#i will say! the colors fell apart As Usual

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

a merry Between Week to everyone! rest well!

extra layers:

[ellieslittlewh0re]

I have read your story groupie love and omg did I love it, but i kept thinking about having sex with angry drunk Ellie, and I think you would be amazing at writing this.

Also read some of your other story’s i love them so much your amazing at writing.

I’m so sorry for the delay but yes!! I love this 😩💕

"𝑩𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹"

₊˚ପ⊹. 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 - 𝖾. 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗆𝗌 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

₊˚ପ⊹. 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌 - 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾 (𝖽𝗎𝗁), 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀

*𝖺/𝗇 - 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 :(

God, the way I can picture this so vividly- her face reading stone cold, and practically had the words "pissed off" written across her forehead, silently sitting beside you in the back of the Uber as you two made your way back to your shared apartment. Her knuckles whitened in a fist that rested on her thigh, and even though she was looking away from you, you could see the prominent, sharp angle of her jaw clenching.

She was drunk- well, the both of you were, but her even more so, but the tension between you two sobered you right up. She however, was still fully ignited, the alcohol proving to feed her anger further as you two made it up to your apartment.

She pushed you inside, and slammed the door behind her, giving you two the privacy she wanted to unleash whatever it is she wanted on you.

Before you could even settle in, take your shoes off, put down your purse, etc... she pushed you against the wall, and placed her hands on either side of your head, caging your body in with hers.

You say her name softly and with such submission, looking for her eyes that were hanging lowly at your chest which started to rise and fall more quickly.

"Ellie-" you said again, this time more serious as fear started to take over.

Ellie's eyes slowly came up, trailing your bare décolletage, and how your collar bones pressed against the thin layer of skin with each deep exhale of your lungs. The usually bight, and lush color of her eyes were much darker, glimmering a speck of something that bordered on sinister.

She chuckled, the whiskey on her breath fanning your lips, and you feel her hand on your side, slowly dragging her fingers up, and over your tit until it was on your jaw. Her thumb and fingers indented the skin of your cheeks as she maneuvered your face side to side like she was examining your expressions more carefully.

"Did you want her to fuck you, huh? Is that it?" She gritted, but at the same time breathed heavily with hostility and desire, hearing her own voice like this turning her on that much more-

"N-no, no, Ellie-" Your denial is cut off with a yelp as her fingers continued to dig into the sides of your face, and your lips forcing a pucker.

"I know you're not fucking stupid. She was all over you, and you-" she scoffed, dropping her hand, "- you let it happen." Her words were slurred, and she almost sounded deranged like the mere topic had refreshened the memory.

You started to defend yourself, spewing your innocence to Ellie about how you were just being friendly, and you had no other intentions besides the fact that you simply enjoyed the conversation, but it fell on deaf ears.

Ellie's lips were on yours. The front of her body flush with your chest, and her hands grabbing you all over. She deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue inside as you parted your lips to let out a small gasp.

She broke away, her eyes glazed with drunken lust, focusing more heavily on your swollen, spit coated lips before quickly closing the space once more.

"Bed." She mumbled against your mouth, pulling you away from the plaster by your waist, and sloppily directing the two of you down the hall to your shared bedroom.

Finally, she had you, behind closed doors, and at her mercy. Any other time, she would've taken her time teasing you, edging you, but she was drunk, mad, and so fucking eager to take care of the mess inside her boxers.

She forcibly kissed you, backing you up into the room until the back of your knees buckle against the bed, causing you to fall back onto it.

She crawled on top, holding your hand down by your wrist, and her lips stinging into the flesh of your neck.

Ellie pulled away breathless, and quickly took notice how your hips were squirming against her calculatedly placed knee between your thighs.

She scoffs a chuckled, "oh yeah?", and skimmed the palm of her hand up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress up until the pink lace of your panties were exposed.

A small wet patch over your center welcomed her feeding eyes.

Ellie practically drooled at the sight, damn near choking on her own spit that overflowed inside her mouth from the mere thought of your taste on her tongue- the flimsy, see through fabric clinging to your puffy lips definitely not helping her desperation.

Ellie sucked the air through her teeth, placing her fingers on the plush of your lower stomach, and moved her thumb down your folds, exhaling an erotic breath as she did so.

Her brows knitted together, almost as if she was physically in pain because holy fuck-

She curled her fingers under the delicately sewn hem, pulling your panties down your legs and tossing it to the side. She mumbled a guttural "fuck" under her breath, spreading your knees apart with haste and a certain impatience that left a lingering sting.

Her lips and chin slowly disappear as she lowered herself down, and made her presence known by fanning warm breaths against your cunt before tempting a taste, but she was tempting herself just as much as she was tempting you. One lick wasn't enough. Hell, it would never be enough unless Ellie was smothered in your slick, dripping down her neck, and struggling to breathe with her nose buried inside you.

She needed more.

"Sit on my face." She more so demanded, positioning herself on the bed, and her hands already on your waist, pulling you on top of her. 

"But Ellieuhh~" You wined against her lips until it turned into soft moans inside her mouth, her tongue twirling against your spongy muscle.

You straddled her waist and let her deepen the kiss however she wanted. Her hands began trailing under your dress, over your sides, and tits- palming and kneading the fat between her slender fingers.

Your clit thumped against her crotch- so hard to the point you were embarrassed she would feel it, but if only you knew how badly she ached for the same reason.

Your dress is peeled off your back and over your head- again being tossed somewhere without much thought from Ellie. And your hands were eager to do the same, both of you putting in the effort to take off Ellie's flannel, and Ellie taking it upon herself to discard her t-shirt underneath.

Your lips clash for another round, Ellie's arms cradling in the small of your back to hold your front closer to hers-

She broke away- lips glistening in a mixture of spit, casting a rose hue, and her irises blown wide-

"Fucking sit-" She gritted, her fingers tightening into the mounds of your ass before lightening her grip, "please." Her eyes softened- this time, begging.

What kind of girlfriend would you be to deny such a pretty little thing like herself of such needs? Especially when she asks so nicely.

You nodded shyly, and her arms wrapped around the underside of your thighs as you positioned yourself over her freckled face, your cheeks burning hotter by the second from the vulnerable position.

"What if I'm too heavy- ah-!" You yelped, the force of her hands pulling you down to her mouth catching you off guard, and definitely underprepared.

Your concerns seemed insufficient, and distant- her skilled tongue between your folds- lapping, and suctioning until her cheeks hallowed-

You melted against her tongue, slowly circling your hips and her fingers spreading the skin of your inner thighs so that she could wedge herself deeper into you.

Your hand breaks away from the headboard, coming down to intertwine your fingers in Ellie's hairline, squeezing her auburn locks close to the scalp, and held her in place as you dragged your cunt against her open mouth, using her like a toy.

Not like she was complaining.

"E-el... m'gonna cum-" You babbled, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, and rolling your head back, completely captivated in the pleasure that you didn't even notice how one of Ellie's hands was absent from your thigh, and had sunk below her waistband.

Ellie's moans became louder, muffled, but still audibly louder, sending a deep rattle into your core as her hips rolled up into her fingers, fucking herself, but with much more restraint than you'd expect from a drunk person. But the truth is, she didn't want to cum like this.

You release her hair, needing the extra hand to steady yourself.

Your voice pitched as you dragged your hips for the final time across her face, strings of slick still connecting the both of you as you lifted your hips away.

With wobbly legs, you start to carefully lift yourself, but you weren't moving fast enough for her.

Your body bounces against the springs of the mattress from the sheer speed of her attack, pushing you down with her on top of you.

You feel her hand wrapped around your airway, squeezing the sides enough to feel a certain dizziness that had you melting.

She kissed you, immediately giving you a taste of yourself on her tongue.

"Did you think we were done?" Her breath fanned over your ear, intoxicating you all over again, which gave Ellie just the right amount of time to distract you, shoving her pants and boxers down her legs before you could comprehend what was happening.

Ellie lifted herself, her abs flexing with each heave of her lungs, moving one of your legs the outside of hers by your ankle.

The smallest whine leaves your lips once you see her... like really see her, dancing your gaze from her face and down to the prominent 'v' shape of her hips, calculating her every move.

Ellie was eager. And she had absolutely no issue handling you more roughly to suit her needs, whether it be supporting her weight on the back of your thigh, pressing your knee into your chest, or stretching you to new lengths that burned your muscles.

And that's exactly what she did.

She wedged herself between your legs, all of her weight on you as she lowered herself, letting out a relieved sigh and tossing her head back as her cunt made contact with yours.

Her hipbones protruded with each rhythmic motion of her hips, starting slowly at first but quickly getting faster to match her desperation. As sensitive as you were, you wouldn't dare push her away, not when she was this close, and definitely not when she's mad, knowing she could make this so much worse for you.

Her green eyes disappeared behind her paper thin lids, and her head goes back, "You have no idea how- mmhm... how badly I've wanted to do this all night." Her voice was shaky, airy, but still maintained a bitter undertone that reminded you how you got here in the first place.

Ellie's patience was thinning, and the restraint she maintained up until this point had gone out the window.

Your eyes glazed over, watching her with a dumb, fucked out expression, and your jaw loosely hung to let out small, pathetic whines.

Ellie, however, was pussy drunk. There was no other way to explain it. Her brows cinched together at the middle and pushed on your leg, spreading you further apart to ensure full contact before collapsing on top of you, breathing into her neck, "pussy s'good- fuck... you make me feel so good..." Her fingers wrapped around your neck, her lips lazily dragging over your jaw and cheek to plant delicate kisses, which completely contradicted what she was doing below.

Her head drops, and you feel her grip close in around your airway, rutting her hips at a much shorter and jagged pace than before.

You whined her name and sunk your nails into her forearm, your head fuzzy and bordering on unconsciousness.

"Shit...fuck-" She lifted her head from your chest and met your eyes, "-I know, baby. I know." Her voice was soothing, filled with so much sympathy, but it didn't make her any less relentless.

She shushes you with her lips on yours, adding her own moans to the mixture as tears stain your cheeks and seep between the kiss, leaving a salty/sweet tinge on your tongue.

Her hips started to falter before continuing, dragging out a few more long and weary thrusts, her moans ricocheting into the back of your throat until her hips finally stilled.

She softens the kiss, pecking the corner of your mouth before pulling away, and lifts a hand to run the back of her knuckles over your cheek- so sweet and so comforting with the alcohol weakening in her bloodstream, making her realize the anger she felt before was misplaced.

Sweat gleamed across the highs of her cheeks and across her nose, the vibrant hue of her eyes returning and practically begging to be forgiven.

"I love you." She whispers, her voice slightly horse and dry, flickering her eyes to various points of your face.

No, it wasn't the traditional "I'm sorry", but you knew what she meant.

Your hands come up, cupping the sides of her face, and pull her down to your lips.

"Apology accepted."

[keerysfreckles]

hiii!!!! lando and best friend reader and shes gotten into one of those sad days because shes thinking of how shes never dated anyone or had her first kiss or anything. and he offers to take her out on a date as friends and thats when he realizes hes in love with her (shes been in love with him this whole time). but they dont really say anything, but they just get increasingly more affectionate as best friends as the days go by. and everyone around them can see theyre so in love with each other - 🍒anon

loveless — LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, slight swearing

a/n: lando p5 in japan HE WAS SO CLOSE TO BEING ON PODIUM

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ��� ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n loved her small apartment in monaco. she loved it so much in fact that she's convinced her best friend that she's fine staying in day after day.

however if you got to know y/n, you'd learn this is out of the ordinary for the girl. usually she'd be out partying with lando, or hanging around the other members of the f1 grid. not sulking in her bathrobe and pajamas for three days in a row.

on the fourth day she recieved multiple texts from her best friend, lando norris, asking if she wanted to go out for drinks with him and a couple of friends.

y/n groaned, after reading the messages more than once. she really didn't have the energy to go out. not since her almost date last week didn't go as planned.

she met a rather attractive uni student on tinder, and they talked for a few days to get to know each other. less than a week later they planned to have dinner at a nice monegasque restaurant.

long story short, said tinder date never showed up, and never texted y/n the next morning explaining himself.

before the 'date' y/n didn't really believe in love. so of course, this screwed up with her perception of it even more.

lando was informed about the date, and was happy for y/n. he knew her history of falling in love was bleak, and he just wanted to be happy for her. so seeing his best friend wrapped up in three colorful blankets in her messy bedroom put a damper in his mood.

"what did i tell you about laying in the dark?" lando's voice surprises y/n. she jumps, before pausing her netflix show on her laptop.

"lan? what are you doing here?" she sits up, her eyes adjusting to the light lando just turned on.

lando sits on the edge of the bed, moving the laptop away from y/n, causing her to sit up as well.

"well you never answered my texts about going out tonight, so i figured i'd come here. plus you gave me that apartment key years ago."

y/n sighs. she knows she doesn't have the energy to go out tonight. "do i have to?"

lando sends y/n a sympathetic look. "maybe it could get your mind off that douche who stood you up last week. he obviously missed out on getting to know a great girl."

y/n's heart warmed at lando's words. he always knew how to cheer her up after she fell down.

y/n lets out a groan and falls back onto her pillows, her blankets encasing her once again.

"what if i never fall in love?" y/n thinks out loud. "or never go on a proper date? or mever even have my first kiss?"

lando's eyebrows furrow, "you've never had your first kiss?"

y/n takes the opportunity to kick his thigh, "yes shitbird, you know this." she lets out a small chuckle as he groans from the attack.

lando recalls her words again, "wait you've never been on a date either?"

y/n shakes her head, "nope."

"so that's why you're so beat up about this one not working out. i get it now," lando stands and walks towards y/n's opened closet door.

y/n sits up again, "lando what are you doing? i told you i don't feel like going out tonight."

lando ignores her for a moment as he continues sifting through her closet. his eyes and hands stop on a light purple dress.

"you still have this?" he holds it at an angle so y/n can see from her bed.

she nods, "of course. i've never gotten rid of any birthday present from you."

lando silently takes it off the hanger and throws it on the bed, making y/n confused.

