#bouquet-of-scissors

[murderboisblog]

I am taking your hand and we're skipping off into the Weird Sunset together!!!! With a bunch of pointy fiber tools held in my other hand like a bouquet of flowers 💐🌸

So long as I get to hold my hatchet in my other hand 🪓

[absoluteabsolem]

told my boss i was going to the doc's this morning bc my wrist hurts like hell since yesterday and he said okay see you later and i'm like,,,,, buddy i don't think i can work like this

[lovegasmic]

I was wondering if you could make your agegap jing yuan drabble female reader as well, thank you!

AGE GAP

ft. Jing Yuan

⋆ 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 cw. f!reader, Jing Yuan is in his 40's n reader around 20's, size difference.

OFC LOVEEE. this was so easy to edit lmao. this post has a male version in this event → masterlist

it was such a foreign emotion for Jing yuan to have fallen so fucking hard for someone younger such as yourself.

was it embarrassment? perhaps, but was he embarrassed of you? never, of what would people say? not in the slightest, embarrassed that you might not want to date an old man like himself, to make a fool of himself in his constant attempts to ask you out with a bouquet of flowers and his casual, confident stride towards the antique shop where you worked at Aurum Alley.

he couldn’t help and sit constantly at a nearby table and just watch you interact with customers, have you always looked so pretty in those loose clothes of yours?

but Jing yuan is not a man to get nervous often, not to say never, but the moment you gave him a look and a smile spread through your face, he knew he was fucked.

and that’s how you find yourself pinned underneath his strong, muscular and incredibly huge body, a couple dates and you feel for his old man charm, for the crinkles in his eyes and how knowledgeable he was... and sexy too.

“mmm, relax, baby, you’re tightening up so much” he groans, with his hair thickling on your collarbones from where he plants pecks on your neck, two fingers buried knuckle deep in your quivering pussy, prepping you hopefully enough to take the gigantic cock that occasionally slapped your thigh wetly.

a gritted whimper comes out of your mouth the second Jing yuan’s large hand comes to grasp your soft tit, squeezing and massaging the skin before pinching on the nipple, making you shudder at the way his palm so easily covers your breast.

“good girl” he purrs as you stop squeezing, allowing the older man to easily scissors his fingers inside of you, liking your nipples in the process, “feels much better, right?”

“mhm, yeah—” you croak out, thighs shaking at the multiple stimulation from everywhere, enough to have you cumming in his hand, your translucent juices dripping from his long fingers and onto the sheets, right in time for your brain to focus on the pleasure instead of the uncomfortable stretch Jing yuan’s cock is providing at pressing himself against your entrance.

way too many years of being patient... perhaps he won’t be so this time.

[gaypirate420]

Haircut //Jasper W. Hale.

Jasper Whitlock-Hale x gn! reader.

Summary: Jasper did a thing while he was in a mood.

Angst/Fluff. Jasper icon by @jasperhaleobsessed

The vampire steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. The water dripping down his yellow hair, his pale hand wipes the steam off the mirror above the sink.

Golden eyes stare at his reflection.

Paper white skin decorated with deep scars. His muscles tensed up. He leans over, his hands holding hard on the sink, cracking it slightly.

It hasn't been a great week.

No, it hasn't been a great month. Year. Decade(s).

Since Victoria and her wannabe army of newborn vampires showed up he's been spiraling each day.

Slowly, the glass have been a drops away from spilling.

The memories just flooded his mind everytime he closed his eyes.

They're always there, but they're more vivid this time, he doesn't like this, Jasper knows this cycle too well, he doesn't want to be part of it again.

He thought he was getting better.

Jasper's been pushing you away and he's an idiot for that because he needs you, he needs you so so so bad but Jasper just can't tell you he's struggling. And he doesn't know why that is. Maybe he feels ashamed for being so weak, so broken.

There's a reason why you and him have been together for almost fifty years. You just bring the best of him and make the pain go away. Always.

A smile creeps on his face but it goes away quickly, he sighs and looks at the mirror one more time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Jasper? Sunshine, you in here?" You asked while stepping inside the Cullen's house. The ironey flavor of blood still in your mouth after a successful hunt.

"...yeah." He mumbled from upstairs there was a slight shake on his voice. No waiting for you at the door? No bouquet of flowers? No forehead kiss? No 'Darlin' I missed ya.'?

Something happened. Something bad.

You approached your shared bedroom opening the door slowly.

Your eyes try to process what their seeing.

Jasper was sitting at the edge of the bed, eyes unfocused starring at the locks of hair on the floor. His pale fingers holding a pair of scissors, shaking.

And of course his hair. Short. Cut at random lengths after a fit of raw emotion. Anger. Sadness. Desperation. That's what his aura is filled with.

"Sweetheart..." You called softly and closed the door behind you. The vampire doesn't react to your presence at all, he just looks straight ahead, deep in thought.

Jasper catches on the steps getting closer to him and a gentle hand tilt his chin up gently to make his eyes meet yours. His almost numb expression makes you want to cry. The golden color of his eyes holds no shine, they're dull and empty.

"Hey, sunshine." You whisper softly and cup his face, leaning on your touch and a small gasp leaving his lips, if he was human he'll be all tears right now.

"Oh—it's okay, sweetheart." You whisper reassuringly. The blonde wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close, burying his face on your chest, taking a deep breath and drowning on your comforting scent.

You stroke his now short hair.

"...sorry" He whimpers against your chest trying to find some peace with your touch.

"Why are you apologizing, cowboy?" You whisper softly and caress his face, he can't look at you right now, he feel so ashamed because you're seeing him like this.

"... because— I'm a mess." His voice breaks and he holds closer to you. You just stroke his hair and kiss his forehead.

"...and my hair is ugly now." He added, a bitter chuckle follows. You take the scissors from his shaking hands and brush his hair down.

"May I fix it?" You asked before cutting anything.

"Can you?" He asks hopeless as he closes his eyes, he feels defeated, tired, he just wants to sleep but he can't sleep because of his nature.

"Well... either way I think you'll look handsome bald." You try to lighten the mood and it surprisingly works because his frown turns into a smirk. He nods and allows you to fix his hair.

You lean down to kiss his lips, a tender, slow and gentle kiss. He holds the kiss for longer, the feeling of your lips against his are a great distraction from the memories that are haunting him.

Jasper closes his eyes as you work on his hair. He doesn't know if the silence is dreadful or comfortable.

"Do you want to talk about what happened? I'm very worried about you, don't think I don't notice how distant you've been." You whisper with a serious expression.

He shakes his head slowly, the idea of discussing his feelings and pain being something he is not ready to do just yet. Your touches help in distract him.

"...maybe later, darlin', I'm sorry." Jasper whispers as he keep my eyes closed, focusing on the sensation of your fingers through his hair to avoid a relapse of his previous train of thought. He takes a couple of deep breaths as the gentle movement of your fingers helps him calm down and have a clearer mindset.

"Done." You said softly and clean his sweater from the fallen hair. You take on his image, his new look.

"You look real pretty, Jazz." You smiled, Jasper returned the smile in a much weaker way. He doesn't check himself in the mirror, he trusts you and knows you did a much better work than he did.

"....thank you, sugar." He whispers, feeling a little tired from all this. He holds your hand and kisses your palm.

"Cuddles?" You whisper back, he nods and picks you up to throw you in the bed with him.

He nuzzles his face on your neck, holding you so close to him. He takes a deep deep breath and closes his eyes.

".... you're- stuck with me forever...I'm sorry. You deserve someone better. I'm so sorry, sweetheart." He whispers against your skin.

"I'm happy to have you forever. I don't want anybody else." You whisper back and kiss the top of his head. He smiles weakly and hols you close, nuzzling to you like a needy kitten.

"...and I'm happy I got you too. I don't know who I'll be without you." Jasper closes his eyes and leaves gentle kisses on your neck.

"I love you so much." You whisper.

"I love you more." He answer with a gentle whisper.

"hmmm, I don't think so. I love you more than that." You speak teasingly, he chuckles softly and hugs you tightly.

"I love ya a hundred times that." He answers with a weak voice, like he's very sleepy.

"Well, I love you a thousand times that." You speak with a following giggle, Jasper chuckles and kisses your lips once more.

He's going to be okay. Here in your arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: heyyyy, here's an angsty fic because an idea came to my mind thinking about why did Jasper has such a radical haircut in between movies. And I was like "that's how you cut your hair after a breakdown." Y'know? So here's this, hope you like it, requests are open!

[wandasslut3000]

Welcome home

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, fluff, mommy!kink, semi-clothed sex, pet names, sub!reader, praise, hair tugging, scissoring, cunnilingus, fingering, marking, teasing, choking, long distance relationship?

WC: 2.4k

                 ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Lizzie was coming back home today. She'd been out of state for the past few weeks for her new movie, and although you couldn't be more proud of her, you’d missed your girlfriend painfully.

She'd FaceTime you every night before bed and wake you up with a good morning text.

Sometimes she'll call just to ask how you've been or if you'd eaten yet, always making you smile for how much she cares.

Lizzard🦎💚: Good morning princess, I'm boarding my plane. I can't wait to see you <3

Y/n: Yayy I'm so happy! Text me when you land baby, have a safe flight!

You bring your phone up to your chest, a wave of excitement flowing through you. You head into the kitchen and decide to make yourself breakfast, a simple eggs and toast.

Tapping your feet on the tile floor, you munch happily on your food, humming your own tune and thinking about all the things you'd do once you're back in Lizzie's arms.

Your mind starts to drift off into more explicit train of thought, imagining how her slender fingers would feel around your throat, how sweet she'd taste on your tongue, how fast she'd make you cum after so much time apart.

You blink rapidly, trying to ignore the growing wetness between your legs and regain your focus back to your eggs. You finish them in record speed, popping hints of toast into your mouth with each bite.

Once you finish, you wash your dishes. You then leave the kitchen and grab your keys, making your way outside and down the stairs of your complex. You get inside your car, start it and back out of the parking lot.

You drive yourself over to the nearest flower shop, parking your car in front of it and stepping out.

Heading inside the store, your nostrils are instantly flooded with the smell of all the surrounding plants.

You go straight for the roses, Lizzie's favorite, also making sure to grab some gardenias, mixing them in with the bouquet to help it pop.

