#do i give in ? tune in this week to find out

[peachidin]

Talkin' 'bout my girl

My Girl! My Girl!

Johnny Storm x F!reader 

You've begun interviewing the Fantastic Four, but what happens when Johnny notices the oceans between you?

Warnings: Fluff, kissing, implied smut later on but like one line

Wordcount: 2.3k

A/N: ONE PERSON ASKED FOR MORE SO MY GOD WILL I DELIVER!!!!

I would recommend reading I Think Were Alone Now first to better understand the relationship dynamics, but it still could be read separately! I never intended to write this as a series, but I kind of love the relationship between the both of them, so I think I'll update whenever I have a new idea with these two! I do want to... eventually, get to a smut scene but something about Johnny just makes me want to write romantic make out scenes so I will be riding that out! as usual, likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated!

Much to your surprise, you liked being a superhero reporter. After the deal with Johnny of reporting on him for your company, you've found yourself out in Times Square once more, waiting for the arrival of the Fantastic Four. The other reporters eyed you, remembering the last few times you were here and the intimate interviews you were able to obtain. 

If only they knew how intimate you've gotten.

A gasp sweeps through the crowd as they spot the familiar car revving up, and that bright flame soaring after them. The crowd cheers, and you can't help but give a polite clap as you see those bright blue uniforms. 

Johnny lands, giving a wink and a nod to the crowd, and you smile as it seems he was trying to scour through the faces in front of him. 

“We will now take a few questions.” Reed states diplomatically, backing away from the mic as the crowd surges forward, shouting questions left and right. You watched their faces illuminate from the flashes of cameras, and you carefully raise a hand up. 

“Yes you, in the back.” Reed motions for you to come forward, and you have to try to contain your grin as you give a polite nod to the Dr. you had become very familiar with over the past few months. 

“Thank you Dr. Richards. My question is for anyone who wishes to answer, what do you take away from Latveria being absent from the Future Foundation summit?” You ask, preparing your notepad. 

You can't help but glance towards Johnny, who's giving you a proud grin as he watches Sue step forward. 

“While we have no idea why Latveria was absent, we hope they will decide to join us in the future.” Sue says, keeping her answer vague and respectable. You nod, scribbling down a few points before nodding. 

“Thank you Dr. Storm.” You reply politely, carefully making your way off the podium as the next reporter surges up.

“Johnny Storm! Is it true you are dating an undiscovered superhero?” The man shouts, pointing his camera at Johnny, hoping to catch any detail left unsaid. You watch as Johnny saunters forward, clasping his hands behind his back as he leans towards the mic. 

“No, I am not dating an undiscovered superhero, I am dating a scientist.” 

The crowd erupts with more questions, and you have to fight the flush creeping up your face as you pretend to fiddle with your bag. Reed waves off the crowd, motioning for his family to get back in the car.

“Thank you for your questions, we will reconvene next week.”

You move with the mass of people, finding yourself walking beside a group of other journalists, all relatively friendly to you. You all approach an intersection and you part ways, making your way down the familiar streets leading to your home. Eventually the street cleared even of pedestrians, and it was solely you on the sidewalk. The buildings passed by you as you hummed a tune, unaware of the presence behind you. 

You pass by the mouth of an alley.

A hand snakes across your waist, yanking you back against a brick wall. You flinch, expecting to feel the sharp pain of the brick but instead you feel the cushion of something soft behind you. You open one eye slowly, before letting out a hiss.

“Johnny you are going to be the death of me!”

Johnny only grins, giving you hip a little squeeze. “Cant be seen gallivanting with reporters on the street now can I?” He laughs, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, but you turn your head, letting his mouth graze your cheek in an act of defiance. 

“Oh, we're being mean now?” He chuckles, leaning in to press another kiss to your temple. Johnny pulls back, still holding your hand in his as he takes in your new outfit, a dark blue dress that flared out at your hips, accentuating your curves in a way that would be permanently etched into his brain. 

“Doll, you look beautiful. And that question? Reed looked almost as proud as when Franklin finished his first analytical essay on Darwin.” He grinned, trying to catch your gaze. 

You couldn't help but preen at the compliment, your gaze turning towards his as you smile.

“Was Reed really that impressed? What did Sue think? Ben was kind enough to let me read some books on the topic.” You press, leaning up into your boyfriend. Johnny laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Ah, there's my girl.” He grins, gently swinging you around. You roll your eyes playfully, wrapping your arms around his neck. His suit feels cool against your skin, and you can't help the way your eyes trail along the contours and grooves it clings to. 

“Whoa, my eyes are up here okay? Didn't think you'd be so obsessed with the suit already.” He teases, leaning down to press a kiss to your jaw. “But I do look really good, huh?” He whispers, squeezing your side.

Johnny, despite his flirting, really knew how to make you feel special. 

“Okay, dinner tonight, Baxter building? Everyone wants to see you. And…”  Johnny trails off, biting his lip nervously. You cock your head, watching him with an amused smile. 

“And what, Johnny?” You press, running a hand down from his neck to his chest. You could almost feel the way his heart leapt out of his chest.

“And, if you keep this up I’m gonna have a hard time leaving this alley okay?” He grumbles, pulling you into his arms tightly, your face smushed against his chest. You both stay like this more a few more moments, before the rumbling of cars draws you out of his embrace. 

“Okay, Baxter building at 7pm.” You confirm, patting his chest gently before taking a step back. Johnny leans himself against the opposite wall, watching you with a hazy look in his eye before he nods. 

“You can get back home okay?” He asks softly, memorizing how you casually comb through the hair he so desperately wanted to rake his hands through.

“Mhhm, it's only a few more blocks. I’ll freshen up then meet you over there.” 

Johnny fought the urge to argue, you could see it so clearly on his face, but whatever he wanted to say, he lets go.  

“Okay, just be safe.” He warns one last time, moving in quickly to press a kiss to your lips before he takes off, the flash of heat you feel the only way you even knew he was here to begin with. 

It took you longer than normal to get ready, an array of makeup malfunctions and hair issues, leading to hating every single thing you put on, you were a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. A knock at the door was your last straw, storming over in your tank top and shorts to rip open the door. 

“What!?” You hiss, glaring daggers at whoever would dare to interrupt you now.

You're faced with a large bouquet of flowers, posies, sunflowers, peonies, all flowers you loved. You blink, nudging aside the bouquet to see a grinning Johnny under a large hoodie.

“Johnny! What-” You grab his arm, pulling him into your home. It was typical of Johnny to use the fire escape to reach your apartment, as it was tucked safely behind a cluster of buildings. But the front door? Where any of your neighbors could see? 

You locked the door quickly, flipping around to face him. “What were you thinking? You could've been seen coming here!” You snap, crossing your arms at your boyfriend. His once lit up expression dimmed, and he nodded seriously, setting down your bouquet on the table. 

“I know, I know, I just-” He begins, dragging a hand down his face as he leans against your table, his face showing every single battle with each thought he was having. 

You relax only slightly, moving over to him, his hands immediately wrapping around you as you rest your head on his chest. 

“I really like the flowers.” You say softly, giving his back a light scratch under his hoodie. You feel his body shiver under your touch as he nods, resting his head on top of yours.

And yet, Jonny doesn't say anything. He simply continues to hold onto you as though you might slip away.

“You wanna tell me what this was all about then? I'm sorry I was running late, I couldn't find anything to wear.” You say softly, pulling back so he would have to look at you. Johnny quickly smiles, squeezing your sides as he looks down at you.

“You look gorgeous in anything.” He whispers gently, leaning forward to place a kiss on your cheek. 

“Not the point Storm, no matter how sweet it is.” You retort back, pulling away from him as he whines. You reach for a vase, carefully placing the stems in some water, allowing Johnny time to work through his feelings. 

“Does it…does it ever bother you that I can't be out with you during the day? That I can't just come to your apartment without sneaking in?” He finally says, turning his head away from where you were standing. 

You frown, placing the vase on the table. “No, because I know it's to keep both of us safe.” You answer, dusting your hands off on your shorts. 

“I thought I would like,” He begins, his voice strangled and small, “Seeing you at all these press conferences. I thought it would be so fun to have you so close to me but.” He pauses, flexing his hand. “It only made me realize just how far apart I have to be from you. I have to watch you walk home alone, because if we would go together, your face would be plastered on every news outlet in the world. That's not a life I want for you.”

You pause, eyebrows furrowing as you take in his words. “I don't mind it, Johnny, I really don't." You tell him, reaching for his face. He lets you guide his gaze towards you, struggling to hold in his emotions. 

“Did I say something that made you think I didn't want this?” You breathe out, drawing your thumb gently across his skin. Johnny shakes his head adamantly, staying between your palms.

“No, no, you did nothing, it's me. I just, I just want the best for you, so it had me thinking-” 

You lean in, crushing your lips to his, swallowing whatever words he could say next. Johnny responds slowly, as if debating if he wanted to say more, before you feel his hand glide across your waist, tugging you closer. 

Johnny was a flirt, always pecking your lips to shut you up from rambling, or dragging his lips along your skin to tease you.

But when Johnny kissed you, he kissed like it was the very first time with you.

Reverent in his touch, trailing over the contours of your body, swallowing the sounds you make. 

Saving them, as if he may never hear them again. 

You gasp, arching yourself into him as he presses against the small of your back, his hand raised to cup your cheek as he pulls you in further. Your hands move from his face down to his chest, feeling his body stiffen under your touch before he leans into it, as if committing it all to memory. You feel his muscles rippling with every gasp and moan, and you trail your touch to his thighs, feeling him quiver under you. 

“Sweetheart-” He whines, tightening his hold on your body like a lifeline as you feel that heat slowly building under his touch. “Be merciful.” 

It was intoxicating, bringing Johnny Storm to his knees like this. Small groans of pleasure leave his throat as you gently nip at his jaw, and you revel in the whine you hear. You slowly pull back, catching your breath as you look up into his eyes, Johnny's face flushed and his lips swollen from kissing as he tries to regain his composure. 

“The best decision I could have ever made was you, Johnny.  I-” It was there, on the tip of your tongue, love. You bite your lip, brushing your hand along his chest as his brown eyes stare down into yours, adoringly, pleadingly. 

“I know.” Johnny whispers back, leaning forward to press a kiss to your temple, gently resting his hand on the back of your neck. “I feel the same way.” He adds, sneaking in a few more kisses before you could feel that mischievous smile against your skin. A loud chime halts his movements, a groan escaping his lips as he pulls back to glance at the buzzing screen.

“Sue’s calling, we better go.” He grins, and you could feel your heart practically stop, your dinner plans entirely forgotten after this meeting. 

Johnny can only laugh as you let out a frustrated screech, hightailing it to your room in the hopes of finding something to wear in under five seconds. Grabbing his phone, he shot a quick message to Sue, letting her know you and Johnny would be sitting this dinner out. 

A smile grows on his face as he looks around your home. Johnny felt it too, that word, on the forefront of his mind whenever he thought about you.

Love.

Like a cat, he softly prowls to your room,heading inside only to gently close it behind him, determined to show you exactly how he feels. 

Maybe he could get the words right later.

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Beggars can't be choosers

A/N: I haven't written in over a year but the Pitt has inspired this new Momma. Thinking of turning this into a series.. so stay tuned!

P.S: I do have a 3 month old now so please be patient with me and enjoy!

