#us locals could no longer enough it again

[cogumellow]

on top of the bluffs (don't do this) // scarborough, canada // 2016-2018 // ©

[oceantornadoo]

you’ve got a certain captain wrapped around your finger and he’s more than glad to be there.

it’s a celebration of your one year on the team, drinks galore at your favorite local dive in london. johnny insisted on a half-circle booth and as the person of honor, you’re smack dab between him and your captain. your captain who’s been paying your tab all night long, waving off your hands as you try to reach for your wallet.

“lieutenant, give us a dance.” gaz says with a smirk on his face. ghost, on the other side of johnny, is one too many drinks in to move, which means it’s john’s turn to scooch. except he’s leaning his head on the worn wooden backing of the booth, lost in thought. he’s seen you naked in safe houses and shared showers, so why does it feel so obscene to lift yourself over his lap? there’s barely space between his massive thighs and the table, necessitating callused paws to guide your hips over his own. it’s the scrape of denim on denim, your ass firmly over his crotch for a whole second, before he pats your hip to push you all the way. “thanks, cap.” you turn with a glimmer in your eye and he dips his hat like a gentleman of old, making you giggle in your drunken stupor.

you used to hide reactions like these, suffocated by the rigid emotional walls of the military. but now, the team’s given you a safe space to be yourself: a titan on the field and a human with emotions off it.

gaz bows to ask for your hand and you accept with a curtsy. the two of you are the best dancers on the team (not a hard competition to win) and entertain johnny with twists and turns on a dance floor of your own making. he calls out instructions in that grumbly accent of his, causing you to cry with laughter in gaz’s arms. two things happen at once: you go down on the dance floor and simon lurches off the booth. johnny catches him with quick reflexes but you’re not as lucky, landing in a pile of gaz’s limbs and your own.

someone strong lifts you up with hands tucked under your armpits, inducing a ticklish squirm you subdue with years of experience. gaz is up without help, pushing simon back from the other side so he’s straight up again. “righ’ l.t., time to get ye home.” johnny’s strong but the weight and uncoordination of a drunk simon requires gaz’s help as well. “happy anniversary, angel!” he yells out as the three stumble out of the bar and (hopefully) back towards base.

“think he’ll be ok?” despite your alcohol levels, you whip around back towards john, throwing him off guard with raised eyebrows and hands out to steady your shoulders. “man’s a human tank. i’m more worried f’r gaz an’ soap. you ok?” you nod convincingly.

sure, in your year on the team, it’s been necessary to touch your captain. hands brushing over your shoulders as he reaches for his favorite coffee cup in the highest cupboard. fingers crossing as you pour over reports into the wee hours of morning. a fist bump here and there. he slaps his men in the chest but with you he squeezes your shoulder, a movement with longer contact and more thought required. tendons and sinew coming together to acknowledge your own with practiced hand eye coordination. you don’t read into it - he’s just avoiding touching you in an uncomfortable area. you’re familiar enough to initiate it first, a friendly squeeze to his bicep after a rousing pre-battle speech. but touching him has never been like this.

you ask him to become your new dance partner and he does, hands cradling your waist with splayed fingers. your own on the breadth of his shoulders, hard and never ending. instead of the joyful twists you did with gaz, john rocks you slow and steady to the crooning beat of an 80s love song.

“didn’t know you could dance, cap.” he shrugs and it echoes through your grip on him, magnified by a hundred. “every man should be able to waltz.” there was a word he wanted to say after his last and you can’t figure it out, the staccato ending bitter in your ears. instead of pressing, you’re content to sway back and forth. it calms your spinning brain. “got any loved ones yer celebratin’ yer anniversary with?” it’s an oddly personal question, but you doesn’t acknowledge its strangeness. you sway a bit with him before answering, stepping a half foot closer.

“my family and i are celebrating on my next leave. i would celebrate with my close friends, but it’s hard to explain my position without telling them classified information.” he nodded knowingly. the music changes to a faster song but he keeps your peaceful tempo, his chest brushing your own through your well worn civvies. “no’one else?” you shake your head before realizing the implications of what he’s asking. there hasn’t been anyone else for a long time, even before you joined the team. work was busy. once you joined, it felt somehow wrong to seek companionship outside of the four men who’d been gifted to you. one more than others.

“no one else, cap.” his fingers are tracing the small of your back. you can’t tell if he knows or not. before he can say anything, you turn the questions on him. “you got someone you’re going home to?” his eyes meet yours, dark blue and smoldering. “got everythin’ i need righ’ here.” you jump a little at his words. they sober you up instantly as you realize you’re slow dancing with your superior, prolonged eye contact past what’s socially acceptable. he doesn’t let you go too far, tightening his grip on your waist. “had ‘nough?” you nod and clutch your stomach for the full effect. “take me home?” he grabs his coat and dumps it on your shoulders, the intoxicating mix of pine, soap and musk seeping into your pores. john leads you back to base with a hand on your back the whole time.

-

“c’mon, got t’ make sure you’re tucked in alrigh’.” he’s in your barracks room, private thanks to the privilege of your position. you don’t sit down on the bed but he does, seemingly exhausted by the night’s activities. “i knew you were old, but wow.” you nudge his foot to make him look up. when he does its like he’s aged five years, with a scruffier beard and deep wrinkles. “john?” you’re drunk. that’s why you say his name, why you reach out to smooth a crease on his forehead. all the while he’s quiet, content to let you play with his face.

“i’m sorry about last month.” it rolls off your tongue unbidden.

(last month. half a bottle of whiskey in his office. your ass on his desk, his hands on your waist. his beard meets your chin but before he can kiss you, you turn, letting his lips meet your cheek. “i’m sorry.” it comes out as a gasp. he doesn’t say anything, scraping his beard against your cheek. “don’t worry about it.”)

“why’d ya say that?” he murmurs. you shrug. “you seem agitated in my presence. thought it might help.” he gives you an old man groan, peeking an eye out from his hat as you giggle. “y’r killin’ me sweetheart, so i’m askin’ this once. you into this or not? i’ll go home right now.” he’s closer than you thought, almost face-to-stomach.

you pull him closer by his beard until he’s resting against your torso. the angle has to be unflattering with how you’re looking down at him, but he’s not running away screaming. “are you into me even though i turned away?” he bites out a ‘yes’ automatically. you owe him an explanation.

“i got scared. i don’t want to jeopardize my place on this team.” in a move credited to a boot camp instructor somewhere, he flips you so you’re under him on top of the covers, arms pinned by his own. “y’r permanent on this team. no matter what.” you blink at him unbelieving. “laswell picks who comes and leaves. my words are jus’ a suggestion. i’ve barely any influence.” you hardly believe that but when he’s on top of you with these sapphire eyes, it’s hard to deny him.

you kiss your captain slowly like you’ve been wanting to do for months. he captures your bottom lip with his teeth, sucking like he owns your mouth. the pace ebbs and flows, from sweet to possessive in a matter of seconds. “john, oh fuck, john.” you pant out in between kisses. he moves to your neck, sucking the soft skin there. “you gotta promise me.” you nudge him until he gives you his hand. you twist him into a pinky promise, something he didn’t know existed. “i promise, baby. now let me give you your anniversary present.”

-

idk what this is. i’m tired and hungover. pls enjoy.

[littlelamy]

Hii! I love your writing. Do you think you could write one where Rafe is a single father of a 4-year-old son and he meets a reader, and then they start a relationship and she meets his son and well, they start being a family? I'd love something like that, thank youuuuu

lamy's note: sorry that this is so late! i hope you like it <3

rafe cameron’s life revolved around his four-year-old son, oliver. The little boy was his entire world, a bright spot in the sometimes chaotic life of a single father. mornings were a blur of packing lunches and tying shoelaces, evenings a mix of storytime and sleepy cuddles. it was a rhythm rafe had gotten used to, even if it left little time for himself.

one rainy afternoon, rafe and oliver ducked into a cozy little café to escape the downpour. oliver clutched his favorite dinosaur toy, his small hand wrapped tightly around rafe's fingers. the warm atmosphere welcomed them, the smell of fresh coffee and pastries wrapping around them like a comforting hug. they found a table near the window, where oliver could watch the raindrops race down the glass.

as rafe settled into his seat, his eyes drifted across the room and landed on you. you were seated a few tables away, engrossed in a book, your fingers playing absently with your hair. there was something about you—maybe the peaceful way you seemed lost in your own world—that caught his attention. it had been a long time since he had felt that pull, the quiet intrigue of wanting to know someone.

oliver’s voice pulled him back. "daddy, can I have a cookie?"

"after lunch, buddy," rafe replied, ruffling his son’s hair. "let’s get something to eat first."

when the barista brought their sandwiches and a small cookie for oliver, rafe took the chance to glance your way again. to his surprise, you were looking back, a soft smile on your lips. it was enough to stir something inside him, a quiet encouragement to make a move he hadn’t considered in a long while.

gathering his nerve, rafe stood and walked over to your table, oliver trailing behind him. “hi,” he said, his voice warm but a bit unsure. “do you mind if we sit here? my son has a lot to say about dinosaurs, and i’d love a little adult conversation.”

your smile widened as you nodded. “of course. I could use some dinosaur facts myself.”

as rafe and oliver settled into seats across from you, the conversation flowed easily. rafe learned that you were new in town, working as a teacher at the local elementary school. you asked about his work and how he managed to juggle everything as a single parent. there was a natural chemistry, an ease in the way you spoke, the laughter that bubbled up between shared stories.

oliver, ever the chatterbox, quickly took a liking to you. he proudly showed off his toy, launching into an animated explanation of why the t-rex was the king of dinosaurs. you listened with genuine interest, your enthusiasm making oliver beam with pride.

by the time the rain had stopped, it felt as though you’d known each other much longer than just a single afternoon. before you left, rafe asked for your number, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “maybe we could do this again sometime? without the rain.”

you agreed, your heart fluttering at the prospect.

in the weeks that followed, the two of you saw more of each other. rafe would pick you up after work, oliver bouncing in the back seat, eager to share his day. dinners turned into outings at the park, where oliver’s giggles echoed through the playground, rafe's hand finding yours as you watched him play. the three of you fit together seamlessly, like a puzzle you hadn’t known was missing a piece.

one evening, after oliver had been tucked into bed, rafe invited you to stay for a late-night movie. the living room was cozy, the soft glow of the tv casting shadows on the walls. you sat close, the warmth of his arm around your shoulders, the quiet intimacy of the moment stretching between you.

when the movie ended, neither of you moved, the silence filled with unspoken words. rafe turned to you, his eyes searching yours. "i've really missed this," he said softly. "having someone to share my life with. i'm glad it's with you"

you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. "me too."

the kiss that followed was tender, a slow, gentle meeting of lips that spoke of more than just attraction—it was a promise of what could be. as you leaned into him, the weight of loneliness lifted, replaced by the warmth of a growing love.

in the months that followed, you became a part of their lives in every way. weekends were spent building blanket forts with oliver, evenings filled with quiet moments on the couch, your laughter mingling with rafe’s as you recounted the day’s events.

the day oliver called you "mommy" for the first time, your heart swelled with emotion. rafe squeezed your hand, his eyes shining with gratitude and love.

you were no longer just a visitor in their lives. you were family, a bond formed through shared moments, love, and the quiet understanding that together, you had built something beautiful.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesbabygirlx

[f1fantasys]

Thought you were mine all along, guess I was wrong - Part 2.

Summary - What happens when you meet Lando again? So, this was supposed to be angst only, but ya girl can't post anything without smut, so, enjoy!

Warnings - 18+ minors DNI, smut, p in v sex, dirty talk, creampie, angst.

Part 1

The next two weeks following that morning had whizzed by in a blur. Both you and Lando had extremely busy schedules and took every free second you got to text or call each other.

It wasn't easy with the time differences, but the cyber sex was honestly the best you'd had since the start of your 'relationship...' It was intense, mind blowing phone sex, leaving you both desperate and eager to see each other, although you'd have to wait a whole extra week because Lando had some media obligations in America. So that meant it was a whole two more weeks before you could get your hands on one another.

On one particular day, you'd texted Lando in the wee hours of the morning, knowing it was late night where he was, and since he'd said he planned to spend the night in, you were expecting a quick response from him.

You didn't get one.

But you thought nothing of it, not even worrying the slightest bit, and eventually, you got on with your day. It wasn't until evening when you saw that there was still no response for him, though you could see he had been online.

You tried to call him, it just rang and rang.

Still, you didn't think much of it. Maybe he just needed space, and you were happy to oblige.

The next few days as well passed with radio silence from him. You could see from social media that he was out and about, doing whatever media he had to do, getting on with it all, except you it seems, though you willed yourself not to let it affect you.

Newsflash it did.

Deciding it was best to throw yourself into work, you were now working ungodly hours overtime, getting as much done to try and block out the fact that Lando was clearly avoiding you by now. It had only been a week of absolutely no contact, but it definitely felt much longer than that. You missed his goofy laugh, his adorable dimples, his banter, and you missed the orgasms he gave you...you missed his dick.

It was now past 8pm, and after a long day of grinding you stopped at the shops to get some food that you could just throw in he microwave to get hot. Busy scrolling the aisles at your local store then you stopped in your tracks. You'd never miss those god damn perfect curls, even in a sea of a million people.

He had his back to you, and before you mind could make a decision on whether to leave or talk to him, he turned around, bit his bottom lip when he saw you.

It was no surprise that Lando was a handsome man. His physique alone was hot. And so seeing him stand in front of you - in the flesh, already had a wetness pooling through your cunt.

Quickly, you out those thoughts to the back of your mind as he approached you.

''Didn't know you were back'' you said breaking the silence. You were curious to hear what his answer would be, because you were always the first person he'd call the second he was back in Monaco.

''Yeah, just been caught up..'' he trailed, letting out a breath, bringing his hand up to massage the back of his thick neck.

Caught up enough to toss me to the side... you thought to yourself.

It was awkward. Awkward as fuck. The both of you standing there, not knowing what to say to one another. Really, it was a first.

Until...

It wasn't 10 minutes later and you were riding Lando in his McLaren.

Your panty thrown somewhere in the back seat.

You should have known better, should have stopped yourselves, but clearly your pussy, and his dick, had a mind of their own.

You rode him like your life depended on it, watching with hooded eyes as your nipples disappeared into Lando's mouth, his teeth grazing and biting down hard before using his tongue to sooth over your bud.

''Fuck, Lando, yes..ri-right there, please'' you begged as even in the small of his sports car, he was lifting his hips to meet your half way, thrusting in and out of you pussy relentlessly, letting out a series of guttural moans and grunts.

It wasn't even a few minutes until you felt your orgasm nearing, your walls clenching almost painfully around Lando's cock as he bought his hand down to flick a thumb at your clit.

''So tight, fuck..need to stretch you out some more'' he murmured before capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

''I'm close'' you barely managed to say between nips and licks, your body was shuddering, shaking uncontrollably as Lando has two tasks at hand - one, keeping your body in control, two, chase his own orgasm.

And not two minutes later Lando was emptying his load into you, sheets of warm cum filling you up to the brink while lewd grunts left his mouth, his dick twitching as you rode him through it.

You finally stilled your bodies, chests heaving trying to catch your breaths as you leaned back and put your weight on his steering wheel behind you.

''Fucking hell'' he said, panting as his eyes stayed trained on the state you were in - disheveled hair, boobs slipped out of your bra and dress, looking red and bruised.

There was an unspoken tension filling up the car, and you could feel him softening inside you, the both of you looking down to the place you were still joined, almost as if you were avoiding looking at each other.

You watched as Lando gently pulled himself out, gasping when he saw a mixture of both your cum oozing out of your cunt, the both of you moaning at the sight, and then suddenly his eyes were trained on yours, as he very quickly pushed his dick back into you, pushing the cum back in.

''Fuck'' he whispered as you let out another moan, your walls clenching tightly around him.

''Lan..'' you murmured, closing your eyes and trying to etch the feeling of his dick inside you to your brain, because something told you this wouldn't happen again, though you prayed you were wrong.

He was suddenly hard again, no surprise to him because just the sight you all fucked out and dripping with his cum got him all excited again. Call it his good stamina.

''Come here'' he softly said, pulling you forward again, your boobs in his face as he lifted you ass up slightly before slamming you down in one hard thrust.

You braced your hands on his shoulders again, leaning down to lock lips with him for the first time since you last saw him.

It was sloppy and dirty, tongue and teeth clashing, almost as if you were just licking each other where possible - not properly kissing, all the while Lando bounced you up and down his dick, each thrust getting harder than each.

You pulled back for air, Lando stuffing his face back into your boobs, letting a series of staggered breaths and groans leave your mouth, feeling your orgasm approaching fast.

''Lando, I- fuck, I can't. Too much'' you were barely able to say. He was being ruthless and as much as you wanted it, your body was overly sensitive today.

''You can baby, one more for me, yeah? Fuck please'' he sounded like he was begging, and how could you refuse him?

You couldn't form any words by now, so all you did was nod your head, while his hand raked down to pinch at your clit.

''That's it baby. Please just be a slut for me. You're already doing so fucking good, letting me fuck you so good. Fuck'' he grunted, through gritted teeth, knowing his dirty words would send you over the edge.

And he was right, within seconds your cum was coating his dick again, your body quivering in his arms again, feeling like jelly, releasing pornographic moans into the confinement of the car.

And Lando - as soon as he felt you walls closing up on him, his own release spluttering his cum through your pussy, warm and sticky as he slowed his movements and eventually came to a standstill.

''Ah, fuck y/n'' he mumbled, causing you to giggle because yeah, ''fuck'' was the word of the day.

You stayed close together, breathing in each others air as your bodies shivered with cool air on your sweat, Lando busying his hands by combing your hair back through his fingers.

This time, he pulled out, and he stayed out, using his fingers instead to gently push the cum back up your pussy before bringing them up to his lips and licking them clean.

And this time, your eyes didn't avoid each other.

Lando kept opening and closing his mouth, wanting to say something though falling short every time.

You didn't miss how his body language changed all of a sudden, how he stiffened underneath you, and suddenly you felt cautious.

It was awkward as fuck - you sitting on his naked thighs, dress bunched up you stomach, pussy bare and leaking, while his jeans and boxers were pushed halfway down his legs, cock soft and twitchy resting against your stomach.

Finally, he cleared his throat. His words knocking all the air out of his lungs.

''I...I'm seeing someone..Magui. I mean. I'm gonna start seeing Magui. So this - he gestured between the two of you - can't happen again.''

Your breath hitched, you could feel the color draining from you face as your own body now stiffened.

He said it so casually, like what you just did meant nothing. Like the last 6 months have been nothing, just tossed off to the side.

''Say something..'' he whispered.

You were sure your words would get stuck in your throat, already feeling your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the whole situation.

Lando was done with you. He basically 'dumped' you while you were both naked in the smallest space possible.

You cleared your throat and leaned over to his passenger seat to grab a tissue, your mind racing as fast as his cars go. Some many thoughts overwhelming you as you willed yourself not to let tears spill out your eyes.

This is it. He's not yours. He's back with her, an ex fling. He's leaving you for her.

''Y/N'' he said your name softly, gauging your reaction.

You sniffled, concentrating on cleaning your cunt - that was still on full display, before you finally pulled your dress down and looked up at him.

Gone was that look that was reserved just for you, and you heart broke at the cold eyes staring at you.

''So that's why you've been avoiding me..? Too busy fucking someone else? Why did we just do this if you're with her? You've just used me to basically cheat on her....thought you'd have more respect for the both of us...'' you questioned, almost whispering the last part, and wincing at your words because you didn't want to know the answer.

Lando coughed, shifting underneath you as he slyly tucked his dick back into his boxers.

''Not seeing her yet...but yeah I guess there are unresolved feelings so we're gonna give it a shot'' he said. ''As for us... guess this was a moment of weakness. But I'm done. We're done.'' he said matter of factly.

You suddenly felt like you couldn't breathe, needing to get out of this space asap because the man in front of you wasn't the Lando you knew.

Not 10 minutes ago was he calling you baby...swallowing a mix of your cum, and now he's done with you.

You're heart clenched not just at the fact that you were losing your fuckbuddy, but Lando as your best friend. From the way he was talking, it was clear that the friendship part of your relationship was also done with.

You needed to get out of here before you broke down in front of him. He didn't deserve to see you vulnerable like this.

So you took one last longing look at him, memorizing each and every freckle and line on his face as you body tingled from the warmth of him.

Surely he could see the hurt on your face, right? He knew you better than most. But still, his eyes didn't soften, nor did his words.

''You should go..now..forget the last few months...'' he said, already moving to open the door for you to climb out of his lap.

You cleared your throat for the umpteenth time today, mind fuzzed when your body finally lost contact with his, and with one last look at him, you turned on your heels, shamefully walking to your car, and not a few seconds later, he was zooming out of the car park.

The next few days were spent wallowing in bed, avoiding any events in town with the fear of running into them.

So George's girlfriend Carmen took up residency at your apartment to keep your mind busy.

You needed to heal, and move on from something that was nothing to even begin with.

A whole week later as you were scrolling Instagram, the photo slapped you in the face.

There he was, with his tongue down her throat, hands groping her ass.

You had no right to be mad, sad, angry, whatever emotions that were over taking your senses. Lando wasn't yours. Not anymore at least. There was never any label between you.

But the more you thought about it, you were more so longing the guy with whom you could talk about anything, truly be yourself around and not get judged for silly things.

The universe had other plans for you though...because in just two weeks time, you were to host an event in London for McLaren. Oh, what could go wrong......

A/N - hope you all enjoyed this...side tracked part! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Taglist - @somanyfandomsbruh @lanf1an @annimausi @ernegren @plotpal @hurtblossom @rbv3rstappen @tylerstacobell @wanderingreigns @bowielovesyou @alexanderachillesisgay @sarx164

[emoisthenewemu]

Homie Hopper! Pt.2

Bonus: Senior Year!

College MHA boys x F! Reader

Pt.1 here! Pt 3 Here

In which after getting your little heart broken, you get passed around your local University’s hottest friend group! Everyone needs those slutty College years!

Cw: SMUT, problematic behavior, p in v, lots of different kinks n stuff, i went overboard a bit on Todorokis and Shinsos, sub! Shinso, name calling, reader has female anatomy, reader essentially gets passed around

A/N just wanna say idk why shinso has to be the villain it just felt right😞sorry bae ily

Shoto Todoroki as The Pretty Boy!

-Shoto Todoroki, who is friends with the whole group you ran through last year (and still hook up with on occasion) but doesn’t come around much

-Shoto Todoroki who you had no idea lived right around the corner from you-in a much nicer neighborhood with his brothers

-You run into him on a late night run to the convenience store, in an oversized hoodie with bling on it, it catches his eye as he peruses the aisle next to you

-Shoto Todoroki, who makes you so nervous you cannot even make eye contact as he says a friendly hello to you. You know each other and would occasionally bum off one another’s notes after a missed class. He’s the Pretty Boy and everyone knows it, himself included.