"you and i are going out tonight," lando says confidently. "i'm taking you on a proper date. i'll text pierre, charles and carlos that i'll go out with them some other time."

y/n stares at him dumbfounded. she can't believe lando is taking her out on a date.

"when you say a proper date, what exactly does that entail?" y/n wonders, now removing her blankets from her body.

lando starts looking through y/n's very impressive shoe collection. "a very nice drive to an expensive restaurant, possinly with a candle lit dinner. you and i enjoying the best monegasque food we can. and maybe end the date with a classic near-the-front-door kiss."

y/n's taken back by his words again. she can't believe what she's hearing.

lando places a pair of white heels beside the dress on the bed, and leans forward slightly. "i'll be waiting in your living room, okay?" and with that, he kisses her forehead. the motion's been done a million times, but this time however felt different for the both of them.

y/n stares at her now closed bedroom door, and chuckles in disbelief while picking up the dress. maybe this was the push she needed to get out there again. party with her friends, and maybe go on more dates.

so she did as lando told. she was quick to brush through her hair, and change into the dress and heels. she styled it with silver jewelry and made sure to grab her small handled clutch before leaving her room.

lando stands from the couch. "now i think you look much better in this, than being covered in blankets."

y/n blushes at his words.

"do you have an idea of where we're going?" she locks her apartment door behind her, before lando leads her down the stairs with his hand on her lower back.

—

lando was starstuck.

during the ride to the restaurant, all the way up until they got the bill. (of course being the gentleman he is, he paid.)

he could barely take his eyes off y/n. he saw them shimmer as she spoke about her new job starting this month. he noticed how excited she got when he parked outside her favorite fancier restaurant.

now he was holding her heels for her, after giving her his jacket once the midnight air hit her skin. they were walking along the streets of monaco, planning on doing a little wrap around the block to get back to lando's car.

as the duo was talking and walking, they're arms kept brushing against each others. y/n couldn't help but giggle almost everytime, thanks to the white wine slowly making it's way in her system from dinner.

lando thought it was the best sound in the world.

on the way back to y/n's apartment, lando contemplated resting his hand over her thigh. she sat towards him, angling her body, so in theory he easily could hold onto her leg. however he refrained, but his heartbeat sped up when he felt y/n grab his right hand. she played with his fingers, and ending up enclosing her hand in his. he hummed at the feeling.

"so, we've done almost everything on my list to get you to have a perfect date," lando speaks as the pair stops right in front of y/n's door.

"what are we missing?" y/n asks, forgetting what he had stated earlier in the evening.

lando smiles down at the girl, his pupils dilating. "in order for you to have a perfect date, we have to have a near-the-front-door kiss."

y/n instantly blushes. she's thought about kissing lando before, but never thought any of her daydreams would become a reality.

lando steps forward and places his unoccupied hand on her pink cheek. he runs his thumb over the skin, and notices her pupils becoming wider.

"so what do you say?" lando almost whispers, the rasp in his voice becoming evident.

y/n looks between his eyes, and can't come up with a complete sentence as her mind falls blank.

silently y/n stands on her tip toes and grabs lando's face between her hands. she brings him down to her to connect their lips.

his taste like chocolate, from the slice of cake he ordered for dessert. hers taste like sugar and cinnamon from the cocktail she had at the end of the night.

lando brings his other hand around to y/n's back. she can't help but smile against his lips at the feeling of his arm around her. in the hundreds of times she's pictured kissing her best friend, it never ended like this.

the two finally pulled away, both of their cheeks blushed and pupils wide.

they both let out a rather large breath, and in the span of three seconds, y/n's opening her apartment door with lando following right on her tail. before they can fully step inside, lando's lips meet hers again, and lando definitely plans on spending the night.

[churipu]

𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐨! 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 ๋࣭ ⭑ֶֶָָ֢֢☆

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. cheating (but it's not u or him dw, it's someone else lol), cursing, non-sorcerer au.

note. i was reading a webtoon, and the male lead was a ballet dancer, then i saw gojo in him. i feel like gojo will do and enjoy doing ballet, you feel me? and just saying guys, my requests are not open :(( so if you sent in one, it might take a bit of time to get it done

ballerino! gojo who had to share an apartment with you because you're both broke fresh graduates — what more of a blessing for a fresh graduate if it's not a place half the price, with your own room? even if it meant living with a complete stranger who could actually be a serial killer.

"you must be y/n? i'm gojo satoru." he introduces himself, shoving a hand out for you to shake.

and you did, with your hand blotched with various colors of dry paint from your job— freelance artist — mumbling out apologies for being so dirty.

ballerino! gojo who was supposed to be in the same house with his long-term girlfriend since college, but she bailed out last minute. and when she found out about his new house mate — she wasn't happy the slightest bit.

"so you're the new house-mate?" she asks, eyeing you up and down menacingly as if you had tried to hit on the male.

gojo had to bring her away from the house. apologizing to you about it after he comes back home.

ballerino! gojo who usually does his warm up in the living room while watching netflix on the television, casually doing a split, hunching to the front, eyes on the television intently.

"you do ballet?"

gojo was startled to hear you, but he got over himself and nodded vigorously, "mhm."

"that's really cool."

ballerino! gojo who seemed miserable every time his girlfriend cancels out on their date through a phone call. like a one-sided relationship, except it's the part where he's actually starting to give up on her. but you said nothing about it, since it wasn't really your business in the first place. only focusing on your current client's job — jotting down shades of blue on the canvas.

"hey, you're good . . . is this what you do daily?" he sighs out, sitting on the couch you were leaning on after he ended the call with his girlfriend.

you nodded, "yeah, i draw for people."

"'ts amazing."

ballerino! gojo who went out one night to go on a date with his girlfriend, and is apparently trying to surprise her. but he came back an hour later with his tear stricken face — throwing down the bouquet of flowers he had gotten for his girlfriend earlier during the day.

the smile no longer on his face as he walks to his room, slamming the door shut before you could say anything to the male.

ballerino! gojo who acted like last night didn't happen and was casually doing a split in front of the television. shooting you a small smile when you emerged from your own room.

"are you . . . alright, gojo?" you question him, walking towards the kitchen to grab yourself a cup of cold water.

"sorry about last night." he mumbled out, head hanging low, pushing himself up — brushing his pink colored shirt and grey shorts.

"no worries. all of us have bad days." you brushed him off with a small tired smile, a few streaks of paint marking your cheeks, "how're you feeling?"

"good for someone who found out he has been getting cheated," he chuckled — scratching the back of his head, "you got a lil' something there," he points to your cheeks.

using your arm, you grazed your cheeks, "oh, i was up all night and fell asleep doing work."

ballerino! gojo who later in the day got so busy throwing everything that reminded him of his ex-girlfriend and whatever she had ever given him. doing it like he gets paid. hell, he even threw away a pair of ballet shoes that he still uses out of spite.

"what'cha doing?" you questioned, eyes focused on the canvas sitting on your lap.

"taking out the trash," he grunted tossing what seemed to be a pair of ballet shoes into a box.

"ballet shoes too? are y'quitting ballet?" the male chuckled and shook his head — and the moment you see a frame with a picture of him and his ex, you got an idea of it and said nothing else.

ballerino! gojo who for the next eight months, spends a lot of time with you in the house, doing all sorts of things. making breakfast for each other (taking turns depending on who wakes up earlier), cooking nights, baking nights, learning ballet — even learning how to draw. he forgot his ex pretty quickly.

"my toes hurt, how'd you even do this?" you seethed out in pain, curling your sore toes.

"practice."

"ha ha. very funny, gojo."

ballerino! gojo who got to know you better, and vice versa during those months. learning how you had a passion for drawing and how you've always wanted to be an artist — or how the last time you've been in a relationship was during the early days of college and broke up because your partner then said that they weren't ready for a relationship (shitty excuse).

"so they just broke it off like that? why start a relationship when they're not ready? that's just a stupid excuse," gojo muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"that's what i ask myself. but 't doesn't matter anymore." you laugh, sipping on a cup of hot chocolate, chewing on a mini marshmallow you threw in just before.

ballerino! gojo who that night asked you out for lunch the next day, and you accepted. it was only lunch after all.

"uh . . . if you're not busy tomorrow, i'd like to take you out for lunch . . ." he nervously chuckled, scratching his nape. his doe blue eyes looking everywhere but at you.

"sure!"

ballerino! gojo who actually did take you out to lunch, even paying for it. but everything went wrong when his ex was there at the same time, the male actually thought of burying himself six feet under when the girl approached you both.

"i knew there was something fishy between the two of you," she muttered out.

gojo was pissed. as hell. he didn't even bat an eyelash at the person he once adored, a deep frown on his face and he scorned, "get over yourself, we broke up a long time ago because you fucking cheated."

his ex-girlfriend was mortified, because she never remembered gojo being this hateful towards her — all the time they have been together, gojo was always nice and understanding. too nice and understanding, perhaps.

"maybe you cheated on me with them before i even did." she accuses and you immediately jumped in, since she was dragging you into her mess.

"woah, gojo and i never had anything going on. we only started getting to know each other?" you defended, eyebrows perched up at the audacity of this girl, "and mind you, gojo was miserable every time you decided to cancel on a date a few hours before, and through a call? that's low of you."

gojo shot you a smile, "hear that?"

oh, the girl was embarrassed to the roots. muttering out curses under her breath before stomping out of the place, fuming.

ballerino! gojo who apologized to you thoroughly during the whole lunch, in between chews, and even on the way home — for how his ex-girlfriend caused a scene with you.

even if you did tell him it was fine, he said it wasn't. and he wanted to make it up to you, by prepping a movie night. the notebook. one of your favorite movies, you were absolutely down.

supposedly focusing on your client's work, but the moment he puts on the movie — you'd find yourself on the couch beside him.

ballerino! gojo when it comes to the movie's "not supposed to dance in the streets" scene, stands up and shoves a hand to you, "do you want to dance with me?" he invited you as the male lead in the movie asked the female lead the same question.

you chuckled, "you know, i don't dance. gojo."

he raised a brow, "everyone does. and i thought we're close enough to be on first name basis y/n." the male teasingly said, grabbing your hand to tug you up.

"do you know how to slow dance? because i don't."

he smiled down at you, "i do ballet, sweetheart. slow dance is nothing to me — plus, i've learnt how to do slow dancing since . . . years ago. i've always dreamt of doing this with the person i like," it was the perfect setting. as the movie plays out a soft tune, the male pressed his hand on the hollow of your back, guiding you along.

you inhaled his cologne, "so is this like a confession, satoru?"

his chest vibrated as he mustered out a soft laugh, "maybe. if you don't want it to be a confession — think of it like i'm quoting a movie."

you did pend his confession in your mind that night, thinking of it like he's quoting the movie as you both danced the night away.

ballerino! gojo who acted like he didn't just confess his feelings to you last night, greeting you in the morning, and even went all out to make you breakfast after he did his usual ballet warm up.

"hi, sleepy. i made pancakes, but 'ts a little burnt . . ." he laughs, sipping what seemed to be tomato juice.

"thanks, 'toru. love you."

ballerino! gojo who immediately froze when you said that, and stares at you. but there you were, eyes shut and your mouth full of his pancakes, gojo was sure you didn't even realize what you were saying. but still, it made him happy.

"did you know what you just said?" he chortled.

fluttering your eyes open, you shake your head, "what did i say . . ?"

gojo brushed it off, but really — he couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

ballerino! gojo who returned home from a day out with a couple of friends to be greeted with a plate of food for him. you made it. with a small pink colored post-it note beside the plate.

hi 'toru, made this before i went out to meet my client. hope you like it, ps. i dropped a lot of pepper in it because the lid fell off :( pls throw it out if it's not edible, i'd feel terrible if you got sick cause of my mistake, i love you <33

gojo ate the plate clean, even if he felt the tingling spice in his throat. he didn't care at all — you made it for him, and he won't waste it. and plus, he didn't end up getting sick, so that's a positive.

when you came home that night, he was still awake waiting for you to thank you for the meal (and to ask you about the 'i love you' on the note).

"i know, i didn't answer your confession at all that night when we were dancing, yet. so?" you cheekily tell him, indirectly saying how you like him too.

ballerino! gojo who was ecstatic about it and kissed you right there. the male was so happy he could feel his whole body thumping in excitement.

"d'you know how long i wanted to do that? to kiss you?" he has a wide smile on his face, his large hands cupping both sides of your cheeks, squishing them lightly making your lips part.

ballerino! gojo who finally feels the love he deserves with you that he thought he'd never feel again. from the smallest things like you texting him whenever you were going to be busy so if you replied late you were sorry, or giving him a call (and leaving a voice note when he's not able to answer) to tell him and ask about his day whenever you both aren't together.

he feels like he's wanted and loved, "hi 'toru, i tried to call you but you might be in a dance routine right now so i'm just leaving this voice note for you. i'm not gonna be able to reply fast in the next couple of hours because i'm meeting a client right now, but i'll get to you once i'm done. make sure to take care of yourself and don't hurt yourself, i love you."

and you feel the same, getting the same feedback with the same excitement, "hi baby, sorry for not answering your call, i was in fact in a dance routine. i have a show coming up, i'm excited! i hope the meeting goes well for you, tell me all about it once we get home, please please? i can't wait to see you, i love you more!"

ballerino! gojo who shows you his ballet moves for his show, inviting you to watch him dance. and you, of course, agreed.

when the day comes, you are more excited than the male is. gojo didn't expect you to come, especially since he knew that you had a big client that needed their painting in a short amount of time. the male was used to his ex-girlfriend promising and ended up not coming, so he was a bit crestfallen at the thought of you not coming to see him.

but there you were, sat on the front row with a big smile on your face. waving at him when he walked in.

seeing him on stage, you felt so proud — unknowing to him, while watching him, your hand was tracing his every move. the tip of your pencil elegantly dancing along with him on top of your sketchbook.

ballerino! gojo who was surprised when you showed him a sketch of him doing his move. he felt so emotional at this new form of love. oh, to be loved by an artist.

"'m so proud of you 'toru. you were amazing up there," you tell him, holding his hand.

gojo wasted no time pulling you into his chest, hugging you, "thank you for coming," you didn't know why he was emotional — but honestly, you don't mind it so you ended up hugging the male back, patting his chest.

ballerino! gojo who now felt the love he has always wanted to feel. because he knew that this time he's not wasting his love on someone who doesn't appreciate him.

