he didn’t even focus on where the camera was pointing and pushed the button. When he heard the picture come out he almost threw the camera away.

He didn’t know it yet, but he managed to capture the moment when you lifted your eyes to look at him with your mouth slightly open around his dick, your pupils blown and full of hunger. That’s definitely going to stay in the drawer of his nightstand.

Noah’s hand slipped through your hair, pushing you down to take him fully in your mouth and hold you there for a few seconds. Then he let you take a deep breath and pulled you up by your chin.

“I’m gonna fuck you from behind, take a picture of that pretty ass, yeah?” he said almost breathlessly.

“Yeah.” you replied and he pulled you in for a kiss. Hungry, messy and dirty kiss. It seemed like your shyness and inexperience was thrown out of the window, based on the way you positioned yourself for him.

You got on all fours and let your hands slide to the edge of his bed, your chest fully against the mattress and you ass high.

“Good girl.” he moved to kneel behind you after he rolled on a condom. He gave your ass a small spank, nothing too much as that’s not really his style.

You felt the tip of his dick slide through your folds a few times, collecting your wetness before he finally pushed himself in.

Moans filled the bedroom, neither of you moving, just enjoying the feeling of him inside you.

“Feel so good.” Noah said when he bottomed you out. “So tight, just for me.”

You were the first one to move, giving him a hint to start fucking you.

He found a pace, not slow, not quick, but comfortable for both of you pleasures. Out of the corner of your eye you saw how take the camera in his hands before he asked for your consent again.

You let out barely a whispered “Yes.” and closed your eyes, feeling so overwhelmed from the way he was making you full, hitting just the right spot and angling the camera behind you.

This time he took the paper in his hand and waited for the full picture to appear and leaned down so his bare chest was against your back.

He put the picture in front of you so you could see.

“Look at that, look at you taking my cock so well.” he whispered in your ear and earned a moan in response.

“Noah, fuck.” your knees started giving up and Noah had to use his arm to steady you.

“Turn around, wanna see you when you come on my cock.” he pulled out of you, making you whimper at the sudden empty feeling.

He let you turn around and lay on your back, lining himself at your entrance the second your back hit the mattress.

He eased into you and leaned down on his elbows so he could be close to you. His head fell to the crook of your neck, covering the skin with his hot breath.

“Noah, more, I need more.” you begged him and ran your nails over his back, leaving red trails behind them.

His hand sneaked down between your bodies and applied pressure on your clit, his pace still the same but his thrusts became more aggressive, needy.

He lifted his head and looked at you, thinking if you’re in the right state to be asked this question.

“Look at me baby.” he nudged your chin with his nose and you opened your eyes to look at him. “Can I take a picture of you when you come? Wanna keep that pretty face when you fall apart with me forever.”

He felt you squeeze around him at his words, cursing to himself to last longer than you, so he can watch you come undone first.

“Yeah.” you nodded and your nose brushed his with the movement. “But I want one of you too.”

“Deal.” he smirked against your lips and stole a few of your kisses.

Taking the camera in his hand he lifted himself so he could move faster and have a good angle of your face.

“Fuck, faster Noah, please.” you whined when he hit that spot inside you again, this time feeling even better.

His hips moved faster and harder and you felt the heat building inside you. You couldn’t keep your eyes open, but Noah wasn’t having any of that.

“Open your eyes for me, come on.” he encouraged you and you tried, you really tried. But then the pleasure hit you, orgasm taking over your body and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Noah managed to snap a picture before that happened, your eyes were half open and looking up at him. Your mouth was hanging open and he was sure he has your moans memorised that he’s going to hear them when he’s going to be looking at the picture. Your hair was messily thrown over the pillow and even the red marks on your neck from his previous bites were visible on the picture.

He carefully threw the camera next to you when he felt his own orgasm approaching.

“I’m close, fuck Ella I’m so close.” he lifted one of your legs over your shoulder, giving himself something to lean on.

You pointed the camera on his face, he didn’t have his eyes open, but you didn’t mind. His eyes were closed and eyebrows furrowed with concentration, his mouth was open and grunt and groans were leaving out of it.

You felt the warmth as he spilled in the condom, his thighs were shaking against you and his head slightly fell back, that’s when you snapped the picture.

You let him thrust into you a few more times, fuck himself through the last shocks of orgasm.

“Fuck Ella, that was-” he pulled out of you and collapsed next to you. “So fucking good.”

“Yeah, it was.” you laughed at his fucked out state, turning to your side and looking at him still trying to catch his breath.

You collected the last two pictures that were laying next to you and put them on the nightstand, same with the camera.

“Hey, I wanna see them.” Noah said when he was finally able to speak again.

“Let’s clean up first.” you dragged him out of the bed and picked up his shirt from the floor on your way to the bathroom.

Noah’s always quicker with his night routine, so it was no surprise to find him in the bed, looking through the polaroid pictures and smirking to himself.

“Damn Ella, we’re hot.” he laughed at his joke along with you, but when you took some of the picture in your hands you had to admit he wasn’t wrong. The pictures were hot, capturing pure pleasure and real connection.

“Look at you.” he showed you the one he took of your climax.

“Oh god, put it away.” you pushed his hand out of your face and suddenly felt too shy to even look at yourself.

“You weren’t so shy about it just minutes ago.” he poked your side, but put his pile of pictures inside the drawer on his side.

He’s going to keep them safely there, no one is ever going to see them, only him.

“Stop it.” you threw yourself against the mattress and hid yourself under the blanket.

“Wait, we have to do the post sex selfie so we have the full collection.” he pulled the blanket down from your face and you saw the camera in his hand once again, this time attempting to take a selfie.

“You’re an idiot.” you mumbled to yourself, but rested your head on his shoulder so he could take the picture.

“Wait, we need one more, so we both can have one.” he snapped another one and then handed it to you.

When he was happy with the selfies, he put the camera aside and turned his lamp off. The room was dark and you fell in comfortable silence.

Both of you were laying on your sides of the bed, knowing very well that one of you is going to end up being cuddled in a matter of minutes.

Noah was the first one to pull you into his side, nuzzling his face into your hair and you couldn’t help but tease him once more before you fell asleep.

“Do you want your own polaroid? A baby blue one, so we could be matching.” you poked his ribs and felt him squirm away a little.

“Don’t you dare.”

“You looked like you had fun tonight.”

“My phone can take even better pictures. I don’t need this silly camera.”

“Sure.” you laughed at the idea of buying him the blue one for his birthday and he pushed you down under the blanket, because that seemed like the best solution to shut you up at that moment.

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

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[foxgloveprincess]

I saw that art that you just reblogged. And I really liked it and it got me thinking. Steve and Bucky's girl in it's a game of give and take, what would happen if she was, for some reason, changed into a monster for a day?

Hi, Autumn! 💜 From this picture. You really got me thinking (sorry it took so long to reply!!). So…

What If…You Woke Up as a Monster?

Warnings: Fluff, Suggestive Content/implied Smut, Monster AU, Monster x Human Romance, Cuddling, Barely Edited. Minors do not interact (18+).

“What the fuck,” you drone, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Fingers trailing over the scales framing your face. Nails pointed with claws. Legs replaced by the muscles of a snake’s tail. Tilting your head, you catch every angle of your reflection before a thundering thump falls against the bathroom door.

“You alright in there?” Steve calls through the wood. Knob jiggling under his hand.

“I…” You swallow the rest of the instinctual placation. Blinking again and hoping to turn back to your typical self.

The door flies open. Your minotaur filling the doorway with Bucky peeking over his shoulder. Both their eyes wide with panic. Blankets tangled around their ankles and hair mussed from sleep.

“Hi?” you greet with a brief wave of your hand. Smile strained by your own anxiety.

Steve blinks. Eyes scanning every inch of your body in its new form. He swallows. Lips parting on a thought. Pupils blowing wide.

Bucky slips past before he says anything. Slithering up to your side and wrapping his tail with yours. His arms encase your waist as his head falls to your shoulder.

“You’ll be alright, baby,” he soothes.

Your tongue peeks from between your lips. The world around you opening up in an explosion of delicious scent. The taste of your boys filling your senses. Every tastebud savoring them. Yet you blink yourself out of the tempting daze—your new form more concerning than any new pleasures it might bring, right?

“What are we gonna do?” Your voice cracks over the question.

Steve sighs, shaking himself, his lips tilting in a small smile. “We’re gonna figure things out, li’l star.” His hands find your cheeks, cradling your face in his warm palms. “And we’ll be fine, just like Bucky said. No matter what happens.”

“What if it’s like a disease?” you ask, mind starting to spiral with worst case scenarios.

“We’ll be fine,” your minotaur soothes.

“Or some kind of curse.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“Or a—”

“We’ll be fine,” Steve repeats, punctuating each word with a peck to your lips. At once calming your worries and stopping your plummet into anxiety. “Now, can you get around, or do we need to carry you?”

