#[no world can’t stay the same: musings]

[voidfell]

Tag Dump 1 / 2

Still working on Kaz and Marty's tags but consider them added too. Might add my rules + muse list to my pinned post cause it seems easier then updating my carrd every time I get impulsive.

[imaginaryf1shots]

Soulmate | Oscar Piastri Ver.

WC: 4.9K

Oscar x soulmate!reader

Summery: You live in a world where you hear your soulmate’s thoughts.

Warning: jealousy, curse words?

Masterlist

Oscar Masterlist

Max Ver. , Lewis Ver. , Charles Ver.

You live in a world where soulmates could communicate through thoughts, it was both a blessing and a curse. After you meet your soulmate it’s definitely a blessing but before that you just get random thoughts through your mind, you can’t control what your soulmate hears and don’t know what they do and what they don’t. And the way to start controlling it, is kissing. Yes, sharing a soulmate kiss is the way to be able to control your thoughts. You’re not responsible. It’s like getting to know someone so deeply and fully but not really. No way of getting to them, you just have a few pieces of the puzzle and you have to put it together without the picture on the box.

The first time you heard his voice in your mind, you were ten years old. It was a simple thought, something about the sky being unusually grey, and it had felt like an echo of your own thoughts. You had no idea what was happening, even if it was described to you before, it still felt new and weird. But you couldn't deny the connection, it was like hearing your own thoughts, like the voice is a part of you.

As the years passed, the voice remained a constant companion. It was both thrilling and confusing to hear snippets of thoughts from someone you had never met, but know so well. His voice was calm, collected and often tinged with an air of judgments. His thoughts were never directed towards you, just his musings and reflection that drifted into your consciousness. One of the things you heard from your soulmate and helped shape your life, is his love for karting, you knew he loved racing, and so you have taken to watching motorsport, NASCAR, IndyCar, MotoGP and Formula1 to name a few. It fills your life, keeping up with these sports. But you enjoyed them all the same, your major in university was in athletic training and exercise science.

Loving sports and how athletes train and work hard for their sport has been a passion of yours. You heard your soulmate train many times, how much he struggled but preserved, and that made you want to pursue working with athletes even more. Since you've been an avid Motorsport watcher for years, you sent in your resume to all the sports' emails, all the teams in all of the different sports. And you heard back from F1 Academy, they would have you in as a trainer for Bianca, whose under McLaren, her trainer was leaving soon and she needed a new one, and that gave you the opportunity to train with them for a bit before you would take the role of her trainer.

The F1 paddock was a love with the hum of engines and the chatter of team members preparing for the day's practice sessions.

"Stay focused on your lines, Bianca, remember, it's all about consistency." You said, patting her on the back as she adjusted her helmet.

"I will, thanks." She smiled before heading to her car.

As you turned to head back to the F1 Academy McLaren garage, a stray thought intruded into your mind, clear and distinct.

’Another long day ahead. Hope we can nail the set up this time.’ You paused, momentarily disoriented. This wasn't unusual; on race days you'd hear things related to racing, and as off the last year you had a feeling that your soulmate was in the Formula serious, and more likely in Formula 1, that helped narrow down your search from the 7 billion people in the world to just the ones working in Formula series and then it narrowed it down to drivers, since he's been karting and then racing since you could hear his thoughts. You glanced around and spotted Lando Norris, laughing and chatting animatedly with a group of engineers, he's here to watch the academy race. Could it be? Lando was always so lively and easy going, it made sense that it could be him and he’s one of the single drivers without a soulmate.

After the academy race you and Bianca made it to the formula 1 Mclaren garage, and with a new sense of curiosity, you approached the garage where Oscar was standing, reviewing data on a tablet. Oscar was known for his calm and quiet demeanour and intense focus. He barely spoke, but his racing skills spoke volumes.

'Great, another adjustment, just what we need.'

You chuckled as another thought invaded your mind. softly, convinced more and more that it's Lando with each new thought. The thoughts matched Lando's personality.

"Morning, Oscar." You greeted the driver warmly.

"Morning." He looked up briefly, giving you a polite nod, his face was as unreadable as ever.

'why so serious all the time!’

The thought drifted to your mind and you couldn't help but agree. Oscar's stoic exterior was such a stark contrast to the thoughts you thought were coming from Lando. As the day went on, you found yourself listening more intently, trying to piece together the puzzle of your soulmate's identity. Each time you heard a thought you looked towards Lando, watching his animated gestures and easy smile. It all seemed to fit.

Meanwhile, Oscar worked quietly in the background, his thoughts a constant, subtle presence.

'I need to improve my lap times, focus.’ He was always focused, always pushing himself.

Weeks went by, and the thoughts in your mind continued to shape your perception of Lando as your soulmate. You somehow convinced yourself that his easy going nature and frequent thoughts aligned perfectly, but there's always that little bit of doubt in the back of your mind that kept you from talking to Lando about him being your possible soulmate.

One afternoon you were busy in the paddock working with Bianca on her fitness routine. After doing a grid jog with her, you went through a gruelling set of exercises.

'she works so hard, I wish I could tell her how much I admire her dedication.’

You smile, thinking that Lando was admiring Bianca's progress.

"Lando's such a nice guy, don't you think?" You commented to Bianca, who was catching her breath after the last exercise. Bianca looked up from her spot and raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he's nice, but why bring him up now?" You shrugged brushing it

off.

"Just a thought." As both you and Bianca walked back to the McLaren motorhome, you saw Lando talking with some of the team, joking and laughing with them, you felt something warm in you. You smiled thinking it's your connection with Lando, looking around the room you spotted Oscar watching you, and as always an unreadable expression on his face.

At one point the team decided to book a restaurant and invited everyone out for a bonding dinner, and you found yourself sitting next to Lando, who you spent the night speaking and laughing with. He was as lively and as charming as ever.

"You know, I've been thinking about soulmates a lot lately." Lando said casually, taking a sip from his drink. "It's strange how we can hear their thoughts, but it's not always clear who they are."

"Tell me about it." You replied, laughing. "It's like you're trying to sort the puzzle pieces and put them in place."

‘I’ve done it.’

This thought came through more seriously than the rest. You glanced at Lando and he was making a joke with the person next to him, the thought didn't fit the mood he's in but you brushed it off. As the night went on and you and Lando shared stories and got closer to each other, Oscar observed the both of you. He knew. But as frustrated as he was, he kept it all in, his exterior calm and collected. However Oscar's patience was wearing thin, he knew you were his soulmate. It took him a while to figure it out, but your thoughts just fit in, and he seemed to receive your thoughts more than you did his. His every thought that went your way seemed to be miscommunicated and interpreted as Lando's. The more that happened the more it was harder for him to get to you.

Oscar even tried to focus all his energy to send his thoughts to you, even though he knew it’s impossible.

'it's me not Lando, I wish you could hear me clearly!’

But he watched you as you didn't react at all. But no, you were engrossed in a conversation with Lando.

‘Why can't you see me?’

His frustration was palpable, but he didn't know how to bridge the gap.

There was these moments that just left you confused, when the thoughts you

had in your mind didn't fit what Lando was doing. For an instant, you were with Bianca looking over some data, when the thought went through your mind.

'She's incredible at what she does, I wish she knew how much I respect her?’

You looked around and saw Lando smiling with his mechanic, in the middle of a story. Oscar was looking intently at the screen in front of him.

"Thanks, Bianca." You found yourself saying, feeling confused. "You too."

"Uh, what? Sure?" She replied, clearly confused as well.

The more time you spent with Lando the more you felt like there's something wrong in the back of your mind, because you and Lando continued to grow closer. Lando is fun and light-hearted, but the thoughts you heard often carried a depth and seriousness that didn't always match his personality, and the judge-ness in them you wouldn't match with him.

Oscar was reaching his breaking point, he had no idea how long he could take it, seeing his soulmate this close to his teammate left him uneasy. He knew that there's nothing more going on between the two of you but friendship, and you only felt close to him and weren't attracted to Lando. That left him wondering how you didn't notice that you weren't attracted to Lando, because the moment he noticed you and realised that you're his soulmate the attraction and connection he felt towards you was undeniable.

Oscar walked into the motorhome and saw you on one of the sofas going over some notes for Bianca, he looked around and saw how empty the room is, and decided to just gather all his courage and go up to talk to you.

"Hey, y/n." Oscar greeted and sat on the other end of the sofa, his voice breaking your concentration.

“Hey, Oscar, how are you doing?" You asked the Australian driver with a smile on your face, that his heart clenched.

"I'm good, how about you?"

"I'm alright, what's up?" You asked, still feeling a little surprised by his approach.

Oscar seemed to be second guessing what he wanted to say as he hesitated. "Do you ever feel like you're trying to tell someone something important, but they just don't get it."

You look up at him and hum as you think through his question, your eyes meeting his. There's a depth in his eyes that you haven't noticed before. "All the time." You admitted, a hint of frustration in your voice.

‘I wish you could hear what I'm really thinking.’

His thoughts followed. The connection was undeniable, but the reality was too confusing to process fully. You started to feel a growing doubt about Lando being your soulmate. Shouldn’t you know 100% when you meet your soulmate?

As the days went on, tension started growing between you, Lando and Oscar, it was all mounting to something heading somewhere but you have no idea where.

The Hungarian weekend had no F1 Academy race but you found yourself attending the race weekend with the team nonetheless. There was something in you that told you, you had to be there this weekend, and no matter how much you tried to ignore it you couldn't. And so here you are.

This weekend looks so good for Mclaren, the team has been on an incline all season, the boys have been on top this season. Gaining valuable points for the constructors championship. They were closing in on RedBull since Max seemed to be the only one gaining points at this point. Qualifying went by so well, with Lando and Oscar securing a 1-2 for the team. For some reason you found yourself on Lando's side of

the garage, and just as they were about to head out to the track for the start of the race you called out to him.

"Good luck, Lando." You said with a smile, which he returned.

"Thank you." Lando hesitated for a moment before he turned and left, you tilted your head slightly in thought, humming to yourself.

You turned to walk to the back of the garage so you're out of the way for the race, your eyes fell onto Oscar.

"Good luck, Oscar." You tell the Aussie and he gives you a nod in reply before he too heads out, his head a bit down.

'Can't I ever win?'

The thought went through your head and once again you're confused. Lando won in Miami, yes, time went on since then, but he still won. Is he not talking about racing then? But what else would he mean on a race day?

By the first corner Oscar is leading, you find yourself cheering for him more than Lando, hoping in your heart it's him that would win. Your eye kept going to the gap between Lando and Oscar throughout the race hoping it wouldn't close. Your hands were clasped together and your eyes were glued to the screens.

You knew instantly that Mclaren missed up big time when they called in Lando before they did Oscar. Oscar is leading, he should be the one prioritised, they said it's to cover Lewis, and yes there's a threat form Lewis but the Mercedes doesn't have the pace of the Mclaren, them winning in the UK was all because of their strategy, you hope that Mclaren doesn't miss up the race for the drivers just because of their strategies again.

Your heart clenched when the team asked Lando to give position to Lando and he wouldn't listen. Oscar deserved the win, he's been doing so great, not making any mistakes during the race, he was ahead for so long with a good gap between him and Lando and if it weren't for the pitstop he'd still be the one leading, he'd be winning his first grand prix. With Oscar it was always a when not an if and you hopped the when would be today.

'I need this win.’

That thought made your heart break, the voice was desperate, needy. Was it Oscar? Or was it Lando? Who is your soulmate, there's no doubt in your mind that it's one of them, but, who?

The team went on back and forth with Lando for what seemed like forever, but the stubbornness of drivers wouldn't let him follow the team order. Oscar's race engineer kept reassuring him that Lando would let him through but as the laps went on and time ticked it seemed like it wouldn't happen. All that and Oscar kept calm.

'He can't have everything, he can't make her only see him and take the win from me.’

Your heart stopped and your eyes went wide. Oh god, there's no doubt in your mind now. You know who your soulmate is. And you've been wrong for so long. You went back through every thought you had lately and there's no doubt in your mind that Oscar is your soulmate and he knew that you're his soulmate. He knew. And he's seen you getting all close and cosy with Lando, he's seen it all.

It's 3 laps to the end when Lando drastically slows down to let Oscar by, the team manipulation finally works, and Lando decides to stop being childish. This is a weekend where you're not proud to be a part of the team. They messed up everything for both Lando and Oscar, and Lando wasn't helping in the slightest. Your heart went out to Oscar and it wasn't just because he's your soulmate. It's because he deserves this win, he's worked so hard for this and he's wanted this for years, since as long as you could remember. Oscar crossed the line becoming the 115th grand prix winner. You don't know why or when, but tears gathered in your eyes and you struggled to keep them in, they just flowed. Your hand was pressed to your lips. He's the 7th winner of 2024 in 13 races, it took Oscar a season and a half to win his first grand prix. The best rookie since Lewis Hamilton. And he just won.

Hearing his team radio had you boiling with rage. His voice wasn't happy. Instead of crying of happiness, or screaming in excitement, he was apologising to the team for making this hard on them, when it was Lando that made it hard, and it was the team that put them in that position in the first place.

'I won, I freaking won, oh god. I thought I'd be happier.'

The tears you were fighting won, and slipped from your eyes in waves, you must look crazy crying while looking at the screen.

"y/n, are you okay?" One of the team members asked you in concern, you wave her off and try to muster a smile.

"Yeah, just my soulmate." You tell her and she nods in understanding.

You make your way to the back of the podiums, at the staircase, where the top three will be coming off. You stand to the side, and Lewis is the first to descend and leave followed by the Mclaren team member taking the constructor's trophy, which the team certainly didn't deserve this weekend. Following him were the two drivers, Lando followed by Oscar. Looking at Oscar now, you could tell he isn't 100% happy. You slip between everyone. Lando sees you first, he thinks you're going to him, but your eyes are focused solely on Oscar, you don't even register anything else right now. Oscar was looking at the trophy before he looked up, his eyes meeting yours before they flickered to Lando, he too thought you're here for Lando.

The guilt is eating at you. You push all your feelings aside and just throw your arms around Oscar, he huffs in surprise of your body hitting his. He wasn't expecting your hug. One of his arms wrapped around you instantly, your body buzzing, as electricity went through your body. A feeling that Oscar shared with you. One of the Mclaren team members took the trophy from Oscar not wanting it to break, and Oscar's other arm wrapped around you and he hugged you closer. Your body was flushed with his.

"You're an asshole." You mutter as you once again fight the tears.

"Me?" He chuckles and you feel the vibration rumbling through his body.

"You knew, and didn't tell me." You whine, his hands go to your back.

"I know, I'm sorry." Oscar whispers in your ear and you sigh.

"Congratulations, Oscar, I'm so incredible proud of you and happy for you." You tell your soulmate and hold him even tighter. "I know how much you've worked for this, and how much you dreamt and thought about this."

"You're my lucky charm." He tells you with a smile on his lips, you pull back and meet his eyes.

"Doubt it." You say and sniff a little, wiping the tears that left your eye away, it's then that you start to notice everyone around you. Your face flushes and you pull back from Oscar. "I uh, I should let you go do your duties."

"Yeah, you probably should." Oscar says and looks at everyone that's still around, they're trying to give you two privacy but they're un mistakenly looking and listening

to the both of you. "I'll find you after."

"Okay." Oscar walks away, there's a pip in his step that wasn't there before. Not only did he win the race, he won you.

'What a nice ass.’

You think and Oscar glances over his shoulder at you and smirks. You blush and turn and escape your embarrassment. You need to kiss already.

You couldn’t get a hold of Oscar until after the team celebration, he sees you standing to the side after he’s been sprayed and taken pictures with the team. The smile on his face widens and you see his teeth, it makes you smile. He holds the trophy in one hand and takes yours in the other before he’s pulling you through the garage, through hallways until you reach his room. He walks in before you sets the trophy down before he twists, your back hits the door slamming it shut. You manage to close your eyes before his lips are on yours. You gasp from the surprise, his lips are a bit chapped but all you can taste and smell is champagne. One of his hands cups your cheek while the other is on your waist, your hands land on his chest. You shiver feeling the muscles under your fingers. The flood gates open.

’fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this.’

’you taste like champagne.’

’you taste like cherry, your favourite chapstick.’

Oscar hums and you smile through the kiss, your nose nudging his as you tilt your head to the side deepening the kiss.

’I think we need to slow down.’

’I know.’

But you don’t slow down, Oscar only pulls you closer the hand on your waist moves under your shirt feeling your skin gets him groaning in your mouth.

’we actully need to slow down.’

With this last thought from you, you slow down the kiss. When Oscar goes to pull away you can’t help but chase after his lips. He chuckles and presses three kisses to your lips before he pulls away and takes half a step back, you lean your head on the door and take your soulmate in.

”You’re so hot.” You tell him, taking him in, in his race suit, his fireproof shirt tight on his shoulders, chest and biceps.

“Good to know.” Oscar smirks, his tone sassy, and you meet his eyes, the twinkle in them that you see now, fits with the thought you have in your mind.

”Huh, interesting.” You mutter.

”What?”

"Nothing, just finish what you have to before we can go." You tell Oscar, patting his chest before you kiss his cheek, turn and leave the room, knowing that the team must have other things to film with him still.

After all, Oscar Piastri is a Grand Prix winner. Oscar does end up filming a few things for Mclaren social media accounts. You stand in the garage with one of the photographers, he shows you some of the pictures he took today on his camera, when Lando comes up to the two of you.

"Any good pictures of me?" He asks with a smile, honestly it looked a tad bit forced, but he's had one hell of a race today.

"Yeah, a bunch." You tell him and he looks at the screen as the photographer flips through the display and shows Lando the pictures he took today. You point out the ones you like and talk about the moments those pictures were taken, but soon the photographer had to go, do some editing for them to be posted on social media.

You and Lando stood there for an awkward silence, you've never shared an awkward moment with Lando before, but the reason you started getting close to him in the first place is because you thought he's your soulmate. Not that you want to stop being his friend or anything.

"So, Oscar is your soulmate?" Lando asked, even though he knows Oscar is your soulmate, every team member was talking about it, and he's seen the hug, he's seen the smile on Oscar's face, how in peace and content he was.

"Yeah, turns out he is." You tell him with a smile, just the thought of Oscar gets you smiling now. There's a beat of silence.