You ask the florist to have a custom tag written on the side of the bouquet, a smile on your face as you wait patiently for him to make it and ring you up. 

Once you pay, you drive over to your local grocery store, grabbing a shopping cart and pushing it to the candy section. You grab a large chocolate bunny, and the cliche heart shaped box and put it inside.

You notice a wooden basket in the aisle across from you, grabbing it, you continue shopping till you're left with a stuffed teddy bear, a card, a fluffy blanket with little dogs on it and the chocolates from before.

You check out and drive back home, starting to set up your gift basket. You put the everything inside and start writing in the card you bought.

I'm so proud of you for being the big beautiful star I knew you'd always shine to be. I love you Lizzie.

You sign it, drawing a little heart next to your name, putting it in with everything else.

You grab your flowers, "Welcome home" written on the ribbon wrapping it, and place them next to basket on the table for the moment.

Your next task is getting yourself ready. You rush into your bathroom, stripping yourself of your clothes and going to take a shower.

As you make quick work to shave and keep yourself clean for her, the thoughts from earlier start coming back, a blush tainting your cheeks as you feel your core tingle.

Still, you regain your composure, finishing your shower and drying yourself off. You take a quick glance at your phone, knowing the flight from New York to L.A is only a few hours, and you'd already spent a good chunk of them shopping.

You find yourself a pair of white underwear with a tiny pink bow on it and decide to not to wear a bra, knowing that if anything were to happen, she wouldn't want to waste time on the pesky garment.

You throw on her burgundy NYU sweatshirt, and grey sweatpants, smiling when you realize her shirt still smells like her.

Sitting at your vanity you start to do your makeup, nothing too much, just a natural look.

You couldn't look a mess for the love of your life now could you?

Just as you finish up, you get a text from Lizzie telling you she'd landed and was in an Uber on the way home.

Your heart flutters, that rush of excitement returning to you as you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You sit on the couch, facing the door, the flowers in your hand as you wait for her like an obedient puppy, clutching your phone as you fight the urge to call her and ask how much longer she'd take.

As if right on cue, you hear the front door handle jiggle, Lizzie stepping inside with her luggage, your first instinct is to run up and practically pounce onto her.

"Baby!" You squeal.

She gasps, letting go of her bag and catching you as you wrap your arms around her, the flowers almost falling out of your grasp. She presses a kiss to your cheek, making you blush before you turn to kiss her.

"Well hello to you too." She grins, pecking your lips a few times, closing the door behind you two with her foot and setting you down, noticing the gifts you'd gotten her.

You hand her the bouquet and her smile widens. "Is this for me?" You nod, suddenly feeling shy as you notice the adoration in her eyes. "Got you presents."

Lizzie sniffs the flowers and her smile widens, she steps further inside your shared apartment, she makes her way up to the coffee table, her mouth opening slightly as she notices all the things you put together for her.

"You're so good to me." She turns to you, tears welling up in her eyes as she pulls you into a hug, kissing the crown of your head.

"You work so hard Liz, you deserve it." Gently, she backs away, turning to examine your gift basket.

The first thing she picks up is your card, opening it and a pout forming on her face. You look down at your feet bashfully, waiting for her to see the rest of her treats.

Slowly, she takes each out one by one, the chocolates, the bear and the blanket. She bites her lip in thought. You look up, "I would've gotten more but.. I didn't know if I had enough time."

She shakes her head, turning to you with her arms wide. She pulls you into her and picks you up again, your legs wrapping around your torso as your arms wrap around her neck, foreheads pressed against one another.

"This is more than enough babygirl, you make me feel so special. I only wish I'd gotten you something."

You shake your head, "You bring here is a gift in itself, I'm so happy you're home." You kiss her again, leaving little pecks all over her face, making her giggle.

Lizzie walks the two of you over to your shared bedroom, laying down in bed together with your arms still securely around each other, you straddling her lap.

You start to press kisses onto her neck, sucking at the skin at the column of her throat, little marks forming in their wake.

Lizzie groans, pushing your head closer as she feels your hands slip under her shirt, your cold hands on her hot skin making her shiver.

"I missed you so much." You murmur against her, "Wanted to feel you everyday."

Lizzie backs away for a second to unbutton her blouse, revealing a gray laced bra. You moan at the sight, looking up at her for approval before you reached behind her to unclip it, discarding the fabrics.

You leave your marks on the tops of her breasts, moving downwards and circling your tongue around her areola, Lizzie throbbing at the feeling.

Just as you switch to the other breast, you're flipped onto your back, pinned underneath her as she kisses you, tongue swiping your lip, asking for entrance.

You grant it to her, whimpering into her mouth as she takes over. Your hands go to her hair, tugging the silky brown locks as you wrap your legs around her to keep her close.

She breaks the kiss, slipping off her pants and panties, leaving her bare in front of you. She shifts down between your legs, spreading them and rubbing up and down your thighs.

"So pretty like this, in my shirt all precious, my gorgeous girl." You blush at her praise.

"Lizzie please-"

"That's not my name is it now?" She mockingly pouts at you, tilting her head

"I'm sorry.. mommy."

"Much better." You're practically plead for her to give you anything, begging her and trying to reason that it's been too long without her, you'd missed her touch, her hands on you.

You needed her.

Lizzie finally gives in, bunching the sweater up and pushing it past your breasts, revealing them to her. You try to pull it off but she grabs your hand.

"Don't. Keep it on." You obey and lay back onto the pillows.

She takes a nipple into her mouth, the other getting twisted by her slim fingers. Your body quivers, little moans escaping you at the feeling of her toying with your chest.

Still, you craved more. "Mommy touch me... please I need it so bad."

She chuckles "Am I not touching you right now darling?" She pinches your nipple, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

"Yes.. j- just need you down there." You tilt your head downward trying to gesture what you wanted.

"Down where princess? C'mon you can tell mommy, use your words." Your face flushes red in embarrassment, taking her hand and bringing it between your legs.

"Need mommy to play with my.. my big girl parts." She lets out a faux gasp, almost taunting you, tugging at the hem of your sweatpants and pulling them down.

She notices your underwear and bites her lip, fiddling with the little bow. "Such a pretty princess." You whine, bucking your hips up towards her as your wetness made the fabric almost transparent.

Lizzie rubs your slit through your panties, teasing you with two fingers and watching as you writhe underneath her, a dark smile drawing itself onto her face at your whimpers.

"P-please don't tease, I need you."

She pushes your panties to the side admiring your glistening cunt. Finally she makes contact with you, making you throw your head back, moaning at the feeling of her fingers on you.

"F-fuck." You groan when she dips two fingers into your entrance, not even giving you a moment to adjust as she pumps them into you.

"God I love this tight little pussy, no matter how many times I fuck it, it still grips mommy so good." You whimper, your hand reaching down to grab onto her forearm as she keeps a steady pace.

"Unh- mommy.. please don't stop." She smirks before bringing her head down, taking your clit into her mouth. "Oh my god."

Her tongue swirls around your bundle of nerves, your hand moving to grip onto her hair as she takes you. Your hips grind against her tongue while your legs tremble, the feeling of your climax approaching quickly.

"Fuck m’gonna cum, gonna cum on mommy's pretty face." Lizzie takes this moment to nibble on your throbbing pearl, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as you let out a guttural moan.

You feel the waves of your orgasm rush through you, your walls clenching around Lizzie's fingers as you slowing come down from your high.

You feel her press her lips to your pussy before trailing back upwards. Leaving quick kisses up your stomach and chest.

She pulls her fingers out of you, bringing them to your lips and watching as you suck the digits clean. Moaning at the taste of yourself.

Her free hand reaches down to wrap itself around your throat, gently squeezing the sides of your neck. Her tongue melds with yours when she kisses you.

Lizzie positions her wet heat onto yours, grinding against yours, making your nails dig into her forearm as you convulse in pleasure.

"M-mommy.. s-still sensitive..." She shushes you, licking a stripe from the column of your neck to your earlobe before taking it into your teeth.

"Take what I give you princess, good girls let their mommies handle them as they please."

You whine, your folds fluttering as you feel yourself getting closer. Lizzie's sloppy wetness brushing against yours in the best way, making you see stars.

"Mmph- ah.. fuck mommy!" You cum, your body trembling. She follows soon after, both of your breathing heavy and ragged as you come back down to earth.

"I love watching you fall apart." She cups your cheek making your heart flutter at her endearment.

"Mommy?" She looks down at you adoringly, raising her brow. "What is it baby?"

"Can I.. Can I taste you?" Her smile returns, nodding her head. She positions herself above you, your mouth watering when you notice the build up of her arousal between her lower lips.

You grab onto her thighs, pulling her down as Lizzie grabs onto the headboard. You start to lap at her cunt, her eyes rolling into her head as she praises you.

One of her hands reaches down and tugs on your hair, pulling you closer to her as feel yourself get drunk off her juices.

"Oh there you go angel, so fucking good." That last bit comes off in a growl, her body rocking against your face as she feels her climax wash through her, a blissed out grin on her face.

Lizzie drops back into bed, kissing your puffy lips, the both of you moaning into eachother's mouths.

She finally takes this time to take off the sweater, pulling your now naked body into her arms and cuddling you.

She traces invisible lines onto your back and the two of you sigh happily at the skin to skin contact. She presses a kiss to your forehead as you slowly start to feel yourself drift off into sleep.

Your eyes start to shut as you lose yourself in the safety of her arms. "I love you." Is the last thing you hear her whisper before you fall in a deep sleep.

[moonstruckme]

Hello my lovely!! Could I have a cute thingy with Remus getting the reader flowers, but plot twist she has never gotten flowers 🤔🤔 I feel you would do amazing with this 💕 kinda like outspoken but shy about affection reader

Thanks for requesting my love! (haha get it?)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 593 words

Remus tries not to take it personally when you open the door and your eyes go straight to the flowers bunched in his hand rather than his face. 

“Hey,” you say, eyes flitting up to his. You look surprised, but the happy kind, and Remus smiles. “Hi! What are you doing here?”

He almost wonders if he’s gotten the time wrong. “I, um, I thought we were going for coffee about now.” 

“Yeah.” Your smile turns bemused (still happy, though, so Remus tries not to worry about it too much). “I was just about to head out, I thought I was meeting you there.” 