"'toru, look! my client gave me a tip, let's go get that pizza we were talking about!" you cheered, throwing yourself onto him, holding a few bills of cash.

the male chuckled, pressing a warm kiss onto the crown of your head, "my baby did so good, 'm so proud of you," he nuzzled his nose to yours, scrunching his face up.

he promised that he'd work hard for the both of you. hell, he was already thinking about marrying you a few months into your relationship, so don't be shocked when he actually does.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[1d1195]

Love and Dryer Sheets I

I haven't figured out how long this will be just yet but I anticipate at least three parts. This is where I'll keep the rest of it: Love and Dryer Sheets

~3.6k words (I know it's shorter. I just want to post and get some more ideas flowing)

Warnings: Harry is VERY grumpy/angry, right person, wrong place.

“I never miss the opportunity to say I told you so,” she giggled.

Harry snorted as he chuckled. “Your boyfriend mus’ love that,” he mumbled.

“Very smooth, Harry.”

The door slapped open and hit against the wall loudly so that she had no choice but to look up. The sound was followed by a tall man entering the room with a scowl on his face. He looked like he was having an internal argument with someone that wasn’t even privy to the conversation. She glanced away from the page she was reading briefly at the noise but turned right back to the book to give the grumpy person their own space. But it didn’t stop her from discreetly peeking up from the novel to catch sight of how pretty the man was. The first thing she noticed was his height and his scowl. But his hair was the color of chocolate twisting around his head in the softest, gentlest curls she had ever seen on a man. His skin was tanned, and he looked like he should be a model for sweatpants. Below the scowl, she could just make out that his eyes were green, but she was too far away to make out much more.

Except that he was very beautiful.

So beautiful that not even his crankiness could take her mind away from the idea of him. It seemed wrong that he was so angry. Someone as attractive as he was shouldn’t have been that upset. Especially about laundry. The anger had to be misplaced.

Stop analyzing a stranger just because he’s hot. Her brain yelled at her.

“Can’t even...” he grumbled. “Fucking laundry,” he slammed the washer lid shut and continued his angry mumbles.

She pretended not to hear and stopped stealing glances. It seemed he only just realized he was doing laundry because he muttered something unintelligible about detergent as he made his way over to the little dispensary machine containing fabric softener and the like. He dropped five quarters in it, grumbling the entire time, and twisted the knob. But unfortunately, there was nothing. No detergent fell from the space the way it was supposed to. She had only watched this man for all of a minute, but she already knew the inconvenience was going to be bad for his already crummy mood.

He slammed the side of his fist into the machine causing a loud metallic clang to echo through the room. Loud enough to be heard over the sound of the washers and dryers running throughout the room. “Jesus fucking Christ!” He ran a hand over his face. She wondered what his next move was going to be but without her really realizing, she started to speak.

“Hey, I have detergent if you need some,” she offered kindly. Smooth. Her internal voice rolled its eyes. Interact with the maybe psychopath yelling at laundry. Honestly, she did it more as a favor to herself than to the stranger. Conflict was one of her least favorite things. Even if he was having conflict with an inanimate object. Growing up in a household where her parents displayed argument after argument as if it were normal for two people who “loved” each other to constantly talk in terms of passive aggressive remarks and angry tones for hours of her childhood did a number on her. As it was with the laundry debacle here, it felt like it was her responsibility to mediate the argument. Reduce the tension. Find a solution.

He only just seemed to realize he wasn’t alone in the communal laundry room. It was a bit naïve on his part to forget it, even. The laundry room was often one of the busiest spaces in the apartment building. Moreover, there were about five or six washers and dryers going at any one time—like right now. Usually, people just left their stuff but here was this girl sitting on top of the washer, one leg propped up so she could lean her book against it while the other dangled over the front of the machine and rested on the top of her overturned tall basket.

The angry air left him in a heavy sigh. He turned more directly toward her. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he sounded a bit shy. Embarrassed by his outburst it seemed. She slid off the washer and lifted her basket right side up to reveal the jug of detergent and a bag with folders and papers in it. Briefly he wondered what they were, but it was none of his business and it was weird he wanted to know. He hadn’t even learned her name yet.

“S’okay. Laundry can be intense, I get it,” she joked.

He smirked, feeling the annoyance leave him the longer he looked at her. She was so pretty. He shouldn’t have thought that way. Not at all. But it was impossible not to notice. Her hair was in a ponytail and pieces were falling around her face like she meant for it to frame her features. It was like the little strands were pointing directly at her with the intention of drawing his eyes across her kind face. The slope of her lips, the way her cheeks bloomed as she smiled gently at him, how the corners of her eyes crinkled and her lashes brushed against her cheeks when she blinked.

Stop. It. His brain hissed at him.

“Thanks,” he said taking the jug from her and moved over to his washer. He felt all the anger that was rattling his body disappear as he undid the cap, poured the liquid into it, and started the washer. He returned the detergent back to her. “Sorry, ‘bout m’slamming around,” he said sheepishly. “S’jus’...been a day,” he rubbed a hand on the back of his head awkwardly, feeling bad that he looked like an idiot. She shrugged.

“S’okay, doesn’t bother me,” she reached out and grabbed his hand effortlessly. She turned it over as if she randomly grabbed strangers’ hands all the time. “Thought you might have hurt yourself,” she murmured and then dropped his hand. He wished she didn’t, though. Her gentle touch felt like heaven.

He cleared his throat because he absolutely could not find himself losing his mind over a girl he had met for thirty seconds. “M’Harry,” he said.

“Nice to meet you,” she smiled introducing herself. “I just moved in... third floor, just a little under a week ago.”

Harry nodded. “Welcome,” it sounded a little sarcastic, but not in a mean way. “M’on the fifth floor,” he said. Tell her. Tell her right now. His conscience shouted at him. She hopped back into her position on top of the washer and resumed her reading position. “You don’t have t’stay with your clothes,” he told her as he checked the dials on the machine he was using.

“Hold over from college. My last apartment building was also not very good about it,” she shrugged. “I don’t trust it, but I don’t mind. I have a good book.”

Harry glanced at the title, committing it to memory so he could go purchase his own. No. Don’t. Stop it. You can’t do that. His conscience was screaming but he simply ignored it. It was the first time he didn’t feel angry in hours. She was just this bright little spot in the basement of the apartment building. It was a rainy Saturday and the only light coming in was from the egress windows. It wasn’t very light at all; merely the sun trying to force it’s way through the clouds above but getting trapped among the rain drops. Harry was feeling angry and the weather wasn’t helping.

But there was this...kind and lovely angel just sitting on a washing machine. Inspecting his hand for injury. Pure, gentle, perfect sunlight.

“Gotcha,” he murmured. “Well...m’doing other chores and things...I’ll be back down later.”

“Okay, nice meeting you, Harry,” she smiled. “I hope your day gets better,” her words were warm with kindness. It made him feel off kilter. He had been so angry all day that he nearly forgot what it was like to feel...happy.

He managed to smile at her, give a little wave, and left without another word.

Shortly after he left, she found herself a little flustered by the interaction. She was surprised she inspected his hand like that. It was totally out of character to be so forward—offering detergent and help, checking for injury. But really, taking his hand allowed her to admire the tattoos that lined his wrist and forearm and how the veins in his hand looked like the prettiest spiderweb she’d ever seen. Part of her hoped she would run into Harry again while doing laundry. Smiling, she returned her attention to her book and thought she really wouldn’t mind being around Harry for a longer time period.

*

Harry’s anger was renewed as he headed back to the laundry room. His chest was achy with the feeling of anxiety and a pressure forming from the annoyance he felt in his life. Part of him thought he should have just stayed in the laundry room with the girl that reminded him of sunshine.

That’s a stupid idea, and you know it.

He was really beginning to hate his conscience.

But his anger skyrocketed further as he entered the laundry room to see piles of laundry on top of washers. First, he was irritated because he was going to be livid if someone touched his clothing. This hadn’t happened in the year and a half he had lived there. But of course, it was going to happen on a day that he was simmering in anger over everything. Maybe more importantly, he thought he had given poor advice to Sunshine, and he was not happy that he did that.

Did you seriously just call her SUNSHINE? His brain was having independent thoughts, but Harry ignored it.

He was practically shaking with anger as he marched over to the washer that he had used earlier in the day. Other washers had piles of wet, crumpled clothing items on top of them waiting for the person to find them and be just as bitter and annoyed as Harry was. But instead, Harry found the washer he was using and none of his clothes had been moved. He felt his face pinch in confusion. That didn’t seem right.

But in place of a lump of wet clothes, was a piece of paper. He felt the confusion deepen. At the very least it made him forget how angry he was. At least for a few minutes. Scrawled across the paper read:

Out of Order. Do NOT use. -Management

Harry felt a new wave of anger wash over him almost instantly. If his clothes were damaged or stuck or something he might lose his mind. But he opened the washer and found his clothes were perfectly spun out. Smelled like the air after it had just rained. The confusion he felt continued as he pulled the items out of the washer and dropped them into the basket so he could throw them in a dryer next. He reread the note on the lid trying to figure out why the apartment management would say the washer was broken when it very obviously wasn’t.

He pulled the paper off the washer allowing someone else to use it now. As he did, he caught sight of writing on the back.

Told you so :) -304

Harry felt the urge to run out of the laundry room, wet basket of clothes and all, and knock on the door labeled 304 until she answered. He wanted to read beside her. Ask to use one of her dryer sheets or whatever it was that made her laundry smell so good. Her little knowing “told you so” didn’t even bother his already fragile, grumpy state. In fact, it only made him like her more.

STOP IT. His brain shouted. Shaking his head, Harry rid himself of his thoughts of Sunshine. What else am I supposed to call her? He asked rhetorically to his conscience. Instead, he tried not to think about her. He had only chatted with her for all of four minutes and that couldn’t have been nearly enough time to think he was already falling for her...right?

*

Today she was laying across two washers, a book above her head. She didn’t notice when people filtered in or out and no one paid any mind to her either.

Until Harry showed up.

“More laundry?” He asked.

She smiled, folding the corner of her page down and sitting up so she looked less crazy. Harry had a basket at his hip, and she noted there was a jug of detergent on top of the pile of laundry inside. “I love laundry,” she shrugged.

He wrinkled his nose at her in distaste. “M’least favorite,” he murmured.

“Aw, that’s too bad,” she frowned.

“Thanks for saving m’washer the other day,” he said dumping the items into the washer along the back wall—opposite of where she was seated.

She smiled down at the book in her lap and then looked up at the back of his head. “I never miss the opportunity to say I told you so,” she giggled.

Harry snorted as he chuckled. “Your boyfriend mus’ love that,” he mumbled.

“Very smooth, Harry. Unlike my ex-boyfriend, my imaginary one thinks that my perfectionism and tendency to be right is admirable. He clings to my every thought and word,” she fluttered her eyelashes cutely. If she were magic, she would have made a halo appear above her head.

He rolled his eyes at her and nodded. Tell her! His conscience yelled. RIGHT now. He ignored it as he had been since the last time he saw her. “A new book?” He asked instead.

She nodded, flipping the book over in her hands inspecting the front and back cover carefully. “Yeah...I try to read three books a month. The last one was a little dense but this one is a quick read. Entertaining, ya know?” She smirked. “It’s a little cheesy but it’s cute. It makes me happy,” she shrugged.

Harry thought that was sweet. He wanted her to be happy.

Stop. It.

She watched Harry throw everything in the washer in one load. “You should separate the light and dark stuff.”

“I’ve never had a problem with it before,” he shrugged. “S’this you trying t’be right again?”

She laughed and looked at her lap. The heat rose to her cheeks. “No, actually. Told you, just really like laundry. I notice a difference in my own stuff. But if you don’t obviously it’ll be fine,” she shrugged back. “I just really like laundry,” she repeated.

Part of him wanted to do exactly as she said. But even Harry, not just his conscience, thought it would be too much. She watched as he poured in the detergent, closed the lid, and then he hopped on top of his washer just like her. They were facing one another. She could see how green his eyes were now, a little bloodshot around the iris, she wondered if he had a late night and what from. His smile was sweet, a deep dimple dented the middle of his cheek depending on which side of his lips lifted when he smirked. But right now, he was smiling completely, making him look so innocent and boyish. It made her stomach flutter.

“So...are you in school still? Or do you have a job?” She asked.

“M’gainfully employed. Work in the financial district.”

“A corporate sellout,” she remarked neutrally.

Harry smiled again shaking his head at her banter. “Oh? And you, Sunshine? Y’work for the Lollipop League?”

“It’s the Lollipop Guild, and Lullaby League, actually. But no,” she snorted. “I work in the hospital as a counselor,” she said. “I can see how you would think it’s like being on the set of The Wizard of Oz.”

Harry tapped his fingers against the washing machine and pursed his lips at her. “Mus’ be a tough job,” he murmured.

She nodded. “It’s rewarding though. Gives me a cathartic cry about once a week,” she opened her book back up to where she stopped. She felt Harry watching her though and she realized she probably shouldn’t have admitted to an almost stranger that she cried so often.

Harry hated the idea of her sadness. She was the embodiment of sunshine. Tears shouldn’t have been allowed in her eyes nor on her face. His conscience was angry and loud. Harry Styles stop it.

She let the silence wash over them and Harry didn’t seem to mind. They both went to their books and read silently for a while. She giggled cutely every so often and Harry thought it was an adorable sound. He wished he could ask what she had read. He wanted to recite things to her that made him think of her.

Harry was properly and crazily losing his mind.

The words on the pages of her book blended together. She thought Harry was meant to just be looked at for hours upon hours. He was so insanely beautiful it made her mind turn to mush.

He had to be her soulmate, surely. He mentioned her favorite movie and book completely unprompted. She wanted to ask if he had ever read the book or if he liked the movie. If he would ever want to watch it with her in her apartment cozied up on the couch with apple cider. Growing up, her dad read the twenty-four chapters in a loop over the course of months and years. She found Oz completely magical. It was unbelievable that a total stranger would bring it up.

