#most my muses are pan

[peachrote]

the thing is if you ever want to work on a ship w me (meaning we experiment with it and see if theres Vibes there) and youre a mutual all you have to do is ask

[jyoongim]

~Blood & BLISS~

Human!Alastor x wife!Reader

Themes: 1930 based! Human!Alastor x wife!Reader, domestic life! fluff, smut, devotion, slight manipulation, mention of children, pregnancy,  blood, murder, secrets 

chapter two

Synopsis: Marrying New Orleans famous radio host had been a shocker to everyone. You, a southern belle from an esteemed family, had somehow managed to catch the attention of the mysterious bachelor. 

Your wedding was all in the papers and talk of the town, even though the ceremony was rather private.

You quickly settled in as the homemaker as Alastor brought home the dough and took care of you. 

It was a dream come true.

But Alastor was strange, even to you and you were his wife, but you brushed it off as him just being a man.  You had nothing to complain about. You lived in a nice big house, had the finest luxuries, and Alastor would dote on you. What wasn’t to love?

Well… all those things were nice, but you were starting to crave a family with your husband.

You knew of Alastor’s upbringing and had an inkling that children might not be an option…but Alastor wouldn’t deny you what you desired most would he? Of course not ma belle.

Alastor prided himself on how people often wondered about him. The renowned radio host, who the public rarely saw. He was a mystery to many. He frequented jazz lounges and often could be found drinking whiskey as he listened to the Mimzy gossip about the latest news.

He,  himself was shocked when he met you, the prettiest thing in the city. He had to have you. He knew you were the one.

Like the gentleman he was, he sent you flowers and love letters to begin courting you. He never tired of how shy you were around him. 

It wasn’t long before he asked your father for your hand and the two of you got hitched.

And what a wedding it was! he spared no expense to your disapproval.

Alastor was the epitome of what every husband inspired to be! 

Doting, providing, and attentive.

But he had a secret he kept from his little wife…

Can he maintain control over his domestic affairs and his sinister ones?

Soft jazz played in the background as you busied around the kitchen preparing dinner. The sizzling of the oil carried the scent of fried chicken as you chopped collards and added them to another pan to fry.

You hummed along to whatever song was playing as you cooked.

You took the chicken out of the grease, poured some of it in a can for later and used the rest to make cornbread. You stirred the collards a bit, adding pepper and a little salt before turning the stove off. You glanced at the clock; 6pm, Alastor should be coming home soon.

After putting everything in pretty dishes and wrapping it in foil you sighed tiredly as you finally got off your feet, plopping down on a couch.

You almost wanted to go back into the kitchen and clean up, but thought to just wait after dinner to do so. 

You perked as your radio made a noise, static as if the channel had changed, before the voice of your husband came through.

”Well folks that is all. I have for you tonight! I hope you enjoyed today’s broadcast and I will see you tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to be late for dinner nonono haha. Until next time!”

You smiled, feeling happy he wasn’t going to stay at the studio all night.

With that in mind, you quickly ran upstairs to freshen up, wanting to greet your husband without the smell of grease clinging to you.

“I’m home!” A voice called as the sound of the front door closing had you rushing downstairs.

Alastor was taking off his coat, when you greeted him “Oh let me take that” you smiled, grabbing his coat to put it away. He let out a relieved sigh as he removed his shoes and put them by the door. Once comfortable, his long arms were around your waist, pulling you into a kiss “And how was my beautiful wife today hmm?” He asked bringing a dainty hand to his lips. You giggled “Oh nothing worth mentioning. How was work today? I heard you signing off. I hate that I missed tonight’s broadcast” you mused, untying his bow tie. Alastor hummed “oh you know same ole same ole, through I will say I got a lot of fan mail today” he chuckled as you rolled your eyes. He took a whiff of the air and grinned “Hmm looks like I actually made it in time for dinner”

You both made your way to the kitchen and you immediately went to fix his plate, while he got glasses out of the cabinet and some red wine.

Alastor practically had drool coming out of his mouth as the smell of food wafted into his nose. You took a seat across from him and smiled. “My my my dear what a meal youve prepared tonight!” He commented as he took a bite out of the cornbread, moaning in delight.

It always filled your heart with happiness seeing Alastor eat your food. When you first got married, you didn’t have a clue on how to cook. It was rather embarrassing, but you had grown up with personal cooks.

But Alastor didn’t mind teaching you, and soon enough you were whipping up delicious meals that filled his stomach, rather than upset it.

Dinner was quiet as the two of you enjoyed each others company, Alastor making comments about the lastest gossip he had heard and you catching him on the neighborhood gossip. “Oh before I forget,  Mimzy wants to know if you wanted to swing by the lounge this weekend. Something about I keep you to myself too much” Alastor laughed, swiping at his mouth. You laughed, that sounded like Mimzy. Always hoping to get a chance at you singing on stage so she could make a few extra bucks. “Well tell ‘er not this weekend, I have plans to host a few of the ladies for book club. Rosie is sure to have some gossip I’ve missed.” 

Alastor quirked a brow “You sure dear? I fear Mimzy will chew me a new one if she don’t get to see ou” You mulled it over “Well book club usually don’t take that long and its during tea time so I guess I don’t mind gracing the lounge with my presence” you giggled, getting up and taking your empty dishes to the sink. Alastor followed you and quickly swatted your hands as you reached to turn the sink on. 

“Now now my dear, you spent all evening cooking the least I can do is wash the dishes. The chef shouldn’t cook and clean” he nudged you away from the sink as you pouted.

It never ceased to amazed you that Alastor took on household chores. Most husbands had their wives cook and clean, but not your Alastor.

He didn’t like you to tire out from maintaining the home all day.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek in thanks and told him you’ll be upstairs getting ready for bed.

You had just finished rolling your hair when Alastor came up to your bedroom. You sighed as you sunk into the cool cotton sheets, finally relaxing for the day. You didn’t realized you had quickly fell asleep until feeling Alastor slide into bed beside you, arm pulling you to tuck you into his side and rest your head on his chest.

You happily cuddled into him, breathing in his scent as the sound of his heartbeat lulled you back to sleep.

A yawn passed your lips as began to fall asleep

”Goodnight” 

”Sleep tight dear”

”Don’t let the bedbugs bite”

”haha see you in the morning light love” he whispered pressing a kiss to your forehead as you sighed, chest heaving in deep breaths.

Alastor smiled at your sleeping face; how lucky was he to have a sweet wife who worked so hard while he was gone. His eyes grew heavy as he listened to your soft snores.

What bliss. He wouldn’t give this up for anything in the world.

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

NOTE: aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh why and how did my mind conjure this when I have other things to write eeeeeeehhhh!!!!!!!

Anyway….this is gonna be ANOTHER short story hehehe. Since I wrote it on a whim it might take some time for me to post the next part but I hope y’all enjoy it nevertheless!

Remember to comment on the pinned post as I have a hard time finding everyone to tag since y’all are scattered on different posts!

if i missed anyone my bad!!!!

@nightshadelm @th3-st4r-gur1 @amurtan @lunaramune @southern-bayou-beau @monstersealclubber @certifiedcrybabyyy @karolinda007-blog @theveiledlibrarian @simphornies @yourdoorisunlocked @nettaw @purplecatsandhearts @catherine1206 @jellibean2018 @thewinchestah @wonderlandangelsposts @alishii @readergirlstuff @whydohumansss @missgurlsstuff @yuzurixx @darkovergrownforestnymph @dasimp777 @markster666 @alastorsgirl48 @alastor-simp @alastorsaries @preciousbabypeter @alastwhore666 @strawberrypimp666 @stawberrypimpsimp @queenariesofnarnia @peachedtvs @peachedtv @tpks @siiv3r @hazelfoureyes @okay-babe @aconfusedworld @chewbrry @altruisticalastor @yunimimii @dievia3 @alastorsdear @alastorsdarlingdoe @t0byisher3 @dennsfz @twismare @nanami1chu @yoongibabs @menthatilove @smoky000

[leaawrites]

I have so many short & sweet videos on my fyp right now. I can’t stop thinking about singer!reader announcing her f1 bf by arresting him and dedicating Juno to him like Sabrina does at her concerts. The fans would go wild!!! I’m desperate for this fic

Juno (Live from the Shrot n'Sweet Tour)

Lando Norris x fem!singer!reader

Summary: requested as above.

Wordcount: 0.6k

Warnings: (very) suggestive content, smau (a first time for me, i hope it's alright), flirting, fluff

Note: omgg, this is such an good idea! I loved writing it! I chose Lando bc, I just love writing for him, hope that's alright with you. If not, let me know and I'll (gladly) make another version.

Masterlist, Short n'Sweet Series

“If you haven’t already noticed,” Y/n announced, making the crowd go quiet to hear her talk. “We have a special guest tonight in the crowd.”

The moment the words left her lips and the camera panned to the guy in the audience, beaming up at her with the biggest smile one could muster, the crowd went wild. Lando was just laughing at the reaction.

Everyone there knew how big of an f1 fan Y/n was. Having attended some grand prixs already and posting her reactions to every race on her insta story, she didn’t try to make her love for the sport unknown.

The camera went back to the woman on stage, sirens going off and making everyone know what would happen next. It was a common tradition on the tour. But now, it was different when she said, “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid you’re under arrest for being too hot.”

The way she winked at him and from how red he got at the mere eye contact with her, made it obvious this wasn’t mindless flirting. This was proper natural behavior for them.

“That hot, formula 1 driver I have absolutely no relation to.” She pointed out at the crowd. “You know who I mean, right? Of course, you do.” She nodded in approval at the crowd as they clapped and shouted in excitement. They were there for the show and boy, were they going to give them one.

“Sorry, what was your name again?” She asked innocently, holding the microphone in his direction.

Instead of one answer, she got thousands. All calling one name: Lando.

“Oh, okay. Okay,” she said after genuinely being surprised by the amounts of answers she received.

“Lando, gosh,” she continued talking, waving her hand in front of her face like she was trying not to faint. “Lando.” She mused his name, making it melt on her tongue like it was the most beautiful thing she heard.

She didn’t need to ask, but a script is a script. “Lando, where are you from?”

“Monaco,” he shouted back this time.

“Monaco? So, you’re rich?” He nodded. “And you came all the way here to see me?”

“Only for you.”

“Only for me? You’re too much. Stop it.” Waving her hand at him, as a blush graced her face and she scrunched up her nose. “You’re doing things to me, boy. I can’t even.”

Before she could keep on rambling, her backup dancer opened the back of her once long skirt making it fall down, revealing a shorter version. She stepped out of it, saying, “Oh my god, my clothes are falling of for you. This is embarrassing.”

She heard his voice again, a flirty comment leaving his lips: “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time?” She repeated, trying to see if she heard him correctly. When he nodded, she could see the confidence building up inside of him more and more. He wasn’t as nervous about this anymore as he was backstage before the show. Overthinking and stressing about how the fans would react to it. “Oh, you’re right about that.”

The crowd went wild again. Screaming louder than ever before.

“So, I guess,” she started talking, taking the fluffy pink handcuffs from another one of her backup dancers. “Could you maybe keep them for the rest of the show? Just so, I don’t loose them for later.” She winked at him again, starting to laugh when she saw him bury his face in his hands out of embarrassment.

She could barely still hear herself over the screams of the fans.

“Anyway, I’d like to dedicate this next song to my boyfriend, Lando Norris.”

And then the song began, the crowd going crazy and she couldn’t stop smiling. Everyone knew, finally. They knew and she made it official in a way only she could.

Lando Norris

Yep, this is my girlfriend. No more of that Lando Norizz bullshit.

yourusername: babe, what the fuck is that last picture?

yourusername: love you though, i guess

-> LandoNorris: you guess? Didn’t seem like that last night, huh?

-> yourusername: omg, shut up. This isn't a public account concersation.

Comments have been limited.

[pparadiselost]

little black dress.

noel noa x fem reader a dinner date ends more intimately than expected. warning(s): nsfw, mirror sex minors do not interact.

you couldn’t remember the last time you had been this excited for a night out. it was like there was something different in the air, something like a spark tingling in the atmosphere, and you could barely sit still the entire day just waiting for the time to pass by.

could anyone blame you? you hadn’t been out on any proper dates in a long, long time, and whatever experiences you did have, you could probably count the number of times you went out on a date like this on one hand. as much of a diehard romantic as you were deep down, reality often didn’t pan out the same way your imagination did, and that sometimes just meant foregoing the same romantic endeavors that your more sociable peers might have.

but not while you were with noel noa. you always thought that you must have been some kind of war hero in your past life to somehow end up in a relationship with him. he was stoic and perhaps not the most expressive, but he was perfect in your eyes. hardworking, dedicated, and loyal, you liked to think that he was kind of like a reward for all of your arduous patience.

“be ready by six,” was all he had said to you over the phone last night. “wear something nice. if you want to buy a new dress, treat yourself. you already have my card. i booked a dinner reservation at a restaurant i think you’ll like.”

knowing noa, it was probably a super expensive, high end place that he would insist on paying for. he was never a particularly vain nor a materialistic man, but he was the world’s best striker and that did conveniently come with a pretty hefty paycheck. he was a frugal man, but when it came to treating you right, he would only accept the best.

you insisted that you didn’t need big gestures or expensive gifts to make the whole thing work. if anything, you cherished the homey moments you had with him more. you liked seeing him as noel noa the boyfriend, not noel noa the celebrity. no one else in the world knew what he sounded like as he dozed off on facetime while playing abroad or how tight his hugs were when you’d come to welcome him back home at the airport. 

but getting princess treatment and being pampered every once in a while didn’t hurt either. time just seemed to pass by so slowly, so you made up your mind to play into your excitement. trying to bottle it up wouldn’t do you any good, and besides, a little treat never hurt anyone. 

you ease yourself into a nice warm bath, even sprinkling in some nice smelling salts and a glittery bath bomb you had buried in your bathroom cabinets. you didn’t leave the bath until you were absolutely sure you had soaked long enough and would come out sparkling like a newborn unicorn. the thought made you smile as you worked on your hair and skin, busting open all of the expensive skincare products you had been saving for a special occasion. it was healing, to spread all of these fragrant creams and lotions over your arms and legs, taking it slow and showing some proper appreciation for your body.

your make-up came easily after that, and you had fun picking out some nice colors and your favorite products. you were practically glowing in your reflection, and you couldn’t help but muse about how nice it was to feel so appreciative about yourself for once. it was too easy to get caught up in the hubbub of your everyday life and to feel down while trying to navigate a complicated relationship with such a well-known figure with grace. 

you swing your closet door open and take a good look at the clothes inside. noa had told you to get pretty, and you want to look breathtaking for your date. you rifle through the different dresses and outfits, looking for the perfect thing to don for the night. your eyes go from the front of your closet to the back, where you find a simple but adorable little black dress nestled inside. it’s everything you were looking for. the color sleek, the design sexy but refined, and elegant enough to meet noa’s more mature taste.

you don’t waste another thought grabbing the dress and shimmying into it. you’re blown away by your reflection in your mirror. to say you look beautiful would only be the beginning. you’re practically glowing with confidence, the dress hugging you in all the right places and making you look less like the humble mousey homebody you were to a glamorous socialite. you squeal internally, celebrating a job well done at getting ready, and you make yourself comfortable finishing up the final touches as you wait for your boyfriend to come pick you up.

sure enough, just as you were taking a breather and getting comfortable in your own skin, the doorbell went off. giddy as if you were going on your first date with him, you skip to the door and swing it open.

