#it's worming into my brain and messing things up and i.

[omniphilic]

ahem* hi hope you’re having a great day! Here are some concepts I thought of because there’s so much potential for angst in the Milf reader universe. Also the amber for this concept is show amber , I’ll wake one for comic amber later (if you want me too hehe)

Some people age like milk, some people age like fine wine but Ambers Mom?, she ages like ambrosia. That’s the local inside joke in the neighborhood, some moms envy her, some men love her, sons can’t go a day without staring at her. Does that mean she’s promiscuous? Oh no not at all, she’s kind, with a smile that can run a city, cooks like she was taught in the womb and always makes everyone’s day a but better, she also loves her daughter fiercely, VERY. FIERCELY. And would insult and/or beat the ever loving shit out of you if you mess with her family.

That’s why when Amber brought her first boyfriend home and he started making some berry suggestive passes at her mom, she did the best thing she could do, leave the room. Soon after he left, she called her daughter fi a chat and told her how her boyfriend made her uncomfortable and would want him at the house anymore, keeping the true story to herself so as to not sabotage her relationship with her daughter. Amber knew that there was still some truth yet to be told but trusted her mother either way, her relationship with her first boyfriend went smoothly (aside from her mother’s obvious distaste for him) that was until one day she caught him pants down jerking to a photo of her mom that he got from facebooking. She broke up with him instantly.

Now, you said in one of your answers to an als that this has been a recurring problem with amber and her boyfriends and I just think that’s why she avoids bringing them home to meet Milf reader , partially because she doesn’t trust them and part because she doesn’t want any of them to try to get too handsy with her mom (I feel like this may have happened before) and the other part is because she doesn’t want her mom to feel bad about it any time she breaks up with her boyfriends because of it. But when amber met mark, she felt he was different than the others, that he wouldn’t even dare do such a thing (how wrong she was).

It starts slow but she starts suspecting and soon she finds out and she is DONE, she comes back home angry and tear faced, MILF reader asks her what’s wrong and she EXPLODES and eventually saying a few words she can’t quite take back. Reader is mortified and immensely guilty, she begins to drift away, not out of spite or anger but fear that her presence will mess up the possibility of Amber finding true love, she can’t even look her own daughter in the eye and hovers around like she’s lost her spark and she has, her lovely daughter hates her (she doesn’t and feels guilty about what she said but doesn’t know how to apologize) so now everything just doesn’t seem right anymore.

Do they make up? Maybe idk but the whole concept gave me brain worms and I don’t know how to get rid of them , what do you think?

I LOOOOOOOOOOVE THIS BECAUSE YOU ARE LITERALLY LIVING IN MY MIND!!! you are in my cell dude, because from top to bottom, yes yes yes all over this. just. yes.

tw: inappropriate advances + touching. onesided, background reader x amber's boyfriends (mark's in too deep). slutshaming of reader, accusations of cheating and homewrecking towards reader. Mostly examining Amber and Readers relationship.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀18+ content below / MDNI

Amber has a great mom. You've been her number one fan ever since she could draw breath, you'd lose an arm and a leg for her, die, if it would make her dreams multiply. You already give her the world and have begun plotting on the moon.

So... you have a bit of a problem on your hands when that new boy she brings home sauntered up to you.

Your daughter is beautiful, so it's not very surprising she's bringing home boys. You want her to live her life to the fullest so you've no interest in cramping her style, eager to meet her little friends, even the ones you don't like that much. This one, you think has a bit of a problem.

He has that stupid smirk twisting his lips. You are quite familiar with that kind of boy--he's got something loaded in the chamber and an itchy trigger finger; whether it'd be cool or cruel, you think, naturally, it's some dumb one liner you'll find a way to one up.

As simple as boys can be though, you always forget how unpredictable kids these days are. Bold. Audacious.

He's all puffed chest and pomp, walking past the threshold of the kitchen island. You're smiling because it's your default, head tilted towards, face curious. You make an inquisitive noise, put on to his approach. He doesn't falter for a second, rosy cheeks bunching up with his smile. He's sweet just standing there, but then he opens his mouth, and things get sour.

"Hey, Mrs. Bennett!"

He exchanges pleasantries while standing watch hawkish, waiting for the right time to dip down with talons and catch you up.

He can manage normalcy for at most four minutes.

"Hey, bud! Anything you need from me?" He says 'no', but doesn't stand any less imposing or bothersome, blathering on about nothing for a few moments. The weather, the pool him and Amber are heading to, what kind of swimsuits 'look the best'.

You're half listening, hands busy and mind scoring over the itinerary for the day, so you almost don't hear him.

"I think you'd look really good in a bikini!" His eyes glance down at your breasts in your low-cut shirt, then flick back up. "Or in any swimsuit really. I see where Amber gets her beauty from, you know." Your head arches back, the corners of your eyes wrinkling as your expression expands, lips pursed as you nod, fixing your face as your mind recovers from that white flash. "I guess I'm just sorta surprised Amber doesn't dress like you do..." He sticks up his hand to cradle his chin between thumb and forefinger. "She doesn't really like to be all... showy."

Your body is shot, state of shock so strong you don't notice you cut your finger until it stings under the cool water. You grunt and glance down at the sink, look at the rivulets of blood tinting the water red, and think. He keeps going.

"I guess I'm just lucky she has a beautiful ma—looking at you is sorta like looking at her. Just a... bigger version."

You want to clean out your ears with the dish soap because you couldn't--can't--have heard him right. Disbelief makes you snort as you finish the last of the dishes and wash out your cut. You turn off the water and turn your head up, just to see him standing there, lingering effluvia, looking every part bitch and bastard.

He's staring at you because you never turn your back on a big cat and he's wishing the cougar would pounce. For the other shoe to drop, where you fulfill his fantasy and go belly up for him, claws sheathed, tail aside. Maybe he's imagining you'd be flattered, shy, meek, the take-it-like-a-good-girl type.

"I thought you were gonna tell me a joke or say something funny when you walked up like that. I mean, I guess I wasn't entirely wrong. But this isn't the place for whatever the fuck you got going on." You dry off your hands, wring them in a towel that you ditch on the counter. "Back up."

"What? "

You don't falter.

"I didn't stutter. Behind the counter, now." You don't ask nicely and he realizes he's forgotten himself, cowed, less enthusiastic as tries to back pedal. "I hope you don't speak to Amber like that—never mind your mother." You sneer at him, poised viper-like.

"Amber!" You call out, sing-songy. "Can you come here, please?"

Sunshine ducks her head in and the kitchen becomes very bright, alive despite the blight stood beside with you. "You good mom? Did something happ—Oh! You're in here?" She is immediately distracted by her boy-thing, and you wave him away. "Your boyfriend here was telling me you two are going to the pool?"

You watch him walk and stand beside her, plant a kiss on her cheek.

"Yup! You ready to go, babe?"

She looks up at him but is unable to meet his eye as he quickly brushes past, then back at you. Her face isn't mad, but not happy either, just confused. You smile with no teeth.

"I just hope you two have lots of fun out there, okay? Don't forget to take your sunscreen. Oh! And pictures."

You'll need to have a talk with her when she gets back.

She has very little patience for these kinds of things now but you try to settle the matter as delicately as you can each time.

"Your boyfriend... I think he's gotten a little too, comfortable, don't you think?" It's a delicate matter to discuss over meatloaf but the discussion is most certainly had, with you explaining as sweetly as you can manage how it’d probably be best if you two started meeting at his place is all.

They didn’t stay together for much longer after that, though Amber never exactly told you how it all shook out.

She doesn’t really need to.

Every boy seems to get it in their mind at least once, when they come over. It's always something. Brushing up against you in places with space for ten people, off color comments, backhanded compliments aimed at putting Amber down to big you up.

It's not only sick, but sad.

You could leave the room all you like, put on different clothes, say something, or say nothing. But nothing would change.

They all act the same.

It always ends the same way, too. Your tear-damp shoulder and more time wasted, mounting resentment hidden behind her trembling lip all coming to a head when the apple of her eye falls far from the tree.

This past one was a real shame, too.

That Mark Grayson. An adonis in a modern age, armed with a charm befitting of a boy and a smile you're not surprised wormed it's way into your daughters heart. He wears his interests on his sleeve, if the Seance Dog shirt he wore to dinner one time is anything to go by.

She was afraid to show him off to you. Called him her ‘friend’ whenever he came up in conversation, forgetting how her smile turns up whenever his name comes from betwixt her lips.

You had no problem not knowing. Though it would be better to stagger the arrival of this one, as she’s done times before. To lessen exposure, delay the inevitable.

But eventually, you will meet.

He's sweet enough, you'd reckon, if a little shy when you come 'round. Always head down, light blush as if he's always a little sunburnt.

"Hey Mark, could you pass me the—" Salt. It's in your hands before you can even finish the sentence, as if he knows what you want before you yourself. You found it sweet, if a little too attentive. Mark certainly knew how to make someone feel seen, special, though his affections should've been reserved for his girlfriend, not you.

Starts small. Hugs that last too long, odd looks across the couch, room, dinner table. An arm around the small of your back instead of around your shoulders. A heat simmering on your chest, though when you look up, it’s gone.

She watches you more carefully than him and maybe that’s what stings—that she doesn’t feel entirely assured that you’re batting for her team, that you’re not just trying to secretly whittle her down, because what really are the chances?

The chances she’ll catch Mark with your name on the tip of his tongue, chances she’ll catch him with your panties slip-sliding out his pocket?

Higher than zero.

After a point, you have to see how easy it is for her to concede that some of this is likely your fault.

The fault of a whore. A hoe, housemaker and home wrecker in equal measure, and while you aren’t surprised at the words she slurs and spits at you, it doesn’t make the disrespect hurt any less. You would think your bond paramount to that of any she could’ve forged with those boys—you wouldn’t sacrifice your relationship with the light of your life just to fuck about with pieces of meat, those stupid little men.

You thought your daughter would think so much higher of you.

You were mistaken.

In reality Amber is a young person dealing with complex emotions regarding inadequacy, having not felt like enough for a very long time.

You guys would talk very little in the following weeks, only when she needed, if she wanted. It’s lonely but you’ve your own friends to keep you company, to rave and rant to until Amber has worked through her emotions and chooses circle back around—discuss the things she’d said to you that night.

I think you and her would ultimately resolve your issues. Her new man, is it Kyle? The picture perfect gentleman, wouldn’t look at you sideways cause he’s too busy kissing the ground Amber walks on, treating her with tenderness, care.

You can find it in yourself to be happy for her, simultaneously breathing a sigh of relief. At least it’s over now.

[orcelito]

The upstairs thumping started again around midnight, right when I started trying to sleep. It's even more infuriating when I have to be up at 7 am. I've been getting absolute dogshit sleep this week, and it's largely because of them. It's been 4 nights in a row, and I am So Fucking Tired.

I'm going to leave a note on their door tomorrow asking them to stop. And if they do it again tomorrow, I'm submitting a noise complaint. I don't fucking care.

[hunsa-jars]

Last day of uner till february, just one exam before christmas I hope and almost finished with my last assignment so tomorrow you can expect a dash drowning

Also please look what I had to make for folk art and crafts class

[sordidmusings]

Between Two Points - Ace

Art from the doujinshi Torch by NINEKOKS

Summary: You and Ace have had a ✨thing✨for a good while now so sharing a bed wasn’t strange for you. It was, however, absolutely tormenting Ace, who couldn’t keep his mind from every time you’ve touched. You wake up to find him wanting. You thought you could keep things quick and fun but they just keep on escalating. Especially when he begs to be inside you for the first time. 

A/N: oh how Ace has haunted me, especially while writing this lol he’s one of my top favs so brain said we extra need to do him justice 👏 pretty happy with the smut but I’m most happy with the ending scene - I wanted it to be sweet and silly and so very Ace. Part of the Between Two Points series (“just the tip” shots for separate charas)!

Warnings: nsfw, Implications of inexperience (Ace), first time together, sleepy sex (at first lol), subby Ace, he begs and thanks you like a lot, he calls you “pretty” as a pet name, praise kink both ways, emotionally fragile Ace, I didn’t mean for that to come out but he demands it, I just wanna shower him in love and validation until he Understands, until then he gets some pussy, multiple orgasms (for both yayyyyy), overstimulation on Ace, probably cumflation, definitely my obsession with men fighting not to cum, you make him suck the mess off your fingers, aftercare, silly banter to soothe the soul, fem!reader - kept it basically gn but then an old lady joke called to me at the end whoops

Word Count: 10.2k

Come get a serving of that soup ( ˘▽˘)っ♨

“If you see your daydreams in me, they'll not lack

What's been weighted in me, I'll make you quake with reason

I can feel your knees sinking into the bed

Searching in my dark eyes to break what’s been said

There’s a wake of grace, hunting your soreness down

There's a light in my skin that's been dimmed

I'mma dig you up and give you what I took

Pull you up and tuck you in and make you look

I'ma smooth your shoulders down and calm what's shook

It was all forlorn, if only for a season

Watching me is like watching a fire take your eyes from you”

“Can something like this be pulled

From under our feet?

Leaving our skin

And burning coals to meet

Tell me now

The shortest distance

Between two points

Is the line

From me to you”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Ace still can’t believe you’re in the same bed. Every step into intimacy he’s taken with you leaves him shocked and stumbling. He’ll keep tripping after you forever though because, gods, it’s you. You’ve done a hundred and one things to impress him in emergency and battle, to take his breath away with how you decorate yourself, to make him and others watch on in awe at your skills. Though, all of that pales in comparison to the simple act of you being you. You, who wormed your way into his mind with your quirks and open-minded talks. You, who could light up his body with a simple look, a tender touch, a loving smile. You, who took hold of his heart with your patient kindness and understanding. 

You, who is currently keeping him up with the delicious turmoil of holding you so close.

This is the first time you’ve slept in the same bed. Now, you’ve done plenty of other things together, so Ace hadn’t thought that it would be such a big deal. When it hit him that he was really going to be falling asleep cuddled up to you, something so affectionate and domestic, his heart pumped an extra hard beat to wash tingles under his skin. He had thought the flush of excitement would peter off into comfort and contentment. To be fair, a part of it did. The problem is that the other part began incessantly bombarding him with thoughts of everything you could be doing in the bed besides sleeping.

His past experience with you is only making it harder where he thought it would ease his nerves at being close. The sweet or heated kisses you’d grab him to steal only make his lips lonely at their memory. The spark in your eyes as your kisses move southward haunts him and keeps his dick twitching pathetically against your thigh. The echoes of times he got to be the one with his head between your legs, smothering himself in the heady taste and smell of you, has him biting back whimpers. Fuck, he’s aching and flushed and desperate and all you’re doing is sleeping in his arms. He feels guilt creep in.

This should be enough. He shouldn’t be laying here wishing for more of you while you’re already so sweetly snuggling into his chest, offering him trust and affection. Holding you while you’re at your most vulnerable should sate him. Feeling how soft and warm you are with your weight sinking the two of you together should ease him to rest. Yet his mind keeps reminding him of the last time your weight was pressing on him, leaving him equal parts wound up and embarrassed.

As usual, you had been tapped right into when he needed you to escalate things but felt he didn’t have the right to ask. All day he’d been hovering around you, a hand always on arm or shoulder and eyes always ready to jump to you. He was chasing at your heels when you waved for him to follow you so you could settle him with some attention. He was pawing at you the moment your lips touched, moaning at the first rub of tongues, grinding right when you pressed deeper into him. 

Soon he was on the floor with you on his lap, your palms pressing your weight into his heaving chest and your hips working him over. He flushed an even deeper shade of pink when you told him how pretty he looks. The thought of it has his cock jumping even now, and he struggles to keep from grinding up into your lower stomach. He can feel a hint of your mound at the base of his cock, begging him to press harder to tease himself with your plush heat and the firmness of your pelvis underneath. Knowing your clit was hiding right there against him - in easy reach for him to make you squirm with pleasure, make such pretty pretty noises, think of nothing else but how good he’s making you feel - chips away at his resolve. 

The memory continues with the feeling of his fingers sinking into the meat of your hips, caught between pulling you faster and shoving you off because he felt all too close to his end for a grown man who hasn’t even gotten his pants off yet. You were even still fully clothed but didn’t seem to pay that any mind as you circled and ground yourself on the hard cock trapped in his pants. Even with the layers, he felt how hot your cunt was getting, burning even more against him than your mouth when it took to painting a path through his freckles from cheeks to chest. When you took breaks to grind slowly over him, he felt the little moment where your hips slid before your clothes followed, delayed by you slipping through your own wetness first. His eyes rolled back at the fact that using him got you soaked and that out of everyone you chose him to sit your drooling pussy on.

With that thought and his grinds chasing you back, he felt his balls pull taught and his cock pound dangerously.

No, fuck, he hasn’t even made you cum - his clothes, fuck, he’s still in his clothes you, can’t see him cum in his pants like some pathetic boy, no nonono-

“Please,” Ace gasped out, using all his will power to still his hips and keep them pressed to the ground, “I’m- I’m too- please -hhah- you’re just so- fuck! Please, baby.” He was panting the words between moans, trying to find enough strength to hold your hips still. “Just s-slow down, I’m -nnnngh-” You just smiled devilishly down at him and kept picking up the pace. He grit his teeth and arched his head back, “I’m so fucking close- ah!”