"Did you think I was your soulmate?" Lando asked timidly, his voice dropped and you almost missed what he said, you bit your bottom lip slightly feeling a bit anxious, and guilty.

"Yeah, I-uh I did." You admit to Lando and you watch as his face drops. "But Oscar being my soulmate won't change anything, I enjoy your company and I enjoy being your friend."

"I think it changes a few things... not that Oscar being your soulmate is a bad thing, but you only getting close to me to see if I'm your soulmate." Lando says and he looks away to hide the hurt he's feeling, despite what some people think, Lando sometimes struggles with making friends, and he doesn't see them all the time, even Max F. But you're always there, whenever Bianca is racing you're there, and with the races for the academy being on F1 race weekends this year, it means you're there for half of the season, more than he can say about anyone else in his circle of friends.

"But it doesn't have to." You try to plead with him, he's had a rough day and the last thing you want is to make it even tougher. "Lando you have to believe that I enjoy being your friend, I should have realised sooner that you're not my soulmate, but I think I still would've gotten to know you better anyways."

"I don't know." He didn't sound too sure, but it's better than nothing. You'll take what you get, maybe after he calms down and has some time to think he'll be okay again.

"I understand what you're saying." You give Lando a small smile and put your hand on his arm in comfort. "Take the time you need to think about what you want to do, and I'll respect your decision, but just know that I like having you as a friend and I would like to keep you as a friend."

Lando only manages a nod, you see Oscar from over his shoulder.

‘Are you waiting for me?’

‘Yeah, but take all the time you need!’

"Are you going back to Monaco today?" You ask Lando, he nods.

"Okay, I'll see you next week then." You tell him, smile and walk away.

"Everything okay?" Oscar asks once you're out of the garage and heading to the car park.

"Yeah, I'll tell you later."

You end up on the sofa in Oscar's room, you're sharing a room with another girl, and his room is bigger. It was the perfect place for you two to talk.

"I have a question." You say, and look at Oscar, his hand is in yours as you play with his fingers.

"Go ahead." You glance at your hands before you clear your throat and ask.

"Why haven't you said anything?"

"I wanted you to figure it out like I did, I didn’t think it would take you that long, and the feelings you get when you know who your soulmate is, that's a feeling I wanted you to have." Oscar told you softly.

"Yet, all I felt was guilt for not figuring it out earlier." You admit and meet his eyes. You wished he told you earlier, it would have made things easier.

"I-I guess, I haven't thought about it like that." Oscar frowns, he didn't think of it like that, but he remembers figuring it out, and how warm and bubbly he felt then, it's a feeling unlike any other he's ever felt before. "But I don't want you to feel bad or guilty, I understand how hard it is."

“But I’ve gotten so close to Lando thinking that he’s my soulmate, and you’ve seen all of that, and now he’s hurt feeling a bit used.” You say and a small pout makes its way on your lips.

“I feel bad about that, I’m not going to lie, seeing you with him made me doubt you being my soulmate a bit, but I knew you’d know it’s me eventually.” Oscar said. “And Lando would have done the same thing if he thought you’re his soulmate, his emotions are just on a high, next week everything will be back to normal.”

”You think so?”

”I know so.”

"Wait, how did you figure it was me?" It just occurred to you.

"I heard you thinking about Bianca, and I knew you were studying to be an athlete trainer, plus since we were young I heard you think about racing." Oscar tells you, and you roll your eyes at how good his detective skill is.

"I wonder who's fault it is." Oscar chuckles, before he shrugs, his eyebrows raised, acting all innocent. He practically is the reason you're doing what you're doing right now.

"I just put two and two together."

"And were you sure?"

"100%, except a couple days you were so close with Lando, but then I heart your thoughts about that meal in hospitality and then you were talking about it with Bianca."

"Now I'm feeling even more shitty." You groan and throw your head back, melting into the sofa. Oscar smiles and pulls on your arm, you raise your head to look at him.

"Don't, every soulmate meeting is different." Oscar says and brings your hand up to his lips for a couple of kisses. You sit in silence for a few minutes.

"Right, Oscar, did you call you mum?"

"Shit!" Oscar scrambles off to get his phone and call his mother, he'll get a telling for not calling her yet.

Main Taglist:

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house .

Oscar Taglist:

@teamnovalak

[leaawrites]

Freaked Out

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Lando makes his relationship official via Live stream

Warnings: mentions of an engagement, use of Y/n

Masterlist

The lights were low. There was no sound but the breathing in sync of two people deep into thoughts. Two hours went by of lying in the same bed with no eyes closed.

“Are you sure you want to stay with me?” Lando asked, his hand gliding through the hair of the person beside him. She hummed, snuggling deeper into his chest. Inhaling his scent like it would be the last time. “I mean, are you really sure? You can’t walk with me around all holding hands and you have to put up with all those stupid rumors about a life you know ain’t true.”

“Lando,” she mused, propping her head on her hands and looking up at him. “I’ve put up with all this for god knows how long. This doesn’t change anything.” His eyes lingered on her hand a little longer, smiling at the shimmering light reflecting on the diamond.

“Two and a half years,” he said, reminding her on how long they’ve been together. Still surprised at how long they got to keep their relationship in private, away from the media and all of those people around them.

It might seem rather fast, but nothing ever felt as right as asking her to marry him. Nothing ever made him feel so sure of himself as when she said yes. The reminder that he had someone who loved him. The knowing that someone was willing to put up with him forever. It made him feel safe.

“Are you sure you wanna keep it a secret? Keep us a secret?” Lando asked, playing with the ring on her finger.

“I’ll be yours in silence for however long you want me to,” she said, laying her head back down, soothing his chest with kisses.

Lando didn’t answer, he couldn’t. There was never a moment when he didn’t want to just post a pic of the two kissing or making put or whatever it is that will make everyone know that he was a happy man with her. But he knew it wouldn’t work that way. There will always be some crazy fans, offended at the though of him having a future with anyone but them. He felt guilty for not showing her off like he’d want to. It weighed him down day by day, though he knew it was worth it. When he came home from a race weekend and wanted nothing but held, he knew her arms would already be open as he walked through the door. She was everything he wanted. She was more than he deserved.

Being a man, chronically online, Lando knew about almost every trend going around the world. No exception for the one McLaren just posted with Oscar as their star in the spotlight.

“Hey guys,” Lando spoke into the phone as he walked into the living room of his home in Monaco. His girlfriend didn’t look up, already used to him walking around the apartment when he talked on the phone with someone. “Can you watch my girlfriend while I set my sim up?”

Lando placed the phone on the coffee table, camera facing his girlfriend who worked on something on her laptop. At the familiar sentence structure, she looked up, her head following the boy, who walked into his game room.

“What the-” she started saying, before being cut off by Lando putting his head out of the room.

“You can’t swear, I’m still a PR-nightmare, you can’t be one as well,” he yelled out to her, before disappearing again.

“Hello?” The girl said, looking at the screen in front of her. At first she thought it was a normal video, though soon enough she saw the endless comments of unknown people flood the screen. Her eyes widen at the sudden realization of what just happened. “You’re live? Are you kidding me?” She yelled at the boy, who burst out laughing in the other room. He came rushing out, snatching his phone back and reading through the comments of very surprised fans, to say the least.

“Sorry, guys. Sorry,” Lando spoke to the people, still giggling at his little prank and his girlfriends grimace. “Not my girlfriend.”

That made her look at him, a mischievous look in his eyes as he smirked, looking at her and not the screen which was filled with freaked out people. Some saying, “Good lord, thank god. I just had a heart attack, thinking he really cheated on me.” And some saying, “That’s sad, she’s really pretty.”

“My fiancee,” he corrected himself, smiling at her. The girl in front of him, couldn’t help her own smile forming on her lips. Then he ended the live, leaving the people shocked and the world stuck in questions.

“What have you done, Norris?” Y/n asked, pulling her fiance down on the sofa with her.

“I’m not hiding you anymore,” he simply said, snuggling in the nape of her neck and peppering it with small, soft kisses.

[charliemwrites]

Part 9 of Charmed Slasher Simon

(CW: this is all basically noncon. Like, yeah they had a “deal” but it’s not like it was agreed on in good faith ya know? Stay safe while reading, please, and let me know if this warning needs to be more descriptive)

You shake as Simon trails his fingers absently along your tummy, amused by the way it twitches, tickling and frightened in equal measures. So much he wants to do to you, but only so much you’ll be able to take for this first little triste.

Besides, though not long for this world, there’s only so much he wants that little worm to see of you.

“You ever spend so long fantasizing about something that when the moment finally comes, you’re just spoiled for options?” he muses aloud, pinching your nipples through your thin shirt. He can hear the high pitched noises trapped in the back of your throat, tsks at the denial.

“I’m usually a decisive man, you know that, sunshine. But all the things I want to do to you…”

You squirm when he pinches a bit harder, adding a little twist. He shuffles his knee between your thighs and pulls you back, making you grind against his thigh with every involuntary twitch and shudder.

“Could bruise this pretty ass for running out into the snow like that, reckless thing.” You jolt when he palms the plush fat of one cheek. “Or I could just torture your tight little hole. Leave that pretty pussy aching…”

You make a noise like a sob as his thumb rubs through the layers of your pants and underwear. You try to lean away but he’s got such a tight grip on your wrists that all it does is arch your back.

He inches his fingers over the crest of your hip again, dips back to your swollen clit and soaked cunt. Hell, you’re even wetter than before, a sticky line running down your thigh, fabric clinging to overheated skin. He groans against your throat, has to see it for himself.

You try to protest as he yanks your waistbands down to mid thigh, but he quiets you with those same two fingers stuff in your mouth, teeth scraping his knuckles. You nearly gag as he pets the back of your tongue, imagines how it’ll feel against the fat head of his cock.

In the firelight, you’re gleaming, something out of a fever dream. He leans you back farther and forces your legs wider with his own, lets the heat caress at the insides of your thighs, the creamy slick webbing between your lips.

“Fuck, maybe I should just play with this, huh?” He rasps. “Watched you do it so many times. You don’t know how to edge yourself properly, luv. Always let yourself give in too soon.”

You make a startled noise, huge, watery eyes finding his. He chuckles at the mortified question in them, teases his fingertips over your slit.

“Yeah, sunshine. I watched you fuck this pretty pussy, cryin’ ‘n pleadin’ for me,” he purrs in your ear. “Took everythin’ in me to let you have your fun, to keep from showin’ you how it’s done…”

He circles a finger over your clit, a barely-there brush that makes your pretty wet lashes flutter. Over and over, watches that flush bloom steadily over your face, down your neck. The haze glossing over your eyes.

“How about that, hm? We’ll start from the beginning and work our way through my list.”

He slips his fingers from your mouth, watches you lick unconsciously at the taste of him lingering on your lips.

“Y-you’re not gonna…?”

He tilts his head, narrows his eyes. Fills in the blanks and can’t help growling.

“Oh, you want me to hurt you, is that it?” he asks. “You want - no, you need an excuse to hate me. You’re hoping I tear you up so that you have an easy out for all these confusing feelings.”

You try to babble out a denial but the shock in your eyes is all the confirmation he needs. He tamps down his anger by dragging his teeth along your neck, working a dark mark into the skin.

You don’t know any better, he reminds himself. But you will.

“Don’t you worry, luv, there will be plenty of punishment for you,” he rumbles. “But you’re going to beg me for it.”

You open your mouth, maybe to deny it, but he pinches your sensitive little clit between two fingers and revels in the way you squeal.

He instantly soothes the ache with gentle circles, trailing kisses along your jaw. Tastes fresh salt on your skin.

“Best save your tears, precious,” he warns, smirking. “You’ll need them.”

He parts your lips with two fingers, leaving you open and exposed, groaning through his teeth at the sight of you. Wet and swollen, so needy for him. You try to buck away when he rubs a finger over your clit, firm strokes up and down.

“If you don’t stay still and take it like a good girl, I’ll tie you down and make you be a good girl.”

You duck your chin, eyes squeezed miserably shut as you try to lock down your body. It’s ridiculously endearing, how you wiggle and then catch yourself, breath hitching as you wait for him to lose patience. He hums whenever you start getting to squirmy, delights in the way you shiver and sink your teeth into your lip. Settle down only for him to change the tempo or the pattern and ruin all your self control.

He amuses himself drawing patterns all over your pulsing clit - circles and stars. Hearts that make your eyes roll back in your head. Zig zags from your weeping hole up to the very top of your slit.

It takes a while for you to truly approach your orgasm with the way he denies you a proper rhythm to build on. But he notices the moment you finally start to reach that peak, not even his reminder to hold still can keep you from twitching and rocking, helpless little jolts of your hips.

He coos. “So desperate to finish. Is it because you think I’ll be done with you once you do?”

You don’t answer, too busy trying to get more friction, more pressure. He lets you rush right up to the edge and then stops, skipping down to circle your hole. Luxuriates in the fresh flood of wetness coating your thighs. It yanks you back like a dog on a leash, your orgasm right there but just out of reach.

You don’t even seem to realize what’s happened for a second, mouth hanging open and a cute little furrow between your brow. When he chuckles, teasing up to that sensitive bundle of nerves again, it seems to click. You shoot him a dismayed look, the most precious hint of betrayal lurking in your glassy irises.

“N-no…” you nearly beg.

He smirks, nips at your puffy bottom lip. “You can say no if you like. Or even stop. We had a deal, though, didn’t we?”

“R-Riley…”

You scream when he spanks your pussy. Not nearly as hard as he craves, but it sends pretty streamers of tears down your hot cheeks. Another, two fingers directly to your clit. You nearly crumple, only his hold on your wrists keeping you upright.

“My real name, sunshine, or I’ll give you a reason to say no,” he warns.

“S-Simon,” you whimper, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

He shushes you, petting apologetically at your throbbing core.

“I know, luv, I know. But you’ll never learn if I don’t teach you right.”

The tears don’t stop as he drags you right up to the edge again, bullying through the lingering sting of getting spanked with overwhelming pleasure. When he pulls back a second time, you start up the “no’s” again, voice shattered into pathetic little pieces.

“That’s alright,” he murmurs, “say whatever you need to get you through, I won’t be mad.”

He gets you so so close once again, cock twitching against your ass as it grinds back against him. But he lightens his touch, not stopping but not letting you fall, easing the pressure up and up and up until even the slightest graze would break you.

Instead, he pulls away entirely to squeeze at the plush of your thighs and hips, cooing over the way they shake for him.

“Simon,” you sob, tucking into his chest. He slows his touches, watching you try to curl into him, chest burning with something bloodier than love. “Simon, please. It hurts.”

He hums, sliding his hand back up to your pussy, massaging your labia. Careful not to touch your needy clit.

“It hurts, hm?” he croons, unable to keep the mean pleasure from his voice. “It wasn’t supposed to. Where does it hurt?”

You hiccup, sniffle. “M-my… my…”

“Tell me, sunshine, or I can’t make it better.”

You fold a bit, bounce, almost like a tantrum. So out of control on sensation and emotion that you can’t keep it together as you form the words.

“M-my pussy. It — I need…”

He hums again, fingers trailing down to your hole. Teases his finger at your entrance and feels it spasming around nothing.

“So empty,” he breathes. “Is that it, luv? Your little cunt is aching to be filled?”

You shudder on a cry but nod, face hidden against his neck. He lets you, far too endeared by your attempts to find comfort from the man torturing you in the first place.

“Hurts,” you repeat.

“Do you hate me yet?” he mocks.

You keen softly. “Y-yes.”

A tap to your clit again. If you weren’t so strung out you’d probably even find it pleasurable but right now it makes you writhe and beg him to stop.

“Dont lie,” he warns, voice low, “where are my good girl’s manners?”

“‘M sorry,” you whine.

“One more time now - do you hate me yet?”

Your words seem to get caught up in your throat so you shake your head. Hes tempted - so, so tempted - to make you admit it aloud. But he doesn’t want to be too mean, not yet.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “that’s my girl. You want me to make you feel better now?”

You sniffle again, lean back into him a bit more. “Please.”

“There we go,” he praises, “nice and polite. I’ll take care of you, luv.”

Your body is so ready that it’s nothing for him to slide a finger into you, slick already running down his palm.

“N-no no,” you mumble.

“No what? I’m making you feel better.”

“‘S not — need more. Please, please, Simon.”

It’s hearing his real name in your small, reedy voice that finally appeals to what little mercy he has. He fits two fingers into your cunt and curves them to rub your silky walls.

“Fuck, you’re tight, sunshine,” he groans through his teeth. “You’re gonna choke my cock.”

You squeal as he starts rocking his hand, fucking you at an easy pace, getting you accustomed to the new stimulation. Starts building up your orgasm again, piece by moaning piece, finding every spot that makes your back bow with pleasure.

“Please, please, lemme cum this time Simon, I’ll be good, I promise.”

He huffs in amusement, caressing his thumb over your crossed wrists.

“Oh baby, you don’t have a choice.”

He flattens his palm against your core and pumps his fingers faster, harder. The heel of his hand grinds against your clit with each twitch of his wrist. You get tighter and tighter, voice pitching up and up, until your entire body goes taut, walls clamping down almost painfully.

He strokes you through it, brutal and relentless until you’re screaming at him to stop. That it’s too much. He releases your wrists to wrap his hand around your throat, obsessed with how delicate it feels in his palm. Just the slightest squeeze of his fingers and your eyes roll back. The second orgasm gushes from your abused cunt, all over his wrist and your thighs, dripping puddles onto the carpet.

He loosens his hold slowly, work you over through it, feeling you squeeze and pulse with aftershocks.

When he glances at your pretty, flushed, and tear-stained face, your eyes are shut. Out cold.

He chuckles and gently lays you out closer to the fire, grabs a pillow from a nearby chair to set under your head. Lingers for a moment, rubbing over your back, massaging gently at your shoulders. Your wrists are already bruising.

Then a muffled noise calls his attention.

Brandon.

“Now the second half of the deal.”