“ready?” the tall man at the door greets you simply. you beam up at him, your enthusiasm practically dripping off of you. noa must have spent some time getting ready himself as well: he’s dressed cleanly and simply for the date, and if you’re not mistaken, he must have treated himself to a haircut as well.

before you can do anything else, a bouquet of beautifully arranged flowers emerged from behind his back. a soft smile graces his usually stoic face, and you can see the smile wrinkles crinkling up around the corners of his eyes. you can’t exactly differentiate all of the flowers, but they’re breathtaking. the gesture has the butterflies in your stomach running wild all over again.

“for you,” he breathes. you struggle to properly form words as you return his smile with one of your own, truly feeling like a kid in a candy shop. you take the bouquet gingerly from him, and you take a moment to admire the blooms and their vibrant colors. they’re lovely, and even though it’s such a classic romantic gesture, it means more coming from him. noa is always so strict about his professional life and how he maintains himself, so this little present only cements the fact that you’re someone special to him.

“noel, you really shouldn’t have…! you’re already treating me to dinner!” you try to scold him, but he plays it off smoothly. you smile as you hug the bouquet, and he slips a hand around your waist to bring you so he can kiss you on your forehead. 

“all of this is the least that i can do for all of your patience with me. i know being with me is difficult,” he murmurs. his eyes glance over your body, his sharp gaze falling over your face, your chest, your waist, and your legs. his usually harsh expression seems to warm up after being around you. “you look beautiful too. really beautiful.”

“you’re the one that told me to dress up,” you remind him teasingly with a foxy grin as you prance off to find something that could serve as a vase for the flowers. you really ought to invest in a proper flower vase at this point; using an empty wine bottle feels like an insult to the bouquet. he makes himself at home while you hum a tune under your breath and carefully arrange the flowers in their makeshift place, admiring the gift yet again.

noa glances at his expensive watch and then towards you. “are you ready to head out? i don’t want to be late to our reservation.”

you slip your hands into the crook of his toned arm, the muscle shifting to adjust to your grip. you can feel how well built he is and how chiseled he’s gotten from a lifetime of sports, and you fight back the slight heat creeping around your body at the thought of getting to hog such an in-demand man all to yourself for the time being. 

“let’s be off!”

…

…

…

you thought the dinner went well. you enjoyed the food and the drinks, and the conversation flowed naturally as it always did. you shared jokes with noa, the man cracking a laugh every now and then, and you couldn’t imagine a more perfect night. he even let you order dessert, and he let you steal the better part of his once you had wolfed down your share. he really was the perfect boyfriend in every sense of the way, and you were glowing with how much fun you had had when he escorted you back home. 

you had half-expected him to simply drop you off with a kiss and scuttle off to whatever his manager demanded he do, but instead of the night ending early, noa evidently had other plans in mind.

“you did this on purpose tonight, didn’t you?” rough hands yank impatiently at the back of his dress, nothing like the charismatic and the usually gentle demeanor you knew of noa. heat blooms and stirs deep inside of you like a dormant monster coming to life, and you don’t offer any resistance as he unzips the back of your dress. his wandering hands immediately tug at your bra, unhooking them with a practiced expertise and latching onto the soft flesh of your tits. 

your breathing shallows. you’re at his mercy even though he’s just gotten started. noa doesn’t care whether or not it was your intention to rile him up this much. you look good, good enough for him to sink his teeth into, and he was going to have you after having held himself back for so long.

and he thinks you’re in the perfect place for that. he’s perched on the edge of your bed, and you’re placed perfectly in his lap. you keep grinding your ass against his toned, muscled thighs and the obviously big tent in the crotch of his pants. through the dimness of your room, you can see your silhouette merging with his in the mirror, your now messy reflection nothing like the sunny girl you had been just hours prior.

calloused fingers grab hungrily at your tits. his palms rub against your sensitive skin, and you barely choke back a moan when his fingertips brush over your hardened nipples. you can feel him exhale deeply when he feels you shudder against his chest, and reacting to you, his fingers toy with your nipples. pinching teasingly, flicking your nipples, groping at your chest, he has you more or less writhing in his embrace even though he hasn’t even undressed you fully.

“i wanted to do this to you ever since i came to pick you up. bet you had no clue,” he breathes against the shell of your ear. you whimper incoherently, your insides doing backflips when his teeth ghost over the thin skin of your ear, his movements lethal and sensual. “i was tempted. i wanted to rip this dress off of you and fuck you right there on the floor. and you didn’t know a single thing.”

“noel, i-,” you don’t know what you should say. god, him talking about how he wanted to rail you into tomorrow, to stretch your pretty cunt out on his thick cock and make you cream all over his girth made your head spin dangerously. he keeps coaxing you bit by bit out of your dress, and it was only out of respect for your belongings that kept him from physically tearing it off of your body. not that the dress was the issue to begin with: he could easily buy you a hundred expensive dresses if you only wanted it.

he grinds up against your ass once your metaphorical armor drops helplessly to the floor in a black puddle, followed fully by your bra. a lump grows in your throat as he nudges your legs apart with his own, and his fingers travel down the valley of your breasts, your stomach and waist, all the way between your parted thighs and down to your clothed hole. you grit your teeth when his thick fingers rub against your clothed slit, and something that sounds suspiciously close to a possessive chuckle comes from him when he can feel how wet you are against his fingertips.

“did you like that?” he mutters. “you’re so wet down here. your panties are so wet. bet you weren’t thinking of this when you were getting all giggly during our dinner date and playing footsie with me under the table. this is your reward for working me up all night.”

you grip at his forearms. your hole is pulsing as he rubs at you through your panties, your impatience visible on every inch of your body. fuck, you could feel yourself getting aroused at an embarrassingly fast pace, and it didn’t help that you could see your reflection perfectly in your mirror from where the two of you were seated. it was amazing how much self control noa had over his body. you could feel how hard and how big his dick had gotten while you were pressed up against him, your bodies gyrating lewdly together. dry humping each other while he toyed with your slit, just threatening to slip underneath your panties to touch you directly but not quite.

you throw your head back, using his broad shoulders as a makeshift support. “noel- noel, please- don’t touch me like that… i need more. i want you inside me-”

he laughs. “falling apart already? i just told you about how much you’ve been torturing me all night. don’t you think you can handle a little bit more? it’s only a fraction of what you did.”

“i want it- want it so bad, please…,” your voice trails off. you’re drooling at the thought of having his fingers stuffed inside of you. nothing could quite imitate the addictive stretch of his cock, but his fingers would feel so good inside of you. just thinking about him pumping his knuckles in and out, acutely feeling your insides twitching and drooling around him, your pussy hooked on every part of his body forever. you wiggle your hips shamelessly in rhythm with how he’s teasing you. you need him inside of your cunt. these small touches aren’t doing anything for you, and the pounding escalating in your head has nowhere to go.

noa isn’t a cruel man by any means. but he has no qualms about making you earn what he deems is appropriate, and you know that that’s what he’s doing to you right now. “why should i give myself to you? show me. show me how much you want me.”

he stops momentarily to grab at the sides of your panties, and you shudder when he peels them slowly and painstakingly off of your hips and thighs. your juices cling to the seat of your panties when he pulls them off of your thighs, your now painfully pulsing and empty hole left unprotected. noa then reaches for your own wrist, and he coaxes your legs even further apart until every part of your glistening cunt is shown in the mirror reflection, his soon-to-be indulgent reward.

your breath shakes, leaving your body as if the last sense of dignity was leaving you as well. you let him guide your hand towards your cunt, and you know what he wants to see from you. noa is a man of action, of results, and you press your fingers slowly towards your swollen clit. you let out a quiet sigh, a dull shudder of pleasure flickering up your stomach when you circle your sensitive nub. his eyes are sharp, and he never leaves your form in the mirror as you put on a perfect show for him, your own face scrunched up mid-moan and gasping out breathlessly as you touch yourself.

you imagine it’s him touching you. you try to emulate the way he would slowly touch your clit, rough fingertips swapped out for your soft ones. you take your time with yourself, making sure to savor the way your arousal swirls deep inside your body. you want to make it worth your while, you want to put on a good display for your boyfriend. he watches you like a hawk as you move your hips into your hand, your movements alternating between slow, loving movements to faster ones, from pinching your clit to sliding your fingertips up and down your slick folds to show noa just how wet you are, just how much you want him to touch your body.

“oh, fuck-,” you groan out. your fingertips circle your fluttering hole, your walls feeling horrible and empty. your fingers are so small in comparison to noa’s, but not having anything stretching you out feels even worse. you can feel noa’s breathing shallow slightly when you press your fingers against your entrance. you’re not quite penetrating yourself, but you feel the pressure against your pussy, just threatening to breach the tight ring of muscle and stretch your insides out the way you craved it. 

you push your finger past your slick hole, and you throw your head back again, moaning noa’s name. “oh, god- noel… want you inside of me, noel- need you so bad… fuck- ohhhh, fucking hell- noel…”

his hard on grinds against your ass as you begin to build a comfortable pace. you thrust two fingers inside of you, trying to mimic the movements of his thick fingers or even better, the movements of his thick cock. your fingers are a far cry from how deep and how well he fucks you, but it’ll suffice for now. and you know noa likes riling you up, prepping you implicitly like this. 

your reflection shakes in the mirror as the pleasure starts to light up your brain, your body melting away into a quivering mess of flesh and blood. the picture perfect part of the night was done, and now it was time to get into the dirty, the messy, the part that steals your breath and makes you unlock that deeply seeded bit of your mind that relishes in the unspeakable. you let your voice pitch a little higher, making your moans airy and pretty the way noa likes it best. 

“want you deep inside me…” you scissor your fingers, making sure he catches a good glimpse of the way your inner walls cling to your outstretched knuckles and all of your glistening juices dripping off of your skin. you rub at your clit with your other hand, overwhelming and flooding your senses. you can feel the hot arousal in your stomach drinking up the pulses of pleasure hurtling up your spine. your fingers thrust into your cunt faster, deeper, the pads of your fingertips desperately searching for that sweet spot inside you that makes stars explode underneath your eyelids.

noa thinks you look absolutely heavenly. angelic, even, like he’s almost undeserving of a girl as perfect as you. he’s craved this piece of euphoria the entire night, eager to see you spread out and drowning in your own pleasure, that pretty body of yours no longer hidden by the shadowy swathes of your date night dress. it’s agony, to not touch you and to not fuck you out into pieces on his cock like some feral animal, but noa is rational man. he wants to take his time with you. he wants to bury into the sinews and the tendons of your love, and he wants to sink his teeth into your sweetness and feel its sticky headiness, its heavy aftermath as it passes over his tongue and his throat, to settle somewhere deep in his heart.

“show me.” his voice is calm but strained, and he’s breathing through his nose in an attempt to calm himself. something hot and dull and not fully clear pounds against his abdomen, and blood keeps on rushing to his pants, his cock choking and gasping for attention. but noa is a master of control, and he pushes his own carnal needs aside to focus on you. “where do you want me?”

“deep. inside me,” you eke out. your voice sounds desperate, and you’re close to losing control over your body. he can see the way pleasure runs rampant all over your body. sweat beads on your skin, and when he presses his hands against you, you lean into his touch as if the small gesture is what’ll get you to finish. “want you to touch me more, noel… my fingers don’t feel as good as you do.”

he can barely suppress a laugh as he kisses your face, and you reward him with a breathy moan. “are you close? are you going to cum?”

your walls pulse and squeeze around your fingers at the sound of his voice, stoic and controlled. he’s a stark contrast to how quickly you’re falling apart, the pressure inside of your gut coiling in on itself almost painfully. you nod feverishly, your hips bucking in rhythm with how frantically you’re fucking yourself out on your fingers. “yes- wanna cum! but it’s not enough- don’t wanna cum on my fingers- wanna cum on your cock instead, please… god, touch me, touch me please…!”

he presses his lips together, and you meet his intense gaze through the mirror. “...fine. have it your way. stop touching yourself.”

your pussy feels like it’s crying out in protest when you pull your fingers out, strands of your sticky arousal clinging between your gaping hole and fingertips. your hole throbs and quivers, instantaneously craving the addictive high of being stretched out and fucked again. but you stay strong and push past the dull thrum in the back of your head, mouth going dry as noa maneuvers his cock out of his pants. 

your breath hitches in the back of your throat when you can feel something thick and hard rubbing at the inside of your thighs, and you carefully guide his cock against your slit. he bucks his hips against yours, grinding upwards so he can coat his length with your slick. you let out a small cry when his cockhead prods at your clit, and sparks settle deep inside your gut. going between edging yourself to feeling noa’s bare cock burying itself in between your soaked folds is too much, and you want him inside you as quickly as possible.

“so needy,” he murmurs as if he’s not the one who put you in this situation to begin with, “is this what you wanted? do you think you can understand how i felt now?”

you nod frantically. you’re entranced at the lewd silhouette of the two of you in the mirror, bodies entwining. his cock is huge, engorged all the way from having watched you touch yourself so eagerly, and you can feel it twitching and throbbing against you. pre-cum dots the tip, and you swallow when you see it mixing together with your juices that are coating his length.

“inside-,” you whisper like a broken record, “put it inside me- want your cock inside my pussy…”

“yeah? i’ll give it to you as much as you want,” the frenchman promises. “i’ll fuck you out so good that you can’t walk tomorrow. how about that? would that be enough for your greedy pussy? or do i need to break you further?”

your head nearly spins. it doesn’t matter to you how much he takes from you. all that matters is that you get him in one way or another. you know that he has what you need, that he’ll make you good, make you cum your brains out so that you’re left a mangled, breathless mess stuffed full of his cum and dick by the end of the night. you couldn’t imagine a more perfect ending to this tryst. 

his cockhead presses against your greedy opening, covered from tip to base with your slick. he grips at your hips, and a breathy moan escapes you as he pushes your body down on his cock. despite how long the two of you have been together, the first intrusion of his thick cock into your pussy leaves you breathless each and every time. your entire body trembles as he forces more and more of his dick into you, your already sensitive walls clamping down immediately on his engorged length. 

he doesn’t give you time to adjust to him, determined to make you feel every inch of his massive dick sliding into you. you’re taking him so well, like your cunt was made just to be stuffed with his cock, and you’re already writhing on top of him. arousal wells like the ebb and flow of the sea waves when you can see your reflection in the mirror. you can see his cock intruding into you, your pussy lips spread apart and glistening as you’re being split into two on his length.

