#and like it WORKS but my brain is SO TIRED

[nymphoniah]

lessons learned | logan howlett

AN: here's a little drabble about logan fucking you from behind, keeping you in a headlock, squished between his biceps <3 and also some dirty talk here and there!

pairing: mean!logan x afab!reader

content/tags: NSFW, minors DNI (18+ only), dom!logan, choking, dacryphilia, name calling, porn without plot, dirty talk, creampies, unprotected sex, pet names (princess, doll, etc.), size kink, mark leaving (ie. hickeys), breeding kink, brat taming, rough sex

logan sees the way you watch his arms hungrily, your lust blown pupils observing the way his muscles twitch when he's feeling tired. he knows the chokehold he has on you.

just a poor little thing, wrapped around his finger.

"i see the way you look at my arms, darlin", he grunts, manhandling you so your back presses against his chest, his toned arms snaking around your waist, keeping you locked in place.

"you don't even try to hide it," logan adds, pressing kisses against your shoulder, his hands working at the straps of your tank top, slowly sliding them down to reveal your tits.

"such a dirty girl, hm?" he teases, rolling the sensitive buds between his thumb and index finger.

"were you ever taught that it was rude to stare?" he hisses, tugging at your nipples, making you wince out in pain. logan smirks at your audible displeasure, now turning his attention from your tits to your neck.

"i’m gonna mark you up doll, ‘oughta teach you a lesson somehow," he growls. logan presses a kiss against the shell of your ear, making his way down to your nape, planting wet kisses along the way.

you lean forwards, giving him easier access to your neck—and when you give him an inch, he takes a mile.

his kisses get more erratic, sloppier, messier, hungrier. he can’t hold himself back, he needs to mark you, and absolutely wants to show the whole world that you’re his.

and so he sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your neck, paying sweet attention to how your weak moans escaped from your lips. he’d nip and suck at your skin, hard enough to leave those love bites you both oh-so carnally desire.

your brain is all fuzzy from the stinging pain you felt on your neck, mixed alongside the growing pleasure you felt between your legs as he simultaneously paws at your tits.

“i can’t take it lo, s’too much,” you whine, shutting your eyes tight. tears start forming around your waterline as he continues his assault on your neck.

just as your vision starts to get hazy, he wraps his left arm around your neck, keeping your face snug between his forearm and bicep.

“be a good girl and fuckin’ take it,” he commands, a singular claw popping out of his right hand, slicing through your mini-skirt to reveal your lacy black pair of panties.

sheathing his claw, he hastily pulls them down to reveal your sopping wet cunt. “fuck me…” he hisses, admiring your cunt in all its glory.

“such a dirty fuckin’ whore, you getting off on this?” he says smugly, slipping a finger between your folds, observing the way your pussy sucks him in.

you weakly nod as you remain sandwiched in his headlock. teetering between the lines of passing out and losing consciousness, you mumble out a string of words—something along the lines of “i need you to fuck me,” or “fuckin’ put it in”; they both mean the same thing to logan anyways.

he obliges, with one arm wrapped around your neck, and the other hastily working at the belt of his jeans. in one swift motion, his boxers and jeans hit the floor in tandem, freeing his cock from the confines of the tight denim.

he spits in his hand, pumping his cock a couple times before he finally lines himself up, and slides himself in, down to the hilt. your pussy sucks him in like a vice, the two of you moaning in unison.

“you’re so tight for me, princess.” he groans, thrusting into you at a rapid pace, fully sheathing himself out, and pushing his full length back into you.

the sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room. the pace of which he fucked you made you dizzy, the grip around your neck adding to the immense pleasure you felt in your cunt.

you attempt to press kisses against his bicep as the muscle secures you in place, but you fail to do so, as shown by your wine red lip stick smudged all over his arm.

“such a naughty whore, suckin’ me in like this” he teases, his free hand pressing against the bulge on your stomach, disappearing and reappearing with every thrust of his. “need this dick to fill you up, huh?”

and you whine as much as your parched voice allowed you to. “want you so bad, lo” you mumble incoherently. “need you stuff me with your cum.”

“such a filthy mouth for a sweet little girl like you,” logan grunts, the movement of his hips getting sloppier. “beg for it.”

“need you to fuckin’ breed me,” you moan, “make me yours,” you cry out— and that’s what makes logan snap.

with a few final deep thrusts, he finishes inside you. his hot ropes of cum fill your cunt to the brim; your arousal mixed with his cum leaks out of your sopping hole before he even pulls out.

he keeps his cock inside you for a minute, pumping whatever he has left inside of you, and finally pulls out. he winces, already missing the way your gummy walls wrapped tightly around his cock.

“need to keep that in you…” he says playfully, plugging your cunt with his thumb, the calloused pad making sure that his cum is stuffed deep inside you.

“now let that be a lesson for you, doll,” he quips, removing his thumb, slipping it into his mouth to taste the mixture of the two of you.

he then brings his thumb to your bottom lip, inviting you to have a taste for yourself. the heady taste of his cum combined with your slick had you moan around him.

he pulls his thumb away from your mouth with a pop, and you look up at him with your fucked-out eyes. you simply nod your head and give him a lazy smile.

surely it wouldn’t hurt to stare at him every now and then.

[forhappysake]

Never Forget a Face

A/N - Why is titling fics so hard? I used a Hunger Games quote because it fit so well so lmk if you can pick it out. Nearly 5K words, not proofread.

Summary - After the end of a bloody case, Emily tasks a begrudging Spencer with checking in on the newbie. Warnings - Spencer x fem!reader, typical BAU-level violence, murder, kn!ves, season 12/13 spoilers, extensive handwashing (?), a bitter post-prison reid with a grumpy x sunshine plot

My hands are stained red.

That was your first coherent thought as you stared in the bathroom mirror. The fluorescent lighting cast a pale glow over your face, making you look more ghostly than you already did. Your once blue shirt was covered in splotches. Your hands, dangling over the sink, were the color of burnt rust. 

As you turned on the faucet and applied soap to your hands, your brain replayed the events that brought you here. 

This was only your second case with the team. Hell, it was only your fourth case with the bureau. All you wanted to do was fit in. You’d heard great things about the BAU: the highly decorated Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, the face of the FBI - Jennifer Jareau, and the sought-after genius of Dr. Spencer Reid. 

The first case with the BAU had gone well. You’d done a lot of the grunt work, putting in an intense number of hours in a dingy police precinct pouring over paperwork with Dr. Reid, who kept telling you to call him Spencer. Despite this faux friendliness, you couldn’t help but get the feeling he was tired of working with you. 

Not that you could blame him. You were, by all definitions, a newbie. He had over a decade of experience and a serious reputation. A genius to boot, his sighs and looks often made you feel like you were in his way more than you were actually helping. Hence why, when Emily had asked for two volunteers to tail a suspect for the day, you’d quickly volunteered to go with the charming Luke Alvez. 

Six hours later, Luke, along with yourself, had tracked an unsub while he was taking his latest victim back to his home in a rural area. Back-up, which was supposed to be on the way, wouldn’t be there for at least twenty minutes. When the first blood-curdling scream rang out from the house, the two of you knew you had no choice but to act alone. 

Luke went in through the front door, making his presence known as you tiptoed around the side of the house to enter undetected. When you found a cracked window, you were able to slip inside without much issue. 

In that moment, you remembered hearing Luke attempting to talk down the unsub. You approached their voices, careful not to let anyone know you were inside. 

“How do you think this is going to end?” Luke asked the unsub, his voice firm. 

The unsub had laughed and the muffled cries of his victim could be heard from your spot. You tucked yourself quietly behind a hallway entrance into the room Luke was in. You peeked around the corner to let him know you were there. His only acknowledgment of you was a brief glance, but that was all you needed to know that he wanted you to stay in place. 

“I think,” the unsub started, with more cries coming from his captive, “that she’ll probably die before this is all over.” 

You tried to recall the profile. Emily’s voice replayed in your mind. 

“He kills with a knife and dumps the body in a secondary location, meaning he gets the women alone and gets close to them before he kills them. Based on the demographics of this region, he’s probably a white man. Likely in his 30s. Attractive but single, most definitely living alone. That’s his selling point. That’s how he’s managed to lure all these women into his vehicle.”

Nothing stuck out to you about him. There was nothing you could think to do to help in this situation besides hide behind the wall. You were waiting for a signal from Luke or the sound of backup approaching. 

Luke cleared his throat and you could picture him shaking his head. “It doesn’t have to be like this, man. Let her go and I can help you.”

The unsub laughed again and you cringed. There was something so unsettling about his voice and his laughter. 

The unsub started to speak, but his voice was cut off by the sound of sirens wailing in the distance. This was your moment. 

You whirled around the corner, gun drawn. “FBI, don’t move,” you warned. The unsub turned to look at you. His cold blue eyes bore a hole in your head. A shiver ran through your spine. “Drop the knife.” 

He appeared irritated, rolling his neck as if trying to work out a kink. He glanced down at his victim. Her eyes were wide and frantic, tears streaming down her face. She was bound and a piece of cloth was tied around her face as a makeshift gag. He pulled her up to his height by her hair, eliciting more cries.

 “Well sweetheart, this isn’t how I pictured this ending for us. I hope you’ll forgive me,” he said as he raised the knife to her throat. 

“Wait!” Luke shouted. 

It was too late. What followed next was nothing short of chaos. 

Luke let off two shots, both of which connected with the unsub. His body cascaded to the floor. You lunged forward at the poor victim. Her throat, now cut, was bleeding at an alarming rate. However, her eyes remained open and the gasps coming from her mouth told you she was still breathing. 

You threw yourself on the floor next to her, removing the gag from her mouth and placing it over her neck as a makeshift tourniquet. 

“Do you hear that?” you asked, the sirens were right outside the house. “Help is almost here, okay? You have to keep your eyes on me.” Her glassy eyes were locked on yours, but the panic was fading from them with the little life she had left. The cloth in your hands was soaked with blood and your hands were turning a deep shade of crimson. 

You shook your head. “No, no. Come on. Look at me,” you tried to encourage her to hold on just for another moment. 

In the midst of your mumbling, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You whirled around to see Luke crouched behind you. 

“She’s gone, Y/N,” he said gently. His eyes were locked on her lifeless body. You furrowed your brow, denial coursing through your veins. 

Just as you were about to protest, the EMTs burst through the door with Emily and Dr. Reid in tow. Luke pulled you out of the way as they tended to both the victim and the unsub. 

The four of you watched helplessly from the corner of the room. You felt your body shake gently, adrenaline getting the best of you. You could feel Reid’s eyes on you. His judgement making you more anxious. 

You watched as one of the EMTs working on the victim turned to look at you. He shook his head gently, a sign that she really was gone. 

You'd never forget her face.

A sigh of defeat left your lips and tears welled up in your eyes. In a moment driven by pure emotion, you shot out of the house and back towards the SUV.

Luke sprinted out the front door after you. “Where are you going?” he shouted, clearly confused by your sudden burst of determination. 

“Back to the hotel,” you said matter-of-factly, sliding into the driver’s seat of the car. He rushed over to the driver’s door, holding it open so you couldn’t slam it shut. 

He looked incredulous. “And who am I supposed to ride with?”

You rolled your eyes. “Luke, two people just died and you’re worried about who your chauffeur is going to be.” 

Luke seemed to get the message he pulled back from the door, allowing you to shut it. You started the SUV, cracking the window just enough to shout, “Catch a ride with Reid and Emily.”

You pulled out onto the highway, foot heavy on the pedal as adrenaline still run through you. 

Nearly half an hour later and still covered in blood, you stumbled into the hotel lobby. The desk lady, panicked, quickly rushed in front of you. The lady, presumably Linda based on her nametag, asked you if she needed to call the police. You’d shown her your badge with a bitter laugh, explaining that you were the police. The smell of her floral perfume was making your head spin more than it already was. Thankfully, with a sympathetic smile, she’d moved out of your way and allowed you to proceed to your room. 

Which was how you ended up here, trying to scrub blood off of your still-shaky hands. You weren’t sure how long you’d been at this, but you couldn’t quit now. The dark evidence was still embedded deep beneath your fingernails. 

-SPENCER’S POV-

Walking into the house behind Emily, I could already see the mess that had unraveled. There was blood on the wall, where the unsub lay propped up but clearly dead as if he’d landed sitting up. There was blood on the floor, covering the lifeless body of the last victim. 

And there was blood all over her, the new girl, who was standing in the corner. Her eyes stared off into the distance, and she looked like she could faint at any moment. 

She was nice. Too innocent for the job, clearly. If I hadn’t been sure about that from the other case we worked together, it was evident now. 

Emily and I walked over to the corner, standing beside Y/N and Luke as the EMTs worked on both the unsub and the victim on the other side of the room. Despite the gory scene before us, I couldn’t bring myself to take my eyes off Y/N yet. Thoughts laced with sympathy crept into my mind and I resisted the urge to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. 

Just as I was about to do just that, the closest EMT turned to her and shook his head. The victim, as the unsub, was dead. She let out a sound that I could only describe as a shudder before she raced out the front door. 

“What the hell?” Luke asked, following her out. 

Emily sighed, staring at the two bodies before us as the EMTs packed up their things. “Kind of a harsh second case for the kid, huh?” she asked. 

I thought for a moment and shrugged, pushing sympathy away. “It’s not like it gets any easier from here on out, she might as well get used to it now.” I turned and started to walk out of the house, just in time to watch the new girl whip the SUV out of the driveway and hightail it back towards town. Though I wasn’t looking at her, I felt Emily shoot me a look. 

“You’d have never said a thing like that before you went away, Spencer,” she scolded. 

I took a deep breath. She was probably right. “No, I wouldn’t have, but things are different now,” I said plainly. 

I walked down the front porch steps and out on to the lawn where Luke was waiting for us, impatiently resting a hand on the handle of the SUV’s door. 