-He thinks it’s cute to watch you squirm. He’s always made you nervous, it was obvious. He likes the way you fiddle with your necklace, his eyes darting down to the unzipped part of your hoodie that shows cleavage.

“I like your sweater” He compliments.

“Oh thanks! It’s super cute, right? I just bought it!” You exclaim excitedly.

“Mhm super cute” He nods nonchalantly and simply waves goodbye, leaving you all but twirling your hair alone in the aisle.

-He never had to try hard with girls, he probably could have just asked you that first night to come home with him and you most likely would have said yes. But he likes the chase, watching your face get hot and eyes flick down to his grey sweatpants. He knows what he is doing.

- So he keeps it up a little longer, choosing to subtly flirt with you on these late night run-ins. His compression shirts get tighter, sweats hanging looser on his hips.

And you, well your shorts get even shorter and sweaters begin to grow more unzipped.

-Shoto Todoroki, who finally asks if you want to head back to his place with him to ‘watch a movie’. You agree of course, and he keeps an arm wrapped around your waist the whole walk home making small talk about school of all things. If only you knew the perverse images flashing in his head.

You walk past his two hot older brothers-who are sitting on the couch watching some action movie and smoking a blunt. You wave politely and Shoto rolls his eyes at the way they do not even attempt to conceal the way they are checking you out.

Oh well, he’ll just have to fuck you loud enough for both of them to hear.

-Shoto, who always gets what he wants. You’re on top of him, kissing his neck and chest, jerking him beneath his sweats as he grips your ass-smacking it occasionally. “So impatient” He tsks as you roll his sweats down.

“Cant wait for this dick, can you?”

You shake your head no and he grabs you by the hair, pulling you close for a sinful kiss. “Use your words”

“Want you to fuck me….you’re so hot” You whine and he kisses you again, biting at your lower lip.

“Good girl”

-Shoto Todoroki, who has your legs folded in such a way that it hurts. Your ankles and wrists bound by his hand as he pounds into you relentlessly.

Of course he has good dick, he’s perfect, even his dick is pretty!

-He is groaning and cursing on top of you, free hand going to choke you and pinch your nipples.

“Mm, Shoto!”

“Yeah say my fucking name” The bed is creaking and slamming against the wall, if you weren’t so fucked out you would worry about his brothers being able to hear. But obviously he doesn’t care about that.

“Shoto!” You whine, squealing when he snaps! his hips so meanly. It hits that spongy spot that makes your tummy feel funny. “Too much, too much!”

The two of you had established a safe word, icyhot. And you had yet to mutter it so he ignores your complaints, slamming into you like he would die without your pussy.

-“Stop whining” He finally releases your wrists, pushing your ankles all the way to your ears as his strokes try to find their own rhythm. This position has you squeezing him so tight it’s hard to move sometimes. “You wanted this shit, huh? Always staring at me in class”

You squeal, his calm voice grounds you in a way. Even if his words are filthy. “Wearing those slutty little clothes to the store. You walk around like that?”

“Just wanted you t’look at me” You whine, his eyes go down to his cock disappearing into your folds. He’s so deep and you’re so wet, your slick almost suctions to his thighs-leaving a sloshing noise every time he pulls his hips back.

-“M’fucking looking” He nods, jaw agape and panting like a fucking dog. “Can’t take my eyes off this slutty pussy”

“Gonna watch you cum on this dick” He speaks determinedly, eyes glazed over with something feral as his thumb goes to rub your clit. “Know you want to”

-“Yesyesyes!” You cry out, throwing your head back and gripping the sheets. The sounds are downright pornographic-his own grunting and the occasional moan mixed in with the wet noises from your sloppy pussy.

He’s close, and you are too.

-His thumb begins moving faster and you’re starting to shake. He watches your stomach quiver, forcing your legs down even though they try to break free of his grip. You’re certain there will be bruises left over tomorrow with the way he holds onto you.

-“Cumming Shoto!” His eyes never leave the way your release comes spilling out, onto his thighs and stomach. He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, watching you come undone before his very eyes.

He doesn’t even realize he forgot to put a condom on, now actively shooting ropes inside of you-he can’t remember the last time he came this much.

“Don’t worry, m’on the pill” You mutter, lazy eyes fluttered closed as he softly thrusts into you.

His heart drops, what a shame.

-Shoto Todoroki, who misses you when he moves away. He always hearts your stories and slides up on your posts and promises to come and see you. But he never does.

Hitoshi Shinso as The Shitty Ex!

-Hitoshi Shinso, your ex boyfriend who comes knocking (banging) at your door one night. He’s on his knees spewing bullshit about how the time apart made him realize how much he needs you.

It only took sleeping with half of the girls at his College to understand that.

-But he regrets it! He feels so stupid and terrible so ‘pleasepleaseplease take me back! Im sorry!’

“These other girls could never love me the way you do!”

-You laugh right in his face, arms crossed as you look down in disgust. “Are you high?”

“Whatthefuck no!” He hides his face in his hands with a big sigh. He looks…..pathetic. Eyes baggier than usual, messy purple hair as he finally gives up on the kneeling and sits back against the wall. Pulling out his vape, he hits it, all the while looking you in the eye. “I just miss you”

You roll your eyes, sitting down right next to him and snatching the puff into your hands. “Hitoshi…I think you’re just lonely”

He stays quiet as he thinks of what to say. It seems all words are lost on him. “I would do anything”

“Anything?”

-For some terrible, sick reason seeing him so whiny does something to you.

You suppose you have Denki to thank for what happens next.

-Hitoshi Shinso, whose whole body twitches when you deny his release for the second time. He’s whining, hips bucking up into your touch as you jerk him lazily, hand barely wrapped around his cock.

“Say it!”

“No!” He shakes his head furiously side-to-side, ears and chest turning red with how flushed he is. His chest heaves up and down.

“Then you don’t get to cum” You let go of him and his hand immediately to shoots out to grab yours, pulling it right back to the place he needs you the most.

“M’sorry” He whimpers, eyes scrunching shut as he imagines you giving him what he wants. How fat his load would be, you would be so pleased with how much he has built up for you! He feels so embarrassed and ashamed, it’s all so dirty. The worst part of it all is how fucking hard he is.

“I’m sorry! Been so bad! Soso bad-fuck!” He shudders when you grip him tight, but that’s just it. You do nothing else, causing him to take matters into his own hands.

He starts fucking your hand, so needy and sloppily as he moans and groans about how bad he’s been. “I’m a bad boyfriend! I’ve been so bad, need you t’punish me!”

oh. You didn’t tell him to say all that.

- Hitoshi Shinso, who cums on the spot with the loudest groan you have ever heard in your life when you slap him across the face. It wasn’t even hard or anything, he just liked it way too much.

-Hitoshi Shinso who does not shut up when you start riding him-nails raking down his chest. You’re honestly annoyed because you still hate him! You just wanted to use him the way he used you!

“Shut upp” You groan, cupping his mouth as you try and tune out his words. The moans are hot, his yapping not so much. “Never said you could talk”

Holy shit he had no idea he would ever be into something like this. Your words make his eyes roll back, gripping onto your hips like he might lose you as he beings to fuck you back.

“Fuckk!” You cry when he pistons his hip in tandem with yours-allowing himself even deeper inside you, reaching all the way into your special spot.

-You throw your head back, so lost in the feeling of trying to meet each other’s movements that you take a hand off his mouth. Your hips rolling sensually over his, an unmistakable sloshing sound forming between the two of you.

“Pussy’s so good. Missed it so so much, mygoddd” He rests a head on your tummy, his lower half stuttering and twitching in an attempt to get more of you. “Loveyouloveyoulo-“

“I said shut the fuck upp” You stop, looking into his wimpy eyes that are so full of emotion. He keeps fucking you, but you grab his face to make him look at you. “You want me to gag you?”

You honestly meant it as more of a warning. But the way he frantically nods yes tells you everything you need to know.

-Hitoshi Shinso, whose whole body trembles when you grab the pair of panties that had previously been discarded and stuff them in his mouth. The whites of his eyes are the only thing you can see in between tufts of sweaty hair. It doesn’t stop the noise of course. If anything he becomes even louder than before.

At least he’s not talking.

-“Mmmm yes….much better” You coo, hips moving up and down so fast you can hardly think. You are soo glad your roommates are out of town.

Mostly because they would be so pissed that you’re fucking your ex!

-Hitoshi Shinso, whose moans and whines get louder the closer he is to finishing. His muscular body is drenched in sweat-abs and chest messy with his cum.

His arms absentmindedly wrap around your waist, thrusting up into your pussy as he chases his release. And a rough tug of his hair when he hits a certain spot deep inside is enough to make him finish again.

-Hitoshi Shinso, who is an absolute mess-his body feels so weak and hot. Sweat covers him entirely, lungs gasping for air as you slowly ride him. For a moment you think he might pass out with how exhausted he looks.

Taking the panties out of his mouth, you push some of his hair out of his face. He leans into your gentle touch. “You okay?”

“Yeah” A breathless whisper is all he can get out as you both catch your breath. And then he kisses you, so passionately and full of want that your teeth knock together for a second.

His hands slide their way down to your hips, guiding you to slowly move up and down. You whine at the ‘draaag’ of his thick cock inside your walls. Mouth open as you look down and listen to the lewd noises. Even worse is his cum dripping out of you-making a mess.

“Use me”

-Hitoshi kisses you again. “Use me to make you cum please, please. Wanna watch you do it”

- You do what you’re told, using him until you’ve cum twice and his body is limp, sprawled out across the mattress.

That is until you throw his clothes at him and tell him to get the hell out of your apartment.

-Hitoshi Shinso, who for some reason is surprised you are making him leave so soon. He mentions something about cuddling but you shut that down completely. Walking out into the hallway-he just has to ask.

“Where the hell’d you learn all that?”

- You giggle in response but the smile is wiped right off your face when you spot your favorite friend group rounding the corner!

“Toshi’ whatsup man!” Denki is the first to say hello, dapping him up with a sly smile. “S’been a while”

Shinso is still looking at you, he doesn’t understand why you look so scared.

“Sub bro” Sero daps him up in between bites of whatever snack he got at the store.

The boys look at you. You look at them, you look at Shinso like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment you forgot they all went to the same High School.

And Kirishima, who is usually quite friendly only nods and passes by your ex without a second glance back. This surprises Hitoshi.

And Bakugo, who was never very nice to begin with does not even look at the man you use to date-only you with his perpetual mad face, he makes a point of stretching his body uncomfortably to get by him without touching your ex.

And Shinso watches the way they all say hi to you, the lingering touches, the change in their voices as they greet you. He certainly notices when Denki and Sero (being the messy bitches they are) give you a kiss on the cheek before entering their friends’ apartment. Kirishima gives you a half hug, looking back at Shinso with an unreadable expression on his face.

-Although unsurprisingly Bakugo decides to be the pettiest, hugging you tight. “You good?” He whispers in your ear.

And you nod, assuring that your ex was just on his way out and you’ll call your neighbor should any problems arise. He accepts that answer.

-Katsuki Bakugo bids you farewell with a slap on the ass, right in front of your ex boyfriend’s eyes. You don’t miss the evil smirk on his face as he closes the door, leaving you with wide eyes and a hand over your mouth.

“You fucking kidding me?! You fucked him?” Your ex boyfriend looks so pissed and also a bit like he might cry. “And Kirishima! Why the fuck was he looking at me like that?! You fuck him too?!”

Your silence is the only answer he needs but as he now stomps down the hall the wheels in his head turn. The whole encounter was so weird and awkward that it makes him think. And the more he thinks, the more afraid he is to accept the truth. Hitting the button to the elevator, he looks back at you for the final time in his life.

“You fucked all of them, didn’t you?”

-Hitoshi Shinso, who cries on the drive home.

And last but not least!

Izuku Midoriya as The Unexpected Freak!

-Izuku Midoriya who is the smartest guy you know! The two of you had a few classes over the years and he carried you through quite a few of them. You always thanked him with coffee and sweet treats though so he never minded!

He’s such a cutie patootie! Although the two of you don’t see much of each other anymore seeing as he’s busy trying to complete his double major. You heard that he also does volunteer work on the weekends with kids and the elderly! How sweet is that?

-Izuku Midoriya, who does not hesitate to help you out when you ask him to tutor you for one of your finals. With the end of College right around the corner-you are desperate to pass.

-The two of you study for a while, although he finds himself a bit distracted. He heard about you and Shinso and well, Bakugo happened to tell him how much of a slut you are-you’ve slept with quite literally all of their friends. So he imagines sweet little you who has always seemed so cute and innocent completely fucked out beneath his friends, whining, begging for more.

Your perfume smells so sweet and flowery, you’re sitting closer than you ever have before. In a tight little shirt and pretty pink sweats that hug your thighs in the best way possible. I mean, how could he not be distracted?

-You ask him a question but he doesn’t answer-too zoned out on the pink lacy bra peeking out beneath your top. He can only see it because of how close you’re sitting and he blushes once he realizes you caught him staring!

“You okay Izuku?”

“Yeah…..I just wanna see something really quick”

-Izuku Midoriya, who has you on your knees mere minutes later-choking on his fat cock. Tears streaming down your face as you gag, attempting to pull off and breathe.

But he doesn’t let you, a firm grip of your hair is enough yo keep you in place. His large hands-that you were staring at earlier cup your head when he starts to fuck your mouth.

-The gargling and gagging noises are downright obscene as he fucks your throat roughly. Sniffles and whimpers as you try to catch whatever breath you can.

-Izuku Midoriya is quite vocal about the way you suck his cock, taking many moments to admire you. His dirty words and actions downright shock you. Who knew such a sweet boy had such a freaky little side to him??

“Mmm doing so good pretty girl, m’dick looks sooo good in your mouth”

“So sloppy baby. You like having your mouth stuffed, huh?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full pretty, such bad manners”

“Hah….look at you slurp this dick up. Never expected you to be so nasty yn”

-Izuku Midoriya who rubs his girthy, wet cock all over your face-slapping you with it lightly. He spreads it across, precum mixed with saliva and tears as he slaps the tip on your lips.

“So fucking nasty, bet you’d let me fuck your throat till’ you can’t talk anymore”

-“You look so pretty like this” His toes are curling as you guzzle him up, pulling off with a loud pop every now and then as you go give attention to his balls. “Shitshitshit gonna cum all over your messy face. Gonna ruin your pretty makeup, yeah?”

-“Ohhh yeah, just like that” He sighs in relief as he takes control again by pulling your hair, guiding you up and down. “You’re a good cocksucker….wish I knew that sooner”

-You’re sososo horny. Seeing someone so endearing act so filthy really has you going. You’re sucking him off like you’ll never get a taste of it again. You speed up your movements, flipping between downright suckling on the tip and swirling your tongue around it.

It seems to be working, judging by the way his knees (and dick) twitch. His moans get louder, breaths beginning to grow more shallow.

-Izuku Midoriya who begins jerking off before painting your face white with ropes of his hot cum, eyes stuck on the way your fingers pick up a bit of it and you lick them clean.

“S-shit. I needed that” He admits.

-Izuku Midoriya who promises that if you pass your final with a higher than 70 percent, he’ll fuck you!

[bring-forth-his-sac]

Not sure if this is too far but maybe some dads best friend mixed in with close calls and very rough stuff if ya know what I mean 😏

Stained

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings/Tags:  rough sex, degrading name calling (slut), mentions of a facial, cheating (soz Lucille), alcohol consumption, hair pulling, semi-public sex

It happened again.

By now, Negan knows the routine. Argue. Say shit neither one of them can take back. Lucille kicks him out or else Negan reaches his limit and storms out. Make up later. It’s their pattern.

But tonight is different. 

They were supposed to go to a friend’s house for dinner, which threw a wrench in their usual routine. A part of Negan still wanted to go. Sure, he dreaded the tension-filled conversation, Lucille throwing in her usual passive-aggressive digs, but there was a silver lining: he could vent afterward. He needed to. To someone who’d actually get it, without the sugar-coating.

Negan has been friends with your dad for years, long enough to know they could trade a few sharp words and move on without it turning into some dramatic scene. Sometimes, Negan could really use that kind of blunt, no-nonsense talk with another guy. 

But hell, he wouldn’t mind shooting the shit with you either. You always got his humor and honestly, you were the only one who could make him laugh without trying so damn hard.

Instead of your home, he finds himself at a bar. Lucille was quick to call dibs on going solo to your parents house, not wanting to deal with Negan in front of friends. 

He left without another word, driving to the local watering hole like a man on a mission.

The bar is the usual kind of dimly lit place that doesn't ask questions. Negan doesn’t need questions tonight. What he needs is a drink and a distraction.

He settles onto a chair by the bartop and orders a whiskey, the burn of it going down smoother than he expected.

Lucille’s parting words echo in his head, the sharpness of her dismissal stinging all over again. The way she had shut him down so easily, almost like telling off a child. Negan can feel the frustration creeping back in. He could’ve used a laugh tonight but instead, he’s stuck here. 

Alone, as usual.

On a typical night, Negan hates how quiet the bar is. He can’t stand silences, everything about it gets on his nerves. The patrons are too tight to even cough up a quarter to play a song on the jukebox. It always feels like the kind of place where the air is thick with nothingness and every minute stretches on longer than the last.

Negan doesn’t have the luxury to brood over that on this particular night. Instead, the loud chattering of a group of girls fills the bar, cutting through the silence like a chainsaw.

Just a handful of them crowd around a table, all bright-eyed and wide smiles, laughing as though the weight of the world hasn’t yet found them.

His brow furrows as he watches them out of the corner of his eye. They’re not doing anything wrong but the racket they’re making feels invasive in the normally subdued space. 

Every time they laugh, the sound hits him like a hammer to his skull, ringing in his ears. It’s like a constant, steady hum of disruption. Negan can appreciate a little noise and some new life in the place, but tonight?

Tonight, it’s too much. It’s frustrating him. He takes another swig of his whiskey but it doesn’t quite block out their high-pitched, frantic laughter. 

One of the girls spills a drink, and the others burst into a fresh round of giggles, the kind that seems to echo through the entire room. 

He’s about to look away when another girl quickly picks up the drink and continues to say something. She's sitting across from the others, leaning forward and talking animatedly, her hands flying through the air with each word. 

One of her hands subtly goes to her thigh and she tries to discreetly yank down her dress. 

Negan wonders if women know they don’t need to wear tight mini dresses or the crop tops to get laid. But he supposes that’s the joy of being a  youngster. They do stupid shit, wear stupid shit, drink stupid shit. Some grow out of it while others still say stupid shit and end up drinking alone at a bar.

His eyes flicker over her figure. Negan can’t see her face, the angle of her head and the way her body is half-turned away from him hides it. 

Negan doesn’t mind. He can still appreciate her thighs and the curve of her ass from his seat at the bar. Her hair and back covers most of her upper body too so Negan can’t appreciate any titty action just yet.

His fingers drum against the bar and he catches himself, realizing that he’s staring. He quickly looks away, taking another drink of his whiskey as if the liquid will wash away whatever was just stirred up inside him.

In a way, Negan’s glad you’re not like that. You’re pretty without all the extra shit. Since elementary school, you've never been the type to crave attention or stand out in a crowd. Yet you're not the kind of introvert who keeps completely to yourself either.

You fall somewhere in the middle, comfortable with who you are without needing to put on a show for anyone.

There’s been plenty of times you’ve been the most entertaining thing to Negan at your parent’s dinner parties. He loves the witty remarks you toss his way and how you both quietly poke fun at the evening while the others remain oblivious. Those little moments are the highlight of his night.

But, of course, there are also those other times. When a careless comment from your father or mother hits a nerve and you retreat into yourself, disappearing into the background. Negan can always tell when that happens; the sharpness in your eyes dulls and the sarcastic remarks you usually offer him vanish. 

He wonders if you’ll be disappointed tonight, when it’s only Lucille who arrives for dinner. You make the dinners bearable for him but surely you reciprocate that feeling. Both of you are as thick as thieves in your own subtle way.

The woman he’s been checking out stands, saying one more quick thing to her friends before she turns and heads for the bar.

Maybe it’s because you’re already clouding his thoughts that seeing you in person hits him even harder. He’s imagined you a thousand times, with your quiet demeanor and the casual clothes you wear that make you almost invisible.

The mental image of you is so vivid, it’s like you’ve been etched into his mind… yet here you are, so different than that.

You do the same action that you did earlier, yanking down the end of your dress as it threatens to ride up your thigh. Negan lets out a gulp, not sure how he feels at the fact that he’s been checking out his friend’s daughter.

Turning back to say something to your friends, you let out a laugh as you clog along in your high heels to the bar. 

This is exactly what you needed. A night away from all your worries and stresses… and your parents. 

Besides, you're an adult now. You’re allowed to have fun! Whether that be crazy golf, drinking until you need your stomach pumped or smoking whatever. No matter how much guilt or pressure your parents try to put on you, tonight is yours. You’re no longer bound by their expectations. You can take a break from being the person they want you to be and just be.

Maybe that’s why the words “Lydia found out her boyfriend cheated so everyone was going to go over to hers and cheer her up!” came out of your mouth when you told your parents you couldn’t stay for dinner instead of “We all want to go out and down tequila shots!”.

Whether your actual reasoning would’ve worked or not, it doesn’t matter because they let you out with no more than a remorseful look as you left to help your heartbroken friend.

“Get more salt sachets!” a giddy Lydia calls out as you clip-clop up to the bar. 

You’re so caught up in your own little bubble of excitement that you barely notice the guy at the bar. You wait beside him, leaning on the counter and waiting until the bartender comes over. When you feel his eyes linger, you glance his way, wondering if you’ve found some fun for the night. 

You look over, pre-emptively batting your eyes lashes everything seems to slow down. There, standing just a few inches away, is Negan. Your dad’s friend. 

You freeze for a moment, excuses caught in your throat, as you realize that it’s not just the familiarity of his face that’s throwing you off. It’s the way he's looking at you. Negan’s expression is unreadable but the way his gaze lingers has a weight that catches you off guard.

You try to swallow the sudden lump in your throat. What is he thinking? How long has he been standing there? And why, of all people, did it have to be him?

You hate it. On one hand, you want to ignore him. Maybe give him a nod of acknowledgment before pretending like you’re not in front of someone you’ve known since you were a kid. 

But on the other hand, you know what Negan’s like and the last thing you want is for him to loudly draw attention to your… friendship? 

Ushering yourself closer, you hurriedly whisper “What are you doing here?!”.

Negan struggles to maintain his composure, forcing himself to keep his eyes on your face instead of letting them wander. 