“soooo big-,” you swoon starstruck. “you’re always so big, noel… love how you feel inside of me.”

“do you now?” he replies, the teasing edge in his voice unmistakable. you’re fluttering around him deliciously, your legs spread out all pretty for him in his lap, and you can feel his balls tensing up underneath you as he bottoms out. it’s insane, his sheer size, and you think it’s even crazier that you’ve gotten hooked on this man so deeply that you don’t think you can get off on anything that doesn’t involve him anymore. you swear you feel his tip all the way up in your throat, and just having him slide into you like this is enough to make your brain feel all tingly and fuzzy.

one hand starts rubbing slow circles into the skin of your hip, right where your thighs connect with the rest of your body. “why don’t you start moving for me then? i’m not done with you quite yet. keep putting on a bit of a show for me.”

you moan as you start grinding up and down, moving yourself slowly off of his cock before sinking down on it. your breath catches in the back of your throat as pleasure starts to flicker all over your insides again. your stomach coils each time you buck your hips, and seeing everything you’re doing reflected in the mirror doesn’t help you. you can see just how much of his cock is sliding in and out of you as you ride him, his hands beginning to wander all over your body. you whimper for him incoherently as his deft fingers rub at your clit and grope at your chest.

“look at you,” noa breathes against your ear. “look at how good you’re being for me. look at that pretty pussy… all wet and spread out just for me. feels good to ride me, doesn’t it? i can feel how tight you are every time you bounce in my lap.”

his lewd words have your insides clamping around him. you want him to keep talking to you like that, the deep cadences of his normally calm voice a stark contrast to your scattered thoughts. you can feel your rhythm speeding up, the desperation in your movements evident to him. you want to feel more of him inside of you, and you’re shaking your hips like any scrap of shame left inside of you has withered away. it did a long time ago, but you know you’re only enjoying it because it’s him, because everything that makes him feels good makes you feel good too.

you angle your hips so that his tip is sliding against that one spot you like best, and you’re throwing your head back and groaning out his name. noa’s cock throbs inside of you precariously with each swell of your voice. he likes having you like this, the possessive side of him eating up every part of you. he likes the contrast between your normally demure everyday, the side you keep honed and professional to perfect the balancing act of managing your own life and his hectic one, versus whatever madness he has you entrapped in once the two of you are alone. he likes it, likes how shameless you are, likes wielding the knowledge that he’s the only who gets to see you like this.

“feels so good- feels so good having cock inside me- having your cock inside me-,” you keep repeating the same words again. it’s all you care about. the rest of the world might as well be dead to you in this instant. all you want to feel is his strong chest against your back as you ride him, your sweaty bodies connected and twisting with one another.

“i know,” he whispers back. “and you’re taking it so well. that’s my lady. i can’t decide if i wanna look at you or the mirror. fuck, you’re so tight… do you like it when i talk to you like this? like it when i talk you through everything you’re doing while you see it in the mirror? c’mon, show me more of your pretty pussy…”

your thighs burn slightly with how much you’re working them, but you’re determined to see things through. his cock slides in and out of you with little resistance from just how wet you are, your pussy drooling over the sensation of being penetrated by him over and over again. with him touching your body all over, the pleasure receptacles in your brain keep lighting up. he knows how to make you fall apart so easily, and yet each time, it feels so new. you can’t get enough of whatever euphoria this is, being stretched out on his girth and drinking up all of his obscene praise.

“all spread out just for me… tits bouncing and everything too… so dirty,” he hums, swallowing thickly. his adam’s apple bobs, and he groans under his breath. you’re rocking your hips so well for him, moving in a way that makes both of you feel so good. he can feel his abs tensing up with each sensual roll of your hips. god, he loves it when you ride him. he loves seeing the pleasure and neediness scrawled all over your face, like you’re going to stop breathing if you don’t feel more of him with each thrust. he’s thrusting into you to match your pace. wet squelching noises fill the room to match your dazed breaths and cries each time his cock delves deep into your stretched out hole. 

“oh fuck- noel-,” you moan, arching your back. “i-if you talk to me like that, i’ll-”

he laughs when you can’t bring yourself to finish your words. you can feel your brain turning to mush, your ability to string together sentences dissolving like a spoonful of sugar mixed into water. the pleasure shooting through your core is too much for you to handle, consuming all of your consciousness. it’s all you can register, the addictive feeling of his cock spearing you into two, rubbing your ass against his lap shamelessly as you fuck yourself on his dick. 

“you’ll what? stay with me now.” his stern, unforgiving voice snaps you back out of whatever hazy drunkenness is pressing like a deadweight on your mind. “talk to me. is it making you feel good? do you like hearing my voice while having my cock inside of you? does that turn you on?”

you swear you can feel him smirking against your skin when your pussy clenches around him greedily. god, it’s so obvious. how could you not get off on this man’s voice? he’s so firm, so stern, and so ready to give you everything he has if you just so much as say the word. he’s as dedicated as he is draconian, and hearing how he’s going to force you to garble out your pathetic mewls in order to earn yourself your true prize makes your pussy throb painfully around him. 

“yes- love hearing you- turns me on so fucking much…,” you slur out. you don’t know how you’re going to face yourself in the mirror after everything that’s happening tonight. you’ve never seen anyone move their hips in the way you do now, hungry to have cock inside of you. his dick stretches you out just right, in the way that has your vision flashing white each time his cockhead slides deep into you. you want him to bruise your cervix and fuck you full, until you can’t walk and can’t do anything except obsess over him. “you’re so fucking sexy… you’re gonna kill me…”

“i’m not going to do such a thing. might fuck you until you pass out, but i would never hurt you. unless you want me to. but even then-…” he whispers. you choke out a loud whine when his fingertips graze over your clit again, pinching at your sensitive nub before rolling it in between his fingers. an electric surge washes over your body, and you’re clenching up so much around him that you’re basically milking his cock. you’re getting dangerously close, the aftershock of having fingered yourself earlier making the edge hurtle towards you that much faster. 

“noel…!”

he chuckles darkly. “-i think i prefer making you scream from pleasure.”

you’re practically writhing in his arms. your stomach pulses, coiling in and outward, waves of pleasure washing over you as the arousal in your gut quivers in accordance to some primal rhythm. he’s thrusting so hard up into you, and each snap of his hips into yours makes you let out a strangled cry. you can feel him rubbing so deep inside of you. what might have started out as a sensual night is now at its peak desperation, just two people fucking one another as if they’ve been starved of oxygen. you feel like you might actually crumble if you were to pull away from noa.

“like that, yeah?” the frenchman responds. the sounds of your sloppy lovemaking are ringing throughout the room, your cunt leaking like a faucet around him. he’s sliding in and out of your clenched hole, and you can barely breathe from how good it feels. your breaths are shallow and desperate, each thrust netting the striker a rough cry of his name. it does something to him too, lights up some part deep inside of his brain that likes hearing you cry for him. 

he’s a good man, and noa abides by being the best version of himself he can. but something about knowing how easily he can get you to break, how his cock has you turning into a fucked out version of yourself, how much he can corrupt you over and over again until you’re sobbing and begging for release, does something to him. it’s a kind of perverse obsession, but the more he feeds it, the more he craves it. he loves breaking you down in his arms, and he savors each opportunity he gets.

“gonna cum soon, aren’t you?” he groans. “i know you are. i can feel you tightening up around my cock… squeezing me all nice. fuck—pretty pussy just clenched up around me now.. i’ll make you cum- make you cum all over my cock… that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“yes!” you sound feverish with how needy you are. you grind down on him, your cunt basically gushing all around his girth as his tip grinds against your g-spot. it feels so addictively good, almost enough to make you cum right there and then from how deep his cock is reaching inside of you. it’s insane how this man is built, like his cock was crafted just to rip orgasm after orgasm from you ruthlessly, until your sheets are drenched and you’re begging him for mercy. “make me cum! love cumming on your cock- ‘t’s the best- cumming on your cock is the best…!”

“gonna make you cum- then i’ll creampie that greedy pussy of yours. that tight fucking hole- made to take my cum too,” he grunts. his balls tense up against your ass, and he’s so close. he’s close to spilling inside of you, stuffing you out even further with his cock and cum mixing inside of your pliant cunt. you take him so well, beg for him so sweetly on command. noa is just a man, and what man could resist the pathetic sobs and cries of the woman he loves to death?

you’re a mess. you know this. and yet the thought, just the fleeting idea pressing up against your brain through the messy haze, of him cumming deep into your pussy and flooding your womb makes your walls twitch and jump up around him. he moans, the sound almost primal from how deep it comes from his chest, and you think you’re going to suffocate to death with how much of him you’re taking. 

“yeah- want that too, don’t you? don’t even think about hiding anything from me. i know you too well for that.” his breath is hot on your skin, and you’re consumed with the need for him to bite you. you want him to be rough with you the way he is right now, breaking you in a way that you can only describe as lovingly. you’re milking him wildly, and you’re not going to last longer. his cockhead bullies the entrance of your womb, ramming into what feels like your cervix, and it’s all you can do to take in shallow breaths and let him fuck into you like the world’s about to end tomorrow.

“cumming…!” your chest feels tight. the pleasure is so overwhelming that it’s almost too much. “i’m cumming! cumming, cumming- fuck, fuck, oh shit- it’s getting everywhere! feels so good- you’re gonna break me, you’re gonna break my pussy!”

your vision flashes white. you can’t breathe for a second, your lungs giving out on you as if you had the wind knocked out of you. all it takes is for one full stroke for you to come tumbling across the edge, pleasure coursing like it's overtaking your pulse all throughout the crevices of your body. your back arches dangerously off of his chest, and you’re clenching up all around him. you’re vaguely aware of the wetness gushing past your womb and from your hole. your juices are leaking out of you like a faucet, undoubtedly making a mess underneath you.

but you can’t care less. the sensations zipping through your mind and your body are just too good. you’re a far cry from the beautifully put together woman you were a few hours ago, composed and intelligent. now all you can register, all you care about, all you live for is the high of orgasming after being fucked stupid on noa’s cock. 

his thick cock keeps slamming into you rapidly, threatening to split you in half. your stomach is still buzzing from the high, but he’s being so rough. you can feel the overstimulation tingling somewhere in your gut, your sensitive walls crying out as his cock refuses to let up the brutal pace. it’s hot, and you can feel your stomach coiling up again in painful knots, sending shockwaves of pain mixed with pleasure all throughout your core.

“w-wait- don’t keep going so fast!” you slur out, your words mixing into one another. it’s taking everything inside of you just to hold onto a semblance of coherent clarity, his cock fucking you dumb with every passing second. “it’s too much- i-i can’t handle it…! i just came… don’t be so rough with me!”

“you can take it. you’re going to take it.” noa’s deep voice keeps you locked in place. the wet sounds of him fucking you through your orgasm, desperately chasing after his own high, has you trapped where you are. your brain feels fuzzy all over, and the tightness in your core isn’t helping you at all. at this rate, you’re going to cum again right after having your first orgasm ripped from you, and knowing that noa’s also about to blow his load right into you makes you feel weak and helpless in his arms.

you love it. you don’t know when this greedy streak inside of you must have developed, but there’s a kind of masochistic pleasure that you’re soaking up. you can’t get enough of it, can’t get enough of being absolutely smothered in noa’s affection.

“fuck- tight fucking pussy-,” he mutters. “taking me so well. taking my cock so well- gonna cum inside you- you’re gonna take that too, yeah?”

you nod breathlessly. you’re sure your womb’s ready to take him, ready to have his cum flood you, soak up all of him like you were nothing more than a vessel made to take his love. he pumps into you hard, over and over, and you’re crying out, your moans mixing with his harsh breathing into one wet steamy mess.

your mind flashes blank when you feel the pressure rupturing inside of you. his cock pulses inside of you like a second heartbeat. his cum rushes into you, ropes of hot, strong cum filling up your womb and making you leak. it’s hot, burning its way across your sensitive insides, but you feel so happy and fucked out. you don’t need to look into the mirror across from you to know that you’re just a ghost of yourself, plugged to the brim with his cum and cock stretching out your worn out hole.

“sooooo good-,” you warble out. “feels sooooo good- love how full i feel…”

he’s breathing heavily. you can make out the faint sound of his ragged exhales and inhales, and you can feel his chest rising and falling against your back. there’s something so gentle yet so rough, so sweet yet so uncaring about the way he touches you. he loves you to death, but the polite restraint he has when it comes to your body always ends up snapping when you find some way to snap it like you want him to go crazy.

you do. 

there’s a sense of euphoric numbness that stains the air, that leaves you mindless and happy. you trust noa with everything you have, and you’re sure the weird fuzzy warmth that fills your head is the same feeling that must be consuming noa too. you don’t need to exchange any further words with him to know that the connection between the two of you runs deep. 

your womb sloshes with all the cum noa’s dumped inside you, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to let you go anytime soon. and you’re fine with that. there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than in the safety of his arms, all tuckered out after a rewarding dinner with him. you’re no saint nor a sinner, nothing more than your ordinary person who managed to win noa’s heart with patience and love, but in some ways, you like to imagine that these glimpses of otherworldly intimacy and happiness are your reward for always keeping your heart open towards someone as harsh as noa can be at times.

it’s a mutual feeling, you’re sure. but you’ll save those thoughts for later, when you’re more lucid and more capable of fending for yourself. for now, you continue to grasp at that tenderness, letting noa hold you close to his chest and his heart, just the two of you in your own special world and nothing else.

KINKTOBER 2024—la deuxième semaine.

if you enjoyed my writing and would like to show appreciation, you can do so by donating to help tawfik evacuate gaza. time is running out for his family, so if you ever had any thoughts about tipping or commissioning me, please extend that generosity to those in need.

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER ONE

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

warnings maraye’s b*****end

May 2025 — New York City, New York

“5 minutes, Carter! You’re on in 10!” I hear my manager, Kaylee, speak from behind me. She didn’t even look up from her phone.

I’m seated backstage at The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon getting ready to go out on stage for my segment of the show. My ready room is packed. Heavy makeup cases and hair products sit on the vanity and nearby tables. My hair and makeup and stylist people moving in and out of the room to get me picture perfect.

“I’ll see you when you get off. Good luck out there, beautiful.” 

“Thank you.” I respond, feeling a soft pair of lips press against my cheek.

It’s my— I don’t even know what to call him— boyfriend, Julian. We’d been going out for a bit , no longer than around three months, but nothing had been made officially-official yet. His full head of curly brown hair tickles my eyebrow when he kisses me, bringing a flush to my already pinked cheeks. He walks out of the ready room, I assume to his seat out in the audience alongside my sister Casandra. 