“Where’s your ride?” I quipped sarcastically. 

He shook his head. “Don’t start. It’s been a long day for all of us.” 

Emily caught up to me, pulling the SUV keys out of her pocket and unlocking the door so Luke could climb inside. As he did, she turned to me. 

“When we get back to the hotel, I want you to go check on Y/N.”

I felt my face contort in a scoff. “Why would I be the one to do that?” 

“Because,” Emily said, staring at the SUV before us, “someone needs to.” 

“So why don’t you?” I challenged, growing more exasperated by the second. 

Emily snapped her head to the side, her eyes shooting daggers at me. “Spencer,” she said sharply. I looked at her, trying to read her microexpressions. “I worry about you. Do you get that?” 

That wasn’t the reply I was expecting. 

I averted my eyes to the ground, somewhat ashamed of my previous attitude. “Yeah, I know.” 

“I want you to check on her because she needs someone who has seen bad things to explain to her that those bad things are survivable,” she started, eyes still locked on my face. I glanced up at her as she continued. 

“And, I want you to check on her because I think it would be good for you,” she finished. 

“Good for me?” I asked, with less attitude and more curiosity this time. 

Emily sensed the shift in my demeanor and I could see her shoulders relax. “Yes, good for you. Ever since you came back, you never stay out after cases anymore. Remember how we all used to go out together? Have a couple drinks? Relax?” 

I nodded because I did remember.  Those were some of the best memories of my life. 

“All you do anymore is go home or back to the hotels and hide in your room until the next morning, reading Vigotsky or Tarkovsky or whatever you do.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was reading the works of Dostoyevsky, so I let her continue uninterrupted. 

“It’s time for you to do some socializing. I think talking about yourself might do you some good for once. Besides, Y/N really is a ray of sunshine once you get to know her. I think her company will be good for you.” 

I thought about what she said for a moment. She wasn’t entirely wrong. “Alright,” I said, “I’ll stop by her room before I go to bed for the night.”

Satisfied with my answer, Emily proceeded to the SUV. 

Soon enough, we were back at the hotel. I thought about how to proceed. Should I go to her room immediately? Should I wait and change out of my work clothes first? 

Absolutely not. Talking is one thing. Wearing my pajamas in front of her? That’s too personal. 

I decided to head straight to her room. Ripping the bandaid off seemed like the best option. 

I strolled down the hall and stopped in front of her door. I placed three quick knocks on the door and waited. And waited. I knocked again. Nothing. 

Maybe she’d gone out for the evening, I reasoned. Or, maybe she was asleep. Regardless, I was ready to turn and go back to my room when I heard the faintest sound of running water coming from inside. 

My mind raced. She was surely just in the shower, right? Or maybe running a bath? The FBI agent in me freaked out. What if she’d went off the deep end and was trying to drown herself? Or what if-

I tried to run through my options, the first obvious one being to try the door handle, which was miraculously unlocked. Who the hell leaves their door unlocked in a cheap hotel like this?

“Y/N?” I called out as I stepped into the room. The bathroom door was wide open to the left of the main door I just entered, and I peered around the corner. 

She stood before the sink, eyes locked on her hands which appeared to be scrubbed nearly raw. I walked inside, concern building by the moment. “What are you doing?” I asked. 

She didn’t hear me - or she ignored me if she did. She continued scrubbing her hands diligently. I leaned forward to get a better look. A few red streaks ran off her hand and down the sink, but I wasn’t so sure what she was washing off was the victim’s blood anymore. 

“Y/N, stop. You’re hurting yourself,” I scolded. Her motions continued. She seemed dazed and unaware of my presence. She was surely in some kind of shock. 

As I stood behind her, I felt as though the scrubbing intensified. I made a snap decision. Stepping forward, I placed my arms on either side of her body, caging her in around the sink as I firmly grabbed her forearms and separated her hands. 

She jumped violently, enough for me to release her arms from my grip and back away quickly. 

“My god, Dr. Reid. How long have you been here?” she asked as her voice shook. She looked exhausted and her hands were bright red. Red lines where she’d repeatedly used her nails to scrape at the skin caught my eye. I pulled my gaze away from her hands, making eye contact with her for the first time. “I came to check on you, after everything. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

She looked down at her hands, the realization of what she had done became apparent as she flexed her fingers and winced. 

“Looks like I came at the right time,” I said quietly, more to myself than to her. 

She shook her head incredulously before she began apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Reid. I have no idea why I was doing that. You shouldn’t have had to-” 

I shrugged. “It happens.”

Silence filled the room as I noticed she was still in her blood-soaked clothes. Thoughts whirled through my mind, but I couldn’t form a coherent thought. Words were pouring out of my mouth without my approval. 

 “Here’s what I purpose,” I said before I could stop myself. “Take a shower, get changed, and meet me in my room for a few minutes. I just want to talk to you about a some things.”

 She stared at the floor. I almost thought she was going to say no. 

“Okay,” she whispered. 

I nodded, heading for the bathroom door. “Room 91A. And please, call me Spencer,” I stated. Not waiting for her response, I shut the bathroom door behind me and locked her hotel door on my way out.

-READER POV-

You felt like you were in trouble. 

You know when you’re merely a child and you get in trouble in the middle of class? You know the feeling of your stomach sinking as you walk to the principal’s office?

That was the only way you could describe walking to Dr. Reid’s - Spencer’s - room. 

After a shower that stung your hands and brought tears to your eyes, you slipped into some comfy clothes and wrapped gauze around the rawest parts of your palms, before heading to his room. 

Room 91A. You tapped your knuckles on the door twice. You heard shuffling from inside the room. Spencer stood before you, also showered, also in his pajamas. 

This caught you by surprise. He could tell by the way your eyebrows shot up at his appearance. “I figured we might as well be comfortable with one another,” he said before stepping out of the way. “Come in.”

You brushed past him as you walked inside. Though it was just a hotel room, something about the stack of books on the side table and paperwork scattered on the desk brought a small smile to your face. 

One book in particular laid face up on the edge of the bed. “Dostoyevsky?” you asked. 

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your question. “Yes. Have you read his work?” 

You nodded, glancing up at him as you ran your hand over the cover of the book, tracing the engraving on the cover of the antique copy. “Everybody knows Crime and Punishment, but I prefer White Nights.” 

You’d caught him off guard. “I didn’t know you were interested in Russian literature,” he said, walking to the other side of the room and taking a seat in one of the two armchairs positioned in the corner, “or any literature, for that matter.” 

You shrugged. “We’ve only known each other for two weeks. I’m not sure why you’d have any idea.” 

His stare faltered, and you caught him averting his eyes to the floor as he leaned back in the chair. “I should have asked. I haven’t been very kind to you. I haven’t done a very good job of making you feel welcome here,” he started cautiously. 

That caught your attention. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, but your first response was to reassure him. “It’s no problem, Spencer. It’s been so busy that I haven’t had time to get to know anyone very well.” You perched yourself on the edge of the bed, watching him carefully. 

“That isn’t true,” he said matter of factly. 

“Excuse me?” you asked, genuinely confused as to if you heard him right. 

Spencer cleared his throat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the tops of his thighs. His hands folded and he used them as a rest for his chin. You could see the gears turning in his head. 

“I said that it isn’t true. You have gotten to know everyone quite well, from what I gather,” Spencer said. 

Before you could respond, he started in again. “I’ve seen pictures of you with Luke and Penelope at the club after the last case. I know you went to lunch with Will and JJ. She says you’re fantastic with Henry and Michael. Tara told me you helped Rossi finish the thousand piece puzzle he’s had splayed out on his office table for two months. All this while Emily claims you’re a ray of sunshine.” 

Your mouth had fallen open a bit in the midst of his confession. You tried to think of an appropriate response. “Well, yes. That’s all true. But I don’t expect you to go out of your way to get to know me. I’m a people person.” You pointed to the books on his side table. “You, on the other hand, seem to prefer quiet time alone. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

The room was silent for a moment. The sound of Spencer’s foot tapping quietly against the floor kept the time. One, two, three… 

“I didn’t used to be this way,” he said frankly. 

You glanced at him, trying to read his expression. His face was stoic. He didn’t look particularly upset, though he surely wasn’t happy either. He ran a lone hand through his hair and brushed a few solitary curls from his eyes. 

“I know,” you responded. 

He furrowed his brow at you, confusion written all over his face. You rose from the bed and approached him before plopping down in the armchair next to his. 

“You know how, for us normal people, we spend a few years in training before we actually get a real assignment?” you asked. 

He nodded. 

“I’ve been with the Bureau in that capacity going on four years,” you started, eyes locked on the wall across from you. “My third year, there were rumors about an FBI agent spending time in prison for some high-level crime. People theorized it was connected to drug running, treason, even murder.”

Spencer cringed. 

“For the longest time, I thought it was a rumor. I forgot about it and I got an internship in Internal Affairs,” you continued. “One day, my boss handed me this huge file, full of reports going back over a decade.”

He was curious now, staring at you intensely as you did your best not to melt under his gaze. 

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, that was your file. One section was full of every report you’d ever written. The other section was what the Department of Justice had collected in an attempt to convict you in the fall.” 

This was new information to Spencer, who felt himself let out a bitter laugh. You paused to look at him. 

“I’m not sure why I’m surprised by that,” he said sourly. “I knew then they would want to be as far away from the case as possible. No wonder it was easier for them to try to keep me in there.” 

You shrugged, continuing. “I guess Emily had called in a favor with Internal Affairs. I was tasked with finding proof of innocence.” 

“And?” Spencer asked. 

“I couldn’t find any,” you stated simply. He nodded. “But I never forgot the file, especially the pictures inside. I never forget a face. Reading through your life with the Bureau, seeing the sequence of ID images each year as you got older, maybe even colder. That stuck with me for some reason.”

He appeared intrigued and was clearly doing his best not to interrupt. 

“When I woke up one morning and saw this huge CBS headline about the DOJ dropping the charges against a wrongly accused agent, I felt a strange kind of vindication,” you admitted. “Nine months later I got a call from Emily, asking me to come in for an interview. Two months later, now we’re here.”  

“Now we’re here,” he repeated. 

You cleared your throat. “What I didn’t bank on when I joined the BAU, was the same face from that file would be across from me at the table every day.”

You turned to him to find he was already looking at you, and you offered him a small smile. “All this to say,” you whispered, “I think you have every reason not to be friendly with the new hire.” 

The room was silent once more, the two of you sneaking glances at each other. Spencer was the first to break the silence. 

“Emily sent me to check on you because she thought it would be good for both of us,” he confessed. “She said you should see me as an example that people can get through bad things, and that I needed to get out of my head and into the real world.” 

You were quiet for a moment before shifting in the chair. You thought of everything you’d seen over the last twelve hours.

“I never forget a face,” you whispered again, thinking back to the victim on the floor. Her glassy eyes staring up at your own. 

Spencer nodded. “Me either.” 

“So how do you do it?” you asked him. 

He turned to you. You swore you could see tears forming in his eyes. 

“I find that there's always that little moment right when you wake up in the morning, when everything's good, because your mind has temporarily forgotten the bad stuff.”

You smiled as he continued. “At night, when I can’t sleep, I make a list in my head of all the good things I've seen someone do. Every little thing I can remember. It's like a game.”

You tried to think about every good thing you’d ever seen someone do and tears welled in your eyes. “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” you said. 

“It works sometimes,” Spencer smiled. He moved forward, placing a hand on your knee. You looked up at him. The two of you stared at each other. 

“You have to know that you’ll never fully forget these things, but we get through it as a team,” he finished. 

The tears welled up in your eyes spilled over, and you noticed that a few of his own had to. The hand on your knee moved up, wiping the fallen tears from your cheeks.

After a moment of letting the tears dry, you rose from the chair. “I really appreciate this, Spencer. I’m sorry that you had to go out of your way to help me, but I am very grateful.” 

He stood, towering over you. “It’s not a problem. I enjoyed talking to you.” 

“I enjoyed talking to you too,” you said with a smile. You stood next to him for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his close proximity before you snapped out of it. “Well, I should probably go back to my room and let you get back to your work.”

You turned from him and walked towards the door, pausing only when you heard his voice call after you. 

“Y/N,” he said, taking a few steps in your direction to where you’d crossed the room. 

“Yeah, Spencer?” you said, turning to face him. 

He faltered, his eyes finding the floor again. “I just,” Spencer stuttered for a moment, trying to regain his cool. “I was wondering if you wanted to stay. Stay and talk, of course. I-” he paused a moment more. Spencer took a deep breath. “I think Emily was right. I do enjoy your company and I’d like you to stay for a while,” he said firmly. 

You couldn’t hide the surprise on your face. Spencer saw it, too, quickly rushing to give you an out. 

“You don’t have to, of course,” he rushed. His cheeks burned red. 

“No, I don’t have to,” you said. “But I’d like to.” 

You saw his shoulders relax as the tension left his body. 

“Great,” Spencer nodded. He sounded relieved. 

You walked over to the armchair, plopping back down next to him. “Right, so,” you started, “What’s your topic of choice, Spence?” 

The use of his nickname brought the blush back to his cheeks as he scurried back into the chair next to you. 

He glanced at the books on the side table, the topic of conversation coming to him quickly. “Tell me,” Spencer started, “What resonates with you about the White Lady?”

You smiled before diving into a summary that not only analyzed the text but connected it to your own life. You thought your heart skipped a beat when you caught a glimpse of Spencer smiling warmly at you as you rambled. 

It was a long, interesting, conversation-filled night. 

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Highway Heat

Summary: Your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere and the trucker you flag down offers more than just roadside assistance.