“I—” you pause and dip your chin, “I think I can get it—I got into here alright.” You glance toward Bucky, teeth sinking into your lower lip. “But you can’t laugh. I’m still figuring it out.”

“Never,” Bucky says, squeezing his arms around your waist. “Let’s get to the couch.”

“Good idea,” Steve agrees, “we’ll just take it easy today. See if anything changes.”

You nod and begin your trek to the living room. Arms out to balance as your tail slithers behind you, muscles working to move you across the floor, to keep yourself upright.

Your husbands trail behind you, letting you take your time until you reach your oversized sofa. And Steve’s arms loop under you and scoop you up. His body reclining against the cushions and draping you across him.

You fidget and shift a moment, tucking your tail in just the right way to be comfortable. Lying atop your minotaur and resting your head on his chest. The beat of his heart right under your ear, a pulse that vibrates through you.

And then you’re squished. Bucky draping himself over you both. Wrapping his arms around your waist. Perching to your side. Tail entangling with your own and snaking around Steve’s furry legs.

Your breath hitches. Oh. Whatever instinctual connection in your brain that just hit has you sparkling. You don’t recognize the sound that rolls past your lips. But you do recognize the way your whole body melts into Steve and Bucky. The need that gathers low in your belly.

“Looks like our li’l wifey is starting to enjoy herself,” Steve chuckles, petting his hand along your elongated spine.

“We can help with that,” Bucky enthuses, his claws slipping between your bodies and finding your breasts. “Would you like that?” he asks, sweet and sinful.

Your eyes close, every ounce of effort in restraining yourself from losing your mind completely. Swallowing down a throaty hum of arousal, you reply with a sibilant, “yes.”

And when you wake up the next morning back in your typical body, tangled with your husbands and sore in every best possible way, a small sinful part of you wishes it’ll happen again.

[hungarianshinobi]

Red flag? I'm colorblind - Fushiguro Toji x F!Reader

-Chapter 1 https://www.tumblr.com/hungarianshinobi/781641513633562624/red-flag-im-colorblind-fushiguro-toji-x?source=share

Chapter 2:

(Y/n)'s POV:

I managed to get off the train with that huge suitcase in my hands. I took a look around for any source of my best friend because she told me she would come here to pick me up.

I didn't see her yet, so I decided that until then I would call my mom. I promised her I would call her once I arrived to Tokyo. Though I won't mention to her what happened on the train with those troublemakers. She would only begin to worry about me and ask me to go back home. I didn't want that.

So I dialed her number and waited for her to pick up. Meanwhile I sat on my suitcase and put a finger in my other ear to muffle the noises of the train station and the crowd that surrounded me.

"(Y/n), my honey! How was your journey? Did you arrive safely?" I heard my mom's lovely voice on the other end of the line, causing me to smile.

"Hi mom. Yes. Everything is fine. I am waiting for Anna right now." I told her and took a look around if she was there yet.

"I'm glad you are okay. Don't forget to rest in the evening, alright?"

I opened my mouth to speak when I heard a familiar voice not too far away from me on the right. "(Y/n)!!!" Anna yelled to me as she begun to run towards me.

"Okay, mom. Anna has arrived. I will call you later. Love you." I told her.

"Take care, honey. I love you too." She said and I barely had time to hang up, because Anna jumped on me, causing us to land on the ground.

Fortunately the impact wasn't too big, because I was wearing my backpack which prevented me from hurting myself. "Anna!" I laughed.

"(Y/n), I can't believe that you are finally here!" She said excitedly and climbed off of me, offering her hand for me to help me stand up on my feet as well.

It's been a pretty long time since we last saw each other and I was so glad to see her again. She grabbed one of my bags and we walked out of the train station together towards her car. She told me stories about what I've missed out until now, also flooding about the cool apartment she found for us.

She showed it to me already through a video call, but we all know that cannot compare to reality.

Of course when we were out in the streets I couldn't help but stare around in awe. All those huge skyscapers, the led signs, the enormous crowd and everything else I could only see on pictures and movies up until now was in front of me. I was so excited, because all of it felt unreal. It caused adrenaline rush through my mind and body.

"You look like me when I first came here." Anna laughed, unlocking the trunk to put my belongings into it.

"Why?" I asked, helping her with all the heavy stuff.

"I was as awestruck as you. Tokyo looks like as if it was an another world compared to the small village where we came from." She said, closing the trunk and walking to the driver's seat.

I followed her, sitting in the passenger seat. "Yes. It's so modern. The village is like as if we were stuck in the age of ancient Japan. Even though I like it's traditionality, this is better."

Anna drove off, heading towards our common apartment. On our way I watched my surroundings with a smile that nothing and no one could wipe off my face. The people, the shops, all those tiny and bigger restaurants, booths... sport cars I never saw in reality before. All of it was a dream. Tokyo was lively both at daytime and night. Calling myself excited was an understatement.

About half an hour later we reached a bit quieter part of the town. This region was rather full of apartment buildings. Less bright street lights and much less led signs than in downtown. The neighorhood looked friendly to me.

Anna parked the car in the parking lot, stopping the engine. We both stepped out of the car, grabbed my stuff and begun walking towards one of the buildings. If there weren't any numbers on them as a sign, I would definitely get lost and never find our home again.

My best friend however was living in the town for a while now, so she is definitely used to it and could find anything with her eyes closed too I guess. Probably later I will get used to it as well.

She led the way inside, telling me to code for the door lock of our apartment building which I forget like a moment later.

Just like when somebody tells me their name. We introduce ourselves and I swear to myself I won't forget this time, eventually failing of course. I am as bad with codes as with names. It's a miracle I didn't forget my own name yet.

Anna pushed the button for the elevator, dropping one of my heavy bags down on the ground which landed with a rough thud. "What the hell are you carrying in this? Bricks?" She asked, rubbing her shoulder, feeling a slight of pain due to the weight of my bag.

I begun laughing at her remark sarcastically. "Ha-ha... Very funny. I just brought all my necessary and personal stuff I will need."

A faint sound echoed on the main floor, signaling us that our elevator has arrived. Two unknown people which were probably living in the building as well exited, before we could get inside. Anna pushed the button to the 11th floor and soon the door closed, slowly carrying us up to our desired destination.

Once we were on the floor whereas our apartment was located as well, we exited the elevator and Anna took her keys out of her purse, opening the front door soon.

We dropped everything in the room which is going to be mine. Anna just moved in as well, so the entire place was full of boxes and unorganized stuff, but we will put everything in it's place later. She showed me around and it definitely looked betterin life than on the video call as I mentioned earlier. It was not that big, but for the two of us it will be enough.

I made my way to the kitchen and opened the fridge to look for literally anything that is edible, but it was completely empty, expect for a half bottle of milk and a half eaten tomato.

Much to my disappointment I sighed in defeat, closing the fridge as I turned to Anna. "Guess we are ordering something huh?"

She was already dialing a number and ordered a pizza. That will make it for today, but we will have to go and buy some groceries so we could make and eat proper food. Not that I'm against pizza or something, but I wouldn't want to eat fast food everyday. Besides that it's ridiculously expensive, it's unhealthy as well and I would only gain weight pretty soon...

Me and my insecurities about my body shape doesn't like the idea of junk food either...

Almost an hour passed and the pizza has arrived. Since the television wasn't unpacked as well as many other stuff, we had to rely on Anna's laptop and watched a movie as we ate our lunch... or dinner. It was getting late in the afternoon, so yeah, it was rather dinner.

"We must go out tonight." She suggested, chewing on the huge slice of pizza she took out from the box.

"Ah, no... I should rest for tonight. The train journey was so goddamn long." I whined.

"That's another reason to go out tonight. It's been so long and the guys here are so much hotter than in the village. Please~" she begged me.

I averted my gaze from her when she mentioned guys. She knew it very well that I never had a boyfriend before, so the mere thought of it made me embarassed. She wasn't a dating type either, but at least she knows a bit more about men than me.

"I don't want to go out just because you want to drool for hot guys. If we go out, then at least focus on each other." I suggested. I wasn't too much in the mood to go out, but if it was just a girls only night, I'm okay with it.

Anna sticked her tongue out. "Party pooper. You're so damn innocent. You need someone in your life to break that wall of yours. It's always the innocents who are the most perverted." She remarked, causing me to turn even more embarassed.

Why would she think about such a thing...

She continued. "But maybe you are right. Let's go out and have a girly night like in the old times."

I grinned back at her, remembering all those great times we spent together. Our sleepovers, the hot cocoas, making each others hair and makeup to make a fashion show at home. It was always so fun with her. Perhaps we could repeat it tonight with a small difference because we would actually go out and not stay at home like in the past. There was nothing in that village anyway.

After eating and finishing the movie we watched, we took turns in the bathroom and prepared for tonight. Makeup and other beauty products were spread across the counter and the sink, making a complete mess.