He hides his face in the pillows and your hair even as the praises you had showered him in echo in his ears while he holds your sleeping body. His own painfully awake body shivers while he thinks of how hard he came, how each pump had felt like overwhelming bliss trapped against your heat and to the tune of your voice. It has him grinding against you before he can even think and sighing out in relief at a little bit of the touch he needs.

“Ace?”

Your sleepy mumble makes him freeze, every muscle taught like he grabbed a live wire.

“Why are you awake, honey?” The genuine concern in your sleep-thick voice only makes him feel worse. You try to lift your face from his chest, but a hand on the back of your head traps you there. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he swallows, hoping to trap the stutter back down. “Don’t worry - go back to sleep.”

He places a gentle kiss to the top of your head and scratches your scalp to try and settle you. It works for a moment and he relishes in the feel of your body relaxing back against him. That is, until you shift to the side and snuggle deeper. Your thigh brushes his obvious hard on and you both tense. He panics when he feels your eyelashes tickle his chest, letting him know your eyes flew open wide.

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh, he thinks miserably. He’s confused when he feels you smile against his skin.

“Ace, honey, are you enjoying sleeping with me?” Even with the sleepy tone, you manage to get a lot of smug teasing in your voice.

“Yes?” That wasn’t meant to be a question.

“You sure?” you prod. “You seem awful tense.” 

You emphasize the last word with a firm press and rub of your thigh against his aching erection. His whole body shivers and a high sigh escapes him. His hands grasp you at hip and shoulder and he’s struck with the déjà vu of not knowing whether to drag you closer or make you stop. 

You’re having no such struggle, happy to find him a wanting mess. You’ll never get over seeing the confident and playful air he parades around with slipping off to reveal something fragile and seeking when you touch him. Sure, he won you initially with that part of him, charming you to his side like every other moth drawn to his inherent light, trapping you there with all the others under his protection and love. Knowing what pieces can lie under that blaze only makes the show more fun to watch. Knowing someone so powerful, so magnetic, feels the same way for you? Shows you places they’re scared to let others see? It’s your greatest rush and most cherished responsibility.

“You’re perfect, honey,” you praise. He just barely bites back a whimper. “Did you know I was dreaming about you?”

“You were?” Ace sounds much more disbelieving than you’d like.

“Mhmm, I do it often.” Your voice softens with honesty. “You’re always on my mind.”

There’s a slight tremble to Ace’s hold on you. He wants to say something, anything, but his throat has closed too tight for words to pass. 

“I can prove it to you,” the flirtatious heat to your voice eases the fragile vulnerability away. Ace is yet again thankful for your sixth sense when it comes to his needs. Your thigh creeping its way over his leg and hips helps distract him from the pressure behind his eyes. You settle your leg when it’s resting centered on his sensitive head. The weight of your soft thigh easing down on him forces a shaky “hh-ah!” from him and he feels his face flush in embarrassment and need. You reward the sound with a kiss to his pec.

“Well?” you whisper. “Are you gonna check?”

“Huh?” Ace’s blood is all in the wrong head for him to understand anything but praise and orders. You giggle at him and it makes his dick jump against your thigh.

Taking mercy on him, you grab the hand that’s planted on your hip. Slowly, you lead it to the swell of your ass and press his large hand to grip at you. He does so eagerly, playing with the pliant flesh filling his warm hold. Your sleep shorts are thin, letting him feel you easily despite the barrier. He can’t resist the instinct to pull and spread you open. You hum happily at the feeling, arching into it. Ace blows out a tense breath, bedding his cheek into the top of your head and canting his hips up ever so slightly.

“So good, sweetheart,” you sigh. He squeezes down and turns his face to find comfort in the smell of your hair. “Let me show you.”

You urge his hand a little lower, right to the hem of your shorts. You only stop when his fingertips slip under and tickle the skin right beside the swell of your lips. You want him to decide this on his own. He teases the elastic for a moment before trailing the pad of his finger over your underwear right where the seam of your pussy is, starting from your entrance up to your clit and back. Another content hum leaves you, encouraging him, and he swivels his hand to cup your heat. He shivers at the hot breath curling over his chest, and his head swirls happily when you arch your hips up to push your cunt deeper into his palm. 

This time it’s your own hand gripping your ass to spread you open for him. You arch and nudge into his hold more, unintentionally grinding over his cock in your writhing. His fingers twitch, teasing your clit, sparking it to life and leaving you wanting. He’s having trouble keeping himself tempered instead of writhing when he can feel the dampness of your underwear and how they slide messily between his palm and your pussy. He wants it coating his fingers, smeared on his lips, maybe one day he can feel it soaking his cock- 

“Touch me,” you whine impatiently.

Hasty fingers push under the band of your underwear and slip between your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Ace moans. His voice is low in his chest but softened by his breathlessness. He takes his time petting around your entrance and enjoying the feeling of your lips slipping to encase his fingers when he flattens them out to reach your clit.

“Told you I was dreaming about you,” you mumble happily. Even though your body is heated and tingling, you’ve still got the weight of sleep pulling at you, leaving you in a content mix of dreaminess and pleasure. You relax further into Ace, happy to let him touch you as he likes in that tentative, worshipping way of his. It’s that endearing contrast to the brash and confident way he presents himself and fights. He always starts touching you like it’s an honor he doesn’t deserve, something he needs to take slowly lest he scare you off or never get the chance again. Even though you love the treatment, it breaks your heart that he thinks he’s so below you as to not deserve to touch you, let alone receive your affection.

The tip of a finger presses at your entrance, just enough to have the pad sink in. You swivel your hips to urge him further and moan when he listens to your plea. Ace moans with you, always amazed at your tight heat. It welcomes him easily despite gripping down snugly on his skin. He pulls his digit out with a curl, shivering when your muscles clamp back against him. You sigh his name in that dreamy way that makes him feel special, and he can’t help but add another finger and sink them in deep. Even though he’s in to the last knuckle, you shove your face down into his chest and your ass into the air to try and suck him in deeper. He rewards you by petting at your walls, drawing more pleasurable twitches from your cunt.

“More,” you whine. It’s half demand and half complaint and all turning his brain to mush. How quickly you are winding into desperation is only making his own need grow. He needs to hear more from you, he needs you to fix the burning under his skin, he needs fuck himself into a place so deep in you that you can never be rid of him.

“Need to be inside you,” Ace groans before he can think about the words. “Please, pretty baby, you feel too good-” he swallows thickly when you hungrily grind back onto his massaging fingers, “fuck -hah- need to know-” he can’t finish his sentence because you’ve snuck your hand down to palm his erection and stroke him in time with your thrusting hips.

“Think you’re ready to fuck me?” you ask. You meant to check in and make sure he was emotionally ready, but your breaths rushing out of you made it sound harsh.

“Please,” he begs, voice broken, holding you tight with his free hand, “I’ll make you feel so good- promise, promise.”

“I’m just worried-”

“It’ll be okay,” he promises immediately, “just a quick feel, you don’t even have to let me fuck you- just gotta feel you on my cock at least once.” He tries to win your favor by using his free hand to tease your clit.

“Ace,” you gasp. It’s hard to slow him down when he’s winding your body up so well. With a quick jerk, he shifts you up his body, giving him better leverage to work you on his fingers. It lands your face in the pillow next to his and he takes the opportunity to suck open mouthed kisses across your neck. You mean to talk to him and get a hold on how frantic he’s getting, but all you can do is let out muffled moans into soft cotton. 

“I’ll be good,” Ace whispers against the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and humid and gets you one step closer to an orgasm lighting you on fire. “I’ll make you cum until you can’t worry anymore.” The fingers tweaking your clit and prodding your firming walls give weight to his promise. Your hips are already starting to stiffen and twitch with the oncoming climax. “I’ll keep begging, I’ll worship you, anything you want, just, fuck-” his voice breaks before he can stop it. “Please let me feel you.”

Ace feels like he can’t get enough air; he won’t be able to breathe if you pull away - he’s sure he’ll suffocate without you. His whole body is pulsing and alive with urgency, not just the cock straining against his pants. The only thing that’s keeping him grounded is you. Your pretty moans slipping out, half-covered by the pillow. Your searching hands, grasping and working his body over in search of something to hold on to. Your chest blanketing his own, ebbing and flowing in waves with your heavy breathing pressing into him. Most of all, the slick, plush grip of your cunt around his fingers, singing to him in little wet slaps every time it welcomes his fingers back home.

“Ace, I’m-” you turn your head towards him so he can hear and find him already looking at you. His flush is deep enough to try and hide his freckles and his pupils are blown enough to turn his brown eyes black. His slack jaw lets your breaths mingle. The pressure of his fingers on your clit increases just the slightest bit, but it’s just right to get your body to clamp down and not let go. “I’m so close, gonna cum, please, love-” Ace sobs out a moan at the new pet name and presses the fingers inside you even more insistently “ahhn! Don’t stop, don’t stop, gonna-”

You suck in a greedy breath and it’s trapped in your lungs as your body starts to seize up. The hit of pleasure has you curling as close as you can into Ace, needing to clutch him when the first wave crests heavily. His fingers follow you when you squirm to center fully on top of him, soothing you through the ride with gentle pumps into your twitching walls. You breathe again after a moment, letting out a flurry of praise into Ace’s shoulder. The little shakes of your hips make you rub against his trapped cock and his eyes roll back against his wish to keep watching you. 

The way your pussy clamps down on his fingers is absolute torture. Pressed so close with his eyes shut, he can almost imagine the rhythmic waves of your spasming cunt milking him while he fucks you full of cum. It has him panting along beside you like he was the one who just came. 

You’re easing down from your high, swollen walls settled along his now unmoving fingers. The sound of your panting settles with you and the room starts to still into a cozy calmness. Your muscles feel liquid and uncooperative as you try to adjust into a comfier position. The movement yet again rubs you against Ace and he whimpers at the heavy gush of precum it pulls from him.

With a pained sound, Ace wiggles the hand that had been toying with your clit out from under your hips and past his sensitive cock to draw shapes on your back. The action brings the smell of sex closer up to his face and he can’t help but groan. Fuck, he doesn’t want to push you or bother you, but the high of seeing you cum has passed and left him even more wanting.

“Pretty?” Ace starts softly. He kisses at your temple and you hum in reply. “...please?”

You hum again, only half hearing him between the orgasm taking the wind out of your sails and that wind having only been a small gust in the first place given it was somewhere around the witching hour.

“I still need you,” he urges, pressing his hips up gently for some miniscule relief and to make you understand. He’s scalding hot below you and throbbing into your lower stomach and it starts to bring you some clarity.

“While I’d love to continue, I’m tired,” you sigh. Before he can apologize or take it the wrong way, you continue. “Normally that wouldn’t really be a problem, but I want to be bright eyed and bushy tailed the first time I fuck you.” Even with the casual way you’re talking, Ace sighs happily and pulls you tighter at the idea. Before you can think about how you’re about to contradict your words, your mouth moves and you’re back to riling him. “I’ve thought of our first time together a lot, and I’m going to treat you to much more than some sleepy sex.” He shivers and moves back to mouthing at your neck at the promise. “I want you sitting pretty under me while I show you everything I can do to you.”

“But I’m under you now,” Ace argues.

“You are, and you’re doing so good at the looking pretty thing too,” you sigh in mock defeat. You feel him smile against your neck, both from the praise and from gaining some ground. Gotta get that idea back out of his head. “I don’t wanna leave you hanging, but I want to do more for you the first time you’re inside me.”

Ace doesn’t share that worry. He’s more worried about using his free hand to start guiding your hips in slow circles to feel the motion around the fingers still sitting inside you. It also teases his still leaking cock and makes it painfully easy to imagine the sensation blending so his cock feels the circles and the grip of your cunt. It flutters on his digits and he flexes his hand to feel the twitching muscles better, putting pressure towards your lower stomach. You keen at the burn it sets in your nerves, arching against his hand to feel more. Shoved so snuggly into your body, Ace’s fingers pick up the thump of your racing heart beating behind the walls of your pussy. He’s never needed anything more than he needs to feel it tapping against the racing pulse of his own heart pulsing through his cock.

“Please, pretty, please please ple-hease” he begs again, beyond reason. “What if- what if we don’t fuck? What if you just let me inside you to keep me warm?”

The idea is quite tempting. You kiss at the side of his face, giving yourself time to enjoy the fantasy of cockwarming him. It’s one you’ve come back to many times in your daydreams of him. Still, you want to fuck the sanity out of him the first time he’s inside you.

“Ace, no-”

“Just the tip.” The words are rushed and breathless and broken. “What if it’s just the tip?”

You realize there’s no reasoning with him and you’re losing the want to try. It’s not like you haven’t been wanting to fuck him since lust rode in on the coattails of “wow he’s pretty and so sweet”. He’s not the only one hiding insecurities though, and you frequently fear that if you don’t keep up the trend of blowing his mind with all the physical stuff then he’ll get bored of you. You can’t accept your first time together being anything less than perfect; the very idea fills you with dread, so much so that the potent temptation of Ace writhing and begging and even just his fingers making you feel so fucking good hasn’t shaken it off you.

“I can’t-” Ace swallows hard, “I can’t just keep dreaming about it, please, fuck, pretty, I need you.”

You believe him. You’ve never heard him so lost before in all your times fooling around. He’s prone to his tongue loosening the longer you touch and this is far from the first time he’s pleaded with you, but this felt different. There’s a frantic undertone to his voice and the words spilling from his lips. There’s truth to the emotion turning his grasp into a delicious mix of powerful and trembling. There’s no arguing with the twitching length grinding into your lower stomach - no way you can deny how hard he feels or the heat of it burning against you even through your clothes. It’s enough to make you lose yourself to the thought of getting to clamp down around his firm cock while the length finds places to toy with much deeper than you can reach. You can tell from the shape against you his width would press back at every nerve you’ve got, waking them up and making them sing. 

You come back to reality when he sneaks in a deep thrust of his fingers. The wet sound makes him moan, and the responding clench turns it into a deep, throaty “fuck”. His head flies back as he arches and grinds. You look up from the pillow and see his pretty black waves piling next to the sharp cut of his jaw. The bob of his throat as he swallows matches the jump of his cock. You feel every detail of it and notice he’s leaked enough to soak through his shorts and your shirt, leaving a sticky spot against your skin.

“You make me feel so good,” Ace moans. “I can make you feel good too.”

The fact that he thinks he needs to convince you of that even with his fingers stuffed in you, held tight with how your cunt’s swelled from pleasure, proves he’s very far from rational thought.

“You did,” you promise with a sweet kiss to his neck. “Now it’s your turn.” His head shoots up to give you a hopeful look. “You’ve cum from less, isn’t this enough?” You swirl your hips down against him to illustrate your point.

“It’s not about cumming,” he grumbles, suddenly sounding a bit more coherent and honestly a bit offended. “I wanna be closer.”

That throws you so off guard you just spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“We could take off our clothes?”

Ace doesn’t give you time to take it back, his hands flying from you and already shoving his shorts down his thighs. He sighs in relief when his cock springs free, and nudges his head into yours mindlessly in relieved affection. Too impatient to finish the task, he stops pushing his shorts while they’re halfway down to instead get his hands under your shirt. You go to finish what he started but get distracted taking handfuls of his waist and thighs. When you thumb at the descending line of his adonis belt, Ace can do nothing but press into your touch, even pausing his mission to get under your clothes.

You lay yourself back on Ace, now trapping his dick between his twitching abs and the soft skin of your stomach and the tease of trimmed hair on your mound. Somewhere in his brain he thinks he should be ashamed of how he’s an absolute mess from something so simple as feeling your skin on his cock. At the moment, the shame is overshadowed by sheer need and awe. This is you - he’s dreamed of this, agonized over it, sat drowning in a mind and body desperate to find a way to get you to look at him, let alone touch him. Even when you started pulling him with you for teasing tastes on top of your shared missions together, all the time between had them feeling fake. Getting to have you feels so foreign and unattainable that his brain writes it off as false memories when you aren’t in his hands. 

And that’s why he holds you all the more tightly when you’re in reach. He needs you cemented in his grip and sunk into every sense so you’re all he knows. No questions, no doubts, no loneliness, no hollowness, just the comfort of you. He gets his lips back on yours before he breaks.

You hook your thumbs into your shorts and underwear but it’s not quick enough for Ace. He grabs them in a tight fistful and yanks. Your spread thighs keep them from getting lower than the end of your ass and Ace whines into your mouth. Trying not to break the kiss, you lean onto your right leg and try to work the other out of your clothing. It’s a clumsy and messy affair, each of you using a hand to tug at the garments while the other is busy trying to feel and hold as much of each other as possible. You lean back to look and finally get the damn thing off and Ace chases you the whole way. Between the hot slide of tongue, the nipping on lips, and the dancing rolls of kiss and grind you manage to get your left leg completely free of clothing.