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Warning(s): angst

Word Count: 920

*******************************************************************************************

“I told you I was in love with you.” Bottom lip quivering at the admission; shame seeped into every circulating molecule her body housed.

“Y/N…give me a—”

Fury lit up her features slipping into a venomous bite; “No, you’re not going to sweet talk your way outta this one, Robby. You made sure of that when you slid your dick into someone else. I mean WHO DOES THAT? Why’d you even let me embarrass myself into finally admitting my feelings for you just to throw it all away, hmm?”

“That’s not what happened.”

She avoided his gaze, knowing all too well of the consequences hidden beneath those enchanting auburn eyes. A power that still made her knees buckle.

“Oh please, save your crocodile tears for another pretty face. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble whatsoever. I bet you could call Heather up right now. In fact, let me call her!”

The glow of her phone emerged like a strike of lightning. Robby made quick work of snatching the device holding it above her head annoyingly out of reach.

Robby growled grinding his teeth; “Will you give me a damn second to explain?”

Silence. Another beat followed. Y/N crossed her arms protectively, frustration mounting in the milliseconds. Robby nervously scratched his beard searching for the right words, something-anything to turn this crappy situation around.

“Two weeks ago, Heather told me she had an abortion when we were ...together.”

Robby paused gauging Y/N’s reaction. She stayed muted, stuck in place near the rail’s edge.

“She was just looking for a friendly face to turn to, someone to soundboard off.”

“So happy you could step up to the plate, Michael.”

His shoulders tense at the use of his first name. That was strictly reserved during fighting or fucking. This was an entirely new beast of his own creation.

“I told her about us. How fucking happy you make me and possibly admitting therapy was proving beneficial. We walked to Stan’s after shift handoff… platonically. Whiskey was involved and before I knew it, we were kissing in her car and the world blurred.”

Her hand went up to stop him- “Enough. Spare me what position you fucked her in.”

Her voice trembled, she hated him for making her feel so small, so forgettable.

“Baby—”

“Don’t.  You don’t get to call me that right now, if ever. There’s nothing you could possibly say that would make me feel okay right now. Let’s agree to quit while we’re ahead. Nothing good is gonna come from this conversation. You betrayed my trust, simple as that so let’s just …not.”

“Who told you?”

A stale laugh rumbled out of Y/N; “Does it matter?”

“I guess not.”

“Would’ve been ideal coming from you instead of the entire nursing staff but beggars can’t be choosers.”

“I was going to. I’ve been trying to find the right time. I chickened out, okay?! I couldn’t stomach you not looking at me like I hung the fucking moon anymore. Everything about you makes me feel alive.”

Defeat weaved into every fiber of her being unsure if she’d ever truly feel whole again. Robby’s exhale lingered in the space between them like a living breathing thing. He braved a glance seeing the silent tears slip down her rosy cheeks. The urge to wipe away the pain paralyzing him momentarily, he stepped closer without thinking but Y/N instinctively stepped back.

Her voice held a sad steadiness; “I love you, Micheal. I’m in love with you...have been for the last year of doing whatever this is, but– I can’t forgive right now. Every time I step foot into this ER I’ll think of how the man I wholeheartedly adore slept with his star resident. A brilliant, beautiful woman who has a part of his heart I can’t access. I’ve waited patiently for you to finally see me, appreciate me as someone more than your best friend. And when you finally did, I thought to myself this was it, you were finally mine. And I’m sorry- Jesus, you’ve now got me apologizing—I can’t imagine that was easy news to swallow…but you-- You, Michael Robinavitch have made your bed, so enjoy lying in it because I’m done. I deserve better than half ass affection and whispered promises. Grow the fuck up, old man.”

“Y/N, please don’t say that. I love you; I love you so fucking much. I messed up hugely, monumentally, otherworldly, but as shitty as it sounds my feelings for you haven’t changed. I made an idiotic mistake, I know but don’t give up on us yet.”

His pleas fell onto deaf ears. Wisps of hair slapped the side of her face staring into the rising hues greeting the morning sky. Time stilled as her shoulders deflated; “Look, I’m exhausted and just finished 12 on. I’m covering nights with Abbot for the next two weeks. I think it might be a good idea to stay on different schedules…at least for now.”

Bile coated his throat at the notion of Y/N so easily removing herself from his life. There was nothing left to do than agree. He nodded his approval subconsciously.

Chancing a glance, Y/N memorized the devilishly handsome physician filing every detail for when she felt like punishing herself. She would’ve kissed him all morning if she’d kno2n it was their last, hugged him tighter when he was making breakfast prolonging their demise.

“Fuck you, Michael.  Seriously, fuck you for ruining us before we had the chance to be something magnificent.”

[4jihyo]

ITACHIYAMA. ⭑ FINDING OUT YOU DEBUTED.

synopsis: itachiyama’s favorite cousin duo and the ways they find out you debuted in the kpop industry.

backstory: y/n pulls a “mark lee” and disappears to train under a south korean company to debut as a soloist or in a group. y/n leaves without saying a word to anyone outside of her family leaving them confused, and concerned. until one random morning, afternoon or night, they find out the real reason—y/n debuted.

features: fem!reader, idol!reader, sakusa kiyoomi, komori motoya, bit of hinata & a pinch of suna .

contains: angst?, fluff??, fem!reader, timeskip ( mainly a few months after graduating or a year later ).

author's note: hi hi! thank you all for reading my posts!! <3 i tried to make these longer since it’s just sakusa & komori, they might be ooc so forgive me :/

series: karasuno 1st years ❪ part 1 ❫, oya oya oya squad ❪ part 2 ❫, inarizaki ❪ coming soon ❫.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI, 佐久早 聖臣 .

“You should give them a listen.” Hinata suggests, his usual bright smile glued to his face. He was practically jumping up and down with excitement, clearly proud he managed to turn most of the members of the black jackals into your group’s fan. He knew, Sakusa would be the hardest to crack.

Though, Hinata didn’t expect him to be this uninterested, since he usually gave into Hinata’s antics after about of week of being chased around. Everyone knows it’s easier to give in to Hinata instead of trying to fight him off.

Sakusa narrowed his eyes at his persistence, he shook his head no placing a new mask on his face. “Oh come on, you might like them!”

He doesn’t say a word, using his right hand to grab the straps of his gym bag before strolling out of the locker room. Hinata follows close behind him deciding to use his teammates silence as an opportunity to speak about the members of the group. Sakusa tries his best to tune him out.

His eyes shift around the building in hopes of finding any of his teammates—even Bokuto or Atsumu would suffice.

“One of the members is around your age actually,” Hinata continues to speak, “Oh! and she even went to Itachiyama.” Sakusa’s dark eyes do flicker in Hinata’s direction for a split second at the mention of his high school. Though he continues to walk in the direction of the exit.

Hinata grins, noticing the intrigued look on his teammates face. “Her name is Y/n L/n, but she goes by [stage name].” Hearing her name, Sakusa freezes up in his steps. It takes him a few seconds to collect himself, once he does, Sakusa turns to look over at Hinata. Part of him wondering if Atsumu mentioned his previous relationship to their younger teammate.

The tangerine haired man standing across from him tilts his head in confusion, clearly puzzled by Sakusa’s reaction.

Sakusa’s expression is unreadable, at least to Hinata who can’t tell if he’s irritated or accepted his fate. Sakusa is speechless, his lips are parted under his mask, eyebrows slight furrowed together in confusion. The breakup between the two of you didn’t come out of nowhere but your disappearance did. He’d excepted you to at least say goodbye, instead you left him with a broken heart.

“Show me the video.” Hinata jumps up in victory, stopping his little dance when he notices the firm expression on Sakusa’s face. He rushes to pull out his phone out of his back pocket and click on the YouTube icon. Hinata quickly types the name of your group deciding on his favorite performance video before handing it to him with a satisfied grin.

Hinata is unaware of the sudden tension. He’s too caught up in the glory to notice the way his teammates shoulders drop, or the way Sakusa’s hand subconsciously clenches the fabric of his shirt that’s near his heart.

Sakusa doesn’t believe his own eyes for a few minutes. This career path suited you well, and he realized you were right. You were born to perform, and he regretted trying to change your mind. Even with the camera focusing on one of your members, you could be seen in the background smiling brighter than he’d ever seen you smile with him.

You’d always been far more in love with your dream—which is now a reality, than you ever were with him.

KOMORI MOTOYA, 古森 元也 .

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, Komori strolls down the aisle with a basket in his hands, his eyes shifting from one side then towards the other. His trip to the grocery store should’ve been short—he’s supposed to be grabbing the ingredients for him and his roommate/teammates Suna’ dinner but Komori tells himself it won’t hurt to look around.

He shuffled into the cereal aisle looking for his favorite brand plus his roommate’s. Komori’s face lights up when his eyes lock on his favorite cereal, he gaped at the girl group being promoted on the cover. His slender fingers reach for the box, his eyes skim past the three unfamiliar faces and onto yours. The corners of his lips curl up, eyes brightening at the sight of your face knowing you accomplished your dreams.

He chuckles, lightly tossing his head back in amusement.

His face visibly brightens, pulling out his phone and snapping a picture—he’s definitely sending this to Sakusa. You look breathtaking, he notices the glitter on your eyelids—the makeup on your face is light however it does well to highlight your features.

Seeing you accomplish your dreams reminds him of his last fond memories of the two of you.

“I’m going to make it one day,” You declared to him over 2 years ago. The two of you stood outside of your high school gym staring up at the night sky filled with stars. “I can’t right now, but I’m promise I’ll make it someday.”

Komori can’t stop himself from smiling when he’s around you, and his eyes can’t help look at you as if you hold the stars and the moon in your hands. He knows you mean the words coming out of your mouth, and Komori knew the day that happened you’d be far out of his reach.

But nothing in the world would stop him from supporting you on the sidelines.

He snapped himself out of the fond memories, placing three boxes of the same cereal in his basket before walking off to the register. Komori would end up cutting out the group photo, he placed on the fridge of his apartment and the other two were saved in binders.

© 4JIHYO, 2025. please do not steal, edit, translate, feed or copy into AI or plagiarize my works.

[todayisafridaynight]

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

"Do you not realize it? Do you... truly not see what this means?"

The next Destiny Bond update is in progress! ❄️✨ –> Check out the latest part here 🔷 –> New to the series? Follow from the start! 💜

[reignpage]

Splish Splashing

Summary: in which Merman!Nanami courts and fucks Mermaid!reader Warnings: smut, f!reader, penetrative sex, lovemaking, mutual masturbation, merman anatomy, loss of virginity/couple's first time, dirty talk - praise, biting, blood drinking, cum eating, exhibitionism, unfortunate slips from past to present tense sorry lol - not proofread - will probs be edited later and more detail added Word Count: 2.7k

Merman!Nanami, for as long as he could remember, had always had a crush on you, another mermaid in his pod. How could he not with your iridescent scales, captivating hair which flows in waves around you, and seductive smile?

You were kind and graceful, offering your help whenever you could and leading the way for your family. A beacon of light in the darkness that he could not look away from. The quick conversations on his way to patrol the surface and you to teach the merlings were no longer sufficing; he wanted more. Merman!Nanami wanted to go home together, wanted to be in your presence from high tide to low, to know you inside and out, to be the thing that kept you tethered, the way you were for him.