First | Previous | TBC

Masterlist

[yan-randomfandom]

hi!!! omg i just discovered your blog and i’m in LOVE! could i request yandere stanford pines (platonic or romantic or some other type is up to you) with a reader who is a reincarnated euclidean/flatworlder/dream demon? (i don’t know if you’re familiar with same coin theory, but that’s my inspiration!) preferably with no/limited memories of their past life? i imagine ford would be pretty suspicious at first because of his experiences with bill, maybe even try to kill them… but who knows if those feelings will change… that, or maybe he would get obsessed with them as a replacement muse… lots of possibilities! feel free to change/add anything to the concept, or if it doesn’t interest you, i’d appreciate any yandere ford in general! thank you!!!

Yandere!Stanford Pines x Godling!Reader

this took me a while, but i finally got around to writing it! thank you for your kind words, anon! this one contains continuous drabbles— because this is so long, feel free to point out any mistakes

🌑

You have been summoned.

Even from your deep slumber, the presence of other ghastly beings roaming around the dimension was painfully obvious to you. How curious; they don't seem to belong here.

"You. You grant wishes right? No deals?"

The one who summoned you flinched when you made eye contact. With their chin lifted, they tried to seem intimidating, yet the tremble of their lips and the quaking of their legs gave them away.

"Indeed, but," you replied, smiling to the best of your ability. You hovered around them, critically observing their physical body, and, by extension, their soul.

They are nothing short of terrified. But intriguingly, their fear does not mainly stem from your presence.

"Pray tell," you mused, twirling their hair with your fingers, "what happened here, dear human? I've been asleep for some time, so I request a small favor: answer my question."

Because if you had to be honest, you have no fucking idea what's happening right now. The longer you stay awake, the more you realize that you have no memory of your past.

"Bill Cipher happened. This is the Weirdmaggedon," they answered, their body shaking more intensely. You paused. "I don't know what he wants. Please, all I ask is for you to transfer me and my family somewhere safe. The ones I care about have turned to stone. We just want to be happy. Please."

A giggle escaped you. "A noble wish. Very well, I shall send you and your family to the nearest safe place."

You placed your hand on the top of their head, and they vanished out of thin air.

Humming a tune, you made your way out of the cave where you had been trapped and finally saw the world outside.

...

Swirling colors and chaotic phenomena surrounded you. What a monstrosity. Someone else has taken over this area—Bill Cipher, was it?

Turning your head, you saw an enormous bubble wrapped in chains. A grin stretched across your face.

So that’s where you sent your summoner.

🌒

Weirdmaggedon is officially over.

Stanford knew that. Bill is gone. His brother is slowly but surely regaining his memories back. Everything was going to be... normal again.

As normal as it can be anyway. A sigh left Ford when he rolled over to his side, staring at practically nothing. The room is pitch black.

He closed his eyes.

...

It's bright. With a gasp, his eyes snapped open.

A familiar field. The gentle breeze doesn't calm him down in the slightest. He's back here. Again. Why? Did Bill somehow escape? Is he out for revenge? That stupid dream demon—!!

"Gree—"

Ford shouted, immediately swinging his fist at you. You dodged swiftly in time.

"—tings! Woah!" you huffed, taking extra care to ensure he didn’t land a finger on you. "Is this how you usually greet a higher being, Stanford Pines?"

The human’s heart races uncontrollably. This can’t be happening. "Bill, what twisted form have you taken now? Didn’t we destroy you already?!"

You blinked, then laughed. "I'm not Bill, silly! He's long gone, I'm pretty sure. How should I know?"

Not Bill? What kind of nonsense are you spewing out? Stanford's expression darkened. This might be a dream, but he really didn’t want to deal with you—especially not after everything that had just happened.

You immediately noticed his demeanor.

"...Oh. I'm sorry," you muttered, getting close enough to meet his eyes. They widened at your words. "I didn't mean to laugh at your misery. I've just been so confused lately."

"What?" was all Ford could manage to say.

"I heard all about you," you said carefully, making gestures with your hands. "Human with six fingers. The man who freed Bill Cipher. Who has traveled across dimensions."

"Who told you...?"

You smiled. "I asked many—don't worry about that part. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about myself. You seem to know a lot, Pines."

Ford woke up.

Was that just a dream? Were you even real? Bill is long gone, dead. Isn't he? He won't find the answers to his questions until he falls asleep again.

🌓

Ford doesn't do anything about you until he's sure of himself. You were definitely just a figment of his imagination, right? A dream.

That’s exactly why he couldn’t believe it when you showed up again. A stupid, curious expression on your face.

And this time, Ford took it upon himself to try and kill you.

"Urk! Don’t do this! I understand you're traumatized, but I really am just trying to find my home!" you stammered, flying and dodging every attack he threw your way.

This is weird. You’re saying things Bill would never say. Is he really trying the opposite approach just to manipulate Ford again?

A massive blast from a cannon struck you.

To both of your surprise, the attack did absolutely nothing to damage you.

"I'm alive!" you exclaimed with glee, up in the air, comically rotating from the impact. "Done yet, Pines? I simply want to talk, you know!"

... Of course. Both of you are untouchable in the dreamscape. While you can imagine anything within both the mind and the dream, a being like Bill isn't stupid enough to enter with his actual body. Guess it worked the same way for you, too. It was still worth a shot.

Ford woke up.

🌔

"Finally ready?"

You tittered at him up from above. Ford narrowed his eyes at you.

"What do you want?" he deadpanned. "You're not here to make a deal, are you?"

"Deals are not my forte," you said, showing him a negative gesture. "I do wishes. But if I have to admit, I wouldn't wish something from me either."

"So you trick people," he replied, gritting his teeth. "Why do you feel the need to do that? What benefits do you gain?"

You glanced at the side before looking back at him, shrugging. "I don't remember."

"Is that so? How many wishes?"

"One."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Bill—"

"I am not Bill," for the first time since you've met him, your voice finally sounded firm. "As far as we both know, he is gone."

"... What is your name, then?"

"I don't remember."

🌕

A frustrated huff left Ford as he rubbed between his eyebrows. You giggled, pushing your hand through his hair. It's soft.

"You're not being helpful at all," he said.

"Apologies," you replied, looking sheepish. "It's hard to answer your questions if I know nothing."

"There must be something you know," the man insisted, stepping away from your touch. He doesn't like how gentle it was.

You hummed, crossing your arms as you floated away. "Do you know how Bill looks like? Am I of similar physique, perhaps?"

Ford paused as his eyes glanced up and down at your form. You can't help but feel uneasy under his tenseful gaze.

"You don't know what Bill looks like?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

This man sure is suspicious of you. Not that you blame him. "No. I believe I never met him."

"You believe?" he scoffed. "I hope you know it's hard to trust you."

"Well," you drawled, "would it convince you if I said you can wish for my memory to come back?"

His eyes widened.

You chuckled. Maybe this is too shocking for him. Take it slow, you thought.

"Before anything else, though, how about we enjoy a nice cup of dream tea?"

🌔

You stared at the chess board in between you and Ford, confusion filling your face. "Wait, how does the knight move again?"

"Think of this shape," Ford explained, forming a black marker with his thoughts and drawing the letter 'L' in mid-air. "The knight moves to the end of this point. Just try to visualize it on the board."

"Oh, I think I understand," you muttered, choosing to move your knight in the corner of the board.

Ford grinned. He placed his queen right next to your king. "Checkmate."

"What?!" you gasped, your eyes rambling around the whole chest board. "I mistook my king for the queen! I say rematch!"

A hearty laugh escaped Ford's lips. If this was in the physical world, he's sure that his cheeks would start hurting from smiling so much.

He still wasn’t sure if you were dangerous or not. Really, he should know better than to mess with otherworldly beings.

But maybe this time, you're different. Because, as far as he knows, you're currently powerless.

🌓

"Pines," you said as Ford roamed his hands across your body. He said this was his way of observing how different you were from Bill. "Aren’t you going to use your wish to help me regain my memory? Or do you want to use it for something else?"

He rubbed his thumb over the side of your body shape. Interesting. You're just as two-dimensional as Bill is. "I only have one chance of using my wish, don't I?"

"Indeed," you murmured, shifting slightly under his touch. "I won't stop you if you use it for yourself, but I'll have to find someone else who might use the wish for me."

Ford halted all his movements.

"What?"

You drifted away from his fingers. He stared at you, wide-eyed.

"I said I'll find another to grant my wish for me," you explained. "Anyway, how was your assessment? Am I anything like Bill?"

Ford continued to stare at you, looking as if he were lost in thought.

...

"Pines?"

"Sorry," he coughed, "But, yes, you're quite similar to Bill."

You beamed, floating over to him and ruffling his hair. "Another step closer to figuring out who I am! Thank you, Pines!"

Ford woke up.

He stared at the dark ceiling. The sun has barely risen.

You had no memories. If he helped you get them back, would you be indebted to him? Or would you turn out like Bill, who wanted to rule the world?

Ford can't let you meet up with another human.

There's only one way out of this.

🌒

"You're ready to use your wish?" you gasped, placing your hands on his shoulders. "That's excellent news! However—"

"Question. Do you have limits in your wishes?" Ford asked deliberately, careful with his every word.

You hesitated before replying. "I suppose not."

His large hands held yours over his shoulders. You glanced at his six fingers before meeting his gaze again.

"Then I wish to be your master."

You felt your soul fall to the deepest depths of the dreamscape.

"You'll do anything I ask for. Be under my will. There is no turning back, dream demon."

🌑

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

*giggles* #9 definitely!! Poor Tav getting a wtf moment before they remember? Or maybe it never occurred to them? Whatever inspires you ;))))

Prompt: listening to the other’s heartbeat

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

It was an odd sensation, feeling the rise and fall of a chest, but not a heartbeat. You could hear the intake and outtake of breath. Your head moved that tiny fraction of an inch in a steady rhythm, but no backing thump to bring it all together. It was like listening to quartet without a base; functional, but obviously lacking in something crucial.

“I can hear you thinking,” Astarion murmured.

You blinked, pulling yourself out of your musings. “The tadpoles?”

“No, but this does just as well.” He pressed a finger to the creases between your brow as evidence. “What’s got that wily mind of yours turning?”

“Nothing devious,” you promised. “I was just wondering, do you have to think about breathing?”

He didn’t answer a moment, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly.

“Not anymore,” he admitted. “It’s not required outside of speech; however, people tend to notice if you don’t breathe. Not immediately, but there is an awareness that something isn’t quite right, puts them on edge. It took me a few years to get back in the habit. Now I have to put in the effort to stop.”

You hummed in consideration, watching your outstretched hand move with his chest.

“What brought this on?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I can’t hear your heart. It seemed odd, your breathing was steady, but not your heartbeat.”

“Oh,” he said, as if surprised.

You glanced up at him. “Don’t tell me nobody else has noticed.”

“Nobody has mentioned it, if that’s what you mean. Admittedly anyone who came close enough to listen never stayed for long, and just as often were more concerned with their own racing heartbeats.”

He said it in a light tone with his usual sultry airs, but it was easy enough to catch the underlying hurt of it all. It was his scars all over again. They were such an obvious sign of mangled torture and yet, in two hundred years, nobody bothered to help. And here again, two hundred years without a heartbeat, and not a word. It was enough to make anyone contemptuous of the world.

“Does it…bother you?” he asked.

You shook your head, giving him a gentle smile. “It is odd, but nothing I can’t get used to. Besides, it’s a sure fire way for me to know it’s you I’m holding. As far as I know, shape changers can’t stop their hearts from beating.”

He let out a surprised laugh, the vibrations spreading pleasantly through your whole body.

“I think you’ll have other problems if you let a shape changer get that close darling,” he said.

“Well, let’s hope to not find out.”

He hummed in agreement, relaxing back into the pillows.

You let yourself do the same, curling your body around him as your head made a home on his chest. He held you there, letting his hands rub absentmindedly up and down your back.

“I can feel your heart,” he said, after a long pause.

“Oh?”

He nodded, leaning down just enough to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“Moments like this, I sometimes mistake it for my own.”

You couldn’t think of anything clever to say and so decided to say nothing at all. Instead, you turned your head, pressing a kiss over where his heart ought to be. You had more than enough heart for two.

[jupiter-letters]

Dating Number 4/ Klaus Hargreeves would include☂️👻:

Fem! or GN! Reader TW: Brief mentions of addiction

A/N: I started Umbrella Academy a week ago and I’m obsessed, I’m almost done with season 3 and I can’t wait for season 4. I’d managed to fall in love with Robert Sheehan all over again and all that love has to go somewhere so here it is.

Waking up to little peppered kisses on your back and up your torso. If you don’t open your eyes he’ll just start blowing raspberries into your neck and on your face. Once he hears you laughing he’ll stop and flip you over. He likes being the first thing you see when you wake up. Some days are a little more peaceful and less silly, you wake to see him still asleep. A mess of curls and smudged glitter eyeshadow is the first thing you see. He’s at such peace and the most still you’ll ever see him. 

Putting makeup on each other, whether it’s going out or just playing around with new looks it doesn’t matter. Being able to experiment with new colors and combinations with each other is so much fun. On date nights you’ll pick outfits for each other, sometimes even just wearing each other’s clothes. Doing things like this with him leads to doing most things together. 

Why have him do things when you can do it for him? Or even with him? He loves having you wash his hair. Showers, baths? Of course we have to both be in there at the same time! Klaus is so touch starved any reason to spend time together he’ll take it,an added bonus is your company keeps the spirits away. 

You’re always in close proximity to each other, so your skin is always touching. Klaus just can’t get enough, physical touch becomes his middle name. He’s a natural affectionate person but just having you near is very grounding for him. 

He’ll draw on you with little glitter pens he carries in his pocket, he likes to call you his “canvas and his muse.” Even without the pens he’ll trace random shapes and words onto your arm or your back when you both lie in bed. Klaus also likes to play with your fingers when he’s bored.

Kissing!! He’s such a fiend for kissing my god, after that first kiss he’s finished. He always says he wants just one but it ends up escalating to a full on make out sesh. Doesn’t matter if you’re public or not you look too good it’d be a crime not to kiss you. Klaus doesn’t really give a damn about public embarrassment, if you wanted him to he’d run through central park naked, he would.

 Once he knows you’re ok with all the random bursts of affection he really piles it on. Neck kisses, shoulder kisses, nose kisses, not one day goes by where he doesn’t kiss you. He kisses like he wants to devour you, if he wasn’t able to kiss you that’d be hell on Earth. If you’re a fan of random kisses at the most inappropriate times he’s a professional. You’re driving, he’s gonna make out with you. Out shopping, kissing! Right now! Doctor’s appointment? Kisses under your jaw in the waiting room, he can’t help it, he's bored.

Helping him get clean, you and Ben have been pretty good influences in his life. Trying to keep him on the straight and narrow for the sake of his health. He wants to be present for you, he wants to be able to remember the things you do together. You help him find fun things to do without getting drugs involved. Taking your time and being patient with him means the world to him. He loves his siblings but they aren’t the best at helping him with it. They do try a little harder when you come around seeing how serious you are about helping him. You stay awake with him when his nightmares get too bad or when the withdrawal is really wearing him down. If it’s the ghosts that are bothering him you just tell them to piss off.(he really appreciates that)

Klaus begins to teach himself new skills to help you out around the house, cooking, cleaning you name it. He doesn’t do it very well but you appreciate the effort anyway. Chores become another activity for you both to do. He’ll even indulge in some of your hobbies just for the fun of it. 

Tattoos! He gets something on his wrist that reminds him of you, he can’t wait to show you too. If you get one related to him, god forbid a little number 4 on you he’ll cry. He does eventually tell you about the rest of his journey in Vietnam and Dave. Klaus wants to be sure you know he won’t compare you to him, He’ll always love Dave but he doesn’t love you any less. He’ll get really shy if you kiss his hand tattoos, there aren’t a lot of ways to fluster him so that’s a good one. 

Being surrounded by death and destruction most of his life really makes him appreciate what you have. The way you indulge in his antics and impulses makes Klaus feel so seen. You don’t feel real to him sometimes; late at night he’ll just lay his head on your chest and listen to your heart beating. 

When some crazy new developments or drama happens in his family you’re first to know. Luther tells him something very personal and secret and 15 mins later he’s calling you on the mansion’s phone. 

Luther: “This stays between us Klaus I mean it…” Klaus: “Of course Lulu I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone you’re dirty little secret” A few moments later… Klaus: “Babe you’ll never believe what Luther just told me!”

He’ll always be looking at you, wherever you are and whatever you’re doing you have his full attention. Klaus will just be gazing at you lovingly while five is trying to talk to him, eventually he’ll just ignore him and go to talk to you. You're his favorite person to talk to; he never gets bored with you.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

[zorobff]

i bet on losing dogs. (opla!zoro x reader)

synopsis: zoro is defeated by mihawk and therefore unable to claim the title of the world’s greatest swordsman. you just want him to know that he’s still the greatest to you.

warnings: mentions of blood, some direct dialogue from opla, not much romance i literally just wanted someone to tell zoro he’s enough bc he deserves it <3

a/n: idk if this is any good i just wanted an excuse to write and one piece has been my fixation for like 2 months now so :P

you can’t move.

it seems as if every bone in your body is frozen in place despite your brain telling you to do something — anything. you stand there, eyes helplessly locked onto zoro’s weak and defeated body. your heart is racing and you’re unable to stop your mind from doing the same. after all, there was a certain unease that came with seeing someone like roronoa zoro be conquered. his dream of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman had been crushed within minutes. knowing zoro, that thought would be tougher to overcome than any physical wound.

you want to run to him. to be with him.

luffy beats you to it.

“zoro!” he shouts with such pain that you wonder if he’s somehow hurting more than the swordsman is.

the sight of your captain sprinting across the deck of the baratie manages to push you to action. the two of you rush to zoro’s side, trying and failing to look anywhere but the bright red gash across his torso. it’s even worse up close. with every heave of his chest, more blood oozes out.

the cut is impossibly deep and yet, you can’t help but feel grateful. you’d seen the size of mihawk’s sword. the thing could’ve split zoro in half with the flick of a wrist. just the thought of that sends a new wave of shivers down your spine. you thank every higher power that mihawk was feeling generous enough to spare your friend’s life.

“zoro?” you attempt to say his name calmly. “zoro, please talk to us.”

his eyelashes flutter as he attempts to keep conscious. you see the subtle wincing in his face, the clenching of his jaw. for a second you wish he would have passed out, at least then he wouldn’t have to endure all this agony. even though this was surely the worst hit anyone had landed on him during his extensive career, you could tell that wasn’t the hardest part for him.

his eyes stay glued to the skies, refusing to even acknowledge you or luffy. his irises gloss over and tears well up on his waterline. there could only be one thing on his mind, the one thing you knew he was truly passionate about; his promise. was he afraid he had let down that nameless person he always spoke of? that he had failed as a swordsman?

for some reason, you want to cry with him.