We did each others makeup and hair just like in the past. Anna didn't let me choose my dress though. She said she won't let me go out in my casual clothes, so she chose a dress herself from my suitcase.

"Isn't this too much?" I asked her, looking down at myself. The dress was actually sexy. It was skin tight and my favourite pair of heels matched with it, but I felt like there was too much skin exposed.

"Not at all! You look stunning! You just stay in this." She insisted, causing me to sigh in defeat.

Soon she dressed up too and we were ready to go out. She said she knows a place which I would like too, so we called a cab. She also said she is planning to drink a few rounds, so that's why she won't drive.

During our ride I told her about what happened on the train with those troublemakers and that man who saved me. She was totally hooked on the story, asking millions of questions as I continued speaking. She couldn't leave out the detail about my savior and asked me how he looked.

After we paid for the ride, we walked inside the cafe she was talking about earlier. Though for me it rather looked like a bar, but the vibe of the place was to my liking, she was right about that, so I had no problem with it.

"Well, as far as I can recall he had black hair, he was as tall and muscular as a giant. He looked quite young, but definitely older than us. There was a detail though that surely made his face unique." I told her in a nutshell as we sat down in one of the corners that seemed comfortable.

"Yes yes, what was it?" She was so excited.

"He had a scar on his lip."

I grabbed the menu on the table and scanned it's contents with my eyes, looking for a drink I might like.

"Like him?" Anna asked.

"Hm?" I looked up at her and saw her pointing at something. Or rather someone.

I didn't want to show my surprisement too much, but the gasp that left my lips didn't go unnoticed by Anna.

The man who saved me from those thugs was walking up to the bar, sitting down on of the barstools, wearing a lazy looking outfit which contained of a white shirt and black sweatpants. "Hey Johnny. The usual." he said before looking around the place to see the faces.

And of course he spotted me... A sly smirk appeared on his lips before he grabbed his glass to take a sip from the alcohol he ordered, sending a wink to my direction.

Anna elbowed me and whispered. "He remembers you!"

I'm doomed...

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

End of Chapter 2

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Extra content continuously being uploaded

-Hungarian Shinobi

[kitchenisking]

The Key by aussiebee - (Rating: G, Words: 7,450)

Eligible bachelor Derek Hale has announced that whomever can take the key from around his dog's neck will be the person he marries. Stiles Stilinski think this is utterly ridiculous.

The Moon Gave Me Permission by Melpomene (Aconitehart) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 57,572)

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” Scott says, eyeing Stiles’ fries. “But Derek Hale is back in town. I saw him at the gas station the other day.”

This piques Stiles’ interest. Oh yes it does. Like any good true crime aficionado, Stiles has his favourite case. His pet cold case. His hometown murder. The thing he brings up when he’s tired of small talk and just wants to get real.

The Hale Family Fire and the suicide of Katherine Argent.

Stiles knows this case inside and out. He’s racked up thousands of karma points on reddit for his thoughtful analysis, his pictures of the crime scene, and of his reporting of local gossip. Beacon Hills is a small town, small enough that Stiles is the only one on the Unresolved Mysteries subreddit to have actually seen the burnt out shell in person.

He’ll tell anyone who listens what he finds fascinating about the case. Absolutely no shame. He’s read all of the articles, he’s pestered his father’s deputies for more information, and he’s read every cold case compilation book that so much as mentions it.

No one knows this case like Stiles does.

-

In which Derek Hale is a man with a dark past, and Stiles is completely obsessed with him.

you know you're on my mind by bibliosexual - (Rating: T, Words: 16,371)

If there’s one thing Derek’s learned in life, it’s that crushing on someone who lives on an entire other fucking continent is probably a bad idea.

An Understanding Passed In Silence by cjr  - (Rating: G, Words: 4,464)

It started off as something of a joke. One moment he was talking Scott’s ear off about some homework assignment and Scott made a joke that Stiles couldn’t spend a day without talking if he tried.

A Little Less Conversation by sweetbutterbliss - (Rating: T, Words: 1,316)

From anon on tumblr "A prompt if you are interested. Derek telling Stiles to shut up, like usual, but then, to the surprise of everyone, he does. And continues to do it, never speaking in Derek's presence and asking the pack to warn him when Derek arrives. Derek then needs to find a way to get the spastic kid to START talking."

Desperate by Hedwig221b - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 12,175)

Derek understood perfectly well how young Stiles was. Just how many times did he stop himself from digging his teeth into that lovely neck to claim him?

Maybe, next time he shouldn’t.

The thought, wild and sudden, came to him, and once it did, there was nothing he could do to get rid of it. If he got Stiles pregnant, then the omega would be his. Fully his. They would be bound for life. Stiles wouldn’t refuse the mating bite, then.

Stiles was his omega. Derek would do anything to keep him.

Anything.

dashing through the snow by EvanesDust - (Rating: G, Words: 636)

…or the one where Stiles and Derek created new traditions.

Did You Really Mean It by In_Over_My_Head - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,846)

Looking around the empty loft, Derek reminded himself that he liked to be alone. It wasn’t too quiet with no one there, he repeated to himself for the hundredth time that night. The relief that flooded through him at the sound of his text message chime might have worried him if the message hadn’t been so confusing.

Stiles: you’re beautiful

Derek stared at the message for a minute not sure how to react. His heart raced, palms went a little sweaty, his breathe caught in his lungs, but that was just because he wasn’t used to hearing things like that from Stiles, right? It wasn’t a sign of any sort of emotion on his side. It couldn’t be. He’d squashed that a long time ago. This was Stiles, spastic, skinny, trip on his own shoelaces Stiles. The man that didn’t see Derek in any sort of romantic way and never had. There’s no way he really meant that, right?

5 Times Derek Experiences Sensory Overload + 1 Time Derek Experiences Sensory Joyby Warlock_Nerd - (Rating: G, Words: 5,604)

Derek is Autistic but he hasn’t told anyone in fear of not being taken seriously as an Alpha. Stiles, however, figured it out and made it his mission to help Derek not only for Derek’s Betas but for Derek to finally accept himself.

In other words, Derek has sensory issues and Stiles helps him through each one. :3

Ps - Author is Autistic and sees a lot of Autistic traits in Derek :3

Like Clockwork by quackquackcey - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6,111)

In which Stiles meets a handsome higher-up in his company by chance one afternoon and falls for him, hard.~ 💘

[lucydixon]

Match my Freak

GIF crafted by @sweet-dr3amer

This one's a little weird and unsettling, but I like it. It's not quite smut and open to interpretation. Warning: Self-harm, blood, blood kink?

On the night of Mayhem’s first show with Pelle, you’d been standing in the audience when he slashed his wrists on stage. The warm sticky blood had splattered across the side of your face, and you’d gasped, somewhere between surprise and delight. 

This was the kind of thing that drove you towards black metal gigs. 

You had yet to find any place else where throwing a pig head into the crowd was met with cheers as opposed to horrified screams. 

The band continued playing while their front man staggered around, still growling into the mic. 

That was really the only word you could think of to describe the sounds he was making. 

Growling. 

It was so low that you could feel the vibration of his voice deep in your chest. 

You were fixated on him and the blood pouring out of his arms. The stage lighting made it look black. The blue and red lights reflected off the droplets as they spilled onto the stage floor. 

Your thoughts drifted from the music to what it would be like to climb on stage and run your finger along his skin, gathering a good amount of blood before popping it in your mouth. You pictured your tongue swirling around it, eager to get every last drop. 

It had been some time since you’d had someone else’s blood in your mouth. Too long. 

He was losing quite a bit of it. 

Wasting it. 

You licked your lips and tasted iron. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you inhaled sharply, running your tongue over your bottom lip. You couldn’t help the groan that fell from your lips, not that anyone could have possibly heard it over the music. You hadn’t even really heard it, so much as you’d felt the vibration of your vocal cords on the exhale. 

When you opened your eyes, you were staring up at him, a little startled by the eye contact. 

The music had stopped, and the crowd was roaring, but the two of you were locked in some kind of silent staring contest. 

You thought for a moment that he’d seen you lick the blood from your lips and was freaked out, but then you saw a glimmer of what almost looked to you like understanding. It was like he was staring into your soul and could see every fucked up thing you’d done and thought, but didn’t look troubled by it whatsoever. 

He had to tear his gaze away to walk off stage, but he looked over his shoulder twice. 

You took that as permission to wander backstage. 

By the time you’d weaved your way through the crowd and slipped in through the back of the venue, spilling into the backstage area, Someone had wrapped electrical tape around his arms in an attempt to stop the bleeding. 

There were a few people milling around. The band was packing up their equipment while chatting with what you could only assume was a group of their friends. 

He was standing off to the side, watching the door as if he’d been waiting for you. 

He straightened when he saw you, swaying a little from the blood loss, and you wasted no time crossing the room to stand right in front of him. 

You didn’t steady him. 

Didn’t touch him, or open your mouth to speak. 