For many moons, you two had been swimming around, grazing fingers and exchanging heated glances. In your eyes a curious, lingering depth could be found, enticing him to dive in, to succumb to the whirlpool and drown in all that you could give him. There was no doubt about it; you liked him back. He knew what he needed to do. 

The courtship began with small gifts like a small trident that he found from a shipwreck, fallen-off claws for your hair, and a hard-fought shark tooth as a protection charm. They were little trinkets that you could use every day; knowing you carried him with you as part of your routine made his heart soar. You accepted his gifts and his songs happily. 

But you deserve much more. So his search led him to the seafloor for something just as vibrant, as vivacious, and gorgeous as you. It was no easy feat but Merman!Nanami would not give up. He could not. Shaking off the persistent desire for mentorship from a pink-scaled guppy, he ventured into a burning, forbidden zone, where no mermaids or mermen dared look in the direction of – his fingers were sore and healing for weeks after he foolishly rummaged through the scalding rocks by the volcanic rift south of his pod’s coral palace, all to find a glowing emerald stone he had a friend fashion into a golden diadem. 

Of course, he had no regrets. 

At the full moon’s peak, when the whole Pacific Ocean’s humble citizens came together to celebrate the heightened forces that bind the community into a peaceful coalition with a feast, you two found each other in the crowd, practically drawn together, hearts beating as one. 

Your tails intertwined. Eyes locked. Voices humming the same tune. Palms pressed against the other, his fingers longer and webs slightly bigger, he led you through the other bodies searching for one another, the towers of coral, and rains of pearls, all the way up to the surface. Illuminated by the moon’s light, you looked up at him, shyly, and eagerly accepted his gift. It looked much better on your pretty face than he could have ever dreamed. 

“It’s beautiful, Kento.”

He breathed out, “Yes…you are. Uh, I mean, it is. No, you are. Beautiful. So beautiful.”

You laughed. “Thank you. But I do hope the night won’t end with just a dance and a crown, Kenny.”

Emboldened by the physical manifestation of his devotion, which weighed heavy upon your head, you reached up and kissed him. You shared the same air, fuelling his ambition and urging him to grip your hips with his calloused fingers. That was the furthest you two had ever gone, too shy to go too far too quickly. Nothing was holding either of you two back anymore. 

Turning ravenous, the kiss became sloppy and messy, saliva dripping down his chin, tongue mingling and teeth nibbling on sore lips. Merman!Nanami asked, “Are you sure? We don’t have to.”

“Ken…if you don’t fuck me tonight, I’ll drown you myself.”

“Always so violent,” he mused. “Alright, my love. Let me feel you.”

The rubbing and grinding of your lower halves together was driving him wild. Like an impish eel, your arm slithered down, dainty fingers expertly navigating the sensitive slit on his tail. 

Merman!Nanami gasped. No one but him had ever touched him like that. No one else had delved into the burning pocket there and felt the smooth skin inside, swollen with need. He jolted. Your fingers are softer than his, more gentle, and satiny. It felt like Olympus submerged. 

“Have you touched yourself here before, Ken? Be honest.”

Red-faced and a little ashamed, he admitted, “Yes. Sometimes it feels better than touching my cock.”

“Hmm, I bet. I’m sure you could cum just like this right?” With your spare hand, you coaxed out the hot length of his cock and rubbed up and down, thumbing the underside of his leaking cockhead. “Wow…you’re so big. I’m almost scared it won’t fit. But we’ll make it fit, right, Ken?”

“S-sweetheart, p-please.” He didn’t know what exactly he was begging for. All he could think about was how right it felt to have your body pressed so close to his, breaths mingling, and tongues exploring the wet caverns of parted mouths. Merman!Nanami let slip a frightened whimper when something foreign begun to grow from his scaled slit. “What’s happening? That -ngh!- t-that feels odd.”

You nipped his bottom lip, swallowing the bead of blood and moaning at the sweet rush of his addictive taste. “No one told you about this, Kenny? You’ve never found it yourself? Oh, you’re like a poor little guppy.”

Clinging onto your breast and flicking the nipple there, hidden under jellyfish-like tendrils, he demanded, “Don’t make fun of me.”

The giggles from your soft lips almost brought a smile to his. 

“Sorry, Kenny. It’s a spur. It’s supposed to make me feel good…here.”

His fingers were guided to your slit. He was a stuttering mess, overcome with delirium and flustered at finally being able to feel what he’d envisioned during late nights and had only heard about through seaweed vines from bragging mermen. Hot, sticky and exceeding expectations, Merman!Nanami could only fumble about, poking and prodding like a useless clownfish. You should have left once you saw his inexperience. He wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. Instead, you held him tighter and whispered encouragements.

Similar to his own, your slit had thin-scales surrounding the vulnerable area. When he groped there, you shuddered. And inside, it was smooth and swollen. Once he got a grip, emboldened by the marks you were leaving on his skin and the pumping of your fist up and down his throbbing cock, he pushed his fingers deep inside, webs flexibly pushed back.

A strange shyness overtook you, unused to baring yourself to someone else, forcing you to hide your face in the crook of his neck. There, you dug your teeth into his flesh, sending venom into his bloodstream just as you drank his blood mercilessly. His hips stuttered. "Good girl...it's alright...keep -hah- drinking."

The venom was making him lightheaded. You'd penetrated him, your very essence coursing through his body and filling him up. It was addictive. Maddeningly so. In that moment, Merman!Nanami understood the obsession mated pairs had with drinking from each other until they were rendered paralysed and unmovable for days.

Shaking his head to keep focus, he wrangled through the euphoric haze derived from being able to sustain you to your mesmerising cunt.

Whereas his was only a shallow space which hid his cock, yours seemed to go on forever. Impossibly tight and delectably gummy, he found himself scissoring his fingers, not to stretch you in preparation as he knew he should have but rather, just to feel you. 

At the apex stood a small clump that, when rubbed in circles, elicits louder moans from you. That must have been what all the mermen of his age were so proud to have found, he realised. 

There were pleats by the entrance and then a pillowy area reminding him of the heads of jellyfish. He curled his fingers against it. You moaned. “Does that feel good? Hmm? Do you want more, sweetheart?”

You jerked him off faster and faster. The feeling , coupled with your delicious voice, was going straight to his head. “Yeah, Ken. Please.”

“Oh, so polite. What a good girl. Come here, sweetheart. Come give Kento a kiss.” The novelty of the feel of your lips might never wear off, he thought. It was a kind of bliss no one could ever deserve. And the mere suggestion that you’d welcome him so wholeheartedly, under the dazzling stars and full moon, embracing him – all of him – was sending him deeper and deeper into a world of joy he’d kill to keep. 

The breast covering you wore had torn off some time ago, leaving your bare flesh touching his. Manic, he found himself muttering anything that bubbled in his head. “I c-can’t believe I’m supposed to go inside here. In your pussy. You’re far too tight, like a clam.” 

Through whines and whimpers, you scolded him. “Don’t compare my pussy to a clam, Ken. That’s bad.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He swallowed hard. Truthfully, he wasn’t thinking. No one could think clearly when the most beautiful thing to have graced the depths of the sea is in their arms, moaning their name and baring their mark upon their head and on their supple body. 

Merman!Nanami sent vibrations through the water with his sudden thrums; your teasing tongue had found his gaping gills. He had never felt that kind of pleasure before. Poseidon be damned, he didn’t even know he was sensitive there. More and more you were teaching him all about the body he’d carried his whole life, awakening him to a world of wonders and pushing him to want more. 

“Oh, my darling pearl, can I put it in now? Please. I want to cum -hah- inside of you. I want to feel you. To be one with you.” You hastily mumbled affirmations into his mouth. He sighed, relieved and impatient. Clumsily, he lined up with his cock, thumb accidentally skimming his newly-discovered spur and hissing at the sensitivity there. Inch by inch, he made his way inside. “Fuck! Ah, fuck, so good, so tight, so -hngh!- warm.”

Feeling your gummy walls with his cock was so different than with his fingers; it was as if he could feel you better. You were scalding, softer than anything anyone could find in the sea and on land, he was willing to wager, and so tight he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. Never in a million years. Not even if the gods themselves commanded it.

When he bottomed out and the spur at the top of the base of his cock met your clit, you both gasped. “K-ken…what a dirty mouth you have.”

“Forgive me, my love.” He pleaded, hips instinctively driving through your clenching walls. Merman!Nanami knew he should have taken things slow, should have been more romantic and made sure you were alright but your pussy was sucking him in like the most deadly current and he could only go along for the ride. “I just need to -hah- to make you mine. All mine.”

“I am yours, Ken. Always.”

A shaky smile filled your sight. “Thank you. Oh, thank you, sweetheart. I-I promise to treasure you for life.”

You pricked a finger against his canine and allowed him to suckle at the blood trickling out of it. Merman!Nanami whimpered at your taste, already feeling the powerful effects of your blood in his system. He sucked even more down his throat, suddenly finding himself so thirsty. As if urged on by a supernatural force, his hips gyrated his spur against your clit in tight circles. 

“That’s really -oh so good, Ken- sweet. But I want to h-hear you say you’re mine too.” He cooed and kissed your pout away.

“I’ve been yours before I knew that our souls are one, sweetheart. I was only ever made for you.” His fingers trailed along the fins lining your spine, touch light against the crevice. The membrane twitched just as your walls clamped down on his dick. “Don’t! Ah, f-fuck, don’t tighten on me like that.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, jaw hanging and flashing your sharp teeth. “Then don’t say -hngh!- romantic things to me. Ugh, fuck, I’m close, Kento. More. Give me more.”

“Yes, sweetheart, w-whatever you want.” Merman!Nanami was ramming and pounding and plunging into your quivering cunt. His spur was rubbing and grinding and kissing your pulsing clit, all while he tickled your spinal fins with one hand as the other kept your lower half in place. “I’ll give you the world. Anything to make you happy.”

Hand over his chest, feeling the rapid beating there, you said, “I only -ah, wait! Hey! I’m trying to be sweet too. Hmm soo good… you’re distracting me.” 

He whispered an apology on your cheek, not slowing down at all despite your complaints. “You’re already plenty sweet, my love. The sweetest. But go on, darling. Make my teeth rot, you adorable thing.”

In retaliation, you flicked his nipple just to watch his head be thrown back with a hiss. “I was saying…I only need you, Ken. Just you and your beautiful heart.”

“Say the w-word and I’ll -hah that’s it, sweetheart - I’ll take it out and give it to you.” And he meant every word. There would only ever be one deity he’d swear his life to and she was wrapped around his cock. Just one sign from you and he’ll roam the seas looking for whatever will make you happy.

Tails intertwined and no longer working to keep you two afloat, you both spiralled beneath the surface, falling deep into the depths of the water, uncaring of who could see. As far as he was concerned, there were only the two of you. You and your sweet laughter, your sloppy cunt, and loving embrace. 

The diadem on your head rattled with both the weight of the gemstone and the force of your rocking and jostling. You'd never looked more majestic.

So, when your mind-shattering orgasm, which left you a babbling mess on the crook of his neck, propelled him over a cliff, he painted your walls with a grunt. 

“Kento!”

There was no rhyme or rhythm to his thrusting, only a desperation to be emptied so you can be warm and filled up. Some drops of his cum were pooling out. He quickly scooped them up and brought them to your mouth. Finally, his cum wasn’t going to waste, beading into pearls in the water. You were absorbing them into your body, greedily gulping the spend and clamping for more. 

