afreakingdork · 2 days ago
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You Are My Sunshine, My Only Moonshine - Chapter 19
RotTMNT x Reader
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@anixolt is back this week with yet another stunning piece! What's bothering Donnie? Read on to find out!
Rated: Teen and Up Audiences
Relationships: Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/You, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/You
Warnings: POV Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader, Anxious Reader, Introverted Reader, Stuttering, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Aromantic Asexual Michelangelo (TMNT), Bisexual Donatello (TMNT), Pansexual Leonardo (TMNT), Lesbian Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Demisexual April O'Neil (TMNT), Implied Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit/April O'Neil/Sunita, Endgame Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety, Happy Ending, Fluff
Synopsis:  You’ve lost most of your life to anxiety and fear. Now, in your late 20s, you are desperate to reclaim it and during one such outing you encounter the sun personified. With his and his similarly celestially inspired family, will you finally reach your goal or will you lose yourself along the way?
Also available on Ao3
First 💛 Previous
“… Can stacking competition certificate, cup stacking competition certificate, Oreo stacking competition certificate…” Mikey counted off each accolade with a tap against a fine tablecloth.
You were trying not to laugh the food out of your mouth.
“I have a whole folder dedicated to stacking related awards! I could go on!” While that was what he said, he actually went to take a bite of a piece of bacon.
“W-why would Oreo hold something l-like that?” You got your bite down.
“Big Nabisco works in mysterious ways!” He took on a mind blown look before he came back down. “This is nice. I’m having fun. Are you having fun?”
You had an ‘of course’ loaded, but you’d also taken another bite of croissant.
Mikey accepted an enthusiastic nod instead.
The brunch restaurant was gorgeous.
The crowds were thin.
The food was exquisite.
Your server rarely returned.
You were in great company.
It was the making of a perfect day.
“Sorry… it’s been awhile…” You eventually got out.
He blew a raspberry and waved you off.
“No… I am!” You pressed. “This is the… first time in… over a month?”
“Counting or not counting the grubby run in at the lab?” Mikey’s attention bobbed somewhere behind you.
You stiffened and looked over your shoulder to find a waiter heading your way.
You sank down into your seat so you could prepare your retort for the staff.
You would shake your head if they asked if you needed anything else.
You would nod if they asked if things were good.
You couldn’t mix those up.
“Can I help you?” The waiter asked kindly.
Your eyes shot wide as both your prepared actions couldn’t answer the question. 
“Oh, oops! Actually I was…” Mikey trailed off before chuckling. “You know what!? I’ll get something else! A stack of pancakes, my good man!”
“You got it!” The gentleman’s shoes slipped away from your view.
You peeked at your best friend.
“Apparently I flagged him!” He laughed.
You remembered the wave and came up with wobbling lips.
“I really was debating cakes, no worries. Must be fate!”
“Fate pancakes.” You smiled.
“Fate flapjacks!” He adjusted.
“Alliteration is good… um…?” You thought hard. “Fate… crepe?”
“Oh, a slant rhyme, I dig it!”
You felt satisfied and cornered off some eggs with your fork.
“But yeah, dating’ll do that to ya! Especially when you’re obsessed with each other like you guys are!”
You almost got the food to your mouth and froze.
“Like, Leo is the worst!” Mikey sang the phrase. “He gets so absorbed when he’s crushing! At least when Donnie’s face is glued to his cell, you know he’s not listening. Leo could be looking right at you, be in a conversation with you, actively answering what you’re saying, and he’ll just suddenly be like, ‘Do you think so-and-so likes pizza?’ Like bro, we were talking beach episodes, where are you even?!”
You heard a plop as your forkful flopped back down on your plate.
“Raph’s the best. He’s cute because you can drop a name and he’ll explode with embarrassment! He turns his signature color straight through the green, but otherwise, he’s the same. He listens. He’s there for you and by that I mean me. He makes an effort. You make an effort and I am talking about you this time!” He slapped his own palm in emphasis.
You scheduled brunch, you reminded yourself.
Mikey had told you he wanted it, but you had pushed to make it so. 
You made time because it had been awhile.
You missed your best friend. 
It still stung as you thought maybe you weren’t making as much of an effort or showing that as much as you could.
“I get it with you guys though! Your whole start to dating was messy so you’re making up time! Plus, you always text me! I’m only feeling like… a little left out like…” Mikey pinched his fingers in demonstration and they almost came together. He then peered through the microscopic part at you. “Maybe this much?”
“T-there haven’t been many family events…!”
“True!” He nodded his head in a sort of time.
“Mikey… I can’t stress how import-”
“We should plan one!”
You shared a look.
He broke out into a grin first. “What’s important?”
You looked away with a fluttering heart. “You.”
“Aww…!” He gushed.
“Donnie…” You returned your gaze for a different glance.
Mikey’s expression shifted for further affection.
“All of you. The Hamato. I’m so glad… we met…”
“Stop!” He tittered and almost flicked his wrist again, but thought better of it. “No more thanking parade! You’re onto the enjoying part! The easy part!”
“Easy…?” You sent him a knowing look.
“Okay so maybe you and Donnie started out as mortal enemies and then preconceived notions kept you two apart, which lead to only like a month of misery, but basically the same thing happened to us.”  
You waited.
“Except…” He turned to you. “The enemy part, but everything else!”
Your head tipped the slightest amount.
Right on time, Mikey buckled under the pressure. “Okay, it’s nothing alike!”
His pancakes arrived like a predestined cue to free him up. He forgot all about his through line and instead started talking about maple syrup. The one on the table was apparently the real kind and tapped upstate. You listened attentively, asked predictably if Mikey had ever tapped trees to which the answer was yes, and he explained why the boring process was one he never bothered to go through again.
All the while, you couldn’t stop thinking about his easy comment.
Were things easier now?
You didn’t really check in with your anxiety now because it had hit a steady current. It was there, you were better equipped than ever to handle it, and your goal of going out was getting easier and easier. After your last mega list entry, you and Donnie had decided that you were both due for regular dates first until a theater production caught your eye. You and your boyfriend discussed going at length until it was decided that you should. It was coming up soon and you were excited, but the company you kept was never a problem.
Being with Donnie was easy.
Though it bothered you that he seemingly always had his brain churning about how to act around you, it also seemed like that was something his mind did in general. You sympathized to an extent because you did the same, only it was for every other thing, but him. When you were with him, your cares were erased and energy appeared to flow. Whether it was speaking to him or moving with him, you felt like the two of you were in constant motion. Being together was a rehearsed dance that came with intrinsic steps.
“It is… easy…” You spoke the fondness you felt.
Mikey only hummed like he could read your mind and slid his plate over so you could have some pancakes as a reward.
“Let’s plan t-that family hangout…” You readied your fork.
“Yes!” Mikey beat his dish like an excited drum. “Okay, let’s see… What should we do…?”
“Uh… b-before that…O-one more t-thing…?”
He paused and looked up breezily.
“Did y-you… well… forgive me…?”
He blinked rapidly. “For what?”
You verbally chased Mikey around the flapjacks, but he never quite recalled having said you needed to be.
-
Donnie could barely take his eyes off you.
Since you started dating, the burst of your existence seemed to never cease. You were a constantly collapsing neutron star and he was haplessly caught up in the surrounding nebula. As novel as you were, he also couldn’t imagine you any other way. You reached right through his very being to grab the long shielded raw side of his psyche and begged it to stay.
He found himself lighter. He laughed more often. He had an endless expanse with which to exceed some romantic lines he’d been holding onto for literal years and you accepted them as they were. You never faulted him for his theatrics and instead did your best to play along.
He adored you.
Which was why as you triple checked the off-Broadway booking before you even left the lair, he was entranced. Scrolling on your phone appeared like an event and the finer clothes you wore for the occasion only illuminated the backdrop of you. He withheld himself yet again, as he often did since his feelings were announced because, yet again, he was chancing moving too fast.
It was a welcomed speed, but he also wanted to savor it.
His favorite flavor of paradox, it was the oxymoron by which he lived his life. He craved structure and yet he also thrived on destruction. When rules were laid down, he appreciated living within them while also prodding them for their every hole. It was a scientific principle by any name and he adored the field.
Thus as you confirmed the tickets were still in your inbox, he happily took your hand to depart. It was one lulled car ride over to the theater. Instead of filling time with conversation, he allowed the show's mounting interest to linger. One you had both immediately been keen on, he snapped up seats and you prepared the checklist. Everything fell into place as it seemed to always do with you and you were soon mingling in a lobby with others.
A check at a counter waved you through and you were flighty on the way to the seats. You’d expressed concerns about being locked in which Donnie dispelled both by citing the Fire Codes of New York State among other things. The worry clearly persisted by your anxious head swings, so he snuck in close behind you. “Good afternoon, my darling passenger.”
You looked back at him with a curious tilt.
He wanted to whisk you away.
He wanted to keep you in his lab.
He’d study why you did the things you did to his heart on a molecular level.
Ah, but you just had to be cursed with autonomy.
“This is your pre-show announcement. We are about to sit down for our show which has a duration of about two hours and seven minutes…”
You giggled as you caught on and addressed him with your full attention.
He languished in it. “While you might be expected to stay in your seats, there is no seatbelt sign. Instead, it is asked that while the stage lights are on that you are to only keep silent.”
You nodded dutifully.
“Our emergency exits…” He brought up his hands as flags and conducted outward. “… are located there by the back right of the stage and behind me where you surely entered. These doors will remain unlocked during the performance in case of emergency or if you simply want to take a call.”
You patted one of his limbs. “I’m okay…”
“You are.” He leaned into you and you leaned up for his favorite move.
Kissing you was one thing.
Hugging you was another.
Seated in a press was rapidly rising up the ranks, but the act where you tucked your nose underneath his chin was his favorite intimacy. By any other eye, it was nothing, but a tap, but for Donnie it was the pinnacle. It was not only the first contact you ever willingly exerted on him, but it also came with closed eyes from you which was a sign of pure relaxation in his eyes. You always came away from the exchange especially endeared to him and it was his dream to spend a night sleeping just like that.
Which was far in the future, he scolded himself.
You leaned away and took your own flight attendant pose to gesture him down your row. He bowed in courtesy and led the way to the seats. The flapped hinge on the retractable seats made it easy to get down the line. It had been his choice to select seats in the dead center of the auditorium as it gave optimal viewing. He watched you test getting your seat down first, before he moved to join you.
The immediate crawl through his sleeves shook him to his very core.
As you looked back and forth between the stage and exit door, Donnie pinched the scratchy armrest. The fabric coating the chair had the quality of burlap and, with one flick of his fingers, he pinched off a fuzz. That meant more would soon coat his clothes, which was another irritant. He shifted at the prospect and again his skin lit. He would have dressed differently had he known. His current coverings were inoffensive, but weren’t designed to act as a barrier. They prevented direct contact with the shoddy seat, but they also rubbed which made him all the more aware of the wretched texture.
Donnie’s eye was on a never ending twitch when you finally settled. “How did the tickets look?”
Data would soothe him. “When I last checked the system, we were looking at 74% capacity.”
Your eye left him to watch the stream of people coming in.
Two hours and seven minutes.
Could he handle that?
All signs were pointing to no, so Donnie went on the mental offense.
There were all sorts of stores nearby and he could purchase any sort of drop cloth.
As long as it was thick enough then he’d be able to stand sitting here.
That meant leaving you.
The option was deleted from his idea pool.
He refused to be anything other than attendant.
He could take you with him.
That proved difficult only because that would be a last minute change.
You had done fabulously and the day was impossibly agreeable to you for your next mega list item.
Could he interfere?
He certainly didn’t want to.
He didn’t want to blemish his amazing boyfriend track record.
He wouldn’t trade one discomfort for another.
He could stand it.
He had dealt with other sensory nightmares.
What was one more?
If he stayed perfectly still then it almost wasn’t noticeable.
There would be the show.
It would be distracting.
He could go into enough stasis with both those things that it wouldn’t be an issue.
He would have to forsake any show cuddling, but he could bear that cross.
He would hold you afterward.
Walk with you and talk about what you had seen.
It helped.
He felt his roiling epidermis cool to tiny popping bubbles.
The heat was turned off.
He would cool down.
“You okay?”
He moved only his head to look at you. “Pardon?”
“You seem… distracted?”
That was one way to put it. “I want to be in the right mindset to evaluate the performance.”
It wasn’t a lie.
You would surely accept that answer.
“Should we have…” Your fingers flexed. “… a program?”
“Playbill and not all productions create them.”
“Oh…” Your crest fell.
He could get up and look.
There was a chance they’d forgotten.
That meant he would have to sit down again.
He perished the thought.
“I’m…” You perked up on your own. “… going to… go check… I think.”
You looked at him with determination in your eyes.
He would deny you nothing.
There was a chance he could bum a cover from the box office.
Any theater production worth their weight in salt had excess fabric lying around. 
That was a workable solution and he berated himself for not coming to it sooner.
He prepared himself for the scrape of standing.
It would be his last uncomfortable movement. 
“I’ll go.” You tapped his arm. “I’ll be quick… Save our seats?”
You had a prepared gleam in your eye.
You were already in the process of standing.
A mega list item was designed so you could exercise your strength.
You were going to prove to yourself that you could do anything.
He was your back up.
You garnered strength from him.
If only you knew upholstery. “They will go nowhere under my watchful eye.”
“That and the stage…!” You took a few steps away. “D-don’t let them start without me!”
“Never.” He watched lovestruck as you shyly slipped around people to exit.
That left him alone with this fucking chair.
He would no longer be civil and scooted toward the edge of his seat. It freed most of his thighs, his limbs, and the edges of his body from the prison of repugnant fabrics. Now only the clip of his ass was tensed through its layers and he debated standing. Looking up for refuge, he debated getting a closer look at the stage for the sake of it.
A tinny sound came from his left.
Donnie looked to find several musicians readying to lay down the soundtrack. Live music had its advantages and a few preparatory notes would come next as they made sure their instruments were in order. Music had always been a faithful distraction and he was no stranger to numbing volumes. He breathed deep to let the congruent sounds wash over him when the trumpet lifted.
It gave a limp squeal that spoke of an obvious malfunction.
The way the other musicians descended on the player perfectly mimicked the way bugs assaulted Donnie’s skin. They writhed and squirmed their way through his pores until his very being shook. His teeth would chatter if it were any other sense. Instead, he slammed his enamel together and squeezed until his jaw threatened to pop because at least that pressure was one he could control.
It was going to be one of those days.
He was no stranger to overload or meltdowns, but it had been awhile. He had long learned to heed the symptoms and work with them. Two maladies in less than 10 minutes said he was already on the sensory edge which meant he needed to look further back. He could categorize the signs to give himself better projections of how long his fortitude for irritants would last. Though it wasn’t acute, there had been a few notable instances since the day began. He had been unable to stomach what was on the menu for breakfast and lunch. He also snapped at Leo exactly three times though when it was happening it seemed justified.
At the time Donnie chalked them up to excitement for the mounting date, but now they read as trigger symptoms.
He was on a much shorter timetable than he anticipated. 
If he didn’t crawl into a comfortable hovel soon then he was teetering on edge of mental collapse. 
Sighing and immediately remembering he couldn’t slump back, he stared out towards the stage. A lighting technician was adjusting something and the cover to the strobe spun as a result. It singed Donnie’s eyes and he felt that dip in clarity towards rage. Years of washing out his temperament flared as a result and it was the only thing that kept him from yelling out about the terrible preparations the crew was going through.
It wasn’t their fault.
It wasn’t their fault.
This was how plays went. They made sure everything was perfect right up until the last moment. The lights had long been tooled for hitting their marks. Someone must have noticed it was the slightest bit off so it was getting that fine tuning. Instruments were fickle beasts that needed care. It sounded like the trumpet’s mouthpiece was off. That spoke to a recent cleaning and replacement must not have been set just right. It would be corrected. That was why musicians warmed up. That was why any of these pre-show tests were occurring; issues needed to be found now and not during a performance. 
They would all be fixed.
Donnie heard you apologize to some people who had sat further down the row.
You looked flustered, but not as put out as he had seen in you in the past when trying to get out of someone’s way. You had two white slips pinched close to your chest and you flicked him an excited gaze. So, it was success that was offsetting your fear. He loved that.
You were on your way to share your victory.
He needed to cancel.
He needed to call this date off.
As much as he wanted to indulge you, if he crushed your current spirit then there was no way he could live with himself.
If he did it now, he would minimize damage. 
It was better to have a controlled burn than torch the entire day. 
You wiggled down the row and were getting closer by the second.
He had to decide.
Either way he was squashing a portion of your spirit, but it was the amount of which that mattered. 
He supposed there was always a chance he could muster the strength to carry on.
“Donnie!” You couldn’t help but give a hushed shout when you were a few sets away.
He would harbor any port in any type of weather for you. “Seems you were successful.”
“They t-thanked me…” You got to your seat and basically slapped it down to sit. “They almost forgot to pass them out. H-here…”
A piece of paper was innocent enough.
He reached out to take the leaflet.
It had a strange composition and he could feel the rough fibers.
“They’re handmade… like… all of it! The paper too!”
“Huh…” His voice had an even keel compared to his mind.
His skin was being torn apart by the playbill.
His fingers were unraveling to bone. 
At the top of the page was one errant strand.
Something akin to the size of a hair.
It marred the already marbled surface.
It was the stuck pixel ready to break an otherwise perfect television screen.
“Now you can know who each actor is…” You looked over the page without the same disdain.
“Are you sure you want me to be able to pair a name with a face?” A voice like his own teased. “I believe the actors will be in the lobby after the showing. Rife time for questions, comments, or concerns.” 
“Uh oh! A Donnie review m-makes or breaks a performance.” You pretended to be concerned, but there was a rustling on stage. 
The hands marched off which signaled it was nearly curtain call.
The musicians took their places and Donnie could feel each valve press the trumpet did as he practiced his notes.
They decompressed his cranium.
In his hand, that splotch at the top of the playbill appeared to get larger and larger.
Its ink bled and dripped into the writing.
The scrawl there warbled as if ready to fall into his lap.
There were several pieces of fuzz that had already somehow peeled off the chair and landed on his lap.
They weighed thousands of pounds and crushed his legs.
He stared at them with wide eyes.
How did they get there?
When?
He hadn’t moved.
He could count each muscle group exerted.
The lights fell.
In time, Donnie’s head rose.
The auditorium doors were closed audibly.
You shuffled in your seat.
This was the supposed lock in.
Donnie was his own captive.
The crowd hushed.
A man walked out to start the play.
His suspenders had buckles.
The buckles caught the light.
The light went in Donnie’s eyes.
The man kept moving.
He monologued and Donnie guessed the terminology should be adjusted.
He used far too much of his body.
It kept reflecting his damned buckles.
Then he was leaving and it felt like relief until the band took a breath.
They played.
The notes went in harmony.
All technically in tune.
The breath is what grated his tympanum like cheese.
He was peeled each time they had to inhale.
Which was all of it.
Every note.
Every wet gasp.
Spit gathered in reeds and catches.
It spewed out into aerosol.
He was inhaling it.
The sound was choking him.
Actors flooded out.
Talk.
Dance.
Movement.
Loud.
They stepped in it.
They expressed their own.
Spit.
Drivel.
Sputtering.
His chair was soaked.
He hunched forward and caught how his veins pressed against his flexed hands.
Inside him.
The bugs.
Your voice sounded miles away and you grazed his arm.
He didn’t look as his head spun.
The exit was flagged.
He looked through mental code.
Too many people in the way.
He calculated the trajectory.
With one press down against the miserable chair, he leapt.
Behind him, it smacked against itself in a flap and cast his decision in concrete.
He landed at the auditorium doors, but their metal bar was stricken with smudges.
Bacteria.
It coated everything like saliva.  
He manifested a simple block with his ninpo and shoved.
It touched the door to open it.
He had to immediately dispel it because the thought of spittle even touching his constructs made him ill.
He made enough of a crack.
He slipped out into the hall where the fluorescence screamed.
It drowned his tympanum and knocked him off his feet.
He stumbled and thought of shoes.
People stepping on New York sidewalks.
Spit.
Piss.
He couldn’t fall in that. 
He hobbled one way and then another.
It was all coated.
All unclean.
UV light.
The thrum of electricity would kill him, but he tried.
He flicked his ninpo like a lighter without fuel and tried to make a lamp.
The components of the filament alluded him.
He heaved.
He wasn’t breathing.
His ninpo wasn’t working.
Everything was sludge.
It slipped through his palms and splattered heavily on the floor.
He felt his vision burn up.
The singed edges as he caught fire instead.
There was yelling.
His hands flew up and tossed his goggles clean off.
Why weren’t they working?
Silence.
He needed quiet.
This was a performance.
Why was anyone shouting?
Someone touched him.
He snarled at them.
They disappeared.
No one was there.
Blinks.
His eyelids were wet.
His pupils picked up the moisture.
He clawed them shut.
He felt a shove.
He swatted back, but whatever push broom was being used to shoo his feral form was a wily one.
It hit him again and again until he saw an opening.
A door.
He dashed towards it.
There was no data past the frame.
He was out of memory.
He crumpled there on the safety of carpet.
Not the scuffed linoleum.
Instead, it was the patched kind for easy cleaning.
His hands hit it and found a tolerable scratchy quality.
He was curled up in an instant.
Made himself as small as possible.
Drowning everything out.
Minimizing all contact.
Disappearing into himself.
Him.
Only him.
Nothing else.
He could hear his breath so he stopped.
Within the cave of his arms then came his heart.
It pounded thick with the blood it surged.
It moved the wet inside him around.
Right atrium.
Superior vena cava.
Inferior vena cava.
Tricuspid valve.
Right ventricle.
Pulmonary valve.
Pulmonary artery.
Lungs.
Oxygen uptake.
Left atrium.
79 BPM.
60.
42.
39.
27.
Donnie took one breath.
His lungs whistled at their fill.
They were dried out.
He filled the husks.
Lucidity came with a pounding headache.
He didn’t know where he was.