It had to be fate, right?

She could probably recite the book from memory. When she found out about the movie, she watched it on VHS and then DVD and now streamed it at least once a month or played it in the background when she did chores. It was something she had little ones watch at the hospital and she dressed up as a different character every Halloween to pass out candy to the little ones when trapped in their hospital rooms.

Fortunately, her washer buzzed, alerting her she was done, and Harry glanced up briefly and gave another cute little smirk that she was beginning to think was simply meant to keep her up at night—and maybe looking for things to wash.

“So...s’jus’ you in apartment 304?” He asked.

She smiled to herself. If this was his way of flirting it was lame. “Yeah, just me.”

“Awful lot of laundry you’re doing,” he muttered.

She threw her stuff into a dryer, tossing in the scented beads that made her clothes smell good along with a dryer sheet. “I told you I do laundry the right way.”

He chuckled and she thought that his laugh might have been her new favorite sound. “S’fair, I suppose,” he remarked. Slipping off his washer, he inspected her new book and the back cover. He mentally wrote the title down once more. “Do y’have a favorite book?” He asked.

She nodded. “S’kind of silly. It’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. My dad used to read it to me before bed. And I like history and there’s theories on the symbolism for the populist movement—I don’t know. It just makes me think of my childhood and of course the movie was just—” She stopped suddenly, and Harry was completely riveted by the beginning of her explanation.

“What, Sunshine?” He asked so gently. It felt like he was wrapping her in his arms and whispering in her ear. It was like he was trying to reach into her chest and hold her heart in his hands himself. It was sweet and she hated how nice it felt after they had spoken in total for maybe seven minutes since meeting.

She didn’t turn around to look at him. But she could feel his gaze warming her as he watched her fiddle with the dryer. “Just...don’t want to bore you about The Wizard of Oz.”

He ignored what his conscience was shouting at him once more. “I don’t think y’could bore me,” he murmured.

She turned then, looked at him with these beautiful round eyes that he swore were little suns and brightened the whole room as she met his gaze. “Guess the only way we’ll find out is if we keep chatting. Tell me about your book,” she suggested gently. It was an invitation and Harry didn’t really know what to say because the book hardly made any sense over the last few minutes. He was intently focused on her when he was supposed to be reading. He managed to make up something about how it wasn’t much of a page-turner yet but liked it well enough and thought it would get better.

Eventually, Harry’s washer signaled it was time to switch to the dryer and he worried their time was truly limited because before he knew it, her dryer was done. She stayed to fold her stuff, and they continued reading and chatting casually.

She was falling hard for Harry. It seemed it was inevitable. Between the gentleness he showed her in such a short time, the mention of her favorite story, and simply being there during her favorite chore, it was like Harry was meant to meet her. Meant to find her in the laundry room and befriend her so quickly.

There was no use denying she hoped it would escalate to something more.

Harry’s conscience continued to tell him what a terrible idea it was to keep up this...pretense with her. But his heart was saying that he needed warmth, needed the kindness she showed in just the little bit of time he had been around her.

Sunshine was his cure.

--

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[selfishdoll]

LITTLE MISS PERFECT FT. EREN YEAGER ୨୧ ｡ ⟡

⠀ ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 it was just your luck that a coworker you simply couldn’t stand figured out your side gig as a bottle girl.

❛content warning(s)...❜ ━━ ooc eren (this is my first time writing for him) | reader & eren argue but it’s really unresolved sexual tension | eren is a tease | they are both 21+ | porn with minimal amounts of plot | pet names (mama, pretty, sweetheart, etc) | reader calls eren a stalker | semi-public sex | buzzed(?) sex | ass slapping | eren likes eye contact | service dom (?) eren | he has shoulder length hair | orgasm denial (like twice) | throat holding | etc. if i forgot something let me know.

❛author’s note...❜ ━━ i’ve never written for eren before so don’t clown me yall— also i know little about bottle girls so also don’t clown me, i just like the way they look.

You were delicate and careful, assuring the oddly shaped makeup tool was setting the makeup perfectly. You couldn’t afford to mess up or restart your routine— you were already three minutes behind schedule.

“Damn you Yeager..” You mumbled to yourself, glossed and lined lips pulled into a subtle frown. Why exactly were you forced to work with him? With that.. absolutely annoying man child? His temper was too much for you at times, and the way he just loved questioning just about everything— God, some days you believed your supervisor purposely set you two to work together.

So it was no surprise you two got into an usual spout; for what, you can’t even remember. You simply remember your gaze fixated on his — dare you say — handsome features, absolute venom escaping your plump lips. Words faltering every single time you saw his own jade colored gaze fall to your lips.

You could not stand Eren Yeager no matter how much he made you weak at the knees.

You tossed the tool to the side, rising from your vanity whilst grabbing the bottle of setting spray. Closing your eyes, you quickly sprayed your beat face, assuring to get every inch. Having it run in the middle of your shift was something you wanted to avoid.

You slammed the bottle down once you were done, stepping back and glancing at yourself in the mirror. French white nails carefully plucked the curls of your burgundy colored lace, nodding at the way they fell so pleasantly around your features. The second thing to critique was your outfit; a mesh sleeveless romper that had several splits between your cleavage and was just dark enough it covered your bottom half. Your eyes traced yourself for a split moment, finally nodded once satisfied.

Grabbing your bag, phone, and keys— you rushed out of your apartment after locking the door.

You reached the night club you work at about ten minutes late, your close friend luckily getting most things ready before your arrival. Once arriving you cleaned up your sections, assuring the tables were spotless and booths were in proper order. Finishing that task you moved towards the locker room to touch up yourself, spritzing your body with a sweet perfume whilst your friend separated your curls.

“You and that Eren guy should just fuck and get it over with.”

You scoffed at her words, placing your perfume away; going for your lipgloss next. “I’d rather chew on glass.” You murmured softly, gliding the stick substance across your two-toned lips. Fuck Eren? He was easy on the eyes, sure— but not easy anywhere else. As said before, you couldn’t stand him. And you highly doubt you would stand him enough to sleep with him.

You heard your friend sigh, releasing your hair to walk around and face you. “I don’t know.. it just sounds like unresolved tension or something— ya know?” Her lips curled at the deadpanned expression that crossed your features, gaze watching you hurriedly place your things away.

“C‘mon our sections may be filling up.”

“Don’t ignore me, [Name]!”

The night continued as pure usual, you lifting large bottles of alcohol ranging from Hennessy to Pink Whitney and much more; over to your booths, flashing forced smiles and moving your hips to the beat of the music. The multicolored lights reflected off your sun-kissed highlighting each feature you had.

At certain tables a customer would get up and dance with you and the other girls; causing your smile to worsen but otherwise continue the service with no issues.

That was how your shift as a bottle girl was supposed to go. No issues, just simple adult fun.

Until you reached a certain table.

You walked over as pure usual, pearly whites on display account of the glossed smile stretching your features. Sauntering over with a notepad, you gave your usual winning pitch; attempting to persuade the customers to buy the most expensive alcohol to assure the best experience — usual customer service nonsense.

Except as your eyes cased the table surrounded by men, your gaze settled upon a certain one. One whose own gaze was fixated onto you. A rather, familiar gaze.

“Ma’am?”

You cleared your throat, eyes blinking over to a man with light ash-brown hair. “Ye—yes, have you decided what you wanted to order?” You questioned, smile becoming even more forceful the moment you noticed a smirk from your peripherals. You barely registered the order that escaped his lips, scribbling upon your notepad quickly whilst the other men chimed in with their own requests.

“Okay, I’ll be right back!” You spoke, spinning on your heels and basically rushing towards the bar. You stood behind it, eyes tracing the many bottles lining the case. It took a moment to find what you were looking for, stepping back a bit before a small ah fell from your lips, approaching a case. You pulled the large bottle of Gin from its rightful place, turning and jumping the minute your focused gaze landed on someone else’s.

“Hey [Name]..” Was the cool words that escaped Eren fucking Yeager, lips curled into the most subtle grin. You took in a deep breath, placing the bottle down and turning to search for another.

“Sir, the whole point of a bottle girl service is I bring the drinks to you. You have no need to approach the bar.”

“There’s no rules stating I can’t though, right?”

You gritted your teeth a bit, noticing the clear amusement circling his tone. Grabbing a bottle of cream liquor you turned once again, placing it down with a little more force. “Eren, would you fuck off? Save your taunting for another time, i’m trying to work!”

The man tilted his head, strays from his messy bun intruding on his face. “I didn’t come over here to taunt, [Name]. I was just..” He trailed off for a moment, lips curling into an even more prominent grin. “Surprised little miss perfect had a job such as this. Didn’t seem like your style.”

You rolled your eyes a little, grabbing a few shot glasses and placing them on a tray. “Well, everyone has their side hustles..” You murmured softly, beginning to pour a few shots— grumbling the moment ring covered fingers lifted one. You settled the bottle down once you were finished, eyes focusing back to the man infront of you. “You gonna blab to the whole office you saw me working here?”

You weren’t ashamed to be a bottle girl, if anyone asked you were more than happy to share. However, that didn’t excuse the fact you enjoyed keeping your private life.. well, private. You could just imagine the annoyance it would be with such information circling your “normal” workplace.

“No.” Eren began slowly, lifting the glass to his lips and taking the shot. His tongue glided across his bottom lip after pulling the glass away, placing it back down on the tray. “I’d much rather keep you all to myself.” His eyes flicked between your eyes and lips, enjoying the perplexed expression that crossed your face.

Eren rose away from the bar with a soft hum shortly after. “See you at the table..” He dragged giving you one last look before stalking off towards his section.

Leaving you the perfect mixture of confused and heated.

The rest of the night continued without a hitch. Except his eyes followed your every move. From you walking over with the shots, hips rocking along to the harsh beats of the music blasting — to you dancing beside the other bottle girls.

You tried to ignore it all, tried to focus on anything but him. But, you found your eyes trailing over to his own constantly— spotting his pretty lips lift into a smile.

Suffice to say, you were a little distracted for the remainder of the night.

And several others down the line.

Your schedule was so you worked Friday-Sunday, taking up a shift once in a while as a favor. Either the man had guessed your schedule or he asked because every other Saturday Eren and his friends were seated at your section; his eyes never leaving your form the entire time.

The second time he came in you remarked it as a coincidence, but the fourth? Yeah, you were sure the man was messing with you. Especially since he acted so normal at work; still as combative, and still as annoying.

It was boggling, you constantly questioning Eren’s motives. It’s not like he ever got extremely drunk; settling for a shot or two. Was he really just here to watch you? To antagonize you? To approach the bar each time you walked off just to speak or compliment what you were wearing?

You sighed heavily the moment familiar footsteps followed you back to the bar, walking around the counter; thankful it placed distance between you and the man. “You’re starting to act like a stalker, Yeager.” You mumbled, grabbing a bottle of Hennessy. You heard the barstool squeak the moment he sat on it, turning to spot his ringer covered fingers tapping against the sleek marble.

“Gonna have the bouncer throw me out?” He questioned, green gaze looking at you through pretty lashes. The moment you turned away silently Eren was smiling, tongue gliding across his lips. “Guess not..”

You tried to ignore him, you really did; attempting to focus on your shaky hands pouring the usual seven glasses resting your tray— not even batting an eye when he grabbed one without asking.

“You look nice tonight..” Eren spoke lowly, eyes not so shamelessly tracing over the black attire you wore; a black leather skirt, with a mesh halter top, a silver necklace hanging accompanying the outfit.

You rolled your eyes a little, reaching for another bottle. “You say that every single time you see me.”

“And I mean it— every single time.” He countered, placing the now empty glass down.

You could only blink at the man for a moment, completely forgetting the drinks as a heat covered your entire body. Your eyes fell to the bar, lip caught between your teeth as the softest stammer escaped you; “Why do you keep coming here? To compliment and watch me? You don’t even get drunk like your friends do.”

The words settled in the air for a while, Eren silent— his eyes focused completely on you; an intense stare you avoided. Moments passed before the man spoke again;

“I’d much rather show you, why I keep coming here.”

His lips were hot against your own, body flush against you whilst pushing your back into the cool bathroom wall. Eren’s large hands remained on your waist, pulling you into him each time you attempted to back away. Why exactly? Because he was so overwhelming. His taste, tongue, smell— all of it muddling your brain far too quickly, rendering you into putty he could so easily play with.

You were finally able to pull back from the kiss, when he needed air, pants flowing from your lips; lipgloss a mess with your mixed salvia tainting your mouth. The hands on Eren’s shoulders gripped the cream colored longsleeve he wore the moment his lips pressed against your neck, breath quickening as he sucked a kiss into your skin.

The events leading up to now were a complete blur, Eren uttering such words and suddenly leading you into the woman’s bathroom; locking the door the second the two of you entered. After that well.. you found yourself against the wall by the sink, Eren’s hands situated on your form to assure you didn’t move an inch away.

Truthfully, you didn’t want to.

It seemed he got bored of your neck quickly, rising back up to steal your lips in another kiss. You moaned against his mouth the moment his fingers gripped your waist, switching you around to place you onto the counter. Your legs naturally opened, Eren taking this moment to step between them, smoothing his hand down to your exposed skin.

You pulled back, hands rising to his hair quickly to tug the moment he tried to go for another kiss. “Let me breathe, Eren— fuck..” You gasped out, watching a smirk pull his lips which were stained with your gloss.

“Then breathe.” He spoke, leaning close and pressing his forehead against your own. Despite his allowance, you couldn’t; feeling his hand travel between your legs, tracing your inner thigh for a moment before moving farther. Eren’s other hand moved to your lower back, keeping you in place while his thumb pressed against your thinly covered pussy, brushing at the wet spot slowly starting to form.

“Already a mess down here, huh?”

“Eren, quit it..” You drawled, legs gripping his waist the moment his thumb pushed to find your covered clit, rubbing the little bud the moment he did.