"Delicious, Ken...you've saved up a lot for me, haven't you?"

Merman!Nanami cradled your body as he slumped down on the seabed, sand disturbed. He was still inside you, albeit quickly softening, but neither of you made a move to get him out – the closeness was comforting. "All for you..."

Freshly fucked out, he still couldn’t grasp the fact that he finally touched your skin, tasted your kiss, and heard your melodious voice calling for him. It was everything he dreamed of and beyond. A life full of darkness, of loneliness, of swaying with the waves with no direction or destination ended. Together, everything laid out, bare for each other, you made vows that would last for an eternity. 

“We should probably go back to the party, Ken. Our friends will be looking for us.”

Merman!Nanami pinched your chin and tilted your head back. Unable to help himself, he stole another kiss, swallowing your moan. You giggled. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of hearing the infectious laughter from your lips. If he could bottle it up and take it with him anywhere, he would, even if he had to sell his voice for the opportunity. 

“Hmm, I think they can wait after one more round, no, darling?”

You laughed even louder. “We’re not going to see them at all tonight, are we?”

He smiled. “No, I suspect we won’t.”

"You may not be planning on seeing us but we sure as Tartarus have been seeing you. A lot of you, actually. Perhaps too much, one could say."

Merman!Nanami's smile dropped and a deadpan expression took its place. "Hello, Gojo...and the entire pod."

[withluvkay]

8 lil things you can try to feel better & productive!

Drink at least 2 bottles (or more) of water each day. Staying hydrated can boost energy levels, aid body in breaking down waste & help clear your skin by flushing out toxins!

Make your bed first thing in the morning - because a clean space can lead to a clean mind!

Do a quick 3-to-10-minute cardio workout 4-5x a week. Doing so can boost your mood and confidence while helping you build consistency. This habit can pave the way for exercising more often and for longer periods, contributing to your overall glow-up journey!

Meditate for 5 minutes or more. Doing so grounds you in the present moment and helps you tune into thoughts or physical feelings you might be ignoring. It's a simple way to relax and melt away stress.

Affirm regularly! Affirmations can rewire your subconscious beliefs and dissolve mental blockages. Remember, lasting external change starts with internal transformation—if you don’t trust or love yourself, you might unknowingly block the abundance you’re manifesting.

Spend more time creating, not consuming! Logging out and diving into art, music, writing, or any form of creativity feeds your soul in ways scrolling never will. It’s a chance to recharge your mind, discover new passions, and find fulfillment in making something truly your own.

Go outside, boo! Yeah, sprawling on your bed sounds super tempting (I get it), but we need sunlight! Take a small walk around your neighborhood, visit a park, or simply sit on your porch or backyard. The sun's rays are packed with vitamin D, which supports strong bones, boosts your immune system, and even improves your mood. And spending time outdoors can help clear your mind, reduce stress, and reconnect you with nature.

Prioritize rest and sleep. Glow-ups don’t happen overnight—literally! While hustle culture pushes the idea of “never stop” to become the ultimate “it girl,” true productivity starts with balance. Rest isn’t laziness—it’s an essential recharge. How can we show up as our best, higher selves if we’re running on empty? We’re not machines. Rest—both physically and mentally—is the foundation for sustainable growth, glowing skin, and thriving in every way.

While this post was originally written for me, I hope these tips inspire or help someone else on their journey too. Remember, the most productive thing you can ever do is prioritize yourself. Care for your body, nurture your mind, and show yourself the same kindness you so freely give to others—you deserve it. Appreciate who you are right now. Self-improvement shouldn’t come from a place of self-hate—you’re not something that needs fixing or a puzzle piece that has to fit in with the crowd. Work on yourself for yourself, because you love who you are, and want to see yourself thrive. 👑💐🩷

[theorphicangel]

papa!kuna getting up on stage when his daughter has stage fright.

she's been excited about her solo for weeks now, the endless rehearsals in the front living room on an early saturday morning. you ran through her lines almost everyday and helped her recite the songs just before she fell asleep.

it had gotten to the point where sukuna was humming her recital song in his own fucking sleep. but anything to make his baby girl happy, right?

she had wanted everything to be perfect and was excited to impress her parents. the night before she had her outfit all ready and waiting on the chair beside her despite the recital not being until the next evening.

but now she stands under the headlights of the school stage with many eyes peering at her and the piano instrumental playing in the background.

you had your camera up and ready for her solo but suddenly you place it down once you realise your child has stage fright. her kindergarten teacher prompts her to start, replaying the chord but the words seem stuck in her throat.

you glance at sukuna with worry in your eyes and he glances back with his face deadpanned but you know he's panicking inside. your daughter fiddles with her hands becoming more anxious with every second passed on stage in complete silence.

it's one of the worst feelings to experience as a parent; the panic of not knowing what to do or how to comfort your child in a situation and to be honest your heart just breaks.

before your mind could even comprehend to go and pick up your daughter Sukuna stands up with urgency and walks over to the stage. the whispers and murmurs continue until you see your husband getting up on stage and joining your daughter.

he kneels down and whispers something in her ears before taking her hand. the two of them face the crowd and before you know it their lips begin to move in time with the piano instrumental.

your confusion melts into a smile once you realise that the sukuna ryomen is...singing. on stage in front of everyone. for his precious baby girl.

his voice is gruff compared to your daughter's sweet tone but he's in tune and on time with the lyrics. you had no idea he had learned the lyrics this well. the words came to him naturally with so much ease and perfect timing right and everything. he accompanies her throughout the whole song and you watch her pick up her confidence with her dad by her side.

they finish the song and the crowd of parents and kids on stage clap with cheers and whoops. and your husband and daughter take their well deserved bow. coming off stage sukuna is praised by all the parents out there, standing immediately and patting his back.

'i don't know what i would have done if it was my kid, good job out there'

'mr ryomen I didn't know you could sing'

'you two were great! you should be very proud of yourselves!'

they quickly find you through the crowd of parents reuniting with their own children and lift your daughter into a hug.

you kiss her chubby cheek and congratulate her for doing so well out there and she gives toothy smile, 'i couldn't have done it without papa.'

'that's true, my love.' you grin, 'but you did so well, m'so proud of you for being so brave.'

sukuna stands by awkwardly, a tinge of pink appearing on his cheeks as all eyes seem to be on him in the room. but he keeps his focus on his daughter and shuffles her pink hair, ' you did well brat.'

'thank you papa.'

after letting your daughter run off and wave goodbye to her friends for the night, you turn to sukuna with a grin.

'wow...I didn't know someone had a good singing voice.'

'yeah, yeah, just don't make a big deal about it.' he groans under his breath, a hand scratching the back of his neck.

‘mr popular huh’ you murmur, watching as parents continue to give their congratulations. 'don't let the fame rush to your head now, kuna'

'if she wasn't part of it i'd make you delete that goddamn video.'

you hum along, 'You know I'll rewatch it tonight.'

'whatever, knock yourself out.'

[tavr0ast]

currently fighting the urge to create a Black Christmas oc and post about them , but i am a very weak shrivel of a creature and the urge somehow has a 24 pack .

and has gotten over 20+ hours of sleep .

and is very tall .

and eats a healthy balanced diet .

(i am dead within 30 seconds)

[mimiyaru]

Unexpected Infatuation

yandere emo x (slight?)Bimbo reader

This is lowkey cringe.. whatever

At first he didn’t even know who you were.

So when he accidentally bumped into you he didn’t expect you to call out to him just as he turned away after apologizing.

Did you need something?

….

Perhaps..

You wanted him?

A bold assumption but he’s had a couple of hookups with people from the school, mostly with popular girls who wanted to try something “different”, he wouldn’t have been surprised if they told all of their friends about their experience with him.

He thought you were just like them, wanting a quick fuck with the emo guy from school.

Though when he saw the way the clothes you were wearing hugged your body nicely and with all the cute accessories you had on, he honestly wouldn’t have minded.

But no you surprised him when you said that you really liked his style and the vibes he gave off saying that they were totes on fleek…. whatever that meant.

He merely stared at you, as if in a trance before grumbling out a ‘thanks’ and walking away from you.

Later that night he sat on his bed while tuning his guitar thinking about that conversation you two had.

Were you being serious? Or was it just a joke?

If it was a joke then it wouldn’t have been a shock to him, he was in a way considered odd from everyone else from school but you did sound sincere so maybe..

Nah, he shouldn’t be thinking so much about the conversation.

It was just a stupid conversation after all.

Though it came to his surprise when a week later he was paired up with you to work on a project for a class you shared with him.

He was aware that he never paid attention to his classes as he always sat in the back doing absolutely nothing but jeez how’d he never notice you?

During that same week he got to know you better and while you were popular and dumb at the same time he didn’t find you annoying unlike the other girls he hooked up with.

Working on the project together showed to be a bit difficult because all you did was ramble about clothes, makeup products, asked him silly questions, and not once did you talk about the project other than saying it should totally look cute aesthetic wise.

All of your rambles would result in him giving you a blank expression wondering how he got stuck working with you.

Safe to say that he questions how you even managed to graduate from high school.

He actually didn’t mind doing most of the work as long as you sat next to him looking all pretty and focused on talking to him.

Despite not intending to, he had grown fond of you and was happy (not that he’ll admit it) when you asked for his phone number to stay in contact even after the project was completed.

He started realizing that the way he acted with you was different when he noticed that he started gifting you small things like keychains, flowers or more accessories for your outfits when the both of you hung out together.

And everytime you would give him a hug and say something along the lines of

“Thank you, you’re like totally the sweetest!”

But he would always be busy noting how soft and warm your body was against his.

One fateful day you hugged him as usual when he brought you a small teddy bear but you also gave him a kiss on his cheek as a different way of showing gratitude for him you said.

He realized two things that day,

He really liked having your body against his

And that he would do anything to make you his.

Just wanted to write something about my oc but this is so…. buns 🥀 don’t come at me if there’s writing mistakes or if it’s overall bad i did not proof read it 💔 also he doesn’t sound emo cuz I can’t describe appearances but trust me he is.

[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[telephoniii]

hello! I saw your requests were open, so here I am :3 could I get the dorm leaders reacting to yuu/reader having random bruises? they are just from human stuff- like running into things by accident, dropping stuff, etc. but I think it would be interesting to think what they would assume first other than that! sorry for rambling n I give you my best wishes!