His arms were over his head and numb.
He unfurled them and they came loosely.
The blood flow had been cut off.
He stared at them as if that were marvel until pins and needles pricked him.
They were asleep.
He found his knees next.
His feet were awake with a wiggle inside his shoes.
Then came the carpet.
Some cheap kind that was easy to clean.
Fools always alternated the swatches for aesthetics, but that made it harder to vacuum.
Why ruin utility?
His head lolled upward.
White walls with weathered clippings stuck to them.
Something old.
Something utilitarian.
Something nostalgic.
Was he in an office?
His chin moved in its perpendicular placement to his throat.
There was a being in front of him.
Their back sat rigid and they faced the door.
They were between him and the door.
They were you.
You were between him and the door.
He blinked a few times as the night rushed him.
All the data had been held from the crash in a log. 
His meltdown.
He’d run from the theater production.
Where was he now?
He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t vibrate his vocal cords.
His eyes welled at the sight of the back of your head.
What were you doing?
You turned your back on him.
He failed you.
His chin slammed into his Adam’s apple and he saw something white beside him.
It took moving his pinched legs to the other side, but it revealed a stack.
Two water bottles.
One cold with condensation.
The other room temperature.
A bag of crackers.
Expiration date in three weeks and two days.
A snack cake without branding.
A bottle of equally chilled apple juice.
His goggles.
Carefully laid atop what a cleanly folded square of fabric.
A blanket.
One that was clearly soft and aged.
He touched the last item first.
The threads were worn, but felt familiar.
He put his goggles back on, picked up the cloth, and it unfolded along the way.
He pressed it to his snout and it caressed his cheek.
He nuzzled it, building strength.
Its scent said it wasn’t his, but it was now.
He was absolutely going to steal this.
To solidify his ownership, he slung it over his shoulders.
It curled around his head and felt like a snug neck pillow.
He reached toward the water next.
The cold one warned his fingers away so he grabbed the room temperature one.
It went down like nothing.
Flavorless.
His current preference.
He remembered his goggles and it took one tap to the left headset to activate the noise canceling mode.
Now in his controlled environment, he searched the room.
This was clearly an office. There was a desk behind him and a bookcase on the wall. A few stacked boxes held programs and deliveries that weren’t yet opened. A messy spill of papers threatened to leave the desk. Business was done here.
What were you doing here?
Donnie didn’t attempt to talk, but looked up at the door.
It was shut tightly, but he couldn’t tell if it was locked.
It also seemed discolored, but not dirty. 
He stared until he realized that it wasn’t from paint, but some sort of light was reflecting against the pearl sheen of varnished wood. 
It appeared in maroon tones that read the lightsource must have been purple. 
It lowered Donnie’s eye to you.
He studied your shape until he caught your rim was light.
You were holding something.
He tipped his body to one side and his perspective shifted.
Something was glowing faintly in your arms.
Something a fuchsia color.
Something of his.
An incomplete projection of his ninpo.
One of his palms hit the floor to keep him from falling and you startled.
You didn’t look back and only seemed to strengthen your resolve in staring at the door.
Were you that mad?
He inched further to the side to catch a glimpse of your face.
You didn’t have just one object.
He counted at least four.
They appeared to be half manifested lamps.
He didn’t remember making those. 
Why were you coveting them?
You held them as if it were your solemn duty to guard them.
He gave no such command.
In a flick of his wrist, he allowed them to disintegrate.
You looked around in dismay and scrambled to catch the pixels.
They alluded you and you finally looked over your shoulder.
Your eyes were misty.
Your expression warped.
Donnie could only gape.
“I’m… sorry…” You spoke in your best hushed tone. “I tried to h-hold on… I d-don’t know why they…”
You groped the empty air.
He gestured to his chin and out with fingers to sign that it was ‘okay.’
You searched his hands wildly.
Right, you didn’t know ASL.
He hoped to teach you one day under better circumstances.
“Mine…” His voice was hoarse.
Your spine snapped to attention. “D-Don’t f-force yourself!”
He shook his head and held up a hand in a mimic of how you held those ill-formed lamps.
Your pupils flicked up and down in a study. “Those… things… were… yours? T-that’s why I tried to save them…”
He let his limb fall.
You only partially understood. 
He needed to try something else. 
He pointed to himself again with renewed intent.
You thought with your entire being before you chanced meeting his eye.
He sent all the information he could there.
“You… y-you made them… go away…?” You finally allowed yourself to wonder.
He smiled.
Weary and small, but it came into his face like it barged in.
You returned it.
You were so good.
He snapped his fingers while signaling ‘bingo’ because he couldn’t help a bit of flare. 
It sparked flickers of pixels like a lighter that didn’t catch. 
The fuschia color danced a reflection in your eyes. 
“That’s… your… ninpo…?” 
He gave a single nod. 
“You make things…?” You softened. 
His head bobbed a second time. 
“You create…” You spoke to solidify the concept with overflowing affection. “What a perfect expression of you…” 
He’d immortalize that smile in his ninpo if he could. 
Without time or energy, he supposed he had to move onto more pressing topics. 
He spun a finger in the air and cocked his brow for curiosity.
“Where… are we…?”
He nodded.
“We’ve… well I… uh… commandeered the office…?” You sheepishly glanced back at the door.
Had you broken in?
It dawned on him.
He could see everything from an omnipotent view.
His mind churned out a top-down replay of what had occurred after his figure ran from the seating area.
You chased after him.
You bumped legs and saw no one in the process.
Out into the hallway, he nearly collapsed and you tried to get his attention.
He couldn’t give it and presumably the attendant on duty saw you.
Not one to bother others for help, you’d moved on sheer instinct. 
You of all people would know if he couldn’t entertain you then no one would be good enough. 
You sought the closest door that had a hope of giving him shelter. 
This office was unlocked because a certain someone had asked for copies of the playbills.
He ran inside and you followed before the attendant could catch you.
The door was locked then.
You had been guarding him and it ever since.
While he cocooned himself, you scoured the office for items that could help.
You probably dug through the desk drawers for the snacks. 
From the cold bottle, he bet there was a mini fridge behind the desk.
You would be in so much trouble.
You didn’t care.
Or, at least. 
You didn’t appear to. 
Amongst it all, you found time to supposedly save the random ninpo constructions he’d mistakenly built.
He needed you, now more than ever. 
Could he stand it?
He didn’t even care if his body argued otherwise.
He swooped his arms out and the blanket turned into a cloak.
You made a surprised noise and he swallowed you up with the fabric.
You squirmed against his hold.
He gave you only enough space to breathe.
“Donnie! Are y-you sure…?”
He nodded against the side of your head.
You were stiff for a few more moments until you relented into his hug. It was there that your body language read awkward, but you daintily tested your nose beneath his chin. With a drop of his head, he pinned you there and you breathed warmth against his neck. Both in concern and growing affection, you eventually slacked against him. It perfectly hid you away against his body and he gave a satisfied hum that he had you to himself.
You sat like that for both an infinite and painfully finite amount of time.
He then felt the pull of Earth’s orbit and tucked his beak down into his blanket folds. He found you there and nosed your forehead until you giggled at his snuffling.
“Donnie…” You protested without a single complaint.
“You’re wonderful.” He spoke muffled against your head and plied you with a few pecks.
“Donnie…” You tried again, this time mustering up the slightest objection.
“You’re going to get in trouble… for me…” His voice oozed mirth.
You stammered on an unknown syllable.
“My betwitching nova.”
You stilled instantly. “Nova…?”
“Super.” He only clarified.
It wasn’t enough to answer your question.
“The stunning core collapse of an aged star. The end of an era. The most powerful explosion any being could ever hope to see.”
You pushed.
He released you from his cage of limbs.
You moved only far enough away to look him right in the eyes.
You wanted to see if he meant it.
You found he did.
He gave you a lopsided grin.
“I’m so glad I got to see your first crime…” He brushed your cheek with the soft cotton.
You leaned against it and pouted. “Not… the play…?”
“Who cares about the play?! I’d repeat what happened tonight a thousand times just to see you break the law again.”
“H-hey! That’s not-!”
He reeled you back in to silence you.
This time you easily fought back and he didn’t bother to keep you.
You got away on your hands and knees before turning right back around on him.
You were adorably feisty.
The fight fell right off you and what was left was equally cute concern.
“Are you…?”
“I’m okay. Tired, but okay.”
You nodded relief.
“Thanks to you.”
Nerves at the gratitude had your shoulders pinching. “O-Oh well… B-been there… or… something like that…”
“Autistic meltdown.” He identified his calamity for you. “A distress not dissimilar to a panic attack, but completely different triggers and experiences.”
You attentively nodded.
“I’d like to ask one more illegal act from you.”
You squeaked to attention.
“Break us out? I… can’t deal with anyone else. Only you. I want to go home and curl up with you. I have a sensory mode in my room. That’s what I need.”
You weighed the scales of crime against his desire and he was more than pleased to see he came out on top.
“Give me… a f-few minutes…” You nodded to him dutifully before going to check the door.
He decided then that you would never burn out.
His precious neutron star. 
Not if he kept fueling the fire.
(Check out behind the scenes for this fic and more on my Patreon. You can follow me there, here, or the tag #sunshinemoonshinefic for updates)
Me burying my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 in chapters: I love my betas!
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simcardiac-arrested · 1 year ago
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i don’t think we’re ever getting out of the “we’re just friends” “oh yeah those characters are such good friends (sarcasm)” “they’re not friends they’re gay” etc etc hole. we’re never getting out of that hole
#yes it’s bad when people try to erase gay relationships to portray them as friends and nothing more#that is NOT what i mean. i’m talking about when people do the Opposite Thing and decide that when characters are romantic togethr#then suddenly they’re not friends anymore! or if they say they’re friends they’re lying!#like … i was watching nimona with my friend yesterday and like. if you’ve seen the movie you know how obviously gay and in love bal and#ambrosius are. and then there’s this one moment where ambrosius says ‘i have lost everything the man i love my best friend’ and at that#moment my friend was like It’s sad that they decided to censor their relationship even though this movie is still rly gay :( and i was like#WHAT are you saying ? these two men are clearly in love with one another BUT they’re also best friends. Like those are things that can#coexist!! and DO coexist!!! there are many cases where people consider their romantic partners their best friends . or even refer to them as#their best friends more than just partner!!!!!! LIKE WHAT ARE YOU SAYINGGGG . does anybody get it#does anybody understand#i’m so sick of amatonormativity i’ll start eating drywall#yes i love making ‘oh they seem like really good friends’ jokes because i know how most people interpret those jokes. but to me it’s like#well. they ARE really good friends. they’re just also romantic/gay about it. ghhehghh#maybe one day friendship will stop being seen as something lesser maybe one day people will realize that most romance is also friendship#and your partner can be and in most cases is your friend or your best friend even#and maybe one day we’ll stop acting like friendship & romance are two mutually exclusive things#and maybe sure that gay character is calling their love interest their Best Friend because of denial and repressed emotions and whatever#but have u considered that it’s just true and they really are best friends ?? like when crowley calls az his best friend sure that might be#gay denial but they also literally Are best friends i don’t know what to tell you. and they will always be best friends#DOES ANYBODY GET IT !!!!!!!! js any of this making sense i dont know. I love complaining#crammerposting
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aroaessidhe · 2 years ago
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2023 reads // twitter thread    
Godkiller
High fantasy world where gods are outlawed after a devastating war
A god killing mercenary, a knight turned Baker, a 12yo girl and the little animal god-of-white-lies bonded to her, end up traveling together to the destroyed city at the centre of the conflict
queer & disabled characters
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osachiyo · 7 months ago
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❛ WHAT'CHA READIN'? ❜
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𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai x fem!reader
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — n/sfw content, teasing, edging, getting caught while reading erotica/smut, full nelson, oral (m recieving), cock warming, kolya's is the longest bc yea, squirting, kind of 4th wall breaking in kolya's etc • here it isss !! i didn't expect so many people to want this but im glad i got to write it. anyway, happy reading and i hope you enjoy !! not proofread
ps. reblog to show your favorite writers support, they're greatly appreciated ! <3
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𝟎.𝟎𝟎𝟏 — 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈
his hands flew to her neck, squeezing not too hard — but firm enough for her to get dizzy with pleasure. "lily, you're simply ethereal like this," the man on top of her groaned, hips still pounding away, his pelvis slapping against her thighs with each thrust. she moaned, nails raking down the crown prince's back, all while —
"..her pretty cunt squeezed around him at the heartfelt praise,"
you felt someone whisper from behind your shoulder, making you quickly slam your book closed and whip your head towards that direction — only to see your boyfriend, dazai, standing there with a cheshire-like grin on his pretty face.
"i didn't know you were into historical books, babe!" he said with a teasing tilt in his voice, making your right eye twitch. "r-right... ahem — anyway, you really shouldn't sneak up on people like that, osamu," you scowled, clutching said book close to your chest.
"yeah? and you really shouldn't read dirty books at work like this, sweetheart," he tilted your head up to face him, "what if it was kunikida-kun instead of me, hmm?" his voice was playful, and if you knew him, you knew that he was hinting at something — if it's wasn't obvious already by the prominent bulge in his slacks.
"well, aren't you eager?" dazai huffed out a laugh at the way you grinded on his thigh, trying to reach your precious book that was in his hands now. "her back arched like a cat's as the prince pounded away at her — not having an ounce of mercy for the poor maiden," dazai read in a mocking tone — all while flexing his thigh under your cunt, which you were humping for dear life. "please," you pawed at his chest, hips twitching with the need for release.
"please what, baby?" he grinned mischievously, free hand snaking down to land a playful smack on your breasts, before squeezing them. "please let me cum," you whined once more, batting your wet lashes at him in hopes of getting at least a tiny bit of mercy.
"well.." dazai hummed, placing the book to the side, before sitting you fully on his lap and unzipping his slacks — "since you want it so bad, work for it."
𝟎.𝟎𝟎𝟐 — 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀
you and chuuya were in his office, with him working and you on your phone.
chuuya noticed how unusually quiet you got — and how.. strange you were acting as you scrolled further down on your cellphone.
his eyebrows furrowed as he saw your pupils dilate, your breathing getting uneven and you clenching your thighs.... oh.
a smirk found it's way on his handsome face as realization hit him — you dirty, dirty girl.
"what'cha readin' there, babe?" chuuya raised an eyebrow at the way you flinched when he suddenly spoke up. "um.. just some romance story, you won't like it, chuu," you tried to keep a straight face as your boyfriend got up from his seat, and stalked closer to you.
"oh yeah?" chuuya inquired further, "let me see."
"NO!— i mean — you really won't like it, babe," you smiled nervously and clutched the little device closer to you, which only made chuuya's grin spread further. "riiighhtt."
a gasp tore from your lips when your phone was snatched away from you by the ginger man — he was way too fast and strong for you to fight back, so you just sat there — blinking dumbly as he read the contents of your little "romance story."
"really? a mafia boss x reader? heh," chuuya snickered, voice holding a teasing tilt to it, "ya got a thing for boss, or somethin'?"
"NO! oh god, chuuya — give it back!" you finally recovered from your state of stupor, lunging at chuuya — who caught you in his arms with ease. "easy there, sweetheart. now, how about i give you the real fucking thing instead of this stupid... fanfiction, yeah? bend over f'me, doll."
loud clapping could be heard from outside of chuuya's office — it was so embarrassing if anyone walked by, especially akutagawa, but chuuya didn't seem to care one bit.
your tight little pencil skirt was bunched up, panties pulled hastily to the side as chuuya's narrow hips slammed against your ass, gloved hands gripping your hips so hard that you feared it would leave marks. "you like that, baby? like it when i grind into you like this?"
chuuya slowed his thrusts only to grind his hips in circles — making you see stars as you desperately clawed at the mahogany desk.
a sudden knock on the door sent your mind spiraling from pure pleasure to uneasiness. surely he wouldn't —
"come in, akutagawa."
𝟎.𝟎𝟎𝟑 — 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑
"don't flip the page, darling, i'm not done yet,"
you flinched at hearing fyodor's smooth, rich voice from behind you — startling you enough to drop the book from your hands, which conveniently landed on your lap. you looked behind to see your husband, who had a smirk on his handsome, pale face — "f-fedya!" you smiled nervously, "you were.. behind me this entire time?"
"why of course, my dear. i was wondering what type of book my beloved wife is into, and i.. certainly didn't expect this."
fyodor's tone was condescending, derogatory even — making your face heat up in embarrassment and shame. "now now," he tilted your chin up to look him in the eye, "there's no need to be ashamed, darling. though i can't deny that i'm a little upset from you going behind my back to read something so sinful," fyodor clicked his tongue, shaking his head gently before narrowing his amethyst eyes at you, "i believe you need to.. make up for this little... mistake of yours. won't you be a good girl and do as i say?"
you gulped before nodding hesitantly, sweat dampening your palms at the sheer nervousness you were feeling.
"good. on your knees."
fyodor held your head down on his cock, the small tuff of black hair tickling your nose —he didn't give you a chance to catch your breath. the feeling of the tight walls of your throat, along with the pretty view of you looking up at him with those teary eyes almost had him going feral. he wanted nothing more than to just pull your head back and face fuck you — but no, he had you cock warming him with your cute little mouth instead. all while he read his own book.
now, you might want to think twice before reading something so filthy behind his back again — unless you wished for an even worse punishment, that is.
𝟎.𝟎𝟎𝟒 𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈
"dove, can i ask you a little question?"
nikolai wrapped his huge arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest and resting his head on your shoulder, waiting for an answer with a grin.
"what is it, kolya?" you tried to turn to face him, but nikolai's grip only got tighter — his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, "who the fuck is 'toji fushiguro' and why were you reading smut about him?"
nikolai felt you stiffen in his arms — a shiver running down your spine at his warm breath hitting your skin, along with the embarrassing fact that your boyfriend had seen what you read on your phone. fuck.
"hmm? no denying?" he teased, freakishly large hands skimming over your torso, then settling all the way up to your breasts. "he's just a.. fictional character, love," you winced at how fucking embarrassing that sounded — which only resulted in nikolai letting out a snicker.
"really? you wound me, sweet pea — am i not good enough for you, that you have to settle for reading smut about fictional men?" he dramatically put a hand over his chest, but you both knew that was not true. "i'll just prove myself to you then, mm?" nikolai grinned, planting a kiss on your clothed shoulder.
you groaned, "n-no! baby, it's just —" "full nelson, huh?" nikolai cut you off — his expression dark as a borderline scary grin settled on his lips. "that was the position right? you could've just told me you wanted to try it! come on, little dove — i'll show you full nelson."
that's how you ended up with your legs against your chest, nikolai's huge arms hooked under your knees to keep you secured against his chest — all while his thick cock plowed into your cunt.
your mouth dropped into an 'o' shape, drool dribbling down your chin to your tits — the mounds bouncing up and down erotically as you were drilled into from below.
"god, just look at you,"nikolai groaned — his arms flexing beneath you as he bit the juncture of your shoulder, the soft skin littered in bruises and bite marks. his heavy balls were clapping against your ass with each rough thrust — your pussy felt like it was splitting in half from the sheer girth of his dick.
"oh yeah, baby — cum f'me, a-agh — cum on this cock," nikolai's voice was slurred, thick and heavy with lust as he encouraged you to soak his length in your juices.
and soak him you did — spraying your arousal all over the floor, his cock and balls were dripping with it — as you went limp in his arms. but he didn't stop, no — he didn't stop until he was cumming deep in your womb, the creamy substance leaking from your cunt from just how much there was.
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© 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ─ do not copy/translate/repost and/or recommend any of my works on different platfroms under any circumstances. reblogs greatly appreciated !
tags ・ @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @seiiushi @lynxxyyy @kentopedia
@sorasushik1 @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @osaemu @honeycombflowers-blog @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @squigglewigglewoo @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter-archived @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch @little-miss-chaoss
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ozzgin · 8 months ago
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More of the yandere monster???? Like their married life, him being such a cutie cutie and the reader is a willing person to his yandere tendencies. Like him physically fighting someone for flirting with her for .01 second and her just being 😍🥰
Alright anon, seeing as this has once again resurfaced, I'll cover a little bit of marital life as per your suggestion. (I'm hoping you're referring to the older sibling monster)
Yandere! Monster Husband x Reader
A little change of plans and the wedding you've been kidnapped for continued without a hitch, except you married the monstrous sibling instead. Made for an awkward celebratory dinner, but no one dared to oppose the Beast.
Content: female reader, monster romance, mildly NSFW, saga of the monster hoe reader continues
[First part]
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The next family dinner was quiet. You couldn't help but wonder if your horniness had gone too far, slowly chewing your food and occasionally peeking at the ex-groom with remorseful eyes. Poor guy, you thought. "Well, it's quite convenient, isn't it?" he finally said, breaking the silence. The cutlery sounds paused, and you lifted your gaze again. The man flashed you a radiant smile, which emphasized his handsome features even more. "I mean, we weren't sure we'd ever find a wife for my brother. He has a bit of an attitude, and even monsters are afraid of him. The only marriage attempt-" his speech was interrupted by a grunt, and you turned towards your monstrous boyfriend. The older sibling was frowning, visibly embarrassed. "Oh, I remember!" the mother of the siblings, a halfling herself, suddenly chuckled into her glass, taking a generous sip before continuing: "We'd arranged for a fellow monster to meet him, and the poor soul got so frightened she blended in with the background! Took us two days to find her! She came from a chameleon family, I recall."
Everyone at the table began to laugh and you joined, although with a mild annoyance tinged into your voice. So what, there was no reason for you to be plagued by guilt? You even refused a night escapade with your boyfriend until things "settled", as a way to be respectful towards the cucked party. All for naught. At least now you could be ravaged without further consequences. When the mother in law had pulled you aside hours earlier to make sure you weren't coerced into this arrangement, you had to hold back from crassly confessing you'd slurp her son empty of fluids at any hour of the day. Some things are better left untold.