“What am I doing here?” His jaw clenches as if readying himself to barrage you with questions “What are you doing here, dressed like that? Are you drunk? Do your parents know you’re here? I swear….”.

You scoff defensively, glancing down at the glass of whiskey in front of him. “Oh so I can’t go out with friends but you’re allowed to drown your sorrows?”.

Negan doesn’t even entertain your question, immediately waving it off. “That’s not the damn point,” he hisses “I’m not the one with my tits out and stumbling around a bar!”. 

He shoots some other patrons a glare as they try to eavesdrop, making sure they keep their eyes to themselves. You gasp, putting a hand on your chest. Maybe your dress is a lower cut than what you’d usually wear but your boobs aren’t about to pop out of the thing!

“You— you can’t talk to me like that!” despite how your face flushes, you stand your ground. You’ve always known Negan to be raunchy but not once has he ever spoken to you like this before.

"Can't talk to you like what?” Negan doesn’t give you the time to ponder that rhetorical question, crossing his arms as he continues to lecture you.

“You think you look appropriate right now? You think your parents would approve of this outfit?" his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“I’m out with friends, not at dinner with my parents!” You defend, deciding to add in your own jab “Besides, I thought you were at theirs tonight, having dinner with Lucille… not drinking alone”.

Negan can’t keep still. He’s too antsy, wanting to shake some sense into you but trying to stay cool in public.

With an elbow propped up on the bar, Negan points a finger at you “Watch it, before I haul your ass outta here”.

This is the closest you’ve ever seen Negan to real anger. Whenever he’s been at your house, it’s always been the aftermath of it you’ve witnessed. His sullen mood and Lucille’s small comments at him whenever the conversation allowed; both of them handling their simmering frustration in their own way. 

To not only witness his anger first hand, but to have it directed at you… you’re not sure if you want to pout or get on your knees right then and there.

You scoff, trying to seem unbothered. “Enjoy your drink, I’m going back to my friends,” you say it with just enough sass, turning to retreat back to your table.

You know it’s a pointless endeavour. 

Negan won’t allow it. And you know it.

His hand snakes around your upper arm, his grip firm but not painful. "Oh no you don't,” he tugs you back, urging you to face him again “we’re leaving. Now”.

You were hoping for a little more time here, a bit more back-and-forth, rile him up before hopefully breaking down those stubborn walls. 

“You can leave, but I’m not!” you snap, digging your heels in.

He leans in close, his anger flaring back to life as his voice drops into a dangerously low growl. “I’m not asking you, sweetheart, I’m telling you” the pet name slips out like a command, making something tighten in your chest. 

“You’re drunk, you’re dressed like a goddamn slut and you’re not staying in this bar another second”.

Is it bad you can feel the heat between your legs as he degrades you? How is it your dad’s friend, someone you kinda considered your own friend too, is calling you a slut so easily? And why does he keep trying to steal quick glances at your chest?

Heh, well, you know the answer to that last question.

Still, you play your part and you slap his arm. “Don’t call me that! Jackass” you say with a defiant huff.

His eyes widen but Negan doesn’t acknowledge the slap in the way you wanted him to. Instead of continuing to bicker, he grabs his leather jacket from the back of his chair and throws it on, his movements sharp. 

“Jackass?” he repeats, clearly not amused.

“Yes! You’re acting like a major jackass!” you fire back, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in your voice. 

Negan grins, that mocking, almost wicked smile spreading across his face as steers you away from the bar.

“Yeah, and you know what else I am?” he asks “The one dragging your drunk, barely dressed ass out of this bar before you make a complete fool of yourself”.

He starts tugging you toward the exit. “I had like… two drinks!” you protest, stumbling slightly to keep up.

But just as he’s about to drag you out the door, you use all the momentum you have to shove him into the door right next to the exit. 

The ladies toilets. 

Your friends giggle as you both disappear from sight, assuming you’re hooking up with the stranger. They’ve always known you have a thing for older men but little do they know who he really is…

Negan stumbles into the bathroom, his mind still trying to process how he went from the exit to somehow ending up in here instead. His brow furrows as he takes in the situation.

Before he can say a word, you speak, your voice steady but firm “Negan, I’m not leaving”.

He steps closer “Yes. You. Are. We’re leaving. Right. Now”. His hand shoots out to grab your arm, but you’re already one step ahead. You sidestep him, narrowly avoiding his grip.

“No!” you exclaim, more forcefully than you intended. Hoping to get through to him, you soften your tone, offering a sliver of vulnerability. “My parents don’t know I’m here… they think I’m just at a friend’s place” you admit.

Your words hang in the air, a soft confession of rebellion. But Negan’s response is as expected—he rolls his eyes, the action exaggerated as if he’s heard this excuse a thousand times before. 

“I don’t give a fuck if your parents ground you for a year!” He snaps, his voice low but intense “You’re not staying here dressed like that and acting like this”.

“Acting like what? Having fun?”.

His jaw clenches. “By acting like you’re only worth a quick fuck in the backseat of someone’s car,” Negan replies, the words carrying a weight that makes your stomach sink.

The insult stings, but you refuse to back down. With a small scoff, you shake your head and tilt your chin up slightly. “You’re telling me you didn’t do that when you were young?” you challenge.

Negan’s expression falters for a split second, his lips twitching as if he’s about to crack a grin but he maintains his steely expression. 

He exhales sharply through his nose, his stance stiffening. “I did it because I’m a guy,” he mutters, his tone clipped “so it’s different”.

“That’s misogynist,” you point out as you cross your arms, unintentionally making your cleavage more noticeable.

For a moment, you catch Negan’s gaze flickering downward before snapping back up to your eyes, his face strained. 

His lips press together in a tight line, his eyes briefly closing in frustration as he fights to maintain his composure. “Fuck, can you just…” Negan gestures vaguely at you “Cover up or something?”.

Without waiting for an answer, Negan turns away, running a hand through his dark locks. 

You let out a quiet sigh. “I didn’t bring a jacket,” you say flatly, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

He mutters something under his breath, too quiet for you to catch. With a dramatic huff, he whips off his leather jacket. “Of course you didn’t. On top of everything else, you want to get hypothermia too” His voice drips with exasperation.

Negan turns back to you, holding out the jacket, his eyes briefly look to your chest again before quickly darting back to your face, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You catch the slight pause, the way his gaze betrays him, but you choose not to acknowledge it— at least, not directly. You stare him down, not hiding the smirk plastered on your face. Then, in one swift movement, he practically hurls the jacket at you. 

“Here,” he says, the word a little too resigned.

Instinctively, you catch the jacket, but you don’t put it on. Instead, you hold it in your arms, letting it drape over them as you roll your eyes at his comments. 

“I’m not some delicate little flower,” you tease, your smirk becoming playful “maybe I like it rough”.

The words slip out without thinking, a little too flippantly, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

Maybe those two drinks were enough to get you tipsy after all.

Negan’s eyes narrow at you and you can see the gears turning in his head. There’s a flicker of something in his expression. Maybe amusement, maybe disbelief, but before he can say anything, you catch the faintest hint of a smirk forming on his lips.

He steps closer, his imposing frame shadowing you as he leans in. “Damn, you’re something else,” he says, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the overwhelming presence he has, but for the first time tonight, you feel a small shiver run up your spine. 

“Rough, huh?” His words are like a threat, his tone smooth and dangerous.

Before you can respond, his hand shoots out, and suddenly, he has a firm grip on your hair, tugging it just enough to pull your head back. 

“Ow! Negan!!” You whine, your voice a mix of surprise and irritation. Good job at proving you like it rough.

He loosens his grip, but his fingers stay tangled in your hair, holding you captive in his gaze. He stares down at you, his dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You think I don’t notice how gorgeous you are?” he murmurs, his voice low, almost possessive “But this? Telling me you like it rough? Tsk, tsk, tsk”. 

Your heart skips a beat at the admission, and your eyes widen ever so slightly. The words settle in your chest, warm and electric, and for a split second, everything else fades away. 

Negan thinks you’re gorgeous. 

You can barely process it but you don’t get a chance to let the moment settle. His fingers tighten in your hair again, this time with purpose. 

“There’s a difference,” he growls, his voice rougher now, “between making eyes at some random guy at a bar and teasing a man who actually knows what to do with you”.

You swallow hard. His grip on you, the way he towers over you, his scent— all of it feels like a pressure you can’t escape. You can barely breathe.

“And you…” You pause, testing the waters “You know what to do with me?”.

And then, possibly the most un-hot thing happens. A toilet flushes. The sound is loud and sudden, causing you both to freeze. It comes from one of the stalls at the end of the room and it’s quickly followed by the drunken shuffling of feet and a zipping noise. 

Without a word, you and Negan lock eyes, an unspoken agreement passing between you in that single, charged moment. 

“Shit,” Negan mutters under his breath, his hand still tangled in your hair, but now pulling you toward the nearest empty cubicle with urgency. 

“Ouch!” you whisper, batting at his hand and making him untangle his hand from your hair. You barely have time to shoot him a glare before he’s guiding you into the small space, his body close behind you.

Just as the cubicle at the end of the room unlocks, the lock to your cramped cubicle slots into place with a soft click.

For a moment, you both hold your breath. You’re pressed together in the cramped space, his chest against your back, your bodies flush together.

You hear the drunken patron stumble, mumbling something unintelligible as they turn on one of the taps and start washing their hands. You both hold still, waiting for the heavy footsteps to move away. Negan holds you against him, one hand on your waist to keep you close. 

Although that’s not the only thing that’s touching you. 

It’s hard not to notice the unmistakable press of his semi-erect cock nestling against the curve of your ass. It feels firm yet pliant, a promise of things to come. 

Turning your head just enough to look up at him through your eyelashes. He doesn’t meet your gaze, too busy zoning into some spot in the stall door as he listens intently to the patron outside.

His brow furrows just slightly, the lines on his forehead deepening as he focuses. You can tell he's strategizing, weighing up different excuses in case he’s caught in the ladies room. Negan’s lips are pressed together, a slight tension around them, but it's not a scowl. 

Deciding you want some attention, you press your ass back slightly. You hear a grunt.

“You’re not making this easy on me,” he huffs. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he looks down.

Through the thin walls, you can hear the drunk go on their way, their footsteps slowly fading as they stagger out of the bathroom. The door swings shut with a final, echoing creak. 

As if to prove his point, Negan moves his hips forward, forcing his erection against your ass. He’s harder than you thought and you shudder at the mere size of the thing in his pants. 

He makes a quiet, pleased sound against your ear as his hand trails up your waist, teasing passing the side of your breast before settling on the back of your neck. 

“Fuck, you're responsive…” He pulls back slightly, making sure you can still feel him.

“Is that a good thing?” you ask softly.

He chuckles, his voice low and husky. “It's a dangerous thing, darlin,” he squeezes your neck teasingly “Nothing good ever comes from being too responsive... unless you're trying to drive a man wild”.

“Maybe that’s exactly why I’m trying to do” you push back against him again, this time bending your body slightly to really accentuate your ass.

Except all that does is encourage your dress to ride up your thighs again, stopping just before your ass. Grabbing his leather jacket from your arms, Negan tosses it up on the stall door before moving to your thighs.

Negan isn’t a one to waste time, especially when it comes to taking advantage of certain situations. Bringing both hands down to your thighs, he helps you dress by tugging it up in one swift movement. You let out a gasp as the cool, thankfully air conditioned bathroom making the skin on your ass get goosebumps.

“Negan! I-“ you move to turn away so he can’t see your ass but Negan’s one step ahead this time.

 Looping an arm around your torso, he makes sure you keep the squirming to a minimum. With his other hand, he brings it down between your legs and presses a finger against your panties.

He holds you in place, bent at the hips and ass against his crotch. You can feel the dampness of your panties against your heat. The wetness seeps into the fabric, making it stick to the lips of your pussy. 

“Fuck me, you are soaked!” with no qualms about modesty, Negan swipes the tacky panties to the side and gets a feel of your folds himself. 

You stop a moan from escaping, not wanting to be too eager. "Goddamn, you're a sticky little mess, ain't ya? All wet and sloppy, just fucking dripping” he teases your hole, momentarily pressing a finger to it but never dipping inside.

Hoping to gain some control, you go to stand up straight. The thoughts of looking into his eyes as he fingers you is more appealing than your view being the wall of a bathroom stall.

But Negan isn’t as fond of the idea. The arm looped around you quickly makes its way to your back, forcing you to stay bent. You let out a scoff as the side of your face smushes against the wall. 

“Negan, what the fuck?” You whine, blindly throwing one of your arms back at him “If you’re gonna finger me, at least let me enjoy it!”.

“Nuh-uh,” he grabs your arm and presses it against your back, restraining you before he continues his exploration of your pussy “I get to decide how the fuck we do this”.

You quieten down when you feel a finger trace your folds, spreading your wetness around. “You this much of a slut for every guy or am I just lucky?” He asks, chuckling at his own thoughts “Your friends were cheering like this is a usual thing for you”.

Before you can reply, Negan plunges two fingers deep inside your dripping cunt, his thumb grinding against your clit. “I— ah!” You mewl, trying to give a coherent response “N-no, never!”.

Negan picks up his pace, loving how you give in, basically slumping against the wall. “See, doll, I want to believe you. I mean, I don’t know that many sluts that get this fucking wet from just a little grinding… it’s shameful, really” he curls his fingers to hit the perfect spot, making your squirm.

“But in saying that,” Negan continues, his breath hitting against your neck as he leans closer “I don’t know that many modest gals that wear something like this”. 

Deciding you know better than to repeat your mistake and move again, Negan takes his hand off your back and paws at your chest instead. But in true Negan fashion, he needs to up his antics.

Tugging down the low cut neckline of your dress, you hear a ripping noise as he pulls at the fabric and forces it down past your bra.

“Huh… surprised your modest enough to wear a bra” he comments, quickly rectifying the situation. Without warning, Negan roughly shoves the bra cups up, freeing your tits completely. "Fuck, look at these," he growls, appreciating the sight of your breasts spilling out. 

The fingers he has working your hole pause and retreat, much to your disappointment. You take the opportunity to turn around to face him, starting to feeling a crick in your neck from being smushed up by the wall.

“Asshole, you tore my dress“ your voice is laced with frustration, although that may be from how much you want him to stop teasing and fuck you already. 

With an amused scoff, Negan goes to hold up his hands in surrender. His fingers glisten with your juices. “I’m trying to be a gentlemen here, doll” he chuckles as he defends himself.

You fight the urge to cover yourself, knowing that’s what he’s waiting for. He wants to see that shy side, to see you blush and get flustered. 

You glare at him instead “How is this being a gentleman?”.

“Well, I coulda just ripped it clean off, but I left ya some dignity,” Negan smirks, crowding you again. You’re left no choice but to back into the wall, holding your glare as you look up at him.

“And I've fingered ya before fucking ya which is pretty damn noble” he adds, seeing you battle between staying annoyed and wanting to blush. You open your mouth to complain but a loud moan comes out instead as Negan pinches one of your nipples.

He thumbs your hard nipples, chuckling as they perk up even more under his touch. “Damn, always knew you’d have a good pair on ya," he muses “fuckin’ perfect”.

Negan doesn't hesitate, leaning down to engulf one nipple in his mouth. He sucks hard, letting his teeth graze the sensitive bud as he kneads the other breast roughly. Groaning around your nipple, he switches to the other, assaulting it with the same fervent enthusiasm. 

With a grunt, Negan grabs your thighs and hoists you up, pinning you against the wall with his muscular body. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, arms going around his shoulders.

Negan grinds his still clothed cock against your bare pussy, applying just enough pressure to make you whimper. 

The rough denim of his pants provides no comfort, each thrust of his hips pressing his erection directly against your sensitive clit. "You feel that?" He asks against your tit “Want you to beg for it, gotta hear ya saying it”.

You have no hesitation. There is no reluctance to beg for him, not when you’re this close to getting what you thought would always be a wet dream. 

"Please, Negan, I need it!" you beg, your hips bucking against his pants in desperate attempts to get friction. “I’ve wanted you for so long, to fuck me in my bedroom o-or on the dinner table! Fuck, anywhere! I don’t care!”.

That seems to convince him. Reaching down and fumbling with his jeans, Negan has his cock out in record time. He grips the base, stroking it a few times as he lines it up with your soaked pussy. 

The head of his cock presses against your entrance, the tip barely peeking out from between your folds. Negan slowly eases in, allowing you to adjust to his massive size. 

You writhe and moan against him, trying to keep your body relaxed as he enters you. Trying your best to keep eye contact, you let out a string of whimpers as he fills you completely. 

"Damn, I actually fit," he says, stretching you out in a way you’ve never felt before. Negan pulls out carefully, as if testing the waters before plunging back into your needy pussy with vigor.

"Holy fuck, even tighter than I imagined. Built for my dick, aren't you?" he grunts, starting to fuck you hard.

Each brutal thrust of his hips drives his thick cock deeper into your pussy, stretching you wide open. "Fuck, you're so tight it feels like my dick is splitting you in half. Love it. Fucking love it" Negan rambles on and grabs your thighs, spreading them as wide as he can.

"Fuck, Negan... you're so..." you try to speak "ah!”. It’s all too much in the best way possible. That delicious ache of being so thoroughly penetrated, the feeling of absolute fullness with each deep thrust.

"More... fuck me more..." your hips arch up to meet his thrusts, trying to keep up.

Negan angles his hips upwards, hitting that spot inside you over and over as he pounds into you. "Look at me," He growls, "Look at me while I break you in half with my dick. You like that? You like feeling so stuffed?"

“I-I've never been this full before…” you say with teary eyes.

Negan notices your body tensing and shuddering beneath him, your pussy walls starting to flutter wildly around his thick cock. "Holy shit, there it is... Your cunt's squeezin' me like a fuckin' vice. You gonna cum on my dick?".

The pressure is building to an unbearable point, your entire body trembling as your orgasm approaches. Your mind goes blank, unable to answer his question as he hits that perfect spot.

Just as your orgasm hits, Negan feels your pussy clamp down around him like a silken fist. "Holy fuck..." you gasp, back arching as pure pleasure courses through your veins. 

Your entire body quakes, inner muscles milking his cock as you ride out your intense orgasm. You dig your nails into his shoulders, legs trembling uncontrollably.

Negan grunts, fucking you through your intense orgasm with deep, deliberate strokes. He can feel your pussy spasming wildly around his shaft, coating him in your slick arousal. As the last waves shudder through you, he finally pulls out, his cock glistening with in the light.

He lets you stand for a moment but you legs are so wobbly, it’s difficult to support your weight after that intense orgasm.

Before you can even catch your breath, Negan grabs your shoulder roughly and forces you onto your knees. Your body complies in an instant, unable to fight against such force.

Your knees ache as they hit the bathroom floor but that’s the least of your concerns. You look up at him in wide-eyed shock, lips parted as you anticipate him coming all over your face.

"Fuckin' hell, such a pretty face..." He strokes his throbbing cock with his fist, ready to explode.

But instead of aiming for your face, Negan aims his cock at your chest, unleashing a thick, hot load of cum all over your tits. He groans loudly as he paints your breasts with his seed, the warm liquid dripping down between your cleavage and seeping into the fabric of your dress.  

“Next time you’re either swallowing it or you’re getting a facial courtesy of yours truly” he informs you, although the only piece of information you truly savor from that is ‘next time’.

Doing the gentlemanly thing, he grabs some tissue from the toilet paper dispenser and hands it to you. You dab at your chest, knowing the dress is a lost cause and will probably have to be thrown out later. 

“Help me up?” You ask, somewhat shyly once you’re done.

Taking your arm in a much more gentle grip than before, Negan helps you up, subtly looking over your chest to make sure you’ve wiped off all of him. “You feeling alright?” he asks lowly, as if remembering the public place you’re both in. 

You blink, giving yourself a moment to calm, your body still humming with the aftermath. “That was…” you pause, collecting your thoughts, “...wow.”

A soft chuckle rumbles from his chest, and he slips his leather jacket off the stall door. “Well, that’s a better response than I expected,” he says with a smirk, draping the jacket around your shoulders and gently guiding your arms into the sleeves. Without a word about how the jacket nearly swallows you whole, he zips it up, pulling it snug to cover your chest. 

This is a completely different side to the Negan you’ve seen tonight. This is the Negan that gives you a small, reassuring smile after your parents throw some off handed insult your way. 

The two of you stand close, your breaths mingling. Slowly, the space between your faces narrows, as if drawn by some unspoken pull. You gently tilt your head, just enough to bring your lips into alignment with his. 

The kiss is a tender brush. Featherlight and hesitant. It’s the kind of kiss you’d expect before going at it like a bunch of animals… not afterwards.

The kiss lingers, still tasting of warmth and something unspoken. Pulling back just enough to rest your forehead against his, you can feel the soft touch of his lips still tingling on yours. You mutter against his lips, almost sheepishly “Can you drop me home?”.

His lips curl into a quiet smile, a slight glint in his eyes as he nods. “Considering I didn’t get to finish my first glass of whiskey, yeah I should be good,” Negan gives you a playful look.

Unable to help yourself, you give him a small smile. It’s not as seductive or teasing as the ones you have given him previously. In all honestly, it feels like Negan has fucked the seductiveness out of you– if that’s even possible.  

“... So this wasn’t some drunken mistake?” you ask coyly. 

Negan wraps an arm around your shoulders as he unlocks the stall door and carefully guides you out. ”Wear a dress like that the next time I’m at your parents for dinner and you’ll find out” he replies with a smirk. 

Besides his tousled hair, Negan still looks fine. He’s not dishevelled or out of breath or having trouble walking… all things you attribute to yourself.

Negan notices your state too, keeping his arm around you as you subtly leave the bathrooms and head for the exit. If it’s even possible, Negan pulls you closer, guiding you out like a drunk that’s had one too many. His presence is possessive in the gentlest of ways.

You give your friends a knowing look as you both leave, one that says you’ll explain everything later.

The sound of drunken chattering and laughter fades as you step out into the night, the streetlights casting a soft glow on the parking lot. 

When you reach the car, he opens the door for you with a small smirk, his eyes never leaving yours as you slide into the seat.  A few moments later, Negan slides into the driver's seat and the engine rumbles to life. 

The car doesn’t even get out of the parking lot before Negan’s hand finds yours. The ride home is quiet. He doesn’t say much, and neither do you, but the silence between you feels relaxed.

Every now and then, his thumb gently brushes across the back of your hand like a quiet reassurance. He doesn’t mention the contact, simply letting it linger. 

 The soft, rhythmic motion of the car becomes like a lullaby and with every mile, the weight of the night lifts just a little more. Every so often, you glance over at him, his face relaxed. When your eyes meet, he offers a smile and you sleepily return it.