ACCIDENT-PRONE

☆彡 in which you find yourself getting hurt a lot

dorm leaders x GN!reader

word count: 200 per character

tags: pre-relationship, possible ooc, reader is prefect, first impressions

a/n: im going to try and post at least once a week but no promises. also im always getting random cuts and bruises that i have no idea how they get there. i hope you enjoy :>

riddle rosehearts

Riddle assumes you're doing it on purpose. No one could be that clumsy. You'll probably break a rule with how much stuff you accidentally run into or drop. And he'll definitely scold you for it. His tune starts to change the more he gets to know you. He will still always be the first one to chastise you, but also the first to get you bandaids and ice. He's worried honestly. He hates seeing you so bruised, even if it's from mundane things. Riddle will try to be more strict with you. If you're under harsher rules, there's a less likely chance of you getting injured, correct? Nope. You still find a way. At some point he stops trying to enforce so much onto you and instead shifts his focus to patching your wounds. He'll be making sure it gets properly iced! Even if it's a minor bruise. During unbirthday parties, he's going to be glued to your side. The thought of you accidentally breaking glass from a teapot or cup frightens him too much. If you call him out on it he'll flush a bright red out of embarrassment and explode on you a bit, saying that he wouldn't need to be doing all of this if you could just be more careful. Yeah, it's better to just silently appreciate his care. Because he does care, a lot. He's just bad at saying it.

leona kingscholar

The first few times he can brush it off as you being reckless. Most in Savanaclaw are. But once he spots a pattern? He thinks it's so funny. He'll sit you down in front of him and point at random bruises and scars saying, "What's this one from?" Then he'll proceed to laugh at you when you say you just tripped and ate shit. He knows you're tough enough to handle yourself. Don't let him touch any of the bruises. He'll press down on them purposely. If it makes you feel better, he'll jokingly call them your battle scars. Leona makes it sound way cooler than it actually is to other people. "Yeah, they've got a good amount of battle scars. Herbivore's pretty damn tough." This isn't to say he doesn't care. If you're around him and about to run into or drop something, he'll pick it up or stop you with his tail. He's got those beastman reflexes, it's light work for him. Whenever he does this, he's absolutely teasing you. "You really should be careful. It starts with breaking one glass. Then it turns to breaking an arm." Don't worry, his teasings always sound like threats. He doesn't mean any harm. If you're in a space with extra breakable objects, his eyes naturally watch over you; ready to spring into action at any second.

azul ashengrotto

Honestly? Might assume you're not human at first. It's common for merfolk to struggle at first when on land— he'd never admit it but he had such a hard time learning how to walk. Still has trouble in PE. When he learns you're just a human who happens to get injured a lot? A bit less sympathetic. Do not step foot into Monster Lounge. Please. Floyd causes enough accidents in there already. He doesn't need another person dropping glasses and food everywhere. Azul does not take any chances. He feels bad when you show him all the different bruises you've obtained. Being a merfolk means he's not super well equipped to handle human injuries. He doesn't know what to do other than rub it gently and wait for it to go away on its own. His solution? Just prevent you from getting injured! This means he’s baby proofing everything. You’re using plastic everything from now on. Plastic cups, plastic utensils, you name it. The scissors in your pencil case? They’re getting replaced with those kiddy dull ones. Hell, he might even put a gate in front of the stairs of Ramshackle to make sure you don't fall and tumble down them. If he’s with you then every time you pass by a table he’ll cover the corner with his hand to prevent you from hitting it. This man is doing the most. But it's all just concern for your wellbeing. He's cruel, but not that cruel.

kalim al asim

If you get hurt at his party, he's instantly apologizing and doing literally everything he can to help. Bandaids? Ice? Urgent Care!? ER!? Just say the word! The table you bummed into is getting put in the storage. You'll have to explain to him that, no, you're not dying. This kinda stuff just happens to you a lot. Once it registers what you're saying, he's actually over the moon happy. You're bumping and dropping everything, accidentally getting injured? Oh my sevens! He's bumping and dropping everything, accidentally getting injured! You two are twins! He's so excited just from your first meeting. He feels like you understand him. The things he does that cause bruises are never on purpose, it just happens! He'll definitely share those top-tier creams and bandaids that cost a ton but make them go away fast. Being around him actually makes your random injures worse. Because now both of you are getting double the bruises. Accidentally drop something on your foot? It bounced off you and hit Kalim's foot too. Kalim wasn't paying attention and rammed into the corner of a table? That pushed the table closer to you, causing you to stub your toe. It's like you two are spiritually connected when it comes to this. Jamil doesn't like having you over. It's nothing personal, but you make his job 10 times harder. Too bad Kalim absolutely adores your presence so you're over all the time.

vil schoenheit

Like Leona, he'll assume you're reckless. Except, he's got more distaste for those of that nature. He'll scoff every time he sees a new bruise... Until he hangs out with you and realizes that you are just the most accident-prone person he's ever seen. Vil will take it upon himself to try and train you. Remember how he was with the Fairy Gala? That's how he's going to be with you. Just not as harsh. He'll do that thing where he stacks books on top of your head and tells you to walk. When they inevitably fall and nearly tumble down on your foot, he's able to stop it with magic. However, he'll simply restock the books and tell you to try again. Vil is determined. When he wants something, he gets it. And right now he wants you to not be as randomly bruised as you are. Surprisingly, it kinda works. You're not bumping into as much tables or ramming your foot into walls anymore. Instead, the bruises are coming from random things fall on top of you. Are. You. KIDDING. When he's around, he'll stop these falling objects with his magic but unfortunately Vil is a busy man who can't be around you 24/7. So? Back to training! He's merciless as he trains you to dodge random things falling from the sky. It's a hard and long path, but when he sees the grin on your face as you dodge a book for the first time in the library, Vil knows it's worth it.

idia shroud

Assumes you're just someone who goes out a lot. Don't wanna get bruised? Just don't go outside lmao. Skill issue. It isn't until he allows you into his room that he realizes that, no, it isn't because you touch grass. It's because you're you. He swiftly learns that the hard way when he watches his entire shelf of figures just tumble over on you out of the blue, unprompted. "Alright, alright. You've got a friend that's consistently getting injured, Idia. Think. Think..." A lightbulb goes on in his brain as he gives you a toothy grin and unsettling laugh. What beats rock? Paper. What beats object? Armor! Why didn't he think of it sooner? You're going to be stuck in his room for a few days as he tests different robotic armor protection on you. To give him some credit, it works. You don't feel it when you ram into tables or accidentally drop something on yourself. But the people around you certainly do. A single touch of the table to this armor sends that thing flying. A random object dropping onto you is the least of your worries as a huge spike appears out of the armor to pierce it, nearly hitting the person next to you. So, yes. He has solved your problem. But in the most inconvenient way possible for everyone around you. Ace and Deuce are begging you to put down the suit of armor.

malleus draconia

"Oh dear. You're quite the unlucky one, aren't you?" And Malleus would be right. Seeing as you're one of his only friends, he doesn't want you to be getting hurt this frequently. Humans are fragile. What if the next rock that falls on you as actually a bolder? He can't fathom the thought of losing you. Malleus decides that he wants you around him. All. The. Time. That way, if not him, then his attendants can stop these bruises from happening. It's hard to explain to him that, no, you can't be around him all the time because different classes and dorms are a thing. Also, as much as you love hanging out with Tsunotaro, it's also very nice to have other friends. This poor fae is super confused. He takes your words as you wanting to get hurt. And why would you want to get hurt? Malleus struggles to understand, leading you to recruit Lilia in helping explain your case. Unfortunately, he's quite the stubborn boy. It takes talking from Lilia and the headmaster for him to register that he isn't allowed to have you by him all the time. It's disappointing for sure, but he'll just have to accept in. Due to this, the time you do spend together he's extremely vigilant to make sure nothing harms you. And during the times you're not, he promises to heal your wounds with his magic.

[prettycalla]

|| make me dream of you ||

Pairing: Johnny Storm/Reader

Summary: Johnny can handle a lot of things. But the feelings he has for you? That's a whole other matter.

Word count: 1.8k

Tags and warnings: Fluff, Johnny catches feelings, assistant reader, Johnny's POV, no use of Y/N.

(I promised myself I wouldn't fall in love with this man. But then I saw the film, and well...here I am, in love and a little mad about it. Anyway. Here's a little more Johnny fluff. It's a bit of a short one, but I hope it's okay!)

Johnny Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || Taglist

Johnny's not entirely sure when it happened.

One day, you were his assistant, and the next, you were something else.

Something more.

Things change. He knows that better than most people. He's learned to accept it. Embrace it, even. As exhausting as his life is at times, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

But this...

This is driving him nuts.

He's not a great sleeper at the best of times. He's always struggled with tuning his thoughts out, and after the cosmic storm, it's only gotten worse. He's seen things most people could only dream of. Incredible, terrifying things.

And now his nights are spent alone in his bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about you. How your eyes light up when you've finally solved an issue with one of the schematics. How you always laugh at his jokes, even the really terrible ones.

That soft smile you give him as you slide a cup of coffee his way, when he's falling asleep in the middle of another all-nighter. No one makes a coffee as potent as you do. It's perfect.

And somehow, all of this is so much scarier than anything he's ever seen up there, among the stars.

At his worst, when it's past 3am and he's still tossing and turning, he thinks about getting you fired. Making up some excuse to get rid of you, or making work so unbearable that you have no choice but to hand in your notice.

But that's selfish, and cowardly, and he feels like an asshole for even entertaining the notion.

But that leaves him with only one other option, and the more he thinks about it, the more he'd rather just disappear into space.

He needs to talk to you. To get all of this off his chest, and hope to God that it doesn't ruin everything.

He feels like he's losing his mind, and the worst part is, you have no idea what you're doing to him.

When he arrives at work the next morning, it's to find you, already set up for the day ahead and in the middle of taking notes.

The irony that he has the ability to fly, and yet he's always late, is not lost on him.

"Morning," you call, as the door clicks shut behind him.

Even that, the casual way you greet him, like you do every morning, leaves him frustrated. You're not even doing anything, you're just being yourself.

"Morning," he forces himself to say, hoping he doesn't sound as bad as he feels.

"Don't worry, I haven't done too much yet," you tell him, your attention still focused on the blueprints laid out across the desk in front of you. "I'm just looking over a few things from yesterday."

Johnny's still standing by the door. Hasn't moved at all. He's not sure if he can remember how.

"Could you bring over the schematics from last week?" you ask, still completely oblivious to the meltdown happening behind you. "They're on the second shelf, in the blue folder."

He could just go home. Say he's sick and run out the door. Anything would be easier than this. Instead, he makes himself walk across the room to do what you asked. He finds the blue folder, neatly filed in amongst the others, and that frustrates him too. Before you came along, this place was a mess. Everything was everywhere. Johnny's thoughts made manifest. And now, everything's colour-co-ordinated and has its own folder, and it all makes sense and he doesn't have to spend hours looking for things anymore.

He turns around, the drawings beginning to wrinkle in his too-tight grip. You're still completely engrossed in your work, pencil in hand as you scribble a note in the blueprint's margin.

"Oh, that should be a four..." you mutter to yourself, your free hand absently searching for an eraser to correct it.

It lies just out of your reach, and you have to stretch yourself across the table to grab it.

In his defence, Johnny tries not to look. Really, he does. But his eyes seem to have a mind of their own, and his gaze wanders down, to where you're practically bent over the table. God, if he could just-

"Oh my God!" he hears you shout in a panicked voice.

It's then that he notices the smoke, rising from the drawings in his hand.

"Oh, shit-"

Without thinking, he tosses them to the ground, stamping the thankfully small flame out before it has a chance to spread. He doesn't move once it's out, just stares at the mess he's made.

"Johnny?"

He sees your shoes next to the ashy pile on the floor.

"Hey, you okay?" you ask softly.

He looks up then, to find you staring at him, your head tilted slightly to one side with a worried expression.

Johnny clenches and unclenches his hand slowly - the one that did the damage.

That's never happened to him before.

At least, not since he figured out how to keep his powers under control.

"I- I don't know what happened," is all he can manage to say.

You smile at him, soft and reassuring.

"It's okay, accidents happen," you reply gently. "Don't worry about them, I made copies."

He feels your hand slip into his, and he frowns. He's still too dazed to bring himself to pull away.

"You shouldn't- Aren't you worried I'm gonna explode again?" he asks, as you guide him across the room to his chair.