Unfortunately, one detail couldn't be changed in time: the guest list. As this had been an event meant to strengthen the ties between humans, no one outside of the immediate family graced the venue with their monstrous presence. Many guests were intrigued by the outcome of the affair, terribly curious to see the famed wife-to-be of the gruesome, feared Head of the royal army. Even more so once they discovered it was a regular human by all means. "Fascinating!", the old ladies would occasionally cry out, clutching the plump, expensive pearls adorning their necks. You had to frequently excuse yourself in order to dodge the rather indecent questions regarding your relationship. Except when you did manage to sneak away, one of the younger men of names and titles you never registered would approach you for a dance. "Truly a pitiful matter", they'd whisper much too close to your ear. "You would've made a lovely bride for a fellow human."
"You're unexpectedly calm about this", the prince mentioned to his older brother at some point during the wedding night. "Are you not bothered by all the acquaintances flocking to your bride?" The monster shook his head with a sigh. He hadn't known you for that long yet, but one thing he was certain of: it's not humans he needed to fear.
Indeed, having a wife with a monster kink is particularly challenging when most of the husband's work involves similar creatures. The first months after the marriage were stalked by the insidious doubt that his luck was just that: mere coincidence. Would you have displayed the same interest had he not been the only beast at the table? Would you still pick him in a room full of monsters? Such questions followed him each day, feeding into an ever-growing jealousy.
"What are you doing here!", he exclaimed in despair once he noticed your arrival at his training camp. "You forgot your lunch", you explained, eyebrows raised in confusion. Oh, for fuck's sake. He quickly pulled you away, glaring at the subordinates startled by the commotion. They must've been eyeing (Y/N) like rabid dogs, he thought. Next thing you know, you'll be scooped away by some horned scoundrel. He can't have that.
Initially, the rage-filled, obsession-driven fuck you'd receive almost daily was welcomed with shameless begging. The way your monster husband would pin you down under his claws and thrust into you so hard, you could see its movement in waves across your stomach. The way he'd forcefully spread your legs, hungrily sinking his nails into the soft flesh of your thighs and gnawing your shoulders in delirious need. The tears that sheepishly formed in the corners of your hooded eyes would only incite him more. "Bite onto my hand if you can't take it anymore", he'd coo without stopping. As much as you liked to be left a limp, drooling mess, the soreness grew unbearable. Enough was enough when you found yourself carrying a cushion to sit down on any surface.
"Listen, we need to have a talk." You greeted him solemnly once he returned from his military duties. Oh, no. Absolutely not. The monstrous husband bit his lips in panic, immediately going through a mental list of all his subordinates. Or was it someone in the family that slithered their way into your heart? Is that what it was about, that you'd found a different creature? No matter, you weren't going anywhere. "I don't want to hear about it", he declared dramatically. "I have a bruised cervix!" you shouted in disbelief. "Huh?" He stared at you. "It hurts even when I lay down, man. You have to tone it down. At least for a little while."
Ah. Awkward. You noticed his flinch, and patted the empty seat next to you. "What did you think I was going to say?" The bench groaned under the weight of his gargantuan body. Hands folded in his lap like a punished schoolboy, your husband began to narrate the tale of his seething envy and frenzied passion for you. You must understand, he's never cared for anyone as much. To hell with duty and honor, he would kill his own father if his touch on you lingered one second longer than permitted. "Alright, but you must control yourself a little", you reminded him gently. "Never, my urge to obliterate any threat in my path is insatiable", he concluded with vehemence. "Yes, yes, that I understand. The sex, I mean", you gesticulated. "Of course. My apologies, I got sidetracked."
Somehow, he didn't expect to leave this conversation with a cathartic approval of his possessiveness. "Surely you must be upset by my fanatical behavior", he suggested meekly. "Oh no, it's part of your charm", you reassured him with a smile. "It's just not that sustainable in bed without the occasional break." You pat your stomach to express your misfortune.
Sadly, your monster fucking dreams must adhere to the laws of biology.
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unheavenlyvision · 9 days ago
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GHOSTLY ROMANCE ♡
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: fushiguro toji/reader
𝐖𝐂: 8k
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: when it becomes blatantly obvious your house is being haunted, the only thing there is for you to do is coexist but what do you do when that ghostly presence haunting your house begins haunting your heart ??
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, swearing, making out, obsessive! toji, ghost! toji, slight perv! toji, toji has a big dick, dirty talk, fingering, voyeurism (?), p in v sex, squirting, creampie, f!reader, reader referred to as 'woman', i think that's all ♡
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As of late, you’re beginning to have a sneaking suspicion that your house is haunted, and you aren’t really sure how to react. Often times, you’ll find things aren’t where you left them, some objects are moved just slightly of where they were, and other things are found in completely different rooms.
Sometimes when you go to lock your doors and windows for the night, you find it’s already been done. Innocuous and for the most part these are things you could brush off as you being absent minded, the kicker comes when you start seeing a figure out the corner of your eye or in a passing reflection.
Ignoring it all has been your go to, deciding it’s best to just pretend it’s not happening, and you would continue to keep doing so but your sleep is getting interrupted now and if there is anything you don’t get in between, it’s you and your sleep.
The dreams you’ve been having have started to wander into the obscure territory of some man you don’t recognise living in your house. He walks around like he owns the place, locking doors, closing curtains. It’s not particularly scary but it is unsettling and leaves you feeling unrested, like you didn’t sleep much at all.
Now, as you’re trying to get some well-deserved rest, something goes bump in the night, and you just know it’s that stupid man haunting your house. Frustratedly, you kick the covers off your body and stomp down the hall to where you think the sound originated from.
Arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently, you wait for something, anything, but of course nothing comes. This ghost, entity, or whatever, that’s haunting you started off as easy to ignore and now it’s pissing you off greatly, you just want some damn sleep.
“You got me here, you got me out of bed so you must want something,” your foot continues to tap, increasing pace with your bad mood.
The room continues to be blanketed by the quiet you so badly wanted while you were drifting to sleep, “You’re so rude, haunting me with stupid dreams and moving my shit…” you’re grumbling to yourself, “…haven’t slept well in over a week and now I can’t even get to sleep!”
Still, the room is filled by the deafening silence that usually lingers in your house at this hour, “Great… and now I’m talking to myself, I’m going fucking crazy.”
As you turn to leave the room, you bump into something that feels as stiff as a board. You take a few steps back at it and you’re met with someone’s chest. The person in front of you leans down until they meet your face, his tone deep and monotone when he lets out a low, “Boo.”
It almost feels like the blood drains out of your body at the sight of him and before you have time to really process, your hand is reaching back and up to give him a hard slap right across the face. A small yelp leaving you at it, the smack resounding throughout the otherwise quiet house.
When you draw your hand back, it’s to cover your mouth as you gasp at just how hard you seemed to have slapped him, apology tumbling from your lips and you can only really say it’s because of how shocked you are by the force you used, “I’m so sorry, oh my God, that sounded really bad… did that hurt?”
He’s stoic for a moment before cracking a smile and chuckling at your shocked apology, “Not quite the reaction I was looking for.”
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you…” you trail off, suddenly regretting all your apologies, “Hey! You’re the one who should be apologising to me.”
He’s still far too amused for your liking, “What for? You’re the one who hit me.”
“You quite frankly deserved it,” your brows furrow as you eye him over, you expected something more… ghoulish but he appears to just be some man.
“I don’t think so, I’ve done nothing to you…” he’s talking but you’re not really paying attention, confused by his appearance and, honestly, existence.
Your finger moves towards him, poking at his chest, something you think you shouldn’t be able to do. He’s firm, obviously corporeal, it’d surprise you more if you hadn’t just slapped him as hard as you did.
You’re lost in your thoughts as you continue to poke at him. He cuts himself off to grab your wrist, “–What are you doing?”
“Are you just some guy? Are you just some man in my house right now?” You’re beginning to freak out, much more amenable to the idea of a ghost in your house over some stranger, “I have to call the cops…” you try tugging away, quickly growing more fearful.
He’s rolling his eyes at you like you’re overreacting, “Calm down.”
Your eyes are big and round as you look up at him, scared out of your mind as the idea of some man in your house settles in your bones, “No, I think I’m going to keep being scared.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’m not human…” he squints at you, “Anymore.”
Rightly sceptical when you utter back, “I don’t know if I believe you…”
He seems annoyed at your unwillingness to take him at his word, sighing as he turns and walks out of the room… through the wall. You wait a moment for him to come back but he doesn’t, you’re left in the room alone, wondering if that little interaction actually happened or if you’ve finally lost it.
Another moment passes, waiting, just in case he appears again before you resign yourself to the fact that you’re beginning to hallucinate from lack of sleep. Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself and walk back to your room, only to be met with the sight of him laying leisurely on your bed.
“I’ve gone insane,” you mumble to yourself, “I’m losing my fucking mind in this house alone.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re sane, from what I’ve seen anyways,” He shrugs, “A little spacey but otherwise.”
His words have you glaring at him, “You ever been told you’re annoying?”
“Not for a long time, no,” his smirk is lopsided.
You approach the foot of your bed, looking at him with your arms crossed, “Right… okay, well, you’re annoying.”
His own arms are supporting his head, clearly very comfortable in your bed, “You’ve only spoken to me for a few minutes, I might grow on you.”
A scowl overtakes your face, “I really doubt it.”
His smile feels condescending, “I think it’s your only option, either you get used to me or you move out because this was my house first, sorry doll.”
“I’m still not fully convinced you’re not just some guy in my house,” how are you meant to tell if you’ve gone insane? Maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.
“I technically am…” he tilts his head at you, “I’m just not alive.”
There are so many questions you have, and you aren’t even sure if you’d believe any of his answers, “If you’re a ghost why can I touch you?”
Stretching out slightly, he groans before answering, “Because I let you, how else would I be moving your shit around?”
“So, you are moving my things around!” You’re pointing at him like some huge mystery has been solved.
He looks at you like it should be obvious at this point that it was him, taking the wind out of your sails with a single look.
Coughing slightly, you cross your arms again, trying to recover from the slight embarrassment you’re currently feeling, “Why are you touching my things and why show yourself now?”
“You yelled at me to show myself,” he rolls his neck, “Thought I’d be polite and give an introduction.”
“Some introduction… you didn’t even give me your name,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on, “You only answered one of my questions.”
A soft sigh leaves him, like this whole conversation is becoming tedious, “I get bored.”
“Really? That’s your answer? I’ve been wondering if I’m crazy or if my house is haunted and even losing sleep over stupid dreams of your stupid face and you’re telling me it’s because you’re bored.”
He purses his lips, like he’s trying to hide a smile, “Pretty much.”
“Get out.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” your hands are on your hips, prominent frown plastered on your face, “Get out.”
“I can’t technically leave,” he tries to reason with you.
“I don’t care, I know you can disappear and leave me alone so do that,” you’re so tired and cranky, you just want to go to sleep and pretend this never happened, “I want to sleep, and I want it to be peaceful so leave me alone and get out!”
“So bossy,” he grumbles as he gets up, leaning down into your space as he walks past you, “I like that in a woman.”
You fight the involuntary shiver that wants to run down your spine, beyond pissed off at Casper the annoying ghost. Why did your house have to be haunted? Why couldn’t you live a peaceful and normal life? These are all things you wonder as you crawl into bed, determined to get some sleep tonight.
ִֶָ𓂃 ༘࣪࿐
In the morning, you think what had happened last night was some obscure dream, and you’d probably go on thinking that way if your ghostly house guest didn’t appear in front of you while you’re in the middle of breakfast.
Your spoon clatters to your bowl with a gasp, “Don’t!” You sigh loudly, “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” He leans back into the chair across from you.
“Don’t just appear,” you grumble to yourself, “Almost thought I had made up all of last night.” So close to having a normal life, you can see it now floating out of your grasp.
“Sorry, doll, I’m very real and I very much live here.”
That earns him a scoff, “You’re a freeloader.”
“Excuse me?” He leans forward, elbows resting on the table.
You repeat it for him slower, “You. Are. A. Freeloader.”
“I heard you,” his eye almost twitches.
Leaning back in your chair, you cross your arms, looking away from him and out the window, “Then don’t act like you didn’t.”
“I could kill you,” he threatens.
You don’t feel inclined to take him seriously, “So could my neighbour, you’re not special.” Your gaze is fixed out the window, watching said neighbour walking to collect his mail. When you turn back to your unwanted companion his glare is pointed and very clearly unhappy which only has you rolling your eyes at him, “You’d really kill me because I called you a freeloader?”
A quiet hum leaves him, “I’m considering it.”
“Drama queen,” it’s murmured but you know he heard it, especially if his growing scowl is anything to go off.
“Shouldn’t you be more scared or something?”
Your eyes squint at him, leaning over the table slightly as you provoke, “Oh, I bet you’d love that.”
“I would actually,” he almost sounds exasperated which only has you growing amused.
You decide to try bargaining with him, “Listen, if you’re gonna freeload here the least you can do is stay out of my way.”
“I liked you better last night when you were scared.”
You take a mouthful of your breakfast, pointing at him with your spoon when you reply, “Well, I liked you better a few months ago when it was significantly easier to ignore your presence.”
It’s quiet, no reply coming from him, leaving it up to you to continue the conversation if you want answers, “What do you even want? Because if you really do plan on killing me I’ll tell you now that the next person who lives here will not be as cute as I am.”
He deadpans at your joke, “You’re hilarious.”
“I know,” you flick your head like you’re flipping luxurious hair.
Already seemingly sick of you when he grumbles, “I already regret showing myself to you.”
“Good, this is much more of an ordeal for me you know? Not only do I know ghosts exist now but there is some guy in my house all the time, how am I meant to go on with my daily life?”
“Not really my problem,” he brushes off your concern.
Being honest, you say, “I don’t like you.”
To which he returns with a big grin, “I’ll grow on you.”
ִֶָ𓂃 ༘࣪࿐
You wish so badly that he didn’t, but he does, he grows on you. It’s nice coming home to someone, having someone to talk to while you eat or do mundane chores. It’s been a few months now and you thought he would be more of a bother, but you think you might be the one bothering him.
It’s funny how you didn’t realise how lonely you were until you finally had someone to spend time with. Early on he told you his name, Toji, he told you he used to live here, and that he died in the house. He still hasn’t disclosed to you how he died, and you don’t want to intrude by asking so you don’t. He’s still quite young so you imagine it wasn’t by natural causes which only deters you from wanting to probe for any more information from him.
If you’re being honest with yourself, you’d recognise that you’re beginning to crush on a ghost but since that seems like something so far out of the realm of ever possibly happening, you squash down the feelings. And when that doesn’t work, you try avoiding him, which is not exactly a fool proof plan when he’s the ghost haunting your house who doesn’t need to sleep.
For the third weekend in a row, you’re sneaking into your own house late, having been out all night with friends just to avoid spending the whole day with Toji. It’s his fault though! He’s hot and also a huge flirt and he makes your heart race, and none of these thoughts are holy so you decided to just avoid him altogether.
Kicking your shoes off at the door, you sneak through the house and into your room, thinking you’ve successfully changed and gotten into bed without him noticing. Victory short lived when he appears next to you on your bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip suddenly.
You scrabble for a second, not expecting the shift, body falling into his. Sheepishly, you look up at him, hand pressed to his chest trying to give yourself some space to think, not used to this proximity. You purposefully keep your distance from him, and it feels like he purposefully gets in yours.
He’s quick to get to the point, “Where were you?”
“Out with some friends…” Hesitance clear in your answer.
“Again,” It’s a question but it doesn’t really sound like one.
“…Yeah.”
His eyes scan your face intently and it has you shying away from him, “You’re being odd,” he states abruptly.
Immediate response being defensiveness, “Because I’m going out with my friends?”
“No, that’s not it, it’s the frequency, you used to spend most weekends home alone.”
Still, you can’t get used to how he knows these things about you, “Okay we’re just gonna ignore that you know that about me.”
Again, he doesn’t beat around the bush, “Don’t change the topic, you’ve been avoiding me.”
Gaze averting his as you stumble out a small, “That’s not true.”
His eyes meet yours with a pointed look, clearly not believing your half assed lie, “Come on, doll, if I’ve done something to upset you I’d prefer you just say it.”
“You’ve not done anything,” you jump to assure him, not wanting him to feel bad for no reason. “You’re the best ghost anyone could ask to haunt their house.”
Ignoring your attempt at humour he pushes for more, “Then what is it?”
An awkward pause shared between you as you try to think of an excuse, “Uhm… My friends… have just been wanting to see me more is all, it has nothing to do with you…”
“Mhm…” you can tell he doesn’t believe you, but he can’t go much further than this, he was as blunt as he could be and hit a brick wall. “Well, I want to see you more too.”
You roll your eyes gently at that, ignoring the excitement his words illicit, “Toji, we live together.”
Expression sour when he retorts, “It doesn’t feel like it lately.”
It’s cute how he’s almost pouting, it’d be cuter if you didn’t feel completely awful for ghosting him. You still get to see each other throughout the day but you work during the week, and you haven’t been spending much free time with him lately, often opting for going out instead. If avoiding him like this is going to keep making him feel bad you don’t want to keep doing it.
Taking the safe option, you choose to make the time spent together productive, “I’ll be home this weekend… I have a bunch of laundry to do though so it might not be fun.”
His smile is crooked, “Alright… got my eyes on you though, doll,” he means it in a light-hearted way, but you think you’ve actually hurt him.
“Okay…” you wait a moment for him to leave but he doesn’t, you’re still too close to him and he’s not moving. The silence in the room deafening as you can only look at him and wait for his next move.
When he doesn’t say anything, you prompt, “Toji… are you gonna leave?”
“Do you want me to?” His gaze is on your lips, hand reaching to cradle your face and just when you think he might lean in to kiss you, he pecks the top of your head, “Night.” It’s the last thing he says before he disappears into thin air.
Your heart feels like it might explode, beating a mile a minute at how he seemed to almost kiss you. The disappointment that settled in you when he didn’t uncomfortable, were you just reading into things or did he actually want to kiss you.
The covers get pulled up over your head as you grumble to yourself, how the hell are you meant to sleep now… he’s confusing you and it’s so unfair. You’d probably get over your feelings for him if he didn’t also show interest in you like this, he’s giving you hope, and it doesn’t feel good.
ִֶָ𓂃 ༘࣪࿐
Ever since the night Toji almost kissed you, it’s all you’ve been able to think about, almost operating like a zombie as you go through the motions at home and at work. Every time you saw him it felt like your skin was on fire, like you might spontaneously burst into flames.
This week has been especially trying because it seems like he actually has been watching you closer than usual. Normally he would give you some more space, but it was almost like every time you were in one of the main areas of the house, he was also there. He’s not the type you’d peg for being clingy but then again, you didn’t take your house to be the haunted kind so what do you know.
Getting lost in your thoughts while fiddling with your poor-quality sink isn’t the best course of action, but it doesn’t seem like you’re making any good choices in life right now. While trying to tighten the faucet by hand, it decides to punish you for being absent minded and sprays water all down your front.
Quickly, you rush to stop the water, all kinds of expletives leave you as your hands slip over the metal. When the water finally stops your hands grab the edge of the counter, slumping against it.
A shiver runs down your spine before you hear him speak, “You really should pay more attention to what you’re doing.”
“It’s not my fault, this sink sucks!” If you had slightly less emotional regulation you might stomp your feet about it all.
He laughs at your frowny face, “I always meant to get it replaced.”
Turning to face him, you huff, “This sink is the bane of my existence.”
“It’s not all bad,” his eyes track down your front, “I did get to see you in a wet shirt because of it.”
“You’re unbearable,” you groan.
“And yet you’ve never tried to exorcise me.”
“You know what, that’s a good option to keep in mind, thanks,” you smile sarcastically at him before wandering down the hall, muttering to yourself, “Well… at least it’s laundry day today I guess…”
Toji is hot on your trail, not speaking, just following you around the house as you collect all your laundry. If you had to describe it, you’d probably say he was hovering, like he’s waiting for you to crack and tell him why you’ve been avoiding him.
You would love to talk to him about what’s bothering you but how exactly does one go about telling the hot ghost that you coexist with that you want to jump his bones, there must be a wiki how page for that online somewhere. The absurdity of the situation is almost enough to make you laugh, almost.
“You in there, doll?” Toji’s voice shocks you back down to Earth.
Dropping the shirt you’d been holding for too long into the washer as you reply, “Hmm? Yeah… I’m here, what’s up?”
“You know you’ve always been a little spacey, but it’s been worse lately.” His head tilts at you, like he’s observing your behaviours.
Throwing a glance his way as you refute, “I am not spacey.”
He looks away from you like he’s avoiding engaging with you on that topic any further, “I’m just asking if you’re okay, Something on your mind?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” dragging out the word as you squint at him.
The exasperated tone he uses is not lost on you, “Then why have you been avoiding me?”
“Didn’t we establish last week that I haven’t been?” Ignoring his stare as you continue to load the washing machine.
“No, we established that you’re lying about not avoiding me.”
The persistence he displays is almost admirable, “You’re annoying.”
“So are you but less so lately,” response quick on his tongue.
“Maybe I’ve reflected on my previous ways and decided to be a better person.” He scoffs at that, and you turn to face him, looking him in the eyes, “What do you want from me?”
“I just wanna know why you don’t spend time with me anymore,” he leans into your space, grin wide and taunting, “You get scared or something?”
“Of you?” brow quirking at him, “Please,” eye roll following your words.
He sighs at you, backing out of your space, “You’re unbearable.”
“That’s my line,” you shoot back, focusing on your laundry again.
A quick hand snatches the garment you’re holding out of your grasp, his attempt at getting your attention back on him. It works because you’re facing him fully now, “You’re childish.”
“Woah,” he looks at what he’s holding like he’s only just noticed what he had grabbed, “These are cute.”
If the ground could swallow you whole, you wish it would happen now because why is your unwanted roommate holding a pair of your panties while smiling at you like the cat that got the canary.
“Toji,” you warn.
He hums back at you, almost indulgent, “Yes, doll?”
“Give them back.”