Negan doesn’t pull up directly outside your house. Strategically stopping his car a little down the street, he sighs.

“Hate to say it but I’ll need that jacket back,” he gives you a once over, as if to memorize what his leather jacket looks like on you.

Fiddling with the zipper, you mumble “So I’m supposed to walk in there with a ripped up dress?”.

He laughs at that, shaking his head before reaching into the backseat. “Here, I know it’s dirty but it’s the best I can offer,” Negan hands you a sweatshirt. 

The sweatshirt is faded, its fabric softened from years of use. The sleeves are slightly frayed at the cuffs and a few small holes hint at its age. On the front, several dark oil stains mark where hands have wiped off grease, probably from Negan when working on his motorbike. 

But most importantly, it smells like him.

As you take off his jacket and put on the sweatshirt instead, Negan gives you some privacy and looks away. “Are you coming in too?” You ask, gently placing his jacket on his lap once you’ve changed.

Taking that as his signal to look, Negan gives you a sympathetic smile. “Not tonight, darlin,” he replies “think Lucille would chop my nuts off with your mom’s fancy silver if I showed my face”.

“You two are fighting that bad?”.

Negan shrugs “Same old, same old”.

You try not to fidget with the frayed sleeves of his sweatshirt, not wanting to pick at it right in front of him. 

“And… this?” You focus your attention at simply inspecting the sleeves instead of picking at them “I mean, I know you said it wasn’t a drunken mistake but still… I get it if you wanna pretend like it never happened”.

As much as you wanted quick reassurance, you’re met with silence. 

Negan leans back in his seat, taking his eyes away from yours and looking at the street. Up ahead, he can see the porch light on to your parents house. Although, he doubts Lucille will be leaving anytime soon. She’ll probably stay late, try to wait it out until Negan has drank himself silly and fallen asleep.

“Tonight shouldn’t have happened,” he says with little emotion “It ain’t right. I know it. You know it. Hell, anyone in a ten mile radius would call me all sorts of names if they knew about it…  fucking your friend’s daughter is a whole mess”.

You stay quiet, unsure whether you should just get out now.

“But shit, if you wanted to suck my dick right now, I wouldn’t say no,” he chuckles “it’s a fucked up thing to say but I wouldn’t mind something like this happening again”.

That puts a smile back on your face. Getting ready to leave, you say “Maybe if you come to dinner next time, I will suck your dick”.

Negan watches you with narrowed eyes. Of course you’d be able to make his dick twitch again, making him feel like a teenager that could get it up over and over again. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” he warns as you get out.

“Good,” you hop out of the car, giving him one last flirtatious smirk before going “I hope you do”.

Closing the door, you strut along the pavement, your heels clicking as you go to your house. Walking has never seemed so hard, not only because of your shoe choice but from the aching in your gut and your legs wobbling more than you’d like to admit. 

Still, you try to do your best to walk straight, knowing Negan is watching. 

When you get to the front door, you give Negan one last glance before disappearing inside. He wait a few moments before starting up his car and leaving. 

The first thing you hear is a chorus of polite laughter from the dining room. Great, looks like they’re still in the midst of dinner. Before you have a chance to debate if you could get upstairs without them hearing, you hear your father call out your name.

“Is that you?” He calls out.

Reluctantly, you walk in, lingering by the doorway. Your parents to turn in their dining chairs to face you. Whereas Lucille has you right in her line of view. She offers you a gracious smile as you enter.

“I thought you were staying at Lydia’s tonight,” you mom says, eyeing your sweatshirt and what appears to be a skirt. Thankfully she doesn’t comment on how short it is.

“Eh, Lydia talked things out with her boyfriend so they’re back together again,” you lie casually “you know how they are; fight, break up and make up”.

Lucille casts her gaze down slightly, as if your words hit a little too close to home for her. You shift uncomfortably. 

“There’s some leftovers in the kitchen if you’re hungry” your mom says, blissfully unaware.

“I’m ok,” you give her a smile “I think I might just shower and head to bed early”.

“Alright,” she already waves you off, turning back in her seat “if you’re sure”.

You don’t linger, giving them a polite nod before leaving. It’s only when you turn to leave does Lucille look at you again. 

She’s never believed in coincidences. And she’s never believed you to be into repairing cars. She knows the faint stains on your sweatshirt, mainly because she’s the one who spent hours trying to scrub them out… only for Negan to reward her with new stains on the damn thing. 

Nodding along with whatever it is your father is saying, Lucille’s mind strays further and further from the dinner and to Negan instead. 

Something’s happened. What exactly, she’s not sure. But you’re involved and so is her damned husband.

—————

A/N: thought I’d put in a quick note just to say thanks for reading and apologies for disappearing all month! My family almost got scammed out of 11k (it was insane) but!! More importantly!! I got seriously bad writers block so apologies if this fic is a little choppy, I’m still getting back into my stride!!

[hyunsvngs]

halloscream

was it jeongsung in the bedroom?

warnings 🔪: poly relationship dynamics, they’re serial killers, knifeplay, clitplay, unprotected sex, oral (m rec), bloodplay (be warned about this one, it’s not their blood), one whole line of daddy kink, mxm as well as fxm

it’s getting late. they’re late, to be more precise, but you feel as if you look at the window again it will feel like even longer. you tap away at your keyboard. it’s too quiet - the house is empty with your parents out at dinner. normally your two boyfriends would be making enough noise to drown out the everlasting silence, but again, they’re nowhere to be seen. your foot taps against the carpet impatiently underneath your desk.

a noise from your back garden catches your attention. nothing too loud, just a rustle of leaves and a few small thuds, but it has you rising from your computer chair to check it out. jisung would chastise you. “don’t you know horror movies?” he’d say, eyes round and wide, “investigating a strange noise is how you die, jagi.” still, you’re pissed that they’re late, and you also know full well that your boyfriends are the only threat to your small, isolated town. 

it started last year. jeongin came bursting through your window, clad in a halloween costume drenched in blood, and you laughed in his face thinking it was fake. it wasn’t fake. jisung followed closely behind him, a knife in his hand still messy with the efforts of their mission, and you almost had a heart attack. jeongin had to sit you down and explain, but really, there’s not a lot of explaining you can do when your girlfriend finds out you’ve been killing students from the local high school. 

they’re psychopathic, to put it lightly, but surely you are too - one toothy smile from jeongin and a comforting rub of jisung’s hand on your back was all it took. you’d accepted it all. 

now, you stand at your window, sticking your head out of the open pane of glass. the autumn air is crisp and it bites at your flushed, alarmed cheeks. when you can’t see anything through the darkness, you sigh, pulling your body back into your room. it’s not them. you turn to make your way back to the computer. maybe they’ll call before they come, just to let you know not to be scared and-

“ugh,” jeongin’s voice groans from behind you. your head whips around, shocked to see that he actually looks reasonably presentable. he’s in their signature costume, long, pitch black fabric drowning his lightly toned frame, and he carries the matching mask in his hand. “i thought you’d at least help me inside, baby. are your parents even home? i could’ve just used the front door.”

there’s other things on your mind. you’re pissed he’s late, and your arms fold over your chest. “where’s the other one?” your voice is dismissive, as if you don’t care about where jeongin’s partner-in-crime normally is. of course you care. one of your boys never comes without the other - quite literally - and you try to peek behind jeongin to see the missing boy. he crowds in through your window to block your vision, toned arms and long legs climbing through his chosen entry point. 

“he’s on his way,” jeongin says. the mask drops from his hand to the floor in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in, the fabric of his halloween costume scratching against your bare collarbones. you’re in one of jisung’s old oversized shirts, and the neckline is stretched beyond belief. your hands soften the impact by bracing themselves on his shoulders. “he got caught up with something. you understand, right?”

he feels like he’s everywhere in your room at once, an aura that only jeongin could have wrapped around you. it’s all it takes to calm you down, to forget about the fact that they didn’t even call, and then you’re focusing on the feeling of something solid pressing into your thigh. 

your hand moves down. his eyes follow the movement, narrowed, head tilting to the side as if he’s daring you to touch. you do, because you always rise to jeongin’s challenges. your fingers wrap around the object with a mischievous giggle. “is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?”

“that’s a knife,” he responds, quick as a bat. his hand wraps around your wrist and moves you a few inches to the right, positioning your hand over his actual cock and oh. it’s throbbing, and you can feel the way the shaft hardens further in your hand, even through the layers of fabric. you blink up at him, all coy through your lashes, and he raises an eyebrow. “i’m hard because i just killed someone, and that’s turning you on. do you know how fucked up that is?”

“it’s even more fucked up to be hard after killing someone,” you say, hands moving to his hips. you begin a backwards walk to your bed, pulling him along with you. jeongin’s more than happy to follow. his body slides between your legs easily, erection pressing into the middle of your sleep shorts, right above your core, and you try to catch his lips with yours. he moves away from your face with that signature cheeky grin, one that only jeongin could pull off. “why? first you’re late, and now no kiss? don’t wind me up, jeonginnie.”

“i’m gonna lick your pussy, that’s why,” his voice is low, tone steady. it makes a shiver run down your spine, but you’re nodding, letting your thighs fall apart. jeongin’s grin widens at the effect he has on you. he’s still in that stupid costume, but you watch his body slide down your bed until his face is nuzzling into your core.

you can’t help it. you’re curious, and they may say curiosity kills the cat, but well - the only thing killing anyone is rutting his nose into the covered pudge of your clit. “who did you kill?”

“what?” he scoffs, pulling your sleep shorts to the side with two long, gloved fingers. the texture of his gloves is cold against your heated mound, and you stutter out a breath, hands moving to the sheets beside you. “does it matter, jagi?”

“y-yeah, it does,” you whine when he dips down, tongue licking over your clit for the first time tonight. he’s talented with his mouth, but he’s normally better with his fingers. jisung’s forte is oral, and you let your mind wander again. where is he? you’re missing the essential third piece in your beloved psychopathic throuple.

when he speaks again, the vibrations hit your pussy. “he was a lowlife. don’t worry about it. he deserved to die.”

“you say that about e-everyone- oh my god,” he sucks your clit into his mouth as you’re speaking. it makes you surge from the bed, back arching, hand weaving into his hair to pull and tug to where you need him to be. jeongin’s malleable like that, letting you grind your pussy up into his mouth while he presses his tongue flat against the sensitive bud. “fuck. fuck, jeonginnie, innie, please, baby-“

“jesus, man. that was a ballache. y’know, would’ve been easier if maybe there were two of us like there’s meant to be, or-” your head snaps to your window. jeongin’s mouth stops moving, but he kisses your clit as an apology. 

sure, you would normally jump at the sight of someone standing in your bedroom dressed in a full halloween costume, ghostface mask and all. however, you’ve already received one of your male visitors tonight and you know that voice all too well - especially when it’s paired with a short stature and fumbling hands gripping at his mask. you see jisung’s appalled expression once the mask is gone, dropped to the floor to join jeongin’s, round eyes staring at his boyfriend’s position between your legs. “you seriously started without me?! c’mon man, don’t piss me off!”

jeongin only shrugs and nuzzles his nose against your mound to get your attention. you turn back to the boy, running your fingers through his hair comfortingly. he resumes the fat licks he’s giving your core, broad and messy and too fucking good. “iyennie’s being nice and eating my- ah- pussy, baby,” jisung’s staring at you, bouncing from one foot to the other. “you could’ve too, if you weren’t late.”

“wha-“ jisung splutters. he’s already toeing his boots off, yanking the costume over his head to reveal the baggy jeans and black tank he’s got on underneath. the sight of his honey-toned arms against the dark fabric is enough to make your mouth water, but then he drops his jeans and you can see his erection pressing against the front of his boxers. jeongin ignores him, sucking your pussy hard with a soothing hum. your labia stretches with it, and then he flicks his tongue over your clit so fast that your legs kick out. jisung catches them. “not my fault. jeonginnie made me do all the cleanup and the fucking theatrics and shit. this guy bled like a pig too, baby, so-“

“hyung,” jeongin chastises, eyes flitting over to him. when he pulls his head back, his chin is covered in drool and your arousal. you want to lick it clean. you’re barely even paying attention to what your boys are bickering about. “don’t get into the gory details.”

jisung stops in his tracks, trousers wrapped around his ankles. he looks at you. you shiver. he looks at jeongin, and jeongin raises an eyebrow, challenging again. “don’t you know?” jisung’s grin is wide, mischievous. “she likes hearing the gory details. go on, tell her.”

jeongin’s lips part in surprise. he looks at you, scrutinising. “is that so? you wanna hear how i gutted that guy and jisungie hung him from a tree?”

you can’t help it. with his words, jeongin slides two fingers inside of you, curling them so harshly it makes your eyes water. you let out a keen, trying to reach out to pull jisung onto the bed, but he’s too far. he seems to get it, knee-walking onto the mattress until he’s positioned next to you. his hand doesn’t stay out of his boxers for long, sliding beneath the tight fabric. you watch him grip his shaft and pump slowly at the sight in front of him. 

“do you wanna know who it was?” jeongin continues. his thumb slides to rub over your clit, and your thighs tremble. you’re moaning, nodding, babbling pleadings and little ‘yes’s that fall from your mouth urgently. jeongin chuckles. “your little friend from your math class. see, i wasn’t too mad about it, but jisung said he was trying to fuck you.”

“god, fuckin- he pissed me off, baby, ‘m sorry,” jisung whines, and your head is spinning. you’re reeling. jeongin thrusts his fingers a little harder, a little faster, and you’re struggling to concentrate. jisung’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip once, twice, eyes flitting between you and jeongin as if he’s not quite sure who to look at. “he was t-too nice to you, he- he wanted you. you’re ours.”

you’ve barely spoken to the guy from your math class - in all honesty, you’re not quite sure of his name, but now that you think about it… yeah. he was a little touchy, a little flirty, maybe too kind and considerate in letting you copy his work. it all adds up, but he’s taken care of now. you don’t have to worry about it. you never have to worry about anything with your boys around.

jisung pushes his boxers down, and his shaft slaps up against the base of his tummy, not too long but girthy enough to make your mouth water. he catches your gaze and uses his grip to slap it against his skin a little more, precum forming a thin trail attaching the cockhead to his tank top. “fuck. s-suck it, baby, won’t you?” 

“cum first,” jeongin insists. jisung grumbles in protest, but jeongin’s thumb presses harder on your clit, and he reels backwards to spit down against your pussy. the slap of his hand against your core is debauched, messy, and your eyes flutter shut. it’s too good. you’re gonna cum. “cum for me. fucking give it to me. my little fucked up baby, huh? that turned you on, didn’t it?”

“y-yeah! yes, yes, of course, y-you two are- fuck, too much, too much, i’m gonna cum,” you’re babbling again, and when your hand shoots out to grip onto something jisung catches it with his own spare hand. he links your fingers together, and jeongin dips down, finally, finally pressing his lips against yours. it’s all just enough and you feel like you’re dying, shots of electricity running through you, core gushing your release over jeongin’s wrist while he slides his tongue into your mouth. 

you’re given barely any time to come down. jeongin’s hand reels back and slaps your pussy. “hands and knees f’me. head between hyung’s legs.”

you scramble against your bedsheets, limbs kicking out and positioning your body face down in the sheets below jisung’s cock. jeongin moves behind you, yanking your sleep shorts down with a wet, still gloved hand. 

“you liked hearing what we d-did, baby, yeah?” jisung questions, and you whine, nodding. you did. secretly, in a dark place you try not to go into, you want their knives pressed against you and making you bleed while they fuck you. the thought makes your pussy clench down around nothing. 

jisung’s fingers move to your hair, yanking you forward until you’re nosing at his cock. you slide your tongue over his shaft just briefly, nuzzling your nose into the hair at his base, but it’s not long before he’s slapping his cock against your cheek impatiently. “shiiiit, jeonginnie, get inside already. i need her mouth so fucking bad, i’m so fucking hard.”

“just take it,” jeongin fumbles with his belt behind you. you hear the tell-tale clanging of metal, and then the rustling of fabric. his cockhead presses against your hole unceremoniously, blunt and thick, and you try to rut backwards onto it. jisung’s grip prohibits you, and he drags you upwards above his cock to finally press his tip between your lips. 

they both slide in together. jeongin’s thick shaft stretches you beyond belief, making you moan hard around jisung’s cock. you’re glad your parents aren’t home. jisung squirms from the vibrations, and before jeongin can start moving, he’s bouncing your head on his shaft. 

you can see his eyes roll back into his head, lips parting with a sharp whine. you feel like a ragdoll. it has you getting even wetter. “t-that’s it. fuckin’ beautiful mouth, my baby, so dirty, lemme- jus’ lemme fuckin’ take it, god, please.”

jeongin thrusts into you once, twice, testing movements that have your pussy all creamy and easy around him. he sighs, positions his large palms on your ass, and then he starts thrusting at a breakneck speed that has you bouncing between their cocks. you feel used. your clit aches for touch, hard and sensitive above where your hole is getting decimated. 

jisung pulls your head up to give you air, his hand polishing his cockhead. you’re immediately babbling. “fuck, you- jeongin, j-jeonginnie, the knife. will you- will you use it? o-on me? please?”

jisung moans. his hand moves between his legs, pumping his cock quickly in front of your face. it leaks against your lips. jeongin’s hips halt, pressing deep inside you. “the knife? baby, i don’t know.”

“get it, iyennie,” jisung nudges jeongin with his toes. you don’t miss the way jeongin’s cock twitches inside of you. “get mine. it still has blood on it.”

“oh my god,” you moan, wiggling backwards onto jeongin. you can tell his face must be a picture right now because jisung laughs, loud albeit shaky, and he reaches down onto the floor into the pocket of jisung’s jeans to reveal the offending object. he throws it to jisung, who brands it to you, showing that yeah, really, it’s still got someone else’s blood on it. it should be disgusting, moreso terrifying, but when the blade presses against your neck you wriggle just enough to get jisung’s cock back into your mouth. 

“see? f-fucking look at her,” jisung says, voice pitched higher. the angle is awkward, but he manages to fuck his cock into your mouth in tiny, shallow thrusts while the blunt edge of the blade is against your skin. he wouldn’t turn it the other way, not seriously when he knows he might lose control and hurt you. the idea has you keening. “she fucking loves it.”

“yeah? is that true?” jeongin sounds gravelly, throat hoarse, and he starts to fuck into you again. the slide is smooth with how wet you’ve gotten, and your pussy clings to him on every outwards thrust, dragging him back inside of you. jisung pushes harder and the knife presses harder. “hannie. hyung, be- be careful.”

“don’t need to be,” jisung responds, quick, and yanks your head upwards so you’re just suckling on his cockhead. you’ve been drooling all over it, and the feeling of your wet mouth around the most sensitive part of him makes his thighs tremble. he’s close. he never lasts long in your mouth, and you reach one hand up from your position, running a thumb over the creased skin of his ballsack. his foot shoots out so sharply it kicks jeongin in the thigh. “fuck! sorry, sorry aegi, i’m- i’m close, i-“

“already?” jeongin chuckles, but his thrusts are beginning to stagger too. he’s just as close as his boyfriend is, and the blood smearing on your throat has you clenching so hard you think you might be, too. jeongin’s pace quickens, and despite it being messy and uncalculated you let your head fall to jisung’s hip with a moan. he’s fine to strip his cock in your face, body curled over you to hold the knife to your neck, and you nuzzle downwards to suck his balls into your mouth.

“yes! yesyesyes, baby, oh, yeah! just like that, my baby, gonna- i’ll cum, fuck, on your face, you want it?”

“fuck. fuck, daddy, please,” you keen, and you watch in real time how it affects your boyfriend. jisung’s eyebrows scrunch together, pouty lips forming the perfect o as his cock spurts ropes of cum onto your head. it’s imprecise, landing mostly on your forehead and in your hair, and you squeal when jeongin yanks you back by the same messy strands. 

“daddy? fuckin’ really?” he pulls you into him, almost fully sat in his lap, and uses a hand he slides up your shirt to bounce you on top of him. you’re out of it. the blood has smeared all over your neck and stained the neck of your shirt, but you don’t care, whinging and gripping onto jeongin’s lithe thighs. his balls slap against your clit like this, and you can see jisung’s cock perking in interest already.

“this is fuckin’ hot! aegi, make her cum. wan’ see it.”

“you already saw it, i need to- i gotta cum now,” jeongin gasps, teeth biting into your shoulder. it’s too much. 

“no, jeonginnie, please! make me- please make me cum!”

he gives in. jisung will tease him about this later. his fingers move to your clit despite his words, and with only a few precisely formed circles onto the bud you’re creaming on his cock with another pathetic squeal. the sensitivity rises quickly, and it has tears biting at your eyes, but jeongin continues to fuck into you like you’re nothing more than a warm hole. maybe that’s all you are. the thought has your pussy clenching down again, and he thrusts deep before he fills you up with a shout, thick and warm inside of you.

jisung stretches his limbs with a sigh, thumb and index finger rubbing over his cockhead. it’s all too wet, and jeongin slides his softening cock out of your hole with a groan. the knife clatters unceremoniously to the floor. before you can whine and make a fuss over the cum still on your face, jeongin grabs hold of your hair and presses his tongue against your skin.

“when do i get a kiss?” jisung protests, cock still soft against his tank top. “no kisses for hannie even after all that hard work. this is unjust. unfair. it’s wrong, i would say.”

you watch jeongin surge across the bed and feed jisung his own cum from his lips. it’s dirty, and jisung’s shaft twitches valiantly against his tummy when he kisses back, tongues intertwining amidst the high pitched noise he makes. you let them kiss for a bit, and then you wriggle yourself up to your boys. the elder welcomes you with open arms, and jeongin pulls away from his lips with a wet sound, collapsing onto jisung’s shoulder.

“welcome home,” you chirp, and jeongin chuckles sleepily. jisung only pulls you into his chest further, fingers tracing patterns on the bare skin of your arm. “will i be expecting any more late nights this week?”

“tomorrow,” jeongin yawns. his head rests on jisung’s shoulder. you’re pretty sure he’s drooling already. jisung’s eyes flutter shut, at peace. “it’s the build up to halloween, baby. we’re busy these days, but we’ll always make time for you.”

[wosohours]

commitment - leah williamson x reader

You always heard about “don’t date athletes” and “athletes are players," but of course when good advice comes your way, you ignore it.

It was a bit insane to think that you could start talking to the one girl who could not be bothered with being in a committed relationship. That gut feeling telling you “Don’t get too close”, “Don’t entertain her”, or “Don’t fall in too deep” but you once again ignored it.

Honestly, you could not help it. It was like a craving to be around Leah all the time. It almost felt like an obsession of wondering, “What is she doing?”, “Where is she?”, “Is she thinking about me?”