Remus shrugs. “Easy miscommunication. I figured I was picking you up. You look very pretty, by the way.” 

It’s a simple truth, but you go shy nonetheless, looking up at him through your lashes as your shoulders come up almost imperceptibly. Remus wishes he could squeeze you. “Thanks. So do you.” 

He knows you’re just returning the compliment, but if he thinks about you calling him pretty for too long he’ll get as bashful as you and then no one will do the talking. “Thanks, love. These are for you, by the way.” He draws your attention back to its true object, holding the modest bouquet of daisies up for you to take. 

“For me?” You manage to seem genuinely surprised, as if Remus might have come to pick you up for a date and brought flowers for somebody else. You take them delicately, bringing them to your nose for a sniff. Remus winces (they don’t smell like anything, he checked), but you don’t seem to notice, beaming at him. “Remus, this is so sweet of you!” You go inside, motioning for him to follow. “Gosh, I don’t know what to say.” 

“It’s no problem.” He stands awkwardly by the door as you find a vase in one of your cabinets and start filling it from the tap. “Standard date rules, you know?” 

You shake your head, smiling down at your hands as you snip the ends of the stems off with scissors. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before,” you say, softly enough that Remus could almost miss it, that he wonders if you’re even talking to him.

He blinks at you. “Seriously?”

You give a little shrug, seeming almost embarrassed by your admission. “Yeah.”

There’s an odd conflict between pride and dismay happening in Remus’ chest. It’s sort of devastating to know that no one’s ever done something as simple as this for you before, but he’s happy to be the first.

“If I’d known these were your first gifted flowers,” he says, somewhat sheepish, “I would’ve gotten you something better than just whatever they had at the grocery.” 

The look you give him as you emerge from behind the counter, flowers arranged carefully in your vase, borders on offense. “Remus, these are gorgeous,” you chide. “I really love them, thank you so much.” 

He still feels you deserve better, but he can’t possibly argue with you when you’re being so lovely. He’ll have to make it up next time. “I’m glad, sweetheart. Are you ready to go?” 

You nod cheerily, and it doesn’t escape his notice that you don’t shy from the endearment like you usually would. Maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the smile still lingering on your lips from the surprise of the flowers, but Remus works up the courage to reach for your hand after you lock your front door behind you. When he gives your fingers a little squeeze, you squeeze back.

[citysweet]

— relationship head cannons (?) + plot

ෆ idol!chan x idol!fem reader

ෆ tw: none

ෆ wc: 1k+

| meeting

you met by mcing together, specifically around your debut so you're kinda nervy but excited nonetheless. especially since you're working with someone so attractive?? 

he's so sweet when he notices how you fiddle with your hands, twisting the rings on your fingers. “you’ll do good, yeah? don't be nervous.” 

one of y'all's first shows and everyone already loves it. chanyn trending everywhere, cute pictures of yall in your color coded outfits 

and with both your groups having comebacks, you're both getting teased endlessly. but it's only the beginning so you brush it off.

| crushing

then once you two become comfortable around one another, the skinship comes easy to you two. from leaning on one another to adjusting each other's jewelry/clothes (which is all seen on the bts of music show). but that's all it was, friendly, co-workish touching. at least that's what you started telling yourself when butterflies filled your stomach every time he walked into the dressing room. 

the camera the staff had given you captured all the games you played together while waiting for your schedule to start. the rock paper scissors, the hot hands and how you’d both lean into one another laughing. the way neither of you would let go right away. you two sharing whatever snacks and drinks you brought along for the long hours. ‘it’s just a crush that’ll go away.’ 

which leads to your crush only growing. minutes before you’re set to go on stage to declare this week's winner, you feel his hands rest on your shoulders. he stands behind you, leaning in towards your ear so you could hear him over the music playing. his breath on your skin sends a shiver up your spine and you straighten out your back. “who has your vote?” 

suddenly everything he does makes you feel a certain way. you force yourself to ignore it, caught up in thinking there's no chance he’d like you back. that god forsaken smile of his really did it, you’d catch yourself looking to make him laugh just to see his pretty dimples form. you always looked away once he’d look back, missing the way his eyes fill with admiration at the mere sight of you. 

“what?”, you ask the first time you notice his eyes on you. he flushes pink, looking away and shaking his head. he clears his throat, tweaking with his mic. “nothing.” the first person to pick up on your little crush is your manager (who you’re quite close with). you shrug it off, still stubbornly denying it. and not to your knowledge, chan was also dodging every attempt to talk about you from his members. 

| realization

it really starts to set in for you both when you reach your last show together. its comeback season again for your group and you sit with your members in the dressing room after winning. a knock on the door silences the conversation and someone gets up to open it. on the other side stands chan with a bouquet of flowers along with your name written on a card hidden between the stems. all the eyes turn to you and you quickly move to stand outside the room with him. he nervously hands the flowers to you. your fingers brush against his and your eyes lock. 

you then remember what you had gotten him and quickly turn around, opening the door and picking up the bag with a small cake inside. chan hesitates when you stick out your hand, insisting you shouldn’t have gotten him anything. your hand reaches for his wrist, placing the bag into his grip. your touch sends a sheen of heat across his body. you two bid your goodbyes when his group comes prancing down the hallway. you wave to them, thanking chan for the flowers again before slipping back into the room. 

| communicating

since then, the fact that chan didn’t go any farther had been eating him up. it had been nearly a month since he’d seen you, unsure if you even read the heartfelt note he left. not necessarily a confession of any kind, but him sharing how happy he was to have worked with you specifically. which you had read it, more than once actually. however, in all the time he spent with you, numbers were never exchanged. and with such little free time, the only chance you had to mention it was on live. 

“ah! i just remembered,” you say before jumping up and grabbing the vase containing the somewhat healthy flowers off your desk. you pull them into frame, taking out the card. “channie gifted me some flowers on our last day and he left me a card..” 

“they’re kind of dying now,” you laugh softly, “but i never got to thank him for the card. its funny cause we worked together for so long, but we never exchanged numbers.” you flip open the card for the nth time in the last month, smiling when your eyes scan over the words. 

“so channie if you see this, thank you. it was very sweet.” you say looking into the camera before folding up the card and tucking it back into the vase. “ ‘he’s so nice.’ ”, you read aloud from the moving messages on the screen in front of you. nodding, you reply “mhm! he is.” the smile on your face slides past no one, leaving plenty of room for speculation. 

the fans made sure to get the clip to chan, to which he responded on live as well. 

“i saw uh-..y/n’s live..yeah we had so much fun together we completely forgot about sharing our numbers.” he says as his hand rubs up against his arm in the black sleeveless he had on. (that thing he does iykyk)

“i’m glad you liked it! i wasn't sure if you had gotten it…and the cake was really good.” ‘cake?’, “yeah, y/n got me cake. the kids ate most of it though,” he laughs, “it was very thoughtful of her, be nice to her guys, okay?” 

| bag secured

later on, when you two do finally see each other again its around award season. which meant a handful of rehearsals and thankfully your times lined up. so while staff got all the technical stuff ready, you two made conversation. chan’s nails pick at his fingers nervously as doubt racked his brain. the boys had convinced him to ask you out (after forcing the fact that he liked you out of him). after a little while, the tension is eased and you’re laughing and joking just like before. 

someone comes over and hands you your mic pack, he immediately offers to help you, not waiting till you say yes. he loops the wire around your waist, plugging it into the small box and clipping it onto the hem of your pants. as he secures it, a sudden boost of confidence dawns on him and he goes for it. “do you wanna go out with me?” when you freeze up before turning around, his hands drop to his side and he goes pale. 

“yeah...yeah i would.” you say, failing to bite back a smile. he lets out a dry chuckle, nodding. he clears his throat, “we should probably get each others numbers, yeah?” you laugh, nodding along before pulling your phone from your pocket and handing it to him. you take his, putting in yours. you swear your knees almost buck when he looks at you with that shy smile, dimples ever so prominent. 

---

later that evening, after the long day you’ve had, you open your contact list. your phone pings and your heart nearly jumps out your throat.

channie 💙 : hey, when are you free?

ෆ my annual fic longer than 1k omg omg

© citysweet

[dumblilb]

ooooh may i request headcanons for ellie and her long-term gf celebrating their anniversary? i feel like ellie would be so sweet and spoil tf out of her gf (especially in bed 😩)

ANNIVERSARY!ELLIE HEADCANONS

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

(Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, scissoring, fingering (r!receiving), fluff )

-Ellie would wake up early that morning, rushing to the kitchen to try and make you breakfast in bed. The poor woman can’t cook for shit, so you woke up to the smell of burnt toast. But you couldn’t help the huge smile on your face as she stumbled into the room. Face contorted in annoyance to see you awake.

-She would place the breakfast down on your lap and kiss you sweetly on the forehead. You grinned at her as she crawled into bed next to you, resting her head against your shoulder as you tried to eat the food she made.

-She later takes you to the living room where you find a thick large envelope sitting on the coffee table next to a hand picked bouquet of your favorite flowers.

-You were practically brought to tears as you open up the envelope to find years worth of sketches she had done of you. You wondered how she could look at you and create something so beautiful. You turn to her gaze and sit up, pulling her into a hug.

-“You like them?” She asks and you pull apart slightly to look her in the eyes. Holding her face in your hands.

-“I love them. I love you.” Her face lights up and she kisses you slowly. Wrapping her arms tighter around your waist.

-You cook her dinner to avoid a repeat from breakfast, which you’re both grateful for. When you both finish up you pull out a small wrapped gift and hand it to her. She eyes you skeptically with a grin, till she opens it and her features soften. Under the paper lay a cd with the words ‘songs that remind me of you’ displayed on the front.

-She would walk you to your shared room and place the cd in the player, letting the music fill her ears. She turns to you with lust in her eyes, snaking her arms around you to lay you down on the bed.

-She wouldn’t know how to control herself as she removed each item of clothing you had on. Letting out a string of phrases like ‘what did I do to deserve you’

-She’d hold you so softly in her arms to contrast the aggressive thrusting of her fingers in your cunt.

-“You’re so good to me, you know that?” She’d pant as you lay whimpering under her. Clenching around her fingers as they slipped in and out. Your slick coating her digits.