“you did good,” you whisper without a second thought. “just stay awake, okay?”

luffy nods in agreement, hand coming to grip zoro’s shoulder so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“monkey d. luffy,” calls mihawk, shifting everyone’s attention back to him. “what is your goal?”

your captain nearly growls. “i’m going to be the king of the pirates.”

luffy’s response could seem rehearsed. mechanical, even. but the truth is he just meant it that much. his conviction was unmatched in every possible way.

“king of the pirates, eh?” repeats mihawk. there’s a hint of amusement in his tone. however, he wasn’t mocking luffy, as many people tend to do when they hear of his dream. “that is a much more treacherous path than defeating even me.”

luffy whips around to fix mihawk with a stern glare. “i don’t care. it’s what i’m going to do.”

“maybe you will at that,” muses the bearded swordsman. “this world could use a few more wild cards.”

their odd exchange ends there, leaving an unnerving silence. the sound of your choked back sobs getting caught in your throat and waves splashing against the deck is all there is for a moment.

“why the tears, girl?” mihawk inquires.

you can’t bear to look at him, much less respond. not after what he’d done to zoro. your hands that once rested reassuringly on your crewmate’s stomach now ball into fists. how could he behave so nonchalantly when he had injured zoro within an inch of his life?

“seems like you aren’t as plucky as the rest of your crew, hm?” mihawk comments when his question is met with silence.

hot tears of frustration roll down your cheeks. “get lost. you’ve done enough damage, haven’t you?”

“that would be incorrect. i was tasked with retrieving your captain for the marines. as you can see, i have yet to do that.”

“i couldn’t care less about what you came here for,” you tell him between gritted teeth. “how do you have the nerve to stand there and talk down to us after what you did to him?”

mihawk’s head tilts to the side as he observes you. pensively, he murmurs, “you care for him.”

“of course we care for him, he’s our crewmate!” luffy shouts in response, clearly missing the true meaning behind the words.

on the other hand, you opt to stay silent, slightly embarrassed about how quickly mihawk was able to catch on to you. were your feelings really that easy to see through? almost as if confirming your concern, mihawk coughs out a dry chuckle before his face falls stoic once more.

“look after him.” his gaze lingers on you when he says that. “it is too soon for him to die. roronoa zoro, grow strong and come find me. i’ll be waiting.”

with that, mihawk makes his exit. once the coast is clear, usopp and nami finally come scurrying over. the marksman kneels down on zoro’s left while the latter stays standing, almost too afraid to get close.

“he’s losing so much blood,” usopp notes, voice unsteady.

luffy is quick to shut down the true implication behind those words. “he’s going to be okay.”

a strangled groan escapes the green-haired swordsman in question. the four of you freeze. the moment feels eerily similar to when you watched him collapse after mihawk had struck him down. for the second time in a day, zoro has all of you holding your breath in anticipation.

“if i—” he swallows hard, eyes still shiny and looking upward. “—fail to become the world’s greatest swordsman... you’ll be disappointed. right?”

luffy’s gaze softens. “you could never fail me.”

however, your captain’s sincere words don’t seem to be enough. zoro finally rips his gaze away from the clouds, head lolling to the side to face you instead. those wide eyes of his always held so much intensity, so much emotion. now is no different as he meets your stare, seemingly in search of your reassurance as well.

it wasn’t that you were unsure of what to say but how to say it. you didn’t trust yourself to speak your mind and say what you truly thought of zoro. the last thing you needed was your feelings for him slipping out at a time like this. you decide to play it safe and just nod. “you know i feel the same way. we all do.”

“i need… to hear you say it,” he replies, voice cracking.

your heartbeat gets caught in your throat at the utter desperation in zoro’s voice. it sounded as if he truly needed your approval if he was going to survive this. it was unlike him to get hung up on something so trivial such as someone’s opinion of him. he never seemed to care what other people thought, why was he starting now? and with you, of all people?

before you can question it any further, zoro hisses. the pain causes his entire body to tense and his wound spurts fresh crimson. without thinking, your hand comes up to rest reassuringly on his cheek. automatically, your thumb begins rubbing soothing circles on the skin. he’s hot to the touch and slick with sweat but you don’t mind it. the way his body relaxes itself is all you care about. well, that and the way he leans into your touch. for someone who rejected physical contact at every given chance, this was new but very, very welcome.

the emotion of it all causes you to lose any concern you’d previously had over voicing your thoughts about zoro. you can’t help but give him the response he was begging for, regardless of how smitten you sounded.

“zoro, you’re the best i’ve seen. and i don’t just mean with your swords. no defeat could ever take away what you have, you know that right? almost everyday i ask myself what the hell i’m doing on the same crew as someone like you. you don’t understand how much it pains me knowing that you feel the need to prove your worth when clearly you’re the greatest there is. in every way. so, how could i ever be disappointed in you?”

there’s a few moments of silence. this time, you truly don’t hear a thing. not the waves, not the birds in the sky, not even the thumping of your own heartbeat. your brain has blocked out everything that isn’t zoro. the same zoro who’s breaking down into tears right in front of you. it’s an unbelievable sight, watching them stream down his face as he takes in everything you’d just said.

using what little strength he has left, zoro lifts a shaky hand to rest atop yours. you pause your ministrations on his cheek and let him intertwine his fingers with yours. he squeezes your hand so tightly that you’re positive it takes everything in him to do so.

“never… again,” he chokes out, tearful eyes meeting yours. “from now, until i beat him.” he uses his left hand to unsheathe his sword. he lifts it to the sky with purpose, as if to solidify this vow. “will i ever give you a reason to be disappointed in me. i, roronoa zoro, will never lose again!”

his grip becomes unsteady, causing his sword to fall from his grasp and clatter on the ground. his arm falls back to his side and he’s able to give you one last look before he’s out cold.

“zoro?” luffy calls, leaning forward. “zoro?!”

you suck in a shaky breath at the feeling of his hand going limp. you’re grateful he’s still breathing at the very least but it’s clear he needs medical attention fast.

“let’s get him inside,” nami commands. it’s the first thing she’s worked up the courage to say.

luffy and usopp waste no time shifting zoro’s arms over their shoulders while you and nami take his legs. despite your joint efforts, the four of you struggle to drag zoro off the baratie; you blame his rigorous training that had made him all muscle. usually you wouldn’t complain but it sure made carrying him aboard the going merry a difficult task. at last, he’s dumped onto the table in your makeshift kitchen.

“get the first aid kit,” nami demands, opening zoro’s shirt to inspect the severity of his wound.

“do we even have one?” usopp replies as he shifts around every cupboard and drawer on the ship.

“zoro… can you hear me?” luffy’s quiet voice gets lost in the commotion your two other crew mates are creating. but you take notice.

“he’s going to be alright,” you tell him. whether you say it for luffy or yourself, you aren’t certain.

“someone needs to go back to baratie,” nami sighs, running a hand through her ginger locks. “maybe one of the customers is a ship’s doctor.”

the devil fruit user blinks a couple times. “right. a doctor. we need a doctor.” he sprints out of the kitchen, presumably in search of one.

once your captain’s gone, nami aids usopp in scouring the kitchen, in search of anything that could potentially help your crew mate until he’s able to receive the proper medical attention.

you decide to stay right by zoro’s side. not once do you leave him.

[myspacebrat]

I’ve had this thing in the back of my head for awhile about Phone Sex Operator!Eddie and the reader going through a dry spell so she calls to get out her frustration OR the other way around and Eddie constantly calls because he’s obsessed with her voice, and most of the time he just wants to hear her voice so he’ll spend his time just talking to her

dial-a-thrill

Phone sex operator!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you and your ex broke up more than five months ago and you’ve refused to start dating again, even the thought of a one night stand puts a bad taste in your mouth but on a lonely night something you thought you’d never be desperate enough to do, becomes as tempting as ever.

⚠️warnings: eventual smut, 18+ mdni, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation, sweet eddie, talk of sexual acts, lots of pet names (baby, sweet thing etc) readers been deprived, one little mention of readers ex being a cheater, they fall fast.

notes: thank you so much to whoever requested this. I’m obsessed with this prompt. Yes, there will be a part 2. (don’t forget to tip your writers with a comment and reblog)

wc: 3k

You’re not sure what lead you to this point, what has you so desperate to stoop to a new low. But you’re willing to bet it’s the fact that you’ve not been touched in several months. After you ended things with your cheating, lying, sorry excuse of an ex boyfriend Troy, the thought of moving on and putting yourself back out there in the dating world just didn’t seem appealing to you in the slightest. You decided after the break up to throw yourself into work, so you didn’t have to deal with the hollowed out feelings of loneliness that had taken over.

Up until now, you thought you’d be completely fine, you thought you would make single life your bitch by doing just that, staying single. What’s the point of moving on when you’re just bound to get hurt? You couldn’t risk feeling that pain, again.

So instead of being a normal person and going out to a bar or club to find someone to offer you the release you’ve been craving, you’re dialing a number you got off the the tube as you watched some late night tv. The commercial alone had you hot and bothered, the men they used for the ad reeled you in so easily, but the sultry sound of the man’s voice that read off the number, beckoning you to call and talk to “hot local men” had you shamelessly clenching your thighs together. Has it really been so long, that you’re this desperate? The answer is yes, absolutely.

So here you are laid in bed, silky pajamas adorning your curves, as you wrap the red cord of the landline around your manicured fingers. Awaiting a voice on the other end, as the phone continues to ring. You debate hanging up, this was embarrassing, surely the man that picks up will know what a desperate loser you are, so desperate you have to call a phone sex operator to help you get off. But your curiosity out weighed your pride at this point.

“Hello, thank you for calling dial-a-thrill, what’s your name?” The low husky voice greeted, knocking you right out of the back and forth thoughts playing ping pong in your mind.

“Hi, hello.” You replied, as all confidence left your body “m-my names, y/n.” You closed your eyes in shame, rubbing your hand down the side of your face, it’s been so long that you can’t even speak to the opposite gender without fumbling over your words, or it could be the insanely attractive voice of the man on the phone, that is making you lose all resolve.

“Nice to meet you y/n, my names Eddie. How are you this evening?” He mused, you could hear the hints of a smirk said through his words.

“I’m doing okay, how’s yours?” And you definitely sucked at small talk.

“Can’t complain now that I’m talking to you.” He flirted, you know he probably says that to everyone who calls in, but you couldn’t help the blooming heat of your cheeks at his admission.

You giggle like a little school girl, “well same here, Eddie.” You try out the same salacious tone he’s using, but end up cringing at yourself.

“What can I help you with tonight, sweetheart?” Your panties are ruined, you mind as well take them off now because if he keeps up with this you’ll be drenched. “Hmm, I don’t know, I just wanted to talk.” You responded, immediately realizing how desperate that sounds, you should’ve just hung up when you had the chance.

“Just to talk? Are you sure about that?” He laughs a little before continuing. “I mean, we can talk, don't get me wrong but people don’t usually call just to talk.” Yup, you were right, you are humiliated.

“Yeah, I’m sure they don’t, but um I’ve just I don’t know maybe this was a dumb idea, I’m sorry.” You almost slam the phone down back onto the receiver before you hear his voice again, “no, no, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or weird just because you want to talk. I don’t mind talking, sweet thing, I’m just not used to it, that's all.”

You bite your lip, mentally battling with yourself whether you want to continue, his voice once again knocks you out of your inner turmoil, “hello? Sweetheart?” — “mmm, yeah I’m here, sorry!” You say after clearing your throat. “Well what would you like to talk about? we can talk for as long as you'd like, but just to remind you, it is 5 dollars per hour.”

“Right, yeah I remember,” you clarified as you lay back into your pillows, getting more comfortable. “So, how do these calls usually go for you?” Probing purely out of curiosity, a little part of you wanting to know how this phone call could possibly go.

“Well, that depends on you, sweet thing.” He chuckles, “but, usually it’s women wanting me to help them get off.” He sighs, as if he’s deep in a memory, “mm, I see, so what do you usually say t-to help them?” You were aware Eddie could practically feel your nervous energy through the phone, “hey, baby. I can tell you’re nervous, I'm sure this is your first time doing this, but I promise you I'm not here to judge you, I don’t bite okay?” His voice going from an almost low growl to that of a tone with genuine compassion, it put you at ease and made you feel ten times more comfortable with the whole situation.

“Thank you, I needed that.” You lightly chuckle, “so, do you also touch yourself? Or, I mean I’m sure you get so many calls, sometimes you have to fake it.” You continue prodding until the conversation slowly goes in the right direction, in due time. He hums before he begins speaking, “I’ll be honest, I fake it about 80% of the time, after doing this so long you kind of get immune to the dirty talk and the moans.” You weren’t sure if you wanted that honesty, you definitely don’t want him to fake it with you.

After a beat of silence from you, as if he’s telepathically reading your mind through the phone he lets out a held breath softly distorting the sound on his side. “Shit, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that, I’m trying to make you comfortable and now you’re probably going to be worried about whether what I’m doing or saying is real.” He huffs. “No, I mean yeah that was my first thought but I guess I asked so you’d answer honestly. You’re right, I’ve never done anything like this before and I’m just curious on how it all works.” You begin playing with the buttons on your silky top out of nervousness.

“That’s alright, I’ve never had anyone call in curious about any of this, so it’s a nice change. You just tell me what you’re comfortable with and I’ll follow along. How does that sound, baby?” His tone pulls you in like a siren's song. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

You bite your lip, and begin rubbing at your pert nipple as you continue to speak. “Eddie?” Your voice sounded so soft, you almost didn’t recognize it. “Yes, sweetheart?” His voice, just as soft, answered. “Can you not pretend with me, please?” You sounded so delicate, so sweet. “I wasn’t planning on it, y/n.” His voice was wrapped in honey. ‘I wish I knew him outside of this’ pops into your head, but you quickly shake that thought away.

“Your voice is really sexy.” The burst of confidence makes your heart rate pick up. “Oh yeah?” His tone now cocky, you couldn’t help the movement of your right hand making its way into your little sleep shorts. “Mmhm, it is.” The words come out breathy. “Well thank you, sweet girl.” He says. “Mmm.” Is all you let out as you begin to rub your clit over your cotton panties, you can feel the very prominent wet spot in the center. “What are you doing, baby?” The seductive voice on the other end asks. “I have my hand in my shorts, I-I’m rubbing myself.” You say shyly.

Eddie’s eating it up on the other side, your innocence for what you’re engaging in, is really turning him on, he hasn’t been this aroused by a caller in what seems like forever. “How bout you take your little shorts off? Get comfortable.” He suggests, you oblige by lifting your hips and pulling your panties and shorts down in one go, dropping them off the side of your bed. “Okay, they’re off.” The last thing you wanted from this call was to feel desperate, yet here you are completely and utterly desperate for this man, who you didn’t even know. “Good girl,” his tone getting even more salacious, “open your legs up wide for me, baby.” You couldn’t hold back the moan that bubbled out of your chest at his words, you’d never been talked to like this, it was sending you into an orbit and you began to wonder if he was really local to your area like the commercial said, what you would do to meet him in real life and have all these words whispered into your ear as he pounded into your pussy.

“You like that, baby? You wanna be my good girl?” As those words left his mouth, you began to sink a finger into your drenched hole. “Fuck yes, I wanna be your good girl, please?” You beg as your lower lip slightly puckers. “Listen to you baby, you’re a natural.” He says with a chuckle, “such pretty little noises. You’re makin’ my dick hard, sweet thing.” He growls, “mmm, am I really?” You’re continuing the assault on your pussy, pushing your finger all the way in to the second knuckle, but you need more so you add another. “I told you baby, I’m not faking it with you, you make the sexiest sounds I’ve ever heard, fuck!” He groans, you hear shuffling going on in the background. After adding the second finger you’re now letting out little sounds of “uh, uh” and “ah”. You can hear slick, wet sounds coming from him, “If I was there with you right now, what would you want me to do to you, baby?” He sounds breathless. “I would have your fingers inside of me, instead of mine. They’re too small.” You whine with a pout. “I would love to finger fuck you, baby.” He groans, “would you let me eat your pussy?” He sounds so needy, needy for you and it’s turning you on even more, if that’s possible. “I’ve never had anyone do that before.” You timidly say, “no? Well fuck now I wanna be the first guy to eat your pussy, make you feel so fucking good! I’d make you forget what your name was, after I’m done.” His breathing continues to pick up.

“Oh you’re cocky.” You giggle but it’s cut off by a guttural moan you let out after you take the wetness from your hole and begin rubbing your clit. “Fuck,” he moans before continuing. “I have a good reason to be.” He says with a heavy sigh. “Really? Why is that?” Your ministrations have picked up as the knot in your belly begins to tighten, “if you saw my dick in person you’d understand.” He chuckles, “describe it to me, Eddie.” You know the description is going to be what sends you over the edge. “It’s about 8 inches, cut and thick.” Your legs start shaking as you tense up your body, “keep going, omg please keep going.” You squeak. He laughs before he continues, “It’s so fucking hard right now, the tip is so red and I’m already leaking precum, baby.” The picture in your head is so vivid, god what you would do to be able to suck it, or bounce on it. “Eddie, fuck! It sounds so pretty.” The knot is wrapped so tight and your body is unbelievably tense. “Spit on it for me, baby and pretend it’s me on my knees, sucking your cock.” You were full of confidence now that you were on the verge of an earth shattering orgasm, “fuck, I’m the one suppose to be talking to you like that, but holy shit sweet thing, you’re about to make me cum. Are you close?” You debate on lying and edging yourself, you don’t want this phone call to end, but you can’t you’re already there and fuck does it feel amazing. “I’m cumming! Oh my god Eddie, I’m cumming!” You’ve never been a loud person in bed but you’ve also never been this turned on. If that says anything about your ex, then maybe you should be more appreciative that it ended.

