#i wanna stay with you today and til the end of time

[teathattast]

The moon is lighting up the windows

I kinda like you, but it's not that simple

'Cause I don't know you, the way I want to

Then again, it's not my head sometimes

[razrbladekiss]

CRAVE | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: there’s only one thing that joel craves, and it isn’t the mental fucking torture of an overly stubborn twenty-something teasing him ‘til he’s blue in the face. and balls.

PAIRING: dbf!joel miller x afab!reader. legal unspecified age gap.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT. alcohol consumption. pervy old man joel. reader’s dad (i’ve named him sorrrry) is there before joel gets pervy. some religious themes and also descriptions of religion in a negative light (this is MY experience with christianity, if you do not agree then please don’t read), no explicit smut but descriptions of what joel wants to do to youuuu so: mentions of piv, cock-riding, oral f!receiving, choking if you squint, dirty talk asf, joel being cocky which leads to his cock being sad and alone. reader is cunty. not proof-read ‘cus, once again, i’m a lazy bitch and i don’t have time for that. enjoy. 🫶🏻

An end to craving is an end to suffering.

Today’s last stream of sunlight fulgurates through the branches of your father’s prized Texas Ash, hitting perfectly the dime-sized crucifix situated comfortably between two pert tits sheathed in sheer black cotton.

Joel tries not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s been watching you all fucking night. Every time you get up, he’s been glued to your ass. Whenever you lean over, Joel can’t seem to pry his eyes away from your cleavage. The more he’s been drinking, the more brazen he’s been with his stolen glances.

When your father rambles about some work-related spiel—and you’re sitting so innocently across the way—he can’t help affixing his eyes to the swell of your breasts. Wondering what it’d be like to touch, and grope, and suck on them.

Your mother was right about him. For all of the years that she knew Joel while your parents were together, she’d always say that he was trouble. A good-for-nothing, splenetic, perverted old-man who was but a bad influence. And you never noticed, never cared. You always thought that he was a great friend, and a stand-up guy.

Until today. Until you saw him scrutinizing your form—in front of your dad—you had a lot more respect for Joel. But now you realize that your mother was right. He is a perv. But—fuck—do you love that.

You’re not sure what you enjoy more—disrespecting your insane Catholic mother, or knowing that Joel is undressing you with his eyes—but you can’t help yourself feeding into his fantasy.

“Daddy?” Your father hums, not entirely bothered by the fact that you’ve just interrupted his conversation. He smiles. “Do you want another beer?”

“Please, hon.” He hands you his empty bottle, mumbling something about how he was going to get himself one and that you don’t need to. But you insist.

The blanket over your thighs is being discarded, hiking your dress up with it. Joel gets a glimpse of your lace panties that he likes to imagine you wore just for him, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Bare, supple skin is on display as you get up from the deck chair. You turn to him with a prurient twinkle in your eye, and ask if he wants a drink too. “Yeah, another won’t hurt. I’m already pretty—“ he hiccups, “pretty far gone, anyway.”

Dad laughs while you saunter to the cooler and make a big show of bending over, completely unaware of the way Joel is trying to conjure up a plan to get you alone tonight. But then…

“Same ‘ere, bud.” He laughs before he’s nodding toward Joel. “Stay the night, if ‘ya wanna. I mean, you’re in no fit state to drive—none of us are—and I got a spare bedroom.”

His nose scrunches up, as if to decline, before you’re turning around with two unopened beers and a small bottle of wine. Your hand wraps around the neck almost romantically, leaving very little to his imagination.

“Yeah, you might as well stay, Miller.” You put down the beers on the table, still holding firmly the Merlot. “I’m stayin’. I got nowhere to be in the mornin’, and dad bought breakfast stuff.”

Two brown eyes are latched to each of yours, and you feel beads of perspiration roll through the valley of your breasts. Despite the evening cooling down, you’re stifling beneath his unyielding gaze.

“Alright, I’ll stay.” Joel concedes. He takes his can and cracks it open, lifting it up to cheers your father. “S’long as you’re makin’ me breakfast, Gary.”

Dad salutes and you smile, sinking into the purple cushion with a satisfied hum. You ogle Joel, biting fiercely the skin of your bottom lip. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel swigs his beer—letting your dad drunkenly ramble—and doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Wondering how he’s going to make you pay for torturing him like this.

But this hadn’t been your intention when Joel showed up to watch the Cowboys v Browns game this afternoon. In fact, him staying past nine o’clock was completely unintentional and if it weren’t for your dad pumping him full of Coors and Old Milwaukee, he’d be fast asleep at this very moment.

He supposes that he doesn’t mind, being here. Especially because he’s buzzed—still able to speak and think coherently, which is surprising—and gets to spend some rare time with you. Even if it is with your dad.

You watch them converse—the way that friends do—admiring how patient Joel is with him despite him being a little bit too inebriated for his own good. He’s the kind of friend that your old man needs; understanding, forbearing. And it baffles you that they’ve not known one another for longer than seven years, but surmise that they’d definitely be best friends in every other timeline because they just work so well.

But it’s the thought of them being friends—brothers—that urges feelings of unease. Trepidation. Gary’ll have a cow if he finds out the way that his so called buddy has been making googly eyes at his little girl’s titties for the last eight hours.

Joel senses the shift in attitude—you’re not teasing him now—and turns the topic of conversation to you. Dad doesn’t mind, though. Never minds talking to—or about—his kid.

“What made you stay in with us oldies tonight, huh?”

Wine is being swiveled around the glass before you take it back in one swig. A grimace flits over your features, but they both catch it.

“Didn’t feel like hittin’ the bars.” Candidly, you say. It’s refreshing. “Can’t be dealin’ with pervy old men tryna touch me.”

Less refreshing.

Joel’s blood runs cold, and you smirk. He swallows thickly the liquid acrimony bubbling from the chasms of his throat. He wants to screw that stupid grin off of your face—stuff his cock straight between those plush lips and throat fuck you ‘til you’re crying and gasping for air.

He just nods instead of saying anything.

“I’ll kill anyone that touches you.” Dad says, not sensing Joel’s sudden frigid state. “Seriously. ‘Specially if it’s an old fuckin’ degenerate asshole—“

“Alright, Gary.” You halt the hate train, pouring the last few dregs of wine into your glass. “No need to get all protective. No old coot is comin’ anywhere near me.”

You look directly at Joel when you say; “old men can’t do what guys my age can, anyway.”

Dad grimaces. Joel scoffs. You can’t help smiling, feeling very proud of yourself.

“Y’know, you’re still my kid? And hearing this shit is nasty.” Your father tells you around a burp, and realizes that this might be the time to call it a night.

He’s never been able to handle his alcohol, especially after being married to your psychotic beer-loathing, hymn-signing, prayer-group-leading, holier-than-though moronic fucking mother.

He lets himself get too drunk too fast, now. Ever since she went back to Kansas—which was totally code for I fucked the priest and got extradited from the church—he’s really let his hair down, and you’d be lying if you said this version of your old man wasn’t the very best. Because he’s living his life the way that he wants to, now.

It’s nice.

“It might be nasty, but ‘least you don’t have to worry about me bringing home a man your age. Or even worse; older.”

Gary gets to his feet—knees clicking and cracking as he does so—and nods. “‘Spose that’s true, kid.”

Joel. Is. So. Fucking. Pissed.

As you say your goodnights—and put on a few lights so that your dad doesn’t trip over his own feet—Joel is mentally counting down the minutes until he gets you alone on this damn patio. He’s determined to make you regret the few little comments that you’ve made tonight.

“Don’t stay up too late. Y’know how cranky ‘ya get with no sleep.” Dad reminds you. “You too, Miller.”

You hum your response, lifting your empty glass and indicating that you’ll be retiring to your room soon, too.

“Night dad.”

“Night, pumpkin.” He turns to Joel. “Make sure she ain’t up too late.”

He nods and shifts his gaze to you, eyes darkening. “Yessir. I’ll put her to sleep.”

Your father grunts and slides the patio door to close. Leaving his daughter and best friend alone together might be the biggest mistake that he’s ever going to make.

Joel watches him intently behind the glass door, heeding him stumble across the tile. He might be about to rearrange your guts, but he at least wants to be courteous.

Your legs squeeze together, for the only sound you hear is the reverberation of Joel’s I’ll put her to sleep in that sexy, beer-slick tone.

He sees it.

“She makin’ ‘ya squirm?”

You blink at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your pussy.” Joel—as candid as ever—elaborates. “Is she flutterin’ ‘cus ‘a me?”

The fallout of a chemical bomb would be much more appealing than having to look Joel in the eye after such a lewd statement.

“Don’t worry if so. I have that effect on the ladies.”

“Makin’ yourself sound like a slut, Miller.” Coolly, you respond. Your hand is reaching for a can of beer, twining fingertips around the base while another pulls the tab.

Two eyes screw shut when a spritz of alcohol is flushing over your face, neck and chest. Droplets of Bud trickle between those perfect tits that Joel’s eyes have almost burned fucking holes into; forcing even the horniest man on planet earth to render himself utterly speechless.

You trail a finger through the valley of your breasts, collecting the sticky liquid before you’re putting it straight into your mouth; sucking it clean. Your eyes are locked on Joel’s.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. The sight before him is truly one to behold; his friend’s sweet daughter with her fingers between her tits out in the patio. Nobody’d ever believe him if he told them this. Joel probably wouldn’t even fucking believe himself.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ’ya?” Is what he says in response. He’s quick witted, you’ll give him that. “My tongue stuck in your pretty little pussy—“

Heat flashes over you.

“You’re fucking vile.”

“Ain’t that the way it’s meant’a be?” He lurches forward, and your eyes travel to the small opening of his shirt’s midsection that highlights perfectly the fact that he hasn’t a base layer beneath the flannel.

You see a small patch of hair; brown, and gray and seems a little fuzzy. It’s a sudden reminder that this man is a smidge too old for you. But you can’t find it in yourself to care very much.

“Don’t think so.” Trying to out-douche him, you respond. Joel’s thick fingers are twined together, hands resting over the peaks of his knees. “Think youre meant’a have some kinda respect for me. Y’know, as my dad’s buddy, ‘n all.”

Joel snorts a laugh.

“I’d have respect for ‘ya, but the way that peachy fuckin’ ass was in the air when ‘ya bent over the cooler tells me that daddy’s ’lil girl is more of a slut than me.”

Your jaw rolls. Reaction: gauged.

He inches nearer to you; slimy grin plastered across rough, rugged features. “Only pullin’ your leg, hon. I know you’re no slut. Too much of a prissy bitch—“

“Oh, really?” Irked, you spit.

Joel nods. Pushing at your buttons has never been much of a difficult feat. It’s something that he quite enjoys, actually.

“Mhm, yeah.” The man is leaning backwards in his chair, now. Arms folded behind his head; hands pressed against his dark curls. “Gonna have to prove that you ain’t like your mama.”

Your blood boils. And then it runs cold.

“Don’t gotta prove shit to you.” You defend. Very defensively.

“No, that’s right. Don’t gotta do nothin’, kiddo.”

You see the outline of his dick as it stiffens within the confines of his dark, navy-denim jeans. He’s actually getting off on this.

“Unless you want to—“

“Nah, I’m good.” You’re leaning back, now, lifting your legs to sit criss cross applesauce. The barely-covering-your-crotch sheer fabric of your thong catches his eye; a glint of something wicked flickers through them as he clears his throat.

If you’re playing the long game, then so is he. He can out-stubborn anybody.

“So I’ve heard.” He jabs, insinuating that you’re a prude. Again. “Can prove ‘em all wrong, if ‘ya wanna.”

It’s killing him, this. It’s torture. But he’s strong. Ish.

You shake your head, reaching for your almost-empty can of beer. You’re taking another long pull, making a dramatic show of tilting your head back and puffing out your chest as you do so. His lips purse.

“I’m good.” You tell him again with a syrupy smile. “Rather we just talk. Y’know—be civilized, ‘n all.”

His arms are moving to the sides of his deck chair, now. Joel’s tongue runs along his bottom lip. He gives a quick bob of his head.

“Yeah, we can talk.” His eyes zone in on your pussy; the engorged wet patch situated on the part of fabric that kind-of clothes your cunt. His mouth waters. “But what’ll we talk about, baby girl?”

Another surge of pleasure oozes out from between your thighs, turning what was once a purple thong into a jet-black one. Joel doesn’t mind, though. The sight is sweet; it’s prurient, in some sick way.

“Hm.” You pretend to think, all the while spreading your legs a little bit more. He sees perfectly the outline of your folds as fabric hugs and highlights the inner workings of your beautiful anatomy. “Why don’t we start with what you’re thinkin’ about, Mr. Miller?”

A weakness of his, that is. You referring to him as Mr. Miller has always gotten him hot. It’s innocent, almost. It’s like that’d been engrained into your brain by the god-fearing fruit-loop that brought you up, and you can’t quit saying it in these situations.

“Oh, doll. Not sure you’ll wanna hear what I’m thinkin’ of.” His tone is rough, now. Like 180 grit sandpaper against the wooden walls inside of your fucking brain. You hum.

Mentally, Joel’s cock is spearing open the tight hole between your legs; making you scream his name. He’s thrusting his prick up into your cervix while you ride him like he’s the last cowboy on earth, desperate to feel a kind of pleasure that no man your age could ever bestow upon you.

In his head, he’s picturing your crucifix dangling in his face while you’re pleasuring yourself on his length; glistening with sweat, and cum, and Sierra Nevada. Howling at his girth, speechless at the size of him.

He wants nothing more than to wrap a hand around the base of your throat and fuck you into next week; feeling damp walls contract and seize around his cock—

“No.” You snap him back to reality; halting his train of thought. “No, you can tell me. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure she can.

“Fine.” He clears his throat. “Just thinkin’ of stufin’ that warm ‘lil cunt with my big ‘ol cock, ‘s’all.”