You shake your head as you sit down next to him.

"I'm not afraid of you, Johnny," you say, and he can hear the sincerity in your voice.

But God is he afraid of you. Of how you make him feel.

"You wanna talk?" you ask. "I've been told I'm a good listener."

Johnny leans forward a little, elbows resting on his knees as he stares down at his hands. As if he's scared something will happen again.

"I don't know if..."

He swallows, trying to steady his nerves, before he presses on.

"I don't know if you'll wanna hear it," he murmurs.

You reach for him again, and he can't bring himself to pull away from you. Your hands feel so soft, warm in a way that he's not used to. Comforting.

"I promise you I do," you tell him. "We're friends, right?"

Are you friends? Sure, you met when you applied for this job, but it's not really just a work relationship anymore, is it? He spends more time with you than most colleagues would, and you've even been over for dinner a few times. Sue always makes a point of asking how you are, and when Ben's been baking, he'll make a little extra, just for you.

But the real problem is that Johnny doesn't see you as a friend.

It's so much more. And if he's not careful, he could end up with nothing.

But then he makes the mistake of looking up, and his gaze meets yours. Your eyes are so sincere, in a way that makes him want to spill it all across the floor.

He needs to tell you.

"I don't think we are," he replies. "Not anymore."

Your brow knits together in a frown.

"What?" you ask, confusion in your voice. "Did something happen? I-"

Johnny shakes his head, stopping you before you become upset.

"No, no, it's not like that," he says quickly. "It's just-"

He lets out a long, slow breath, and then, in true Johnny fashion, it all comes tumbling out before he can stop it.

"I like you. I...really like you. To the point where I can't stop thinking about you. Every night, I lie awake for hours, and you're all that's on my mind."

He stops himself with a wince.

"I mean, not like that. I wouldn't- It's not how it sounds. Look, I-"

He sighs in frustration.

"I didn't want to say anything, because I didn't want to lose you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I guess...I guess I got greedy. Because this, what we have right now...It's not enough for me anymore."

Johnny runs his tongue along his teeth, trying to collect himself. His mouth feels so dry, like he's been talking for hours.

"I understand if you wanna quit. I won't hold it against you," he says, and he can hear how defeated he sounds. "I'd probably do the same, if I were you."

He finally, mercifully, shuts up. His head's pounding, and his heart's no better.

He's never realised how quiet this room is. The silence feels as though it stretches on for an eternity, when the ticking clock on the wall tells him it's only been a few seconds.

"Can I say something?" you ask.

Johnny nods, not trusting himself to speak. His heart feels like it's lodged in his throat.

"I don't want to quit this job. I love it here. Really, I do. But...we have a problem now, and I don't know how we're supposed to get around it."

Here it comes. He holds his breath.

"It's just...Well, I don't know how ethical dating my boss is," you say with a smile.

Johnny's eyes widen. Did you just-

"What?" is all he can say.

A laugh escapes you, and he thinks it might be his favourite sound.

"Think about it. It's a HR nightmare, and we both know it," you tell him, but your voice is light, and you're still smiling.

"I mean, technically Reed is your boss, not me," Johnny replies, trying his best to recover.

You tilt your head from one side to the other, as if mulling it over. Not once have your hands left his.

"Then, I suppose that makes it okay," you say at last.

Johnny just looks at you, mouth opening and closing as he tries to find the right words.

Nothing comes to him. So he does the next best thing. He leans in, gently kissing you on the lips. Your hands squeeze his, and he feels you kiss him back. It's slow, careful, and he knows you're as nervous as he is.

But it's perfect. Because it's you.

It takes him a while to pull himself away, and when he does, it's to see you with the biggest smile on your face.

He's never seen anyone look as beautiful as you do right now.

You turn your head towards the desk.

"Should we maybe...?" you ask, trailing off.

Johnny shakes his head.

"Nah. It can wait another few minutes," he murmurs, as he kisses you again.

If Johnny had to choose from all the stupid risks he's ever taken in his life - and there have been a lot, he'll admit - he thinks this one is his favourite. Because none of the others have ever made him as happy as he is right now.

Taglist: @iitsmandii @glassbxttless @getaapologist @fandom-princess-forevermore @samslvrgirl @bib200 @magikdarkholme @spider-starry @jeangeniex @hazydespair @rainybloo28 @alexxavicry @mystic-alpaca @e-c-a-r-l-a-t-e

(You can join the taglist here! If you wish to be removed, please let me know!)

[sturnlia]

gaming

my first fic! i hope you guys like it, im sorry if its bad :3 fluff and making out!

you’re sitting on chris’s couch behind his gaming chair, one leg tucked under the other, scrolling through your phone while he’s gaming. the sound of gunfire and explosions fills the room, but you’ve learned to tune it out by now.

“you gonna sit there like a loser all night or actually talk to me?” you tease, tossing a throw pillow at his head.

it hits the back of his chair, to which he turns around, giving you a look. “first of all, rude. second, you’ve been on your phone for the past thirty minutes. who’s the loser now?”

“still you.” you lean back, stretching your arms over your head with a dramatic sigh. “i was hoping for some entertainment, but apparently, you’re more into playing with random dudes online than hanging out with me.”

“oh, you want entertainment?” he finally pauses the game and turns to you, one brow raised. “what, you wanna arm wrestle? see who can shotgun a pepsi faster? oh wait—i forgot, you suck at both.”

you narrow your eyes. “bold words for someone who cried over a jump scare last week.”

chris glares, pointing at you. “fuck you, that was a well-timed scare. any normal person would’ve jumped.”

you grin, triumphant. “but did they scream like a little bitch?”

he launches the pillow back at you, and you barely dodge it. “you are so annoying.”

“you love it." you say, sticking out your tongue.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at you with that cocky half-smile that always makes your stomach flip. his eyes flick down to your lips for a second—so quick you almost miss it.

“you know what’s actually annoying?” he finally says, leaving the game and walking over and sitting next to you. “how you always act like you don’t want me, when we both know you do.”

your breath catches, but you force yourself to scoff. “oh my god, your ego is out of control.”

he hums, tilting his head. “am i wrong, though?”

you open your mouth to argue, but he’s already shifting closer, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind you. the air between you changes—like someone turned the dial up on the tension.

“c’mon, baby, just admit it,” he murmurs, voice lower now. “you wanna kiss me so bad.”

your heart is hammering against your ribs, but you roll your eyes. “in your dreams.”

his smirk widens. “oh, you have no idea.”

and then he moves. slow and testing. he tilts his head and brings his lips so close that you can feel his breath against your mouth.

you don’t pull away.

he takes that as a green light and finally, finally closes the distance, kissing you like he’s been dying to do it for ages.

your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer instinctively. his lips are soft, but the way he kisses you? it's desperate, like he’s been waiting too long for this moment. his hands find your waist, warm and firm as he tugs you onto his lap.

“fuck,” he mutters against your lips, voice a little rough. “knew you’d taste good.”

you’re already breathless, but you muster a retort. “jesus, chris, that’s so corny.”

he chuckles, biting your bottom lip just hard enough to make you gasp. “yeah? didn’t hear you complaining.”

you don’t have a comeback because he’s right. instead, you grind down just a little, testing the waters, and his reaction is instant—a sharp inhale, fingers gripping your hips tighter.

“oh, we’re doing that now?” his voice is deeper, rougher, like he’s barely keeping it together.

you shrug, but the teasing is weaker now, your own body betraying you. “guess so.”

he doesn’t waste time. one hand slides under your shirt, fingers dragging over your skin in a way that makes you shiver. the other is tangled in your hair, keeping you close as he kisses you like he wants to ruin you.

and the look in his eyes and the way he touches you, seems like he does.

[spelledbyreid]

ꨄSweet enough — S.R

author’s note: a soft little scene I couldn’t get out of my head <3. This is my first time writing in tumblr format and in English, which isn’t my first language, so please be kind. I will appreciate any input on how to improve my writing/ tips / etc, but only in a respectful manner ! :)

genre: fluff/domestic. word count: 774.

pairing: soft!Spencer x reader. (established relationship)

Warnings: none! Just domestic fluff about Spencer and reader cooking together on their day off. Reader is a scientist in research but I’m not sure if it’s relevant to the story.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

“You know baking is a science, right?”

Spencer asks, raising one eyebrow as you crack an egg into the bowl with reckless confidence.

“I thought I could get away from work for one day,” you say with a smile. “But no—science still finds me.”

It was the first quiet moment you’d shared in weeks. Between his cases, your research, and flights across the country—not for vacation, unfortunately —this lazy afternoon at your place felt like stolen, precious time. Domestic, slow, and completely yours.

“You know, back in the 1960s, boxed cake mixes were really popular because they were quick and convenient,” Spencer says, handing you a spoon. “Originally, you didn’t even need to add an egg—the mix had everything included. But sales started to drop because many women felt like they were cheating, like they weren’t really baking. So, companies changed the formula. They made it so you had to add an egg, just to give people the feeling they were more involved in the process. And it worked—sales went back up.”

You smile as he talks. God, how you loved his facts. You let him ramble non stop, even if you were a little lost in the amount of information he had reserved in his mind, you made sure to listen.

Most people don’t. They dismiss his excitement, call his facts useless and tune out attempts to share those little pieces of knowledge— like that time on the jet when Agent Seaver said, “Sorry for asking,” right as he started one of his rambles you would’ve found fascinating. It stung, even if Spencer didn’t say anything.

Besides, it’s Spencer Reid, your boyfriend we’re talking about here. How could you dismiss the ramblings of the love of your life, standing in your kitchen with a ridiculous pink apron on, rolled up sleeves that revealed his absolutely beautiful hands that you adore so much.

“I think that’s stupid,” you chuckle, looking up at him. “People complained about baking being too easy?”

“Apparently,” he says, laughing softly.

You pour the batter into the dish and slide it into the oven, brushing a bit of flour off his chin. “Good thing we’re doing it the hard way. Just for the authentic experience.”

“Very authentic,” Spencer agrees, leaning lightly against the counter. “Flour everywhere, questionably measured ingredients, and a complete disregard for time.”

You bump your hip into his. “It’s called freestyle baking. You wouldn’t get it, Doctor.”

“On the contrary,” he says, his voice softening. “I think I’m starting to like it.”

There’s a pause—not awkward, but familiarly charged, in the sweetest and most domestic way. The kitchen hums around you, the oven ticking, the warm smell of vanilla starting to fill the room.

You glance up at him, already watching you with that look—gentle, curious, like you’re a puzzle he’s happy never solving.

“What?” you whisper.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head slowly. “You just look really… happy.”

“I am,” you say, stepping closer. “Are you?”

“Mhm, very.” He almost purrs.

And then he kisses you—soft and unhurried, like there’s nowhere else to be. You taste sugar on his lips and warmth on his fingertips as they slide to your waist, his palm settling there with easy familiarity.

Your hands glide up to his shoulders, pressing yourself closer, closer, closer — so there will be no way to tell where you end and he begins.

Spencer’s kisses are never rushed, never urgent. Just good. Familiar. The kind of kisses that makes you want to forget the cake entirely and just stay in the moment.

He holds you close, one hand warm and steady on your waist, the other one on your cheek, caressing it like the slightest pressure might break you. His lips move in slow tandem with yours, and you can taste the sugar and the raw, sweet batter he insisted on trying “for research purposes”.