“Fuck, I’m cumming too, baby!” You hear the slick noises get faster as Eddie’s moans get louder, as the crescendo of his orgasm crashes over him and now all you hear is the loud breathing of you both, coming down from your highs. “You still there?” He asks, after inhaling and exhaling a particularly deep breath. “Yeah, I’m still here.” You didn’t want this call to get awkward, you should probably just thank him for his time and hang up. “Do you wanna keep talking or are you good for the night?” His cocky laugh makes you playfully roll your eyes. “Well maybe I can call again, sometime?” You get up and slip your panties and shorts back onto your lower half. “Yeah baby, you can call whenever you like.” You can hear his smile, even though you can’t see it, but god you wish you could see it. “So if I were to call, say tomorrow same time, would you answer?” You ask nervously, “Well, I’m not supposed to do this and I never have, but I do have an extension number you can reach me on after dialing this one, if the line is busy then just hang up and try again until I answer, does that work?” You nod before remembering he can’t see you, “y-yeah, that works. What is it?” You dig in your side drawer pulling out an old receipt and pen, “it’s extension #045.” You scribble it down before throwing the pen back in the drawer, “okay, sounds good. You have a goodnight Eddie.” There was a giddiness to your tone, you hoped he didn’t pick up on. “Goodnight, baby. I’ll talk to you later?” He questioned, “yes, talk to you later.” You hang up and stand from your bed walking over to your mirror, sticking the number on one of the open spaces between the mirror and the wood encasing it.

You didn’t call Eddie until four days later, you were swamped with work and when you’d get home you were absolutely exhausted, you also didn’t wanna seem too eager so you were grateful work took up some of your time. But today was your day off and your plan was to stay home and talk to Eddie, maybe it’s stupid to spend your time talking to a phone sex operator but you can’t deny, he made you feel things you never have before.

When the clock hit 7:30pm you punched the number and the extension into the phone, to your disappointment it was busy, so you hung up and decided to occupy yourself for a little bit. After about 20 minutes you called back, Eddie almost immediately answered.

“Hello, thank you for calling dial-a-thrill, what’s your name?” You smile at the sound of his voice.

“Eddie, it’s y/n.” You were afraid the next time you called you’d feel as nervous as the last time, but luckily you had some sort of confidence this time round.

“Fuck, thank god! I had some real weirdos today.” He snorts “I haven’t heard from you, thought you wouldn’t end up calling back.” You could hear the disappointment in his voice. Wow, did he actually want to talk to you? A part of you thought he wouldn’t even remember you the next time you called, but here he is basically telling you he waited for your call, he thought about you. The thought made your cheeks rosy and made a warmth descend over your body.

“I’m sorry, I was really busy with work, and honestly way too exhausted, but luckily I didn’t have to go in today, so..” you trail off before he interrupts. “You don’t have to be sorry, baby. Guess I was just excited to hear from you.” Your eyes slightly widen at his words, excited to hear from me? You silently asked yourself. “Yeah, right. How many women call in and hear that?” You cackled at your words, but Eddie stayed silent. “I actually don’t tell anyone that, just like I’ve never given out my direct extension.” He takes a deep breath, “look, I’m sure you have your thoughts about me considering what my job is, but when I speak to other women it’s about sex and that’s it, for me and them. They don’t care if they’re talking to me or some other guy, I-I know this is weird, given this is our second time talking on the phone, but I really felt this connection with you I’ve never felt, talking to anyone else.” Your stomach fills with butterflies, you knew you felt something, you just didn’t expect him to feel it too. You couldn’t help but do a little giddy dance at his words, you felt like you were dreaming. You’ve been pining over this man for days, unable to get him out of your mind and you don’t even know what he looks like, you only have his voice and personality to go based on and somehow that makes the connection feel deeper. “Hey, um are you really local to Indianapolis?” You sheepishly ask. “I actually live in Hawkins, so kind of.” He says, but his next words catch you totally off guard, “would you like to maybe meet up sometime?”

Thank you for reading!

[izvmimi]

cw: canon deviation. time-skip (post demon slaying). babies. fem!reader.

“And what are you looking at?”

Genya is known for how intimidating he can be, but the round-cheeked, giggling child held at eye level between his hands right now will never see anything other than a loving father no matter how intensely he pretends to glare at him. The giggly ball of dough, practically hairless still despite nearly three months and a half in the world, kicks its feet and Genya smiles, helplessly charmed, before blowing a raspberry into his cheek and lowering him into his lap.

“Those Shinaguzawa family genes are no joke,” your friend jokes. She’s been watching the baby carefully for the past few minutes since she and Tanjiro entered the home, bearing gifts of cloth diapers and handmade quilt blankets, among other soft things. Genya is quickly defensive, reminding her for the nth time that your son has your nose, but you laugh to dispel the tension. After all, she’s right. The baby’s eyes are practically the same as his father's and his uncle's, although when he smiles ear to ear, his eyes close like yours do. 

“He looks just like his daddy,” you agree. You’re still setting your dining table for six and your friends have gotten up to help you pour tea for six, and collect plates of dorayaki, senbei and edamame to set at the table.

Sanemi chuckles, adjusting his sitting position on the tatami.

“I mean, I think we deserve that much,” he says, gruffly, as he supports himself. You know what he means, and nod solemnly without additional comment while his wife squeezes his shoulder before disappearing to follow you. Your friends have congratulated you after the birth of your first child multiple times, having taken turns assisting you right after delivery, but you haven’t seen them in a month or so, and adjusting to your new life has been rewarding but difficult. One of them fills your pantry with dried goods while the other scans the premises for anywhere that she can clean or reinforce. You thank them, a smile on your face.

“We’re doing great. Genya takes good care of me, don’t worry,” you remind them, and they have no problems believing it. 

Your baby thankfully isn’t fussy, and Genya is a surprisingly adept father, quick to learn the basics of bottle feeding and diapering, and making sure your house is clean and comfortable to live in. Living in relative poverty as a child made him work hard and be frugal, experiencing tragedy made him thoughtful and protective, and he does his absolute best to take care of you. 

He’d always promised to take care of you as long as you both lived.

When you return to the entertainment room, your friends and you settling next to the men you’ve chosen, you lay your head on Genya’s shoulder, thankful that he’s the one that you chose, and he chose you just the same.

…

Sanemi and his wife stay the night, and once everyone has turned in from the night and your son is sleeping peacefully in his bassinet, you lay in bed, wrapped warm in Genya’s arms. 

“We need a nephew or niece of our own, don’t you think?” you muse. “Gotta get them in the sack faster before they can’t catch up to us.”

Genya snorts, pressing his chin on the soft of your shoulder as he holds you closer. 

“That’s their business,” he murmurs, gruffly. “By the way, tell your friend to stop calling our kid ‘tofu’.”

You giggle. “Has it been bothering you?”

“Yes or I wouldn’t be bringing it up right now.”

“I think it’s cute,” you tease, turning in his hold. He’s surprised by the sudden movement, you can tell, by the red in your cheeks. “What?”

Genya blinks, then kisses your forehead. “Nothing.”

“Is something on my face?” you ask. 

“No. You’re beautiful.” You beam at this, then pull the covers tighter around your body.

“You’re a good dad, Genya,” you remind him.  You’re not sure that he needs to hear it, but you want to reassure him. He’s heard tip after tip from his older brother today and you overheard Sanemi telling him his mother would be proud of him. You hope it sinks in because she would, and you wonder if he’s still mulling over the thought.

The sweet child nicknamed ‘tofu’ to his father’s chagrin sleeps through the night with parents that love him more than anything on earth, because they love each other more than life itself.

[vamph00n]

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆mdni!!⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆

tags: celebhoon!!xmakeupartistreader!! fem reader, morally grey hoon, sunoo cameo. nsfw

wc: 6k

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ synopsis: in which page one of the terms and conditions of your contract explicitly states that having physical relations with anyone in the workplace will result in an immediate suspension. that being said, you wonder how long it’ll be till you're fired. well maybe you’ll be exempted from that fate. considering it takes two to tango, and the other person in question is sunghoon. by technicality, you two didn’t exactly break the rules…yet.

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ taglist: @deobitifull @jakeswifez @d-dilemma

smut tags under the cut!!!

smut tags: dubcon, thigh riding, voyeurism, oral (m receiving), cum, spit, etc lmk if i missed anything.

nothing of what i wrote is meant to represent the real world, please consume what you can handle.

enjoy!

you've heard the woes of people who’ve worked at this specific entertainment agency. as to the reason why, you’ve been met with one hell of a contract for starters. in which the first rule of the terms and conditions explicitly states:

there will absolutely be no physical relations between anyone in the company.

you kind of figured it was a no brainer. working in this industry for a while it was an unspoken rule, but at this company? it was serious. anyone who fucked around didn’t stay long enough to truely understand the social repercussions and the forever stain it left on your reputation.

[redacted] entertainment made sure your future employers had the full rundown on your work behavior.

to you? it was doable. the amount of people you’ve seen come and go from this company was astounding. honestly that rule was the only one that got people fired in the first place, but nonetheless you were dead set on keeping this job.

one, because it paid well, and two; sunghoon.

…

“if you really consider it, they didn’t exactly break rule one,” your coworker conversed.

“yeah, they did,” you emphasized. “giving head is physical relations.”

both of you snickered at yourselves.

eating the food you packed for lunch, you play with that idea. so big deal, you can’t fuck said other employee; there are many ways you can have sexual relations with someone that doesn’t breach company policy. you’re sure that if you had made the decision to whore yourself out to whomever you choose, you’d be sneaky about it. as if you had anyone in mind.

well you do, it’s just…you’d rather put your work first.

“so who’s your ‘muse’ for the next hour” your coworker interrupts your thought process.

looking across the table to the bleach blonde boy whom you spent the majority of work and lunch breaks with, you sigh with contempt. if he didn’t have such a knack with a beauty blender, he’d be a model for the agency himself.

“park sunghoon”

the both of you scrunch your faces in displeasure. so damn difficult. sunoo shakes off that icky feeling, which earns him a faint smile from you. working with him is definitely what made this hell hole bearable.

ever since the well performing ad that prick starred in, it’s like his ego skyrocketed by ten fold. gone were the days he was solely booted to being a deodorant model, (in which you and sunoo had joked about having to conceal his dark underarms one day…)

the aversion seemed to go both ways. sunghoon the no-longer-antiperspirant-endorser, also seemed to have the same malcontent. but it was not exclusive to you two, he was just as equally uninterested to all staff.

well, maybe he was a bit mean to you and sunoo, because word got around about the little inside jokes you made.

“as much as i’d love to keep chatting, you have a date with the former ice prince of febreeze for your pits.” the blonde's laugh echoed.

you chuckle off sunoo’s comment, and brace for a painstakingly slow day.

…

in the midst of the many semi-harmless remarks you’ve made about sunghoon, guess you’ve forgotten to mention the fact that he is your favorite face to work on.

he’s stunning.

unzipping your kit, and setting out the products chosen after reviewing the theme of today's photoshoot, he arrives on the dot. the same icy gaze he seems to never take off lands on you for a few brief moments. you don’t know how long he’s been staring, because your eyes met his once you turned his direction. the manager trailing behind him with a clipboard in hand pulls sunghoon’s attention away, and you continue to set up your workstation. mentally taking note of your supplies:

curling iron, brushes, makeup, check.

gone are the days you actually greet your clients, because he just sits in the chair pulling out his phone. it doesn’t matter anymore because per contract rules, someone of his caliber is not to be talked to unless spoken to. maybe it would’ve been better if he stayed an antiperspirant endorser.

prepping his skin, you let the product sit. he looks bored. guess after a while of doing back to back photoshoots he’d be bored. what a luxury, to have other people do things for you at your hand.

there’s always been a clear divide between staff, and models. obviously. people in cosmetics were no strangers to this dynamic, neither were you. it’s maybe why when someone went from being a D-rate model, to being on the cover of multiple magazines; it puts a sour taste in your mouth.

sure, he was always bound to be on the screen advertising and you’d be working behind the camera. but for that brief moment of time when he was unknown, there was common ground between you two. just an unknown makeup artist and an unknown pretty face, joining the same company at the same time. both at the same starting point.

it sucks, because you could’ve known him, you could’ve been better than him.

there was always a tinge of jealousy.

envy, hurt, and abandonment. could you really feel that way because someone you never really knew? no. consulting yourself, and your thoughts at the time, maybe it’s because you felt you needed someone. feeling like you knew sunghoon is what gave you comfort.

it was stupid, and now you’ve diffused into the rest of the backstage staff. you make remarks about famous beautiful people, and they dehumanize you further as they get more starlight.

working the makeup sponge into his face, you watch him glance up a couple of times. a pang in your chest happens accordingly. trying to shut away the little bits of emotion you feel. you convince yourself it’s borderline creepy, how attached you feel to him yet he probably doesn’t even know you.

you go to set his base with powder, then it’s time to do his eyes. it’s been a while since you’ve had any connection to a person that isn’t just platonic. you think perhaps that’s why the fuzzy feelings you have about him bubble up. a reason you give yourself that doesn’t distract you from your mild distaste. it doesn’t help that you’ve also been going through a major dry spell.

the uncomfortable close nature this job fosters, makes it apparent.

the very charming drunk suitors at the bar are no longer, and your tinder had been long deactivated after seeing a family member pop up. there had been no action in your sex life for far too long, and it definitely got to you.

it’s pathetic. you know.

sunghoon’s manager leaves the room, only you and him remaining there. his eyes glance up at the door, then back to you. shit. the little butterflies in the pit of your stomach start flying around, as the little pitter patter of your heart beat increases. trying to break free of this feeling, you disregard the cardinal rule of not speaking unless spoken to.

“i need to do your eyes now.”

he nods, and closes them, putting his ear buds in. a wave of relief crashes onto you as you start to apply the eyeshadow on his lids. your face so close to his, you can hear his shallow breaths and he can hear yours.

“…sorry i’m so close, i can’t see well.” you mutter as you just try to gain composure.

at time like this is when you question if you’ve always been this easy to fluster.

after a long dragged out time spent working on the first eye, you moved to the second. it felt like time stopped, and you lost all ability to do makeup because it was taking you longer than usual. so many times you had to apologize to him for messing up, once you moved to his right eye he had anticipated another apology.

“sorry this is taking so long—“

“you talk too much.” he interrupts you.

reaching out his hand to pull you closer, in which you assume he was helping you get your job done more efficiently.

his eyes still closed, he reaches unintentionally for your hip, and grabs you onto his leg where you sat.

your body stiffens at the feeling, him seemingly okay with it. is he not saying anything to save himself from embarrassment? you don’t know. because now you are close, you can see better. so it did help, and you stay there, just continuing to do his makeup.

you subtlety shift back to see his face entirely, and feel the friction of his knee against your core.

this isn’t fucking happening.

shifting your weight forward again, feeling the sensation of your clothed cunt moving against his thigh you try to get this job done quickly and soon. it has appeared your lack of action has made quite you sensitive.

hoping to hell, and praying to god he doesn’t notice the growing desire bubbling within you, your shaky hand takes the makeup brush. a craft you’ve perfected, and you're finding it hard to keep your thoughts straight as you apply the base layer of his eyeshadow. as you take your time, you hear his shallow breaths turn into grunts of displeasure and impatience.

something that unintentionally turns you on.

holding your breath, you sigh. if he had noticed the discomfort brewing in your pants, you’d imagine the shock on his face. you anticipate what he’d do if he found out. something a little too risky to test.

sunghoon shifts in his seat, causing his knee to rub against your throbbing heat yet again. oh, it feels too good. can’t help but wonder how the mess you must’ve made.

in your head you’ve already convinced yourself that he has no clue what he is doing. you feel a little perverted, but it does ease your neglected cunt. you can only assume he has no idea the things he’s doing to you because his eyes are closed and his earbuds are in. you continue to try and do your job with a faulty hand.

or maybe he knows. the thought does cross your mind, how can it not? does this add to how utterly attractive you find him? yes. a lot actually.

then he adjusts himself again, causing his leg to bump against your sensitive heat.

oh.

this action earns a hushed moan from your throat, in which you are quick to cover your mouth. he doesn’t look up, and thank god. you're almost finished with his makeup, and so ready to go home after this.

your pussy twitches. it must be dripping right now, fuck.

drawing back your attention, you just have to clean up the look, add a couple of embellishments and you’re done. you can tell he’s still bored. that stupid feeling all your clients have when you do their makeup. you feel a weird sense of anger, and frustration at him. in your head keeping the villainized persona of him is easier, so you can just let go of this acquaintance you grew an attachment to. it also helps distract your mind from the wetness pooling. you do ponder… would he be so bored if you had mentioned how soaked your panties were?

as you are just about to finish up, you smudge it.

“fuck.” you say, as you look at the mistake.

“what’s wrong?” sunghoon mutters while opening his eyes. pausing ever so slightly, he takes a look at your face. the flushed color of your cheeks apparent. he doesn’t take note, at least he doesn’t make you aware that it is visible to him. instead he complains, obviously, and you instruct him to shut his eyes so you can end whatever hell of a wet dream this is.

and so you can forget how much this is turning you on.

as you correct your mistake, he starts to bounce his leg in a habit of boredom. you jolt and there is no way he’s not noticing this; wondering if he has caught on, or if he truly is as stoic as he seems.

you however, can’t make sense of it. nor is your endorphin filled brain actually paying attention to anything other than your pleasure.

if you were ever to recount this, which you know you won’t, you’d most definitely be an unreliable narrator.

your hips uncontrollably press into his thigh, warmth concentrates on the weak delicate parts of you and silently, you let the feeling of your climax engulf your lower body. writhing, the slight tinge of dizzy euphoria was fleeting, because you can’t believe you fucking got off.

it’s l surprising how good it felt, how your wet walls must’ve convulsed so deliciously around nothing. you can’t believe it was that good. embarrassment clouds your brain when you realize how bad you needed that.

you wonder if he notices your heavy breaths, if he’ll see the rise and fall of your chest. you wonder slightly… what he’d do if he had relized you came just now.

the thought is too hot for you to handle.

interrupting your silence, you hear the metal clank of the door knob and you come to your feet quickly. feeling the blood rush back to your head, you watch sunghoon’s manager walk in.