You just stood there, less than a foot between the two of you, and stared up into his eyes. He seemed a little startled, but not uncomfortable with your proximity. If anything, he looked intrigued. 

Your gaze dropped down to his arms, then back up to his eyes as you reached out for one of them, silently asking permission. He wasn’t sure why he felt so eager to comply, but he let you take his arm and inspect the brutal wounds. 

You turned it over gently and used your free hand to gather some of the fresh blood seeping from under the tape on the pad of your finger. He watched, mesmerized, as you looked into his eyes and popped your blood-covered finger into your mouth. 

He inhaled sharply, unsure if he was afraid or turned on. 

The way his dick twitched in his pants had him convinced it was the latter. 

Neither of you had to exchange a word. 

You nodded towards the back door, eyes glimmering with mischief, and he started walking immediately.

The two of you stepped out into the cool night air, tingling with excitement, and found yourselves standing in an alley. Grimy and dingy, it smelled faintly of piss and cheap beer.  

You went for his arm again, and this time, you ran your tongue directly over the skin, lapping up whatever non-congealed blood you could access around the tape. 

A shaky moan fell from his lips as he watched you, entranced by your strange and unsettling nature. He was completely and utterly enamoured by you. 

He could faintly hear the boys calling out to him, probably looking for him, but he didn’t care. Tuned it out entirely, especially once you’d looked up at him, blood smeared all around your mouth and dribbling down your chin. 

Pelle had never initiated a kiss with a girl in his entire life. He’d kissed a few, but when it came down to it, it was never him leaning in at the beginning. 

He was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to kiss you. 

You looked like you’d let him, too. 

Any doubt he had was squashed when you tilted your head back as if you were waiting for him to do just that, licking your lips and moaning softly when your tongue caught a loose drop of blood. 

He couldn’t stop himself. 

Pelle ducked down and pressed his mouth to yours hard, immediately able to taste his blood on you. His lips parted and welcomed your tongue, snaking its way into his mouth, groaning at the feeling of swapping blood-covered spit. 

Before he could get too lost in the kiss, you were pulling away. 

You flashed him your teeth and pecked him on the lips one last time before leaving him standing there, watching you walk down the alley and disappear around the corner. 

“Dead!” Euronymous shouted just as the metal door slammed open. “What the fuck are you doing out here? We’ve been calling you.” 

“There was a girl.” He breathed, still staring in the direction you’d gone. “We were kissing.” 

Pelle’s bandmate looked at him like he’d lost his damn mind. 

“You’ve got blood all over your mouth,” He pointed out, barking out a startled laugh “Were you licking your arm, you sick fuck?” 

“No,” Pelle looked at him finally, eyes slightly widened, “She did.” 

“Sure, she did.” Euronymous waved him inside, looking like he didn’t believe him.

“She did!” 

“Did you find him?” Someone called from inside. 

“Yeah.” The Guitarist chuckled, shaking his head, “He was making out with a ghost!” 

Pelle frowned, wondering for a second if he was right.

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[bluebellwren]

I love animals, but it's shockingly rare for me to see one that makes me go 'OH you belong in our family'

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘! ❞

❝ COME ON, FUCK ME, EMO BOY!! ❞

✧ pairing: emo boy! choso kamo x f!reader ✧ summary: saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? ✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, emo boy! choso, sex toys (vibrators, clit sucker), multiple orgasms, semi-exhibitionism, public sex (sex in the back of hot topic, sex in a changing room), fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), big dick choso (but honey, that dick was 11 inches), also mahito + yuji make appearances, art by @/SS_utr3n. ✧ wc: 5.3K

It had been a while since you had stepped into a Hot Topic (a while meaning three days or three years, take your pick). But this had been the third time this week you had been to this specific Hot Topic, and now you were sure the manager of the place had your badly taken picture and description scrawled in some notebook as a potential shoplifter. 

But it wasn’t the merchandise you were looking to pick up. 

It was him. 

You saw him when you were browsing the clearance rack, knelt down, evaluating whether you needed another blind box item that will inevitably not contain the character you were looking for (but on the plus side, it was on sale?), when you heard a deep voice speak. 

“Excuse me,” you glance up as you spot him — and you swear your breath gets stuck somewhere between your windpipe and your lungs, because you don’t breathe while this man kneels down next to you to place more items on clearance. Spiky black locks tied up messily on either side, fringe bangs falling in front of his face as he bent down, a tattoo across the bridge of his nose and was that — dark purple eyeshadow around his eyes — and his eyes — god, his eyes were gorgeous, a deep dark brown — and you swore, was that a hint of purple in his irises? 

He was everything that your teen self had wanted — the same guys whose profiles you had looked at growing up and thought were so hot. You caught a glance at the My Chemical Romance t-shirt as he stood, in black jeans, as he catches you staring, “Can I help you find something?” His tone was casual, but he was curious — probably curious why you were staring at him with wide-eyed saucers. 

“No, no, sorry, I—” no, don’t tell the hot Hot topic worker that he is hot — first of all its confusing, second of all— “I just wanted to say, I like your t-shirt,” 

Fuck. out of all the things to say — I like your style, I like your fit, I like your hair — you had to pick the most generic ass comment. 

He only nods, but you catch the barest upward twitch of the corner of his lip, “thanks,” 

And that’s all it took — you now needed to see him smile. 

Over the next few days innocently shopping at Hot Topic, you find out his name is Choso from one of the other workers, Mahito, calling his name. His hair is usually in those buns, but one of the days his hair was down, and you heard him complain that his hair ties had snapped. 

And his hair looked so good down, his long inky locks fell past his shoulders, but this was your chance to talk to him — “i have some extra hair ties, if you want them,” you offer him a few hair ties, “I overheard you talking with the other worker, I hope you don’t mind,” 

And he shakes his head, his lips quirked in that almost smile that makes your heart squeeze. 

Fuck. 

“Not at all, thank you,’ and his fingers brush yours as he takes the hair ties, and you turn to leave, but his voice stops you, “what was your name? I didn’t catch it last time,” 

You tell him, smiling, “Your name is Choso, right? I saw it on your nametag,” and he’s biting his lip, tilting his head in question, as you flush, cheeks burning, “I’ve noticed you a couple times when I’ve come in— not in a weird way, I just—” 

“I’ve noticed you too,” and finally he’s smiling — and you know he’s got you, you know you’re fucked. 

And you do get fucked — in the back of Hot Topic during his break. 

It had been a few weeks of you two talking and flirting, until finally, during his break he’s got you snuck into the back to show you the merchandise they haven’t put out yet. And you scoff when you come across a bullet vibrator, “you guys sell these?” 

He shrugs, “They started to in the last few years, not a lot. They don’t want the parents to become too outraged, but just enough,” And you snort, turning the bullet over in your fingers curiously, “have you never used one before?” 

And your cheeks burn, as you bite your lip, “No I never have,” and the next question stumbles out as a joke, “why? Wanna help me learn?” And you want to bite your tongue, but you’re too busy with the foot in your mouth to do so, and before you can apologize he speaks. 

“I would,” 

And your eyes snap to his, and you realize how close he’s standing, his eyes not filled with humor but something else — lust? — and his lips curled in a small smile. 

Fuck. 

“You’re gonna have to be a little quieter, love,” he’s murmuring in your ear, pressing kisses to your neck, as you’re pressed between his firm chest and the metal storage rack, fingers laced as you held on, the vibration between your thighs the only thing ringing in your ears. 

But how can you be quiet? 

The bullet vibrator is pressed right against your clit, and his thick fingers are parting your folds, so close to sinking into you, his deep voice whispering in your ear, hot breath against your neck. 

And the coil in your stomach is only growing tighter and tighter, and your squeals only grow more and more insistent. His fingers sunk into your mouth, “suck,” he ordered, and your cunt twitches at the demand, as you do, sucking and licking messily on his fingers, “good girl,” 

And he clicks the button of the vibrator again, increasing the vibration, making your eyes widen, a gasp around his fingers, “so responsive,” he groans, as your legs grow weak, and he’s stepping forward to steady you, but it also settles his dick between your ass. 

He’s huge. 

The bulge presses into you, drawing a hiss from his lips as you lean back against it, “Trying to tease me, sweetheart?” And he’s pulling his fingers from his mouth, a string of spit connecting from his fingers to your lips, “don’t forget who’s teaching you,” and he sinks his spit soaked fingers into your needy cunt, making your back arch into his body, “so tight, despite the vibrator,” he hums.