Dangling your underwear in between the two of you by a single digit, he considers, “I don’t know… I think I like these; I might keep them.”
The expression on your face incredulous, “And what? Wear them?”
“I’m sure I’ll find some use for them,” suggestion written all over his face in a way you wish you weren’t attracted to.
“Toji.” A second warning.
Again, his reply is the same, “Yes, doll?”
“They’re dirty.”
“Really?” He looks to them, “Want me to check?” Hand bringing them close to his face before you snatch them away.
“Don’t be gross!” You chastise him, chucking the panties into the machine with more force than necessary.
Your skin feels hot from embarrassment, how can he be so shameless? It’s uncomfortably quiet in the laundry room as you silently stew while looking down into the washer.
Toji sounds tentative when he speaks, “Are you mad?”
He’s met with an immediate glare at his stupid question, “Well I’m not happy!” Brows pinched and feeling like your head is about to explode when you struggle to get out, “How– how can you be so… so? So shameless.”
“Being dead doesn’t hurt,” he says casually.
You can’t tell if that’s an attempt at humour or if he’s being serious but if you had to guess you’d say it’s a little of both, “I can’t believe I’ve been crushing on you, you’re so embarrassing. What does that say about me? attracted to a shameless ghost who does nothing but embarrass me.”
Your foot has started tapping against the floor with your frustrations, not even registering the blunder you made about outing your crush on him… you know, the thing you’ve been actively avoiding him over just to keep secret.
It’s not until he’s leaning into your space and asking, “You been crushing on me, doll?” That you realise the mistake you’d made.
“What?” You heard him perfectly fine. Only feigning ignorance in an attempt to think of a convincing cover.
There’s pride oozing from him, his grin growing by the second, “You just said–”
“–No, I didn’t,” there is no way to save this and so you fall back on blatantly lying.
He’s revelling in how flustered you are and it’s making it worse, “No, no, I heard you loud and clear. You’ve been crushing on me.”
Your hands move to either side your head, covering your ears as you try to block out what he’s saying, “I can’t hear you; I don’t know what you’re saying.”
Despite your actions, you can hear him perfectly. So, you hear him crystal clear when he borderline taunts, “You have a crush on the ghost haunting your house!”
You don’t say anything back, only staring at him as you wear all your embarrassment on your face.
His smile lessens, replaced by a kinder one, “Is that why you been avoiding me?”
Slowly turning to face him, you drop your hands and give a small nod, feeling all kinds of uncomfortable right now. The fact his immediate reaction was to be amused and prideful has you confused on just what he’s thinking about, does he only find your feelings funny? Does he not take them seriously? Or maybe you’d been overthinking it… it is just a crush after all.
You feel a little guilty over how your feelings have been making you act. He’s literally stuck with you and you’re making it awkward all because you find him attractive, “I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable… but it’s just a crush, I’ll get over it.”
You meant to offer him some kind of relief in saying that, but it doesn’t seem to give him any. A low hum coming from him as he moves in closer. Bending at the waist so he can eye you carefully, getting so close that you avoid his gaze, face hot at his proximity.
“What are you–”
“–You’d just get over me?” He asks. You can’t decipher his intent.
Not able to help the way you fumble over yourself when answering honestly, “I– well… I mean… eventually? Right?”
Almost doubtful when he counters, “And you think I’m just gonna let that happen?”
The way in which he says it takes you aback, eyes meeting his when you utter a succinct, “Stop.”
A singular brow raises at you, “Stop what?”
“Stop flirting with me,” it’s unfair and only serving to confuse you further.
“Why?”
Expression somewhere between a pout and scowl when you grumble, “You are the most exasperating man I have ever had the displeasure of trying to have a conversation with.”
“And yet you have a crush on me,” his eyebrows raise.
Swapping back to denial is your solution, “I just changed my mind; I don’t have a crush on you anymore.”
Still, he flirts, “And there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”
“Nope,” you pop the word at him, “All my feelings vanished just like that.”
“That’s a damn shame,” he’s smirking as he looks at your lips before flicking back to your eyes. One of his hands reach to cradle the side of your face, mouth hovering overs yours, so close to kissing you but ultimately not moving any more than that.
Your eyes had closed at the way he leaned in but when you don’t feel his lips on yours you open them to see the way he’s looking down his nose at you, smug smile ever present on his stupid face.
“You’re being cruel,” and he his, he knows it too, it’s entirely purposeful on his behalf and you can only take so much.
His thumb brushes your lower lip gently, still so unbearably close when he asks, “How so?”
“Let me go.” You huff at him, “You’re so distracting, go haunt a different part of the house. I need to finish my laundry.”
“Why are you so stubborn?” His words are accompanied by an eyeroll.
“Why are you so–”
You’re cut off abruptly by his lips colliding with yours, clearly uninterested in further back and forth. Especially since it seems like you’re not willing to give up and just tell him you want him to kiss you. When you’re not immediately pulling away, he’s moving his body closer to yours, other hand large on your back as he pulls you towards him.
Lips so much more careful than you would’ve expected of him. Searching and relentless but not rough, not yet anyways. Your hands move to his shoulders and grip him, giving into him completely, his kiss taking your breath away.
The hand on the side of your face is manoeuvring you how he likes, wanting to deepen the kiss. Tongue licking into your mouth, it sends shivers down your spine, involuntary moan leaving you.
You aren’t really registering it but he’s walking you back, sandwiching you between the washing machine and his large body. Hand previously on the small of your back now on your hip, pulling at your flesh. Then slipping it under your shirt and resting against your skin, his touch eliciting goose bumps.
He tilts your head back and trails his lips down your neck, nipping at you as he goes. Your pants filling the room, small and quiet moans mixed in with your breaths. You can hardly think, too focused on how it feels to have him touching you.
Suddenly gasping a moan when he bites at your neck a little harder than you were expecting, your thighs rubbing together at it. His movements grow more frenzied, lips back on yours in full force, tongue in your mouth depriving you of your air.
So much so that you have to push him back by his shoulders, chest moving rapidly as you catch your breath. Eyes wet and glassy when you look up at him, brows pulled up as you struggle to focus in on his face.
“Sorry, I got a bit carried away,” he’s staring at you, awestruck by the stupid look on your face.
You ignore his apology, “Kiss me again? Please?”
“How can I refuse when you ask like that?” The answer is he couldn’t, not when your eyes are all glassy from his lips.
The kiss is messy and despite the coolness of him, hot. Your arms are wrapped around his neck now, pulling him down into you. Both his hands on your hips, playing with the waistband of your pants, fingers tickling against your skin.
Parting to speak against your ear, “You gonna let me touch you, doll?”
Nodding at him, “Yeah…”
He hums at you thoughtfully, “You crushing on me again or am I imagining the hearts in your eyes right now?”
“You ruin everything– ah–” words interrupted by his hand slipping into the front of your pants and underwear.
His fingers slip through your folds, tracing your clit softly,  “Am I still ruining everything?”
“Oh!– noo, no you’re not,” your words are breathless as you shake your head, not wanting him to stop.
“You know…” his grin is sly as he speaks to you lowly, “You’re awfully wet for someone you don’t have a crush on.”
Wanting him to stop talking, you turn your head and kiss him. Your tongue sliding into his mouth, the kiss desperate and chaotic. Lips connected by a string of saliva when you pull back.
Your words are saturated in sarcasm but completely true, “I have a big fat crush on you, Toji, are you happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” he smiles brightly, finger probing at your entrance, “In fact, I might just reward you.” As he finishes his sentence, his digit is pushing into you, biting his lip at how you gasp against him. “You know, you’re really cute like this, all breathless and struggling to take a finger.”
“Such a mean ghost,” you sulk.
“You’re meaner, avoiding me all because of a stupid crush,” his finger crooks inside you, almost knocking you over, “If you’d just told me about it we could’ve had fun so much sooner, you been depriving me of this sweet cunt.”
Your legs are feeling shaky under you, “How was I supposed to– hah– know?”
“I flirt with you relentlessly and follow you around all day like a damn puppy and you think I don’t wanna fuck you?” He chuckles humourlessly, “Shit, doll, if you needed it to be more obvious all you had to do was tell me.” A second finger joins his first, scissoring them to open you up, “I’d drop to my knees just to please you.”
His words make you dizzy, the idea of him on his knees and lapping at your pussy damn near capable of killing you. Your stomach flutters with butterflies at how willing he is to make you feel good.
He can feel the way your cunt clenches down on his fingers, his chest squeezing with how reactive you are to him, “Oh? You liked that, doll? Like the idea of me licking your pussy?”
“I need you, please,” your lip quivers, shudders running through your body at how his thumb rubs over your clit.
A single peck is pressed to your wobbly lower lip, “You already got me.”
“Noo– oh God–” You’re trying so hard to get your words out but he’s touching you so insistently, his fingers reaching all the perfect spots so effortlessly you might go blind. Your head rolls back as you gasp out, nails clawing down the front of his chest.
Slurred words and jumbled moans leaving you as his hand speeds up. It’s an active effort to get out, “Wan– want your– ah! dick, please.”
He laughs like he’s had the wind knocked out of him, “Only ever need to ask.” His hand is drawing back from your core, a pathetic whimper leaving you at the loss. “Turn around for me, doll.”
You do as he says, turning around to face the washing machine, one of his hands reaching forward to shut the lid. His body moves in close behind you, his front pressing into your back, firm erection against your ass.
His lips brush against your ear, “Hold on and bend over.”
“You’re so demanding,” you mutter as you do what he says.
He counters, “And you’re so obeying.” You can feel the air of his smugness radiating from behind you.
Both his hands tug at your pants, slowly pulling them down your body until they drop onto the floor. You can’t help but feel exposed and impatient, your panties stuck to your core with the arousal that drips from you. Toji’s finger creeps into the gusset, pulling them back before letting go, teasing you for his own enjoyment.
Straightening up, you try to turn to face him and tell him off for being a massive tease but he’s too close to you. An arm is wrapping around your front as his head tucks into your neck, “You going somewhere?”
“I thought since you seem to be indecisive I’d leave while you think about your next move,” you bite back.
He’s pushing your front back down, “You always this impatient?”
“You always this big a tease?” Your hands reach out to hold the machine again.
“Always got something to say don’t you?”
“Toji, I’m so wet and needy and if you don’t do something soon I’m going to finish without you and I’ll make you watch.”
Quietly and under his breath, he utters, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Before you get a chance to spin around and question him on that further, he’s pulled his pants down and your panties to the side. His cock head stretching you open, your fist slams down into the washer as you struggle to accommodate his size. Stuttered gasps and whines leaving you as he presses forward inch by inch. One of your hands has to reach back and rest on his pelvis, stopping him, needing a moment to catch your breath and get used to taking his size.
You pant out to him, “Wh– what did you mean?”
“Fffuck–” he’s struggling to maintain focus when you’re gripping him that tightly, “What?”
You’re trying to control your breathing as you ask again, “What did you mean by ‘wouldn’t be the first time’?”
“Doll, I’ve been in this house since long before you moved in,” he leans down to you, his lips brushing against your ear, “I’ve seen you fucking yourself with your toys.”
Involuntary whimper leaving you, your hips rutting back into him, “You’re such a perv.”
“Oh yeah, the fuckin biggest,” he groans at how your pussy flutters around him, “Loved when you would come home high and dry from a date, your cunt drenching your dildo with just how needy you were, squirming in your bed while fucking yourself.”
You hate how turned on you are at the thought of him watching you masturbate, “Move, please.” Hand moving away, giving him room.
He’s drawing back only to fuck his hips forwards, “Hnnn– and now I get to see how you coat my cock, such a messy fucking thing.”
Toji’s hips falter at how your cunt sucks him in, so greedy and sopping wet that it’s making his head spin. He can’t tell if it’s been too long or if you’ve got the best pussy he’s ever fucked but it’s probably somewhere in between and he can’t be bothered to think too hard about it right now.
“Is it– hah– is it nearly in?” You whine back at him, not sure how much more of him you can fit.
He’s steadily rocking his cock into you, filling you more each time he thrusts forward, “Not– not quite.”
Maybe you should let him take the lead with this but you’re impatient and horny and he’s taking too long and you just want him so deep inside you that you feel him in your guts. So, in your fuzzy brain, you decide it’s a good idea to fuck your hips back as he moves forward. He bottoms out, his pelvis slapping into your ass but you’re left breathless, squirming as you grapple with how full of him you are.
“Oh my God– what– why are you so– hng– why are you big?” Tears spring to the corners of your eyes, feeling so completely overwhelmed. Pussy twitching around him as your legs shake.
He can’t believe you’d done that, letting out a long-drawn-out groan like he’d been gut punched, “Fuck– greedy fucking thing, you couldn’t– hnn– couldn’t wait for it? Was trying to take it easy on you and your tight little hole.”
His cock is jerking violently inside you, so unbelievably turned on. Your cunt snug around his dick nearly has him believing this is his heaven and you’re his own personal angel. He’d take it for truth if the sight of your hole stretched around him weren’t so sinful, your panties tugged to the side and soaked.
His voice is strained when he checks in, “You good, doll?”
“Mhm, yeah I– mmph– I’m good,” you’re giving him the go ahead, punctuating your words with your hips wiggling back into him. It almost knocks him out, seeing the way your ass jiggles.
His hands are gripping your hips tight, holding you still as he draws back. His first thrust ruthless, forcing you forward, brain taking a second to realise that the loud moan reverberating in the room was you.
“You’re gonna be the second death of me,” he says through stifled grunts.
You are completely lacking in any kind of retort to throw back at him, only able to dumbly hum at him so he knows you heard him. The way he’s driving his dick into you has you twitching and scratching at the lid of the washer, almost embarrassed by how drunk on his cock you are.
There are so many thoughts in your head and also none at all, “Toji, it feels so– oh!– feels so good– I can’t–”
“You’re doing so good, taking it all so well,” he sounds wrecked, words breaking off at the end. “Pussy so fucking– ffuck– so creamy– ohhh–”
Toji’s eyes stay locked on how you take him, chest fluttering at how he’s fucked you open. Cock drenched in your slick, dripping down your legs. So relentless in his pursuit that he just knows your ass is gonna hurt tomorrow from the consistent smack! smack! Of his pelvis slapping into you. Not even a question of if his finger marks will be imprinted onto your hips, the memory of him fucking you so well something he’s not going to let you forget.
He finally has you full and squirming under him, he’s not going to let it be a forgettable experience. Determined to fuck you so good that you’re begging him to do it all over again. He already wasn’t going to let you go but especially not now, not when having you feels this fucking divine. The borderline obsession he feels for you growing by the second, fuelled by how pliant you are for him.
All his thoughts are coming a million miles a second, all of them about you and how bad he’s wanted you, how ecstatic he is that he’s finally balls deep inside you. “You’re so perfect, feel so– hnng– feel so perfect–”
“Careful Toji– hah– I might think you like me,” you joke at him.
The smirk he’s wearing can be felt even though you can’t see him, his laugh short, “Oh I fucking looove you, pretty thing. You’re never getting rid of me.”
You don’t know if that confession is one you can take seriously or if he’s just severely pussy drunk but its effect on you doesn’t change, your cunt clamping down around him as your chest stutters. The tears you had been holding back finally slipping down your cheeks, so overwhelmed you’re seeing stars, hell, you might be hearing things.
His hand reaches to your face and squishes your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, pulling you back to him, your back arching lewdly for him. His tongue licking at the tears tracking down your face, “Crying over my dick, doll?” His words are laced with a sickening kind of affection for you, “So sweet for me.”
His other hand grabs at the bend of your knee, pulling it up. Despite your shaky hands still resting on the washer, all your weight is basically being supported by him. Your head falls back onto his chest  He uses the access to kiss you messily, tongue licking at yours, swallowing down the moans you let out.
Still, his hips drill into you, never letting up for even a second. Obscene squelching sounds of him fucking your gooey cunt filling the room, followed by the sharp slaps of skin hitting skin. Your stomach is pulling taut, getting so fucking close to finishing, vision blurred by all the tears in your waterline.
“Don’t fight it,” he murmurs into your skin, encouraging you, “Let it– fuck!– let it happen.”
“Feels– feels too– ah!– it feels different,” it feels too good, too much, “You need to­– need to stop, it doesn’t feel right.”
It sounds like he gets excited, not even a little concerned, “You’re doing so good, doll.”
“It’s not right–”
“–It’s fine,” he tries to offer comfort, “Trust me.”
Your legs shake violently, the build-up of your orgasm foreign and like it might have you passing out. As different as it feels, you trust him and let it happen, let yourself get fucked over the edge and into bliss. Your orgasm rips through you, moans tumbling freely and loudly, your body shaking from the force of it. Temporarily it feels like you lose sight, unseeing but feeling your cold tears against your hot cheeks.
Cunt clenching down, hard, on his dick, coating him completely in your cum. Body twitching with the shocks of your orgasm, head full and spinning. With the amount of blood rushing in your ears, you can’t hear what he’s saying. Only after a few moments have passed are you able to begin barley making out what he’s saying.
“Fffuck– that’s it, look at that,” Toji can’t hide the absolute pleasure in his voice even if he tried to, completely ecstatic at the sight before him.
You’re breathless and limp, letting him hold your lower half up, head lolling against his chest. Able to feel the vibrations of his moans against you, in a way it’s soothing to you.
“Doll, look down,” he prompts, hand guiding you down.
You whine in protest but look down anyways, an absolute mess everywhere. Lower halves drenched after your orgasm. “Oh my–” when he lets go of your cheeks, your head flops back onto his chest, head spinning.
“Hah– squirted everywhere,” he smiles into your skin, “All for me– hnn–”
He’s in love with the fact he’s managed to get you to cum like that without even really trying, his ego getting a boost he surely didn’t need. His own orgasm so close it bites at his skin, his hand gripping your thigh tight, pulling at your flesh. Free hand sliding under your shirt and grabbing at your breast, shamelessly groping you.
Shudders wracking his body as he cums suddenly, almost taken off guard by how quickly it happens. Cock twitching as he dumps his seed deep inside you, taking a moment to breathe before pulling back slowly, watching as his dick leaves you covered in both your orgasms.
Carefully, he places your leg back down on the ground, leaving you to stand on your own only for your legs to wobble and almost give out under you. If Toji hadn’t been right behind you, you would’ve fallen to the floor. He pulls your panties back into place before hoisting you up onto the washing machine, letting you sit while he puts his dick back into his pants.
You watch him move, all dazed and fucked out, pleasantly placated. His eyes meeting yours when he’s fully clothed, a big smile spreading across his face when he sees the mess he’s made of you.
Leaning in towards you, he asks, “Still got that big fat crush on me?”
“Uhm… I don’t know…” you pretend to think about it, like you don’t know if you like him or not.
He gives you a quick and soft kiss, “How about now?”
“I think… maybe,” you smile lazily at him.
His brow raises, “Maybe?”
“Yeah… definitely maybe still have a big fat crush on you,” you nod once, sure.
He’s grinning when he sighs, “You’re unbearable.”
“That’s my line,” you retort.
You’re both playing dumb but you both know you got it bad for each other and Toji is not going to let you get away with avoiding him again. Not after he’s gotten a taste of you.
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𝐀/𝐍: this took longer than what i said it would and i'm sorry for that but i also was only planning for this to be a drabble... i have issues ToT anyways !! i hope you enjoyed !! happy almost halloween !!
[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of unheavenlyvision
★ ⁝ my works are not to be used for AI under any circumstances
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6esiree · 5 months ago
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More Than Just A Sugar Baby
Summary: Imagine you’re Alastor’s, Lucifer’s, and Husk’s sugar baby and one of you starts to develop feelings?
Warnings: NSFW, AFAB reader, rubbing, fingering, oral, swearing, a little bit of angst if you squint? Husk is drunk, but that’s it. I wasn’t happy with Vox’s and Adam’s parts so I’ll upload those soon. MINORS, DO NOT READ!!!
Alastor:
Romance was not something Alastor dealt in, everybody knew that, so when a pretty little thing like you suddenly showed up at the Hazbin Hotel in search of him instead of redemption, they were…confused. Nobody dared to pry into the man’s private affairs, however, shut down by a mere stare over the shoulder as he escorted you upstairs. This continued religiously every Saturday night, your secret arrangement never escaping the confines of Alastor’s walls.
“Oh, ma chérie, why are you being so quiet?”
You sighed as Alastor placed a gentle kiss on your clit, his arms wrapping around your thighs to part your legs, which you were too shy to do yourself. “That’s better,” Alastor murmured, his tongue slithering past his teeth. “But not quite what I’m looking for.” You tossed your head back against the mattress with a cry as he licked at your clit, which is exactly what he wanted to hear.
Lick, kiss, lick, kiss—Alastor did this back and forth, relishing in every noise that escaped your throat, including the way your hips tried to wriggle away from his ministrations. You didn’t recognize the man between your legs, and truthfully, neither did Alastor, overcome by something he had worked so hard to suppress since he manifested in Hell: carnal desires.
“Is this what you wanted all along, hm?” Alastor asked you as he lapped at your cunt, making for a filthy sight.
The sexual aspect of your arrangement was new, at least when it came to you being on the receiving end, so you were afraid that if you gave Alastor a verbal response, you would tell him more than a simple ‘Yes,’ months of getting on your knees in exchange for salvation from the financial hole you had dug yourself into making you feel…certain things for him.
“Well, yes—“ You started.
“‘Well, yes?’ Do not lie to me,” Alastor interrupted you, the sound of radio static flooding your ears. “Just admit that you kept pleasuring me for something you no longer needed.”
“That’s not entirely true…” You tried again, but there was no point in lying when you had already fucked up from the beginning. “Okay, fine. I’m a liar. It’s just—I don’t want to be your sugar baby anymore, Alastor.”
“If that’s the case, then why did you continue to return to me?”
“Because I want something more.”
A foreign feeling stirred in Alastor’s chest at that, and while he didn’t know what it was, he did know that he preferred to hear what you said more to any other sound you’d made thus far. He latched onto your clit, suckling it and making you feel rewarded for your honesty. You were close, so, so close, but then Alastor brought his head up with a ‘Pop!’, any complaints you had dying on the tip of your tongue when he crawled up to you.