“i’ve finished.” you mumbled. you don’t know who you’re saying it to, the manager, sunghoon; or if you're simply just stating what you did all over your panties.

the man before you stands from the chair, adjusting his clothes, dusting off his lap. you can’t help but think that he knows, and he’s going to get you fired. he can’t, this job is quite literally your livelihood. he looks back to you, heading out the door, his eyes meeting yours. the brief flicker of his gaze on your reddened cheeks. of course he has the last word in a tone you can’t decipher.

“i can see that.”

…

the fluorescent lights of the store are migraine inducing. walking through the aisles searching for things to restock your hygiene products.

it’s been a couple of days, and the incident is still fresh your mind. you’d at least hope that by now it’d fade into the back of your head, but it just won’t. the loud generic pop playing over the speakers as you shop does nothing to drown your thoughts. and even when you’re home no amount of dissociating helps either.

but what the hell can you do?

on top of that, you’re still confused if sunghoon knew what happened.

there’s no way in hell he didn’t.

and like the world is plotting against you, one slight turn to the right you are greeted with the outdated deodorant ad of him. the bright lights the store had pointed to the display were obnoxious.

if he knew, he would’ve snitched. a pit in your stomach started to grow.

from that moment since you’ve been counting down the days, wondering when you’ll get the dreaded call into work. it’s torture, you can’t stand it. you’ve contemplated, maybe telling someone would lessen the weight. who would you tell? your therapist? sunoo? absolutely not.

moreover, how do you go about telling someone how much you enjoyed that?

your phone dings, an email. you hold the screen to you face, surprised at the contents.

…

being ordered to the company on your day off was something you didn’t expect, and if you were to be summoned to the building it should’ve been a pink slip. it was neither, instead you were being called to cover for someone last minute.

walking through the hallways of the establishment, it was empty. who could’ve been here on a day like this, you wouldn’t know, especially at this hour. the lights were only on in a couple of sections, many of the studio doors being locked. you assumed this job would probably be a quick one, whatever it might be.

2415, the number of the studio.

makeup kit in hand as you opened the door, you look up. the last person you wanted to see on the other side of it, sunghoon.

the door shuts behind your back, there’s no manager in sight, or crew, or anyone else. his eyes meeting yours, you swallow thickly. the dryness of your throat distracts you. is it hot in here?

his eyes meet yours in a trance. the corner of his mouth raises. this isn’t about makeup, or a photoshoot is it?

“you like me.” he says.

“huh?”

do you? you suppose... his expression is smug, irritating even.

he trails on, looking you up and down. you seem like someone who’s down for a good time. well, you’re someone who had a good time… one that very well could cost you your job. sunghoon knows that.

he feels the little pride in his chest rise, knowing he can easily persuade you. to do something fun, something different.

“do you wanna keep your job?”

…

sunghoon has a lot of things, money, noteriety, and looks.

he doesn’t have you.

honestly, who wouldn’t want the pretty little makeup artist who fell apart on his lap? yeah he knew. of course he fucking noticed. in that moment when you had lost yourself so innocently on his leg he couldn’t help but wonder just how touch starved you might’ve been. to get off simply at him shaking his leg? feeling your needy little pussy rub against against him? it was far too hot for him not to enjoy…

then again, he thinks back to why he singles you out of the dozen. he’s always sort of seen you as… competent, hard working, and unexpectedly…he found you quite interesting.

did the fact you were both briefed for your jobs at the same time help? maybe, and maybe if it weren’t for the stupid work policy he’d have fucked you already. while he wasn't exactly opposed to breaking the rules… he knew you were adamant about keeping your job.

did he practically hang the job above your head? yes, cause he could very well report you if he wanted. there’s no fun in that.

…

sunghoon’s hum rings in the empty studio. your nerves are still present. did you hear him correctly?

“i’m sorry are you—-“

he cuts you off and nods. how long would this take you to process? he’s fucking blackmailing you.

you stand there, still wondering what this could even entail. he’s made it clear, that’s not his intention to get you fired yet, but what is? your stomach forms a pit at the idea what he’ll make you do. you figure… maybe this is a late revenge for the many times you’ve made snarky comments about him, and you should’ve just let go of that in the past. you think how he’ll now commend you for your present day behavior towards him still, cause yes you still find the deodorant model jokes funny. now paired with the fact you know, that he knew you got off on his knee, there was nothing redeemable about your situation.

he steps forward,closing the space between the two of you. his hand grabbing at your chin, your pretty little face between his thumb and index finger. he knows youre not one to put your job on the line to fuck a coworker, even if your so utterly desperate.

so he’s not going to, not yet at least.

his hand releases from your small face, and he looks at you in your taut little shirt. he wonders if you know how enticing you look. do you know what you do to him? walking around the building looking like that all day. even if you have said some remarks about him, at least you're talking about him. that just clarifies that you think of him at the very least.

“i don’t want to get either of us fired.” is what he claims, but he will hang the job over your head if you don’t comply.

“but, i think you’re in a position that can’t say no to some fun.”

god, he must know how desperate you were. how touch starved you must’ve been for something real. it makes your head spin at the minor excitement that he just might do something.

he smirks at your compliance. “i want to get you off.”

clearing the table where you’d usually put your makeup kit, he pushes up against the counter kissing you in a ferocious manner. his lips so plump, it sends your brain into a daze.

this is physical relations. this will get you fired.

pushing his chest away from yours, he wipes the corners of his mouth. “we were just getting started. you chicken out or something?” he lets out an amused laugh rumble from his stomach. it’s something that makes you remember just how demanding he actually is.

“are you stupid? this is physical relations park!”

“if this goes any further we’ll both get fired.” the sound of the fold up chair scooting back as he sits down takes you away into thought.

you are most certainly sure that he does not give two shits about you right now, and that in the moment he really is trying to get you fired. why you felt his moral compass was that off center, it’s cause you’ve known him for long enough. that being said, the ways you’ve known him was purely how he treated you.

“relax, you didn’t think i was actually going to fuck you?”

that hurt, hurt like hell. it deflated the ego you were slowly starting to build, admittedly because you knew it would take a lot for sunghoon to actually throw his job away just for this. it did make you wonder why out of all people he chose you, but that was shut down quick when he just admitted he wasn’t gonna do anything.

“i recall that i said i wanted to get you off.” the stupid look on his face did nothing to diminish your want for his lips on your own.

sunghoon can see the curiosity, the sweet little pout on your face makes him all the happier to walk you through this. picking up your makeup bag from the floor, he rummaged through the pockets. makeup, sponges— and oh, what’s this?

as you sit on the table, it’s killing you that he’s not just doing as he said he would. does he get off on this? just the sheer fact that he might be making you break the rules? sunghoon is absolutely the type to. he grabs something from the bag in which you don’t catch in it’s entirety before he parts your legs.

“you can finger yourself right? no need for me to tell you how to do that.” his raspy voice bellows.

you nod, so utterly needy. your fingers slip under the fabric of your bottoms. he drinks in the sight as you ever so carefully rub the little bundle of nerves between your fingers. knowing that if you went any faster, this will be a quick session, so you take your time, just feeling how his eyes follow the clothed movement of your hands.

impatient, he takes them off for you. your bottoms. the clothe slides down your legs onto the floor, and god, you look tight. he slightly raises his shoulders, if you both weren’t in the company building right now he’d take you. alas he has to remind himself to hold back that urge. your glistening pussy in all its glory, just as pretty as sunghoon had imagined. it’s just as wet as he thought it would get.

just the way it tightens around nothing has his clothes dick feel the strain in his pants.

“bet your needy hole wishes it could feel this huh?” he rasps while palming over the very visible bulge.

he sits back in the chair, picking up the item and tossing it on the table beside you.

a curling wand.

“w-what do you want me to do with this?” the slight dread, and anticipation you had at his next few words made you just slightly whimper.

the action earns you a pleasured look on his face, and spreads his legs as if to show to you that this is indeed also getting him off.

“don’t be dumb, i want you to stick it in.”

your jaw slightly hangs open, that? that curling wand? you don’t think you’ve ever experienced something of that size, or girth. is he crazy?

the look of hesitation on your face confirms to him that you're unsure, but with a little encouragement he knows you’ll be a good girl.

“can’t take this huh?” he muttered, “that’s a shame.”

picking up the wand then running his tongue along the cold metal, before waving it back to your face.

“lube it up then babe.” his fanged smile submitting you so easily.

the phallic shape of the hair tool takes you back to when you’d fantasize about sticking other things up there to satisfy your needs. thank god you found out what vibratiors were before you got too desperate. although it would seem you’ve regressed, or simply just didn’t think about that in the moment.

spitting on it, and lathering the slick evenly across the wand you’re fucking terrified to say the least.

tou feel that must make sunghoon feel some sick pleasure derived front that.

angling it against your entrance you can already feel the tip being too girthy, like it’ll split you open.

sunghoon stands from his chair seeing your hesitance, and a wad of spit lands on the wand.

“if y’can’t get this in don’t know how you’ll be able to take me.”

oh he’s bluffing, but wait so he’ll fuck you eventually?

“wait so you’re going to—“

“not yet.” he raises his voice before landing back on the chair with his legs spread. “not in the company building no.”

unzipping and undoing the button on his pants, he folds over the sides so you can just barely see the dick print peaking through. your mouth almost salivates at the sight, and that makes sunghoon all the more eager to see your tiny cunt take that fucking hair curler. adjusting his posture he rolls down the elastic of his briefs to reveal that fucking christ—

he wasn’t lying.

watching you take in the sight of his cock, he slightly strokes it, making you eager for his touch and your own pleasure.

“gonna sit and stare? or you gonna fuck your pussy?”

silenced at his words, you push the tool into your depths, and sunghoon audibly moans as he watches every inch get sucked into you. he can only imagine what it would be like if that was him, and the little jolts of pain you displayed would be felt around his dick if he had just took you right then and there.

the stretch is insane, on one hand you can feel the bruises that will form within you, on the other hand you can feel how it hits the delicious spots of your inner walls. oh and the faces he makes as you take this monstrous size into you, it makes you imagine what his will feel like when he’s in balls deep, and what his face will look like.

the oh so pretty face you loved working on, and how it would contort into the same gorgeous expressions. watching his hands grip at his girth as you adjust to the size of the wand, you draw it out, then slam it back into yourself.

“fuck!”

you exclaim as your hand grips at the handle, starting to rhythmically thrust it in and out of your hole. it excites sunghoon all the more.

“looks like you still know how to please yourself huh?” his chest flattens as his hand moves faster, trying to match the same pace as you. it’s unbelievable how wet you’re getting. with each sloppy movement he can hear your melodic voice echo slightly in the room. each thrust drawing out a louder sound.

your back pressed up against the wall, your other hands goes to toy with your aching clit, causing a wave of sensations through your core. biting back a moan you know that would be too loud, the male across you pumps his dick even faster. it’s long, hard, so veiny and pretty. the reddened head of his tip oozing with precum, and his chest rising and falling.

he isn’t ashamed to show how much this does for him, he’s not the type. although, something about being able to see you clench makes him want to feel it. it makes him curse at himself for not just fucking you instead of acting none the wiser while you got off on his thigh. is this really how your cunt looks when taking cock? well, the substitute of one.

you’re just walking around freely with that? he’s been holding off for that?

his hands started to not feel enough, he needed a part of you to be on him so he could feel the relief of just having you to make it feel better. standing up, his erect member in hand, he holds it close to you.

“spit on it.” he almost begs.

who are you to say no?

a glob of your saliva drips onto his veiny need, and he feels it dribble down. still close to you, now near the sight that was merely a few inches away, he can really see how your hole just sucks in the wand. it’s dangerous how much he wants it.

taking the wand away from your hold, he helps you himself, fucking into you faster.

your body moves up with every shove, and he watches as you hold yourself up. the sight of your tits bouncing up and down, and the expressions he draws out make his dick twitch harder, his free hand stroking like his life depended on it.

“bet you take cock so good,” he hums before taking his free hand convered with precum placing it on the top of your stomach. as he impales your guts with the tool, the harmonious sounds from your mouth grow louder, your jaw hanging agape. he can feel how it bulges in your stomach, how you're slowly falling apart for him.

“sunghoon—“ you moan out feeling the pressure be too much, but it also feels too good to make it stop.

the sounds being elicited from your gooey and viscous slick are pornographic. he doesn’t think he’s seen anything quite as good, quite as real.

“look at how much there is, must feel so good huh?” he asks tauntingly.

“fuck, can’t imagine what it must feel like having your pussy wrapped around my dick like that.”

his dirty, dirty words almost make you wetter, if that’s even possible. still rubbing your clit, another wad of his spit lands there, his nod encouraging you to keep going.

his dick twitches at the sight, wanting to get you off faster so he can see what it must look like when you cum. his grip on the handle of the tool so strong, you can see the veins of his hand. fucking into you deeper and faster, all the sensations feel too much. the way it throbs for him, the way you’ve been feeling your peak build from the start, the never ending pleasure. this time it’s not as fleeting, this time your not fucking yourself against his thigh. this time he’s fucking you.

your cunt clenches so hardly around the tool, a familiar heat bubbling to the surface. this time, just stronger, and harder than anything you think you’ve ever experienced.

“sunghoon— i” your words are cut off as he pushes in you harder, and presses your stomach.

“yeah? let me see how your pretty little hole tightens all for me.” he almost growls hungrily.

you nod aggressively, feeling him so eager to get you off. he really wasn’t lying.

with another plunge into your swelling walls, you feel it. the waves of release engulf your whole core. you can feel it through your stomach, the delicate bundle of nerves, and in your vagina. you can feel the slick coat the tool more as you still try to come down from the high.

trying to slide out the curling wand you quickly urge him not to.

“fuck i’m still cumming.” you breathlessly exclaim, your whole body shaking from pleasure.

as sunghoon watched he bathes in how filthy you’ve made that metal rod, how much of that was only you. taking his neglected dick in hand, he hovers over the mess to quickly get himself off.

“what are you—“

he shuts you up, and pumps harder on his own cock, urging you to take some of that mess and lather it against his ache.

he’s so lewd, so open about it to you. there no shyness in sight, and he so wants to use the means that you can provide. it’s so hot, you can’t fathom how you’d ever be into anything like this. looking up at him, his face is desperate for relief, and you coat his dick with the slick you drenched the curling rod with.

you can feel how hot and heavy it is, the feeling of your supple fingertips on his length makes his body recoil from sensitivity. he wants to cum so fucking bad.

he doesn’t know when was the last time he was this eager to get off, maybe when he was a teenager he felt like this. it just seems you’re too intoxicating for him to handle. the texture of all your juices on his length make it hard for him to not bust so quickly, but he has to.

“shit, feels too good.” his voice rings as you just watch.

his thumb swirls at his sticky tip, and you’ve never wanted to put something in your mouth as much as you did now.

you hover over his cock, and lick your lips.

“hey— what the hell?!” sunghoon asks as you take it in your mouth. he’s immediately distracted from the bliss, and he feeling his fists and body clench at the sensation.

“shit, we’re breaking the rules right now—“

he didn’t think you’d really break.

you cut him off as the pop sound of your mouth makes his brain go fuzzy. “let me take it, i wanna taste you.” your saliva all stringy on his length makes it impossible to say no.

your tongue languidly laps at his dick, and you can barely take all of it in your mouth. the rest of the length being pumped by your hands. feeling how smooth he is, how he tastes, it’s so weird. so good. you want to revel in how great his cock is, massaging his neglected balls.

this earns a thrust into your mouth, and he can’t stand this any longer.

“baby, stay like that.” he moans while pumping the base of his cock into your mouth.

your tongue licks up the slit of his hard length, and swirls the tip. tasting his needy sap on your tastebuds, and watching his hips thrust forward. he’s dancing in the edge, trying to drag out the euphoric feeling.

“you’re so close.” your voice breathes out tiredly, just watching him in awe.

when he does, he’s loud. it’s so attractive, that you don’t mind how the hot white ropes spill onto your shirt. oh he came, a lot. there’s too much, so much.

pure bliss, his face contorts.

as he comes down, you can’t help but know that-

you both are now at a higher chance of losing your jobs.

[veronicaphoenix]

talk some sense to me | n.s.

Summary: Everybody thinks Noah is a Casanova. The truth is, that's just a façade to keep his romance with his best friend's sister a secret.

"Nicholas' sister was off-limits. It was never stated, but implicitly understood. And maybe because of that reason, Noah couldn’t stay away."

one shot ✨ word count: 2.9k pairing: noah sebastian x reader (nicholas' sister) tags and trigger warnings: 'forbidden' romance', reader is nicholas ruffilo's younger sister, reader is a uni student, long-distance relationship (sort of), fluff, angst, implied and mentioned sexual scenarios (but not described in detail), open ending (sorry).

author's note: i wrote this in a couple of hours and i did some minimal editing after. i had this random story cross my mind yesterday and thought i could turn it into a short fic, but with so many wips, i decided it to keep it a one shot <3 maybe one day it'll turn into a fic, who knows. For now, I hope you like it! 💕

“This is wrong,” Noah whispers as he kisses her, his mouth trailing down her jaw and neck. 

            The way she tilts her head to give him more access makes him feel dizzy and lucky at the same time. 

            “So wrong,” his voice vibrates against her pulse. 

            Her hands tangle in his hair, and he revels in the way she occasionally pulls at it, sending a jolt of ecstasy down his spine. “Your brother’s in the next room.”

            “Then stop,” she murmurs, her voice equally breathless, consumed by a sensation she can’t quite name. 

            But she can; it’s called Noah, her brother’s best friend. 

            “I don’t want to,” he replies, sucking at a spot on her neck he knows drives her crazy. 

            He hasn’t wanted to stop for over two years. 

            They know they’re playing with fire, especially tonight.

            Nick is in the living room, the ongoing party keeping him oblivious to the fact that his childhood best friend, Noah, has taken his little sister to an adjacent room at the back of the house to devour her mouth and touch her in ways no other man ever has. 

            It’s not the first time. 

            Noah has been captivated by her long enough to be her first. If Nick ever found out, he would surely kill him. 

            His sister was off-limits. Always had been. It was never stated, but implicitly understood. And maybe because of that reason, Noah couldn’t stay away. 

            He’d seen her grow up, transform from a shy teenager into an independent, confident woman. He saw her reject boys and girls who weren’t enough for her, saw her move away to pursue her studies at Harvard. She was away for an entire year, only coming home for the holidays. Noah didn’t see her for over 365 days, missing every chance he had to see her. After so long without seeing her, he grasped why he felt so miserable, why he’d felt like something was missing from the moment she said goodbye at a party and he stood there stupidly waving his hand, wishing her a safe flight and a good time at Harvard. Pathetic, he thought.