“Choso, please—” and he starts to fuck his fingers in and out, the squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears mixing with the buzz of the vibrator — you’re already so close, “I'm—” 

“Cum for me,” he’s grunting, as his fingers reach even deeper inside you, dragging against your walls as he curls them, finding that one spot that has you seeing stars. And your moan as you cum is stifled against your own palm, as he only maxes out the vibration and fucks you through your orgasm, “one more for me, pretty, you can do it,” 

“No, no, Choso, please too much, can’t—” and he only presses sweet kisses to your neck, and how are you already close — you just had orgasmed, but the coil in your stomach is growing tighter by the second, and you’re nearly crying when you cum again, your slick dripping down his fingers and the vibrator as he eases it from you, and then splatters onto the dirty tile floor of the backroom of Hot Topic.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he’s tilting your head back and around for a kiss. And you catch a glimpse of the glint of your release on his black painted nails as he presses the pads into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his digits and sucking them clean, “that’s it, clean up your mess f’me,” and his other hand is wiping the tears from your eyes, “so pretty when you cry — can’t wait to make you do it again.”

Your cunt twitches at the thought, your cum still dripping down your thighs, “Again?” and he’s pressing another sinful kiss to your lips, “You didn’t think this would be our only lesson, did you?” 

And it wasn’t — the next lesson was spent in the fitting rooms, during a particular dead early afternoon in the store — and he had you spread on the fitting room bench, your black jeans pulled down to your ankles, as his head found its way between your thighs. You could barely hold back your whimpers as he pressed all too hot kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, burning already with his warm breath. It was too much. 

He was too much. 

“How’s that feel?” dark eyes flicking up to meet yours, half lidded with lust, as he watches your panting face, your head against the wall of the fitting room, “use your words, love,” 

“Too good, Cho-so,” the last syllable of his names escapes your lips in a gasp, as your cunt twitches as his lithe fingers tease you through the soaked material of your panties, “please, please, need you,” 

“What do you need?” and his fingers pull away, as his lips press a kiss to your puffy clit, pulling a whine from you, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Please, just—” and he’s tugging your panties aside, cool air rushing over your all too hot pussy, “please just touch me — with your fingers or mouth—” 

And his tongue drags over your messy cunt, and god, it feels too good — but a twinge makes you pause, and when you feel it draw a circle around your clit, you realize what it is — he has a tongue piercing. Your fingers thread their way in his black locks, resisting the urge to grab at his hair buns. 

He grunts, vibrations against your wet cunt, as you pull him impossibly closer to where you needed him most, his nose bumping against your clit, “you smell so good — how’s that possible?” and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press your thighs further apart. 

That’s when you both hear the click of the entrance, and the door swinging shut — shit, the door — he forgot to lock it. Forgot when you had pulled him into a kiss right when he was ready to take a lunch break, all other thoughts had flown out of his brain once he let those doors swing shut and your lips had met his — well, left his brain and flooded southward. He also didn’t think a customer would be persistent enough to try the door and wander in when the doors were shut and the closed sign was hung up. 

“Choso, should we—” and the footsteps draw closer — and fuck — did you get wetter? And tighter — his moan is muffled against your walls, “Choso, stop, we—” 

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, dark, half lidded eyes look up at you, your essence and his spit soaking his lips and dripping down his chin. And the footsteps are receding, the sounds of the shuffling and clinking of clothes hangers on racks in the distance, but all you can hear are the sounds of the wet, needy squelch of your cunt, “you aren’t being honest — but you are down here,” and his lips find your clit, sucking lightly, making your head jerk back, “want them to know how good I make you feel,” his lips leave your clit with a small pop, before murmuring against the soft skin of your thigh, “be quiet for me, baby,” and his tongue slips back into your cunt. 

He’s nearly slurping your juices up, his tongue tasting every inch of you, deliciously dragging against your twitching walls with his piercing, as your toes curl and your mouth parts in a muffled moan, one hand clamped over your mouth, and the other digging into his scalp. How could the person not hear you? How couldn’t they hear the wet squelch of your cunt as Choso fucked it with his tongue? How couldn’t they hear your badly swallowed moans and the sounds of your heart pounding out of your chest — and if they did, they certainly didn’t care enough to stop browsing through the fucking store. 

And you’re close, so fucking close, and you don’t hear the footsteps drawing close to the fitting rooms because your ears only can hear the wet suck of his mouth against your clit or the press of his tongue in and out of your folds, your thighs twitching under his grasp, fingers pressed into your flesh, “Choso, I’m so—” 

“Cum f’me, need to feel you cum around my tongue,” he sucks on your clit hard, teeth grazing the sensitive spot, and you cum, hard, your hand forsaking your lips to find purchase on his head, squirting all over his face as you did, soaking him along with the bench of the fitting room. And you can’t help the whimpers and moans that left your lips, as he lapped up your release without a care. 

And you slump against the wall of the fitting room, body still buzzing from your orgasm, as he finally pulls his tongue out, glancing up at you. Your chest heaves as you watch him lick your cum from his lips and chin, before wiping the rest away, and your eyes drift downward to the erection he was palming. And your fingers unconsciously reach for it, when your hear a door slam shut making your both jump. 

You cover your mouth — the customer, and Choso’s eyes meets yours, as the two of you break out in a laugh, “Fucking lock the door next time,” you sigh, covering your burning face with your hands, as Choso chuckles, lips curled in a smile.

“So there’s going to be a next time?” he tilts his head, and you flush. 

How could he go from eating you out like a desperate man without water to this innocent puppy? “Not if you don’t lock the door,” 

“It’s their fault for coming in when the doors were closed and there was a sign that said closed in big letters on the door,” and you shake your head, as he draws closer, “now, I have twenty minutes of lunch left — so where were we?” 

And you push him towards the changing room door, “Go lock the door first,” and he relents, chuckling. 