A/N: Lord oh lord… I tried to be good i swear, i really tried to behave. The thing is my sweet beta reader @hautecouture02 requested a little roadside encounter one shot with Joel, specifically asking for FLUFF, and i swear on everything holy I tried my best to keep it PG… but sometimes things don’t go as I planned. So here, take this absolute filth of a one shot that’s little more than PWOP. ENJOY!!!!

Warnings: As previously stated, this is pretty much PWOP, Trucker!Joel i know nothing about trucks lol, maybe some dub!con at first but the internal dialogue shows hella consent, groping, fingering, a bit of praise and a bit of degradation, pet names like so many of them im not gonna list them all almost too many pet names if you believe in such a thing, grinding, oral male receiving, deep throating

Masterlist

You’re a good person—hell, a great person even. You give your spare change to homeless people, you donate to the puppy shelter every once in a while, you hold your friend’s hair back when they’re throwing up in the back of the club. You’re definitely not the type of person who deserves to be stranded in the middle of nowhere, sweating buckets despite wearing nothing but a spaghetti strap tank and the tiniest pair of shorts you own. This feels like some kind of cosmic punishment.

It is, undoubtedly, the worst possible time for your car to stop working. You’d been putting off the usual checkups on your car for months, knowing full well it was overdue for an oil change, a tire rotation—or whatever men who know their way around a toolbox always say. Your ex used to handle all of that for you, always acting like it was his job to make sure your car ran smoothly. He was that kind of guy who would go out of his way to make your life easier—didn’t mean he was above cheating though.

So now, you’re stuck in your geriatric Honda Civic, the AC busted and the engine refusing to start.

After a few minutes of trying to will it back to life, it’s clear you’re stranded.

You step out of the car, and the heat hits you like a goddamn slap to the face. The road’s deserted, no signs of life for miles, and of course, your phone has no signal. Perfect. Just fucking perfect. You glance down the road, hoping for a miracle, when you spot the rough outline of a truck—a big one, maybe a sixteen-wheeler—coming up in the distance.

Relief washes over you for about two seconds before your brain kicks in, running through every horror movie scenario. But it’s not like you’ve got a buffet of options, so you throw up your hand, waving the truck down as it rolls closer.

It’s a beat-up old thing, paint chipped and covered in dust, but it comes to a slow stop right behind your car. The door creaks open, and out steps a man.

He’s tall, broad, with a face lined with age and tan from long days under the sun. The net cap he wears lets a few of his longer dark curls peek out, the front pieces overpowered by graying hair. He sports a faded plaid shirt and jeans, a pair of well-worn boots kicking up dust as he steps toward you. His dark, intense eyes size you up like you’re part of the landscape he’s used to navigating.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” His voice is deep and gravelly, but the drawl is the star of the show, thick and sweet like honey.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your frustration in check. “Car broke down. Won’t start. No service either.”

He nods slowly, like this is exactly the kind of situation he expects to find out here. “Well, good thing I’m passin’ through.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes a little at that, but desperation makes you bite your tongue. “Think you could take a look?”

He stares at you for a moment, long enough that you wonder if he’s going to offer any help at all. But then he lets out a low sigh, scratches the back of his neck, and walks over to your car, popping the hood like it’s second nature.

For a while, there’s nothing but the sound of him tinkering under the hood, the occasional grunt or muttered curse as he checks things out. You stand there awkwardly, feeling the heat bearing down on you, watching as beads of sweat gather at the back of his neck.

Finally, he steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Shit’s runnin’ on fumes. When’s the last time you had it serviced?””

You shift, feeling stupid. “A while. My ex used to handle it, and, uh… I’ve been busy.”

He gives you a look, something between amusement and pity, before shaking his head. He leans against the car, arms crossed. “I can tow you to a shop in the next town, but it gon’ be a ride.”

You blink up at him, surprised at his offer. “You don’t mind?”

“Nah,” he says, with a shrug, “I’m headin’ that way anyway.”

He moves back to his truck, grabbing a few chains and a tow hitch from the back. Within minutes, he’s hooking up your beat-up Honda Civic to the rear of his truck, working with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before.

“You sure this is safe?” you ask, watching him as he tightens the last chain.

“As safe as it’s gonna get,” he replies with a shrug, brushing the dust from his hands. “Ain’t no mechanic shop out here, so this’ll do ‘til we get to the next town.”

You hesitate, then eye him. “You’re not gonna, like, chop me up and throw me in a ditch, are you?”

He chuckles at that, a nice gravely sound. “If I was, don’t think I’d tell ya, sugar. But no, I ain’t in the business of chopping people up.”

You look at him for a bit longer before sighing. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

He turns, heading back to his truck, his broad back facing you and making it a hell of a lot harder to concentrate

“Name’s Joel, by the way,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder as he opens the passenger door for you.

“Thanks, Joel,” you say, stepping up into the truck’s cab, the cool air from his AC hitting you like a blessing. Maybe your luck hasn’t run out just yet.

You sink back into the seat as he climbs up on his side of the cab, letting the icy air wash over you. There’s something else prickling at your senses though—something that has nothing to do with the temperature. It’s him.

Joel’s glances are obvious, a little too long, lingering like he’s sizing you up. Normally, it’d make you roll your eyes, maybe even tell him off. Old guy like him eyeing you up is nothing you’re unfamiliar with. But today? With the way your body feels sticky and tired, and the way the breakup has left you all out of sorts… you’re almost enjoying it.

You’ve been craving attention and the shitty one night stands with guys from dating apps have done nothing to satiate that need. It’s been months since anyone has touched you and that rational part of your brain that would be yelling at you to be aware of the sleazy old trucker who just picked you off of the side of the road is sounding real quiet right now.

“So…” His voice pulls you from your thoughts as he shifts in his seat, resting one hand lazily on the wheel. “Where you headed?”

You hesitate, eyes on the road ahead. “Just… trying to get home.”

He hums, slow and deliberate. “Home, huh? Got anyone waitin’ on you there? Boyfriend?”

The word slices through you, sharper than you expected. You tighten your jaw, glancing out the window. “No. Not anymore.”

Joel makes a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. “Well, ain’t that a shame. Pretty thing like you, all alone.”

You should hate the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker toward you like he’s just waiting for an opening. But instead, there’s a strange warmth pooling in your stomach, your pulse picking up in a way you’re not proud of. You shift in your seat, crossing your legs like it’ll somehow tamp down the growing tension in your body. He doesn’t miss it, his smirk growing a little wider.

“That line work on most girls?” you quip, trying to keep things light.

Joel chuckles, the sound low and dangerous. “Depends on the girl. But you look a little… flustered.”

Your cheeks heat up, and it’s not just the sun this time. “I’m not flustered.”

“Sure about that, darlin’?”

You glare at the open road, biting your lip as you try to ignore the way his words are messing with your head—and your body. It’s been way too long since anyone’s looked at you like this. Really looked at you.

The silence stretches out as the truck rumbles along the deserted road. You try to focus on anything but the tension in the air and find it’s impossible. His presence feels inescapable, it fills the cab wrapping around you, pressing down on every nerve.

“You never told me,” Joel says after a while, breaking the quiet. “Where’s home?”

“Texas,” you say quietly, your voice a little steadier now. “But I’m not in any rush to get back.”

“Family trouble?” he asks, his eyes flicking toward you again.

“Something like that,” you mutter. “It’s complicated.”

He hums in response. “Don’t I know it.”

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs, catching Joel watching you out of the corner of his eye. His gaze lingers a little too long on your bare thighs, and there’s a flicker of something dark passing over his face, but he says nothing.

You want to ignore it—God, you should ignore it—especially since you’re stuck with him for a while longer. But the rising heat in your body and the quickening pulse beneath your skin make it hard to think straight, harder still to make good decisions.

So you bite.

“You gonna keep staring, or is this part of your charm routine?” You cock a brow, trying to ignore the way warmth crawls up your neck.

A slow smirk curls at his lips, but he doesn’t look away. If anything, he leans in closer, his hand resting just near your leg, making the air between you buzz. “You think I’m layin’ it on too thick?”

“Little bit,” you quip back, though your voice betrays you with how soft it comes out. You bite your lip, trying to stay sharp, but his eyes flick down to the movement, and the pulsing need low in your stomach tightens. “It’s not working, though.”

His smirk widens, like he’s enjoying this far too much. “Funny. Seems to me it’s workin’ just fine.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the way your heart races when he shifts closer, his fingers brushing against your leg. The touch is light, almost casual, but it’s enough to send a shiver racing up your spine, your breath catching in your throat.

“You can roll your eyes all you want, doll. It don’t change the fact I can see what you need, clear as day,” he purrs, his voice dropping lower.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” you snap back, though your words lack the heat you want them to have.

“Little bit of attention.”

He reads you too well. It drives you insane. “I don’t need anything from you. Just get me where I need to go.”

A quiet chuckle rumbles from his chest. “That so? ’Cause the way you’ve been shiftin’ in that seat says otherwise.”

You bristle at his words, but the truth sticks like a thorn. There’s a reason you haven’t told him to stop, a reason you haven’t shut this down. You’re tired, frustrated, and the way his eyes keep grazing over you… you can’t stop wondering how easy it’d be to let him pull you under, to let him take all your worries away.

“You’re losing it, old man,” you shoot back, even though you know it’s a losing game. He sees right through you, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna make it easy.

“Am I?” he purrs, his hand sliding up to rest fully on your thigh. “So, you don’t want me touching you like this, darlin’?”

The way he says it—slow, deliberate, laced with that sweet, thick accent—it’s all innocence, even though everything about it screams otherwise. You know you’ll be hearing that “darlin’” in your head later, when you’re playing with yourself.

You smirk, giving him a little more rope. “I didn’t say that.”

He hums, eyes flicking between the road and your legs. “And I’m guessin’ you wouldn’t say a word if I moved my hand higher, would you?”

Your legs part just slightly, almost like an instinct. Barely noticeable to anyone else. But not to Joel.

“Look at you,” he drawls, a shit-eating smirk spreading across his lips. “Already makin’ it easier for me.”

You’re about to fire back, ready to keep this banter rolling, when his fingers slide higher. A soft sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“You ready to stop actin’ up, or we still playin’ cat and mouse, pretty girl?” His eyes lock on yours, dark and unwavering.

Your pulse quickens at the challenge in his voice, your breath catching in your throat. His fingers are still on your thigh, warm and rough, and it’s messing with your head. You know you should stop this now, make him pull his hand back, but you’re not sure if that’s what you want.

“I’m not acting up,” you murmur, trying to hold on to some sense of control, even though his touch is making that damn near impossible.

His grin widens, like he’s got you exactly where he wants you. “Mhm, sure you ain’t.”

You glare at him, but it’s weak. Pathetic, really, and the worst part is he knows it. He knows how to get under your skin even though he has known you for half an hour, knows exactly what buttons to push to unravel you just enough to keep you hanging on.

“I mean it,” you snap, though your voice wavers. His hand shifts slightly on your thigh, fingers curling just enough to make your stomach twist into knots.

“I wanna believe you,” His voice is low, a quiet rumble that vibrates through you, all the way down to where you’re aching for him to touch you. He leans in a little more, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off him, smell that familiar scent of worn leather and something dark and intoxicating. “But you keep lettin’ me touch you. Kinda sends a different message, don’t you think?”

Your heart’s pounding in your chest, the steady rhythm of it loud in your ears. You don’t know how to answer, don’t know if you want to answer. Every rational thought in your head is telling you to stop, but your body isn’t listening.

Instead, you shift slightly, your leg pressing into his hand, just enough to encourage him to keep going. His eyes darken, and a slow, dangerous smile tugs at his lips.

“Thought so,” he mutters, and then his fingers start to move again, sliding higher, testing the boundaries you haven’t set.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the sigh that’s clawing its way up your throat, but it slips through anyway. He hears it, of course he does, and the satisfied gleam in his eyes makes your face flush with heat.

“You wanna tell me to stop, now’s your chance,” he murmurs, his voice soft but carrying an edge of challenge, like he knows damn well you’re not going to.

His gaze shifts between the road and you and it almost seems like every time those eyes are back on you they become darker.

You glance at him, your heart in your throat, and there’s that flicker of hesitation—you should say something, should stop this before it goes any further—but the way his fingers are brushing higher, dangerously close to the ache between your legs, makes it impossible to think straight.

So you just meet his gaze, and you don’t say a word.

His smirk grows, and his hand drifts even higher. “Good girl.” This time he fully gropes your thigh, groaning like he’s been waiting to unleash this. “You wanna take these off for me, sweetheart? Let me give you as much attention as you want.”

He must have some psychic hold on you because you follow his instructions with no hesitation this time. Your fingers eagerly unbotton your shorts and pull the zipper down, lifting your hips to shimmy them down.

He looks at you for a lot longe than he should taking into account he’s currently driving a beast of a vehicle. “Lord above… you’re a sight and a half, darlin’”

He goes back to massaging your thigh, making circles with his thick fingers, going each time higher. Once he reaches your panties he stops and just rests his hand there, right at the edge of where you want him most. His fingers teasingly brush the fabric, enough to make you gasp, but he doesn’t go any further.

“You’re gonna have to ask for it,” he rasps, his voice thick with something darker now. “Tell me what you want, pretty girl.”

His words are like a key turning in a lock, and your resistance crumbles. You can’t deny it anymore, not when his hand is right there, so close to what you need, your entire body burning up under his touch.

“Joel…” you whisper, your voice almost pleading now, barely more than a breath.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand pressing a little more firmly, his fingers tracing along the outline of your heat through the fabric. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

Your breath stutters, and your hips shift on their own, pressing into his hand. You’re barely hanging on, the tension between you two crackling like a live wire, but he’s still holding back, waiting for you to give in completely.

“Please…” you finally manage, the word spilling out before you can stop it. It’s humiliating and liberating all at once.

“Please what?”

You let out the shadow of a moan. “Please touch me.”