“Fuck, pretty, how -hhh-ah!- do you do that?” Ace moans breathlessly after you set your hips back on him.

“Do what?” You’re moving your clit up and down his shaft in torturously slow grinds, mind fuzzed with the feeling of your wetness making you glide so smoothly on him.

“Make me -mmnngh!- fuck-” You circle your clit around his sensitive head, turning his speech into a few heaving breaths and groans. “Make me forget everything.”

Your lips are back on his in a rush, too fast for you to get out all the loving words living in you. First it’s as insistent and firm as your hips are working him over. After a long minute though, he’s lost too much breath to do much more than pant and hump into you in a desperate chase to feel more and more. You begin laying quick kisses to his cheek and land one in the shape of a smile on the corner of his open mouth. You feel it curl up under the press of your lips. 

“You m-make me happy,” Ace admits, a twinge of nerves managing to show through all the arousal in his voice. You bump your nose to his gently. 

“You’re my happiness, Ace.”

He whines and screws his eyes shut even more tightly. You feel his cock throb heavily against you. Taking advantage, you change to little circles against him and feel the pressure of it tease at your clit and entrance. A hand snakes into your hair and grips, holding you steady to press your foreheads together. His eyes crack open to search yours for lies. Even in the rush of your grinding bodies, the eye contact is still and sturdy as steel.

“You can’t just say that,” Ace breathes.

You feel how close he is, even harder than before and thrusts getting stilted in an attempt not to cum. You set on that singlemindedly, needing to hear his breathy broken moans, feel him squirm and jerk, shove him straight into a headspace empty of all but bliss. You get your own hand in his hair and tug, earning a moan and more pleads. Busying your mouth with his neck, you begin sliding along his whole length at a quick pace. The burn in your thighs is nothing compared to the pressure building between your hips, getting tighter and brighter with every swipe.

“No, holy shit, so close, s’close -hah hahngg-“ Ace starts babbling, “wanna cum in you, I’ll do anything, I’ll -mnnngh- anything please, fuck, too good, so fucking wet, so -fuck- can’t, please no, no ‘m gonna cum-“

You suck and teethe at the sensitive spot behind his ear and twist your grip in his hair, sure that would throw him over. Instead he lunges forward to sink his teeth into your shoulder and his hands clamp onto your hips to hold them perfectly still. You’re reminded of the power in the man who falls apart for you. It makes you clench and gush against him with a throaty moan. He holds on for dear life through it, tensing and throbbing and leaking and just barely managing to hold off his orgasm.

Once he’s sure he’s relatively safe, he lets go of your shoulder and begins kissing over the slight indents. The gentle touch feels electric on the tender skin. He continues to hold your hips prisoner, imobile against his own. After some deep breaths he pulls back to look at you. 

“I don’t want it to ever stop,” his eyes are shiny and his lips tremble, but not as much as his words. “Please.” That commanding grip lightens. He slides his hands so he can massage his thumbs into the creases where your thighs meet your hips, sending sparks under your skin. “Just a little of you.”

Your resolve finally breaks and you agree. “Just the tip.”

“Thank you,” Ace rushes out. “Remind me to take you out and spoil you.”

You huff out a laugh even though you’re pretty sure he’s serious. 

“As if you don’t try already.” 

You shimmy forward and he rights you into his grip again; getting you on him with as much skin to skin as possible, just where you belong. It makes maneuvering a bit more difficult but neither of you care; you’re too busy enjoying each other’s heat and taste.

“No goofing, just romance.”

His arms encase you while yours frame him, taking time to touch skin and play with his fluffy hair. You’re firmly settled against him, laying with your cunt just in reach of his leaking head. Each breath presses you deeper into each other and lets pressure tease at your breasts. You take a moment to sneak fingers to your sides so you can tweak his nipple. The shocked hiss is one of your favorites. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” You reach back to grab hold of him and give him a few firm strokes, just to hear his pretty gasps. “The gentleman act isn’t as fun without the goofy contrast.”

“It’s not an a-aahhhhhhnn-“ You use your grip on him to circle his head on your entrance and press back just enough for the weeping tip to catch. After drawing out the sensation for a few more breaths, you move to sit up for a better angle to give him a shallow ride, but he stops you.

“Stay.” Even though it’s an order it sounds like a plea. At your confused look he continues, “If you stay like this I won’t be able to start fucking you if I lose myself.”

He feels you clench against his cockhead and it twitches in response, desperate to sink just a little deeper and letting you know with a pressure that hovers just under enough to finally slip into you. He knows “if” was too weak a word; the moment he feels the plush heat of your cunt he’s a goner. He’s had ambition and determination and stubbornness woven through parts of his being since his first breath. Yet they all fail him when he aims them at restraint here. Staring down a warlord was easier than fighting his bone deep desire for you. You just have a way of making him feel so full of life that it circles back around to an endless emptiness unless he’s smothered in your presence. Like any addict, the starting hits were no longer enough and he’d chase bigger and bigger ones til he had the endless high of being always near and always yours. His body being newer to such waves makes it easier for his instincts to take over him when more becomes not enough.

You feel the slick skin of his tip licking at your entrance with each breath you both take, so focused on every little motion you swear you can feel his heartbeat against your cunt. You start pressing back more.

“Wait,” Ace gasps. He plants a hand at the back of your head and turns it to face him. You meet blown pupils in shiny eyes, brows fighting not to pinch, freckles dancing with every word and expression. His warm breath tickles your swollen lips and you can taste its sweetness on your tongue. You want to keep looking around his pretty face but his pleading eyes have you locked in their heat. “Look at me.”

You barely think to give him a shaky nod. 

Ace reaches his other hand down to join yours on his shaft. It slips easily around your grip and holds gently, letting you keep control. Your hand feels so hot between his large one and the beating cock in your palm. Testing his grip, you slowly pump down his shaft, a slick sound from the dripping of your cunt and his precum sliding through your fingers, and make your way back up to the tip with a twisting wrist. His hand trembles around yours and he curses against your lips but he simply follows your movements.

Happy with the reaction, you continue on. He begins sinking in and his brows furrow further. The slow pace lets him feel every bit of texture, every flutter of the muscles of your entrance as they greet him. He’s in enough for you to encase his slit and you both feel the reward of a thick gush of precum spilling right into you. You breath out a syrupy “so good” and Ace fights again not to cum again - it gives him visions of fucking you fast and deep until you’re hiccuping those words and he’s pumping you full for real. He doesn’t want to be hasty though, he might miss a single second of this blissful torture.

His dick is pressed in to a catch, hovered right where his head flares widest. You hold him steady and give a little circle of your hips to feel him play with your stretching entrance.

“-hah- holy o-oh -nnnngh- thank you thank you,” he mumbles and moans between trying to breathe. His eyes roll back and screw shut for a moment before he fights them back open to watch your hazy eyes and slack jaw. He pulls you forward by the hand in your hair to press your foreheads together. Those fingers begin a haphazard massage as they switch between grasping for grounding and petting at you in adoration.

You take in a lungful of his breath and his musk and the ambient sex and shimmy just a little lower. At last, your cunt gives to let the rim of his head pop in, finally warming you from the inside. It immediately has you clench down and you can’t help but moan pathetically at finally having something to clench down on. The burning skin of his cockhead presses back at the twitching walls of your cunt, sending jolts up your spine.

“Y-you -ahh- you’re so-“ Ace is struggling against his scattered mind and an ocean of oxytocin to get you to understand how perfect you are and how his chest is so full it aches and how he’d fight through pirates, marines, the whole world government just to be this close to you again. All that comes out is a grumbling, fervent moan of “warm”.

You clench again at the word and he whimpers. You slip your hand off of his cock and out of his grip before using it to make him hold his cock for you. It gets the sticky mess all over him, which he quickly uses to twist his hand slowly up and down his shaft. You follow the movement for a few pumps then bring your hand up to your faces. You’d wanted a taste but you get a better idea. 

The moment the pads of your fingers touch Ace’s lips, he opens them just a bit wider for you. He can smell the heady mix of you both and his mouth waters eagerly. Slowly and deliberately, you sneak two fingers past his lips and press them on his tongue, his eyes burning into you the whole time. He’s quick to seal his lips and suck, hot tongue roving over your digits to collect every drop. You can hear the wet sound of his working hand get faster. You shove your fingers in to the last knuckle and he swallows them down greedily, moaning the whole time.

It’s impossible to keep yourself still; the fucked out look on Ace’s flushed face and the attention feeding but not sating your cunt make you squirm. All the movement from his jerking, constantly getting faster and firmer, has his cockhead massaging every nerve of your entrance and reverberated through your lips and clit, sinfully delicious yet maddeningly subtle. Your body is begging for him to force his way deep, split you around his thick cock, feel that pounding drag against every inch of your swollen and pulsing pussy. Instead, you have to settle for a slow tilt and pull of your hips, guiding the head sitting heavy in you to press more one way then the next. One particularly hard pump of his hand sends a strong shock to your clit and you grip him with your hands as tightly as your core wrings down around him. A heavy throb of his cock gushes more precum into you. 

Hearing how much he’s struggling to breathe fast enough through his nose, you pull your fingers from his mouth to instead pull at his hair. He’s mumbling out curses and praises between frantic kisses around your lips. The battle to stare into your eyes is becoming lost; Ace’s won’t stop rolling back and fluttering closed and losing focus. You can practically taste how close he is and it sets your whole body alight. You’re sure when he cums you’ll be able to feel the pleasure in your own body.

“Ace,” you call and his eyes crack open to see you again. His lashes are so dark and long and make his eyes look all the darker. “Need to feel you cum.” The words are rushed and urgent, trying to sneak around gasps and moans. “Love, I want you t-to -mnnn!- fuck me full.”

“Fuck!” The word “love” echoes violently around Ace’s head, and he’s so wound up and frayed he’s scared he may actually catch fire. His scramble is immediate - hands flying down to clamp onto your hips, fingers sinking deep into your skin, head thrown back giving you a full view of the flush hiding his freckles, the strong jaw working between going slack and gritting his teeth, but most importantly his hips thrust against his will. A mindless,  ravenous instinct locked in place and told him to rut until neither of you could move, until each thrust wrung more cum from him only to have it gush out of you because how could you possibly hold more?

Unfortunately, Ace had planned ahead. Your precarious alignment lets the first few thrusts sink him just a centimeter deeper, the relief of more of you only matched by the insatiable need to have all of you. Just when he feels the knot of pleasure pull his balls taught and tense his cock hard as a rod, a thrust knocks him loose.

Ace lets out an actual wail as he loses your heat. The bliss of his orgasm gets lost with it, ebbing away quickly and leaving him frantic.

“No fuck I- please I was so close, shit-,” Ace sobs right by your ear where he’s nestled himself close for comfort.

Needing to calm him and missing the feeling of him too terribly, your hand goes back to his cock while you distract him with sloppy open mouthed kisses. You find him easily and try to settle him with a few firm pumps. Ace is relieved as the feeling comes back fast and he’s already tensing and squirming and curling his toes as his orgasm beats to life in his cock again. 

 “That’s it, love,” you encourage. “I’ve got you.”

“Can’t, cumming cummingcumming-“ Ace chants urgently, kicked straight over the edge by your care. You rush to get him back inside you first but his cock’s already kicking in your grip. The first spray of cum lands where your thigh meets your ass and the second splashes over your pussy. By the third you’re pressing him back in. The whole time Ace is moaning high and gasping and pulling you to him like he needs you to breathe. He’s squirming and handsy, back arching off the bed while he takes any handful of you he can get. You feel the heavy pump of his next spurt of cum and fall to instinct yourself. You push your body down his and plop the weight of your hips in his lap, taking him in one swift motion and a heavy slap.

“Yes! Y-ye-nnnghah!- yesss thank you thank you so good so good s’good-“

You grind yourself in a heavy drag, forward and back, relishing having him all the way inside you. He feels thick enough to press your hips wide and long enough to punch at your lungs. Each grind has him play with your insides, lighting every nerve to make you feel like he’s filled you from head to toe. Each grind also has a fresh throb press at your cunt and spurt more sticky cum where his head twitches against your deepest spots. It has an unfamiliar pit swallowing the orgasm that’s nearly formed in your core, filling your nerves with a new life. You pick up the pace, needing more of that deep seated burn you can feel with each rub of him in the pit of your gut.

Ace whines as his sensitive cock has less and less to give yet keeps up its pumping. He’s beside himself, feels completely out of control of his muscles and voice as he grinds and moans and pleads, yet somehow his hands help press your hips harder into his, adding strength to your ride with every push and pull. He’s left slack jawed at the feeling, mouth hung open to let out every humid pant and desperate sound. He can feel your thighs clamp up around his hips, your fingers claw frantically at his chest, your hips begin to shake and jump. Most of all he can feel the coming orgasm sink into the muscles of your cunt as they swell and twitch and begin to clamp down on him like a vice. 

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop-“ now you’re chanting to him and he feels a new rush flow through his body. The ending orgasm is replaced with new interest amid the burning haze of overstimulation. Every fiber in him knows that he just needs to make you cum and he’ll know what heaven is like.

Ace sits up quickly to meet you, detouring to mouth over your swaying chest and enjoy a taste of your perked nipples before he gets some space to watch your blissed out face and writhing body. He begins thumbing at your clit while his other hand urges your hips up a few inches. For a moment you keep your hips moving but they freeze when Ace plants the hand that was on them behind him and his feet on the mattress and he starts to fuck up into you. They’re shallow, staccato slaps of his hips into yours, sloppily pushing his cum out of you to make stickier sounds, sending vibrations rattling through the underside of your clit still pressed under his thumb, and it’s exactly everything you ever needed. 

The deep pit his fat cockhead taps at again and again pulls taught until your whole cunt squeezes and then you feel like you burst. A breath you didn’t know you were holding rushes out of you with a holler of his name and you curl forward to cling to him. You try and ride out the high as it seizes you, shaking through your hips and legs and tightening its fist around your whole core. You don’t remember an orgasm ever massaging through you like this before - pulling heavy waves of clamp and release from your cervix to your entrance, each one making Ace’s cock feel even bigger and the pressure of that cock forcing you to stay open makes you nerves sing and dance tingles through your clit and up your spine and under your skin. 

You’re not the only one stuck at it’s mercy; Ace’s head is empty of all but the way the sensation ravages through his nervous system, taking his body from him and commanding it to hold you closer, harder, to fuck you faster, firmer. He knows his mouth is moving, but he’s not sure what it’s saying. His head is full of curses and wonder and “thank you”s and “love you”s but he has no clue what’s making it past. The only things he seems to hear are the roaring of his blood in his ears and the stream of praise tumbling from your lips. You gasp out, “Ace! Fuck, you’re so -hahn- perfect”, and he sears it in his brain forever. The way you pray your pleasure to him, bleed his name and “love” together as if they’re the same thing, it has his head spinning and his heart swelling and cock burning.

The pulses of your high get further apart so you force will into your legs and bounce with Ace to chase them. After a few though, his feet slip out straight and both hands are back on your hips to guide your thrusts and hold you tight. He’s kissing down the side of your face then hiding himself in the crook of your neck, where he can switch between kissing the taste of salt off your skin and huffing in lungfuls of the scent of your hair and skin and sweat and sex. He can taste his bliss on every moan he chokes out, can feel it throb closer with every clap of your hips he just clap needs a little more, needs the way clap your fingers tug his hair clap yes just like that and clap fuck, the way your pussy clap sucks him in clap so so close, just-

“Fuck, Ace, can’t breathe -hahnngh- too much, don’t let it stop -ah!- please, need you-“ 

He whimpers and crushes you in his hold, forcing you to sit still with him pressed as deep as he can go so he can feel every inch of you while he cums again. The first wave hits and he surges forward when his abs clamp tight, knees pulling up behind you to fully surround you. 

“Again?” You manage to gasp against his cheek.

“Yes,” he whines, “you’re just- fuck, fuck!”

It’s near painful to cum so hard so quickly after the last. His head is murky and floating at the strange sensation of the orgasm tearing through his muscles to make him grind and pump into you without having anything to gush out. Your body still seems happy enough with the offering though, completely in sync to milk out everything he could possibly give. 

It’s the perfect end to your high to be in your body enough to take in every bit of his high moans and mumbling and feel every bit of touch his instincts have him showering over you. He keeps nosing at your neck for comfort and tickling the sensitive skin there with kisses and words spoken right against your skin. His hands are deeply kneading the flesh of your hips, petting in trembling fingers and always pulling to keep your hips flush to his. His abs tense and jump, both with his stuttering breath and with the strong pulls of his dick every time it tries to force more out of him in a soul-deep need to fill you with him until he’s a permanent piece of you. His thighs are doing much the same, jostling you slightly against him from how he’s curled around you. Yes, this is exactly what you needed to cap your high and ease you back into reality. Especially with that deep voice of his showing off its range.

“Thank you, thank -nnngh- you, wanna be this close forever -ahhh- never -mm!- stop feeling you, love this, l-love y-y-hah!”