“Oh, is that all?” Your tone is teasing.

Joel does not like to be teased.

“If you’d shut your fuckin’ mouth, I’d be able to finish.”

In a moment of pure, unapologetic submission, you nod. The skin of your bottom lip is getting fucking gnawed at by your teeth in an attempt to conceal a moan.

It works. Kind of.

“What was I sayin’…” He strives to recall his last few words; and then he remembers. “Oh, yeah. Stretchin’ out that cute pussy ‘a yours.”

That cute pussy ‘a yours, is twitching. Fuck that, it’s pulsating.

“And you’re so sure of that? You being able to stretch me out, I mean.”

“Dead sure, angel face.” He quips. “I know for a damn fact that you’d be havin’ trouble takin’ my fat cock all in one go; be cryin’ for everyone to hear.”

Through long, thick lashes, you stare at him.

“You’d be seein’ stars; and not just the ones above us right now.”

You look up to the sky and hope to alleviate some of the mental pain being bestowed upon you right now. Which is entirely your own doing, of course.

Joel shifts in his seat so that he’s a little bit more sunken, able to heed clearly the sickly sweetness blanketing the chair you’re on.

“I’ll eat your pussy, too.”

Your attention is snapped back down to Joel, now. Your brows raise.

“Suck your soul right out from between your legs.”

“Oh, Joel.” You moan, a little. He lets his eyes shut for a brief moment, only to open them again to find you taking off your panties.

It’s like Christmas fucking day, this.

“I’d love for you to take me right here; fill me up on one ‘a the sunloungers.” You’re getting off your chair, and Joel’s heart is starting to pound within the chasms of his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You’re walking toward him; thong in hand. Fingers wreathed through soaked purple cotton.

“Can’t think of anything that’ll bring me more pleasure than you fuckin’ me ‘til I’m crying. Or gasping for air.”

“You ‘n me both, beautiful.”

You smile. You give Joel your underwear, before you’re running your fingers through his hair and he’s letting a hand glide up the meat of your thigh and beneath your skirt.

“Just a shame, ain’t it.”

“What’s a shame, sugar?”

The feeling of his fingertips—calloused and covered in rough skin—is almost orgasmic. But you’re stronger than what he is. So you pull yourself away from his hold, and begin to feel an unwavering sense of need. You shirk it, though.

You’re leaning into him now, breasts pressed against his shoulder, lips touching the shell of his ear. Goosebumps prickle over his neck and you assume that they’re making their way down south, too.

“Huh?” He says to get your attention, for you still haven’t answered. “What’s a shame?”

Fingertips trace over broad shoulders enveloped in soft, warm flannel. You’re leaning closer; hot breath on his skin. Your lips part to whisper:

“If daddy ever found out about this, he’d kill ‘ya.”

“Baby—“

You’re taking the panties from his hand, and tucking them into the breast pocket of his shirt. Fighting a blush—feeling very proud of yourself—your face remains straight.

You tap at his chest and walk away, but not before throwing a “night, Miller” over your shoulder.

Joel looks down at the ground, presently wallowing in some sort of self-pity. But then remembers the visible effect that his words had—and the way he looked at—you, and he can’t fight the stupid fucking grin pushing its way onto his face.

He might’ve just experienced blue-balls at his big age, but to see you submit to his gaze was absolutely worth it.

He just hopes you’ll never tell a soul about his dirty-talk. He has a reputation to uphold, these days.

[evieelyzabethh]

a college!jayce oneshot would be sooo goood. I love the way u write and the details u add! angsty,fluff,smut i dont mind. Just anything is fine with me 🤞🤞

be warned, this is incredibly self indulgent because I just finished my exams and desperately need to get dicked down by my slightly pervy husband...anyway

collegeau!Jayce is usually the one requesting the rewards for his "hard work", but being the kind, perceptive boyfriend, he has known exactly what you need in these very trying times. When he realized he couldn't talk you down from your all-nighters, he stayed up with you, mini fridge stocked with energy drinks and his coffee machine on stand-by when you got tired of the cold drinks. He's there with you for your hours long library visits, biding his time by making you good luck origami cranes or listening to you teach him the concepts you're studying for practice. If you need silence, he quieter than a mouse, if you need someone to talk to, he's all ears.

By the time his finals are done, yours aren't. There must some cruel force in the universe that mandated not only exams, but papers, projects, and presentations all be placed into your lap with rather constricting due dates and very short turn-around periods. The struggle was manageable enough when you were both going through it, but now that he's reached the end of the tunnel alone, he misses his girlfriend. Now, he sees you eating sleep for dinner and nearly going cross-eyed from the countless hours you've spent going back and forth between your textbook, your laptop, and your notes.

Any word he'd say would be hypocritical. To try and convince you to take it easy and come back to bed would be hilariously insincere considering that the trenches look identical for the both of you. But now his head is clearer, and he's forced to watch your increasingly slouchy posture and hope your poor heart can stomach the insane amounts of caffeine you've ingested in such a short period of time.

Eventually, all the papers have been turned in and he's waiting anxiously for you outside of the lecture hall where your final final just took place, and you look alive for the first time in weeks, but you're still a bit sluggish. Ain't shit funny til those grades populate, so you find it within yourself to smile but there's still a fragile week ahead of you when you really could cry at any given moment if pushed hard enough.

This just won't do, though!!! collegeau!Jayce believes he has thoroughly failed as a boyfriend as he watches you, sprawled out on his bed, some show mindlessly droning on in the background, continuously refreshing your email and course page. So much so, that he plucks the phone right from his hands and throws it into one of his messy drawers. And you try to grab it, though not making it very far as his long strides catch up to you rather quickly and your being hoisted over his shoulders and thrown back onto his bed, exactly where you belong.

See, besides the obvious torture of watching you torture yourself; Jayce has not gotten off in weeks; he would feel guilty if he wasn't able to be there for you because he's too busy jerking off in the bathroom while you're hard at work. So, he was being the good boyfriend, the one who's pleasure is completely derived from your own and he can't even try to make himself feel good if you aren't. But now, the hard times have passed, and he cannot fathom holding off any longer than he already has.

"Jayce-" And thank fuck you decided to wear a skirt today because if he had to fiddle with jeans, he would've lost his damn mind. "Jay, get off." He looks up at you with the biggest, brownest puppy dog eyes you ever did see, hands held where you could see them. "You really want me to stop?" No, of course you don't. "I wanna see if my grades been posted." He rolls his eyes so deeply you'd think he was searching the very wrinkles of his brain for a fuck to give.

His large hands move over your thighs, hypnotizingly playing with the hem of your skirt, the crotch of your terribly thin panties, rubbing his thumb what he's really been craving for the worst part of these past two weeks. "I really don't care." If he weren't so impatient, he would've been smoother. Maybe kissed you until your head got all fuzzy, gave more attention to your tits, maybe he would've bothered to actually remove any of your clothing.

collegeau!Jayce who is just so messy and couldn't be paid to give a shit as he's eating you out through your panties. It catches you by surprise, the voracious way he plunges in, nose knocking at your clothed entrance as he licks and sucks at the growing wet spot forming. You grab at his hair, which only grows his already painfully hard erection. "Ngh.", is all that comes from his mouth. It was initially meant to be some sort of plea, pull it harder, please, but for his request to be heard, he would've had to pull away. He would rather die than do that before you gushed over his tongue.

He's making out with it, aggressive with the way he pushes himself further and further into you and his canines nick at the fabric until it inevitably tears right through. Both of your moan's echo around his walls along with the squeaking of the bed with the sheer force that he ruts his hips into it. "Sometimes, I really think you hate me." The accusation vibrates straight through your pussy, making your body shake before the words even hit your ears. "No -ah, fuck, I don't." He nods into you. "Only explanation for denying me heaven."

collegeau!Jayce who is a munch before all else, his fingers leaving prints on your thighs that are already wrapped tightly around his head, his other hand pressing down on your waist. You had this annoying habit of squirming away from him, cries about it being too much falling on deaf ears. He is a firm believer there is no such thing as too much of a good thing, only people who don't believe they deserve the abundance of good coming to them.

Jayce is that abundance, sucking on your clit until it becomes too much and you shake in his strong hands, your hips fighting against his calm hands that try to rub soothing circles into your skin. "Quit running from it, baby. Jus' want you to feel better. Don't you wanna feel good? Hm?"And the tears eventually start flowing. Your just overwhelmed, you haven't had your brain properly shut off in months. "Jay, too much." But he's not done yet, instead, he tries to indicate through touch what he would whisper in your ear. You can take it. You deserve a little treat, a nice reward. His pretty girl just needs to be loosened up, just needs to think a little less, and as the best boyfriend in the world, he's going to make that happen.

[inc0gnitoo]

repost from ao3- modern au!scara x fem!reader

CW… smut, scara is mean, AFAB reader, phone sex, etc etc..

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

it almost seemed fucking impossible to you that a day could go this wrong.

it started with the bus this morning. you chose to get up earlier than usual, wanting time to work on your assignment thanks to your procrastinating it til the due date. this wasn’t new for you, and it didn’t bother you either! it worked. it was your system. until you got too caught up with your articles, and when your eyes drifted to the time, you had under 4 minutes to scurry over to your bus stop. and you didn’t even pack your bag yet. rushing out the door, stomach empty and sweat beading down your forehead you ran to the bus and- it was late.

it only got worse from there.

university was a place to be. only good thing it had was food. after your first lecture, you decided to spoil yourself to a bagel which was your second choice on the menu, they ran out of your favourite. begrudgingly, you made your way to class. the people being even more poisoning than the source material. ignorant hallway dwellers, come on, we’re in university people! a classmate took your unassigned-assigned seat, your eye twitching in frustration. and it was only 10am. finally, after a long day of excruciatingly boring classes. you managed to get home, only after getting caught in traffic on the highway. just your luck, you kept saying, your mind twisted with rage.

body filled to the brim with exhaustion, you collapsed to your bed, lazily tossing your bag to the side of your bed with a groan. finally, your bed. tonight was for yourself, you decided. what better to do after a shitty day? you deserved a break, not having any assignments due for a while, you finally had the opportunity to just lay down, and do absolutely nothi-

bzzt.

“mm?” you hummed, peering over to your phone beside you. a text message, from scaramouche. a classmate of yours from highschool who ended up going to the same university as you for a separate major, engineering or something along those lines. raising a brow you leaned over, taking your phone and reading his message.

scara: Didn’t come say hi to me today

scara: Kinda rude, if you ask me

rolling your eyes, you sat up in your bed, clicking on your lamp on your bedside table before typing out a response..

you: i didn’t have a very good day today

you: everything seemed to go wrong

scaramouche, at home, let out a hum of agreement at your reply. he knew that feeling all too well. especially when it came to people. they made him so sick, he didn’t know why he even bothered on taking this degree.

scara: Mm, I see

scara: Wanna call and talk about it?

heart warmed as his request, you stared at it for a moment. you were really just going to stay alone tonight, play some games or something, occupy yourself in other ways that didn’t involve people but.. it was scara. he knew better than most people how frustrating life can get. and he’d listen too, maybe with a grumble or two. or a rant about humanity, but, he’d hear you out after a few.. maybe, rude comments.

you: give me 1 sec

getting up you turned off the big light, not understanding why you’d punished yourself by keeping it on in the first place, especially with your lamp on. now, your room had a warmer atmosphere, more comfy, and overall more relaxing. turning on your humidifier you let out a sigh of contentment, changing into a pair of pyjamas and relaxing yourself back into your bed. taking your phone, you texted scara-

you: ready :P

barely a couple moments go by before your phone begins to vibrate, picking up the phone, “hey.” scaramouche greets you, his voice tired and monotone.

“hi, how was your day? before i start bitching about myself, haha.”

a groan is heard from his side of the phone and a short shuffle through the mic, seemingly from a shifting position, “ugh, long. i’m really starting to get tired of a few of my classmates, such insolent people..” he replied, eyes rolling. you imagined, at least, just from his tone.

“ah, you’re telling me..”

and the monologue began.

you weren’t sure just how long you were talking for or how frustrated you felt about the day. but it felt good getting it off your chest. relieving yourself with a bit of bitching is always the best comfort, you thought. scaramouche on the other hand.. seemed a bit, distracted. it didn’t seem like much to you, him not being as responsive as usual, a bit of a shuffle or two coming from his end, an ‘mm’ of agreement. that wasn’t necessarily off limits when it came to the question of ‘is scara acting weird?’ it was when you began to settle down a bit, your emotions returning back down, your anger beginning to lower that you heard a muffled murmur, almost spoken under his breath, “_____..”

what?

you almost froze in place, pulling the phone closer to your ear in an attempt to hear more but, to no avail. pondering whether or not you should, you spoke, “scara?”

a hurried movement, slightly covering the mic, scaramouche spoke up, “yeah, yeah- i’m here.” he mumbled. physically of course he was, there to listen for her. but mentally, scaramouches mind had travelled to other places. his voice betrayed him in that way, sounding almost strained and the husk of his voice easily portraying just how distracted he was.

innocently, you spoke up, “y-you just.. sound tense, is all. are you alright?”

foolish you were, he thought. such an idiot, not being able to read his tone, understand the shuffling and the movement, the whispery gasps he’d been letting out unintentionally. by god, he was beyond grateful you were this oblivious, the excitement of your cluelessness almost encouraged these bad thoughts to begin with.