“Just for that, I’m going to look for the clit sucker I couldn’t find before.” 

~~~~

The two of you had fallen into a pattern. 

And you had become a regular at Hot Topic. You hung around him as he stocked the shelves, did inventory, price re-labeling, and even as he spoke to customers. You watched other customers speak to Choso, even flirt with him, but he never cracked a smile. Two girls were very persistent, but they deflated as he walked away after answering their questions, brushing past you, his hand brushing against your ass discreetly. Heat rushes to your cheeks, your head snapping to him as his lips curl when your eyes catch his gaze. But even so…

You still were just as clueless of where you stood with him as you were when this started. 

“You two have been pretty hot and heavy lately, huh?” you nearly jump out of your skin, as Mahito smiles knowingly at you, leaning against the counter with a shiteating grin. 

“What are you—” 

“Please, like we don’t know what goes on in the back during breaks?” he raises an eyebrow, as you bite your lip, “plus, never have I seen that gloomy guy smile, much less as much he does with you,” 

“Really?” your eyes find him again, as he crouches and lines up blind boxes on one of the shelves — but you can’t help the nagging question circling in the back of your mind — why hasn’t he asked you out yet? The two of you have hooked up, in and out of the store, but he still hadn’t asked you on a date. Even in the last few weeks, the two of you hadn’t even spent any real time together, except for your visits to the store -- he hasn't even taken you into the back. For all you know, you’re one of many people he’s bedding. Even if he doesn’t seem the type. 

“What? Trouble in paradise?” Mahito pulls you from your thoughts, head tilted and all too eager, “what’s wrong?” 

“No, it’s—“ he cuts you off with a look, and you relent with a slight pout, “he just hasn’t asked me out yet, I’m just wondering what he’s thinking—“ 

“Well, I definitely don’t think he’s seeing anyone else,” he hums, “but he does tend to go straight home a lot when you’re not around. Maybe something is going on at home?” And then he’s pushing you towards him, “no time like the present to find out,” 

“Mahito—“ 

“Choso! How about you and your favorite regular go for a quick walk and get us some drinks from the food court?” He grins, offering some money,  “be a doll, won’t you?” 

Choso sighs, “Fine,” and he brushes past you, taking the cash, before glancing back at you, “you coming?” 

You glance between the two of them, before following him out of the store. You both walk in relative silence, slipping past customers, as you reach the food court. Choso orders, paying with the cash Mahito gave, as he passes you one of the drinks, “Choso, can I ask you something?” 

His eyes slide to you, “Of course,” and god, his eyes stop your thoughts in their tracks — he’s so unfairly gorgeous, funny, sweet — you didn’t want to screw this up. You open your mouth to speak when you hear a voice. 

“Big bro, that you?” A rush of pink hair and energy is wrapped around Choso all of a sudden, “I didn’t think you got off until later,” it’s a teen boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, his arm wrapped around Choso, and a varsity jacket on — this was Choso’s brother?

Choso cracked his rare smile, “I don’t get off until later, Yuji, but I came to grab a drink for Mahito,” and Yuji’s gaze slides to you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,” he smiles a thousand watt smile, “I’m Yuji Itadori, Choso’s brother,” and he’s glancing between you and his brother, before his mouth falls into an ‘o,’ “are you his girlfriend?” 

“Yuji—“ Choso starts, a hint of a blush across his cheeks, as you stifle a laugh, “I thought you said you were going to study at home with Fushiguro.” 

“I wanted to see you when your shift got off — I thought we could have dinner together,” Yuji pouts, and Choso cracks in an instant, his lips curling. 

This boy had his brother wrapped around his finger. 

“Ok, but don’t goof off. Make sure to study,” and Yuji nods. 

“Nice to meet you,” and he leans in to whisper, “treat my brother good, ok?” And you flush, before nodding, as Choso raises an eyebrow, out of earshot. 

“I will,” 

“Cho, tell Mahito to fuck off for me,” and he’s off again, gone as fast as he came.

“Sorry about that,” Choso sighs, still a smile on his lips as he watches his brother in the distance, claiming one of the food court tables for himself and his friend, as he sits down next to a black haired boy, assumedly Fushiguro, “didn’t know Yuji would be here,” 

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” and he bites his lip. 

“It’s relatively new — we’re half brothers, but he just came back into my life. He doesn’t really have any other biological family. His grandfather just passed, and he’s staying with a teacher whose decided to foster him,” the two of you begin to walk back to the store, his gaze fixed downwards at the tacky mall carpeting, “he’s been staying with me for the last few weeks, while his foster father went on a vacation to Malaysia,” 

And now the pieces were clicking into place, “And that’s why you’ve been going home a lot lately,” and his dark eyes find yours with a tilt of his head, “I mean, you just haven’t had a lot of time lately,” you can’t meet his gaze, “it must be a lot to have a teenager staying with you.” 

“Yeah, he eats everything in the house, and he’s staying in my living room, which leaves little in the way of privacy,” and you can still feel the prickle of his gaze on you, “but I could use a break,” and you finally look and see a soft expression on his face, the same insecurity you had reflected in his gaze. 

No time like the present, right?

“Well, should we maybe go on a date?” and his cheeks flush a pretty red, all the way to the tips of his ears, “we’ve done plenty of other things that a couple would do, like—” 

And he’s shaking his head, “I know, I know!” he’s the one who can’t meet your eyes now, chewing his lip, “I’d like that — I get off my shift tonight at eight, I told Yuji we’d hang out, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind postponing—” 

“We can always do it tomorrow, I don’t want to keep you from your brother,” and his lips curl into a smile, “he’s a good kid,” 

“He is,” and his fingers find yours again, “I can tell Mahito that I’ll lock up tonight, and maybe after I do, we could—” 

“Have another lesson?” 

And eight o’clock rolls around far too slow, but Choso definitely isn’t moving slow when it’s only the two of you. 

He’s pulling you into the back again, the door swinging shut behind the two of you, his fingers tight around your wrists as he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, forcing your lips to part with a gasp, his tongue flicking against yours. The smooth surface of his piercing grazes against your tongue. 

And his fingers find the back of your neck, deepening the kiss impossibly, as his other hand slips down the curves of your body, pulling you against him, his clothed cock brushing against your aching cunt. 

Fuck. You had almost forgotten how big he was. 

And when you hear the zipper of his black jeans, you nearly melt against him, “Choso, please—” 

“I have to get you ready first, love,” his fingers find their way to the front of your jeans and undo the button, tugging the fabric down to your ankles. Cool air raises goosebumps across your skin, the pads of his fingers press against the wet patch of your panties, and he’s groaning, “but maybe I don’t,” 

“Fuck, so wet for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, as he’s walking you backwards, into one of the racks, his fingers press into the soft flesh of your thighs. And two fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, joining your jeans, pooling around your ankles, “nearly ready now, but I still have to loosen you up,” his fingers tease your outer lips, dripping with your release. 

One of his finger’s slips in with practiced ease, making your hips jolt against his hand, your fingers curling around the metal bars of the rack in front of you. His finger was so much thicker and longer than yours, his digit toyed with your walls, teasing and stretching until he drew a soft groan from your lips. He was the only one who could make you this desperate, his lips pressed against your neck, the heat from his body has your mind reeling with pleasure. 

“Mmm, Choso, more—" and he’s adding another finger inside your still all too tight entrance, making you whimper, as the intrusion is all too much after a few weeks of not having him inside you. 

“So greedy,” he murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears, “you’re practically sucking me in, but it’s still not enough for you, is it?” his tongue drags against the outer shell of your ear, his piercing against your skin, before his mouth envelops your earlobe and sucks. 

His fingers are fucking you open, your eyes screwed shut as the tips brush against that spot, heat flooding your body. And you don’t hear the shuffling of his other hand through a box, until you hear the sound of sucking, “Choso—“ and he’s pressing the sucker against your clit, your mouth falling open as pleasure rips up your spine, the sucking sensation with the lewd noises of your pussy being finger fucked is too much. 

You cum all over his hand, your hand clamping over your mouth so no one hears your moans — and your legs quake as you come down from your high, as he eases his fingers from you, “so pretty,” he murmurs, and you can feel his dark, lidded eyes on your drenched cunt, watching your sticky release cling to his fingers, purple painted nails glinting in the low light. 

And he’s leaning forward, kissing down your back, as he turns you around gently, so your back is pressed against the rack. You kick off your underwear and pants. You’re still panting, chest rising and falling as his fingers press to your chin, lifting it so you meet his gaze, as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum. Heat pools again, as his fingers undo the leather belt and he’s tugging his jeans and black boxers down to his knees, his erection springs out, slapping against his stomach. 

Your mouth runs dry. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought. 

Ten inches? No, maybe eleven. How was that even possible? That shit would break you — but fuck — your cunt twitches — you kind of want it to break you. 

“Like what you see, Princess?” you lick your lips in response, and in a trance, your fingers are reaching for him, curling around the base before you slowly start to pump him. You’re rewarded with a moan, a noise that goes straight to your cunt, as your fingers move faster, trying to find the right rhythm. Pre-cum leaks from the top, as you tease his tip, before stroking back up the length of it. 

And he’s a beautiful mess, his pale features flushed a gorgeous red, as he presses his hand against his mouth so his moans wouldn’t resonate. And his pre-cum drips all over your fingers, slipping down your wrist even, as you lean forward to lick it off your own skin, while you meet his gaze. 

His head lolls back, eyes screwed shut now, and your fingers drift to his sack, stroking and teasing while your lips find the tip, sucking lightly before your tongue drags over the length of his cock. And god, he’s going to blow his load now, if you keep doing that, from the way his hips rock against your touch. 

His fingers weave into your hair, nails digging into your scalp, “Baby, ngh, it’s too good—fuck—” he’s so close, twitching in your mouth as you suck him from tip to base, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, “shit, I can’t—” and you suck hard on his cock, massaging his balls, and he’s gone — he’s pumping his cock into your mouth as his cum spurts down your throat, as you swallow it all too greedily. You pull away with a pop, a string of cum and saliva connecting you to his dick still, before you wipe it away. 

He’s leaning against the rack, chest heaving as he watches you with lust blown out eyes, sweat sheen on his face, “Haa, baby, s’good f’me,” and somehow he’s still hard, as you rise to your feet, thighs pressed together, your eyes fixed on his cock, “you don’t have to—” 

And he’s still so sweet — his eyebrows knit together as he’s examining you with concern, but you’re only shaking your head, as you press a sweet kiss to his lips, “I need you, Choso, please,” and he’s nodding, lips meeting yours in a heady kiss that steals your breath, and he’s made you brace yourself against the rack, fingers curled around the cool metal. 

Your folds are exposed to him, slick and dripping, even wetter than before, “You liked sucking me off that much, love?” he murmurs, kissing your neck, before he’s dragging the tip of his cock against your needy cunt, “I’ll go slow,” he assures you, as you nod. 

He’s sinking into you inch by inch — and not even halfway, you already feel like you’re ready to burst, “So big, Choso, I—” and he’s murmuring quiet reassurances, as he’s parting your folds, the pain drawing a gasp from your lips, as he finally bottoms out. 

“S’good, baby, so tight,” he’s moaning, You’re taking deep breaths, pain ebbing with each second that passes. Choso pressing sweet kisses to your neck, his hands slipping under your shirt to tease your perked nipples, mixing pain with pleasure. Tears burn at your tear ducts, as you breathe shaky breaths, and finally pain ebbs away, and pleasure grows in its place.

“S’full, so big,” you pant, growing more needy by the second, he’s reaching places you’d only dreamt of — his leaking tip kissing your cervix, “move, p-please—ah!” 

And he does as you say, pulling ever so slowly out before pushing back in, grunting as he does as your tight cunt adjusts to his size and length — bullying your insides in a way no toy could ever compare to. You swear you can feel every inch, every curve, every vein as he rocks into you. 

“So pretty f’me,” he’s moaning, stifled by his bitten lip, as your walls only seem to pull him back deeper each time he pulls out,  “so perfect, take me so well,” he’s murmuring, as he teases your tits between his thumb and forefinger, “pretty cunt made just for me, isn’t that right, Princess?” 

“Yes, yes, Choso,” and his pace only grows faster, just as his groans grow louder. 

“No one else can fuck you like this, make you feel this good, can’t wait to feel you cummin’ around me,” he’s panting, his fingers tweaking your nipples, squeezing, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously again and again, “feels s’good, so wet and warm for me—” his hand comes down on your ass now, making you gasp, your cunt squeezing around him. 

Drool slips from your mouth, as you get closer and closer to cumming — the telltale flutter of your walls, “Choso, I’m coming, I can’t—” 

“Cum for me, let me fill you up,” and his fingers reach around to press a vibrator to your clit, and you’re cumming, falling apart on his cock, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. The squelch of your cunt and the way you squeeze him has him falling apart, spurting and painting your walls. 

The two of you slump forward, your legs nearly buckling, as you cling to the rack, before he’s easing both of you back onto a bench in the stock room. Your quiet pants fill the silence of the room, as he eases himself out, groaning as you both watch your mixed releases leak out of your cunt. 

“I don’t think I can walk after that,” and he chuckles in your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you,” and you laugh, his favorite noise in the world, as you slowly turn, making him groan as your soaked pussy grinds against his dick. 

“So then you can lift me up when I drop it?” your lips are curled in that same smile that had him hypnotized from the moment he saw it, and he can only reply with a bruising kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, as you sunk yourself onto his dick again. 

God. He needed to buy you tickets to Warped Tour. 