Constantly checking your phone to see if she messaged you. Looking at her social media every hour on the hour. You were in deep and you knew it would eventually lead to hurting yourself. Yet, being someone with the typical heart-eye delusions, the thoughts in the back of your mind kept saying, “She will change for you.”

Trying to distance yourself never worked because every time you were at a safe enough distance she kept pulling you right back in. Leah knew that she had some type of hold on you and constantly used that to her advantage.

Just last week she was barely texting and calling you back. You understood that she was not obligated to do so since you two were not officially together, but you were most definitely a little…maybe even a lot more than “just friends.” The dates, the romantic gestures, and the PDA all confirmed that but you could never understand her constant pushing and pulling.

Leah knows exactly how to make it up to you though. She texted three days ago saying how sorry she was not keeping in contact, how she misses you like crazy and how she planned a whole day for just the two of you. You were strong this time, wanting her to feel how she makes you feel by not texting back and declining her calls those three days. Yet one slip of weakness and here you are right back in her bed.

____________________

“I missed you so much you have no ideas.” Leah tells you as she feathers kisses all over your face as you both lay in bed naked.

“Oh really? I would not have guessed.” you said as you sat up from her chest and moved away from her a little. She froze looking at you with that cute frown that is usually stuck on her face and said, “Baby I told you I am truly sorry, I really mean it. I have just been a bit busier since the launch of my third book. You know this.”

Leah wraps an arm around your waist pulling you back down closer to her. “I am here now though, aren’t I?” You hesitantly relax into her and say, “I know but a simple text or any sort of reply would have been nice. I just missed you.” You can feel Leah smiling against your hairline after she lays a soft kiss there. “I missed you too babe.”

After a moment of you two just enjoying each other's company she says quietly, “How about we get up, you come shower with me, and then we can go out and get some breakfast?”

____________________

Once again the cycle repeats itself with Leah distancing herself. No longer answering calls or texts. Although it hurt, you thought it would be best to leave things the way they were to protect your peace, even pushing yourself to be petty enough to block her number. It was almost like you were putting her up to the test to see how far she would go to get your attention.

Although she did swipe up on one of your Instagram stories of you in a tight shirt with no bra saying, “I’ve seen it, now delete it,” but you ignored that as well.

____________________

Since being friends with Leah for many years you have grown closer with some of the Arsenal girls and with them loving your company, a couple of them have asked you to join them in celebrating the end of their USA tour at a local pub. People are either mingling by the bar, doing karaoke, or sitting around the reserved private table in the back.

Currently, you are at the bar getting a drink and you can feel Leah’s eyes burning into the back of your skull.

“What’s going on with you two? You have been more grumpy than usual,” Katie teases Leah as she sits in the empty seat next to her. “She's ignoring me,” Leah sighs, still looking at you.

“What have you done this time?” Alessia asks from across the table. “I’ve been kind of avoiding her again. I don’t mean to but I don’t know what I’m doing.” Leah replies.

“Have you tried talking to her about how you feel? Do you actually want to have a serious relationship with her?” Katie asks.

“No, I haven't talked to her. Every time I try to talk about us my mouth goes dry and all of a sudden I can’t think, and of course, I want something serious with her I’m just nervous,” Leah shakes her head and looks down at her fidgeting fingers.

Lia, who has been listening to the conversation from her seat next to Alessia, speaks up, “Well you might need to tell her soon because the bartender is flirting with her heavily.”

This causes Leah’s head to shoot up in your direction and sees the bartender smiling at you and reaching her hand over to rest on your forearm. “Yeah, not happening.” Leah quickly stands up from her seat and pushes past people to make her way over to you.

When she gets to you she gently wraps an arm around your waist not to startle you and pulls you back into her chest. She gives her glare that she usually saves for the pitch to the bartender, making her quickly release your arm and turn her attention to another customer waiting at the other end of the bar.

Leah smiles when you relax into her and she whispers in your ear, “You’ve been avoiding me.” You slowly turn around until you are face to face with her and say. “Hurts doesn’t it?”

“I deserve that. Why don’t we go have a chat and I will explain myself?” Leah says, moving her hand to grab yours. “Really? You want to talk now and here?” you scoff.

Leah just nods and gently pulls your hand so that you follow her out to the back patio of the pub. She sits on a bench that is a little bit away from the loud building and pulls your hand down to sit next to her.

“You know you shouldn’t just flirt with anyone, she could've just been charming you into being her next one nightstand,” she says.

“Hmm, pot meets kettle huh? You would know,” you scoff pulling your hand away from hers.

“No, I wouldn’t, because we are more than that,” she firmly replies.

“It sure doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

“I know,” she sighs, focusing on her shoes, “but I can explain.”

You look at her and slightly nod your head giving her the indication to keep talking.

“I love everything about us. I love how we are with each other. How easy it is to be around you and the connection that we have. I’m just scared of the reality of us being together because it seems too good to be true,” she confesses. “Don’t get me wrong I do want to be with you and I am serious about you but there is this nagging feeling in my head that I am going to screw it all up.”

You grab her hands gently and say, “That’s completely understandable Leah, I wish you would have communicated with me about how you felt earlier. However, you can’t make future assumptions about something you or we haven’t even tried yet. Neither of us has any idea of what could happen but it doesn’t mean push away and hide from it.”

You continue, “You are looking too far into the future when you should be focusing on right now. That self-sabotaging brain of yours is going to stall you for great things one day.” you giggle pushing her head away making her laugh too.

After the giggles die down she says, “You are completely right. If you allow me to give this…us another try I am willing to put my all into it. I just ask that you give me that reassurance.”

“I can give you that, but you have to promise to communicate with me.” you nod raising your hand to move a piece of hair out of her face.

“I promise to communicate my feelings to you,” she replies leaning into your hand.

You smile and stand up from the bench pulling her up with you to give her a hug resting your head against hers. Leah pulls back a bit to give you a few quick pecks on the lips causing you to giggle and move away.

“My girl,” she whispers, pulling you back against her and laying one last kiss on the side of your head.

____________________

Since that day Leah has kept her promise of communicating more and you have kept yours by reassuring her when she needed it. She even asked you to officially be with her a couple weeks later and it had felt as though something shifted in the air.

She was constantly texting, calling, and wanting to be attached to your hip. When you too were with each other in person she would constantly cling to you but you were okay with it since that is what you were wanting from the beginning.

[withahappyrefrain]

Can you please do meet cute 45) A owns a flower shop and B just needs the courage to go inside and say hello. For Rhett Abbott?

THIS ONE SCREAMS RHETT!! I'm so glad someone requested it with him!

Rhett Abbott had never felt more ridiculous in his entire life. 

He was told they just needed a few things from the grocery store. Rhett hated going to the grocery store. It meant people and people judged and whispered things about him, regardless of if it was true (majority of the time it wasn’t). 

But the grocery store was on the same street as The Wild Rose, Wabang’s brand new flower shop. And inside was you, the owner. 

Rhett scoffed at the idea at first. There was no way Wabang had enough people to warrant a flower shop. Plus, folks had plenty of land, they could make their damn bouquets if they wanted. 

Apparently people were lazy. It also helped that you sold wine and little knick knacks in addition to floral arrangements. Jars of speciality honey from a local farm, the wine from a nearby vineyard. Dish towels with funny sayings and food related puns. 

It wasn’t a store Rhett would go into, nevertheless pay attention to. But Amy wanted to go and it wasn’t like Perry was going to take her. 

There was a decent sized crowd outside the store, listening to the mayor drone on about how great this was going to be for the town, not just for Wabang but also for the surrounding area. Out of all the places to be on the ‘precipice of an economic boom’, Wabang did not come to Rhett’s mind. 

Before he could roll his eyes anymore, the mayor introduced the owner of the shop, you. 

God, you were beautiful with your bright eyes and dazzling smile as you spoke about how welcoming Wabang had been to you and how helpful when it came to making your dream a reality. Rhett was instantly smittened. 

But he couldn’t just go up and talk to you. For one, you were busy cutting a red ribbon with stupidly giant scissors. 

Second, you were luminous, vivid. Everything he wasn't. 

Rhett knew he didn't offer much, if anything. His life was directionless; all he did was work on the ranch and ride bulls when he could (when his right shoulder wasn't acting up). He would just drag you down. So instead, he settled for the chances he could walk past your shop and peek into the window for a glimpse of you. 

It was fucking pathetic. His family would give him so much shit if they found out. And yet, it was the highlight of his day, seeing you arrange a case, talk to customers. Rhett especially loved it when he caught you giving the floral arrangements to clients. The corners of your eyes would crease and the bridge of your nose scrunched up when you revealed your creation. It also allowed him to linger by the store window, to bask in your warmth for a little bit longer. 

“Do you think they're pretty?” Amy asked one day while they were walking down the street. 

Rhett let out a confused hum, turning his attention from your store window to his niece. 

“The owner. You always look in their window when we pass by,” Amy explained with a giggle. 

“It's just an interesting store,” Rhett grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he began walking again. 

“Then you should go inside!” Amy called out as she ran after him. 

If only it was that easy. 

—----------

Several months later Rhett was now standing in front of your door, rather than your window. 

He should go in. He had zero reason to not go in. Rhett actually required your services. So it wasn't as if he was just going to stroll in there with no plan. Or worse, use Amy as a guise (God, he hated when Perry did that). 

It was just….the thought of being in your presence, speaking to you. Having a conversation. Rhett wasn't much of a talker, never had been. Why would he, when hardly anyone was interested in what he had to say? 

And the truth was, he didn't have to go in. He could figure this out on his own. 

But when would his next chance come along? 

It was the unclear answer that gave him the courage to turn the handle and open the door. 

Your shop felt warm and inviting. One wall was filled with shelves, dedicated to displaying various colorful vases. In the middle, a designated ‘flower bar’ where folks could create their own bouquets. Amongst the store were various house plants and knick knacks. 

“Hi! Can I help you?” A sweet voice caused Rhett to turn around, the air exiting his lungs upon seeing you. 

He could only nod, at a complete loss for words. 

You waited for him, to see if he would expand. When he didn’t, you simply smiled and asked, “What can I do for ya?”

With fumbling hands, Rhett got out the photo from his jacket, “Um…I need help identifying these flowers. They’re the wedding flowers she had and I wanna draw the bouquet as like a….like a gift. Figured it would last longer than getting a bouquet but I uh…I need help identifying them. I wanna look them up so I can get the details right.”

This was going horribly. He should have just bought a magnifying glass off of Amazon or find someone who could digitally restore photos. 

“Do you know where they got married?” You asked, extending your hand out for the photo. 

“Yeah, uh, here in Wabang,” Rhett answered, running a hand up and down the back of his neck, hoping his body was just warm and not turning a bright red. 

“Oh, well that makes it much easier!” Rhett gave you the photo and you motioned for him to follow you to the counter. You got out a book that had a beautiful embossed floral design on the cover.

“I’m glad you know where they got married. It makes it much easier to identify. Also, considering WaBang has hadn’t a floral shop until this year and the nearest one was over an hour away, I’m assuming these are flowers native to Wyoming,” you explained, flipping through the pages. 

You looked up through your lashes, “I can tell you what flowers they are and you can look them up. But am I safe to assume that as an artist, you’d rather have your references in person?”

“Oh uh, I’m not…I’m not an artist,” He mumbled, shaking his head as he shoved his hands into his pockets. A nervous habit he couldn’t seem to break. 

“You’re creating art. Last time I checked, that makes you an artist…..” your voice trailed off, waiting to hear a name. 

“Oh! I’m Rhett. Sorry.” How could he forget to introduce himself? “Yeah, having something I could look at and observe up close would be great.” 

“Well Rhett, I’m more than happy to recreate that bouquet for ya. But I don’t have some of these flowers in stock, so it’ll take some time to order them,” you explained, “Probably like a week or so? If I have your number, I can let you know when they arrive.”

Rhett looked up, eyes wide in disbelief, “You want my number?”

Your nose scrunched up as you nodded, “Yes. I would love to have your number Rhett. Would hate for you to come in and I don’t have what you need.”

Rhett would do it. In fact, he even tried to assure you so. 

“Well, I might need another photo just to ensure I’m accurate. How will I let you know?” You countered. Fuck, you had a great point. 

So Rhett fumbled with getting out his phone, hands shaking as he passed it off to you. 

“I’ll give you my number too if that’s alright. Just so you aren’t wondering who’s texting you.” Your giggle was so endearing, Rhett couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but feel his shoulders drop and relax. 

He nodded, a small, slightly lopsided and totally sweet smile, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

You handed Rhett back his phone, “I’ll let you know if I need more info! And when I get them in.”

Rhett nodded, secretly (and seriously) hoping he didn’t look like an idiot with how hard he was smiling. 

“I'll uh, see ya around?” He practically asked. You nodded eagerly, saying your goodbyes as he quickly got out of the store. 

Rhett felt like he could finally breathe again once he was out of your store. That went well, right? He had your number, though it was intended to give updates regarding a gift for his mom. But he also had another chance to see you. Granted, once he was done with this project, he wouldn't have a reason to go into your shop. Maybe for Amy’s birthday, he could get her flowers. 

The vibration of his phone broke Rhett out of his thoughts. It couldn't be….could it? 

His eyes widened when he saw your name attached to the text. He nearly dropped his phone when he read your message. 

I'm glad you finally came in! I've been wanting to meet you ever since the store opened :) 

[tameodesza]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐂

╰┈➤ ❝You're the WWF’s new commentator, and Shawn has a crush on you. ❞

╰┈➤ a/n: this my first time doing x reader, so i'm very rusty! made this longer than intended, but i hope you enjoy the ride. AO3.

╰┈➤ disclaimer: fluff, jealousy, slight angst, a smidge nsfw, brief vince mentions 🙃

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𓏧♡

You came to the WWF in 1994, making history as the first female commentator to join the company. You had a lot to prove in such a male-dominated field, but your hard work and extensive wrestling knowledge earned you the respect of your peers.   ‧₊˚ You rose in popularity due to your looks, personality, and unique style of commentating that kept viewers glued to their TV screens. You were witty, quick on your feet, and a natural on the mic. Vince didn't truly know your worth until the ratings took a dip one week when you were out sick. From then on, he made it a point to have you on commentary for the more important shows and PPV’s.   ‧₊˚ You had just as much buzz with the men backstage. You were stunning, humble, and carried yourself with class. You kept your nails done, hair did, and had an impeccable taste in fashion. You were alluring, but you kept to yourself, not letting many people in. You’d seen so many careers crash and burn in the business due to failed relationships. You refused to be added to that list.  ‧₊˚ Even if you were open to dating, you never found anyone worthy of your time. The guys were either horny bastards looking for something to brag to the boys about, or they were nice guys that you weren’t attracted to. That all changed when you met Shawn.   ‧₊˚ You’d caught his eye your first night on commentary. Throughout his match, he kept looking your way, nearly breaking his neck to catch a glimpse of the new girl. He later watched a tape of his match, something he usually did to see what he could improve on. Except instead of focusing on his performance, he was captivated by you. He listened intently, rewinding the tape just to hear you compliment him again.   ‧₊˚ You two finally crossed paths one night after a show. “Hey, y/n. Thanks for putting me over last week.”   ‧₊˚ You blinked in surprise, it being the first time a wrestler thanked you for doing your job. If anything, you were used to them complaining that you hadn’t put them over enough. You gave a soft smile. “It’s no problem. You put on a good show. Lawler was obviously trying to bury you,” you rolled your eyes. “It wasn't right. I was so close to saying something that would’ve gotten me suspended.”  ‧₊˚ Shawn chuckled, holding your gaze. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. TV wouldn’t be the same without you.” You raised your brows, causing Shawn to stutter, “Uh...for the fans, I mean! They would surely miss you.” Right.  ‧₊˚ You hadn’t seen this side of Shawn – nervous, shy, fumbling over his words. It was a vast contrast to his ‘boy toy’ persona, but it’s what sparked your interest in him. When you were about to leave, he mustered up the courage to ask, “are you doing anything tonight?”   ‧₊˚ The two of you talked all night at a local bar, your cheeks hurting from how much Shawn made you smile. You were obviously attracted to him, but you were more drawn by his personality. He was sweet, attentive, and so damn funny that your stomach ached from laughter.   ‧₊˚ Shawn was just as smitten, if not worse. Admittedly, he’d initially asked you out in hopes of sleeping with you. With a body like yours, it was hard not to imagine what was underneath those clothes. But you were so much more than a one-night stand. You were smart, adorable, and matched his goofball energy. It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𓏧♡

Your friendship became platonic the more time you spent together. When you weren't working, you were either hanging out in Shawn’s locker room, eating together at catering, or sharing car rides between towns.    ‧₊˚ The chemistry between you two was undeniable. You played off each other well – the obnoxious heel getting put in his place by the babyface commentator.  ‧₊˚ It took some time for you to realize Shawn was using his boy toy gimmick as an excuse to flirt with you. He’d lay it on thick, sitting uncomfortably close as he called you cringe-worthy pet names. “You know you want me, baby girl” (think Massimo from 365 days 🤢 iykyk) . You’d remain in character, playing up your disgust for the cameras as you brushed him off with quick-witted remarks.   ‧₊˚ Shawn made it a personal challenge to see how much he could throw you off your game. He’d blow you kisses at ringside, mention you in promos unprompted, babble random things into his headset, twirl your hair, play footsie with you under the table. He'd even hopped on the table once, shedding his jacket to show off his body. You acted annoyed, but he usually got you to crack a smile.  ‧₊˚ Shawn really liked you and wanted something more. But because he sucked at ✨ communication✨, he resorted to more extreme measures. Like the time he stripped extra provocatively in the ring as if it were a mating call. You could only hang your head in shame when he almost flashed his dick.  ‧₊˚ He was sure you’d be his girl after that, but when that didn’t work, he moved on to his next dumb bright idea. He got into a short fling with Sunny. They were all over each other, sometimes flirting right in front of you. Shawn had hoped it’d make you jealous enough to ask him out. But all it did was make you confused. He’d be sweet talking you one minute just for you to catch him making out with Sunny in a broom closet the next. He was sending mixed signals, and it made you wonder if he was playing you. If he wanted her, fine. The last thing you were going to do was chase after a man. ‧₊˚ This game of cat and mouse lasted for some time until Shawn's own jealousy came to surface. He’d seen you getting ‘cozy’ with Bret Hart in catering. In reality, Bret had been leaning over your shoulder, checking out your plate to see if the food would be edible that day. It was innocent, but it looked like flirting from Shawn’s vantage point.  ‧₊˚ Shawn’s match with Bret that night was brutal. He was being extremely difficult, overselling his bumps, and even stiffing Bret a few times. You could tell this wasn’t a work based on Bret’s reactions, but you stayed professional on commentary, emphasizing how competitive athletes were in the WWF.  ‧₊˚ You’d barely made it backstage when a pissed off Bret stormed your way: “Tell your friend the next time he decides to stiff me, he won’t leave the ring alive!” He meant every damn word of it.   ‧₊˚ It wasn't the first time you’d gotten dragged into Shawn's bullshit, and you’d had enough. You headed to Shawn’s locker room, finding him aggressively packing his gym bag. “Hey, what the hell was that out there?” Shawn sneered, “What, you didn’t like me throwing your boyfriend around?” You took a pause. So Shawn was in one of those moods.   ‧₊˚ Had it been any other night, you would have walked away to let him sulk to himself. But your frustrations from being constantly dragged into his backstage drama and your conflicted feelings over him and Sunny had reached a boiling point. The two of you got into a heated argument, each letting out your personal gripes. That’s when Shawn confessed. Well, it was a slip-up:   “Why do you even give a damn about me and Bret?! You and Sunny-”  “I don't want her, I want you!”  ‧₊˚ Shawn poured out his feelings to you, telling you everything he should have said a long time ago. You’re honest, too, opening up that you’ve liked him for some time but wasn't sure what he wanted. He cleared up any confusion right there as you shared your first kiss. 

𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𓏧♡

Shawn flaunts you around loud and proud once you're official. Everyone knows. He doesn’t shut up about it. The word gets out to smart fans who circulate the rumor on the internet. The WWF doesn’t confirm nor deny your relationship status, but it becomes an open secret. Whenever Shawn’s in the ring, fans would wave around signs saying ‘Y/N’s Boy Toy.’ Shawn held that title with pride.   ‧₊˚ You kept kayfabe alive, acting confused anytime someone alluded to you being involved with the insufferable Shawn Michaels. It became a running joke, fans actively participating by chanting your name when Shawn was in the ring. Shawn began color coordinating his outfits to match yours, knowing the fans would eat it up.   ‧₊˚ Now that you’re his girl, Shawn gets bold under the announce table. His hands would caress your thigh, playing it off as him rubbing his own leg. On the days you wore a skirt, he’d find ways to discreetly slip his hand between your legs. Shawn was a kinky man and would sometimes ask you not to wear underwear for easy access. ‧₊˚ On the few occasions you conducted backstage interviews, Shawn would feel you up, rubbing a hand on your ass while you struggled to rush out the question without stuttering. Your only saving grace was that the camera shot you from the chest up. Shawn considered it foreplay, and made quick work of fucking you before you were needed back at ringside. He secretly got off on seeing you walk stiffly in your heels back to the table, your hair hastily restyled and eyeliner slightly smudged after getting your back blown out. ‧₊˚ Shawn’s down bad for you. He wanted to be around you at all times. The kliq often joked, “don’t forget to grab your balls from her purse on the way out”   ‧₊˚ You thought Shawn was sweet before, but he’s tooth-rottingly sweet once you’re together. He waited on you hand and foot, took the time to buy thoughtful gifts, helped you organize your notes for the night, and was there for you when things got tough. You're each other's support system, Shawn often leaning on you when he needed a voice of reason. You’ve talked him out of so many fights, you lost count.  ‧₊˚ Whenever you’re mad at Shawn, he’d find any reason to be on commentary. At least then you’d be forced to talk to him (and you’re too nice to chew his ass out on live tv 🥺 👉👈)  ‧₊˚ When Raw was filmed on Valentine’s Day, Shawn came out in his usual strut, handing you a single rose before making his way inside the ring. There were aww’s and a few jealous boo’s from the ladies in the crowd, but you didn't care. You were on cloud nine, but you still kept kayfabe: “a rose? how original” You hoped your sarcasm hid how gushy you felt inside.   ‧₊˚ You were there for Shawn’s accomplishments. From ladder matches with Razor Ramon to his Iron Man match with Bret, Shawn looked at you for strength before wrestling those history-making matches. You were teary eyed the night Shawn won the WWF title, silently cheering your boyfriend as he achieved his childhood dream. 

