#it's not quite but hey... let me have this...

[cherrygirlfriend]

── POOR ETIQUETTE ♡

♡ pairing: ceo!rafe x housewife!reader

♡ summary: your husband has some of his employees come over for a boys’ night that doesn’t go quite as well as you’d hoped when they start talking about their opinions on women.

♡ warnings / tags: fluff. suggestive material but no smut. misogyny. rafe loves his wife. MDNI! wc: 1.8k

♡ author's note: this is for @zyafics MRGA campaign + i decided to make it one of my celebration fics bc i literally have only one more left after this 😭

HOUSEWIFE MASTERLIST ♡ 5K MASTERLIST

"hey, baby." rafe mumbled, his hands massaging your shoulders as you were sitting on the couch, focused on your book. you smiled, letting out a pleased hum, closing your eyes as you leaned into your husband touch, the man working the knots in your muscles you'd gotten from the workout session you had, "i got somethin' to ask you…" rafe pressed a kiss to the side of your neck.

"if it is to get up off the couch, i'm sorry but that's out of the question." you let out a huff of a chuckle, "wouldn't dream of it." rafe grinned as he let go of your shoulders and rounded to the other side of the couch, taking a seat right next to you. you placed your bookmark at the place you left off on before putting your book aside and turning to face him, "what's up?"

rafe's hand started toying with a loose strand of your hair, "do you mind if some of the guys from work come over to play poker and watch the game next week? my advisor told me that i should try and 'make nice with the board', or whatever."

"why would i mind that?" you chuckled, raising your brows as rafe's arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him, his large, warm hands sliding right under the hem of your shirt, goosebumps starting to form on your skin, "i have friends over all the time."

"yeah, but i don't." "because you say 'why would i spend time with friends when i can spend time with you?'." you chuckled, your attempt at imitating your husband making him laugh, "and i stand by that." rafe grinned as he pulled you into his lap, his lips finding your neck, pressing soft kisses that trailed downwards, each touch of his lips making you take a sharp inhale of a breath as your eyes fluttered shut, leaning your head back to allow him better access.

"i'd rather be doing this..." rafe mumbled against your skin, his warm breath on your skin causing your nipples to start hardening under your tank top, his tongue tracing a path along your soft skin as he reached your collarbone "what, you're telling me you and your friends don't do this?" you let out a breathy chuckle as one of your hands trailed up the back of his neck, running through the short strands of hair, "‘cause me and my girlfriends do this all the time."

the remark earned a sharp nip from your husband, the man making you squeal as he picked you up in his strong arms and stood up from the couch, beelining towards your bedroom, your giggles echoing around the large home.

you were probably definitely more excited than rafe was that he was having people over from work; he'd been telling you the entire week that you wouldn't have to bother doing anything, that he'd just order some pizza and have them out the door as soon as the game was over. but you couldn't help it; rafe never had anyone over, and you'd only met people from his work briefly at the events his company held.

so, when the day came, maybe you baked a few batches of your famous chocolate chip cookies along with a batch of red velvet cupcakes, singing along to the music playing from your phone as you finished sprinkling cheese onto the square pizza you'd made, your heart nearly jumping out of your chest when you noticed the figure standing in the doorway, much too focused on cooking to notice your amused husband.

"you scared the crap out of me." you laughed as rafe started walking towards you, loosening the tie around his neck, already having dumped his suit jacket. "i thought i told you that you wouldn't have to do anything." rafe raised his brows, and his hands found your hips, turning you so your body was facing him, "i know. but i wanted to. i like being a host. i get to bake." you grinned up at him, your hands resting on rafe's shoulders, "when are they getting here?"

"about... an hour i'd say." rafe tsked, "but you know what that means?" he grinned, "i'm sure you'll tell me." you leaned in to press a small peck on rafe's lips, "it means that we have plenty of time to shower."

"you're absolutely right." you pursed your lips in thought, "we're so lucky that we have more than one shower so we can even do it at the same time."

your words made rafe let out a dramatic gasp, "using two different showers? you wanna waste that much water? what kinda monster are you?" "you're right. maybe we should shower together. y'know, for to save water and everything." "mm... that's my good conservationist."

after you'd gotten done showering, you sat at your dressing table in your robe, shamelessly ogling your husband as he started getting dressed, letting out a little wolf-whistle when he dropped the towel that had already been resting low on his hips, rafe bursting into laughter as he pulled his boxers on, "you know, if i had any singles i'd be throwing them at you." you winked, watching as he pulled a pair of jeans on, "i know you would." he smiled, "are you gonna join us or just leave me to fend for myself?"

"i might pop by at some point." you shrugged, applying moisturizer onto your face, "but i think i'm gonna let you handle it for a bit." "wow, you just love hurting me, don't you?"

"i do." you looked at him with a self-satisfied grin, standing up and walking towards your closet, and as you untied your robe and let it fall to the ground, it was rafe's turn to ogle at your naked figure while you started looking for something to put on, pretending not to notice rafe's hungry stare.

after having greeted rafe's coworkers at the door, you'd left them alone, except for the occasional times you'd peek into the living room, your eyes always immediately finding your husband, and even though he hadn't wanted visitors, you could gradually see him starting to loosen up, the man actually looking like he was having fun.

but after a few hours had gone by, you knocked on the side of the wooden arch leading into your living room, rafe and the four other men turning to look at you, "mind if i join?" without even waiting for an answer, you made your way over to where rafe was sitting, your husband pulling his chair back as you plopped down to sit in his lap, rafe's hand going to rest on your waist.

"you wanna join in on the next round, sweetheart?" one of the men, mr. michaels, said and you did the best to tune out the condescending tone in his voice until another man, mr. kingston, joined in, "yeah, if you dunno how to play then we can just teach you." "yeah, we'll take it easy on ya."

you kissed your teeth yet forced yourself to maintain the smile on your lips, rafe squeezing your side, "nah, i think i'm just gonna watch." you said, taking rafe's whiskey glass off the poker table when yet another man, mr. smith, piped up just as you were bringing it to your lips, "be careful hon, that can be some real strong stuff. not good for fragile li'l things like you."

"i'll make sure to be so careful." you smiled sweetly before throwing back the whiskey, rafe letting out a quiet snicker while the man who had warned you simply cleared his throat slightly awkwardly as you brought the glass down onto the table.

the five men continued playing, one of rafe's arms staying around you the entire time. "you know rafe, i wish my wife would stay at home and just take care of the house and kids like your woman does but she's always yappin' about how her career is too important to her." mr. ashton snorted, "i mean, y'all don't even have kids."

the remark about not having children caused you to clench your fists under the table as you bit down on your lower lip, attempting to keep the smile on your face, rafe's thigh tensing under you.

"at least she knows to have a meal ready and the house cleaned by the time you get home." mr. michaels complained, "mine won't even do that."

"well, maybe you don't treat her well enough to deserve that." you said with that same sweet tone, your smile not faltering, "excuse me?" "just saying. if she doesn't treat you the way you think you deserve to be treated, then it sounds like you don't deserve to be treated like that." you shrugged, rafe pressing a small kiss on the back of your shoulder.

"who do you think you are talking to me like that?" the man laughed and shook his head, "rafe, you should put a muzzle on your woman if she's gonna act like a bitch."

you could feel rafe's entire body tense under you, and when you looked at him from the corner of your eye, you could tell that his ice-blue eyes had turned even colder, his breathing getting heavier, "what the fuck did-"

interrupting rafe just as he was raising his voice, you looked mr. michaels dead in the eye with your smile now dropped, your voice just as steady as it had been before. "get out."

"you're outta line." mr. smith pointed his stubby, hairy finger at you, the man you'd just chastised too stunned to say anything, "now, we're important men at your husband's company. if i were you, i'd think before i speak."

"i did think about it. get out of our house. all of you."

"rafe, are you gonna let your woman disrespect us like that?" mr. ashton looked to rafe, clearly expecting for him to agree with him.

"you're right, gentlemen." rafe tutted his lips and cleared his throat , "she shouldn't disrespect you like that. she should've told you to get the fuck out of our house before i find a way to drive every single one of you out of my company and make sure you never find a decent job around here."

the four men looked at each other in shock, slowly getting up and gathering their things; you could hear them mumbling something to one another, until finally, your front door was slammed shut.

you turned in rafe's lap to face him, running your hand through his hair, "you sure you don't mind that? i thought you were supposed to 'make nice' with them, or whatever."

"fuck no." rafe shook his head, "i'm just mad i couldn't punch them. probably would've. you're more important to me than any fuckhead, no matter if they work for me or not. i'm always gonna support you." your husband tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ears, all the iciness gone from his eyes as he looked over your features. "besides, it was kind of hot seeing you like that." "really?" you chuckled softly, "yeah. don't get me wrong, i love it when you're sweet but... damn. i've never seen this side of you. does stuff to me."

"mmhm." you hummed, bringing your lips inches away from his, "wanna show me what it does to you?"

you couldn't even get another word in before rafe had scooped you up into his arms and started heading towards the bedroom.

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[piastriprincess]

sometimes all i think about is you  ⸻  oscar  piastri  x  reader  .

featuring  oscar  piastri  ,  roommate!au  ,  friends  to  lovers  ,  smut  ,  use  of�� fahrenheit  (im  american  sorry deal  w  it) , unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it bbys !) word  count 4.2k author’s  note 18+  MDNI  !!!  once  again  (and  probably  every  time  i  write  smut)  i  will  say  i  have  no  excuse  for  this  one  .  if  oscar  piastri  doesn’t  want  me  to  write  smut  about  him  then  maybe  he  should  stop  posting  slutty  little  photos  where  he’s  all  tan  and  sweaty  !!  like  really  …  what  was  i  meant  to  do  with  that  .  anyway  let  me  know  what  you  think  ,  i  hope  you  all  enjoy  <3  title  is  from  heat  waves  by  glass  animals  !

You’re halfway through your research when you notice the silence. 

It’s not the comfortable, productive kind of quiet that tends to fall over the apartment while you work. This feels different. Ominous, even. Like there’s something you’ve gotten used to that’s suddenly gone missing. 

You sit up straighter in your chair, frowning down at your laptop as you blink sweat out of your eyes. The cursor blinks back at you like it knows something you don’t. The air feels off — heavier, a little more stagnant, pressing down on your skin. Something about it makes your stomach twist nervously.

You push back from your desk and open your bedroom door. Your roommate is exactly where you expected him to be: sprawled on the couch, laptop balanced on his thighs as he types relentlessly away at the coding project he’s been “almost done with” for the past two weeks. 

“Hey, Osc?”

He pulls out one AirPod, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he turns to look at you. You can hear his music even from your doorway, the house beats bumping through the tiny speaker. “What’s up?”

“Do you…” you pause, stepping fully into the living room. “Does it feel kinda hot in here to you?”

He presses up on his elbows, tilting his head slightly like he’s registering the temperature for the first time. “Yeah, actually. Weird.” He tosses his laptop on the coffee table, exchanges it for the air conditioner remote. When he points it at the unit and presses a button, nothing happens. 

Your eyes flick to the AC unit. There’s no air moving above it. No breeze blowing through the leaves of the plants you’ve stacked across the windowsill.  

Oscar tries again, pressing the buttons more frantically as you’ve ever seen him (which is to say, slightly harder than he did before). “It’s not working.”

“Shit,” you say, dread rising in your stomach. “You’re kidding.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, deadpan. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

He doesn’t. He looks mildly concerned at best, cheeks flushed and sweat starting to dampen the hair at his temples, brow furrowing in that calm, clinical way of his. You can tell he’s already cycling through possible fixes in his mind; to him, this situation is just another puzzle to be solved, an amusing diversion to take up his afternoon.

You, on the other hand, are spiraling. 

“Oscar,” you say, words dripping off your tongue, “it’s nearly a hundred degrees outside. There’s been an extreme heat warning this entire week. I saw someone on TikTok this morning fry an egg on the sidewalk. And you’re telling me our AC is out?”

He points the clicker at the unit one more time for good measure. Nothing. Your chest tightens, as you glance down at your phone. 98º, the weather preview reads, next to a bright little sunshine icon. 98 degrees, and it’s barely 9 AM. 

“Oh god,” you whine, pressing the heel of your hand to your forehead. It comes away damp. “Oh god, we’re gonna get heatstroke and die in this tiny shitty apartment.”

“Whoa. Okay. Don’t panic,” Oscar says softly, eyes wide, like he’s not quite sure what to do with the freaked-out version of you. He walks past you into the kitchen, filling a glass with water and handing it to you. “Drink this. I’m gonna check the breakers, yeah?”

He disappears down the hall to the fuse box, and you collapse onto the couch where he’d been laying. It’s still warm from his body heat, which somehow makes everything worse. You can already feel your hair sticking sweatily to the back of your neck. The water is lukewarm, but it helps a little.

Oscar’s back a few minutes later. “Did it work?” you ask hopefully, but he’s already shaking his head, holding his phone out to you. You can read the giant, size 128 font your super always uses in his emails from across the room: Building-wide HVAC outage. No ETA for repair. 

“Okay,” you say slowly as you sit up, trying to channel some of his calmness. “Okay, we can figure this out. Ice packs. Cold showers. We can handle this. It’s gonna be fine.”

He nods uncertainly. There’s sweat starting to bead at his hairline. “I think there’s a fan in the closet that the people who lived here before us left. I’ll grab it.”

When he returns, he’s carrying the fan under one arm, biceps flexed around the frame. It’s an old thing — white plastic going yellow at the edges, wide square cage locked around three dusty blades, power cable frayed from use.

“That thing looks like it’s going to electrocute you,” you say, eyebrows raised. 

He grins, plugging the cord into the wall. “C’mon, it adds character. Ready for sweet, sweet circulation?”

You scramble to the floor, sitting cross-legged directly in front of the fan. “Hit me, Piastri,” you say decidedly, and he flips the switch. 

The fan wheezes to life, sort of. The blades creak into motion like they’ve woken up from a decade-long nap, and it only takes a moment before the first gust of air hits your waiting face. 

Hot air.

“No,” you moan, and Oscar crouches next to you, hand in the corner of the frame like he’s trying to run his fingers through the breeze. “I thought this was gonna help. It feels like sitting in front of a fucking hair dryer.”

“Maybe it just needs a second to warm up?” he tries, but you’re already shaking your head. 

“It is warm. That’s the problem.”

He sighs and sits on the floor next to you, knee brushing against yours. The fan keeps pushing the stifling air at your faces, like it’s mocking you. “Verdict: the fan is shit.”

“The fan is worse than shit,” you groan, letting your head loll against his shoulder. You can feel his skin even through his shirt, warm beneath your cheek. “The fan is actively taunting us. The fan is betraying us.”

“Okay, drama queen,” he says fondly, pulling the cord out of the wall. The fan stutters to a stop and silence falls again, the air feeling even swampier than before. 

“We’ve got other ways to beat the heat,” he says, like he’s trying to convince himself and you. “It’ll be fine.”

It’s absolutely, completely, one hundred percent not fine.

“This is hell,” you moan, fanning yourself with an old takeout menu. “Actual hell.”

Oscar swipes lazily at the menu, pulling it out of your hand. “Give me that.” He fans it at himself a few times, before letting it drop out of his hand with a groan. 

For a while, it had kind of felt like an adventure. The two of you had dragged your stuff into the living room, worked side by side with bags of frozen peas pressed to your heads, cold beers sweating on the coffee table. The day dragged on, temperature climbing higher, and you’d been forced to get creative. On one trip to the kitchen, you’d figured out it was the shadiest place in the entire apartment, and promptly moved to lay out on the floor, tiles cool beneath your skin. The two of you took turns sticking your head in the freezer, too hot to be self-conscious about how stupid you looked. At least you’d gotten an ancient, frostbitten box of Bomb Pops out of it, long forgotten behind your ice tray. You’d spotted it, pulled it out and split the entire box between the two of you, rationing them like wartime supplies. 

But now the popsicles are gone, the last of the beers going lukewarm, and you’re both pleasantly tipsy and running out of ways to keep yourself entertained. Judging from the way the sun is slanting golden through the window, you’re guessing it’s late afternoon, but you don’t dare get up and check your phone. That would mean expending energy and leaving the cold tiles behind, two things you are very much not prepared to do.

“This is such an undignified way to die,” you mumble instead, cheek flat against the cool floor. Your bottle is dripping with condensation, pressed into the skin of your neck. 

“We’re not going to die,” Oscar says automatically, sliding down the cabinets until he’s on his back next to you. His hair is plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed. 

You roll your head to the side to look at him. “I’m pretty sure this is how we go out. I’m wilting. I can feel my brain literally melting. Dripping out my ears.” 

“Nah, I think that’s just sweat,” he grins, eyes sparkling. 

“Ew, Osc.” You wrinkle your nose. “Gross. And also not helping.”