My hand goes up to my cheek, up against where his lips left a sloppy mark against my makeup. My makeup artist, Tyler, swats my hand away before I can smudge what he just spent two hours working on. 

“He’s gonna ask you about him.” Kaylee’s voice cuts through the air.

“What?”

“Jimmy. He’s gonna ask you about Julian. Not directly, of course, but he’ll ask if you have a muse and blah blah blah.” Her work phone slips into the back pocket of her wind leg jeans. The click of the black heels on her feet grow louder as she approaches me. “Don’t answer, say you get inspired by a ton of things but not anyone in particular.”

My face twists up. “Why should I do that?”

Kaylee sighs. We’ve talked about this a multitude of times, and I can tell it irritates her more and more each time I pry. My career is based on sharing my most vulnerable and intimate moments with people all over the world. I didn’t mind sharing if someone had influenced my music or not.

“It keeps the interview focused on you and how amazing you’ve been so far this year. If you do that, it’s gonna be about your relationship. You don’t want that, I promise you.” Kaylee explains.

I nod understandably, but my mind thinks to the future conversation Julian and I are most likely going to have about me not claiming him publicly. A conversation we’ve had too many times for my liking, for only being a few months in.

Oh, and unofficial might I add.

The creak of the heavy white door opening pulls us out of our conversation. There’s a man in a white Polo and black slacks with a headset on. “Call time. Let’s get you out there, Maraye.” He speaks.

I nod, standing up from my seat. I quickly brush a hand over my hair, making sure that any flyaways from my jet black side part unit stay down where they should be. 

“Go get ‘em, Carter.” Kaylee encourages, rubbing my back softly and smiling her soft comforting smile.

—

“Fresh off of her first studio album release, please give a warm welcome to our next guest, Maraye!” 

The start of The Roots introduction music is my cue to walk out, and I do. The Amina Muaddi heels on my feet moving across the black stage. My dress is a nice maroon color, a sleeveless u-neck top that fits my body like a glove. 

I smile out to the live audience, waving my hand before taking a set on the blue-gray couch. The applause dies down and Jimmy looks over at me, the cover of my latest album, ‘f*** daisies' is propped up between his hands on the wood table.

“Thank you so much for having me!” I greet, crossing one of my legs over the other.

“No, thank you, for coming out! I wanna jump right into this,” he speaks. The camera pans to the album cover. “Because this album has taken the internet by storm in the last month that it’s been out.”

“Yeah. It’s been very surreal. I’ve had EP’s that have done great, but all the love on this album has been incredible.”

The audience breaks out into more cheers and applause and I feel my heart nearly triple in size.

To say my life had taken a complete 180° turn in the last five months would be an understatement. From spending last fall on tour with Kehlani, to getting my communications degree from the University of Southern California, and now the release of my album. I was truly blessed and grateful.

“What’s so impressive about all of this is that you’re only 22 years old, and you have three songs off this project that have spots on the billboard top 15.” Jimmy praises. “Out of those three—f*** daisies, SOS (Sex on Sight), and Unpredictable with your good friend Destin Conrad— which one would you say was your favorite to make?”

I take a deep breath, my eyebrows furrow with a look of thoughtfulness which makes the audience laugh.

“Probably SOS. To have Usher featured on that song was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And I’m from Atlanta, so having an ATL legend on my first project was huge.” I answer.

“Did you, y'know, learn anything from him for future music?”

“The way he works with layering his vocals was unbelievable. I think that’s why SOS is one of my favorite works, the harmonies on that song are unreal and I give all credit to him.”

“Would you say that this song had a muse? I work for the people, so I have to ask.” Jimmy teases, and I force a smile. I could just hear Kaylee’s voice in the back of my head screaming I told you so.

I shift in my seat. My eyes bounced from him, to the man I had coined my boyfriend sitting in the audience. “I use a ton of experiences for inspiration in my music. Things that have happened to me but also to those around me.” I start.

From the corner of my eye I see Julian, the red button up that covers his shoulders and his gold cross chain keeps him in my view perfectly. He moves in his seat and I just know he’s uncomfortable, or angered, or something else that I can’t really bring myself to care about with all these cameras pointing at me right now.

“So I wouldn’t say it came from anyone in particular. I probably just had a little too much wine that night.” I joke, keeping the atmosphere lively and energetic.

Jimmy laughs and The Roots play some sort of jingle in the background, both of which make me release a breath I didn't know I had been holding. 

“Well we all can’t wait for more music from you Maraye. Everyone stay tuned, Maraye will be giving us a special performance of SOS when we come back from the break!”

—

May 2025 — Los Angeles, California 

It’s later at night, 9pm when I finally take a seat on my living room couch. The recently rented apartment smelled like vanilla thanks to the candle Rickea decided to light while I was grabbing the pizza.

Why my teammate decided to surprise visit me when I could be resting for our season opener tomorrow night was beyond me. I thought it must be a little rookie hazing, messing me up for the first game, but I wouldn’t tell them that. 

Cameron was here too, a massage gun up near her still recovering knee. 

I scrolled mindlessly on my phone, listening partially to what Rickea was telling me about tomorrow’s plans. Some sitcom played on the tv, or a talk show. Again, I wasn’t very sure.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Rickea yelled. She dropped down on the couch, nudging me enough to drop my phone from my grasp. “Your first pro game is tomorrow! Can you act excited?”

“I am excited!” I shot back, playfully pushing her back off of me. “You’re just yelling in my ear right now, ‘Kea.”

“Ugh they grow up so fast.” Cameron speaks up. She wipes her eyes from fake unshed tears. I roll my eyes at them both. These cannot be my teammates.

“I’m older than you?”

“And yet, you’re a rookie and I’m not. Matter of fact, come massage my knee for me, rook.” 

I reach for the pillow closest to my right and throw it at her before she can even blink. Which she retaliates for by tossing one back at me.

“Okay enough! God, you guys are children.” Rickea interjects. Her hand reaches for the TV remote. “Tryna watch my friend on TV and y’all wanna act like fools.” 

“Do it at your place then! The fuck?”

Rickea pushes me towards the other end of the couch, and I huff and flop against it. Cam begins to laugh. I reach over for another pillow but she stops, raising her arms in defense.

The volume on the screen in front of me increases, but this time I play attention. Jimmy Fallon is on, and his introduction of whoever is the guest tonight cuts through the air. After a few seconds of silence that’s when I see it.

Suddenly I’ve never found a late night talk show so interesting.

“That’s yo’ friend?” I ask Rickea. And she squeals, like a schoolgirl, ignoring my question. “‘Kea?”

“Yeah, ‘Raye! Doesn’t she look so pretty?” She asks no one in particular. But I still find myself slyly nodding.

I listen intently to her voice, and how she sings the very sensual song beautifully. She was harmonizing with her background vocalists in a way that made my jaw drop. And suddenly, I’m pissed at myself for not only not having this song in my library, but also for knowing whose voice is mesmerizing me right now.

And even more than that, she’s stunning.

The lighting of the stage she sings on gives an illusion like she’s glowing. Or maybe she actually is. My eyes physically cannot leave the screen. She is in a maroon dress and just when I think I can’t be anymore enamored with the sight, the camera pans out to her entire body. 

I didn't even realize that her performance was over until a commercial cuts on. 

“Ain’t she just incredible.” Rickea cheeses at her friend like a proud mother. 

Cam agrees with her. “She’s running my playlist right now.”

“Paige?”

“Huh?”

“I said she’s good right? You like R&B, you should hop on the Maraye train.” Rickea teases and I think that she didn’t pick up on my obvious drooling for the last five minutes. “I promise not all her songs are freaky.”

I clear my throat, nodding at her. 

“No, yeah, she’s,” suddenly any possible descriptors that I could use at the moment are stuck in the back of my throat.

“She’s incredible.”

[egoistars]

instead of osatlas smau for ur 300 what abt i’m cooking witf samu but he doesn’t let mw do shit u pick tho idc 😻😻

MADE WITH LOVE osamu miya

cooking oyakodon with osamu because he loves you <3

written for my 300 followers event!

“I feel like a horny old man watching a stripper right now,” you dreamily sigh as you watch Osamu chop an onion with precise yet swift motions. In less than a minute, the chopped onion was placed into a pan and replaced with a handful of fresh herbs that Kita—his senior and high school volleyball captain—had sent him earlier that day. Beside the chopping board, were bowls of eggs and sauces all prepared for a meal of oyakodon.

“I really wanted to have a special moment cooking for you but you had to make it weird,” your boyfriend complained. You both knew he never found any of your commentary annoying, insulting you was his love language and you relished in the faux criticisms because only someone he felt truly comfortable with would receive such jabs. “I don’t trust you with anything in this kitchen but you can help beat the eggs I already cracked. I know you’ve cracked eggs before but I have a gut feeling you would somehow manage to explode the thing in front of me.”

“Why do you have zero trust in me?” you whined, grabbing a pair of long, wooden chopsticks to beat the small bowl of eggs. In the meantime, Osamu mixed dashi, soy sauce, mirin, and sugar, drizzling the sauces onto the onions in the pan. The two of you basked in the savory aroma, already feeling your stomach rumble for the hearty meal. You push the bowl of beaten eggs toward Osamu, grinning in pride at your work. “The eggs are done! Rate my work, chef.”

“Not bad, chef,” he mused before ruffling your hair and giving you a kiss on the forehead. “That’s all you need to do. Now sit back and wait for the meal to come out.”

With a heart full of warmth, you lie your head on the kitchen island as your boyfriend turns the stove on and stirs the simmering onions. Sizzling sounded through the spacious kitchen when chicken and eggs hit the pan, a cloud of steam rising from the stove, sending the mouth watering scent of oyakodon to you.

“I can’t believe I’m getting the full Onigiri Miya experience at home with the owner as my private chef, all for free too. I’m so spoiled,” you stupidly grin as Osamu laughs.

“Only the most special treatment for my dearest,” he responds. Turning his head toward you, a sparkle glimmers in his round, gray eyes. “It’s only the right thing to do for the person I love.”

guys i love atlas pls follow them they write the cutest stuff ever

[hyunsvngs]

hyunsvngbinimas!

pairing: han jisung x fem!reader

warnings: u fuck jisung with a dildo made from his own cock, sub!jisung, dom!reader, degradation, sph, mommy kink, unprotected sex, jisung cums twice, a lil bit of feminisation, cumswapping

You’ve been holding it for about five minutes now. You’re not sure what to say. 

It’s a dildo, complete with veins and a tip, silicone bouncing everytime you move your hand. A red bow is tied neatly around it, like some sort of comedic gift. Is this a joke? It has to be a joke, but everytime your eyes flit to Jisung, he’s still beaming with a content look in those round eyes. He got you a dildo for Christmas.

“You got me a dildo for Christmas,” You deadpan, an eyebrow raised. It’s not that you’re not excited because in all fairness, the dildo is the perfect size for you. Chubby, with a flared mushroom tip and not too long, not too short either - just big enough. You’re just confused. It kind of reminds you of-

“It’s not just a dildo! It’s my dick, look!” He points to the present excitedly, unabashed glee in his eyes. “It’s the same as mine. I got one of those kits and put my dick in it. Kinda felt good, to be honest.”

You giggle, running your fingertips up the shaft once more. “I knew I recognised it,” You muse, and Jisung shifts to get closer and stare at the toy. The wrapping paper on the sofa scrunches under his knees. “Chubby cock, veiny. Perfect length. Did you want to see me fuck myself with this?”

Jisung blanches, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. “Well, it’s- yeah,” He admits, round cheeks turning pink. You pull him closer by his shoulders, letting him nuzzle into your neck in his shyness. He’s so cute, especially in his cute little plaid Christmas bottoms and an oversized hoodie. He looks so boyfriend. He gains the courage, hot breath panning over your skin as he speaks. “I thought maybe you could send me videos when I’m away, too. I got you other presents too, but I thought this would help you the most when you miss me.”

He’s right. When Jisung’s away, you do sit and think wistfully about his cock before fucking yourself with your fingers and whining that it’s not enough. He likes hearing about it, likes thinking about how needy you are for him, but it would be good to have a little help when he’s gone. It would stop you thinking about his cock, his mouth, his ass-

Wait.

“Sungie,” You begin, and he shivers. He must know what you’re about to say. He cuddles closer to you, fingers gripping on the fabric of your shirt as he hums in response. It’s shaky. “Baby, would you let me fuck your ass with this?”

He whines. It’s long, drawn out, and fully desperate. “I- baby, that’s dirty,” He gushes, acting the perfect image of anguish, but he’s already climbing into your lap. “I- it’s for you, not for me!”

“You’ve already thought about it, haven’t you?” You smile, and he shakes his head vehemently. He’s on your lap now though, cock already solid and pressing at the front of his cute bottoms, hair lit up by the lights on the Christmas tree behind him. His toes curl in his socks while he tries to get comfortable on you, cheeks pink and pouty lips just slightly parted with every breath he takes. He’s already fucked up just from the idea of it. You toss the dildo to the side of the couch, running your thumb over his bottom lip. He shivers again. “Tell me.”

Jisung shifts on your lap, erection pressing against the bottom of your stomach. “It’s- I- maybe it would be hot,” He begins, and then he shakes his head rapidly, eyes blinking shut. “Okay, yeah, I did think about it. I- my ass, it’s- baby, feel.”

He grabs your hand, shoving it down the back of his bottoms. You’re pleasantly surprised to find that he hasn’t worn boxers for this gift giving exchange, and even more pleasantly surprised to find that his hole is slick with lube. Wait. Slick with lube.

“Sungie, baby, you’re so wet for me,” You run two fingers over his hole, and he whines, bucking his hips forward. “You wanted it that badly? Why didn’t you ask, princess?”

“I- I-” He’s huffing with every breath, cock heavy and hips canting back into your fingers. You hook a finger just past his rim, making him gasp with shock. He’s looser than you expected. It makes you smile. “Nervous. I- It’s weird, it’s kind of dirty, isn’t it? It’s- it’s my cock, and-”

Oh. It’s that type of scene. Jisung’s a self proclaimed slut, and he wants you to tell him it’s dirty, and wants you to be a little mean to him. You could do that. 

“Mm, it is dirty,” You agree, nodding. Jisung stares at you, wide eyes, licking his lips over and over. You pull your hand back, and then you’re pushing two fingers past his rim instead. This time, you let them sink right down to the knuckles, and he moans, head lolling back. “This pussy’s so fucking wet for me. I think you’re already ready, you stretched it out that much. Fuckin��� whore.”

Jisung nods eagerly, feet kicking in his impatient state. “I am! I’m a whore for you, for you, god, can I- can I fuck your pussy, and you can fuck my ass with it while I’m inside you, please, please, please-”

“No,” You scoff, stroking over his hair with your spare hand. It makes him pout, but he leans into your touch nonetheless. “I’m fucking your ass first, and if you can hold on for long enough, you can cum inside my pussy.”