-“Ellie please!” You’d beg as she let you release on her. But she would quickly switch to straddle your heat running the pooling sensation that once was in her boxers against yours. Rocking her hips back and forth, making friction as your clits rubbed against each other.

-“I fucking love you so much! God you feel so good! Shit. Shit. Shit!” She’d groan as she finished with you.

-She’d hold you like her life depended on it after cleaning you up and showering you with kisses. You fall asleep to the sweet nothings she’d whisper in your ear. As she gently played with your hair.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the bouquet

lilac, chapter six

a/n: those kind of wet dreams are the best for real... like a fucking spell has been put on you, damn....

summary: “they should really put a warning up on those, plucking flowers is a dangerous thing.”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, smut, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, renovating an inn, no work gloves this time purely for the slutty need of hands, patching up a porch, wet dream, masturbation, townies thirsting over frank, pov shift (the end is from frank's), going to a bar, alcohol consumption, lots of pining

word count: 2253

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“H-holy shit,” you blew out a shaky breath as you blinked open your heavy lids to stare up at the ceiling of your bedroom. 

Haven stirred from a dream but moments before, the imagery your mind had coaxed you with had been so intense that you still felt half asleep when you woke. 

Half asleep and dripping wet.

Subconsciously, your hand had crept down below your pyjama pants before you’d even opened your eyes, determined to finish the job your fantasy had started. 

Tangled in the sheets, it felt like you were still dreaming, the powerful and alluring imagery possessing your mind making it impossible not to tremble in want and near the edge faster than you’d thought imaginable. 

But as your body laid there reeling in the afterglow, buzzing pearl sensitive beneath your fingertips, that’s when you truly woke and realised what, or whom, your carnal vision had been about. Who’s touch had felt so real, lips so sweet and words so honeyed… 

Squinting up at the blossoming lilac flowers, the sun shined directly into your eyes as you raised yourself up onto your tip toes to see if you could reach them. The lower ones already plucked and secure in your left fist, your fingertips barely skimmed the deep green leaves on the gnarly branches you were attempting to grasp. 

With an airy huff, you looked around the garden and quickly spotted a weathered fold-up chair that could no doubt grant you the necessary centimetres.

While dragging it over to the right spot underneath the blooming shrub, you feared that the old seat would be too wobbly for you to be able to balance on, though when you tried, it turned out to sink enough down into the grass to make the boost be just stable enough to hold you. 

After snapping a few of the flowers off the branches, you came across one that was much fuller and more striking than the others already in your grasp, though when you tried to give it a firm tug, the unexpected stubbornness of the twig caused you to let out a curse for why you hadn’t brought out a pair of scissors with you. 

“Come on,” you mumbled through your gritted teeth as you yanked at it, eventually leaning back to utilise some of your body weight, though when you did, when your spine reached a curved enough angle, that’s when the damn flower decided to snap off, sending you tumbling down to your doom. 

Though as you let out a shrill yelp, you never managed to hit the ground, as you instead fell into a quick pair of arms. 

“Wow, I’ve got you,” the deep voice alone caused your face to go flush. 

“Uh,” you blinked up into the eyes of the one and only man whom your brain had decided to have a filthy dream about just last night, “h-hi!”

“Are you okay?” his strong grip on your form caused the vivid fantasy to come rushing back with a vengeance.

“Mhm,” you hummed, eyes fluttering hazily, “I’m good, I’m great,” your chest heaved as you then haphazardly raised up the bouquet in your grasp, “you know, just getting some flowers for the tables and stuff…”

“Yeah, I can see that,” an amused cock to his brow swiftly appeared, “I’m gonna put you down now, okay?” he said clearly, in a tone as if you’d hit your head. 

Nodding fuzzily, “okay,” your hands, still tightly wound around the pastel blossoms, rested in support on either side of his broad shoulders long after he’d planted you back down on the ground. 

“You good?” his head dipped to search your features, fiery touch still lingering on your waist a moment longer before it faded away. 

“Yep,” you averted your gaze, awkwardly gesturing up towards the grand shrub, “they should really put a warning up on those, plucking flowers is a dangerous thing,” finally peeling your palms away from his radiating warmth, “but, uh, thank you for catching me.”

Tongue sweeping out in an effort to snuff out his beguiled smile, he gazed down at you and uttered, “any time.” 

“So, um,” you cleared your throat, recalling why he was actually here today, “do you have t-the wood?”

“Yeah, it’s in the truck,” he gestured back over his shoulder towards the façade of the inn where the dirt road ended, widening out into a small patch before the veranda of the building flourished, his loaded vehicle indeed being vaguely visible from back here, “but we don’t have to work on the porch today if you don’t feel up for it.” 

“No, no, I’m ready,” you hastily shook your head, shifting all of the florets into one hand, “there have been giant holes in that thing for as long as I can remember, so I am more than ready to bid them adieu.”

“Great, then I’ll just go get it while you finish this up.”

“Oh, I’m actually done, I was just supposed to get them for my dad,” you then heard yourself adding, “also, I can’t in good conscience make you carry that stuff all alone,” nearly poking him with the bouquet as you implored, “I mean, you’re already helping me out so much around here, it just wouldn’t be fair,” raising up a pleading finger, your feet then began to back up, slowly carrying you towards the backdoor, “just give me one second, let me run in with this real quick and then I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he offered you even a hint of confirmation, your stride took off, rushing indoors, chest heaving as you eventually caught yourself on the kitchen counter, though not from your speedy pace.

Settling the flowers down, your fingers grasped the edge of the cool tabletop, nearly doubling over as you sucked in calming breaths in an attempt to rid your body of the tingling sensations the lingering dream triggered.

When you eventually swung the doors back open, a purposeful shake of your clammy palms on either side of your frame was the last attempt you made to cool down. 

Shoving the passenger side door shut, paint-chipped toolbox acquired and firm in his hand, you walked towards Pete as he unlatched the bed of the truck where lengthy planks of wood lay stacked. 

“Hey,” you hesitantly called out as you neared him, his head rotating at the sound of your voice, “I just wanna apologise again for what happened that day at your cabin…” 

“Christ, not this again,” he set the toolbox down with a heavy clank, “Y/n, you can’t keep doing this.”

“But-”

“No,” he nearly chuckled, “you literally did nothing wrong! One was an accident,” he counted on his fingers, “we’ve already established that, and the other? Sweetheart, that’s not something you should apologise for.”

Brows knit tightly together, you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, “but I cried, like really cried, and dumped all of that shit on you…”

“You didn’t dump anything, you shared,” he countered, “hey, look at me,” dipping his head down to catch your tense vision, he then continued softly, “I know that it was uncomfortable for you, but that doesn’t mean it was wrong,” his wide palm reassuringly found the top of your shoulder, “it’s not wrong to talk about something that’s hard, that’s the kind of shit that helps you move on from it,” searching you edgy expression a moment, his warm touch then faltered in favour of the pile of lumber, sliding one of the long stacks out as he urged light-heartedly, “now shut up and grab the other end of this,” gliding it out far enough for you to grasp the other end. 

After curving halfway around the porch, you halted, “hold up,” fingers screaming out from the way the weight dug into your soft palms, “stop, one second,” you tried to prop your knee up under the many planks, “I just need to hold onto it a little differently.” 

Glancing back at you, “okay,” he muttered before the lumber gingerly swung away from you, careful not to collide with you as he unexpectedly hauled the long and hefty bundle up in a more secure hold on his broad shoulder, “I can also just carry these the rest of the way, if you want,” the nonchalant offer coming out as if the timber didn’t weight a thing at all.

“Uh…” your breath became a thing of the past as your eyes fixated on the way his burly muscles bulged under his rolled-up sleeves.

“I think maybe if you go back and just grab one or two on your own it won’t be such a pain on your hands. I mean, no offence, I’m just–” 

“No, that sounds great, you just–, uh,” your fumbling words cut off his suggestion as your feet already began to drag you back towards his truck, “I’ll go get some–, uhm, yeah…”

Dark hair gently falling down and tickling his brow, Pete’s eyes were fast on the plank under his broad palm as he fastened in two screws, securing the board and gradually patching up the gaping hole on the deck. 

Kneeling as well, your clutch on the other end of the slat didn’t do much in the way of holding it in place. Your whole body felt like jelly as you caught sight of the way the veins on the back of his hand popped out from the stain of pressing down on the buzzing drill, forcing the screw to embed itself into the wood. 

Lips slightly parted, you swore you felt your cunt clench around nothing as you fought the urge to let out an embarrassing whimper. 

Pete’s head barely raised as his index finger slacked its force on the bulky button, unceremoniously passing the power tool to you as he had done a dozen times by now so that you could take care of the task in the other end, “here,” though when you didn’t move to snatch it out of his grasp, his features perked up, “Y/n?” letting out a short whistle in order to snap you out of your trance.

“Yeah?” your pulse thumped between your thighs, “oh, thanks,” giving your head a swift shake before you seized the gimlet and huffed out a big exhale, hoping you weren’t blushing as hard as it felt like you were.

As you clutched the drill, screwing in a few bolts on your side of the porch, a voice from the garden caught your ears.

“You know, my second husband was a carpenter,” you spotted Donna right on the other side of the railing, wafting a bright floral fan mere inches from her amble bosom as if she was some saucy Victorian woman in heat, “I’ve always loved a man who’s good with his hands…”

Her obvious innuendo made you bite down on your grin in order to not burst out a laugh. 

Sucking in a controlled and mildly impatient breath, Pete averted his gaze and uttered formally, “hello ma'am.” 

“It’s awfully chilly these nights, don’t you think?” the rotund woman continued to brashly bat her eyelashes at him, “perhaps you could personally come fill up my stack of firewood? Help warm me up a bit?”

“Ma'am, I already informed you before,” he kept his tone polite yet detached, “I don’t do deliveries, I just drop firewood off at the market, but perhaps someone there could help bring some to you.”

Pushing the doors open to the unacquainted roadside bar Frank found himself at, he had no idea how long he’d been driving for, simply that the sky had turned black long after he reached uncharted land in his desperate attempt at clearing his foggy mind.

“Evening,” the proprietor greeted him as he slumped down at the bar, “what can I get you?”