“yeah, i-i’m fine.” scaramouche stuttered, “you don’t worry about me..” a few sounds, another heavy breath, “just keep talking all cute like that.”

what..? (again.)

what was happening right now? he had befuddled you, thoughts rolling through your brain attempting (and failing) to find a reason for his odd behaviour. scaramouche was a very, very closed off guy. and not one for compliments. of course, you’d get one from him every once a while, earning a ‘wow, you actually managed to do that,.’ or a ‘yeah, good job.’

but, cute..?

your question left your head, coming out your mouth, “cute?”

a shudder ran down scaramouches body, a bead of sweat, and a wave of warmth down his groin. so stupid, he thought, so so stupid. he loved it, “ah- uh huh.” he affirmed your question, a small curse leaving his breath, a sound of readjustment, switching his phone to another hand.

your brows furrowed, starting to get a little frustrated now, “why are you being so-“

“stop asking so many questions, just fucking talk.”

he bit his lip, a sharp intake of breath before it, sounding restrained and almost.. uncomfortable. you had absolutely no idea the strain he was putting himself through, the cause of all this until-

it clicked.

was he.. masturbating?

“scara, a-are you..?” it was silent for a moment. the only sounds were not just of your own heavy breath, but scaramouches as well, heavy pants that you now realize were not just in your head. these, this time, did not go unnoticed.

finally, after a billowing and agonizing silence, scaramouche breathed in, speaking up..

“yeah..” he exhaled, finally accepting he’d been caught. part of him had a sick obsession with you being as lost as you were, but perhaps your knowledge of him getting himself off to your voice was enough too. if you’d just stay there, keep talking, he wouldn’t be a bother. except he was being a bother, gasping and breathing into your ear like that. over the phone, it almost made it worse.

your mind had begun to drift, and you spoke, softly, “i-i-..”you struggled to form words, a reaction, a response, but he spoke for you.

“cmon… speak up..” scaramouche whispered, breathy, so so breathy. it was almost incoherent from how sharp he was breathing. his hand sped up, you could tell, hearing the shuffling increase over the mic. your heart began to pound.

“do..” hesitating, you bit your lip. was this about to be a huge mistake? “do you want me to help you?”

a groan left his mouth, his head fell back onto his pillow, trying his hardest not to moan instead. “fuck, yes. please.”

nearly choking on your own spit you attempted to speak, placing your hand to your chest to feel your own heartbeat, pounding so hard in your chest. this all felt fake. like, you were about to wake up from some sick fucking fantasy. a dream.

pulse quickening, you parted your lips to speak, “y-you sound so hot right now..”

scaramouches breath hitched, a moan caught in his throat.

okay, maybe he was grateful you figured it out.

his hand pawed at his boxers, finally deciding to tug them off, stroking the tip of his cock. his anticipation was evident in how hard he was, the pre-cum sliding down the sides of his length. how fucking humiliating, he thought. he watched his own hand as he began to stroke himself, thoughts of it being your own. those pretty little hands of yours. the idea in his head had been haunting him. scaramouche was obsessed with you. and had been since highschool. you were so smart, so innocent, and oblivious to him. he swore he was going crazy, when he’d go home, masturbate to the thought of you.

“ohoh, yeah?” scaramouche whispered, his breathing only quickening further as he heard a shift from your end.

that shift.. was you sliding your hand into your shorts, teasing your clit with your fingers through your underwear, almost feeling guilty giving yourself the pleasure of touching it bare. “u-uh huh..” you murmured, shamefully. it was going to eat you alive.

“maybe..” scaramouche begins, his voice mellow and hushed, “maybe i wanna hear you too…” your heart stops, he heard you.

“i know what you're doing right now.”

your hand not daring to stop, even almost speeding up from his tone of voice, the movement was definitely heard over your mic. this made scaramouche smirk, a sigh of satisfaction as he continued.

“tell me, ____. what are you doing to yourself?”

moaning quietly, nervously, with much hesitation and an evident feeling of lust, you managed to speak, “i-i’m.. touching..” you cut yourself off, a whispered gasp as you rubbed at the sensitive nerve, an eye closing from pleasure. scaramouche, what are you doing to me? you kept repeating in your mind. you were a mess because of a fucking voice over the phone. is this how desperate you’ve become?

but it wasn’t just any voice. it was scaramouches. and if he kept talking to you like that you’d listen to it all day.

“yeah? ngh- s-slowly? or fast..?” scaramouche moaned, a bit of a whimper in his throat.

“slowly, slowly..” you echoed yourself, breathing out a held exhale of air, “w-wanna savour this..” admitting to your feelings, you found yourself forming a knot in your groin. this exhale, that erotic breathy noise from you, is enough to earn you a soft moan from scaramouche on the other line.

he stiffened at your words, eyes screwed shut at the image he’d burned into his mind of you. yearning to hear more, he spoke up again, his hand beginning a slow pace as he stroked his cock, “oh, fuck. you wanna savour me..” he grinded his teeth, jaw shifting, “how does that feel, ah? good?” his voice is condescending, low and almost.. degrading, picturing you beneath him as he speaks. believing you as something below him, both physically and sexually.

”ahg-mhm..” you breathlessly agreed, “feels good, scara.” slowly, you overcame that guilt. that fear, it didn’t matter anymore. he wanted this. he wanted you. that thought was enough to allow yourself to feel it too, slipping your hand into your underwear and sliding a finger between your wet folds, a gasp escaping you.

biting his lip so hard he could draw blood, he held back a soft whimper, the sound of his name spoken from your lips like that. it was driving him crazy how the only thing keeping him from you was this damn phone. a short laughter came from him, low and raspy, “nngh, yeah… so good. you sound so good..” he spoke, managing to keep his voice just at a level enough for you to hear him. hear his want. his need for you.

a curse fell out of your lips, “fuck, ah..” drawing a faster circle on your clit, your mind began to slip. slipping to places you wish you were, positions you wish scaramouche was holding you in. what his hand would feel like doing this to you instead. and the lewd noises being caused by him instead, not just you rutting weakly into your own palm. his voice was so hoarse, just a little whiny, sending a rush of blood to your head. he’d have you against the wall, slamming into you from behind-

“god, i’d give anything to be there right now. under my hands, fuck, all the pretty noises you’d make.”

immediately a moan exhaled from your chest, “a-ah, yeah.” you moaned, “want your hands on me..” in your head, they already were! all over you, his mouth too! saying more of those things to you, right in your ear, spoken through hushed whispers and gritting teeth.

scaramouche could feel it in every single bone in his body. every fucking last drop of his blood wanted to hear you scream his name. his grip tightened oh his phone, a scratchy moan coming through the microphone. “ohh..” he laughed breathily, stretching out into a whiny moan as his cock hardened to the touch of his hand, his pace speeding, “you sound so pathetic, such sweet sweet sounds..”

you could hear him, so lewd and filthy, his hips were bucking subconsciously into his own hand. in his mind too, you were there. not just in his ear, “fuck, i bet you look so dirty right now, fucking yourself on your hand.”

“please, scara,” you whined, rolling your hips, causing a muffle over your mic, an irritated groan comes from him. if you’re gonna be doing this, why aren’t you paying attention? he needs to hear every fucking word.

“can’t hear you. louder.”

“scara.” you moaned. god, that voice of yours was intoxicating.

“oh, the way it just rolls off your tongue-ughn..”

scaramouche whimpered, the sounds leaving his lips just above a whimper, words becoming impossible to form. his mind was blanking, fogging with lustful ideas and thoughts, possessed by his craving for you, “are you close? god, tell me you’re close. i can hear it.. the way you’re whining.”

responding with only a moan, your wrist beginning to ache from how vigorously you slid your fingers in and out of yourself, your other beginning to shake while holding your phone to your ear. you didn’t even consider the possibility of moving it away, wanting-no, needing to have his voice right in your ear. more than just in your head. it was here now, he was doing this. with you. just if only he was physically here.. but right now, that didn’t matter.

scaramouches voice alone was bringing you to the edge and he himself knew that too, utilizing his tone in such a way he knew it would tip you over. he wanted you to do this over and over and over, beg him to touch you, to do anything to you, and he’d do that til he was satisfied. maybe he’d even let you touch his cock if you asked nicely. having you do it yourself, instead of his hand.

grunting out a moan, you spoke, “mmfg, yes, scara,” whining, breathing, tears stinging at your eyes, “please-ngh, don’t stop talking.”

“ugh, i-i won’t, won’t-fuck.” forcing more harsh words out of his mouth, scaramouche lets his eyes flutter shut, pumping his cock like it was the last thing he’d ever touch, wishing it was your body instead. he’d be happy dying inside of you. feeling you clenching, tightening around him, grinding down on him in a needy, feverish manner. his grip fastened on his hardness, a guttural moan escaping his lips, “these fucking hands of mine would make you feel so good, ____.”

“y-yes! yes, please! need them so bad, need them instead-ah!” you gasped. now you knew your neighbors would be mad. this apartment was not thick enough for this. imagine if he was in your room now, too. your face pressed into your sheets, fuck, probably against your door knowing him. he wouldn’t give you the chance to lay down. you’d be scraping paint off the wall. and skin off his back. this was too much. all too much. too much too much-

“i’ll have you, ngh- screaming on my cock after this. just you wait-“ interrupting his own monologue with a hoarse moan, his hand pumping a delicious pace on his dick, he threw his head back, “cum, _____. do it already. do it with me.”

almost at his words, treating them like it was an order your body gave out on your, back arching in a cramp inducing position, cumming on your hand just like he instructed. that knot released, sending waves upon waves of a much needed climax, “pleasepleaseplease- scara!”

you were reeling in ecstacy, and from the sounds scaramouche was making, you were sure he was too.

scaramouche found himself reeling on his hand, his orgasm coming just as yours did, throbbing with cum. curses left his mouth, a mess of words and your name and other things you couldn’t pick up over the ringing of your own ears. his hand loosened its grip, weakly falling to his side as he panted almost erratically, a round of silence filling the call with nothing but breathing from both ends. it was scara that spoke first, his voice a bit weak, cracky, “was that good?”

breathing out, struggling to respond, “oh.. oh yeah. for sure.” you affirmed, sliding your hand out of your shorts. the exhaustion returned now, after the pleasure.

as if he sensed it, he spoke up once more.. “don’t get comfortable. i’m coming over.”

…okay. maybe your day didn’t go that wrong.

[iwasntstable]

n.s. | if i'm there

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I didn't want to believe how much you needed help / And I just left you to be all by yourself / And now I wish I had seen that you weren't doing well / But I just came back to see how hard you fell Well, if I'm there to catch you when you fall / You'll have a friend down in Hell after all 　　— If I'm There - Bad Omens

summary: when things start getting bad, you withdraw. ignoring calls and texts, and descending into bad habits as you self-isolate. but noah knows what you're like and he loves you too much to let you suffer alone.

content tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, poor mental health, mentions of disordered eating, discussions of food, self-destructive behaviour, fluff.

word count: 3.8k.

note: having a rough time recently so enjoy the self-indulgent product of my stressing. 　　PS: please tell me if the layout of this post is fucked up so I can fix it for you.

Things are getting bad again. You find your sleep schedule sliding later and later, falling asleep in the early hours of the morning and waking in the afternoon, bypassing the day altogether. Meals are becoming infrequent and poor in quality. Appetite dwindling and opting to eat half a bag of microwave rice at 3am rather than dedicating time to creating a nutritious and satisfying meal. Truth be told, you didn’t have the energy to cook anything more, and the malnutrition itself likely played a part in that lack of energy. The trash was left to build up, and the laundry hadn’t been done in weeks.

The progression of all of this was gradual. So gradual, that by the time you recognised what was happening, it was all but too late to stop the rapid descent into your depression. And as the days go by, you start to withdraw into yourself. Messages from friends begin to go unanswered. You tell yourself you’ll reply later, when you have the mental bandwidth to engage in conversation. But later ends up being not at all. Too many days have passed, and you feel like it’s too late to reply now; you don’t know how. That includes your boyfriend.

　　　　　　　　　　　[Noah 💘]

　　　　　　 　　　　　Tuesday 　　　　　　　　　 　　10:45AM

— Morning! Do you wanna call later?    Miss your voice 

          morning! I have a headache —             right now and I feel like it's             not gonna go away :( I'll let                you know though.                 I miss you too ❤️ —

— Aw I'm sorry :( — I hope you feel better soon — Text me later and let me know    how you are ❤️

　　　　　　　　　 　　02:27PM

— Hey babe how are you feeling?

             my head still hurts :( —

— Want me to come over and look    after you? — Have you eaten yet?

       you don't have to do that, I'd be —            shitty company anyway                   just wanna sleep —

— Okay :( — I'll text you later tonight so    you can sleep

　　　　　　　　　 　　10:09PM

— How are you feeling? — Are you sleeping? — Hope you’re resting well. Text    me when you wake up so I know    you’re okay — I love you ❤️ — Goodnight ❤️

　　　　　　 　　　　Wednesday 　　　　　　　　　 　　08:41AM

— Morning, how’re you feeling?

　　　　　　　　　 　　09:13AM

— Are you awake? — Babe, are you okay?

      hey! sorry I was still asleep. I feel a —       little better but my head still hurts :(

— I’m gonna cancel today and come    over — I don’t want you to be alone when    you’re not well 

       no don’t do that, i’m okay really —              you know this happens          sometimes. I just wanna rest,            you don’t have to cancel for        me. not when work is important

— You’re important too — Please let me look after you

          I love you and I love that —           you want to be here for me,         but all I want to do right now                   is sleep

          I don’t want you to cancel —           important schedules just           to watch me sleep all day                I’ll feel better soon.             just need to give it time. —

— I’d cancel to sit and watch you sleep    in a heartbeat — I love you, I just want you to be okay — I have to go, I’ll text you later okay?

         I’ll text you back when I can, —            if I don’t reply I’m probably          asleep so don’t worry have a                good day I love you —

　　　　　　　　　 　　10:26PM

— Hey babe sorry I didn’t text all day I    was so fucking busy — How’re you doing now? — Are you sleeping again?

　　���　　　　[MISSED CALL: 10:31PM]

— Text or call me when you wake up,    even if it’s the middle of the night I’ll    leave my sound on — I love you ❤️

　　　　　　 　　   　　Thursday 　　　　　　　　　 　　08:41AM

— Hey, are you awake?

　　　　　　　　　 　　08:55AM

— Hello??