“Hnnng, that’s mean! You’re so mean, you know I’ll cum,” Jisung pouts, and you just giggle in response. The laugh makes your eyes crinkle, and Jisung lets himself make a purely fond smile of his own. “You’re so pretty.”

“Yeah? Mommy’s pretty?” You question, head tilting to the side. Jisung shifts on your lap at the use of the title, nodding shyly. “Why don’t you strip off for mommy, honey? Show me that pussy, yeah?”

Jisung dives off of you, yanking his bottoms down and pulling his hoodie over his head. It leaves him fully naked on the sofa, bent over and presenting his ass to you. His thick cock hangs heavy between his legs, balls looking agonisingly full just from a bit of dirty talk and ass looking slick with his antics beforehand. You slide your hands down his back, feeling the smooth skin beneath your fingers. You reach around and grab his ass, spreading his cheeks and exposing the tight hole between. You lean in and lick his rim, teasing him with the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t tease, mommy!” He protests, shaking his head. He leans down further, head resting on his arms to tilt his ass further back for you. “Gimme it. I’m ready, I’m ready, if you lick me there I’ll cum.”

“Slut,” You muse fondly, using a hand to flip him over onto his back. He’s pliant, instantly wrapping his hands in the pits of his knees to pull them to his chest, bent in half. It exposes his hole to you, clenching and unclenching impatiently. You grab the dildo, and before he can say anything, you’re pushing the head past his tight hole.

“Oh, yes,” He nods, tongue lolling out of his mouth. You snicker, pushing the silicone the rest of the way in. It meets little to no resistance, bottoming out quickly and making him shift his hips. “Fuck me with it, c’mon, mommy, fuck me with it! I need it, c’mon.”

“Shut up, Sungie,” You admonish, shaking your head in disbelief. Jisung giggles, shoulders shaking with the cute laugh, and then you’re pumping it in steadily. He shifts his hips, trying to get it to hit that delicious spot inside of him, and when he lets out a long, anguished noise, you know he’s found it. “There? Is that hitting your g-spot, baby? Dirty princess.”

“Oh, oh, keep- mama, keep talking like that, please! Faster, mommy, mama, please, faster!” 

He’s thrashing around already despite the slow pace, and when you finally speed up, his hands drop from his legs to grip the sofa. You push his legs back with your spare arm to keep him in position, forearm firm on his lower thighs, and he starts to bounce against the thrusts.

“Is that good?” You question, and he nods eagerly, unabashed whines and high-pitched moans falling from his parted lips. “Yeah, I can tell. Look at you, whining like a little whore. I know you would’ve preferred to ride my strap, feel that cock deep inside your slutty hole.”

Jisung practically wails, head shaking rapidly. “Don’t- don’t- don’t make me cum, mommy, mama, mommymommymommy, please, please, please, don’t make me cum, I wanna cum inside, please-” He’s babbling, eyes clenched tightly shut and fingers gripping the edge of the sofa in his lust-filled haze. Despite his words, his hips are bouncing back onto the silicone, cock jumping with every thrust and adding to the pool of precum on his honey-toned tummy. 

“You want me to stop, baby? But what if I just sit on your cock after you cum? Do you think you could cum again for me?”

“Yes!” He wails, nodding rapidly. His hips buck onto the dildo a few more times, little “ah, ah, ah”’s being let out with every thrust of your hand into his hole. “I can cum again! I can, I can, I’ll do it for you, for mama, please!”

“You’re so pathetic, baby,” You coo, leaning over him to kiss his neck. It makes him whine even more, pink flush travelling down to his neck and chest. “Cumming so quickly from this small cock. How can you even feel anything? I know I can’t when it’s inside me.”

A loud moan, a gasp, and then he’s spilling onto his tummy untouched. The ropes of thick white cum shoot out of him, cock jumping and bobbing against his skin with the pleasure of it. You pull the dildo out softly, taking notice of the way his asshole clenches to avoid the loss. As he’s coming down from his orgasm, you wrap your free hand around his cock and pump rapidly, making him thrash and wail at the overstimulation. 

“Ah, baby. If you can’t take that, I don’t think you can take my pussy-”

“I can! Mama, just fuckin’- just sit on it, I promise. I can, look, I’m still hard,” He grips his cock at the base, showing you the unflagging erection. He’s not lying. His cock is covered in his own release, but it remains solid, chubby and messy for you. His eagerness makes you giggle, and he watches with wide eyes as you pull your underwear down, and then you’re sitting on his cock in one go.

Seeing him whine and thrash around like a slut had gotten you way too wet, and Jisung notices. His eyes roll back into his head at the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, tight walls soaked with your excitement. 

“Oh, baby,” You moan, high pitched and desperate. Jisung’s hands go up to your tits beneath your shirt, grabbing almost painfully, and you let him. You’re too needy at this point, and your hips start to rock against him. His cock always presses perfectly against your walls, ridges and veins hitting you just right and fucking against that sensitive spot inside of you. “Mm, that cock’s so good. Fucking mommy just right, ‘s so good Sungie.”

“Yeah, ‘s good?” He huffs, thrusting up against you. It’s obvious by the tears in his eyes that he’s desperately trying to calm down from the overstimulation, but he tries to stay good for you nonetheless. “Pussy’s so good, please- please go faster, please make me cum again, please?”

“I’ll make you cum again, Sungie, mommy’s got you,” You reassure, nodding, and then you splay your hands on his chest. Your fingernails dig into his pecs, flesh spilling around your fingers, and then you’re bouncing. 

You ignore the ache and strain in your thighs in favour of fucking down onto his cock over and over, the mess of your pussy mixed with his previous release making slick slapping noises in your living room. The noises make Jisung whine, head rolling around in pleasure. 

“Mommy, mommy, hnnnnnfg…” He slurs, drool slicking his bottom lip. “So wet. So wet on Sungie’s cock, so wet, so wet, mommy, please cum, please, need it.”

“You need my cum?” You sigh, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his cock grinding against your walls. It’s almost too wet, but you fight through it to get some more friction in your hole. You slide two fingers past Jisung’s lips, and he blinks up at you in shock, sucking them diligently. Taking the two fingers down to your pussy, you rub over your clit, sensitive and swollen past your slick folds. 

“Oh, yeeeees,” Jisung nods, eyes flickering down to watch you touch yourself. “Rub that clit for me, so dirty. Dirty mommy, oh, I’ll cum again if you keep going so fast-”

“Cum then,” You scoff, rubbing harder on your clit. The circles you form on the nub are imprecise, but the friction is just enough to have you hurtling towards your orgasm. You’re too excited, too eager after fucking his hole open. “C-Cum and I’ll cum with you, Sungie, c’mon. Squirt it all inside mommy, please, baby.”

“Okay, okay, okay, I can, I’ll cum, I’ll-” He cuts himself off by gripping firmly on your ass, and then he’s thrusting up into you. His hips slap against yours, eyes rolling back into his head as he fucks you hard and fast to cum inside of your pussy. You surge forward, fingers digging harder into his pecs at the change in pace, moaning at the stimulation on your g-spot. Your hand drops from your clit, but you can’t even think about it with the way he’s fucking into you. 

“Oh, mommy’s gonna cum, baby, keep fucking me just like that,” You keen, and then you’re cumming. Jisung wails through your cunt fluttering around him, hole clenching and unclenching around his shaft. 

After a few more thrusts, his hips still on an inwards thrust, cock pressed tightly against your cervix and you can feel him spilling inside you. It’s less than it normally would be given his previous orgasm, but it still leaks out around his cock and fills your hole to the point you’re panting, head dropping to loll into his neck. Jisung sighs a heavy puff of air, wrapping his hand around your head to keep you close as he slips out. 

His cock is still half hard, only slightly flagging, and he dips his fingers into your pussy to collect yours and his cum. He turns to you, the white substance stringing his digits together.

“Open wide, jagi,” He muses, and you let your lips part, his fingers forcing your mixed fluids into your mouth. You let them rest on your tongue, and then he’s kissing you, tongue soft and wet in your mouth to taste the release. There’s a few wet slaps of your lips together, a messy exchange, and then he’s pulling away with a stupid grin.

You blink, knowing he’s about to say something stupid. “Jisung.”

“I guess we are having a white Christmas, huh?” He giggles, hands wrapping around your middle. You roll your eyes playfully, kissing his nose. 

“You’re so fucking dumb, Sungie.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

[eleonoraalbright]

An Ill-Timed Confession Part 1

Pairing: Peter Pan x fem!reader (kinda)

Summary: You tell Henry about your romantic feelings towards Peter Pan. Unfortunately for you, he turns out not to be Henry.

The citizens of Storybrooke gathered in Granny’s diner to celebrate. Most wore big jovial smiles and talked excitedly to their companions. You took note of the absolute happiness that seemed to radiate from David and Mary Margret. Nevertheless, their daughter was uneasy, as if she half expected the Pied Piper himself to waltz through the doors and rip her son’s heart out.

You felt sorry for Emma’s needless worrying, but understood where it stemmed from. After all, many restless nights would have to be endured before you forgot Pan’s threats in Neverland, not that you wanted to forget every single comment of his just yet. You pushed that particular thought back deep in your mind where it would have to be reconsidered later. You chose to focus on more trivial matters.

Hook was seated at the bar, drinking with the boisterous dwarves. It didn’t escape your notice how often his gaze flickered between the Savior and her ex-boyfriend; Neal left his place beside Henry to chat with Mother Superior. You eyed the pirate’s ill-natured manner with interest when Ruby interrupted your musings of his unfortunate predicament by placing a steaming mug of apple cider on the counter.

You accepted the hot beverage, maneuvering your way through the crowded restaurant and slid into the booth to sit across from Henry. His attention was directed to the storybook in front of him. Even upside down, you recognized the illustration of Cinderella dancing at the ball with her prince. Henry glanced up, seeming apprehensive at your arrival, he tensed for some strange reason. His fingers tapped the edge of the smooth paper.

You offered him a reassuring smile. It would be reasonable for his nerves to be a bit frayed after his harrowing adventure. You blew on your drink and asked in a quiet tone, “How’re you holding up?”

“Good. It’s good to be back here with my family.”

You nodded your head in agreement. That was the understatement of the year. The distress and danger he went through the past few days must have been unimaginable. People often said kids were resilient, however, it was odd how unfazed Henry was at being reunited with his loving family. Odder still was his cold and distant attitude towards you. This was the first genuine conversation you two had exchanged since his capture. It was unlike him to keep to himself for so long.

You were close friends and confidants. It was worrisome for Henry to be this reserved around you. What had happened in Neverland that would have caused such an abrupt change? The next second, you berated yourself for such a thought, having one’s heart torn out would have drastic mental consequences. It was possible he wasn’t comfortable discussing his feelings yet. On the other hand, it would be harmful if he kept them bottled up inside his mind to fester.

The best course of action was to respect his silence and hope in time he would open up. You took another sip of cider while Henry went back to reading. The message was clear; he had no interest in talking any further. The temptation to leave was strong, but you remained in your seat. There was a question you were desperate for Henry to answer, the sooner the better. You blurted out, “What was he like?”

He glanced at you again. “Who?”

“Peter Pan. What was he like? I only met him a handful of times on the island, and he was pretty intimidating. How did he act around you? I mean, Pan was deranged, how’d he manage to convince you to give up your heart?”

Henry shrugged and flipped a page before replying. “He told me magic was dying and my heart was needed to save it. I believed him. And he was…” Henry shivered a little. “He was scary. I’m glad he’s gone.”

You propped your elbows on the table and rested your chin in the palm of your hand, waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t. Henry reached for his glass of root beer, refusing to utter one more word. You sighed, “Too bad he was a psychopath. Pan was kinda hot.”

Henry spat out his drink, spewing the soft drink all over the table and its contents. You grabbed a handful of napkins and dabbed them on the storybook. “Henry, be careful you almost ruined it!” Emma paused speaking to her parents and shot you both a quizzical look. You waved the wet napkins at her, signaling everything was fine, only a little spill had happened.

“What did you say?” Henry wasn’t the least bit concerned about the precious book. His eyes were wide and his mouth somewhat agape.

“I know, I know, he was a murderer and evil and wanted to kill all of us. But in my defense, he was attractive.”

Henry said nothing for a solid minute, and stared at you as if an extra head had grown from your neck. You were beginning to worry that the poor boy’s brain had broken upon hearing your staggering statement.

As the seconds ticked by you began to regret saying your astonishing confession aloud. Your attraction to Pan was something you had been grappling with ever since laying eyes on him.

You shamed yourself for feeling this way toward such a revolting person, but that would not dampen them. During the adventure, it had been eating you alive from the inside out.

The rest of the group had been debating over the best way to save Henry, how to rescue Neal, and the complications of getting off the Island. Meanwhile, you had been battling the guilt of being enamored with your best friend’s captor.

Near the end of the journey, you made peace with this upsetting fact by realizing you could acknowledge Pan’s attractiveness and still hate his guts for kidnapping Emma’s son.

Though the shock on Henry’s face made you question the wisdom of admitting this so soon after the terrible ordeal. You were on the brink of explaining your more nuanced views to him on this delicate subject when his expression changed.

The corners of his lips turned upward in a disbelieving smirk as he raised one eyebrow in wonderment. He said in a soft voice, almost to himself, “You… like Pan?”

The grin spread wider across his face and he covered his mouth with a hand to muffle the sound of his laughter. His body shook in a fit of merriment. He pointed a finger at you; his eyes contained a mocking glint which was quite foreign to them. “You have a crush on Pan!”

You were uncomfortable at his reaction, but believed it was somewhat deserved. Gesturing to him to lower his voice, you attempted to hobble together a defense. “Not really a crush per say, I–”

Henry interrupted, “That’s so gross. He's– he’s Rumpelstiltskin's dad!”

“That’s true, but it just makes me wonder whether or not Mr. Gold was that good looking in his younger days,” you joked.

He shuddered at that remark and twisted his features into one of disgust. “Ew, I’ll never understand girls.” Puzzled at your stance on his villainous great grandfather, Henry probed, “Why did you like him?”

“Like is a strong word. I didn’t like him. He was gonna kill us all for Pete’s sake, but I did observe that Pan was blessed… genetically speaking.”

A mischievous air hung about Henry as he inched forward in his seat, tilting his head close to yours, and whispered in a low tone. “Tell me, do you fantasize about Peter Pan?”

Your mouth dropped open at his blunt question. You replied in a strained voice, “Henry, that’s a very inappropriate thing to ask.” What on earth had possessed him to say that?

Moments earlier, he was repulsed at the prospect of you harboring secret feelings for Pan and now he was inquiring whether or not you fantasize about his relative!

It was your turn for your brain to stop working. Henry had never, never asked you such a personal question in all your years of friendship. This was most unlike him.