“Part those legs for me, won’t you, ma chérie?” Alastor told you, settling his fingers on his belt buckle as he peered down at you with a smile, his cock straining against his pants. “I will give you something more, alright.”
Lucifer:
Nobody was aware of your arrangement with Lucifer, not even his own daughter, and he intended to keep it that way. Even when he moved into the Hazbin Hotel shortly after it was rebuilt, the man told you through the phone an hour before you were supposed to meet, “Just tell me when you’re outside, alright?” allowing him to whisk you away in secrecy, a smile on his face as you lit up at the sight of his wings.
“Fuck, please keep doing that—yeah, just like that, honey.”
Lucifer carded his fingers through your hair, a groan escaping his throat as your tongue leisurely traveled up his cock. But when you peered up at him through your lashes and gave the head a wet, sloppy kiss, the man yanked your head down, tears forming in the corner of yours eyes as he forced you to swallow him whole, his cum shooting straight down your throat. Although you almost choked, knowing that it was the third time he had finished made your heart swell with pride.
“That was…quick,” You said, blinking away the tears as you pulled back, licking your lips when he shot you an unamused look.
Even though Lucifer didn’t mind a little teasing, he couldn’t help but wipe that smile off of your face, his tail wrapping around your waist. You yelped as he tossed you onto the space next to him, your heart pounding violently against your ribcage at the suddenness of the act. “Lucifer!” You scolded him, your face flushed in embarrassment as he hovered above you with a toothy grin.
“Aw, why’d you stop laughing?” Lucifer arched a brow at you.
You would have responded if he hadn’t trailed his hand down your shorts and past your underwear, locating your clit with ease. Lucifer chuckled as you parted your legs, your head sinking further into the pillow, but your displeasure never leaving your features. “You’re the worst,” You muttered, your eyes fluttering shut as the pads of his fingers moved up and down your folds, collecting your slick.
“Yet you keep coming back to me,” Lucifer said, leaning into your neck, staying there as he added the next part in a joking manner. “You must love me then, huh?”
You sighed, your back arching off of the mattress as he slowly sunk his fingers inside of you, stretching your walls with a delicious burn. His thumb massaged circles onto your clit, too, the combination feeling heavenly. However, you particularly enjoyed watching how Lucifer’s arm flexed as he worked away at your cunt, the way you clenched around his fingers a testament of that.
“And if I do?” You whispered, feeling his breath hitch.
Lucifer brought his head up to look at you, his hand coming to a standstill. You opened your mouth to ask him why he had stopped, but then he curled his fingers upwards, pressing against that velvety spot inside of you. “And if you do…” He said, seemingly considering your words as he fucked you with his hand, the room filled with the filthy sound of your squelching cunt. Your eyes fluttered shut with a cry—fuck, you were so close.
“Well, uh, if you do, you wouldn’t have to worry about money ever again,” Lucifer added tentatively, assuming that was what you cared about the most.
“Yeah, but…I’d also get to wake up next to you every morning,” You said, looking at him with half-lidded eyes.
Lucifer suddenly captured your lips with a kiss, swallowing your gasp of surprise. The two of you had agreed not to do that when discussing the terms of your agreement, finding the act too…intimate, reserved only for lovers. But there you were, letting each other know how you truly felt by defying one meager rule, all while his fingers continued to work away at your cunt, preparing you for the long night you were in for.
Husk:
Husk lost the ability to love a long time ago—that’s what he told you when he offered to help you with your financial situation, positive that the sexual aspect of your arrangement wouldn’t affect him. But as the months passed by, he started to feel a distant ache in his chest, guilt enveloping his heart when he realized it only worsened with every visit you paid him. So, what did Husk do? He drowned himself in liquor, trying not to let his feelings get in the way.
“Shit, babydoll…ya treatin’ me s’good.”
You kissed at Husk’s neck, your hand buried in his pants as you stroked his cock at a leisure pace. He was usually the one on top, but he came into your room utterly inebriated tonight, asking you to take care of him as he collapsed onto the mattress. You could tell that Husk wanted more, his hands bunching your skirt up over your waist, the pads of his fingers running down your cunt through your panties, but he was drunk.
“Always,” You said, feeling him throb in your hand.
“C’mere,” Husk said, patting his lap. You hesitated, but you eventually retracted your hand from his pants and complied. “Why ya bein’ so shy, mm?”
“Maybe because you’re drunk—“ You started.
But then he grabbed your hips and tried moving you against him, his brows knitting in confusion when you didn’t budge. You ached for Husk, truly, but how could you give him what he wanted without feeling guilty about it? That is what you wondered as he tried to shrug off his own pants, the man growing frustrated as he failed to realize his suspenders were still on.
“Just needa get these fuckin’ pants off.”
“How about I use my mouth—“
“Nah, lemme—“
“What’s wrong with you!?”
You hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but watching Husk drunkenly struggle underneath you made you feel sort of…upset. Not to mention that this wasn’t the first time he had come to your little meetings like this. As you stared down at him, you started to wonder if he was doing it on purpose, the hurt on your face sobering him up a bit.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Husk said, panicking as he pulled your skirt down where it belonged.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you,” You said, but he wasn’t having any of that.
Husk shook his head, holding onto your hips as he sat up. He was no longer hard at this point, so you straddled his lap, your eyes fluttering shut as he reached out to cradle your jaw. “Don’t apologize, babydoll,” He muttered, the stench of whiskey wafting into your nostrils, but you were too busy focusing on the feeling of his thumb swiping across your cheek to care.
“Is everything alright?” You asked. “I’m only asking because I’ve noticed that you’ve been coming to me all drunk and shit.”
“Yeah,” Husk said, but when he noticed how unconvinced you looked, he sighed. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me, I’ve just had a lotta shit on my mind, s’all there is to it.”
“Y’know, Husk? If you don’t feel comfortable with…this anymore,” You said, gesturing to the two of you, “You can just tell me.“
“No!”
Now it was your turn to be surprised, blinking as Husk massaged his temples. You had no idea that he was trying to figure out how to tell you that he’d been getting drunk so he’d feel less guilty as he fucked you, refusing to end your arrangement not only because you needed the money, but because he was selfish, too. “Husk?” You said, your hand settling on his chest, his heart racing against your palm.
“I’m just gonna give it to ya plain and simple,” Husk sighed, placing his hand over yours. “Look, I like ya, and I didn’t wanna say anythin’ about it.”
“But why’d you get drunk?”
“I got drunk ‘cause I’m fuckin’ selfish, alright?” Husk said, raising his voice at you by accident. “Sorry, babydoll, I just feel like a jackass right now.”
You leaned in and placed a kiss on Husk’s nose, trying to show him that you weren’t upset. In fact, you appreciated his honesty, relieved to know that he didn’t find you…disgusting or anything. “Let’s talk about this when you’re sober, okay?” You said, pushing him down onto the mattress. “For now, let me take care of you.” Husk’s face flushed at that, but the way his cock twitched eagerly against your clothed cunt felt more rewarding.
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tangyangie · 1 year ago
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— 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐈 𝐊 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒!!
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we all know that saiki isn't too excited when it comes to romance.
so... how did he land you? he doesn't know either. all he does know is that you're the only person he'd actually accept romantic gestures from.
hugs, kisses, cuddling—don't expect him to jump into it suddenly at the beginning of the relationship. he'll definitely need some time do do these things, if he'd do them at all.
but, once he does sort of settle down, he basically lets you do whatever you want. so what if you're harassing him? he prefers it be you over anyone else.
and maaaybe he's okay with cuddles. a little bit. he gravitates towards you in his sleep.
cafe dates!! or, anything with sweets, at all. take him to hershey park, for all he cares—as long as he gets to buy all some candy.
he watches your TV shows with you. he does his best not to get spoiled, and if he does, then he keeps it from you and acts like he wasn't.
he takes interest in the things you like. the music genres you prefer, your favorite hobbies, and so on. unless it involves bugs, he'll probably give what you like a chance.
he tells you about his powers eventually. he doesn't really know how he expects you to act, but he definitely doesn't expect you to just shrug it off. which is exactly what you did.
"you're a what, now?"
"a psychic."
"oh. you're serious?"
"...yes."
"oh.. cool."
please buy him coffee jelly. one second of seeing him in pure bliss is filled with enough joy to last you ten lifetimes.
one time, you tried feeding him coffee jelly while making an airplane "brrrr" sound. you did the whole, "here comes the airplane!!" as you'd spin around and twist the spoon until it came to a rest in saiki's mouth.
"and... that was supposed to taste better, how?"
"it just does. i don't make the rules."
you will playfully flirt with him all the time. doesn't mean he'd respond, but he tolerates it.
from time to time, he may humor you with a quick remark to counter your statements. but, it's always out of the blue, and always will leave your face feeling like an oven with your jaw dropped.
if you think he's one to do it in public, though, then you're crazy. pda is a big no-no.
you got him a pair of sunglasses once, and he stared dead in your eyes (with his glasses on). he asked you why you thought he needed it, and you responded that they were for when his green glasses got tired.
he blinked slowly, shook his head, and ruffled your hair. (it was an excuse to wear his glasses for a bit. don't think he wouldn't read your mind. not like he can help it, anyways.)
if you're cold in public, he stands near you and uses his pyrokinesis to warm you up, and may hold your hand. in secret only. if you tell anyone, his hand in yours is as good as gone.
he doesn't really get jealous. he's fine with being alone, but if you ask him to come along, he most likely won't say no. but if teruhashi is coming along, forget about it.
you play with his hands. like... i can just imagine gently grabbing his fingers and bending them like a seesaw or a bicycle.
he makes you come with him to take care of yuuta, hoping you don't have a resemblance to anyone else in cyborg cyder man no.2, or else yuuta will be all over you.
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notes: okay guys 5 finals to go 🫡
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bluejutdae · 8 months ago
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• best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Jisung x you
Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin
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genre: friends to lovers, romance
warnings: none
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The guy is boring, misogynistic and keeps talking about his job like it’s the best thing in the world. He’s a banker, for fuck’s sake. How exciting can it be?
What did Hannie mean with “play along”? You smile thinking about your best friend. You have been friends for years now, and you’re convinced he’s your soulmate. Maybe he feels the same, but he’s unyielding in his idea of needing to be alone, to only focus on his career and not let romance distract him. You love him, but who are you to try to convince him he’s wrong? So you keep your feelings in line and don’t let them overflow.
“Oh, my love, please forgive me! I know I made a mistake but take me back!” A loud voice interrupts the umpteenth story about bankers. Jisung is in the restaurant now, hands clasping over his heart and his big boba eyes on you. “I can’t lose you, you’re the best thing in my life.”
Oh, so this is what he meant by “play along”?
“Sung”, you start. In a very dramatic manner, he interrupts you, a finger on your lips and unshed tears in his eyes.
“No, don’t talk. Hear me for a moment, I have to ask you this, even if it’s the last thing I get to say to you”.
You repress the instinct to roll your eyes. To your right you can hear a confused “what the fuck is happening?”. Jisung’s voice is loud again, tho, and he’s suddenly on his knee, looking up at you with a teary smile. “My love, would you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” He has a ring in his hand. Where the fuck did he find a ring? Does he go around with an engagement ring in his pockets? Well, this is your best friend. And he’s fucking crazy.
You almost throw the napkin on the plate and get on your knees in front of Jisung. “Yes, yes, of course!” The smile on your lips is one of amusement, but for everyone is the smile of a newly engaged girl.
A round of applause fills the room and soon there’s a chanting of ‘kiss, kiss, kiss’.
The thing is: Han didn’t think this through. Did he stop at a street vendor's stall to buy the prettiest (fake) ring for this? Yes. Did he plan this whole farce in his head to have fun? Also yes. Did he put his fingers in his eyes so he would tear up? Sadly, yes. Did he stop for a second thinking about the fact that newly engaged couples kiss? No.
Jisung looks at you with comically large eyes and his mouth slightly agape and you take pity on him. Suppressing your laughter, you cradle his face into your hand and kiss him. It’s just a simple peck: your lips on his soft, pretty lips; your hand covers the most of the kiss from the guy you had a date with, but it’s the least of your worries now.
It’s just a simple kiss, chaste and functional to the farce, but it’s something you’ve dreamt for a while. The minutes following are a blur in your mind: you left your share of money on the table, apologized quickly to your date and grabbed your coat, leaving the restaurant hand in hand with Jisung.
You’re running on the empty sidewalk, still holding hands, laughing loudly when it starts to snow. It’s so intense and so beautiful, you both go quiet and stop. You love the snow falling: it’s so peaceful and beautiful, the snowflakes dancing in the hair, light and frozen. Seen from the outside, you’re just another couple holding hands in the streets, looking at the snow falling. For a moment alone, you let yourself daydream.
You let yourself imagine it’s real, that you’re a couple holding hands and walking home where you’ll get cozy on the couch, under a blanket, to watch the snow from the window. You’ll kiss again, you’ll make love, you’ll live your lives together and you’ll love each other forever. God, you’re so dumb. Why are you hurting yourself like this, now? It was just a fake kiss.
“So… we kissed.” Han says in a low voice. You can sense he’s looking at you, but you’re not ready yet to look at him and break the calm bubble you created around yourself.
“It wasn’t a real kiss.” It can’t be. Otherwise you kissed your best friend, who you’re in love with, and if it’s true then you can already see the floodgates crack under the pressure.
“It was for me.” The air is cold and it’s freezing your nose, but the shock of his words makes you forget all that.
“Uh- what?”
“The kiss. It was real for me. I know it wasn’t a big kiss but it was real. And I’ve thought about kissing you millions of times but this time it wasn’t a dream and it was real and I don’t think I can go back to when we hadn’t kiss and I don’t wanna ruin our friendship but now I know how your lips feel on mine and-“ he stops and takes a deep breath, looking down at his shoes.
“I’m sorry. I- I don’t really know what to say.”
“Do you really think it wasn't a real kiss? Does it… does it really mean nothing to you?” He asks, and you’re not sure why but you can feel your heart aching. Why does it feel like you’re rejecting him? He’s the one who doesn’t want a relationship, he’s the one who banned love from his life. And you tell him so.
“You said there was no place for anything that wasn’t work in your life.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
He turns completely towards you and you can barely see the redness on his round cheeks, but it’s there. “Before you kissed me and suddenly I realized how stupid I’ve been all this time. I know you’re the perfect girl for me, but I was too convinced I couldn’t handle a relationship. But why do I have to deprive myself of something I know would be good?”
“Don’t do that, Hannie. Don’t say this if you’re gonna change your mind later. You’ve repeated the same thing for years, and now suddenly you want more?” You can endure the idea of just being friends even if you’re in love with him, but you won’t let yourself get too hurt. And you’ll get hurt if he wants something now that he’ll change his mind about later.
“I’ve always wanted more. But I didn’t realize exactly how much I was giving up!”
“Tomorrow, you’ll change your mind.”
“I won’t.” Jisung lounges and grabs your hand. When did you let go of each other’s hand?
“You say that now, but tomorrow or in a week, you’ll be tired and stressed over work and you’ll decide you don’t want another commitment…” You feel like an asshole, but you’re just trying to protect yourself from an even worse heartbreak. His face shifts, and you remember that it’s your best friend the one you’re talking to, that no matter what he’ll always love and protect you from harm.
“Do you trust me?” You nod, fingers squeezing his.
“Then trust me I won’t change my mind. I won’t hurt you, I promise.” You bite the inside of your cheek, considering his words.
“I want more. I want to be able to kiss you everyday, I want to be able to call you my girlfriend. I want to be by your side on the days I’m stressed and on those I’m happy. I want to be by your side anytime you’ll let me.”
“Promise me you won’t regret it.” How can you say no to him? You’re scared he’ll break your heart, but it’s true he never broke a promise.
“I won’t regret it.” Again, it’s you who kisses him. This kiss is nothing like the previous: it’s hot and his lips are immediately moving under yours. You can feel his breath on your lips and it’s a heady feeling and you want more and more and more.
You want to know what he tastes like and how his tongue feels on yours, so you’re quick to prod at his lips, demanding entrance and licking into his mouth. The sounds Jisung makes are the best sounds you’ve ever heard, and all your worries dissipate.
Kissing your best friend under the snow wasn’t how you expected the night to go, but you’re not gonna complain…
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okwonyo · 1 month ago
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TALK TO ME, 或 𓈒𓈒 pick up lines on you.
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⟡​⎯⎯⎯ 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾-𝗎𝗉 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾𓈒𓈒
𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 1OOO fluff ── non idol au skinship ⠀ 。。 ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )
지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀hi ! enjoy this, my loves >3<
rblgs♥︎fdbcks & C𝑙𝑖CK
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HEESEUNG
after pondering about it for a while— would be patient, waiting for the right time to say his flirting line to you.
would watch you from afar as you walk, following your trajectory— like some kind of stalker — looking for the moment there would be no one around you. 
then, when it comes, his shoulder would ‘accidentally’ bump into yours and make you, sort of dramatically, stumble on the side. the only reason you would not fall face flat on the ground would be his hand around your arm. 
“i’m so sorry,” he would tell you, with his hand on his heart and all.
you would smile at him and he would blush, “i’m fine,” you would assure him, like you knew exactly what he wanted. 
“oh, yes, you are” he would smirk. 
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JAY
this guy would spend days looking for a good pick up line to use on you because he would read somewhere that it could work well. 
would be so content of himself when he finds one. would lean on his chair with his arms crossed and satisfied sigh leaving his broad chest— would also nod in almost comedic way.
a day, would come sit next to you then stay silent for a while. 
his phone’s screen would appear in front of your face suddenly, a warm smile would be drawn on his face, “all the good pick up lines were taken but you aren’t” he would softly say. “mind if i get your number?”
and, no, you would not mind at all.
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JAKE
as the hopeless romantic and pathetically dramatic guy that he is, the chance that he would not choose the most dramatic one he knows or can find would be truly little— nonexistent even. 
would fall right at your feet, literally, because he has no shame at all when it comes to that burning attraction he has for you, and would stay on the floor for a long time. 
you would have to lower yourself to check if he is even breathing, you would poke his cheek, “are you okay?” 
the sight of his breathtaking smile would make your stomach tighten as he would look up to you. he would run his hand in his hair like those guys in romance japanese comics. 
“i’m okay,” he would affirm. “just fell in love with you,” then he would wink.
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SUNGHOON
would wait until he secured an actual real and true date with you before trying any pick up lines. 
on a sunny day, would come pick you up for your date without really telling you where you are going, so you will find yourself following him around without knowing much at all. 
“sunghoon,” you would call him gently and he would turn to look at you with a fond look, “where are we going?”
would actually want to respond to you at the moment, but he would be hit with the realization that he can do the smoothest thing ever known to mankind in that exact moment. 
“i’d like to take you to the movies but they don’t let you bring your own snacks in,” this insane man would tell you, “so, what about the aquarium?” 
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SUNOO
would be so sweet about it. with fondness in his eyes, would look at you from the corner of his eyes not so discreetly— gathering the courage to speak up. 
would watch you scroll through your phone as you stand beside him, so pretty and so warm, would be unable to take his eyes off of you.
when, maybe by telepathically calling from him, you get off your phone and look at him, his face would welcome your eyes with a soft smile that you would return. shyly, would speak up, “di-did you fall into a pile of sugar?” he would ask. 
his shyness and nervousness would mirror the pink in his chubby cheeks when you would give him a confusing look, “because you look super sweet,” and would proceed to get full red in the face immediately. 
you would need to tell him that it’s really cute as he hides his face with his hands. 
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JUNGWON
would stare at you shamelessly for at least ten hot minutes, knowing well that it makes you flustered. his flirting would be so raw and obvious, and he would not even care about it. 
now, the pick up line use would be just for the sake of teasing you more, to get a cute reaction out of you. would bite into bait-like questions when you would ask him what is wrong with him. 
he would shrug, “i was just wondering if you were tired,” and there would be his butterflies sending smirk. “you know, ‘cause you have been running through my mind all day,” 
stopping at one would be too great to be true, would add some more when you blush, “i mean, angels are supposed to be in heaven. how’d you escape?” and would laugh when you would  kick his caf. 
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RIKI
although he is the king of flirting, all of his abilities would vanish in front of you. 
would have asked his friends how to properly flirt with the girl he likes and wants to ask out, which would be not helpful in the slightest. so, he would have to ask the internet. 
unfortunately for him, his heart would start beating in his ears at the thought of using a pick up line on you alone, but dear god, he would want you so bad that he would be ready to do anything. 
even using stupid pick up lines for something as simple as your socials. 
would approach you while you are alone, so the situation would be less embarrassing, coughing to get both your attention and his voice out, “c-can i get your instagram?”  
when you would look at him, would be with his fist in front of his mouth, blushing and looking away like in teen romance while he shows you his phone.  “my parents always told me to follow my dreams.”
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ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.
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koiiiji · 2 months ago
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unexpected comfort
author’s note ; continuing to secret friends series. and i did this rarity & patrick bateman edit myself so u know the rules.
summary ; suddenly Gitae can be soft. just a little.
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Gitae Kim had arrived in korea with a purpose. as the head of a notorious mafia organization, he was no stranger to the underworld, and now he was here to assist Goo Kim with some of his more clandestine operations. cold and calculating, Gitae had little patience for distractions, especially when it came to romance or anything resembling affection.
Goo and his secret friends gang left for another business, Gitae settled into the office, intending to catch up on some paperwork. as he sorted through papers on the table, a faint thud echoed from the other room. instinctively, he moved toward the sound, only to find you sprawled on the floor, unconscious.
“hey, brat,” he muttered, nudging you with his foot. you didn’t stir.
rolling his eyes, Gitae decided to take matters into his own hands. he bent down, scooping you up with surprising gentleness, and placed you on the couch. however, as he did, you instinctively leaned into his hand, your head falling against his shoulder. he froze, a mixture of irritation and something softer swirling within him.