He lets out a laugh, lazy and breathless, forearm thrown over his eyes. “At least we’re going out together.”

“Yeah, put that on the tombstone,” you snort. “‘Here lies two idiots who died because they were too cheap to rent in a building with a competent super.’”

“We’re not cheap,” he protests weakly. “We’re… financially responsible.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s so financially responsible to just die of heatstroke.”

Oscar sighs, taking a long swig and then setting his beer down. The glass clinks against the tiles. “Okay. Well, we’re definitely not gonna survive if we keep wearing this much.”

You blink, propping yourself up on your elbows. “What?”

But he’s already shimmying his shorts down his legs, kicking them across the floor to the corner of the kitchen. “It’s basic heat management. Less layers means our skin’ll cool off faster.” He pulls his shirt over his head next, one clean, graceful movement. 

And — okay. Okay. You weren’t prepared for Oscar to be shirtless. 

You’ve lived together for almost two years. You’ve seen him before, on laundry day in a ratty muscle tank, on the way into the gym, even one particularly embarrassing moment when you walked into the bathroom before he’d gotten dressed, towel slung dangerously low on his hips. But you’d filed the moments away in your head as normal roommate occurrences, nothing to think twice about. 

Clearly, you hadn’t been paying enough attention. Because now you don’t know what to do when he’s sitting on the kitchen floor in a pair of grey Calvins, skin flushed golden and peppered with moles, covered in a sheen of sweat. There’s a drop trailing down his chest, catching in the grooves of what look like very defined abs. 

You know you’re staring. It’s shameless. You feel a little bit insane, actually. Oscar is… hot?

“You okay?” your roommate says, a little too casually. 

“I —” you stammer, forcing your eyes up to his face. “What the hell, Osc. You have muscles.”

“Humans tend to have those,” he replies dryly. 

“No, but like, I thought you had programmer muscles. Slouch over a computer all day and code muscles,” you try to explain. “But you look like you could be in like, a sexy sunscreen ad or something. When did you get so jacked?”

He laughs, a little breathless, rubbing the back of his neck. His ears look a little pinker than they were before. You’re not sure if it’s the heat or something else entirely. “I’ve always been like this. You just never noticed.”

You shake your head. “No way. I would have noticed that.”

“Apparently not,” he says, voice a little rough in a way that makes your stomach twist. “Your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

He gestures at your sweat-soaked tank top. “Heat management, remember?”

“Right, yeah. Makes sense. Equal opportunity stripping,” you breathe, trying very hard to sound casual even though your pulse is racing under your skin. You take a breath, averting your eyes to the floor, and tug your tank top over your head. 

The air hits your skin first, surprisingly cool. And then, unmistakably, Oscar’s eyes next, trailing down your body, heavy and lingering. 

“You’re staring,” you note, and his gaze snaps back to your face. 

He swallows hard, rakes a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry, I —” His eyes flick back to your chest, like he can’t help himself, then quickly back up to your face. “Jesus.”

You raise an eyebrow, tiny smile on your face. “Humans tend to have those,” you echo him, gesturing vaguely at your bralette, and Oscar makes a strangled noise like he’s choked on his own tongue. 

He rolls toward you on the floor slightly, one arm falling lazily over his waist as he looks up at you with those big brown eyes. “You can’t just do that.”

“Hey. You were the one who told me to take my shirt off,” you say, suddenly defensive.

He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Well, I didn’t think you’d do it and look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Hot,” he says lowly, and now it’s your turn to sputter around your own breath.

“I mean — it is the middle of a heatwave,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. 

His eyes find yours. Hold them with an intensity that makes you shiver even in the heat. “You know that’s not the type of hot I meant.”

The air doesn’t feel stagnant anymore. It feels alive between you, some kind of simmering tension that’s using the heat as an excuse to finally, finally boil over. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, voice pitching high and unsteady. 

His brows knit together. “What do you mean?”

“You’re looking at me like you want to kiss me or something,” you say, breathless. 

A beat. Oscar’s lip catches in between his teeth as he looks at you, and you can feel your traitorous eyes drop to his mouth. His grin spreads slowly across his face, like he’s won something he didn’t know was up for grabs. 

“I do want to kiss you,” he says. And then he leans in, slow, like he’s giving you the chance to stop all of it in its tracks, until there’s no space left between you. 

When his mouth finally finds yours, it’s careful. He tastes like cherry popsicle, lips sticky with the leftover sugar and a salty twinge of sweat. One hand cups your cheek, the other resting tentatively on your waist, thumb skimming at the hem of your bralette like he’s still trying to figure out how far he’s allowed to go. 

You don’t want him to be careful anymore. 

You swing a leg over his lap, straddling him, knees knocking against the tile. His breath hitches as you settle against him, muscles tense beneath you. “You’re allowed to touch me, you know,” you murmur against his mouth. 

He pulls back, chest rising and falling unevenly as he looks up at you. “Just — trying to be respectful,” he says roughly, fingers digging into the skin at your waist. 

You smirk, rolling your hips against the obvious bulge in his briefs, hard and thick and throbbing. The groan he lets out is nothing short of filthy. “Osc, I’m literally half-naked on top of you. I think we’re way past the point of respectful.”

It’s like the permission flips a switch inside him. His mouth attaches to your neck, sucking little bruises into the soft skin, and suddenly, his hands are all over you. One sliding down your back, splaying over your hip and rocking you against him, cock rutting against your wet heat through your shorts. The other palming at your chest through your bra, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide the way your nipples pearl under his touch. 

“So fucking hot,” he breathes into your skin, pausing between words to suck another mark at the swell of your breast. “Driving me insane, you know that? All fucking day with those shorts and that little tank top.”

You don’t respond. Just reach behind you, fingers nimbly unhooking your bralette, clasp damp against your back. The fabric falls away easily, straps slipping down your arms until you’re bare on top of him.

For a second, you think Oscar might have stopped breathing, hands frozen on your hips, eyes fixed on your tits.

“Oscar?” you say, breathless, rutting your hips against his in a shameless attempt to bring him back down from whatever planet he’s on. He blinks hard, shakes his head slightly like his brain is an Etch-a-Sketch he’s trying to reset. His pupils are blown, eyes wide as he stares up at you.

“Sorry, yeah, I —” he mumbles, and then his head is ducking down, mouth closing around your nipple, warm and wet. His tongue flicks sharp over the nub of it, his other hand coming up to palm at your other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. 

It feels like he’s everywhere, all hands and lips and tongue, and you gasp, arch your back like you’re trying to get more of your tits into his mouth. He groans around you, teeth grazing against the sensitive area gently. The vibrations go straight to your core. “Osc — fuck — ”

“Good?” he mutters against you, and you nod frantically. His free hand wraps under you, fingers splaying against the curve of your ass, and he picks you up and presses you into the kitchen tile without taking his mouth off you. The move is so absurdly, unfairly hot that the only thought in your mind is why you didn’t let him do it sooner.

He pulls back, and you’re about to whine at the loss of contact until you feel his mouth against you again, pressing messy open-mouthed kisses in a trail down your stomach, tongue dragging against your skin like he needs to taste you. Your fingers weave easily into his hair, tugging loosely at the roots, and he whines.

“Can I —” he breathes when he gets to the waistband of your shorts, looking up at you through his lashes, and you’re lifting your hips in reply before he can even really get the question out of his mouth.

“Please,” you gasp, like he needs any extra confirmation. Like he’s not already hooking his fingers into the elastic and tugging your shorts and panties down your legs. 

“Fuck,” he rasps once you’re laid bare in front of him, hand sliding slick up your thigh to your center. “You’re unreal.”

He kisses the inside of your thigh gently, then again. Higher and higher he goes, mouth dragging just shy of where you need him most. “Taste so fucking good already f’me,” he mumbles to himself, almost reverent. “Can’t believe I get to do this.” 

Your hips kick involuntarily at the vibration from his words, his breath teasing at your cunt. “Then do it, Osc,” you whimper, fingers tightening in his hair. “Please.”

Apparently your begging does the trick. He plants one hand on your thigh, uses it to pull you towards him, spreading your thighs wide enough to keep them apart with his shoulders, and then presses the flat of his tongue to you, licking a long, hot stripe up your center. 

He eats you out like he’s been dying to do it, like he’s trying to figure out exactly what makes you tick, what will make you fall apart the fastest under him. It’s a little sloppy, hot and wet and reckless, but it works — tongue circling around your clit in a way that makes you moan high and breathless. The sound only seems to spur him on, fingers slipping into you a second after that. 

Your back arches off the tile at the feeling of his fingers, fucking you open slowly. Not that it’s doing a thing to cool you down anymore. With his mouth and his hands on you, you feel like you’re burning up from the inside out. 

When he sucks your clit into his mouth, crooking his fingers inside you, the sensation is nearly too much to bear. “Osc, don’t stop — I’m gonna —” you pant brokenly, hips rocking against his face, his hand.

“Let go. Come on, baby, let me taste it,” he murmurs directly into your core, and your orgasm rips through you, thighs shaking around Oscar’s shoulders. He works you through it, tongue lapping at you like he wants to devour you as you writhe beneath him. 

When you finally come back down to earth, you tug him back up your body until you’re face to face. “You good?” he asks breathlessly, looking down at you. He’s so pretty like this — wild-eyed, flushed and panting, hair mussed, mouth shining. 

“Yeah. Yes,” you nod, dazed. “So fucking good.” He grins down at you, obviously pleased, if the way his hips twitch into yours is anything to go by. 

You reach up for him instinctively, suddenly desperate to taste yourself on his tongue. The resulting kiss is hot and sticky and perfect, even better when you let your hand slip between the two of you to palm at his cock through his briefs. He hisses, jerks his hips forward as you work your fingers beneath the waistband, pulling them down just enough for his length to spring free, hard against his stomach. 

He breaks the kiss just enough to shove the briefs down, past his ankles, kicking them to the rapidly growing pile of clothes in the corner of the kitchen. When your hand wraps around him, thumbing across the tip and spreading the wetness gathering there down his length with one experimental pump, he gasps, hips canting against your hand. 

“Fuck, you can’t — I’m not gonna last if you do that,” he admits, eyes closed and breathing uneven. 

Maybe it’s the heat that makes you bold, or maybe it’s his honesty, saying straight out how badly you affect him. But something makes you grin up at him and say it: “Maybe you should hurry up and get inside me, then.”

His eyes snap open, and he makes a wrecked little noise at that, something between a whimper and a growl. “Fuck. Okay. Condom. In my room, I think —”

You laugh, breathless, hooking one leg around his waist and pulling him down to press his forehead against yours. “I’m on the pill. And I trust you, Osc.”

His eyes flutter shut like that might legitimately be his undoing, cockhead pushing at your slick folds, barely holding himself back. “Jesus fucking Christ. Okay.”

He lines himself up, sinks into you so slowly that it’s torture. The feeling is overwhelming, the stretch, the heat of it. He’s thick, perfect, pressed so deep into you when he finally bottoms out that it nearly steals the breath from your lungs. 

“Shit,” Oscar chokes out, helpless. “You feel — fuck, you feel insane.”

You dig your heels into his back, nails dragging over his shoulders. “Probably feel better if you move,” you breathe, and his eyes go dark, pulling out just to slam back into you with a long moan.

He finds a rhythm fast. Messy, desperate thrusts that echo filthily against the tile every time his hips snap into yours, skin sliding against skin. He’s bracing one hand beside your head, the other gripping under your thigh to keep you spread open, flushed and panting beneath him.

“You’re so —” he starts, voice breaking into a moan as you rock your hips to meet him with each thrust, your cunt gripping him warm and tight and ready. “Fuck. Wanted this so bad.”

“You thought about this?” you manage between gasps, and he nods. 

“All the fucking time. Jesus, you feel so good,” he groans, voice rough and hot against your ear. “So fucking tight, baby — m’not gonna last.”

You’re a mess beneath him already, gasping and clawing at his back as he fucks into you. “Don’t have to,” you whine as he hikes your leg up his waist, opening you up even more for him. The angle has your vision blurring, seeing stars every time his length scrapes that one spot inside you. “Want you to come, Osc, please, need to feel you.” You clench around him on instinct, and he shudders, hips stuttering.

“Fuckfuckfuck, don’t do that, I’m so close,” he grits out, hand sliding between your bodies to your clit, rubbing tight little circles against you. “Need to make you come first.”

You let out a moan, almost incoherent. You can already feel it building, coiling low and tight in your stomach, sparked by the heat and his voice and the frantic way he’s moving inside you. “Osc, I’m gonna —”

“Yeah?” he breathes, eyes fluttering shut as you pulse around him, so close to falling over the edge. “Do it then. Want to feel it on my cock.”

You come with a yelp, back arching and cunt fluttering around him. A moment later, Oscar’s rhythm falters inside you, and then he’s gasping your name, spilling into you with a groan that vibrates against your skin.

He stays like that for a moment, shivering in the aftermath, pressed fully against you, skin slick and sticky, chest rising and falling in uneven bursts.

“...So,” he breathes, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “That definitely didn’t help us cool down.” 

You laugh, breathless. Fucked out. “Not even a little bit.”

“Cold shower together next?” he grins, dazed, cheeks flushed as he waggles an eyebrow at you. You smack him on the arm lazily in response, no real heat behind it. 

But you don’t say no. And when he scoops you up off the floor into his arms and carries you to the bathroom, you get a distinct, giddy sort of feeling that no matter how long the heat wave lasts, whatever is happening between the two of you isn’t cooling off anytime soon.

[moondustbaby]

Made For Me

blue collar!Rafe x sahm!Reader

a/n: based on this request! 💌

cw: lactation kink, big boobie appreciation, soft dominance, postpartum body comfort, oral (f. receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected piv

mdni 18+

summary: Rafe comes home from work to find you tired and leaking through your nursing bra—but all he sees is how beautiful you are. With gentle hands and loving words, he shows you just how much he adores every part of you, especially the ones you feel most insecure about.

⸻

You’re folding laundry in nothing but your robe, half-open because it doesn’t quite fit your chest anymore. One side of your nursing bra is unclipped, and you keep forgetting to fix it—too tired, too distracted. You barely even notice the way milk slowly dampens the cup of your bra.

But Rafe notices.

He notices everything.

You hear his boots on the hardwood before you see him, the door creaking open as he walks in from work, cheeks flushed from the heat, Carhartt shirt sticking to his chest.

“Hey, baby,” he calls, eyes landing on you—and then his voice dips, goes all honeyed and low. “Damn.”

You glance up, flustered. “What?”

He drops his tool bag in the mudroom and walks in slow, his eyes locked on your chest like he hasn’t seen you in days, not just eight hours. “You know what that robe does to me,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your cheek, then down your neck. “S’like you’re beggin’ me to come home and ruin you.”

You roll your eyes, but your body reacts anyway—hot under his gaze. “I didn’t even notice it was falling open.”

He runs a thumb gently under the edge of your bra, where the fabric’s gone damp. “Yeah, you did.” His voice drops to a whisper. “You’re leakin’, baby.”

Your cheeks flush. “I know. I meant to go pump after I finished—”

Rafe pulls the robe open the rest of the way. “Nah. Don’t pump.”

You blink, heart skipping. “Rafe—”

“Lemme have it.”

The way he says it—like it’s a craving, a need, not a request—makes your knees weak. He drops to his knees in front of you, big hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the robe off your shoulders so you’re bare from the waist up, swollen and sensitive and too full.

He looks up at you like you’re the sun. “These tits…” He groans softly. “Fuck, baby. Look at you.”

Your arms twitch like you should cover yourself, but he gently pushes them down.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, thumb brushing the underside of one heavy breast. “They’re so fuckin’ perfect. So big. Full. Made for me.”

You let out a shaky breath. “They make me look huge.”

“They make you look like a woman who carried my baby and feeds him with these pretty tits.” His voice is rough now. “You don’t look huge. You look hot.”

You whimper when he kisses the side of your breast, mouth warm and open. He flicks his tongue over your nipple, licking up a little spill of milk that escapes, and groans low in his throat like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“God, baby,” he pants. “You know what this does to me.”

Your knees buckle, and Rafe guides you to the couch. He lays you back, mouth never leaving your chest. He palms your breasts, heavy and tender in his hands, then wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks.

Hard.

You gasp. “Rafe—”

“I’ll be gentle,” he says, mouth still on you, hand sliding between your legs to tug your panties down. “You just sit there and let me taste what’s mine.”

You’re so wet you can feel the air on your thighs when he spreads them. He slides two fingers through your folds, then sinks one in slow, just to tease.

“Already so fuckin’ wet down here,” he murmurs, kissing a wet trail across your chest. “So good for me.”

You arch under him when his fingers start moving—slow, firm, curling just right. But it’s the way he keeps suckling your breast, switching sides every few minutes, moaning every time he gets another rush of milk, that makes your eyes roll back.