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 08:59AM]

— Message me when you wake up

　　　　　　　　　 　　12:20PM

— Babe?? — I’m worried — Even if you don’t wanna talk can     you please let me know you’re okay?

　　　　　　　　　 　　12:46PM

— Babe please answer me

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 12:48PM]

　　　　　　　　　 　　01:20PM

     hey, sorry I missed your messages —         I’m okay sorry for worrying you —

— I was just about to come over — I still might — I’m worried about you

           please don’t I just don’t —          wanna see anyone right now

— Even me?

                  I’m sorry —             I’ll text you tomorrow — — If that’s what you want — I love you

　　　　　　　 　   　　　Friday 　　　　　　　　　 　　03:47PM

— I don’t want to bother you, I’m     trying to give you space if that’s    what you need — But I’m worried about you — You haven’t messaged me all day — Did I do something wrong?

　　　　　　　　　 　　04:10PM

— Babe please answer me

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:12PM]

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:15PM]

　　　　　　　　　 　　04:18PM

— Your friends said they haven’t heard    from you in days — What’s going on? You can talk to me. — You don’t have to talk to me if you    don’t want to but text someone back,    please — I just wanna know that you’re okay

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:23PM]

And that’s how Noah ended up outside your door. Banging incessantly and shouting your name through the wood. You could hear him from where you were wrapped up in bed, but you were half hoping he would just drop it and go away. Realising quickly, however, the futility of that hope when you heard another voice join the sound of his. That of your neighbour, the nosy one from the house on the right.

You groan and throw the blanket off yourself, flinching a little when your feet touch the cold floor. You have no choice but to go downstairs, and no time to change your appearance. Hoping to whatever God will listen that Noah doesn’t make a comment on the clothes you’d been wearing for the past week before you can get in the shower and change.

“I’m just really worried about her,” you can hear the unmistakable tone of Noah’s voice through the door before you even open it.

Hesitating for a moment with your hand on the door handle, you decide to eavesdrop on the conversation. “I haven’t seen her for, ohhh let me think... has to be about a week now,” despite the man’s voice wavering with age, it came loud and clear through the door. An unfortunate side effect of his hearing loss.

“A week?!” Noah exclaimed. Having enough of the old man sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, you unlock the door quickly, wrenching it open and taking a surprised Noah by the arm.

“Oh! Nice to see you, dear. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The old man sneers.

“Yeah, nice seeing you, Trevor,” you barely extend him a glance as you drag Noah in through your doorway, slamming the door closed and turning the key. You let out a deep sigh, your palms and forehead resting against the cool wood.

Noah calls your name softly. You squeeze your eyes tight and take in a breath before you turn to face him. Putting on the best phoney smile you can muster.

“Sorry about him, he’s always in everyone’s business. What are you-”

“He said he hasn’t seen you in a week,” he says matter-of-factly. There’s no hint of a smile on his face. “Your friends said they haven’t heard from you in days either, and you’ve been ignoring my texts. And calls.”

Your heart seizes at the sadness in his eyes. He stands there in your front room, his usual sweatpants and hoodie, but he just looks so defeated. You always tell him he looks like an upset puppy when he’s sad, and the puppy-dog eyes are working overtime on you right now. “I told you, I’ve just been busy, and I-”

“And you had a headache, and you missed my texts, and you didn’t want to talk,” his voice was as stern as his expression. You knew he wasn’t an idiot. That there’s no way he’d believe your—at best—flimsy excuses. You stand frozen to the spot, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. Picking at the stitches, trying to distract yourself from the lump forming in your throat. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Noah questions.

You swallow roughly, “I don’t know what you... I don’t-”

He says your name firmly and takes a step towards you, “I’m going to ask you how you are, and I would like you to answer me honestly.”

Feeling your heart begin to race in your chest, you swallow again, but it does nothing to get rid of the tightness in your throat. Or the dizziness creeping up on you.

“Are you doing bad again?” He sounds softer this time, and you almost wish he would just scream at you because when he’s kind and attentive like this, you can’t help but crumble and shut down.

You clench your jaw as your breathing gets quicker, shallower, and you feel the unmistakable burn of tears in your eyes. “I’m fine,” your voice comes out cracked and weak, not at all the sound of someone who's fine. 

“Don’t pretend you’re okay. Please don’t lie to me, because I know you’re not okay!” Noah crosses the room to meet you, holding his hands outstretched towards you, “what can I do for you? Please, I want to help.”

You cover your mouth as you choke back a sob, wrapping your other arm around your middle; you can’t hold it in anymore, and the floodgates open. Gasping for breath that seems to never come, you grip the front of your shirt tight in your fist, the clothing suddenly feeling suffocating and stiflingly hot.

“Oh, baby. Come here,” Noah takes you by the shoulders and pulls you into his chest, where you fall into him and cling onto him like he’s your only lifeline. “I need you to breathe for me, okay? Slowly, in and out,” he strokes soothing circles against your back as he demonstrates to you how to breathe. “Come and sit down here, yeah? The couch is right here.”

You barely register your legs moving for the numbness extending across your entire body, from your fingertips all the way down to your toes. Your tears are hot on your face, and every time you try to wipe them away, they’re just replaced by more in a never-ending stream. The room feels like it’s spinning around you as you move, only worsening the feeling of nausea rising in your throat. The plush cushions of the couch are a welcome relief.

“You’re holding your breath, I need you to breathe. Just how I am, that’s it,” he cradles your head to his chest through your shaky attempts to take in a breath through your nose and let it out slowly through your mouth. Your breath hitches uncontrollably with every inhale, taking in tiny bursts of air at a time. Noah, though, has nothing but praise on his lips: “That’s it. You’re doing so well, just listen to my voice.”

You missed his voice. As you worsened and withdrew, you found any excuse to avoid going out to see him, and you had been ignoring his calls for days. You knew you were doing it, and you missed him desperately, but with every day that passed, you found it harder and harder to reach out. It was hard for you to reach out for help in the first place, hard for you to admit to anyone that you needed help. Hard to admit it to yourself. Opting instead to suffer in silence and just push through it until you finally broke. You didn’t know any other way.

The familiar presence of him by your side eases the pace of your racing heart, allowing each breath to come a little easier. A little calmer. “I hate to see you hurting like this,” he whispers into your hair, his hand stroking through it gently, working to soothe the seemingly unquenchable anxiety. “I want to help you, please let me help you.”

It broke your heart to hear the pain in his voice. You never wanted to hurt him, but that’s all you seem to do. That cold hand of dread tightens its grip on your chest again, panic filling your lungs and replacing all the air. “I’m sorry,” you barely choke out, gripping onto Noah tighter. Warring with yourself, wanting to hold him close, but feeling like you need to push him away.

“You don’t need to apologise, ever. I’m here, I’m right here,” he runs his hand up and down your back, cradling you close. He can’t help but notice that through the fabric of your shirt, the bones of your spine are ever so slightly more prominent than before. He keeps his mouth shut. Focussing instead on quelling your distress and holding you tight in his arms. 

“I just- I fuck everything up. I can’t do anything right, I don’t deserve your love, I don’t deserve you-” Once you start talking, you can’t stop, finally letting it all out until Noah cuts you off, incapable of hearing you degrade yourself anymore.

“No. No, that’s not even remotely true. Don’t say that about yourself,” he says firmly, holding you just a little tighter. 

You shake your head against him, “all I do is hurt people and push you away, and I don’t know how to stop. You don’t deserve that, you shouldn’t have to put up with me.”

“I don’t ‘put up with you’. I love you, and I want to be here for you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

“You shouldn’t have to drop everything to come deal with me when you’re so busy. You deserve someone that isn’t so fucking hard to love.”

With that, Noah pushes you backwards by the shoulders, holding you there so he can look into your eyes when he speaks. “You are not hard to love. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever had the privilege of doing. You just…” He takes a deep breath, cupping your cheek and brushing away the tears from under your eyes. “You just need to let me in, and let me show you you’re just as worthy of love as anyone else is.”

The image of him blurs when the tears overflow from your eyes again, your face crumpling as you bow your head. “You’ll leave me," your voice shaking with the force of your sobs.

"Why would you ever think I'd leave you?" he asks, dismayed by your fear.

"Everyone always leaves," you tell him, voice brittle and quiet, shaking your head. "It's only a matter of time before you leave too."

"I love you," Noah feels tears prick at his own eyes. "I love you so, so much. And I'm not going anywhere." He lifts your head, once again brushing away your tears so he can look into your eyes, "please trust me to help you."

"I'm just so tired," you confess, and he pulls you into his arms again. 

“I can't promise to fix all your problems, but I can promise you won't have to face them alone. There’s nothing you could do that would drive me away. And the things that would, I know you’d never do,” he runs a comforting hand through your hair as you cry, his other arm secure around your waist. Your tears soak into his shirt, but he doesn’t mind. He wants you to give it all to him—all your sorrows, all your grief—so that he can bear it with you.

You desperately want to believe his words. To lean on him when you need him the most, but that insecure piece inside of you won’t let you yield. You don’t know how to open up to anyone without feeling like a burden.

Noah stays right there with you until the tears subside and your breathing evens out. Your head resting in his lap as he reassuringly strokes your hair, you feel the beginnings of a dull ache in your head that makes you drowsy. He rubs soothing circles into your back with his other hand, shifting slightly to get a better look at your face. “Have you eaten yet today?” He asks tentatively. Feeling your throat constrict under the pressure of guilt, you know you can’t lie to him. You know he sees right through you, so you decide to try being honest by shaking your head. “Want me to cook something for you? Or we can order something? My treat.”

You know he means well, but you don’t know how to say you don’t have an appetite without worrying him. He won’t let you go the entire day without eating, but all you want to do is sleep.

“Please talk to me,” he pleads, “I need to hear you.”

On a shaky breath, you settle for a half truth. “I don’t think there’s anything to cook.”

“That’s fine, we can order food then. What do you want?”

Chewing on your lip, you freeze. The silence stretches on far too long for you to be deciding what restaurant to order from, it’s clear you’re unable to answer.

Noah sighs your name, “you have to eat something.” 

“I know. I just… I just don’t want to,” he remains quiet, waiting for you to continue. “I don’t feel hungry. Thinking about it is overwhelming. I just want to sleep so I don’t have to think about it.”

“What have you been eating these past few days?” He asks cautiously, his tone light. Conscious to not sound accusatory.

You sigh, knowing there’s no way of escaping this. “Microwave stuff, mostly,” you play with the fabric of his sweatpants, feeling his leg underneath, fidgeting your anxiety away. “Rice, oats, ramen. Stuff I don’t have to wash up after.”

“Have you been eating every day?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, the tension only thickening when you answer "no,” barely above a whisper.

You feel him nod. Quiet for a moment until he too speaks so quietly, you almost didn’t hear it. “You can’t go on like this.”

“I know,” you confess.

“Please let me help you.”

The desperation in his voice is what does it—the final straw. You sit up straight, turning to face him. Wiping the residual tears from your cheeks and looking him in the eye. You know it’s time to really be honest. 

“It’s hard for me-” Your voice catches in your throat as the threat of crying again creeps up on you, not quite realising how much your body would resist. Taking a second to compose yourself—a deep breath in, eyes closed, releasing it slowly—your resolve strengthens and you continue. “It’s hard for me to open up to people. To admit when I’m struggling. I’m so used to feeling like I’m burdening everyone with my problems, so I just keep it all to myself. And by the time I realise I’m going down that road again, it’s too late to stop it.”

“It’s never too late,” Noah says reassuringly, tucking both sides of your hair behind your ears—the left first, then the right. “I mean this in the most loving way possible, but you don’t get to decide whether you’re a burden. You don’t get to take that choice away from me. The choice to help you. Your problems will never be a burden to me, no matter how big or small. You will never be a burden to me. I love you. I choose you. And I’ll never think poorly of you for needing help, ever.”

You don’t know what to say. Your eyes fixed on his. One of your favourite things about him is his big brown eyes. Always so full of comfort. So full of love that even you, with all of your self-doubt, can’t deny it. “I’m sorry. I know you said not to apologise, but I think I need to. I’m sorry for making you worry and for pushing you away. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Noah takes your hands in his. Large palms enveloping your own entirely. “Seeing you hurting is what hurts me the most. I love you so much, all I want is for you to be happy and healthy.”

You squeeze his hands in yours, “I love you, Noah. I’ll try harder, I promise. Feeling so unwanted for so long before I met you, I think I didn’t realise just how lucky I am to have you until now.” Noah raises one of your hands, kissing the back firmly and holding it there, savouring the feel of your skin against his lips. Timidly, you ask, “can we get pizza?”

He breaks out into a smile, “of course we can! But you have to text your friends back first," he bargains, "even if it’s just something short.”

“Deal,” you can’t help but return his smile. “My phone is upstairs, I’m just gonna go get it.”

“Wait!” he calls as you stand, pulling you back to the sofa and into him with a hand on the back of your head, “can I kiss you first?”

Without a word, you lean into him, closing the gap between you and feeling his lips on yours for the first time in weeks. That familiar burn of tears threatening to escape your eyes returns, and when you pull away, those beautiful brown eyes are full of concern.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, laughing awkwardly, “happy tears. I just missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” his smile taking on a more solemn appearance this time. “But I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I love you, please don’t ever forget that.”

“Don’t forget that I love you too. No matter what happens. No matter how stupidly self-destructive I act.”

Noah pulls you in for one final embrace before letting you retrieve your phone. You spend time texting back each of your friends, apologising for your absence and telling them you were okay, that Noah is here, and you’d explain more later. Noah, sitting at your right, creates your pizza order, periodically asking what else you’d like adding.

The two of you spend the night watching trash TV, settling into your usual comfort and hurling insults at the characters for making stupid decisions while you eat your food. Only realising after it arrived just how hungry you really were. And when you’re finished eating, Noah and you head upstairs.