“seriously?” he grumbled, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through him. he felt an unusual pang of reluctance to disturb you, akin to the feeling one gets when a cat curls up in their lap. he tried to ignore the warmth spreading through him as you snuggled closer.
— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —
the door swung open, and Goo, Seongeun, Taejin, and Taesung walked in, their raucous laughter abruptly halting as they took in the sight before them: the golden light filled the room and Gitae sitting on the black, leather couch, looking through some papers in his hands, while you nestled against him, drooling on his shoulder.
Goo’s eyes lit up with mischief. “oh man, this is priceless,” he whispered, pulling out his phone. without distracting from the papers, Gitae’s expression hardened instantly. “don’t even think about it or i’ll cut off your fingers and make you regret your life decisions,” he warned, his voice low and dangerously calm. gang burst into laughter, clearly enjoying the scene. Taejin leaned against the wall, shaking his head, while Seongeun couldn’t stop grinning. Taesung simply looked amused, habitually putting his hand in his pants
Goo blinked, taken aback. “whoa, chill, chill! i was just — ”
“can you just not!” Gitae snapped, his eyes narrowing. stepping closer, peering at you with concern Goo asked “did she faint?”
“seems like it,” Gitae replied, glancing down at you. “she’s just a brat, though. didn’t even bother to warn anybody.”
the tension in the air was thick, but Goo couldn’t help the smile creeping onto his face. “poor thing, don’t you think so, huh?”
Gitae’s expression shifted slightly as he glanced down at you, still drooling on his shoulder. but now it was the lesser of two evils. he just found a gold. “actually,” he said, his tone shifting to something more serious, “i plan on taking her back to mexico with me.”
Goo’s eyes widened in shock. “what? no! you can’t just steal my secret friends!” Gitae grinned looking down at papers before him. finding information about his business in mexico, finding out who is who and what each person is doing, a lot of personal information, and all this you dug up in a couple of hours with computer fraud? impressive. and he also caught you fainting in time, it seems like you were preparing a report for that cunning fox Goo.
“brat is too good at digging up information, and i need smart people in my organization,” Gitae replied, crossing his arms with an air of finality. Goo wanted to object again, but then, with a soft moan and a snuffling sound, you opened your eyes slightly, slowly coming to your senses. and while you were still processing what was happening, you glanced between Goo’s frantic expression and Gitae’s cold demeanor, you didn’t understand a thing.
as you fully awoke, confusion clouded your mind. “what’s going on?” you asked, looking up at Goo.
he sighed dramatically, “someone here wants to steal my secret friends, to spy on his own businesses!! can you imagine?!!”
you froze, as you understand that it was only you in this room, smart enough to fit that description. your eyes darting back to Gitae, and your heart sank. the reality of having fallen asleep on him, drooling, hit you hard. fear washed over you as you realized how vulnerable you had been. Gitae’s gaze was as icy as ever, his earlier devilish smile now replaced with that signature cold stare. he seemed to take pleasure in your discomfort, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.
as you finally stirred fully awake, blinking in confusion, you suddenly realized your head was still resting on Gitae’s shoulder. eventually, your eyes fluttered open wider, and you blinked in confusion, taking a moment to double check your surroundings. when you realized where you were — and who you were with — you quickly sat up, wiping drool off your chin, a deep blush creeping onto your cheeks. panic set in, and you quickly sat up, brushing your hair from your face. “oh no! i’m so sorry!” embarrassment flooding your voice.
Gitae shrugged, trying to sound annoyed. “it’s fine, brat. just… don’t make it a habit.”
“and next time, try to sleep at a reasonable hour,” he said coldly, his voice echoing in the room. “you’re not invincible.”
he shot you a glare, but there was no real malice behind it. “brat,” he muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he turned back to his paperwork.
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familyvideostevie · 7 months ago
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time you will not spend alone
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joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni romance at the end of the world is this: flowers, lazy nights in bed after long days, and savoring every moment | or, joel makes you something. jackson!joel au, fem!reader, fluff, maybe a bit cheesy but idgaf, ellie cameo cause i can't do a damn thing without her, tommy gets some page time here too, smut (riding, unprotected p in v sex, some finger sucking lol), tenderness, gift giving | 5.7k a/n: i think this is the last part of the just and just as series for the foreseeable future. thank you for reading about this little au and these two lovebirds! i adore them. thank you @frannyzooey and @macfrog for your eyes and support on this. and thank you everyone else for being patient. <3
Spring sweeps into the valley seemingly overnight. The peaks remain snow-capped but the bare branches of trees between the evergreens begin to bud. Chilly mornings lose their bite and frost turns to dew and every day there is more light.
You've always thought Jackson looks its best in winter, but it's a damn sight to see as life and color return. And the latter is your favorite part -- the rolling hills outside the walls and the forest patrol paths are dotted and then overflowing with flowers.
It makes you feel more alive. Patrol isn't a freezing ordeal anymore -- it's an opportunity to see the remaining beauty in the world.
Today's shift is short and easy but you find yourself lingering, running your hands through pine needles and turning your face to the sun. Your horse is happy to munch on a patch of grass in a clearing just off the main trail, but your patrol partner is less than impressed.
"Are you serious?" Ellie moans. "You're stopping again? What the fuuuuuuuuck."
She sags in the saddle. The pout on her lips makes her look like a kid sent to bed without supper rather than an almost-twenty-year-old forced to spend some extra minutes in the fresh air. Shimmer has no problem chewing on some weeds despite her rider's moaning.
"Let me enjoy the sun," you say. "When you get older you'll appreciate the little things, too."
You hop off your horse and Ellie sighs loudly.
"Jesus, you're not that old," she mutters. "Seriously, what are you doing?"
You sweep your arms around you, gesturing at the meadow. "These flowers are nice," you tell her, pointedly. She adjusts the rifle slung over her shoulder. "I think I'm going to pick some and bring them home."
She snorts. "Oh, is Joel suddenly into flowers?"
You ignore her bait and crouch, gaze sweeping over the array of colors in front of you. You tried to learn the names of flowers years ago when you found a book on them in an old bookstore but they never stuck. Purples, pinks, and yellows, large petals and small ones, delicate yet hardy to survive the world past its end.
Joel isn't a fussy man. Young fathers don't get to be, and anyone alive these days sheds that impulse just as quickly. He's happy to wake up every day with you by his side, his kid in the garage out back and walls around everything he loves, keeping it all safe.
It makes it both easy and hard to please him -- you want to give him everything but he seems to want nothing. A perfect paradox, a puzzle to solve. 
God, you love him. You love spring, you love Joel. Everything feels good.
So, you start to gather stems, snapping them at their bases, humming as you work.
"How do you choose which ones to pick?"
"Fuck," you gasp, careening forward onto one palm and looking over your shoulder. Ellie is off her horse and much closer than before, standing directly behind you. "Jesus, you're stealthy."
She shrugs, her smirk a pleased slash across her face. "You're oblivious as fuck."
You roll your eyes at her.
"Seriously," Ellie says, crossing her arms. She jerks her chin at the small bouquet you've got in one hand. "How do you make it look so nice?"
"Oh, so we've moved on from the making-fun-of-me part of this?"
She crouches next to you, elbows on her knees.
"I, uh -- " Her cheeks go pink, freckles standing out against her blush. "Dina likes flowers."
You bump her shoulder with yours. "I'm going to be so nice and not tease you."
"Fuck off," she scoffs, tucking her smile into her shoulder.
It's quick work. Ellie follows your lead, balances out the blooms she picks with some leafy weeds. She ties them together with one of the minimum four spare hairbands she has on her person at all times -- bits of cloth, occasionally a rare unused elastic from before if she's found some on patrol.
"Isn't it kinda shitty?" she muses, nimble fingers turning her bouquet this way and that to admire it. "We're killing them. The flowers, I mean."
"Little late to have a conscience about killing," you say lightly. The two rabbits she pulled from Jackson snares hang from her saddle. You've seen her in action, too -- gun raised, hands steady, blood splattered across her cheek. It's not an accusation, far from it. Violence is a language you both speak, one she's known for most of her still-short life.
She rolls her eyes, every bit a teenager. "Whatever."
You sigh. "You're right, though," you say. "There were whole shops dedicated to this before. Selling flowers, making bouquets and centerpieces and all that shit."
She probably knows this, but she lets you describe it. Ellie soaks up bits of the old world like it will materialize before her if she listens hard enough. Joel says it was much worse when she was younger, right after they settled into Jackson. She wanted details about everything and watched every movie she could get her hands on. You think she was satisfying her curiosity, sure, but also that she was trying to understand him better -- but didn't know how to say so.
"Weird," she mutters. "And you just...bought them for other people?"
"Or yourself." You pat her shoulder and stand. Your horse tries to nibble on your flowers before you haul yourself back in the saddle. "It was just a nice thing to do, I guess."
"Killing something to make someone else happy," Ellie says with a dry laugh. She tucks her bouquet in the crook of her arm once she's back in the saddle. "I guess everyone does that these days."
It's absurd when she puts it that way, but it's true. You've all got blood on your hands. You would kill for this girl, for Joel, for pretty much anyone in Jackson. And you have.
The flowers are for Joel, they're for your house, they're for you. Something beautiful to bring home alongside your dirt stains and scarred hands, your haunted eyes and nightmares. No one is spared those.
It's only mid-morning by the time you get back to the wall. You and Ellie left at dawn, short sticks drawn for the early shift. She leaves you in the stables with a mock salute and a shout of thanks, practically jogging to Dina's to give her the flowers.
You're untacking your horse when you hear familiar laughter, a deep chuckle and Ellie's faint indignant protest.
"Mornin'," Joel says from behind you. "Was hopin' to catch you at the gate."
"Can you hold these?"
You blindly extend the hand with the flowers. His fingers carefully extract the bouquet and you return to brushing out your horse.
"Does this have somethin' to do with Ellie runnin' out of her with flowers of her own?"
"Never let anyone say you're unobservant, Joel Miller."
He snickers. You leave your horse with a final pat on the neck and thanks for a job well done.
When you face Joel, he looks tired -- he's been pulling extra long days replacing windows and roof tiles after the winter's damage. God knows that man never seems fully rested, but it's a little worse when the seasons change.
He's told you time and time again that standing two stories off the ground is a hell of a lot safer than fighting some Infected on patrol, but you still worry. Just like you know he worries about you beyond the walls, how he's a little tenser whenever you're not in sight, whenever he hasn't seen Ellie for a few days ‘cause they're both busy. It's just how he loves. It's how you both love.
You make no move to take the flowers from him, instead brushing some sawdust from his shoulder.
"Did you have a job already?" you ask.
"Small one. Fixin' a crooked over mailbox." He looks pointedly at his full fist. "You gonna explain now?"
"They're for you."
Joel blinks once, twice, brows furrowing like you're speaking a different language. Maybe a few years ago you'd start to feel self-conscious, unsure of your romantic gesture and insecure in his reaction. But now, as fully in love and connected to this man as you are, you lean in.
"If you're too manly to carry flowers through town --"
You make to take them from him but he snaps out of his daze and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest in a smooth motion.
He also holds the bouquet in the air and out of reach.
"Hey, now," he says. "Hands off. These ain't your flowers."
"I picked 'em," you remind him, poking him in the ribs for good measure. 
He flinches just a little but doesn't move. His embrace is warm and familiar and you sink into it. "Gettin' romantic," he mutters and brings the flowers back down to eye level to examine them.
"I'm just trying to catch up to you," you say into his jacket. He huffs and his palm rubs a slow line up and down your arm.
You wiggle out of his embrace to shoulder your pack.
"I am pretty romantic," he muses.
It's true. Even if he's joking and even if no one but you gets to see it, Joel has always made sure you feel loved. Courtship and romance look different these days, but it still comes naturally to him -- loving. Dinner dates, jewelry, and trips to the airport have become a battered paperback, a sharpened knife, and bloody knuckles, but it rings just as true. He loves you and he loves his family the best way he knows how – by keeping you all safe.
And you do your best to convey the same thing. You tell him, of course, but you also mend his shirts and chop wood when his back is acting up, and you look after his kid like she's your own.
Joel deserves to know that he can receive all that he gives, too – the protection, the tenderness, the beauty. Moments of softness and rest where he knows he’s taken care of, thought of, that he matters beyond the things he can do for everyone else.
So, you also do things like bring him flowers.
Sometimes you feel like it will never be enough. You will never have enough time to show him how much he means to you, how he's saved you, how important and cherished and loved he is. How good he is.
Joel reaches for your face with his free hand. He traces the line of your cheekbone with his thumb and smirks when you inhale sharply. Another patrol returns and the stables are suddenly louder and more crowded than before. If you're both free for the rest of the day, you want to drag him up to your bedroom and spend the hours there. You want to show him, for the millionth time, how much you love him.
"Okay, Mr. Pretty Romantic," you say, grabbing his hand and tangling your fingers together. "Let's go home."
___
Joel is hiding something from you.
The flowers last for a week and you watch him eye them and smile every time he enters the kitchen.
But after they droop and go in the compost pile, something shifts. Something subtle, sure, but you spend most of your waking hours looking for or at Joel, so you notice.
He starts keeping his workshop door closed. Normally you'll sit and watch him work, or he'll teach you a few chords here and there on the guitars he's making, but your lessons move to the porch and the upstairs hallway loses the scent of wood glue and stain.
In fact, he actively steers you away from the room altogether. He's all just needs a deep clean and it's messy, is all. It's not rocket science -- he's making something for you, clearly. But giving him a hard time is too fun to pass up.
One night, you and Ellie wait at the bottom of the stairs. There's a dinner and movie night in the old church and you're taking the opportunity to make it a family outing.
"You coming?" you holler up the stairs. You hear the door creak open.
"Gimme a second," he calls back down.
"Jesus," you mutter. You tap the side of Ellie’s sneaker with your boot. "You know anything about that?"
Honesty is important between all of you, but you know Joel and Ellie need to have their secrets. There is too much tangled history between them for you to understand it all. It's important to you that they have a relationship all their own, even if it means they scheme.
Ellie is examining her switchblade with intense focus. "I might," she says with a smirk. "He's a lovesick loser, I'll tell you that."
You lean on the banister and raise your eyebrows. "Do you remember when you asked me how to embroider so you could put Dina's name on her jacket?"
The knife swings closed with a snick and she rolls her eyes at you, cheeks pink.
"Shit, dude," she says. "Why do I tell you anything?"
"She liked the flowers, though, didn't she?"
Ellie crosses her arms and smiles at whatever memory she's seeing in her mind. "Yeah," she says. "She did. Jesse gave me so much shit, though --"
The door upstairs closes and Joel's heavy footfalls cut her off.
"Finally," you grumble. He trods down the stairs, arms half in his jacket when he catches sight of the two of you. "Are you hiding state secrets in there?"
"What the fuck does that mean?" Ellie asks.
"Might be," is all he says. He's got that twinkle in his eye that means mischief but he looks proud of himself. You can let him have this, whatever this is. You trust him and you'll find out eventually.
"Alright," you say, pushing off the banister and heading for the door. "You're going to breathe toxic fumes with the door closed."
"No, seriously," Ellie says. "What kind of secrets would a state be keeping?"
"Ain't nothin' toxic in there," he says lightly. He bumps Ellie's shoulder with his. "C'mon."
She throws her hands up in the air. "You know, it's shitty when you ignore me."
"Did you hear somethin'?" Joel says to you.
You shake your head, swallowing your laughter. "No," you say. "Nothing."
"Assholes." She pushes past you and down the steps onto the street. "I'm going to make sure there are no mashed potatoes left when you get there."
__
You don't mind letting Joel do whatever he's up to in all of his spare moments. It does mean you have more time to yourself, so you pick up some extra wall shifts.
And when one of those shifts is with Tommy? Well, you can't help but needle him a little bit about it all.
"Do you know what your brother is up to?" you ask him.
The wind today carries some lingering winter bite, so you've got the collar of your coat pulled up around your ears. Tommy’s hair whips around his face when he raises his eyebrows at you.
"Gonna have to be more specific," he says. "My brother is always up to some shit."
"I think he'd say the same thing about you."
Tommy laughs. He's got the reputation for being the more easy-going of the Millers, but you know he's more a match for Joel than most think. Out in the world, they work as one, silent and deadly, always in step when it counts. They still speak a language all their own with just a look and you see so much of them in each other when you pay attention.
"Well, I learned it all from him," he says. He adjusts his grip on the rifle and sighs. "I happen to know what you're talkin' 'bout, though."
"Is he just telling everyone but me?"
"Nah," Tommy scoffs. "Asked me and Ellie for help, s'all. And you know he tells that girl everythin'."
You both smile for a moment at your fondness for them.
Tommy clears his throat. "Does it bother you? Him keepin' a secret?"
You know Tommy won't let your answer get back to Joel. He's asking as your friend, as your kind-of brother. He's asking because he cares.
A patrol crests the hill, green flag waving in the air. They whistle and shout for the gate to be opened. 
You step closer to Tommy so he can hear you. "No," you say. "I just like to gossip."
"Don't I know it," he chuckles. "You two are the eyes and ears of this damn town. Knowin' everything."
"Except what happens in my own home," you tease. 
He shrugs. "You'll like it, if that helps," he adds.
"I know I will."
You look out at the world beyond the wall and smile to yourself. 
Joel has made you a few things over the years. He works wonders with his hands all the time: Beautiful, intricate carvings for the house, for Ellie, for new babies in town. The wall of guitars, not to mention the ones he's made for kids to learn on in school. You're better at sewing than he is, but he's pretty damn good – fixing up pillowcases and blankets and clothes of all kinds. Joel is a craftsman.
Hands that hold you can also pull a trigger, punch until there's nothing left, and craft a work of art.
And he knows you. He pays attention -- there is a reason behind everything he does. If he's making you something, you know you'll love it.
"Strange, ain’t it?" Tommy says. You turn to him, a question on your face. "World ended and here we all are, happy. Makin' shit for each other. Gosspin'."
You sigh. “Took a lot to get here.”
“Damn right,” he says with a long whistle. “Lotta shit behind us.”
“Do you ever regret it?” you ask. 
Tommy considers your words. You two talk plenty, but you’ve never really spoken about the past. Joel tells you whatever you want to hear about the years before you knew him, so you’ve got a pretty good picture of their lives after the outbreak.
"Can I tell you somethin’?” Tommy asks. You nod. "Alright. I – I never thought I'd see my brother this happy again. And I wish every damn day that Sarah was here to see it. To know him this way, to meet Maria. To know you and Ellie."
Joel has said the same thing before and it’s an honor greater than you can ever explain.
"When I saw him and that girl a few years ago, I thought --" Tommy clears his throat. "I thought maybe he’d made it through all the shit we did. And I was right. She brought him through it. And now he’s here, doin’ stable life shit we dreamed about before."
"Ellie is a force," you say, a little surprised to find your voice watery. The love between Ellie and Joel is fierce and powerful, evident to anyone who witnesses it. They would do anything for each other, even though they're mending.
"She is," he says. "And so are you.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Shit, I don’t know where I’m goin’ with this. Point is – seein' him love you, too, shows me he’s through it. He's alive again, you know? And I’d do all the shit we did over again just to get us all here. So, no. I don’t regret it."
It’s nothing you haven’t thought before, but the words work their way into your heart and sit there, heavy and warm.
“Damn,” you say. You swallow and give him a wide smile. "If you keep going, Tommy Miller, I will start crying and that would embarrass us both."
He laughs and blinks a few times. You join in, wiping your eyes.
"Alright, I won't," he says. "Jesus, all you did was ask what he's doin' in that workshop."
You clap him on the shoulder. "I won't tell anyone you started blubbering on duty."
He snorts. "Ain't that generous of you.”
__
Days pass. A week. You almost forget about Joel's project because he spends less and less time in the workshop and more on tasks around town as the days get longer. You're both busy -- chopping wood, planting bulbs for the fall, helping de-shed the horses. There's always work to be done.
After a particularly long day on your feet, you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel to find he's gotten home while you were in the shower.
"Hey, stranger," you say. You're mostly dry but some water drips down your back and you shiver. Joel is leaning against the headboard on top of the sheets without his shirt, reading whatever book he's onto now.
"Didn't hear me come in?" he asks. He sets his volume aside and pulls off his glasses.
"I was too busy coming back to life under some hot water." He probably heard you singing off-key to some long-lost song stuck in your head for the millionth time. "And you're quiet as hell, Joel."
He shrugs.
You just look at each other, the intimate gaze of two people who know every inch of each other and never tire of it.
The sleep pants he wears to bed this time of year are lightweight, thin enough that you can see the outline of him from here. His stomach is soft where he's bent at the waist and the trail of hair above his waistband is dark, darker than the rest of what's on his chest.
The golden expanse of his skin just begs to be touched, so you make your way over to him in your towel. He makes room for you to perch on the edge of the bed, the bare skin of your thigh pressing into his pants. His palm rests on your knee.
"I haven't seen much of you lately," you say softly. "’Cause of that damn thing you're working on."
His fingers press into your skin.
"Ain't patience a virtue, or something like that?"
"Whatever magic you're working better be worth waiting for," you tease.
Joel's hand resumes its path up your leg and he smirks.
"I can work some magic right now," he says.
You laugh, throwing your head back as his fingertips edge under the towel.
"That was awful," you say. "I should get dressed in all of my layers right now and go sleep on the couch."
You pull away from his touch so you can straddle him, your towel only held on by one hand at your breasts.
Joel snickers. "But then I wouldn't be able to do this."
Nimble fingers find your cunt between your spread legs and you gasp a laugh, one hand on his shoulder to balance you in his lap.
"Smooth," you manage. His other hand tugs on the towel and you release it, your slightly damp skin breaking out into goosebumps in the air of the bedroom.
Joel drags his lips between your breasts and you feel his smile.
"Christ," he says. "You comin' outta there in just a towel and you expect me to go to sleep?"
He pulls his fingers from you and frames your face with both hands to drag it down to his in a lazy, thorough kiss, like he's savoring each moment.