Spencer’s tongue brushes against your lower lip in a silent question for slipping in, and you let him. You don’t devour each other — not really. Rather slicing piece by piece from each other — gently, tenderly, incredibly sweetly so, like you’re the most precious thing in the world, and so is he.

Eventually the natural need for oxygen wins, and both of you pull away — slightly flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“You know,” you whisper, your voice hoarse a little. “You’re going to make me burn this cake. No chance it turns out edible.”

Spencer’s grip on your waist tightens slightly, and his hand returns to your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin.

“I’ll eat it anyway, even if it’s terrible.” He says with a boyish grin.

Thank you for reading ♥︎

[4barbatos]

✦ forgive me, father (for i came)

venti x dahlia x fem!reader

then had a ménage à trois ...last friday night .ᐟ

cw: threesome (dom!venti & dom!dahlia x sub!fem!reader), spit-roasting, overstimulation, light dumbification, degradation and praise, blasphemous religious themes, rough sex, oral (receiving + giving), light choking, name-calling, drunken decisions, semi-public buildup, reader being very very down bad. idek atp it’s unholy.

a/n: jesus. this fic nearly took me out 😭 had to do actual research on what goes down at an american party bc obviously i’m not american (if u thought i was…… respectfully get out). also i was gonna post this at 2am but i deadass fell asleep mid-edit while “last friday night” was blasting in my left ear.

had this festering in my drafts for like a week because my brain refused to cooperate. finishing it felt like fighting for my life in the trenches, but i’m glad i pushed through bc i kinda love it??? dahlia being a repressed religious perv is sooo real to me. venti has a god complex and i’m not stopping him. man thinks he invented pleasure. praise be. 

also! modern college au, everyone’s legal and consenting, and ready to make terrible decisions <3 

you didn’t even wanna come to this party. 

like, genuinely. you had an exam next week, a half-written paper, and a half-dead social battery. the last thing you needed was to be shoulder-to-shoulder with a bunch of horny undergrads blasting katy perry like it was 2010 and shame didn’t exist.

but your roommate was hot and persuasive and already four shots in when she started dragging you by the wrist.

“i swear,” she slurred, her glitter eyeshadow half-smudged and confidence turned all the way up to eleven, “you need to get dicked down or at least dance, girl.”

you brought a water bottle and wore a thrifted denim short. crop top optional, dignity minimal. you figured you’d hover around the snacks, say no to three drinks, and dip early with your gpa intact.

you weren’t expecting to find god.

or rather — two boys who made you forget him completely.

it started off normal. crowded house, colored leds, somebody grinding to a weeknd remix in the living room. your roommate disappeared ten minutes in, presumably to go make out with that guy from her econ class who looked like he cried after sex.

you were posted by the kitchen counter with your “water” (spiked, probably) and a vague plan to ghost as soon as someone tried to rope you into flip cup.

suddenly you heard a familiar voice, buried under the bass and drunk laughter. something warm and deep, with a laugh you remembered a little too well — like the echo of a bad idea, like the first sip of communion wine that was definitely not grape juice.

you turned your head, scanning through the haze of neon lights and sweaty bodies until you saw him.

“wait,” you said, freezing mid-step. “is that—”

you blinked through the crowd. tilted your head. no fucking way.

“dahlia?”

and like some kind of divine punishment, he looked up right as you said it. head tilted. curls a little longer now. smile the same. pretty as always, just older — more grown into himself. less sunday choir, more sunday morning regret.

you stared. he stared back.

and he smiled. slow. familiar.

“holy shit,” you mumbled. “literal church boy dahlia. the pervert.”

your friend turned her head, already halfway through her third drink. “the what?”

you grinned, cheeks flushed. “he used to moan during prayer.”

she choked. “you’re kidding.”

“senior youth retreat. i was there. it was dark.”

you didn’t mean to talk to him again. not really.

you were supposed to be getting more water — in the loosest sense of the word — and maybe scoping out the snacks before your roommate dared someone to dance on the dining table. but somehow, you ended up pressed near the kitchen counter with him, sipping vodka-disguised hydration and laughing a little too easily against the tune of an early-2000s party playlist.

like the past didn’t hum under your skin.

like you hadn’t spent whole years pretending you didn’t think about his lips when you closed your eyes.

“you still go to church?” you asked, voice looser now, a little slow from the alcohol. your eyes flicked down to the rosary slung around his neck, a glint of silver nestled above exposed collarbones. the chain dipped beneath his half-unbuttoned shirt — a silk one, of course, because dahlia didn’t know how to dress normally.

“every sunday,” he said, tilting his head, elbow resting behind you like he always needed to trap you somewhere. “confession, too.”

you raised a brow. “must be a long-ass session.”

he grinned. “only when i think of you.”

you choked. coughed. wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“you’re disgusting,” you muttered, trying not to smile. “jesus wept.”

“probably because you wore that skirt to sunday school.”

you gave him a look. “you wore fishnets to a baptism.”

“we all have our moments.”

you snorted, flicking his arm. “blasphemous freak.”

he leaned in, mouth close to your ear, voice low: “missed you too, sweetheart.”

you were about to recover — really — when a new voice cut in. higher, smoother, soaked in flirt and casual sin.

“hey,” someone drawled, “who’s your friend?”

you turned your head.

and immediately forgot how to breathe.

the boy standing there looked like temptation had crawled out of a lana del rey song and decided to make itself fashion. crop top riding dangerously high on his waist. eyeliner smudged like he’d fucked and cried in it. messy red eyeshadow painted over his lids like sin. earrings glinting with every lazy tilt of his head. thigh chains. layered necklaces. a smile like he already knew every filthy thought in your head and was ready to make it worse.

he looked at you like a cat watching something twitch.

“venti,” dahlia muttered beside you, voice already tight. “this is y/n.”

venti’s eyes didn’t leave your face. “oh. hi.”

your brain short-circuited.

he tilted his head, smile curling. slow. knowing.

your heart did a little skip. then maybe a cartwheel. maybe a confessional-level sin.

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. you blinked, twice, trying to remember how words worked.

venti’s gaze dragged down and up in one unashamed sweep — not even pretending to be subtle. when his eyes met yours again, they sparkled. and then he smiled wider.

dahlia rolled his eyes so hard it looked like a prayer for patience. “she’s mine.”

you scoffed immediately. “she’s not,” you said, turning fully toward him — maybe too quick. maybe too flustered.

venti was still watching you, smug like he’d already won. 

your knees wobbled. traitors.

dahlia noticed. of course he did. he stepped in closer, hand ghosting over your hip like he had to remind both of you where you used to belong.

“you’re drunk,” he muttered, low.

“so are you,” you shot back, voice breathier than you wanted.

venti’s grin sharpened like a knife. “i’m sober enough to know i’d make her feel better than your holy hands ever could.”

he took a sip from his red solo cup, and when a drop slipped past his lip, he caught it with his tongue.

your soul left your body.

dahlia made a sound halfway between a scoff and a growl. “you’re going to hell.”

venti shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “with her? gladly.”

you exhaled. shaky. already fucked in the head. already thinking about what it’d be like to be ruined between them — choir boy and chaos incarnate.

you had a paper due monday. a hangover waiting to ambush you. a party full of strangers that wouldn’t notice you disappearing.

and god definitely wasn’t here tonight. 

“so,” venti said, stepping closer — dangerously closer — until your shoulder nearly brushed his. he smelled like wine and spearmint and something sweet you couldn’t name. “what brings a girl like you to a party like this?”

“roommate dragged me,” you replied, trying to sound casual. your voice came out thinner than expected. “i have an exam next week.”

“mm. you study hard?”

“i try to.”

he smiled like you just handed him ammunition. “you look like you need a break.”

“she doesn’t need your kind of break,” dahlia muttered, shifting beside you. his palm skimmed the curve of your waist, familiar and territorial.

venti, unbothered, leaned past you to grab a bottle off the counter — something green and half-empty — and poured a finger of it into his cup. he offered it to you with a smirk.

you didn’t take it.

“i’m already drunk,” you said.

“so am i,” he replied, “and yet i’m still making excellent choices.”

“this isn’t an excellent choice,” dahlia said, tugging you a little closer.

“what, sharing a drink or stealing your girl?”

you almost choked.

“i’m not his girl,” you said.

dahlia’s fingers tensed.

venti’s eyes glittered. “well, if you’re not his… can i have you?”

you blinked at him.

and maybe it was the alcohol. maybe it was the way he was smiling like he’d already won. maybe it was the ghost of dahlia’s breath on your neck, the memory of his hands under your skirt at sixteen, the fact that you felt so alive for the first time in weeks —

but you said it. blame the devil, the vodka, the look in venti’s eyes. you said it anyway.

“are you two gonna keep talking,” you asked, voice low, “or are you gonna fuck me?”

a beat of stunned silence.

then —

“dibs,” venti said, instantly, voice light but laced with something that made your spine straighten. “i call dibs.”

“you can’t call dibs,” dahlia snapped, sharp and bristling. “she’s not some fucking prize.”

venti only smiled, stepping closer with that same lazy, dangerous charm. “sure feels like i’m winning something.”

“i talked to her first.”

“you also tried to claim her like a parking space,” venti shot back, glancing at you with a knowing gleam. “she said no, remember?”

you blinked up at them, half amused, half unhinged, stomach doing flips and thighs already pressing tight.

“jesus,” you muttered, “this is the worst threesome negotiation ever.”

venti leaned down a little, voice dropping as he looked you straight in the eye. “oh, love. this isn’t negotiation. this is foreplay.”

you might’ve blacked out for a second. just a little.

then dahlia was suddenly behind you, crowding close enough for his chest to press against your back, one hand low on your waist, mouth right next to your ear.

“say the word,” he murmured, “and i’ll take you upstairs right now. don’t even have to look at him.”

venti hummed. “but she wants to. don’t you, pretty thing?”

you turned to look at him.

his tongue was running along the edge of his bottom lip, slow and knowing, fingers playing with one of his necklaces. he was watching you like a dare. like he already knew what decision you were going to make.

your mouth went dry. your body didn’t.

“you’re both,” you said, exhaling, “so fucking annoying.”

“but hot,” venti reminded, cocky.

“and talented,” dahlia added, already pulling you subtly toward the hallway. “you remember.”

venti’s hand was on your other wrist before you realized it, cool and confident. “i promise i’m better.”

you didn’t even know who led you up the stairs — one of them pushed the door open, the other tugged you inside, both of them crowding close as the music faded behind a slam and the click of a lock.

heat. hands.

someone’s mouth on your neck. someone else’s fingers at the hem of your shorts.

“dibs on her mouth,” venti said, already dropping to his knees, smiling like the devil as he looked up at you.

“you’re such a slut,” dahlia muttered — but he let go.

“i am,” venti grinned, tugging your hips closer. “and she’s about to be, too.”

you barely had time to breathe.

venti’s hands were already gliding up your thighs, warm and smooth, dragging your shorts and underwear down in one practiced, greedy motion. the grin never left his face. not even when he kissed the inside of your knee and said, in the sweetest voice you’d ever heard:

“hold still for me, baby. gonna make you sing.”

you almost said something smart — almost — but then his mouth was on you, and the words evaporated. tongue hot, slow, teasing. his thumbs held your thighs open with a surprisingly firm grip, and then he moaned into your pussy like he’d just tasted something divine.

your knees buckled.

“fuck,” you gasped, one hand shooting out blindly until it hit dahlia’s arm. you curled your fingers into his shirt. “oh my god—”

“told you she’d sound pretty,” venti murmured against your cunt, before licking another long stripe up the center and flicking your clit with his tongue.

“and i told you to shut up,” dahlia muttered, but his voice was hoarse. his hand found the back of your neck, thumb stroking the edge of your jaw as he leaned in to kiss your temple. “you like his mouth, baby?”

you whimpered, nodding helplessly.

“yeah, she does,” venti said smugly. “she’s dripping. such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

you would’ve protested — maybe — but then he sucked, lips wrapping around your clit and tugging just right, and the pleasure hit like lightning.

your hips jerked forward. dahlia caught you.

“venti,” you whimpered, “fuck—i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he said sweetly. “let go for me, pretty thing. cum all over my tongue.”

you did.

shaking, gasping, clinging to dahlia’s shirt like a lifeline while your thighs trembled around venti’s head. he groaned, licking you through it, hands firm on your ass to keep you steady.

when it was over, he kissed the inside of your thigh like a reward.

“so sweet,” he murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “might get addicted.”

you were still trying to catch your breath when dahlia gently tilted your face toward his.

his eyes were dark.

“my turn,” he said.

you didn’t realize you were grinding against venti’s mouth until he groaned, loud and thrilled, hands squeezing your thighs to keep you there. your head spun. your hips jerked. he loved it.

“needy girl,” he gasped against you, tongue flicking quick and sharp. “use me.”

you whimpered.

behind you, dahlia cursed under his breath, pushing your bra up to mouth at your tits, teeth grazing your nipple just rough enough to make you jolt. “fuck, baby. so sensitive. you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you?”

venti pulled back just enough to grin against your skin. “she’s close.”

“she always was easy.” “she’s perfect.” “she’s mine.”

you gasped, nearly choking on your own breath.

“then why’s she whining on my tongue?” venti said, smug, dragging it over you again — and god, it was filthy the way he moaned like he’d been starved for this, like the taste of you was his favorite kind of poison.

you cried out, trembling hard enough that dahlia had to grip your hips tighter to keep you upright.

“venti—venti—fuck—”

“cum for me,” he said sweetly. “be good and make a mess on my face.”

and you did.

with a cry that split the air, you came hard — shaking, hips bucking, vision dark at the edges. venti didn’t stop. he ate it up, humming, licking through your orgasm like he was trying to memorize it. like he wanted seconds.

maybe thirds.

you barely had time to catch your breath before dahlia was spinning you, lips crashing into yours — rough, messy, starved.

“still mine,” he muttered against your mouth. “she might’ve got you first, but i get to fuck you.”

venti wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes shining. “we get to fuck her.”

dahlia didn’t argue this time.

you were dizzy, your knees barely holding, your pulse still too fast. but you didn’t care.

not when dahlia was walking you back toward the bed, pushing you gently down, stripping you slow like you were something precious and ruined all at once. not when venti crawled up beside you, kissing your neck, your jaw, your collarbone — every inch dahlia wasn’t touching.

“gonna take care of you,” venti whispered, fingers ghosting down your stomach. “you’ll let us, won’t you?”

you nodded. breathless.

“use your words, baby,” dahlia said, already undoing his belt. “what do you want?”

you looked between them — wrecked and warm and starving — lips parted, thighs trembling, mouth slick with spit and want and everything you weren’t supposed to be.

your voice barely came out a whisper.

“…both of you.”

venti beamed. radiant. unholy. like a prayer turned inside out.

“god bless.”

“god hates us,” dahlia muttered, already pushing your thighs further apart, climbing over you like he owned you. “and i’m about to make you forget every prayer you’ve ever known.”

your breath hitched. your whole body keened.

then came the first thrust — deep, deliberate — and the air punched out of your lungs in a messy, wrecked sound.

you didn’t even know whose hands were on you anymore. one gripped your throat just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, another curled around your hip, dragging you back against their pace like you were made for it. venti was saying something — words you couldn’t catch, not when your brain was sliding like honey through your skull — but his mouth was wet and hot and everywhere, his tongue licking into your teeth like he wanted to taste the exact second you broke.

dahlia growled in your ear, low and dark, his grip bruising.

“say it,” he rasped. “say who’s making you feel this good.”

“y-you both—” you gasped, hands scrabbling for anything to hold onto. “fuck, please—”

“aw, look at her,” venti cooed, voice syrupy, cocky, cruel. “can’t even think straight. how many times has she cum already?”

“four,” dahlia grunted. “maybe five.”

“mm. not enough.”

you whimpered as venti dipped between your legs again, tongue unrelenting, too much — too much — but god, you didn’t want it to stop. didn’t want to breathe if it meant they’d stop touching you like this, worshipping you like the altar you were never meant to be.

you moaned — high and helpless — when dahlia’s pace picked up, slamming into you like he was trying to fuck his name into your spine.

venti grinned up at you from between your thighs, lips wet and swollen.

“gonna make her forget the alphabet.”

“already did,” dahlia panted. “she went stupid after the second orgasm.”

you didn’t deny it.

you couldn’t. your brain had been fucked clean out of your head, scrambled like eggs, your only thoughts left were their names and the way they made you feel — raw, perfect, ruined.

and still they kept going. and you let them.

you let them, because you were already too far gone. because your body begged for more even when your mind shattered. because you’d never felt this good. this full. this taken.

because whatever sins you’d committed to get here?

you’d do them all again. twice. in heels.

god was gone. and you were still moaning.

it didn’t matter anymore. not with your legs trembling open, cunt puffy and dripping, drool sliding from the corner of your mouth as you moaned pathetically around venti’s cock.

“ohh, look at her,” venti cooed, breath shaky, voice teasing and airy as he fisted your hair. “baby’s all fucked out already, and we haven’t even finished.”

“slut,” dahlia muttered behind you, hands digging into your hips as he snapped his into yours. “you came again, didn’t you? just now. again. fuck—your pussy’s still squeezing like she wants more.”

you whined around venti’s length, eyelids fluttering. your arms couldn’t hold you up anymore. your thighs had given out ages ago. they kept you upright between them — barely — venti’s cock hitting the back of your throat while dahlia was still pounding into your soaked, overstimulated cunt like he was trying to fuck the brain out of you.

maybe he already had.

venti moaned, hips twitching as your lips hollowed around him. “you’re drooling, pretty girl,” he gasped. “so messy. god, i love it. she’s not even blinking, look—she’s gone, dahlia.”

“good,” dahlia growled, pace still brutal. “she wanted to act like she didn’t want either of us earlier. needed a reminder.”

venti chuckled, breathless. “she’ll forget her name at this rate.”

you tried to answer — to say fuck you or i hate you or please or more or something, anything — but your voice was gone, throat raw, thoughts mush.

“mm-mm,” venti murmured, noticing the twitch of your brows. “don’t think. just feel.”

you whined again — this time, deeper. desperate.

dahlia leaned forward, hand sliding up to wrap around your throat from behind. “you gonna cum again for us, sweetheart?” he rasped into your ear, hips still slamming into you. “gonna cream all over my cock like a needy little toy?”

you gasped around venti, tears finally slipping from your lashes.

venti groaned, tilting your head up to look at him. “god, she’s crying,” he whispered. “you’re so fucking pretty like this, y’know that?”

you made a wrecked little noise, drool sliding past your lips as you nodded.

dahlia grunted. “fucking knew she liked it. knew you were a dirty girl the second i saw you in that church dress.”

your cunt clenched violently.

“fuck—again?” dahlia moaned. “she’s—she’s gonna—”

you broke.

legs kicking, arms trembling, a scream caught in your throat around venti’s cock as your body convulsed, heat flashing white as you came hard — your sixth? seventh? you couldn’t tell — clenching so tight around dahlia it made him swear, hips jerking once, twice, before he buried himself to the hilt with a groan.

venti whimpered. “ohh, fuck, baby—fuck—gonna—gonna—”

he pulled out just in time, coming hot and fast across your tongue and lips, his hand under your chin to tilt your face up, make you take it. you let your mouth fall open, drool and spit and come spilling messily down your chin.

“that’s it,” he gasped, voice sweet and fucked. “good girl. good fucking girl.”

you whimpered — barely conscious, twitching.

dahlia pulled out slow, watching your slick drip down your thighs. “fuck, look at that mess,” he muttered, thumb brushing your clit just to watch you flinch. “soaked the sheets. hope your roommate’s proud.”

venti collapsed beside you, sweaty and blissed out, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

you blinked at him, dazed. “mmnnh.”

he grinned. “no thoughts. just cock.”

“mission accomplished,” dahlia muttered, flopping beside you on the other side.

you weren’t even sure which of them kissed your shoulder.

you just knew your legs didn’t work, your soul had left your body, and if god had been here tonight —

he definitely left mid-threesome.

you woke up to the sound of someone snoring and someone else — singing.

acoustic. badly. with feeling.

“…living in a material wooorld, and i am a material giiirl—”

your brain hurt. your legs hurt. your entire existence hurt.

you cracked one eye open.

and immediately regretted everything.

venti was sitting cross-legged on the floor, wrapped in a blanket like some sleep-deprived prophet, strumming an actual guitar (???) you swore nobody had brought to the party. eyeliner smudged halfway to his temples, red eyeshadow still smeared across one cheek like war paint. his lips were shiny — glossy, even. god only knew why.

he grinned when he saw you awake.

“morning, sunshine! you moaned like a pornstar in your sleep.”

you blinked.

rolled over.

and immediately saw dahlia, shirtless, face buried in a pillow, groaning like he had just been born into suffering.

“kill me,” he rasped.

you sat up slowly, blanket clutched to your chest, realizing three things at once:

1. you were wearing dahlia’s shirt. inside out. 

2. venti was definitely wearing your bra like a headband.

3. someone had written “slut sandwich” on the fogged-up mirror in lipstick.

“what the actual hell happened,” you croaked, throat wrecked, dignity in shambles, and your legs about two steps away from quitting the entire concept of balance.

“sex,” venti answered brightly from the bed, still shirtless, still smug. “lots of it. possibly illegal in some countries.”

“definitely illegal in a church parking lot,” dahlia added, not even opening his eyes. “and probably a few states.”

you flipped them both off with shaky fingers as you stumbled toward the bathroom, every muscle in your body filing a complaint.

“don’t forget to hydrate!” venti called after you, far too cheerful for a man who’d literally begged to cum in your mouth five hours ago.

you grumbled something about exorcisms and shoved the bathroom door open, clinging to the sink like a war veteran. mascara smudged. knees bruised. bite marks blooming like artwork down your collarbone. you didn’t even want to check your hair.

you’d barely closed the door behind you when you heard:

“hey dahlia?”

“what.”

“did we actually high-five while spit-roasting her or was that just something i dreamed about?”

a pause.

“nah. we definitely high-fived. you yelled ‘teamwork makes the cream work.’”

venti wheezed. “oh my god. i’m hilarious.”

you slammed the bathroom door shut like it owed you money.

god, give me strength, you prayed silently. and maybe a therapist. and a gallon of electrolytes.

…also maybe another round after brunch. if they behave.

a/n: guys imma be honest this only got finished bc of @ventisslut <3 ily mother. bless 🙏 if it weren’t for u i’d probably still be staring at my docs unfinished and untouched (like me)