A soft chuckle flowed from his lips right into your ear, lips tracing the delicate shell just to feel you shiver. “Quit what? Quit touching you?.. quit talking?—“ Eren murmured, pushing your panties to the side, exposing your pretty cunt to his fingers. “Either one, you don’t want me to stop at anyway. Not with how fucking wet you are for me.” He spoke, fingers gliding up and down your slick slit whilst his thumb pressed harder against your little bud.

Your legs widened, trembled— hands gripping his shirt and moaning the moment two thick digits pushed inside your awaiting entrance. Your walls clenched around his fingers, gasping as they pushed in and out of you so easily. He was down to the knuckle, reaching far deeper then your own fingers. The squelches of your messy cunt was drowned out by your own sweet moans, head pressed against the mirror behind you whilst your hand fell to his forearm; feeling his muscles twitch with each thrust of his fingers.

Eren pulled back from your ear to instead plant his lips against yours again, pace quickening. His fingers pushed against the rough spot within you, gummy walls sucking his fingers in each time it dragged in and out of you.

Your moans were muffled, eyes pinched closed with a tight band forming in your lower stomach. You were shaking at this point; breaking the kiss to allow sharp whines to escape your swollen lips. Your pussy was spasming around his digits, hips rocking to meet each thrust.

Eren took in your form, sucking in a breath as he felt his cock strain against his pants. You were so fucking close; your walls greedily sucking him in, your plump stomach rolling with each arch— fuck, from just his fingers you were already in such a state.

He sucked his teeth a bit, withdrawing his fingers before you could even reach your peak. Your eyes flew open at this, shaky gaze focusing onto Eren.

“Eren why’d y—“ Eren came close, cutting off your words with a gentle hand on your throat and lifting you away from leaning on the mirror.

“Whining over nothing… you’ll come baby, just wait.” Eren spoke, hands falling to your thighs and pulling you towards the edge of the counter. Once there, he stepped back to push his boxers and pants down to his thighs; allowing his length to spring out.

He was nice and thick, long too— tip resting just below his belly button, adoring minimal hair. You weren’t given much time to gawk before he was coming close, hands falling to your hips and pressing the crown of his cock against your wet slit.

Slowly, he glided his length up and down your wetness; coating himself in your arousal. Each time his tip bumped against your clit you were twitching, white nails digging into his shoulders while your hips moved for more friction.

Finally after what seemed like hours but was nothing more then agonizing seconds, Eren was slowly pushing inside; groaning the moment your walls clenched around him.

“Relax mama..” He murmured, leaning down to kiss you. A hand then released your hip to travel between your legs, slowly circling your clit. You moaned against him, feeling him ease the rest of himself inside; a soft squelch emitting from the intrusion.

Eren pulled back from the kiss, eyes traveling to where the two of you were connected; sucking in a breath. “Taking me so damn well, pretty girl..” His grin grew the moment your walls clenched around him, eyes flicking to your face. “Oh— you like when I call you that, huh?” A snicker escaped him the moment your eyes traveled to the side, leaning to kiss your neck.

“So cute when you’re embarassed [Name].”

“Sh.. shut up Eren..—“ The words barely escaped you before said man was pulling his hips back, tip resting inside you before flicking them forward. Your hands grip tightened on his shirt, legs tightening as the experimental pumps turned into deep, quick thrusts.

Sputters of his name escaped you, head resting back as your body rocked with each unrelenting movement of his hips. You were squeezing him so damn tight, greedily sucking him in each time he pulled out. The breaths that escaped his mouth were hurried, fanning across your hot skin whilst his fingers dug into your plump form. You were stuck there, unable to run, to move; exposed to the pace he set— ruining you so perfectly.

Perfect.

That was the only thought in his mind as he green eyes took you in, watching your pretty lashes fluttering— struggling to keep your own eyes open. What’s more, little tears began to form, threatening to spill and ruin the makeup he’s sure you spent agonizing minutes on. The thought alone caused him to bury himself deeper, hands falling to the underside of your thighs and pushing you to lay on the counter.

“F—Fuck—!” You cried out, feeling him lift a leg to lay on his shoulder; drilling into you. His heavy length was brushing you in all the right spots, tip pushing against your cervix; the pain and pleasure molding into a single feeling. “E—eren..hah— shit, you’re too deep!” You whined out, tears spilling, causing black streaks to run down chubby cheeks.

Eren groaned softly, pushing to hover over your body whilst gripping the thigh pressed against his chest. “You want me to stop, baby? Huh? Want me to pull out?” The moment you shook your head he was grinning, pace never faltering, the slick mess between your thighs growing.

“Thought so..” Eren breathed, pulling back to kiss against your chubby thigh while his free hand moved to your stomach, pressing against it to feel each thrust. “Wanted this just as bad as I did, didn’t you? So fucking mean at work, yet here you are— whining and making a complete mess on my dick.”

You wanted to tell him to shut up. That he was wrong and much more. But you couldn’t, the man drilling into you with such precision the only legible words escaping your bruised lips were honeyed moans of his name and pleads to come.

Which Eren ate up completely, biting your skin just to feel you twitch— watch you gasp. Fuck, you were the prettiest sight; a complete mess for only his eyes.

Eren lowered to hover over your withering body, lips pressing against your chin. “Look at me, baby— lemme see you.” He breathed, attempting to keep your gaze. Instead you kept looking away, even closing your eyes and refusing to return his look.

That alone caused the man to suck his teeth, hips slowly before stopping completely; eliminating the bubble forming inside you.

Again, your high was ruined; eyes flying open to complain— a surprised yelp interrupting as he snatched you up and off the counter; pushing to turn you and lay you out— stomach down, ass up.

You wished to question this sudden position change, only for the answer to stand right infront of you. The fucking mirror. You attempted to glance away again, moaning the moment he grabbed a nice hold of your braids, pulling your head back to force you to look.

Eren leaned over you, speaking right into your ear whilst sliding back in; “Close your eyes again, I dare you.”

You whimpered at his words, gasping as his quick pace returned. You struggled to keep your eyes open with each thrust into your weakening body, nails clawing at the sleek counter whilst your moans bounced off the walls. You had long forgotten the remaining two hours of your shift, forgot about the many customers you were sure your friend was saddled with— you could only focus on Eren, his dick, his hot breath and dirty words being whispered into your ear.

You were being consumed completely, so easily— and you welcomed it fully.

The wet sounds of skin on skin contact acted as a background to the combined sounds you two released, Eren pulling back to watch himself push in and out of your wet pussy. Your ass bounced with each flick of his hips, rippling the moment his palm slammed against a cheek.

Eren grinned at the sharp whine that escaped you, pulling you right back on his dick the moment you tried to pull away. “Nah.. take it, mama. Don’t fucking run.” He huffed, gripping your hip and keeping you in place.

You felt your orgasm approaching quickly, tears treading down dried streaks as you watched yourself in the mirror. Your edges were curled, lips wet with both lip gloss and saliva, while your makeup began to run from the sheen of sweat tainting your skin. Even so, Eren still looked at you as if you were completely perfect, leaning down and whispering such right into your ear.

You gripped your hands into tight fists, crying out as you stared at him in the mirror, desperate pleas falling from your lies;

“S—so close.. fuck, fuck! Eren, please—!”

The whines were music to his ears, eyes threatening to roll back the moment he felt you fucking back; ass slapping against his body with each messy bounce. “Shit, [Name]..” He dragged, blunt nails digging into you plush skin as he drilled into you. “Come all over me, mama. Make me a mess— don’t fucking hold it.”

Eren hissed, mouth hanging open the moment he felt you clench around him tight; creaming all over his length. A drawn out swear escaped him, leaning down close whilst his hand rose to your throat. “That’s it baby, cream all over this dick.. So fucking filthy.”

You were pulled into a sloppy kiss, tongues playing and teeth colliding as he pushed himself deep inside; flooding you with his hot, thick come. Your toes curled at the feeling, walls spasming around his length as your combined arousals slipped to his balls and down to the ground beneath you.

As his hips slowed the kiss became more uniform, breathing into the other’s mouth, Eren sucking your wet muscle.

Moments passed before he pulled away, watching your form rest on the counter; rapid pants escaping you. A satisfied grin pulled his features, slowly pulling out with a soft hiss— watching his cum slowly flow out of you.

He had half a mind to push it back in.

Instead, Eren whistled lowly, hand falling to your ass and massaging where he previously slapped. “Tired sweetheart?” He questioned, eyes flicking to the mirror. He grinned at the expression that crossed your features, gripping your butt even more.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

You slowly turned onto your back, ignoring the feeling between your legs and standing on shaky legs. You warmed as he came close, assisting you in pulling your clothes back on. “But my shift..” You dragged, gaze lifting to his face.

“It got covered.”

You blinked slowly, the pieces slowly coming together. “She was in on this, wasn’t she?”

Eren remained silent for a moment, pulling his pants up. Your gaze narrowed, reaching over to lightly slap his arm. “Eren!”

The man snorted, coming close and resting his hands onto your hips.

“You weren’t worried about it the moment you stepped in here. And you definitely won’t be when I get you home.. so come on.”

REBLOGS & COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED <3

[comiicii]

Backdrop: Life had been mundane until you met Clark Kent.

Pairing: clark kent x fem!reader

Warnings: None, probably some grammatical errors and a little sadness if you’re a sap like me.

A's notes: inspired by ariana grande’s new album eternal sunshine, i’ll be doing a series of one shots based on the songs. they’ll be in no particular order and will be written for other characters but some will be featured more than once if they fit the song i’m writing about. ‘we cant be friends’ has me crying whenever i watch the video and i tear up a lot listening to it so enjoy this train wreck of a story.

Word count: 3.8k

For as long as you could remember, life was nothing special. It wasn’t horrible but you woke up most days simply doing work and trying to advance your career. Your life was mundane and filled with memories of you alone after moving to Metropolis. That was until you met him. Clark Kent. You had bumped into each other on your way into the Daily Planet for an interview. Well, it was actually you bumping into his broad chest and him catching you before you hit the marble floor. The softness in his deep ocean blue eyes were what made your heart do something it had never done. It felt like a pull in your chest that you hadn’t felt before. As if the universe made sense. Once you finally registered his apologies, you came to your senses and tried to apologize for not watching where you were going. Then he smiled. Now your stomach fluttered. That was not something your body usually did when it came to people. After he introduced himself, it was as if the world had color to it again.

It would be an understatement to say that you fell for Clark Kent. You deeply fell for Clark. Words could not express the love you instantly felt for him. And he fell just as hard for you. When he revealed his true identity to you, it only solidified the endless bounty of your love for him since he was willing to trust you with every part of himself that he didn’t share with the rest of the world. Life seemed to finally be worth living and getting up for. Every morning you rose with the sun and slowly forgot about those meek feelings that used to fill your body.

It wasn’t hard for the two of you to make some of the happiest memories together. Your then-apartment had been littered with trinkets that marked your happiest moments with Clark. Like the teddy bear he won for you when he took you to a carnival in his Kansas hometown. Or the homemade picture frame that had a silly selfie Clark took of the two of you while at work. Once you moved in together, the apartment you shared was filled with more memories the two of you made together. As a house warming gift, he presented you with a beautiful pendant necklace with both your birthstones that came together to make a heart. It’s a necklace you wear everyday and became a reminder that someone loved you unconditionally. When he proposed to you atop the ferris wheel, the ring was designed to match the necklace. Your wedding was small and intimate with just friends and family in attendance on the Kent family farm. It was the highlight of your life to be marrying the man of your dreams.

Life wasn’t always perfect with Clark though. Sharing your boyfriend (and eventual husband) with the world was not the easiest task to undertake but when he came home to you, those insecurities subsided. But those pesky feelings still lingered. Feelings of being unwanted and insecurities plagued the back of your mind. Besides, the Daily Planet constantly wrote puff pieces of his alter ego - with a few being written by you. As time passed and the world became more cruel, it became harder to keep those thoughts hidden. Little by little, those insecurities reared their ugly heads that led to some of the lowest of lows in your life since meeting Clark. He didn’t seem to understand why you were feeling as such and justified his work that it was his life’s purpose. And you didn’t seem to understand why he couldn’t empathize with your feelings. You stood by him through thick and thin. Through the good, the bad, and the ugly that came with being Superman. You weren’t perfect either, though. You were an ambitious reporter and were climbing up in your career at the Daily Planet. Your work also came with some ugliness as you advanced in your career. This meant that the two of you were in the spotlight for your work. Two very different spotlights but spotlights nonetheless.

It hit particularly hard the one argument that ensued after he missed your first wedding anniversary. It was an important milestone that you had planned out for weeks. You had made reservations at the restaurant you had your first date on and he didn’t make an appearance until the morning hours of the following day. You had looked like a fool at the restaurant; patrons giving you looks of pity as you sipped on your water and twiddled your thumbs like a fool waiting for him. When he greeted you with a bouquet of lilies - the first drop of uneasiness touched your chest. You weren’t happy to see him. To see his sweet face you’d kissed good morning the morning before. To see his ocean eyes that carried such sincerity because he had broken a promise to you. He could see that he couldn’t avoid a fight with you because you didn’t look at him with love. Your eyes were filled with disappointment. The argument that ensued ended with him leaving for most of the day as you sobbed into your pillow. When he had returned you had awoken only to softly cry yourself to sleep again.

It took two days for the two of you to speak again and work through the argument. You both tried to be more mindful and quickly moved on from the unhappy moment. A part of you was content with the conversation and hopeful for what was to come with Clark. It wasn’t the first fight you two had but it was the first that hurt you so deeply.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the day you had asked for a divorce from Clark. It wasn’t something you planned but it wasn’t something you hadn’t contemplated in the recent year after your third wedding anniversary. It had come out of your mouth after another argument that was going nowhere. You had argued about how you were growing apart - how you had taken time off after planning to go away for a small vacation just the two of you and he wasn’t putting in the effort. He had come home late but it wasn’t because of him being Superman. It was because he worked late with Lois Lane on a story after he had told you that morning he’d be home to go on the trip. You were prepared to forgive him if it was because of his Superman duties but this was the last straw.