Was there a chance he had bashed his head on a rock somewhere to justify this sudden change of personality? He leaned back into the booth. “That alone gives me my answer.”

Before you could chastise him for his nauseatingly smug attitude, Emma sauntered next to the table. “Sorry to break up the chit chat, kid, it’s time for something you didn’t have in Neverland. Bedtime.”

Henry closed his book, disappointed for having to leave so soon. You were quite relieved; however, sensing Henry was having far too much fun with this knowledge at his fingertips. You were too stunned at your friend’s response to see he had left with Regina and not Emma.

That conversation had left a bad taste in your mouth. Something wasn’t right with Henry and it made you uneasy. Regret at having confessed your passing fancy towards Peter Pan seeped through you. It could be that this Neverland escapade still had a few loose ends that needed to be tied up.

You help David and Emma cover Mother Superior's body with a blanket. You shoved your trembling fingers in your coat’s pockets. Your eyes darted up to the sky and scanned for any sign of the one who did this. You didn’t feel safe. At any moment you could meet the same fate as well. The danger was lurking around the corner and–

“What the hell happened?”

You jumped slightly as Regina and Henry raced up to your group.

David answered her. “The shadow, it killed her.”

“Pan’s shadow? I trapped it on the sail.” Regina was confused.

“Yeah, well, it got free.” Emma said while crouching on the steps.

Comprehension dawned on everyone as they realized what that meant. Pan was back. You moved to Henry and wrapped your arms around him in a protective gesture. All thoughts of last night's events flew from your mind.

If Pan was somehow controlling the Shadow from inside the box, then he would never stop terrorizing them until he had the Truest Believer’s Heart. Henry was going to die. The adults discussed what to do as you patted Henry on the head.

The boy said in a hollow voice, “So Pan can still hurt me?”

Regina responded to comfort him, “We don’t know that.” You knew it was inevitable he did though.

“But we have to assume he’s still a threat.” Mary Margret clasped her hands together in worry.

You added, “And that he’s after Henry.”

“Then what am I doing here?” Henry wriggled out of your grasp, looking anxious.

David said, “He’s right. He’s not safe out in the open.”

“You’ll protect me, right?” He hugged Regina as she consoled him.

You were put off at how easily he disregarded you in favor of his mother. It was like he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. But of course, it was natural for a son to turn to his mom in his time of need.

You stopped scolding yourself when you overheard Emma tell Regina that Henry didn’t seem like himself. Your feelings of unease felt vindicated now if she was aware that her son was acting a bit different. It made your head spin; what could it mean?

After convincing Mr. Gold to give up Pandora’s Box, you all drove to the edge of Storybrooke. You huddled close to Mary Margret and David, watching the red smoke swirl out of the box.

It transformed into Pan, and Emma cocked her gun. Pan stood up, breathing hard, he acted confused, and dumbfounded to see everyone's mistrustful faces. You had to admit, he was a good actor. You couldn’t believe the next words that popped out of his mouth.

“Mum?”

Emma was also taken aback. “What?”

“What are you waiting for? Shoot him,” Gold ordered.

Pan panicked. “Don’t! Please! I’m Henry. Pan, he switched our bodies.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Emma continued pointing the gun at him.

You didn’t know what to think of this situation. You wanted to trust him. It would explain Henry's peculiar actions. The other, more cynical part, of your brain was reprimanding yourself for entertaining the outlandish idea.

Pan was a master manipulator, capable of slaughtering you and your loved ones in a millisecond if it benefitted him. He toyed with people’s minds and reveled in the horrible game of it. Your sympathetic side excused that truth when seeing Pan’s face. He was hurt and betrayed. Henry, you were sure it was him, needed a friend.

You almost took a step over the red line when Gold stopped you with his cane and said, “Don’t listen to him. This is one of his tricks.”

Pan/Henry was adamant. “No, it’s not! He did it right before Mr. Gold captured me in the box. I swear!” He stepped forward, but Emma stopped him.

Holding one hand out, she commanded, “Don’t come any closer.” Mr. Gold ordered her to shoot him again. She didn’t. “Maybe he is telling the truth. Maybe that’s why I can’t shake this feeling something’s off about Henry.” Mr. Gold argued with her, but Emma asked Pan to prove his claim.

He started listing facts about Henry. They weren’t persuaded by this. Emma stated, “Pan might know facts. But life is made up of more than that. There are moments. He can’t possibly know all of them. The first time you and I connected, you remember that? Not met, but connected.”

Pan’s face softened at the happy memory. He told her the conversation they had at his castle right after she came to Storybrooke. Emma lowered her gun and embraced him. “It is Henry.”

She released him and they crossed the line into Storybrooke. Henry hugged his grandparents and you soon followed. He enveloped you in a bone crushing hug which you returned with equal joy at having your friend back. It was a little weird since every sense told you this was to all intents and purposes Peter Pan. You pulled back to examine him.

Staring into his green eyes, you squished his cheeks. “This is so surreal.” You tapped his nose. “You really look like him, ya know.” Henry laughed, a delightful but bizarre sound coming from Pan’s throat. It was too innocent.

The full impact of what was happening hit you. You retreated a couple of paces from your friends, and hid your face as mortification overcame your entire being. “Oh no.”

“What’s wrong?” Henry put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Your face felt ablaze. If Pan was Henry, that meant… “I might’ve– I didn’t know it was him!”

Mr. Gold urged you to go on. “Yes? What is it?”

You gulped as they came closer. “Last night at Granny’s, I told Henry—who I thought was Henry—that Pan was hot.”

Both David and Mary Margret closed their eyes in exasperation. Emma stared at you, questioning your sanity. Bell grinned, and to your surprise, Mr. Gold was unbothered by this. “How tragic. However, we have larger problems that must be dealt with other than your lack of taste.”

“Do you think he’ll do anything to me for saying that to him?” You asked Henry. He had smirked at your confession, which had made your heart beat faster at the sight. You wanted to slap yourself for that reaction. Now he frowned at your inquiry.

“I don’t know. Pan might not care or he might target you because of it. Don’t worry about it. We’ll stop him.”

You climbed into the truck’s backseat. The sinking sensation settled in your stomach despite Henry reassuring you everything would turn out for the better. Peter Pan had a plan and it would lead to everyone’s ruin. Your only hope was that he wasn’t concocting a special method of torture for you since laying open your abashed feelings towards him.

(The previous night)

In the body of his grandson, Pan walked arm-in-arm with Regina down the sidewalk to her home. It was loathsome having to humor the woman while she talked to whom she believed was her son. He answered her relentless questions to the best of his ability, keeping his replies vague and unassuming.

She didn’t seem to heed his noncommittal responses. He was impatient for this part of his scheme to be done. He restrained his strong desire to kill her this instant because he had to find her vault first. Pan distracted himself from that impulse by thinking of what you had told him.

It would be beyond humiliating for you when you found out the truth. He couldn’t wait to see your gobsmacked expression when he revealed his true identity, and made Storybrooke into the New Neverland.

Peter Pan would make you regret ever spilling your secrets to him. He was eager to make you into his new plaything, to see how long it took you to cry, to break. He wondered how far over the edge he could drive you. Grateful for the limited light, he allowed a cruel, sadistic smile to form on his lips. This was all too perfect and pleasurable for him.

[thewertsearch]

TC: it rots you. TC: RUSTS YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN THINK PAN. TC: and the floor all stares up back at you through the motherfuckin hole. TC: BUT THERE IS NO HOLE NOW. TC: only under motherfuckin standing of who all i was made out to be all along. TC: ONLY UNDER MOTHERFUCKING STANDING OF WHO ALL I WAS MADE OUT TO MOTHERFUCKING BE ALL A MOTHERFUCKING LONG.

This doesn't look like lucidity to me. He's barely conversing with Karkat, instead repeating his own phrases and musing about his mental state. His quirk makes it seem like he's alternating between a whisper and a scream, and I don't think that's too far from the truth.

He's certainly more… focused than he was before, but he still doesn't seem entirely coherent. Withdrawal symptoms, perhaps?

TC: i've been kicking the wicked ignorance on this shit. TC: BEEN MOTHERFUCKIN SLAUGHTERING THE WICKED IGNORANCE, BRO. TC: all up in lifelong denial about my calling. TC: AS A DESCENDANT OF THE HIGH MOTHERFUCKIN SUBJUGGLATORS. TC: we are higher than you, brother. TC: WE ARE HIGHER THAN MOTHERFUCKIN EVERYBODY.

Oh, this is exactly what we don’t need right now.

The guy’s been awake for five minutes, and he’s already gone full hemospectrum. He is between Equius and Eridan on the blood chart, after all, and he seems to have embraced the former's prejudice and the latter's violence.

I don't know where they came from - whether he picked them up offscreen, or if they've always been innate to his personality - but if they're asserting themselves this quickly, they're clearly as deeply-ingrained in him now as they are in Eridan. That guy just murdered two of the most benevolent trolls we have - and I'm getting the sinking feeling that Gamzee is more dangerous than he is.

Is this the next crisis, then? A newly-reborn Gamzee is going to take charge of the session himself, and enforce the hemospectrum's hierarchy on the surviving trolls?

TC: and now. TC: AND MOTHERFUCKING NOW. TC: i am going to motherfuckin kill all you motherfuckers. [...] TC: and paint the wicked pictures with your motherfuckin blood.

....evidently not.

He's in some sort of frenzy, then. This is highblood violence in its purest form - violence that's been repressed for years, but is now being released all at once, in a torrent of blood.

TC: FROM YOUR VEINS WILL DRIP MY MIRACLES. TC: your crushed bones will make my special stardust. TC: WELCOME TO THE DARK CARNIVAL, BROTHER.

Blood.

That blood. From earlier.

He wasn’t the one getting attacked, was he?

What the hell does it mean that this Gamzee is the most important character in Homestuck? What the hell is he going to do?

You have never been so scared in your entire life.

Correct - and neither has Karkat.

[helloaugustmoon]

·˚ ◌༘͙[Petnames] ! ˊ

- obviously, there are the ones we know from his music; “my girl”, “baby”, etc

- and there are the ones we know for certain he has used affectionately for girls he’s been with, like “little one”

- can absolutely see him calling you “princess”, “sweet girl”, “pretty girl”, “treasure”, “precious”

- loves nothing more than to call you HIS pretty girl, treasure, etc

- and with his love of superheroes I’d put money on him calling you “wonder-girl”, as well as just “wonder”

- it doesn’t matter if your name isn’t Wendy bc he’ll still call you the Wendy to his Peter Pan frfr

- he’d definitely come up with petnames that are so unique to you, too

- considering the lyrical and poetic mastermind he is, he’ll think of the most specific petnames to do with the color of your eyes, hair color, sound of your voice

- he’ll def call you his muse and his songbird

- his little bird in general, actually

- as for petnames he’d like to be called, I honestly think he’d melt over anything you called him

- Mike, Applehead, all the classics

- but his favorite is most definitely when you call him “angel face”

- it still makes him so shy no matter how many times he hears you call him that

- speaks to his insecurities and reminds him of how much you adore him, how attracted you really are to him

·˚ ◌༘͙[Era specific] ! ˊ

now, these are kinda wild cards, but I can imagine him having petnames that he either comes up with for you during certain eras OR if he met you in a specific era these would be his first choices of petnames for you

Off The Wall - his shyest era so he’d be least confident w petnames and would only use them after a WHILE and he’d be so quiet about it too. literally you’d have to be in a completely empty hotel and he’d still only whisper that you’re his girl. more likely to tell you things like “I’ll never love another” than call you by petnames in this era imo, but would ABSOLUTELY call you a treasure when you do something that makes him smile. in fact, he’d outright call you “the smile on my face”.

Thriller - continuing on from previous, at this point he’s more confident in calling you “the only eyes in the crowd” and other poetic things like that. he’ll ask “where’s my smile?” when he’s looking for you backstage and I’m crying.

Bad - he’ll THINK of calling you his bad girl in this era but he’ll be too shy so he keeps that one to himself until later and instead calls you the sweetest things to juxtapose the badassery of the era like his “sweetiepie”, “sweetest girl”, “pretty bird”. in all those leather outfits n he’s calling you that? pls.

Dangerous - in this era, he’s def calling you things like his “one and only”, and straight up just “mine”. no elaboration needed. and we are all sat actually.

Blood On The Dance Floor - kinkiest era Idc, he’ll have felt confident enough by this time to call you “bad girl” and more specifically HIS bad girl with a smirk and I said what I said. he says it like he means you’re his good girl but he sounds flirtier when he says you’re bad and he finds your reaction so cute every time. oh falling into a heap of goo on the floor is cute? thanks beloved x

Invincible - now we all know from this era onwards Michael is feelin some type of way 👀 and for that I think “lover”; he’ll call you his lover with the UTMOST affection FR! after everything he’s gone through by this era, you are his true love, his anchor, his solace, and he would call you all of those things too. whether he meets you in this era or a previous one, by this era he is so devoted to you, there’s not a thing he wouldn’t do in worship of you.

[viking-raider]

🎃 Bumps in the Night 🎃

Summary-> You're home alone on Halloween Night and things are acting up around the house.

Pairing-> (You'll find out in the fic)/Reader

Word Count-> 2.7k

Warnings-> PG: Cotton Candy Fluff, Language, Suspense, Scares

Inspiration-> Halloween and Muse agreeing with one another.

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction!

Divider by->  @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

You were all curled up on the couch, in a darkened home, a pillow clutched in your arms and your eyes glued to horror on the flickering tv screen.

It was Halloween night and you were binging through your favorite horror movies. Usually, you’d have a few friends or your boyfriend over to join the scarefest with you. Watching the Saw movies, followed by the Silent Hills with loads of popcorn and a glass of wine or two. Only taking breaks to refill the candy bowl outside the door, so the neighborhood kids wouldn’t get into mischief against you for not supplying their sugar addiction. But your friends had other plans for the night and your boyfriend was held up with work.

So, it was just you this year.

That was okay, you’d make them all RSVP for Christmas.

You were forty-five minutes deep into Silent Hill 2, when something struck your front door, sending your heart out of your body, like a NASA Rocket, and under the covers in your bedroom upstairs. Swallowing it back down into your chest, you blindly reach for the remote to pause the movie and unfold yourself from the sofa; heading for the entryway.

“Christ, I hope they didn’t egg or toilet paper the front porch.” You mumbled under your breath, pushing up on your toes to peek out the peep-hole; but saw nothing out of sorts. “Hmm.” You grabbed the stash of candy you had by the door and stepped out onto the pouch. “Those heathens.” You growled, finding the remnants of an egg; the clear albumen and runny yoke with bits of broken shell slowly seeping down the mocha-colored wood.

“I should just confiscate the candy bowl!” You barked out into the dark, meeting the eye of every trick-or-treater that walked by on the sidewalk; but filled the bowl nonetheless, feeling bad for punishing the innocent ones.