            Two summers later, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her as she joined the band to watch his brother and friends make music or play at nearby venues. She was no longer a teenager. Her hair was trimmed shorter, she had gained some weight and looked healthier, and the color in her cheeks and the spark in her eyes whenever she stared at something that fascinated her didn’t go unnoticed. 

            Noah thought he was out of his mind when he saw that spark every time she looked at him. 

            When the 4th of July came and the group was at a bonfire party by the beach, watching the fireworks, his hand had brushed hers as they stood looking up at the sky. She turned her head to look at him, and the smile she wore lit up his entire world. 

            She was the missing piece in his life, the muse behind all his writings, dreams, and songs.

            Two hours later, as everyone dispersed, he found her alone, sitting by the shore, her arms wrapped around her bent legs. He was the first to notice something wasn’t right. She confided in him: it had been a hard year at school. She wasn’t sure she was good enough or if she wanted to continue her studies. She questioned whether it was truly her path, what she was meant to do. 

            The insecurity wasn’t unfamiliar to Noah. He reassured her it was just a phase, a cloud of self-doubt that had settled over her. 

            “But it’ll soon pass,” he told her, sitting down next to her. “I know how much you love what you’re doing, even if you don’t feel like it right now. You’ve been interested in that field since you were a kid, right?” 

            How did he know that? 

            “Nick,” he said, “he used to mention it a lot.” 

            That was a lie, of course. Noah had been paying attention to her interests since she was barely a teenager, always captivated by her enthusiasm and eagerness to learn new things. 

            By midnight, he let her cry against his shoulder, her face buried in his chest, wearing his hoodie, holding on to him with eyes full of tears. Unexpectedly, she kissed him, then quickly moved away, expecting him to leave, horrified that she had crossed the line. Instead, he grabbed her and pulled her flush against him, kissing her back. Not much later, he had her pinned against a street wall after offering to walk her home, his mouth pressing down on hers, one hand cradling her face and the other holding her waist. She kissed him with the same intensity, as if she had been waiting for that moment all her life.

            That’s when she said the same words he was uttering two years later: “This is wrong.”

            It was, but neither of them cared, and so they met again the next day, alone, for a walk on the beach. Noah bought them ice cream and held her hand as they walked barefoot on the sand, the waves lapping at their feet with the Californian sun setting on the horizon. They talked about her studies, about the band, about Nick. They decided to keep this (him and her) a secret. After the evening spent together, he kissed her goodbye and chuckled when she said she wanted to see him again, like this; that she wanted to have him all to herself. 

            He wanted the same.

            It wasn’t the thrill of danger that brought them together; they learned that very quickly. It was a pull that had always been there, perhaps even before she turned eighteen. Noah had only ever had eyes for her, no matter how many other girls came and went. She had always been the girl from his dreams, and he made sure he was in hers from that moment onwards.

            Two years later, she finds herself perched on a piece of furniture at someone’s house. She doesn’t even know the host’s name. Noah doesn’t either. But it’s her last day in California before returning to Boston to complete her degree, and damn it if he’s not going to spend every last minute with her, kissing her.

            The problem?

            Nick is also there.

            For the past two years, they had been meeting in places where Nick wasn’t, at times when he wouldn’t wonder why Noah and his little sister were missing at the same time. It had been hard. The opportunities were few, and even though they never labeled themselves a couple, they behaved like one, even in the dark. Noah would call her right when he knew she was about to sleep, and she would text him updates on her studies and daily life, letting him know she wished he were there with her in Boston. She dreamed of going to cafés together and taking walks along the coast.

            Noah had hoped to make that dream come true more than once, and that one time he took a flight to Boston to surprise her was well worth it. Her roommate was gone for the weekend, and Bad Omens had just returned from an overseas tour. He didn’t hesitate before hopping on another plane just to see her.

            The most memorable moment of that weekend was probably Nick’s unexpected and ill-timed phone call. Noah and she had been lazily lounging on her bed, tangled in each other’s limbs, sharing stories, tender kisses, and innocent touches. When her iPhone’s screen lit up and they read Nick’s name, their hearts skipped a beat.

            “Shit, he said he would call me to discuss our parents’ anniversary,” she groaned, putting a hand to her forehead, cursing her brother for such bad timing. She didn’t want to miss a second with Noah.

            “Pick up, it’s fine,” Noah said, lying on his side with an arm draped across her stomach.

            “What? No. What if he hears you?”

            “I’ll stay as still as a statue.”

            She eyed him suspiciously. She knew him well enough by now to know when he was just pretending to behave. “You promise?”

            He lifted his pinky finger to her.

            With a resigned sigh, she hooked hers with his and a moment later answered Nick’s call.

            Of course, Noah didn’t stay still.

            The moment she sat upright on the bed and greeted her brother, Noah started tickling her. At first, it was just a little, making her squirm and swat at his hand. She was still able to have a normal conversation, but then Noah’s ministrations increased and her laughter couldn’t be contained.

            “What’s going on?” Nick asked from the other side of the phone.

            “Nothing,” she said, trying to kick Noah, but instead, he grabbed her foot and took her sock off before pretending to want to bite her toes.

            “I thought you were in your room.”

            “I am,” she said firmly, sending a stern look to Noah, who lifted his arms and pretended to retreat.

            Pretended. 

            Just when she thought he was finally going to behave, he undid the button of her jeans, eyeing her wickedly as her eyes widened. She mouthed a “no,” but it fell on deaf ears. Noah took off her jeans and removed her underwear. A moment later, he was settled between her legs, his nose brushing her most sensitive area.

            She sucked in a deep breath, thinking she was going to die for more than one reason.

            It was Nick who disconnected the call. The moment he realized she was with a boy, he shouted, “Ugh! You could’ve told me! This is disgusting!” and without a goodbye, he ended the call.

            She was already lost in pleasure. Her iPhone dropped to the floor, and soon enough, all she could utter was Noah’s name over and over again. 

But things weren’t always this beautiful and fun.

            It got hard sometimes. Some nights she cried, and other times Noah was sure she would find someone else—probably another student her age who could take her out on dates and introduce her to his family.

            It had been a struggle, but they fought to make it work. Every time she returned to California, Noah was the one to pick her up at the airport. Nick thought she always took an Uber, completely unaware that his sister had arrived hours earlier and was already in Noah’s bed, savoring the weight of his body on hers, or maybe his tongue between her legs, or the weight of his length in her mouth and his words of praise flooding her senses.

            Despite their deep feelings for each other, maintaining a relationship that they refused to label grew increasingly difficult.

            That’s why tonight they had abandoned all the rules and locked themselves in a room, mere feet away from the rest of the party—and from Nick.

            “I don’t want to go,” she whispers as Noah’s lips trail across her chest. She’s wearing a thin V-neck tank top, and he can’t help but kiss the valley of her breasts.

            “We have to tell Nick,” he murmurs back. “I’m fucking tired of this—of not being able to kiss you in front of everyone, of not being able to follow you wherever you go, of not being able to take you on dates in town.”

            “He’s not going to like it...” she’s half-gone, half-present. She can’t think straight when Noah’s lips and hands are on her. But she’s faintly aware of what he’s saying, of what he’s proposing.

            “Not my fucking problem,” he says, sucking at her sweet spot and making her moan. “I want to be there when you graduate,” he continues, nibbling at her shoulder, “to take pictures of my girl and use them as my wallpaper. I want to take you back to your dorm afterward and give you graduation sex.”

            She snorts, then grabs his face to pull him away from her chest so she can look into his eyes.

            “Graduation sex? Is that even a thing?”

            “I don’t know,” he admits, smiling with eyes full of adoration, “but I’m willing to make it a thing.”

            After a moment of staring at each other, their eyes soften.

            “I want you to be there more than anything,” she admits.

            “Then we have to tell him,” he concludes. “It’s time.”

            She can do nothing but agree. He’s right. At some point, Nick needs to know, and so do the rest of their friends and family.

            Noah hasn’t said he loves her yet, and neither has she, but isn’t it obvious? At least, that’s what she likes to think. She knows she’s been in love with him for years but hasn’t mustered the courage to tell him. A devil on her shoulder keeps whispering that he’s an artist, a rockstar. What if he eventually gets tired of her? They’re on very different career paths. What if he chooses to let her go?

            If Noah senses her sudden distress, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he leans down again to capture her lips, his hand creeping up her thigh beneath the black skirt she’s wearing. His tongue is about to dance with hers when the door swings open.

            “Noah, have you seen my sister?” 

            It’s Nick. 

            The room is dark, but it’s obvious he’s going to find out in the next two seconds. “She’s been missing since...”

            As they pull away from each other, her face comes into view. Nick’s eyes widen, but he’s frozen in place. She jumps down from where she’s seated, and Noah steps back, putting some distance between them.

            “Nick...” Noah starts, lifting an arm.

            For a moment, no one says anything. The heavy music from the party thumps in the background.     Nick’s hand is still on the doorknob, and he suddenly looks paler.

            It doesn’t take much for him to understand. It’s the aura of comfort surrounding his best friend and his sister, the confidence exuding from them the moment he caught them, the shared look they exchanged a moment ago. This has been going on for a long time, right? They’ve been seeing each other behind his back. Who knows what things Noah has done to her?

            Nick’s throat tightens. When he’s able to react, he storms out, slamming the door behind him.

            “Fuck,” Noah mutters, making a move to go after him, but she stops him.

            “Let me,” she says. “He’s my brother. I’ll handle him.”

            She searches for Nick for five minutes until she finds him outside, sitting on the pavement with a cigarette in his mouth. He doesn’t care about her apologies, her stories, her feelings for his best friend, or the fact that they were planning to tell him soon. He doesn’t want to listen.

            It shouldn’t be like this. It should have never been like this. Not Noah and her. Not ever. They lied to him, deceived him to his face, kept it a secret. How many times had they laughed behind his back?

            He’s never going to forgive them.

            “Please, listen to me,” she begs.

            He continues with his back to her, refusing to face her, to see her expression of guilt—or perhaps the lack thereof. Maybe she doesn’t feel guilty, which just makes it worse. 

            “I hope you’ve enjoyed this game,” he says, a cloud of smoking leaving his lips.

            She’s confused for a second, then she understands: Nick is not going to believe whatever she says about her feelings. He also thinks that Noah is not the kind of guy to have just one girl. Nick has had to deal with the version of Noah that she and he had decided he would show in front of others: one totally uninterested in the little sister and completely into every girl they met at the club. 

            Nick thinks Noah is a bad influence on her, that he’s going to break her heart.

            “It’s not a fucking game,” a voice says from behind them. She turns around and finds Noah approaching. She wants to tell him to stay away, to let her handle it, but she knows Noah is more stubborn than she is and won’t let her deal with this alone. “It’s never been.”

            That elicits a reaction from Nick. He chuckles, a sarcastic sound, and stands up to face them both, letting his unfinished cigarette fall on the ground.

            “You’re a fucking Casanova, Noah. Playing with girls is all you do.”

            “I’m not that kind of man,” he says, sternly, maintaining his cool.

            She was about to let panic take over, but Noah was keeping his composure on check, even though they’d both been scared of this moment for weeks, months, years. 

            “You’re not?” Nick’s voice drips with cynicism. “How the fuck am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe that you’re not using her?! That you didn’t get into her head and are playing with her?! That you’re not going to break her heart the moment you get what you fucking want?!”

            His words sting her, as they do Noah. He wants to tell Nick that he’s completely wrong, but it’s not his fault. He and she had made her brother believe that he was that exact type of man to avoid him finding out about them, but now the consequences are showing. 

            Instead of trying to explain or justify himself in any way, Noah just says what he should have said long ago, what he should have told her. He’s honest and raw. He’s admitting what he should’ve admitted even before he had her naked under him for the first time. 

            When she hears him, all the fear she’s ever had about the boy she loves disappears, because finally, she knows he feels the same, that all that connection they’ve had and built for years has been real.

            “I’m in love with her.”

            It just a sentence, but it changes everything. 

Taglist: @crossedxoceans | @somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel <3

[liillyliilly]

Float On

kozume kenma x reader words; 1723 synopsis; they were literally made for each other- kenma needs her like he needs air to breathe.

It comes to a point where things get stressful for Kozume Kenma. When the world collides with his happy little bubble of composure and complacency. When that happens, he just wants to fold into himself and be left alone. He just wants to be allowed to feel what he is feeling.

Kuroo always says that “Everything is going to be okay.” But that isn’t helpful in the slightest. How can everything be okay when he knows it isn't?

Whereas she tells him “Yeah life sucks. Wanna drive my car super-fast and scream the lyrics to that one song you like?” He doesn’t know what it is that she does, how she changes the mood. How she can keep the context but shift the feeling.

In a world that tells him everything is going to be okay; She thinks realistically. People die, people change things, people hurt, people kill, people can be cruel, but just for a second, he can be happy while knowing that other things aren’t. He’s allowed to be scared. He’s allowed to want to filter the static.

And when he wants to do that, she's there to help.

“Kenma, I have an old math textbook from like, first year in middle school. Wanna rip it up with me? Since you texted telling me that you weren’t feeling the best, I thought getting it out by-” Kenma rushed to her and hugged her tightly. His face pressed into her neck.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For helping me to learn how to float.” She raised her eyebrows, but hugged him back.

“We can float together.”

All good things must end eventually though.

Kenma was playing video games with her when it rapidly began to change. She picked up a phone call. When she went just outside his room, he could hear several key words.

Really?

Accepted?

Waitlist.

Soon?

Deal.

She comes back into his room looking enchanted. She runs a hand into her hair. She uses her other hand to cover her mouth. She starts laughing. She looks at him.

“I got in.”

“Got into what?” When Kenma pauses his game, he realizes he’s in love. Something about her has changed. And he really didn’t want it to. She’s talking but he only listened to the first sentence.

“A foreign exchange program for an entire year away from Japan.”

That didn’t sit right. Away from Japan? But, away from Japan meant away from Tokyo. Away from Tokyo meant away from Nekoma. Away from Nekoma meant away from him. Kenma shakes his head.

“You’re not going.” She looks taken aback.

“I’m going.” She clarifies.

“You can’t.” He says.

“All expenses paid.”

“You’re scared.” He muses.

“Scared but excited.”

The mood is there. The static comes rushing in. The context is still there. The feeling has stayed the same. She hasn’t changed any of it like she was supposed to. She was supposed to change everything and she was supposed to stay the same. But instead, she has changed everything and also changed herself.

Suddenly instead of floating, he’s drowning. And she isn’t there to take him out of the water.

He manages to survive the time spent overseas. It was difficult. Unbelievably painful. When he would lie on his bed at night when he was supposed to be sleeping, he would imagine that she was happily getting along with her new classmates.

During the day, while he was looking out the window during class, he would imagine that Y/N was sleeping soundly with the stuffed cat that she had bought for him originally. But when they were at the airport and she was crying and saying her goodbyes, he slipped the stuffed animal in her backpack.

She tried to contact him every day, but the timing was all off. He tried to contact her every day, but the timing was all off.

When he reads her messages, he takes a step up. Climbing the ladder to get out of the water. He doesn’t need her to help him float. But he still wants her there for him.

So maybe that’s why he’s the first one to get to hug her when she gets off the plane. Maybe that’s why he’s the one to get dinner with her. So maybe that’s why he’s the one who listens to her talk for hours on end about her time overseas. And he knows why he’s the one to kiss her when she says that she only really missed him while she was gone.

Now, Kenma Kozume floats on. And she floats with him.

Sun streamed through the skylight; soft snoring sounds echo in the home. Kenma shifts slightly in the bed, rubbing his face against the pillow before resting again. The smell of wet plants from the morning dew blow in from the open window. The bed smells like dryer sheets and Kenma’s avocado shampoo. Everything is at a pause. Until his phone beeps. Kenma groans and stretches his arms upwards to shake off his sleepiness. He scratches the top of his head as he swings his legs off the side of the bed.

“Kenma.” Y/n calls out, failing her arm as she tries to grasp onto Kenma. Kenma turns around and holds her hand. Y/n lets out a content hum. When Kenma tries to stand up, she just holds onto his hand tighter.

“I gotta go pick up my phone.” Kenma leans back over the bed to press a kiss to her temple.

“Don’t. Just stay in bed.” She pulls his hand toward her, causing him to become unbalanced and he falls back onto the bed. His head landing on her back, then she turns around so he is resting on her stomach instead. She takes her chance and starts running a hand through his hair.

They lay like that for a while. Kenma comfortably situates himself again so that is he hugging Y/n’s waist as she plays with his hair and draws shapes on his shoulders. The blankets are tangled all around their limbs and outside their apartment, someone is playing their piano in the streets. Kenma leans up to kiss Y/n, when she pulls her head away Kenma pouts.

“Kiss?” He asks, leaning in again.

“Not when you have morning breath.” She gives a toothy grin as she laughs and throws her head back onto her pillow. Kenma gets out of bed and enters the bathroom, brushing his teeth with diligence. When he comes back, he crawls on top of her before dropping and laying down, encircling his arms around her. He lets out a breath onto her face. Y/n shakes her head in amusement before giving him a kiss.

She was sitting at her desk, tapping her pencil onto her notepad. Kenma was walking around the house tidying up the place, but the only reason why was because she told him to before he started playing some of his video games. Kenma notices that she hasn’t written anything down for her college project that was due in a few weeks. After watering a few of the plants hanging out on the small balcony he sets the water container down on the couch side table before walking over to her.

He puts his hands on her shoulders, pressing his lips onto her neck as a form of motivation or a way to inspire her to get started on her project.

“Do my project for me.” She demands. Putting her hands on the desk and letting her pencil roll off the notebook and onto the floor.

“I can't do that.”

“Why not?” She moves her arms behind the chair and lets them hang limp, as she rolls her head and eyes in synchronization, before using her left foot to push against the table to spin around in a circle, groaning.

Kenma smiles at her antics before pulling her out of the chair and setting his hands on her waist.

“Because I know you can do it.” He brushes his nose against hers. She wraps her arms around his neck and rests their foreheads together.