You weren’t the jealous type but even at work, it seemed like the two of you barely spoke as the years progressed. He got paired up with Lois for more stories and you didn’t like the sinking twist of your stomach whenever you saw Clark with her. They looked cute together and probably the office assumed he was sleeping with her given how flirty they tended to be (at least she was). The first time he noticed how much it bothered you, he assured you with his words and actions that he felt nothing for the reporter. He went as far as to give you a passionate kiss in the middle of the office, in front of Lois, as you bid him goodbye to go to an interview for a story you were writing. It had made you weak in the knees and you were close to pulling him into the archives room to continue the passion but you simply blushed and told him you loved him with the most love struck smile on your face. That squashed those insecurities for a while until you started noticing how close they’d sit together while brainstorming or how he began to stay later with her to work on a story. You tried not to be the jealous wife but you couldn’t help the green monster that was building on your fears and insecurities. The few times you brought it up afterwards, Clark was dismissive about your feelings. It hurt you. Hurt how little he seemed to care about your feelings.

From there, arguments were becoming more common. Filled with silence or one of you leaving the apartment for some time. It had become common practice to not speak to each other and eventually move on from the argument. You hated that your marriage had come to this point. After the last argument, you had left the apartment this time. You checked into a hotel and went to the bar for a drink. You looked at your ring and a tear ran down your cheek realizing that it didn’t give you hope. It didn’t give you the feeling you were hoping for because deep down, you knew that you couldn’t continue in the marriage if it wasn’t going to be mended. You had run the course of the marriage and it pained you. When you returned two days later, Clark was making lunch for both of you. He was prepared to go on the trip and put the argument behind. Your heart was racing because you didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to end something you had hoped would never end but it had to end. You needed to be the one to make Clark realize that the two of you weren’t going to get the happy ending. Not with each other. You were prepared for him to be upset and yell and express every reasonable emotion. When you uttered those terrible words, he simply froze and you could see his heart shatter from the look he gave you because he knew you were going to see the divorce through. The day ended with you packing your things and going back to the hotel, retaining a divorce lawyer and hunting for apartments. You had managed to find a job as a journalist for a small paper and put in your two weeks at the Daily Planet. By the end of it all, all you gave Clark was a letter asking for forgiveness for ending your marriage. Detailing all the love you had for him was genuine and would always remain but that for now, your paths had to separate. You ended the letter acknowledging that the two of you couldn’t be friends but that you’d wait for that day to come. Wait for the day that he’d like you again. You’d wait for his love again.

Clark’s heartbreak was just about close to unbearable as he didn’t pull his punches during missions and even Bruce had to pull him back from time to time. He had clung to that letter you wrote him and cried so hard the day he received it. Beating himself up for letting one of the most important people in his life feel the need to cut ties with him. Letting you feel like you had to end your story together. You weren’t fairing much better. For the first few months, you were crying yourself to sleep almost daily. Life had become mundane and when you thought of Clark, it became sad and lonely. You hated the pain you felt in your chest that had spread to your whole body.

A coworker at your new job had seen how sad you were about your divorce and handed you an ad about Wayne Enterprises having technology that claimed to erase people from your memory. A part of you didn’t think such a thing existed but you knew Bruce wouldn’t build something if it didn’t work. When Bruce Wayne saw your name on the list of possible subjects, he reached out to you. Meaning, he paid a visit at your current apartment that was now closer to Gotham. You had known Bruce through Clark and knew of his alter-ego as well. Batman had actually saved you a few times when you were in Gotham chasing leads and doing interviews. When he first met you, Clark and you had been together for a year and had been invited to one of Bruce’s fancy charity events. He had seen how in love you two were. He hadn’t seen Clark so happy before you came into his life and he could see the adoration you held for the Kryptonian. Clark had even said to him that night that he was going to marry you. It warmed his heart to see how happy you two had made each other in such a short period of time.

You had ironically decided to have the procedure done on what would’ve been your fourth wedding anniversary. You looked down at the box that contained every memory attached to Clark. The receptionist had handed you a clipboard with a waiver to sign; giving Wayne Enterprises permission to move forward with the process. A nurse came out to call your name and you handed her the clipboard. She brought you inside and took the box of your memories. You sat down and took deep breaths, the nurse giving you a few minutes as she left to get he others for the procedure. You looked around at the room, it was meant to look comfortable given the severity of the process. There was a mirror on the wall to your right. You figured it was part of the original room and that maybe on the other side were boxes of other people’s memories.

On the other side of the mirror, Clark stood looking at your nervous self that waited for the technicians to arrive. Bruce had elected to do the procedure himself for his friend after informing him that you had signed up for it yourself. Clark had come in on the same day per Bruce’s request since he figured it was best for it to be done on the same day for the both of you. Clark had come in with a box full of memories connected to you. Pictures that he had of you and different items you had gotten him through the years such as the bracelet you made for him while he was away on a mission with the Justice League. You had put beads with your initials on the bracelet and just like you wore your necklace, he wore his bracelet. The box also contained a picture he had taken of you out on his parent’s farm the weekend he brought you home to meet Ma Kent. The box unsurprisingly contained a great deal of pictures of you that he took. Some silly ones, cute ones, romantic and his most cherished one was at the top of the pile. It was a picture of the two of you kissing on your wedding day. Clark had taken it himself with his digital camera he carried everywhere with him. His other favorite picture was one of you under the covers, smiling and looking so peaceful and happy as he took the picture, wearing one of his flannels. It was taken the morning after he proposed to you. You had a picture of Clark in your box that you had taken a few seconds after he took that photo. He didn’t want to put anything in the box and be selfish but he knew for it to work, he had to follow Bruce’s instruction. The one item that wasn’t in the box was the letter you wrote him after your divorce. The one that solidified your parting of ways. He gave the letter to Bruce and told him wished he hadn’t made you feel so hurt that you had to do this.

With that, the billionaire decided to tell his friend that this wasn’t the first time the two of you had gone through this procedure. Two years prior to the two of you meeting, you both had been together for three years and had a great falling out that ended the relationship. It was enough to bring the both of you, at separate times, to him and ask to have your memories of each other erased. Bruce wanted to tell you but the sadness reflected in your eyes was enough to keep his mouth shut. Maybe deep down you knew that this wasn’t the first time you wanted to erase Clark from your life. You loved him so deeply that the only way for life to move forward again, he had to be erased. Clark didn’t realize he was crying as he heard his friend recount the first time you two had come in and watched you play with the pendant necklace he gave you when you moved in together. He still remembers how nervous he was to gift it to you; worried it was not going to be your style. He remembers how his heart leaped when you squealed with joy at the present. His heart felt heavy knowing you still wore the necklace despite being divorced. It was bittersweet hope that maybe you’d be able to try again without having to do this. He wanted to break through the window and beg you not to forget him but he knew that once your mind was made up, you saw it through. So, he sat down and asked Bruce to erase his memories of your relationship. All Clark wanted was for you to be happy. If that meant erasing him, he would learn to live with that.

As you closed your eyes, recounting the countless memories you had made with Clark for the last five years, it was hard to hold back the few tears that wet your cheeks. Your breathing got heavy as Clark disappeared from your life. Your fingers reached for your necklace - the remaining piece of the love you were erasing from your entire being. You looked at the nurses beside you, asking with teary eyes if you could keep just this one memory for yourself. You softly begged them as one nurse held your hand and told you that it was going to be okay, that the process was almost complete. You took in a shaky breath and closed your eyes as your fingers cling to the pendant; feeling the final memory of Clark’s ocean eyes fade.

When you opened your eyes again, you were slightly disoriented but greeted with the kind face of the nurse. She asked if you were okay and you smiled. You knew whatever just happened, it worked because there was a lightness in your chest. It felt as though you were brand new. As you stood from the chair, you thanked everyone. Without noticing, Bruce Wayne had come in to the room to congratulate you on the success of the procedure. You thanked the billionaire and went about your day. You took in the crisp afternoon air of Gotham and headed back your apartment. Clark came out the building a few minutes after you.

A few years later, life was certainly different. You had landed a job working for the Gotham Gazette as the lead investigative reporter and had made a name for yourself. You were content with life but there was something missing. At night, you found yourself out on dates that never led anywhere. On the nights where it was particularly bad, you phoned your billionaire friend Bruce Wayne whom you grew closer to in the following years with working at the Gazette. He became a confidant for your woes and wishes of your life. Bruce had come to deeply care about you after you had the procedure. Part of the reason was because Clark asked him to look out for you since he wouldn’t be able to. He couldn’t help to grow close to you because you were that type of soul that brought a warmth and comfort he hadn’t felt since he lost his parents.

Clark had focused on his work in the following years of his procedure. He had struck a relationship with his coworker, Lois Lane. They had been together for three years but it wasn’t working. Mainly because Clark hadn’t felt he could spend his life with her. She was beautiful, smart, ambitious and just about everything he could ask for in a partner but there was something missing. He couldn’t put his finger on it and quite frankly it killed him to continue in a relationship he knew wasn’t going to end in marriage.

Bruce had invited you to his charity event to raise money for the orphaned children of Gotham. He always invited you since he knew it could be good for networking for you and every now and then, you would get a date out of it. Clark and the other Justice League members were in attendance for this event as they knew this was an important cause for Bruce. Clark had just broken up with Lois the week prior and had been sulking, He originally wasn’t going to attend the event but Bruce and the others convinced him that a night out would be good for him.

A couple of hours into the event and you find yourself feeling out of place. Especially with the dress you chose; it was from a thrift shop you had found in Gotham and it had more of a bohemian look to it rather than the posh aura the other attendees wore. Bruce had checked in with you a few times to make sure you were okay; knowing how intense the scene of the Gotham elite could be and assuring you in the process of how beautiful you looked. You found yourself at the bar, grabbing what seemed to be your fifth flute of champagne for the night. Your spacial awareness was starting to go so it wasn’t surprising when you bumped into a large figure at your side, spilling some of your drink on him. You were a mess apologizing to the man. You were expecting him to make fuss but it was a pleasant surprise when you heard him softly chuckling at you. You were flushed with embarrassment but when you stared into the eyes of the man, your heart stopped. Meeting his deep blue eyes spread a warmth the champagne earlier hadn’t achieved. His heart also seemed to stop upon meeting your gaze. Your eyes made him feel like he had finally come home after a long journey of searching.

To continue having you in his presence, he joked that you owed him a dance in order to make up for ever so slightly wetting the sleeve of his navy blue suit. Hearing the slight mischievous tone only made you laugh in agreement, a sound he already found addicting. When he pulled you close to him, you hoped he couldn’t hear how hard your heart was beating. As you followed his lead, you relaxed and he took the opportunity to ask for your name.

“Y/N.”

“Clark.”

[bunviie]

proving a point ღ

pairing ⋆ღ‧₊˚ gojo x black!reader

synopsis ⋆·˚ ༘ * reader gets upset over a few comments from her students and decides to prove a point by sucking off her boyfriend! 3

content ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ oral (male receiving), cum eating, exhibitionism, established relationship

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ღ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡�� ࣪ ִֶָ☾.˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

nighttime critters sing annoying chants, thumping into the glass windows occasionally. you stomp your way along the jujutsu high halls. shoes tapping down onto the floorboards, the echo bouncing from wall to wall as you power-walked to your boyfriend’s classroom.

you slide the doors open and there he is. gojo sits at his desk, the surface mildly covered in mini gift bags. the soft pastel colors are decorated with cutely stamped logos. you deduce that they are sweet treats. he’s in the process of stuffing his cheeks full with a dessert when the door flies open.

startled by the abrupt entrance, gojo flinches and drops his cream-pasted rice cake. it leaves residue in the corners of his mouth but your expression relents.

you walk up to his desk, still in a rushed pace when you drop to your knees, hands already adjusting the elastic in his waistband so that it's down to his ankles. gojo is still in mild shock when he cleans his face, eyes flickering from his treats, to you and to his crotch that slowly begins to harden. it was only when you grabbed the base of his cock did he reach out and hold onto your wrist. the action doesn't stop you though. you used your other hand to occupy and— and gojo grabbed onto that one as well. he left both of your arms suspended in the air, holding them up high above your head. this makes you stare up at him and gojo instantly melts.

“what's going on? what's wrong?!” he asks, worried undertones can be sensed. 

you look away, pouty and all huffed up. your chest heaving up and down, reluctant to go back to its usual state. your eyes are doing that ‘zig-zag’ thing. left and right, up and down and gojo just knows your mind isn't here. 

“who upset you?” he uses his free hand to direct your focus at him and even then, your eyes have yet to meet his.

the question only riles you up more and your boyfriend lowers your arms to console you. he holds your hand and pulls you up to sit in his lap. his arms laced around you promptly.  his face inches from yours as he studies yours some more. his gaze practically burned holes in the sides of your face. slightly uncomfortable from his staring, you tried your way out of his grip. you don't even know why you even attempted. your weight falls back down onto his body effortlessly. skirt riding up with your shirt pulled out of it, more wrinkled than before. your legs were slightly spread, his own separating yours further apart. arms locking themselves back around your middle. he has you in his hold and you just know he won't let up. 

“i was teaching a class..” you start.

“mhm..” the tips of gojo’s fingers grazed your skin, the contact right away causing goosebumps. “and these…students…” your words leave you shakily. 

“yeah?”

“they made a few smart..remarks.”

“like what?” he responds blankly, his mouth leaving tiny spots of saliva along your neck and shoulder blade.

your face scowls as you recall it.

you stood in front of the classroom. it's noisy and growing more chaotic by the second. students were doing their own thing and didn't show an ounce of consideration or respect for the adult in the room..that is you. they didn't listen, they didn't want to. your warningful words fell on death’s ears.

“as a sorcerer, having complete control over your d–”

you were interrupted by a loud thud. a teen falling on the floor ensues boisterous laughter from everyone, from tipping back in a chair. you ignore it and try to get back to what you were saying.

“...domain will benefit you highly on the battlefield. it gives you the chance to– hey, can everyone focus up here please?”

the students are well preoccupied with their phones, giggling and shoving screens in each other's faces while keeping their loud chatter at great volume.

“you know what, if you guys don't care about saving lives, then why are you here?” you had reached your limit, finally garnering some attention. your question earns you snickers.

“calm down, we’re all paying attention,” a girl stands up

“what's wrong with her ass?”

taking in a deep breath, your arms fall to the side. “you guys are wasting my time. that's all.”