You feel like a new person after you shower, coming out of the bathroom to find Noah relaxed against your headboard. The sheets on your bed changed, and a fresh set of clothes lay waiting for you to change into for bed.

Accepting finally how much lighter everything feels when someone is around to help you. You slide under the clean sheets, comforted by the warmth of Noah’s body beside you for the first time in too long. And just as you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his hand stroking your back, you’re determined to never let things get this bad again. Knowing you need to trust him, because trust is the foundation of love, and you love Noah with every fibre of your being. And despite how hard it is sometimes, you need to let him love you back.

╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

✉ C:/SYSTEM/APP/TAG

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[aphroditeinthesea]

can i please request a percy jackson x reader where the reader is a daughter of aphrodite to the song i can do it with a broken heart by taylor swift

“ i can do it with a broken heart ”

percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite 🌊

⚠️ percy is an ass to the reader but that’s kinda a given + percabeth inclusion woop woop

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

i can read ur mind

she’s having the time of her life

there in her glittering prime the lights reflect

sequin stars off her silhouette every night

i can show you lies

“I’m so happy you're finally getting over him,” her sister smiled, hand on her back.

She forced a grin as she continued to sing along to the campfire song. She nodded and waited for her sister to turn her attention away. When she finally saw the girl from the corner of her eye turn towards her boyfriend.

Y/N looked down to the grass. If she looked up she knew what she would see. Just the thought was nauseating. The boy who she claimed to all her friends she would marry, who she already had best laid plans to move to New Rome with and go to college together.

Everything that came to a crumble when he decided he did want those things. Just with his best friend instead.

She watched from across the way how his arm was wrapped around the blonde. They weren't even talking, just looking into each other’s eyes. It was as though they were having an entire conversation without saying anything. She recalled how when she first started going out with Percy and her friends tried to warn her. Everyone knew that the two were soulmates, except for three people.

She wondered if on some level she always knew, too. Maybe she was just denying it to stay with him for just a little bit longer. Even if she screamed all night the day she he broke up with her.

If you were ever so inclined to wonder what really truly happened, here’s the deal:

It was like any other Friday. Perseus Jackson waltzed into her cabin, head low almost as though he cared. He told her he wanted to talk to her privately in cabin three. Her heart sank. She knew. She just knew.

Soon enough, while she sat on his bed and he stood in front of her, he spoke in his softest voice.

“We need to break up.”

She felt her head get dizzy while she looked up at him, “what?”

“I’m so sorry,” he sat next to her, “I hate having to do this to you.”

“Why?” was all she could say.

His eyebrows creased, while tears welled up in his sea green eyes. She felt like she was looking into one of the clear seas of Greece. “I dont feel about you the way that I should.”

She sighed, “Annabeth.” Although because of the weakness in her voice, all that came out was, “Eth.”

He understood her. Slowly nodding, he began once again, “I realized I feel more about her than I should,” he took a breath, “but I wouldn't do anything before ending this with you. I couldn't hurt you like that.”

That damn loyalty of his.

“I get it.”

i’m a real tough kid

i can handle my shit

they said “babe, you gotta fake it til you make it”

and i did

The next morning, it was like it never happened. Afterall, a girl’s gotta have a reputation to upkeep. Everyone’s favorite daughter of Aphrodite. Who could hate a girl so bubbly and peppy and outgoing and happy and has never once had a bad hair day?

Everyone tried to get her to talk about it, but the only thing she said was “I’m helping at arts and crafts today, tee-tee-why-ell!”

With a smile on her face and the taste of vomit on her lips, she pranced around helping campers make vases and false confidence.

“You need to guide your hands up more, like this-”

“Y/N.”

She looked up to lock eyes with the daughter of Athena. “Annabeth.”

“I really wanted to talk to you.”

She flashed her blinding smile and raised eyebrows, “I would love to talk, but I’m right now,” even though her blood boiled at the sight of the blonde curls, “see you later, though.”

“I’m staying.”

“Oh!” She squeaked, “grab a seat.”

lights, camera, bitch smile

even when you wanna die

he said he’s love me all his life

but that life was too short

As soon as y/n was alone she broke down, hitting the floor. She felt all the pieces of her shatter. She had spent hours grinning like a winner before she finally crashed.

She let out every emotion she had felt that day. The anger, the sadness, the betrayal, the heartbreak, all of it. She let out a scream for every glance she shared with either Percy or Annabeth.

But just before dinner, she dolled up her makeup and curled her hair to perfection. Then brushed it out. Then straightened it.

She knew she was overthinking it, but how damn stupid would she look walking out to dinner with hair that mirrored the girl she was just left for? Of course, the meal went as it always would. Her cracking jokes with her siblings, giving out advice that not a soul asked for, all was normal except for the table across the way.

The Poseidon table, which was currently being shared by a certain blonde. This had to be a joke. She watched their conversation flow so easily. The laughs, the smiles, whispers, before Annabeth snuck back off to her own table.

She thought to herself that maybe she should have done that. I mean, if little miss perfect could bend the rules a little, why couldn't she? Maybe that’s why he left?

Over the next few weeks, she tried to block out everything about him. Maybe it was just a dream. But occasionally she’d find something of his in a drawer. Crucial evidence she didn't just imagine the whole thing.

She was sure she could pass this test. The test being the ability to not spend her days crying. And although she did cry a whole lot, she was so damn productive. It was honestly an art. She knew for the rest of her life that this time really proved how good she was at faking. You know? ‘Cause she’s miserable and nobody even knows.

Try and come for her job.

[vaguesxrrow]

hello!! i love your writing so much and i was wondering if maybe you could do a dean winchester x afab reader inspired by the line “knee deep in the passage her seat and you’re eating me out” ?? 💋💋

CHAPPELL ROAN !!! usually i would go 'why would a man be there' but ask and i shall deliver. hope u enjoy xx

knee deep - dean winchester / reader

a/n: is this postion realistic? i dont know, but chappell said so, and i would trust her with my life

wc: 579

tags: afab reader (sex specific terms used), smut

"you stay right here, princess, let me set it up," dean said, kissing your cheek and patting your thigh as he meandered to the trunk of the car. the door to the passenger side - your side - was left ajar, and you watched your boyfriend (namely, his ass) from the rearview mirror as he unpacked your picnic stuff.

the sun was just about to set. dean had driven you out here specifically to watch day turn into dusk, already having packed a blanket and what he assured you was all your favourite foods.

as he was walking back, you grabbed his arm, pulling him into a deep kiss.

"mm- [name], the stuff-" he protested.

"drop it," you mumbled into his lips. "you think you can give me all this princess treatment, walk around with that ass of yours-" you squeezed his butt playfully, "-and not expect me to get turned on?"

dean smirked. "what, you're mad at me for taking you out on a date?"

you rolled your eyes. "no." almost automatically, your fingers moved to fiddle with the top button of his flannel. "i just don't think i can wait til the end of today for you to fuck me."

he licked his lips. "how about i give you some more 'princess treatment' to stave off your arousal until then?"

your stomach did a flip. "that sounds amenable," you said, trying to sound nonchalant, even as you rubbed your thighs together subtly (or so you thought).

dean grabbed your left thigh, forcing your legs open. "you wanna do this right here?" he asked. it almost sounded like a challenge.

"why not? no one's around." you shrugged. "so get in here, cowboy."

you shuffled backwards as dean got in. he was on his knees, but evidently he didn't mind, locking lips with you immediately. he gripped your hips, fingers slipping under your waistband.

"can i?"

you nodded, wiggling to assist dean in freeing you of your pants and underwear.

"god, i can't wait to eat you out, baby," he groaned.

"then don't," you quipped, giggling at the look he gave you. your laughter dissipated into a breathy moan as his mouth met your pussy. you were rendered speechless - all you could do was fist a hand in his hair and let the pleasure wash over you. his tongue was currently stimulating your clit, making you even wetter. then, he delved inside your folds.

"dean," you whined. "fuck, that feels good. you're so good to me."

he pulled away momentarily to kiss the inside of your thigh and look up at you. the sight of him alone, kneeling in front of you, lips glossy, evoked an almost pornographic moan out of you.

"you gonna come for me right now?" his voice was low and husky. his fingers were lightly grazing your clit, and he smiled, toothy and ever so charming.

you nodded frantically. "shit, yes, dean, please."

"as you wish." he dived in again, this time taking care to lick the places he knew you were sensitive.

your breathing and mutters of, "oh, fuck," became more high pitched and incoherant as you found yourself approaching climax.

"dean," you moaned. "i'm coming-" you approached your orgasm with a cry, grip tightening in dean's hair. your breathing was heavy when it was over, a blissed out smile on your face.

"how's that for princess treatment?" he asked.

you laughed, leaning your head against the headrest. "i think you know the answer to that.”

[dark-frosted-heart]

Melted by Summer's Lust - Roger Barel (Part 2)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this.

Unfortunately, it rained on the third day of our stay.

(What can we do indoors…That’s it!)

Kate: Roger, do you want to do this today?

I took something out of my travel bag.

Roger: …An embroidery kit?

Kate: Yes. It was something Victor gave me in case I had some free time when the weather got bad. Let’s do it together. We can embroider Ale on a handkerchief!

Roger: …I’ve never done it, but I can give it a shot.

Maybe it was because I looked desperate that Roger took the embroidery kit with a wry smile.

After that, we proceeded to embroider while chatting idly.

(Maybe working with my hands is what I need to calm down. And…)

I peeked at Roger who sat across from me, focused on embroidering. 

(It’s kind of cute seeing him working on something small when he’s so big.)

–

Kate: Done! I’ll call it “Memories of Summer��.

Roger: You embroidered beer and meat? Did yesterday’s meal taste that good?

Kate: It was definitely good, but what I liked was that you made it! What did you embroider?

Roger: This one’s done.

Not only did he embroider Ale, but he added flowers to it too!

Kate: This is so good…! I can’t believe it’s your first time!

Roger: Probably because I do a lot of sewing.

(I see, he put his suturing skills to use…)

(I’m glad I got to see another new side of Roger)

--

—Night of day 3. The day French kissing is allowed.

I had a lovely time embroidering with Roger during the day, but everything changed when night hit.

Kate: …Haaa… Wait…Roger…

Even when I said his name, Roger didn’t stop.

His deep kisses stole my breath and his tongue explored my mouth—my body lost its strength.

(Roger’s pace is drawing me in…!)

I closed my lips tightly against him.

Roger: —You think that’ll work?

My attempt to stop his incessant kisses was easily thwarted and he parted my lips with his tongue.

Kate: Ah…Hnnn…

(...Prey can never escape the huntsman)

(The only thing I can do is…to distract myself from this pleasure that was like a potent drug)

…And as each day went by, the hunter’s sweet trap continued to affect his prey.

Roger: …Alright, it’s been an hour.

Even though Roger let me go after saying that, I couldn’t get up.

(One hour…? …Ah, right)

(Each night, we only touch each other for one hour. So we’re done with today’s session…)

I quietly touched my lips, chasing what remained from our deep kisses.

Roger: Do you…wanna keep going?

Kate: …! Well…um…

Roger: Oh? That’s a good trend. You left some extra time the first two days. Nice to see you’re more in the mood today. Let’s keep at it ‘til the last day, yeah?

Kate: Yeah…

I nodded when Roger flashed me a refreshing smile, but my body ached after he declared that we were done for the day after all those kisses that set my body aflame.

—And so the 3rd night went by while I’m left wanting more.

--

At noon of the 4th day, we were at the beach.

Roger: The sand’s hot so careful you don’t burn your feet.

Roger kept an eye on me as he made his way into the water until it reached his knees.

Roger: Oh, the cool sea water feels good…Kate, come on.

Kate: I-I’m fine just watching from here!

I spread out a sheet on the sand, set up an umbrella to protect myself from the sun, and sat down.

As if to show I didn’t plan on going in the water, I opened a book I brought with me.

Roger: …You can read anywhere, you know.

Exasperated, Roger made his way back onto the sand and snatched the book away.

Roger: Come on, let’s go.

Kate: Woah!

He picked me up and immediately carried me toward the water.

We had fun splashing each other, building Crown Castle out of sand, and collecting beautiful seashells…

I ended up having a really good time with Roger.

(I think I’ve had all the fun one can have at the beach)

Feeling exhausted, but satisfied, I plopped down on the beach and stared at the waves.

Roger: By the way, Kate. Why’ve you been avoiding me since this morning?

Kate: …I knew I couldn’t get away with it.

Roger: Obviously. You’re the one doing something weird like reading by yourself when you said you wanted to take a vacation with me. So, why’d you do it?

—The huntsman’s eyes are locked on his prey.

Kate: Well…Last night, I got too executed when you were kissing me… After I woke up this morning, all I could think about was last night so I tried avoiding you.

Roger: That so? You didn’t wanna be aware of me so you stayed away. You gotta endure it.

Kate: Okay…

Roger: …I know why you did it, but it makes me feel sad and lonely. Wanted to enjoy this vacation with you, but if you’re keeping your distance…it hurts me too.

Those unusually meek words grabbed at my heart.

Kate: …S-sorry, Roger. For avoiding you…

Roger: …Will you stop avoiding me?

Kate: Yes!

Roger: Can I touch you?

Kate: …Yes.

Roger: Can you keep up with this 5 day thing?

Kate: Of course. We only have 2 days left, so let’s do our best!

After I said that, he held my chin and kissed me.

Roger: Ha…That’s the spirit.

Where did that sad and meek Roger go?

He had his usual wicked smile.

(His mood changed so quickly. Could he possibly…)

Kate: …You were faking just now, weren’t you?!

Roger: Didn’t I tell you? I do whatever it takes to get what I want.

Kate: ~~! This…cruel egoist!

Roger: Say what you want, you fell for me.

Kate: Gah…! You’re so lucky I love you!

Roger: Yeah, I am lucky that you love me. I got to learn about love because of you

—The way he was so happy about it left me speechless.