~~~

The next time you show up to Hot Topic, you weren’t showing up to buy any merchandise. 

“Hey emo boy!” you call out, making Choso turn with a smile on his lips — the one especially reserved for you. 

“Hi baby,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, his arm around your waist, “I’m almost done. I just have to punch out.” 

You lean in, words whispered against his ear, “And then you’re gonna come fuck me?” 

You were picking up your boyfriend. 

He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist, before kissing you again, “You know I will.” 

note: i couldn't find who made this incredible art that i used after searching and searching, so if anyone knows, please let me know so i can credit them above in the description. this fic has been a long time coming since that silly blurb i wrote after watching one too many thirst edits of choso. edit: i found the artist: its @/SS_utr3n on twt!!!

tag list: @uroldall, @jlovesfrogs, @existential54321, @staryukis, @samistars, @chosoilysm, @astroholic, @emii4evr, @rose1238, @butterflieskeepcominback, @divinely-yourz, @fishii28, @seresukuin, @misalsmistake, @xkaidaxxxx, @cappric, @famebydefinition, @theatergeek, @sousblogga, @averagelonelypotato, @timesnewreader, @chrvstxl, @darylthekidd, @merelydaydreaming, @notafan77, @naughtygobbo, @smiley-babe, @butterflieskeepcominback, @entirelytoooobsessed, @acenanxious

[kiyoomiee]

part one. part two. part three. part four.

boxer!sukuna who’s a menace in and out of the ring. Even with a bit of blood on his face, he didn’t hesitate to wink and point a finger at you when they finally announced that he’s the champion for match.

He didn’t even bother to wait for his heavyweight championship belt, he got out of the ring and went straight to where you were.

boxer!sukuna who forgets that all eyes were on him as he lifted you up and hugged you. The Sukuna, letting everyone see this side of him all because of you.

“I’m so proud of you ‘kuna.” You buried your face on his neck. You were avoiding the blinding lights of camera flashes, getting all red and shy under Sukuna’s hold.

“Sukuna! How do you feel now that you’ve won the championship again?”

“How did you prepare yourself for this season?”

“Are you in a relationship?”

“Sukuna! Tell us something about her!”

The reporters threw questions left and right. But Sukuna only smiled, his eyes still locked on you.

“She’s the girl I’ve been obsessed with for so long, and I plan to make her mine.”

boxer!sukuna who can’t get his hands off of you during his celebratory dinner party. His large palm alternated between touching your thigh and your waist, grinning as he saw you blush.

“Stop it Ryo.” You whispered against his ear when his fingers crept up higher on your thigh.

“Ryo? That’s a new one baby.” Fuck, he loves it when you give him nicknames.

“You’re drunk aren’t you? You’re gonna forget about this in the morning.”

“Not drunk, ‘m just so in love with you.” You saw how his pupils dilated as he stared at your lips.

Weirdly enough, he hasn’t initiated anything more and always stuck with touching you even during your date with him.

You can’t get that day out of your head. Sukuna spared no expense just to make everything perfect. He even reserved an entire restaurant just so he could have you all to himself that night.

“Sukuna, why haven’t you tried to kiss me yet?” You asked as your eyes went from his eyes down to his lips.

Noticing your little act, he licked his lower lip before he answered-

“Because it won’t end with just kissing. Plus, I’m trying to be respectful until you get comfortable with me.” His ears turned red as he looked away.

You did it. You had the Ryōmen Sukuna shy and flustered under your gaze.

“So you don’t want to kiss me?” He looked back at you with a scowl.

“Fuck baby, are you kidding? I wanted to kiss you since the day we met.”

“Hmm, should I let you kiss me though?” You drew circles on his thigh using your nails to tease him.

His hand touched your chin while his other arm captures your waist to pull you closer against him. Then he does something you’d never expect, he begs.

“Please let me kiss you, baby. Been wanting it for so long.”

With your nod of approval, he wasted no time and went straight in. Finally, feeling your lips against his made him groan. You gasped when you felt his hand on your thigh, trying to find the outline of your panties as a payback for teasing him. He used that chance to dive his tongue in your mouth.

Your body felt hot all over. Giving into his touch, you wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. How you managed to fight back your desire for him for so long, you’d never know.

It was clear that Sukuna savored the feeling of your lips against his so much, that you had to push against his chest just so you could breath.

“Damn you Sukuna, let me breathe.” You panted against him.

Not listening to your words, he gives you a peck one more time and finishes with a chaste kiss against the pulse point under your ear.

“We need to leave.” The urgency in his tone left you confused.

“What? Why?”

“It’s your fault baby. I tried to warn you that it won’t end with a kiss.”

“But it’s your party, we can’t just leave!”

“Trust me, we have to leave or I’ll fucking come in my pants. Plus, the paparazzi already has enough pictures of us kissing.” You were sure the two of you will be in front of the headlines once again.

“But I like kissing you.” You pouted.

“Then let’s go home right now baby. You’ll love me after you spend the night in my bed.”

[beloveds-embrace]

(a low-effort, self-indulgent post about 141 x sunshine reader with a love for flowers <3)

Moving to a military town had been a gamble. You weren’t military, had no family in the service, and you had no real reason to pick this particular place other than the fact that it was safe, stable, and quiet. The houses were affordable, the people were friendly enough, and you figured you could make a home here. Besides, you were far enough from the base to avoid their early morning drills but close enough to still feel secure.

And it was nice. Really, it was.

The town had its charm. It was small, orderly, and filled with people who were either part of the military or had long grown used to living in the shadow of it.

You just hadn’t expected it to be so… plain.

Everything was muted, designed for practicality rather than beauty. Row after row of beige houses, identical porches, yards that were neat but uninspired. It felt more like a barracks than a town, and you knew you wouldn’t last long surrounded by such monotony.

So, you changed it.

Within a week of moving in, your porch was transformed into a floral wonderland. Ivy and jasmine vines trailed along the railings, hanging baskets, overflowed with cascading petunias, swung from the beams, and the front steps were lined with carefully arranged potted blooms. Roses, marigolds, lavender- anything that could inject some color and life into the dull uniformity of the street.

And the town noticed.

It started small- passersby slowing down, lingering in front of your house, knocking to ask if they can take pictures. Then came the comments at the local market.

“Did you see the new house on [] Street? The one covered in flowers?”

“I thought I was dreaming- looked like something out of a storybook!”

“Oh, that’s her place. She’s always out there, tending to them. Such a sweet thing, always smiling.”

And then came the soldiers.

One morning, while you were watering your newest additions- lilies this time- a group of soldiers on their way to base slowed in front of your house. Their conversation died off, replaced by muttered confusion.

“Didn’t know we had a damn botanical garden in town.” One of them said, adjusting the strap of his gear bag.

“Are those-” Another squinted at your newest arrangement. “Does she change them?”

“She does,” a woman in the group confirmed; you had seen her before, you were sure. “Saw her planting new ones last week. Honestly, it’s nice.”

You smiled to yourself, pretending not to notice as they carried on their way.

But it didn’t stop there.

Another soldier stopped during his run, hands on his hips as he took in your porch. “Hell of a setup.” He commented, glancing at you.

“Thank you!” You beamed, wiping your dirt-streaked hands on your shorts. “Wouldn’t want the town looking too drab, now would we?”

His lips twitched. “Well, you’re succeeding.”

More and more soldiers began to take notice. Some just passed by with lingering glances, others stopped to admire the work. A few even asked for gardening advice- one particularly flustered private admitted he wanted to impress his girlfriend with a flower arrangement but had no idea where to start. You happily helped him pick out a selection, even wrote him a little care guide.

It wasn’t just the passing soldiers, either.

Older women in town would stop by just to chat about your arrangements, some even bringing over cuttings from their own gardens. Parents would pause during walks, their children pointing excitedly at the bright flowers and fairy lights you had strung along the porch. The local baker started leaving small bags of cookies at your door with notes like, Your flowers made my morning brighter!