“it's not like you have somewhere better to be right now,”

“no you guys, i think she has a husband or somethin’, maybe she wants to go home.”

“husband? where?”

“it can't be true,”

“probably tryna get some lovin,”

“i don't think she’s getting any at home yall,”

“cause there is none at home.”

“find a link up or something, miss,”

“basically that i don't get dicked down at home.” you simply say. snapping back to the present. feeling the irritation intensify all over again. gojo laughs, covering his mouth in the process. you stare back at him and roll your eyes but he keeps laughing. his dick hits your knee occasionally from the joyful movements.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. but, what?” he laughs some more. you sit there and feel stupid for even bringing it up. 

it takes another moment for gojo to calm down, and when he does, he places his hand on your back. “so was that what that was? you were trying to prove a point?” you sense his gaze and his annoyingly charming grin.

“well get to it then,” he suddenly says, swinging his arms behind his head.

at his request…you suddenly no longer needed to prove a point to anybody. the order given makes you feel self-aware. especially with his soft longing eyes that followed your every move. you sit in his lap, hesitant about whether you want to do this or not and gojo senses your reluctantness. hand coming down from his head to hold onto your cheek, leading your lips to his. you can taste the sweet substance from what he ate earlier. he pulls away slowly, eyes dropping from yours to your lips and down to your chest and you feel your air caught up in your throat. and to further raise your blood pressure, his hands cling to the buttons on your blouse, unbuttoning them, his gaze returning to your face while he leaves your tits to sit up perfectly on your chest. you had started to sweat, face sticky and somehow you already looked a mess when all he did was kiss you. gojo smirks and scoots further down his chair. not wanting to fall from his new position, you catch yourself and stand up on your feet. ogling at his manspreading figure, you slowly got back down to your knees and in between his legs as you were before. face to face with his still-hardening erection. feeling shy from his watchful stare, your dainty hand settles once again to the base of his cock. beginning at a slow pace, it moves up and down, not able to reach his tip in this state as his dick was always a two-hands job.

“don't forget to get it all wet,” he speaks softly to you, though in a more teasing matter. he sits comfortably above you, grabbing the dessert he dropped earlier to eat the rest of it.

this man. 

your eyes don't pay any mind to him though, just at the task at hand. you get closer and hover your mouth over his tip. gojo flinches from feeling your breath. he must be sensitive. it's leaking and growing puffier by the second. this reaction only boosts your confidence. happily knowing that you had such an effect on him, to torment him further, you gradually fixed your mouth atop his shaft. stopping your movements prematurely to sweep your hair to one side of your neck, giving your horny boyfriend an eyeful of it and your chest. he audibly curses to himself and finds his stuttering hips bucking the air. you smile knowingly and slide your warm lips down his cock. deciding to deep-throat him early on. you didn't want to tease him any further as that would only result in you missing a few days of work.

your mouth attempts to engulf his being, yet you fail miserably. his length is warm in your mouth and your mouth doesn't make it any better. gojo visibly shudders when you insert him into your mouth. body jolting from the sensation that is the inside of your soft plump cheeks. you rub him against them before ultimately pulling away, licking from his base up, your gentle eyes stare up at him and something just stirs up inside him. you smile tauntingly, swallowing him whole on your second go.

you gag, you choke, bobbing your head and putting in the work of pleasing your man. drool escapes your mouth and drips onto your breasts and down to your thighs. tears had welled up and fell past your cheeks, smudging and building up the ruined makeup look around your eyes. your baby hairs that were efficiently laid now stood up, appearing frazzled from the sweat forming on your face. how you were already this messy is an answer you do not have.  your hands operated simultaneously in the out-of-reach areas. your spit aids you wonderfully as a lubricant. your tongue flicks and sips at his slit, ensuing loud moans from gojo. 

your eyes glance up at him quickly, squeezing your thighs together at the sight. he had completely abandoned his treats. head thrown back and beautiful deep plethoras of your name slips out of his mouth. his mouth opened ever so slightly every time your lips popped off of his raging erection. sweat trickled down his face as well, feeling the heat as you noticed that at some point of this all, he had taken the time to unbutton his shirt, letting both sides fall respectively to his sides to reveal his heavenly sculptured body. you can practically feel yourself drool some more. tempted to run your hands over his tempered abs.

his fists grip the edge of the desk, beginning to thrust his shaft further back into your mouth. your eyes fluttered between opened and closed. feeling him reach that far back has happened before but it still surprises you. slurping and other obscene sounds of you sucking got distinctly louder by the second. you had almost forgotten that you were still at school. the classroom doors remained open and so did the windows, allowing any bypassers to witness such lewd acts. the thought unfortunately turned you on more. gosh, how were you so shameless?

the tight hold on the desk turned into inconsistent banging, alarming you with just how loud you two were. though, gojo didn't seem to care either. his body jolts again and he tells you he’s nearing his end. you want to acknowledge this but aren't able to as gojo stands up from his seat and thrusts deeper into your mouth, holding you by your head as he stuffs your face full of his cock. your hands helplessly find their way to his thighs, holding onto them tightly. he mutters an excess amount of curses. saying how cute you look with your teary eyes and full lips wrapped around him. he praises you for it too.

“god, do you know what you do to me?” he asks, breathless.

you want to nod or shake your head but you still aren't able to seeing as your boyfriend has complete control. “ah, right. i'm sorry. you can't answer that right now,” he chuckles. feeling a little silly from his question.

he smiles down at you and uses his unoccupied hand to caress your cheek and release in your mouth. it startles you and you choke on his seed that slid down your throat. his smile only grew wider at the sight. sighing out a breath he seemed to have been holding onto and sits back down in his chair. you, catch your breath. your finger comes up to scoop the remaining substance from the corners of your lips, and into your mouth to suck on.

with a tattooed smile still on his face, gojo pulls you up back into his lap.

“you know i have been thinking..”

“mhm..?” you hum mindlessly, hands subconsciously coming up to your throat.

“maybe i haven't been doing my best. i mean, since those students seem to feel that way. i must not have been doing a good job at pleasuring you,” he wears a wicked smirk. your eyebrows quirked up, confused about what he was running on about. his fingers further ride up your skirt. bunching it all up to your waist where he grips your underwear. “also, aren't you the one who took so long to suck me off? i felt tormented.” he dramatizes and your cheeks go hot at the realization.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ღ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡�� ࣪ ִֶָ☾.˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

it's a beautiful day. the sun is beaming and the birds are singing. your class of students sat and walked around idly on the field, awaiting you.

fortunately for them, they spot you descending the stairs to the field with sensei gojo by your side. you appeared to look a little untidy and your legs looked wobbly. they begin to murmur around, utterly bewildered by the sight. 

“ms. l/n, is gojo sensei joining today?

“class started forty-two minutes ago, you know,”

“did something happen?”

your students throw you questions left and right however, your mind is far from hearing them. your attention is on gojo’s hand, his hand that’s on your lower back, and his lips that whisper sinful nothings into your ear. your thighs clamped together, mind going back to earlier this morning. gojo kisses your cheek and walks up to the students, hands behind his back. ensuing a group of gasps and whispers.

“you with the funny-looking hair, what one of the main benefits of a simple domain?” he shoots a question.

the student stumbles over her words. “it allows you to control time when you’re in battle.”

gojo’s face scrunches up, blinking a few times at the girl’s response. “no. you, can you use your cursed technique inside of a domain?” he asks someone else

“no you can't, you’d be completely out of control,” the student answers confidently. gojo just stares blankly out of amazement.

“wrong and you all would know this if you guys weren't so interested in me and my girlfriend’s sex life. now honestly, none of you would survive on the battlefield, and that's me just encouraging you. so how about we all mind our business and focus on exercising some spirits, huh?” 

the students are loss for words, probably from embarrassment. you almost let out a laugh from your lover’s antics when you felt his semen leak out of you. out of response, your body leans forward and you clamp your thighs together harder. slowly starting to regret letting gojo leave your cunt stuffed with his cum.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Alone Time

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem! Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Fluff, smut, oral (m + f! receiving), protected sex, PiV sex, Jake has a certain kink, unprotected sex, every good mama deserves to have a train run on her, body insecurities, affirmations, porn with a big heaping slice of life, could this be considered cucking? Or voyeurism/exhibitionism?, broken condom

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

This fic is connected to "Small Surprises" Pt. 1 and Pt. 2.

A/N: I had to do it lmao.

Taglist: @simp4-fictional-men @autismsupermusicalassassin @princessakirika @mochimoqa @pimosworld

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Your life was a strange one, now. You'd gotten used to the looming, musty-smelling god that lingered in your apartment and spent time with your daughter; you'd gotten so used to having the man--er, men--in your life at your side when you wake up in the morning.

You'd especially gotten attached to their little fishy friends!

But, hey, you wouldn't change it for the world. Hanukkah and Christmas came and went, so did New years. Poor Victoria, she was hiccuping and crying because the fireworks were too loud and terrified her, prompting Jake to immediately cradle her, and even Khonshu moved to slam your windows closed to muffle the sounds. (Although you lectured him about cracking one of the panes in his haste.)

And now, Valentine's Day was coming up, and you weren't entirely sure what to get for your boys.

Victoria, bless her tiny, sweet, adorable little heart, cut out some messy, colorful, and craft-herpes (glitter) covered hearts to each of them, doodling various things each man liked. Steven's heart was brown with gold glitter and had little Egyptian designs scribbled here and there, Marc had a few sports items drawn on his white and blue-glitter heart, Jake had a bright yellow and white heart, a crude scribble of his car drawn on next to his name.

She even made one for Khonshu. It was gaudy. Bright, neon pink, purple and blue glitter all over, and had small drawings of birds on it, with a crescent moon with a smiley face in the middle. His face couldn't emote, but you couldn't help but grin like an idiot (and had to elbow Steven in the gut to keep him quiet) as your innocent daughter handed her little art project to her "Cranky Bird Grandpa 'Shu". You were positive his pride took a blow when he accepted it in front of the two of you, but the way he gingerly held the little gift silently told you that he did, infact, like it.

Why Khonshu's personality seemed to shift around you and Victoria, you were unsure. You'd never asked, and to be honest you kinda didn't wanna know. You just chocked it up to, hopefully, Khonshu realized his existence didn't have to solely revolve around justice and violence. That some of his more forgotten attributes could be indulged in; such as him being a protector and a healer.

One time, Victoria fell and scraped her knee at the park, bawling as blood trickled down her delicate little leg. Before you or Marc could leap to your feet, Khonshu was there (invisible to others, of course) and whispered something to her. She repeated it, and by the time you two got there, Khonshu was gone, disappeared into a puff of mist, and Victoria was no longer injured.

Marc had asked her, worried, about what Khonshu said to her, the moment you got into the car. You were vaguely paying attention, at first, distracted at how his beard had come in, and he'd stopped being so meticulous about his appearance that his usually raven locks and beard (the one Jake insisted they grow out) were peppered with silver.

"What did he say, Vicky?" Marc asked.

"Jus' said that I had to say the words." Victoria answered vaguely, playing with her little scarab plushie in the back seat.

"What words, baby?" Marc asked, feeling a nervous sweat break out on his neck. You had to place your hand on his thigh to snap him back to reality.

"The words!" Victoria said, pursing her cute little face, her nose all scrunched up at his lack of automatically knowing what she meant. "He said, I gotta say the words to ask for help, so he can fix me!"

"...Wait." You turned in your seat to look back at her as you approached a red light, Marc watching her warily through the rear-view.

"Honey, do you mean a prayer?"

"Duh!" She scoffed, like it was obvious. "'Shu used to fix people all the time, he says. But nobody says the words no more so he can't. I had to say em so he could do it!"

You and Marc blink at each other, mulling over what your daughter just told you, a thick silence hanging in the air that was only cut through by her munching on some veggie sticks (all carefully arranged by color, of course. The red ones tasted the best, so they went first!).

"....I forgot he could do that." Marc murmured softly, looking back at the road as the light turned green.

"Yeah!" Victoria peeped. "'Shu says he can't do it no more cause it's hard. It's easier to find bad guys than fix people 'cuz they don't him ask for it no more."

You watch as Marc's jaw tenses and a look of confliction creases his brow.

Living under basically forced servitude tends to blind one to any benevolence their "benefactor" may have possessed at one point.

...And apparently still possessed. He'd never thought--none of them had--to consider that Khonshu never dispatched them to heal anyone, because A.) Nobody prayed to him for that anymore. B.) It wasn't in Moon Knight's abilities to heal anyone. And C.) Evil was just so much easier to root out.

The rest of the ride home was quiet; Marc, Jake, and Steven's headspace abuzz with this revelation.

You, meanwhile, still stressed out over what to get Marc, Steven, and Jake.

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"I still don't trust him." Marc muttered stubbornly.

"I understand why, and you have your rights to." You sigh softly, kneading the muscles in his shoulders. You were sitting behind him on the bed, his legs draped over the edge. "But you have to admit, he's strangely... sweet to Victoria."

"I don't trust it." He huffs again, his eyes closing as your thumbs work a particularly stiff knot between his shoulders.

"I know. But believe me, if he tries anything..." You mutter as your brow creases and you apply just a bit more pressure, earning a groan and a strained chuckle from Marc.

"Shit, I think the old man is more scared of you than what the Ennead might do to him if he fucks with the sky again." He says. "You and that broom."

You grin and press yourself against his back, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you slip your arms around his midsection, feeling the mix of softness and muscle, there.

"Well... me and my broom are fearless companions." You chuckle.

Marc stutters out a short huff as your fingers brush the trail of hair running beneath waistband of his sweatpants. They were doing very little to conceal the growing erection that throbbed against his thigh.

Marc tipped his head and looked at the monitor next to the bed, showing that Victoria was happily snuggled in bed, curled up with her arms squeezing Digger the scarab plush and snoozing peacefully.

Thank god that little girl usually slept like the dead...

"So..." You say, leaning in to nip at his ear as you comb your fingers through his curls, small water droplets clinging to the strands. Your nails scraping against his scalp, he groaned.