Going back inside and securing the door, you headed into the kitchen, tucking the empty candy bag into the recycling and pulling another chilled cooler out of the fridge. You stood there for a moment, sipping it and considering if you wanted to order takeaway or pop something in the oven for dinner, as the loudest bang came from the dining room. Drawing a startled scream from your lips. Stumbling towards the entry connecting the living room to the kitchen, your cooler nearly slipping from between your trembling fingers, your eyes were locked on the opposite side of the kitchen, to the entry leading into the dining room. It was just a portal of darkness, like most of the house. The only light was from your paused horror movie, casting light against your back, and only helped your brain find trick shadows in the blackness.

Your throat was tight with fear, you set your wine on the edge of the first counter you could find and continued to back out of the kitchen and into the living room. Dashing around the couch to grab your phone, the moment you were close enough, and dialing your go-to number.

“Hey, babes.” Your boyfriend’s excited voice picked up on the other end.

“Oh my god! Oh christ!!” You blurted out, bouncing on your toes.

“What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

“I think someone’s in the house.” You whined, biting your lip with your eyes panning in every direction.

“Are you sure?” He asked, concerned and agitated.

“There was a loud noise in the dining room.” You told him, antsy.

“Did you go look?”

“GO LOOK!” You snapped out at him, outraged, but quickly gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth, collecting yourself. “Are you crazy? That’s how people get murdered!” You told him, whispering loudly.

His side of the line filled with chest rumbling, amused laughter.

“Why are you laughing!” You scolded him, moving from scared to angry. “Someone could be in the house, trying to rob and/or kill me!”

“Baby, how many horror movies have you watched tonight?” He asked, through his fit of giggles.

“I don’t know.” You sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead, starting to feel silly. “All the Hills Have Eyes, the IT movies, Don’t Breathe, and now, I’m on the second Silent Hill.” You confessed.

“All alone in the dark.” He said, matter-of-factly. “Maybe I should have taken this work thing off and stayed home with you.” He mumbled to himself.

“No, I’m fine.” You said, shaking your head and steeling yourself. “You’re right, I’m just over hyping myself. I’m sure it’s something stupid and explainable.”

“I’m sure it is, love.” He agreed, his voice soft and loving.

“I’ll let you off.” You sighed, glancing back at your unfinished movie. “I’ll see you when you get back tomorrow?”

“Obviously.” He chuckled. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Hanging up, you clutched your phone in your hand before deciding to brave the dining room to find out what had almost sent you to an early grave. Turning on your phone’s light and hugging it against your chest, you tiptoed through the kitchen and pressed yourself against the wall beside the doorway, taking a moment to maximize your courage, before flashing your phone into the space. You had hoped to blind whoever could be hiding in there, gaining an upper hand, before jumping out of your hiding place and into the dining room. But there was no one there, shielding their poor blinded eyes. You couldn’t spot anything out of place either. All the chairs were pushed neatly into the table, the book shelves against the walls were right and their contents in their rightful places.

“What the fuck.” You cursed, rounding the table twice, looking for any explanation, even underneath it.

Nothing.

You pressed a hand to the side of your face, at a loss. “I’m losing my mind.” You decided, shrugging and going back into the living room. “Out of my damn mind, Pyramid Head.” You told the eerie figure on the screen, popping down on the couch, appetite completely forgotten about. “Whatever.” You sighed, pressing play on the movie and tried settling back in.

Silent Hill was almost over and you had finally relaxed again, when yet another bump sounded through the house. This time from upstairs. You flew off the couch and all but ran out of the house, toes barely touching the floor as you went.

“Crap, crap, crap!” You panicked, pacing the foyer, heart thudding against your chest like some cartoon character. You yelped at the sudden sound of your phone going off, but didn’t go for it, where it still sat on the couch cushion. The upstairs between you and it. “Christ alive!” You growled, skittering sideways through the dining room, bolted through the kitchen and all but dived for your phone.

“Yes?” You hissed, kneeling between the couch and coffee table.

“Hey baby.” Your boyfriend’s voice replied cheerfully, but faded. “Did I scare you?” He asked, hearing the panicked terror in your voice.

“No.” You snapped at him, testily.

“Honey, why don’t you call the Horror-thon short for the night? You’re clearly spooking the life out of yourself. I’d hate to come home to you all sleep deprived and paranoid, cause you were too stubborn to call it.”

“It’s a tradition.” You argued with him.

“I know it is. But this is the second call we’ve had that you’re terrified over something; be it something in the house or just the sound of the phone ringing.”

Or something else in the house! You thought, glancing up at the ceiling.

“How about this, when I get home, we’ll do the Horror-thon together. I’ll get us our favorite takeaway and everything for it.”

You wanted to argue with him. You didn’t need him to be there as a safety buddy, so you wouldn’t be afraid of the dark. There wasn’t anything to be afraid of. They were just horror movies, actors acting things out. But something was making noises in the house with you. You were sure of it. But you did like the idea of having a horror date night with your boyfriend.

“All right.” You sighed, conceding. “I’ll turn it off.” You felt around for where the remote disappeared to, pressing your hand between the couch cushions for it, brow creasing in frustration. “I swear, I’m going to super glue an AirTag to this damn remote.” You growled under your breath, turning towards the coffee table.

Your boyfriend chuckled in your ear. “That would make finding it easier.”

Pushing aside empty candy wrappers and empty wine coolers, you came up empty for the remote. “Where did I put this dam-” The TV flickered off, plunging the living room, and you, into darkness. “Jesus Christ!” You squeaked, frozen in place, eyes locked on the deactivated screen.

“Babe?”

“The tv turned off…on its own.” You told him, voice thick.

“Did you accidentally hit the remote?” He asked, his voice trying to guard his concern.

“Pretty sure I didn’t.”

“Go, look out the patio window, see if the neighborhood lost power or something.”

Nodding, you pulled yourself up onto your feet and crossed to the sliding glass window leading out to the backyard. Peeking out to the houses on either side of you, you could see lights on in their windows and back yards and a couple street lamps in the neighborhood over. A cold chill ran down your spine, everyone around you had power.

“Well?” Your boyfriend asked expectantly.

“They have power.” You whispered softly, slightly trembling.

“All right, love. Why don’t you go to my place?” He suggested, his voice calm.

“I think I like that idea.” You agreed, turning sharply on your heels and heading towards the door, forgetting everything else in the house, except your keys, which weren’t on the hanger by the door. “They’re not there.” You whimpered, every bit of resolve and bravery you had seeping out of your body.

“What’s not there?”

“My keys.” You answered, your voice high-pitched.

“Did you leave them in your purse?” He asked, hoping to instill some of his soothing tone into you.

You turned around and looked up the stairs, gulping thickly. “It’s very possible.”

“Okay, grab it.”

Easy for you to say!

“Yeah, grab it.” You echoed back, taking a deep breath and mounting the stairs. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He answered, chuckling softly.

You teetered at the top of the stairs, glancing at the hallway bathroom and the guest room, then down the great length of the hallway to your master bedroom. It never seemed so far away since you lived there. Digging deep, you grasped the last bit of courage you found and hurried down the hall for it, diving inside and closing the door for extra measure.

“Give me a second, I need my flashlight.” You told him, too scared to turn the bedroom light on. You used your phone light to guide yourself around the room for your purse, finding it on a chair beside the closet. Your hands shook as you rummaged through your purse. “Come on, come on!” You hissed, bouncing on your toes, impatient.

I’ve gotta clean this thing out!

“Ah-ha!” You laughed, hand closing around your car’s fob, feeling a rush of victory go through you, only for loud steps to fill the hallway outside, like someone running towards the door. But they stopped short and you froze in place, waiting for the door to open and your tormentor to show themselves.

“Babe?” Your boyfriend called through the phone still clutched in your shaking hand, but you were too deer in the headlights to answer him calling your name.

Your door didn’t open, but one of the other doors upstairs slammed with such force the floor rattled. Whoever this was, was having a crack at your expense before they finally stopped tormenting you.

“Get out of the house!” Your boyfriend’s voice yelled through your paralyzed fog, having heard the door slam through your connection and activating your fight or flight mode.

“I’m going!” You snapped, rushing out the door and into the hall, knowing they were between you and the stairs, but you were ready to throw hands if you needed to, to get by. “Ha!” You giggled manically, making it to the stairs, feeling triumphant, until you reached the second step and felt an arm snake around your waist, picking you clear off your feet.

You let out a squealing scream, arms and legs flailing, a huge hand clamping over your mouth; cutting off any more screams or noises you could make to alert the neighbors or people coming up to the house for candy of your danger. You felt your intruder’s chest vibrate as they held you against their body, a laugh bubbling past their lips at your terror.

“You’re so easy to scare.” They teased into your ear.

Eyes flaring, your fright was replaced with shocked anger and you bit down on their palm, forcing them to let go with a surprised hiss. “HENRY!!” You yelled, turning around to shove your boyfriend in the chest and stomping your foot, outraged. “It’s been you all night!”

Henry grinned at you, apologetic mischief on his face. “Yeah.” He nodded, feeling bad about tormenting you the whole time.

“Work thing?”

“Mmm…” He shrugged, bashfully. “I fibbed. It was just an excuse for you to think I was gone and wasn’t probably in on pranking you.”

“Do you know how many heart attacks you gave me tonight!” You demanded, poking him in the chest. “You egged my front door!”

“Oh no, that egg wasn’t me.” He admitted, biting the corner of his lip. “That was Trevor, next door. I may have paid him a week ago to toss it tonight, at a specific time, to get things rolling.”

“I’m going to kill both of you.” You declared, nodding, then punched him in the chest again. “You’re such an ass!”

Henry laughed, folding you into his arms and kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry, love.” He chuckled, swaying gently. “I couldn’t help it, just this once. It was so perfect, with you all alone and stuff. Or at least you thought you were.”

“How did you turn the tv off?” You asked, cocking your head back to look at him.

Henry pulled his phone out from his back pocket and showed you the remote control app he had for your smart tv. “I debated changing the channels on you and stuff, but I didn’t want to muck with you too much.”

“The noise in the dining room?”

“I dropped your leather bound copy of War and Peace, then returned it to the shelf, before going back upstairs.” He explained, with no small amount of pride.

“Footsteps?”

He laughed, cupping your face in his hands. “I was just going to sneak up on you, when you were looking for your keys. Which I moved from the hook by the door to your purse, while you were checking to see if the neighborhood lost power. But you closed the bedroom door, so I just ran up to the door and quietly went back to the half bath, where I’ve been hiding. Then you know what happened after that.”

“How did you even get into the house, while I wasn’t looking?”

“That was what the egg was for. While you were dealing with that, I slipped into the house through the slider, and just tip-toed around you.”

“That’s pretty impressive for a man your size.” You complimented him, impressed with how thought out Henry had made this. “I really hate you though. That was so mean, Hen.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He chuckled, kissing you sweetly. “I’ll make up for it. How about some takeaway and Saw?”

“Takeaway, yes. But I think I’m done with all things horror and scary for now.” You informed him, pressing your forehead to his chest.

“Fair.” Henry smiled, kissing you once more.

Calmed down and torment over, the two of you went downstairs, ordering food and turning on a Rom-Com to finish the rest of your Halloween night, curled up together on the sofa; without another bump or thump in the night.

[ww2yaoi]

Yesterday was quite a day, I mused as I hurried back from the medics: I caught diarrhea and voted for Roosevelt. Now I was bound for the barn on the west side of Uden where we had moved from an outpost in the north several days after returning from Best. The ballot had gone on its way to the States, but I still had the diarrhea; it made me hurry faster. The first platoon had taken over a large barn and made itself at home in the hay. Supposed to be on the M.L.R., we had posted a couple of men on 24-hour guard in the field behind us while we slept on soft hay in thin, one-man sleeping bags which had caught up with us with the last of the regiment’s rear echelon. It was our most comfortable position in Holland. But I couldn't enjoy it, because I had the worst diarrhea I had ever caught in the Army; I couldn't lie still for more than twenty minutes. Cramped and irritable, I had spent most of the day and night running back and forth to the slit-trench latrine behind the barn, with time out for a mile walk to the medics and a dose of sulfa pills. It was all the cooks’ fault, I mused as I came in sight of our quarters. Bastards always were dirty. They kill a cow and butcher it and boil it hard in pasty gravy and call it beef stew. It almost broke my teeth, but the stew wasn't to blame—it was the wash water afterward. Vile as the British seamen on the Samaria, who had set out cold pans of salt water for us to wash our mess kits in, they gave us a single garbage can of soapy water as a battalion rinse. By the time I got to the can, the scum was an inch thick on top. The grease clung to my pan, breeding germs, and gave me diarrhea at the next meal. I had spent last night on the run, unable to enjoy the comforts of my sleeping bag. Well, anyway I had voted. That made me happy. I had to walk almost two miles to cast my ballot, but I would have walked ten, if necessary, because this was my first vote—I was 22 in June—and I had always wanted to cast it for Roosevelt, the greatest President we had ever had and the only one who ever gave the working man a break. Roosevelt had faced and overcome the two great crises America had ever suffered: the worst depression in history and the world’s biggest war. He was a politician, as crafty and conniving as any, for politics is a cesspool of lying lawyers, but his work was greater than the man, and the country was better for it. The rich Republicans hated Roosevelt for helping the working man, for encouraging the labor unions to wring a fair day’s wage for a fair day’s work out of employers who had never heard of such a thing before and for putting into effect fair-employment practices that they considered outrageously Socialistic. Roosevelt helped the unemployed when Herbert Hoover, the last Republican, an engineer who never quite understood humanity, had said, “Let every man help his brother,” when he knew perfectly well that the rich weren't about to help the poor, never had and never would. I had grown up with Republicans and gone to school and college with them, and sickened by their selfishness, their cold avarice and lofty contempt for the common people, had early sworn to vote for the Democrats, who, for all their rotten political faults, were more concerned with the welfare of the country as a whole. Delighted that I had at last fulfilled that ambition, I snapped back to the present when I saw a dozen people standing in front of our barn. A wild-eyed crone was shrieking and cackling at some soldiers while several Dutch children looked on.

David Kenyon Webster, Parachute Infantry, pg. 142-144.

Happy election day, USAmericans! If David Webster can walk two miles with bad diarrhea in an active war zone to vote, so can you!

[sargeant-bxrnes]

birthday ramé. [g.s]

—✮ summary: where your husband gojo, and your little daughter airi, are planning a nice birthday surprise for you, which of course, in true gojo’s fashion… must be a little chaotic. [requested!]

pairings: gojo x f!reader [married]

contents: pure fluff, girl-dad!gojo :) | wc: 930

my masterlist! | my requests are OPEN!

Gojo tiptoed around the kitchen with the grace of a rampaging elephant. His wild white hair seemed to have a mind of its own, adding to the general chaos that surrounded him. He was trying to do a nice gesture for you, and nothing will get in his way, not even his own lack of culinary skills.