And then there was Task Force 141, as they’d eventually introduce themselves to you.

The first time you caught Captain John Price standing on your sidewalk, arms crossed as he stared at your house, you thought you were in trouble. He had the kind of presence that demanded respect- commanding, observant, the weight of experience in every movement.

“You lost?” you teased anyways, adjusting a pot of marigolds, and hoping he wouldn’t consider you disrespectful.

Price huffed a quiet laugh, eyes flicking between the vines, the flowers, the fairy lights. “No. Just… wasn’t expecting this.” He gestured vaguely at the floral explosion around you.

“Well,” you grinned. “I refuse to live somewhere that looks like a training camp. You are the soldiers, not me.”

That had been the start of it.

Soap was the next to visit. He showed up a few days later, leaning against your railing as he inspected a cluster of bright yellow sunflowers. “Got any of those that’ll survive my terrible luck?”

You hummed, then handed him a small, sturdy succulent. “Try not to kill it.”

Then came Gaz, who always claimed he was “just passing through” but somehow always found himself near your house. He asked questions- what flowers worked best for balconies? His mum has a love for tending to flowers as well. Did you have any recommendations for someone who had never taken care of a plant in his life?

Regardledd, you happily enjoyed chatting with him, and he left with a small potted fern, promising to send updates.

And then there was Ghost.

Ghost never exactly visited, but you saw him. Once, when you were rearranging your display and muttering about getting new soil, you spotted him standing across the street, arms folded as he observed your work. He didn’t say anything- just gave a barely perceptible nod before disappearing back into the shadows.

But the next morning, a heavy bag of high-quality soil rested against your porch steps. No note. No explanation.

But from what the others had told you of him… you knew who it was from.

The townsfolk had opinions about that, too.

“That group’s been sniffing around your place an awful lot,” Mrs. Holloway, the town baker, noted one morning as she handed you a fresh loaf of bread. “You got yourself a security detail, dear?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think they just like the flowers.”

The butcher, a gruff man who had lived in the town longer than anyone, grunted in agreement. “Good. Those boys need something nice to look at.”

Even the local barista took notice. “Gaz came in the other day asking if we had any floral-themed drinks,” she giggled, leaning in close to you. “I swear, he’s trying to impress you.”

Ultimately, the town adored what you were doing. Where once there had been dull uniformity, now there was life. People started adding their own touches- small flower pots, window boxes, even a few hanging baskets inspired by yours. The air felt lighter, more welcoming.

And the 141?

They had seen the worst the world had to offer. They had fought in places where beauty was a distant memory, where survival took precedence over everything else.

Yet, somehow, you- sunshine incarnate, with dirt-streaked hands and a smile that could brighten even the darkest day- had managed to burrow into their hardened hearts.

[cherriicou]

oh my god please write an older bf!mingyu i love ur scoups one sm 💗 (did i mention to put creampie in? did i) 👁️👁️ thank u babes mwah

hehe ofc! glad u enjoyed it mwahaha

olderbf! mingyu x college student! reader (f)

a/n; pls don’t use tinder guys… // word count; 1.2K

content; age gap, size difference, overstimulation, consensual recording, sending nudes, creampie, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, spanking, car sex, public/semi-public sex, degradation, praise kink, riding, smut with the smallest amount of plot

OLDER BF!MINGYU who met you through a dating app his friend forced him to go on. he usually ignored all the young girls who sent him thirsty messages and had their bodies on display on their profile. but you were different. only cute selfies, cat pictures, and your interests were shown on your page, drawing him to get interested in you. so he messaged you first!

OLDER BF!MINGYU who noticed your like in art so he immediately suggested taking you to a museum as your first date <3 he was the sweetest man you’ve ever met. yes, he was way older than you but it made everything 10x better. he knew how to treat you well, he made you feel safe, and he even dropped so many compliments on you that day it made you squirm in your seat.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who noticed you staring at his arms every time he helped you pick up something or every time he extended his arm out to pay for your meal. his ego was boosted then, making sure to flex them every once in a while when he saw you looking. you looked so adorable, your pretty face blushing, thighs squeezing together while admiring him. he needed you.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who, at first, tries to be soft with you. you were so much smaller than him, he was almost scared he’d break you :< that was until you started playing little games. bending down when you decided to wear no panties under your dress or skirt, fingers grazing over his crotch while you had dinner. all while giving him a innocent look. oh, he was tired of playing nice with you.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who has you salivating all over your chin and tits. he’s fucking your face so roughly, your makeup is completely ruined and you have no thoughts whatsoever as he holds your face firmly with his hands. ‘fucking brat’, as he stared straight into your eyes, groaning from the tears that started to fall down. he was not afraid to show you that he was enjoying the way your mouth was taking him in so well.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who loves to overstimulate you. he knows you love it despite your whines, ‘g-gyu no more,’ as you try to push his head away from your sensitive pussy. but he just continues licking and sucking on the spot he knows drives you crazy. you don’t even realize it, but you start grinding on his mouth, feeling the smile form on his lips. ‘doesn’t seem like you want me to stop, baby.’ god, he could taste you all fucking day while having you squirm over him. lapping your juices for being such a good girl the other day while you took his cock in your mouth <3

OLDER BF!MINGYU who takes and picks you up from college; his expensive car catching the eyes of others as you happily walk to greet your boyfriend. glaring through his window to any of the young guys looking at you get into his car. oh, and his favorite thing is take your mind off the stressful day that just passed. panties shoved to the side as he plunges his fingers in and out of you while driving home. 'that's it, princess. use my fingers,' your moans and whimpers take over the entire car as you hold onto the arm that he is using to pleasure you in the passenger seat. his eyes directed towards you every once in a while to see the fucked out expression on your face. he doesn’t care if people can see the lewd scene from outside, as long as you’re taken care of!

OLDER BF!MINGYU who LOVES to fill you up. 'where you want it, baby?' sweat glistening on his forehead as he continuously rams into your sweet spot, orgasm right on edge. 'i-inside, please,' he already knows you want it in you, but he just loves hearing you say it while he's fucking you. his grip on your hips gets harder, making you squirm in both pain and pleasure. his thrusts get stronger as he finishes inside you, making sure all of it is released in your abused hole. 'fuck, look at that,' his breathless groans let out as he pulls his cock out of your sensitive cunt. he takes his phone from the bedside table, and you hear the sound of the record button as he spreads your ass out. both of your cum leaking out of your pussy so nicely. you think he's done until he uses his fingers to take as much fluid as he can to shove it right back inside your hole :3 'ah g-gyu..,' you let out. he smiles at your coos, landing a playful smack against your ass before pulling you up to kiss your lips.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who is annoyed at this stupid meeting his employees set up with him. he just nods away, eyes locked on the presentation, mind spinning faster than he could organize his thoughts. ding! he reached for his phone to find messages from you, as well as a video linked to it. 'miss you <3,' he smiles at the cute text, then opens the video to find himself growing hard and smiled swept away. it's a video of you, one hand holding the phone to show your naked body while the other hand is rubbing your clit. he turns down the volume completely before your moans can be heard in the basically quiet conference room. he's livid. you're at home, smiling at the 'seen' notification on your phone. it wasn't until time passed you started to worry, not a single message was sent back from him. you're screwed.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who has you bent over his lap, fingers messing with your pussy for what seems like hours. your ass was practically red and bruised from the amount of smacks it has taken. all while you plead, 'mm sorry gyu please,' he smiles. you think he is going to give into you fully, ready for him to put you in missionary or on all fours. but no. instead, he lays down with a cocky look on his face at your confused, needy expression. 'come sit on it, doll,' he can't be serious. he puts his hands behind his head, eyes never leaving you as your legs tremble. trying to put as much energy as you can to climb on top of him and fully sit on his cock. the pleasured look on your face almost makes him fold, he wanted to take care of you himself but you needed to learn. learn that needy girls don’t get awarded.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who almost feels bad for you. you're struggling so much to grind on dick :< the burn your thighs are feeling is insane, and he is just staring you down. 'g-gyu,' you whine while fighting for your life to continue riding him. 'hm? gonna cum, already?,' you nod, hands placed on his chest to try to help your body stabilize. your eyes meet his again and you give him the biggest pout, gasping as he finally thrusts into you once roughly, 'gonna make a mess on my cock like some needy slut?,' his hands grab onto your hips. he's being so mean but you know you'll love it later.

OLDER BF! MINGYU who thinks you've been punished enough and plants his feet flat on the bed, then immediately starts to fuck up into you. the tip of his meanly thick cock repeatedly slamming into your cervix. his hands frantically touching you all over your body, from your tits to your neck, to even putting his thumb into your mouth as you struggle to take what he's giving you. 'mm my sweet girl,' you salivate around his fingers as you feel yourself about to cum. you should take more pics often..