“Just a beer,” Frank answered distantly, his head elsewhere as it had unfortunately become acquainted with ever since nothing short of an angel had walked into his life. 

“You’ve got it,” the bartender swiftly reached down into one of the compact coolers hiding back there and conjured an emerald flask, popping the lid off with an opener at his belt just before he slid it across the counter towards him, “here you are.”

Offering a courteous nod, “thanks,” Frank then began to drown his sorrows. 

The establishment was mostly empty, only he and one other customer on the other side of the bar acted as its sole patrons. 

“Hey,” the other man soon barked, “can I get a refill over here?” he lifted up his stout glass and tapped a ringed finger against the side, “and from the top shelf this time, I don’t want any more of this cheap hillbilly shit you try and call whiskey.” 

When the bartender obliged, unable to hide how visibly peeved the rude customer made him feel, Frank’s eye line followed the proprietor’s movements as he served up the drink, still lazily fixated as he handed it off into the boorish man’s inked hand. Swiftly downing it as he rose from his tall stool, Frank’s tired vision momentarily got a chance to rest on the reptilian tattoo that decorated the back of the stranger's right hand. His sharp suit rose up ever so slightly to reveal that the striking design curled even higher on his tan skin than what was visible, before he promptly slammed it back down, along with crumbled compensation, and left, the sound of a garish engine soon acting as his last and final farewell.

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[silky-nereid]

— memory's regret

yandere!firework owner x married!reader/you

a/n: I would recommend to read this one before reading this. , part 3

Yandere! Firework owner who also lived in the small town but on the outskirts of the town and was constantly overshadowed by their more outspoken siblings who could blend in within the ranks of old money which you were somewhat friends in childhood. Due to quiet conversations within the insides of the old money town was ultimately forced to move away.

Yandere! Firework owner who comes back after years of being away and dreams of seeing you again and works nearest jobs to see you.

Yandere! Firework owner who’s working the post office and finally sees you again and their heart flutters with joy since you had been writing letters to a relative. 

“Just these?” They asked. 

You held a simple booklet that was littered with cut out stamps, they were different from your usual choice which was the common blue. 

“Cut them and put them on this letter. I have seen you before.” You handed the amount needed to purchase the booklet to them, looking intensely at them. “You work in the…in the cafe?” 

“Yes.” Their hands trembled, the snipping of scissors echoed throughout the slow hour. “I do work around town.” 

They stuck it on the letter that you had given them, fingertips accidentally brushed; it was meant to be. They put the letter in the mailing shelf for that specific place; don’t open it.

Yandere! Firework owner who is fired from their workplace in the post office due to ‘tampering with the occasional letter or two’ and begrudgingly continues their jobs despite their stacked schedule but they soon leave the town once more to find more work and then they could be the person that was able to support you and your desires. 

Yandere! Firework owner who accidentally falls into dirty business but doesn’t mind since they’re waiting to get you in their arms which they aren’t going to let go. After years, they finally arrive back to the small town with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and they arrive at your home, expecting to see you. Instead they were greeted by a maid telling them that you had been married off at the beginning of last summer. 

Yandere! Firework owner, who in their grief purchased a small estate near a dock and had too many fireworks from a deal going wrong, started up a few viewing parties to try and relieve this empty hole. They send invitations to everyone out of pure tiredness as if someone would see the beauty in fireworks then they might try to see the beauty as well. 

Your eyes looked around the open space, twinkling stars in the pitch black would soon be replaced by colorful fireworks, your hands that nervously gripped his bicep. 

“Welcome.” Their eyes still darted down but a smile grew on their face. “You both are?” 

“Hand them the invitation,” you said. “The host must be somewhere—“ 

Their eyes darted up hearing your voice, were the fireworks too close or did it feel like a eternal summer in their clothes. 

“I’m—I am the host.” They adjusted their cuffs. “A pleasure to have you both.” 

Throughout the viewing party, their eyes were kept on you who now sat alone, watching the fireworks and slipping from the champagne flute. After one drink to loosen up and decide to walk towards you who seemed to be lost in thought. Each step towards you made their legs wobble in pure worry, their stomach no longer grumbled but felt like an anchor that weighed down each step. 

“Not now, can’t you see—“ You turned around to see them. “Apologies, I thought you were someone else.” 

“No, I understand.” They sat down next to you. “How is the show? Is it everything that you wanted?”

“It’s great,” you said, “better than going to the pictures. Have you been to the pictures?” 

“Not often.” They looked at the colorful bursts of the twisted colors. “Which ones would you recommend seeing?” 

Yandere! Firework owner who listens to every picture/movie recommend seeing and doesn’t realize how closely you both were but doesn’t point it out to you and puts their coat on you and hands are slowly interwoven with each other before you were snatched away by your spouse who seemed to be a bit disheveled. They watched every step that you did and there was no resistance towards him. 

Yandere! Firework owner who manages to get your line and calls you whenever you’re in need which invitations are becoming more and more frequent. After weeks of calling, their heart aches when you call them a friend because they need to be more but they’re alright after a few days since being friends isn’t that bad. 

Yandere! Firework owner who lets you stay at their home after a big argument and let’s you express your bottled emotions which they dropped the usage of your name and replaced it with dear.

You lay on the daybed, still in your undergarments and a silk robe with intricate designs covering your body as socks were held up with garters. Your palms held the silver wedding ring that rested on your abdomen which a soft hand brushed against yours. You jolted up, reddened eyes from crying frantically looking at them. 

“I’m sorry, dear.” They pulled away their hand. “I didn’t mean to disturb you but you haven’t come for breakfast, do you want to tell me anything?” 

After an odd silence in the decorated lounge that seemed to have your preferences in mind, you sat up and they sat down next to you; dressed in simple day attire.

“Why do you stay with him?” They asked. 

“Security.” You looked down at your lap. “My parents left the inheritance to the rest, they didn’t ever plan for me to let get anything."

“I can help.” They smiled, grabbing your hand and softly squeezing it. “I can give you enough to keep you afloat for a while because I have too much to spare. Please, can you do this one request?” 

“What is it?” You asked. 

“That you will not go back to him,” they said. “I know that you’re intelligent and I can try to understand why it would be tempting but don’t go back to him, dear.” 

[comet-forgot-you]

Do you think you could write more for Max Fox? Smut or fluff or whatever cause there's not many fics of her that I can find on here. :(

yes omg, love love love max.

messes

max fox x reader

summary: baking cookies for max always comes with messes

warnings: 18+ pls, smut, fingering, oral, shower sex

a/n: this was supposed to be just fluff but i feel like im really bad at that 😞 this one honestly doesnt have anything too bad, super soft and fluffy at the beginning i think. do not repost for any reason.

max always got what she wanted from you. whether it be a bouquet of her favorite flowers, or a photoshoot of just you in nothing but a pair of underwear and a button up, she always got what she wanted, you were too much of a sucker for her to say no. tonight was no different. all it took was one quiet ‘please’ and slight pout on her lips for you to say yes.

which brought you to where you were now, stood in the kitchen while max sat on the counter, watching as you skillfully mixed the ingredients for cookies together. it was 2 am and max had woken up craving your chocolate chip cookies, causing her to wake you up to plead for you to make some. the house was quiet, and you assumed everyone was asleep, so you tried your best to stay quiet while making the cookies.

“you’re so nice to me,” she mumbles, swinging her feet. a smile tugs at your lips at her praises.

“only cause i love you,” you mumble. a smile breaks out on her face as she tugs your arm. you let her guide you to stand in front of her and she presses a kiss against your lips.

“you’re so cheesy,” she mutters, pulling back slightly. you roll your eyes playfully, pulling yourself away from her.

“fine, guess i’ll have these for myself then,” you joke, placing the dough on the covered cookie sheet.

“baby no, i was just kidding,” she quickly defends. “please let me have some,” she whines. she knows your threat isnt real, but she’s way too tired, and way too hungry to play around about it.

you place the tray of cookie dough in the oven before making your way to max. “you know im just messing with you, don’t take it too seriously,” you say, gently flicking her forehead. she quickly covers it with her hands.

“ow! why did you hit me? i just wanted some cookies! you’re so mean, i’m literally just a girl.” you roll your eyes at her over reaction, pressing a kiss to her lips to shush her. you reach to her side, scooping a little bit of flour out of the bag without her noticing.

you step away quickly, throwing the flour in her face. her jaw drops, “you didn’t” she mutters.

“i did,” you say proudly. it doesn’t take long before the counters and floors are covered in flour, laughs from the both of you loud enough to wake up the entire house, which is what it does.

“oh my god.” sam’s voice carries surprise and disappointment, and both of you turn to face her, laughs instantly stopping. frankie and duke stand on either side of her. sam’s eyebrows are furrowed, you and max look at each other, then back at them before bursting out into even more laughter.

—

the two of you stood in the shower, rinsing the left over flour off of your bodies. it had taken almost 2 hours, and 3 more flour attacks, for you two to finish cleaning up. the early hours of the morning were finally catching up to you. you wrapped your arms around max’s waist, the warm water cascading down your bodies. her back was flush against your front, your thumb tracing the letters of your names on her hip.

“tired?” she asks in a mumble. you nod against her shoulder, pressing kisses against her neck. she lets out a shaky breath at the feeling of your lips against her neck. your hand glides across her wet skin, the sound of shaky breathing and the shower echoing in your head. your hand reaches the heat between her thighs, scissoring your fingers against her folds.

her hips buck into your hand, a needy whine escaping her lips. you circle her clit with two fingers, your teeth sinking into the skin of her neck. you sink your fingers into her cunt, scissoring them ever so slightly. she lets put a quiet moan, grinding against the palm of your hand.

it doesnt take long for her to topple over the edge, her juices coating your fingers as the shower water get colder. you pay no mind to it, pushing her back into the wall and dropping to your knees to lap up the mess between her thighs.

as soon as the two of you are dried off, your lying in bed held in each other’s arms. limbs tangled together as sleep overtakes both of you. neither of you wake up until the early hours of the afternoon, limbs still interlocked with one another.

[notjustjavierpena]

Love you fluff and spicy fics! They are the best kinds ;) can I request dates with Husband!Javi or DILF!Joel? (Would love to read them both but I’ll let you take the rein ;))

First - Part 2: Date

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Enjoy, anon!