His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you let him in readily, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you grind down on the hardness you can feel through his pants.
"I've missed you," you say, dragging your tongue along down his jaw. His fingertips press into your bare hips hard enough to bruise, but it's a grounding touch rather than an urgent one. You want to take your time because you have missed him, and you think he feels the same way.
"Sorry, sweetheart," Joel groans, dragging your lips back to his. "It'll be worth it."
You pull back to look him in the eyes. The hazel-grey is almost totally taken over by his pupil, but his gaze softens when you cup his cheek and smile.
"I know," you say, and mean it. Naked in his lap in your bedroom, you mean it. You always mean it. You always trust him.
Joel kisses you once, twice, and you pull on his lower lip with your teeth when he pulls away. His nostrils flare and before you can tug his cock from his pants, he holds two fingers out to you.
You laugh, circling his wrist and bringing the digits past your lips. You swirl your tongue around them and really take your time with it, laving at his knuckles before releasing them with a pop.
His cock twitches beneath you and he huffs.
"You're an easy man to please, Joel Miller," you tell him, tugging down his pants and letting his shaft spring free. You stroke him root to tip and he hisses.
"Nah," he manages. "It's ‘cause it's you."
He follows his words with a circle of your clit from his spit-slick fingers.
"See?" you gasp. "Romantic."
It's a bit crowded, his hand rubbing your clit and yours slowly jerking him, but neither of you rush it. You pant together, dotting lazy kisses on any piece of bare skin you can reach. You breathe him in, the combination of sweat and gun oil and fresh detergent that's just Joel. A rush of tenderness hits you so suddenly your nose stings.
"Joel," you say, a bit ragged. "Joel, can you --"
A gentle hand on your face brings your foreheads together, his eyes on yours.
"Whatever you want," he groans. "Whatever you want, it's yours."
You can't help it -- you laugh. Brightly and happily, almost in disbelief that this man is yours. Real and solid under you right now, beside you every night. Yours to love and cherish and all the rest.
"You laughin' at me?" he grumbles, though you can tell he's fighting a smile.
"I just love you, is all," you say. You probably don't say it enough. You and Joel show each other every day, so much so that you can't imagine he doesn't know. As it is, you feel loved by him with every move he makes, every time he looks in your direction, every time he says your name.
"And I want you to fuck me," you add.
It's Joel's turn to laugh.
"Now who's the romantic one?" he says. 
You rise from his lap and settle onto your back on the other side of the bed, stretching with your hands above your head.
His eyes follow the line of your bare body, fondness and hunger recognizable in his gaze.
"Always so damn pretty," he grumbles. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen."
"Flirt," you tease.
He rises to his knees and pumps his cock a few times with his fist. You spread your legs for him, knees bent up against your chest.
He settles between your knees and you lock them around his hips. Joel honest-to-god winks at you before dragging two fingers through your folds to make sure you're slick enough.
"Ready?"
You nod. He enters you in one practiced move and you groan in unison as you adjust. It takes some shuffling but he finds a position he can hold, and you wrap your arms around his neck.
Joel fucks you slow and deep. Each drag of his cock against your walls curls your toes and drags whines from both of your throats. He keeps up his usual babel -- doin' so good, feel like a dream, so damn tight, cunt's a fuckin' miracle -- and you press your hands into his bare back like he's a life raft.
Sweat beats on your brow, your chest, everywhere, and you suck bruises into his neck as his thrusts get a little frantic. Your own orgasm sneaks up on you, the pressure building and building and building until it snaps without warning.
"Joel -- Joel, fuck, I --"
You clench around him and he chants your name, that's it, baby, come on my cock, and buries himself to the hilt to finish inside you.
He hovers above you on trembling arms long enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips before rolling off of you.
"Now I'm ready for bed," you say, panting.
You fling a hand out lazily and it lands on his chest. He intertwines your fingers and his gaze finds yours. You smile as you get your breathing under control.
Joel smooths your brow with a thumb. "Don't forget to --"
"I know, I know," you say. "C'mon, you know this isn't my first rodeo." You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom.
"You sayin' I'm a bull?" Joel calls after you.
"Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" you holler back, cleaning yourself up. "Didn't people used to say that?"
Joel doesn't answer you but you laugh at your own joke. You make your way back to the bed in old pyjamas and find him back in his sweatpants, feet flat on the floor like he's about to get up and go somewhere.
"Joel?"
He sighs, his shoulders moving up and down like he's bracing himself.
"It's done," he says. "Your surprise."
The confession stops you in your tracks.
"Oh?"
You know Joel better than mosty, but sometimes he's still a puzzle. The hesitation, the slight air of anxiety about him as he says it confuses you. Because Joel is good at taking care of people, and he has to know it -- those years he and Ellie didn't speak you know he left her things, know that he took care of her from afar as much as she would let him. It's just what he does, he uses his hands to beat and shoot and bloody – but also to carve and hold and love.
They're the same thing, really.
And he's made you something – one of countless gifts he's given you, tangible and not, throughout your relationship.
But he's nervous. As if you wouldn't love anything he made, anything he does. As if you're not gone over every part of him.
"Hm," he says. "Yeah. Let me --"
Joel gets up from the bed and pads over to the dresser to rummage around in a drawer. You meet him back on the bed and he's holding a square-ish parcel wrapped in cloth.
You gingerly take it from him.
"This is what you've been working on?" you ask softly. He nods.
You unwrap the cloth and find yourself holding leather-bound journal. The hide is smooth under your fingertips, scraped clean by hand and tanned a dark chestnut.The spine is about an inch wide, the whole thing swen together with neat stitches of what can only be catgut. A thinner strip of leather is wrapped around the cover and tucked into itself carefully. It must have taken him ages to make. 
"Joel," you gasp. "It's...god, it's beautiful."
He tells you how he found it on patrol a few weeks ago. The cover was fucked but the paper was somehow fine, so he dried out the pages and rebound it with a hide he tanned himself. You run your hands over it again almost like you can feel his fingerprints all over it, the hours he poured into the pages.
The inside cover falls open easily when you undo the tie and you see letters in the bottom left corner of it. Your eyes sting.
Joel has carefully burned your name into the leather, each letter perfectly lined up with the next. You haven't had something with your name on it in years.
He clears his throat. "Ellie said she'd give you some of her pens. Show you how to refill 'em."
You look up from your gift and find so much love on his face you can hardly stand it. He was inside you not that long ago and somehow this is more intimate. You surge forward into his space and wrap an arm around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.
"I don't know what to say," you confess. "Just -- thank you."
He runs his hand along your spine.
"S'nothin'," he says. "Just saw it and thought of you, is all."
You release him and shake your head in disbelief. This man.
"What should I write in it?"
Joel's cheeks darken a little. Of course he's thought of everything.
"Figured you could write about...all this." He waves a hand in the air like that explains anything.
"All what?"
He shrugs one bare shoulder.
"Life," he says. "Jackson. Folks here. Might be nice, havin' the memories."
You scoot closer to him so you're almost in his lap again.
"You want me to write down the gossip?" You mean it as a joke but Joel nods.
"You pay attention," he explains. "Someone's gotta."
You're not much of a writer anymore, haven't had cause to be in twenty years. But you do like to tell stories. You both do. 
The pages are soft under your fingertips as you flip through them again. You're going to fill them with stories -- about this town, about Joel and Ellie and Tommy and the people you love. The people you've lost, too. The memories that hurt like bruises, like fresh wounds. But the good stuff, too. The gossip, the love stories, the plants in the yard and the flowers on the trails.
Joel has given you the ability to record your lives.
You reach over him to set the journal on the nightstand before you frame his face with both of your hands.
"I'm going to write pages and pages about you, Joel Miller," you whisper.
He huffs, cheeks warm under your palms. "That's borin'."
You shake your head and lean in until your lips brush and your eyes flutter shut.
"That's the story," you say. "That's my life. This is my life. You are."
“I love you,” he breathes. “So damn much. Y’know that?”
How could you not? You say so and kiss him firmly but without hurry. You’ve got lots of time. You’ve got forever.
966 notes · View notes
xx-like-a-villian-xx · 8 months ago
Text
I'd Love To Watch
You’re forced to share a room with Noah and he wonders what book you’re reading.
This one is for all my dark romance reading babes, stay slay 🥀
My ao3 is HERE
Also let me know if you want to be tagged in anything upcoming posts, (I have so many WIPs)
CW: one bed trope (ugh my fave), mentions of dark romance, fingering, Noah is a MUNCH, squirting, forced proximity (let me know if I need to add any more)
18+ MDNI | Noah Sebastian x Reader
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“Are you kidding me?” You groan, staring at the second suitcase in the bedroom that you called dibs on when you arrived at the Airbnb. “Matt, who put their shit in my room?” You call out to your best friend and tour manager who walks towards you, a smug smirk on his face.
”Well Noah kept saying he would take the couch but there’s a California King in there so I told him he should just bunk in with you tonight.” He leans against the doorframe, grinning. “Call it team building.”
”Team building?” You scoff, exasperated.
All you want is one night to yourself without being stuck in a bus full of sweaty guys and Matt thinks it's funny to let the man you’ve been trying to avoid all tour share your room.
Noah doesn’t like you, it’s been clear since day one. Every time he talks to you he’s so patronising and cocky it makes your blood boil but it’s not like you can say much. You’re just their merch girl after all, replaceable. If it wasn’t for Matt you wouldn’t even have the opportunity so you keep your mouth closed and stay out of Noah’s way unless it’s important.
“Does Noah know that we’re sharing?” You fold your arms over your chest, staring at your best friend.
Matt chuckles. “More than aware, he actually seemed fine with it.” Your eyebrow raises in surprise and he laughs. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
You watch Matt retreat to his room and get to work pulling your pyjamas out from your suitcase, locking yourself in the bathroom to get ready for what you now know is going to be a hell of a long night.
While brushing your teeth you hear someone shuffle into the bedroom and you groan internally. Spitting the toothpaste into the sink, you gather your discarded clothes from the day and take a deep breath before opening the en-suite door.
Noah is lying spread eagle on the bed, wearing a pair of basketball shorts with no top, scrolling on his phone. He doesn’t even acknowledge your presence when you put your things back into your suitcase. You roll your eyes, grabbing your book to sit in the window seat across from the bed for a while, quietly reading to yourself. The silence is thick and you can hear his heavy breathing, distracting you from your book.
Your eyes flick from the dark romance novel to the man on the bed, eyes trailing over the expanses of ink that cover his toned skin and you feel heat pooling in your core.
”Anyone ever told you it’s rude to stare?” His voice breaks you out of your trance and your eyes flick back to the words on the page.
You scoff. “I wasn’t staring, you just breathe really loud and it’s pissing me off.”
He chuckles darkly. “Yeah, sure thing sweetheart.”
The sound of movement reaches your ears but you daren’t look at him, lifting the book higher to hide your red face. Suddenly the novel is snatched from your hands and you scramble to grab it back from him.
”Heartless Heathens?” He hums, holding the book out of your reach as he reads the blurb then flicks through a couple of pages, eyes widening. “Jesus, Y/N. I didn’t realise you were into this kinky shit.”
Your face is tomato red, burning hot as you try to wrestle the book from his hands.
“Noah give me my book back!”
All he does is laugh, eyes flicking back and forth as he reads the page I had bookmarked. “Oh my god! ‘Does that tight pussy hurt when my fat cock stretches it out like this?’ Wow…”
His dark eyes meet yours and you squeeze them shut out of embarrassment, hiding your face with your hands.
”You like that shit, huh?” You can hear the amusement in his voice as steps forward, throwing the book down on the window seat. You want the ground to swallow you up when you feel him staring down at you.
You huff, removing your hands from your face. “Loads of people do, it’s just a book.”
“I mean, do you like that stuff? Guys talking to you like that in bed? Asking you if it hurts when they stretch you out on their cock?”
You laugh, he’s joking right? You look up at him and your mouth goes dry when you see his dark eyes, pupils blown wide with lust.
”I don’t know,” you shrug. “I haven’t been with anyone for a couple of years, I don’t really have the time.”
Noah looks taken aback at your words and his lips turn up into a smirk. “A pretty girl like you? Surely you have guys begging for a chance in every state we visit.”
You chortle, crossing your arms. “Unlike most guys, I don’t need sex.”
He scoffs, picking the book back up. “So you just read this casually?”
”Most of the time.”
”And the rest of the time?���
The hot flush returns to your cheeks, reaching the tips of your ears. “That’s none of your business.”
He starts to flick through the pages again, humming as he reads. “Can I take a guess?”
You roll your eyes. “Whatever, go ahead.” You throw yourself down onto the bed, sitting against the headboard as he paces, reading.
“I think you like this Corvin guy most, I can imagine you getting all hot and bothered when you read his parts and you can’t help but find yourself fingerfucking yourself in your bunk when everyone is asleep.” His head tilts when he stops to look at you, his eyes searching for the telltale signs of your arousal, grinning when he sees your thighs clench together. “Am I correct?”
You shake your head in disbelief. What’s his game and why is he trying to get under your skin over some book. Your underwear feels damp from the wetness that is pooling at your core from his words and you have to stop yourself from lunging at him, to either punch him or kiss him…you’re unsure which one would be more satisfying.
”C’mon Y/N, tell me.” He sits next to you, pointing at a section where the main character is riding Corvin. “Is this what you get off to?”
You feel all too hot and bothered with him sitting next to you with his shirt off, tattooed skin taunting you as he tries to coerce the secrets of your alone time out of you.
”If I wasn’t in here right now is that what you’d be doing? Getting off over your little dark romance book?”
”What’s your deal Noah? Why do you want to know about all this?” You sit up straighter and he lounges back, eyeing you humorously.
He shrugs. “It’s just cute that you read this horny stuff. I never took you as the type to get riled up by it, is all.”
”You’d be surprised.” You mumble and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
”You read worse?”
”Oh shut up, Noah. It’s just dumb fiction, why are we even still talking about this?”
He turns to his side, propping himself up on his elbow, eyes burning into the side of your head. “Because I can tell how hot and bothered you are right now and it’s kind of sexy, I must admit.”
You gulp at his words, staring straight ahead in a conscious effort not to look at him or all of your resolve might falter.
”So tell me, were you so pissed about having to share this room because you wanted some special alone time tonight with your little smut novel?”
You can feel his smirk and the tension in the room thickens, turning into a storm cloud of lust.
”You can still do it, you know.”
Your eyes finally dart to his smug face and your eyebrows furrow. “What?”
He shrugs casually. “You can still get yourself off, I could read to you if you want?”
Your swallow thickly, your core throbbing at his words. “No, that’s weird.”
Noah chuckles. “Masturbation isn’t we-“
”I fucking know that! What’s weird is you’re my boss and you’re offering to read to me while I make myself cum. Do you hear yourself?”
You can’t lie to yourself, the offer is almost too tempting. It’s not fair that the most attractive man you know is basically offering to help you get your rocks off but he hates you right? He’s always so moody and weird around you. Why is he being like this?
He sits up, scooting closer so your shoulders are touching and he leans close to your ear, his breath tickling the skin of your cheek. “Or I could tell you every wicked little fantasy I’ve had about you since you waltzed into the studio with Matt all those years back.’
Your eyebrows raise and you turn to him, his mouth just inches from yours. “You fantasise about me?”
He laughs, a smug sound that makes you want to punch him. “Oh yeah, my favourite is the one where I get to bend you over and rip apart those fishnets you love to wear, the ones with the lace flowers on.” His eyes darken as he reminisces over the lewd thoughts and your mind wanders.
How would it feel to have his hands all over you, tearing away those expensive tights that you adore? How would it feel to have him buried to the hilt inside you as he pushes your head into whatever surface he can find? Fuck its all too much.
”Noah, we shouldn’t talk about this stuff.” You try to reason with yourself but your resolve quickly disappears when his long inked finger trails up the bare skin of your thigh, stopping at the hem of your silky black pyjama shorts.
“Why? We’re both adults.” He smiles almost innocently.
”Because you don’t like me.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Since when? Didn’t I just tell you that I literally think about how I want to bend you over?”
You roll your eyes. “You literally talk to me like shit the majority of the time.”
”I like watching you squirm.” His smile is cocky and it only sends more electricity to your core because he’s right, he does make you squirm and you like it too.
A lust filled silence lingers in the air as he stares into your eyes, a smirk plastered on his lips.
”So do you still want to get yourself off, I’d love to watch.” He cocks an eyebrow and there it is, the last of your resolve leaving out the window.
”Fine.”
He’s like a kid in a candy shop when he sits up, watching you lie down on the bed. Your heart hammers in your chest as you close your eyes, trying to pretend he isn’t there. You slide the silk shorts down your legs, leaving the black lace thong on and your hand travels over the soft fabric, running over the damp patch that is only getting bigger.
You gasp when you slide your hand between the fabric, fingers slipping between your slick folds, easily finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that's been begging to be touched since you walked out of the bathroom to find Noah sprawled out shirtless on the bed. Oh how you wanted to just climb on top of him, to sink down on his cock like you owned him.
A quiet whimper escapes your lips when you circle your clit, slowly teasing yourself to the images of Noah’s cock buried deep inside your cunt. You feel him shift next to you to get a better look at your movements, how your fingers move under the dark lace of your panties. You hear him take a shaky breath and it sends shockwaves to your sensitive core.
“Does that feel good?” His voice is deep, coarse in your ear and you whine out a confirmation, moving your fingers faster over your clit. “God, you don’t know how good you sound. Do you like it when I talk to you?”
”Y-yes.” You sigh and he chuckles.
”Such a good girl.” He whispers, breath tickling your ear. “Do you want me to tell you what to do, huh? Do you want to be good for me and remove your underwear so I can see how you touch that pretty little pussy? God, I bet it’s so perfect.”
You whimper, using your spare hand to push the lace down your thighs, kicking them off as you toy with yourself. Noah leans forward, a hand landing on your thigh to pull your legs further apart and a feral groan leaves his throat when you spread yourself open for him to see just how wet you are, fingers covered in wet slick.
”Oh fuck, you look so good sweetheart. Show me how you bury those pretty fingers in there.”
You push two fingers into your core, the wet sound reaching your ears. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life. You hear Noah’s breathing quicken as he watches you fuck yourself with your fingers, soft moans leaving your bitten lips.
”Doing so fucking well for me.” The praise feels like heaven when it meets your ears and you speed up, curling your fingers upwards. “Fuck, what I would do to bury my own fingers inside you.”
”Please.” You whine, opening your eyes to look at him, your breath coming out in pants when his lust blown eyes meet yours.
“Please what?” He smirks, tucking a piece of stray hair behind your ear as you find your clit again, rubbing your soaked fingers over the sensitive bud.
“I need your fingers inside me, please.” You’re so fucking needy and you can tell how much he gets off on it by how his smirk grows into a cruel grin and he holds his fingers against your plump lips.
”Are you gonna suck them for me? Get them nice and wet like the good little slut you are?” Your eyes roll back at his words and he gasps when your tongue swirls around the calloused pads of his fingers, soaking them with your saliva.
He pushes two long fingers into your warm mouth and you hollow your cheeks around them, staring up at him with innocent eyes that make his aching cock strain against his shorts. He pulls his fingers out with a pop and trails them down the valley of your clothed chest, down your navel to where your own fingers are still toying with your clit. Your eyes follow and your hand moves, giving him full access to where you need him most.
”You gonna watch me fuck you with my fingers huh?” He smiles sweetly, sliding his fingers up and down your drenched folds teasingly.
You nod, leaning up on your elbows to watch his slender fingers disappear between your folds, rubbing tight circles around your clit and you gasp his name, your mouth falling open at the immense pleasure. He chuckles, sliding them to your entrance to gather the wetness that pools there, moving back to your clit to play with it all too slowly.
”Please Noah.” You whine and he tuts.
”Be patient, I’ll get there. I want a better look.”
He moves to lie between your legs, pushing your legs further apart to get a good look at your glistening cunt. You can feel his breath hot against you and you could just cum right there without him even touching you, especially with how he looks up at you through those long lashes, eyes black and predatory like he wants to eat you whole.
“You’ve got such a perfect pussy, fuck.” He groans, pushes his long middle finger in, the dark ink disappearing inch by inch inside your cunt and you moan louder than expected, your hand flying to your mouth to keep yourself quiet. “Fuck, it feels so good, so soft.”
A second finger joins the first and he slowly curls them, finding that spot that leaves you seeing stars, your eyes rolling back, your head lolling back on your shoulders. His spare hand grips your inner thigh with a bruising hold and you're sure there will be bruises there tomorrow but you don’t mind, it feels like heaven.
”My mouth is so close to your pussy I can practically taste you.” He growls and your hips buck, pushing his fingers even deeper inside you. He chuckles darkly. “Do you want me to taste you?”
You sob, nodding enthusiastically.
”Use your words, pretty girl.” He hums, kissing your pelvic bone.
”Please taste me.”
He hums, his hot tongue dragging over your folds before his lips close around your clit, leaving you gobsmacked from how fucking good his tongue feels against you with his fingers fucking into you.
You’re close, you can feel that tightness building in your lower abdomen, so fucking close. His fingers curl faster, his tongue lapping over your clit like you’re the last water source on Earth and you’re falling. Your legs shake, a feral groan leaving your lips as your orgasm rips through your body like a fucking tornado. His fingers only move faster as his lips leave your sensitive clit and you're tipping over the edge again just as quickly, gushing around his fingers and the bed sheets below.
”Fuck, good girl!” He grins, lapping your sweet nectar from your thighs. “Think you’ve got another?”
You have no time to protest, he rises to slide between your thighs, fingers still buried deep inside your cunt as he stares down at you, curling them fast exactly where he knows he can drag another orgasm from you. His free hand covers your mouth when you cum again, screaming into his palm, soaking the front of his shorts where his leaking cock strains against them.
”Good fucking girl, well done!” He kisses your forehead, pulling his drenched hand away from your sensitive core to suck his fingers clean.