Joel’s hand slips under the fabric, his fingers finally finding your core, and the groan that escapes him sends a shockwave of heat straight to your core. “Good girl,” he breathes, his voice like gravel as his fingers start to move in slow, torturous circles.

Your head falls back against the seat, a whimper escaping your lips as he finally gives you what you’ve been craving. “Jesus, Joel…”

“Feels good, huh?” he rasps, his eyes flicking from the road to you, watching the way your body reacts to every touch, every motion of his hand. “Told you I know exactly what you need, baby.”

You’re melting under his touch, your body humming with the pressure of his fingers moving against you, his voice guiding you deeper into the haze of pleasure. You’re not even sure what’s more intoxicating—the way he’s touching you or the way he’s talking to you, that low, commanding tone unraveling you completely.

“That’s it, sweetness, grind on my fingers, make that little pussy feel good” Joel growls, having a harder time keeping his eyes on the road now.

“Fuck… that feels you good da-“ you stop yourself before you’re able to finish the word. Your ex didn’t like you calling him that, so you usually kept that particular kink under wraps, but something about Joel is making it surface back up.

He looks up at you, pupils blown out. “Say it… say wha you wanna say baby.”

You lose all restraint and moan loudly. “It feels so good, daddy.”

“That’s right, babygirl.” He moans “Daddy’s fingers make your pretty cunt fucking drip don’t they?”

His words send a wave of pleasure through your body, a mixture of shame and intense arousal surging in your chest. You’re too far gone to stop now, letting the haze of lust pull you under completely.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word slipping out like a confession. “So fucking wet.”

Joel’s fingers move faster, rough and skilled, coaxing you into a rhythm that has you arching your back against the seat. His other hand grips the wheel tight, knuckles white, and you can tell he’s barely hanging onto his self-control, but that only makes it hotter.

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ dream,” he growls, voice thick with desire. “Been wantin’ to ruin you since the minute you sat your pretty ass in this truck.”

The vulgarity, the way he talks to you—it should feel wrong, but instead, it’s like gasoline thrown on the fire already burning inside you. You grind down harder on his fingers, chasing the high he’s offering, the tension building fast in your core.

You glance over at him, his jaw tight, eyes darting between the road and you, and there’s something so filthy about the way he’s trying to keep it together while driving, the way his control is slipping. You want to push him, make him lose it completely.

“You’re losing it too,” you pant, breathless, pushing your hips into his hand. “Can’t even keep your eyes on the road, can you?”

His gaze snaps to yours, dark and predatory. “Careful. Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll pull this truck over.”

The threat in his voice makes you shiver, heat pooling low in your belly. You’re right on the edge, your body strung tight as a bow, every nerve lit up under his touch.

“Do it,” you challenge, voice breathless and wrecked.

Joel’s eyes flash with something dangerous, his hand gripping your thigh so hard it almost hurts. Without another word, he swerves the truck off the road, gravel crunching under the tires as he pulls into a secluded spot off the highway.

Your heart is pounding, adrenaline mixing with the arousal as he throws the truck into park and turns to face you fully. The look in his eyes is feral, like he’s done holding back, and you brace yourself for what’s coming next.

“Such a little attention whore, baby,” he growls, unbuckling his seatbelt with one hand, the other still teasing you between your legs. “I’m all yours now.”

In one swift motion, he pulls you onto his lap, your thighs straddling his hips, the weight of his hard length pressing against you through his jeans. He is big, a lot bigger than you expected and it makes your mouth water,almost like your body is showing you how badly you need him in a million and one ways.

His hands grip your hips possessively, eyes locking with yours as if daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate. You grind down on him, both of you letting out low moans at the contact. The friction sends sparks flying up your spine, and you can already tell this is about to be the kind of reckless, dirty, no-going-back encounter you’ve both been craving.

Joel’s hands slide up your back, fisting in your hair as he pulls you down to feast on your neck. His lips trail down, biting at the sensitive skin there, and it’s too much, too intense. You feel like you’re going to combust right here in his arms.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he mutters against your skin, one hand slipping between you to push your panties aside, his fingers slipping through your slick heat again. “Filthy little slut, letting a stranger put his fingers inside you. Gonna make you come so hard you forget your own name, pretty girl.”

Your hips buck against him, the promise of release so close you can taste it. “Fuck, Joel, please…”

“Try again. You know better.” his tone is firm and commanding, all the previous playfulness gone.

“Please daddy, let me come”

“That’s it,” he groans, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure, pushing you right to the edge. “Come for me, darlin’. Let me feel this tight little whole clench on my fingers.”

The way he says it with such authority, has you unraveling in his lap, your entire body trembling as you come hard against his hand. Your vision goes white, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

Joel watches you, his eyes hooded and hungry, soaking in every second of your release. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers until you’re shaking from the aftershocks, your body limp and boneless against him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and satisfied as he finally pulls his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste you. “Tastes even better than I imagined.”

You’re still catching your breath, head buzzing from the intensity, but the way his hardness presses against you makes it clear you’re far from done. It’s not like those other times when finishing a guy felt like an obligation, when the effort barely felt worth it because they didn’t take the time to get you there first. But Joel? Joel made you come so hard you can’t help but want to return the favor. It’s not a chore—it’s something you crave.

“My turn,” you murmur, fingers already working at the button of his jeans.

His grip tightens on your hips, eyes darkening as he watches your hands move, but there’s a flicker of restraint. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart. Can’t have this beast of a truck just parked in the middle of the road.”

You shift back onto your own seat, lifting your leg off his lap to give yourself the space you need. The desire to make him feel just as wrecked as you burns in your chest, so you lean down, your gaze steady on his as your fingers trail lower.

“You can drive,” you say, voice low, teasing. “I’m not stopping you.”

Joel’s eyes flash with something dangerous, his jaw ticking like he’s fighting with himself. For a second, you think he’s going to tell you to stop, but then he huffs out a breath, shaking his head with a low chuckle. “You’re trouble.”

You smile up at him as you feel him start the engine again, your hand slipping lower, teasing him through his jeans.

Joel’s breath hitches as your fingers brush against him, a low growl vibrating in his chest. His hand tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he tries to focus on the road, but you can tell he’s losing the battle.

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he tries to keep his cool, but you can see right through it. The way his body is responding to your touch, the way he’s barely holding it together, it only spurs you on.

You undo his jeans and pull the zipper down, feeling the heat radiating off him. His breath stutters, and his hand slips to grip the side of the seat, trying to ground himself as you free him from the confines of his jeans.

You wrap your hand around him, feeling how hard he is, how thick, and the groan that escapes his lips sends a thrill through you. “Fuck,” he breathes, eyes flicking between the road and you, his control slipping more by the second.

You lower your head, your lips grazing his tip, and Joel’s entire body tenses. His hips buck up, instinctively searching for more, and you can’t help but smirk as you take him deeper into your mouth.

“Holy shit,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, his hand instinctively flying to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

But even as he says it, there’s no hint of him wanting you to stop. He keeps urging you on in slow, measured strokes. The tension in him is palpable, and you can feel the way his control is fraying with every flick of your tongue, every inch you take him deeper.

His breathing grows ragged, and he glances down at you, eyes dark with heat and disbelief. “You’re so pretty with a fat cock stuffed in your mouth baby, look at you ”

You hum around him, the vibration making his hips jerk again, and the low groan that rips from his throat sends a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through you. He’s unraveling, right in front of you, and you’re loving every second of it.

You pick up the pace, your hand working him in tandem with your mouth, and Joel’s growl turns guttural, his grip on the wheel tightening. “Right there, darlin’ girl, don’t stop…” he hisses, head tipping back slightly as his hips move in time with your rhythm, chasing the release that’s so damn close.

His eyes flick between the road and you, pupils blown, struggling to stay on course even as his focus is being torn apart by you.

“Fuck, baby… I’m not gonna last if you keep—” He cuts himself off with a harsh groan, his hips bucking again, muscles taut and trembling as he loses the last shred of his composure. He’s completely at your mercy now, and it’s making him wild, his control slipping fast.

You don’t let up, your hand dropping lower to play with his balls, and he’s right on the edge, teetering dangerously close. His breath comes in ragged bursts, and his body tightens under you, his hips jerking harder, more desperate now.

“Where do you want it, baby?”

Instead of answering you take him deeper down your throat, your nose burrowing in the dark curls at the base of his cock, his smell so musky and intoxicating it makes you dizzy.

“Shit, shit—” Joel’s voice is a strangled growl, and then you feel him pulse in your mouth, a low, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he finally comes undone. He’s barely holding onto the wheel, the truck swerving just enough to make your heart race, but it’s clear he’s past caring. He spills hot and hard into your mouth, the sound of his release drowned out by the pounding of your own pulse in your ears.

You keep going, milking him for every last bit, until he’s trembling beneath you, his breathing ragged and uneven. When you finally pull away, he’s still gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, his voice rough and wrecked. His eyes flick down to you, wild and wide, before darting back to the road. He lets out a breathless, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “Best hitchhiker I’ve ever picked up, that’s for damn sure.”

As if on cue, the truck finally pulls into the shop, the hum of the engine fading, the weight of what just happened still hung thick between you two. Joel cuts the ignition, his hand lingering on the key for a beat too long, like he wasn’t quite ready to step back into reality. He realizes his now soft cock is still out and starts to zip himself back up.

You try to gather yourself, smoothing your clothes and brushing a hand through your hair as if it’d erase everything that had gone down on that highway. You can tell it’s gonna stick with you for a good while longer though.

Joel clears his throat, glancing over at you with a look that was somehow both satisfied and conflicted. "Well, we’re here," he mutters, but his hand was already fishing in his back pocket for something. "Here." He hands you a crumpled business card, his name scrawled across it with a number underneath. "In case you run into any more car trouble or, y'know... anything else."

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he knows damn well this had nothing to do with the rugged old thing and everything to do with the heat still simmering between you. You take the card, trying to hide the smirk tugging at your lips.

"Thanks," you reply, pocketing it casually, though the way your heart raced gave you away. "For… you know, all of it."

He just gives you that signature look of his—half-smirk, half-smolder—and with that, you slide out of the truck, legs still feeling like jelly as you walked away. You didn't even need to turn around to know his eyes were glued to your retreating figure.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Can I request a headcanon of whb kings reacting to gn mc cracking their bones(?) I genuinely don't know what's it called lol... I don't really know if demons do that but it would be funny if they don't and mc just suddenly did that during a steamy moment..

WHB kings w/ an s/o who cracks their knuckles and joints

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

A/N: I hc that demons can't do this bc their bodies work a bit different from ours, so to them it just looks like you're breaking them

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

What are you doing?!

Oh, that... Doesn't hurt you?

Satan demands answers and tutorial on how he can do that as well

It looks cool and right up his alley

If your joints pop at random, he'll at first think that you really did break a bone or something

How can your body be so fragile?

Wait, your body does that by itself and just for the fun of it?

Hmmf... Human bodies are so weird...

       ༺☆༻

"Are you okay, master?"

When he hears the cracking sound he's immediatelly by your side, ready to assist you and get you to a doctor

Then he realises you're doing that on purpose and he's flabbergasted

Is breaking their knuckles just a human thing?

Now, during spicy time I can imagine he's just pushing your legs up agains your chest and then he hears the *crack*

His heart stops and he ceases all movent

He just broke your back or worse, didn't he?

It takes full minutes to reassure him that you're okay and that he didn't break anything

       ༺☆༻

Stop that immediatelly

Levi is uncomfortable and won't hesitate to hang you for something so cringe-inducing

Doesn't care that it's normal for humans

He's the king and you will listen to him

Even if your body does is by accident, he'll shoot you death glares

Honestly? His irritation partially comes from him being worried and you doing this will make it harder in the future to distinguish whether you need a doctor

Oh, but Glasyalabolas is very interessted in this feature and wants to know everything

       ༺☆༻

Oho? What just happened?

Prepare to explain why or how you're cracking your knuckles each time bc this bit of information is not staying in his brain

All that matters is that you're safe and sound

You want candy?

Random joint pops usually don't even go noticed during spicy time with Beel, since you're both too preoccupied with each other

Your joints cracking are a good way to destinguish between the real Beel and Bael pretending to be him, though

Bael will freak out and wanna take you to Paradise Lost fro a checkup

       ༺☆༻

Ugh... What is that noise?

'Who tf is snapping twigs in my room?'

When he looks over, he just sees you absentmindedly cracking your knuckles

He's too tired to interrogate you about that, but Beleth does get it as his number one task on his list

If your knees act like they're 400 years old, Belphie will always make a comment about it while you're on top

I kinda want to say that Belphie is an outlier and his joints also crack since he moves so little and when he finally tries to use them they get offended

       ༺☆༻

Luci is aware of some features of human bodies, but even this is kinda surprising to him

Why would you do that to yourself?

Still, he's not worried since as a healer he knows what makes your joints crack and pop

He does wish you'd not do that around him, though

If that happens on accident, he'll ignore it unless you sound off that that particular one was painful

All the demons in Paradise Lost are aware of your joints randomly popping and don't question it

It's even written into your medical file

Somehow, Gamigin missed the memo and freaks out each time and is worried even after your explanation

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

Sup! You things of the fea. So my brain is braining again and my new hyper fixation with god games and my old and undying [get it because-] fixation on dc X dp so I’ve thought about two different ways this could work

But the same plot on the JL part so someone fucked up and someone’s now holding this person hostage and is NOT letting them go so somebody [ from JLD] tells them about The ghost zone and the only one who can stop this person is the ghost king [Danny is NOT the ghost king pls I love ghost king Danny as much as the next person but I’m getting a little bit tired of it] and they have to go through The God Games. Now to the two ways on Danny’s end!