You guide him the whole time, petting his hair, kissing his temple, teasing his skin with your nails, and holding his back. The way he clings to you sets you ablaze but also lets you know how desperately he needs to feel held. His firm hold and your returning squeezes are the anchor that secures you both through the torrent and the drop from sharing bodies. Because of the affection, that drop is a landing in pure comfort and relaxation. Your muscles are all becoming liquid and you simply melt into each other and breathe. 

Ace may have never finished that thought out loud, but he continued it in the affection of his lips pressing so tenderly to your heated skin. He made it clear in the reverence of his hold on you, full of trailing fingertips worshipping your shape and gentle squeezes closer with warm and supportive palms. You understood from the cozy sway he set while drawing his temple up the side of your face to then skim the tip of his nose over your cheek and rest your foreheads together then find stillness. All the words he didn’t say came through in your shared breaths, which grew from humid puffs to a slow and smooth rhythm.

Just in case you missed the rest, he brushed his lips across yours, light enough to tickle before easing forward to mold them together. Your lips part to taste him once more and he indulges you, happily slipping his tongue between your lips for another dance. It’s unhurried how you kiss, lips firm and sure in how they press and drag together, tongues brushing slowly not to arouse but to simply enjoy. The slick sounds of the deep kisses ring in your ears in the quiet room along with the hushes of breath slipping between you two. Ace pulls in one particularly deep breath through his nose before breaking the kiss to sigh his happiness out. The whole thing is punctuated by one last sweet peck.

“I feel it too, Ace,” you promise.

His voice is thick when he whispers out once more, “Thank you.”

You rest your head on his shoulder and press a smile to his skin. Ace tilts his head just so to rest it on yours and closes his eyes to simply be. You’re not sure how long you stay sat in his lap holding him. Instead of the tick of a clock you have the swell of his breaths and the brush of his thumb. Now and again he’d start and leave a subtle sway or press kisses to your hair or squeeze you just a little tighter. You’d respond to it all in kind but his favorite was when he could feel a smile press your cheek into his collarbone or when you’d rest your hand over his pec just to better feel his heartbeat. 

Unfortunately, soreness begins to set in your hips and you have to move. Ace isn’t a big fan of the idea; you can tell from his grumble and his arms cinching around your waist. It's endearing, but no match for the protest in your joints.

“Ace, I’m sore,” you laugh out the complaint, too amused by his pouting. “Let’s lay down.”

“That I can agree to,” he says.

You doubt his words when you start to get off him and receive an indignant “hey”. 

“Who said you were allowed to get off?”

“Pretty sure I was just letting us both get off.”

“I helped,” he pouts.

“That’s an understatement,” you reassure with two quick pats to his cheek. “But for real, I gotta get off so we can get settled.”

“Agree to disagree,” Ace chimes with that maddeningly bright and charming smile of his. It crinkles his nose a moment and scrunches his eyes in a way that brings out their glimmer and you’re sure you’d never be able to say no to that face for long.

“Okay,” you sigh. “How are we going to do this?”

“Clumsily,” he answers without missing a beat and you laugh again.

“Okay, Commander, take the reins,” you say as you settle back into laying against him, happy to let him take over this clown show.

“Ooooo ‘commander’, huh? Wanna try calling me that next time?”

Instead of responding you give his back a half-hearted swat.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he reasons.

“I’m filing it away for later, but please Ace my poor hips. You’re gonna make me an old lady in my twenties,” you whine.

“At least you make a cute granny.” You can hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

“Move!” You laugh and he finally does.

He scoots you both back once, holding you tight through it while you giggle at the bumpy ride. Now back to the center of the bed, he shimmies for good measure and lays himself back. He holds his arms out expectantly and you just raise a brow at him.

“You’re gonna slip out.”

“I believe in you,” he says. He tried to be deadpan but his lips couldn’t resist the smile.

“There’s your first mistake,” you say and he just smiles wider.

You shift to the right so you can rotate your left leg out and down. You lean your weight on his chest for balance, a palm flat on each large pec, and slide your leg down and back right next to his. You shiver at the release in your joint and Ace shivers at the pressure on his chest and the jostle of your hips. His softened dick twitches in interest.

“Stop that, we need to sleep,” you reprimand with no real heat.

“I didn’t tell it to do that,” Ace deflects.

You chuckle and continue repositioning, leaning to the left this time. It feels just as nice when your right leg gets to be straight again and you can finally lay down. It feels a little strange to be lying directly on Ace’s middle instead of tucked to his side or spooning but it’s not unwelcome. It’s definitely not a permanent feature, though, and you tell him as much.

“Just for a while,” Ace promises. Much softer he adds, “Not ready yet.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Taking stock of your body, you feel a pleasant exhaustion and let it help you sink further into Ace. His hands rest gently on your back, one spread between your shoulder blades and one drawing shapes over your lower back. His thighs are so warm next to yours and the packed muscle feels so soft when he’s relaxed like this. The same goes for the pec currently being used as your pillow. Okay, maybe you could stay this way quite awhile; Ace is unfairly warm and comfortable and having him sit still half in you sates some instinct you didn’t know you had. 

“Blanket?” Ace asks.

“Dealer’s choice,” is your non-committal response.

With some reaching and finagling, Ace manages to get a hold of the sheets and flap them to lay over you. He leaves them so that they cover your legs but make it no further than the small of your back. It lets the slight chill of the room continue to cool you off without going so far as to make you cold. It’s absolutely perfect with his high body temperature radiating below you. Yeah, you’re pretty sure you could drift off into some of the best sleep of your life just like this.

A thought strikes you. 

“How did you stay hard that whole time?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly through a yawn. Then he chuckles and adds, “maybe you just have a magic pussy.”

You laugh at the stupid joke, happy he’s relaxed enough in your relationship to joke more about sex now.

“Too bad you can’t go around testing that theory,” you sigh in mock sympathy.

Ace perks up and stares at you real strong. His eyes that were just fighting sleep are now full of life. You don’t say more and just let him look and stew on your words.

“Say it again but like I’m stupid?”

“That’s what I usually try to do.”

He barks a laugh.

“Damn, must be hard loving an idiot.”

“Not at all.” The tenderness that seeps from your words melts him straight through. Thinking better of leaving it (you know he knows you’re joking, but you also know that his mind is exceptionally cruel), you use the last of your energy to get up on your elbows and look him in the eyes. “You’re a dumbass sometimes, especially with those brothers of yours, but more than that you’re really smart.” You place a sweet kiss to his forehead. “And you’re strong and determined and reliable.” A kiss to one cheek. “And empathetic and sweet and thoughtful.” A kiss to the other one. “And you wanna know what you are more than anything else?”

“What?” His voice shakes and his eyes burn and he’s so exhausted from all the emotions of the night but they’ve also been the most precious things ever. 

You rest your forehead to his and take a deep breath, savoring the moment.

“You’re very very easy to love.”

A kiss binds your words and lips.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed 🥰 Please let me know if you did and criticisms are also welcome 🤍

Restarting tag list because Overthinking lol please lmk if you want to be on one! Even if you think it's obvious. I am: Stupid and Anxious 💀

Between Two Points Masterlist - separate character shots for the “just the tip” trope

Masterlist

[rowarn]

wet&messy, afab!reader, no prns, just my brain worms dancing as usual, simon is obsessed with ur pleasure bc i SAID so, idk what this is its not normal grinding but.....just a lil treat from the depths of my brain <3

soft devoted simon who is addicted to your pleasure. everything he does is to get u off. he literally thinks about making u cum while he eats sleeps and dreams. its his hobby tbh

he loves loves loves slow, deep, sloppy sex. he loves having you spread and pinned beneath him — he's so much bigger than u so he can manhandle u and move you however he pleases bc he knows exactly what u need before u even know urself.

in particular, his favorite thing to do is have u pinned open your knees against his ribs and his body draped over yours. either holding himself up by his elbow above your head or his arms on either side of your head. he's got his knees slid underneath your thighs, making sure his hips are flush against yours.

you can't even break eye contact, he wont let you. all you can do is whine and squeal as he makes you take it nice and deep. his body covers yours; his scenes overwhelms you his body heat makes you sweat from just how warm the man is.

then he starts with the grinding — the slow, deep grinding of his hips that makes his cock stir inside you. there's gooey, sticky wet noises from between your thighs when he does it. he makes sure he slides over your clit in this position too.

you can't do anything but twitch and drool as he does it. and he'll do it until you cum all over him he doesn't care how long it takes.

sometimes he milks multiple orgasms out of you this way. it practically melts your brain with how he touches every single sweet little spot inside of you without ever thrusting — just that godforsaken grinding.

you don't know what to do with yourself. he's so deep. you're so wet. it's messy and loud. you scramble to hold whatever part of him you can; scratch his back, tug his hair, slap the bed beneath you. doesn't matter because you won't be getting out from under him or getting a chance to breathe until you cum.

and god, he's so deep. he's so fucking deep!

you're creaming all over him, the base of his cock covered in a thick, milky ring that just about drives him over the edge with you when you squeeze around him like a perfect little vice.

he's whispering praise and sweet little compliments about how lovely you look cumming and how good you make him feel.

it's almost crazy how selfless he is with making you feel good. he doesn't even care if you're too fucked out and tired to do anymore. doesn't even care to get off himself. all he thinks about all day is grinding into you until you gush a sweet little mess all over him without him even breaking a sweat.

ur so sweet and pliant for him and he loves it. loves u!!! adores u!!!

will go to sleep happily with a hard cock as long as u are satisfied.

but if u tell him what you want is for him to fill u up nice and full...well....he'll do anything to please his baby!!! <3

[suiana]

yandere! parasite who decides to inhabit your body after observing you from his previous host. you're so cute! you'll definitely be a lot more comfortable to be in over this... fumbling fool that's obsessed with you.

the switch is seamless and you don't even realize that you have a parasite in you until he speaks.

you were stunned, where did this voice come from? you look around you, thinking your boss or coworker had called for you... only for the face of a... translucent and handsome looking man to appear right in front of you.

"hey!"

"what the- where did you come from? wait a minute who even are you?"

"you're so silly. isn't it obvious that i'm a parasite and you're my host?"

"a... parasite?"

you freak out, thinking you have brain eating worms in you as you break down in the middle of your job. fortunately, the lovely parasite in you takes the time to comfort you through your brain.

he tells you that he won't kill you and that he's a symbiotic parasite. that he'll just co-exist with you for as long as you live. that he won't interrupt your life whatsoever, he just needs a place to stay, you know?

at least that's what he tells you and himself.

unbeknownst to him, he had... unfortunately adopted certain characteristics from his previous host. and what did that include? his obsession of course.

he doesn't notice it at first. he was just acting like his normal self, observing your day to day life for about a month or two while interacting happily with you through brain messages. everything was fine and dandy! nothing out of the ordinary for the both of you except for the fact that you now had a parasite in your brain.

and he was quite useful actually! improving your health, boosting your physical strength and stuff... it was so freaking cool! you never knew you could do all these things!

plus, he was so sweet! you two were definitely like a pair of really good friends even if you just met a month or two ago! he's just perfect!

that was, until he saw someone confessing to you.

he didn't understand what was going on. why did his chest tighten up at the sight of some other person confessing their love to you? why does he feel a sudden rush of... anger?

he turns to watch what you do and he swears he only feels more anger at how you react. cheeks flushed, pupils dilated...

no, he couldn't have that.

meanwhile, you were totally flattered by the sudden confession. especially when it was from this cute nerd from the IT department! maybe you'll accept- wait, wait, wait! why was your body moving on its own?!

"you belong to me."

the parasite in your brain mumbles as you lose all control of your body and begin walking away from your admirer. what the?! he's never done this before! why's he taking control of your body?!

"hey! give my body back!"

"how could you do this to me? i am hurt, my dear host."

you couldn't even respond, too shocked to even say anything before you try to resust again. obviously it wouldn't work but it doesn't hurt to try.

"hey cut it out! i thought you said we're just living together? what's this? you totally messed up my chances of getting with someone!"

you were about to snap back when you feel a cold dread creep up your spine. shit, you forgot he could control everything in your body.

you could only watch in horror as he brings your body back to your apartment before he forces your body onto your bed. his translucent body appears in your vision once more, pinning you to the bed. you couldn't even resist even if you tried. he controlled your brain after all.

"you're my host, therefore, you are mine. i do not understand what's so hard to understand."

gritting your teeth, you could only allow this parasitic admirer of yours to stare down at you while grinding his hips into yours. damn, what's he trying to-

"hah... you're so cute... i love you so much... can i explore you? I'm so curious. I've always looked away when you were bare but..."

you couldn't even say no if you tried. your body was responding on its own. damn it! his brain controlling abilities were too good! maybe you should be a parasite in your next life.

"ah... is that a yes? god, i love you. i love you, i love you... i love you so much my darling host."

...

were you about to have mental sex with the parasite living in your body right now?!

[hy6erion]

The worms in my brain want needy Viktor fic where he’s actually pathetically needy

Idk…. maybe we give him a handjob ⁉️

subby viktor is just a NEED <3 like it’s not even a want anymore it’s a biological requirement. i’ve written so much viktor lately it’s actually criminal but i literally cannot stop…

he’s so pathetically eager and clingy and sweet i just… yeah. he deserves that handjob. and maybe a lil more. for his health. <3

⇢ 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 (𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢), 𝐬𝐮𝐛! 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐝𝐨𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐣𝐨𝐛, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭!

His knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the desk, trying to stay quiet, trying to focus—but the way your hand pumped up and down his cock ruined any hope of that.

“You’ve been squirming all evening, Vik“ you whispered against his ear, breath warm as you leaned over from behind, your fingers never slowing. “I thought you’d come undone just watching me walk around here, hm?”

Your tone was playful. Cruel in the most tender, loving way. You knew exactly what you were doing to him.

He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat—somewhere between a whimper and a plea—his hips jerking involuntarily against your grip. His cock was flushed, leaking, twitching with every stroke, slick sounds echoing in the dim lab around you.

“I—I was trying to focus” he rasped, jaw clenched, brows knitted together. “You—ghnh—you make it… impossible.”

You leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear as your hand twisted on the upward stroke, teasing the underside of his tip with your thumb.

“Poor thing. So desperate and sensitive. You’ve been hard for hours, haven’t you?”

He nodded frantically, shame burning bright in his cheeks. He couldn’t even form words now—just breathy, wet moans that he tried (and failed) to muffle. His whole body was tense, his knees trembling beneath the desk as you lazily jerked him off from behind, lips just brushing the corner of his mouth every now and then.

You could see him falling apart by the second, and it was glorious.

“All it takes is one look, one touch, and you’re like this? Really, Viktor. You’re brilliant in every way—except this.” You leaned down further, resting your chin on his shoulder, hand never slowing. “You’re so needy for me. It’s pathetic. You couldn’t even ask.”

“I—nngh—I didn’t want to interrupt your work,” he managed through gritted teeth, though his hips bucked up again at the way your tone dipped into mockery. “You were focused, and I… I can’t just—”

“You could“ you corrected him with a soft chuckle, twisting your wrist just enough to make him hiss. “You just didn’t. You sat there, stiff in your chair, cheeks pink, pretending like your cock wasn’t aching every time I walked past. Pretending not to rut against your own thigh under the table like a desperate little thing.”

The noise he made at that—something between a moan and a sob—had you tightening your grip.

“So needy you’re shaking. Is that what you want? Want me to keep stroking this pretty cock until you’re whining for it?”

“Yes” he gasped immediately, shame long forgotten. “Please. I—I don’t care anymore, just—don’t stop.”

His body was so responsive—his back arching into your touch, his thighs trembling under the table. He was normally so composed, so put-together, so guarded. But right now? He was a ruined mess, undone by your hand alone.

“That’s it“ you cooed, lips brushing his flushed cheek. “Let me take care of you. You work so hard, Viktor. Don’t you think you deserve this? Hm?”

He gave a broken nod, forehead dropping against his crossed arms on the desk. His breathing was ragged, desperate, every muscle in his lean frame coiled like a spring.

You reached your other hand down, gently cupping his balls, rolling them between your fingers with soft, practiced touches, and he sobbed.

“So sensitive” you whispered, nearly in awe. “bet you’ve been holding back all day.”

“I have“ he moaned, whined completely unashamed now. “I’ve been—fuck—I’ve been so close, so long. Watching you, hearing your voice—I couldn’t take it anymore. I almost came in my pants earlier, just from the way you said my name.”

“God, that’s sad, baby.”

“Yes,” he agreed without hesitation, rutting shamelessly into your palm. “I don’t care—fuck, I just want to cum, please, please—please—”

Your hand sped up, the obscene wet sounds of your strokes louder now as he trembled beneath you.

“I’ll let you cum, Viktor” you whispered, lips brushing his neck. “But only if you say it. Tell me how needy you are. Tell me what a desperate little thing you are for me.”

“I—I’m so—ah—I’m so fucking needy for you,” he gasped, voice high and breathless. “I’ve been aching for you all day, I can’t—fuck, I can’t think—I need it so bad, I need to cum—please—”

You smiled wickedly against his skin, biting gently at the base of his neck as you jerked him faster.