You stare at him in bewilderment when he smiles down at you. You’re in shock at how much you just came for a man you thought hated you half an hour ago.
”I think I need to catch you reading more.” He chuckles.
”Shut the fuck up.” You roll your eyes, pulling him into a searing kiss.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
“So you two didn’t kill each other last night?” Matt smirks when you make your way downstairs in the morning, wearing one of Noah’s shirts with him freshly showered following behind you.
Folio storms past, looking a little worse for wear. “I would’ve preferred it if they did, I need to bleach my ears.” He groans, pouring himself a mug of coffee.
You blush bright red, throwing a grape at the drummer and Noah wraps his arms around your torso, pulling you into his lap.
”Guess my plan worked then.” Matt chuckles, popping a grape in his mouth with a grin.
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mariasont · 7 months ago
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hi !!!!! i love your hotch x oc x reid fic so much, literally got to work late because you updated and i just HAD to read it when the notif came in !
can i request a kinda fluff-y turning to smut fic about maybe reader's small hands compared to spencer's large hands (his hands are so INTOXICATING).
maybe the fluff part can be kinda cute with their first time holding hands starting from that "oh lets compare hand sizes" and then intertwining fingers?? one of the best spencer fic tropes/hcs is when he's usually not enthusiastic abt touching but when its You he loves it and hes been so touched starved DHSKDHHD // and then the smut can kinda be like how reader's hands make his dick look huge (or smth! im sorry this is my first time requesting a fic!!)
i hope im not coming out as being too demanding !! you can have all the freedom w this !!!! sorry sorry for the long request 🙈🙈🙈
love your work !!! 😙
HANDS, HANDS, and HANDS-------------
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A/N: AHHHH your mind!!!!! I LOVE IT <3
we need a whole episode just dedicated to his hands fr!
thank you so much for requesting and the kind words, I hope I did it justice <3 xoxo
‧₊˚ ✩°。⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆。°✩˚₊‧
pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader
warnings: 18+ minors dni, hand kink, praise, size kink, m receiving oral, take a shot every time someone says sorry
wc: 1.9k
Your infatuation with Dr. Spencer Reid was an open book to everyone--damn profilers--well, everyone except the man of the hour, Dr. Reid himself. It was hard to say when it all started. Subtle changes crept in--the extra care you took in choosing your outfits to work; the way words suddenly became hurdles in conversations with him; the sensation of your heart nearly leaping out of your chest anytime he was in the vicinity. 
Despite your skills as a profiler, deciphering Dr. Reid was like trying to read braille through gloves. So, you pushed those feelings down, crushing them beneath a metaphorical heel to maintain professionalism. It wasn't exactly a successful strategy, but that wasn't the point. You reassured yourself that even if romance wasn't in the cards, friendship was the next best thing. And what a friend he was--remarkable in every way, which is why you found yourself here, in his apartment, dissecting case files together. It was a friendly gesture, surely, to escape the office when it becomes a little too suffocating. 
You felt your pulse race as he brought his fingers to his lips, preparing to sift through the stack of papers. A dryness clutched at your throat, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, while you're sure your eyes betrayed a cartoonish adoration, practically orbiting with hearts. Forgotten was your own paperwork that now served as a makeshift blanket for your thighs, as he spoke. Your arm claimed the territory along the back of the couch, with your own hand gently propping up your check, a picture of relaxed attentiveness.
In the midst of his lecture about the golden ratio and its prevalence in nature, Spencer suddenly grabs a nearby book, flips to a diagram of a human hand, and says, "Did you realize that our hands are a prime example of this phenomenon? Give me your hand."
Your eyebrows knit together, your head angling subtly towards the boy genius. "Sorry, what?"
Without a word, Spencer lays your hand upon the diagram's expanse. Amidst the book, your hand seems smaller, delicate, a stark contrast the bold lines drawn on paper. 
He looks at you with a soft smile. "See, the size of one's hand doesn't really correlate with the golden ratio--it's more about the proportions within the hand itself. For instance, the length of your fingers compared to your palm, or the distance between the tip of your thumb and the tip of your pinky stretched out."
His hand leads yours across the pages, but you're barely registering the words. Instead, you're acutely aware of the warmth of his touch, causing your thighs to clench on their own accord, your mind tumbling over itself.
"Your hands are actually significantly smaller than the average," he comments, almost to himself. The statement is harmless, yet he finds his imagination wandering. He quickly refocuses, saying, "The range of hand sizes is quite broad, which is interesting biologically. Here--"
He extends his hand, palm open, beside yours--a natural extension of your conversation, yet he shifts slightly against the couch. Spencer was taken aback by his own actions. Physical touch was something he generally recoiled from, but here he was, seeking yours out. He realized this had become a habit, finding reasons to be near you, to feel your touch. Anytime there was something to be handed to you at work, he was quick to volunteer, all for the fleeting possibility of a brush of fingers.
He watched, captivated, as you aligned your palm with his, matching up the bottom of your palms. His attention was drawn to the stark difference between your hands; his, significantly larger, seemed to engulf yours entirely. He found the sight unexpectedly compelling. The disparity in size stirred his curiosity, leading him to wonder how your hand would look clasped around his cock.
His thumb grazed the back of your hand in a subconscious motion as he pondered out loud. "Did you know," he began, his voice sinking an octave, "that the ratio of the lengths of our second to fourth fingers is believed to correlate with various hormones, affecting the way we interact with others."
You found yourself holding your breath as you mapped the shape of your hands together, a subtle dampness beginning to form between your legs. This is what got you worked up? Clearly, you mused, getting laid was overdue. 
As if guided by a force beyond your control, your fingers gradually intertwined, each finger fingers its perfect counterpart. Recoiling as if from a burn, you realized the intimacy of the gesture, a rush of apologies escaping your lips. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to-"
A blush crept up Spencer's neck as he hastened to interject. "No, no, it's completely fine, really."
The moment passed, and you both redirected your focus to the paperwork. Yet, the routine task did little to dispel the residual thoughts of his touch. The size difference, the feeling of his larger hand wrapping around yours, and how ideally his fingers would look pumping inside of you or wrapping around your throat. It all kept playing on your mind, a silent movie that you can't stop watching.
Spencer too, seems lost in thought, his gaze drifting from the files to your hands--manicured and delicate. He watches, seemingly without awareness, as those same hands idly toy with the hem of your skirt, or the way they spin your earring when deep in thought. To him, these minor actions have suddenly become fascinating.
Spencer's voice cuts through the stillness as he resumes his concentration on the work before him. "How do you interpret this?" he probes, touching a finger to a page of the file perched on his lap.
You lean in, curiosity leading you to reach for the file. Your actions freeze momentarily as your knuckles brush against his crouch. You pause, blinking deliberately, as you second-guess what you felt. He was hard as a rock.
You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, eyes growing wide with surprise. "Oh, um, sorry," you muttered. 
In a rapid movement, Spencer combed his fingers through his hair, causing the curls to obstruct his view. He snatched a pillow and tossed it in his lap, tilting his head back against the couch with a look of embarrassment. "No, I'm sorry, I, uh--"
Anticipating a scholarly lecture on the male hormones, you quickly interject. "Do you want help?"
Spencer's eyes grew wide as he regarded your face. Your lashes fluttered with a slow blink, your demeanor completely serious. His traced the flush of your cheeks, the gentle parting of your lips, the accelerated rise and fall of your chest. His head tilted slightly, expecting the punchline to follow.
He let out a puff of air. "Do I want what?"
He noted your head tilting to the side, mirroring his own actions. Your hand reached forward, poised to replace the pillow on his lap. Your pinky dragged across the material of his jeans, moving with excruciating slowness. 
"That seems painful," you comment quickly, before your sudden courage fades. "Let can help."
You moved swiftly to his belt, and you could hear his breath hitch in short bursts. He murmured your name, his hand threading through your hair to grasp gently at the nape of your neck.
You shot him an innocent smile as you edged his pants down, just enough to access his boxers. Your smile made him believe he could come on the spot--the way you looked so eager, like you had been waiting for this. He let out a shaky breath as you released his length from his boxers.
You were engulfed in a dizzying feeling, your eyes widened to saucers as you seized his massive cock. "Holy shit, Spencer, you're huge."
You were barely aware of the words tumbling from your lips as you gawked. The impact on him was immediate, the intensity of your graze was maddening. Your small hands encircled his base, accentuating his size. His grasp on your neck grew firmer as he coaxed your head down. 
"Don't play," came his growl, so out of character. Warmth bloomed in your face, excitement bubbling in your chest as your thighs clasped together.
You flashed him a gentle, unassuming smile as you hastily took him in your mouth. You felt like a new person, an unprecedented need flowing through you.
Spencer let out a sharp hiss as your lips met his cock, taking him as far as you could. He mentally thanked whatever gods existed, unsure of what he had done to deserve this. His hands deftly collected your hair in his grasp, aiding you in guiding him even deeper. His breaths hastened as he praised, "Good god, baby."
His words only egged you on, your movements turning sloppy as you bobbed up and down, working every inch of his cock. You never knew sucking a man off could be so enjoyable. You wanted to savor the moment, to savor him. You encircled the based with your other hand, granting yourself reach to what had been inaccessible to your mouth as you started to synchronize your movements.
"Look at you," Spencer muttered hoarsely, his gaze flickering to your hands. Those damn hands, they looked so perfect around him, even better than he imagined. "You look like you were made for this."
You moaned around him in response, the slickness between your legs starting to drop down your thighs upon his praise. This elicited a hiss from him, tightening his grip in your hair as he drew you away from his throbbing cock, spit trailing from your mouth as you separated. 
"Wha-?" Your question hung in the air, marked by the crease of your confusion on your forehead. 
He didn't let you finish, simply stating. "On your knees."
Without hesitation, you followed his direction, your hands clasped in anticipation as you moved from the couch to the floor, your balance settling back into your heels as he towered over you. "Open."
You complied with his command, easing your jaw as he guided himself onto your tongue. A soft moan escaped you, enveloping his cock. He coaxed his length into your mouth, your hands steadying on his thighs as he all but used your face.
Spencer's hands cradled your face, fully encompassing your cheeks as he thrusted into your mouth. His pulse thundered at a pace he hadn't thought possible, and fuck, he wouldn't mind if this was how death welcomed him. There you were, on your knees, so compliant around his cock. His breaths grew rapid as your nails trailed up his thighs. 
"You're so good," he muttered, eyes casting down upon you, your glazed expression, the drool peeking out from the corners of your lips. "So good. 'M so close."
He moves to withdraw from your mouth, but your hands find their way to the back of his thighs, holding him in place, denying his escape. He exhales a deep, unrestrained moan, thrusting into your mouth once more, shallowing moving as the warm liquid fills your mouth. 
He gazes, spellbound, as you swallow his come completely, your head lolling back in total bliss. In that instant, he realizes his willingness to do anything to keep you close, to see you like this--spent, disheveled, and content.
Breaking the silence, you ask, "Did that help?" His laughter, soft and subdued, fills the air as he reaches out, cupping your cheeks once more. He descends to meet you, his kiss messy and desperate, finding the taste of himself lingering on your lips as his hands untangle your knotted hair. 
"You're amazing," he exhaled, their lips parting. "Now, let me return the favor."
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girlboypersonthingy · 7 months ago
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Would it be ok to request Vox with an affectionate s/o?
More than okay, nonnie! I’ve been getting so many requests bro, literally every time I post one, I get like 2 more in its place. IM LIVING FOR IT, KEEP IT COMING YALL! But also plz be patient with me 🥺 been waiting for a request for my flat-faced prince. Tbh the first time I watched Hazbin, my immediate reaction to Vox was ‘OH NO HES HOT!!!’ So, enjoy these headcanons 😘
Notes: gn!reader, maybe a little ooc Vox?
Vox x reader- Affection 💋
Also oh my fucking godddddd the vest, him in a vest. I need more Vox in a vest PRONTO…🥵
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Okay so like…bro is more dirty minded.
He’s genuinely confused when you kiss his cheek or hold his hand like ???
Oh….you’re not just trying to fuck him and get famous?
Cuteee~
Sure, he’s fucked and made out with ppl and probably done some other crazy shit but his experience with sappy romance and affection like you show him is very limited.
He’s pretty dense, he’s got a tough shell and doesn’t really understand love languages and stuff like that.
His love language is most definitely gift giving and I just know he’s terrible at actually showing his feeling through words or romantic gestures or physical affection.
It’s usually just like “Hey! I love ya! I got you this.” *insert item you’d flip your lid over*
At least he’s a good gift giver! He really does try to give you cool stuff he knows you’ll like but he’s still learning how to actually speak about his feelings and show it physically.
He tries to match your energy the best he can
Get him gifts!!! Plz he loves homemade gifts too- gift him art, sing him an original song, sew him something, whatever your skills or talents may be, use them and he’ll adore it and also praise tf out of you
You took time to make this just for him? ‘Marry me’
Besides fucking around with Val, Vox doesn’t get much affection so he very quickly falls in love with all the sweet affectionate touches you frequently show him.
It’s all so different than Val, so sensitive and genuine. It really makes him swoon~
Melts when you kiss the corners of his screen- there’s something about non mouth kisses that really gets to him
He gets a huge dorky love stuck grin when you sit in his lap and hug him close, also hugs you back super tight
Absolutely loves kissing you and then noticing the lingering smudges/lipstick marks on his screen later
Fix his bow tie while giving him a sneaky wink in front of his crew and he’ll huff and look away while trying to hold back a smile
Invites you on his nightly broadcast as a guest one time and quickly learned how embarrassed he becomes when you flirt and call him pet names on live TV in front of tons of viewers
After only 10 minutes of talking, giggling and giving him bedroom eyes, Vox was struggling to maintain his composure- you’re so fucking cute.
All you had to do was laugh loudly at one of his crude jokes about Alastor and call him your “honey bunny” and suddenly the entire V tower lost power.
Poor man literally short circuits over your darling voice calling him such soft names- he’s so down bad for you he can’t even hide it
Val and Velvette have that specific episode downloaded and saved to every device they own bc there’s no way they are letting this go, he’s never living this down
If you pause the video right before it cuts out, just before the power goes out, Vox has literal hearts for eyes and his entire screen briefly becomes this bright blushy pink color- that’s a color no one has ever seen on him
Just keep doing your thing, you little hopeless romantic, and you’ll see that color more often.
But Vox might have to leave you at home when filming bc he can’t control himself around you sometimes and you obviously can’t either 🖤
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rangerbarbz · 2 months ago
Text
Serving Up Romance pt. 2
Author’s Note: Alright, y’all were eating up the first part of this. (THANK YOU SO MUCH BTW) I am so grateful for all the kind words you’ve given me about my writing. It truly makes me so happy and I enjoy writing for y’all thoroughly. I hope you enjoy this second part! 
You took a deep breath and looked at yourself in the mirror. It was time for your date with Stan, and you were more than just a little nervous. It had been so long since you had been on a date, you weren’t even sure if you knew what to do on one. Do you hold his hand? Do you kiss him? Things were different when you were at the diner. That was your safe space, and you felt more confident there. Now, it was just going to be you and him alone in a car. At night. Watching a movie. Oh, God. 
You sighed and straightened out the fabric of your second-hand dress, removing any wrinkles that were there before. “I hope he likes it,” you mumbled, running your hands through your hair. This was the first time he was going to see you out of your uniform. You sat on the edge of your bed to slip on the sandals you had dug out of your closet. He was going to be here soon. 
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. You sprung up from the bed to put on some perfume. “I’m coming!” you called out, dousing yourself in a vanilla scent you couldn’t remember the name of. You set the perfume bottle down on your nightstand and ran to the door. 
“You got this,” you whispered to yourself, turning the door knob to reveal your date standing on your welcome mat. He was facing the road but turned around when the door opened. He was wearing a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt, blue jeans, and scuffed up leather boots. His mullet was nicely styled, and he had trimmed his stubble. He flashed you a toothy smile. 
“Wow, you look foxy!” Stan complimented you, raking his eyes over you. You grinned and gave him a twirl to show off how flowy your skirt was. “Oh, I got you these by the way.” He held out a red, heart-shaped box to you. “I heard that girls like chocolates, so I wanted to surprise you with some.”
You giggled. “This girl definitely does,” you said, placing the box on the armchair of your couch. “Thank you so much.” You tilted your head at him, feeling your smile wouldn’t leave your face the entire evening. “You look so handsome, Stan Pines.” You hooked your arm around his. “I’m one lucky gal.” 
Stan laughed and you noticed a blush forming on his cheeks. “Ah, well, shucks. Thanks, toots.” He looked over at you. “But I think I’m the lucky one here. You ready to go?” 
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
On the car ride to the drive-in theater, Stan told you about a visitor that he described as a “total nutcase.” You always enjoyed hearing him tell stories because he told every story in a way that made you feel like you were seeing the events play out right in front of your eyes. He was captivating; it was no wonder he was such a successful showman. You were so engrossed in his retelling that you didn’t notice how his arm was behind the headrest of your seat. It was such a small romantic gesture, but it made butterflies grow in your stomach all the same
You finally arrived at the entrance of the drive-in movie theater; Stan rolled down his window to pay the man at the ticket booth. “Alright, sir, park wherever you like, and turn your radio to channel 95.1. Enjoy the movie!” 
“Thanks,” Stan replied before driving into the lot. He leaned against his steering wheel, searching for a parking spot. “Damn, there’s a lot more people here than I expected.” He looked over at you with a frown. “I’m sorry, doll. I think we’ll just have to park the Diablo here. I can’t get around anyone. Is this okay?” He was hoping he hadn’t ruined the date. 
You gave him a reassuring smile. “This is okay. I promise.”
He nodded. “Alright, so that joker said 95.1.” He began fiddling with the knob of his radio to switch stations. “Bingo,” he said after he finally got it tuned correctly. “Now, this is a horror movie, so if you need to, ya know, jump into my arms if it gets too scary, I’ll be ready to catch ya.” 
You burst out laughing. “Same goes to you, Pines. I know how skittish you can be.”
Stan scoffed in response. “Please, I’m the least skittish person on the planet.” 
“THE FRIGHTENING OF OAK AVENUE WILL BEGIN NOW,” the radio blared. Stan jumped out of his skin, letting the expletives fly.
You smirked and raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, that doesn’t count,” he grumbled.
“That’s okay,” you scooted closer to him. “It doesn’t bother me that you’re such a scaredy cat.” Stan shook his head and wrapped his arm over your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze. Oh my goodness. His arm is around you, and he smells really good. Try not to let him see how excited you are.
“Okay, that’s enough sass-mouthing, miss,” he joked. “The movie’s starting.” You giggled as your attention was brought to the screen. To be honest, you could give two shits about this movie. You couldn’t stop thinking about how comforting it was to have his arm around you. 
You didn’t know how far you were into the movie when you saw Stan out of the corner of your eye gazing at you instead of the film. You turned your head towards him, and his eyes quickly reverted back to the screen. You felt your face get warm as you continued watching the movie, but you had failed to suppress a small chuckle. 
“What?” Stan asked gruffly. 
“Nothing,” you replied coyly, leaning your head against his chest. You heard his breath hitch in his throat. “You just make me feel pretty.”
You couldn’t see his face which Stan was grateful for because he was looking like a deer in headlights. You could feel how fast his heart was beating. “You are pretty,” he responded, voice barely above a whisper. “Told ya that the first day I met you. Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
You straightened up so you could face him when you said this. “Stan, I…I have seen a lot of people walk through those diner doors.” Your nerves were starting to get the best of you. “But I have never had anyone come into that restaurant that made me feel the way you do.” You looked down and began to run your fingertips over the hem of your dress. “I just want to know if you feel the same.” 
“I-I do, Y/N,” Stan replied, stopping your hand from fidgeting by lacing his fingers through yours. “Felt that since the beginning.” He sighed. “Y/N, I know I’m not the type of guy you bring home to your parents, but… If you give me the chance, I know I can be a man you’re proud to be with.” You felt like you were about to cry.
“Oh, Stan.” You cup his face in your hands. His sad, brown eyes gazed into yours; he leaned into your touch as you caressed his cheek. “If you’ll have me, I’ll scream from the top of city hall that I’m dating Stan Pines.” 
He gave you a lopsided smile before kissing the palm of your hand; his hand was gently holding your wrist. Is this real? His face was inching towards yours. “I’m holding you to that.” His hands were now cradling your jaw, bringing your lips to his. They were soft and sure against yours; your eyelids fluttered shut as you accepted his embrace. You placed your hands on his chest and snaked them around his neck, his dark hair falling onto your fingers. His lips were gone too soon as he interrupted the kiss to look at you. His eyes darted over your face, making sure you were still here and okay. It seemed like everything he touched lately disappeared before his eyes. 
He began to shake his head in disbelief. “God, you’re gorgeous.” His lips then crashed back into yours, drinking you in. He loved the way your mouth felt. He then moaned so quietly that you barely heard it yourself, but you did. You smiled against him, fingers tugging at his hair; you licked his bottom lip wanting to taste him on your tongue. His lips then parted letting you explore further. 
Stan whined at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his. His hands moving to the back of your neck and the small of your back to get you as close to him as possible. When you broke free of the kiss, his lips began to travel down your jawline and your neck. He was insatiable; he needed to discover every part of you with his mouth. 
“Fuck,” you breathed when he got to your collarbone. “Don’t stop.” His strong hand grasped at your waist; he now knew you were just as affected by this as he was. He started to suck a bruise into the dip at the crook of your neck. You cried out, desperately grabbing at his shoulder blades. 
When Stan was satisfied with the mark he left, he gave it a soft kiss. His eyes met yours once again. His lips were slightly swollen and shiny from the lip gloss you had applied earlier today. His cheeks were flushed from the intensity of the passionate moment you had shared. He then smiled and leaned in to speak against your lips. “So, what do you think about ditching this movie and heading back to your place?” 
You closed the almost non-existent gap by biting his bottom lip and dragging it through your teeth. Stan let out a sinful groan at the contact before you let him go. “I thought you’d never ask.” 
PART 3 DROPPING SOON  
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