ONE: Danny and Phantom {different entities, different people} For Danny to be the Ancient of space and Phantom to be the Ancient of protection in place of Aphrodite and Ares so basically

Ancient of Space = Danny = Aphrodite

Ancient of Protection = Phantom = Ares

And the other gods are the other Ancients {Pandora, Clockwork etc.} but can add Dani and Dan as there kids in this and make Danny and phantom a couple or a bit I’m fine with either.

TWO: The ghost queen way as I like to call it. The plot on the JL and JLD is the same but with Danny as the ghost queen.

Now with how Danny became the ghost queen so when he fought Pariah Dark who is redeemed {I like it when he’s redeemed} and won so he become the queen but let me say that DANNY AND PARIAH DARK ARE NOT IN LOVE they are still married because the observers are assholes and decided to be dicks so they are just married and have a more father and son relationship not husband and wife but they do like to mess with people and will call each other husband and wife because they just like that and to the JL + JLD Danny is the “poor, underage queen who needs help” but he’s good and with them misunderstanding what he says it will be all the funnier. +BONUS POINTS+ If Danny has Dani and Dan cores in him and make him the ghost equivalent of pregnant. And he’s in the god games is Hera! With guess who’s Zeus….its Pariah dark.

Wow, That’s a lot more then I was expecting to write but I did have fun with this, Anyway until next time my Crows!

[keltaithecrafty]

I'm feeling knackered, and my ADHD brain is wailing that I am tired out and still got nothing done, so I shall post what I have been doing in the hope of shutting the little gremlin up.

Quilt top:

Today was spent adding a wide white strip to either side, total measurement about 80 x 76 inches. Not the biggest I've ever made, but probably one of them.

The coloured part is about 1 3/4 of two Robert Hoffman Bali Pop Batiks in Rainbow. I seem to remember the word Watercolour in the description too. I like the subtle tone on tone effect, just enough to keep the vivid colours from looking flat.

This was also my first time making a Bargello-style quilt- I find full Bargello a bit headache-inducing but splitting it up worked quite well.

[mewtwoandme]

I thought if they were reading each other's mind they would be thinking about the others thoughts or reading them in a way so they're thinking the same thing while thinking about reading each other's mind while reading what they're thinking about.

This makes sense.

...my brain....I'm too tired for this to make any sort of sense XD

Listen, I dont claim to be an expert on how telepathy works so if they can multi-task like that then great lol

[purplesoulcollection]

Unnatural Love

Part 3 Synopsis : Name has being transmigrated into the world of I'm Not That Kind Of Talent without ever reading the novel. She's not being reincarnated as a human but as a devil as well. Hi There! I want to let you know that this fanfiction story isn't solely my creation. I borrowed the concept from @quqiwo2. I haven't actually read the novel either, just some spoiler to the end.

I hope you'll excuse my spelling and grammar mistake, because English not my first language.

"Adele, starting today you are assigned to be a servant of Mr Demon. Get to work today!" said the Head Servant of this demon palace.

He was an older man who seemed to have a lot of experience in workforce personalization.

"You mean I work for Mr Demon? Isn't there Mr. Ed, the deputy troop commander, ready to help him?" My curiosity getting better than me.

Wasn't he already has a deputy who ready to help him, why should me too?

"Adele, you have been given a name by Mr Demon, repay him for your beautiful name." This butler seems to be saying that I don't deserve this beautiful name given to me.

Because lowly background...

And that makes me really annoyed with him.

But in the end I could only agree with the butler's words, having no choice but to swallow my resentment.

Then I was curious, why did I become his servant Mr Demon. It's true that I was given a name after the first time they met and Mr Demon greeted me when we met a few more times.

But I don't think there's anything strange about it.

Did my job change like this because of a request from Mr Demon or was this actually a ploy by the demon king.

If it was the latter, I would most likely be used as a pawn as a spy.

Because after all Mr Demon still a human. Unless he completely sides with the devil.

I'm not stupid enough to don't know that he still holds on to his human side too.

The proof is that he just kept to himself in his room, not too involved with the zero troops he led due to illness.

Whatever the demon king's cunning plans, I will not remain silent if I am used as his temporary pawn. I still have my brain to think logically to subjugate him.

But for the time being I will remain obediently a virtuous servant.

"Mr Demon, I'm Adele. I brought your breakfast." I knocked his room door, letting him know that I'm here.

"Come in!" Although be muted, his voices are still heard from outside.

Then I went in and put the food Mr Demon on the table available in his room. Not letting my eyes wander to him when he wears his shirt on top of his turtleneck.

And Mr Demon who was already wearing formal clothes, finally sat down in his chair to eat his food.

I watched him eat until he finished before I finally started to tell him,

"Mr Demon, starting today I am assigned to be your servant."

Mr Demon was surprised. He seemed to choke on his own saliva before he finally drank the water.

"You?! I thought you were just delivering food as usual."

Indeed, before today I was assigned several times to deliver food Mr Demon too. We were quite friendly in chatting about things unrelated to our status and differences.

Honestly, talking to Mr Demon made me feel again what it feels to be a human again in the midst of interactions with demons that are very annoying and discouraging for me.

Here's my relationship with the demons is not healthy for my own body and soul. I always have to be hit by anger, belittled, blows, sarcasm, death threats. I'm tired to always nonchalant about that fact.

I always have to be patient so that there is no reason for me to just die.

So talking to him really made me think that he is more friendly than the rumors that say he will kill you if you bother him even the slightest bit.

The real demon isn't any better than the rumored Demon.

To answer the question Mr Demon earlier...

"I thought so too, but I only received orders from my superiors. So I don't know the reason. "

Then he fell silent with his face wrinkled and his red eyes turned into those of a scary predator. That looks is really scary though.

But from my experience, Mr Demon will only stare intently. didn't actually try to attack me.

When I first saw those eyes I was scared to death, but now I'm used to it.

'As long as I've done nothing wrong, why should I be afraid?'

So I remained calm even though I was being stared at like that.

But the effects of being stared at for a long time like that are also dangerous, so let's shift the focus...

"After eating, do you want to visit Troop 0? Troop 0 has been waiting for your presence among them for a long time."

"Team 0..." As usual, Mr Demon always reluctant to discuss his own troops. If someone really used their brain, they will know it.

"Mr Ed has also been waiting for your arrival for a long time."

"Mr. Ed?! Why do you call him so polite. Is he not being nice to you?"

Is Mr Demon is the actual crazy? Even if he's not like the strong one in Devil's troop, he's still be one of the strongest devil in this devil palace.

"You keep joking, Mr Demon. Mr. Ed also really hates lowly devils like me. Besides, Mr. Ed is good with you because he is loyal and admires you. There's no way I could get the same treatment as Mr Demon."

"Are you... are you still experiencing hate treatment like this all the time?" His face looks not very good one. He looks very annoyed but still care for me... and that's makes me give a sorrowful smile.

"There won't be any significant changes, Mr Demon. But if I could hide behind a name Mr Demon maybe I could even scare them." I joked around to Mr Demon.

I need to change the sad topic, maybe he'll say no and i move on.

"Do it!" a spontaneous voice Mr Demon making me open my eyes to stare Mr Demon that had been speaking nonsense.

"I was just joking, Mr Demon. Please don't take my joke seriously." I tried to persuade him Mr Demon he just shook his head.

"You have to fight, Adele. Even if you consider yourself a worthless devil, you still have to fight for yourself." His face shows the fighting spirit that i should have, but i lacked that spirit.

'Maybe i don't really cut out with this world.'

"But, aren't you injured because of the effects of fighting a hero. If I involve you who are still sick in my problem..."

"I'll take care of it in time."

My mouth opened with reflexes, I found my savior in the midst of the complexity of this devil's world...

So I leaned a little closer and smiled broadly at Mr Demon and said "You said that yourself, I would like to thank you first, Mr Demon. For the inconvenience i'll brought"

I was busy thinking about the best way to use a name of Mr. Demon to get revenge on my bully until I didn't see his red face while looking at me.

To Be Continued

[champagnejaig]

Necklaces - Rex x f!JediReader

Summary: Rex told himself the necklaces you adorned were only so captivating because Jedi didn’t usually have such things. 

A Rex one shot where we follow Rex working through his thoughts (feelings) about your necklaces. 

Tags/Warnings: CT - 7567/Captain Rex, Jedi Reader, Rex is confused bless him, implied sexual content, alcohol references.

Word count: 1.2k

Author's note: This came to me this afternoon and I had to get it out of my brain. This is for my girlies who love layering their drip and love Rex. Niche? Probably yes.

On a more serious note, this is my first time writing again in years. Do I feel vulnerable posting this? Yes, dear reader, I do. But you gotta start somewhere. Feedback is appreciated :)

— 

It’s not like he hadn’t seen them before. Rex knew that. Many women wore them in a variety of colours, stones, metals, and he didn’t care then. So why, Maker why, was he so captivated by the delicate necklaces you wore around your neck everyday? 

It had been the second thing he’d noticed about you when you’d met. The sterile light of the ship danced across the silky chains, pulling his eyes both up to your neck and down between your cleavage. 

He told himself the necklaces were only so noticeable because Jedi didn’t usually have such things. Wasn’t it forbidden anyway? He thought as he regarded you from afar. 

He’d steal glances at them. He’d watch you untangle the fine chains during moments of respite, lifting your hair away and methodically shuffling the clasps to the back of your neck. He quickly realised you’d toy with them when deep in thought, too. 

He’d watch the chains dangle from your neck when you lent over the command table to point at something, and force his eyes to wherever you were gesturing. Doing his best to ignore the sounds of clinking pendants accompanying your smooth voice. 

He’d watch the way his brothers also took note of them, feeling a lump in his throat and twist in his gut which he didn’t want to name.

— 

He remembered the day he asked you about them. It had been a few months since you’d joined the battalion and while he cringed inwardly at asking such a personal question, he’d grown tired of wondering what the shapes and symbols meant to you. He wanted this information for himself, making sure to ask you when everyone else had left the command room for the evening.

You’d smiled at his question and absentmindedly moved your hands to fiddle with the chains – unaware that you’d mesmerised the Captain in the process – as you explained they were from your home planet. You frowned when you discovered they’d tangled yet again.

“Allow me, ma’am,” Rex stepped forward, feeling like his feet weren’t his own as he moved into your space and tilted his head to get a better look at your neck.

His ears felt so hot he almost didn’t hear you thank him. His hands didn’t betray his nerves as he brought his thick, calloused fingers to the dainty chains. He huffed as he managed to tangle them even more before finally getting the hang of it and gently prying them apart. 

In such close proximity, he almost felt dizzy. He’d never have guessed you’d smell so floral, sweet, womanly. You’d averted your gaze, watching him in your peripheral vision with a small smile. Rex could feel your heartbeat in your neck thrumming away, and resisted reaching out to run his knuckle along your high cheekbones.

—

Then there was that time you joined them at 79s. How could he forget? You’d worn a dress that, while modest, didn’t exactly hide your figure as you sat across the table looking at him. The sweetheart neckline you wore was anything but sweet on Rex’s alcohol-buzzed mind. 

And those necklaces. Fuck… those necklaces, Rex thought as he ran a hand over his face at the booth. They sit so beautifully on your skin, he noted, before realising this was his first time seeing them against your flawless skin and not your robes. Taking another sip of his drink, he shoved down his brain’s traitorous musings of how the chains would lie on your chest if he could lay you down and– 

Standing up, and feeling grateful for his codpiece, Rex went to get some air. He took a woman home that night. She wore necklaces too.

—

And then one day, while lying in his bunk and trying to fall asleep, Rex realised that his fascination with your necklaces actually had very little to do with the necklaces. 

—

It was stupid. Plain bloody stupid. Reckless, too. But there Rex stood. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other outside your door. His heartbeat thundering away. The door opened and you smiled at him. It may as well have been a bullet to his heart. 

“Yes Captain?”

“I-uh, I got you this.”

Rex reached into his utility belt, mentally kicking himself for stammering like a shiny. 

His chest tightened watching you quizzically look over the velvet pouch he’d put in your hand. He almost wished he could take it back. Take it all back and get on with his life again. No matter how much duller it would be.

You gasped as you pulled the necklace from the packaging. A fine golden chain bearing a pearl dangling in the air as you examined it. Rex tried to gauge your reaction. He both wanted to see every minute expression you made, but also to turn away and hide should you hate it or him for doing this. He felt sick. 

“Rex, it’s gorgeous,” you found your voice, “how did you know I’d lost my other one?”

“Hard not to,” Rex shrugged, before wincing at giving himself away. 

Great, now she thinks you're some creep keeping tabs on what she wears, he thought, before groaning inwardly at the realisation that he had been doing exactly that. 

But how could he not know? Rex had noticed your distress when you’d realised that one of your necklaces was missing only a few rotations ago. Most of the men were tired, sitting on the shuttle floor as it carried you to The Resolute. You hadn’t said anything, but you didn’t need to. He noticed. Through his helmet, he watched you clasp the base of your neck, counting your chains with knitted brows, before checking your belt, your pockets, even your boots, before you looked down and pinched your eyes shut. He knew what that expression on you meant by now.

He could feel your hurt from across the shuttle. And he hated it. 

Your soft lips pressed to his cheek snapped Rex back to the present moment. His eyes went wide and body as rigid as durasteel. He just knew his cheeks had flushed.

“Thank you Rex. Would you do the honours?” You fiddled with the new addition to your stack.

Red nodded, his throat too dry to speak. 

He watched you turn around, presenting your neck to him. Gently, so gently, perhaps as cautiously as he’d ever moved in his life, Rex swept your hair to the side. He raised the necklace, taking a selfish moment to breathe you in. He was so scared he’d wake up any minute now, in his bunk with his heart hurting and panicked breathing. 

But when he felt your warm skin under his fingertips, he knew this couldn’t possibly be a dream. Securing the clasp, he thanked the gods above that you liked it. That he hadn’t overstepped. That you’d let him get this close again.