“There you go, baby. Let it go. Cum for me. Make a mess.”

That was all it took.

He gave a strangled cry as he spilled into your hand, hips jerking uncontrollably, cum spurting thick and hot across your fingers and the edge of the desk. His whole body shuddered, legs shaking, and he nearly collapsed forward if you hadn’t wrapped an arm around his chest to hold him up.

You milked every drop from him with slow, deliberate strokes, making him twitch and sob with overstimulation. His breath came in ragged gasps, body limp in your arms.

“You look so pretty like this” you whispered into his ear, licking a bead of sweat from his temple. “Absolutely ruined. My brilliant Viktor… reduced to a whining mess.”

He whimpered softly, body still twitching with aftershocks, his cock now twitching weakly in your hand.

“I… I love when you touch me like this“ he confessed in a dazed murmur. “It feels like my body forgets how to breathe.”

You chuckled and gently released him, wiping your hand on a cloth from the desk. Then you leaned forward, wrapping both arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back.

“Next time, don’t wait all day. Come to me when you need something, hm?”

He let out a soft groan and nodded slowly, completely melted into your hold.

“I will“ he promised, voice weak. “But… if I had come to you earlier… would you still have done it like this?”

You smirked. “Mmm. Probably not.”

“…Worth the torture, then” he sighed, eyes fluttering shut.

You kissed the side of his neck and chuckled again. “You’re such a filthy little thing under all that intellect, Viktor. I love it.”

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

DARLING I WOULD PLEASEEEEE

PUPPY SHOULDN’T RUN FROM MASTER !

❀ synopsis : you’ve been a bad girl trying to run away from your master, so he punishes you!

❀ tws : flame reaver x puppy fem!reader. nsfw/smut, belly bulge, dubcon, creampie, tit slapping, tit fucking, hair pulling, reader drooling, nipple pinching, dumbification, spanking and chocking !

❀ note : Uhm…hi…i did it, also not proof read! ik this is going to flop so bad but wtv. at least i made a fic of him and he’s fine asf.

❀ tags : @yandere-romanticaa

Flame Reaver wasn’t the kind of man to keep pets. He had no patience for weak, whimpering things, no need for something soft clinging to him. But you—his little puppy—you’d wormed your way into his grasp, and now you weren’t going anywhere.

You’d tried to run once. A foolish mistake. You had barely made it past the threshold of the dimly lit room he kept you in before he had caught you by the nape, his clawed fingers tightening with an amused hum. He had dragged you back with ease, your yelp only making his grin widen the back of his mask. Puppy thinks she can escape? Adorable.

“You’re mine.” His voice had rumbled against your ear, low and menacing. “And pets don’t run.”

Now, curled up against his chest, your body pliant and obedient, you finally understood. His broad frame dwarfed yours, his slender but strong arms caging you in as you trembled in his lap. He smelled like smoke, like embers threatening to ignite at any moment. His cock pressed insistently against your swollen pussy, teasing, keeping you right on the edge.

“Good puppies don’t run,” he murmured, dragging his fingers down your trembling thigh. “Good puppies sit pretty and take what their master gives them.”

You whined, hips shifting instinctively, seeking friction. But he was cruel, keeping you pinned, keeping you desperate. His fingers toyed with your clit, barely grazing it, just enough to make you shudder.

“You want it, don’t you?” he taunted, as you nodded frantically, your tail practically wagging with need. “Then beg.”

Your lips parted, a pitiful whimper escaping. “P-Please, Master—”

He chuckled darkly, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. “That’s a good girl.”

And good girls always got their reward.

His cock pushed in slow, stretching you wide, forcing your little puppy brain to melt into nothing but pleasure. You could barely think, barely breathe—just whimper and tremble as he filled you up. Your tongue lolled out, your eyes glazed over, and a thick, needy moan spilled from your lips.

Flame Reaver chuckled, amused by how easily you turned dumb for him. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough as he bottomed out, his cock buried deep in your tight little pussy. “Just a dumb little puppy, only good for taking cock.”

You whimpered, nodding—though you weren’t sure if you were even agreeing to anything. You couldn’t think anymore, not with how good it felt, not with how deep he was inside you. Your body was hot, buzzing with pleasure, every nerve lit up as he pulled back and slammed into you again.

Your brain emptied further with every thrust, each snap of his hips knocking another thought loose, replacing it with pure, dizzy pleasure. You were nothing but his dumb, needy pet now—his sweet little puppy, made to take him, made to be bred, made to be his.

“T-too much—” you slurred, though your hips chased after him, desperate for more.

“Too much?” He grinned behind the mask, pressing his palm against your tummy, feeling the way his cock bulged inside you. “Puppy, you’re taking it so well. Look at you—gone all dumb just from getting fucked.”

You couldn’t even argue—not when your tongue was lolling from your mouth, drool dripping down your chin, your eyes unfocused and hazy. You were nothing but a fucked-out, cock-drunk mess, whining and mewling as he pounded into your dripping pussy.

“Good girl,” he growled, his pace brutal, his grip on your hips bruising. “You don’t need to think. Just take it. Just be my perfect little pet.”

You nodded, unable to do anything else, your mind lost to the pleasure, lost to him. You were his now—his dumb little puppy, his toy, his pet. And he wasn’t letting you go.

Flame Reaver wasn’t satisfied yet. No, his dumb little puppy still had some fight left in her—your twitching hands, your unfocused gaze trying to focus on something other than the cock stretching you open. He couldn’t have that.

His hand shot up, fingers tangling in your hair before yanking back harshly. You gasped, your spine arching as your head tilted, exposing your throat to him in submission. A deep, dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. “That’s more like it,” he mused, his claws scraping against your scalp. “My dumb little puppy—so fucking needy, so easy to break.”

Your whimper turned into a choked gasp when his other hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your mind swim. The pressure made your pussy clench tighter around him, and he groaned, his grip tightening as he fucked into you harder.

“Look at you,” he taunted, his grip shifting just enough to make your vision blur at the edges. “Too dumb to think, too fucked-out to run. You love this, don’t you?” His hips snapped against yours, the tip of his cock hitting deep, bullying your insides. “My stupid little puppy, made to take cock.”

You nodded frantically, your breath coming out in ragged gasps. You didn’t care anymore—your body was his to use, his to ruin. Your tongue lolled out, drool dribbling down your chin, and he growled in approval.

His head flickered down to your tits, bouncing with every thrust. His grip on your throat loosened, only for him to grab one of your tits, squeezing roughly. “So fucking soft,” he muttered, flicking a clawed thumb over your nipple. “Pretty little puppy, all mine to play with.”

The stimulation sent a shock of pleasure through you, your cunt squeezing him tighter. He groaned, his movements becoming rougher, sloppier. His grip in your hair tightened, yanking you closer until your lips nearly brushed his.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and possessive. “Say it.”

Your mind was barely working, but somehow, you managed to breathe out, “Yours, Master—‘m yours—”

His grip on your throat tightened again, just enough to make your vision blur. “Good fucking girl.”

And then, he ruined you.

Flame Reaver was insatiable. He’d fucked you dumb, turned you into his obedient little puppy, but it still wasn’t enough. He needed to see you fall apart completely—to make sure you understood that you belonged to him in every way.

He pulled out suddenly, his cock leaving your pussy soaked and clenching around nothing. You whined, hips chasing after him, desperate for more, but he just laughed, his grip tightening in your hair. “So fucking needy,” he mused, dragging you down until you were kneeling before him. His cock, slick with your juices, throbbed inches from your face.

He let go of your hair, only to grab your tits instead, squeezing roughly. “These perfect fucking tits,” he muttered, rubbing his cock between them, the heat of his length pressing into your soft skin. “Made for me—just like the rest of you.”

You whimpered, dazed and desperate, pressing your tits together as he began to move. His cock slid between them, the thick, veiny length rubbing against your chest as he thrust. The warmth of your skin, the slickness of his pre-cum mixing with your own juices, made it so easy for him to use you like this.

His grip tightened, fingers digging into your soft flesh before he pulled back—only to slap one of your tits, hard and then pinch your nipples. You yelped, the sting sending a fresh wave of heat through your body, making your pussy clench around nothing. “So fucking sensitive,” he chuckled darkly, watching the way your tits jiggled from the impact. “Look at you, getting off on this.”

You moaned, your tongue lolling out, eyes glazed over as he slapped your tits again, harder this time. The sharp sting mixed with the pleasure, making your head spin. He was using you, molding you into exactly what he wanted—his perfect, obedient, dumb little pet.

He gripped your tits again, forcing them tighter around his cock as he fucked them faster, rougher. His breath was heavy, his growls deep, his eyes filled with pure possession. “You love this, don’t you?” he taunted, his pace ruthless. “Being my dumb little puppy, only good for cock?”

You couldn’t even form words anymore—just moaned, nodded, and let him use you. And when he finally came, thick ropes of cum spilling over your tits and dripping down your chest, you knew it.

You belonged to him. Completely.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Rain

Sike, this fic is not the sequel to Feelings. I happened across a brain worm for this fic and so it came into being. Here's one more for all you young Silco fans

Summary: It's just had to rain while you were outside, luckily your saviour is here to shelter you

You hate it when it rains. Water floods the streets, raindrops patter on roofs and splash onto the ground below. The rain soaks through everything — your clothes, your boots, chilling you to the bone. Usually, you would try and be under shelter when it rained, but today the rain caught you out in the open, leaving you a shivering wet mess.

"Stupid rain," you mutter, kicking a nearby pebble. Water drips off your hood into your eyes and you wipe it away, leaving a wet trail from your eyes to your cheek. A sliver of rain drips into your mouth and you make a face, the water tastes terrible. You spit into the river and pick up the pace, eager to get to The Last Drop for a drink to wash your mouth.

People hurriedly rush past you, splashing water all over. More cold rain soaks your boots and you swear, pulling your drenched coat around you tighter. Merchants holler at others to give way, their carts barreling down the streets and kicking up even more water as wheels crash into puddles. You move out of the way as a wave of water leaps at you, bumping into someone else in the process.

"Watch where you're going!" The person snaps, shoving you angrily with their shoulder. You stumble, shooting them a glare before continuing your journey back to the warmth and dryness of The Last Drop. A warm glass of wine sounds good right about now, and maybe some whisky to add to the fire in your stomach.

A sneeze builds in your nose but you quickly force it down, pushing against the flow of the crowd to get home. The now drenched bag of vegetables you had managed to snag from a bunch of snobbish Piltovians presses against your chest, a spot of chill in your otherwise still rather warm body. You hope none of the vegetables are ruined by the rain, Felicia would be sad but she wouldn't blame you, neither would the two brothers either.

Sighing, you try to cover the bag as much as you can. The only good thing this rain does is wash away the smell of smoke, and well you suppose it clears away some of the polluted air, although it's quite hard to tell since you've been breathing that air since you were born.

You duck and weave amongst the crowd, finally reaching the last stretch of your journey where there's space to move around since merchants don't frequent here. With a sigh, you close your eyes, letting the rain fall on you. Without the noise of the market, it's serene, tranquil even, a sensation that's rare in the Undercity. You can see the lights of The Last Drop, a warmth beckoning you over and smile. You're almost there.

"Whatcha got there, little snack?" Someone blocks your path.

"A middle finger, now get out of my way," you snap back, rudely gesturing at the figure. The rain only makes you more irritable, you're cold, hungry, and someone purposely getting in your way is the last thing on your bucket list right now. Your mind doesn't even register how large the figure is compared to you, or that the size of his palm could probably fit around your throat and snap it with little to no effort until said palm reaches out and curls around your neck.

"Do I have to teach you some manners?" The figure sneers, lifting you with ease. Your precious bag of vegetables fall to the wet ground with a sad plop as you gasp for air, legs kicking. Your nails dig into the flesh of his arm, leaving scratches behind but black spots are already starting to appear in your vision. Each kick and scratch is getting weaker, but you still muster the energy to spit in his face and wheeze out a last insult.

"Anyone — ever — taught you — how — to — say please?" The grip on your throat tightens and the figure snarls in anger, but his face contorts into one of pain and suddenly you're falling to the ground, hitting it with a splash.

You cough, a hand pressed to your chest as your lungs heave, inhaling as much air as they can. The smell of iron is starting to fill the air, courtesy of your saviour. A smaller and more lithe figure dashes towards you, bundling you in a thicker coat.

"What are you doing out in this weather?" A familiar voice snaps. Amidst the raindrops blurring your vision, you can make out sea foam coloured eyes narrowed in a mixture of annoyance and concern which makes you choke out a laugh.

"Taking a shower." Apparently, it's not as funny to him as it is to you because he scowls even harder and pulls you to your feet. Slinging your arm over his shoulder, he bends down to pick up the now very drenched bag of vegetables you had so carefully tried to protect and begins helping you back to The Last Drop.

"This is a miserable shower you're taking," he mutters and you grin back at him.

"It's free." You snigger and Silco lightly smacks you on the head.

"Then maybe I should just leave you out here to take your free shower." He promptly drops you ungraciously into the nearest puddle.

"Wait! No! I want to go back!" You yelp, scrambling to your feet. He simply walks faster and you lunge at him, tackling him to the ground. He lets out a shout as his clothes get drenched while you laugh, straddling him. "If I'm taking a free shower you're taking one too!"

"I never asked for one!" He splutters, quickly moving the bag of vegetables out of harm's way before throwing you off and sitting up. He shakes the water out of his eyes, slicking his hair backwards and glares at you. The puddles reflect the neon lights behind him, framing him in a soft neon glow and leaves you gaping.

"You're not catching any flies like that," he mutters, splashing water in your face. The sudden chill snaps you out of your stupor and you feel your cheeks heat up. You quickly look away, half-heartedly splashing water back in his face.

"I'd prefer to catch someone instead," you mumble to yourself, shivering. Your antics have only served to further drench you, and now the thicker coat Silco had wrapped you in is soaked as well.

"Are the two of you done flirting or should I just leave you both to it?" Felicia stands at the doorway of The Last Drop, arms folded across her chest.

"We're not flirting!"

"As if I'd ever flirt with them!"

Felicia snorts from the shelter of the bar and Vander peers over her shoulder, curious, before smiling and heads back inside.

"Well, once the both of you have had enough of playing in the rain, get back inside and shower while Vander and I prepare dinner." She gives an annoyed huff.

"Wait! The bag! Vegetables!" You flail your hands at Silco, gesturing towards the bag that sat on the wet ground. "Are they alright?"

"They would have been more alright if someone hadn't pushed me into a puddle." Silco bends over to pick the bag up, checking its contents. "Hmm they look alright."

"Vegetables? So that's what you were up to this morning? Bring them in, I'll use them for tonight's dinner." Felicia grins. "Oh but don't you dare set a foot anywhere near the counter, I just cleaned the area."

"Dibs on the shower!" You run towards the door, eager to get away from the cold of the rain and into the warmth of the bar but Silco shoves you aside with his shoulder, glowering at you.

"You? I should be the one showering first! You pushed me into the puddle!"

"You're too slow!"

"Me? Slow? Who's the one who takes forever in the shower because they're just stoning there?"

"As if you don't stone!"

"Not if I'm holding up the queue!"

"Maybe they should just take the shower together," Vander hums.

"No!" The both of you chorus together, causing Felicia to giggle.

"They do indeed argue like a married couple."

"We do not!" You glower at Silco, who glowers back and you flip him off again. He rolls his eyes, taking the opportunity to duck into the corridor that leads to the shower and leaves you momentarily confused, until you realise that he's going to be able to shower first whilst you shiver in your soaked clothes that cling to you like second skin.

"Silcooooo!"

[householdcryptid]

https://www.tumblr.com/therealmilfdennys/781579452459204608/ive-been-infected-with-pope-brain-worms-i?source=share

This but he realizes you dont see him the same as everyone else when your complaining about a coworker and he causally is like "so you want me to beat him"

"What"

"Rough him up send message however you wanna say it"

"All he did was steal my pen?"

"👁👁"

"No I dont"

oh my GOD you're so right he absolutely would do some shit like that. anybody who decides to be shitty to you is his Enemy just on principle.

CW: Uhhh blood, canon typical violence, stalking mention, Pope is a warning in and of himself, mention of harassment(sort of?), Denny trying to wax poetic again.

You aren’t even complaining to Pope at the start, really. He’s sitting, quiet and stiff, staring blankly at the TV’s black screen in Smurf’s living room while you stitch up Craig’s shoulder nearby. You’re telling Craig and Baz about this nurse at the clinic—a real piece of work, from the sound of it. 