Summary: With the way your relationship started, you’ve never been on a first date. You do a fake first date.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), PIV sex, unprotected sex, clit stim, creampie, dirty talk, hot and desperate sex

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48689506/chapters/122820544#workskin

Date

“We never actually had a first date, did we?” 

Joel looks down at you as you rest your head on his shoulder, his lips pressed into your hair. You cuddle up to him even more than before because he has just put a blanket over the both of you. He furrows his brow at the question, trying to understand what you are playing at. 

You’re not playing at anything. In fact, a very large part of you is happy that you never had to go through the torturous process of getting to know a stranger by taking them places and forcing them to answer uncomfortably personal questions. 

“No, we didn’t…” he says into your hair as if awaiting further instructions or explanations, “Why?”

You grab the remote to press play on your movie, then shrug nonchalantly, “No reason. The thought just came to me, popped into my head.”

“Is it something you want?” He continues as if treading carefully. 

“God no,” you turn your body a little in his arm to kiss him on the lips a few times, “I’m thankful that we skipped the heart palpitations and clammy hands, the painful silences.”

“I had nothing but clammy hands the first two weeks of just seeing you in the street,” he admits, bumping your noses together with red cheeks at his confession, “Felt like a fuckin’ teenager. Sarah near laughed her ass off.”

“And you didn’t ask me out,” you tut, then get an idea that has your face lighting up, “Wait… How would you have asked me out? How is your game?”

“Let me take you to dinner and you’ll find out,” he teases, focusing on turning back to the TV screen.

“Oooh, alright. You’re on. Pick me up at six.”

*

You agree on Friday at 6 pm. As soon as the roleplay is on, a ton of butterflies erupt inside your stomach at the thought of being wined and dined by Joel Miller. You don’t expect too much though, because the poor guy has previously already told you that the number of dates he has been on since Sarah’s mother passed can be counted on one hand. Despite no one having died, the same goes for you and that fact will surely make the evening a comical one.

At six o’clock your doorbell rings and you fix the straps of your dress for the millionth time in the hallway mirror before opening the door. 

Joel looks good. He has his usual jeans on, but has added a belt, and the t-shirt that he always wears has been substituted with one of his nice button-up shirts and it’s been neatly tucked into his pants. The wristwatch is still there, and the intoxicating smell of his cologne too, but despite all this grabbing your attention, it’s nothing compared to the handful of smaller sunflowers that he is holding out for you. 

“Oh, you sly bastard,” you grin, realizing now just how fun the night out will be. If Joel is doing this, you might as well roleplay along. You step forward to take the very homemade bouquet, “These are gorgeous, Joel, my favorite.”

“Figured roses were too cliche,” he states shyly. 

“Let me just put these in water,” you step away from the door to hold it open for him, “Come in. I’ll be ready in five.”

Joel steps silently inside, following you into the kitchen where you get a vase from on top of your refrigerator and start filling it with water. With a pair of kitchen scissors, you cut the stems at an angle.

“Nice place you got here,” Joel small-talks. He tries not to smile, but you can see that he fights the urge to chuckle at the silliness of the situation. 

“Thanks, yeah, a super cute guy helped me a lot over the summer,” you put the sunflowers into the vase, placing it on your kitchen island to be able to admire them in the morning light. 

“Oh?” Joel questions, placing a hand on the counter as he watches you fluff the sunflowers to make them look less messy after you’ve handled them, “Should I be concerned by competition?”

“Not if you knock it out of the park tonight, starting by telling me I look beautiful,” you say with a smile, walking up to him and trying not to kiss his stupid face. 

You are wearing Joel’s favorite dress of yours that hugs your chest and ass in a way that makes a few people turn their heads every time you go outside wearing it. 

“You look stunning,” he says as he looks down at you, then grins, “I have a few things planned for tonight, and I think you’ll like ‘em.”

“Lead the way.”

*

Joel takes you to a restaurant in the city of Austin. It is Italian in a cliché way; checkered tablecloths, candles in wine bottles, and, to top it off, a picture of Lady and the Tramp on the wall. It’s nothing that seems to appeal to Joel, but you cannot help but love it in the most wonderful childlike way and point it out as you enter the place.

Though to save him the pain of getting embarrassed, you order a pizza instead of the classic spaghetti. He orders a pizza himself, furrowing his brow as he realizes that the proper way of eating pizza here is by using a knife and fork. 

“So,” you say after a mouthful of food, taking a sip of your wine, “Texas born and raised?”

“Yeah, my folks live half an hour out of town,” Joel replies, resting his wrists on the edge of the table, “And Sarah, my daughter… We've been in that house since forever. Sarah doesn’t know much else than that street.”

“You have a daughter?” You tilt your head curiously, challenging him with a little smile.

“Oh yeah, fifteen years old. Love of my life,” he tells you, and your heart swells because you know exactly how he looks at her with wonder and love, “Does that bother you?”

“Not at all, I just don’t have any kids of my own,” you reply. 

“Is that… something you can see yourself in? Kids?” 

You figure that it’s a fair question for a date, but it’s a little overwhelming when you’re already in too deep. Months deep into this relationship actually.

“Well, yeah,” you say after a pause, somehow so certain, “Yeah… I want the whole thing; white picket fence and nauseating suburban lifestyle.” 

You can see Joel visibly relax. 

“Is it hard being a single dad?” You ask gently. 

Joel tenses up once more, resting his hand on the tabletop and tapping his fingers slightly. He avoids your gaze, “Sometimes. I mean… I’m terrified that I will end up in a situation where I can’t be what she needs. Additionally, it’s hard to imagine getting something you want for yourself when all you think of is soccer practice, boy bands, birthdays, and tampons.”

You place your hand on top of his, fingertips slowly running up and down Joel’s wrist, “That sounds hard.”

It’s nice to get to know Joel like this, and as you sip your wine, conversation flows easily between the two of you. Date-night Joel is funny and charming, exactly how you pictured him, and more. He compliments you throughout the evening, makes you laugh to the point where you can see his eyes soften and cause another compliment to spill from his mouth.

“Got any moves?” You ask before cutting into the last slice of your pizza. Joel finished his own a little while ago. 

“Moves?” He questions, absentmindedly reaching out for your hand on the table again. You place your palm in his and he rubs his thumb over your knuckles.

“Yeah, date moves? I bet you’re going to lend me your jacket later. That sorta stuff.”

“I actually was,” he chuckles with slightly red cheeks that might as well have been from the bottle of red wine that you’ve shared, then running his free hand over his hair and leaning back into his seat, “I figured since we should've had our first date in June, it was the right time to do a summer activity, so we’re getting ice cream after this. And I know it’d get you chilly.'' 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously. And what about you?”

“I haven’t used any moves on you tonight,” you lie. 

“Liar,” he laughs, shaking his head disapprovingly, “Tell me.”

“I asked you about your daughter,” you shrug and try brushing it off.

“That’s a move?” He raises a brow. 

“Well, got me touching you, didn’t it?” You nod down at where you are holding hands, causing Joel to sit up a little straighter as he realizes. 

“I think we need to get out of here before you manipulate me further,” he jokes, letting go of your hand to raise his own to signal a waiter.

*

You get ice cream cones after dinner at a charming little parlor. Joel gets strawberry and you get hazelnut. It seems like the perfect end to your date.

The sky is speckled with stars as you walk through a dimly lit area with Joel’s jacket wrapped around your shoulders. In your hand, your ice cream cone is melting slowly, but you manage to catch each dribble with the flat of your tongue. Joel’s eyes are on you the whole time. 

“Do you have work tomorrow?” You ask casually.

“Yeah,” he replies, eating his ice cream, “Not early in the morning though. Why?”

“Just wondered if you were going to follow me home after this,” you say with another lick. You’ll invite him inside too; Joel knows this but it’s part of the fun to not say anything.

He hums, “Sure, of course. I wouldn’t want you taking the bus alone at this hour anyway.”

“Ever the gentleman.”

Joel smiles to himself. Definitely not going to be a gentleman. He then dares to reach between you to find your hand. He entwines your fingers, says nothing and you walk without conversation for a while until you fake a yawn. 

“I should get home.”

“I know the quickest way to the car.”

*

You find yourself on your front porch not long after. It seems ridiculous how many times Joel has been standing behind you like this, breathing down your neck as you unlock your front door. 

With a shy smile, you stop trying to unlock the door and let the key sit in the lock. You dare to turn around to look up at Joel’s big brown eyes that are watching you with the glazed expression he gets whenever he wants to clear his head and kiss you. 

It reminds you of your first kiss as he dips down, searching out your mouth with his own, and whilst you want to give in, you also want to make him work for it, play out the scene.

“I had a really good time tonight,” you interrupt him as he is just about to kiss you. 

“Right,” he looks like someone trying to refrain from rolling his eyes. He hesitates but then replies, “Can I see you again?”

“Yes, I’d like that a lot. Thank you for letting me fall in love with you a little more tonight.”

Something changes at that.

“And can I kiss you?” He asks a little impatiently. Something is brewing.

You animatedly tap your chin and giggle as he sighs at your silliness. It earns you a kiss, short and sweet and definitely not enough. You pull him down to your mouth again when he tries to pull away. 

There haven’t been many women before you in the years after Sarah’s mother, and it results in a starving man who cannot get enough when he knows that he has you. You like it when he snaps; as if the dam that holds back all of his pent-up need for you since seeing you in his favorite dress crumbles.

You kiss each other so hard that he suddenly loses himself and grips your shoulders roughly, shoving you into the door until the knob is pressing painfully into your lower back. Joel’s mouth is warm and inviting and tastes like strawberry ice cream as he practically eats at your mouth, swallowing down his name as it drips like honey from your lips. It makes up for how he manhandles you against the door until you can, albeit blindly, reach behind you and finally open it. 

The door gives way behind you and you both fall through, completely losing balance without trying to regain it in the slightest. There’s something exciting about the utter desperation, something charming about the giggles you let out as you hit the floor with a thump. At least the door swings shut behind you.

You shrug Joel’s jacket off your shoulders, trying to get comfortable on the floorboards. It messes up the kiss and has Joel growling, but then he takes the opportunity to bury his face in your neck and breathe in your perfume. 