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞𓏧♡

As your relationship with Shawn strengthened, your friendship with Bret deteriorated. It was sad, really. You and Bret were once close. He was the first person to welcome you to the company. You were an honorary Hart, a title given to you by Owen. But when the hatred brewing between Bret and Shawn leaked over into your friendship, it was hard to remain neutral, especially when they bad mouthed each other so openly. You could only straddle the fence for so long until you were forced to pick a side.  ‧₊˚ You were there the night of Montreal. You watched Bret’s face drop as the bell rang. Watched him realize he’d been screwed. Watched him tear the place apart. Looked him in the eyes, seeing the betrayal behind them. “You knew, didn’t you,” he accused. “No, Bret. I swear I didn’t!” But he’d already walked off, leaving a path of destruction behind.   ‧₊˚ You felt horrible. Shawn had told you some shit was going to go down, but you had no idea this was what he meant. Bret didn’t believe you. You had to have known. With how close you and Shawn were, there was no way you weren’t in on it, too.  But you didn’t know. Shawn had kept you out of the loop, wanting to keep you as far away from this mess as possible.  ‧₊˚ That night was rough for everyone, especially Shawn. You had so many questions, but it wasn’t the time to ask. You were there for him, holding him throughout the night as he cried from the immense guilt he felt. With you, he could be the most vulnerable. He opened up about how he felt like he didn’t have a choice. How he felt indebted to Vince. How they all thought Bret would take the belt to WCW. You didn't agree with everything he said, but you listened. And that’s all he could ask for. You two became even stronger after that. 

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐬𓏧♡

Things got easier after the noise died down. DX was on top, ratings were through the roof, and your relationship with Shawn was flourishing. But one call from Eric Bischoff threatened to change everything. He wanted you as a commentator on WCW, offering a large sum of money that far surpassed what you were currently being paid.   ‧₊˚ You sat on the information for a few days, not knowing how to bring it up to Shawn. It was a lot to process. You weren't hurting for money by any means, but it had always bothered you that you were paid less than the men. You even made less than the new guy, Michael Cole. You knew your worth, and it seemed like Bischoff did, too.  ‧₊˚ But you couldn't leave. Not now. Not when Shawn was still hurting over the loss of Kevin, Scott, and Sean to WCW. You, Hunter, and Chyna were all he had left. News of you leaving would devastate him.  ‧₊˚ You didn't have to say anything for Shawn to know something was bothering you. He'd been waiting for you to come to him, but decided to ask what was wrong as you made your way to the hotel. You were hesitant to tell him but decided to rip off the band aid. Shawn was pissed, his jaw clenched as he said, “I guess money means more to you than our relationship.” You scrambled to explain that it wasn't the case. That you hadn’t even made a decision yet. "There shouldn’t even be a decision to make!”  ‧₊˚ Things were icy between you two for a couple days. Shawn didn't eat with you in catering. He left arenas early. He slept in Hunter's hotel room. You started having doubts, fearing Shawn was either cheating or about to break up with you.   ‧₊˚ Truth was he needed time to think of a way to fix this. After what he did for Vince, the man owed him a few favors. But you didn’t have time to wait. Bischoff was putting the pressure on you to make a decision. But you didn’t feel comfortable giving an answer without talking to Shawn again.   ‧₊˚ You were unexpectedly called to Vince’s office. “I heard about the offer”. Your eyes widened, but before you could say anything Vince raised a quieting hand. “I’m not mad. I get it. You’re a great commentator. You’d be valuable to any company. But I want to keep you here.”  ‧₊˚ He amended your contract, giving you a salary even larger than Bischoff’s offer. You didn’t need much time to think on it. The WWF had been your home for so many years. You’d made friends. You’d even found love. And with the bump in pay, staying was a no-brainer.   ‧₊˚ You left his office feeling a million pounds lighter. A knowing smile graced your lips as you headed towards Shawn’s locker room. “Any idea why Vince just gave me a pay raise out of nowhere?”  ‧₊˚ Shawn may have let it slip that you were leaving for WCW and threatened to leave too if you weren’t offered more money 🥺 👉👈 ‧₊˚ You didn't know whether to be mad at him for telling your business to Vince or impressed that he’d gotten you a better deal. The fact that he fought for you this hard, even foolishly putting his career on the line, made you want to spend the rest of your life with him. 

𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐬𓏧♡

You went on hiatus when Shawn injured his back. You were with him every single day from the time of surgery to his bedrest in Texas. You unofficially moved in, going above and beyond to make sure Shawn was taken care of. The months Shawn spent with you made him realize he needed to put a ring on it.  ‧₊˚ Hunter's the best man at your wedding (shocker).  ‧₊˚ You and Bret get your friendship back after his reconciliation with Shawn.  ‧₊˚ You retired from announcing the same year Shawn retired from wrestling. Years later, you were inducted into the hall of fame. Shawn gave the sweetest induction speech, going into how you two met, how you fell in love, how he’s your biggest fan. Everyone’s crying by the end of it.  

[nyoomerr]

A drabble about Bingge realizing his children’s beloved Head Imperial Tutor has the same soul as the ‘nice Shizun’ from that other world he once visited could be fun.

“Local man must compete with his own children for the attention of their very cute teacher!”

ahhh i love scenarios like this!! pitting bingge against his own kids is always so fun lol, hope you enjoy!

---

When Luo Binghe manages to find him, he isn’t even looking properly. He’s still spending his free time trying to find a way back into that weird mirror dimension, not scouring his world for anyone. After all, why would he look here? He already knows exactly where the Shen Qingqiu of his own world is; every bloody, rotten part of that body and soul is accounted for. Luo Binghe wants the other Shen Qingqiu, the one he’d gotten only a taste of, the one that had been so unfairly given to his doppelganger.

Perhaps, Luo Binghe thinks, watching through the doorway into the classroom his younger children use for self-study, he should have bothered to spend a bit more time looking at home before trying to force himself back into the mirror world.

“Ah, what are these tears?” One of the tutors is asking, tutting as if in disapproval even as he so gently wipes the face of one of Luo Binghe’s children. “You’re getting much better with your arithmetic, there’s no need to cry over a mistake now.”

The child hiccups, her little hands coming up to pull on the tutor’s robes, clearly trying to worm her way into his lap so she can wipe her face on his shoulder instead of on the perfectly fine handkerchief the tutor is trying to use.

Luo Binghe doesn’t even know which daughter of his that is. He doesn’t know who this tutor is, either, and yet -

The tutor raises his free hand up to pat soothingly at the child’s hair. He doesn’t try to unhook her hands from his robes, or stop her from shoving herself persistently closer to his person; he only pets her hair and wipes her face and tuts at her.

And yet somehow, Luo Binghe thinks, I’m sure that’s him.

It doesn’t make a great deal of sense to find this soul in a body unrelated to Shen Qingqiu, but at the same time it makes a whole world of sense to think of this kind teacher as someone entirely different from the cruel master Luo Binghe had grown up under.

Luo Binghe steps into the room properly, releasing the hold he’d been keeping on his qi to keep it held close to his body. The tutor looks up at the doorway, and frustratingly, the look of indulgence he’d been wearing just moments ago closes up. He stands and bows in unison with the other tutors in the room, and Luo Binghe flicks his hand dismissively so they know to ignore him and return to his duties.

The tutor - the kind Shizun’s soul - stands from his bow but does not immediately return to helping the girl he’d been working with. He only watches Luo Binghe a bit warily, clearly aware of Luo Binghe’s rapt attention on him, and continues to absently pat the hair of Luo Binghe’s daughter. The girl herself doesn’t seem to mind, as she’s managed to get close enough to the tutor to shove her face in his stomach and nuzzle in there, perfectly content and no longer crying. 

Well, no matter; if this man is already aware of Luo Binghe’s attention, no need to hide it further. Luo Binghe approaches without hesitation. 

“And what tutor has brought this Lord’s child to tears?” Luo Binghe asks after having reached the table that this tutor and child had been working at. He knows perfectly well that this man was not the cause of his daughter’s tears; he wants to know how he’ll respond anyway.

“This lowly one is Shen Yuan, my Lord,” Shen Yuan dutifully replies, and though he bows deeply he does not raise his hands from Luo Binghe’s daughter. “My most sincere apologies; I will accept punishment.”

Luo Binghe hums, satisfied. Good, he thinks, he’s already loyal to me. Very good.

Before he can say anything else, though, the girl buried in Shen Yuan’s robes shouts, “No!”

When Shen Yuan stands again, Luo Binghe can see his daughter peeking out, her face half turned away from Shen Yuan to glare up at Luo Binghe. 

“No?” Luo Binghe asks.

“No!” She shouts again. Her demonic huadian flares, and Luo Binghe raises his brows - this girl really dares issue such a threat to her father, knowing who her father is?

Shen Yuan, seeming to catch the very same thing, quickly moves the hand that had been in her hair to cover up her demonic huadian. This does not stop the girl herself from talking.

“If you try to punish Shen-ge, I’ll stab you!”

“Ah, wait -” Shen Yuan protests, pressing the girl further into him as if that will hide her away. He glances nervously at Luo Binghe, expression a bit pinched, and then -

“Who’s threatening Shen-ge?!” Comes a cry from across the room.

“Someone’s threatening Shen-ge?!”

“Lord Luo is threatening Shen-ge!!”

Suddenly, it seems like half the children in the room are gathered up in Shen Yuan’s robes, clinging to him and glaring at Luo Binghe as Shen Yuan frantically tries to soothe them with head pats and hushed whispers of Ah, don’t yell at him, anyone else is okay, but don’t yell at him!

Luo Binghe watches, amused and irritated and hungry all at once. Clearly, this Shen Yuan is already a treasure of his palace, and he hadn’t even known it - his own children have found this man before he himself did. 

Well, Luo Binghe thinks, watching Shen Yuan fluster more and more the longer Luo Binghe stays quietly watching the commotion, they may have him first, but I will be sure to have him last.

[tojislovergirl]

your and the jjk men’s song

toji fushiguro - the only exception by paramore

after his wife died, toji lost his mind. he swore off love for the rest of his life. sex was only a way to get money and shelter. those randoms didn’t mean anything to him. but then, he met you. you showed him love and compassion despite all of his many flaws. you gave him a warmth he swore he would never feel again. you truly were his only exception.

kento nanami - work song by hozier

kento found life annoying. nothing brought him true joy, so he worked his life away. he was making a lot of money, but there always felt like something was missing. when he went to get his morning pastry at a local bakery, he never thought he would find his meaning standing in front of him, but there you were. you had offered to pay for his pastry, but being the gentleman he is, he declined and paid for your food instead. from there on, he poured his soul into you. you were his world…his meaning in this life. you were the one thing that brought him true happiness.

shiu kong - i’ve got you under my skin by frank sinatra

shiu was never one to be interested in love. he didn’t see the point especially in his line of work. it was only a matter of time until something bad happened to him. that all changed when you waltzed into his life. when he laid his eyes on you, a switch flipped in his brain. he couldn’t help but fall for you hard. he tried to tell himself not to get too involved with you, but it was no use. something about you left him intrigued and completely enamored. he couldn’t help but gravitate towards you.

suguru geto - follow you by bring me the horizon

suguru left everything and everyone behind when he defected from jujutsu society. he was so sure that he only needed himself and his goals to survive. he would never admit it that he was living an extremely lonely life. he secretly longed for a connection but knew no one would love him as long as he was going down the path he chose. despite his beliefs, you chose to follow him. your love wasn’t easy, but it made your relationship stronger. you both knew you had each other as long as the other was alive.

satoru gojo - so high school by taylor swift

satoru has had an extremely traumatic and hard life. while he could have everything he could ever desire, jujutsu society weighed heavily on him. only the best was expected of him. his childhood was stripped from him, so he could become the perfect weapon. he never got experience teenage love, and as silly as it sounds, that bothered him a lot. but when you walked into his life, he got to experience that innocent, care-free love. whenever he had time, he would take you on silly little dates. you would bring him little gifts just to brighten his day. everything about the love you had for each other was the definition of puppy love. however, this puppy love never faded. even after years of dating, you both were still so in love and equally as corny in the best way possible.

choso kamo - is it really you? by loathe

being half curse, choso doubted himself a lot. he was so sure that he would only ever be seen as a curse. he didn’t go out of his way to pursue anything romantic for fear of being hurt or rejected. this self doubt only worsened when you two started dating. he wanted this to work out so badly, so he questioned everything he did. all he wanted was to be enough for you. as your relationship got more serious, you unknowingly cured all of his self doubt. he no longer questioned if you two were really meant to be because you were the first and only person to see him as the human he is.

a/n: i might make this a series of different songs describing different scenarios with jjk men! also no one can tell me shiu isn’t the type of man who would slow dance with you in the kitchen to frank sinatra :P

[16wolke11]

Pierre doesn't know - Charles Leclerc

A/N This is just a shot filled with moments, all of them are smut related, but not as detailled as usually. Not sure if I like the outcome or not. 

Requests are open!

WORDS: 1375

WARNINGS: NSFW (Quickies/blowjob/doggy/semi-public sex/unprotected sex)

Inspiration: Scotty doesn't know - Lustra

_____

Pierre doesn't know that Charles and I do it in his driver's room before every race. Hooking up to ease the tension before the race, knowing that Ferrari will give him a headache during it anyway. I don't even remember how it started, but it became a routine, and we got better at sneaking around. In the beginning, we almost got caught once, but since then, we stepped up our game. Beginning with Charles' subtle asking for soundproofing his room, so that he can, quote "Relax and be in his best state in that noisy environment". After that, we didn't care anymore and could be as loud as we wanted.

Another Sunday and again I managed to slip into Charles ' driver's room again. He is seated on his physio bench, eyes closed like he is taking a nap, but his eyes immediately open when he hears the door closing behind me.

"How long do we have?" I ask him, already shuffling out of my panties and bunching up my dress while Charles comes onto his feet. He is already dressed in his racing suit, it being tied around his hips, but he shoves it down enough to free his length.

"Something between five and ten minutes?" Charles tells me and pats his hand on the physio bench for me to hop on it. "Told them they should knock and give me a two-minute warning." He takes out the lube from his backpack to save time, squirts some of it on his fingers, before shoving them between my thighs. I don't hold back the moan, stopped doing it after we tested how loud we could be inside here without being heard by blasting loud music.

Not one minute later, Charles is pounding into me, my legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him deeper while we chase the lust. Not focused on building it as high as possible, but just releasing as much of it before the race as we can.

I always tell Pierre that I am in church, either visiting one at the local track or joining one that is broadcast on television. Being a religious girl always gets him to believe me. Having the image of me praying on my knees in his mind, but contrary to his beliefs, I am not in church. Still on my knees, but Pierre doesn't know that.

When we have more time before a race we take our time, tickle more than one orgasm out of each other, Charles usually making me suck him off. And depending on how much Ferrari fucked up during qualifying he just uses my mouth for his please.

"I want to see those pretty lips wrapped around me." Charles whispers, thumb dragging over my lower lip, letting me wrap my lips around it, just for a second, before pulling it back with a pop. Seated between Charles' knees, I lean down to take him into my mouth, ready to make him forget his struggles of the season.

By now, I no longer have to figure out what Charles likes, simply following what I learned over the months. Either swirling my tongue around the tip of his length or shoving his shaft down my throat. Charles' fingers always tangled in my hair, sometimes just guiding me along, but other times using it to move me to his liking until he comes into my mouth.

Pierre trusts Charles with me, even though his best friend is right behind me, thrusting into me. We even meet up when there isn't a race weekend, by now. Liking to fuck with each other, no hard feelings, just chasing orgasms and lust. Right now, I am being bent over the kitchen counter and Charles thrusts into me from behind. When my phone rings, I flinch, but Charles just keeps going. Pierre's name is written on the display and just when I want to grab it and mute my phone, Charles presses the green button and holds my phone to my ear.

I talk with Pierre, trying not to moan in that three-way call Pierre isn't aware of. Charles slowing down in the beginning of the call, making it easier for me to act like nothing is happening, but when my voice gets too relaxed Charles either picks up the rhythm, almost making me hiss with my hips being slammed against the counter or he shoves his fingers between my thighs to roll my clit between his fingertips. This almost made me scream out his name, but I managed to bite down hard on my lip to stop it, drawing a bit of blood, but luckily, Pierre ended the call soon after.

We grew bolder over time, no longer restriction us to his driver's room, the hotel or the apartment of one of his.

In the parking lot, why not?

"What if someone sees us?" I whisper to Charles while we make out in the backseat of his car. It might be dark outside, but the fogged-up windows would still give away what we are doing inside. And I am sure the journalist would love the spice of writing about Charles having sex in his car.

He whispers some soft reassuring while undressing me and I let him. Naked on the backseat, eyes looking at Charles, who is seated with his head between my thighs. Licking and nibbling the doubts out of my mind, making me gasp and moan with every moment of his tongue.

"Car sex looks so much easier in the movies." Charles groans, trying to find a position to properly bury himself between my thighs. Knocking his head on the ceiling in the process, making me laugh, before we find a position that works.

Even after a shitty race he just calls me over. Knowing he has places to be, but he can't face the media with the mixture of exhaustion and anger at the team. So, we sneak around, knowing we barely have the time for it, but still fucking. Usually, I ride him, knowing his body is too exhausted from the race, but I enjoy being on top of him.

"I could watch you ride me all day." Charles sighs, fingers digging into my hips, letting me roll them into his with slow movements. I hold onto his chest, his skin hot from the race and while I know this has to be quick, I just like to drag this moment as long as possible. Feel him twitch inside of me before I clench around him and get filled with his cum.

During one of the winter vacations, we even did it outside in the snow. Telling everybody we want to go for one last round down the hill, but instead, Charles buried himself deep inside of me.

"Charles, it is cold outside." I try to stop him, but his fingers already managed to sneak under the endless layers of clothes, sending a shiver down my spine where his cold skin touches mine.

"Adds to the thrill and we can't exactly do it inside." Charles mumbles, and he is right, in the house, it would grow suspicious, and it isn't exactly soundproof. Then he shoves his fingers between my thighs and all my protests crumble down. We used some of the snow as an extra thrill and it might have inspired us to use ice cubes in the bedroom one or two times afterwards.

At one point, we got so desperate for each other that we didn't care about our timing anymore. For Pierre's birthday, we were supposed to pick something up, but it got delayed and so we decided it wouldn't hurt anyone if we were even more late.

"We are already late...do you want to be later?" Charles suggests and without thinking much about it I pull him into a kiss. Teeth almost clashing, but Charles looks too good to resist. Shirt slightly unbuttoned for the party, even though this look isn't warm enough. Looks like I need to heat him up. We fuck in one of the bathrooms, knowing it is risky, but it is what we need.

What we are doing is so bad, but Pierre doesn't know and even though he might, no word will slip over my lips. 

[dcxdpdabbles]

Is there going to be more halfa Cass?

Danny tugged an island behind him, this one with various fruits that he used to eat in his childhood, dragging the large piece of land with a visible control over its gravity. It took him years to figure out how to turn his ectoplasma into something that could control the cosmos.

They were not quite the same - the strawberries were indigo, the blueberries were bright pink, and there were some glowing blackberries that he definitely needed to test. Still, many people would be happy to see something so familiar.

And for some, the kids born after the shift, it would be a first time. They had ice cream, but their resources were lacking many sweet things now, and Danny often found himself missing simple things like eating freshly picked berries from Mrs. Sandigo's garden.

She was a sweet old woman who allowed all the neighborhood kids to eat from her garden. Fruit or vegetables. She used to grow them for fun and saw it as a way to connect with the community.

She died in the third year of them being trapped. Lack of her heart medication.

Ever since his town was taken seven years ago, Danny had been desperate to find a way to take them all back. But forces he could not name, let alone defeat, were stopping humans from crossing over.

The only exceptions were Danny and Dani- Dan had escaped Clockwork and attempted to take over the town again, but Danny was having none of that, especially back then. They didn't even have a food source! So they tied Dan to the Keep, forcing him to be a guardian forever.

It was a bit tough at first, but Dan eventually calmed down enough to live peacefully with humans again. (Turns out the ghost regained his sanity when his mother yelled at him.)

Danny still felt horrible to watch his people nearly starve to death, and would go out into the human world to bring back as much food as possible from the local stores. He attempted to leave Amity Park's borders to request relief efforts, only to discover that he could no longer leave the town.

Amity Park's people were trapped in the Ghost Zone, and Danny was trapped in Amity Park. He could fly wherever he wanted in the Zone, but in the living world, he could only travel over the ruins of his once home.

Unlike before, Danny realized he had a time limit on how long he could be in the Living world, too. Since there were no humans to provide living energy in that town, there was nothing to help stabilize his core and allow his ectoplasm to solofied. Shifting into a human while in the Living World only resulted in Danny being zapped right back to the Ghost Zone, as all the human residents were trapped, including Danny Fenton.

Danny Phantom was the only one allowed to cross over.

He consulted multiple allies in the Ghost Zone- Clockwork, Frostbite, Pandora- but all told him the same. King Pariah had taken the humans, and only he could release them. As far as the Ghost Zone was concerned, they had been claimed as spoils of war, even though Danny won in the end, King Pariah wasn't defeated or killed.

He was merely put to sleep. Until Danny was strong enough to defeat him properly, none of the King's war spoils could be transferred to Danny, and thus he could not free them.

But it wasn't like Danny could beat King Pariah. If he attempted to release the madman, who's to say his luck would help him again? Even Clockwork admitted that he never once stood a chance against King Pariah Dark, and in nearly every timeline he peeked into, Danny always lost to Pariah.

Clockwork could not answer when, or if, the residents of Amity Park would ever be able to see the Living World again. It was the Zone twisting around them, clouding their futures in a way that not even time could tell what would happen.

Danny felt sick to know it was because they were no longer considered people. They were spoils. Property. As crucial to fate as King Pairah's office rug.

That's why Danny did what he did. He bent cosmos, he tugged islands together, he fought off invaders, he provided resources and hope so that one day he could let his people go home.

Danny welcomed other ghosts, but there had been times when those ghosts thought of the humans as property, too, and had to be escorted off his lands. Humans were seen as lesser in this world - a source of food at best - and his parents' attitude towards ghosts had shifted once they realized they spoke about the residents of the Ghost Zone in the same way.

Around the four-year mark, fractions began to appear among the Amity Park residents. The first were the ones who believed they would go home- they fought to live as closely as they did back on Earth, including using the same currency.

The second fraction was the ones who accepted they were never going home. They operated more on trade, shifting skills and manual labor, struggling to get everyone to adapt to the new laws and rules of Phantom's Keep.

The third were the ones who treated Danny's family like a monarchy. At first, the people fought against their control of the town, but it soon got out that Danny Fenton was Danny Phantom and that he literally ruled over the park island. He willed a castle into existence and houses for everyone. He could build and construct, and soon, with everything Danny tried to provide, he was given a more ruler-like role.