I was overflowing with feelings for Roger, even the cruel side of him…

After initiating a kiss, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

Pushing and being pinned down—

We were so absorbed in each other that we didn’t care about the sand getting in our hair and clothes.

Kate: …Roger.

Roger: Hm?

Kate: …You do realize that today’s still the 4th day, right?

My heart raced as Roger sat me up on his lap and continued kissing me.

Roger: I know. That’s why we’re doing this. Wanted to push you past your limit…to see what’d you do.

His eyes that were studying me were filled with desire.

That gaze was almost enough to make me collapse in his arms, but I reigned myself in.

Kate: …Then I’m going to do that to you too. The first one to give in before the 5th day loses. Do your best to endure it.

Roger: Sounds good. That’s the way to go.

(Ugh…! I’m already struggling because of how happy he looks…)

(...Since it’s a rare vacation, I want to fully enjoy with him to the end)

—Is it the summer heat that’s boiling my brain or the heat from love that’s making me stupid?

And so began our lewd battle of wills.

[ranchiballz]

Operation Wingman

Pairing: Darry Curtis x F!reader

Word count: 1271

Description: Y/N is a new employee at Jim’s burger joint in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Ponyboy and Sodapop have been on a mission of helping Darry find a gal.

Authors note: heyyy. so, i’ve been gone. for like a whole year. my bad g. but anyways here’s part two when i publish it -

You push through the swinging door into the kitchen of the small but homely neighborhood diner, Jim's Burger Joint. The smell of fresh beef and fries hits your nose. You almost wince at how pungent it is, but then remember the smell of your other diner job at the Dingo. That place was the most rundown diner filled with robbers and pedos left and right. You couldn't go a day in that joint without something being stolen from you, whether it was your wallet or your innocence. You would have stayed if it wasn't for the never ending impending doom and soulless labor that they put you through. A dinging sound and the sound of shuffling boots pulls you out of your thoughts.You roll your way out of the kitchen and to the front counter.

“Come on Pony! Just one fresh soda and then we can go, I'll even get you a milkshake.” Says a chipper young boy with a wink, flashing a bright smile.

“But the movie starts in 30 minutes, Soda.  Johnny will be waiting for us . I don't want him to be alone. And why can't you just get a coke at the movies?” States an even younger boy.

“Because, child, their coke isn't as… crisp as this fine establishments.” The accentuation on the word crisp really pulled it all together. By the looks of them you had to guess they were Brothers. The slicked greasy hair, the soft eyes, the sibling banter.

 “Fine, but if Darry gives us shit about not being where we are supposed to, I'm blaming you.” The boy pouts. Both of them walk over to the end of the counter and take the last two seats. You quickly deliver a few burgers to the men at the bar counter. Each one looks at you, winks, thanks you, then digs into their oily fries like they haven't eaten in days. You make a face of disgust then smile when they notice. You roll your way over to the two young boys.

“Hi there, sorry about the wait, what can I get for you boys today?” You say pulling out your pad and a pen, you click the pen as you wait for the boys to give you their orders. As you look up you can see the youngest one staring at you. He sees you notice and looks down at his lap. The other boy is still looking at the menu of drinks. You can see the thoughts pondering in his mind, he was acting like this decision would be his last.

“Hm lets see here, a nice Coca- Cola sounds good, but i haven't had a Dr. Pepper in a while…” The boy continues to contemplate his decision. Your shoulders slump in boredom as he takes what feels like years to decide. You can feel your eyelids get heavy until you are interrupted again by his loud and excited voice. “Ok i will have one large, no, medium. No wait! Large, Dr. Pepper!” You jot down his drink and turn to the other boy.

“And for you?”

“Just a chocolate shake please, Ma’am, Thank you.” The younger boy says. You smile at them and nod as you skate off to back to grab their drinks.

“She's new here, right? Have you seen her here?” Ponyboy says turning to Soda 

“Nope haven't seen her til’ now. Hey, she's a pretty good looking gal” Soda says with a smirk on his face. “Wanna pull the good ol’ operation wingman?” Pony gave soda a disapproving look. Operation wingman was Soda's way of saying ‘Hey! That's a cute girl! Lets harass her into giving her number to their older brother because he's just a grumpy, lonely, muscle man that needs a loving gal in his life.’ Has it ever worked? No. Is that gonna stop him? Absolutely not.

“I don’t know Soda… The last time we did it we got in huge trouble, I mean, Darry got slapped. Can you imagine what would happen if it goes even worse?” Pony mentioned.

“First of all, Slapping her butt wasn't the original plan. I just HAPPENED to mention it to Two-Bit. He did it, then Darry paid the price. In all honesty I thought it would work.” Soda rebuked 

“Really, that was your plan. Wow you are quite the genius.”

“Hey woah man now don't get ugly on me.”

“Soda, I don't know. Shouldn't we let Darry find love for himself?”

“That workaholic is never gonna find a date. He goes to work, comes home, showers, reads his newspaper , and then goes to bed. No gal finds that attractive. He needs major help. I mean, the last time he talked to a woman was Mrs. Crawly down the road asking if he could get her cat down the tree.” Soda rants on. If Darry were here he would say otherwise. ( but yes that is the last time he had a conversation with a lady).

“I don’t know Soda, she's new, I don't want to scare her off already. And maybe she's a soc.”  Pony fights back.

“Oh come one man. Believe in something. Believe…” Soda looks at Pony with a pleading look. He knew that he was just trying to help his brother. But Soda wasn't Darry. Darry was a charming guy, but not like Soda. Soda had a natural effect on women and never struggled. So when he sees his brother struggling to get anywhere in life romantically, he plays cupid… more or less.

 Pony looks at the window through the diner to the kitchen, catching a glimpse of you. You were a pretty girl and from the sounds of it you were nice as well. Welcoming customers, smiling at them. You had just a nice smile overall, a very bright and kind one. Pony knew Darry needed someone like that. Almost on cue you started walking out with their drinks

“Fine, but we are doing it my way this time.” Pony whispers to Soda but quickly shuts up before you get there. 

“Alrighty boys here you go! Is that all for you today? You say pulling out your pen and pad.

“Yep, Thank you Ma’am. Um, but do you know when you guys close. Me and my friends were planning on coming in later.”  Pony takes a long swig of his shake. “And I-I mean this is the best shake I have ever had. If you are here tonight, would you be able to make me another one?” Ponys' request was sly and smart. Asking the perfect questions, all while keeping it subtle. You couldn't help but smile at the compliment. ‘What a weird thing to say’ you thought to yourself.

“Well lucky you, I'm actually closing today. The best time to come is 10. After rush, but before all them truckers come in. Guess I'll be seeing y’all tonight then” You smiled and handed them the bill and walked off to help another customer. Ponyboy looked at Soda with a smug look. Soda then looked at the clock and panic spread over his face.

“Shoot Pony we gotta go! We're gonna be late!” Soda yelled as he hopped off the bar stool and pulled out enough to cover the bill and a dollar as a tip. Pony and Soda ran out the door of the diner, But Pony hesitated and ran back inside. 

“What's your name Ma’am!” Pony yells in, grabbing everyone's attention.You whipped your head back. 

“Y/N!”  You yelled back. Ponyboy nodded and ran out the door again. You shook your head, and thought to yourself ‘what a bunch of funny kids’.

[mattmurdocksscars]

Best Friend Blues

Hi guys! Have my word vomit from today lmao I spat this out over a couple of hours at work and I'm kind of happy with it? So, I hope you enjoy! It starts out angsty and ends happily.

Word Count: 3323

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Your best friend was getting married. You should be happy. Elated, even. And instead, you're crying into a bowl of ice cream and doing your best not to think about it. 

Your best friend was getting married and you couldn't be sadder. 

You knew this would happen eventually. That he would find someone and fall in love with them and you would be left to pick up the pieces of your heart. 

You see, you've been in love with your best friend for years. You were always afraid to say anything for fear of losing him. But now it was too late. Far too late. The wedding was in two days. Tomorrow you would have to go to the reception and put your fake smile on and pretend to be happy. But for tonight you were allowing yourself a moment of weakness.

You should have known better.

There was a light tapping at your window and you jumped at the sound. Horrified, you looked to the window to see Matt standing outside of it with a frown on his face. You quickly set the bowl down on your coffee table, wiped your face, and ran to open the window. 

“What are you doing out here?!” You hissed, leaning through the window to look him over. 

“Will you let me in? Please? We need to talk.” Your heart sunk at his words but you backed away and let him fold himself into your living room. It was silent as he turned and closed the window behind him, staying with his back facing you. You took the silence for a few minutes before you couldn't take it anymore.

“Matt, what is-”

“Did you really think I wouldn't notice?” Your heart stopped before resuming at double time. Still, you tried for nonchalance.

“Notice what? What is going on, Matt? Shouldn't you be at home with Veronica?” Matt stiffens then growls and rounds on you. He steps til he's practically towering over you.

“That. That is what I'm talking about. You keep pushing me away anytime I try to spend time with you. So you tell me. What is going on?” You flinch at his words and open your mouth to reply but no words come out. Which is apparently fine because Matt keeps talking. 

“For the last week, every time I pass by your apartment you're either crying or have just finished crying. You're pushing me and the others away. Please. Just tell me what is going on with you. We're all worried and I just want to help you.” He says your name as a plea and it just breaks your heart all over again. Because the way he speaks makes it sound like maybe he could love you too and you know that's not true. You harden your heart and cross your arms over your chest.

“I just don't want to talk about it. I'm fine, Matt. Really.”

He pulls his mask from his head and lets his gaze settle in your direction. His face is desperate and you hate that you've caused him distress.

“Don't. Don't do this to me. You're not fine, I know you aren't. Even if I couldn't tell you were lying to me, I would know that wasn't true. Please, just let me help you.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up out of you at his words and confusion passed over his face.

“You can't help me, Matt. Not this time.” 

“Why not? What is so wrong that you won't even consider letting me help you?”

You don't even get a chance to consider it, the words just slip out.

“I love you, Matt.” A sound of frustration slips out of his lips.

“I love you too. Now will you please let me help you?”

“You aren't understanding me, Matt. I love you. I'm in love with you. You are my favorite what if.” Matt is speechless in front of you, shock written all over his face. You continue on.

“I have been in love with you since college. But I've always been too scared to say anything for fear of losing you. You wanna know why I'm crying? That's why!”

“Why- why are you telling me this now?”

“Because you asked and I am weak when it comes to you.”

“I'm getting married in two days! What do you want me to do? Cancel on Veronica on her wedding day?”

“Veronica doesn't even know you're Daredevil! How long do you think that relationship, that marriage, is going to last when you can't even be your true self with her!”

“It's my choice not to tell her!”

“Yeah, because you know she'll leave if you do! She doesn't love you, Matt. She loves the carefully curated person you've presented her.” Matt steps back, looking like you slapped him.

“That's not true.”

“It is, and you know it! Veronica is not who you think she is either. Some of the things she's said when we've been out have rubbed me the wrong way.” Matt scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Really? You're going to resort to this?”

“It's true. She talked about making you stop working with Foggy and start working at a big name firm so you could make money. She doesn't understand why you work for the ‘rifraff’ of Hell's Kitchen.” 

“Why would she tell you this and not me?”

“You don't have to believe me, but ask Karen. She heard it too. We both didn't say anything at the time because you seemed really happy with her and because we knew she wouldn't succeed.”

“This is unbelievable. You're supposed to be happy for me!”

“I tried! I really did try! Why do you think I never said anything?!”

“You never should have said anything!”

“You asked!! And I can't exactly lie to you so what did you want me to do?”

“I can't believe this. I can't believe you.” Matt pulled his mask back on and turned towards the window. Fear immediately creeped up your throat and you reached for him.

“Matt, wait-”

“Don't touch me!” You recoiled instantly and your heart shattered. You watched as he climbed out your window and paused outside of it. It looked like he wanted to say something but instead, after a moment, he disappeared. 

Surrounded by the broken pieces of your heart, you fell to your knees and sobbed.

~

Your phone's obnoxious vibrating woke you from your deep slumber. It took a minute to find it and answer it, not even looking at the caller ID.

“‘Lo?” Your voice was hoarse and sounded scratchy and you winced as the events of the night before came rushing back to you. You teared up at the memories but forced them back as the person on the other line started talking.

“Wow, you sound awful! Is that why you aren't here yet?” It was Foggy's cheerful voice on the other end of the line and you were instantly confused. Foggy was obviously referring to the lunch everyone in the bridal and groom party was supposed to be meeting at today but surely after last night, Matt didn't want you there.

“I, uh, don't think it's a good idea for me to come. Matt probably doesn't want me there.”

“What are you talking about, silly goose? Matt's the one who asked me to call you.” Your eyes widened and you froze, at a loss for words. Foggy picked up on it immediately and you heard the background noise dim as he walked away from the others.

“Are you okay? Matt's been kind of weird all day and now you're acting weird. Did something happen between you two? Is everything okay?”

“I- no, Foggy, everything is not okay.” You felt tears start to fall again and sniffled, trying to get yourself together. “We got into a fight last night. Like the worst we've ever had and I- I screwed up, okay?” 

“Hey, hey, it's okay. Whatever you did can't be that bad if he's still asking about you. You wanna tell me what happened?” You hesitated before slowly telling him about the fight from the night before. He was silent the whole time and for a good few minutes afterwards. You winced when he didn't say anything. 

“See? I told you. I screwed everything up and I don't even know why he wants me there.”

“Because he wants his best friends around him when he gets married, whether he's mad at them or not. Honestly, he's probably feeling guilty for forcing an answer out of you.”

“I don't know what to do, Foggy. How can I stand there and watch him do something I know he'll regret?” Foggy was quiet for a moment before he sighed. 

“You and me both. Look, I haven't wanted to say anything because I thought I was the only one having doubts about this relationship. But Matt's made up his mind and you and I both know he can't be convinced otherwise.”