You can feel his teeth graze over the skin of your throat, not quite biting down yet. He kisses open-mouthed and hot along your main artery instead, leaving a trail of shiny saliva until he is by your ear. He whispers, “You always invite guys in on the first date?”

He reaches down to tug your dress up. You help him by lifting your hips off the ground and he responds by grabbing your ass in his hands, squeezing and yanking you up against the bulge in his jeans only to grind right back down into you.

“Only contractors in their late thirties who are named Joel Miller,” you say with a chuckle interrupted by a moan as you feel the rough fabric of his jeans against your clothed cunt. 

“Guess I’m really fuckin’ lucky that I fit that description perfectly then.”

“I need you,” you add with a groan, reaching for the top button on Joel’s shirt that’s too nice for you to start ripping off. You struggle to undo the buttons though, feeling embarrassed at how much your fingers fumble out of want, “Please, Joel. Off, take this off.”

“So fuckin’ needy indeed,” he kisses you again, doesn’t even bother breaking the kiss as he reaches up, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt and then throwing it onto the floor.

You whimper against his lips, reaching down to pull at his pants. You need more, need to see him in all his glory, need to touch, suck him, feel him inside of you. Either will do. It is almost too much, “You’re so hot, fuck, help me with these.”

Joel makes quick work of pushing off his jeans and then underwear. He groans softly in relief, his cock finally free, already so hard there is a pearl of precum beading at his tip. 

“Now mine,” you pant, pushing the flats of your feet into the floor to lift yourself up again,  “Please, please, you have to fuck me.”

He runs his hands from your ankles up your calves, stopping at your thighs to give them a firm squeeze and groan with unrestrained desire. Then, unceremoniously, he simply grips the fabric of your panties in his hands and yanks them down. Having you splayed out before him, he doesn’t waste any more time. He hoists you up a bit, grabbing his dick and positioning himself, and then thrusts into you all the way in one go.

You both moan at the same time, but whereas yours is a soft sound, his is a low throaty one. You hook your legs around his waist as you wait for him to move inside of you. You find his gaze too, meeting it with pleading eyes, slack mouth, and furrowed brows, “Fuck me. Please just–”

Joel does not keep you waiting for a goddamn second. He grips you tightly under your right thigh and braces his other hand flat against the floor for support, and then in the next moment, he is pounding you ruthlessly into the floorboards. No hesitation, no build-up.  It is mercilessly perfect, the floorboards creaking slightly at you being pressed into them. If you didn’t have your legs around Joel’s waist, you are sure that the force of the way you are being fucked would create burns from the friction again the wood.

Joel buries his face in your neck next. He finally bites down like you have waited for, causing you to tilt back your head with a high-pitched moan. Your hands come up to rest on the back of his head and you slide your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly as the tension below your belly button builds. It feels like fire, like electricity.

"Pretty. You sound so fuckin’ pretty when you take my cock," he murmurs against your neck. He then straightens a bit again to let go of your thigh in favor of sliding his hand under you, pressing it against the small of your back, and holding you closer to his own body. He watches your face as your head swims with desire, “Look pretty too, oh, fuck, baby.”

Your right hand reaches down, but you don’t get a chance to touch yourself, because, with his other hand, Joel reaches down to place his thumb on your swollen clit, immediately setting a blinding pace. You see stars, ecstatic moans giving you away.

“I’m gonna—“

“And you’re gonna come on my dick now too?” He groans, already chasing his own pleasure with each thrust of his hips, “Lucky fuckin’ me.”

Fireworks erupt below your belly button as you come with a wanton shout. The pleasure is fast and intense, your muscles squeezing around Joel’s cock which suddenly spurts thick ropes of come inside of you. He feels so good as you pulse around him, cunt greedily milking everything into yourself. 

“You’ll be the death of me,” Joel says with an exhausted chuckle as he flops down beside you. The both of you try catching your breaths, but the dopamine rush won’t let either of you settle down quite yet. 

Your legs fall against each other, collapsing from exhaustion. You can feel your back start to ache already, “God.”

“Just Joel.”

You slap his arm. 

“Are you okay though?” He asks genuinely. 

“My back is going to be sore like hell from this. It already is. Other than that? I don’t think you’ve ever fucked me like that before,” you run a hand over your face, staring up at the ceiling afterwards.

“Sounds about right,” he says, pauses for a moment, then, “So when can I see you again?”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[lovegasmic]

⋆ AGE GAP

ft. Jingyuan

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 cw. m!reader, imagine Jing yuan is in his 40's n' reader 20' ty, size difference, this is supposed to be kinky why did it come out so soft omfg

request from @cakeboxie

NAVI ⁞ EVENT MASTERLIST

it was such a foreign emotion for Jing yuan to have fallen so fucking hard for someone younger such as yourself.

was it embarrassment? perhaps, but was he embarrassed of you? never, of what would people say? not in the slightest, embarrassed that you might not want to date an old man like himself, to make a fool of himself in his constant attempts to ask you out with a bouquet of flowers and his casual, confident stride towards the antique shop where you worked at Aurum Alley.

he couldn’t help and sit constantly at a nearby table and just watch you interact with customers, have you always looked so handsome in those loose clothes of yours?

but Jing yuan is not a man to get nervous often, not to say never, but the moment you gave him a look and a smile spread through your face, he knew he was fucked.

and that’s how you find yourself pinned underneath his strong, muscular and incredibly huge body, a couple dates and you feel for his old man charm, for the crinkles in his eyes and how knowledgeable he was... and sexy too.

“mmm, relax, baby, you’re tightening up so much” he groans, with his hair thickling on your collarbones from where he plants pecks on your neck, two fingers buried knuckle deep in your warm hole, prepping you hopefully enough to take the gigantic cock that occasionally slapped your thigh wetly.

a gritted groan comes out of your mouth the second Jing yuan’s large hand comes to grasp both your cocks, making you shudder at the way his palm so easily gripped you both and stained your skin with how much precum his tip oozed.

“good boy” he purrs as you stop squeezing, allowing the older man to easily scissors his fingers inside of you, liking your nipples in the process, “feels much better, right?”

“mhm, yeah—” you croak out, thighs shaking at the multiple stimulation from everywhere, enough to have you cumming in his hand with a big mess that splattered on your belly, right in time for your brain to focus on the pleasure instead of the uncomfortable stretch Jing yuan’s cock is providing at pressing himself against your entrance.

way too many years of being patient... perhaps he won’t be so this time.

[aziraphales-library]

Hey folks!

I was wondering if there are any tattoo artist Crowley or Azira fics you know of. I started reading one ages ago but lost track of it and wonder if I can perhaps find it again like this as it seems to not be the most popular trope.

Much love!!!

HI! We have a #tattooist au tag with a couple of posts, so check that out. Here are more to add...

Bouquets and Ink by rainbow_salt (T)

When Crowley opens a small flower shop on Whickber Street, the last thing he expects is to catch feelings for the tattoo artist who owns the tattoo parlour right across the street.

Hidden Meanings by lemonjelloarts (G)

Aziraphael has a bad habit: a he-keeps-putting-permanent-things-on-his-body-as-an-excuse-to-see-his-tattoo-artist kind of bad habit. And he's running out of skin to do it on.

Scissor and Ink by Samara Lilly (NR)

Ezra Fell works as an established tattoo artist in Soho. Anthony J. Crowley, talented hair stylist, opens up a salon just around the corner. Can a new haircut make sparks fly between two pining idiots? (It can...)

God Does Not Play Games by RainyDayDecaf (T)

So this must be A. J. Crowley. One of the very few tattoo artists in London who was licensed to cover soulmarks. Aziraphale could only hope his technique was less prickly than his personality.

Ink Stained Bleeding Hearts by WillowTea (E)

Ready for a fresh start, Anthony J. Crowley opens shop across the road from a lovely tattooist, Aziraphale Fell. After everything he's been through, Crowley is not ready to fall head over heels for Aziraphale, but he can't stop himself. The two navigate their new friendship and budding romance while addressing past hurts.

What There Isn’t by hope_in_the_dark (T)

Good things do not happen to Anthony Crowley, but when Eli Fell walks into his life, they start to. (Or: Crowley is a tattoo artist and Eli is a bookseller, and they spend a lot of time not being together before they figure out what love is.)

- Mod D

[laterosal]

♤ Your Flower | Seishiro Nagi x Reader

▽ featuring: seishiro nagi x reader … no repost on any platforms © laterosal 2024 … what started off as an unfamiliar bouquet of flowers to love blossoming in the winter … word count: 1.9k

📌 AO3 | one-shot

His first visit to the flower shop startled the florist: “Give me the least annoying one,” then marveling over a pet cactus for company. Of course, you didn’t mind customers requesting a plant company with the description of the least annoying one—although you did think that walking into a flower shop full of delicate and bright flowers just for that request was odd.

You could remember his light hair and tall stature stepping into the flower shop, his eyes half lidded as if exhaustion had hit him early in the day. You could not forget his soothing voice, the way he mumbled his request as you blinked in confusion.

Early one morning, you walked into the flower shop and opened the blinds of the windows, basking in the sunlight for a second. You spun the closed blackboard sign to the opposite side, the bolded letters written in chalk of “We’re Open!” slightly smudged. As you stood near the counter, peering over in the buckets of flowers to see some wilted leaves. You frowned, before carefully getting to work to restore the beauty of the white roses.

Minutes passed as you finally finished your work of tending to the white flower, before moving to several other flowers around the shop that needed some care. Then, a quiet jingle from the door rang as a customer stepped into the flower shop. The ambrosial fragrance of the colorful flowers blasted towards the customer’s way, before you cheerily welcomed them in.

“Welcome! Is there anything I can help with?” Still preoccupied with your work, you carefully cut the flower’s stem.

“Is there a bouquet of flowers I can give to someone?” You swiveled around, familiar with the quiet voice. He wore a hoodie with the word “Mendokusai,” his hair disheveled.

“Oh—Welcome back! How’s your cactus?” you asked as you scurried over to the counter, flipping open your notebook to scribble the silver-haired boy’s request. Although you have had many customers over the last few weeks, you could never forget him. He stood out radiantly in your memory, like the beauty of pure innocence that blinded you. You stared into his gray eyes intently as they sparkled slightly.