Not to mention the rest of the Fentons, that let their intelligence shine, putting society back in order and providing solutions for problems. They were the main reason everything didn't fall apart, and that the humans didn't tear each other apart to survive.

Eventually, Phantom was spoken to with the same respect as King, and they decided to let him determine what happened to them. Here or the Living world. Danny wasn't sure he was the right person to make that call.

The people need a hero. It's not fair, but it has to be you. We won't survive this if we lose what a hero gives us. We need hope. Jazz had told him at Mrs. Sandigo's funeral. The factions were fighting over how to properly set her to rest. Fraction 1 wanted to bury her in the park with a proper grave.

Still, Fraction 2 claimed that it would risk them turning the minimal living space into a worthless cemetery, and they couldn't risk the corpse affecting the land they were attempting to grow food on. Fraction 3 shouted that Phantom made the choice

He had her burned, and her ashes were put in a glass Urn under a statue of Freedom in the town's center, so no one forgot her in the Zone when they left. Over the seven years, more urns were lined up around her. It was a hauntingly beautiful sight when the few beams of light hit them, making the whole thing glow with multiple colors.

The Fractions were all comfortable with the solution. Still, Danny counted the urns day after day, unsatisfied, knowing his failure in defeating Pariah Dark had them dying away from their proper resting place.

"Dano!" His Dad called, flying alongside him inside a Fenton Hunting Jet once Danny had entered the very edge of his property. He had expanded the area that fell under Phantom's Keep fifty miles away from where humans lived.

It was an attempt to give them more space before he pulled the islands. The only ones it worked for, however, were the Fentons, as members of his bloodline.

"Hi Dad!" He cheers, waving a hand that wasn't wrapped around the ectopasm rope. "Look, I found fruit! Do you think you and Mom can test it for safe consumption?"

"Of course! I can test it alongside this." Jack responds with a grin, throwing his thumb to the back of the ship. Danny leans into the window to glance back, blinking at the hulking, dead boar ghost that his father had hunted.

If the meat was safe, they would eat well for at least a week or two. All of them. That thing was huge, bigger than the front draw bridge of their castle.

How did his Father beat it?!

"Wow! Great job, Dad!" He praises watching his father puff out his chest in pride. The image is ruined by the apparent exhaustion on his father's face, the years catching up to him. Although he has recently gained muscle, his frame still shook.

Jack always waited for his family to eat first back in those early days, when food was never a guarantee. He was much smaller than Danny ever remembered him being.

Danny was twenty-one now, and he was slowly watching his father lose the Superman strength he once wielded so easily as he wasted away, trapped in the Ghost Zone. A tickle of panic wrapped around his heart as the thought settled in the back of his head.

"Thank you, Danny." Jack laughs, his breath coming in short bursts as if he were running out, and Danny's heart leaped a little in fear before his dad managed to get it under control. "We best get back and make sure we can have a feast tonight."

"Is it a special occasion?"

"Yes. Your sister sent a message. Get this- Dan's brought a girl home! If things go well, I might have an in-law soon! Oh, can you imagine the wedding?"

Danny's smile becomes strained. If his brother is settling down here, then he will join the rest that have given up hope, and that's a bitter pill to swallow. He doesn't say it, though. Instead, he tugs more on the island with a fake laugh, "Then we best get back!"

He ignored the ache in his core as the Island slowly groaned, moving across his property line and towards the other linked-up islands. A series of ice-hot pain shot through his body, making him flatter a little, but thankfully, his father didn't notice, as he turned the jet towards the castle.

Danny was going to get everyone home. Even if it killed him.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Residual Effects

Spencer Reid x fem!reader x platonic!James Wilson

wc: 5.8k

note: I came up with this as a second part to Differential Diagnosis, but you can read it as a standalone if you prefer. I hope you like it; I tried to humanize both men as much as possible. In other words, they make mistakes and are foolish, but they're still good guys.

Solving cases almost always left the team with an emotional burden that was difficult to recover from. That's why most took the opportunity to return home, rest, or relax as much as possible before being called upon again. However, this situation had turned out quite well: just a few victims and an unsub who wasn't truly dangerous—just a confused, somewhat unstable man, but not exactly deadly. Plus, it was local, which meant no wasted hours on the jet or the annoying process of packing and unpacking.

That meant good humor. And good humor always manifested itself in the desire to go for a few drinks.

“I’ve got them”

“You spoil us too much, Rossi,” Penelope commented with a cheerful laugh. No one, not even her, balked at the suggestion. Although, in reality, you hadn't decided where to go either.

You and Reid had been left behind, walking out of the building more slowly. He had that slightly hunched posture, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense. You too, hands in the pockets of your leather jacket, trying to ignore the slight tingling of tiredness in your back.

“Will you go?”

“Maybe. I'm kind of tired. I'd just go get a soda or something. Are you going?”

“Yeah... I mean, if you go,” he said, and finally looked at you, half smiling, “Then I’ll go.”

Ever since that case in New Jersey, almost a month ago, Spencer had been behaving differently toward you. Not weird or hostile, but definitely not the same. Sometimes he was quieter, shyer, as if he didn't know where to put his hands when talking to you. Other times, he looked for any excuse to be close, to comment on something, to stay a little longer. Just like now. As if being by your side was his priority, even if it meant fighting his social awkwardness.

You were about to say something, maybe a joke about how everyone needed to relax a little, when your phone started ringing. You had to fumble your hands out of your pockets and search for your phone, which seemed to be caught between the fabric and the lining.

Even though you moved quickly, it wasn't fast enough. Spencer managed to read the name that appeared on the screen. His expression changed almost imperceptibly: his jaw slightly tense, his eyebrows a little lower.

"Hello?"

“Is this a bad time to call?” a warm, familiar voice asked.

Hearing it, a smile spread across your face, almost reflexively.

“No! I'm just getting off work. We finished a case, and I was about to go out with my colleagues for a drink. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Just... I’m around.”

That simple phrase brought you to a complete stop. So did Spencer. You turned slightly to stand back from the group and hear him better.

“What? What do you mean you’re around? In Quantico?”

“DC, actually. There was an oncology conference today at the convention center. As the head of department, I had to attend. It wasn't anything spectacular, but I'll stay until tomorrow. And… I don't know, I was thinking about you.”

His voice sounded honest, a little unsure.

“I thought if you had time, we could have dinner. I know a really nice Italian restaurant a few blocks from where I'm staying. But if you already have plans, I don't want to interrupt anything.”

Your heart beat a little faster, though you weren't sure why. Maybe because of the surprise, or because of the way he said it. It wasn't just an invitation. He'd been thinking about you.

“You’re not interrupting. Seriously. We were just going somewhere. Nothing planned. If you’re here... I’d love to have dinner with you.”

In the background, you heard Emily playfully call your name. It was clear there were several curious ears.

"I'm at the Hilton, right across from the convention center. Do you want to meet me at the restaurant? Call a taxi, I'll pay for it."

“Oh, no need, I brought my car today. Is 40 minutes okay for you?”

“Perfect. I’ll take a shower and wait for you there.”

"That sounds great to me"

“I’m glad you said yes,” he added, more quietly. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.”

There was no way to hide your smile anymore, and you didn't try either.

“See you in a bit”

“I’ll be waiting for you. Drive carefully.”

You murmured a goodbye and then hung up. Emily and Morgan, like vultures circling emotional drama, immediately approached.

“And that happy face?”

“A friend invited me to dinner,” you replied without thinking much.

“A friend?” Morgan repeated, raising his eyebrows. “One who makes you smile like that on the phone?”

“He’s just a friend,” you insisted, even though you knew it wouldn’t convince them.

“It’s a he!”

By this point, the rest of the team was speaking more quietly to catch some of the conversation.

“What do you call this ‘just a friend’?” Emily asked with a mischievous smile.

“James Wilson”

Morgan burst out laughing.

“Is he handsome? Smart? Tall?”

“He’s a doctor. We met a few years ago.”

“He better be a cardiologist… because someone here is going to need help,” Emily joked.

While they laughed, Spencer remained silent. He didn't look at anyone, just at the floor.

“Aren’t you coming then?” he asked suddenly, without looking at you.

“I’m sorry, Spencer. I said yes.”

His posture made you feel like you owed him an explanation. He nodded once, briefly, almost as if he had trouble keeping his teeth from clenching.

“Okay. Have fun.”

“Is something wrong?” you asked softly.

“No. I just... thought we'd all go together. But it's okay.”

Emily and Morgan exchanged a look. Morgan, as always, was the first to break the awkward silence.

"Boy, if you want, we can invite the doctor too. Maybe you'll even become friends, you know, nerd to nerd."

“Very funny,” Reid muttered, walking toward the street without waiting for the others to follow.

This kind of behavior was unusual for him, and it made you wonder what was causing it. Your friends thought of a probable cause, but they didn't want to mention it. It was better for romantic matters to be resolved between those directly involved and not through mediation like theirs.

The other curious people had already realized that you wouldn't be accompanying them, because as soon as you got a little closer, they all crowded around you.

“I would love to go with you, but…”

“Say no more. We understand.”

“Should we expect a ring soon?”

“Come on, Garcia,” you laughed at how reckless the comment seemed compared to JJ’s. “He’s just a friend I haven’t seen in years. There’s no mystery to solve.”

You said goodbye to everyone with a hug, except for Spencer, who offered you only a wave. Distant and simple. But that's how he was when it came to contact, so you respected him and tried to take it in the best possible way.

“Have fun, drink responsibly, and don’t do anything you might regret tomorrow.”

“Or in nine months”

Emily winked at you, and the rest of them burst out laughing. Sometimes—most of the time—they were a total nightmare.

At the chorus of jeers, you just shook your head and started walking in the opposite direction. A smile still floated on your lips, but also that stabbing feeling in your chest that you couldn't understand where it was coming from. You're supposed to be excited about the invitation, right?

The drive was surprisingly short, and by the time you parked, you were a nervous wreck. You tried to fix your makeup as much as possible and were thankful there were no chases or anything that would make you sweat until you were smelly. Your hair didn't look too bad either, and you'd picked a nice outfit, thank God.

Then you looked at the bright sign on the building: RPM Italian. Wilson had texted you the address, and honestly, the place hadn’t disappointed at all.

It wasn't hard to find him once you were inside, after all he was the only man sitting, alone, at a table for two.

And it was impossible not to notice.

He wore a light blue shirt, impeccably buttoned to the neck, and a dark-striped tie that gave him a classic, almost collegiate look. The black jacket accentuated his straight shoulders, and the contrast with the restaurant's warm lighting brought out the softness of his skin and the subtle shine of his brown hair, combed to one side but with a few unruly strands falling over his forehead.

He had that kind of presence that made everything around him seem more contained, more intimate. Effortlessly elegant.

And just as you saw him, he saw you too. He looked up as if he'd been waiting for you all along. His smile—quiet, gentle, all his own—littered his face as soon as he recognized you. And that smile—the one you tried to hide—inevitably appeared on yours too.

"Hello"

“Hi,” you replied, moving closer as his gaze scanned your face with an expression as serene as it was genuine.

His cologne filled your nostrils: sophisticated, with notes of wood and something citrusy you couldn't quite identify, but it made you close your eyes for a second. It was a clean, masculine scent, as if his mere presence gave you a feeling of calm. As if it were his natural scent and not that of a fragrance perfectly chosen for him.

He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

“You look beautiful,” he said naturally, as if it were a fact, not a compliment.

Then, with a subtle gesture, he pulled your chair out for you.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. Even without traffic, the streets are a mess."

“Okay, my invitation was too hasty. I didn't even know if you were busy.”

“Today was a good day, cases don’t always turn out so well,” you began, watching him sit down in front of you.

He asked you to go deeper into the day's events, and you happily shared them with him. A bottle of wine was perfect for accompanying the conversation and, in the process, lifting both of your spirits.

Wilson told you about the conference, how everything had gone, the activities, the hustle and bustle of the day, and a little bit about what had been happening in his life over the past month. The past few years, actually, since the conversation you'd had while in New Jersey lasted only a minute. Although it was logical, after all, you couldn't gossip with him in the middle of such a delicate situation.

Now the night was yours.

“It’s so weird seeing you after so many years, you know?”

You frowned at his confession, not quite sure how to interpret it, and at the same time you smiled at him.

“Is it something bad or…?”

“No! Of course not. I mean, I didn’t think I’d see you again. I figured you’d be like most of the interns we have at the hospital, but when I saw you in House’s office that day, it was like… I don’t know, like I’d gone back in time or something.”

“It was a good time, wasn’t it? My twenties crisis seems like a breeze next to what it's like around thirty,” you murmured, making him laugh. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

"Really?"

“Yes. And I mean that as a compliment, for the record. I mean, you always seemed so… so human. Kind-hearted, gentle, funny. I always wondered what made you House’s friend.”

“He’s not that bad,” he defended him. “He just needs a little help sometimes. And patience most of the time. Deep down, he’s a good man, he tries hard to save patients.”

“I see you and I feel that every time you find a mess you think 'I can fix it,' and I honestly don't know if it's an act of selfless love for the world or some kind of self-imposed moral burden.”

“Are you saying I should stop being friends with House?”

“I’m saying you’re a complex personality. Very bright, polite, and kind, but at the same time, it’s as if something compels you to collect outcasts from around the world to try to rehabilitate them or something,” you smiled. “Forgive me if I took the liberty of assuming things about you. It’s part of… well, you know, my job.”

Wilson didn't seem offended. It was more like he was impressed by what you were telling him, perhaps too close to the truth.

“I can't imagine how complicated it is. The human mind is so… unpredictable. I rely on medical evidence, on tests, on the effectiveness of medications. But trying to understand the twists and turns of humanity—that's a challenge.”

“Sometimes it's enough to look a little deeper. You think you know something, but in reality you're looking at it from the wrong perspective or you're not seeing it objectively. It all depends on the person you are, who they are, their life story, their modus operandi. You have to look at things from the outside. It's like... when you eat something that seemed like the greatest delicacy in your childhood, but, as an adult, you realize it wasn't as good as your memories had led you to believe. Maybe I'm digressing, but…”

“No, I understand perfectly,” he finished. He looked at you with a certain admiration, though with those bright, tender brown eyes, it was hard to tell if it was genuine or just a natural reflex.

You were about to say something more about it when a hand placed on your shoulder made you jump. You doubted it was a waiter touching you so familiarly, and when you turned around, you found yourself staring into the face of your elegant Italian colleague.

“Rossi?”

“I just wanted to stop by and say hi. I want you to know we're not spying on you or anything.”

“What?” you squealed. He was speaking plural, what was it…? “No way.”

Your answer appeared a couple of tables over. They were all sitting at one of the tables, the whole team, laughing amongst themselves. Almost as if he felt your gaze, Spencer turned in your direction until he met your eyes; a second later, he focused on Wilson.

“It turns out we suddenly had a collective craving for Italian food, and since this is the best restaurant I know…” he shrugged, smiling, “What can I say? It’s just the coincidences of life.”

James watched with some interest and a touch of entertainment, as if he was enjoying the scene he was witnessing.

“Wilson, this is my… he’s my coworker, his name is David Rossi. Dave, this is Dr. James Wilson, one of the best oncologists in the country.”

“Just James,” he murmured, standing up to shake his hand. You could feel the BAU’s eyes on you. “It’s a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all mine. How lovely to see our darling so happy.”

You were going to make sure you killed him one of these days. Or if not, at least make him suffer. Your mind immediately went to how much fun the others must be having seeing you blush, and suddenly, you thought you wanted to kill them too. Spencer was the only one who watched everything impassively, as if he didn't want to be there. But he never went places he didn't want to be, so what was happening to everyone?

“Well, I appreciate you coming, but I think it's best if you advise our friends on the dishes. After all, you come here often, don't you?”

“You’re right,” he smiled. “We’ll be there if you need anything.”

You practically shoved Rossi out of your way and tried desperately to ignore how tense the atmosphere had become, at least from your perspective. Wilson wasn't uncomfortable at all; he was even smiling slightly.

“So those are your colleagues?”

"I swear I didn't tell them where I was. They must have heard it on the call or…"

“Does it bother you?” he interrupted. When you looked at him, confused, he continued, “That they’re here, I mean. That they see you with me.”

“No! My God, of course not. What I'm trying to say is, I hope you're not uncomfortable with them being here or anything. They're a bunch of gossip and… I'm sorry.”

“Do they know you like me?”

While that was true, it didn't stop you from freezing completely. You never expected him to express it so shamelessly, so directly and casually. A nervous laugh soon emerged, almost touching disbelief.

"Sorry?"

“Oh, it’s just… I don’t know, I thought you told them about the little conversation when you went to the hospital. Or your friend, anyway.”

“For starters, Reid isn't a big mouth. Second, that's none of their business. And third, you just said I like you, and in any case, the correct tense would be past tense: I liked you. A mild crush that all college girls eventually have, nothing more.”

A chuckle escaped his lips and you dared to look at him.

“Does this amuse you?”

“I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just… I don’t know, I thought it was really cute when I found out. I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of House, but I kept wondering how accurate his conclusions were.”

“House is reckless and an idiot”

“But most of the time he’s right,” he smiled, watching you closely. “Don’t feel bad.”

“I don't. That's in the past, Wilson. Besides, you are older than me.”

“Yes, but…”

“And you're married”

Suddenly, it was his turn to pale. He hadn't even mentioned his current wife, and the way his hand unconsciously went to his ring finger, searching for the non-existent jewel, gave you the confirmation you needed.

And yet, you felt like you'd just hit back. He didn't know for sure if you had ever been—or were ever—attracted to him, and you weren't sure a wife even existed. You were playing the same game, even though he didn't think you knew the rules.

Poor, naive Wilson.

“How… how did you know?”

"I made some guesses. You're not wearing your ring today, but you have a habit of going to that area with your thumb, as if you're used to playing with it. Just like you, a moment ago, I was just throwing a guess into the air."

He remained silent, observing you, as if your comment had activated a mirror he didn't know he needed. His expression didn't show annoyance, but rather a strange mix of vulnerability and respect. As if he felt exposed, yes... but not entirely uncomfortable about it.

Receiving no response, you continued:

“What I find curious is that you decided to forget it today. Maybe trying your luck? Are there a lot of pretty female oncologists at the conferences you attend?”

James didn't answer immediately. His hand slowly moved back from his ring finger, as if you'd caught him in the act. He cleared his throat, his smile barely visible.

“Things with my wife haven’t been going well for a while now…” he said, lowering his voice slightly, as if he knew any misspoken words could backfire on him “It wasn’t a planned gesture. Sometimes, when I’m feeling confused, I just… don’t wear it.”

“That sounds dangerously symbolic. Not wearing the ring, I mean. As if you're subconsciously permitting yourself to be a little less of a husband.”

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly “I promise.”

He understood the nature of your comment. And, honestly, he couldn't blame you. He'd be lying to himself if he said he hadn't contacted you as an attempt to escape the routine, to see if maybe you were what his life was missing.

But he wouldn't tell you, of course not.

“Can I say something without sounding nosy?”

Wilson nodded, looking at you with genuine interest.

“Maybe... and I say maybe because I don't have all the answers, okay? But... maybe you should think about whether you're there because you still love her or because you're afraid of being alone.”

He gave a short laugh, with no trace of mockery.

“Would you say that from your own experience?”

“I say this because loneliness often disguises itself very well as commitment. And because there's nothing more exhausting than trying to keep a dead relationship alive just to avoid the silence.”

Wilson seemed to process this more seriously than you'd anticipated. He looked at you as if you were much more complex than he'd initially believed. After a moment, he tilted his head slightly.

“You are quite perceptive.”

“I already told you, it’s my job.”

As you watched him speak, with that polished charm that had once seemed unattainable, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment.

For years you had idealized him, as if James Wilson were the perfect representation of the thoughtful, brilliant, and emotionally available man who was so scarce in the world. But now, standing before you, you no longer saw the idol you had once fantasized about from a distance, but a real man: one who made mistakes, who made selfish decisions, who could be emotionally irresponsible without even realizing it.

You were still attracted to him (because it wasn't easy to shake off the feeling), but now it was tinged with reality and maturity. You might like him, you might desire him, but you also knew that trying something with him would be like walking on glass: complicated, unstable, and probably painful.

The parallel with your previous analogy –the objective view of your favorite food– felt like a bitter omen.

A comfortable pause settled between you. The restaurant music, the murmurs, the drinks, everything seemed to continue, ignoring the conversation you'd just had. Until he spoke again.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

It wasn't a loaded question. There was no ulterior motive. But you still looked at him with some suspicion.

“Was that a flirtation attempt?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said quickly, his hands raised. “I just… wanted to know. That’s not why I came to you, I just wanted to see you. I thought it would be a good idea to invite you to dinner”

A relaxed smile suddenly appeared. You felt more comfortable now that you knew he wasn't trying to get into your pants, although, to be honest, a month ago you would have accepted the offer without a second thought.

“It’s okay. I'm glad to know I'm not a whim of your midlife crisis,” you admitted. “And to answer your question, no. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

You said it sarcastically, and he smiled. You reminded him a little—too much—of House, and he wondered if that was a good or bad thing. He was surprised to think that the passing of time had taken away that insecure little girl, whom he now saw in Cameron, and made way for a worthy apprentice of the doctor. Perhaps that was why you had argued so much during that visit; two such strong personalities didn't get along so easily.

Oblivious to the other person's thoughts, your gaze involuntarily returned to the other table. Something in your chest suddenly tightened.

Spencer.

He wasn't laughing. Not like the others. He was watching you.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment you couldn't read him. He looked confused, annoyed... or just plain hurt. But it was him, after all, so nothing was as simple as it seemed.

“Everything okay?” Wilson asked, following your gaze.

“Yeah,” you answered, looking away from Spencer as if that would make him less important.

He knew who you'd been eyeing. He also wondered if your answer about a relationship was only half-truthful. If you'd been hiding something or had subconsciously been searching for the object of your desire after answering the question.

“House was quite impressed with your friend. He said he was brilliant.” James poured himself a little more wine, not hiding his curious tone “Rare for him to praise anyone other than himself.”

“Reid is… peculiar”

“I read some of his publications. The guy is a genius,” he took a sip. “And he seems very serious. I wonder if he’s always like this or if he’s just trying to kill the man in front of you with his eyes.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You knew Spencer was good at keeping his emotions under wraps, but you also knew he had a way of letting them show when he wanted. That was one of them.

Wilson looked at him once more.

“I think I just made an enemy without knowing why.”

“You’re not his enemy,” you said, your voice calm. “He’s just not used to seeing me outside of certain scenarios.”

“Like on a date?”

“It’s not a date”

“But it might seem so”

“Now you’re implying that he likes me?”

“No,” he murmured, without a trace of lying “I’m just saying what I see. Just like you.”

The sudden setback he gave you, with your own arguments, made you laugh while you shook your head.