“He acts like I don’t literally have a medical degree,” You’re saying, lighthearted, but Andrew can tell it’s forced from the way your mouth is twisted into a tight smile. “He’s always leaning over my shoulder, making sure my stitches are done right and man-splaining how to splint an arm properly. Like I don’t already know how.” You chatter on, mild complaints really. You know Craig and Baz don’t really care, but the chatter keeps Craig mostly calm when he’s in pain. Pope is hanging off every word, though, feeling his pulse spike with every complaint from your pretty mouth. You shouldn’t have to deal with that, he thinks. You’re competent, and intelligent, and this coworker guy of yours needs to back the fuck off. “He also asked me out like, four times last week,” You’re saying then, and Pope turns his head, eyes like a shark, cold and dark, boring holes into the side of your face. You glance sidelong at him, but continue your work. “Can’t take no for an answer, apparently.” “Sounds like a prick.” Craig quips, voice strained and rough, wincing as you pull the needle through his skin once more. The conversation segues after you shrug it off like it’s nothing, but Pope can’t stop thinking about it. He’s never met your coworker, doesn’t even know the guy's name, but he can imagine the satisfying crunch of his nose beneath his fist. Can calculate exactly how many times he’d need to hit him to get an apology from him. Can practically feel the blood smear on his knuckles. 

He walks over to help you clean up when you’re done patching Craig’s arm. He’s tense all over, which isn’t unusual, but he’s never this quiet when the two of you are alone. 

“Everything okay?” You ask airily, never pushing for an answer, which he usually doesn’t have. His head turns, and he regards you with an intense look for a moment, before sniffing once, turning back to the mess of bandages on the table. 

“That guy at work givin’ you trouble?” He asks casually. Or at least as casual as Pope can be. You pause what you’re doing, leaning a hand against the table, your other resting on your hip. 

“Nothin’ I’m not used to.” You state evenly, biting at the inside of your cheek. “Why?” 

He shrugs, tips his head side to side some, stacking bloody gauze neatly in front of him. “Just was thinkin’ I could… pay ‘im a visit.” He mutters cryptically, impassive in a way that feels forced. “Make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore.” 

You stare blankly at him for a moment, shocked by the offer but not quite surprised. Pope has been known to fix things with his fists when someone he cares for is under threat. You just weren’t aware you were someone he cared for that deeply. “Andrew,” You smile, bemused and tender in a way that makes his hands clam up some. “No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but it really isn’t a big deal.” You assured, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder gently. He has to fight the urge to lean into it, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, and he’s quiet for a long moment. 

“Shouldn’t let ‘im treat you like that.” He mumbles, gruffly, like it annoys him that you don’t take him up on the offer. “I know,” You reply evenly. “Which is why I’ve already emailed HR and made a formal complaint to my boss at the Clinic.” You assuage, hand lifting to rest on his bicep, squeezing gently. “It’s alright. It’s sweet of you to be worried, but I wouldn’t ask you to do that.” He looks over at you like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, head tilted to the side a bit, eyebrows furrowed, lips twisted like there’s something he wants to say but can’t find the words. You understand why he’s taken aback by your refusal of his offer, of course. All his life, violence has been expected of him, and you’ve seen how it affects him, even if he tries to hide it. You refuse to be another person who makes him feel like a machine. “Fine.” He mutters, nodding once, glancing briefly down at your hand on his arm, before returning to his task of cleaning up the gauze. You nod in return, smiling faintly, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you clean up the mess left over from fixing up Craig’s injuries. 

When it’s time for you to leave for the night, you can tell he’s wary to have you go. He’s refusing to look at you, eyes on the ground as you say your goodbyes, and Pope never refuses to meet your eyes. So, you ask him to walk you to your car, and he gives a stiff nod of agreement. “Thank you,” You murmur, ducking your chin down some in an attempt to catch his gaze. “For earlier.” You clarify at his confused little frown. He simply hums, shrugging a shoulder, noncommittal. It makes you smile, for some reason. He really doesn’t know how to take a compliment, and it’s oddly endearing. A beat of silence passes, and another, and you sigh softly. Leaning forward is easy, brushing a chaste kiss to his cheek is even easier. There’s a faint hitch in his breath, the slightest widening of his eyes when they snap up to meet your own. His fingers flex where his hands hang limp at his sides, as if he doesn’t know what to do with them all of a sudden.

“Goodnight, Andrew.” You hum softly, giving him a gentle smile, squeezing his shoulder in a friendly manner, willing your heart to calm in your chest. 

“G’night, sunshine.” He replies, voice rough and quiet. 

He watches as you get in your car, and he doesn’t move until you’re out of his sight. Fingers lift to touch his cheek, and in that moment, he allows himself a rare smile. He knows then that he’d do just about anything for you, something warm and unfamiliar curling in his chest. He has half the mind to follow you home. Not for nefarious purposes, no. Simply to make sure you get home safe, and maybe linger outside your apartment building, watch you go through your nightly routine. He can’t say he hasn’t done it before, but tonight? Tonight he’s sated. Cheek tingling from the brief touch of your lips against his skin, and that’s enough for now. 

[wcnderlnds]

find the words | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: no matter how many times you tell him you love him, he brushes it off but little do you know he feels the same. ・❥・word count: 1.4k ・❥・warnings: angst, mentions of death, lots of swearing ・❥・ authors note: i’m sorry if the formatting is off, im posting this mobile!! but im back with my thanos fics <3

If there was one thing that Choi Subong was certain of, it was that he didn’t deserve love. He was not a good person. He wasn’t the kind of man that was good for anyone and he knew that. He was toxic – constantly popping pills and acting like an asshole at any given opportunity. In his heart, he would consider himself unlovable. What kind of person would want to love a loser like him anyway? No, he was fine with it. At least this way he couldn’t ever break anyone’s heart, he didn’t have to let anyone down. Under all the bravado and the act he put on, he was just a scared little boy who needed his precious, colourful pills to survive. When he didn’t take one he was an anxious mess, his brain a never-ending stream of dark and scary thoughts that he never wanted to dive into. He was a broken man. The world had chewed him up and spit him out to the point he didn’t think he deserved anything anymore.

You, though. You had wormed your way into his cold, barely beating heart from the second he had met you. The bright smile you always wore on your face, the way you looked at him like he mattered – it meant more to him than you knew. In fact, you meant more to him than anything else in the world. He just couldn’t tell you. He didn’t need to drag you down with him. All you deserved was peace and happiness – both things that he couldn’t give you. So, he hid his feelings deep, deep down. Actually, in his cross necklace where he kept his drugs. One time when he’d been off the pills, he needed an outlet and thought it was a good idea to write you a letter telling you how he felt about you. Of course, he would never give it to you but it would remain close to chest. Literally.

When he had laid eyes on you in this shithole of a place after the first game, he almost wanted to kill you himself. How could you have landed yourself in a situation like this? When you’d told him you’d done it to try and raise the money to help him pay off his debts, he’d lost his mind. He’d chewed you out for being stupid but you didn’t care. You would do anything for him. No matter how many times you tried to tell him that, he always brushed it off.

The Mingle game had just ended, Thanos had his arms wrapped around you in a tight hug, your body pressing firmly against his. One of his hands rested on the small of your back, the other cradling your head as he held you against him. Each game his panic escalated, he couldn't lose you; vowing to do anything he could to keep you safe. Your arms rested gently on his back, rubbing it soothingly.

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” you assured him, your heart thumping in your chest as he nuzzled his head into your neck. It was moments like this with him that you cherished the most. You were the only person in the world that he’d hold like this.

“You shouldn’t fucking be here,” he said the words he’d been saying since the moment he’d seen you. “If I lose you, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Hey,” you pulled back slightly, taking his face in your hands forcing him to look at you. “You won’t lose me, okay? And, I won’t lose you. We’ll get through this together like we do everything else. I love you, Subong.”

There it was again. You telling him you loved him in that soft voice of yours. He rested his forehead against yours, opting to once again ignore what you’d said. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips ghosting over yours. All it would take was for him to press them against yours, closing the millimetre gap between your lips but no. He couldn’t do that to you. He would ruin you in every single way but, god, he really wanted to. Just once he wanted to know what it felt like, how your lips felt against his, how you tasted.

With a sigh, he pulled back, his hands resting on your hips for a second as he spoke with a shaky voice hidden behind false confidence. “I need to take a piss.”

He headed towards the bathroom, his lackey Nam-gyu trailing behind leaving you stood there. Of course he’d brush it off. He always did but there wasn’t anything you could do. Maybe one day he would listen to you. The sad thing was that you would wait forever for him to finally notice you. A sigh passed your lips as you made your way over to sit down on your bed. All you could do now was wait for him to come back, acting like you didn’t just almost kiss for the thousandth time.

After the first five minutes, you brushed it off. He was taking a piss, no big deal.

When fifteen minutes hit was when you started to worry. It didn’t take that long to have a leak. Where was he? Had he got himself into some trouble? Surely the guards would have put a stop to it.

It was at twenty-five minutes when the panic set in. You had got to your feet, pacing in frustration. Something must have happened. It didn’t feel right, everything about this felt off. Just as you were about to march towards the doors and demand to be let into the bathroom, Nam-gyu stepped through covered in blood. It was then you heard the familiar voice echo through the room.

Player 230 eliminated.

The room began to spin, your stomach threatening to throw up the dinner you’d eaten. No, no, this wasn’t real. Your hand had to grasp onto one of the poles on the bunk beds to keep you upright. Without even realising tears were falling down your face, a loud sob wracking your body. Your shoulders shook as you broke down.

He was gone. The love of your life, the person who had your heart was gone. You’d never see his face again, never see that perfect smile, never hear his laugh. You’d never be able to run your hands through his purple hair or hold him against you ever again. It felt like the world was ending because your world had just ended. What was the point without him? Your heart physically hurt. It felt like someone had ripped it apart, stomping on the pieces as it fell into your stomach.

Through your tears, you looked back up to Nam-gyu. In the haze of everything, you caught a glimpse of the familiar chain you knew all too well. Immediately you went towards him, snatching it from his hand. “That’s not yours,” you hissed through a sob. Before he even had time to react, you had walked away, clutching the cross tightly in your hand. You didn’t care about the blood staining your hands now, all you cared about was that you still had a piece of him.

An hour passed and all you’d done was cry so much that you’d given yourself a pounding headache on top of everything else. Gi-hun had come over at one point to try and console you but you could barely remember it. Ever since you’d heard the words ‘Player 230 eliminated’, nothing had made sense. Maybe Thanos had been onto something. Maybe the pills would help numb the pain. With shaky hands you pulled open the cross only for a small note to fall onto your lap.

You picked it up, unfolding it and instantly your eyes filled with fresh tears as you spotted the familiar handwriting.

My Senorita. I’m not good with words, never have been so sorry if this is a fucking mess. My life is a shitshow but you’ve been a constant ray of light, making my days a little brighter. I know how you feel about me and I’m sorry that I’ve never acknowledged it but I’m so fucking scared. You deserve the world but I can’t give you that. I’m fucked up. I’m no good for you but there’s a part of me that sometimes wants to be selfish. I fucking love you. Shit, I’m so in love with you. A better man would be able to wax poetic but all I can say is my heart is yours. Yours always, Subong.

A sad smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you clutched the note to your chest. He had been carrying this with him the whole time. He loved you. You weren’t sure if knowing that made it better or worse but for now it gave you the motivation to keep going. You’d do this for him now.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @justsisse @djarindroid @basquiat-top @urmomsg1rlfreind @belladonna-303 @seunghyunwifey

[descisco]

lots of talk and meta posts on how much hannibal loves will (very real and true, always) and not enough talk and meta posts on how much will loves hannibal. something about that hits different for me idk. it’s so easy to fall into how hannibal perceives will; how he loves him, hurts him, cares for him. it’s so poetic, dangerous, alluring, all the good stuff we’ve established. but realizing that love is returned? that will very much loves and wants to be with and STAY with hannibal? something about realizing will would viciously rip anyone apart that tried to hurt hannibal is so …it’s so…y’know? and then part of that feral energy coming from a jealous/possessive and messed up “only i can hurt him” sort of thing? oh it makes me insane. INSANE! worms in my brain.

[reidingandwriting]

Nice To Meet Ya! > w.w. & l.h.

Word Count: ~1,900

Pairings: Wade Wilson x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, it’s (the beginning of) a throuple over here

Warnings: Fem!reader (she pronouns used like. twice in the very end), to be expected amounts of cursing and vulgarity from Wade, lots of cursing in general tbh, maybe a little OOC Logan, still getting to learn how to write his character well (Deadpool and Wolverine gave me brain worms so I had to write this immediately after watching)

A/N: This may become a little bit of a series! I’m having so much fun writing them since I Finally watched Deadpool and Wolverine so there will be a lot of solo & duo content with these two. This part is a little Wade focused but the next part is more Logan focused 🫶🏻

Next Chapter

You never in a million years imagined this would be your life. You were raised by busy parents, and you quickly became self sufficient. Independent. When you hit your teenage years, your parents… god knows where they went, to be honest. All you knew is you had a house to yourself, you didn’t have friends anymore, and as lonely as it was, you found a bit of comfort in the solitude. You worked as a bartender at this bar not too far from your house, and you were a crowd favorite. You always brought in the biggest tips and many of the patrons were protective over you.

Your longest regular was the merc with a mouth- Deadpool. Wade, as he introduced himself once, a faint whisper. The fabric of his mask rubbing against your cheek as he whispered the name in your ear. Wade Wilson.

He was... Loud, to say the least. You didn’t think he had an off switch. He insisted he did- but you’d have to go under his suit to find it, he teased you. He never stopped talking and there was no such thing as small talk with him; if you were talking to him, he was downright vulgar, and the quite frankly gross sense of humor was entertaining. He also flirted like it was his job. Much like the rest of his vocabulary, his flirting was pure filth that would make even the most seasoned sailor blush. And god forbid any creep start talking to you.

“Hey, princess, sorry I’m late. Too busy blowing my load to the thought of you, then remembered, wait! I can come see your fine ass in person whenever I want. Wanna finish me off?” You could practically feel the smirk Wade was sending you. You gestured for him to lean in, waiting until he was leaned against the bar, chest hovering above the countertop as you leaned in.

“In your dreams, dick for brains.” Your lips brushed against where his were covered by his mask, and you smirked when you heard the sharp intake of breath. The gasp almost impossible to hear, but it made your heart flutter all the same.

“You, sweet thang? Always. Holy fucking shit, that was so hot.” You and Wade had quickly become friends, his personality meshing well with yours. After ‘baby knife’ had somehow found itself in the hand of some perv that had been borderline stalking you at work for weeks, you found a new part of his personality. His protectiveness. He was as chipper as ever, but with the manic energy of someone who could, and would, kill someone who mildly inconvenienced someone he cared for. Unhinged, barely holding onto his minimal self restraint to splatter the guy’s blood all over the wall. Wouldn’t want you to have a mess to clean up, he admitted once it was just the two of you.

He offered to walk you home once after he’d known you for a few weeks, and now it was habit. You loved the times you had with just him. He was the same old Wade, but more open about himself. More vulnerable. These walks were where you got to know Wade, and he got to know you. You had let him crash one night, not that long ago, when it was storming hard. He had already insisted on walking you home, storm be damned, and you repaid him with a home cooked meal, some trashy movie, and a night of conversation on your couch until you dozed off, your head lolling to the side and landing on his shoulder.

Hours later, you had woken up, now lying down and the comfortable weight of Wade’s hand in your hair from where your head rested on his thighs. By the time the sun rose, you were alone in your living room, the only trace Wade had been there being a sloppy drawing of the Deadpool mask and a heart he scribbled on the whiteboard of your fridge. You smiled at the doodle and left it up, it still being up there today.

You stood at your spot behind the bar a few weeks later when someone new walked into the building, and you tilted your head. Newcomers weren’t entirely unheard of, but they were pretty rare, especially on a weekday. You took in the man as he stood near the doorway; brown hair, and oh fuck, good beard. The leather jacket he wore did little to hide how muscular he was and you watched as he scanned the room. Body tense, as if looking for potential threats. Potential ways out if danger occurred. Not like anyone would mess with him, aura alone enough to scare off anyone within a ten foot radius, let alone the hard look in his eyes.

Still, he walked over to the bar and took a seat. You offered a gentle smile, watching for another second before speaking. “You seem like a whiskey fan.”

His hazel gaze shifted up to meet your eyes, and you felt as if he was staring right into your god damned soul. It was intimidating, it was hot, and you couldn’t decide whether you should look away or lean in and-

“Yeah. Whiskey’s nice.” He nodded his head towards a bottle behind you. You nodded and went to pour a glass as he spoke again. “You always try to guess orders?”

“Only the interesting ones. Or the pretty ones.” You winked before turning, smiling when you heard the slightest huff of amusement. “Haven’t seen you here before. New in town?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You turned back around, setting the glass in front of him, propping up on your elbows as he drank. “Thanks.” He looked familiar but god, you couldn’t place where you had seen him before. You made light conversation, most of the talking done by you, but you found that you didn’t mind. He listened, intently. Everything he did seemed to be intense, like it was his default. You were grateful for the slow night, getting to see a glimpse of the man behind the bulletproof walls he had clearly built around himself.

“You thirsty slut! Of course I’d find you here.” You heard Wade’s voice before you saw him, and an annoyed scowl took over the unknown man’s face.

“Thirsty slut? Thought that was your autobiography title,” you said and Wade gasped in mock offense.