His breath hitched seeing the pearl as you turned around. It looked like it was always meant to be there, falling perfectly between the other jewels and gleaming the light. 

“What do you think?” You asked cheekily. You’d pushed your chest out towards him, as if it would help him see any better.

Maker, are you trying to kill me? 

Rex wracked his brain for an intelligent response. For something that walked the line between professionalism and flattery. He blanked and settled with the truth instead.

“You’re beautiful.” 

Your subsequent blush is unmissable. Rex grins, euphoria flooding his veins and reaching every fibre of his being. 

— fin —

[amethystfairy1]

Just finished reading ttsbc in… two? Three days? And everything hurts, and I’m so tired, but oh holy heck was it worth it. Your brain…. Spectacular.

I ended up taking screenshots every time you describe the under-city because it just sounds /so/ compelling, and I really want to try drawing it or using it as mc build inspiration now. I have so many projects already going on, how dare you *checks notes* make my life better by adding another one. Shakes fist at sky, and all that.

(Genuinely thank you for being so passionate about writing and sharing your stories, you’ve brought a lot of joy into my life and I’m absolutely going to be revisiting them so I can rotate them around in my brain more. Utterly spectacular.)

Oh WOW that's amazing! I'm so happy my descriptions of the under-city have been so compelling for you! If you ever do draw it or build it in minecraft PLEASE do share somehow if you're comfortable I'd absolutely LOVE to see it! Thank you thank you! I'm so glad you like my work and that they've brought you joy!!!!

[zeeohoh]

OBX RAFE SMUT | MINORS DNI !

Tags : arguing, toxic!rafe, reader has female anatomy, oral, oral smut, slight fluff at the end(?).

A/N : NOT PROOF READ.

//

Rafe had been avoiding you for weeks now, his work, his dad, his friends, he has a million excuses to not see you, and you've finally had enough.

You were sat on your bed, watching Notting Hill, you had seen this movie a million times but hey, it's your favourite, you can never have enough.

It's a 21:00 on a Saturday, you were *supposed* to see Rafe, or at least, you had hoped you would, he's been blowing you off for weeks now, you guys had been going out for a few weeks but not everyone knew, and it would've been hard for anyone to believe it either because of how he treated you when you were around people you knew, it was like the better and comfortable you felt with him, the terrible he made you feel in public, in simple terms, he treated you like shit, Absolute. Pure. Shit. As if you're some fuck toy or something to help distract him and you only meant something to him when his body was on yours. You didn't entirely feel this way, he seemed to genuinely have feelings for you but his actions said otherwise, so you stopped, or you would've just been delusional. Tired of wanting him to treat you like an actual human being and tired of wrecking your brain over being torn because you felt he had feelings for you but he acted like you mean nothing, and treating you like a nobody, you grab your phone and block him, his number, his instagram, anywhere you have him on your phone, you block him, throw your phone on your pillow and continue playing the movie.

02:19 *ring* *ring*

Your eyes flutter open as you realize you fell asleep watching the movie, you're broken out of yours thoughts as you realize what woke you up in the first place, your front door bell ringing.

Who the fuck is at my door at 2 in the damn morning?

You get off your bed, quickly grab your robe and a baseball bat you kept by the shoe rack and peek through the keyhole, it was hard to make out who it was because of the rain, but you recognised the familiar silhouette of a certain Cameron. You sigh and open the door.

"What the fuck Rafe? Look at the time"

"I couldn't reach you anywhere, you wouldn't answer my calls, my texts wouldn't send, what else was I supposed to fucking do? You cut me off everywhere Y/N"

"Just..get inside, you're gonna catch a cold"

"I don't care Y/N"

You take a step aside to let him in , you barely turn around before he grabs your wrists in his hands and pins you to the wall,

"RAFE"

He's so close that you can feel him breathing on you

"Why'd you do it Y/N? Do you really want me out of your life? Is that what you want?"

"It's not like I mean shit to you anyways, Rafe"

"That's not true"

"Like fuck it is, you treat me like absolute shit, you purposely go out of your way to make me feel terrible, you want my attention but you'd rather ask for it by belittling me infront of everyone, by talking down to me or treating me like I'm just someone you use to distract yourself from whatever the fuck you need to be distracted from, sometimes the shit you say isn't even funny, it's straight up childish and immature and rude, I shouldn't even have let you in after the shit you've said and the shit you've done, I deserve better than how you treat me. "

You could barely finish your sentences without feeling the need to choke up.

"Y/N I-"

"You used to make me feel so good, so safe but now I'm scared to even talk to you because I know nothing nice is gonna come up and I'm gonna get hurt again, I know we're supposed to be just casual but I just didn't think you'll treat me like I'm a nobody to you"

Rafe's gaze softened, and his hands went from your wrists to your shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I know I don't deserve your forgiveness because of the things I've said and how I've treated you, but I can't lose you, I don't want to do this without you Y/N, I can't justify why I've said what I've said, what can I do to make it up to you? I'll do anything, I never realized how much it could've affected you, I was being a dick, I'm so, so sorry"

"I know I shouldn't even be talking to you rn, John B would kill me"

Rafe took your hands in his and placed a kiss on the back of both hands. He peppered kisses all over your hands, working his way up to your wrists, your arms, your shoulders, and eventually, your neck, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear and nibbled on the sensitive skin right next to your jaw, which he knew makes you go crazy.

You shuddered under his touch and, out of habit, leaned into him, your head resting on his chest, kissing it, you turned up to look at him, your faces barely inches apart, and close the distance. You plant a kiss on his lips, it was soft, gentle, loving. His hands wander from your neck to your back, you guide his hands to your waist, he gives you a gentle nudge and following his cue, you lift yourself and he picks you up, wrapping your legs around him, his focus goes to your neck and you shudder, he takes that opportunity and slips his tongue in, his movements grow more eager as he softly grinds himself against you, grabbing everywhere you'd let him, at this point, you're both breathing each other, he's kissing you like he's gonna lose you tomorrow, like it's the last time he'll ever have you, your tongues move in a rhythm and your bodies are connected.

"Let's go inside" you say and he takes you to your room, he gently lays you down on your bed, not breaking the kiss once, not letting go of you even. once.

"May I?" He asks you as he nudges your top

You get up and help him remove the tshirt you slept in, he immediately went back to kissing your neck, your collarbone, and slowly made his way down to your chest. He took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around, gently sucking on it, you let out a soft sigh as he bit it gently while his other hand gave attention to your other one, toying with it, kneading it then he switched to the other one, doing the same as he did for the previous one.

"Let me make you feel good ma"

He made his way further down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses.

"Tell me if you want me to stop ,okay?"

You just hummed in agreement

"No, I want to hear you say it, tell me if I'm going too far, and I'll stop."

"I don't want you to stop"

He tugged at the waistband of your shorts, and you lifted yourself up, helping him take them off.

"Turn the lights off,Rafe, I don't want you to look at it"

"You're beautiful, every part of you Y/N" he says as he gets up and turns the lights off, finding his way back to you, he plants gentle kisses on your inner thighs, softly massaging them. He slowly made his way to your core, planting a gentle kiss over your clothed core.

You squirmed in the bed, edging your body closer to his mouth, growing more impatient by the second.

"Easy now, I'm getting there" he said as he took your underwear off, folding it up and keeping it next to your bed, he licked a long stripe eliciting a soft moan from you, he latched himself onto your clit, lightly sucking on it, focusing on how you react to it, once he's satisfied, he pushes his tongue inside you, he speeds up exponentially, he's going down on you like a man starved, like you're the last meal he'll ever have, he doesn't slow down, he doesn't stop, he barely comes up for air, he only has one thing on his mind, making you come. Your hands find their way to his hair, grabbing them and tugging at them.He violently thrusts his tongue in and out of you, practically abusing your clit while you're a moaning mess, he hooks your legs over his arms to grip you and hold you down as you squirm and push yourself onto his face, his nose is lightly bumping against your clit, your moans turn him on and he started grinding against the bed, he suddenly inserts a finger in you which make you arch your back, pumping in and out of you, hitting your g spot as his thumb makes it way to your clit and rubs circles on it, while his other hand grabs your breast and plays with it, the sudden increase in stimulation drive you closer to your edge, your eyes are shut, you can't say anything, you can't think of anything other than how good his mouth feels, how good he's making you feel, you feel the burning sensation, signalling you're not that far

"Rafe I'm gonna-"

He doesn't even let you finish that sentence before he speeds up, you didn't think it was possible for him to go faster, but he was, the room is silent except for the moaning mess he's made of you and the unholy sounds he's making as he eats you out, he can feel how close you are, he hums in satisfaction.

"It's okay, come for me" You can feel the smirk he has on his face as he says it

Right as he finishes his sentence, you came. hard, harder than you've probably ever come. You're a panting mess, he slows down his movements but he doesn't stop, helping you ride out your high, once he's sure, he gets up and grabs a towel, cleaning you up, he kisses your thighs and helps you up on the bed, and lays down next to you. He holds you close and whispers in your ear

"I'm so sorry for ever making you feel like you mean less than to me than you actually do, I won't do it again"

"It's easier said than done, Cameron, don't make me regret giving you another chance"

you turn to face him and bury your face in his chest, slowly drifting away into a peaceful sleep as he plants a kiss on your forehead and holds you close. He'll spend as long as it is needed to make up for how he treated you, taking care of you and cherishing you for as long as you'd have him.

[naranja-301]

I HAD NO IDEA THIS COULD HAPPEN!

So many people interacting on my twitter I feel a bit overwhelmed so...HI GUYS HOW ARE YA?? XD

So like, after doing this I think in the possibility of Fiddleford interacting with some of the other Stans of a different era so...yeah.

I'm not gonna make this a long (lier btch) thing bc 1, my brain is tired and 2 out of much ideas BUT I still want to write this idea I have.

Scenario: Fidds it's feeling tired, he was working to much, even more with the appear of all this Stanleys because of the new copy machine he and Ford made. And sure, the other Stans noticed the tiredness of the farm man, specially one with a colorfull Red and purple suit. Even with all the inner toughs that are troubling the con man, he tries to offer help…at least a bit.

Fidds is on his way to his room, his hair messy and with some eyeshadowns below his eyes, he worked for a couple of days with Ford about how they can return the efect of the machine bc this one alike the photocopy cannot erase the clones via water. Ford excused this because "any time he slipped and dropped some of his coffee on the clones he made of himself the clone dropped down" but then understood that yeah, maybe that would be more convenient than just not being able to erase them when no longer needed.

while opening the door of his room he can remenber well how Stanley make his way to him, talking in a nervious voice and trembling hands how when "looking" at the machine all these clones of himself came out one be one and he had no idea how to stop it but break it, now he was out, sended be Ford to look at replacements to fix the machine and meanwhile figure out how to return all Stanleys to their era, or just get rid of them.

He lays on his bed, leaving a tired sigh, hands on his stomac looking at the ceiling.

He was about to close his eyes and get some sleep but them he hears a knock from the door, it sounds soft, almost like if the person on the other side was doubting to do it and that coughs the attentions of Fiddleford, who with a groan stands up from his bed and walks to the door, opening it and meeting with one of the Stans, the one that tried to sell him some "rip-offs", leaning on the corner of the door and looking at his side, a bit unconfortable with his hand on the neck of his shirt.

"You...eh...you ok?"

It was kind of surprising see the man that talked to him with such a confident and even a bit cocky attitude talking with him with such a low, almost wipered voice. but sure Fiddleford noticed the unconford and tension in it and he could only think than damn, sinse many time Stan felt that inconfort to even get a bit close to anyone? to feel like he could be in danger if he made a step foard and just...show he cared?

"yeah, I'm ok, just...a bit tire' is all..."

There is an akward silence after that, none of them seemed to dare to talk, one because of the insecurity and doubt of keep talking and the other because of the fatigue he felt.

Fiddleford was about to talk again when some words that that Stankey said shutted his mouth.

"Want a massage?"

"what now?"

"that if you- agh....that if you want a massage...you are here because of me isn't it?...Can I...help a bit?"

That sure is...a proposition. A massage? at the mention of the offer Fiddleford could feel even more the pain on his back and shoulders, his body craving for relaxation and rest after so much work.

He is about to answer when his mind stops in track because the one who is asking him for it is Stanley but not his Stanley, it would be ok to allow this "stranger" aproach to him? even if it was for something so maybe odd or maybe simple thing as a massage?

"...I think...that would be nice. Thanks Stanley"

[ampheenix]

If we stayed connected, would I be forced to change?

TAGS: mizuena, getting together, flirting, texting, fluff and angst, 5k

SUMMARY:

Wait a second. Ena froze.

There was… there was no way she had accidentally posted that sketch of Mizuki on her social media account, was there? That was insane, she would never make such a stupid mistake, so matter how sleep-addled her brain was.

Please let it be posted to the art account, please let it be posted to the art account, Ena begged to herself. That she could deal with - hardly anyone would see it anyway, she thought bitterly.

Terrified thoughts roaring in her mind, she opened the app, frantically wishing that her internet would load faster, fuck!

And then… it loaded… and Ena sat there, aghast.

---

Or, Ena accidentally uploads an incredibly detailed sketch of Mizuki to her public social media, instead of the Nightcord server.

…and it’s not nearly as disastrous as she’d expected.

Mizuki had been acting… different, lately.

Ena chewed on the end of her pencil, brows furrowed in suspicion.

She had always been the teasing type, but she seemed to have upped the ante as of late. A little wink here, a little smirk there, just a touch more flirty than the usual. And especially with Ena.

The most irritating thing about it was that no one in Nightcord had even noticed the subtle changes in her behaviour – or if they had, they hadn’t said anything, which was even worse!

Maybe she was just being paranoid, or overthinking it… but agh, it was so obvious!! Why wasn’t anyone pointing it out, raising an eyebrow, anything?!