“You know, of all the things that could have happened, I didn’t expect our evening to go this way.”

“Nor me. But I'm glad it did.”

"Why?"

"Because sometimes it's good to talk things through. To avoid misunderstandings."

“To think that I'm still in love with you, for example?”

“Or assume I’m trying to cheat on my wife with you.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere felt like there was a certain complicity, you could even say a certain unresolved tension. As if you were saying those things, but deep down, you were thinking that if you had kissed at any moment, it would have felt natural.

In a sort of tacit agreement, the topic of conversation changed, and you continued eating dinner as normal. The wine glass in your hand was almost empty, but you did not attempt to refill it. He didn’t either.

You both paused in that strange, comfortable moment that occurs after a long conversation, one that seems to have lasted minutes and yet a lifetime. The murmur of the Italian restaurant was soft, discreet, just enough to envelop you in a bubble where no one else seemed to exist.

At some point, dessert arrived, and with that, the time to say goodbye. You hadn't realized your friends were no longer at the next table, which made you wonder how long ago they'd left.

“It was… nice to see you,” he finally said, that nostalgic smile forming in his eyes more than on his lips “I didn’t know how much I needed it until it happened.”

“Yes,” you replied barely, in a soft voice. “I didn’t know either.”

He looked at you more closely, and then he said it. No drama, no cheap insinuations. He just blurted it out, as if he were confessing it more to himself than to you:

“If one day circumstances were different… I don’t know, I’d like to see you again.”

And there it was. The phrase that left the air suspended between you. You could have done many things with it: laugh, say yes, shake your head, respond with something equally ambiguous. But you did nothing. You just looked at him. And he understood.

He paid the bill without much insistence, and you didn't argue, because you knew it was a way to close the moment; to make everything intact, without cracks. When you left the restaurant, the night air greeted you with a light breeze and the scent of distant rain.

You wanted to say something else, but whatever thought had crossed your mind was cut short by what you saw. Spencer, standing on the corner, hands in his pockets and the collar of his coat pulled up to his cheeks. He didn't seem rushed, but he did seem expectant. When he saw you, his frown softened slightly... until he noticed who was walking beside you.

“Dr. Reid! It’s so nice to see you again.”

The aforementioned greeted him with a nod, trying to be as rude as possible, and saying a soft hello.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“A taxi,” he muttered dryly.

The idea of giving him a ride immediately occurred to you, and as you looked at Wilson, it was as if he'd already read your mind. A soft smile told you he agreed.

“I can take you home.”

“Thanks, but I already called the taxi. It would be very rude to just leave.”

“That’s no problem,” the doctor chimed in. “I could have yours. I was thinking of taking one to get back to my hotel.”

Reid looked at you then, as if seeking confirmation that the option was really valid. Then he looked at Wilson, assessing without hiding it. The moment became intense, although no one said anything.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Either way, James was about to leave.”

“I was thinking of walking you to your car, don’t think I’m a savage,” he joked, and you laughed softly.

That brief, carefree laugh made both men look at you. For a moment, you were the exact center of two opposing universes.

You turned towards the elder.

“If you come back to town, please call me.”

“Same here. Even if you're not in Jersey and want to call me, I'm available.”

You leaned forward to say goodbye, with a hug, and he leaned his head down to kiss you. A simple, polite touch, with no ulterior motives… but not entirely innocent. Because Spencer saw it. Because Spencer felt it. And because you noticed it too.

“Sleep well. Good luck on your return flight.”

“Take care,” Wilson said, before saying goodbye with a last smile.

You gave Spencer a small nod and started walking toward the car. He followed you, but not before saying goodbye to Wilson with a formal handshake. You didn't want to pressure him. You decided to wait. You knew that if something needed to be said, it would come from him.

He walked in silence for several minutes, with his hands in his pockets and his steps slow.

“Did it go well?” he asked, without turning around completely. His tone was calm, but there was a barely perceptible tension in his words.

“Yeah. It was quite nice. I liked the food, the wine… the conversation was good.”

There was another pause.

“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

You raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?"

“I don’t know if you had plans to go somewhere else afterward.”

You paused before looking at him again. You were almost back at the car.

“We just wanted to have dinner. Sleeping with married men isn't my style.”

Spencer turned his head, now yes, to look at you fully.

“Is he married?”

“As I feared,” you said, with a dry smile.

Your friend didn't know how to interpret that and looked down for a moment. The cold ran through you, chilling you to the bone, and you wondered if you could ask him for his coat to warm you up a little. But that would have been cruel.

“And if he wasn’t?” he then asked, without embellishment, “Would you have something with him?”

The question took you a little by surprise. Not because you weren't expecting it... but because the way he said it was too direct, even for him.

You sighed, letting the warm air escape through your lips.

“I don’t know,” you finally answered. “He’s kind, very handsome, and I like him, but… today I realized there are things about him, emotional things, that I don’t know if I could deal with. He’s full of voids that I don’t know if I want to fill.”

Spencer didn't say anything for a second. He just looked at you, as if trying to read what was behind your words. As if it hurt him that you weren't sure, but also as if he was relieved to hear that you weren't entirely convinced.

When you got to the car, you leaned against the door for a moment, searching for your keys. Spencer stood by your side, his hands still in his pockets, as if the weight of his coat could keep him firmly on the ground. The night was still warm, but you couldn't tell if the trembling in your hands was due to the weather or everything you'd said to each other. And everything you hadn't.

“Do you want me to drive?”

“No, Reid, it’s okay. I know you hate doing it.”

Your thoughtfulness made him smile, and he climbed into the passenger seat. You were grateful that it was warmer inside, something that would improve once the air-conditioning was on.

The man snuggled into the seat, staring out the window at the streets, and then you sat for a while enjoying the comfortable silence in the car. The only thing that remained was the murmur of the radio, which had just changed songs. A guitar filtered through the speakers, followed by a slightly nasal voice.

I met her in a club down in old Soho…

Spencer blinked, then tilted his head slightly, as if recognizing an old acquaintance. And when the song reached the chorus, he smiled.

“Did you know this song was banned on some radio stations for mentioning a soda brand?” he said suddenly, without you asking.

You barely turned your face towards him, without taking your eyes off the road.

"Huh?"

“Coca-Cola,” he explained, with that half-smile that appears when he’s about to share a piece of trivia that probably no one asked for but that he finds fascinating. “In the original version it says: 'Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like Coca-Cola' But the BBC didn’t allow explicit commercial references, so The Kinks had to go back to the studio to re-record it saying 'cherry cola' just so it could be played on the radio.”

“Are you kidding?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No. And it wasn't even because of the song's content. Which, if you think about it, is a lot more scandalous.”

Girls will be boys and boys will be girls, it's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world…

He raised an eyebrow, as if the song had just proven its point for him.

“It was written in 1970. A song about a relationship with a trans person or drag queen, amid the Conservative era. Ray Davies wrote it after his manager realized, too late, that Lola wasn't the woman she seemed. The fascinating thing is that the song never pokes fun at the subject. It's more… tender. Confusing, yes, but honest.”

You chuckled, impressed.

“I've never heard it before. It's a beautiful song.”

You were silent for a moment, listening.

“Also,” he added, in a softer tone, “it’s a good metaphor for embracing the unexpected. Things that don’t fit with what you believed. Or what you were prepared to feel.”

You didn't say anything, because you didn't need to. You just kept driving, while Lola continued singing her cheerful chorus, and you wondered if, in some way, that song sounded a little like what Spencer wasn't saying.

[darksigns-exe]

crave - noah sebastian x f!reader

warnings: unprotected intercourse, first times, swearing

word count: 3.4k

notes: So last week during hot boy hours we talked about first times with Nicky and a dear anon requested a first time with Noah. I hope that I interpreted your ask correctly if not pls yell at me (gently) thank you bye <33

masterlist | taglist sign-up

Every time he hears his friends talk about the girls they’ve picked up, it makes him want to crawl out of his skin a little bit. 

With how swarmed he is, you’d think that he’s long ticked that point off the bucket list. 

But he’s just never found the right moment — or person. 

The few times he’s come close to being with someone like that, it always felt as if that was the only thing they wanted from him. And maybe that’s a little cynical or conceited. He’s a gentleman, though, so he’ll send them home with an orgasm and a promise of next time. 

A next time they both know will never come. 

And then he’s suddenly twenty-eight, and it feels like something he should have done ten years ago. 

With how busy the band is, Noah doesn’t feel as if he could do a serious relationship justice, and so intimacy moves to the very bottom of his list of priorities. 

It’s not until the band is between albums again that he allows himself to even forge connections outside the band again. 

He’s treating himself to a trip to the bookshop in an attempt to get out of the post tour rut he’s been in. No real aim or goal, just an attempt to get out of the house for a little bit and to – maybe – find something new to fill his brain with. 

And that’s where he meets you, browsing the science fiction section. For a bit, he lurks, watches if you’re with someone, before he builds up the courage to ask if you have a recommendation for him. It feels a little awkward to ask a total stranger how they feel about a book, but Noah’s determined to try. At least then, he can tell his therapist that he tried his best. 

Before he knows it, you’ve been talking for an hour, and he just doesn’t want it to stop. The conversation just keeps flowing from one thing to another, and Noah finds himself pulled in by your warmth. For once, he feels brave enough to ask if you’d like to exchange numbers – so that he can tell you if he liked the book as much as you did.  

His heart thumps a little when he sees that you’ve saved your name with that little sparkle emoji in his phone. 

A few days later, you show up at his place with a stack of books that you promised to lend him. He asks if you’d like to stay for a coffee, just because he doesn’t want to let you go again so soon. 

It’s entirely innocent. 

Noah genuinely just enjoys spending time with you. It feels good to have a friend who’s not involved with the band or music in general. He likes hearing about your work gossip, about the recipes you’ve tried recently, the puppy your friend recently picked up from a local shelter. 

It feels normal, grounded – and maybe that’s exactly what he needed. 

It becomes a regular thing after that. Jolly jokingly calls your meetings the saddest book club he’s ever seen. 

Noah doesn’t know when his heart starts beating a little bit faster when he sees you. It’s not in a nervous way, he’s just – happy. And he’s sure that your eyes linger on him a little bit longer, too. 

Noah really notices it for the first time when he’s over at your place for a night of movies and pizza that you prescribed him as a change from what he usually gets up. He suddenly doesn’t mind the lingering touches and looks. And he finds himself hoping that you’ll rest your head on his shoulder like you sometimes do. 

And when you do, he has to give himself a little pep talk before he manages to convince himself that draping his arm over your shoulder is okay. He relaxes a little when you sink further against him. 

Feeling so comfortable around another person is a little new. Noah’s not exactly used to letting his walls down around people he hasn’t known since the dawn of time. But it feels right to let you in. 

The touches slowly increase and Noah finds himself craving proximity to you more and more. He hasn’t known himself to be someone who sought out intimacy like that before, but now he can’t wait to see you and to get comfy with you somewhere. 

You meet for regular movie nights after a while. Sometimes you end up at his place, even though Noah seems to be a little bit more reserved around his friends. He’s still close, but not nearly as close as he’d be in the privacy of your home. 

You’re getting a bowl of popcorn ready, while Noah tells you about the show he’s picked for you to watch. 

“I can’t believe that you’ve never seen it.” Noah says, hopping up onto the counter next to you. 

“Just never got around to it.” You shrug, “It’s been on my watch list, though.”

You pop a piece of popcorn into your mouth. Noah lets out a protesting huff, as he crosses his arms like a petulant child. 

You roll your eyes in jest, before you hold a piece out to him. He leans in, allowing you to feed it to him. Inadvertently, your fingers brush against his lips, and you swear that you feel a little zap of electricity. 

Noah looks down at you with a softness that you’re still not used to. You’ve noticed it a few times already. You can’t quite tell with him if this is just how he looks at people he keeps close. 

It almost feels like the moment before a kiss. The tension is there, and you can feel yourself gravitating towards him. 

Noah opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but he quickly closes it again when one of his roommates enters the kitchen, loudly dropping a bag of groceries onto the counter. 

“You two got plans for today?” Jolly asks, as if he hasn't just walked in on you getting closer and closer. 

Noah snaps out of it quicker than you do. 

“Someone’s never seen Hill House, and we have to remedy that.” He explains, “We’ll see how many episodes we get through before it becomes too scary.”

You like this little back and forth you have with him. It’s familiar, comfortable. And most importantly, it makes you smile. 

Jolly pulls a face that makes you think that he was expecting a different answer from Noah. You try your best to ignore how warm it makes your face feel. 

There’s a tense moment of silence in the room, before Jolly makes his departure, muttering something about you keeping it PG as he wanders out of the room again. 

You later find out that a group of them is heading out to get dinner together, meaning that you and Noah will be the only ones in the house. 

Eventually, you find your way upstairs, settling against the headboard while Noah sets everything up. 

The scene is almost a little domestic.

Occasionally, you let yourself wonder what it’d be like if you were more than friends. But then you remember Noah saying that he doesn’t feel like he’s ready for a relationship at the moment and shove it to the very back of your mind again. This friendship isn’t worth the risk. You’d rather have this than nothing at all with him. 

Noah settles next to you, letting out a content sigh. 

“Ready?” 

When you nod, he presses start and leans back against the headboard. As soon as he’s settled, you drop your head to his shoulder. Over the course of the first episode, you relax further and further against him, until you’re eventually curled against his side. His arm is snaked around your back, hand resting at your waist, keeping you close to his side. Whenever the show gets a little bit too spooky for you, you use the opportunity to hide your face against his chest, and maybe you’re playing it up a little bit.

You let your eyes wander away from the screen. Truth be told, you haven’t given the show your full attention. The way his hand rests against your waist, the slow rise and fall of his chest – it’s all been too distracting. 

You look up at Noah, only to find him already looking at you. His lips quip up in a little smile, and it makes you feel all warm inside. You’re not sure who of you initiates it, but a moment later you feel his lips on yours, and it feels a little as if everything has been leading up to this moment. 

The show becomes background noise, as you get lost in the kiss you share. You soon find yourself straddling his lap. His hands are firm on your waist, digging into your flesh almost painfully. 

“Noah?” you ask, barely moving away from him. 

He looks at you then, eyes blown wide. 

“Are you – nervous?” 

The flush that creeps over his cheeks is almost endearing if it weren’t for the underlying insinuation that comes with it. 

“You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just me.” You bring your hand to the side of his face, hoping that it’ll soothe his nerves a little bit, “We’re not doing anything big.” 

He grumbles out a few quiet words that are swallowed up by the sound of the show still flickering over the TV behind you.

“You gotta speak up a little.” you say, inching a little closer to him. 

“It is big. You’re you and I haven’t you know ever, and don’t get me wrong, I want this with you – I just don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t want you to think less of me or –” 

You let him ramble on for a moment longer, before you interrupt him with a soft kiss. 

“It’s just me, Noah. I don’t mind it if you haven’t done this before. Doesn’t change a thing about — how I feel about you.”

“You really don’t mind?” 

“Why would I?” you ask, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, “You didn’t care that I’ve never seen this show either. It’s just a thing you haven’t done, like skydiving.” 

“You make it sound so easy.”

The cynical little chuckle that weaves itself between his words makes your chest ache a little, and you wonder if people have given him a hard time about this before. 

“I promise you that it’s okay. It’s just a thing.”

For a moment, his eyes flit across your face, seemingly searching for something. 

“Would you – with me?” 

You’ve never seen him be this shy about anything before. Even when someone had mistakenly referred to you as a cute couple he hadn’t looked this hesitant. 

“Are you asking me if I’d sleep with you?” you can’t hide the smile that plays on your lips then. 

“I mean if you want that with me. I don’t know if this is where –” 

“Do you think I make out with all of my friends like this?” 

He mumbles something vague about not wanting to assume anything, but you quickly shut him up with another kiss. 

“You just tell me what feels good and what doesn’t, okay?” he gives a quick nod is in response. 

You return your lips to his after that. Noah’s hands remain at your waist, and you can sense the hesitation in him. To make things easier for him, you guide his hands under the hem of your shirt. You copy the touch, hoping that it’ll show him that it’s okay for him to let his hands wanderer a little. 

He gasps so sweetly when you trail your lips along his jaw and towards his neck. His fingers dig into your skin, and you decide that now is the time to pull your shirt off. Noah uses the moment of separation to remove his own shirt. 

You let your hands wander across his skin, watching the muscles contract and twitch as you touch him. 

“Do you want to take your pants off for me?” you ask, trailing your fingers across his tummy and down towards the waist band of his sweats. 

His breath catches in his throat when you brush your hand fingers over the very obvious tent in the fabric. The little sound he makes when you touch him more intentionally almost makes you shiver. 

Being the first person who gets to see this, touch him like this, feels special. 

With a little bit of help, Noah shuffles out of his sweats. He does falter when he reaches for his boxers. You decide to shed your shorts too, leaving you in just your underwear. 

With some encouragement, he reveals all of him to you. You know how nerve wrecking this part can be. 

It all seems to be forgotten though when you wrap your hand around his cock. Noah's eyes immediately shoot down to where you’re touching him. 

“Does that feel okay?” you ask, watching him intently. 

Noah draws in a shaky breath, “Could you – a little more? Just a —” 

The words drift off into a shameless moan when you tighten your grip on him just a little bit. 

“That’s better, isn’t it?” you say softly, “I know this is a lot, but you’re doing so good for me.”

You bring your hand to his waist to steady yourself a little more. 

“Think you can do something for me?” 

He looks up at you with those pretty doe eyes then. 

You briefly remove your hand from his cock, much to his dismay, and guide one of his between your thighs. You feel the trembling of his hand against you. He’s still so awfully nervous. 

You’re sure that he’s done this before because after a few hesitant moments, you feel his fingers find a rhythm against your folds that makes your head spin. 

“You’re so — oh –” he sighs, as his fingers dip into you, “You’re soaked.” You let your head fall back as the tip of his middle finger sinks into you. He barely has a finger inside of you, and he’s already pulling the neediest sounds from you. 

“All for you.” you manage to choke out between sighs. 

He’s teasing with his touch, slowly working his finger into you and relishing in the sighs you let out before he even thinks about adding a second finger. 

You know that you should take more time with this part. It’d be less of a sting if you let him work you open just a bit more, but once you feel as if it’d be enough, impatience takes over. 

“Do you have condoms?” you ask, already expecting him to say no. 

When he does shake his head, he looks so very disheartened. 

“We know you’re clean, and I haven’t been with anyone since a bit before we met. If you trust me — and you’re comfortable with that, I’d be okay with going on without one.”

He thinks for a moment, forehead creasing as he mulls through his thoughts. 

“I don’t wanna stop.” He whispers eventually. 

You meet his smile with an equally warm one. 

“Good. Me neither.”

This time, Noah is the one who pulls you in for a kiss. His hand finds his way to the back of your head to keep you close to him. You feel him shift beneath you, seemingly getting a little impatient himself. 

You lift your waist upward, taking him into your hand once again. 

“Ready?” 

“As ready as I think I’ll ever be.” 

Your free hand returns to the side of his face, “I promise you that it’ll be fine. You’ll be okay.” 

You give him another moment, before you drag the head of his cock through your folds. Noah draws in a sharp breath. His focus shifts to where you hover above him. You sink down on him as slowly as you can manage. The stretch of him feels so good, and you have to remind yourself that this is more about him than it is about you.  

Noah’s all sighs and gasps by the time you’re settled against him. 

His head is resting against the back of the bed, as he draws in a deep breath. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you’re sure that he’s never looked more kissable before. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Noah slowly lifts his head, blinking a few times before he finally focuses on you. 

“I didn’t think that it’d feel this good.” He says hoarsely, “Give me a moment.”

Hearing how affected he already is brings a smile to your face, “There’s no rush, we have all the time in the world.”

He takes another deep breath, letting the air out in a huff. 

“Thank you for being so patient with me.” Noah says after a while, now sounding a little less as if he’s about to fall apart. 

You lean in to kiss his cheek, “Of course.”

You shift against him, tearing a pleasured sigh from his lips. You repeat the motion, just to see how he’ll react. Noah’s hands practically fly to your waist. 

“Oh – fuck.” Noah buries his face in the side of your neck. 

His breath fans out against your skin as you set a slow rhythm against him. As much as you want to let him hide, you also want to see his expressions. You carefully tangle your fingers into his hair and pull him away from you again. Noah's head lulls back against the headboard, exposing the column of his neck to you. 

You keep up a slow back and forth against him. 

Noah’s lips are parted just so. They shine with spittle as he sighs and moans for you. The pitch of his sounds seems to increase with every pass you make. 

You sigh out his name, causing his hips to twitch upwards. 

“You feel so good.” you tell him, arching your back as the head of his cock hits a particularly good spot inside of you. 

The words you want to say trail off into an unashamed moan. 

You can’t quite place it, but it feels different with him. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you. There’s something so worshipful about the way he can’t tear his eyes away from yours.

With the way you’re tangled together you can barely move, but it’s enough to push you both closer to the edge. 

Noah lets out a whine, as his face twists up in pleasure. 

“Getting close?” you barely manage to choke out the question. 

Noah nods frantically, “So close. Fuck keep going like that –” 

His words tear off into a gasp as you feel him spilling inside of you. You follow a moment later. You ride out your high against him. It all feels so good. The tight coil in your belly slowly unravels and eventually, you drape yourself against him. Noah quickly wraps his arms around you. 

He lets out a content, but tired, sigh. 

You remain like this for a while, entirely unwilling to separate yourself from him. 

Noah whispers your name after some time. 

“Thank you.” he says quietly, “I – I almost didn’t think that this would happen.”

“In general or –?”

You sit up just enough to be able to look at him. “Both. I don’t know when it happened but – at some point this started to feel like more than friendship.” 

He doesn’t look at you when he says it, and you allow him to avert his gaze for a moment longer. You bring your hand back to his cheek to make him look at you. 

“Should be fairly obvious that this is a mutual thing, right?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral and steady. 

“That so?” he returns to that trademark boyish confidence of his then. 

“Listen –” you don’t have to finish your faux threat. 

Noah breaks into a smile then, leaning into your space to steal another kiss from you. 

A shower later, you’re tucked back into his bed. You’d made the mutual decision to postpone your movie night in favour of a much-needed conversation about where this all leaves you. In the end, it leaves you with Noah resting against your tummy while you watch a mindless re-run of some reality TV show.  

Your fingers mindlessly card through his hair, and an accidentally too rough tug makes him look up at you. He smiles so softly, before he presses a kiss to the bare skin of your tummy. 

“I’m so glad that I asked you about that book.” he whispers, once more resting his head against you. 

“So am I.” you return. 

Being here with him like this feels right. You’re not sure if you believe in fate, but maybe there is something to it after all because there is no way that this was not meant to be.

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