“You know I don’t read! Mocking the illiterate, how dare you?” Wade hopped onto the counter, hip almost knocking the glass of whiskey over.

“I don’t get how you’re late to a place you wanted to go to.” The brunette man said, voice low and rough, and Wade waved a hand dismissively.

“So uptight, can you believe it? Need to pull the stick out of your ass, maybe put it in-“

“La la la la la, not listening,” you sang, covering your ears, and Wade turned to you.

“You traitor! I leave you alone for five minutes and Wolvie has his claws in you.” Wolvie… Holy fuck, you were trying to flirt with the Wolverine. “And, Peanut, you know I’d never be late on purpose. Except I really needed to piss, then I got distracted by this really cute dog outside and I ended up totally abandoning my favorite dog.” Wade reached out to pat him, and you watched as a sliver of claws extended from his hands. A warning that didn’t seem to deter Wade much, but he did put his hand down. “Well, might as well introduce you.” Wade told you his name was Logan, and Wade told Logan your name in return.

You and Wade continued to talk, Logan yet again preferring to listen rather than join the conversation. Wade told the story of how he met Logan, how together the two of them essentially saved the world, and how the two of them were now roommates. Begrudgingly, according to Logan, but Wade seemed thrilled about his ‘roomie’.

It was hours later when the three of you left the bar. Wade insisted on walking you home, taking your hand in his and skipping down the street with you. Logan was a few paces behind you, his presence a comforting sense behind you. Where Wade was loud, in your face, Logan seemed to be the quiet lurker type. He’d hide in the shadows, making himself known when he felt threatened. You walked up to your front door, unlocking the door and Wade helped himself inside. You rolled your eyes and turned to Logan, who lingered on your doorstep.

“If you want to come in, you’re more than welcome. At least one of you has manners,” you called towards where Wade stood in your kitchen and cackled. Logan nodded, muttering a ‘Thank you’ as he walked inside, his shoulder brushing against yours gently. You shut the door behind you and Wade opened your fridge.

“Aww, pookie, you kept my drawing!” There was a hint of an unfamiliar emotion in his voice… something, something new. You couldn’t place it, yet you smiled anyways.

“Of course I did, Wade.” Now that you were in the safety of your house, Wade’s mask had been discarded on your kitchen counter and you could see the smile on his face. “Get out of my fridge, you leech.“

“I’m starving,” Wade whined and you turned to look at Logan. He stood a little awkwardly, and you gestured to the couch, taking a seat and smiling when he followed suit. He sat on the cushion furthest from you, but you didn’t question it.

Logan couldn’t help but study you. There was an obvious familiarity between you and Wade, you matching his wit and comebacks, but you were different when you spoke to him. You were quieter, more reigned in. Strangely not out of fear, but as if you were trying to make him comfortable. You switched between Wade and Logan like it was second nature, and the more he talked to you and the more he watched you and Wade, he felt himself begin to relax just a little.

He didn’t realize how much time had passed until Wade, ever the charmer, let out a dramatic yawn, throwing his hands up in the air as he stretched. “Well, cupcake. I think it’s about time we head home. Old man is already up way past his bedtime.” Wade yelped as he jumped back, barely missing the claws that protruded from Logan’s hand, and he stuck his tongue out at him. “Grumpy grandpa.”

You stood and Logan followed suit. Wade kissed your cheek before saying goodbye and stepping outside, leaving you and Logan alone.

“I hope I’ll see you again, Logan.” Your voice was gentle, your smile even more so, and Logan nodded.

“I’ll be around. Don’t think I have much of a choice with that one.” There was a sliver of fondness mixed with the exasperation in his voice, and Logan started to walk outside. “Goodnight, bub.” Logan closed the door behind him, lingering until he heard your locks click shut. He caught up with Wade a moment later and Wade gave him the biggest shit eating grin ever.

“Is someone melting the big bad wolf’s heart?” The metallic clang followed by Wade’s pained grunt made Logan laugh, and Wade shoved his shoulder.

“Wait until she sees what an asshole you are. Then she’ll realize I’m the better half of this friendship.” The two men continued to bicker the entire way home, both of them thinking about when they���d get to see you next.

[zivazivc]

How do you think Les would act toward Floyd older? After the third movie, I mean.

Calmer, and stable Floyd, who I'm guessing actually got some help in the village. Maybe Floyd got help by talking things out there with someone, like therapy-ish. Or, just his brothers helping him through it all, because that's probably what he needed.

Seeing him happier than when he last saw him.

And, his new hair! I mean, him learning of everything that happened.

Would they get together again, or rekindle whatever reasonship (staying just friends?)

Ohh my story has gone through so many changes and updates that I haven't really talked about on here so it's hard to answer this ask straightforwardly now. 😅

I have caved and decided Les and Floyd still end up together so... 🙈

"I thought you were dead..." | "'M sorry."

Here's an updated version of this old post:

The timeline right now is more or less the same with them having a nasty breakup when Floyd is 22. The cause for it is that until that point Floyd only has hypomanic episodes which raise some eyebrows but they aren't that concerning to anyone, not with the kind of lifestyle they are having anyway. But at the time of the breakup he suffers from full-blown mania with psychosis for the first time which hurts both him as well as Les and the other bandmates.

Then there's the 2 year period where they are apart and Floyd falls hard into substance abuse and bad habits. Then Les bumps into him at a party and gets them to talk outside. It's clear to both that they feel incredibly sorry about what happened when they broke up. Floyd quickly after coming down from his mania realized that what he believed was going was all a delusion his brain convinced him of. And Les feels responsible for the addicted and mentally unwell state Floyd has ended up in.

There's still love there but so much hurt and the trust they had is damaged to the point they're unsure if it's fixable. Neither of them knows how to even address what went down in those days leading up to the breakup.

Les decides to help Floyd get back on his feet but he doesn't want him near the band anymore. He's convinced that the band isn't good for him anyway. He finds him a place to stay and a job in a remote town where not much goes on so he has a chance to sober up. The band at this point is still trying to make it work by doing gigs, so Les visits him little by little in between to check on him during this time period.

They go back to being friends gradually and Floyd shows interest in getting back together romantically from early on while Les has trust issues he can't get past. Les is very reserved and non-confrontational when it comes to addressing his hurt so he doesn't bring it up. Floyd is usually the one who would make those conversations happen, but Floyd at this point isn't aware that he has bipolar and doesn't understand what happened (is happening) to him, and he is very uncomfortable addressing it too.

But eventually they can no longer tiptoe around the topic of their breakup. Les wants to know what happened and why Floyd accused him of the things he did - which to Les it felt like Floyd took everything Les had confided in him regarding his childhood abuse and throwing it back in his face. Floyd feels awful because the only explanation he has is that at the time he really thought they were true. He tells him that he knows they aren't true but that something was really really wrong with him. He tries to explain what he was going through the best he can and he also tells him that whenever he tried to address it back then he was accused of constantly getting high on worms behind their backs which is what caused his paranoia to spiral.

The conversation doesn't answer everything but it makes it clear to both that neither of them wanted to hurt the other person, especially not intentionally. Which is what allows them to make the step into getting back together.

But not long after this Floyd suffers another strong manic episode and messes up at his job and books it out of that town. Once Les finds him and sees him in that hyper and erratic state again but now with more understanding, he tries his hardest to bring it down and help, and he finally firmly tells him that he needs to get professional help. Floyd doesn't like the idea of going to therapy so he says he'll go only if Les goes too to work out his own trauma. Around this point it's also when the band officially breaks up (they just couldn't ever recover after losing Floyd and Liv) so Les has no excuses to give why he can't go and he eventually agrees.

Floyd finally gets his bipolar diagnosis (yay!) and gets "meds" for it, and this revelation also helps both of them to really put the breakup incident behind them.

After this point they're more or less together. I say "more or less" because they're not in a conventional relationship and they're not following the classic rules of being a couple. They know each other inside out and are both deeply and unconditionally in love with each other but whatever they have looks more like casual dating that's been going on for more than a decade. Sometimes they live together like an old married couple and sometimes they don't and they keep in touch through letters and scheduled calls in phone booths.

One day during their "apart time" Floyd stops answering those scheduled calls and Les gets worried and sets out to look for him, which turns into a desperate months-long search while tensions in the country are high, non Rock Trolls are getting arrested and disappearing left and right, and the Rock Kingdom is secretly planning their invasion of the other kingdoms.

.

.

.

[aringofsalt]

silver linings

so that bts video, huh??? i got a lil brain worm and. well. now i have 1.3k of spec fic. under the cut for anyone avoiding bts/potential spoilers 💛

It was raining. Of course it was raining.

The clouds that had gathered that morning had seemed like enough of a bad omen when Buck woke that morning, back stiff from a night on his old air mattress since Eddie's couch had been packed away. Eddie had made a halfhearted joke about clouds with silver linings as they packed the last few things into the U-Haul, Buck had glared at him without comment, and then, without further ado, the sky had opened up.

Unfortunately, it was just normal rain—barely more than drizzle—and Eddie was fully capable of driving in it, so it wouldn't do more than slow him down a little.

It wouldn't keep him here.

Logically, Buck knew this was the best choice Eddie could be making. Chris needed him, and he needed Chris. It made sense, even if he hated it. But his traitor brain kept running through the list of people who'd left him, for one reason or another. Maddie Abby Ali Maddie Eddie Taylor Natalia Bobby Tommy Eddie; it was a never-ending loop, and he couldn't make it stop. But that wasn't Eddie's fault, it wasn't his problem, it was entirely Buck's to deal with. So he slapped on his best smile—sure, it probably looked more like a grimace, but he was trying—and drew Eddie in for a hug.

He let himself hang on for longer than he probably should've, and when they pulled back, he ran to his truck for the bag of cookies and snacks he'd made. If he used that as an opportunity to wipe tears from his eyes, well, that was nobody's business but his.

When he got back, he handed off the bag, and Eddie just stared at it for a moment.

"Of course you're still baking."

"Well, yeah. Gotta fill my time somehow with everybody busy or—or gone." It came out harsher than he intended. "Sorry, that's not fair."

Eddie looked almost...nervous, passing the bag back and forth between his hands.

"So, I have an apology to make," he began.

Oh.

"Dude, come on, you already tried to apologize. I told you, I get it."

"No, not for—" Eddie gestured at the U-Haul. "I know you get it, but it still sucks for you, I know. But that's not what I mean. I mean for Tommy."

Buck's brow furrowed. "Tommy? What about Tommy?"

"I told you not to call him," he said simply. "I mean, I actively stopped you from calling him, too. We all did. And that wasn't fair, to you or him."

"Why the hell are you bringing this up now?" That, more than anything, made Buck's temper start to simmer in his veins. He'd spent far longer than he cared to admit agonizing over it, finally convincing himself that if everybody he knew was saying he shouldn't reach out, maybe they were right. And now Eddie was trying to take it back? "It's been months, Eddie, I can't just call him up now because—because, what, you feel guilty?"

"Because we were wrong. And you still miss him." Eddie shook the bag in Buck's direction. "I know you do."

"I miss a lot of people. So what?"

Eddie cringed a little, but Buck couldn't bring himself to feel bad for the harsh edge to his tone. This was not how he pictured saying goodbye going, standing in the rain arguing with his best friend before he left the state, anger getting close to boiling over.

"So, I called him." Eddie paused, visibly steeling himself. "A couple days ago. I figured he should know I was leaving, I wanted to say bye. See how he was doing. We got a beer and talked some and—shit, Buck, I should've just let you call. The man's a mess. He's hiding it, or trying to, but he is. He knows he fucked up, he wanted to reach out, too, but he thought you were fine with it, so he stayed away."

Despair shot through him. Tommy had wanted to reach out, too? Tommy thought he was fine with it? Eddie's words put so much of the last few months in a different perspective. The times he'd caught him bubbling, what if he'd started typing too, given Tommy a sign, any sign, that they were thinking about each other, instead of him just believing it was one-sided?

"Eddie, what the fuck."

"I know a thing or two about running because things are moving in a way you weren't expecting and not knowing how to get control back. I think that was his problem, he's used to being in control and, man, you hit him like a freaking hurricane. Figuratively and literally, I guess. But he's still completely gone on you, and I know you are on him, so. It means I made the right choice."

"The—the right choice? Eddie, what—"

"Told you. I called Tommy."

Eddie reached out and clapped Buck on the shoulder, then waved behind him.

"Hey, man."

"Hey Eddie."

Buck turned slowly, as though if he moved too fast he'd find someone else behind him. But no, it was Tommy; and Eddie was right. He was a bit of a mess. The average person probably wouldn't have noticed—he was, as always, devastatingly attractive. But Buck could tell that the hollows under his eyes were deeper than he'd ever seen them, the stubble on his jaw grown out a little more than he'd ever let it get while they were together. He was even holding himself differently, hands balled up in the pockets of his hoodie, just like they'd been when they'd met for coffee after Buck fucked things up the first time.

He had that same look on his face, too, that unsure, nervous look that still said I hope as he smiled softly.

"Evan."

Fuck, he'd missed hearing that. He let out a shaky breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding, itching to reach out and wrap his arms around Tommy like he'd been dying to for months, unsure how it would be received. But Eddie was behind him, pushing him gently in his direction.

"Go on, Buck. You guys got this," Eddie whispered in his ear.

He got one more hug, then Eddie moved forward to hug Tommy as well. Buck would have felt bad about the way his and Tommy's eyes met and didn't leave each other the whole time if Eddie hadn't orchestrated this whole thing to begin with.

He left, quietly, the U-Haul pulling away with little fanfare, and they were still staring at each other. The rain was still falling, soaking their hair and clothes, and it was a single drop trailing down Tommy's nose to sit on the tip of it that finally made Buck move. He stepped into Tommy's space, gently reaching out and wiping it away with his thumb, and then it was the easiest thing in the world to pull him even closer.

It felt like something out of the movies Tommy loved so much, the two of them reunited and kissing in the rain. He didn't even want to come up for air, confident that he could survive without it if he could just keep kissing him forever, cradling Tommy's face in his hands and feeling Tommy's hands warm on his hips. But eventually they gave in, foreheads pressed together and breathing heavily.

"I missed you so much," he finally forced out. "I—I don't know what you want, from here, but I want—Tommy, I just want—" He broke off, nuzzled into Tommy's neck instead, breathing in the scent of his skin, his detergent and cologne.

"I want, too," Tommy agreed. "I'm so sorry—"

"Don't," Buck cut him off. "Not now. We have time for that later. All the time in the world. Let's go get dry, okay?"

"Okay," Tommy agreed, pressing one more kiss to Buck's lips. "All the time in the world."

[satorusugurugurl]

Toji as a bodyguard

Til’ the Day that I Die

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Bodyguard!Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of stage right, performance, anxiety, stalking, panic attacks, language mentions of gun, (eventual smut)

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: this request is amazing!! It got my brain worms going! Once again, this will be a multi part series, I’m looking at a total of four parts as I have already planned down the whole story. I’m sorry for the lack of content, it’s been a rough few days and I just decided to take some time for myself! But I do have about four stories almost done so you can expect updates for the rest of the week! Love you all!! (Readers' stage persona is highly inspired by several artists! 😊)

Part Two Part Three Part Four

Performance anxiety is defined as an excessive feeling of fear related to being able to perform well. Symptoms of performance anxiety include pulse racing, rapid breathing, dry mouth, and throat tightness. Dealing with performance anxiety when you're a rising star is brutal, and you begin to regret all your life choices. You aren't sure if you want this to be your life. You were attending nursing school, but your sister posted a video of you singing online. Reading all the sweet comments was fun initially, but it's funny how fast things change.

One second, you were posting a few videos of you singing, and the next thing you knew, you had a record deal, your songs were on the radio, and you were performing at concerts. All in the span of six months. The attention was overwhelming, and, at times, your anxiety even worse. But the more you performed, the more you were able to bury the stage fright down, masking the fear with a persona you made until you were home in your apartment. In the confines of your home, you could cry and tremble; dealing with those attacks was something you’d gotten used to.

But your stalker was a whole new fucked up mess you never dreamed about dealing with.

It had started as nothing more than a couple of love letters that turned into more descriptive letters detailing information about your personal life you had never told anyone. Anytime you saw a letter come in with ‘M’ written on the front and dark gray ink, your stomach twisted. You at first thought you would be okay. You could handle something like this. This was the kind of thing that came along with the territory of being famous.

That was until a bouquet of roses was dropped off at your door in your guarded apartment building. That whole situation sent you into a full-blown panic attack. You left your apartment and went to stay with your friends. That incident caused your manager to contact Kong Security Services and hire you as a bodyguard. One, you were anxiously waiting to meet as you sat in your dressing room before your show.

“It’s going to be fine, I promise.” Nanako, your makeup artist, assured you as she fixed your blush. “Geto said this agency is the best in the business.”

You shot her a skeptical look while her twin sister fixed your hair. “Are you just saying that because your dad’s are my managers, and they told you to say that?” When both twins had ceased their movements in obvious shock at your to-the-point accusation.

“W-What—?”

“No, never!”