Hell, the other day… all of them were in voice chat and in response to Ena making a comment about how tired her hands were from sketching, and how she wished they would cramp up less, Mizuki had been all “and here I thought you were good with your hands!”

That playful tone, commented with a flirty wink as she rested her chin on her hand, had made Ena’s mouth drop open immediately.

Then, after a brief factory reset, she had complained with a hint of pink in her cheeks, being all “ha ha, very funny!! My hands are actually so sore, the least you could do is appreciate my efforts… and at least I’m meeting my deadlines, unlike you!”

And sure, Mizuki said stuff like that all the time, but – argh!

Ena buried her head in her hands, flushing madly. It was different now, for some reason!! And she just couldn’t put her finger on why exactly!

Well, whatever, Ena huffed to herself.

There was no use thinking so hard about it, and stress was bad for the skin, so unless she wanted to break out she needed her thoughts to shut up.

With a tired sigh, Ena ran a hand through her hair, mussing up the silky brown strands. She attempted to turn her train of thought back to the drawing she was supposed to be working on.

Right, so she had a basic head-and-torso draft here… But, hmmm, maybe she could try using this perspective instead, to highlight the silhouette and make it stand out more…

She erased guidelines and pencilled in soft features, bright eyes and a head tilted just so, a hand raised in the beginnings of a wave, fingers delicately posed.

Ena lost herself in the sketch, pencil strokes filling the page. Absent mindedly, she added a touch of lace there on the skirt, soft lips raised in a hint of a smile, long legs, a cute bow and long-lashed eyes…

A black fineliner captured the details, the way light pink strands cascaded in a ponytail over her shoulder, creamy skin and soft cheekbones, a freckle on her elbow and chipped nail polish on her ring finger…

Before she knew it, the birds outside her window were singing, the sky was starting to lighten outside, and the subject of her thoughts was staring out at her from the page.

Ena nibbled on her lip, frustrated now. Well… at the very least, it had turned out an excellent piece. Considering she saw Mizuki so often, it wasn’t a surprise Ena had captured her essence so perfectly.

Maybe… Eugh, it would no doubt be embarrassing, but it really was such a great sketch…

Before Ena could think too hard about it (her spur-of-the-moment decision likely influenced by the bags under her eyes and lack of sleep in her brain) she was pulling up the camera app on her phone and snapping a photo.

Within a moment, it was uploaded to the Nightcord server.

“Practice sketch!” Ena hurriedly typed after. She couldn’t let Mizuki get a big head, after all. She had just happened to draw her by mistake, it’s not like she had put a lot of effort in or anything!

And with those comforting lies, Ena was out for the count – she hadn’t had caffeine at all in the past six hours, it was a wonder she’d lasted so long really… and she could already feel her eyes starting to droop.

Stretching her arms back and letting out a huge yawn, she stumbled into her bed, barely managing to yank the covers over her head before plummeting into dreamland.

When she awoke, hours later, it was to the sound of loud dinging.

Head still heavy on the pillow and eyes sealed shut with exhaustion, Ena raised an arm and slapped the snooze button on her clock – so sue her, she wanted some more sleep after an all-nighter.

But for some reason, the dinging didn’t stop. Already irritated, Ena managed to sit up in her bed, rubbing at her sandy eyes. God, why wouldn’t it shut up? She was so tired, shit… maybe this was her karma for her terrible sleep schedule…

Blinking bleary eyes, Ena’s vision slowly came into focus, enough for her to recognize her phone vibrating on her desk. She didn’t remember setting an alarm on there… was someone calling her?

Suddenly, Ena felt wide awake, shoving back her covers as she jumped to her feet. Because that dinging… that was her social media notification tone, wasn’t it?

Oh god… was Mizuki annoyed that she had tried drawing her? Did they all hate her sketch or something? Ena didn’t think she’d said anything weird, all she’d done was send the image on the group chat.

Ena grabbed her phone and collapsed into her desk chair, sinking into the soft cushions  with a sense of dread as it unlocked. Huh, it was noon already? Wait- wait a minute, 99+ notifications on her home screen, what the hell?!

All of them read the same way, pretty much. So-and-so liked and commented on her post, which would be fine, except she hadn’t posted on her social media last night.

Wait a second.

Ena’s mind froze, going into overdrive.

There was… there was no way she had accidentally posted that sketch of Mizuki on her social media account, was there? That was insane, out of the damn question, she would never make such a stupid mistake no matter how sleep-addled her brain was!

Please let it be posted to the art account, please let it be posted to the art account, Ena begged to herself. That she could deal with - hardly anyone would see it anyway, she thought bitterly.

Terrified thoughts roaring in her mind, she opened the app, frantically wishing that her internet would load faster, dammit!

And then… it loaded… and Ena sat there, aghast.

Because of all the horrible nightmare scenarios that had been rocketing around her mind, this- this hadn’t even been on the list, it made no sense, it- what the fuck???

Because yeah, she had accidentally uploaded her art on her social media, the one that actually had followers, the one where she posted cute selfies of herself.

Which ordinarily, would be the most humiliating experience ever, as it would probably get like fifty likes and one or two nice comments made out of pity, and Ena would never live it down.

But… her art of Mizuki, which she had posted on her public social media…

It had gone viral. Insanely viral. A level of viral that none of her selfies, although popular, had ever reached.

A shaky, disbelieving smile started to spread across Ena’s face as she read the comment section, filled with praise to the point where it was ridiculous. People… people loved all the small details in her drawing, the care taken with each line, the small additions of colour that really brought life to the sketch…

They’d noticed how much effort she’d put into making Mizuki feel real. In not drawing her as some generic airbrushed cute girl, but depicting her as a living, breathing person.

Ena could hardly believe it. She scrolled and scrolled through the comments, looking for one backhanded compliment, one negative remark, literally anything.

Sure, there were a handful of toxic comments as per usual, but the amount of people responding to those comments and arguing with them, calling them out on their bullshit and cutting them down….

With a jolt, Ena realized tears were prickling in her eyes. She sniffed, rubbing at her eyes with her sleeve and hardly able to believe any of it, smile bright enough to light up the sky, because-

Her dad had been wrong. So, so wrong.

And she’d finally proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt, or so it felt like it. People LOVED her art, they really did! This was proof!

There was just one thing niggling at the back of Ena’s mind, as although all these strangers adoring her art and heaping praise upon it was the best feeling in the world…

Well, there were three people’s opinions that she valued more than any stranger’s.

A lump of anxiety in the back of her throat (but a small, unshakeable smile still on her face despite it), she exited the app and opened up Nightcord.

There were 3 unread messages in their group chat, and… 1 DM from Mizuki.

Steeling herself, Ena opened the group chat first.

10:09 AM

K: @enanan, your drawing of mizuki seems to have really taken off! I’m glad :)

10:32 AM

Yuki: It’s a good sketch. Better than her usual art. I’m not surprised.

10:35 AM

K: I wonder why it was posted at 5am though? perhaps she stayed up all night

K: if you did, hope you’re having a good sleep, ena

K: you deserve it after your hard work

Ena initially felt her smile brighten from Kanade’s kind words – supportive, as always. As she read, her lips twisted at Mafuyu’s backhanded compliment, but oh well… that was practically a standing ovation, coming from her.

Ena typed back a quick appreciative response, not letting Yuki’s snide words slide but still appreciating the compliment overall.

 And then… Mizuki.

Her finger hovered over the chat button, paralysed by indecision. She almost.. didn’t want to know what her best friend thought of her sketch. Everyone else loved it, but- well, what if Mizuki hated it?

What if she was irritated that Ena hadn’t asked first before drawing her, or was annoyed that she hadn’t gotten it quite right? Or angry that she had posted it publicly without asking??

Lost in a turmoil of negative thoughts, Ena didn’t notice her finger accidentally touching the screen and opening the chat. She jolted with surprise, eyes immediately darting to read the screen.

5:32 AM

Amia: :)

Wh- what the hell is that supposed to mean?!?!

All anxiety immediately left Ena’s mind, scowling as she typed back a response.

1:13 PM

Enanan: What the hell is that supposed to mean ?! (╬▔皿▔)╯

Just say u love my drawing or say u hate it like a normal person u weirdo

Minutes passed without a response, despite Amia’s status remaining stubbornly bright green and online. What gives?

Ena felt indecision return to her thoughts.

Maybe… shit, she really should have asked first!!

1:20 PM

Enanan: btw sorry I didn’t ask u first or anything, I actually didn’t mean to post it

I was so sleep deprived I accidentally did that instead of sending it to the gc lmao

Ena fidgeted as she sat back in her chair, glancing to where the sketch sat on her desk. It looked the same as it had last night, still maybe one of the best pieces she’d drawn… well, if Mizuki didn’t like it, that was her loss!

Ena huffed to herself, folding her arms. It really didn’t matter that much, it was just a drawing. Maybe she should just go back to sleep, or something…

Then, she heard her phone ding with the Nightcord notification tone, and she instantly grabbed her phone, nearly throttling it in her hands as she willed it to unlocked faster.

1:25 PM

Amia: oh

that makes sense, u would never post ur art to ur selfie acc on purpose

Ena hesitated before responding.

Something felt… off, for some reason.

Mizuki wasn’t using emojis, and maybe it was just the lack of tone indicators but – it felt like she was upset about something.

1:26 PM

Enanan:

well duh!! (ノ｀Д)ノ

still so shocked it blew up like that tho

guess ppl loved the way I drew u lol

Ena typed that last sentence with a sense of boldness, wondering if Mizuki would pick up what she was putting down.

That she had tried really, really hard to capture Mizuki in her element, and that the main reason people loved it was that she had succeeded.

Anyway, she had absolutely no clue what Mizuki was seemingly upset about… hopefully it wasn’t because of her.

1:28 PM

Amia: mmm

congrats on that, ur art’s finally getting loads of attention even tho it was on accident haha

Ena frowned. Okay, now she was sure something was wrong.

1:29 PM

Enanan: hey are u allg?

I might just be overthinking but u sound upset

R u jealous now that I’m famous ♪(´▽｀)

1:30 PM

Amia: you WISH

Just u wait one of my edits is gonna become “that one edit” on tiktok any day now

( •̀ ω •́ )✧

Ena let out a sigh of relief. Okay, phew, maybe Mizuki was just tired or something, or maybe she had been overthinking this entire time.

1:31 PM

Amia: and btw dw, I’m fine

was just surprised ig

1:31 PM

Enanan: surprised at what?

With a shock, Ena realizes something, scrolling up their messages.

Mizuki’s odd tone started after… after Ena had told her posting the drawing publicly had been an accident.

Was she disappointed? Shit, Ena hadn’t meant to like, imply something about her appearance or anything like that, Mizuki was stunning both in-person and within the drawing and she knew it.

…Right?

1:31 PM

Amia: doesn’t matter

ur art rocks

it’s about time ppl noticed :3

Ena didn’t want to assume… maybe she hadn’t even said anything wrong.

Mizuki seemed fine now, so she shouldn’t push it.

1:32 PM

Enanan: since when r u this supportive

ur always saying my art would be nothing w/out ur editing skills (* ￣︿￣)

1:33 PM

Amia: and it would be

the sketch u posted today didn’t need any editing tho

srsly it’s actually so good ^0^

even yuki thought so, that’s how yk it’s genuine lmao

Ena smiled with pride, cheeks flushing. So Mizuki had liked her sketch after all… well, of course she did. Mizuki always liked her art – although she made fun of it too much for Ena’s liking.

1:35 PM

Enanan: stop ur being too nice its weirding me out

ur right abt the yuki part thoo (*￣▽￣*)ブ

and anyways idk what ur on abt, my art is always better w ur editing

yin and yang or whatever

1:36 PM

Amia: look who’s being weirdly nice NOW

1:36 PM

Enanan: TRAITOR

YOU TRICKED ME

u always make me say the stupidest things w/out realizing omfg

1:36 PM

Amia: o(*°▽°*)o

all part of the charm

Ena let out a light laugh as she rolled her eyes, resting her head on her hand.

1:37 PM

Enanan: please, what charm

You’re about as charming as a stink bug (¬_¬ )

1:38 PM

Amia: ur so cruel enaaaaa

can’t believe I’m friends w you（︶^︶）

I gotta say tho, I’m surprised how many details u got right on ur sketch

I mean u even got the freckle on my elbow (=•ω＜=)ρ⌒☆

Ena paused, feeling her cheeks redden. Well that was embarrassing, Mizuki had noticed? Jeez, it wasn’t like it was on purpose…

1:40 PM

Enanan: well what were u expecting, I’m an artist

It’s my job to notice those thingsss

1:41

Amia: sure but like wow, to that extent? surpassed my expectations enanan, didn’t know u were so observant ~(￣▽￣)~*

u even drew my fave ribbon with the fraying on the side, and the exact shade of nail polish I wear ~ impressive!

Ena buried her head in her hands, EXTREMELY regretting the level of detail she’d put into the sketch. Mizuki would never let it go now, ugh… this was humiliating…

1:43 PM

Enanan: keep talking that way and I won’t be sketching u again anytime soon

o(一︿一+)o

1:44 PM

Amia: awww am I embarrassing u

it’s not MY fault u drew me so well

then again the source material  was gorgeous already so it’s not like it could’ve turned out bad in the first place <3

Ena let out a heavy sigh… Mizuki was kind of right, in a way. She was stunning, after all, it’d have been difficult to mess up a drawing with her as the subject.

1:45 PM

Enanan: should’ve known you’d get a big ego from this…

1:45 PM

Amia: you didn’t deny it

:3

1:46 PM

Enanan: …

Stfu ￣へ￣

1:46 PM

Amia: HAHAHA I KNEW IT (≧∇≦)

Ena bit her lip, considering. A small, teasing smile started to creep across her face.