“Choki? Fine, I guess.. At least Choki’s not a hassle to deal with…” he muttered to himself as you tried leaning forward to hear him.

“Huh? Choki? Okay.” You paused slightly, wondering if that was his cactus’ name. “What’s up for today?” You grinned at him, ready to write the customer’s request on your trusty notebook.

“Flowers for… someone.”

“Hm. Okay. What’s your relationship with them? Or is this a certain occasion for getting a bouquet of flowers? Or do you want a flower to keep you company? Although you may think it’s a hassle, I can assure you it’s definitely worth it. Or do you have a favorite flower yourself?”

“... favorite flower for someone… confess…” He murmured.

“Like my opinion for getting a flower to confess to someone?” You looked surprised at his question.

He shook his head, pointing at you as he lazily corrected: “My favorite flower is y— Your favorite flower to receive from someone if they confess to you.”

“Ooh. Uh. That’s difficult to say, really. I—”

“Make that a bouquet. Please.” He gazed at you gently as you nodded at his request. Those very eyes entranced you, as if a simple refusal would dim the light in his eyes.

“Consider it done, then. Give me a few minutes for preparation.” You hurried over to the buckets of flowers, staring at the white roses you had trimmed earlier. Slowly assembling the bouquet of flowers consisting of the light-colored daisies and white roses, you removed the leaves and trimmed the stems with sharp scissors all while wearing thick gloves. Although having accidentally cut your skin on your arm, you ignored the sting from the cut made from the scissors and carefully adjusted the shape of the bouquet of flowers, wrapping the beauty in wrapping paper and twine.

“Here it is!” You presented the bouquet to him with both hands as you printed a receipt for him after he pushed the paper money onto the counter. “Have a good day!”

He stared at the flowers and ran his fingers through the petal, before lifting his eyes toward you. Then noticing a cut on your arm, he put the bouquet of flowers down and instinctively reached for your arm.

“Cut.” He reached from his backpack a small bandage, peeling off the paper and covering the wounded area. You stared in amazement at how such a person—a stranger—could captivate you with his actions and his eyes.

“Oh. Thank you.” You gently pushed his hand away, smiling smally at him. Moments like these made your heart flutter, his gentle hands against your skin. He picked up the bouquet of flowers and cradled it, retreating to the outside with a lingering bell jingle from within the shop.

You leaned against the counter touching the bandage on your arm. The sparkle in his eyes and calming voice made you wonder whether he was this gentle towards others, or whether it was just to you.

Though you would have to admit that the pure white flowers were not your favorite, you wondered to yourself why the delicate blankness of the beauty was handpicked by you, given to this stranger.

Your favorite flower to receive from someone if they confess to you.

You had much preferred a lush bouquet of fresh red roses, the ones displayed by the window of the flower shop. Yet seeing his mesmerizing, gentle eyes and soft hair, he reminded you of a pure entity, hence these light-colored flowers.

The week after his visit and the following one, he would pop in and request for the same bouquet of flowers. Near the end of his visit, you would see him open his mouth, hesitate, before retreating to the exit. You did believe that whomever was receiving these bouquets of flowers was a lucky person, although feeling your heart throbbing as you realized that he was taken. He seemed impossible to reach, like an angel from faraway lands. Every second your mind wandered to him, you simply frowned, further slashing boundaries between your customer and you.

As his early morning stops at the beginning of every week became a routine, you often prepared the bouquets beforehand with extra care, perfecting the bouquet every time he slowly walked in, sliding the money on the counter, before reaching for the bouquet gently. One day, he never showed up.

And then the next.

And the next.

For multiple weeks, you kept the bouquet of fresh flowers by your side, before the week ended and the once bright flowers wilted.

Perhaps he had broken up with the person he bought flowers for. Perhaps something had happened to him.

You weren’t sure of the situation, although despite him never returning for the next few months, you continued to assemble the bouquet of daisies and white roses, hoping for him to return one day. For you to hope to see him, one last time, before he disappeared and never able to reach again.

Even in early autumn when the white roses bloomed best, he never returned. Week after week with no connection, you laid the flowers in front of you on the counter, having no desire to continue reassembling the bouquet of flowers, for foolish hope for him to return no more.

Winter rolled around, with heavy snowfall every morning you woke up. You hurried to work by foot, hoping that you were able to open on time. Although you were only a few minutes late while running in the snow, you found a familiar figure in front of the flower shop. His scarf covered his face as his ears were flushed from the cold, his hands in his hoodie with the word “Mendokusai” in small print. You paused, before moving towards him to speak.

“Oh-hey. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” You chuckled to yourself as you unlocked the door, turning on the lights to the flower shop. The lights flickered slightly, before brightly showering the flower shop with illuminating golden light. “Your usual?” You could barely breathe, seeing him near you, his aura slowly lulling you.

“Yes.” The boy, around your age, nodded slightly as he slipped his hands out of his pocket, thin gloves perfectly fitted on his hands. “Please.” You gazed at him, the words tumbling out of his mouth sounding desperate than ever.

You reached for the flowers in the buckets, memorizing the routine of assembling this bouquet for him. Then quickly wrapped around the bouquet was paper and twine, before you left it on the counter for him to pick up gently.

“May I ask why you haven’t stopped by for some time?” you carefully asked, stopping him by the door.

“... was hoping you asked.” he mumbled. “‘s nothing much. Soccer.” He shrugged, pulling his scarf loosely.

“I see. Have a good day, yeah?” you whispered to him as he turned to leave the flower shop, the ringing of the bell echoing in your mind. Leave, but please come back. He was the reason your heart ached, the reason you could barely breathe when he was around you. You longed to see him again, rather than leaving for a long time, not knowing what had happened to him. You did not just want him to leave your life as quick as he came into your life—

“... too.”

“Hm?”

He paused, before turning his head to face you.

“Have you been making these bouquets even after I didn’t return?”

His question took you by surprise, although you gave him a vague answer with: “Not really.”

“Sorry.”

You frowned and walked around the counter, closing the gap between you two.

“What are you apologizing for?” You tip-toed to attempt to look into his eyes at the same level, although his tall stature made it challenging.

“It took you a lot less time to make the bouquet. Like you knew exactly where the flowers were placed.” he whispered.

You froze—Was he always this observational?

“I—Yeah. I do.” you admitted to him, his gray eyes sparkling at you. “Who did you give those bouquets to?”

You waited for his response, bracing for a curt reply that would drive a knife into your heart. From the moment you had met him, he captured your attention and heart, even if he had someone else he loved.

“I never gave them to anyone.”

“What?”

“They were— They were meant… to be for you.”

You choked back a cry and hesitated to answer. He had kept the bouquets to himself, the very flowers you had handpicked that reminded you of him. The flowers that you had deemed to be the ones you wished to receive if one had ever confessed to you.

“Were you waiting for me this whole time?”

“Yes.” You buried your head into your hands as he reached his hand forward and caressed your hands gently.

“You waited for a long time, then.”

“I miss you.” Your muffled words were barely heard by the person whose name was never even revealed to you. “Even if I didn’t know you all that well.”

He gently grabbed your hands, placing the bouquet of flowers on yours, whispering his name in your ears, followed by words that made your heart race.

“My name is Seishiro Nagi. … Of all the flowers here I would pick, it would be you.”

[zevrra]

hii!! i hope your doing well, im not sure if your requests are open rn

but if they are open, can you please write for Gaara (naruto) x fem reader who’s love language is physical touch? (hand holding, hugs, etc)

🫶 thank you!!

A Shared Touch—

tags: anon request, 18+ characters, gaara x fem!reader, pure fluff, gaara’s love language is 100% physical touch, this is so sappy and lovey dovey jshshs

creator notes: thanks for requesting! hope this is what you had in mind (bc i had no idea what to do im so sorry i wrote this at 2 am kshssjh)!! but i also hope you are doing well and that you enjoy this! thanks again!! ❤️

Sunlight warms your face as you sit at a wooden table. You sit in silence with yourself. Accompanied only by the sound of a soft breeze and a few chirping birds. A range of flowers sits before you, ranging anything from chrysanthemum to peons. Besides the flowers sits a pair of scissors. Using them to cut stems off of a few flowers here and there as you put together a small bouquet.

“What are you doing?” A soft voice asks from inside the doorway to the greenhouse you sit inside of.

Turning to look at the source of the voice and you find your loving boyfriend. A smile as warm as the sun shines on his face and you can’t help but mimic it. “I couldn’t sleep. Came here to do some arranging.” You respond. Watching fondly as he makes his way to your side.

He still wears the clothes he had slept in. He must have just woken up and upon finding your side of the bed came straight out to look for you. The sleepy was still in his eyes even as they look upon you with love.

A chilly hand touches your shoulder, moving to soothe across your neck. His teal eyes glance at your project before looking back at you. “They look as beautiful as you do.” Gaara compliments you.

For the years you had been together it took him quite a while to willingly touch you. Skin on skin contact had been one of his biggest fears. For so long, anytime your hand would reach for his; you were met with a wall of sand. Any brush of skin would have him standing frozen in place. He had never done any of it on purpose though and you knew that. It was pure reflex for the deeply traumatized man. Now it almost felt like he never wanted to stop touching you. To never let you go so he would never have to fear being truly alone again.

You wave his compliment off with a smile. It was too early to be so sappy. You set down your scissors to fully turn and face Gaara. “What about you?” You ask curiously as you grab hold of his hand gently. “Off to some important kage meeting I assume?”

Gaara shakes his head, lifting your hand to his lips and placing a small kiss against your skin. “No, not yet anyway. Just missed you.” He admits with a shy look. Glancing from your pretty face to the flowers you had gotten up that morning to work on.

It was truly a miracle how far the two of you had come. Once, so long ago, he would never have reached for you first. Would have distanced himself as far as he could. But now he sought you out first. Missed you simply because you were not by his side the moment you both woke up. It made you feel wanted and loved. You could only hope he felt the same.

You stand with the help of your boyfriend. Leaning in to kiss him and he meets you halfway more than eagerly. After you two part, he guides you towards the door he had entered from as you two plan to return to your shared home.

“Let’s go make some breakfast.” You offer. Your fingers intertwine with his, giving his hand a tight squeeze. A reassuring gesture that you would never let him go either.

You’d have to return to your flowers later.