“But Foggy, his religion doesn't exactly condone divorce. What are we supposed to do, just let him marry someone who he's gonna hate in six months?”

“I don't know. But the wedding is tomorrow and they're looking for you and I to both be there. Hang on.” You heard him cover the phone but it still didn't completely muffle his words. You heard someone asking what was taking so long and him telling them he would be right there. The next moment he was back.

“Listen, I can't tell you what to do. I can tell you that if you want me to tell Matt you're sick and can't make it, I will. Or if you want me to tell him you're just running late, I can do that too. Whatever you decide, I support you 100%.”

You sat there and thought about it for a moment before sighing.

“I suppose I can't let my best friend make stupid decisions on his own. Tell him I'll be there soon.”

“Attagirl. You'll be okay, I'll keep you distracted.”

“Thank you, Foggy. You're the best.”

The two of you hung up and you dragged yourself out of bed and over to the closet. You looked at the outfit you had originally planned to wear and put it aside. If you were going to get over Matt, you needed to catch someone else's attention. So you picked out a black dress that still fit the occasion and slipped it on. It fit you perfectly and you forced a smile at yourself in the mirror. With that out of the way, you grabbed your purse and left the house, heading for the brunch spot. You could do this, you told yourself. How bad could it be?

~

If it weren't for Foggy doing his best to distract you, you would've broken down after 5 minutes. Matt barely greeted you when you walked in, something Karen picked up on easily. She shot you a look and you just shrugged before shaking your head and taking your spot next to Foggy. Then it was like every time Veronica laughed at something Matt said or did, you would feel like a knife was in your heart. You wanted that to be you so badly, but it wasn't and you had to accept that. You were lucky Matt hadn't kicked you out of his life after the night before and you counted your blessings where you could. Midway through lunch, you realized you'd caught the eye of a guy across the outdoor space. When he noticed you caught him staring, he winked at you and raised his glass. You forced a smile back and dipped your head in acknowledgement. All the girls cooed, finding it the cutest thing. They urged you to go talk to him and you finally did as they said. But you couldn't help but notice the way Matt white knuckled his cane as you went by.

After exchanging numbers with the guy, you returned to your table. That was when it got really bad.

“What's the matter? Couldn't seal the deal?” Veronica snipped from her spot. You forced a smile and held up your phone. 

“I actually got his number and we agreed to meet up sometime next week.” You said back, a false sugary coating to your voice. Matt cleared his throat and sat up straighter.

“I think it's time we finish up here.” His voice was deep, and you could tell he was pissed off about something but what could it be? You and Foggy shared a look before helping wrap up the last minute preparations. Veronica continued to snip at all of you the whole time and you tried not to snap. The only people she was civil to were her own friends and you, Foggy, and Karen tried not to take it too personally. As lunch finished, you all stood outside the restaurant. Veronica stood with her friends, talking animatedly while the four of you stood back a ways. 

“Thanks for coming out, you guys. I'll see you tomorrow?” The lilt he had on the end of his voice made it sound like a question and he was gazing in your direction so you took a deep breath, forced a grin on your face, and assured him you wouldn't miss it for the world.

“Matt, let's goooo! You can talk to your friends later!” You clenched your fists but let it go as Matt smiled, a forced one if you'd ever seen it, and tapped his way over to her. She took his arm and they made their way down the sidewalk. The three of you waited until they were long gone before any of you spoke. Surprisingly, it was Karen who spoke first.

“Are we really letting this happen?” She asked, biting her lip. 

“I think we kind of have to at this point.” Foggy murmured.

“You guys wanna get drunk at my place?”

There was a resounding yes and the three of you began the trek to the liquor store and then your home. 

Your best friend was marrying someone he shouldn't be, and none of you could do a damn thing about it.

~

“So I just told him the truth! What else was I s'posed to do? He's a human lie detector!” You were explaining to Karen, and Foggy in more detail, what had happened the previous night. They were sympathetic to your plight and it made you feel a little bit better. 

“I can't believe he didn't confess to loving you back.” Foggy slurred out. You immediately whipped your head around to face him, wide eyed.

“What?!”

“Yeah. He's been in love with you for like forever. He only ever dated to keep his mind off of it. No offense Karen.”

“None taken.” She piped up.

“So then why…?”

“I guess he just figured it was time to settle down and neither of you were admitting your feelings to the other so maybe he thought it best if he found someone.”

“That idiot!” Foggy snorted at your outburst and Karen laughed too. “What?”

“You didn't come forth either. This is just as much your fault as it is his.”

Foggy pointed out. You hung your head.

“Yeah, I know.” You sighed. “Let's just get tomorrow over with and hope for the best for our friend. Sound good?”

“Sounds good!”

You bid the two of them farewell and cleaned your space up once they left. You checked your phone before going to bed, seeing a text from the guy at the restaurant. You hesitated before texting back and then putting your phone away. You checked to make sure all of your windows were locked, even the one you kept open for Matt usually. Then you finally laid down. 

Tomorrow, you would get your best friend married and then you would find a way to get over him.

~

“Oh, Matt…” You whispered as you walked up to him. He was dressed to the nines in a fancy tux that was tailored to him and looked amazing. 

“What? Does it look terrible?” He fidgeted with his bowtie, skewing it in the process, and you couldn't help but chuckle. Being around Matt hurt, but you could never deny his presence. You stepped forward and carefully fixed his bowtie back into place.

“You look amazing. Handsome as ever. Veronica is going to go crazy.” You told him. You were standing too close to him, you knew you were, yet you couldn't find it in you to back away.

“Thanks. I'm glad you could make it. Foggy said it sounded like you weren't feeling well yesterday so I was worried.” Ah, so this was his play. Pretend nothing ever happened. Well, you could play that game as well. 

“Yeah, sorry. I woke up feeling rough yesterday cause I didn't get much sleep but I feel better today.” You took a step back and missed the way Matt flinched. You turned from him and looked in the mirror at your dress. It was a simple sheath dress but it was bright pink. All the bridesmaids were in bright colors because of what Veronica wanted and you tried not to cringe at the way it looked on you. Not many people could pull off neon pink and you were certainly no Barbie. But you grinned and bared it because this was what your best friend's future wife wanted. 

“Are you ready? We should take our places in about 15 minutes.” You told him. You heard him take in a sharp breath and it caused you to turn and look at him. Instantly your heart dropped at the look on his face.

“Matt? What's wrong?”

“I can't do this…”

“What? What is it? Are you feeling sick? Should I get Foggy?” 

“I- I'm sorry, I'll be right back.” Matt turned and hurried out of the room. You heard his footsteps, the sound of a door opening, several gasps, his muted voice, followed by a shrieked ‘what did you just say.’ Your eyebrows rose and you heard the sound of a slap which got you moving towards the door. You almost got to it when it was flung open and there stood Matt. His cheek was bright red but he had never looked more proud of himself.

“Matt… what did you do?”

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

“I don't understand, did you just call off your marriage?” 

“Yes, I did.” He said it with such confidence that you could do nothing but gape at him.

“Matthew Murdock it is your wedding day and you called it off?!” You whisper-yelled. 

“Shut up.” He said, starting to walk towards you.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, shut up.” And then he was cupping your face and kissing you and oh, this must be what heaven feels like. He kissed you for several moments before pulling back.

“I have loved you since the first day we spoke. I never should have let myself get caught up in anyone else. You are who I want.” You felt tears well up.

“Matt…”

“Shhh, you don't have to say anything. Just… nod your head if you want to give this a go.” With your forehead pressed to his, he could feel the way you immediately nodded and he grinned. He pulled you in for another kiss.

“Hey, buddy, what's this I hear about a canceled wedding- whoa!”

Matt and you pulled away from each other guiltily and looked towards Foggy who had his hands on his hips. 

“Well it's about time!” 

All of you laughed as Foggy rushed forward and hugged you both close.

“So, does this mean no more evil fiance? Cause I was getting worried, buddy.”

Matt groaned, “Not you too!”

You laughed and smiled. A marriage may have been stopped but you couldn't be happier.

After all, you were in love with your best friend and he loved you too. What more could you ask for?

[liviyiuu]

‘ i just wanna be yours ’

↬ synopsis: scaramouche notices your new hairstyle and childe convinces him to talk to you.

↬ ft: scaramouche

↬ genre: fluff ; highschool au

↬ warnings: swearing ; bullying childe ; 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

↬ notes: SCARAMOUCHE IS SO HAJAJJA ; first post on this account!! ; tell me if there's any mistakes ♡

Scaramouche is a lovesick fool.

Of course, if asked, he will adamantly deny it til the day he draws his last breath. But he knows, his self-proclaimed best friend Childe knows, hell, he thinks his own mother knows. But the day he admits it is the day the sun rises from the west.

Being in love with someone you’ve never spoken to is a torturous thing. It eats away at him when he watches you socialize with your friends on the other side of the classroom. Childe’s sat next to him, incessantly rambling sbout something or other.

The way you smile has his heart running a marathon, he’s so gone for you and it’s actually embarrassing.

At some point, the ginger stops talking about what life would be like without toes and follows his best friend’s line of sight to find you at the end of it. Childe rolls his eyes and slumps back in his chair, he’d wait til Scaramouche was listening to talk about toes.

“She changed her hairstyle.” The indigo-haired boy mutters, to no one in particular obviously, but Childe just has to pick up on it.

“Really?” He says, trying to keep his tone even.

“Mhm, it suits her.” Scaramouche responds, still in his daze-like state.

Childe weighs up his options. He could tell him to just tell you that, to see how it goes. But what if it goes south? He isn't ready to lose a limb. He could just shut his mouth and pretend Scaramouche didn’t even say a word. Of course, somehow, Childe deems it worth a limb to get his stupid best friend to talk to his crush.

“Why don’t you just tell her that?”

Now this, this snaps Scaramouche to attention. His head moves so quickly that Childe worries that he'll get whiplash.

Scaramouche stares at Childe like he’s just grown a second head. “Are you fucking with me?”

To this, the ginger shrugs and motions over to you. “If you don’t make your move soon, someone else will grab her, mouchie dear.”

Scaramouche restrains himself from growling at the nickname, and slapping Childe for the absurd suggestion. The blue-eyed boy is thoroughly unaffected by the scowl directed at him and continues,

“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? She might like you back for all you know. You’ve literally had this crush for centuries. It's getting old.”

Scaramouche falls silent and seems to mull over his words. Childe’s right to some extent, it was never going to go anywhere if he didn’t throw himself out there first. But the ginger was wrong about something.

“8 months you moron. Not centuries.”

Childe’s won. He still has all his limbs and is 99.9% sure he’s convinced Scaramouche to say something to you. He feels so smug as he watches his friend stand up and move toward your desk.

When Scaramouche arrives at your desk his body moves before he can stop it and he taps your shoulder.

“Hey.”

That’s it. That’s all he says. He’s sweating bullets and his hands are clammy from his anxiety. He catches Childe mouthing at him, and is pretty sure he says ‘You got this!’ and gives him a thumbs up.

Your friends have already figured out what was going on and have scuttled away to entertain themselves and give you both some privacy.

“Your hair looks... strange today, [ name ].”

He mentally curses himself. Out of all the words in his vocabulary, how is 'strange' the one that his brain approves and allows to leave his mouth?

In his peripheral, he sees Childe facepalm and dramatically mouth ‘Mission abort! Run now you bastard!’.

Scaramouche hopes that the earth opens up and swallows him whole. He wishes that he could turn back time and smack Childe in the face. He longs for the comfort of his own seat on the other side of the room.

But by some twist of fate, his feet stay glued to the spot long enough for you to grace him with a response.

A laugh.

You’re laughing? Do you find him funny? Is he dreaming? Hallucinating?

“I got it done yesterday.” You say through laughs, “You like it?”

Scaramouche doesn’t trust his voice enough to not crack and embarrass him further, so a quick nod is what you get in response. His heart is running a million miles an hour and his face feels like it's on fire.

Your grin is so worth it. He wants it imprinted on his eyeballs. He’s so entranced by it that he almost misses Childe and some friend of yours, Yoimiya he thinks her name is, making kissy faces at you.

“Thanks, I'm glad. I was worried I looked like a clown.” You joke, running a hand through your hair.

You? A clown? Don’t joke. Childe looks like a clown. You definitely do not look like a clown.

“You don’t” he blurts before his brain can catch up, “You look really pretty.”

You raise your eyebrows and an amused hum passes your lips. His heart is in his throat and he swears you can hear how fast it’s beating.

Then, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, you rise from your seat and press a kiss to his jaw before sitting back down.

“Thanks, you wanna go out later?”

He’s at a loss for words as he tries to process what the fuck just happened. This has to be some ridiculous dream he was having.

He looks quickly over at Childe for assistance and he sees him and Yoimiya aggressively nodding their heads and mouthing ‘Yes?!? Say yes!’. Too put out of it to even formulate a sentence, he places his trust in them and answers, “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Being the best wingman to ever walk the earth, Childe appears by his side and pulls him away after flashing you a grin.

“See?!?!? I love being right! She’s SO into you mouchie!”

Scaramouche can barely hear his friend over the loop of events playing in his head. You literally kissed his jaw? His eyes make their way back to you and his lips quirk upon seeing your friends gush over your interaction.

“Oh my God. She kissed me Childe.” He sighs, too engrossed in his thoughts to notice the pictures the ginger was taking of him.

“I know! I saw! Moral of the story is: Always listen to your bestest buddy Childe.”

He gets slapped.

[hanjist]

what it’s all about.

content - stray kids’ seungmin. fem!reader. smut.

warnings - dumbification. seungmin treats reader like a bimbo. reader is a bimbo. restraints. manhandling. sir kink. pain kink. piv no protection. ass n pussy spanking. basically a punishment.

word count - 731.

a/n - not proof read.

seungmin loved your clueless little ass.

especially when you were beneath him, writhing from his touch.

“baby, you can’t just lie to me like that.”