1:46 PM

Enanan: I don’t get why ur surprised honestly

 Ur literally gorgeous

1:49 PM

Amia: ur being sarcastic aren’t u… ur so cruel enanan ~(>_<。)＼

Ena frowned.

1:49 PM

Enanan: no I’m not u dummy

Ur cute and u own it, idk why ur always trying to get me to admit that

1:50 PM

Amia: oh stop being silly, ik ur not being srs

There’s no need to be so mean ( ˘︹˘ )

Ena’s frown deepened. What? Ugh, since when was Mizuki so bad at just taking the compliment?

Then again, it was true that Ena rarely, if ever, complimented her… well, she didn’t state it aloud, anyway. Mizuki always knew what she meant whenever she was being stubborn about admitting something, so there never any need to say the praise out loud.

Had she really never outright given Mizuki praise before? Ena’s brows furrowed.

This was embarrassing, but… she should keep pushing, otherwise she’d feel like a bad friend.

1:51 PM

Enanan: jeez, ur so bad at taking a compliment

my sketch reflected how pretty u are u dummy, I didn’t put so much effort into it just for u to refuse to admit ur cute all of a sudden

Ena waited for a response, feeling her cheeks warm. Why was Mizuki taking so long to respond?

The three dots indicating her friend typing appeared at the beginning of the screen for a few seconds, and then vanished.

Ena raised an eyebrow.

The three dots appeared once more, then… gone.

After what felt like ages, a new message finally popped up.

1:59 PM

Amia: well obviously I know I’m cute, but it took me off guard to hear you say it yourself, enanan (〜￣▽￣)〜 so bold!

2:00 PM

Enanan: idk I just realized I’d never actually told u upfront and I felt like an asshole

jeez, don’t tell me ur getting an even bigger head now…

2:01 PM

Amia: aha, so that’s it! I was wondering why you were being so honest, it’s unlike you

And how can I not get a big head when I’m told how pretty I am by my dear Enanan? ~

O(*￣▽￣*)o

2:01 PM

Enanan: I’m always honest, screw you!!

Ena felt heat spread across her face despite her annoyance, smiling like an idiot. What was all this about “dear Enanan?” Mizuki was so embarrassing, god.

Not seeing her friend typing, she swiped off the app, going to check her social media again.

Ena’s eyes promptly bugged out of her head. IT HAD DOUBLED IN LIKES?! This was insane… at this rate, she wouldn’t be surprised if her friends from her old art class stumbled across it.

She swiped back to her chat with Mizuki, typing out a message.

2:04 PM

Enanan: good god, did u see my social media

It’s blowing up now even more than before

maybe I should draw u more often lmao

2:05 PM

Amia: I did see it, it’s only natural it should blow up so much when I’m the subject :3

as they say in the west, u should draw me like one of ur french girls enanan – bet that would get loads of likes too ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

Almost instantaneously, heat blossomed across Ena’s cheeks, and she buried her head in her hands for what felt like the third time in the last fifteen minutes. Mizuki, damn it – how was she not embarrassed, making jokes like that?!

2:07 PM

Enanan: you are incorrigible

2:07 PM

Amia: I don’t know the meaning of the word >:)

Ena let out a laugh, tapping away on her phone.

2:08 PM

Enanan: anyway, last time I checked if I drew you like “one of my french girls” I’d get banned u idiot

2:08 PM

Amia: oh, so if that wasn’t a problem, you’d do it then?

2:10 PM

Enanan: I’m not even going to respond to that

ur the worst

I never see u teasing K or yuki like that (* ￣︿￣)

There was a suspicious silence for a few minutes, while Ena slowly realized something.

Why was it only her that was the subject of Mizuki’s ruthless flirting?

2:15 PM

Amia: why, they’re nowhere near as fun to tease, enanan ♪(´▽｀)

And besides, if I tried flirting with yuki like that, I think I wouldn’t survive it – she’d give me a look so icy-cold I’d freeze 〒▽〒

Well, that made sense… but was that really all there was to it? Ena paused, hesitant.

2:16 PM

Enanan: guess that makes sense

I actually have no idea how kanade would react if u tried that on her

she might just stare at u silently

2:17 PM

Amia: I wouldn’t dare tease kanade like that, I have too much respect for her :3

2:18 PM

Enanan: don’t think I didn’t miss that implication…

what a shame, guess if u don’t respect me I won’t be able to draw u again

2:19 PM

Amia: NONO PLS IM SORRY

2:19 PM

Enanan: nope, too late

ur loss

2:19 PM

Amia: （；´д｀）ゞ

why have u forsaken me..

2:20 PM

Enanan: if u don’t want me to be mean, then don’t insult me to my face!! >:(

2:20 PM

Amia: I take it back… I respect you so, so much enanan, I am but a humble servant before her queen o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

2:20 PM

Enanan: that’s more like it

2:20 PM

Amia: all I can do is kneel before ur throne and kiss ur feet in apology (；′⌒`)

Ena grimaced.

2:21 PM

Enanan: ok ew no need to go that far

2:21 PM

Amia: well, perhaps in apology I could kiss somewhere else then (○｀ 3′○)

Almost instantaneously, heat spread like a rash across her cheeks. God, Ena didn’t know how much more of this she could take.

2:21 Pm

Enanan: I am actually going to scalp you

2:21 PM

Amia: …on the cheek, of course!

gosh, ur so dirty minded! :0

Flushing, Ena bit her lip in hesitation, before finally addressing the elephant in the room that only appeared to be visible to her.

2:22 PM

Enanan: okay seriously, what is it with the teasing?? (╬▔皿▔)╯

I swear ur doing it way more than u used to

and the others don’t even notice for some reason- literally why?!

2:22 PM

Amia: I already told u why! It’s fun :3

2:23 PM

Enanan: what, do u just love flustering me or smth?? Is that ur idea of fun ( ˘︹˘ )

For some reason, after that, Mizuki stopped responding for a while. Ena fully thought her friend had gone to eat lunch or something, and turned back to her sketch.

Then, after what felt like ages, her phone pinged.

2:59 PM

Amia: maybe

I mean, I didn’t realize u got so flustered purely by my silly teasing (╯▽╰ )

Fuck!!

Ena shoved her sketchbook to the side, grip tightening on her phone. Her cheeks felt hot all of a sudden, as she realized that Mizuki had no idea that her flirting had been having such an effect on her.

And now she knew just how flustered she’d been!! Ena grimaced- this was humiliating. She instantly went into damage control mode.

2:59 PM

Enanan: I don’t get that flustered, don’t flatter urself ( ˘︹˘ )

I get like… idk

The normal amount of flustered

whatever that is

Ena worried at her lip, anxiety making her throat feel tight. That response was fine, right? Mizuki wasn’t going to think she was weird, was she?

Her eyes didn’t stray from the three dots bouncing on the bottom of the screen, finally relenting when a message came through.

3:02 PM

Amia: real slick ena <3

ur not falling for me are u (=•ω＜=)ρ⌒☆

Mizuki had completely gotten the wrong idea, how embarrassing!! Jeez, there was no coming back from this one… Humiliated, Ena tried to swallow down the lump in her throat, and with a jolt, realized that tears were starting to well up in her eyes.

She was… she was a bit too invested. Why did she care so much about this? Why did she feel so damn anxious? It was embarrassing, but- but not that embarrassing.

Ena leaned back in her chair as she pushed her phone away, hands fisted tightly in her skirt. Her gaze was heavy as it rested on the floor. Her thoughts began to unravel like a ball of thread.

There was no way Mizuki’s joke just now was true, was there? Ena’s deathgrip on her skirt tightened. That was silly, there was just no way- like sure, she cared about her, Mizuki was her best friend after all, but falling for her? Pfft.

Plus, Ena wasn’t gay. She hadn’t really had any crushes on guys before, but that was normal, wasn’t it? She hadn’t liked any girls either, so it evened out.

She was straight, she always had been, jeez. Mizuki was just making some stupid joke.

So why was Ena… why was she close to tears? Her lip was nearly being worried to pieces, humiliation spreading in scarlet across her cheeks, and all the while her heart, it- it hurt.

She felt physical pain in her chest, along with a sense of despair. Ena let out a heavy sob, and then another one, breath starting to come faster.

She- god, she really did like Mizuki, didn’t she. She liked her best friend.

Which meant she was one of them, and that she was… hell, she was practically a pervert. Disgusting. She let out a choked cry, fingers digging into her arms.

They were such close friends, fuck, had Ena been creeping on her this entire time? She was- she was disgusting, sickening, and such an awful person- why was Mizuki even friends with her? She definitely wouldn’t be after this mess.

Mizuki was going to find out the truth, and then she was going to lose her. Slowly but surely, tears started to trickle down Ena’s cheeks, as her arms came up, cradling her head as she rocked back and forth.

What was she going to do?

In the midst of a breakdown, she barely heard the buzz of her phone. She scrabbled at her desk for it, grabbing it and pulling it to her chest as her eyes frantically scanned the screen.

3:15 PM

Amia: enaaaaa where did u go 💔

when I said falling I didn’t mean literally fall, did u lose consciousness lmao

Ena let out a strangled sound that was half-sob, half-laughter. She scrubbed at her tears with her sleeve, watching as her best friend continued to type.

3:16 PM

Amia: or is it true that u have fallen for me after all ~(￣▽￣)~*

wow maybe ur so in love that u fainted after seeing my message

well my dear enanan, just say the word and we can elope togetherヽ(￣ω￣(￣ω￣〃)ゝ

Maybe… maybe Mizuki wouldn’t be as disgusted as she’d thought. She’d always been open-minded, after all.

Ena’s nails dug into her skin, as she squeezed her eyes tight shut, trying to get the pain to distract her from her stupid, stupid thoughts. That was ridiculous, she had to play it safe. She couldn’t risk it.

How to respond, how to respond…

3:18 PM

Enanan:  please, I wouldn’t marry you even if u held a gun to my head

you’d probably try to make me do all the chores and spend all your time sewing

3:18 PM

Amia: I’m not hearing a no! (*￣▽￣*)

and wow, u wound me… if anything, you’d make me do all the work and spend ur time preening in front of a mirror like a peacock! :3

Ena let out a stunned snort, a watery smile returning to her face. Mizuki wasn’t wrong.

3:19 PM

Enanan: well, even if we eloped I doubt ur the romantic type

I’d probably divorce u within a week bc you’d love ur outfit mannequin more than me

￣へ￣

3:19 PM

Amia: lies and slander!!

I would be SO romantic

3:19 PM

Enanan: yeah right

3:19 PM

Amia: well, that’s rich coming from u considering I was able to fluster u with my teasing (★ ω ★)

3:20 PM

Enanan: that’s different

3:20 PM

Amia: how exactly? :3

Ena clenched her jaw, frustrated. God, why was Mizuki pushing this subject so much? Why couldn’t they just move on and forget all of that had ever happened?

3:20 PM

Enanan: it just is

Ur my best friend it makes sense that you’d tease me like that, even if it drives me insane(╬▔皿▔)╯

3:20 PM

Amia: enaaaaa ur so dense

I’m not teasing u like that just bc ur my best friend

( ˘︹˘ )

What was Mizuki on about now? Ena knew the teasing wasn’t because “she had funny reactions,” there were plenty of people Mizuki could tease if that was the case, so why her?

3:21 PM

Enanan: well then why

Just be honest u dunce >:(

3:21 PM

Amia: u want me to be honest?

idk if I can be :>

maybe first u should be honest about why my teasing flusters u so much

Slowly, Ena’s eyes widened, static filling her head. What the hell. What the actual hell was this. Did Mizuki know?

Had Mizuki known the whole time, even though Ena had only realized a few minutes ago?

With dawning realization, she scrolled back up and reread her friend’s messages, but this time in a different light.

Mizuki… Mizuki couldn’t be honest about why she was teasing her, just like how Ena couldn’t be honest about why the teasing had flustered her. Did that mean…?

She took the leap, fingers shaking slightly.

3:23 PM

Enanan: mizuki

be honest rn

yk I won’t judge u for anything

If Ena was right, the situation was very, very mixed. Because on one hand, they’d both like eachother… like that… and the sheer idea had vicious butterflies attacking her stomach.

But on the other, it would mean Ena liked girls.

And she- she didn’t really know what to think about that. Or even where to begin thinking about that.

There was silence from Mizuki for a while, as she waited with bated breath. It was the longest twenty minutes of Ena’s life.

Her heart jumped in her throat as she finally saw that her friend was typing. Come on, come on… she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this high-strung. Then the typing animation disappeared, and she slumped.

And after a twenty agonizing minutes that seemed to drag on for hours, she glared at her screen. Because Mizuki’s icon had changed to the little grey circle that indicated she was offline.

What the fuck?! Ena finally had the courage to make a move, hating herself all the while, and this was all she got?!

Fuming, she tossed her phone to the side, letting out a frustrated sound. She had given her the perfect opening! The stage was set, for god’s sake!

Maybe… shit, what if she’d misread the situation completely? Did Mizuki think she was weird? Was that why she was being ghosted?

Ena was sick of this. She needed to do something, anything, or she was going to lose it. Her eyes scanned her room, searching for a distraction.

Maybe she could try out a new makeup look? Try and style that pink skirt that was stubbornly refusing to pair with her other clothes? Or…

Her stomach grumbled, obnoxiously loudly, and she rolled her eyes. Okay, maybe should take care of her basic bodily functions first.

Everything else could wait.

And if Mizuki didn’t text back by nightfall, she was going to break into her stupidly pretty best friend’s house and force her at knifepoint to type out a response.

(This is chapter 1! Next and final chapter out soon <3)

[cyrassol]

man completely unrelated to DoL but if you've ever moved to a different country whose language you did not speak and were forced to use that language everyday CONGRATS IM SO PROUD OF YOU

[plutoons]

max for the masses

[deoidesign]

Wearing your boyfriend's jacket