“I'm only doing this so some of your strategic skills can pass from your brain to my brain.”

“And I'm okay with being used.” His statement causes her to laugh and lurch forward accidently bumping their heads together. Thus causing both of them to laugh harder, holding their stomach as they howl with laughter and slight pain from hitting their heads together.

Kenma calls out, picking through the Chinese food sitting on the dining table.

“Yeah?” She answers from where she was standing in the bathroom doing her nighttime routine. Splashing water onto her face, causing it to make her shiver a little at the difference in temperature.

“Did you eat my fortune cookie?”

“RUN!” She bolts into the bedroom from the bathroom and locks the door. “I did eat your fortune cookie but only because I got a bad fortune in my own cookie!” She reasons while Kenma tries to pick the lock with a bobby pin that he had used to put his hair up while eating.

“That's not how fortunes work sweetheart.” Kenma finally unlocks the door to see her holding a pillow as a weapon.

He sighs. He would give up all the fortune cookies in the world for her. He would buy her all the fortune cookie that she wanted. Just so long as he was the only one who got to be around her as often as he did. All Kenma wants is to be around and be with her, because that’s what feels right. It had felt right when they were barely second years in high school, and it continues to feel right as university second years.

She drops the pillow and runs up to Kenma to give him a hug. “I’ll give you both fortune cookies next time, I promise.” His shirt smells like jojoba oil and the rose detergent they use for their laundry.

“No, you won’t.” He holds her close and places his chin on her shoulder. Kenma thinks he could just stay like that for forever. Listening to her heartbeat and feeling her soft cotton shirt with his fingertips as he hugs her.

“You’re right. I won’t.” It comes out as a whisper before she begins to tickle his sides as a sneak attack.

[chauflan]

Percy Jackson dating a Child of Eris! Reader

I saw someone requesting this but I don’t know what I did and now I can’t find it 😭-

my man is down bad for you

he would be the type that when he wants to have a relationship everything must be planned

You know, going to New Rome, living a normal life

but then you came 💀

As a child of Eris you would always have controversial opinions

You would normally think the system is trash and that you should move to a place where nobody knows you and live a cottage core life

he just sighs, chuckling softly

Constantly pulling you out of fights before you get punched in the face

Constantly pulling you out of fights after you punched someone on their face

Him having to keep an eye on you because if he doesn’t you’ll appear on the news as a terrorist who just blew up a building

this man will follow you to the moon and back

relationship goals fr

you teaching him that children of minor gods, even if they are able to live a fairly normal life don’t actually fit in anywhere, as in the ‘mortal’ world they are troublemakers and at camp they are usually passed by

Him teaching you that all comes at a time, that staying calm and analyzing the situation is (sometimes) the key to success (even if he had to learn it the hard way-)

your sisters and brothers teasing you about him every time they see you together

There is an unspoken rule at camp that you guys can’t be on the same team at capture the flag because you’ll probably end up convincing him to do outrageous things 💀-

aight that’s all folks

(I’m planning to do headcanons for children of the 9 muses (in general) but I don’t know if it’s a good idea so you tell me!)

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | smau: the boys visit unc!

a/n: you will literally have to rip poisoned mercury out of my cold dead hands. im not leaving them behind.

poisoned mercury smau masterlist | series masterlist

yns_privateacc: the boys are in town… let the chaos ensue

notluke: not you exposing my cards to the world 😕

notluke: now they know what i have

tswizzle_: i promise u nobody was choosing ur cards bro u are NOT funny

notluke: your mom thinks im funny

yns_privateacc: notluke boo YOU STINK. make better jokes!!!

notluke: yns_privateacc :(

lena_b: i still have that bruise from when connor shoved me

cstoll: there was a car coming?!? i saved your life????

charliebeck: i dont go out with you guys ONE TIME and you’re walking in the middle of the road? smh

lena_b: charliebeck sorry babe

tagged chr1sr0d, notluke, and charliebeck.

clarisselalala: the way the bfs act like my and yns_privateacc’s room is theirs 🙄

chr1sr0d: your bed is comfy

chr1sr0d: gonna stay here forever

clarisselalala: that can be arranged

yns_privateacc: uhh no? i don’t wanna be permanently sexiled thank u

notluke: yns_privateacc you can sleep in my bed 👀

tswizzle_: get a room notluke yns_privateacc

yns_privateacc: can’t bc clar and chris STOLE IT

lena_b: your room is the party room 🤷🏽‍♀️

liked by charliebeck.

clarisselalala posted a story!

the lovebirds 👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻

tagged notluke and yns_privateacc.

yns_privateacc replied to this story:

yns_privateacc: this is so cute send me this pls

liked by clarisselalala.

cstoll replied to this story:

cstoll: yuck

cstoll: (god are you there when is it my turn?)

clarisselalala: WOMP WOMP

tswizzle_ replied to this story:

tswizzle_: mom and dad fr

clarisselalala: i thought me and chris were mom and dad? 🤨

tswizzle_: given that i come from a broken home i think im deserving of two sets of parents

clarisselalala: oh that’s not—

notluke posted a story!

fearing for my life in the backseat. yns_privateacc CANNOT drive.

yns_privateacc replied to this story:

yns_privateacc: so walk

notluke: im just kidding baby pls

notluke: its a joke

notluke: gimme a kiss

yns_privateacc: we’re literally in the same car right now 😭😭😭

notluke: exactly so gimme a kiss

notluke: at the next stop light tho u need to keep your eyes on the road

yns_privateacc: 😐

lena_b posted a story!

new ick unlocked: watching our bfs ride bikes

tagged yns_privateacc and clarisselalala.

charliebeck replied to this story:

charliebeck: HOW IS THIS AN ICK

charliebeck: HOW ELSE ARE WE SUPPOSED TO RIDE BIKES

lena_b: why are you as a man riding a bike

charliebeck: BECAUSE YOU ASKED TO GO ON A TRIPLE BIKE RIDING DATE?

notluke replied to this story:

notluke: DELETE THSI???

notluke: LENA WHY DO I LOOK LIKE THAT FROM THE BAXK

notluke: is this how people perceive me

lena_b: yes

read by notluke.

chr1sr0d replied to this story:

chr1sr0d: why do i look so tiny

chr1sr0d: tell charlie to send his workout routine asap

lena_b: chris, charlie is a d1 football player.

chr1sr0d: anything is possible if you believe

chr1sr0d: i mean i pulled clarisse so 🤷🏽‍♂️

lena_b: YEAAAAHHHH YOU DID

tagged yns_privateacc.

notluke: my muse. my five star.

yns_privateacc: i love you pretty boy

yns_privateacc: come back soon

notluke: i love you baby

tswizzle_: AWWW SHUCKS

tswizzle_: “i love you” ????? MY BOY FINALLY SAID IT

notluke: i wasn’t gonna tell her i love her for the first time over the phone trav 😭

cstoll: finally you’ll stop freaking out over how to tell her you love her

cstoll: yns_privateacc bro was STRESSIN

notluke: CHILL?!!!??

lena_b: SHUT YP THIS IS SO CUTE

liked by notluke.

[heliads]

HEY HEY HEY!! can u make a the darkling x reader soulmate au?? one where reader is a powerful grisha and has lived nearly as long as he has? they walked the earth and met each other a few times, not knowing they were the same people. sometimes, a romance almost happened, but because they knew they would outlive them, it never happened. How about aleks meets reader by chance in a village near fjerda and they recognize each other for the first time and realize they are each other's soulmate? ♡ U!!

HEY HEY HEY!! your au is that your scars stay on your soulmate's skin.

masterlist

You would think that the centuries would go by faster once you’d experienced enough of them. When you grow up, it’s like the years pass with greater and greater speed, but there must be a leveling point to that mad exponential curve, because you reached it a long time ago. The decades don’t fly by anymore, they drag like the heels of your boots in the soft mud connecting the Wandering Isle to Novyi Zem.

That particular sinking earth is gone, much like most of the places from your memory. The land bridge between the two nations, which was already tentative at best back when you were born, has long been pulled under the current of the True Sea. Now, the recollections of old work boots falling into dirt have just as much hold as the place itself. Everything you knew is gone, constantly replaced by newer, flashier people and cities.

It haunts you sometimes, more often than not. You lie awake at night with a melody stuck in your head, one you haven’t heard in over two hundred years. There’s no chance that anyone remembers it except you, so you hum it to yourself, wondering if the ghosts of friends past can hear you or if they, too, are just ash and dust by now. Supposedly, they would have been folded into the welcoming arms of the Making at the Heart of the World, but you still harbor a hope that they’re still looking out for you.

Hope is all you have. As if it doesn’t mess with your head to trust your footsteps through a Ravkan town you’d lived in for decades, only to find that it’s doubled in size and population since you were last there. Or, when you finally remember that you owe a neighbor a favor, only to recall that their great-great grandchildren died out a century past. Nothing in this world is yours, not in the way that it was at the start. You can keep reinventing yourself, but it’ll never make anything stick.

All that musing over places long gone, and you still can’t convince the hours of the clock to turn by any faster. You’d like nothing more than for the years to skip by, to finally bring about your end of days or at least a change in them, because if you have more centuries under your belt, it’ll mean you’ll have searched all of the lands as many times as you can, and maybe then, you just might be able to meet your soulmate.

That, of all things, might calm your restless spirit. If it were not enough to have far more centuries in which to live out your life than the rest of the Grisha, you have to do it alone, too, knowing that most everyone you pass has someone out there built for them, someone to keep them company in a way you will never understand, no matter how many generations you live.

You often wonder if your soulmate might be out there somewhere. It’s an easy matter to spiral over. They could have been alive at the very start of your life, and died centuries before you could even meet them. Maybe there were only a few days in which your lives overlapped, or maybe you were born on the exact same day and never knew it until they died and you stayed, relentlessly, alive.

Or, worst of all, they could still be out there now, forever condemned to orbit the land at the other side of you, forever crossing paths but never meeting, always one step behind or hours ahead of schedule. There is, hypothetically, a way of telling if the person before you is your soulmate, but it only works if you have the fellow in front of you and the certainty only mad love can bring you.

In this world, in a world full of pain and pleasure, power and pride, the only way that you know for certain that you are connected with your soulmate are your injuries. They’ll show up on your soulmate’s skin, exactly at the same time and the same places as you receive them. They won’t feel the sensation of hurt as you do, and the bruises and cuts will fade as yours do, but in the minutes and hours in which you are bloody and damaged, they will be, too.

Scars last. That’s how most people know. When you see a childhood injury reflected on someone else’s knee or arm, you can tell it’s them. It’s as if a hook has been pulled through both of you, tying you together in a celebration of glitter and gore. It’s horrific, and it’s love, and no one has dared to mess with the process for the millennia in which soulmates have been around.

Least of all your soulmate. They marked you a long time ago, and although you weren’t there to see it happen, you can’t help but wonder at their rationale now. A scar curls around your left hand ring finger. It looks like a burn, and it must have been a serious one too, judging by the fact that it’s lasted this long. 

You can imagine your soulmate somewhere out there, forcing a white-hot band of metal around their finger and keeping it on despite the unendurable pain until they knew the scar would last forever. Imagine what that must mean to them, to you. There is a message that they’re trying to send to you, patterned in the syllables of their scorched flesh:  I love you to the point of agony, and past it. What a terrible sort of devotion for a soulmate. What a devastating burden of love for you to bear.

It makes you sick to your stomach, at times, and other days, it just makes you numb. Perhaps this is what you get, the Saints’ way of evening the scales. Everyone knows that the greed of a Grisha never goes unchecked, and maybe this is your diving retribution at last. You strove for too much too quickly, and now you have an excess of time in which you can ponder your failings, all alone for all eternity. It would make a sad sort of joke were it not at your expense.

After all, you should have died a long time ago, soulmate be damned. You started out life as a Heartrender, although you left the typical roles of that particular type of Corporalki behind long ago. At first, you merely shattered bone and spilt blood, but then you learned how to do more. Why kill one man when you can end dozens of lives with just as much force? Then, why kill when you can turn your attention towards yourself, healing not just surface wounds but deeper things, erasing the signs of age and wear until you were just as strong as you were at your prime?

Some would call it immortality. Others would curse it as witchcraft. You don’t need anyone’s misguided explanations anymore, though, your power will long outlive both them and their whisperings. It is power, plain and simple, and it is yours. You don’t just transmutate flesh and bone anymore, you shape life itself. Your life. Your life, extended forever, waiting for a soulmate who can keep up with you or die trying.

At times, you hate it, this prolonged life that you’ve given yourself. At the same time, the thought of dying without accomplishing all that you could is terrifying. The easiest thing to do is to keep living, keep drawing breath and wondering when things will change. If they don’t, well, at least you were here to see it. 

After all, have you ever been satisfied with your lot in life? You send a silent plea to any Saints up there, if they're still listening at all or merely content to keep pulling their strings and directing you down darker, rougher roads. Let me rest. Please. They send only one word back, after everything:  No.

So you continue your journey. Ravka needs your attention for a time, then you cross the True Sea to Kerch and Novyi Zem, and another century has passed by the time you think about returning to the eastern shores. The Shadow Fold makes things more difficult, certainly, but death is no enemy of yours, so you find ways of crossing, even if they take a while.

This time, you decide to cut through Fjerda on your various journeys. The wintry landscapes take your breath away, as they always do, but it’s a little difficult to marvel at the wonders of the country when they’re so fiercely dedicated to exterminating your fellow Grisha. You take it upon yourself to take out a few branches of the witch hunters, those treacherous drüskelle, and so you have a purpose for at least a little longer.

You get to take action upon this initiative while stopping in a small town close to the Fjerdan border for the night. While attempting to book a room in a local inn, you can’t help but pick up on the uncanny sensation of racing hearts somewhere closeby. You step away from the inn, distracted, and chase the sound of blood pounding through veins until it takes you into the surrounding woods.

There, you stumble upon what had been causing you such an uncanny sensation. A young woman, a Grisha Tidemaker by the looks of it, is attempting to evade capture by two upstart drüskelle captains. She hasn’t yet mastered her gift, and they’re well armed, so the situation is not good, to say the least.

Grisha are your people, even if you’ve become somehow separated from them by your many years. You fling out an arm and the two drüskelle go flying into the distance, clutching at their hearts as they burst in their chests. One more witch hunter materializes out of the gloom, but before he can fire off a round at you, a wave of shadow cuts off his breath and he falls to the ground, choking into stillness. The Tidemaker runs off the second the coast is clear, leaving you alone with this new stranger.

You turn around slowly, but the man emerging from the woods doesn’t seem to be a threat. He’s some kind of Etherealnik, but you’ve only heard of so many Shadow Summoners in your time. Perhaps there’s another one again.

“I came out to help,” he says, voice relaxed despite your hands raised at him in anticipation of a strike, “It appears that you didn’t need it, though.”

He doesn’t seem inclined to attack you, but you don’t trust the way he’s still hanging back in the shadows. You can’t see much of his face, nor his demeanor. “I’m no stranger to the drüskelle. They’ve always been the same sort of fools.”

“Always?” The stranger asks, allowing a note of humor to enter his words, “Have you been around long enough to judge them, then?”

You sigh. “Longer than you’d think.”

Instead of being put off by this, the stranger just grins, moonlight flashing on his teeth. “You’d be surprised what I think. I’m older than I seem.”

You look curiously at him. The man steps out of the shadows and into a patch of moonlight. Your breath catches in your throat. “No. That’s impossible.”

He’s not lying when he talks about being older than his appearance. You’ve seen this face before. Several times, if you’re not mistaken. A rebel against the Ravkan king a few centuries ago. A scholar of the Saints. A son trying to care for his mother. He’s been here whenever you passed through Ravka, but you never dared to assume that he could be anything but a familiar face passed down through the generations.

For some reason, on this night, you stop letting yourself doubt. This is a man who has been alive quite as long as you have, if not longer. Perhaps it’s the unearthly shine of the moonlight on the Fjerdan snow, transfiguring this scene into one of your memories, or perhaps it’s the fact that he’s taken his gloves off so he could summon his shadows, and you can see the imprint of a burn around the ring finger of his left hand.

No. It couldn’t be. After all this time, your soulmate cannot be the same young man you’ve crossed paths with half a dozen times before. What a cruel joke to play.

“Y/N?” He asks slowly, eyes as wide as yours.

You told him your name in one of your lives. He trusted you enough to say his back to you. “Aleksander?”

“Show me your hand,” he tells you, voice as steady as it’s always been.

When you hesitate, he crosses the clearing in a flash, standing in front of you. One of his hands curls around your wrist, holding it still, while the other holds up your fingers to the moonlight. He looks at the burn there, his burn, and at last, he smiles. It’s a proud look, almost vicious.

“You know,” he says slowly, “I always thought I’d marry you. I was a child then, and foolish, but I find I don’t mind the idea much anymore.”

He cocks his head to the side, staring openly at the scar he’d bound to both of you. You had wondered if you would fear your soulmate when you first met him, but instead, you just feel whole. A broken half has finally been reunited with its other part.

“Do you remember when we were both in Kribirsk together?” You ask slowly, haltingly, “I got a house right by the Unsea so I could study it. I think you were there for the same reason. We were the only two people in that whole town who weren’t afraid of it.”

He nods, eyes white with moonlight. “You fascinated me even then. When you left, I didn’t know how to live with myself. I started a whole new life just so the old one wouldn’t have to figure it out.”

You’d done the same thing. It took every bit of strength in you to go. You hadn’t wanted to leave the little house with the captivating man next door, but the other townspeople were starting to ask why you hadn’t aged since you’d shown up there decades ago, and the questions are only ever the start of your downfall. You’d cursed his name and yours in turn for the next few years until the heartbreak subsided.

“Before I left, though. We were alright.” You whisper.

He takes your other hand. “We’ll be alright again. It’s us now. Just us.”

“Just us,” you repeat, and for once, you let yourself believe it. You have it, your soulmate, him.

And at last, after centuries of wandering the land and sea alone, of second-guessing every shadow, of wondering what you did to deserve so much time by yourself without love, you realize that it has come to an end. All of it. There is no more solitude for you. Here by your side stands your soulmate. The long day has passed, and the rest of a quiet night shadows your threshold. It’s time to go home, so you think, but you’re already there.

requested by @cassiecrown, i hope you enjoy!

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy