#I just say something and their like “You need to move out ASAP. Where's your hammers? The hammers are definitely not related to this convo”

[girlyassumes]

Manifestation is always instantaneous

I’ve been learning about manifestation and LOA for about 8 months now. It has finally clicked for me what instant manifestation is, after all this time. I don’t feel like a lot of people clearly explain it…and I’m someone who sometimes needs things explained to me like I’m a 5-year-old lol. So, I’m gonna break it down for you as clearly as I can, in case you’ve had a hard time understanding it, too.

The word instant is usually defined as something happening right now; immediately; in this present moment. So, when we’re told “you can manifest [this thing] instantly,” we might expect the thing to happen or appear immediately. I know, for me, this is how I’ve wavered because I’m like, “hey, where’s it at?” when it doesn’t show up quickly or I feel as if I’m waiting. And, I’m sure that you’ve experienced this feeling, too.

But, it’s not the thing that appears or happens instantly, it’s the bridge of events that happens instantly. After you affirm, reality immediately starts moving you towards the thing you want. You’re put onto that bridge instantly. Everything that needs to happen in order to get you to what you’re manifesting is already starting to happen. Sometimes it’ll be one small thing - the tiniest blip - that’ll get you there, sometimes it’ll be multiple things happening and people involved that’ll get you there.

So, this is why you can’t worry about the how and view it as “waiting.” There are so many different ways that your thing can happen. Thinking of how it will or questioning how it’s possible is what can make you feel doubtful. Affirming that you have what you want puts you on that bridge instantly. It’s already happening; you aren’t waiting. It’s already yours - you’re just being lead to it.

The analogy of manifesting being like ordering food at a restaurant can be used to understand how it works instantly. You’re telling the waitress (putting it out there) that you want a certain meal (the thing you’re manifesting). The waitress now knows and she’s in the process of writing it down, then giving the kitchen staff the information, and then the whole restaurant staff does whatever it is they need to do to make your meal and get it to you ASAP. This is how manifesting works and why it’s instant.

Also keep in the title “waitress/waiter” in mind - they’re waiting on you. It’s their job. They aren’t trying to make you wait - in fact, they don’t want to hear you complain lol. They’re waiting on you to tell them what you want and then making sure it gets to you. This is the same as your desired reality (the one where you have what you want) waiting on you to affirm for it, not listening to you say, “hey, why aren’t you here? I don’t believe that you’re mine and that I have what I want.”

Can you imagine going to a restaurant and as the waitress is writing down what you ordered, you go, “hey, where’s it at?” and start looking around the restaurant for your food. Or you say, “I don’t think you’ll give me my food. That’s not possible.” No? Because that’s crazy. People don’t do that. This is why you affirm and don’t ask where it’s at and go searching for it. You trust that it’s already yours and is coming to you because guess what? It’s guaranteed you’ll get it since you asked for it. Your meal (your manifestation) is already in the works; it’s your order that you put through. You don’t have to worry about anything else. Just enjoy life in the present moment as your thing gets to you. The less you focus on the time and more you reassure yourself that it’s yours, instead of worrying, the quicker it’ll show up or show up when you least expect it to.

The only time your manifestation won’t show up is if you change what you’re manifesting. Let’s say you originally ordered chicken fingers but then you pull the waitress aside and tell her you want steak instead. Then you’re simply getting the other thing you asked for instead of what you originally ordered.

The only time your manifestation will be delayed is if you keep focusing on how long it’s taking or don’t trust that you’ll get it. If you’re at a restaurant and keep nervously focusing on the time, it’ll feel like you’re waiting and like it’s taking a long time for your food to arrive. Or, if you keep saying to the waitress that you don’t trust that you’ll get the food, you’ll just stress her and the rest of the kitchen staff out which won’t help speed up the process of the food being prepared (the bridge of events happening to get you to your manifestation), it’ll just slow it down.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Max "If It Weren't For The Baby" Verstappen | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Max and George show no signs of stopping anytime soon and poor y/n is stuck between a rock and a hard place. but soon things escalate when Max accidentally opens his big mouth.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

y/n_russell posted:

y/n_russell: Habibi come to Abu Dhabi✨

Comments:

user: SHE’S BACK, EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!! 🔥🔥🔥 user: MOTHER RETURNED TO THE GRID AND IT SHOWS. user: Abu Dhabi isn’t ready for her!! 😍 user: Not to be messy, but is that a bump or just the angle? 👀

user: Delete this before you embarrass yourself further. 🙄 user: You do realize that’s body-shaming, right? Yikes. user: Maybe it’s just the dress, maybe it’s none of our business. Either way—don’t. user: Imagine logging onto the internet just to get ratio’d in the comments. Couldn’t be me.

georgerussell63: Wow. 2 whole photo in front of Lewis’s garage? Feeling betrayed right now.

y/n_russell: omg george, do you want me to write "george is my favorite" on my forehead or something? relax. georgerussell63: I’m just saying, where’s the support? y/n_russell: maybe if your garage didn’t feel like the waiting room at a dentist’s office, I’d consider it. georgerussell63: That’s because we’re professional. y/n_russell: nah, it’s because you have the personality of unseasoned chicken. user: 💀💀💀 SHE CAME FOR HIS LIFE.

user: MAX. LIKED. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.

user: Not Max creeping in the shadows like that. George, sweetie, you seeing this? user: Netflix doesn’t even need to make a script this season. The show’s writing itself.

landonorris: MOTHER.

y/n_russell: 🔪🔪🔪 user: The knives are out. Lando, RUN.

lewishamilton: Always great to have you around. Thanks for showing up and supporting me this weekend. Much love ❤️

y/n_russell: Wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know I’m rooting for you Lew! Big things ahead 💪🏽

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: Okay, F1 fans, we’ve got a hot one for you! Max Verstappen and George Russell’s sister, Y/n, were spotted on a hotel balcony together, and it’s seriously got people talking. 👀 Y/n was supposed to be at a totally different hotel with George, so why is she with Max—especially with all the drama going down between them? 🤔

Is there something going on between these two? Or is Y/n just making it clear that she’s Team Max in this ongoing feud? You know we’ll be watching this one unfold closely... 🔥

Comments:

user: Yooo, what’s going on here?! Y/n is in Max’s hotel?? 😳

user: Is this a secret relationship or is Y/n just picking sides? I need answers!! 😬

user: So Y/n's team Max now? This is messy. 👀

user: Max and Y/n are lowkey dating and no one’s telling us?! I need the receipts ASAP. 😩🔥

user: Sis really out here with Max?? I can’t believe this. George is gonna flip. 😬

user: Okay, but like... is she betraying George by cozying up with Max right now? Or is she just done with the drama? 👀

user: Nah, this can’t be real. She’s out here looking all comfy with Max while George is literally her brother?? What kind of betrayal is this? 😱

user: Is this the kind of power move we’re witnessing?? Y/n dropping George for Max?? 🤯💥

user: Ok, but lowkey, I ship them so hard. Max and Y/n would make the hottest couple. 🔥🔥

user: No, fr. Max and Y/n are EVERYTHING. They look so good together, I’m lowkey obsessed. 😍👀 user: Can we just take a minute to appreciate how they’re literally radiating chemistry? I don’t care if they’re not dating—they should be. 😩💅

user: The way she’s just chilling with Max tho... George must be somewhere crying right now. 🤣💀

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: “If it weren’t for the baby.” Three words that sent the paddock and the internet into absolute mayham today after Max Verstappen dropped the bomb during an interview. 👶💣

Fans are already in detective mode, dissecting every second of this wild moment. Whose baby? Is Max a secret dad? And what does George Russell have anything to do with it?

Interview Transcript:

Journalist: Max, earlier this week George Russell referred to you as a “bully” in his recent comments. Do you have any thoughts on that?

Max: (chuckles awkwardly) Well, you know, George always has something to say. I’m not going to get into it.

Journalist: But do you think his characterization of you is fair?

Max: (sighs) Look, I’m just here to race. I’m not interested in petty drama.

Journalist: It doesn’t seem like George is letting it go anytime soon. Are you planning to address it with him directly?

Max: (visibly annoyed) I really don’t see the point in—

Journalist: But isn’t it important to clear the air, especially since the tension is so public now?

Max: (snapping) If it weren’t for the baby, I wouldn’t even bother trying to make peace with him!

(A beat of stunned silence. Max’s eyes widen in realization.)

Journalist: The… baby? What baby? Max, can you clarify—

(Max mutters something under his breath and walks off, leaving the journalist baffled.)

Comments:

user: BABY???? HELLO? MAX, EXPLAIN YOURSELF.

user: What baby, Max?! WHOSE BABY?! I haven’t been this confused since Abu Dhabi 2021.

user: Can someone please check if Max even knows what he said? He looked so panicked when he walked off.

user: “If it weren’t for the baby”??? Sir, we’re not in Panem; calm down.

user: Peeta Verstappen has entered the chat. Someone hand him a loaf of bread. user: Peeta Mellark walked so Max Verstappen could run user: I just KNOW someone’s editing Max into a Peeta scene as we speak. Can’t wait.

user: Okay but what baby would involve George? George is childless?

user: Guys, hear me out: What if Max is secretly dating George’s sister? That’s the ONLY way a baby ties them together. user: Nah, there’s no way. George would’ve punched Max into next week already. user: Okay but think about it. Max. George’s sister. A baby. Uncle George. THIS IS LORE. user: I’m just saying, George’s sister has been looking very glow-y lately… 👀 user: Not a theory, just facts: Max is babytrapping George into a truce. 💀 user: Wait... isn’t George’s sister in Abu Dhabi right now?? 👀 user: omg and they were seen together on his hotel balcony jskjsk user: I’M SCREAMING. THIS THEORY IS TOO GOOD. user: Max... the man, the myth, the secret brother-in-law.

user: F1 fandom today: trying to figure out if Max has a secret family or if we’re all just collectively hallucinating.

user: Bro, if this is true, Netflix better dedicate a whole episode to Uncle George. user: “If it weren’t for the baby” is my villain origin story now.

user: GUYS. What if Max meant baby as in, like, his cat or something? We’re spiraling.

user: Okay but why would George care about Max’s cat?! Use your brain. user: Honestly, the only thing that makes sense is Max dating George’s sister. Uncle George confirmed. Case closed.

user: Y’all, the way I will actually SCREAM if Max and George’s sister are together. This is better than any race drama.

user: Max Verstappen?? A baby daddy?? In THIS economy??

user: Everyone’s fighting over the baby, but I’m just here wondering how Christian Horner is gonna spin this in interviews.

user: Plot twist: The baby is Christian Horner’s with Toto 😭

user: STOP. This is the most chaotic F1 season ever, and I love it.

Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @spooky-librarian-ghost @diaryofarandomkid @rd14 @hc-dutch @tremendousstarlighttragedy @grussellsprout @dannyespinosa06 @awritingtree @shelbyteller @diorbrxtz @96mcobo

[screampied]

Wait…

Using a vibrator on Choso??? Need this… so bad… 😫

Listened to an audio like this and it gave me the idea

Need a vibrator on his 🍆 asap 🙏 🙏

May vegas, goddess of smut, answer my prayers 🙏

using a vibrator on choso ★

warnings. fem! reader, praise, toy usage, ōrgasm control, whiney choso, mdni.

“y- you wanna use that?” choso gulps with an almost chagrined grin. he didn’t exactly mind, especially whenever you wanted to try new things with him underneath the sheets. you’d just gotten done from riding him and he’s catching a few breaths whilst in the midst of speaking to you. with sable irises pooling into you, he then sighs, “how would you even do it? aren’t you supposed to um rub it against there?”

as he says that, his eyes avert right between your legs before he sits against your lap. his head lowers itself back while he gets comfortable, a low huff withdrawing from his rosé-colored lips.

“like how you use it on me,” you hum, picking up the wireless wand. slender finds of yours wrap around it before swiping a thumb against the button to power it on. he stares in awe, gazing at how it’s on the lowest level. choso inhales shortly afterwards, hearing the tumultuous bzzzzing of the toy, pulses of his heart steadily racing. “i’ll just rub it against your tip. can i do that, baby?”

“y-yes,” he nods immediately, sprawling out his legs a bit. the way he instantly responds was so cute—practically cutting you off, barely giving you a chance to finish your words. if it’s with you, he’d never mind. your touch, choso’s ultimate weakness. out of the countless enemies he’s been in combat with, the simplicity of your touch was his far worst enemy he’d never win a match with. with hitched breaths, strands of his ponytails tickling against your skin, he whines. “use it on me, baby. please, just- just hold my hand, ‘kay?”

you hum in response, intertwining your fingers with his as he relaxes against your chest.

“okay, cho,” and your voice was so smooth. he could listen to it all day, the sweetness underneath it had his heart swooning every time you spoke. he’s breathing softly, awaiting for you to do what you spoke. you’re slow, delicately hovering the vibrator before making it graze gently against his tip. immediately, he lets off a whimper.

the vibrations, it’s enough to make his teeth shatter. his whines, even something as simple as his whines was so mellifluous. a tune you’d never want to stop listening to. “how’s it feel baby?”

“f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum already,” he swallows, you’re barely placing the toy over his cockhead and he’s already a mess. the best way to describe it was that it tickled. he couldn’t help but wonder, whenever you used these things on yourself, did you feel like this too? choso swallows an imaginary creeping lump that’s stuck against the roof of his mouth before he starts to quaver. he’s so cute—within seconds, he was already so vocal. he bites down on his lip before another free hand of his squeezes your inner thigh. “hah, i-it feels good. feels really good, princess.”

you simper to yourself, pressing a kiss near the crown of his head. in a gingerly circular motion, you start to move the vibrator all around his cock. he’s a mess, you’re doing nothing but sending choso into straight convulsions.

“so whiny,” you tease, and he’s always been one to be dramatic with his whines and whimpers but he couldn’t help it. this entire new feeling, it was euphoric. you start to tease a bit further, leaning in to kiss the long slope of choso’s neck. he was gonna melt into your hands. you had him right where you wanted him. “you’re doing so good, baby. hold my hand. i got you.”

“t- turn it up a level please.” he mewls out, darkened brows compressing into a firm furrow. his pouty expression only grows, glancing down at his leaky tip that was smothered with pre-cum.

you inch the toy away from his shaft, kissing more down his neck to hear him moan. his entire body, it was frigid and cold— yet the moment your lips paint against his skin like an empty canvas, he’s suddenly hot everywhere.

“another level, choso? you can handle that?” and oh, your words were so sly and salacious. the particular tone that you spoke, you were gonna be the death of him entirely,

“y-yes, i can take another notch. please just, f-fuck me, feels good. make me feel so good,” and his babbles were adorable. continuously, choso swallows, strained breaths pulling out of his full lungs before he bites his lip—this time, harder. “god, i need it so bad. n-need you, only you c-can make me feel this good, baby.”

“mmm that’s right, ‘cho,” you pepper a plethora of more chaste kisses down his neck. he moans from more of your touch.

he had highly sensitive skin, he craves your lips more than anything. especially whenever you’d be an even bigger tease, nipping a few bites towards his precious collarbone. with a thumb, you press the button to go up a higher level and he starts whining louder. you run the front part of the hitachi all around his throbbing head, near the peeling part of his frenulum and he’s losing it. choso’s mouth dangles opens, only the sounds of sweet whimpers leaving . . nothing else. “you’re such a good boy, my good boy right?”

once he hears those words— his heart flutters, with shaky lips, he moans out a sweet, “all yours, ‘m your g-good boy, fuuuck,” and the grip he has against your hand squeezes much tighter. a thumb of his brushes against your palm before he’s almost going limp against your chest. “not gonna l-last. ‘m gonna cum, can— may i cum? don’t wanna make a mess unless y-you say it’s okay, princess. ‘m not a messy boy.”

“but you are a messy boy, silly,” you tease, starting to suck near the center crevices of his neck. he was so weak for you.

the friction—it was merely worthy enough to make his teeth shatter.

choso’s panting accelerates and his legs start to jitter at a rapid speed. “you wanna cum, baby? wanna make a mess for me ‘n let me clean it up for you?”

his eyelids grew heavy. your lovely voice,

your voice alone was enough to make him shoot out such ropes of white. everything was a blur, his entire body overtook itself with a feverish fervor feeling. he’s so hot, clouds of breath remain to slip past his lips before he nods.

“yeah, yeah y-yeah,” and his voice is cracking. the toy’s right near the side of his dick now, then it travels its way down to his base— then back up towards his beloved head.

“oh, oh my,” he hiccups, and he really loses it once you let go of his hand to stroke him off. “baby, f-fuck, ‘m hard. so hard, gonna c-cum ‘n get your hand all dirty.”

“give it to me baby, ‘s okay.” you purr against the shell of his ear.

one hand of yours gives his cock a few solid pumps whilst another is smearing the vibrating wand against his cum-glossed tip repeatedly.

choso kisses his teeth at your words of encouragement and he feels like he’s floating. in fact, he feels like he’s soaring— it’s in a way he can’t really explain, it scratches such a good itch in his brains that the neurons stored inside couldn’t even fathom his incoming release either.

he loves whenever you stroke him, why— mainly because you always do it better than himself.

the way your hands wrap around his fat length, fisting his cock gently around your fingers. choso’s eyes start to roll back before he cums.

“f-fuck fuuuuck.” he stammers, feeling the spurts shoot out in such creamy volume. it’s so thick, some of it dribbles down from his tip and lands on your hand. still heaving heavily, he’s still slumped back against your chest before he hears you turn off the toy, tossing it aside. he’s trying to catch his breath, eyelids still droopy before he turns around to pull you into a deep, sultry kiss.

you giggle—a smile stretching against your lips as you throw an arm around him, embracing in his savory, sweet taste. he’s still all exposed, tip all sticky and leaky with seed. choso tastes sweet, sweet as in he’s been dying to taste you all day.

a tongue of his rummages through your mouth, briefly sucking on yours before he whines once he feels your hands roam. you go back to stroking him and he melts into your touch, pulling away from your lips and burying his face into your neck.

“awww,” you whisper, bringing both arms to hug him tightly. as big as he was, it was as if you were the big spoon.

he’s vigorously trembling, still sensitive from his recent release. it felt so good he didn’t know just what words to get out. as you play with the cute bows he allowed you to tie on his two ponytails, you move your head to give him a kiss on his cheek. “you did so good, baby. such a good boy.”

“i . . i want more,” he mutters, cupping both sides of your face suddenly. you stare into his eyes, almost giggling again before he presses a wet kiss on your mouth. again, and again, and again until your lips are all plump and swollen.

alas, he was serious though. whenever choso gets that instant feral look in his eyes, that’s it.

“what do you want, choso?” you hum, a thumb stroking against the minuscule bristles that reside against his structured jawline.

“you,” he whimpers, licking underneath your neck. you gnaw your bottom lip, feeling a hand of his pry its way between your legs before his head lowers. you watch, and he gets a face full view of your panties. choso pouts, sliding your underwear to the side before glancing up at you— a single soft kiss goes against your now exposed cunt before he sighs. “i’m s-so thirsty. let me make you feel good too, baby. please.”

[gilbertscurls]

All Mine ➵ Matt Sturniolo

warnings: SMUT, softdom!matt, teasing, unprotected p in v

Matt sat in his chair, his mind already starting to wander after hours of going over endless spreadsheets, graphs, and data reports. He tried his best to pay attention, but the numbers and statistics were blurring together, and his focus kept shifting to the conversation going on between his brothers and Laura.

He zoned back in as Chris said something about their video views dropping. He glanced at his other brothers, noticing their tired and frustrated expressions. He couldn't blame them, this meeting was feeling like it'd never end.

He shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. He couldn't help but yawn, his lack of sleep from the night before catching up to him. He glanced over at the clock on the wall, silently willing the time to move faster.

Matt felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and reached in, discreetly pulling it out to check the notification. He saw that it was a text, and his heart immediately skipped a beat.

You: hey, what are you doing?

He couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement when he saw your text. He quickly typed out a reply, trying to keep a straight face while still being in the meeting.

Matt: hey sweetheart, we're in a meeting right now. bored out of my mind. wbu?

In response, he received a picture. It was you dressed in dark blue lacy lingerie. You were smirking, and the added text said, “Thoughts and opinions?”

Matt's breath hitched in his throat as he looked at the picture, a wave of desire immediately washing over him. He swallowed hard, trying to discreetly position his phone so that his brothers and Laura, who were sitting nearby, wouldn't notice. His mind quickly went straight to all the dirty thoughts and opinions he had about you at that moment. But he knew he needed to keep his cool and focus on the meeting.

He typed out a quick reply.

Matt: i think we need to finish this meeting ASAP.

He sent the message, already impatient and eager to finish up. His body was reacting in all sorts of ways now, his mind filled with thoughts of how gorgeous you looked… And what you could do once this meeting was over.

“And let's move on to the pressing issue of…” Laura babbled on, but he didn't really listen anymore.

He tried his best to pay attention to what Laura was saying, but his mind was preoccupied with the picture he had just received. He couldn't stop thinking about you and how badly he wanted you right now. He shifted in his seat again, trying to discreetly adjust himself and hoping no one would notice.

He continued to nod and give the occasional “yeah” or “uh-huh” whenever one of his brothers spoke, but his mind was completely elsewhere. He kept sneaking glances at his phone, desperate to see if you would send another text or naughty photo.

He could hear his brothers and Laura talking, but his thoughts were consumed with you. He was starting to get impatient now, wanting to leave this meeting and go be with you. He glanced at the clock again, willing the time to move faster. He knew he wasn't going to be able to focus until this was over.

And eventually, another text came. This time, it was a close-up of your tits, still clad in that lacy little bra that didn't leave much to the imagination.

He nearly choked on his own spit as he looked at the new picture, quickly glancing around to make sure no one had noticed his reaction. He felt a wave of desire wash over him, his heart racing at the sight of your body.

His phone was positioned at an angle where no one could see it, but he was still being careful as he typed out a reply.

Matt: holy hell sweetheart…

He quickly sent it before looking back up at his brothers and Laura, trying to act normal.

He could feel the heat building up inside him, and he knew he was going to struggle to keep himself together if you sent any more pictures. He shifted in his chair again, trying to relieve some of the tension in his body. He glanced at the clock again, but the minutes seemed to be passing by slower and slower.

You: i miss you :(

Matt felt a pang of longing in his chest as he read your text. He missed you too, so much. He wanted nothing more than to be with you right now, to hold you close and make love to you.

Matt: i miss you too… this meeting feels like it's never going to end. i just want to be with you.

He glanced up again, checking to see if his brothers or the manager were looking his way. They were still busy going over the spreadsheets, and he took the opportunity to discreetly sneak another glance at his phone.

The sight of the picture was still fresh in his mind, and it was making him restless. He couldn't take this any longer. He needed this meeting to end, or else he was going to go crazy. He shifted in his chair again, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was no use. He was too worked up now, too consumed with thoughts of you.

You: i need you so bad

As he read your message, his heart raced and his body responded instantly. Your words were like gasoline on a fire. His thoughts went wild, imagining all the things he wanted to do to you, how badly he needed to be with you right now. He had to force himself to look up from his phone, his eyes darting around to check if anyone was looking his way.

Matt: i need you too sweetheart. so, so badly.

His body was alive with desire, his mind filled with images of you. He was on the edge, so close to just getting up and walking out of the meeting. But he knew he couldn't do that. He had to stay, even though every fiber of his being was screaming to be with you.

“What do you think, Matt?” Laura asked suddenly.

Matt's heart skipped a beat as he heard his name being called. He quickly looked up, trying to compose himself and act normal. He had no idea what Laura had asked him, his mind hazy with thoughts of you.

"Um… Sorry, could you repeat that?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

He could feel his brothers' eyes on him, and he knew they could tell something was on his mind. He tried to focus on Laura, but it was getting harder and harder. He hoped she wouldn't ask him anything else, or he might just lose it right here.

He tried to listen as Laura repeated her previous statement, but he was only half paying attention. His mind was still fixated on you and the pictures you had sent him. He couldn't shake the desire and need coursing through his veins. He felt like he was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode any second now.

He couldn't help but keep glancing at his phone, hoping for another message from you. The anticipation was killing him. He longed for your words, your pictures, anything that might alleviate this desperate need he was feeling.

You: when r u coming back?

He quickly read your message, his heart skipping a beat again. He was desperate to be with you, and the thought of having to sit through the rest of this meeting was torture.

He typed out a reply, his fingers trembling slightly.

Matt: asap. this meeting is taking FOREVER. i need to be with you now.

He felt like he was on the edge of a physical breakdown, his body was aching with the need for release and the need to be with you. He couldn't keep his mind focused on the meeting for even a second, his thoughts consumed by the images and the memory of your body. He just wanted this all to be over so he could go to you.

You: i might need to start without you ;)

As he read your message, his eyes went wide and he felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. The thought of you touching yourself without him was both maddening and arousing, and it only intensified his need to be with you.

He quickly typed out a response, his hands shaking slightly.

Matt: baby please don't… i can't take this much longer

He shifted in his seat again, trying to find some sort of relief but only finding more discomfort. His body was aching for release, for your touch. He glanced up again, checking to see if anyone was looking his way. No one seemed to have noticed anything, but he knew he was close to snapping.

His mind was a constant battle between the need to be professional and stay in this meeting, and the need to go to you right now. He tried to focus on the words being spoken around him, but all he could think about was you. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this worked up.

The meeting dragged on and on, and it seemed to be endless. He couldn't tell if time was actually slowing down, or if it was just his perception, fueled by the need for you. He kept sneaking glances at his phone, hoping for another message from you, something to help him through this. His body was on fire, every inch of him aching for your touch.

“I know you guys are tired, but there is one more, long matter…” Laura kept talking.

Matt felt a pang of frustration as he heard Laura's words. Another long matter? He couldn't take it anymore. He was so close to the breaking point, and now he had to sit through another long discussion.

He tried to keep his composure, but it was getting harder and harder. His thoughts were consumed by you, by the burning need to be with you. He couldn't stand another minute of this.

He was starting to feel a hint of irritation mixed with the desire. He tried to pay attention to what Laura was saying, but his mind kept drifting back to Victoria. He wondered what you were doing, if you had stayed true to your word and started without him. The thought alone was enough to make his body twitch in response.

He shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was useless. He was so pent up now that he was struggling to think clearly. The only word that kept repeating in his mind was “now”. He needed you, now and immediately. The thought of waiting any longer was almost physically painful.

“Hey, you good, man?” Chris asked quietly, leaning a little closer to him.

Matt jerked his head up, suddenly aware that he had been zoned out for a moment. He looked at Chris and quickly plastered on a smile.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm good. Just tired, you know.”

He tried to sound casual, but he knew Chris could read him well. He wouldn't be fooled by a simple fake smile.

He shifted in his chair, hoping to subtly adjust his crotch which was now visibly tenting against his pants. He avoided Chris's gaze, knowing that if he looked into his eyes, his brother would know something was going on.

He tried to focus on the meeting again, but his mind was in a loop between the need for you and the need to pretend everything was normal. He knew he was treading on thin ice, and all it would take was one more message or picture from you to completely send him over the edge.

And as if on cue, you sent him a short video. It showcased your body, still clad in lingerie, and your hand was trailing down your skin.

As the video played, Matt's body reacted with intense need. He had to bite down on his lip to keep from moaning. He was sitting at the table, surrounded by people, and he had to act like nothing was wrong. He felt like he was going to explode any second now.

He kept his face neutral, trying to look disinterested. But inside, he was going crazy. He wanted to get up and go to you right that minute, not caring about the meeting or anything else. He watched the video again, drinking you in, his mind replaying your words, your touch, your scent. He was so lost in the moment that when you sent him another text, he almost dropped his phone.

His heart raced as he saw the notification. He quickly picked up his phone, careful not to show the screen to anyone else. He opened the message and read your words.

You: i can’t take it anymore baby, i need you.

Matt's body responded instantly to your message. His need for you grew even stronger, and he had to fight the urge to just get up and go to you.

He quickly typed out a message, his fingers shaking slightly.

Matt: i need you too. so badly. you're driving me crazy.

He sent the message and waited for your response, his body thrumming with need and desire.

Vee: fucking laura

He read your message and couldn't help but let out a small huff of laughter. He knew how frustrated you were because he was equally frustrated. But the fact that you were thinking about Laura right now… It was both funny and incredibly arousing.

He quickly responded, his thumbs flying over the keypad.

Matt: i know baby. i feel the same. she is taking forever. i want to leave and be with you.

He tried to keep his focus on the meeting, but it was getting more and more difficult with every message from you. He was on the verge of losing his mind, his body on fire with need for you. He wanted to go to you, to touch you, to taste you, to make you scream his name.

The meeting was entering its second hour, and Matt wasn't sure how much longer he could take this. He could feel his composure slipping, his need for you growing more intense with each passing minute.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the meeting adjourned and everyone was getting up to leave. Matt quickly packed up his things, eager to get out of there as soon as possible. He glanced at his phone, checking for any messages from you, and thankfully, there was none. You seemed to have enough self-control to not send him anything more while the others were still in the room.

Matt took a deep breath and tried to compose himself as his brothers approached. He was still feeling frustrated and pent-up, but he couldn't show it. He forced a casual smile.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

He led the way out of the room and towards the parking lot, his steps brisk and purposeful. He had to get out of here and to you as soon as possible. The need for you was like a physical ache inside of him, demanding immediate attention. Every step further away from you made the ache worse.

He tried to make small talk with his brothers, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't focus on anything but the thought of you, of the way you would feel in his arms, the way your body would press against his, the way you would gasp and moan his name.

They reached the car and Matt quickly got into the driver's seat, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. He kept his eyes on the road, but his mind was still racing with thoughts of you. It was taking all his self-control not to speed, knowing that the faster he got to you, the better.

His brothers chatted amongst each other, but Matt was only half listening. All he could think about was the images he had received earlier, the sound of your voice, the need he felt for you. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, praying that he would get to you before he completely lost his mind.

The drive felt like it was going on for an eternity. Matt's knuckles were white from the tight hold he had on the steering wheel, and his jaw was clenched shut tightly. He tried to focus on the road, but his mind kept wandering back to you, to the things he would do to you when he finally got there.

He was aware that his brothers were talking, but he couldn't make out the words. The only thing he was aware of was the aching need in his body, the need to be with you, to feel you, to make you his. He had never felt this level of desperation before, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

He finally pulled the car onto their street, and relief washed over him, mixed with the intense need. He parked in the driveway and turned off the engine, then turned to his brothers, who were gathering their things to get out of the car.

“I'll see you guys later,” he said quickly, trying to sound casual.

His brothers nodded, not noticing the edge in his voice, the urgency in his movements. Matt quickly got out of the car and made a beeline for his front door.

He fumbled with the keys for a moment, his hands shaking with excitement and anticipation. Finally, he got the door open and rushed inside, shutting it behind him. The house was quiet, and he knew you were waiting for him somewhere, probably in their bedroom.

As he walked towards the hallway to the bedroom, he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He was so close to getting what he needed, what he had been craving for hours. When he reached the door, he didn’t even bother to knock. He turned the handle and pushed the door open.

You were already laying on the bed, a teasing smirk on your face, and you were wearing that same damn lingerie.

As soon as you came into view, Matt’s breath caught in his chest. Seeing you there, waiting for him, wearing that lace and silk, was enough to drive him over the edge. He closed the door behind him and locked it, making sure they wouldn’t be interrupted this time.

“Hi there,” you greeted him teasingly.

He couldn't find words to respond to you, he was too overwhelmed by your appearance and his own need. He simply continued towards you, his gaze fixated on your body. When he got to the bed, he reached out and touched you, his hands gently tracing over the lace of the lingerie.

His touch was gentle, but the fire inside him was anything but. He ran his hands up your sides, feeling your soft skin under his fingers. He was so close to losing control, but he forced himself to maintain some semblance of restraint.

“You like the new set?”

His eyes raked over your body, taking in every inch of you, every curve, every dip. He could feel his control slipping, but he managed a strangled reply.

“You're killing me.”

He moved to lie down beside you, pulling you close to him. He couldn't resist touching you, his hands roaming over your skin, taking in the feel of you under his touch. You were warm and soft, and you fit against his body perfectly.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugging at it to bring him closer. He allowed you to pull him down, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. As soon as your mouths met, all his restraint went out the window. He kissed you deeply, hungrily, his body pressing against yours. One of his hands found the bare skin of your thigh, and his fingers traced small circles on your flesh.

His other hand tangled in your hair, holding you closer to him, his tongue exploring your mouth. He was drowning in your kiss, in the way your body felt against his, in the way your scent drove him wild. His free hand started to wander over your body, tracing the lines of your curves, his fingers teasing the edge of the lace fabric.

He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. He could feel you shiver under his touch, and it only fueled his need. His mouth traveled lower, down your collarbone to the valley between your breasts.

“God, I need you so bad,” you whispered breathlessly.

He moved his mouth from your chest to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. He placed a small kiss on your earlobe before whispering back.

“You have no idea how much I need you right now.”

His hand on your thigh slid upwards, under the hem of the lingerie. His fingertips grazed the edge of your underwear, and he could feel your body respond eagerly to his touch.

He continued to kiss and nibble at your neck and earlobe as his hand moved further up your thigh, his touch growing more possessive. He was losing himself in the feel of you, in the way you responded to him.

“I need more,” he whispered against your skin, his voice rough with desire.

He gently pushed you onto your back, positioning himself between your legs. His hands ran up your arms and pinned your wrists to the bed, his body pressing against yours. He lowered his mouth to your ear again and spoke in a low, rough voice.

“I need to feel you. All of you. Now.”

“I'm all yours,” you whispered.

Those words sent a wave of heat through his body, and he let out a low growl of satisfaction. His hands released your wrists and began to explore your body again, this time with more urgency. He slid them under the fabric of the lingerie, slowly peeling it off your body.

As more of your skin was exposed, his lips started to follow. He kissed and nipped at your chest, your stomach, your thighs. He was like a man possessed, driven by a primal need to claim you completely. His hands continued to wander, exploring every inch of your body as he made his way back up to your face.

When he got there, he looked into your eyes with raw hunger. He had almost completely lost control now, his body on fire with desire.

When he felt your hands on his skin, his body reacted instantly. He lifted his arms so you could pull the shirt off from over his head and toss it aside.

As soon as his chest was bare, your hands were back on him, running over his skin and igniting a fire in his veins. He kissed you again, his mouth hot and demanding against yours, his body pressing your back into the bed.

His hands roamed your body, exploring every contour, every curve. He was drunk with the feel of you, the way you responded to him, the way your breath hitched and your moan echoed in his ears. His lips moved back down your neck to your shoulder, his teeth lightly biting at your skin. He needed you closer, needed to feel all of you, to possess you completely.

His hands slid under your body, cupping your backside and pulling you up against him. He could feel your bare skin against his, the heat of your body driving him wild. His mouth found yours again, his tongue demanding as it invaded you. He was consumed by you, lost in the feel and taste of you. He wanted more, so much more.

His hands moved up your back, tracing your spine. He could feel the heat in your body, the way you arched against him, craving his touch just as desperately as he craved you. He started to lower his body in between your legs, positioning himself against you.

“I can't wait any longer,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I need to be inside you, now.”

You had to surpass a moan. “Please…”

Your plea only heightened his need, and he couldn't hold back any longer. He reached down, unzipping his jeans and quickly pulling them off. He was fully exposed now, his body taut with anticipation. He positioned himself between your legs again, his eyes locking onto yours.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice ragged with desire. “And you're all mine.”

He paused for a moment, looking at you intently, taking in the sight of you lying there beneath him, your body waiting for him, completely open and vulnerable. It was a sight that always took his breath away, always filled him with an overwhelming sense of possessiveness.

He reached down, his hands moving to your hips, holding you firmly. He started to press into you slowly. He watched as your eyes fluttered shut, your head falling back against the bed. A gasp escaped from your lips, and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

He started moving inside you, his body and yours finding a rhythmic dance that was both familiar and new at the same time. His hands were still on your hips, his grip strong and sure, as he began to move faster, deeper. His mouth found yours again, claiming you as he took you, owned you.

The sound of your moan was like fuel to the fire burning within him. He moved his lips to your neck and sucked on your skin, hard, leaving a mark that would be there the next day as a reminder of this moment.

“You're mine,” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot and heavy. “All mine. I'm never letting you go.”

He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust and the moan that escaped from his lips.

He needed to hear you, wanted to know that you were as lost in this as he was. He moved his lips back to your ear, his voice low and ragged.

“Tell me you're mine. Tell me you're mine, and nobody else's.”

“Yours,” you choked out in between the moans. “Only yours.”

Your words sent a wave of possessiveness through him, and he claimed your mouth in a rough and hungry kiss. He had you. Completely, utterly. You were his, and no one else's.

His body moved against your, finding a furious pace. He needed you, needed to claim you completely, to make you his in every possible way. His hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of you, as if trying to memorize your very existence.

Every moan, every gasp, every breath that escaped your lips only served to drive him on. He needed to hear you, to know that he was giving you everything you wanted, everything you needed. And you were giving him the same, the sounds of your pleasure filling his ears and feeding the fire within him.

He moved his lips down your body, his teeth nipping at your skin. He wanted to leave his marks all over you, to brand you as his. He knew he was being rough, but he couldn't help it. The primal need to claim you was too strong.

“Fuck, Matt…” you moaned loudly, your hands finding themselves on his back.

The sound of his name on your lips, the feeling of your hands on his skin… It only fueled the fire inside him. He wanted to hear that moan again, to feel your body shaking under him, lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

“You're so beautiful when you moan like that,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I love hearing you say my name like that.”

He continued to move inside you, his body moving against yours in a fevered rhythm. He could feel himself getting close, but he needed you to be there with him. He needed you to come undone completely, to completely let go.

“Matt, close, I… Please… Don't… Don't stop…”

He was getting closer, and your pleading words were like an accelerant to the flame. He moved his lips to your ear again, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

“I won't stop,” he assured you, his voice ragged with desire. “I'm gonna make you come, baby. And I'm gonna come with you. But I need you to let go, I need you to give me everything. Can you do that for me?”

He could feel your body tightening around him, and he knew you were close. He picked up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate.

“Let go, baby,” he whispered in your ear, his voice a low growl. “I want to hear you, I want to feel you. Give it to me, give me everything.”

And with one last deep thrust, you came, his name on your lips, and your nails digging into the bare skin of his back.

The sound of his name and the feel of your nails on his skin, the way your body convulsing around him… It was all too much.

He didn't even have time to warn you before he followed you over the edge, his body shuddering violently as he found his own release. He buried his face in your neck, gasping for air and trying to catch his breath.

“Oh, god,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “God, I love you.”

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice still unsteady.

He buried his face against your neck, inhaling deeply, the scent of your skin filling his senses. He was still breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest. After a moment, he spoke again.

“You were so beautiful,” he said softly. “I've never seen you more beautiful than you were just now.”

He lifted his head to look at you, taking in your flushed face, your mussed hair, your breath still coming in short gasps. You were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen, and the fact that you were all his only made you even more perfect.

He gently pushed some loose strands of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin.

“You're mine, you know that?” he whispered. “You're completely mine. And I'm never letting you go.”

[simpurnatural]

"Flustered" || Short-Fic

XO, Kitty - Min Ho Moon x Fem!Reader

Note from Nat: "Back to back Min Ho fics??? Didn't expect to get so much positive feedback. Thanks for going easy on ya girl, I'm still a bit rusty! Enjoy and make sure to wipe that drool off your face babe!"

Warning(s): Spoilers for "XO, Kitty" seasons 1 & 2, A little bit of Smut, Language, Sorta Proofread

As the fall semester came to an end, with everyone not wanting to part ways even for a just a month, Min Ho decides to invite the entire friend group for a winter getaway.

“Where’s Y/n?” Asked Dae which made everyone’s heads turn before the sound of snow crunching was heard.

You approached the group that was currently enjoying the hot tub, arms crossed to keep your robe shut. Min Ho suggested that the hot tub would be best way to relax after a day of travelling

“Hi! Sorry I’m late to the party,” you smiled whilst kicking off your slippers, then sliding your robe off your shoulders.

“Hot damn girl,” Q said, overcame with astonishment. "Drop the workout routine asap please," he joked as everyone's eyes lingered on your figure.

“Oh stop it,” you laughed and rolled your eyes. “This old thing isn’t worth the hype,” you insisted, but everyone would’ve begged to differ.

The navy blue two piece you were sporting hugged all the right places. Your ass and tits looked like they needed saving. The sight was definitely giving body tea.

Everyone watched as you made your descent into the tub and sat in between Kitty and Min Ho. Kitty had given you a small wave whereas Min Ho could barely make eye contact. Various conversations continued but Min Ho remained in an unlike-him-silence.

He wondered how he had not noticed how hot you looked until now. Not saying that looks are everything, but Min Ho felt stuck on how he never gave you a second glance.

"-Right Min Ho?" Dae asks, turning to his best friend who was clearly zoning out.

"Sorry what?" Min Ho replied, snapping out of his trance.

"We're gonna be able to go skiing first thing tomorrow, right?" Dae reiterated, a slight tiredness in his voice due to Min Ho's lack of contribution to the conversation.

"Of course," Min Ho nodded before his gaze back on you, who was too busy chatting with Yuri and Kitty to realizing anything else.

"Woah okay, this is new," Q teased, as his eyes followed Min Ho's. "The bikini has got your eyes lurkin'" he says, making Jin snicker at the observation.

"What are you guys talking about?" you ask with an unaware smile on your lips, Min Ho's eyes instantly looking down.

"Min Ho here seems to have-" Q began.

"Shut it," Min Ho tsked before moving to leave the hot tub.

"Hey, we were just joking," Jin called out as Min Ho shuffled back into the house.

"What was that about?" Yuri questioned, all conversations now put on pause.

"Is Min Ho okay?" Kitty asked, looking to the other boys occupying the hot tub.

"He's just a little flustered," Dae replied, the feeling of worry instantly overcame you.

"Did I do something?" you say wide-eyed but to no response. "I'll go check on him," you say before making your way out of the tub and walking towards the house. "Min Ho?" your voice echoed throughout the home.

You noticed a light coming from inside the kitchen and chose to investigate. There stood Min Ho, chugging a bottle of water with his slim yet toned physique being illuminated by the refrigerator light. He began to cough up said water after realizing your presence.

"Bloody hell, you scared me," he coughed, covering his face with the inside of his elbow. "What is it Y/n?" he asks while shutting the fridge door.

"What's with you?" you quizzed, "Ever since I joined you guys outside, you've been quiet and when I tried to converse with you-you run back inside!" you add with a hint of frustration in your voice.

"It's not my fault-"

"-So it's mine? What did I do wrong?" you cut off, urgently wanting an answer as to why your friend was avoiding you.

"Y/n, it's because y-you literally look like t-that!" Min Ho exclaimed as if it were common knowledge. "How else is a guy supposed to act when you decide walk around wearing something like that?" he questioned.

"Is what I have on not okay? Was there something in my hair?" you blabbered in response, instantly being overcame with the self-conscious feeling.

"It's fact that when I saw you earlier, I wish you didn't have anything on" Min Ho muttered in an almost whisper like volume.

The realization finally hit you, Min Ho had been eyeing you since you stepped into the hot tub. You face flushed a bright red, clearly flattered by the words that just came out of his mouth.

"So what you're saying is-"

"What I'm saying is that you look almost too good," Min Ho said, his voice deep and eyes darkened like a lion about to pounce on his next prey.

The small distance between the two of you shut in almost an instant, his hand cupped the side of your face gently. You could've sworn that the beat of your heart could be heard from miles away.

Your lack of response gave Min Ho time to lift you up and place you on the kitchen counter. Accidentally, you let out a small whimper at the feeling of the cold tile touching your skin. Min Ho felt as if he could've finished off that noise alone.

Standing between your legs, Min Ho's hands traveled all the way back down to your ass. You watched his eyes really take in your body, as if he could drink you up like a glass of water.

"Tell me to stop, and I will" Min Ho whispered as he gave your plump skin a squeeze.

Leaning in with your lips close to his ear, finally you replied, "I don't think I want you to stop".

Min Ho took this as his green light and you felt as his hands unclasped your bikini top. Grabbing the piece of clothing, he tossed away fand his eyes settled on your breast.

Biting his lip, Min Ho took one of each into his hands. "Beautiful. You are so beautiful Y/n," he said with is his accent thick, almost like he was about to melt at the sight of you.

You gasped at the feeling of his breath on your tits, causing a domino effect of butterflies and goosebumps to cover you. Min Ho chuckled at this, rubbing your nipples with his thumb in a circular motion.

Eyes closed; you threw your head back at the sensation before feeling something foreign come in contact with your breast. Min Ho's tongue began exploring your chest. It was as if he was trying to paint a picture.

His grasp on your tits became slightly more secure as he was egged on by your moans. He was marking his territory all over you with bright red hickeys.

Your half assed attempt to stifle your moans was with the palm of your hand. Min Ho however loved how loud you were getting for him and yanked your hand away from your face.

"I want to hear you," he insisted, pulling his lips away from your chest for a mere moment. "I want to hear you all night," he smirked, leaning in for a kiss.

"Uh guys?" a voiced that belonged to Yuri called out. "Is everything alright?" she asked, her voice trailing off into the hallway probably in search of you both.

Min Ho looked down with a smile on his face before getting your swim top from the ground. You quickly put it back on then pulled your hair to the front to cover the marks Min Ho left behind.

"W-we're here Yuri!" you replied hopping off the counter and walking out of the kitchen with Min Ho right behind you.

As Yuri came walking back towards you guys, her head tilted to the side in confusion, "What were you guys doing over there in the dark?"

"Just got some water," Min Ho replied, which seemingly convinced Yuri enough for her to walk back outside. "I'm not done with you yet," he whispered in your ear, giving your ass a slap.

JAN 2025

[lunarsworld]

✩*ೃ.⋆ super great!

pairing: smallville!clark kent x f!reader warnings: MDNI, smut, oral (f!recieving) a/n: i love smallville n tom welling so bam

⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ ⋆

fortunately, your english teacher assigned a group project for the class to help you boost your failing grade. unfortunately, you were paired with clark kent. the boy was sweet and all but you knew he had a side to him that nobody knew. you tried to get it out of him many times, but never prevailed. clark whipped his head towards you as soon as your teacher announced your pairing. “well, this is gonna be fun, right y/n”, he taunted. you rolled your eyes and stood quiet. “meet me by my truck after school ends, we’ll go to my place afterwards. save us both the torture and get the project finished asap.”

“wake up, we’re here,” clark said, while nudging you. for a guy who was supposed to be your enemy, his touch was pretty gentle. you grabbed your backpack from the floor of the truck and followed him into the barn. you wandered around the room, assessing every detail. to anybody but clark kent, you would’ve looked like a nosy prick probably trying to steal something. but clark knew you were just curious and wanted to know more about him, even though he couldn’t figure out why. when you were done snooping, you sat on the edge of his bed and he joined you.

a couple hours later once the project was finished, you and clark found yourself watching the sunset from the barn window and sharing random life stories. you started a tangent around 10 minutes ago and clark hasn’t shared a word since, although he never minded because he’d rather hear you talk about yourself. all that’s running through clark’s mind though, at that moment, is when to make his move.

at this point, it’s completely dark besides the candles and lamps lighting up the room. you stretch in exhaustion and yawn. “hey y/n?” clark murmurs, his tone kind of hoping you don’t acknowledge his calling. you turn your head to him, waiting for a response, “yea clark?” when he makes eye contact with you he almost forgets his question. nobody knew the effect you had on him, unfortunately you included. “why do you care so much about me? like you act like you hate me because you think i’m different but i just don’t get it.” you shake your head and giggle lightly. “clark, i never hated you. i hate when people mask who they are for others. and i know you do. and i also know who you really are. i think you’re super great and you shouldn’t hide it,” you say and he smiles in the way that makes you melt every time. “you think i’m super great, huh?” he repeats and starts stepping closer to you. he places his hands on your waist and looks at your lips, then your eyes. you try to mutter out a response, but it’s like your whole body is frozen except for the heat pooling in your stomach. he laughs lightly and then pulls you into a kiss.

your tongues clash together passionately, as if they had been waiting all their lives to dance together. he slides his hands under your turtleneck sweater and plays with the hem of it. in response, you pull his shirt off and then yours. he lays you down on the bed and continues kissing you, trailing from your lips, to your jaw, to your breasts, until he reaches where you ache the most for him. but before he takes off your skirt, he looks at you for reassurance. you nod your head but he scoffs, “i need your words, angel.” “yes clark i want this, need you, please c’mon.” you whine. he unzips your skirt and slowly pulls off your lace panties with his teeth. he kisses along your thighs, avoiding the spot you need him. “clark quit teasing.” you humph. as soon as those words leave your mouth, his latches onto your clit. he slides two fingers into you and continues to suck on your core. you groan and twist your body, trying to escape pleasure even though you’re chasing it. “angel, you beg for me to give you what you want but you’re runnin’ away from me. c’mon baby i jus’ wanna make you cum.” he says as you look at him. you look so fucking gorgeous, covered in sweat and looking all distraught. all because of him. “can you be a good girl for me n’ let me make you feel good baby?”

you immediately nod your head and relax again. he continues to go at it and it feels like his tongue is working at a super speed on your sensitive nub. he feels your body start to clench around his fingers so he starts thrusting them faster and deeper. “fuck clark i’m cumming.” you whine. “i know baby i can feel your pretty pussy squeezin’ my fingers. cum for me baby, i gotcha,” he groans. as soon as he says that you come undone on his fingers. he wastes no time cleaning up every drop of your slick, making sure none of it goes to waste. he comes up face to face to you and pulls you into a kiss. you giggle and begin to reach for his pants. “whatcha doin angel?” he questions, even though he knows. “you helped me, lemme help you.” you say. clark knows your intentions are pure and you just want to get him off too. “how about next time? you need your rest hun.” he says and you pout in return.

little did you know he wouldn’t let you suck his dick because he was embarrassed. embarrassed because he already came just by eating you out. too bad that wouldn’t be the last time that happened either.

[womanofwords]

Audience Participation (Part 2)

Neglected!fourthwall!reader x yandere!batfam.

You read through the comments with curiosity and horror. Some just wanted to say hi, one said that they were a god in your world, and one comment remarked that this (presumably, 'this' was talking to you) was fun. A lot of them called you buddy, which felt comforting.

But two messages from the comments were clear: 1), you needed to get out of Gotham ASAP, and 2), you shouldn't trust weirdos in capes or masks (like Batman and his sidekicks).

Would your family actually look for you, like the comments said they would? You doubted it, but if they were really going to search for you, then they'd call for the Gotham PD, and they'd bring in sniffer dogs.

Question: how do you outrun a nose that strong?

Answer: you don't. You confuse it.

You ventured into a library and logged onto a computer. You typed in the words 'what impedes a sniffer dog' into a search engine and clicked enter. You got results like using coffee grounds, meat smells, and sunscreen to mask smells.

Good. Nobody suspected coffee. Tim drank loads of the stuff, and nobody looked twice at you anyway.

You'd also need a burner phone, and a disguise. You'd have to change your name too. The surname Wayne was too recognisable; you needed something generic. Something like Alex Mass. Alex because it was gender-neutral, and you liked the word Mass. It was a synonym of weight, and in a household where you felt like you were nothing, it was nice to know that you had weight somewhere.

It was also nice to know that you, a singular person, was smarter than an entire comments section.

The next order of business was a place to go. You figured you'd make yourself a disguise later, closer to the actual leaving date. You weren't going to pick Bludhaven, it was too close to Gotham. No Metropolis either, it was far too bright, in a strangely bland way. No, you needed some serious distance.

You settled for Canada. You were pretty good at French, after all, and plenty of people threatened to move to Canada. But just learning French and ditching Gotham wasn't enough. You needed a diversion.

Like Spanish books.

Your folks thinking you were heading for Mexico was perfect. They could comb the entire country looking for you, and it would be a complete waste of time because you weren't there.

Things were coming together, but there was still so much to do.

But with a mission in mind, it could actually be fun.

"Hey, chat," you whispered, already feeling like a fool. Here you were, unironically talking to the comments section like a douchey livestreamer. "What should I do next? I'm old enough to get a bank account and I have some savings, but it's only $700 and it's not enough. I need to get more money and fast. Any help?"

First/previous

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Taglist: @bunniotomia, @hai-there-how-are-you, @crystal-freak24, @maskedvoyance.

[thought-you-knew]

𝐁𝐨𝐛 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐔: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

Summary: new apartment, new city, and your apartment might be haunted?

Pairings: bob reynolds x fem!reader

WC: 4.7K

Warnings: fluff, language, slight angst, mentions of a gun, !shyghostbob/awkward!ghostbob, friendly!ghostbob, detective!joaquin torres, fem!reader has a cat, fem!reader with vague descriptions, little to no use of y/n, and proofreadish

Author's Note: this randomly came to me when i was rewatching ghost, and just like heaven. hope you guys like it, and feedback is always appreciated (: you can find my masterlist here.

You finally managed to find a one-room apartment in New York without. It's a walkup, but only 5 flights of stairs.

The movers were unfazed and somehow managed to get your queen-sized mattress and couch into your apartment without too much struggle.

"Remind me again? Why did you move to a big city all by yourself?" Your best friend, Heather is on speaker phone as you try to start unpacking the kitchen.

It's small, but has character. The cabinets are painted a flax color, and the paint has started to peel. There's a matching vintage fridge.

You slightly laugh. "I told you I needed a fresh start, and I'm not alone. I have Pancake."

Your cat, Pancake, comes strutting into view as if he were waiting for his cue. You pause your unpacking and watch as Pancake wanders into the living room and proceeds to stare at the corner near the TV.

"Ugh, he's doing that creepy staring thing again," you inform Heather, and go back to putting away your mugs.

Heather laughs. "Well, you found him in a dumpster behind Taco Bell. What do you expect?"

"True, anyway, when do you think you'll be visiting?"

Her groan crackles through the speaker. "I dunno... maybe in a month or two?" Her voice starts to cut out.

"Wait? What was that?" You pick up your phone to see how many bars you have.

It seems fine.

"I said if work doesn't kill me first." She still sounds glitchy, but you ignore it and turn back to the next box.

Only to find it open already.

You don't think too much of it since you were running on a few hours of sleep.

You take a plate out, set it on the counter, pick up your cell, and go to the small window in your kitchen.

There's not much to look at, just the building directly across from yours. You can see inside their kitchen, but it seems like no one is home.

"I feel that. I need to start job hunting asap."

The sound of a plate shattering jolts you. At first, you think it's Pancake being Pancake, and you cross the short distance in a hurry.

Only to find that Pancake is sprawled out in front of the TV. The more bizarre thing is that the rest of your plates that were in the box are now neatly placed in the open cabinet.

That you didn't open.

You're wide awake now, and a sense of paranoia seeps through your body.

"Hey, everything okay? I heard something breaking." The sound of Heather's voice slightly calms you.

"Uh-ye-yeah. Just Pancake being a naughty boy," you reply, and your voice sounds steady. You didn't want to worry her so soon.

Heather buys it and continues to tell you about the last date she went on, and you're half listening.

Spotting the knife set, you grab the biggest knife and proceed to check out the rest of your apartment.

Once you've cleared the bathroom, bedroom, and living room. You double-check the locks on the front door.

"That's so weird," you say out loud as you return to the kitchen.

"What's weird?"

"Uh, nothing. Just some noisy neighbors."

Your heart lurches as you notice that the knife set has been moved to an almost more convenient spot than where you first put it.

---

Call you paranoid, but you're checking under your bed before getting in. You've listened to one too many Chilling Tales for Dark Nights, and it's made you hypervigilant.

"Pancake!" You yell and start smacking the spot next to you.

You need your cuddle buddy.

Just outside your bedroom, you can hear Pancake playing with his favorite toy.

A bouncy, sparkly pink rubber ball. He's had that toy since he was a kitten.

You roll your eyes as you hear him bat it around in the small hallway.

"Yeah, get it all out now," you mutter and crack open your book.

The only sound besides Pancake's playtime is the semi-constant sirens and shouts from people below your apartment.

You've lost track of time, but the words start blurring together, and you start nodding off.

Something light falls into your lap. With half-lidded eyes, you pat around your lap and feel that it's Pancake's ball.

What you don't feel is extra weight on the bed. Still half asleep, you look over the edge of the bed expecting to see Pancake's green eyes eagerly looking up at you.

Only to see nothing.

In fact, Pancake is not even in your room. You can hear him eating in the kitchen.

You pick up the ball and stare at it.

It feels slightly warm.

---

"Okay, I'm officially losing it," you mutter to yourself as you try to find your keys... again.

This is the fifth time this week that you've misplaced them. Their home is a little ceramic bowl that Heather made for you, and you keep that bowl on the stand right next to the front door.

It's not just the keys.

Strange things have been happening these past few weeks.

You keep misplacing your phone, the TV remote, your book, mugs, and once the coffeepot was already brewing when you went to the kitchen one morning.

That seemed like a hazard to you, so you started unplugging everything before bed since that incident.

Even Pancake is acting more weird than usual these past few days. He's already a talkative cat, but he's been extra talkative late at night in the living room.

At first, you thought it was a mouse or even cockroaches he was hunting, but every time you stumble out to the living room at 3 a.m., he's on the couch, meowing at a nonexistent thing on the other end.

You finally find your keys sitting on the small kitchen table. You hesitate before picking them up.

Again, they feel weirdly warm.

Like someone was holding them.

Or something

You try shaking off the weird feeling and head out for the day.

---

After a slew of mindless job interviews, you're basically dragging your feet back to your apartment. At the top of the last flight of stairs, you're able to see over the banister.

And you swear you see someone standing in front of your door.

A tall, slightly hunched figure. Just standing staring at your door.

Your heart picks up, you close your eyes, take a deep breath, and when you open your eyes, you're about to call out when you see an empty hallway.

You dash up the rest of the stairs and stare almost bewildered at your front door.

Oh my god. What if that person is in my apartment? A Murderer?That voice in the back of your head that sounds like your best friend isn't helping your rising panic.

You've never experienced anything like this, so you're not sure what to do.

Call the cops? And then what? Look like a complete idiot.

One thing for sure is you're not going in alone.

So you do the next best thing, which is a little embarrassing.

Start knocking on the doors and hope someone will answer.

You're frantically knocking on the door next to yours while still staring at your door.

You don't realize they've opened the door until you hear a slightly amused, slightly annoyed huff.

Turning your head, you're met with possibly one of the most attractive guys you've ever seen.

He's taller than you with tan skin, curly dark hair, brown eyes, and an amused smile.

"Uh...hi," you lamely say and awkwardly wave at him.

He grins and leans against the doorframe. "Hi, yourself. What can I do for you?"

You almost forgot why you're knocking on his door. His smile is dangerous and distracting.

"Um, I know this is going to sound stupid. But I came home and found my door unlocked."

His whole demeanor changes when he hears the slight shakiness in your voice.

"One second," he replies. He ducks back into his apartment, and you awkwardly stand there and try not to look into his apartment.

He returns with something that has you recoiling and almost regretting knocking on his door.

"I don't think a gun is necessary," you quickly say.

"It's okay. I'm a cop, obviously off duty, but you can never be too sure," he says and gives you a reassuring smile.

You don't fully relax, and you still keep your distance. Cop or not, you still think the gun is a bit much.

You lead the way back to your apartment, and he motions for you to wait in the hallway as he enters the apartment.

A few minutes pass, and you don't hear any noise.

That's a good thing, right?

He returns with his gun concealed.

"Well?" You anxiously ask.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "It's all clear. The only thing I came across was an angry fat cat."

"He's not fat."

He laughs, and you can't help but smile at the sound. "I also checked the locks on your windows, and nothing seems to have been tampered with."

"Thanks," you reply, and now you feel a little embarrassed. Maybe you were seeing things because of a lack of sleep.

"Maybe you left your door unlocked by accident?"

"Maybe..."

"Hey, it happens." He takes out his wallet and holds out a white card.

"What's that?"

"My card, just in case."

You hesitate before taking it from him and tucking it into the back pocket of your jeans.

You don't think you'll need it.

"Thanks again, but I'm sure this is a one-time thing."

He shrugs. "Well, just in case there's another emergency. At least you'll have my work and cell number."

You don't miss his hint.

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."

"Or else you could just try banging my door down again," he adds, and you feel yourself flush. "Anyways, see you around, neighbor." He gives you a wink before returning to his apartment.

Later that night, you dig the card out from the back pocket of your jeans. "Huh, he's a detective," you say to Pancake, who's sleeping next to you. "Detective Torres."

---

The next thing to go missing is Joaquin Torres's card.

Not that you care.

When things first started disappearing and reappearing, you brushed it off as a sign of your forgetfulness.

Until the coffeepot incident.

You were never one to believe in the paranormal, but these past few weeks have led you to question your beliefs. You tried researching your building, but all you found was that it was a prewar building.

Maybe your "ghost" is from the 1800s.

The couple of weeks are pretty dull, and none of your belongings have pulled a magical disappear-reappear act.

A small part of you is sad, and you don't know why.

It's not like this unknown presence was doing anything harmful, and you didn't voice your complaints or try to cleanse your apartment.

Maybe the spirit moved on?

The said spirit most definitely didn't move on, and you would soon find out.

Winter is right around the corner, and the city is getting colder.

Which means a lovely, cozy, warm apartment, right?

Wrong.

The apartment radiator never turns off, no matter what you do. It's starting to get a little too warm inside, even for Winter.

You've called your landlord so many times that he has stopped answering your calls.

He claims nothing is wrong with it.

You tried fixing it yourself, which resulted in you standing in front of the radiator while watching confusing and unhelpful YouTube videos.

Which is how you find yourself outside of Joaquin's apartment.

It's been almost a month, and you haven't run into him once.

You softly knock on his door this time and wait.

There's no answer.

Maybe he's at work, even though it's almost 9 pm.

Or sleeping.

One more try, and then you'll give up.

You're about to knock again when the door opens.

"Well, hey there, stranger," he says, and once again leans against his doorframe. "Leave your door unlocked again?"

You laugh. "No, it's my radiator this time. Um...do you mind checking it? I know it's kinda late."

"Sure thing," he says before you can backtrack.

He grabs his keys before you two head back to your apartment.

"You know I don't think I've ever been ghosted on the first meeting," he says suddenly as you're opening your door.

"Huh?" The only thing that stuck out was the word ghost.

He gives you a teasing grin. "You never called."

"Oh," you mutter and look away from his face, "Um, would you believe me if I said I lost your card?"

"Mhh.. depends."

"On?"

"Depends on how you'll make it up to me," he says and gives you a slight nudge.

"We barely know each other. You don't even know my name."

He grins and says your name.

You slightly glare at him. "Did you run a background check on me?"

Joaquin laughs. "No, not that extreme. But some of your mail may have been mixed up in mine."

You gap at him. "And you haven't bothered giving it to me?"

"Relax, it's all junk mail. Besides, I was waiting for that phone call."

You roll your eyes and walk into your overly warm apartment, and he follows.

"Damn," Joaquin says, and you miss him slightly shiver.

"I know."

You take him to the radiator and turn to see him staring at you weirdly and slightly looking you up and down. You're in a tank top and shorts.

Feeling a little self-conscious, you cross your arms over your chest.

"Are you feeling okay?" He suddenly asks, which makes you slightly frown.

What an odd question.

You snort. "Yeah, why are you asking? It's this old radiator that's the issue."

"You can say that again," he replies, bends down, and touches the side of it.

You're a second too late to warn him about how hot it is, and stare in slight shock at how his hand is casually and slowly running over it.

"Dude! That thing is blazing hot. Are you crazy?" You exclaim while reaching out and yanking his hand away. You turn his hand over and see how his palm is unaffected.

You look up and see Joaquin is giving you that strange, slightly worried look again. He reaches out and gestures that he wants to check your forehead.

His hand feels cool against your heated skin.

"You feel...warm?" He questions and moves his hand to the side of your neck. You can't help but lean into his touch.

Only because you're feeling hot.

He slightly laughs as he says your name. "It's freezing cold in here."

At that, you slightly jerk away from him and stare.

"Are you serious? It's hot as hell in here."

He frowns, crosses his arms, and stares you down.

Great, he thinks you're crazy.

"It's definitely not hot in here. The radiator isn't even on."

"You're messing with me," you say, and check it yourself. It's warm, but not as hot as it was earlier.

You ignore Joaquin calling your name and just stare at it.

You startle when he touches your shoulder, and you look up at him.

"Can you stay in my apartment until the morning. We'll call the landlord first thing."

"He's stopped taking my calls," you mutter and stand up. Still perplexed about the whole situation.

There's no way you'll stay at Joaquin's apartment. There's nothing wrong with yours... just that it's hot.

Maybe you can sleep with the window cracked? And hope for the best, despite the fire escape outside your window.

"No, it's fine."

"Are you sure? I can-"

"Really, Joaquin. It's fine. I'll be okay."

It's clear he's not too pleased with your answer, but lets it go. He offers extra blankets or his spare duvet, but you turn them down.

You still can't wrap your head around how he claims it's freezing cold in here.

Joaquin hovers in the doorway. "I just don't want you getting sick."

You smile up at him. "It's fine. I'll be okay."

He gives you a teasing glare. "Can I see your phone?"

Your phone?

That's a good question. When was the last time you saw your phone?

You glance towards your coffee table and see it phoneless.

As if waiting for it to be mentioned, you hear your phone buzz on the kitchen counter.

Most definitely not where you last put it.

You return to him, hand it over, and watch as he puts in his number.

Grinning, he hands it back to you. "Now you can't say you lost my number."

---

The hallway light has been flickering for the past few days, and you can only ignore it for so long.

You haul out the rickety old ladder that came with the apartment and prop it underneath the light fixture.

Hesitantly, you climb up it, and it wobbles.

"Ugh, great."

As fast as you can, you change the light bulb. You're checking to make sure you didn't screw in the light bulb too tightly when the ladder gives out.

You go crashing to the ground, and your head made a sickening thud as it hit the ground.

Thankfully, the hallway has a rug, and you weren't too high off the ground.

Groaning, you roll onto your back, eyes slightly closed. Through your parted eyes, you can see a blurry figure standing over you, and your first thought goes to Joaquin.

"Joaquin?" You groan out, but the figure stays hovering over you, not speaking.

You must have passed out because the next time you open your eyes, you're in your bed.

Sitting up quickly, you look out the window and see it's dark out.

You check your head and don't feel any damage. Just a slight headache.

Then you hear it.

A low voice coming from your living room.

One that doesn't sound like Joaquin.

You're bolting out of bed, and you try to look for some sort of weapon.

Your phone has gone missing... again.

You start creeping down the hallway towards the living room, holding a broom.

The voice coming from the living room is low, and it sounds like it's talking to someone or something.

Then you hear Pancake's loud meow in response, a slight chuckle, and you almost drop the broom and run back to your bedroom.

Part of you visualizes yourself prying open the bedroom window and scaling down the firescape.

You're not that agile, and you found out last night that your bedroom window was painted shut.

This is what your best friend was afraid of.

You dying in a big city all alone.

You're debating whether you should call out that you have a gun or not.

"You're not very quiet, you know." A low, calm voice calls out.

You finally pluck up the courage and creep closer to the living room until you're in view.

And you see the most strange sight before you.

A man is sitting in the middle of your couch, and Pancake is perched on the armrest.

He looks normal... almost friendly. He has a slightly timid, shy smile on his face once he sees you.

Slightly overgrown curly brown hair, questionably long sideburns, and blue eyes.

You're surprised you haven't started screaming.

You blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "How the hell did you get in my apartment? Are you one of my neighbors?"

He slightly shrinks in on himself. "Uh... that's kind of a complicated answer."

You loudly scoff. "No, it's not. You know what? I'm going to call the cops, or better yet, there's one right next door."

You start beelining for the door.

"Okay, okay, I know you're going to think I'm crazy-"

"Too late."

You try to turn the doorknob, but it doesn't move.

"What the fuck?" You grunt out and try twisting with all your might.

"I'm sorry... I can't always control it, depending on my emotions." His voice is directly behind you, and you spin around.

He's tall, slightly taller than Joaquin, and it makes you nervous.

"What the hell did you just say?"

Great, you're getting the whole New York City experience. A crazy man has broken into your apartment and is rambling nonsense.

You move away from the door, keeping him in your line of sight as you slowly move closer to the kitchen, where the knives are.

"Look, I know this doesn't look good. But, please hear me out."

"What's to hear out?! Some nutjob has broken into my apartment-"

"Hey! I'm not crazy, and I'll have you know I lived here first!" That caught you off guard.

The floor lamp flickers at his raised voice.

"You're lying. The landlord said an older lady lived here before me, and before that, a family. Nice try."

He throws his head back and sighs. "I lived here a long time ago."

You scrutinize him. His clothing combination is a suede blazer over a button-up, jeans, and boots.

It was odd and maybe a little dated, but it still didn't prove what he was trying to explain.

What qualifies as a long time?

You continue your slow but steady retreat to the kitchen, and he follows from a distance. You're finally within grabbing distance of the knife set, and he notices.

"Okay, don't come any closer," you threaten as you grab a knife.

He has the audacity to roll his eyes.

"You know you're taking this much better than other people," he says.

"I'm literally pointing a knife at you."

"I know, but I was expecting more screaming or something," he sounds slightly amused, which angers you.

"You think this whole situation is funny? Do you get off on this kind of thing?"

You spot your phone behind him on the counter.

"Of course not. I'm not some pervert. I'm dead."

You see him cringe at the last part, and if you weren't so freaked out, you probably would have laughed in his face.

Dead? Yeah, he's insane or on something.

"Okay, that's it! I'm calling the cops!"

You're about to make a mad dash to the counter when there's a knock on your door.

The strange man is just standing there casually with his hands in his pockets.

You're half expecting him to threaten you to be quiet, but he doesn't.

The knocking continues, and it can only be one person.

Joaquin.

"Are you going to get that?" He asks and moves away so he's not blocking the kitchen doorway.

You make a mad dash for the door. It must be the adrenaline pumping through your body because you yank the front door open and almost collide with Joaquin's raised fist.

"Oh shit," he half shouts and then takes in your frantic state. "Hey, are you okay?" His hands are hovering over your shoulder, unsure if he should touch you.

You don't think twice and drag him into the apartment.

"Thank god, you're here. Some guy broke into my apartment-"

"What?" Joaquin is moving you, so you're standing slightly behind him. "Is he still here?" He asks, but he's already scoping out the living room.

The guy is standing literally 5 feet away from Joaquin.

"He's right there!" You exclaim and start pointing at him, but Joaquin sees an empty hallway.

"You mean he's in your bedroom? Wait, why are you still in here if there's an intruder?" He questions as he starts for the hallway.

And you almost pass out at the sight of Joaquin literally walking through the strange guy.

"I-wh-what?! What!"

You helplessly watch as Joaquin enters your bedroom.

The guy is clearly getting a thrill out of this.

"See, I told you," he says in a normal tone. There's no way Joaquin couldn't have heard that. "Dead."

"There's no one in there," Joaquin says, and he walks right through the guy again. Not even a flinch, nothing.

It was like the guy was made of air.

Joaquin has a concerned look on his face as he stops in front of you. You're mouth is slightly agape as you're still staring at the guy behind Joaquin.

Joaquin turns his head to see what you're staring at, but it's your empty hallway.

Joaquin says your name, and you've never heard him say your name in such a serious tone. Clearly, he's in work mode right now. "What's going on?"

"I-I-uh..." You trail off as you try not to stare at the guy any longer because it's clear Joaquin is already highly concerned.

He's patient and waits for you to continue.

"Um... I hit my head earlier. I think I'm seeing things."

Joaquin groans. "Are you serious? Why didn't you go to the hospital?"

You start laughing, and then soon it turns to hysterical cackling.

This whole situation has to be a fucked up dream.

"Okay, okay, let's just take a seat," Joaquin says, and guides you to the coach.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as the "dead" guy walks over to the window and stares out of it.

Joaquin sits next to you. "You said you hit your head? Where, here?" He asks and slightly touches the back of your head.

"Mhmm."

"I don't feel anything. Do you feel dizzy or nauseous?"

You sigh. "No, just a slight headache."

"One second."

Joaquin gets up, goes to your bathroom, and you can hear him rummaging through your medicine cabinet.

"He seems nice," the dead guy says, leaning against the window. "Boyfriend?"

You ignore him, and Joaquin returns with a glass of water and a pill bottle.

"Here."

You look up at him and give an appreciative smile as you take both from him.

"Thanks."

"You definitely know how to stir up trouble," he says with a slight laugh. A look of confusion crosses your face, and he elaborates. "First, you leave your apartment unlocked, next you're claiming your radiator won't shut off even though it wasn't on in the first place, and now you're taking a tumble and seeing things."

"Any of that could happen to anyone," you try to explain. Although you can see the dead guy is trying not to laugh.

Now that Joaquin is here, you take your chance.

"Hey, Joaquin, how long have you lived in the building?"

He scratches his chin in thought. "Uh..about 4 years now."

Perfect.

"So, you know who used to live here before me, right?"

"Kinda, before you, it was some old lady, and before that, a family of three. Why?"

You sit back and think for a second. You're not sure where your train of thought is heading.

Those were things you already knew. You need more information.

"And they seemed to like this place?" You ask.

The dead guy is listening intently.

"I mean, yeah? I never really talked to them. But, one time I remember the old lady telling the landlord that there was a weird smell."

"A smell? What kind?"

Joaquin laughs. "This is going to sound crazy, but hear me out. I think she was slightly senile. But, she claimed she was smelling a man's cologne all throughout her apartment, and it never went away."

You glance again at the window and see that the dead guy went back to people watching.

"What's with all these questions?"

"Can't a girl wonder about her old apartment?" You playfully ask. Though a sense of dread is settling in your stomach.

---

This has got to be the weirdest and strangest thing you've ever experienced.

You're currently sitting across from the dead guy, and you're still not sure if he's telling the truth or if you've officially lost it.

The pair of you have been sitting in awkward silence for the past 20 minutes. You both try taking a glance at one another when you think the other isn't looking.

"So... you're dead?" You finally break the silence.

"Yup."

"And you're what? Stuck? Or something?"

He shrugs. "I guess. I don't know."

Fantastic.

"Lovely, well, have you tried to move on? I don’t know what the right term is."

He loudly laughs. "Gee, I never thought of trying that before."

You scoff. "No need to be snarky. I've never met a dead person before. Or are you technically a ghost? Spirit? Demon?"

"Again, I'm not a bad person. I mean, I wasn't perfect, but who is?"

"Fair enough."

He leans forward and holds out a hand. You stare blankly at it.

"Seeing as we're stuck with each other for an unforeseeable future, or unless you plan on moving out soon. I should formally introduce myself. I'm Robert, but you can call me Bob."

You quietly giggle. His name is Bob? You don't know what you were expecting.

You mimic his gesture and tell him your name.

"I mean, I kinda already knew that, but it's nice to finally meet you," Bob replies with a grin.

"Well, since we got that out of the way. Can I ask something of you, Bob?"

"Go for it."

"Can you stop messing with my things, please?"

He just laughs.

Part II Here

A/N: this was totally unplanned. i've been trying to work on the last part of what more could i want and this popped into my head.

[luvdixon]

a george clarke smut with petplay (what u mentioned in his alphabet) is something i absolutely need to see 🙏😩😩

# EAT YOU UP ★ george clarke

word count: 2.7k. ♡

content: smut, petplay, mean!george. dryhumping, oral sex (m recieving), use of the petname "puppy", dom!george, rough sex, biting, slapping, cum eating, light kicking, degredation, praise, hair pulling, aftercare but i didnt write it

author note: i worry a lot of people will not enjoy this as i don’t think petplay is common and/or a widely enjoyed kink but i like to dabble in it and i am unfortunately very educated in it so i thought i’d write this anyway!! also this is a lot worse than i originally wanted it to be but i needed to get it out asap so... i hope you enjoy <3 i also may write part 2 on this where george gets reader a collar and leash so ... Lmk if thats smth youd like. this isnt proofread so ignore any spelling errors thank u x

Jokes are meant to be funny. You aren’t supposed to lay awake each night thinking about them. Most people don’t slip their hand underneath their panties late at night to think about the what if’s. They simply laugh at the joke and move on.

So why are you still here?

Your fingers trace the hem of your nightdress, toying with the lace that brushes against your thighs. You tilt your head, features softening once you see your boyfriend sleeping peacefully beside you. 

Then, your gaze fixes back onto the ceiling. As if watching the paint peel from above you is enough to kill those thoughts you have.

Every damn night. When George gives you a kiss, says goodnight, and finally falls asleep. Like clockwork. 

Like it’s something you shouldn’t be doing; an addiction that you’ve fallen deep into.

The thoughts melt into your body, burning every inch of your exposed skin. You push the covers down past your hips—it’s not hot, you’re just very sensitive—and kick them off completely. The grey duvet hangs low on George’s hips, exposing the waistband of his boxers.

He looks so peaceful, so perfect. He’s made out of rough edges, yet lightly brushed by melancholy. He has a particular softness to him when he’s asleep and you fear he may crumble underneath your touch.

Your hand hovers over your core, but ends up resting against your thigh in lieu of slipping underneath the thin fabric of your panties. You need to stop doing this. You need to come to terms with the fact that George doesn’t want this.

He made a joke. A joke. He wasn’t serious.

The next time it happens, it feels almost targeted; said with a purpose, an intent to humiliate you. 

“We really do need to get you a collar.” George says. While his expression is almost lifeless, a teasing tone clings to each word that spills from his mouth. Your tongue rests against the inside of your cheek, silently going over different ways to bring it up.

Your cheeks flush a pink hue, and your lashes flicker with a silent please. You swallow thickly around a sinful confession, and direct your gaze elsewhere. The TV show playing in front of you fades, and everything goes quiet in your mind.

“Why do you keep saying that?” You ask. George’s head perks up, looking away from his phone to give you a look.

“Saying what?”

“The…” You clear your throat. “The collar thing.”

A knowing smirk tugs at George’s lips, but you pretend not to notice. He tilts his head, as if to mock a puppy, and that is all it takes for your stomach to drop. 

“Because you can’t keep still.” He shrugs. Your lips part, shifting awkwardly beside him. Unfortunately, all you’re doing is proving his point.

“What does that have to do with collars?” You want to hear more. You want to feel his gaze linger on you because he knows and he’s mocking you for it. It’s hot.

“Well,” he swallows, setting his phone aside. “If I had you on a collar and a leash, I’d be able to keep you right here.” George briefly gestures to the floor beside him.

“And you wouldn’t move. You wouldn’t make a sound until I said so. That’s what dogs do. You train them, and then you reward them for good behaviour.” He swings his arm over the back of the couch, and his figure looks so inviting.

His thighs are spread open; a perfect gap between them for you. Your gaze flicks between that and the way his shirt rides up his stomach at the wide sitting position. Like he’s asserting dominance.

Trying to look bigger than you. Superior to you.

“I’m not a dog.” You say.

“You’re not?” He asks.

Fuck. 

“No.”

“You act like one.” He points out. He doesn’t have to dive into specifics; you know.

“That’s stupid—” 

“Is it?” George asks. You narrow your eyes in his direction, both humiliated and incredibly turned on. 

Yes. You want to say. 

“I don’t know.” You say instead. George looks at you as if to silently ask again.

“I don’t know what it is.” You mutter. George’s tongue slides over his teeth, and you watch his face closely. 

“Explain it to me.” George says.

You pause, clearly unprepared. Your lips part, and you pray that something—anything—will fall out. 

“It’s hot.” You say.

“I figured.” George’s face is smug, his lips quirked up in a subtle smirk. It’s his eyes that give him away; dark, hungry.

“I don’t know.” You say again.

The room falls silent, and you think George has let it go.

You’re very wrong.

“Come here.” He hums.

“What?”

“Come here.” His voice is rougher this time, index finger pointing to the ground beside his feet. Your gaze follows the direction, and your body burns with obedience.

Slowly, you slip off of the couch and onto the floor. You crawl the short distance and kneel between his legs. You beam up at him, eager and excited to see what he’ll do next. 

He grunts, sitting up properly. He seems to silently observe you for a while, which you don’t mind too much. He reaches out, fingers grabbing your jaw with little to no care behind his grip.

“This is where you should be.” He says. His voice is cold and somewhat unfamiliar, yet you lean into it regardless. You don’t break eye contact despite the awkwardness of it all, and George silently basks in the submission that lingers in your eyes.

“George…” You whisper. 

“Ah—” He raises an eyebrow, pulling you closer by your jaw. He leans down, almost nose to nose with you, and shakes his head. “Bad girl.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

If you weren’t wet before, you definitely are now.

“Puppies don’t speak.” It’s almost a question. You almost answer him. When you choose to stay silent, George lets go of your jaw and leans back.

He parts his thighs further apart, gesturing to his lap. An invitation?

No. Something else.

You tilt your head, hoping to mimic a clueless puppy. George pulls his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a grin, and watches your three brain cells work together. He watches you closely, amused by your ability to dumb yourself down so quickly.

Always so stupid underneath him. All of those quick comebacks and that witty attitude is just for show. When you’re like this; exposed, vulnerable and obedient, George sees a different side to you. A side that only he is allowed to see.

“I told you that good dogs get rewarded.” George hints. The frustrated pinch of your brows only spurs him on. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, and you whine pitifully.

“You want a treat?” He asks. Treat. Like you’re an actual fucking dog.

You nod your head, reaching up to paw at his lap. You think you know what he’s trying to imply, but if you’re being completely honest, thinking is really fucking hard right now.

Just like he is. The outline of his cock is perfectly defined underneath his tight jeans and there’s a small patch of dark blue amongst the usual light blue. He’s leaking through his jeans at the mere sight of you.

“Atta girl.” He breathes, watching you paw and palm at him over his jeans. You eventually grow impatient, toying with the zipper.

It’s difficult to get them off of him when he’s being so useless but you know better than to complain. Not when you’re so close to having him in your mouth. You whimper once or twice to emphasise your frustration, but you barely get a reaction out of him.

He does lift his hips slightly, giving you enough time to pull them down to his ankles. You’re silently thankful, pressing a delicate kiss to his knee. You pull his boxers down soon after, but he doesn’t kick them off. You glance down, and then back up, but George doesn’t seem to acknowledge your silent question.

His cock rests against his stomach, hard and leaking. It looks like it hurts. You flutter your eyelashes, offering him a pointed look.

“Go on.” He says. “You got enough going on up there to remember how to suck a cock?”

A flash of hurt spreads over your face, but George knows when he’s gone too far. This isn’t one of those times. You’ll do anything for a bit of sympathy. You’ve been with George long enough to know that he doesn’t fall for it, but you persevere regardless.

“Or do I need to fuck your face?” 

You stay silent, unsure of what counts as permission to speak. George threads his fingers through your hair, pulls like he’s trying to intentionally hurt you. Your head tilts back, and your lips part, exposing your tongue.

His hand travels from your hair to your neck, thumb brushing over your jaw and along your bottom lip. A part of you wants to bite.

“Don’t even think about it.” George warns.

Your eyes narrow, challenging him. 

George’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, and a defeated sigh leaves him. You have three seconds to enjoy your victory before your head is forced to the side.

A slap noise. A harsh hit to your cheek. Heat pricks at your skin and your body feels like it’s on fire from the contact. 

When you turn to look at him again, his jaw ticks with frustration.

“I warned you.” He says, shrugging. Then, he settles back into the couch. His cock is leaking precum, and your mouth waters.

You’ve been reduced to a puddle on the floor beneath him, and he’s going to be thinking about you like this for the rest of his life. 

Finally, you lean forward, wrapping your hand around his cock. Annoyingly, he slaps it away.

This man is so difficult. But so hot.

“No paws.”

You pull your hands away, and you’re rewarded with his assistance. He lines his cock up with your lips, pushing in and down your throat before you have time to adjust.

Your tongue swirls over the tip, dragging along the underside of his cock with every dip of your head. George’s muscles tense, which is a silent confirmation that you’re doing good. 

“So you can be useful.” George laughs. “Only takes my cock down your throat for you to be quiet, huh?” 

You hum, sending vibrations along his cock. He shivers underneath you, and one of his hands find the back of your head. 

He doesn’t originally mean for it to happen, but at some point he takes over the pace of your mouth. He guides your head down, keeps it there until you choke, and then pulls you off for a quick breath of air.

That’s how he likes it; slow, rough, suffocating. 

You swallow around him, hollowing your cheeks. You shift your gaze up, up, up; trailing over his body, over his face, and eventually settling on his eyes.

They flutter shut occasionally, but he does his best to keep his eyes on you.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He pants, eventually breaking eye contact to tip his head back against the couch. “Takin’ me so—fuck—well.”

While George has control over you, he’s slowly losing control over himself. You love to watch him fall apart underneath you. His thighs shake and his curls stick to his sweat–coated forehead, and he can’t focus on a single thing besides you and your mouth.

He fucks up into the heat of it, groaning when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. His hips jerk up, ruining the rhythm he’d originally set, and his movements soon become erratic and messy. 

“Gonna make me cum, poppet.” He breathes, and you can’t do anything but sit there and take it. Tears prick at your eyes, streaming down your face and along your neck. You let him use your mouth as he wishes, taking it all like the good girl that you are.

“Fuck. Shiiit.” George moans, holding you down as he spills into your mouth. “Don’t swallow.”

When he lets go of your head, you pull off of his cock slowly. His cum still rests against your tongue, warm and salty against your tastebuds. It takes him a moment to come back to you, but he’s so calm when he does.

As if you haven’t just sucked him dry.

“Open.” George says, leaning forward. You part your lips, but don’t stick your tongue out. You don’t want his cum to fall off and go to waste. 

His thumb slips inside of your mouth, pressing down against your cum–covered tongue. George’s smile almost makes him tear up again, a mix of kind and cruel.

When he pulls his thumb out, you whine at the loss. 

“Good puppy.” He praises. You bathe in it, wiggling your hips as if to mimic a dog wagging it’s tail. “Swallow.”

And you do.

You swallow every last drop, licking your lips to savor the taste of him.

“Greedy girl.” He grunts, shifting his legs slightly. You glance down, curious.

He kicks your thighs apart with no mercy, scoffing when you whine from the pain. You can already imagine the bruises that will paint your thighs days later. It’s hot. It’s his claim.

“So good for me.” He coos. His voice is genuine and laced with love. It makes your heart swell.

“You wanna cum?” 

You nod.

“You don’t seem too eager.” He challenges. You whine, shaking your head. You’re confusing yourself a little.

“Speak.” He says.

“Wanna cum.” You choke out. “Wanna cum so bad, George.” 

He doesn’t seem to acknowledge you besides a light hum. He reaches down, pulling his boxers and jeans back on. You think it’s over; he doesn’t want to fuck you. You’re going to be left like this—needy and whining—forever.

“Yeah?”

You nod again. It seems like the only thing you can do.

“There you go, then.” He offers you one of his legs, but you only look up at him, dazed and confused. “Come on, poppet.”

You shuffle forward, arms wrapping around his leg. Your clothed cunt brushes over his jeans in the process and you jerk forward with a high pitched whimper. 

“That’s it.” 

You rest your head against his thigh, clinging onto his leg like it’s your last remaining hope at survival. He reaches down, carding his fingers through your hair gently. It’s nice, warm, and familiar. 

It motivates you to continue. 

You roll your hips again, testing the waters. The rough material feels so good against you and you’re hungry for more. You do it over and over, each rock of your hips more erratic than the one before.

“Needy girl.” George breathes, watching you in awe. “Gonna cum just from this? Just from grinding against my leg like—” He swallows, a little taken aback when you claw at the back of his leg. “Like a bitch in heat?”

You nod lazily against his thigh, eyes squeezing shut to prevent any distractions. All you need is his leg against your cunt and his sweet nothings in your ears. That’s all it takes. 

“So perfect for me. Sweetest puppy I could ever ask for. So good—so beautiful.” He encourages, not really looking for a reply.

“Yeah.” You whisper, but it’s muffled against his leg. You flash your teeth at him, before sinking them into his inner thigh.

Usually, George would scold you for this. He’d land a harsh slap across your face again. Luckily, you’re so close to your climax that he allows it. His thighs tense, and his cock twitches when you mouth lazily at the fabric of his jeans to silently apologise for biting.

“Gonna cum.” You say. George doesn’t reply, so you take that as permission. Your hips speed up, messily grinding against his leg, and eventually you’re shaking against him and your hips move on their own.

You sob into his thigh, clinging onto him for dear life.

“That’s it, poppet.” He soothes, cradling your head against his thigh. “Such a good girl. Did so well.”

You whimper against him, hips lazily rocking against his leg as you come down from your high.

Your knees hurt from the position, your jaw hurts from George’s cock in your mouth and your cunt hurts from being so sensitive. You don’t want to move, so you shuffle slightly to fit between George’s legs again. 

He plays with your hair, reassuring you that you did amazing and that you’re perfect.

And you really do believe it.

﹫luvdixon ♡ do not reupload my content anywhere else & do not copy paste it and claim it as your own!

taglist: @clarkeyscherry @willnees @taylorlovesgc @theoreticallythe @luvrgeorge @pretendyoucantseeme @rubi-radio @writer-jamie @italianclarke

[mochiyakis]

the break in.

s u m m a r y. you are a popular online streamer. caleb is your #1 fan. he breaks into your apartment one night; what could go wrong?

c o n t e n t w a r n i n g. SMUT / 18+ content. MDNI. stalking. breaking + entering. yandere!caleb. MENTAL ILLNESS GALORE. reader is fairly unstable as well. unprotected sex. dirty talk. reader says and thinks some pretty ableist things. brief angst.

a / n. inspired by the panty sniffer!caleb headcanons. not proofread by anyone other than myself, so excuse any inevitable mistakes. i made a tumblr just to post this. (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

it's been a long night. you've been out drinking with friends, and are still tipsy when you stumble into your apartment. you make a beeline straight for your bedroom, needing sleep asap. it's already past 3am and you normally never stay up this late unless you're doing a 24 hour stream or a subathon.

heels kicked off, feet shuffling over fuzzy rug, fingers fumbling with the pull chain on the lamp at your bedside table.

as soon as the light flickers on, you flinch back. your heart thuds against your ribcage and your entire body goes rigid.

there is a man — a rather large man — seated on your bed. with a pair of your underwear. held to his nose.

you know they're yours because they're small and lacy and supremely uncomfortable. as such, you hardly ever wear them. which means the man must have dug through most of your drawers to even find them.

indeed, in the dim, warm lighting, you can see your dresser drawers hanging open and many of your unmentionables scattered on top and on the floor.

❝ i have a gun, ❞ you say automatically. a lie. ❝ in my purse. ❞

which is now conveniently laying on the floor where you discarded it as you came tripping in.

in the corner, your streaming equipment sits silently. but it would take much too long to rush over, boot everything up, wait for twitch to load, and then tell everyone, ❛ help! some strange man is in my room kidnapping me! ❜ great.

the man has frozen as well, his eyes widening as he catches sight of your pale face. he slowly lowers the underwear, a sheepish grin spreading across his own face.

❝ hey there, pipsqueak, ❞ he mutters gently, hands held high in a placating gesture. ❝ no need to be scared. ❞

he stands up from your bed and takes a step toward you, but halts quickly, noticing something, though you're not sure what that something is. he regards you, expression apologetic.

❝ i didn't mean to startle you like that, ❞ the man continues, softly. ❝ i just . . . wanted to see you. i've been waiting so long. ❞

his gaze drifts down to your purse on the floor before meeting your eyes again.

❝ a gun? yeah, i doubt it. ❞ a hint of amusement creeps into his voice, which is insane, given the situation. ❝ you're not exactly subtle with your threats, though. ❞

the man lets out a soft chuckle, then grows serious.

❝ please listen to me . . . ❞ he begins hesitantly, taking another cautious step forward while keeping his gaze trained on yours. ❝ i'm not going to hurt you. i would never hurt you. ❞

as he had stood, you became aware of just how big this man is. he's huge. gigantic. at least twice your size. your panties look downright doll sized clutched in his fist. a fist that's . . . not exactly human.

you take a shuddering breath and try to back away as he approaches, but your feet won't move. you're frozen, shivering subtly with fear.

❝ you won't hurt me, ❞ you repeat the man's words robotically. ❝ then why are you here? ❞

you keep your gaze tracking on that mechanical arm. who is this guy? why does he have a robotic arm? why is he so . . . so hot?

the man's purple eyes soften as he watches your trembling form, your gaze still fixed on that robotic arm.

❝ i'm here because . . . ❞ his voice trails off as he struggles to find the right words. ❝ because i couldn't stay away anymore. ❞

he takes another cautious step closer, trying not to loom over you. the proximity is intoxicating, and he has to remind himself that this isn't a date or a casual encounter — it's a dangerous invasion of privacy.

the man says your name gently, and you wonder how he even knows it. ❝ i know this is wrong. i shouldn't be here in your space like this. ❞

his hand twitches at his side before clenching into a fist around the fabric of your underwear. it's a poor substitute for holding onto what he actually wants to hold — you.

❝ but you're . . . amazing, ❞ he continues in a low murmur, and there's a kind of awe in his voice that you've never heard from anyone before. ❝ when i see you on stream . . . you make me feel things i've never felt before. ❞

he swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing visibly in his throat. ❝ i just . . . needed to see you in person. to be near you. ❞

your streams . . . oh, fuck.

you knew starting those irl streams was dangerous. anyone could figure out where you live by the streets, the architecture, even the goddamn weather where you were.

❝ well, i-i'm flattered, really. ❞ you attempt a smile, not wanting the guy to become angry. ❝ do you . . . wanna talk? or . . . ❞ you eye the lacy pair of panties still clutched in the man's hand, and don't know how to proceed.

his cheeks flush a deep crimson at your words, gaze darting between your face and the delicate fabric in his hand. you wonder what he could possibly be thinking . . .

❝ talk, ❞ he agrees hastily, switching the panties to his other, human, hand. ❝ that sounds good. ❞

he sits on the edge of your bed again, this time hunched over. trying to appear non-threatening, you assume, which is impossible due to his imposing size.

❝ so . . . about your streams, ❞ he begins quickly, before you've even had a chance to sit down. ❝ i just . . . i can't explain it. seeing you on my screen, being so open and honest; it draws me in like nothing else. ❞

his purple eyes meet yours again, searching for understanding or perhaps validation in them.

❝ i know it's crazy, ❞ he continues quietly. ❝ a fan stalking their favorite streamer is pretty messed up. ❞

able now to move, albeit slowly, you take a careful seat beside the man on your bed.

as he speaks, you realize you aren't conversing with someone who is all that . . . mentally sound. he knows what he's doing is wrong, but has been unable to stop himself from doing so.

all your life you've been too caring, you hope it won't burn you now like it so often has in the past. you lay a tentative hand on the man's arm, the . . . human one, for lack of a better term. ❝ it's okay, ❞ you lie again. ❝ i . . . i'm really glad to meet a true fan. how long have you been watching my streams? ❞

still those underwear do not leave his hand, and now he's running a thumb over the scratchy lace material.

his breath hitches as your hand makes contact with his arm, the gentle touch sending a jolt of warmth through him. he looks down at your fingers resting on his skin, then back up to meet your gaze.

❝ about . . . six months now, ❞ he replies, voice slightly strained. ❝ i first started watching your streams because i needed something to take my mind off things. ❞

he pauses, possibly considering how much to reveal to you.

❝ i've been through some tough times lately, ❞ he eventually admits. ❝ lost someone important . . . had to deal with some pretty dark stuff. ❞

his thumb continues its idle caress over the lace underwear as if mesmerized by the texture. the action is almost subconscious — a habit born from hours spent alone with his thoughts during long flights or late-night mech repairs.

❝ but seeing you come online and start up a stream . . . it helped me feel less alone somehow. ❞

suddenly, and right in front of you, the man brings the pair of panties to his face, inhaling deeply. his voice is muffled as he moans, ❝ god, i . . . i think i love you. ❞

you are no stranger to crazy fans in public, but you've never had a full-blown stalker before. let alone one that's broken into your house. it's scary.

which is why you don't understand, when caleb puts your underwear to his nose right in front of you, why you all of a sudden get very, very wet.

the first hint of arousal begins to peek through the fear. you've already taken note of how big he is, but now you start to see how handsome, how strong. how large his hands are, how desperate you've been in recent months for real, human contact when it comes to the bedroom.

most guys just want a quick fuck, and you don't think you've ever heard someone other than your parents say they love you. other than fans online, that is.

you chew your bottom lip; are you really about to do what you think you're about to do?

yep, fuck it.

laying a small hand on the man's sizeable thigh, you squeeze softly. ❝ i'm glad i could be a light for you in such a dark place. everyone needs someone to lean on sometimes. ❞

that hand starts to slowly shift back and forth, skirting up toward the man's groin. ❝ y'know, you know my name and are even in love with me. but i don't even know your name yet . . . ❞

the man's eyes flutter shut as your hand makes contact with his thigh, the gentle pressure sending a visible shudder up his spine. he inhales deeply through his nose, savoring the scent of your underwear even as he slowly lowers it back to his lap.

a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he watches your hand continue its slow ascent along his leg. the anticipation is almost unbearable — for both of you — but so is the fear that this moment could all come crashing down if he isn't careful.

❝ my name's caleb, ❞ he finally tells you, offering you that crucial piece of himself.

❝ caleb, ❞ you sigh, nodding. you can feel an insistent erection already tenting his jeans as you slide your hand higher. so, he's gotten hard just from sniffing a pair of your clean underwear, huh?

❝ caleb. ❞ spoken with more finality, as you decide on what to do. ❝ you know those panties were washed a couple weeks ago, right? i haven't worn them since then. would you . . . want to smell another pair? maybe . . . the ones i'm wearing right now? ❞

caleb's breath caught in his throat as your hand finally reaches the growing bulge in his jeans. he can't help but shift slightly, purposely pressing into your touch with a low groan.

your suggestion sends a jolt of apparent excitement through him, and he nods eagerly. ❝ yes, ❞ he breathes out, his voice husky with desire. ❝ i-i want to smell you. ❞

he leans forward, and for a moment you think he'll grab you and just have his way with you. but he just sits, breathing hard, clenching those mechanical fingers around your underwear. and staring at you. staring with such deep, troubled eyes . . .

you almost feel bad for what you're doing.

almost.

but he's broken into your apartment, after all. everything is quid pro quo, at this point.

you stand, still unstable thanks to the three cocktails you had earlier this evening. before proceeding, you cock your head to the side, standing in front of caleb.

❝ first, tell me about that? ❞ you now incline your head toward his robotic arm, shining silver in the low light from the lamp.

caleb's gaze follows your nod, a mix of pride and shame clashing on his face. he's grown accustomed to the prosthetic over time, but it still serves as a constant reminder of the sacrifices he's made.

❝ it was . . . an accident, ❞ he begins hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck. ❝ during my last tour as a pilot, i got caught in an explosion at home. ❞

his voice drops to a whisper, the memories clearly painful even after all this time. ❝ gran josephine . . . she didn't make it. ❞

a pilot?

you blink. the poor guy probably has ptsd or anxiety or some mix of the two. and he'd lost his grandmother . . .

you find yourself shushing him, moving in close to touch him properly for the first time.

fingers sifting along the soft, fine hairs at the base of caleb's warm neck, you cup a hand there. ❝ shh. it's all okay now. i'm gonna take care of you, okay? ❞

his breath catches again as you touch him, gentle yet firm. the reassurance in your voice and the comforting warmth of your hand on the back of his neck send a wave of relief washing over him.

he leans instinctively into your touch, savoring the feeling of being cared for after so long on his own. ❝ okay, ❞ he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

his mechanical arm remains at his side, another reminder of all he's lost — but also a testament to how far he's come in rebuilding himself.

you find it odd that still he makes no move to touch you or reciprocate the grasp you have on him. especially after going to such lengths to break into your apartment.

it only spurs you on, however; he doesn't seem dangerous, he isn't aggressive. he is the perfect partner.

❝ lie back now, ❞ you order, gently. as you do so, you press against his shoulder, urging him to recline on your bedspread as your other hand stays cradled at the base of his skull, letting him down easily.

once he's hit the mattress, you climb slowly over him until your legs are on either side of his head.

steadily, watching the pupils of those violet eyes expand rapidly as you move, you begin to pull the bottom of your skirt up. this reveals a pair of pink cotton panties, already damp with sweat and some of your own juices.

caleb's eyes widen as you straddle his face, the scent of your arousal growing stronger with every inch of skin revealed to him.

as you lift your skirt, revealing the damp fabric of your panties, caleb's large hands come up to grip the smooth material on either side of your hips. ❝ may i . . .? ❞ he asks sweetly; his cheeks are flushed a beautiful magenta color as he gazes up at you.

asking permission, when he's the one who's broken in . . . this guy truly is all kinds of fucked up.

❝ of course. ❞ you run a hand fully through his thick hair this time, parting the soft strands, scratching at his scalp.

those big hands tighten on your hips and he pulls you down with seemingly little force to bury his face in your moist panties. his nose hits your already-swollen clit and you cry out, pulling harshly at his hair. ❝ mm, caleb . . . ! ❞

caleb moans against your panties, the sound muffled but filled with desire. he breathes deeply, savoring your unique scent.

his hands slide from your hips to grip the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer as he nuzzles into the damp fabric. the sensation of his cool, mechanical fingers digging into your soft flesh sends shivers through you.

your reaction only fuels his hunger for more. he wants to taste every fucking inch of you.

if he isn't careful, he'll wind up suffocating himself. not that he seems to mind — you're now seated fully on him, his handsome face absolutely sandwiched between your milky thighs.

it doesn't take you long to realize he's started licking you through your panties, tongue scraping at the soft material, little moans and whimpers floating up from between your legs.

❝ you taste . . . mm, so good, ❞ he whines, and you can hardly hear him from where he's buried underneath you.

❝ fuck, it . . . it's not enough. c-caleb . . . i need more! ❞

caleb's mechanical fingers dig into the soft skin of your thighs as he pulls you down harder against his face. his tongue continues its relentless exploration, sliding beneath the damp fabric to lap at your most intimate places.

the taste and scent of you is driving him wild — finally taking matters into his own hands, he pushes you away just enough to be able to hook his fingers into the sopping wet material of your panties, pulling them to the side.

he slids his tongue up and down your slit just enough to gather your wetness, bringing it up to slick it all around your clit, which he then begins to suck on.

his pretty purple eyes are locked with yours initially, but eventually slide shut as he loses himself in the pleasure of eating you.

this is, by far, the best decision you've ever made.

the choice between lunging for your phone and calling the cops or getting into bed with this unstable hunk and letting him go to town on you . . . well, it's no contest.

with caleb's lithe, slippery tongue slithering all over your folds, ending on your sensitive clit, you begin to grind, humping yourself down onto his face, no longer even caring if he suffocates or not.

and the noises you're making, the things he's drawing out of you . . . ❝ caleb, fuck. tonguefuck me. finger me. put . . . fuck, something inside of me right now. please! ❞

his mechanical fingers quickly oblige, sliding up to join his tongue in their exploration of your wet heat. he curls two digits inside of you, and you clench around the intrusion as he continues to lap at your clit.

you had expected his human fingers to join the fray, not the two rigid, mechanical fingers that start to hammer in and out of you like a fucking piston. ❝ caleb! ❞ you shriek, now doing your best to bounce up and down on those metal appendages. it's difficult with the alcohol still in your system making you drowsy, plus you definitely aren't as in shape as you could be. sitting and streaming all day does not strong thighs make.

but caleb is right there helping you, his flesh and bone hand coming up under your skirt to cup your bottom, helping you ride his fingers.

you're dripping down that metal hand, breath coming hard and fast, nipples pebbling under your shirt.

with a frustrated little grunt, you rip your shirt off, undoing your bra as fast as you can. you cup your own breasts, roll your nipples between your fingers, and throw your head back. putting on a show for your number one fan.

caleb must like what he sees, as his gaze is riveted to the sight of your breasts bouncing free, your nipples hard and begging for his attention. he releases your clit with a wet pop, fingers also sliding out of you as he takes the initiative again — in one swift movement he grips you and flips your positions, crawling up and over your body to take one of your pert little nipples into his mouth.

he suckles gently, rolling the sensitive peak between his tongue and teeth while slipping those fingers back inside of you, continuing to fingerfuck you with increasing urgency. the combination of sensations has him throbbing in his jeans — but he holds back from giving in just yet, determined to bring you closer to the edge first.

his other hand slips down to join the mechanical digits buried inside you, pressing against that special spot within as he curls them just so . . .

with your back now against the bed, and caleb's long, unforgiving fingers hammering away at your g-spot, you tense.

❝ caleb, i-i . . . ❞

with a sudden grunt, your entire body spasms. you've never squirted before, but through the haze of alcohol and horniness, you know that's exactly what you're doing now. a jet so forceful you can hear it as it splatters against the bed.

you make an embarrassing noise, head going fuzzy, caleb's fingers slowing inside of your pulsating cunt.

caleb's metal fingers slow to a gentle pulse as your body spasms around them, your juices gushing out in a warm rush. he watches with rapt attention as the evidence of your climax soaks into the sheets beneath you.

as you come down from that intense high, caleb finally allows himself to move again — sliding up along your body until he's looming over you, his face inches from yours. his own arousal is evident, straining against the fabric of his jeans.

he whispers your name, voice hoarse. ❝ i . . . i want you so bad. ❞

you had honestly forgotten all about his arousal as you chased your own. now it's obvious — you can see his jeans tenting in what must be a now-painful show of his excitement.

with trembling hands, legs spread around his hips as his fingers continue their gentle pulsing inside of your spent pussy, you brush his hair back from his forehead.

❝ then take me. and kiss me while you do. ❞

at your words, caleb's eyes darken with clear desire, breath catching once again. he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all of his pent-up longing into the passionate embrace.

as your tongues dance, he reaches for the button on his jeans and tugs it free, shoving the denim down just enough to spring his erection loose. the thick length throbs against your thigh as he breaks the kiss to look intensely down on you.

❝ are you sure? ❞ he asks gruffly, voice rough with need. ❝ once i start . . . i don't think i'll be able to hold back. ❞

you wrap your arms languidly around caleb's broad shoulders. he's still fully clothed, and you hate that. tugging at the neck of his shirt, you urge him to take it off.

goodness, his chest is just as impressive as his powerful hands and arms. but what is most impressive is his intimidating, imposing length springing free from his jeans when he tugs the zipper down.

that sticky, spongy head prods at your thigh and then at your entrance, still slick with squirt.

❝ i wouldn't expect you to ever stop. fuck me all night if you have to. i want . . . i want to make you feel good, caleb. ❞

you hold tightly onto him, knowing what's coming next.

caleb's gaze drops to where your bodies are still intimately connected — your slick entrance teasing the tip of his pulsing cock. the thought of burying himself deep inside you makes him quake.

with a gentle but firm grip on your hips, caleb begins to push forward, inch by delicious inch. ❝ you feel . . . incredible, ❞ he breathes in awe as he sinks deeper into your welcoming heat.

once fully sheathed within your tight walls, he pauses for just a moment to savor the sensation before starting to move — slow and deliberate thrusts to start as he savors every second of your joining.

his cock slides easily in and out of you, owing to just how wet and slippery your poor pussy had gotten during his vigorous fingering of you.

it's intense, the stretch, the struggle to take him all, but you make yourself power through.

your reward is another burgeoning orgasm before you've barely finished the first.

with your knees tucked high up against his sides, you place your hands at his waist, pulling him down, urging him to pound you. ❝ fuck me, caleb. right into this mattress. don't you wanna make your favorite streamer feel good? don't you wanna make her squirt again? tell me you do. ❞

those violet eyes flash with lust, his grip on your hips tightening as he begins to move with more urgency. your mattress is good quality, but it still creaks in protest beneath your frantic coupling. neither of you seem to care.

❝ fuck yes, ❞ he growls, gaze now blazing with desire. ❝ i want to make you feel so good, pipsqueak. i want to hear you scream my name. ❞

with renewed vigor, caleb pounds into your willing body — each powerful thrust driving himself deeper into your slick heat. his metal fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs as he holds you in place for his relentless pace.

the bed shakes and rattles under you.

❝ fuck, your little pussy . . . so tight. feels so good, pips. god, i love you. i really do, i fucking love you, baby. ❞

there are tears in his eyes as he says this, forehead pressed to yours, his big cock abusing your tiny little hole as he twitches inside of you.

there it is again, that nickname. pipsqueak, huh? it's adorable, but also somehow ignites that fire in your belly even further.

you're so small, after all, and caleb is so big.

❝ caleb . . . ❞ you say his name, softly at first. but as his thrusts come harder, faster, ravaging you, you whimper, ❝ caleb, ❞ and then finally, as the evidence of your fucking echoes around the room with slaps of his hips against the backs of your thighs, you shout, ❝ caleb! fucking fuck me, caleb! please! show me how much you love me! ❞

are you wrong for that? possibly.

do you care? not in the slightest.

his eyes roll back in bliss as your desperate pleas spur him on. he can feel your tiny body trembling beneath his, hear the wanton cries spilling from your lips — and it only fuels his desire to claim you completely.

with a feral growl, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulses and throbs inside your clenching heat. ❝ i can't believe . . . i'm inside of you, a-about to cum inside you . . . oh, fuck yes, ❞ he snarls through gritted teeth, ❝ take it all, pipsqueak! you're mine! ❞

you think you finally see that side of him you were afraid of all along, that insane, possessive, hot-blooded side. and instead of scaring you, it just turns you on more. your stalker is taking what he wants, leaving you no choice but to cling onto him as he fucks you within an inch of your life.

thank god you're on birth control, although he doesn't know that. ❝ yesyesyes, cum inside me, baby, that's it. want all your cum, want you to knock me up. don't you wanna get your favorite streamer pregnant? ❞

your words make his hips stutter, your plea for his seed igniting a primal urge within. with a guttural moan, he buries himself within you once more and cums with a force that leaves his shoulders shaking.

those silver alloy fingers dig hard into your thighs as he pumps jet after jet of hot cum deep inside your womb, filling you to the brim with all of him. ❝ fuck . . . fuck yes. ❞ he pants harshly against your neck. ❝ i'm going to . . . i'm gonna breed you so fucking good, gonna get you pregnant . . . so you can never get away from me. ❞

feeling all of caleb's hot, sticky cum splashing inside of you, you feel a second climax hit you. you don't squirt again, but your cunt does spasm so hard that you wind up pushing caleb's pistoning cock out of you. he has to push hard against your tight, puffy pussy lips to get back inside and when he does you both moan in unison, scrabbling at each other, holding each other, caleb's breath hot and steamy against the side of your neck.

❝ c-caleb . . . oh, my god. i don't think . . . no, i know. i've never been fucked that good. in my life. ❞

caleb's breath comes in ragged gasps as he struggles to regain control, his cock twitching inside your still-clenching heat. ❝ i . . . i can't believe it, ❞ he admits shakily, voice muffled against your skin. ❝ you're so fucking perfect, pipsqueak. ❞

he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, savoring the scent of you, which he seems to love.

❝ i want more, ❞ he murmurs after a moment, his mechanical fingers trailing soothing patterns over your hip and thigh. ❝ i want to spend every waking moment with you like this — wrapped up in your sweet little body. ❞

you can feel yourself still fluttering around caleb's softening cock, embarrassed at how powerful your orgasms have been tonight. but it's been so long, and never with someone like him.

❝ believe me, i want more too. but i need a break first. you really wore me out. ❞ you reach down to spread your fingers around where he's still spearing you open, feeling how sore you are now. ❝ wanna run your favorite streamer a bath? i assume you know where the bathroom is already. ❞

caleb chuckles low in his throat at your words, the sound sending pleasant vibrations through your sensitive skin. ❝ of course i know where the bathroom is, ❞ he teases, pulling out of you with a soft squelching sound. ❝ i found the blueprints for this complex before i even broke in here. ❞

he helps guide your aching body to sit up on the bed before rising to his feet and offering a hand down for support. ❝ let me take care of you, pipsqueak, ❞ he says gently as you stand on wobbly legs. ❝ you deserve all the pampering after an amazing night like this. ❞

with that, caleb scoops you up and heads towards the en-suite bathroom, already planning how best to tend to your needs — forever.

[teenidlegirl]

꣖　 BEAUTY OF THIS MESS 　꣓　 ᤢ♥︎　 CHAPTER　.　12 　!

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

ᤢ　.　summary　♥︎　੭　with your world turned upside down, you seek help from a friend. after building up courage, you finally tell miguel about the pregnancy but it doesn’t go well as you think.

ᤢ　.　content　♥︎　੭　angst, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortions, mentions of expired birth control, negligence, major emotional distress, swearing, heartbreak

꣖　　previous　　⋅ ꪆৎ ⋅　　masterlist　　⋅ ꪆৎ ⋅　　next　　꣓

you don’t know how much tears you cried, probably broke a personal record. you don’t know how long you’ve been awake. you don’t even know what time it is or if it’s the same day. you’ve been too busy crying.

ever since you found out you’re pregnant, you turn into a fucking mess. cheeks flushed from all the crying. trash cans over-flooded with tissues, stacked up like a mountain. bed still undone, sheets all messed up. food left untouched in the kitchen.

first, you remained sitting on the cool tile floor of your bathroom sobbing and weeping for who knows how long. then finally you move on to your bed, crying into your pillow. thankfully, you weren’t wearing makeup so you pillows didn’t get stained. only small wet patches of your tears on the sheet.

you’re pregnant.

you are actually pregnant. there is a developing baby in your body, an embryo just sitting inside there. an embryo soon to be a baby, a being that will be a combination of you and miguel.

the thought makes you cry harder.

this can’t be happening. the world is collapsing and it’s all because of your irresponsibility.

you don’t want this. you don’t want a baby. you don’t want to become a mother. go through nine months of fucking hell. experience one of the most painful experiences ever just to pop out a small human. endure numerous body changes. crying echoing throughout the apartment because the baby demands milk. sleepless nights and thousands of diapers to change. buy expensive ass items such as strollers, car seats, diapers, baby food and clothes.

all of that is overwhelming, making your anxiety to skyrocket. this isn’t what you want. this isn’t what you dreamed of. this isn’t in the books for you. becoming a mother wasn’t on your bucket list.

however, it’s still possible that you don’t have to. thankfully, you live in a place where abortion and reproductive healthcare is available (fuck that orange mf). you have the opportunity to take that route.

but it’s not an easy decision.

having an abortion is a difficult process. if you wish to have one, you need to build shit load of courage. you have to ask yourself if you’re willing to live with that decision because it will remain with you for the rest of your life. you can’t feel sorry for yourself. if you got the courage, then fucking do it.

but you still have to process this first.

you have to miguel first.

oh miguel… how are you going to tell him?

never have you been so scared. not saying you’re afraid of him, no never because miguel is sweetest man to exist. he’s such a sweetheart, makes you feel happy and safe. you’re just scared of his reaction.

will he be upset?

will he be mad?

will he be happy?

not knowing is the scariest part. no matter how much of a sweetheart he is, you can’t tell what would his reaction be to such a fucked up situation like this.

while you were sobbing and weeping for hours on end, he texted you which you’ve yet to respond.

osito 🐻: hey, didn’t see you come from work. is everything okay? did you jameson let you off early?

osito 🐻: bebé, did something happened? please answer me asap.

oh your heart breaks.

how can you break the news to this sweet man?

luckily those messages were sent an hour ago which gives you time to respond so he wouldn’t worry and head over to your place. that also means it’s still the same day, it’s just been hours.

bebé 🌷: hi, sorry for answering late! yeah, jameson let us out early so i got home a little earlier and took a nap.

a hinge of guilt stand for your heart for lying but you know miguel would want to know why you didn’t show up to meet him as usual and text him back. the man is in the military for god’s sake, he knows when someone is lying. now you feel even more guilty.

you carelessly toss your phone to the side landing on the bed sheets and bury your face in your hands as tears begin prickling in your eyes once again.

not even 5 seconds, your phone dings!

osito 🐻: that’s good, you needed rest for working so hard. are you feeling better? you need me to come over?

shit, he can’t come over at least now. fuck you’re gonna have to lie to him again, no matter how much it breaks your already fragile heart.

bebé 🌷: no, it’s okay! my sister is actually visiting me soon so i can’t have other visitors lol. but i am feeling a little bit better :)

two more total fucking lies. you feel like absolute shit and your sister is not coming over.

osito 🐻: alright but let me know if you need anything, vale? te quiero mucho.

fuck, your heart.

you quickly respond to him saying you love him back with bunch of heart emojis before tossing your phone on the bed once again. more tears trail down your face, quiet sobs fall from your trembling lips.

an irresponsible liar.

not only you’re a liar but a terrible girlfriend.

ever since you found out about the pregnancy, you’ve been avoiding miguel. not answering his texts, missing his calls to answer later and give him a bullshit excuse. since you live in the same complex and are fucking next door neighbors, it’s hard to avoid him since he’s right there.

you know it’s hurting him and it kills you. one minute you two are kissing and cuddling, then suddenly avoiding him as much as possible. you feel so fucking guilty because miguel doesn’t deserve this. recently you finally told you love each other and now there is sudden distance between you two because of your fears. the guilt has been you eating alive.

the pregnancy hormones don’t help, making you more of an emotional mess. the stock of toilet paper has been decreasing due to the excessive amounts you’ve been using for blowing your nose and cleaning up your tears. you’re just a huge mess.

in addition to being a liar and a horrible girlfriend, you call your best friend instead of your boyfriend to talk about the pregnancy.

“oh my god… does miguel know?” mj asks over the phone, you can hear the shock in her voice.

you close your eyes in guilt. “no…”

“fuck… okay, um- have you told anyone else, your parents, siblings, other relatives?”

“no, you’re the first one to know.”

“okay…” you can hear her sigh heavily. “well, i promise to keep this secret because i figured you don’t want anyone else to know yet.”

you thank her, feeling a bit relieved. mj has always been a trusting friend and you’re grateful for that.

“when did the pill expired?” she inquires.

“three weeks ago.”

you hear her cursing under her breath. “have you made an appointment yet?”

“not yet but i’m planning to.”

“okay, that’s good. that’s a good start.” she said supportingly, trying to help you feel a little better.

tears begin prickling in your eyes. “mj, i’m so scared, i fucked up… it’s all my fault…”

“hey, sweetie no, no, no—”

“yes it is!” you cut her off, finally letting out those tears. “it’s my fault because i didn’t check the stupid expiration date! it was my responsibility and i fucked up! now miguel is gonna hate me—”

“he’s not going to hate you. that man loves you more than anything else in the entire universe.” she said. “i know you’re scared to tell him but i’m 100% sure he’ll never hate you. sure, he’ll be shocked but he’s a kindhearted man, i’m sure he’ll understand.”

mj is right, you know she is. miguel is a kindhearted man and you love that about him. his kindness always capture your heart. how sweet and generous he is, it’s plausible he would understand in a way.

but you’re just so scared to tell him, afraid of his reaction regardless how sweet he is. this is because of your irresponsibility. it’s your fault for not checking on your pill and now face the consequences of it. but miguel is in this mess with you. because of your irresponsibility, you dragged him into this mess.

“honey, i know you’re scared and that’s 100% okay.” she said after you didn’t respond back. “but… you’re gonna have to tell him soon because eventually he will find out and that will be even more messier.”

she’s right and you can’t afford that.

this is already bad as it is.

you can’t hide the truth from him forever. miguel has the right to know, no matter how terrified you are to tell him. you have to tell him, tonight possibly.

“tonight…” you take a deep breath to numb down your anxiety. “tonight i’ll tell him.”

“okay…” mj answers softly. “you’re gonna be fine, it’s gonna be fine, i promise.”

you really hope she’s right.

“thanks, mj. i appreciate this so much, thank you.”

“of course, honey. best friends always support each other. if you need anything, do not ever hesitate to ask. me and the girls will always be there for you.”

god, you really have amazing friends. forever grateful to have them in your life.

after saying your goodbyes and mj telling you to call her after you tell miguel, you hang up. sinking back into your bed, you stare up at the ceiling. thinking of infinite possibilities and scenarios of what will happen to tonight when you tell miguel.

fear still consumes you, eating you up. despite how sweet miguel may be, his reaction is still unpredictable. an unplanned pregnancy isn’t something to be calm about.

but you have to face your fears.

bebé 🌷: hey, can you come over tonight please? there’s something i need to talk about.

your thumb hovers over the ‘send’ button, hesitating for a moment. anxiety strikes your heart viciously. no matter how scared you are, you have to face this. with a shaky breath, you send the message.

your anxiety increases when he doesn’t respond right away. he’s probably busy right now, maybe at the boxing gym. you distract yourself by doing laundry and fixing your bed after days of leaving it undone. half an hour later, your phone dings! with a text.

osito 🐻: claro, preciosa. i’ll be there in 30 mins, on my way right now.

now you have to wait, dreadfully.

“you good, o’hara?” flash asks.

miguel blinks after spacing out for a bit, too lost in his thoughts. “yeah, i’m fine.”

flash raises a skeptical brow, doubting. “for a man who’s an expert liar on the field, you’re really shitty when you aren’t. what’s up?”

miguel has been asking that himself for the past few days. something has happened that he isn’t aware of. you’ve been avoiding him. he hasn’t seen you in almost a week. when he waits for you to return from work, you don’t show up. when he knocks on your door, you don’t answer. all he gets are text messages with various excuses. miguel doesn’t buy it one bit.

did he do something?

that’s the question that has been repeating in his mind for these past few days. has he done something wrong? did he hurt you in any way? that’s the last thing miguel wants, he never ever wishes to hurt you. you’re his beautiful girl, the owner of his heart. hurting you would be the end of him.

he’s desperate to know what’s wrong but miguel also doesn’t wish to push you. despite the negative thoughts plunging his mind, he’s still respectful.

but goddamnit he wants to know.

he wants to know so badly it hurts.

all miguel wants is to rush over to your apartment, plead to you on his knees to know what he’s done. he isn’t sure if his heart can’t handle it more.

miguel knows you love him. never doubted for a second, not ever once. the intense love you harbor for each other is unmatched, unbreakable.

“is this about your girl?” flash’s voice makes him snap out of his thoughts once again.

“she’s been… distant.” miguel said solemnly, as if it was painful to admit that.

flash only sighs and fold his arms across his chest, allowing miguel to speak his mind.

“i don’t know what happened… i haven’t seen her in almost week. every time i call her, she doesn’t answer. i knock on her door and she doesn’t answer. no matter what i do or when i try to reach her, she avoids me and i don’t know why.”

miguel truly doesn’t know and it frustrates him. it frustrates him that you aren’t able to talk to him and tell him the truth. all miguel wants is you to be comfortable to tell him anything. he wants to be that safe haven you can come to.

you mean so much to him, you have no clue.

you’re his angel.

“i just feel like… did i do something wrong?” miguel frowns solemnly. “i just don’t know what possible reason… everything was alright.”

a deep sigh escapes him as flash takes a step forward. “i’m not sure either since you two have been so lovely dovely, but i’m sure you didn’t do anything, man. maybe she’s been stressed at work but there’s for sure something going on.” he leaves a light hand on miguel’s shoulder. “don’t stress out, man. when the time is right, she’ll come to you.”

miguel takes in his words, giving him a little bit of relief yet the concern lingers. he gives him a nod, appreciating his supportive words.

as him and the rest of gang continue sipping their beers while watching the football game tonight, miguel receives a notification from his phone.

bebé 🌷: hey, can you come over tonight please? there’s something i need to talk about.

his heart skips a beat in rejoice. the first time you texted him first. perhaps flash was right.

osito 🐻: claro, preciosa. i’ll be there in 30 mins, on my way right now.

he never left the pub so quickly. eager yet a bit nervous to finally see you after what feels like forever. all miguel wants is to see his pretty angel.

heart pounding in your chest. blood pumping with anxiety flowing through your entire body, consuming you whole. you can feel the pulse caught in your throat as you wait for miguel’s arrival.

it’s time, it’s finally time to tell him the truth.

god, you’ve never been so scared in your life.

hands fiddling with each other, palms sweaty and clammy. pacing around the living room. negative thoughts invading your mind like a plague.

it’s gonna be okay, you keep telling yourself as a way to calm down your anxiety. but it isn’t working obviously. those negative thoughts just won’t stop.

miguel is gonna be infuriated. yell at how irresponsible you are and demand for the relationship to end because of you’re lack of responsibility. these thoughts just won’t stop, never-ending.

the knock on the door startles you, making you jump.

fuck, miguel is here.

taking a very deep breath to calm your nerves, you slowly approach the front door. slowly unlocking it, your heart rate skyrockets when you see miguel standing in front of you. his wide eyes meet yours.

“¿bebé, que paso? what’s wrong?” he blurts our questions, his anxiety to blame.

“come in, please…”

you walk away as miguel enters your home and closes the door before taking off his shoes and follows you to the couch. no hug or kiss, miguel takes mental note of that and it worries him more.

miguel hesitates to sit since you refuse to yourself but your pleading eyes convinces him to. he drinks in your anxious state. one hand rubbing your neck, the other over your torso. the pacing back and forth. seeing you this nervous makes him nervous. his elbows rest on his bouncing knees of anxiety, leaned forward as miguel waits for you. he wants to stand up and pull you into his arms than sit on your couch, anxious to hear what you have to tell him.

“please tell me what’s wrong, bebé?”

fuck, by his tone you can tell how worried he is.

you look at him, opening your mouth to say something but immediately closing it. you can’t do this, the anxiety is winning against you. goddamnit you can sense the tears slowly developing. quickly blinking them away, you inhale a deep breath.

“i-i know i’ve been distant and i—” you hiccup. “i’m sorry for hurting you, i never wanted to hurt you. i love you and it killed me to hurt you like this.”

miguel stares at you with big concern eyes and furrowed eyebrows. “bebé, what is this about—”

“please let me finish, miguel.” you plead with sorrowful eyes and he only stares worryingly. “now please believe me when i didn’t mean for any of this and i am forever sorry for putting you in this.”

he feels his heartbeat increase rapidly. never has miguel felt so fucking nervous in his life. what do you mean ‘putting him in this’?

“i’m pregnant.”

the whole fucking world, or the universe, stops. everything just stops, frozen in time. large silence sits unfortunately between you two. you feel your chest tightening, unable to breath, and panic as you notice the all the emotions from miguel’s drops immediately. brown eyes blown wide, color from his face gone, chest begins to heave. he appears as if he’s about to have a heart attack.

“¿qué?…” so quiet yet in disbelief.

you grimace at his reaction, anxiety now skyrocketed. god you want to burst into tears. “i’m so sorry… i’m so sorry, miguel.” those exact tears were coming in. “it’s my fault, i-i wasn’t lying about taking the pill but i—” you choke a sob. “my dumbass didn’t check the expiration date and now—”

while on the verge of tears, you couldn’t read miguel’s expression. he just sat there emotionless other than shocked eyes, it scares you.

“it’s my fault for being so irresponsible and i’m so so so sorry!” you couldn’t back those tears anymore as they slowly trail down your face. “you have every right to be mad. please believe me, i never wanted this and put you through this.” another sob. “i-i’m not even sure if i’ll keep it anyways.”

miguel still doesn’t answer but he isn’t looking at you anymore, instead at his hands in his lap.

“i’m so sorry, miguel!” you sob, hugging yourself thinking he doesn’t want your comfort right now. how could he after what has been revealed?

through your teary eyes, you look at him. still sitting in silence with no emotions. it’s understandable for him to react like this, you throw a bomb on him and flip his entire world upside down. but you secretly wish miguel would say something, a word or noise, just anything because the silence is killing you.

“m-miguel?…” you whisper, sniffling.

the man doesn’t respond.

you repeat his name and still no response. your voice falls deaf upon his ears. instead of answering, miguel silently stands up without eye contact and walks away towards the front door. you observe him putting in his shoes with slightly wide eyes, your anxiety gradually increasing again.

“miguel?…”

with no answer, he opens the door and…

he walks out.

he just walks out.

without saying anything at all.

꣖　𝓣ags. ♡ྀིྀི　꣓⠀⠀@reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @zayai @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @scaryplanetdestroyer @totallygyomeiswife

©⠀TEENIDLEGIRL⠀♡⠀don’t plagiarize or repost my work

[ihankaji]

DANGEROUS ──── TAESAN ⋆.

"JUST MAKING MEMORIES" is something Taesan sent to you over text before he bolted out of the door. He knew he might get into trouble for sneaking out, but none of that mattered—he needed to see you. Trouble could wait; reuniting with you couldn’t.

PAIRING best friend!taesan x gn!reader GENRE fluff ∿ accidental confession ∿ WARNINGS inspired from “Dangerous” by BOYNEXTDOOR ,, one curse word ,, that is all i believe !! WORD COUNT 1.7K+ ( 1745 )

NEW MESSAGE taesan’s part has been stuck in my head so i had to write him to this ^^ i def have this song and mv on loop - it’s such a fun one !! so you can bet i ran to write this ASAP 🫡 shows that i am soso excited for their comeback :] !!

♫ ──── I never cross the line, trust me 𓂃 ⭑

Taesan had to be extra quiet tonight—he couldn’t afford to get caught by his parents, especially at this hour. But, he prided himself on being skilled at sneaking out, having done it countless times before. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and tonight, he was determined it wouldn’t be the night he finally slipped up.

Moving swiftly but cautiously across the creaky wooden floor, he kept his gaze fixed between his parents' room and the exit. His heart raced when he found himself in front of their door, which he slightly cracked open to confirm they were asleep. Sure enough, the car keys rested right where he expected—on the nightstand beside his father.

Taesan hesitated for a split second before slipping in, his steps light as air. He reached for the keys, careful not to disturb the silent house or the sleeping figure. With a smooth motion, he grasped the keys without causing a single jingle. Without wasting a second, he darted back towards the entrance, his light footsteps barely audible, a small grin tugging at his lips.

So far, everything was going according to plan.

Maybe telling Taesan you were finally back from your two-week trip at 2 A.M. wasn’t the brightest idea. If you had known he’d spam you with texts filled with excitement and then decide to show up at your place right in the middle of your unpacking, you might’ve held off on sharing the news. But truth be told, you were just as eager to talk to him. After spending weeks messaging back and forth, you couldn’t resist letting him know you were home—especially with him counting down the days until your return like a personal calendar.

Even when you tried to convince him to wait just a few more hours to meet, Taesan was already set on seeing you right then and there. There was no talking him out of it.

He just couldn’t wait to see you again.

“Hey, I’m here!!!!” Your phone buzzed with a notification as you were halfway through putting away your clothes, causing you to chuckle.

You debated ignoring Taesan for a bit longer to tease him, but when his texts quickly escalated to threats of ringing your doorbell—fully aware that your parents were likely fast asleep—you had no choice but to give in.

Dropping the shirt in your hand, you rushed down the stairs, determined to stop him. When you opened the door, you were greeted by Taesan’s slight smirk, which soon blossomed into a wide grin. Before you could even say anything, he swept you into a tight hug, holding you close as you instantly melted into his embrace.

You hadn’t realized just how much you missed his hugs until now.

Finally breaking from his embrace, you took a moment to study the familiar features you had only seen through FaceTime. It hit you that this moment was real—you were finally back, standing in front of Taesan again. Your eyes soon trailed down to his outfit, and you couldn’t help but let out a series of small chuckles.

“Did you roll out of bed when I texted you?” you teased, pointing at his pants, which were covered in random, colorful designs.

He followed your gaze and stared at his pants—decorated with bizarre patterns you couldn’t even describe. Taesan let out a laugh, though his slightly flushed cheeks and the way he scratched the back of his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

“Hey, to be fair, you texted me at two in the morning.”

“You could’ve worn jeans or something,” you quipped.

“At least I put on a hoodie—besides, you're in pajamas too!” he pointed out, causing you to giggle as he finally noticed.

“Not as weird as yours,” you shrugged. “Anyway, it was nice seeing you—you should go back now.”

You gave him a slight push toward the direction of his house, but Taesan didn't budge, instead staying put with an odd grin that sent a chill down your spine.

“Not yet,” he said, pulling out car keys from his pocket and jingling them in front of you. Your eyes widened in disbelief as you glanced over his shoulder, spotting something you should’ve noticed earlier—his parents' car, parked right there. You whipped your head back to Taesan, who let out a laugh at your reaction.

“So, you’re telling me, not only did you sneak out, but you took their car too?!” you exclaimed.

“Technically, it’s supposed to be my car too, so… why can’t I?” he shrugged, still grinning like he hadn't just committed a minor crime (dramatic much?).

“You’re going to get into trouble, Taesan,” you warned, though you couldn’t help but smile at his boldness. This was classic Taesan—reckless, spontaneous, and a little too daring for his own good.

“Not if we don’t get caught,” he smirked.

“What do you mean we—” Before you could finish your sentence, Taesan grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the car. Without much choice, you found yourself sliding into the passenger seat, watching him confidently start up the engine. You shot him a side-eye as the car turned on loudly.

“You’re not going to drag me into your mess if you get into trouble… are you?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“That won’t happen, don’t worry,” he said with a grin, glancing over at you. His casual reassurance didn’t ease your nerves, but something about his energy made you believe him. Even though this seemed reckless and dangerous, there was something thrilling about it, something that made you forget to be cautious.

“Even if it does happen… this better be worth it,” you muttered, glancing at him as he pulled away from your house.

“Making demands now?” Taesan snickered, his hand reaching for the volume knob as he slowly turned up the music you both liked. You hummed along with the familiar melody as he drove, and soon you began to recognize where you were headed.

When you finally arrived at the familiar, secluded spot, a smile crept onto your face. It was the hangout place—the place. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, just an old rooftop in an abandoned part of town, but it held so many memories for you both. Hours spent talking under the stars, laughing about nothing, escaping reality together—it was your safe haven.

“I missed this place,” you quietly exclaimed, staring out of the window as nostalgia washed over you.

“I’m glad you do,” Taesan replied, pulling the car into a spot nearby and shutting off the engine. He turned to you with a soft smile. “It was boring without you here.”

“I would’ve expected so,” you teased with a grin, pushing the car door open and stepping outside. Taesan shook his head at your comment, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You both started walking along the rocky path, the crunching sound beneath your feet breaking the quiet, but in a way that felt calming. As you neared the old, cracked steps leading to the rooftop, Taesan reached for your hand, his familiar words slipping out as if by instinct, “Watch your steps.”

He always said it every time, a small gesture of care that never failed to warm you inside. You gave his hand a small squeeze in response, feeling a comfort that only Taesan could bring—a comfort that had remained constant even after weeks of distance.

It didn’t take long for you two to reach the rooftop, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief when you saw that the mat you’d left last time was still there. With a soft sigh, you sat down, sinking into the familiar comfort of the spot. Taesan followed suit, settling down beside you.

You both gazed up at the night sky. Though it wasn’t lit up with as many stars as usual, the cool, crisp breeze seemed to make up for it.

You two chatted for what seemed like for decades, with the amount of endless topics you two managed to bring up. As much as you wished for this moment to last forever, your mind somehow went back to the thought of what time it could be.

“It’s probably so late right now,” you mumbled, still not bothering to check your phone for the time. “You really shouldn’t have stayed up.”

“Why not?”

“I told you I’d be back late,” you replied, turning to glance at him. “You shouldn’t have waited.”

“I still wanted to see you,” Taesan said without hesitation.

“Why?” you asked, your voice quieter now, more curious than anything.

“Because I like you.”

His words hung in the air for a few seconds, both of you processing what he had just said. Taesan’s eyes widened slightly as if the confession had slipped out by accident, and the shock that hit both of you was almost palpable. Neither of you spoke at first, the cool breeze suddenly feeling much more intense as you stared at him in surprise.

Neither of you could find the words to say next. Taesan turned his head slightly, eyes flicking to the ground as if it could offer him an escape from the awkwardness that had suddenly settled between you. His hands fidgeted with the edge of his hoodie, a nervous habit you’d seen before, though it had never felt so intense.

You stared at him, trying to make sense of what just happened. The cool breeze brushed against your skin, and yet, your body felt warmer. You wanted to say something—anything—but the words were lodged in your throat, stuck between surprise and the realization that this wasn’t just a passing comment.

His confession was still hanging in the air, echoing in the silence between you two.

Taesan shifted uncomfortably, his gaze still fixed on the ground. He finally took a deep breath, but even then, his words faltered. “Uh, I didn’t—” he started, then stopped, his face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty.

You swallowed, trying to calm the sudden rush of emotions that had washed over you.

"You know... Taesan, I feel—" you began, but your words were suddenly interrupted by a loud buzzing from Taesan's pocket. He immediately reached for his phone, and both of you glanced down at the screen. The name "Dad" lit up brightly, sending a jolt of panic through the air.

Both your eyes widened in unison as reality hit. Taesan's face that was once filled with anticipation became paled, and you could feel the tension shift.

There was a brief, terrifying silence before he muttered,

"Oh fuck."

💬 : prepare for more bnd works ( hopefully ) i love them sm

𝓑OY𝓝EXT𝓓OOR 𝓟ERM 𝓣AGLIST IS 𝓞PEN!

PLEASE SEND AN ASK OR COMMENT TO JOIN ♡

[zero-in-kyoto]

please make headcannons about okarun as a boyfriend :3

GUYS OMG IM SO SORRYYYY

I’ve been so busy lately and I did get a lot of requests!! So I will be doing them asap, heheh!

(I got a lot for Takakura and Jiji so yeah those will be dropped soon!)

//———//

Tags: Lots of fluff, no use of Y/N or name, reader is just called “you”, suggested fem reader? (I can make another for male reader if asked!), mostly just focused on you two.

Okarun boyfriend headcanons

- He absolutely made the first move, but not on purpose at all.

- You were both fighting together and he ended up getting the wind knocked THE FUCK out of him, literally almost cried and said fuck this shit.

- Only jokes though, he would not actually leave.

- He would get up and continue trying to fight and attempt to protect you. All those times you were fighting together would resonate with him at this moment and he’d start going on a rant about how you make him feel.

- Him having a crush on you would be so obvious that it’s so hard to believe that he actually even like you and is trying to keep it secret.

- Will stare at you.

- Will continuously rant to you about sci-fy topics.

- Will insist on acting tough and like a gentleman to impress you. (He ends up looking really dumb but in a cute way)

- He would draw you a lot and one time you stumbled across a drawing and it was you as an alien and you genuinely didn’t know how to feel about it and he felt bad and felt scared to talk to you for the next few hours.

- He isn’t exactly the needy type, but after you get together he will need reassurance especially if you have close male friends.

- Absolutely hates being jealous in all senses but will absolutely fight for you if he feels the need.

- If you’re into stars and astrology type shit, he would make one of those solar system type projects for you but it would be so expertly made.

- As your boyfriend he would always want to get you little trinkets, like inexpensive things that remind him of you.

- If anyone talks shit about you, he will not tolerate it at all. You wouldn’t even have to tell him cause somehow he already knows. He’ll come out the shadow like he’s Batman ready to beat that ass up for justice.

- He would be more hesitant to let you get into dangerous type situations but he’s not controlling at all by any means, so he won’t stop you but will do what he can to help and protect you along the way.

-He would most likely not initiate a kiss first until like a bit into the relationship because he’d be worried about the timing but he’d gradually get more comfortable kissing and hugging you without asking if it’s alright like 1000000 times.

- if you go to school together, you would ask him for the homework answers and he’d be a smart ass and ask why you didn’t do it yourself. (He’d give them to you.

- Will get ALL UP in your ass (not literally. Not sus) if you aren’t taking care of yourself. He will scold you but his words most his words weigh heavy on your heart due to how concerned his voice will sound the whole time.

- One time he would stop wearing his glasses and when you ask about he would explain that he heard from one of your friends that you didn’t like boys with glasses. (SABOTAGING HOE👿.. GRRR)

- Probably wouldn’t really like PDA all that much but he would never be afraid of telling the whole world that you’re his lover and that he’s your boyfriend.

- If he found out anything other girls had a thing for him, he would immediately turn them down.

- He would NOT like his lover being jealous at all. Causing any pain to his partner physically or mentally would absolutely hurt.

- He would panic if you’re sick and try his best to take care of you.

- If you threw up in front of him, he would definitely throw up too.

- He will start to copy things you do and say after a while if you doing them without realizing and you ask him where he got it and he’d just say it’s something he picked up somewhere. (He doesn’t want you to think he’s making fun of you.)

- If yall were a meme, you’d be "I don't like them at all," Takakura says, then he suddenly tripped and fell to the ground, as multiple pictures of you fell out of his pockets. "Wait!" He cried out. "These aren't mine!"

- Would have a photo album of you both every time you went on any kind of adventure, all the pictures would be shitty and kind of blurred, but it’s definitely the thought that counts!!

ERM AND I THINKS THATS ALL FOR NOW. I MIGHT WRITE ANOTHER HEADCANON THINGY FOR HIM ANOTHER TIME IF YOU GUYS WANT!!

Tags: @taesy-miranda-lee @stefnarda

[xbinksc]

RUMOURS AND REVELATIONS

PT 2

⭒❃.✮:▹Nicholas Alexander Chavez

SUMMARY: singer Y/N and co-star Nicholas face rumors of romance amid their chemistry and rising fame, navigating media scrutiny while strengthening their bond. Where will all this take them?

WARNINGS: real mushy at the end, looooong

A/N: Requests are open! Still can’t figure out how to make a master list rip someone help me…Enjoy🤍

✧༺༻∞

In a surprising turn of events, Monsters star Nicholas Alexander Chavez and singer Y/N were seen enjoying a cozy night out at a popular cafe in Los Angeles last night. The duo, who play alongside each other in the upcoming series Grotesquerie, appeared to be having a great time, laughing and taking pictures with fans, sparking speculation about their off-screen relationship.

Eyewitnesses described the pair as "playful" and "affectionate," with Nicholas even wrapping an arm around Y/N during photos—a move that sent fans into a frenzy!

This public outing comes just days after news broke of Nicholas’s breakup with his ex-girlfriend, prompting fans to wonder if the split was influenced by his growing bond with Y/N. The timing has many fans theorizing that "The Boy Is Mine," Y/N's latest hit song, is a not-so-subtle nod to the love triangle drama.

Sources close to the pair have revealed that they have been spending significant time together both on and off set, which has only added to the swirling rumors. An insider claims, “They have an undeniable connection. It’s clear they enjoy each other's company.”

The pair’s chemistry has been undeniable throughout filming, leading fans to question whether their relationship is purely professional or if there's a budding romance behind the scenes. Social media is buzzing with reactions, with many supporters urging the couple to "just be together already!"

While neither Nicholas nor Y/N has officially commented on their relationship status, their fans are eagerly awaiting any updates. For now, the rumors continue to heat up, leaving everyone wondering: Is it just a friendship, or is there something more?

Stay tuned as we follow this developing story!

INSTAGRAM

@/ynuser: werk ♡

Comments

@/user gorgeous gorgeous girl

@/user I need the next ep of grotesquerie NEOW😵‍💫

@/zaralarsson trying not to say mother

- @/ynuser donatella VERSACE💜

@/user girl please tell me the rumours are true I won’t snitchhhh

@/nicholasalexanderchavez 🤓

-liked by @/ynuser

@/user my new flex is I met Nicholas and y/n last night😛

@/kyliejenner obsessed with u😍

@/user okayyyyy Nicholas I see you👀

- @/user we need a ship name ASAP

- @/user bro they’re so cute I cannot

- @/user not y’all supporting a homewrecker

COMMENTS TURNED OFF

IRL

The night was heavy with a storm, clouds gathering like dark thoughts in the sky. Nicholas sat in his living room, the flickering light of his candles casting dancing shadows on the walls. He stared blankly at the flick of his phone screen, each notification a new reminder of the whirlwind that had enveloped his life. Articles dissected every moment with you, twisting your innocent laughter into scandalous headlines.

A sudden, frantic knock shattered the stillness. His heart skipped as he opened the door, revealing you, your face streaked with tears, vulnerability spilling over in the soft glow of the hallway light.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, pulling you inside and closing the door behind you. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this anymore, Nicholas,” you gasped, your voice trembling as you sank onto the sofa, burying your face in your hands. “The rumors… they’re unbearable. And I keep thinking about your ex—she must hate me. I don’t want to be the reason for any hurt.”

Nicholas moved to sit beside you, concern etched across his face. “You’re not a homewrecker, Y/N. This isn’t your fault.”

“But I met her. I saw how hurt she was,” you whispered, your eyes brimming with regret. “What if she thinks I came in and ruined everything?”

Nicholas felt a pang of sorrow for both women, caught in a whirlwind of feelings beyond their control. “You didn’t ruin anything. Our relationship had its own complexities. It’s not fair to blame you.”

You looked up, your eyes searching his. “Then why do I feel like I’m drowning? Every article, every rumor, it all makes me feel like I’m stuck in this web. And I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt because of it.”

The tension in the room hung thick, an unspoken truth waiting to be unraveled. Nicholas took a deep breath, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. “Maybe we should talk about where we stand. We can’t keep avoiding it. This anxiety… it’s tearing us apart.”

Your gaze softened, and you nodded slowly. “You’re right. We’ve let this consume us. But where do we even begin?”

“Let’s start with the truth,” he suggested, his heart pounding. “What do we really feel about each other?”

The question lingered in the air, almost fragile in its intensity. You hesitated, your heart racing. “I care about you, Nicholas. More than I thought I could. But I’m scared. Scared of what this means, and how the world will react.”

Nicholas leaned closer, the space between the both of you crackling with a mixture of tension and longing. “I feel the same. You’ve become so important to me. I don’t want to lose you, but the noise outside… it makes everything complicated.”

“Do you think it’s worth it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can we really separate our professional lives from this… whatever this is between us?”

He considered your words, weighing them carefully. “We can try. But we need to be honest with ourselves. We can’t let the pressure of the world dictate our feelings.”

Your expression shifted, a flicker of hope igniting in your eyes. “So, we give it a real shot? Just… discreetly?”

“Yes,” he replied, a smile breaking through the weight of the moment. “We can keep our lives separate while exploring this connection. I want to see where this can lead us without the distractions.”

The relief washed over you like a balm, and you took his hand, the warmth of his touch igniting something deep within you. “You make me feel seen.”

“You make me feel understood,” he admitted, his heart swelling. “In a world that often feels chaotic, you’re my calm.”

Just as you both began to find your rhythm, the storm of stress outside began to seep in. “But what if people don’t understand? What if they twist our relationship again?” Your voice trembled, a hint of frustration creeping in.

Nicholas felt his own anxiety bubble up. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if we just ignored them. We can’t let every rumor dictate our reality!”

“That’s easy for you to say!” You shot back, your voice rising. “You’re not the one facing the scrutiny every single day!”

“Neither are you! We’re in this together!” he countered, the tension escalating as your emotions collided.

You both paused, the heat of the argument hanging in the air like a taut string ready to snap. You took a shaky breath, your eyes wide. “Wait… are we really mad at each other?”

Nicholas blinked, realization dawning. “No, we’re not. We’re just… stressed. This whole situation is making us take it out on each other.”

You nodded, the tension slowly dissipating. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just all so overwhelming.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. We’re in the same boat, fighting the same storm. Let’s breathe for a second.”

“Let’s breathe,” you echoed, the weight of the moment shifting from confrontation to understanding. You took a few deep breaths together, grounding yourselves in the presence of each other.

“Maybe we should focus on what we can control,” Nicholas suggested softly. “Like how we communicate. We don’t have to let this stress tear us apart.”

“Agreed,” You replied, a small smile breaking through the remnants of tension. “We’ll work through it together.”

You shared a moment of silence, your hands intertwined, the soft rhythm of your breaths echoing in the space between you. Each pulse of your hearts seemed to sync, bridging the gap of uncertainty that had kept you apart.

“Can we just enjoy being together without all the noise?” You asked, your eyes sparkling with a blend of mischief and sincerity.

“Absolutely,” he replied, a grin tugging at his lips. “Let’s find joy in the little things—coffee dates, late-night talks, quiet moments where it’s just us.”

As you spoke, the heaviness of the outside world began to dissolve, replaced by a gentle warmth. Laughter bubbled between you, lightening the mood as you reminisced about your time spent on set, the shared glances and stolen smiles that had made everything feel electric.

Nicholas found himself enchanted by your laughter, a sound that felt like music, lifting them both above the fray. “You know,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes, “you owe me a karaoke night. I expect a duet.”

“Deal,” you replied, laughing through your tears. “But only if you promise to keep your mic in check. No sudden high notes!”

Your playful banter melted into deeper conversations, the night unfurling like a flower, revealing petals of honesty and vulnerability. You spoke of dreams, aspirations, and fears, each revelation drawing you closer together.

But as the clock ticked on, reality loomed like a specter at the edges of your newfound intimacy. “This isn’t going to be easy,” You said, your expression sobering. “The world won’t stop watching.”

“I know,” Nicholas replied, his voice steady. “But we have to stay true to ourselves and each other. As long as we communicate, we’ll find our way through.”

You smiled, a warmth spreading through your heart. “Then let’s take it one step at a time.”

The moment stretched between you, a fragile yet beautiful thread connecting your hearts. “What if it doesn’t work out?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Then we’ll still have this moment,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “This is ours, regardless of what happens later.”

As the night deepened, you shared a quiet moment, eyes locked, the understanding between you solidifying into something undeniable. In the midst of chaos, you had carved out a sanctuary, a bond that felt like the softest whisper against a storm.

When you finally stood to leave, a mix of reluctance and exhilaration coursed through you. “This was… everything I needed. Thank you for being here.”

Nicholas walked you to the door, feeling the glow of possibility surrounding him. “I’ll always be here for you. Remember that.”

With a shared look of promise, you stepped into the night, the world outside still tumultuous but your hearts intertwined in a newfound hope. As Nicholas closed the door behind you, he felt the glow of possibility surrounding him.

[starzgaze]

Just a though rmb that time u made hae-in and Jinwoo fight for y/n? I just rmbered it randomly and I propose:

Hs Jinwoo and Hae-in both regressing and they're pining for Y/N who used to be a mage/healer/support for them.

Ur local hottest boy in school + The it girl and Track Running champion of another school fighting for y/n's hand

this has been living rent free in my head to the point ive unconsciously drawn it LMAO so art down below if u scrolllll

okay but this concept with an extremely mundane [name]?? hello especially someone who's just trying to get past school with average grades and average effort then maybe with a few volunteering here and there where it's coincidentally being the assistant for the coah in the track and field team.

[name] being known for helping a few people and having an affinity when it comes to patching up people and helping them so volunteer work is just light work for them so they didn't mind as much when the things they do during their time in the track and field team is tossing water to the runners and sometimes fixing them up if they trip or break an ankle. being part of the red cross club last year really helps in these situations.

then [name] meets jinwoo who's the new member in the team and someone who just suddenly transferred to the school, saying it was about his father getting a promotion and they needed to move places.

[name] believes this because everyone has their own situations but it was in fact jinwoo finally finding out what school [name] was in after a few years of trying to search for them then he transferred school, not caring if it's the middle of the school year. of course [name] doesn't know this.

then those two gets closer and jinwoo tries to charm [name] with silly jokes and impressive stamina and speed whenever he's on the field, leaving [name] awe struck. it was obvious to everybody else that the new extremely handsome hotshot of the track and field team had a little thing for the stupidly mundane volunteer who only took the job because they needed something for their community service hours.

just as about this man was gonna ask [name] out the coach of the track and field team announces that now on during after class practices another student from a different school will be attending their training program and blow and behold it's fucking cha hae-in much to jinwoo's dismasy.

hae-in isn't much experienced with this whole regression thing so she's less prepared compared to jinwoo but her persistence and determination just to see her sweet little [name] again what helped her pulled through and landed her here.

hae-in took the program through some connections and begging to her coach to let her train under a different school, claiming it will help her grow and the coach believed her because how can you deny your favourite athlete that's stupidily amazing in the sport? anyway hae-in successfully got into [name]'s school without moving in even if it's not the whole day, seeing [name] was more than enough for her.

that is until she saw her number one rival at the corner, hae-in compares him to a cockroach with how he can't leave her sigh and his sense of fashion that's constantly dark themed. she's low-key pissed that he's here, like just leave her alone and her cutie [name] that's not for him.

[name] spends more time with the two, now hae-in is in the picture. they would help hae-in whenever she would get a sprain and give her tips on what to do to alleviate the pain and get better asap before the regionals or take her out to hang out because it was easier being the same gender. jinwoo is fuminggg at this because it took him like months to do that and for hae-in it took like a measly few weeks?? that's so unfair

suddenly the two get into little competitions with eachother trying to impress [name] and of course they noticed but they don't believe that the two most sought after players in the school or even the region would have a thing for them, they're just good friends.

that drives them insane but it's okay one of them will make you realize it's more than that!! it's just a matter of time and effort you'll be in their arms.

btw imagine after school going out with the two and you guys eat at some street vendor spot then they argue who could pay. they get so distracted with arguing you just pay for yourself as you watch with the street vendor the two fighting.

[azsazz]

Brr-eakdown

Hockey Player!Azriel x Figure Skater!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: I love love LOVE your Hockey!Azriel x Ice skater reader series! So good! 😍 I just read the one where Azriel gets in a fight on the ice and the reader is worried about him getting hurt and I can just imagine how upset Azriel would be if it was the opposite and you didn’t hit the landing or something during practice on the ice and you end up in the ER and everyone’s talking about how there was so much blood so Az is worried and trying to get to you and he wants to punch something so bad while he’s waiting to hear about your condition but there’s no one to fight. He’s so soft and takes care of you while you get better though ❤️🥹 (I need a hockey player Azriel in real life asap… seriously thank you for bringing him to life ❤️)

Warnings: Mentions of an accident (reader falls and cracks her head open) and blood.

Word Count: 1,475

Notes: Okay, I didn't quite hit everything, but hopefully I did it justice with what I was able to add 💙

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“Again,” your coach demands, and you want to melt into a puddle of tears.

Your limbs are aching, legs quivering from practicing the same jump over and over and over again, but you still haven’t mastered it and the championship is only three weeks away. If you don’t land this trick during your routine, you’re never going to nationals.

“I can’t, Coach,” you pant, graciously accepting the water bottle she passes you. Coach Weaver is the most decorated figure skating trainer in the country, and not only is it a privilege for her to be an employee at your university, but to be working on your solo routine with her is an opportunity not many receive. “My legs are shot for the day.”

The water is crisp and fresh on your tongue, wetting your parched throat. If you focus on that, you’re almost able to forget about the quivering muscles of your legs from so many attempted—and failed—jumps today. You’ve been running your routine for the past hour and for once, you’re saddened by the lack of presence from the university’s hockey team, who are usually bombarding your ice time by now, you notice as you peek at the clock on the timeboard pinned to the side of the stadium.

“If you want to make it to nationals this year, you need to spend all of your free time practicing, not chasing around those hockey players,” Coach Weaver says. She doesn’t look up from her phone, eyes glued to the most recent video of one of your many unsuccessful runs. Her eyes are narrowed, scrutinizing, and all you want right now is for her phone to run out of battery. “Are you doing enough core work on your time out of practice?” She finally lifts that inspecting gaze to your stomach and it makes you want to squirm. “Your edge work could use some practice, too. Your control isn’t nearly as strong as it should be.” 

Again, because my legs feel like fucking jello, you think sourly, clenching your teeth. You don’t respond. It’s futile, anyway. All Coach Weaver would do is come back at you with another demand, wondering why you seem to have so many excuses, and you can do without today. 

“Yes, Coach,” you agree, because it’ll be the quickest way to get you out of here. All you want to do is collapse on your couch with some much needed dinner and kick your feet up into Azriel’s lap, praying for a massage. You’ll beg if you have to, but there’s no way you can get down on your knees for him tonight. No, it’s pillow princess night for you, if you don’t fall asleep on the couch first.

“Run it again,” Coach Weaver says, straying away from nitpicking you. “And make sure that air position is tight this time, I don’t want a hair out of place.” 

Spoke too soon.

There’s no point in arguing, even if you know there’s no possible way you’re going to be able to land this jump today. Coach won’t quit until you’re unable to move, until she sees that you’ve had enough. 

Other skaters whiz by and you envy them. A girl and her partner glide past looking like two graceful gazelles, and in an intricate jumble of limbs, he throws her into the air, catching her, and they spin in tight circles, quicker than your eye can follow. 

Maybe you should’ve done partnered skating instead.

“Let’s go,” Coach barks. She’s looking at her watch like she has some place to be, which you know is untrue because of the rumors you’ve heard the other skaters whispering about her. How she drove off her second husband the same way she did the first, how all she has at home is a bottle of rum and a karaoke machine. 

You quickly take position, and then you’re off. You try to clear your mind of all of your earlier attempts but your legs are screaming in protest. You press your lips together, gaining speed, making sure your edges are set and your core is tight.

You don’t even notice Azriel sneaking into the rink. Well, he’s not sneaking, because he’s been in here more times in the past few years at college than you have. He catches you as you glide past, a determined look to your eye that makes his chest tight with pride.

You lift, spin once, twice, and it’s euphoric. Surely, you must almost have it this time. Something blooms warm in your chest, but halfway through your third rotation everything comes crashing down. You nearly would have had it that time, if your lethargic leg didn’t give out as soon as your blade makes contact with the ice again. 

You don’t have time to scream, to brace as you come smashing into the ice with the force of a bull.

The sound of your skull cracking against the ice rings through the arena, silencing everyone except for the distressed shout of your name that follows you into the blackness.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Oh my Gods,” Azriel sighs in relief. His brows are furrowed deeply, the same frown you’ve come to know and love deeper, more sad as he stares at you in relief. His fingers tighten around yours and you squeeze back gently, blinking groggily. “Thank fuck you’re awake, sweetheart.” 

“What happened?” You ask, but you don’t know why. You remember everything clearly, up until you slipped into the ice. You remember Coach Weaver demanding you try your trick again, despite your protests not to. You remember feeling confident in the air, even though your legs were an aching pile of muscle that gave out with your landing. From then, it’s all fuzzy. All you know is that Azriel was there. He still is.

“You didn’t land your fall,” he explains wearily, like he’s not sure he should be the one explaining this. Fuck it, he doesn’t care. You’re here and you’re hurt, but you’re okay. You’re going to be. Azriel will see to it himself. “Your body  just crumpled, sweetheart, and you—” He takes a shuddering breath that has you reaching out to caress his cheek. He leans into your touch, kissing your palm before continuing the haunting story. “You hit your head. There was blood everywhere. Please, don’t ever scare me like that again.”

You groan in response, reluctantly removing your hand from the warm skin of your boyfriend, reaching up to finger at the bandages wrapped around your head. You grimace at the thought of what you must look like right now, worse for wear.

Azriel gently takes your hand, removing it from where you’re still poking at your head, trying to find the wound. You don’t feel anything, probably because of the numbing the doctors used when fixing you up. 

You suspect you’re not going to feel all that great later.

“You have five staples in your head,” Azriel answers your unspoken question. If it will keep you from dislodging your bandage, he’ll tell you what you want to know.

You hum softly. “What did Coach say?”

You don’t miss the way Azriel clenches his teeth. “She called the ambulance. She actually insisted that she be the one to ride with you but I shut that down right fucking quick,” he spits, and he’s getting all worked up again. It was hard seeing you fall, his stomach dropping to the floor, but once he saw the blood weeping from your skull, he’d only seen red.

Your shoulders sag. It’s a relief that she isn’t here right now, though a part of you wants to shove this in her face. Hopefully, it will be the last time she ignores her student’s limits.

Leaning your head back against the pillow propped behind you, you ask the question you’re dreading. Swallowing harshly, you inquire, “How long am I going to be off ice?”

Your boyfriend is silent for a long moment, two. It makes your heart twist in your chest, bracing for the terrible news.

“Doc says you’re out for two weeks,” Azriel says, brushing his lips across your knuckles in an apologetic manner. He knows how much skating means to you, and hates to be the one to break the news to you, but he’d rather be the one doing it than you having to hear it from the doctor.

“Two weeks?” you exclaim, eyes nearly bugging out of your head. You wince at the sudden movement and when the roaring of your voice makes your headache. Maybe that hadn’t been such a good idea, but there’s only three weeks until the championship, and if you aren’t able to land your trick within one week returning to the ice, your entire season is fucked.

Azriel cringes, and the bad news isn’t over yet. “Minimum.” 

And your season is officially down the drain.

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Hockey!AU Tag (will be tagged for any hockey fic, no matter paring):

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