“Rafe,” you pant. “That feels—oh my god—”

“I could stay right here all night,” he mutters, dazed with it. “My perfect girl, all swollen and drippin’ for me. Tastes so sweet, baby. Bet you’re just as sweet down here too.”

He trails kisses down your stomach, then licks a stripe between your legs before you can even form words. You jolt, fingers sinking into his hair.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he says, like it’s sacred. “You do so much, baby. Always takin’ care of everyone. Lemme take care of you now.”

He eats you like he means it—slow, reverent, with just enough filth to make you cry out. He never stops touching your breasts, even as he licks and sucks your clit, his hands full of you, massaging and squeezing and occasionally dropping back to your nipples for another taste.

Your thighs are shaking. “I’m gonna—Rafe, I’m—”

“Yeah, you are,” he growls. “Come on, babygirl. Give it to me.”

You come with a choked moan, trembling all over, his name tumbling from your lips as he licks you through it. He pulls away only to crawl up your body, kissing every inch as he goes. You can feel him hard against your thigh, straining in his jeans.

“Take it out,” you whisper, still dazed. “Wanna see you.”

He does—slowly, like a reward. His cock springs free, flushed and dripping. He watches your eyes go wide and grins, settling between your legs, stroking himself while cupping one breast again.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “My pretty girl. My perfect mama.”

You reach up to touch him, but he pins your wrist to the couch cushion. “No, baby. Not this time. You just lay there and take it.”

You whimper, legs falling open for him. “Please, Rafe—”

He lines himself up and pushes in—slow, deep, like he’s savoring every second. You both moan at the stretch, the way your body gives so easily for him.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re always so tight for me. So wet.”

He sets a steady pace, hips rolling while he bends down to kiss your breasts again, licking away more milk as it leaks from you, moaning like he’s drunk on it.

“You were made for this,” he pants. “Made to be mine. Made to carry our baby.”

Your whole body is burning—overstimulated, full, loved so deeply you could cry.

“Ray—oh my god—”

“Shhh, I got you.” He holds your leg up, angling deeper. “Gonna come with me, sweetheart? Gonna give it to me again?”

You nod, nails digging into his back. “Yes—yes—”

He groans your name, slamming into you harder, then stills as you both come—him spilling inside you, face buried in your neck, you shaking from the intensity.

Afterward, he kisses your chest one more time, softly now. “Still worried they make you look big?”

You laugh breathlessly. “Not when you talk to them like that.”

He grins, hands still full of you. “Can’t help it. These titties are heaven.”

a/n: this one goes out to the girlies with big boobies who just wanna feel hot, soft, and so loved—because Rafe sees those big tits and thinks: jackpot. I had so much fun writing this, and I hope it makes you feel as adored and worshipped as you deserve 🫶🏻

♥️ lani

Send Me Requests! 💌

Masterlist

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉:

@lolabunnyworldss @superlegend216 @bonjourjiminie @rafesbabygirlx @raineshua @wolfcin04 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @angelofcigs

[darkmatilda]

𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the weight of distance presses heavier with each passing day, the ache of absence stitched together only by hour-long phone calls like a fragile sutures on a wound that refuses to close. so you choose his birthday — the perfect day to cross the miles in silence and secrecy, and surprise spencer on his special day.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: glasses!reid x baufemale!reader, long distance relationship, early seasons team, so our queen elle is here, lots of team interactions overall, both reader and spencer's pov, height difference, kissing until his glasses fog up xx

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5k

𝐚/𝐧: literally started writing this over two months ago so i hope the first half doesnt differ too much in quality from the second one :/ the soul who’s the first to catch the tiny subtle mr darcy reference gets a cookie!

You admitted it without a trace of embarrassment – every time you called your long-distance boyfriend, you waited for him to pick up with your forehead almost glued to the screen and your lips frozen in a half-smile, ready to bloom across half your face the moment you saw his face.

Automatically.

The word nonchalance wasn’t foreign to you, but you deeply despised it. You had no intention of pretending it didn’t matter whether he picked up or not, or that you hadn’t rearranged half of your quite busy day for that shared moment. You weren’t going to pretend that hearing his voice meant any less to you than it actually did, just to maintain some kind of image or out of fear of being too much.

No, that definitely wasn’t your case.

If anything, you leaned toward paranoia — that you weren’t doing enough to take care of your relationship stretched across nearly 4000 miles and separated by the Pacific. That you weren’t trying hard enough. You had a set time for one call a day; usually, by then, you were already comfortably tucked under the covers and reporting in for duty (though duty was a very poor comparison—unless we’re talking about the duty of petting small fluffy puppies. yes. kissing the heads of twenty fluffy puppies was almost exactly like your daily call with Spencer).

But that one daily call usually wasn’t the only one. You reached out to each other spontaneously throughout the day, depending on your schedules and the plans of that particular day. On weekends, you watched movies together, he read a book aloud and you exchanged thoughts only when his calm voice reached the end of a chapter, or you played chess online. The bare minimum to fill the void left behind by the distance.

A void that was, however, ravenous—and seemed to deepen with every passing day. It wasn’t a graph line with rises and dips. It kept steadily taking up more and more space inside you.

And that’s how you came to the conclusion that even hundreds of books read aloud by Spencer wouldn’t be enough to dissolve it.

Not when his voice came through a phone speaker.

Not when it wasn’t followed by his breath, tickling your ear.

And that realization pushed you toward a certain…spontaneous decision.

But more on that later.

Your call was finally answered, and a premature, involuntary soft smile curled your lips before his face even appeared on your screen.

“Hey, handsome…” you began with your usual line, fully prepared to relish the blush that would bloom on his cheeks like cupcakes with sweet cherries on top—

but instead of your favorite treat, you were met with something entirely different.

Seeing Derek’s face, clumsily close to the front-facing camera and moving in a way that strongly suggested he was fiercely struggling to keep hold of the phone, snapped you back to attention like an athlete catching their footing.

“Hello, conventionally handsome man, long time no see. Anyway, where’s my handsome man?”

“Morgan, I’m serious, give me—”

“Hey, kid, how many times have I told you women don’t like possessive men? Let me talk to her for a sec…”

“I’m not possessive, I just…”

“You’re right, long time no see,” Derek cut in, completely ignoring his friend—his words, his attempts to wrestle the phone back from his hand. You kept your gaze fixed on the corner of the screen where a part of Spencer’s face occasionally slipped into the frame. Your lips were still curved in a smile, but shifting your focus to Morgan took effort. “What’s up, former-new girl? Don’t look too happy to see me.”

“Oh, I’m very happy to see you. In fact, the sight of you has turned this rainy Amsterdam day well, not exactly sunny, but let’s say we’ve moved from a downpour to a drizzle.”

“You’re welcome—that’s what friends are for. So? You in the mood for a quick chat with me?”

“Morgan.”

“Hmm, gladly,” you replied, tapping your free lip in mock thoughtfulness. “Let me just check my schedule to see when I might be available. How about next Friday?”

“Next Friday?”

“Morgan, I swear—”

“Oh my God, stop torturing them already,” cut in a woman’s voice you recognized instantly, and almost in the same moment, the phone moved from Morgan’s hand to your friend Elle’s.

She gave you a smile—a fleeting one, just a flash of sincerity—before replacing it with her trademark bossy expression. “Another second and they’ll both shrivel up from longing. Here you go.” She handed the phone back to its rightful owner. The first thing you saw were his eyes behind the glasses, aimed at her, full of grateful warmth. “You both owe me one. But since one of you is currently unavailable and clearly unable to repay it, you owe me two favors, Reid.”

A nod.

 “Goes without saying.”

You just managed to catch Morgan’s disappointed sigh at having his thoroughly entertaining game cut short, before you found yourself finally, completely one-on-one with your boyfriend.

He was watching the two of them—presumably leaving—until, at last, his gaze shifted to you. That tiny smile of yours finally bloomed into something fuller.

“Okay, I feel like I was interrupted earlier and I need to say this again, properly,” you said before he could get a word out. You took a breath, like you were about to cast a spell. “Good morning, handsome.”

You loved that kind of smile on his lips—the one that came with an involuntary tilt of the head, like its weight shifted evenly and pulled just enough to cause that barely noticeable movement.

“Finally. Good morning, angel.”

It warmed you every single time he used that phrase with you, and you couldn’t help but blink a little faster at the thought of hearing it in person after such a long time apart. But that was still the future, a vision. For now, there was the present, reality.

“Please, tell Morgan I didn’t brush him off because I didn’t want to talk to him,” you said. “But I literally have fifteen minutes before I have to leave and just wanted to call you real quick, because I won’t be very available later. I have a seminar.”

Spencer nodded because, of course, he remembered. But still, his brown eyes clouded slightly.

“You mentioned it. And well, of course I’ll tell Morgan you brushed him off because you didn’t want to talk to him.”

You almost snorted, but held it back.

“Hey, being my boyfriend doesn’t give you permission to use me for your personal revenge.”

“It doesn’t?” he asked with a face of innocence, fake curiosity, like he’d just come across a tiny footnote at the bottom of a page, an unknown piece of information.

“Well, usually no, but there are exceptions to that rule. For example, when the personal revenge might bring satisfaction to both of us. The second is when you ask nicely. Just please, don’t abuse that option.”

“I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises.”

“I’d make you pinky-promise, but that wouldn’t really work in our current situation,” you said, glancing at your own raised pinkie, the corners of your mouth tugging downward.

Then suddenly, they parted, struck by a thought. “Oh, right. I just remembered. What are you planning to do tomorrow?”

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly.

“The usual, I guess? Go to work…”

“For your birthday, silly.”

This time, it was his lips that parted with a soft, dawning hiss of realization. You looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Don’t even tell me you forgot your own birthday.”

Spencer shook his head distractedly.

“No, it’s not that I completely forgot. But if you think about it, it wouldn’t be that weird if I had. I don’t have any plans anyway, and it’s just going to be…you know, a totally normal day.”

You watched him for a moment in silence. You rarely faked emotions around him. But this time, you had to summon a thick mask of exaggerated disappointment—couldn’t let even the tiniest flicker of stinging excitement slip through.

“I wish I could be there for you so badly.”

That part didn’t need faking. The sincerity in those words rang clear. You saw your boyfriend’s jaw tighten slightly, and you wished you could reach out and rest your hand against it, letting your thumb brush toward his lips.

The silence that followed suddenly felt especially heavy. You knew Spencer was masking his sadness so you wouldn’t feel bad about not being there. He didn’t expect you to feel guilty—but he anticipated it. And, well, he’d be right. You would feel bad.

You forced a smile onto your lips—only because you wanted to see how, eyes fixed on your face, he’d unconsciously mirror the gesture. You’d learned that trick a long, long time ago.

“I have to run,” you announced with a sigh. “Seriously, I have to run. technically, I should already be out the door.”

“Don’t forget your umbrella.”

“It’s not raining anymore.”

“Yeah, but it’s supposed to start again right around the time you’ll be heading home. And there’s a cold front coming in from the North Sea, so maybe wear something warmer under your coat. I don’t want you getting sick.”

Spencer knew the weather in your city—on another continent—better than you did.

A moment of silence to let that fact settle. Thank you.

“If you’re right, I love you,” you said. “If you’re wrong, I still love you, but I’m also mad I had to lug around an umbrella all day.”

For a fleeting moment, he dipped his head, eyes squinting just slightly, a small smile on his lips.

“I love you too.”

*

Spencer had never been particularly fond of celebrating his birthday.

To him, birthdays were simply another way of measuring time like years, months, weeks, and days—only a little more brutal. They were like a mirror you woke up in front of one day, a moment of realization and reckoning—not so much with time moving forward, but with everything that had been left behind. The new year reflected what you had achieved and who you had become. Birthdays, on the other hand, felt like a celebration of missed chances, honored with the addition of yet another digit to your age.

Twenty-six. He could’ve done something far more impressive by now—and he didn’t mean that just as self-criticism. He was being objective. At twenty-six, Einstein had his Annus Mirabilis, his miraculous year, the year he developed the theory of mass–energy equivalence. With that knowledge in mind, Spencer had every right to feel a certain pressure.

But beyond all that, that day…he just wasn’t in the mood.

He had just been wondering what to eat for dinner when his phone started ringing.

A long-distance relationship had trained him to reach for it the exact second the ringtone sounded—and to experience that brief flicker of disappointment when the name on the screen wasn’t the one he was hoping for. Just like this time.

“Oh, Reid, how wonderful that you picked up so fast,” came Penelope’s voice on the other end.

“Garcia, hey. Something’s wrong?”

“Yes. I mean—no. I need you to drop by for a moment, is that okay? I mean, even if it’s not okay, it’s still probably better if you come. Not that I’m forcing you, but—ugh, just come over.”

Spencer was standing in his kitchen, phone pressed to his ear, and as her explanation spilled out, a suspicion started blooming in him. He considered himself a fairly perceptive person—and Penelope a very open book. So it was no surprise that, almost immediately, he had a pretty good idea of what was going on. He leaned his lower back against one of the cabinets, folding his free arm across his chest.

 “I’m not sure I can make it,” he said despite knowing full well that he could, and that he had the time. But he also knew that, on the other end, Garcia was probably exchanging panicked looks with the rest of the team, arguing about where exactly to hang the balloons in her apartment. And the image was amusing enough to drag out the moment. “For what?”

“I need your help. With something.”

“With what exactly?”

His friend let out something between a hum and a sigh—both thoughtful and panicked.

Meanwhile, Spencer waited patiently, smiling to himself and saying nothing.

“What am I supposed to tell him?!”Penelope’s voice came faintly from the speaker, as if she’d lowered the phone away from her mouth probably thinking that would keep him from hearing. It didn’t.

“I don’t know, make something up!” came a reply Spencer recognized instantly—Derek. A finger snap. “Lightbulb in the bathroom went out.”

“Oh, great! I love when your brain is the same size as your biceps.” She turned her attention back to the phone, voice suddenly loud and confident with her freshly invented excuse  “The lightbulb in my bathroom blew.”

Spencer wasn’t about to let it slide that easily.

“What wattage?”

“What?”

“What wattage is the bulb? LED or halogen?”

“Normal. It’s a normal lightbulb, Reid.”

“Are you sure it’s burnt out? Could be a wiring issue. Might be better to call a specialist to take a look. I’d rather not end up electrocuted. Especially on my birthday.”

“Jeez, tell him to stop being such a child.”

Penelope pulled the phone away again.

 “I can’t, then he won’t come at all!”

“I have an idea,” Spencer said suddenly, forcing her to scramble back to the call.

“Why don’t you ask Morgan to change it for you, since he’s already there?”

Garcia squeaked in panic. Then immediately broke into a cough, trying to mask the sound.

“There is no Derek Morgan here! Where would you even get that idea?” she squealed in a high voice. At the same time, a distinct snort of laughter echoed in the background. “That? That’s just the TV. Just…some dumb show with an annoying host. Ugh, I should really turn it off…”

The snort that echoed in the background this time didn’t belong to Morgan. It belonged to Elle. A quiet, distant argument broke out between all three of them, and Spencer didn’t understand a single word of it. He cut in at the moment he considered most appropriate.

“I’ll be at your place in 30 minutes.”

Complete silence.

“You’re coming? Seriously? Guys, he says that— I mean, ymm, great! See you!”

Before she hung up, he still managed to hear her deep sigh of relief that the conversation, in which she had to show off her conspiracy skills, was finally over.

Spencer slowly pulled the phone away from his ear, remaining for a moment in the silence that followed. Of course he had intended to show up from the very beginning. He might not have felt excited at the thought of his birthday, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the surprise his friends had put effort into preparing. It wasn’t his dream way of spending the day, but there was a reason that dream scenario remained in the realm of dreams—its realization was simply physically impossible. But a not-so-surprising surprise party ranked high on that list.

He hesitated over what to wear. In the end, his gaze settled on the shirt he'd gotten from no one other than you. You liked how that soft, muted pink color both slightly contrasted with his wardrobe and still somehow fit perfectly into it. You also used to say it brightened his face.

Spencer pulled it on, tied his tie, and sent you a photo. He wanted you to know that even though you were far away, he was still wearing your favorite clothes.mHe didn’t expect you to reply right away.You’d already had the birthday call, during which you gave him wishes you’d been crafting for two weeks. You delivered them at machine-gun speed with all your enthusiasm, then repeated them more slowly so he’d have a chance to actually understand anything.

Your reply came just as he was leaving his apartment.

my boyfriend sending me an outfit check??? never thought I’d live to see that day

He was just turning the key in the lock, the light from his phone casting a glow onto his face, letting the gentle smile on his lips break through the darkness slowly wrapping around the stairwell. He pressed the handle again to check whether being distracted had made him forget to lock it. Then he dropped the key into his pocket and slowly started down the stairs. 

Not quite an outfit check. Just tangible or well, virtual, proof that I really like this shirt and I’m not wearing it just because you told me to. The team’s throwing me a surprise party and I figured it’d be perfect…

here his fingers slowed

…it’s your favorite, and in its own not-quite-explainable way, it makes me feel like you’re here.

The reply probably came in before you even finished reading the whole message.

so an outfit check?

wait what kind of surprise party is it if you know about it??

u’re so sweet. also you look so good in that color.

He wanted to text back, to explain how he even knew about this surprise party, but another message came in.

sorry cant really text rn just getting off the tram :( hope u have fun at the party kisses call u later

He was a little surprised, since you usually took the later tram home, but maybe you just had your own reason for coming back earlier. Maybe he’d ask about it later, when the two of you called. Spencer hoped he wouldn’t be too tired after the party to talk to you.

So he replied simply

Got it. Please, be safe.

The way to Penelope’s apartment passed very quickly for him. It occurred to him that he didn’t really know who would even be there. Definitely Morgan, Elle, possibly JJ, but he doubted that everyone had shown up—like, everyone everyone.

And if it turned out he was right, he didn’t intend to be even slightly offended—after all, it was understandable they might’ve wanted to spend the evening in a different way. He knocked on the door and didn’t even call out to come in, even though as he was approaching them, he had clearly heard voices coming from inside, which suddenly, as if by magic, fell silent.

He felt like rolling his eyes—in a positive sense. It was predictable. Of course it was. But it also filled him with a certain warm feeling.

He opened the door and stepped into Garcia’s apartment, heading for the living room. And that’s exactly what he did when he saw the entire team gathered there. He rolled his eyes, though that warm feeling grew stronger and made the decision on its own to stretch his lips into a broad, broader smile when he realized they really were all there.

They were silent, eyes fixed on him, Elle and JJ both holding a tray with a birthday cake with lit candles, but for some reason not bringing it any closer to him.

“Sorry, but I have to say this,” he began. “You’re so predictable.”

“Are we?” came a voice directly behind his back.

He didn’t exactly freeze in place, like he’d been hit with liquid nitrogen. His body transitioned into that state gradually — starting with his shoulder blades instinctively drawing together, long before his mind fully processed the situation or registered that voice.

That voice.

The voice he heard every single day through his phone or laptop speaker, desecrated by the quality of the device — which, even if it were the most cutting-edge machine built by NASA, wouldn’t be able to truly convey the tone of her voice, let alone force him to feel the kind of emotions that now crashed into him like a wave, drowning him.

Water filling his ears.

No, that couldn’t be — they had literally exchanged texts just moments ago!

His eyes locked ahead, all the team’s gazes fixed on him, waiting, expectant. Penelope, her hands tightly clasped together, resting just beneath her chin.

Spencer, not breathing, turned around — and only then drew in a deep, vital breath.

Vital, because he knew he was about to pull her into an embrace so tight neither of them would get a taste of air for a very long time.

Your eyes locked onto each other like two powerful magnets, desperately seeking one another — an instant click. Another instant click when both your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, lifting her feet off the ground. Click when his hands gripped your waist firmly, steadying you. Click when his face found its place in the curve of your neck, burying itself there completely, disappearing, hiding, drawing the curtains so no one else could interrupt this moment.

Click, because you were together.

Spencer drew in a shaky breath, entirely filled with your scent — a scent he seemed to rediscover after months apart — occupying his mind so completely that the words he had intended to say slipped away from him entirely. You took over the role of speaker instead.

“Happy birthday,” you announced tearfully, sniffling and pulling your head away from his shoulder so the tear rolling down your cheek wouldn’t stain his shirt.

The pale pink shirt. Your favorite shirt.

You pouted your bottom lip, trying to hold it together, but you couldn’t. Now that you were finally with him, the full weight of maintaining a long-distance relationship — the weight you had been pushing away to avoid sinking into sadness — crashed down on you all at once. But it was wild, unrestrained, and yet instantly found comfort in his arms, his scent, his presence.

You felt his chest cave slightly as he took in a breath and lifted his head to look at you. In the process, his glasses had been pressed all the way up his nose from where they'd been crushed between your neck and his face — the frames practically touching his eyelids — but neither of you thought about how ridiculous that must've looked.

His eyes immediately locked onto the tear that had slipped from yours. He wanted to wipe it away, but he didn’t want to let go of you either, so he settled for pressing a fleeting kiss to your cheek, brushing it away with his lips instead.

It earned a muffled, quiet laugh from you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a hushed voice.

You blinked and dipped your head slightly, letting the tears pool without falling, then tilted it back up so you could focus on his face. Immediately, you had the impulse to adjust his glasses, which you did.

“Attending my boyfriend’s surprise birthday party,” you replied, sliding your hand down his chest and rising onto your toes to kiss him — briefly, because you could feel the eyes of all your friends on you, patiently silent and giving you time.

It wasn’t a good idea. The moment your lips brushed his, Spencer froze for a second, only to lean in for more right after. You barely managed to pull away, ignoring his disgruntled hum of protest.

“But I guess I’m the only element of this whole thing that was actually a surprise…”

You shot a meaningful look at Penelope, fully aware Spencer had known about some kind of party happening. The blonde defensively waved her hands in front of her, brushing off the implied accusation.

“Oh, you don’t get it. I let it slip on purpose so your entrance would be more spectacular! Our genius boy thought he had outsmarted our whole plan and then…” she gestured between the two of you, still tangled together.

This time, it was Spencer who shot her a look, full of disbelief at her words and amused pity. And, as it turned out, he wasn’t the only one — well over half of the people present mirrored his reaction.

To shake off all the attention suddenly weighing on her, Penelope snapped her fingers in the direction of Elle and JJ, who were holding the birthday cake.

"Those candles are practically melting! Don’t forget your wish, loverboy."

Your lips twitched the moment you heard that nickname, and you gave Spencer a light, urging pat on the arm still wrapped around you. You could still feel his hand gently tightening around your waist for a fleeting moment before he let go — his fingers performing a subtle flex before falling back to rest — and leaned down over the cake to blow out the candles shaped like the numbers 2 and 6.

He immediately tried to pull you back into his embrace, but you forced yourself to slip away, letting him get swept into the whirlwind of bear hugs from everyone else.

You stayed back, just slightly to the side, knowing you'd have time for just the two of you later. Your gaze lingered on his softly glowing brown eyes behind his glasses and the faint squint from the smile that simply refused to leave his face. The sounds of the room gradually faded away around you.

Surprisingly, you didn’t feel the slightest exhaustion after the long, connecting flights. And even if any fatigue dared creep its way into your body, it was instantly drowned out by what now burned in your chest — that warm, joyful feeling.

“Why did I even stress so much over picking a gift for him?” you heard from your left , Gideon muttering under his breath, but still loud enough for you to catch. He was staring in the same direction. “No matter what I gave him, the only thing he’ll remember from today is you.”

You exchanged a glance with him — the smile lingering only on your lips, but you could tell he shared it.

For the rest of the party, you and Spencer stayed within arm’s reach, always side by side, finally able to allow yourselves that closeness after so many months apart. Even later, as you made your way back to his apartment at night, hauling gift bags and a single box between you, he carried them all on one arm just so he could keep the other wrapped around you.

You clung to his pink shirt, occasionally rising onto your toes to press a kiss to his jaw or a smile, only to pull away again quickly — careful not to crash into a trash can or a lamp post along your path.

Clinging tightly to his side wasn’t exactly making it easier for either of you to walk. But Spencer didn’t complain. Even despite the fact that you were moving at the pace of a drunken turtle.

When his apartment building finally appeared within sight, you tilted your head back for a moment, breathing slower, more consciously.

“Tonight’s stars are so beautiful,” you remarked, staring at the faint, barely visible dots in the sky.

Spencer slowed his steps, lifting his gaze toward the sky, only to fully shift his attention to your face.

“Setting aside the fact that those are the same stars on the same day,” he started, in that scientific yet soft way of speaking of his, “which I’m quite sure you know…no, they’re not beautiful. Look again. You can barely see them.”

“They’re still beautiful,” you insisted.

You were two adults, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, loaded with birthday gift bags, arguing whether or not the stars were beautiful. Spencer stood firmly on the no side of that debate.

“Absolutely not. Artificial light sources in the city generate light pollution, which makes astronomical observation of the night sky difficult. If we were somewhere less urbanized—”

“But we’re here,” you cut in softly, your face still tilted toward the sky. “We’re here together, which makes them beautiful to me. Besides, beauty is a relative concept. Which I’m quite sure you know.”

His quiet sigh, the gesture of surrender. Instead of trying to convince you of something he simply couldn’t convince you of, he just pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Fine, you win, my little relative concept.”

Already on the staircase, your melancholic mood vanished entirely as you pulled him into a kiss he couldn’t escape from. Not that he wanted to, but he had to — if he actually wanted to dig the key out of his pocket and let you both inside. So while your hands clung to the back of his neck, his fumbled through his pockets — the same ones, because he was far too distracted to remember which ones he’d already checked and which he hadn’t.

“Wait—”

“Can’t—”

“Find—”

“The key—”

Slipped from his lips in the few short moments they weren’t covered by yours. You couldn’t care less about his key struggles — you’d been away from him for months, and you fully intended to kiss him for every single time you’d wanted nothing more than exactly that, but had an ocean between you instead.

Eventually, Spencer gave up and fell silent, returning your kiss with his entire being, both of his hands cradling your cheeks perfectly. You wished your skin was made of plaster, able to preserve the shape of them on you forever. You heard his short, muffled whimper and cracked your eyes open, just enough to notice that his glasses were completely fogged up.

His glasses fogged white, his cheeks flushed pink.

You giggled at the sight, making his face match the color palette of his shirt even more. One of his hands slid down from your cheek and drifted toward the small pocket on his chest. “Found the key,” he announced.

It immediately slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a clatter.

His sigh, your next giggle, and both of you bending down at the same time.

A head collision and two groans.

You burst into open laughter and took full advantage of the fact that he was bent down, reaching for the key, to press a soft kiss to his hair—the very spot where you’d bumped heads. You left a trail of kisses along his head, wandering across his forehead, brushing the tip of his nose, slowly claiming his lips.

Meanwhile, he blindly fumbled with the key, trying to aim it at the lock without breaking the kiss for even a second.

You weren’t sure there’d be enough hours in the night to fully make up for all the time you’d been apart. Especially since you yourself still couldn’t quite believe this was happening. That you were seeing him again. Kissing him again.

Finally, after what felt like real, dragging hours and simultaneously exactly 4.24 light-years traveled in mere minutes—the sound of the lock turning.

[marsdql]

can you do like niki comforting/babying reader plss, kind of like the jake one you wrote 💕💕

hi, love! I made a fluff one for niki:) I hope this was comforting enough? I’m kinda iffy about the scenario.. LIGHT ANGST then fluff + @misomakesmesohappy I haven’t forgotten about you, here you go:)

The room was still dim — that soft, cold 1AM light spilling in through the window, almost silvery, like a snow globe had cracked open somewhere outside.

You and Riki had fought before. Little bickering. Snappy teasing that ended in eye rolls or an arm thrown over your shoulder with a smug, “You love me anyway.”

But this time, it went a bit too far.

“You don’t always have to act like everything’s fine,” you had said, voice small but shaken. “You never say how you really feel—”

“And you always take everything so personally,” Riki shot back, tone calm, but just sharp enough to sting. “I’m not gonna coddle you every time you get sensitive, Y/n.”

That one hit you more than he expected.

You had blinked quickly, eyes glassing over, and turned away without another word. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself and curled up at the edge of the bed — not angry, just… tired. Too tired to defend your softness.

The silence after was heavier than usual.

Riki stayed where he was at first, sitting on the bed with his legs drawn up, elbows resting on his knees, his jaw tight. He stared blankly ahead for a while before running a hand through his hair. The tension in the room finally got to him.

And then he heard it.

That tiny sniffle.

Barely audible. But real. He heard it and you knew that he did.

His head turned slowly.

You were tucked into the farthest corner of the bed, turned away from him, small shoulders trembling — trying so hard not to make a sound.

That was all it took.

“…Shit.”

Riki was beside you instantly. Not with his usual lazy swagger. Not with a half-smile or sarcastic jab. He was quiet. Intent. Focused on you, and only you.

“Y/n,” he murmured, voice low, almost guilty. “Baby…”

You didn’t answer, burying your face deeper into the blanket. It smelled like him. Everything did.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, softer this time. His hand hovered over your back for a second before settling gently there, rubbing slow circles. “I forget sometimes. That you feel things deeper than I do. Doesn’t make it wrong.”

You still didn’t speak.

So he dropped his tone completely. For once, all that nonchalant energy melted into warmth.

“C’mere,” he whispered, reaching out to tug you toward him. “Don’t hide from me, angel. I’m right here.”

You let him pull you, even if your hands were shaky. Even if you felt embarrassed for crying. He tucked you into his lap without hesitation, arms wrapping fully around you like you were something breakable.

You sniffled again, and he gently brushed your hair back. “Hey… hey. My baby’s crying now, huh?” he cooed softly, his lips brushing your temple. “You that sad, bunny? Mm? You needed me and I didn’t listen?”

You nodded helplessly, face buried in his hoodie, and he held you even closer.

“I’m sorry, soft girl,” Riki whispered, his voice like velvet now. “Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. You’re just so sweet, sometimes I forget I gotta slow down with you.”

You hiccuped. “You said I was too sensitive…”

“And I take it back. I love how sensitive you are,” he whispered into your hair. “Makes you my softest thing. My little snowflake, huh?”

You finally looked up at him, wide eyes glassy and lips trembling — and that was it for him.

“God, look at you,” he whispered, thumbing away a tear. “So pretty even when you cry. My baby. My good, good girl.”

You melted into his arms, the fight fading into nothing but a memory.

BONUS:

The sun hadn’t quite risen yet, but the room was tinted in that soft blue-gray of early morning. Barely-there light filtered through the curtains, casting faint shadows across the messy bed—blankets kicked off halfway, limbs entangled, warmth pressed skin to skin.

You were the first to stir.

Your cheek was still tucked into the curve of Niki’s collarbone, your fingers curled loosely in the hem of his shirt. His arm was wrapped around your waist, one leg slung over yours, anchoring you against him like even in sleep, he couldn’t risk you slipping away.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly. Everything felt soft. Quiet. Safe.

You stayed still for a minute, watching his sleeping face. His hair was a little messy, lips parted just slightly, his expression peaceful, the kind of peace he only showed when he thought no one was watching.

You shifted slightly.

And just like that, Niki stirred.

“…You up already?” he mumbled, voice low and scratchy with sleep.

You nodded a little, your voice still small. “Mhm.”

He tightened his arm around your waist automatically and pulled you even closer into his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

“…Stay,” he muttered.

You smiled against his skin, heart fluttering.

“…You were really sweet last night,” you whispered. “You, um… you talked to me like… softly.”

Niki blinked down at you.

Then blinked again. Expression unreadable.

“…Did I?” he asked casually, eyes already sliding shut again. “Don’t remember.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “You baby-talked me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You called me your soft girl.”

“You heard wrong.”

“You tucked me into your lap and told me I was your snowflake.”

He groaned softly, burying his face in your hair. “Why are you like this,” he muttered. “I was half-asleep.”

“You were babying me.”

“Was not,” he said, and yet he pulled the blanket up over your shoulders and tucked it under your chin like he absolutely was.

You giggled a little and nuzzled back into his chest. “Okay, Niki.”

A pause.

“…But you liked it though,” he said quietly.

You blinked, ur cheeks going red. “…Yeah,” you whispered honestly. “I did.” Niki smiled lazily against your hair. “Good.”

And just like that, you settled back into the silence — wrapped in warmth, wrapped in each other, the soft morning stretching around you like a lullaby neither of you wanted to wake from.

Because even if he’d never admit it out loud, you knew the truth:

Riki baby-talked you when you needed it most.

And he’d do it again—only for you though.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

Okay me have request for no doubt Jake. Something where they’re going out to a fancy dinner or something and reader starts to feel insecure when she puts her dress on and she now doesn’t want to go. And then you know good ol’ Jake coming in and saving the day with his kind words

OKAY FINALLY TACKLING ONE OF THE MANY ANGSTY ONES in my inbox !!! this one is just mildly angsty, but mainly just floof :P i hope you like ittt,,,lowkey felt iffy abt it but idk HELP😭good ol' puppy dog jakey <3

──── TO BE LOVED IS TO BE SEEN🪞🍷 ↳ requested // part of the no doubt series !

“Baby?” Jake’s voice rings through the apartment from the living room. “We have to leave soon if we wanna make it to the reservation on time.” 

But you don’t answer.

You’re standing still in front of the mirror—still. Quiet. Barely breathing. 

Your hair’s done. Your makeup too. The dress fits just the way you imagined it would when Jake helped you pick it out last week—color stunning, silhouette flattering—the whole nine yards. 

But the longer you look—

The longer your eyes linger, the more you see. 

A weird angle. That one part of yourself you always avoid in photos. A spot where you swear the dress bunches up just a little wrong. 

And suddenly, the excitement from before turns into a tightness in your stomach. 

You’re still frozen when Jake walks in. 

He spots you, standing in front of the mirror, and his face lights up instantly. 

“Baby,” he says, voice genuine and fond, walking straight to you and sliding both his arms gently across your shoulders from behind. He kisses the back of your head. “You look so good.” 

You don’t say anything. 

He doesn’t notice at first, stepping next to you to adjust the cuff of his sleeve in the mirror. His hair is pushed back. Tie perfectly straight—the one you helped him with. He looks…perfect that it’s honestly unfair. 

You glance at him for half a second and it makes your chest ache. 

Then—

He looks up. His eyes meet yours.

And he knows. 

“Hey,” his voice is soft, immediately turning to face you. His hands find yours, thumbs rubbing gentle circles against your knuckles. “What’s wrong?” 

You just shake your head. Shrug. You stare at the ground. 

“I don’t think I want to go anymore.” 

His brows furrow slightly. For a split second.

Then, he nods. Silently, simply, understandingly. 

Without saying anything, he guides you gently over to the bed. He sits first, tugging you down beside him, keeping your hands in his. 

He waits a beat. 

You swallow, then—

“…I don’t feel good in this, Jake. I don’t know why. I just—“ 

You stop yourself, your voice cracking before you can even finish. 

Jake’s heart breaks a little. 

His eyes soften. 

He lifts your joined hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles once. Then again. 

“Okay,” he murmurs against your skin. “You don’t feel good in it. That’s valid. But…I’m gonna tell you what I see.” 

You look up at him. You don’t say anything.

So he keeps going.

He shifts closer, knees bumping yours, hands cupping your face so gently it feels like he’s holding glass. 

“I see the girl I’m completely in love with. In the dress that made me literally short-circuit ever since you tried it on.” He smiles a little. “Remember when I tripped on the fitting room carpet?” 

Your lips twitch, but the smile doesn’t reach quite yet. 

His thumbs brush over your cheeks, his eyes never leaving your face once. His voice drops quieter. 

“I don’t care if it’s the dress. Or that one hoodie you still own from middle school—even though it has that weird stain. Or my shirt. Or a trash bag. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. You’re what makes everything look good.” 

You finally let out a breath. 

His hands fall back to your waist, fingers curling lightly at the fabric there, holding onto you steadily. Grounding you. 

“You’re allowed to feel off. I get it. But just know—if you still want to go, I’m gonna be the proudest guy in that restaurant. Because I’m walking in with you.” 

A beat.

“And if you don’t—I’ll be even prouder to eat takeout on this bed with my perfect, stunning girlfriend.” 

You finally smile.

It’s small. Little shaky. But there. 

You sigh. 

“…Let me try it with my strappy heels instead.” 

Jake grins. Your smile grows softly as he presses a soft kiss to your temple—then another to your cheek for good measure. 

“Take your time, baby. Being fashionably late is our thing anyways.” 

He squeezes your hand once before you stand up to dig through your closet, his eyes still watching you with the same awe he always has since day one. 

You still feel a little off. 

But—

You also feel seen. Steady. 

And loved. 

no doubt m. list

tag list pt 1!: @bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @heekolazz @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[foxviant]

Only You.

Summary: Stressed and worn out, Joel finally relaxes when he’s in your arms the only place he ever feels okay. Pairing: Joel Miler x Reader. Word count: 1K Warning: Stress, emotional overload, tenderness, soft touch, mutual care.

: ̗̀➛ masterlist | navigation

Joel slammed the door harder than he meant to.

The sound echoed through the house like a gunshot, bouncing off the walls of the living room where you sat curled on the couch. You looked up instantly, your book slipping shut in your lap.

He didn’t speak at first. Just stood there, hands clenched into fists, chest rising and falling fast like he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

“Joel?” you asked softly.

He didn’t answer.

His jaw was tight, eyes dark and distant. The kind of distant that made you ache for him. You knew that look anger balled up tight with grief and exhaustion, barely held back behind a brittle wall.

It had been a hard week. Supplies were short, the patrols were longer, and people in Jackson were starting to complain about things they didn’t understand. And as always, Joel carried it all like it was his job to keep the whole damn town from falling apart.

You stood slowly. “Hey. What happened?”

“I—” He shook his head sharply. “It’s fine.”

You stepped closer, your voice gentle. “Doesn’t look fine.”

He let out a harsh breath, pacing the living room in slow, agitated strides. “It’s just… I’m sick of it. Sick of everyone expectin’ me to fix everything. Sick of pretending I’ve got it all under control when I feel like I’m hangin’ on by a damn thread.”

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

“I know,” he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. “But I don’t know how to stop. My whole life’s been… survive, protect, carry the weight. There’s no switch to turn it off.”

You walked up to him carefully, placing your hand over his where it hung by his side. He flinched a little just a twitch but he didn’t pull away.

“Then let me help you carry it.”

He looked at you. Really looked at you.

The fury was still there, coiled tight in his chest, but under it bone deep exhaustion. The kind that doesn’t show itself unless someone’s close enough to see the cracks.

He dropped his head slightly, eyes closing.

“Come here,” you said gently, guiding him toward the couch.

He followed you, quiet now, like the fight had drained out of him. He sat down slowly, elbows on his knees, hands rubbing over his face.

You knelt in front of him and placed both hands on his thighs. “Let me take care of you tonight. You don’t have to talk. Just… let me.”

He hesitated. But then, slowly, he nodded.

You reached up and ran your fingers gently through his hair, pushing it back from his face. His shoulders dropped a little at the contact.

“You always take care of everyone else,” you whispered. “You never let anyone do the same for you.”

His voice was hoarse. “Didn’t think I deserved it.”

“You do. Joel… you really do.”

Your hands moved with practiced gentleness down his arms, to his hands, thumb brushing over his knuckles. He let you. Bit by bit, his body unwound under your touch. Like a storm slowly passing.

You leaned in and kissed his forehead, then rested your own against his.

“Just breathe,” you whispered.

So he did.

His hands came up, hesitant at first, resting on your waist like he needed something to hold onto. And then he pulled you into his lap, burying his face in your neck.

Your arms wrapped around him as he finally let go. Not with tears Joel didn’t cry often but with silence. Heavy, trembling silence. His grip tightened, like if he held you hard enough, the rest of the world might disappear for a while.

And for a little while, it did.

Just the two of you, wrapped up on the couch, no words needed.

You kissed the side of his head. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

His voice came soft, muffled against your skin. “You’re the only place I feel like I can breathe.”

You closed your eyes, your hands never stopping their slow, soothing movements.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

And in your arms, Joel finally let himself relax.

[alwayssassydreamer]

Help Me Sleep

A/N: request by Ann(on) who asked for Law x f!reader where the reader uses sleeping pills because she has problems with sleep. Hope you like it and just to let you know your request was not at all rude 😉 gonna be honest I had to do some research about it my knowledge about sleeping pills was rather, well barely existing.

And I'm sorry i drifted a little while writing 🙈

Plot: your mind is always running a mile per hour even during the night and to help yourself with it and find some sleep you had started to regularly take sleeping pills your Captain has had enough of that

Warnings: sfw, misuse of sleeping pills , not proofread

Characters: Law x GN!Reader

The Polar Tang was a sanctuary beneath the sea, but to you, it was sometimes too quiet. The hum of the engines, the sterile lighting, the absence of night or day it all made time feel like it stretched endlessly. And in that timelessness, your insomnia thrived.

It started subtly. Restless nights. Tossing. Turning. Sleep had always been a battle. Your thoughts were too loud, too tangled, and the silence of the night only made them worse. Then came the pills, standard issue, small white tablets with a mildly bitter taste and the promise of a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

You never told anyone, especially not the captain. Law had enough on his plate without worrying about your inability to sleep.

That night, like so many before, you sat on your bunk with the pill bottle in hand. You waited for everyone to settle. Only when the ship had gone quiet did you pop one into your mouth and wash it down with water.

Unbeknownst to you, Law was walking past your room.

He didn't mean to spy. He had come down to check reports, but paused when he saw the light from your room spilling into the corridor. Something had been off about you lately, your steps slower, your gaze a little dimmer. He lingered in the hallway longer than he should have.

He didn’t say anything then. Just quietly walked away, the image of you alone with something he couldn't quite see in your hand stuck in his mind though.

A week passed since that night and you were running low on pills.

The routine was the same: lights out, silence, pill, sleep. Or something close to it. It wasn’t restful. Your dreams were a mix of memories and echoes, your body waking up just as tense as when you had laid down. You functioned, but barely. You hid it well, or so you thought.

But tonight something was different.

You sat with the pill bottle in hand, shaking it gently. Three left.

You told yourself to take just one.

But your hands were shaking, your mind racing, chest tight with something you couldn’t name. The idea of hours lying in bed again, waiting for peace that wouldn’t come, was unbearable.

You reached for a second pill.

“Don’t,” a voice said sharply.

You jumped, the bottle slipping from your hand and clattering to the floor.

Law stood in the doorway, arms crossed, brows drawn. He stepped into the room before you could say anything, crouching to pick up the bottle.

“I wasn’t going to—”

“You were.”

He looked at the label, then at you. “This dosage isn’t meant to be doubled.”

“I know,” you mumbled almost ashamed.

“Then why?”

You hesitated, teeth pressing into your lower lip. “Because I’m tired of pretending I’m okay when I’m not.”

He looked at you for a long moment, then sat beside you on the bunk. “You could’ve said something.”

You laughed, but it sounded bitter even to your own ears. “What would I have said? ‘Hey, Captain, I’m falling apart. But don’t worry, I’ll be fine after I drug myself into unconsciousness.’ Not really mission-ready, is it?”

“I don’t need you mission ready, I need you whole,” he said quietly. “And I don’t expect you to hide this from me.”

You stared at the floor. “…Why do you care?”

He didn’t answer immediately. When he did, it was barely above a whisper. “What do you think, idiot. Because you matter.”

Your breath caught at his word and you didn’t dare looking up at him.

He just pushed off the bunk and stood in front of you and suddenly held out a hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” you asked confused.

“To the medbay. You’re going to let me help, properly this time. No more hiding.”

You hesitated for a moment but then slid your hand into his.

The medbay was sterile as ever, it's lights cool and humming overhead. You sat on the edge of a cushioned exam table, arms folded, feeling like a child caught doing something wrong.

Law stood at the counter, skilled hands sorting through medications and files. He moved with quiet efficiency, sharp, focused, unreadable as always. But tonight, something was different.

He wasn’t just being your captain.

He was being there for you.

“I’m not replacing your pills,” he said, glancing at you. “I’m tapering them. You’ll only take them every third night for now. And I’m giving you something mild to take the edge off your anxiety, but nothing habit-forming.”

You nodded slowly. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“I didn’t have to that's true but I wanted to,” he said turning to fully face you.

You blinked surprised, thrown off by his honesty. You knew Law didn’t say things like that unless he meant them.

“I’ve seen what happens when people rely on numbing themselves,” he said, his voice low. “You stop recognizing yourself. I’d rather see you tired and healing than sedated and hollow.”

Something inside you cracked and your hands started trembling slightly.

“…You’ve been through it too, haven’t you?” you asked softly.

His jaw tensed and he avoided looking at you for a moment.

“Yes,” he finally said quietly.

That one word carried a weight you didn’t press on. He didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t push  but the shared silence between you held more than any explanation.

He walked over and handed you a small packet with carefully labeled instructions and after a pause, he added, “Try sleeping in the infirmary tonight. No pills. I’ll stay, just in case.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re staying with me?”

“I said I’d help you,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “That includes keeping the nightmares away. Or at least distracting you until you’re too bored to be anxious.”

You smirked faintly. “You’re terrible at emotional support,” you mused.

“I’m a surgeon, not a therapist.”

“…But I appreciate it,” you added, looking at him, really looking at him. “Thank you, Law.”

He sat in the chair beside your cot, arms crossed, legs stretched out.

“You’re welcome.”

And for the first time in what felt like weeks, you didn't dread trying to sleep.

The infirmary was dim, lit only by a small lamp on the counter. You lay on the cot, arms folded beneath your head, while Law sat nearby in the chair he had claimed as his own for the night.

“So…” you murmured, your voice soft and sleepy. “Is this really part of your medical protocol?”

Law glanced at you over the top of the book he held in his hands, brow raised. “It is now.”

“And what exactly does keeping me company accomplish, Doctor?” you asked with a smirk.

“It distracts you from spiraling,” he said simply, closing the book and setting it aside. “Keeps your brain occupied.”

“Hmm. Then talk to me.”

He tilted his head. “About what?”

“Something normal. Something soft.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider brushing you off. But then he exhaled quietly, gaze softening.

“When I was a kid,” he began, voice quiet, “I used to count the ceiling tiles in every room I was in. It gave me something to control.”

You turned your head, watching him. “Did it help?”

“Sometimes.” He glanced up at the medbay ceiling. “Thirty-eight tiles. Forty-two if you count the hallway.”

You smiled. “You really did count them.”

“I did,” he said, a ghost of amusement in his voice.

Silence stretched comfortably between you, his presence strangely grounding. You found yourself relaxing, little by little, thoughts growing foggy.

Your last conscious words were a sleepy whisper, “Thank you for staying…”

You didn’t remember falling asleep.

But you did remember waking up, gasping, cold sweat sticking to your skin, the lingering edge of a nightmare crawling down your spine.

You sat up, heart racing, hand clenched against your chest.

Law was there instantly, leaning forward, hand reaching for your wrist to check your pulse. “It’s just a nightmare,” he said calmly. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“It felt real,” you rasped hands trembling.

“I know.”

And then, so unexpected it stunned you, he stood, pulled back the blanket beside you, and murmured, “Move over.”

“What?” You asked completely caught off guard, breath stuck in your throat.

“You need to sleep,” he said, not looking at you. “You’re not going to if you wake up alone again.”

You hesitated and then shifted to the side, wordlessly making space.

He climbed in beside you with calm, clinical precision, though his voice was softer than you had ever heard it.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Close your eyes.”

And you did.

This time, you slept deeply. No nightmares. Just steady warmth and the quiet rhythm of Law’s breathing beside you.

When you woke again, it was to the muted glow of the medbay light.

You were warm, more than just from the blanket. Law's arm was around you. Not tightly, but there. Solid, real, protective in a way he probably hadn’t meant to be.

You didn’t move. Didn’t want to. His breathing was deep and even, chest rising and falling slowly beside you. For all his cold edges, he looked... peaceful like this.

You studied his face, the sharp jaw, the tired lines near his eyes, the slight part to his lips as he slept. It was intimate in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

And if you were being honest you had expected him to leave once you fell asleep.

But he hadn’t and that made your heart skip a beat.

His arm shifted slightly, adjusting as if instinctively tightening the space between you. His voice came low, husky from sleep.

“You’re staring.”

You jumped not expecting that. “You were awake?”

“Mostly.” His eyes opened, just a little. “Didn’t think I’d fall asleep. Guess you’re contagious.”

You chuckled under your breath, still nestled into the blanket. “Should I apologize?”

“No,” he said simply.

For a moment, the silence between you felt weighted. Charged even but not with awkwardness but something softer. He was still watching you, eyes half-lidded and honest in a way Law rarely let himself be.

 “Why are you really doing this?” You dared to ask.

There was a pause after this as you looked into each others eyes, he was thinking, contemplating what to say.

“Because I don’t like seeing you hurt. And I hate that I didn’t see it sooner.”

You didn’t know what to say your head still processing his words.

Before you could reply, his hand brushed your wrist brief, hesitant, and somehow more intimate than anything else so far.

“I’m not great at this,” he admitted. “Whatever this is.”

You swallowed hard. “i know,” you teased. “But you don’t have to be.”

He nodded slowly, his thumb still gently grazing your skin. “Still… I want to try.”

You didn’t know what to say. So you stayed quiet. You just moved your hand until your fingers found his and curled lightly around them.

It was small. Unspoken.

But undeniable.

And in that quiet moment, under the humming lights and sheets that smelled faintly of antiseptic, something between you finally began to shift.

Later on the Polar Tang felt....strange.

You were walking through the corridors alone. Law had murmured something about rounds and duty, and left with the same composure he always carried but his fingers had brushed yours before pulling away. It was the gentlest parting you had ever experienced from him.

Now you were sitting at the table with Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin. The food on your tray sat mostly untouched. Your mind wasn’t on breakfast, it was on him.

He hadn’t said anything that morning. No teasing. No awkward apologies.

Just, "See you later."

But when you passed him in the corridor an hour later clipboard in your hand, trying to look busy his eyes caught yours.

The look wasn’t captain to crew. It was something more…..intimate, something deeper than just captain and crew member. You felt it down to your bones.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

That evening, you found yourself in the medbay again.

“I wasn’t sure if I should come,” you admitted, leaning against the doorframe.

Law glanced up from his desk, his expression unreadable until it softened ever so slightly. “I left the lamp on for a reason.”

You stepped inside, heartbeat loud in your ears. “Last night was…”

“Unusual?” he offered, one brow raised.

“Yeah. But… not bad.”

“No,” he agreed quietly. “Not bad.”

You walked closer. “So what is this?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, setting his pen down and meeting your gaze directly. “But I’m not pretending it’s nothing.”

You sat on the edge of the desk, close enough to feel the warmth of him. “Is this one of those awkward conversations that leads to something worse?”

“Worse?” he repeated, voice low.

“You know,” you teased. “Like trust. Intimacy. Mutual feelings.”

His smirk was faint, but it was there. “Terrifying.”

“Absolutely,” you agreed with a smile.

Another pause.

“I’m not used to needing people.” He said so softly you almost missed it.

“That’s okay. I’m not used to being needed,” you admitted touching his hand.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. And then he reached for you, not hungrily, not out of desperation, but with a quiet certainty. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. His forehead rested against yours.

“I don’t want this to be temporary,” he murmured.

“It doesn’t have to be,” you whispered back not daring to move.

It wasn’t some huge confession, nor declaration but it was enough for both of you and you both knew that this was all you needed.

That night you didn't just find sleep, you found peace and maybe something called love.

Though you and Law didn’t talk about what you were.

Not out loud.

But the changes were there.

He started checking in on you more often, under the pretense of “monitoring your progress.” Sometimes it was just a glance across the deck. Sometimes it was a brush of his hand on your back when no one else was looking.

And sometimes... it was late-night silence in the medbay, sitting next to him, your knee touching his, his fingers grazing yours like he couldn’t quite keep from reaching.

It was subtle. It was maddening.

It was everything and it was helping you with your problems - to know someone was there, someone cared, someone needed you just as much as you needed him.

One night, it hit you how far you had come.

You were in the middle of a briefing with Shachi and Bepo when your heart started racing.

But the reason for it wasn’t panic nor dread.

It was the sight, the feeling of Law leaning in close beside you to point something out on the map his shoulder brushing yours, his voice low in your ear. He didn’t move away afterward. Not right away. Just hovered close, like he meant to.

You felt eyes on you from across the room but you didn’t look nor did you care.

Later, you found him alone, reorganizing surgical tools with absurd precision.

“Do you always make a mess of people’s emotional chemistry this way?” you asked, leaning in the doorway.

He didn’t look up. “Only yours, apparently.”

Your breath caught but you stepped closer nonetheless. “You’re not even trying to pretend anymore.”

“No,” he said, finally glancing at you, gaze dark and steady. “I’m not.”

You reached up and gently pulled the gloves from his hands and he let you.

“You know,” you murmured, “you’ve adjusted my dosage, stabilized my sleep pattern, and made sure I’ve stopped self-medicating. But you never once warned me about the side effect to be…..” you said and he raised an eyebrow. “….wanting to be close to you, wanting you all of you” you continued with an almost shy smile

Law’s lips curled into something rare - an almost-smile.

“Addictive now?” he asked, voice low.

“Dangerously.”

He stepped forward. “Then maybe you should consider me your long-term treatment plan.”

You should’ve laughed. Teased him. But the sincerity in his voice stopped you cold.

 “Are you saying you’re in this? Really in this?” You asked voice unusually quiet.

He nodded once. No games. No half-measures.

“I don’t let people in easily. But you’re already there and now I can't let you leave anymore.”

Your heart raced at this and your gaze softened even more.

He touched your cheek, leaned in close and this time he kissed you. The kiss wasn’t hesitant or careful. It was slow, deep, and full of unspoken promises.

You didn’t need pills to sleep that night. You had his heartbeat beside you and the knowledge that no matter what he was there for you.

[p0ckykiss]

idiot - yang jungwon

summary -> "have any of you seen y/n" where you go missing and boyfriend jungwon is worried

warnings -> female reader x jungwon, typical cold guy and popular girl trope, school au, fluff, established relationship, they are very cute, jungwon gets a little insecure

jungwon had passed by the cafeteria five times, three times in the dance practice hall, a couple of peeks in the locker rooms and libraries, but he couldn't find you anywhere.

"have any of you seen y/n?" he asks for the umpteenth time.

"sorry jungwon, we haven't." his friends answered

dialing the number again, jungwon groans in frustration as it only reached your voicemail.

he calls ni-ki, your best friend.

"do you know where y/n is?" he asks immediately.

"wow, i'm fine as well. thank you for asking jungwon." jungwon can hear the eye roll just from ni-ki's voice.

"sorry. it's just that i haven't seen her the whole day and she says she's at school but i've already roamed around for at least three times and i'm tired and hungry and it is so fucking cold, and she's not answering my calls and texts and i swear if i see your dumb best friend i'm going to swallow her whole, she is going to have to get used to being stuck with me".

he ends the call not letting ni-ki have the final word, pocketing his phone before begrudgingly deciding to go back to his dorm.

jungwon's door opened and he ignored it in favor of focusing on the movie playing in his phone. he continued ignoring the intruder even as they lunged at him on his bed and nuzzled on his neck.

"baby" you singsong, "quit ignoring me and give me attention." 'you don't deserve it' jungwon bitterly thinks, eyes still unblinkingly watching the protagonists run away from the killer. it was a fitting film to watch in the winter weather.

"won", you called, endlessly poking all over jungwon's face.

jungwon glared when you grabbed his phone, but you only gave him a sickeningly sweet smile. his heartbeat skipped.

"ni-ki told me that you spoke a whole paragraph to him on the phone." you say, "you're not really going to eat me and gobble me up right?" you say masking a terrified face to mess with him.

as if on cue, jungwon's stomach grumbled.

"baby, you're my boyfriend please, don't". you say whining.

he couldn't help the snort spilling from his lips at your dramatics.

"you're an idiot."

you grinned successfully, "yeah well, this idiot got your favorite food. what do you say for a movie date?"

---- NEXT DAY ----

jungwon slammed his hands on the lunch table, making his friends and the people nearby flinch.

"have any of you seen y/n?" jungwon gritted, eyebrows furrowed to the middle.

"she's missing again?" heeseung asks.

"do you think i'd look for her if that's not the case?" he snaps, rolling his eyes.

"hey! don't use that tone on him!" ni-ki scolds.

he was about to retort when jay clamps a hand on his mouth,

"jungwon, shut up. none of us had seen her, but don't worry too much, maybe she's just busy."

jungwon pulled away, "well she could've at least sent a text, and not fucking ghost me every time we go to school like I'm just a nobody." his jaw tightehed, insecurities and ugly thoughts flooding his mind.

'is she just playing with me? it's too good to be true isn't it-'

jay sensed it, "no jungwon, it's not what you're thinking. she likes you a lot."

he appreciate the sentiment, but he hates that he even needs reassurance, or a reminder that that was the case.

"whatever," was the only thing he said before walking away. he faintly hears jay apologizing to the people nearby for the way he acted, but he couldn't being himself to be apologetic for it.

because that was how yang jungwon is. he didn't give a single fuck about anyone else. the typical guy at campus who was cold to the bones but everybody has a crush on; it was even a miracle that someone like you would want to date him.

it was you who chased after him; despite the cold shoulders and multiple rejections, you were relentless in wanting jungwon. you bought him his morning coffee, ate with him at lunch, waited for him during his practice sessions, and walked him back to his dorm. you never missed a day doing all of it — that's how persistent you were.

and jungwon, cold but soft jungwon, started to like you back after a couple of weeks. he wasn't used to the affection given to him so it took him time to fully open up, but you were so patient and understanding for his sensitive heart.

one of the happiest days in his life was when he asked you to be his girlfriend, when you had least expected. It happened during one of his hockey games; you had looked too pretty in the couple sweater he had bought for you and him, and he just couldn't resist. so when his teammates were huddled for a time out meeting, jungwon had propped himself in front of your seating on the front row, and said;

"hey, you look so pretty today, be my girlfriend?"

it was so bold and simple, very jungwon-like, and you couldn't help the blush rising to your face as the people around you shrieked. tongue-tied, you only managed a nod and jungwon broke into a breathtaking smile.

they won after jungwon hit the winning shot.

even if you've been together for more than a month already, jungwon's insecurities barely faded. he always catches the murmurs went his way whenever he waits for you, constantly compares himself to the people you had flirted with back then, wonders if he was deserving to be on the receiving end of your attention.

and you had always been reassuring him with all these thoughts, but sometimes, the demons in his head became a little too much, and it gets difficult trying to fight them.

which is why he locked himself up in his room again, watching the snowflakes dance in front of his window.

it was the last day of classes before the winter break when jungwon woke up colder than ever. you didn't barge in his room for the entire night, and there's not a single call or text from you on his list of notifications. upset, he locked himself in for the entire day.

he heard keys jingling outside his door when it reached the afternoon, and he didn't really have the mental energy to keep his hopes high. it's a good thing he didn't though, as jay was the one who showed up.

"get up. we're going somewhere." jay ordered. jungwon raised a brow, "can't you see i'm moping?"

"it's the very reason you need to go out." jay says, "I know you're depressed, but this is just too much."

"i may be depressed but you look the part" jungwon mumbles uninterested in the conversation itself.

"okay, you know what? fuck you. go rot in this place alone."

"where the hell are you taking me?" jungwon grumbles as jay pulled him by the wrist to the dragging him outside stopping right beside the small forest opening. "and why the hell is it so cold today? you didn't even let me take a shower."

"even the warmest showers can't break the ice in your heart dummy." jay responds, letting him go. "now, do you trust me?"

“you’re suspicious”

"just answer the question."

"you're literally my best friend."

"good. now close your eyes."

"I don't like what's happening."

"just shut up and do it!"

jungwon felt himself being pulled somewhere and he fought the strong urge to peek. if jay was messing with him, he'd have his head by midnight.

but he wasn't and when he was instructed to open his eyes, the sight that greeted him was a winter wonderland. fairy lights dangling on the trees, figures made of show surrounding the small ice rink of the frozen pond.

what he caught sight of was you standing near one of the trees, gesturing for him to come closer.

"what's all this?"

you flushed pink, sheepishly rubbing your nape.

"a surprise? i found it really unfair when it's you who asked me to be your girlfriend first when i was making all the moves. so i wanted to do this first!"

you pointed up and jungwon tilted his head, finding a mistletoe strapped to a bare tree branch.

snorting, he said, "you ghosted me for a kiss?"

"hey! it's our first kiss. i want it to be special."

jungwon would be lying if he said that he didn't like it, and you take a step closer.

"can i?"

"god, you're an idiot, of course, you can".

[zoro-sremedy]

SOFT LAUNCH BF!GOJO

Soft launches are meant to be discreet yet state the obvious. I am taken.

Synopsis. Soft launching your boyfriend attracts a lot of attention (and opinions).

a/n: so i had these smaus saved for months bc i was quite insecure of posting them but hey we only have one life (i'm also short in saved content) so let's try these diferent style and you guys let me know if you like it, 'kay?

[muses-of-the-memory]

"Again?! Can't it wait?" Eugene asked in frustration to Kid Lance, who shook. "C'mon, Eugene, he's just a kid." Rapunzel said to her boyfriend. "Fine. I'll take Lance to the bathroom. Raps, you take the others to the nursery. We'll be there in five." Eugene said on what they'll do. "Let's go, Lancey! You don't wanna be a kid forever. One-two, one-two." Eugene said to Kid Lance, holding his hand, leaving Rapunzel, Bella, Skyler and Lucius with Kid Cassandra, Karoline, Louisiana, Mirage and Baby Shorty.

"Y'know, Cass? Eugene shouldn't be so rigid with Lance." Rapunzel started. "That's why I'm glad we approached our relationship with a mutual respect, and built a solid rapport--" She spoke until she saw that Kid Cassandra was nowhere to be seen again. "And she's missing. Okay then, alright." She chuckled. "C'mon, let's go find her." She said to her friends. Meanwhile, Eugene continued to hold Kid Lance's hand in helping him find the bathroom, but they were walking down a hallway with multiple statues.

"Now do you wanna play chase?" Kid Lance asked. "No, I don't want to play chase. I thought you had to go to the bathroom." Eugene replied in annoyance. "What's that?" Lance asked pointing one of the sculptures. "That's a sculpture." Eugene replied. "What's it do?" Lance asked. "It doesn't do anything. It's art. It's for people to look at." Eugene said. "What people?" Lance asked. "Just people. Now, quit dillydallying." Eugene replied to Kid Lance. "Can I have a piggy back ride?" Lance asked. "For the fourth time, no." Eugene said. "What's that?" Lance asked pointing one of the sculptures. "That's another sculpture." Eugene replied. "What's it do?" Lance asked. "It does the same..." Eugene started to groan. "Look, can we please stop with all these pointless questions?! Because you are killin' me here!" Eugene asked out of annoyance, but then Kid Lance was starting to crying because he shouted.

"Oh, no no no no. No, no, please don't cry! Please don't cry! I hate seeing kids cry. It's gonna make me cry, and I have a really ugly crying face." Eugene spoke for Kid Lance not to cry, and now he was going to cry too. "Hey, how about that piggyback ride?" He offered as Lance stopped crying. "Yay! Giddy up, giddy up! Giddy up, giddy up!" Lance shouted riding on Eugene, who looked less than amused carrying him. "What's that?" Lanced pointed at another sculpture. "It's another sculpture." Eugene replied. "What's it do?" Lance asked. Meanwhile, Rapunzel was with the others in finding Kid Cassandra. "Cass? Where are you?" Rapunzel called out as Baby Shorty tried to reach the yellow duckling carving, and he was about to cry. "Oh, sh-sh-sh-sh."

Continued from here

the next day in the kingdom of Corona, it was a typical normal day, until it ended when the stranger ran passed through the wanted poster that says 'Silent Striker'

"he went this way!" Stan shouted when he and Pete went after him, Mirage and Bella are being prepared to catch him too, the guard captain and the other guard got him surrounded

@muses-of-the-memory

[yoiisa]

hi there, can u write a fic (college au/no blue lock) where reader & isagi are in a relationship, but his roommates slash friends don't know bcs reader always comes over whenever isagi says that his friends (bachira, kunigami, & chigiri) aren't at their apartment, but then get caught one day when his friends went back home early?

ive only stumbled upon ur account recently and i love ur fics/writing!!

omg love!! idk how colleges in japan work, so im just going to model this based on american colleges :D

all characters aged up (20+)! Tags: slightly suggestive and making out!!

➜ you knew isagi yoichi for around 6 months before the two of you started dating, but you'd been eyeing him for all of that time ➜ he was exactly your type- quiet, but the sweetest and most considerate person ever. ➜ he had beautiful blue eyes, was taller than you, and played soccer for the school. holy hell, talk about your personal kryptonite ➜ he was always too shy to ask you out though, so you had to take initiative on that front

You're sitting under a tree with Isagi in the school's courtyard. People are passing you by, heading to their respective classes. All you can think of in this moment though is how nice this is. The summer breeze is brushing his hair perfectly and the sun is making his eyes look like tiny sapphires. He looks like a prince. "Um, [name]?" he asks looking down at you. "Are you okay? You've been really quiet." You blink a few times, snapping out of your trance. You look down at your lap, staying silent for a little while. "Hey, Isagi?" you start. He leans forward and you feel like your heart is a car that someone just revved. "Umm, you don't have a girlfriend right?" "N-no," he stammers, taken aback. "Why?" "Do you," you cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. You meet his gaze and give him a tiny smile as you force the words out of your throat. "Do you wanna go out with me?" Your heart stops as he physically flinches back. "Nevermind!" you quickly say, holding your hands up in defense. "I'm so sorry, just forget all of that-" "N-no! That's not it, I- I do like you," he insists, "I just didn't expect you to ask me out." He lets out a deep breath and chuckles. "I was actually going to try and ask you out. My friends were giving me all this advice on how to do it. You just caught me off guard though. Beat me to the punch, huh?" He takes your hand in his and squeezes it. "But to answer your question, yes. I would like to go out with you."

➜ and that was that! the two of you were a couple. only one thing though- you'd never met those illusive friends ➜ whenever you went over to his dorm- a quad with two bunk beds and four desks, as well as a quite beautiful view of the whole campus through the window- there was no one else there but the two of you ➜ six months went by and not a single glimpse of them! you asked isagi about it once and he gave you a few excuses

"Well Bachira's really close to his mom, so he leaves campus a lot to hang out with her every now and then. She doesn't live too far from here anyways," Isagi explains as he rests his head in your lap. "And then Chigiri has a part time job at a physical therapist's office. He used to go there for himself since he messed up his leg once in an accident a while ago." You nod, running your finger through his hair. "And what about Kunigami?" "Also has a part time job as a kiddie's soccer coach," he says. "Hmm," you smirk and tickle your boyfriend's neck. He flinches and you giggle, "So you're the only one unemployed, huh?" He stiffens and gives you a look out of the corner of his eyes. "No. Bachira doesn't have a job too."

➜ when you finally meet Isagi's roommates . . . it's a mess ➜ after not seeing them enough times, you grew relatively comfortable with the idea that you never would in the dorms, and so did he ➜ he would have you over pretty often, and to be completely honest, sometimes things got a little spicy! ➜ so here you were, sitting on his desk and his standing between your legs. your lips locked in a heady kiss that was making you lightheaded. your tongues lapped hungrily at one another and your teeth clacking ➜ and then the door opened.

"Yoichi~" you gasp as he pulls back from your mouth. He starts to trail kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking small bruises into your collarbone and neck. "Mmm, you're so sweet," he groans, inhaling your scent. He feels like getting drunk off of it. His hot hands trail under your shirt, tracing around your curves. You giggle, but then both of your bodies freeze as you hear the door clicking. Isagi, in a moment of pure panic, tightens his grip on your waist and fucking shoves you off the desk and onto the floor. He was trying to hide you underneath the desk, not wanting his roommates to catch you both in this position, but all he does is just accidentally make you kneel in front of him. Right in front of him. Honestly, it helped enough because now your back is to his roommates, who are no doubt staring at you both as if they just walked in on a porno. Isagi stares at the trio. Bachira looks scandalized, Kunigami looks shocked, and Chigiri looks annoyed. "You couldn't bother locking the door when you have a hookup over?" the pink haired boy asks. "What. The. Hell. Is. This," Bachira says, looking two seconds from passing out. "Bachira, breathe," Chigiri grumbles, walking inside. "At least get her off her knees," Kunigami says, following Chigiri. He comes up behind you and taps you on your shoulder. "Miss-" You, in your panic and fear and shame, cannot think to say literally anything else other than, "I'm his girlfriend, not a hookup." Everyone stops breathing. "His GIRLFRIEND?!" Bachira roars, lunging at you. He grabs you by your shoulders, whirls you around and pulls you up to your feet. Kunigami hits him on the back of his head, "Don't handle a girl like that!" "I-It's fine," you say, waving Kunigami off with a small smile. "I'm so sorry about this. It's just, whenever I've been over, none of you are ever here, so I guess we got a little . . . careless." "You've been here before?" Bachira asks. A thud sounds from behind you and you whirl around. Bachira and Kunigami peek over your shoulder. Chigiri walks up to an Isagi whose cherry red. The embarrassment was just too much for his brain to handle anymore it seems. "Yoichi!" you shout, kneeling next to him. "I'll get him water," Chigiri says, walking to the dorm's mini fridge.

➜ the two of you never live this first impression down. not even at your wedding.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM DATE EVERYTHING (PART 1) *  assorted dialogue from the 2025 video game, adjust as necessary

i ordered this couch, but it popped, and now my kitchen is all wet and covered with wet stuff.

i need you. i need to care for you. it is the reason for my existence.

do you want to go on a date?

can you tell me how the book made you angry?

your life is about to change. hope you're ready.

let's go on a date right now.

trust me, this is going to go super well.

if everyone were friends, the world would be an awful lot safer in my opinion.

i've seen the complications of love. i've lived through the jealous quarrels of hate.

the true bond is one between two friends with none of the intricacies of romantic tension.

i like it much better up here where i can see your face.

hey there, stranger.

we've been sleeping together so many years, it would be a little weird if you didn't know me, don't you think?

it's a shame for someone as cute as you to be alone for so long, isn't it?

will you be bringing someone back here anytime soon?

i do hope you'll come talk to me. it'd be nice to finally get to know each other.

you've caught me at a strange time.

that's okay. i like being naked.

why are you here? what are you doing?

please, please... i'm not ready. not like this.

i've dreamed of this, of meeting you, finally... and now the moment is here, i... i just can't. not yet.

honestly, that's a objectively terrible password.

i get chills just thinking about it.

i would love to answer that for you, but the knowledge would no doubt drive you to madness.

can i be honest about something?

it's just that... before today, i had all these needs, but i couldn't articulate them to anyone.

you're quite the looker, aren't you?

i have had enough attention on me, thank you very much.

i can't say i'm looking for anything too serious right now.

i just want to see you live a little, that's all! stop watching life pass you by! enjoy yourself! kiss someone! kiss many someones!

my senses are heightened when i'm in a mood.

the physical connection between him and me... it is like nothing i have known before or since.

thank you, sincerely, for listening.

you're serious? you're not fucking with me?

do you, like me, enjoy celebrating at the altar of your own glorious form?

i knew i could count on you.

are you as excited as i am?

you are radiant.

i was thinking we could visit some very naughty websites together.

honestly, you're being super disrespectful.

we'll have to work on that enthusiasm.

get out. i've got work to do.

what brings you to the call of night?

i have been waiting in the abyss in search of a companion.

you? i always thought of you as a companion, someone who followed me around and gave me advice. cute, but expendable.

do you enjoy coming here?

i assume you brought your tools and knowledge and... probably a snack of some sort?

i am beside myself with happiness.

what can i do for you?

today was supposed to be my day off.

how much do you think about me?

for you, there is almost nothing i wouldn't do to help you relax.

to know that i'm giving you precisely the thing you want at that moment... oh, it fulfills me. it makes me whole.

as soon as i fulfill your command, your desire, i become the one with the power.

sometimes i cannot resist playing your sensation. just a bit. i am a craftsman and you are my clay.

now i have truly said too much.

i'd be lying if i said i wasn't just a little bit sweet on you.

hold onto me real tight.

[anything-pov]

I just saw TikTok of this and now I kinda wanna read a fic of it

Emily X reader please and thank you

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8ryLjKV/

you could change up this scenario/where they are but I feel like this would be so cute

Enjoy! (Quick disclaimer: I do not have POTS, nor do I know enough about it as I should, but I hope my depictions are accurate, and if they are not, please, let me know and I can change them to portray accurate representation!)

Out of Fuel ⛽️

The lights were dimmed low in the BAU conference room, the air still heavy with the weight of the case they’d just wrapped.

A local abduction case, resolved quickly, but brutal. They’d saved the kid, but no one was walking away untouched.

Emily sat at the head of the table, her usual authority settled in the way her arms crossed over the manila file on the tabletop.

But beside her, just slightly angled toward the board, was Y/N. Young, brilliant and quietly sharp in the way Emily adored, her girlfriend and one of the Bureau’s rising stars.

She rarely spoke in these meetings unless directly asked, but her notes were always pristine, her insights laser precise.

Y/N was focused, but something shifted. Emily caught it. It started in her shoulders, a slow slouch that wasn’t casual.

Then her hand, which had been wrapped neatly around a pen, twitched. Not a normal twitch. A POTS twitch. Emily’s eyes snapped down to her.

Y/N blinked slower than she should’ve. Her skin, usually flushed with the faintest nervous pink when under pressure, drained to a too pale shade.

Emily uncrossed her arms. “Em?” Spencer asked, confused as Emily suddenly pushed back her chair. “Y/N,” Emily said gently, already reaching for her, “you with me?”

Y/N’s head tipped toward her just slightly, eyes dazed. “Mmhm,” she tried to say, but it came out paper thin. The spinning office chair wasn’t safe now.

Emily moved fast, one arm under Y/N’s back, the other gently under her knees as she guided her down. “Okay, love. Floor. Let’s go to the floor. C’mon.”

The whole team stood in a split second. “She okay?” Morgan asked, already halfway around the table. “POTS episode,” Emily said quickly, her voice calm but tight, “She’s about to faint.”

As Y/N’s body gave out, Emily caught her fully, lowering her to the floor with practiced ease. She'd done this before. Too many times. "JJ-"

"I've got her legs," JJ said, already crouched, gently lifting Y/N's feet to rest on her own thighs, elevating them, "I've got you, Y/N/N." Y/N's body trembled once, then again.

A few muscle spasms, her body doing that desperate, silent fight Emily had learned to hate. The spasms never lasted long, but they were a cruel flash of just how little control Y/N had over her own blood flow.

Her chest rose with shallow, inconsistent breaths. Emily kept one hand under Y/N's head, cushioning it from the hard floor. The other hovered over her pulse point, fingers finding the thready beat.

"C'mon, honey... ride it out, slow... love." The team gave space but stayed close. "She had one earlier this morning," Emily said, her voice low but honest, "I was hoping she'd rest up enough after, but..."

"Second one's always worse," JJ murmured, hand still gently supporting Y/N's calves. And then... Y/N stirred. Her eyes opened slowly, heavy, almost like it hurt.

She blinked once, then again. Her lips parted, breath raspy, but she didn't speak. Emily leaned down, brushing sweaty hair from her forehead, voice barely above a whisper now.

"I know," she said, soft as a secret, "Second one's the worst. You're out of fuel, huh?" Emily kissed her girlfriend's forehead. Y/N's eyes filled slightly, not quite with tears, but exhaustion, the ache of her own body betraying her in front of a room of people she admired.

Emily pressed her forehead to Y/N's, just for a second. "Hey. No shame. You're safe. We've got you, love." Y/N couldn't speak. But she blinked slow and grateful, her fingers barely twitching against Emily's arm.

"She needs sugar," Garcia said, already rustling in her purse, "I've got juice... juice and granola bars. Always do." She rambles, her hands scrambling to her pockets and purse.

"Garcia, you're a saint," Emily said. Spencer nodded, "And once she can sit upright, she should stay reclined for at least fifteen more minutes."

"I'll take her home after this," Emily said, voice already moving into resolution, "She's done for the day." The team stayed in quiet formation, not a single person moving to resume the debrief.

Y/N, pale and boneless in Emily's arms, finally managed a small exhale, like she could rest now, safely tethered to the one person who never let go.

And Emily just kept whispering, "I've got you, Y/N. I always will, love."

[kirsteinsluvx]

royal knight!satoru x princess!reader - angst, fluff, forbidden relationships, eventual smut, 4.7k words. first fic kinda nervous lol!

Satoru had been sent off to battle, it's been weeks now with no news back from him, you spent your nights wondering if he was even alive, if he'd ever come back to you. While he was gone, it had been the worst few months of your life as a dreadful decision had been made for you.

You're in your private royal chambers when all of a sudden the door swings open, revealing a bruised satoru, he steps in locking the door behind him. He approaches you sat on the edge of you bed and gets down on one knee, kissing your hand. "I have returned, your highness." He says with a smirk like he always does, except this time he looks exhausted, he looks as though he came straight from the battlefield.

You help him up off his knees and get him up to sit on the edge of the bed, "Come here, get up" you whisper. He lets you help him onto the bed and a small grunt of pain escapes his lips as he winces from one of his bruises. Once you guide him to sit on the bed and he grabs your wrist lightly to pull you closer to him, wanting you to stand between his spread legs so he can look up at you.

"Oh God... what happened to you?" Your eyes fill up with concern as you cup his face studying the state of him, noticing the bruises and cuts from battle, how he reeks of blood sweat and smoke. he can tell that you’re upset and the sight of your eyes welling up with tears has his usual cocky smirk disappearing.

He sighs deeply and his hands go to your waist, the coldness of his hand seeping through your nightgown, he looks up at you "I got into a pretty tough fight... nothing I couldn’t handle though.." he reassures you faintly.

He reaches up to gently wipe the tears away with his thumb, he frowns when he sees the tears streaming down your face and he hates himself for making you cry, for making you worry so much. He pulls you closer towards him and presses his forehead against your chest as he whispers softly. "hey..I’m okay, please don’t cry.." he was always so gentle with you.

"I'm sorry, I just thought I had lost you" you sniffle your hand going through his hair.

He hums softly as you run your fingers through his hair, he always loved when you play with his hair and he sighs softly again at the feeling of your fingers running through his messy white locks as he relaxes into your touch.

He chuckles softly, his voice slightly strained. "you could never lose me princess.. I promised you I’d always come back.. you can’t get rid of me that easily". You laugh softly at that wiping your tears.

He buries his face against your chest, inhaling your scent and relishing the familiar smell of you, his strong arms around your waist keep you from moving away as he nuzzles his face against you.

After a few minutes of embracing each other, you say softly. "Let me take care of you... get u out of this armour, give you a bath, hm?"

He nods lightly in response, pulling away from you, his hands going to the straps of his armour, working on unbuckling them, however from the exhaustion of the fight his hand are quite shaking slightly and he’s struggling to undo the straps.

her softer hands covers his shaking calloused hands "I got it, don't worry.."

he immediately stops what he’s doing and allows you to take over, he can tell that you want to take care of him, which he secretly loves.

He places his hands lightly on your hips as you take care of unbuckling the heavy straps that hold his now damaged and scratched armour on. He looks up at you as you work on his gear and a small tender smile forms on his bruised yet handsome features, he was quite literally perfect you thought.

As you remove the last strap of his armour, his chest is now bare and exposed to you, his muscular torso now littered with bruises and scratches. a small wince escapes his lips as you run a hand over one of the nasty gashes on his chest, you flinch taking your hand back whispering a small sorry, he smiles slightly in reassurance, noticing the worried look in your eyes "Hey, hey.. I’m alright princess, it barely hurts im promise.."

"okay then.. im going to get the bath started..." your murmur wearily taking in his state, then you go to the your adjoining bathroom, filling the tub with hot water, aromatic essential oils and relaxing bath salts.

After a few minutes, Satoru hears the water has stopped running so he assumes his bath is ready. He stands up, still only in his trousers and he goes to lean against the door frame of the bathroom, he stands there and watches you as you prepare the bath for his beaten body, his eyes fixated on your figure as he just stares at you. You turn and find him watching you, you smile softly and go to take his hand. "come on..."

He smiles slightly as you take his hand, his larger hand engulfing yours as he intertwines his fingers with yours as you lead him to the bath tub he lets out a satisfied hum noting how nice the water smell, appreciating the effort you went to for him.

You turn away from him so that he can get fully naked and climb into the tub. he finds it quite sweet how you’re still shy even though you both have seen each other naked several times before, he laughs to himself and he starts unbuttoning his trousers and pushes them down his toned legs, stepping out of them until he’s completely naked before he slowly sinks into the warm water.

"hey..." You say softly as you go to kneel besides the tub, you get a washcloth to help clean him up. He smiles lazily his eyes filled with love and adoration for you, as you kneel beside the tub, his eyes following your every move as you start gently cleaning him up with the washcloth.

He grins cheekily, though you can tell he's tired from the way he speak, "not gonna join me?" To which you burst out giggling hitting him lightly with the washcloth"no way you pervert, you're covered in blood and dirt."He grins glad to see you finally smiling.

He likes the way you take care of him, he notices how you look at his injured body and he can see the concern in your expression but he doesn’t say anything about it, he just lets you nurse him he relaxes even more and leans back into the tub, his eyes half lidded, occasionally looking up at your concerned pretty face.

Once you're done cleaning him up, you come back with the towel, he silently stands up from the tub, the water dripping down his naked and bruised body as he steps out and he allows you to wrap the towel around his waist, his muscles still on full display as he stands in front of you, the material just barely clinging onto his sculpted waist.

You lead him back to your bedroom, intertwining his fingers with yours as he follows you. the towel riding dangerously low on his hips as he walks behind you, his eyes watching your lovely figure from behind. He can't help it when his gaze drops to your hips, admiring the way they slightly sway as you walk, the thin material of your night dress clinging to your lovely curves and accentuating them beautifully.

He tries to ignore the thoughts as he reminds himself that you had just spent over an hour cleaning and pampering him, he should be grateful and appreciate you and your concern instead of having such filthy thoughts about you now, he can't help it though it's been so long. Unaware of the lewd thoughts he's having you help him get dressed in clothes you found for him, you then sit him down on the edge of your bed and apply some ointment to his cuts.

You stand in front of him moving some of his damp hair out of his eyes, "how are you feeling now..?"He exhales softly, his expression softening slightly as he looks up at you and answers your question in a quiet voice. "I'm feeling a little better now.. thank you princess."

You study his face to make sure he's not lying about feeling better. Now that you had taken care of him, and he's not as shaken as he was when he stumbled into your room, you thought it was time to finally let him know. You stroke his cheek gently with your thumbs "I need to tell you something..."

He hums softly as you continue to stroke his cheek gently with your thumbs, his eyes still locked onto your pretty face as he gazes up at you, he can sense that you're hesitant about saying whatever it is you have to say, and it makes him slightly worried. He tilts his head slightly, his expression turning soft and patient as he looks at you, silently asking you to continue and to say what's on your mind.

"while you were away... a lot happened here..." you start off, your hands stills cupping his face as you step closer to stand between his legs.

He immediately becomes concerned and anxious as you say those words, his heart rate instantly picking up as he becomes worried about what you're going to say. He can tell that something has happened while he was off fighting and he has a feeling that it's nothing good. He reaches forward, gently grabbing your wrists as he silently encourages you to continue, his eyes locked on your face intently as he waits for you to speak.

You don't know how to word it, how to tell him without breaking his heart, so you just blurt it out. "im engaged now satoru" you whisper shakily. He looks up at you, his expression immediately changing to one of complete shock, pain and anger all at once. He feels like he's had the rug pulled out from under him, the words you had just said replaying in his head over and over, the realisation and shock that you're engaged now, not to him, but to someone else. He knew the day would one day come, but so soon, he couldn't believe it. He grips your wrists tighter as his jaw clenches, he's struggling to find something to say, his mind is in complete disarray as he just stares at you with an almost betrayed expression.

"What?" He whispers almost not believing it. "I'm sorry" is all you say, tears welling up in your eyes, the words sending daggers through his heart.

His heart clenches in his chest as you start apologising tears streaming down your face. His expression twisting into one of deep pain and anger but also of heartbreak and hurt.He doesn't want you to apologize, he just wants you to say that you're joking, to tell him that you're not actually engaged but the tears and sobs escaping your body indicates otherwise.He wants to pull you into his arms, to hug you and tell you that it's okay, but he's so conflicted, he's hurt.

He takes a deep shuddering breath, his grip on your wrists gone as he drops your hands. "Why.... how?" He manages to ask brokenly, his voice tight with suppressed anger and sadness.

"My parents" the king and queen, you hiccup trying to explain "they demanded it, i was meant to get married at 18 and im now 20 satoru they weren't going to wait much longer..."He scowls in displeasure as he hears that this was all the doing of your parents, his anger towards them instantly increasing as you explain that they had demanded that you get married and you were forced into it because you're now of age.

He runs a hand down his face as she tries to control the anger in his voice.. "Did you even try to refuse?"

"You already know I couldn't" you respond shakily. He feels his anger rising even more when you say you couldn't, he can only imagine how your parents made you feel and how they forced you into this engagement.

He lets out a sharp breath, his voice tight and low as he asks his next question.. "Who is he?"

"Prince Kento, of our allied nation... i think he's around your age..." you say weakly.

His heart clenches even more as you say that you're now betrothed to the crown prince of another nation, not only are you getting married off but you're also going to be away from him in another country... forever? Also the fact that he's around his age only adds more fuel to the fire of anger, jealousy and hurt stirring up inside him.

He forces himself to speak again, despite the tight feeling in his chest making it difficult to even breath.. "When's the wedding?"

"In three months" you choke out, the date had been haunting you ever since it had been set into stone.

He feels like he's going to be sick, the pain in his chest is unbearable as he seethes out his next words. "And you seriously agreed to this?" He knows he shouldn't be angry at you but he can't help it, he's angry at everyone involved.

"Please don't be mad at me" you sob into your hands as you stand before him.

He feels his heart twisting and clenching in his chest as you desperately plead for him not to be mad at you, your tears and sobs making it hard for him to breathe. He wants nothing more than to just pull you into his arms and comfort you, but the knowledge of your engagement is making it difficult for him to even speak.

"How can I not be mad at you?" He somehow gets out, his voice coming out strained through gritted teeth. Your heart completely sinks at that.

He clenches his jaw when you don't say anything, a mix of anger, hurt, despair and resignation building up in him. He still can't bring himself to look at your face, he's scared that when he looks into your tearful eyes, it'll just break him even more."Couldn't you have put up even a bit of a fight?"

"2 years I managed to stay unwed don't act like I didn't put up a fight." You bite back starting to feel frustrated that he's not being understanding.

He clenches his teeth even harder as you say that, the hurt and anger in his chest only growing even more worse with your words. He knew that you probably tried your best and put up a fight for two whole years to not get married, but the truth of the matter is that you failed in that fight and ended up getting engaged anyway. He finally manages to force himself to look up at you, staring into your teary eyes as he speaks quietly. "You still lost in the end.... you really let them win."

"Don't say that" you say trying to hold your ground wiping your face, and God does he hate to see you cry. The sight of you wiping your tears away, trying to hold yourself together while looking completely heartbroken and distraught, it's too much for him to bear. He wants to reach out and pull you tightly into his arms, to just hold you close and comfort you, but his own pain and emotions are keeping him from giving into his urge to do that. He grits his teeth, his voice getting even lower and more strained as he speaks again "It's the truth..."

"You're angry at me." you state blinking back more tears.

He feels his heart twist even more as you accuse him of being angry at you, his expression hardening even more as you speak. He can't deny that he is angry, he's angry at everything, angry at your parents, angry at you, angry at the entire situation, but most of all he's angry at himself. Angry at himself for even falling in love with you. A princess he knew he could not have.

He looks up at you, his blue eyes darkened

and pained as he speaks in an almost cold and emotionless voice... "yeah.. I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

Your heart breaks at his cold tone

"Satoru... please..." you reach for his hand.

He feels his throat constrict and his heart clench tightly as you softly speak his name in that pleading tone, "Don't." He growls out, pulling his hand away from your grasp and refusing to even look at you.

You feel sick with how he rejects you, your heart sinking even further.

His heart is in complete turmoil as he sees the way your face falls when he pulls away from your touch, his entire being is screaming at him to just pull you towards him and hold you close, but he refuses to give in to those urges, still angry and in pain over your engagement. He forces himself to keep his blue eyes averted from you and remain cold and unfazed as he speaks again. "You can't just expect me to act like everything is fine."

Seeing him act so cold towards you crushes you "Just listen to me please..." you please clinging to your nightgown your hands in small fists.

the sight of you looking so vulnerable and trying to hold yourself together,makes his heart ache in his chest and he silently hates himself for making you feel this way.

He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself as he forces himself to keep his expression cold and distant as he nods for you to speak. "What?"

You then pour your heart out to him. "you're my first love Satoru, the first man to every understand me, the first man I ever kiss, the first and only man l've ever been with... you mean everything to me... if i could I would've married you in a heartbeat"

His breath audibly hitches as you whisper those words out, a mixture of emotions stirring up inside him as you admit that he was the first man you ever loved and that you were intimate with. Hearing you admit those things makes him feel a mix of anger, heartbreak and love. he hates how even now after discovering that you're going to marry another man, he still loves you so damn much. He grits his teeth, his heart twisting painfully as he speaks in a tight and strained voice... "And yet here you are, agreeing to get married to someone else... "

He was trying so hard to push you away now being cold.

"what do you suggest i do huh? you know they would never let me marry you..." you say letting him know the painful truth.

He scowls deeply, his heart clenching painfully at your question, knowing that you're right. He knows your parents would never let that happen, he was a warrior, an outsider, a mere knight, not of noble lineage, he was never going to be proper husband material for their precious princess... He scowls, his voice coming out low and bitter... "So you're just going to give up and listen to them? You'd rather marry some prince instead of fighting for us?"

His jaw clenched tightly as he continues speaking in a quiet, bitter voice. "You're just going to let them take you away and force you to marry someone you don't even love, just gonna be their obedient little princess?" He sneers.

"Don't say it like that..." you whisper,

He hates how you sound so defeated, how you're practically pleading for him to just... understand... and the worst part is that he does understand, of course he does.

"How else do you want me to say it?" He asks, his voice coming out low, bitter and cold. "I don't know..." you say shakily like you were going to burst into tears again.

His heart clenches at the sound of your shaky and vulnerable voice, at how your voice is sounding so small and close to sobbing again. He hates this, he hates how much he can hear the pain and hurt in your voice, hates how badly he wants to just pull you into his arms and hold you close, but the anger and hurt he's feeling is keeping him from doing so. He lets out a bitter and quiet huff, his voice coming out bitter and cold as he speaks again. "You're driving me insane..."

You step forward wanting to wrap your arms around him "forgive me... please forgive me..."He watches as you step forwards and reach out, your arms wanting to wrap themselves around him, your voice so shaky as you plead for him to forgive you, the sight of you looking and sounding so heartbroken finally breaks him.

In an instant, he's on you, his arms gripping you tightly and pulling you flush against his firm body as he buries his face against your neck, his hands clenching the fabric of your nightgown tightly.

"fucking hell... " He mutters against your skin. He holds onto you tightly, his big arms wrapping around you like a vice as he pulls you against his body, his face nuzzling into your neck, breathing in your scent as he struggles to control his emotions. He hates how much he loves you, he's angry, bitter, devastated, hurt. He lets out a shuddering breath, his voice coming out gruff and pained as he speaks into your skin... "I hate you so much right now... I hate you so damn much."

You nod, in his arms as you cling to him "I know... I know im sorry satoru im so sorry..."

He holds you against him tighter, feeling the way you cling onto him, the way you're sobbing into his chest as you continue apologising to him over and over again. It's driving him insane. He buries his face deeper into your neck, taking shaky breaths as he keeps you tightly in his embrace, his heart clenching at your sobs.

"Stop apologising... stop saying you're sorry..." He mutters in a low and pained voice into your skin. He can feel the way you're grasping onto him, he can feel the tears you're spilling into his chest, the way your body is shaking as you sob against him. It's killing him, he's never, not once, seen you this heartbroken and vulnerable before and he can't stand it.

"Please don't be mad at me please"

The words you whispered in a shaky and teary voice makes his chest twist painfully. He can hear the pleading tone in your voice, the way you're begging for him to not be mad at you, he can feel your body shaking against his own as you continue to cling onto him. He closes his eyes, his arms pulling you even more closely against him, his grip almost bruising as he answers you in a low and tense voice... "I'm trying not to be..."

He hates how weak he is to you, he hates how he can't deny you anything, how you can get under his skin so easily with just your words and pleas... no matter how angry and hurt he feels right now, no matter how badly he wants to lash out and take out all the pain and frustration he's feeling in that moment on you, he just can't do it.

He feels you tremble against him as he holds you against his body, the way your small body is shaking in his arms makes him feel even more frustrated and helpless.

He takes another shaky breath as he continues holding you against his body, his face still nuzzled into your neck as he mutters in frustration. "You're the bane of my existence."

He feels the way your body jerks slightly at his words, the way you stiffen ever so slightly at the harsh words that came out of his mouth. He knows he really shouldn't have said that, he really shouldn't, but the hurt and anger he's feeling right now are getting the better of him. He lets out a harsh, bitter scoff as he presses his face deeper into your neck, his lips almost brushing against your skin as he continues in that cold, low voice. "I wish I never met you"

He knows he's being harsh, he knows he's being an ass and that he shouldn't be taking his anger out on you, but right now, he can't help it. He's jealous, angry, hurt, so damn hurt at the reality of the situation.

He pulls you even closer to his body, his arms squeezing you so tightly it's almost like he's holding onto you for dear life. "and I hate that I still love you so goddamn much... "

"I love you I love you satoru please" you sob hard. He feels his body tense up even more, his chest clenching painfully when he hears you say those words, saying that you love him so desperately as you continue sobbing against his body.

"And I hate you. I do" He's such a liar, saying that he hates you while he keeps his strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you even more against him. He's a goddamn hypocrite and he knows it, but he just can't stop himself from acting the way he does around you.

Even through all the anger and hurt he feels, he still can't help but cling onto you desperately, not wanting to let you go. "Fuck... I hate you so fucking much... "

you pull away from his shoulder, your face nearing his. mere inches away from his lips "that's okay, you can hate me" you murmur so close to his lips, if hating you would help him feel better then so be it.

He tenses up more when you suddenly pull away from his shoulder, his body almost instinctively wanting to pull you back, but then you're so close again, your face only a few mere inches away from his, your breath brushing against his lips as you murmur those words he looks down at how inviting your lips look. The words 'hate me' leaves your mouth and it only pisses him off even more, his lips twisting into a scowl as he says back, his voice low and tense, his eyes fixed on your lips. "I hate your damn guts." He sees your lip quirk up slightly, he then instantly presses his lips to yours to which you eagerly welcome, your lips instantly molding against his, his arms tightening their grip on you even more.

The kiss is intense filled with hate, desperation, and passion. It is hot, messy and frenzied, filled with every emotion you're both feeling right now. He bites and nips at your bottom lip, his tongue licking and licking at the seam of your lips, almost like he's trying to devour you completely.

He deepens the kiss, wanting to taste every corner and inch of your mouth, his tongue and swirling around yours. His hands moving from your waist and slipping underneath the fabric of your nightdress, his calloused hands caressing and roaming over your bare skin, almost possessively as he kisses you hungrily, angrily...

pt. 2 coming soon! likes and reblogs much appreciated!!! hope u guys liked this ^_^

sword divider by @haonian

[twijaxx]

hey bbg i love you and i am patiently waiting for a full fledged one shot of phantom isagi and white haired isagi, I AM WILLING TOWAIT THOUGH !! however is it possible for you to bless us with smut headcannons of them 🥹🥹🥹

soooooo i have NO idea when im gonna post that one shot cause yall just KNOW how lazy i am. I AM GONNA BLESS MY FELLOW OTHER ISAGIS PERSONALTIES FANS THO.

So let’s start with phantom-sagi:

- He’s a meanie, a BIG one and he probably (100%) has a degradation kink. Yall saw how he was talking to reader in that pervious work. It just gets him going, feeling how your pussy sucks him in when he’s saying mean things to u :/

- As much as he tries to hide it he’s probably the one whimpering a lot more then white haired-sagi and ohhh he loves! to tease him about it when the three of you have sex. I think the time he just can’t hold in his whimpers anymore is when he’s cumming inside of you, just the thought of you getting pregnant is too much for him.

- Which leads me to another point. He has a raging!!! breeding kink. Thinking about how little versions of normal isagi’s would run around your house playing with each other makes his dick so hard it’s starting to hurt.

- I feel like he’s also the one who leave most of the marks u have when the night ends, he’s just a little too possessive even tho it’s literally just other version of him fucking you.

- He is into pet play or/and role replay. He would love!! if u put on cat or bunny ears while having a butt plug that serves as your tail inside. He also likes when u dress up as a nurse or a maid just for him ;)

- His earlobes are sensitive! so he tries to keep your hands occupied on all times once u learn about it. One nibble and he’s gone, his whole “tuff guy personality”?? vanished, he wants u to ride him immediately after u tease his earlobes.

- Talking about tying someone up, he is lowkey into this but he feels like it’s a waste of time, when he wants to gain more control over you he can your put you in a mating press and fuck u silly.

Okay soo moving into white haired-sagi:

- I feel like he’s the part of normal isagi who “gave” him the thighs fetish. He just can’t comprehend how soft and plum they are, how every time he slams into you they jiggle a little bit. He loves nibbling on them and squeezing them with his big hands, he could just spend hours between them eating you out. And he would! pay u to choke him/squeeze him to death with those two fluffy mussels u have. The thing he likes the most is when he leave hickeys and bite marks on your inner thighs just to make you think about him everytime you change.

- talking about eating you out, just like phantom-sagi has a raging breeding kink, this one has the biggest oral kink u could ever see. As i said he could spend his whole life eating you out, he would kill! to have you just sit on his face without worrying how the hell is he getting air in there. He also loves when you put your fingers into his mouth, he’s letting out groans as he swirls his tongue around your digits.

- Don’t let his innocent looks fool you, he will and he does steal your panties :3 Either they are clean or straight from the laundry basket, he’s taking them when he has a chance!!! He would probably jerk off with them wrapped around his cock or on his face when he misses you a lot, but sadly after normal isagi takes control again he can’t quite do it.

- He also has a breeding kink but not as much as phantom-sagi tho.

- He loveeesssss when you give him head and i think it’s the time he’s letting out the most sounds. He covers his eyes with his forearms when he’s about to cum, while the most angelic sounds leave his throat, u could swear it makes you want to overstimulate him till he no longer remember his own name.

- he likes overestimation whatever it’s him overestimating you or you overestimating him. The feeling of his own dick feeling like it’s milked dry to this point when he thinks he won’t be able to cum for at least two weeks is driving him insane.

- Talking about overstimulation brings us to another point. He is into edging to the point when he wouldn’t let you cum at all while he finished 3 times already. But don’t worry the orgasm he provides you after all this teasing is worth it ;)

just a little note from me

- I think that phantom-sagi stamina is “unlimited” bc well.. he’s not real he’s just living in people minds not for u tho while white haired-sagi stamina is just like isagi’s one cause he “uses” white haired-sagi on the field a lot.

Tags: @iqxatlantic @yumyumcherryy @yutamy1beloved

this is my first time writing headcanons tbh…. i hope yall liked it and that it will cure your hunger for those two for a while. Also sorry if it got a little messy towards the end but it’s 01:35 for me and i’m lowkey a little tired, maybe i will update it after sometime.