“i didn’t lie!”

that was another lie, you weren’t really good at this.

you had snaked your hands into your panties to touch yourself behind seungmin’s back. you were too immersed in the arousal that you were feeling, which distracted you when he turned around to face you.

what a dumb move.

“are you kidding me? lying in my face again?”

you stayed silent.

“you think you can get away with it? think because you’re so cute i’ll let you loose like i usually do?”

he takes his belt from the loops of his pants, wrapping it around your wrists tightly, making a makeshift restraint for you.

“oh no. not today, baby.”

his hands roam from your arms to your waist. tightly gripping onto both sides before flipping you over to your stomach. he places his hands on your hips to lift them up. he grabs a pillow that was resting on the headboard of your shared bed, he gently places it beneath your pelvis. he rubs your sides for a moment before he gets his hands off you.

at least he shows he cares, right?

“you know, y/n, if you wanna lie to me,”

you can hear him unzipping his pants from behind you.

“-at least make it believable.”

he wastes no time to shove his leaking cock up your pussy.

you whine at the sudden action. he gave you no time to adjust to the strech of his long cock. each thrust he gives has you in pain, but you like it. no, you love it.

“mmh.. h-harder…”

you whine into the pillow. seungmin doesn’t hesitate and his thrusts become sloppier as he plows into you. his pelvis hitting your ass each thrust. he slaps your ass once, leaving your right ass cheek red.

“ngh… more! w-want more!”

he plays with the flesh of your ass cheek before responding.

“you want more? say it nicely.”

you moan in response.

“m-more! p-please…”

you voice trails as he thrusts into you faster.

“that’s not enough, baby.”

you whine loudly. whimpers and grunts leaving your mouth as you urge for the pain that seungmin inflicts on you.

“say: more, sir.”

he blatantly states. eyes watching your face, which is pressed against the pillow and drooling from the mouth.

“m-more, s-sir! p-p-please!”

with a pause to take in your pleading, he give you a smirk, which you catch in the corner of your eye. he lifts his hand up, then spanks your ass harder than before, leaving the red imprint of his hand. you whine as he spanks you once again.

“you love it, dirty girl.”

he takes his cock out of your pussy, which has you babbling.

“n-no! s-sir! n-need it! p-please!”

seungmin chuckles at your desperate figure. he leaves a slap at your glistening pussy, his middle finger hitting your clit on impact. he does it two more times, he has you squirming under his touch.

he stuffs his cock in you once again, this time in missionary. your hair sticking to your forehead, drool and tears all over your face, and your whole body glistening as you sweat: you looked so messy. so lewd.

“g-gon’ cum! c-cum, sir!”

“cum on my cock, dirty girl.”

right as he finishes speaking, you end up creaming around his cock. seungmin follows you with your orgasm as he pulls out and pumps his seed on you. he shoves his dick back in your hole, making you gasp.

“gonna fuck your brains out. gonna fuck you dumb.”

he scoffs as he speaks, another thought coming into his head

“there really is no need to though, you’re already dumb enough. i’ll just fuck you ‘til there’s nothing left to think about in that empty brain of yours.”

he sets his thrusts to a certain pace, one that takes you to heaven and back multiple times. one that makes you cum three more times.

“you learned your lesson now? learned not to lie?”

you have no ability to process the words that just came out of his mouth, so you just nod.

“words, baby.”

you open your mouth, but nothing seems to come out. your throat dry from all the moans and whines you made.

“i really have fucked you dumb, hm?”

[izzystradlindoesitforme]

Happy Birthday to the Man Who Started it All

"Patience"

Said, woman, take it slow, and things will be just fine

You and I'll just use a little patience

Said sugar, take the time, cause the lights are shining bright

You and I've got what it takes to make it

We won't fake it

Aw, I'll never break it

Cause I can take it

It doesn't matter where you are or where you go; it's always hot on April 8th. 🔥

Happy Birthday to the talented and respected, sexiest bastard on the planet.

Izzy Stradlin.

"Think About You"

Somethin' changed in this heart of mine

You know that I'm so glad that you showed me

Honey, now you're my best friend

I wanna stay together 'til the very end

Ooh, it was the best time I can remember

Ooh, and the love we shared, is loving that'll last forever

I think about you, honey, all the time, my heart says yes

I think about you, deep inside I love you best

I think about you, you know your the one I want

I think about you, darling you're the only one ...

"Dust N' Bones"

There's no logic here today

Do as you got to, go your own way

I said, that's right

Time's short your life's your own

And in the end we are just

Dust an' bones

Dust an' bones

Dust an' bones

All of my love. Happiest of birthdays, Izzy. You have my heart. (My heart says yes!)

[whistler-king]

WARNING - this is very sad ok?! Don’t read it unless you want the big sads. TW death

I’ve listened to ‘ I hope you die first’ by Ashe too many times today and now can’t stop thinking about Icemav to it.

Ice staying up nights worried about Mav and his tendencies to risk it at the first opportunity, he loves that about him. How it seems like he’s reckless but really his brain is just fast enough to think through all the probabilities, and with the trust he has in skill - he relies on that to answer any other doubts he has. (Mind you, Maverick is just sleeping peacefully next to him, smile on his face while he dreams the sweetest dreams about whatever havoc he will cause next.

“You're faster than I've ever been

And I love to see you win

It doesn't even make me sad

'Cause I don't mind coming in last”

Anyway, after a while, he’s like wtf, Goose is gone, Carole’s not gonna be here for long, who’s gonna look after him when I’m gone. What if I’m not there if he actually does miscalculate? Who’s going to pull him out of whatever mess he’s made?

So he starts to plot, yeah he stops smoking, he’ll give up the jet to climb the ladder to keep them together and have enough sway in their circle.

“Yeah, I'll get inventive, I've got incentive, you make me wanna change”

And while he loves his job, loves the navy and all the friends he’s made along the way. He’s also like, when he’s gone…what do I really have to go on for. He knows he’ll be like those sweet, sad couples that are so connected that they end up dying a few days/weeks apart. Keeping each other going til the end.

He would never want to see that for Mav though, nah, when he’s gone he would want his spark to live on. Keep spreading his spirit, he just knows the next generation of pilots need him.

But it never occurred to him that it might be out of his control, that, despite how much effort he put in - he still gets sick. That they would have get a good few years tacked on when he’s in remission.

When it comes back, he’s at peace with it because he can see that Maverick will have people around him. He just knows they will work it out with Bradley, even if he is grounded, after this mission there’s no way the Navy wouldn’t keep him even for his knowledge and skills alone.

He’s had a good life with him, one he never thought he would have before they met. Despite all the obstacles, all the arguments - they actually got their shit together. They had their happiest days together, he laughed enough for two lifetimes with him.

“You always beat me to the punchline

And the punch bowl at the party

Where you're first to dance and first to say,

‘Goodnight’”

And anyway, it could hardly be the end for them when he would just wait for him on the other side. He’s had enough practice arguing to get his way with whoever’s in charge over there too.

“I don't wanna say this

But, if I don't make it

Please don't rush for me

I'll be waiting”

[mysticstarlightduck]

New Tag Game! Character Aesthetic Deep-Dive! <3

Making a new tag game because I'm inspired and want to show the world my aesthetics from Scrapyard Boys, so here we go!

Rules: Make a moodboard with your character's aesthetic, a playlist that fits their vibe, "badly summarize them" (like, talk about their personality, but funnily), etc. It absolutely does not need to be super detailed!!!!!

✦ Character Aesthetic: Adrien Rosetrom, WIP -Scrapyard Boys

♡ Moodboard ♡

♡ Playlist ♡

Fur Elise - Faouzia

I'll dance, I'll dance like a puppet on your string I'll sing when you order me to sing I'll ring like a desperate violin [...] So play me like my name is Fur Elise Lie to me and say you'll never leave Drown me in your twisted melodies I'll pretend you wrote 'em all for me

For Your Entertainment - Adam Lambert

Let's go, it's my show Baby, do what I say Don't trip off the glitz That I'm gonna display I told ya I'ma hold ya down until you're amazed Give it to ya 'til you're screaming my name [...] Oh, I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet You thought an angel swept you off your feet Well, I'm about to turn up the heat I'm here for your entertainment

Ashes - Stellar

Ring around the rosie Pocket full of posie I'ma fucking blow all the ashes down Ring around the rosie Pocket full of posie I'ma fucking go crazy for you now

Break Stuff - Limp Bizkit

It's just one of those days when you don't wanna wake up Everything is fucked, everybody sucks You don't really know why, but you wanna justify Rippin' someone's head off No human contact, and if you interact Your life is on contract Your best bet is to stay away, motherfucker It's just one of those days It's all about the he-says-she-says bullshit I think you better quit lettin' shit slip Or you'll be leavin' with a fat lip

Shut Up! - Simple Plan

There you go, you're always so right It's all a big show, it's all about you You think you know what everyone needs You always take time to criticize me It seems like everyday I make mistakes I just can't get it right It's like I'm the one you love to hate But not today So shut up, shut up, shut up, don't wanna hear it Get out, get out, get out, get out of my way Step up, step up, step up, you'll never stop me Nothing you say today is gonna bring me down

♡ Badly Summarized OC ♡

Angsty young adult makes bad life decisions he knows he will regret later but enjoys the Vibes tm

Troublemaker who can barely take care of his own mental health ends up the unwilling guardian of two traumatized teenagers

Drama queen incarnate who loves some good Tea, but also cries while watching romantic comedies

Rockstar wannabe kicked out by bigoted grandmother still makes it alright in the end

Somehow the best and worst older sibling in the world at the same time

"I HAVE THE POWER OF ENERGY DRINKS AND ANIME ON MY SIDE OOOOO"

Irresponsible 25-year-old too angry to give a damn

BREAKING NEWS: Local stripper makes mob boss regret his very existence, while having The Time of His Life

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@the-golden-comet, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @ominous-feychild, @finickyfelix

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @the-letterbox-archives @differentnighttale,

@wyked-ao3 and OPEN TAG

[slashingdisneypasta]

Rufus 'RJ' Junior Firefly x Reader || Excerpt

Plot: You try in vein to persuade your boyfriend to stay in with you Halloween morning.

Warnings: 😏 Thirst? No actual smut though.

*@marinerainbow !! I had to write this in responce to your asks XDD Turns out I'm too tired tonight to come up with my own thoughts?? ☠ So I built on one of yours 😅 I hope you like it! ^^ Consider this a late Christmas present? XD 😅

When you wake up, drool under your face damp on the pillow from last night getting fucked into it til you were just braindead, eyes fluttering open to see an empty bed beside you, you immediately fly up into a sitting position. Through sleepy, blurry eyes, you peer around the room, and find Rufus at the end of the bed lacing up his boots. "Oh no no- " You start, mouth tasting like sleep and limbs beyond tired, but pushing yourself forward anyway; crawling over to him and resting your forehead against his bare back. "no, no- where are you going??" This early?? Why is he leaving you this earlyyyyy...

"Gotta tow the car." He just says, straightening up. Cracking your eyes open, your lashes brushing against his skin, you carefully trace a soft, nasty-looking scar cut into his back. When he doesn't move immediately to get up and just leave you, you take the opportunity to wrap your arms around his thick chest and nose over his shoulder blade until you find where you fit curled up against him; your nose settling now on his shoulder and your lips on his skin this time.

"... stay... I'll make it worth your while!~ "

... He doesn't say anything, to this. Thats okay, you know he knows your word is good. And your man isn't a huge talker, anyway.

Sighing, you turn your head and rest your cheek against his back, closing your eyes again. He's warrrm. You feel like falling right back to sleep.

...-but you cant!! You think, jolting yourself awake again. You know, as soon as you fall back to sleep, he's just going to leave and help his stupid siblings. And- why should they always get first dibs?? He's your boyfriend!

Like a cat, you crawl around him and settle yourself carefully in his lap; resting your tired arms over his broad shoulders and leaning your head back in order to see his eyes. His dark, calculated eyes you're obsessed with- you feel like he just knows everything about everyone. About everything. You wanna worship him.

And you have. And you will, again.

"Come on... what do I have to do to keep you here in bed with me today? Not all day, I know this is a Big Day for y'all, but just... a couple more hours. Just a sleep in." Incapable of helping yourself, you lean in and initiate a slow, dirty kiss; just the way he likes it. Just the way you like it, too. Heated and indecent. Amid the kiss, or mini make-out, Rufus manages to not pull you in closer. Not get hard. Not give in to your wiles. He kisses you back, and you know he likes it by the way he kisses you back just as heated and indecent, but you're not changing his mind. So when you pull back, you pout at him. "-Really??"

"Really." He grunts, then picks you up effortlessly and dumps you back on your shared bed; getting up and grabbing a random old shirt off the back of a chair.

"Oh- then- I'll come with you!" You finally give in, fumbling off the bed and looking around with still-blurry eyes, head heavy. And- oh, getting up was a mistake, your body doesn't like it at all. Brain is leaving you on your own and going back to sleep. "Gotta just- " Yawn. "Gotta- um- brush my shoes. Put on my teeth. Where's the, uh- the bathroom?"

Rufus looks at you levelly, his eyes dark and his expression unreadable- but stern. Strong. Intense. God, you love how he looks at you. "Get back in bed."

"No, I- hey!" Before you can even take a step towards where you think the bathroom must be, Rufus picks you right up off of the floor; throwing you over his broad shoulder and, with his big hand on your ass, takes you right back to bed. When you're dropped back onto the mattress, on your back, you immediately try to get up and go again- pushing yourself up onto your elbows, but Rufus is giving you a look that makes you stop dead in your tracks. Makes you breathless. "... okay fine I'll go back to bed, then."

"Good."

"... but you have to gimmie a kiss goodbye."

For a moment a flicker of a grin ghosts over his face at your antics, but it goes away as quickly as it appeared. You don't mind so much, though, you call it one for the win column; grinning back before he offers you his hand to help pull you up for that deep half-naked goodbye kiss.