“Uh-huh—I don’t believe a word either of you are saying right now.”

Nanako steps back, looks you over, and bites her lip. “They really are the best, whether or not we get to go out for Boba after this. It’s not like sweet milk tea is on the line if we don’t ease your nerves.” Just as your sweet young makeup artist finishes, the door to your dressing, eyes darting towards the door as it swings further open. Suguru and his husband, Satoru, enter, displaying their matching black-and-white wedding rings. They were the best management company in the world, the power couple of Tokyo. Satoru, who was in charge of your social media accounts, types viciously on his phone while Suguru grins up at a man walking in with them.

If you could even call him a man.

A fucking mountain of muscle is a more appropriate way of describing him. He’s tall, has dark hair and navy blue eyes, and he’s fit. The mountain wore a tailored jacket and white button-down shirt with the first two buttons undone. His eyes leave Geto’s for a minute to watch you sinking further in your chair, his pink tongue running over the scar down the corner of the right side of his mouth.

“Hun, this is Fushiguro Toji,” Suguru announced before glancing at his phone. “He’s your bodyguard and will be with you everywhere you go.”

“E-Everywhere?”

“Yes, to rehearsals, your shows, meet-and-greets, he’ll even escort you home.” Your eyes rammed back over to the mountain of a man standing off to the side. When you have time off, or he needs a day away, his work partner Tsukumo Yuki will take over for him.”

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching, a subtle action your new bodyguard noticed immediately as you dug your fingers into your skirt. It was part of Toji‘s job to see behaviors and be observant. He could tell you were on edge from how your fingers twitched to how your pulse raced in your neck. His handler, Shiu, had warned him that you were an anxious mess after finding out about your stalker. But this anxiety didn’t come from just having a stalker. This anxiety was deeply rooted in you. It was probably something you had suffered with for years.

Without being told, Toji stepped forward, kneeling before you, giving you a gentle smile like a father would give a frightened child. He had to put your nerves at ease to let you know you would be okay. “I know you’re scared, but I can assure you that I am very skilled. You won’t even notice I’m around.” You weren’t sure about that. How could you not notice the handsome man who would always be around you?

“Right, thank you.”

“You’re welcome--”

“Ugh! We gotta get going; they expect you on stage in five minutes.”

“I-I s-shou—” you stuttered as the performing anxiety began to root itself into your already anxious demeanor.

“Yep, let’s get going.” Toji stood motioning towards the door of the dressing room. “After you, Miss.”

Being a bodyguard and a security escort for so long had allowed Toji to pick up on specific cues from people, like how their eyes moved around the room or how their body language told him what they were feeling. The way your fingers were twitching, he knew you were nervous and scared, and he wasn’t sure if it was stage fright or something to do with your stalker.

Regardless of whether you wanted to go up there, it didn’t change the fact that thousands of people were already waiting for you to perform. As you both walked down the hall, Tojo noticed you took a deep breath and exhaled through your nose, and as you turned the corner, you put on a huge smile. The way you put in a mask so fast nearly sent Toji stumbling back. He was usually prepared for the unexpected, but seeing this scared, shaking woman shift into a bubbly pop star rocked him back.

Everyone you encountered smiled wide at your perky voice and demeanor. You truly lit up the whole room. “Alright, guys! Thank you for all your hard prep! Now, let’s have a great show tonight!” You were handed a jeweled microphone and placed on a platform to lift you to the main stage, but before you gripped the handles to steady yourself, Toji grabbed your hand. “Oh, Fushiguro?”

“I'll be on the side, watching you. If you need me or notice something's off, you should give me a sign.”

“A sign? Like a signal?”

“Yeah, something easy and inconspicuous.”

You thought for a second, that perky look still on your face, but Toji could see the anxiety behind your eyes. “Well, I wink a lot during my shows and throw a heart sign up.” Toji hummed, pursing his lips together.

“Well, if you don't want to alarm your fans, how about this.” he took your hand, putting your middle and ring finger down. Your thumb, pinky, and pointer finger were left extended.

“Oh, the sign for ‘I love you’!”

“Only use this if you need me on stage. Otherwise, do what you normally do, but know I’ll be right there if you need me.”

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes, which probably would go unnoticed by many different people, but it was one that he could see clearly as day. “Right, thank you, Fushiguro.” Your new bodyguard looked at you as he scoffed, shaking his head.

“Toji, just call me Toji. There is no need for formalities. Have a good show, Miss.”

“R-Right, thank you, Toji.”

Your new bodyguard watched as the platform began to lift, taking you up to the stage where fans were screaming your name. Taking a deep breath before smiling, your bodyguard watched you reach the top before the band blaring music as you began singing into your microphone. The beat of the music rang in his ears; Toji ran for the stairs that led him to the stage, where he could watch you from the side.

There, Toji found your managers standing on the sidelines, watching you. Upon looking at you, he met a woman who looked nothing like the girl he had just spoken to moments before. You danced, sang, smiled, and winked at the crowd. Multicolored lights flashed as fog from the fog machine flooded the stage, and the backup dancers moved in sync with each other. I think this is poor, who was shaking upon meeting him.

“Yeah, crazy to see her shift, isn’t it?” Geto asked before pulling his phone out and snapping a few photos of you as you sang. “She’s like a different person.”

“Like? I hate to be the one to break this to you, Geto, but that woman is a completely different person. Why the fuck is she masking?”

The white-haired man glared at Toji, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “She’s not masking; it's called a stage persona.” The annoyance was clear in the other man’s voice, a tone that crawled its way under his skin.

“Look, buddy, keep your terms to yourself. I don't care about the different terms. All I know is that woman—” he jabbed his thumb in your direction as you twirled around the stage. “is masking; that’s not who she is.”

“You don’t know a lot about the entertainment industry. This is something that a lot of celebrities do. It’s completely normal, and she knows that. That’s how she adapted so fast.”

Toji wasn’t sure if that was the case. He had seen you firsthand, shaking in your dressing room. To see you change drastically for the sake of a show? Toji could see why you would be nervous to go up on stage. There had to be a fear of your mask slipping, revealing your true persona to the world.

But Satoru was right; Toji’s job was to protect and ensure you were safe. It wasn’t his place to judge how you lived or worked your career. In the end, you were just like all the other popstar divas and clients he had had before. Rich people with too much money to throw around and fame led them to believe that they were in danger all the time, which is how he managed to keep a steady income for himself and his kids as long as they were rich snobs like you, Tojo was guaranteed to have a job.

Instead of continuing to argue with your overzealous manager, Toji crossed both arms over his chest and watched you closely. The sooner the show was over, the sooner he could get you back to your apartment, where he could call to check on Megumi. He just wanted to relax, and for all he knew, you and your managers were overreacting to this so-called stalker you had. If anything, this might’ve been some cruel prank; receiving a note to roses wasn’t that big of a deal, and this was way too easy for as much as he was getting paid, so he wasn’t going to bitch about it.

What he did want to bitch about was how fucking long your show went on for. Performed for about two hours straight, only taking breaks to change costumes throughout the performance. It was in those moments when you were changing that your mask slipped. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes and how you wanted to do nothing more than take a break. But as fast as that mask slipped, you had it back on instantly. When one costume was off, and the other slipped on, you were back on stage to sing the next song.

After about two hours and thirty minutes of this bullshit, you gave a final bow and blew kisses out at the crowd of strangers who were cheering your name. While the two hours he got to stand up to the side and watch you perform was easy, he only had to look for your signal if you needed help; getting you out of the arena safely was a whole different story. Everything moved so fast The second you stepped off that stage and towards your bodyguard.

After every show, the goal was the same: get changed as fast as possible, collect your stuff, which Nanako and Mimiko had already packed, and get in your limo before the crowd started heading towards your exit. Toji gently placed his hand on the small of your back, ushering you through the maze of halls that led you back to the dressing room, where, just like you knew, the girls had packed all your stuff.

“You got five minutes to change,” Suguru announced as Satoru snickered behind his husband. “Thanks to Satoru, you’re trending again for your newest song.”

Toji could see the minutey, perky personality shift into your more anxious state. You frowned, literally frowned, at the news. Most people would be jumping over the moon to hear it. Seeing such an ungrateful expression on your face had Toji resist the urge to roll his eyes into his skull.

Spoiled little brats, you rich folks were all the same.

“Did you make sure to tag the—“

“Are you insinuating that I don’t know who to tag or which hashtags to use? Babes, I've got you covered. When have I ever let you down?”

“Never.”

“Right, so let the best PR manager handle this.”

Toji sighed, glancing towards his watch. “Two minutes,” he announced to the room of people bouncing off the walls and collecting items to clean up the green room. How could your managers be talking about more brand deals at a time like this? Brand deals were bullshit, but knowing how popular you were with the teenagers and you probably had some make-up deal or some other shit that would make you all the richer, you had to make sure the right people were tagged so you continued to be sponsored. But there was a time and place for that, and now wasn't the right time!

“I know you're the best Satoru, but I still wanna make sure the word gets out there.” You stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in black leggings and a simple T-shirt. Completely different from the baby doll dresses you were wearing on stage. “It’s imperative—”

“I know. I’ve already posted it. Everyone’s been tagged accordingly, and the hashtags are in place. You’ll get lots of people to see this, trust me.”

You were slipping on your baseball cap and sunglasses when Toji’s large hand gently grabbed you by the shoulder. “We gotta get going,” you sighed before nodding, waving off your team, and falling Toji down the hall to where your car awaited you.

Thanks to your quick change, nobody was waiting for you outside, making your getaway from the arena smooth as butter. You just wished you felt as calm as your exit from the bustling stage had been. You were beginning to regret going back to your apartment. You hadn’t been back there since the roses were delivered to your door. Going back was going to be difficult, leaving your stomach swarming with anxiety. But at least you had a big mountain of a man to protect you if, god forbid, you needed help.

The entire ride back to your apartment complex was thankfully quiet. Toji sat on the other side of you, staring out the window, not making any conversation, which was a blessing. Not only was your throat sore from the amount of singing you had done, but the idea of sitting through a conversation run solely by small talk was almost as bad as your performance anxiety. Sitting in the back of the car, leaning your head against the window without worrying about smiling or acting perfect in front of strangers, was a breath of fresh air.

Being alone with your bodyguard made you feel like you could let your walls come down for the first time in a long time. It was a feeling you might as well get used to. He would be around most of the time, so instead of adorning the perfect, pretty mask you always wore, you could be the introverted true version of yourself. Knowing that you could relax, you shut your eyes, allowing yourself to doze off as the car smoothly headed down the freeway.

If only your dreams were smooth and calm like the car ride. Your dreams were filled with mysterious notes and roses you had once loved. They circled you, drowning you in paper and petals as a roaring crowd rang through your ears. You could fight against the tidal waves, but instead, you let them wash over you, allowing yourself to be crushed by the unbearable weight of being a star at times.

Nursing school wasn’t easy, but at least when you were in school, you didn’t have to worry about a mysterious bouquet showing up on your apartment doorstep or sneaking out to avoid getting seen and swarmed by your fans. Your biggest concern in school was getting good grades and doing everything possible to get your degree. The only things you had to worry about were study dates and pop quizzes, not ominous letters that made you fearful for your safety.

These nightmares were so vivid that you wished your family had heard you singing online. Was it too much to ask for a normal everyday life where you weren't constantly stressed?

You sighed, looking up at the lingering rays of light that slowly began to peek through. More envelopes and roses piled on the cocoon you were stuck in. Perhaps there was no going back. This might very well be the rest of your life. Just as you were shutting your eyes to the casket you were being buried in, a hand reached out from the top of the mountain of dread and anxiety you lived with, reaching for you.

You couldn’t make out who was reaching out to you, but you were sure they just wanted to help you. Without hesitation, you reached for that hand, brushing over their fingertips. Just when they clasped your hand to pull you out of the burial ground, you were jn. You gasped as someone shook you, waking you from the dream.

You sat up quickly, shaking as you met Tojo’s navy blue eyes. He was frowning, motioning towards the rolled-down window, and Ijichi, head of security for your building, leaned in, giving you a weak smile. With a quick rub to both your eyes, you placed your mask back on, going from the sleep-deprived woman you were transforming into the perky popstar everybody knew and loved.

“Ijichi! Hi!”

“Hi yourself, glad to have you back.”

Toji could see how your shoulders stiffened when you mentioned being back. “Oh, yep! It's good to be back.” Toji could see through your facade, while Ijichi was blind to it.

“I just wanted to let you know that we added more cameras to the building, and my security post will be far stricter with deliveries and anything else from this point on. We want you to feel safe here, and I’m sorry we failed to do that in the first place.”

“Oh no, it’s not your fault! Plus, I feel a lot better now that I have Fushiguro!” The man with glasses peered into the car, waving at your bodyguard whose face remained stoic, not returning the gesture. “Okay, uhm Ijichi, Toji; Toji Ijichi.”

No pleasantries were exchanged, not at all. The only thing Toji managed to do was give him a nod before focusing his attention back on the massive building and making a mental note to ask for access to the cameras. That way, he could keep an eye on you and ensure nobody was hanging around who wasn't supposed to be there. Those thoughts Toji was lost in made it a tranquil ride up the elevator to your apartment. He was leaving you feeling even more anxious. Usually, being around someone quiet never bothered you; you felt so relaxed around that person, but Toji’s cold demeanor and attitude toward your friend made you irritable.

“So, uhm, are you going to be that cold and standoffish every time you meet somebody I know?” You asked, finally allowing your heart mind to win over your mind.

“Huh?”

His dark gaze had you swallowing the lump suddenly in your throat. “I wanted to ask if this is going to be normal, you being—.”

“Oh, I am so sorry little star; I wasn't aware I needed to wear a fake ass mask around people too.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, and unfortunately, unlike you, I like wearing my face. I don’t have to be someone I’m not to get people to like me. Because quite frankly, I don’t give a damn if anybody likes me.”

“I don't eit—”

Toji scoffed, leaning against the elevator wall and shaking his head at your words. “Oh, please. You’re just like every other client I’ve had. All you care about is money, your appearance, and what sponsor deals you get.” His words made your blood begin to boil.

“You’ve barely known me for a couple of hours, and you think you know who I am?”

“Oooh yeah, you're some small-town girl that made it big. And instead of showing the world who you really are, you put on this fucking mask, one that hides the true you from the prying eyes of the world. You care only about ticket sales, making your fans happy, and sponsorships like the one you were talking about with your manager not even thirty minutes ago. So yeah, I’m sure I got a good idea of who you are. It’s my job to read people..”

This was the best security in the business; bodyguard your manager had set you up with? Ha! Yeah, right, this man was nothing more than a dickhead that had a lot of opinions that were far from true?!

You laughed, pushing yourself away from the wall to stand in front of the doors before him. “That's the great thing about wearing a mask around people I don’t fucking know. They get to see the real me, but I get to see people for who they truly are.” Toji opened his mouth to continue arguing with you, but only for you to quickly shut him down, holding a hand up before you. “You were right about a couple things; I do put on a mask, I love my fans, but I could give a damn about sponsorships.” Toji pushed himself off the wall, towering over you, gritting his teeth as he tried to control his evident anger.

“Oh, you suddenly don’t give a damn about sponsorships? I just heard you talking to your manager about one.”

“You don’t know anything about me! That whole conversation had nothing to do with this sponsorship!”

Tojo tilted his head back with a laugh. “Oh, right, of course. You don’t care about your amazing condo or all the money you’re making; you don’t care about those so-called nonexistent sponsorship deals.” The elevator rattled like the lid to the rage threatening to explode.

“Alright, yes, I do live in a nice apartment, one with security that sucks, but it’s still home. But for your information, I don’t do this for the money. You don’t know what I have planned on doing with my life, so I don’t want to hear you make assumptions about me! The conversation you so rudely eavesdropped on had nothing to do with a sponsorship deal but a massive donation I’m making to the local Children’s Hospital. The same hospital is well renowned for helping unfortunate children. So yeah, that whole conversation you listened to was me telling my manager to tag the hospital in my video because the hospital inspired the song! It was a public service announcement, a reminder to help those who can’t help themselves.”

Your rant was unexpected. Toji had never had one of his clients talk to him like that; strangely, he liked it.

“And another thi—”

The doors to the elevator slowly slid open with a ding as you reached your apartment. Usually, your automatic lights would be on in the living room and kitchen, leading upstairs. But as the doors opened, no lights illuminated your bodyguard's face. You knew something was wrong, and just before Toy could look over your shoulder into the apartment,Toji’s hand quickly covered your eyes. He pulled you into his chest, and he listened in as he smashed on the lobby button on the button panel.

“Toji!?” You asked, placing your hands on top of his. “What is it?! Is something wrong? Let me see!”

Toji shook his head as if you could see his reaction, his hand reaching for the gun at the holster on his side as the door slowly shut. There was no way in hell you were going to see what was behind the door. Because he knew if you were to see what had happened in your apartment, you would never be the same. As the elevator slowly began to descend, Toji realized that he had been wrong about your stalker. It wasn’t some harmless joke.

This was fucking serious.

(TBC)

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