Little Airi, a two-year-old bundle of joy and mini-Gojo, was perched on the kitchen counter, happily making an (artistic) mess with flour and sugar on the surface with her little hands. She giggled, resembling a pocket-sized version of her father, right down to the snow white hair, the mischievous glint in her eyes and the way she seemed to be fully charged with energy all the time.

Gojo, wearing his blindfold for 'professionalism' reasons, was attempting to crack eggs both in a rush and with dramatic flair, but ended up sending shells flying in every direction. Airi clapped her tiny hands, unaware of the kitchen mayhem she was contributing to.

Satoru smiled at his little baby, seeing a hint of your smile in little Airi’s face, she looked just like you, sometimes, but most if not all the time, little Airi was all him. Even now, when they're supposed to be preparing you a nice surprise but are downright creating chaos.

Suddenly, the unmistakable scent of burnt toast wafted through the air, and Gojo froze for a few seconds, realizing he might be losing control of the situation. He glanced at Airi, who was now happily smearing jam on a piece of pancake with her own little sticky hands, well, she was happy and away from the fire, all good.

"Uh-oh. Well, who doesn't love a bit of extra crunch?" He mumbles to himself as he removes the other pancake from the heat, aware that it's more of a... semi burnt pancake.

The kitchen door creaked open, and you, the birthday girl, walked in completely unsuspecting, rubbing your eyes from sleepiness, however an expression of amused confusion quickly took over your features.— you had woken up to the other side of your bed empty, which made you pout a bit, however that had soon changed by the muffled sounds of Airi’s little giggles and whatever ramble left Goru's mouth. — which prompted you here, to witness this cute moment.

"What kind of culinary circus is happening here?" You asked in amusement.

As Gojo valiantly attempted to rescue a pan from the clutches of overcooking, Airi presented you with a lopsided pancake. "’appy birfday, Mommy!"

You couldn't help but chuckle at the adorable mess unfolding before you, walking closer to the counter where little Airi was sitting down, as her little hands immediately made a 'grabby hands' gesture for you to pick her up.

Gojo, grinned like this chaotic deliver was planned all along, and turned to face you. "Happy birthday, love! Airi and I are just preparing a breakfast surprise, or as I like to call it, controlled chaos."

You raised an eyebrow with an amused expression, taking in the whimsical kitchen scene, an unnatural amount of dirty dishes all around, a mess of flour and sugar, and some cracked eggs by the side.

"Thank you, honey. And… Controlled chaos? Is that a new cooking technique?" You inquired as you picked up the baby and cradled her in your arms; she hid her head in the crook of your neck as her messy white hair tickled your skin.

"Absolutely! Cutting-edge stuff, really." Gojo muses, walking closer to you and your daughter, wrapping his long arm around both, leaning down to kiss her little forehead.

"Well, it's certainly a... unique surprise," you muse, tickling your little girl's side, making her giggle. "Thank you, my little chef. And you, Mr. Gojo, for this unforgettable start to my day."

“You are absolutely welcome, Mrs. Gojo.” Satoru grinned, leaning down to kiss you, his lips softly met yours in an affectionate gesture, the kiss was slow and filled with love, which admittedly he would've prolonged a bit more if little Airi hadn't patted his cheek with her jam smeared little fingers.

Gojo pulled back from the interrupted kiss, a playful whine escaping him as he shot Airi an exaggerated pout.

"Hey, little interrupter, Daddy was having a moment there." he chuckled, wiping a bit of jam from his cheek and smearing it playfully on her tiny nose.

Airi, seemingly unfazed, grinned innocently, her little head still comfortably resting on the crook of your neck. "Mommy mine!"

You chuckled, patting Gojo on the shoulder "Looks like you've got some competition for my affection, baby."

Gojo, not one to be easily deterred, leaned in close to the baby girl, a twinkle in his eye. "Airi, did you know I met your mom first? That means I can kiss her whenever I want."

Her eyes widened in curiosity, and before Gojo could continue with whatever questionable commentary he had in mind, you swiftly intervened. You shot your husband a look that warned him against taking the banter too far, and he paused, sighing dramatically.

"Alright, alright, I'll behave. For now," he conceded, and you gave him a mock stern look, shaking your head in amusement. "But just know, I have a whole repertoire of embarrassing stories waiting for Airi when she's older."

You rolled your eyes with a smile— Satoru wrapped his arms around you both as Airi giggles happy, and you realized that, despite the chaos, these were the moments that made your little family so uniquely charming, even surrounded by burnt toasts, lopsided pancakes and sticky fingers.

[jadeittic]

MUSE.

“Your words are my food, your breath my wine. You are everything to me.”

Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto + Artist!Fem!Reader

note : a small blurb for my favorite boy again cuz i cant get him out of my mind. lmk if u have any reqs! :)

In a bustling city, where creativity and gastronomy intertwined, there existed a love story that transcended the boundaries of personality. YN, an artist with a whirlwind of emotions, and Carmy, a stoic, introverted chef with an unyielding passion for food, found their lives intertwined in the most unexpected way.

YN’s vibrant art studio was a haven of color and inspiration. Her days were filled with laughter, conversations with her friends, and the rhythmic strokes of her brush. Her artwork, an extension of her expressive soul, captivated the hearts of art enthusiasts from near and far. She reveled in the joy of sharing her passion, breathing life into her canvases with every stroke of her paintbrush.

Carmy, on the other hand, found solace in the realm of flavors and ingredients. His restaurant, The Bear, became a sanctuary where he could let his culinary genius thrive. With unwavering determination, he crafted dishes that were unparalleled in taste and presentation. He poured his heart and soul into every recipe, channeling his stubbornness into creating gastronomic masterpieces.

Their paths crossed one evening at a charity event, where YN’s vibrant artwork adorned the walls, and Carmy’s delectable creations adorned the plates. Drawn to the energy of YN’s presence, Carmy found himself captivated by her contagious laughter and genuine enthusiasm. Despite his introverted nature, he couldn't resist the magnetic pull she had on him.

Intrigued by Carmy’s stoic demeanor and the unwavering confidence in his culinary skills, YN saw beyond his silence. She sensed the passion and dedication radiating from him, much like the flames that danced beneath his pots and pans. YN, with her boundless energy, brought colors to Carmy’s monochromatic world, and he found himself enchanted by her unfiltered comfort for life.

As their love story unfolded, they discovered a beautiful balance in their differences. YN’s enthusiasm coaxed Carmy out of his shell, encouraging him to share his culinary expertise with the world. Meanwhile, Carmy’s calmness and introspection grounded YN’s allowing her to channel her creative energy with focus and purpose.

Together, they embarked on a journey of culinary and artistic exploration. YN’s paintings adorned the walls of The Bear, creating an ambiance that resonated with patrons. In turn, Carmy’s mouthwatering creations became a muse for YN, inspiring her to infuse her art with the flavors and emotions that his dishes had.

Their love grew like a symphony, with each passing day revealing new harmonies and melodies. The pair celebrated each other's successes, finding solace and comfort in their shared devotion to their crafts. Their relationship became a tapestry of passion, understanding, and unwavering support, each embracing the other's uniqueness.

In a city where artistry and culinary genius thrived, YN and Carmy’s love story stood as an evidence to the power of connection beyond personality types. Their journey proved that love can blossom in the unlikeliest of places, uniting two souls whose passions complemented each other, painting a picture of a love story that transcended all boundaries.

[leilakisakabiri]

could u to a gavi x singer reader? she’s more outgoing and not as shy as he is and writes songs about him // dedicates them to him during her concerts and he’s just a super proud bf 💗💗

Number One (PG6)

Summary: Gavi being your biggest supporter.

A/N: Quick one! Miss him on the field already :(

Word count: 700+

Masterlist

“I can’t tell you all how much it means to me that you’re here – I love you. Thank you so much for your support!” You exclaimed, in awe of the crowd chanting your name.

“I wanna dedicate this song,” you continued smiling as the cheering intensified, “to a special someone who’s basically my muse for this whole EP, thanks for getting me famous,” you joked, “Oh, and also for making me feel loved.”

The beginning beats of your most popular song began to play and if you thought the crowd was loud before they went even crazier, screaming when they saw the camera pan over to Gavi in the VIP section, a proud smile on his face while he cheered along with your fans.

You had just confirmed the rumors that had been circulating for weeks – you were together.

You couldn’t keep the grin off your face as you sang the chorus, hearing the crowd sing along, the camera once again panning to Gavi, showing him scream-singing the lyrics with his sister, his grin mirroring your own.

You bowed once you had finished your set, thanking your audience once again. You looked over to the VIP section and made eye contact with Gavi, he immediately put his hands into a heart shape, lifting it above his head for you to see.

You felt your heart swell, usually, you would be the one doing that at his games, and it meant so much to you that he had come to support you and had done the same thing.

Without a second thought, you copied his actions, taking a final bow as you exited the stage.

Your heart was pounding, adrenaline racing through your veins.

You couldn’t believe it. You had just played your first big festival and everyone had seemed to love it.

You were in the middle of taking off your earpiece when you saw Gavi and Aurora walking towards you.

You finished unhooking yourself before you met them in the middle pulling them into a group hug.

“You were amazing Y/n!” Aurora praised you.

You let out a laugh, “Thank you! And thank you guys for coming!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” Gavi replied.

Aurora huffed, “He’s definitely not lying about that.”

You gave her a questioning look.

She sighed, giving Gavi a glare, “Gavi was so annoying, he kept rushing me. He was so worried we wouldn’t make it in time that we left an hour and a half earlier than we needed to, and he wouldn’t even let me walk around, scared that we would miss your performance, so we stood in that tent for like three hours.”

You turned to face a blushing Pablo, who was desperately trying to avoid eye contact with you, embarrassed at having been called out.

You reached out, wrapping your arms around his waist as you peered up at him, “Awh Pablo! Thank you, you didn’t have to do all that.”

He finally looked at you, hands coming to rest against your shoulders, as his fingers absentmindedly played with the ends of your hair.

“Couldn’t miss your first performance. Especially since it was dedicated to me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Mhm how do you know I wasn’t talking about another guy?”

He gave you an offended look, “Please Y/n. We both know that no one makes you feel the way I do.”

You felt your stomach fill with butterflies at his words, you wanted him, and he knew it.

“Am I wrong?” He asked, face inching closer to yours.

Your eyes stayed fixed on his as he moved closer, a mischievous grin adoring his features.

“Ugh enough coupley shit.” Aurora groaned from beside you.

You laughed, pulling yourself back to reality and separating yourself from Gavi even as he tried to bring you back.

“Sorry! It’s all friendly here.” You declared.

Aurora smiled, grabbing your hand, “Perfect. Well, in that case, Gavi we’ll meet you by the food carts, I have to show Y/n this stand.”

You giggled as she pulled you along, looking back to see Gavi with an annoyed expression on his face as he watched his sister pull you away.

“I’ll be back!” You yelled.

“Not soon enough.” He shook his head smiling.

[7ndipity]

"Husband-y"

Taehyung x Reader

Summary: A cozy evening at home leads to talk of the future, and an important question.

Warnings: none

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this, I got so soft writing this omg! I'm finally starting to catch up on all the requests from last week, so they'll hopefully be going up in the next couple days💜

Masterlist

Requests are open

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You don't know what you did to deserve Kim Taehyung.

Earlier, you had swore you were about to collapse from exhaustion as you dragged yourself home from work, slumping against the door to push it closed behind you, expecting to be greeted by the typical dark and quiet of your appartment.

What you had been met with, however, was the soothing mix of music drifting from the stereo in the living room and faint humming from the kitchen, accompanied by the warm, savory scent of cooking.

Curiously, you had crept down the hall and peeked around the doorway, grinning as your eyes landed on a familiar figure. Taking a moment to admire him as he worked before making your presence known, you noted the way his hair fell over his eyes as he leaned over, his nose scrunching up slightly as he tasted something before nodding to himself.

"Whatcha making?" He jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, turning to you with a massive grin.

"Ah, pasta, I think." He said, coming over a pressing quick kiss to your lips. "How was your day?"

"Better now. Is that my apron?" You asked, toying with the ties around his waist.

"Maybe, is that okay?"

"Yeah, just surprising, I'm not used to you cooking."

"I wanted to surprise you." He said, pressing another kiss to your temple before pulling away to check the pans on the stove. "Why don't you go wash up? This should be done soon."

"You sure you don't need any help?"

"I'm sure. This is my kitchen tonight, get out." He said with faux authority.

"Yes Sir." You played along, giving him a tiny salute before retreating to your room.

By the time you returned, he had everything set on the table, complete with candles for mood lighting. You couldn't wipe the amused grin off your face as you watched him milling back and forth, putting on the finish touches, refusing again to let you help.

"What?" He asked, noticing your eyes on him again.

"You're just being really cute." You said, propping your chin in your hand as you watched him.

"Am I now?" He grinned.

"Mhm, very house husband-y."

"Husband?" He raised a brow at you, making you start to backtrack before he chuckled.

"I think I like that." He mused, resuming his task, leaving you to fight back the faint, embarrassed heat in your cheeks.

Now, as you lay in bed, his head resting on you chest, sleep threatening to overtake you as you talked, you'd never felt more content.

"Thank you for tonight." You said, playing with his hair. "It was really nice."

"I'm glad, I like getting to look after you." He said, adding after a moment. "I liked what you said earlier too, about me feeling husband-y."

"Really?" You glanced down at him.

"Mhm, I wasnt sure if you thought about that kind of stuff." He said, fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt.

"I think about it lot, actually." You admitted.

"Really?" It was his turn to ask.

"Yeah."

"What do you think about?" He asked.

"I dunno, lots of things... Sometimes I think about where we'd live. Like, I know we'd have to stay in Seoul most of the time, but I wondered if you'd want another place closer to your family, so we could visit them more, or somewhere totally different like New York or Paris where it's just us. Sometimes I think about if we'll have kids, and who they'd look more like." You chuckled. "Hopefully it's you... Tae?"

He'd grown so still, you'd wondered if he'd fallen asleep or if you'd said too much.

"Hold on." He rolled over, fumbling in the bedside drawer for a moment before turning back to you and balancing a small velvet box on you stomach.

You looked up at him in shock.

"It's not technically an engagement ring," he said softly. "But I wanted you to know that when the time comes, when we're ready, I want to take that step with you. I can't imagine my life without you."

You eyes welled over with tears as he took your hand, taking a steadying breath before he continued.

"I want everything you said and so much more. And if you'll have me, I would love to spend the rest of our lives together."

Your voice failed you, coming out as only a whisper as you nodded, tears streaming down your face. "Yes."

With shaking hands, he slipped the ring on your finger before pulling you close.

"I love you so much."

"I love you too."

You both fell asleep wrapped up in each other and the promise of forever.