"You don't gotta work for the old man tonight." You say, kissing down his neck and to his shoulder, feeling how goosebumps formed beneath your soft lips; your hand slowly sliding up from his happy trail to his chest.

"Ay, hermano, you don't say yes I'll fuck her for you." Jake's voice rang out.

Marc grunted at his unwanted offer and demand; usually when it came to being intimate with you, the two of you worked out a system, setting up times, etcetera. And when spontaneous things like this happened, Jake and Steven would leave you and Marc alone, and the other ways around.

But of course Jake would occasionally peek in to tell Marc different things to do to you to get the best reaction, or hell, sometimes he'd cheer Marc on like a weird perverted, one-man cheerleader.

"Hmmm... Jake?" You chuckle, taking a small bit of his muscle in between your teeth playfully.

"Fuck. Yeah." Marc gasped, your palm sliding slowly back down until it was all the way under his sweats, stroking his throbbing cock leisurely. He could feel Jake linger, just barely... he would be a spectator tonight, it seemed.

"Ah, should've known. Steven's a good boy and tends to leave everyone alone when it comes to one-on-one time." You chuckle, placing a small kiss to your bite mark. They'd be gone by the time he suited up next, but you knew all the boys had preferred little "badges" to wear.

With Marc, he liked your bite marks, your hand occasionally tugging on his hair. With Steven, it was hickeys and lipstick stains. With Jake, it was scratches on his chest and back, maybe a bitten lip.

However you were all careful not to make them too obvious. The one time Victoria brought up a hickey she spotted on Steven's throat, you swore you saw steam puff out of his ears and his brain explode.

"A-A bug bit me, poppet, th-that's all!" He told her.

"Oh! Okay." She replied to him, not questioning it further, content to go back to playing with her dolls. (She had mummified one of them while you two were making lunch, which concerned you because Khonshu helped so it was as frighteningly accurate as it could get on a chunk of plastic...)

Marc groaned and he bucked his hips up into your touch, his hand falling to where he felt yours beneath his pants, encouraging you.

"Damn, baby." He huffed, already feeling beads of precum begin to drop from the tip of his dick.

You tug his head to the side and kiss him hungrily, your lips connecting as your tongues sloppily danced with one another.

"Your mouth?" Marc hissed.

You nod with a hum slipping around him and to your knees on the soft carpet at his feet, your eyes dark and hungry as he lifted his hips, letting your soft, delicate hands pull his sweats all the way down.

"We honestly may as well stop getting dressed right out of the shower." You chuckle, biting your lip as you pump his cock with your hand, your cheek resting on his thick thigh while you give him a teasing look.

You press your thumb against the weeping head of his dick, sighing. "....because either way, one of you boys get wound up and we wind up naked again."

"Can't help it around you." Marc groaned as you ran your tongue up the underside of his length, tracing the pulsing vein there.

"Clothes just fly off on their own when you're around us, baby."

You snort and roll your eyes, giving his tip a little love nip before licking the large drop of sweet-salty fluid off it, and popping it in between your lips and swallowing him down.

"Fuck." He growled as you bobbed your head, sucking tight and hollowing your cheeks while he petted your damp hair shakily.

"So fucking good, baby."

You moan appreciatively, squirming as you feel your panties start to squish, your clit throbbing almost in tune with his pulse as you take him deeper.

You gag a bit when he gets a little overzealous, and he pulls you back, panting and brows pinched up in concern. "Shit, you okay?"

"Yeah, I just need a teeny bit of a warning next time, honey." You giggled before pulling him back into the hot wet cavern of your mouth.

Marc's eyes rolled back in bliss as your tongue stroked him, his lips snagging his teeth beautifully as his eyes drift to the monitor again to check on Victoria.

Dead asleep, but this time with a little foot poking out from her blankets.

He made a soft whine as the plush of your lips squeezed his sensitivity flesh, your teeth grazing just after, providing a singular myriad of sensations.

Gods, your mouth was downright sinful. The first time you gave him a blowjob, he thought he died again, his orgasm slamming into him like a runaway train.

Afterwards, you sheepishly admitted that sometimes, the only way your ex would get intimate with you while you were pregnant was oral, because he said the sight of your stretch marks made him uncomfortable, and he had his concern for "the kid".

Yeah, it was more likely because he was already having sex with your friend on the side by that point.

But with your boys? They loved whatever they could get, and treasured every millisecond of it. Sometimes a little too much; Steven had a habit of cumming before he even properly fucked you, especially while spending time between your legs with his tongue to the point you were worried he smothered between your thighs.

So many times he'd stain the insides of his boxers and pants, just from eating you out.

Marc groaned, his cock jerking in your mouth to signal you he was going to cum; and you hummed around him greedily, sucking harder to milk him of whatever he could give you.

"Fuuuuck--" He breathed hard, the first spurt of cum shooting out and coating your tongue; his taste heavy and thick and oh-so addicting as you happily drank him down, swirling your tongue around as you pulled off.

Marc chuckled breathlessly and collapsed onto the bed, his arm resting over his face, "Shit... I swear you could suck the soul outta one of us."

You slowly crawl up his body, looking down at him as you support yourself with your hands and knees with a cheeky grin. "That good, huh?"

Marc leaned up and kissed you softly on the lips. "That good."

His hands find their way up your thighs to cup your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he bunched your microfiber sleep shorts beneath his fingers. "Now lemme return the favor."

You squeaked and laughed as he flipped you on your back, his hands almost ripping your buttons on your shirt open to get to the skin beneath, licking and placing open mouth kisses as he moved down to your breasts, his tongue flattening over your perked nipples as his hand slides down to your tummy.

You squirmed a bit, you always do when he palms your squishy lower half. After having Victoria, you didn't "bounce back" like those gorgeous mothers online always seemed to. Your belly was stretched, visible purple marks that faded to an almost silvery sheen over time, but you just couldn't lose the weight that came with your pregnancy.

Your ex didn't like your obvious signs of your growing child within your womb, but your boys? Gods, they adored it. Because it was proof you carried that sweet, adorable, curious little girl that you all loved so much; your body keeping her safe and warm until she was ready to greet the world for the first time.

"Baby." Marc said, looking at you, his dark eyes soft and loving as his flattened his calloused palm over your squishy tummy.

"C'mon... I know that look."

"I... I can't help it." You mumble as he plants feather-soft kisses over your eyelids.

"You need to stay off those mom forums." He joked. "They're full of photoshopped women, or women who can afford surgery to hide a previous pregnancy."

"I know..."

Marc leaned down, kissing his way down your tummy, planting more and more kisses over each and every stretch mark, until his lips reached the waistband of your shorts.

"You're fucking gorgeous, baby. Every scar and bit of baby fat included."

His fingers tapped your hips and you lifted them so he could all but rip them down your legs, practically licking his chops as his eyes landed on your soaked and puffy folds, a soft patch of hair on your mons.

He kissed his way down, further, his thumb spreading your lips and labia, smearing your slick around as his lips formed an "o" around your clit.

You moaned deeply, hand tangling in his mass of untamed curls as his fingers toy with your entrance; tracing it but not sliding inside.

"Marc!" You bucked impatiently.

"So greedy." He chuckled, the vibrations from his voice sending jolts through your clit, making you jump and yelp.

The way his beard tickled and scraped your cunt and thighs had your head swimming, your slick soaking the salt and pepper hairs on his face.

When his fingers finally plunged in, your toes curled and your hands gripped your blankets tight.

"Marc." You mewled.

Marc used his thumb to pull the hood of your clit back as his index and middle fingers curled inside your tight, gummy walls; giving his tongue unfettered access to wrap around the sensitive nub.

You hips tilted and your back arched, and you had to bite down on your lip to stifle the cries that wanted to come from your mouth. Your clit was sensitive, it always was; but god forbid your baby daddy ever give a fuck about that.

Marc and the boys? Oh, they loved to abuse that knowledge every time you two were intimate. Especially when they were using their mouths on you.

"Shit, we need to find a babysitter Vicky's comfortable with." Marc growled in between open mouth kisses to your sweet lips, his fingers curling in the most devilish way.

"Wanna hear how loud we can get ya."

You hiccuped softly in an effort to control your breathing and stuttering voice as your orgasm started to creep up on you. All you could do was blabber out a short "yes" when Marc nipped at your clit again, pressing his fingers up at juuuuust the right angle, sending your eyes rolling so far back into your head you swore you could probably see your own brain for a split second as those wonderful waves of ecstasy beat away at the shores of your sanity.

Marc continued to thrust and curl his fingers, slowing down to stretch out your orgasm until you were ready, your poor hungry hole fluttering and clenching around his digits for more.

Marc, the cheeky little shit, made a lewd display of licking his fingers clean, spreading them into a wide "v" as he wrapped his tongue around each one, licking you completely clean.

You growled playfully and pulled him down to you, slipping your tongue past his lips, tasting a little of yourself in his mouth as your kiss turned sloppy and very messy; his beard soaked all the way through from how much you had gushed onto his tongue and mouth.

When you parted (because your brains finally told you that you needed oxygen to keep living) you were both flushed and hungry for more, and Marc reached down, squeezing your baby fat softly.

"All this is ours, and we aren't trading it for anything."

And damn, did he spend the rest of the night proving it to you.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

"Aunt Layla!" Victoria squealed, running and practically leaping into the woman's arms.

"'Tawar." She giggled, waving excitedly at the hippo-woman trailing just behind.

Layla laughed loudly and you grinned as she and your daughter brushed noses. It was weird, at first, meeting Marc's ex-wife (and Steven's ex-girlfriend) but you were happy they were still on friendly terms, friendly enough, that Layla wanted to meet you and your little girl.

Victoria latched onto her immediately, the moment she sat down in your living room, the curious girl pattered up to her after waking up from her nap, still drowsy as she clambered onto the sofa, and curled up in Layla's nap, resting her head on her chest.

It was so cute you almost started crying. Even the goddess, Taweret, squealed and wiggled her feet at the sight. Given she was the goddess of mothers, children, and other related things, it made sense that she adored your daughter (like Khonshu, but the old pigeon would never admit to it.)

Taweret tagged along on most visits because she wanted to meet the woman and child responsible for gaining so much trust and love from the boys to ease their pain and loneliness. She also just wanted to meet your daughter because, c'mon. Victoria was adorable and everyone so far loved her. Even the "bloody old pigeon" as she and Steven were so fond of calling Khonshu.

Layla settled and hefted your child onto her hips, walking over to give you a side hug and you two exchanged cheek kisses in greeting.

"Hey, love!" Layla said to you both. "How have things been!"

"Oh, wonderful. Victoria's started reading multi-chapter books already." You sigh, smiling in wonder at your daughter.

Victoria giggled bashfully and started rubbing her cheek onto Layla's, reaching out to touch Taweret's outstretched palm.

"Really? So soon?" Layla blinked in amazement.

"Yeah, the doctor said it's not entirely uncommon that some autistic children develop certain skills quicker. She's already reading some of Steven's textbooks to him!" You reply.

"Damn, give her a few weeks and I'd wager this little ankle-nipper will be able to put any of those scholars at the museum to shame." She snorted.

"Steven said the same thing." You chuckled. "Even joked that they could probably go into Uni together."

"Oh gods, that's cute." Layla giggled as Victoria dug her fingers into her curly hair to play with the silky mass.

"Steven had a meeting at the museum today, he'll feel so sad for not saying bye." You say wistfully.

"Eh, it's one night. He will survive." Layla scoffed playfully.

"...Thank you so much for agreeing to take her." You sighed at her.

"Hey, hey, no problem. It's Valentine's and you two have been so wound up lately you need some alone time." She winked at you not-so-subtly.

You blushed a bit at her implication and laughed nervously as you reached for Victoria's overnight bag.

"Oh--her favorite blanket and toys are in there. Her shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, Digger is in there, too, because you know how she gets without him--"

"Relax, I know this'll be her first time away from you." Layla smiled warmly. "But she'll be fine. The hotel is just a block away, and plus, nothing will happen to her. Not with a goddess and her Avatar looking out for her, eh?"

Your shoulders dropped with a heavy sigh. "Yeah... Yeah, you're right. It's just..."

"No, no I get it." Layla's eyes twinkled. "...So how many squishmallow things has Steven and Victoria accumulated?"

You laugh out loud and point behind her, the corner of your living room where you'd had your Christmas tree was now stacked with several plushies, mostly squishmallows of various kinds, including a very large pineapple named "Maui" that Steven and Victoria loved curling up against to read together.

Layla snorted when she looked, shaking her head. "Well, could collect worse things, I s'pose."

"Like taxidermied bugs and animals?" You joke.

"Oh that's a horrible thought!" She grinned.

"Yeah, well, like you said..."

Layla laughed again and moved so Victoria could lean up to you and rub noses, and you could pepper her soft little face with plenty of kisses.

"Be good for your Aunt Layla and Taweret, okay?" You ask her gently.

"I will, mommy!" Victoria chirped, rubbing her face onto yours lovingly, breathing in your perfume.

You waved as they all left, feeling almost bereft and out of place in your suddenly too quiet flat.

You decided, after a few moments of nervous lip chewing, to walk back to your bedroom.

You walked to your closet and moved aside an old suitcase, revealing a long black box wrapped in hot pink ribbons.

After that night with Marc, something clicked inside your brain and you knew what to get for the boys.

Or rather, what to get yourself for the boys.

You set the box on the bed and looked at the article of "clothing" sitting inside the box. You'd ordered this set of lingerie after Jake and Victoria snuggled on the couch after watching Zootopia together.

You made sure to have it delivered "accidentally" to your neighbor's flat, and she handed it over to you like you two were smuggling contraband into a prison.

After all, you didn't want the boys to find your surprise, now did you?

It took a bit, but you'd stripped down and hastily pulled on your new set. All straps, the fabric was easy on your hands, so you knew Steven wouldn't be overwhelmed by the texture when he touched you.

And boy... would he want to touch you.

The straps covered up nothing and so much at the same time, leaving nothing to the imagination while still, leaving so much.

Looking into the mirror, you swallowed thickly. It looked nothing like it did on the models on the site. Where they had flat, toned bodies and perfect figures...

You had soft, rounded out features, stretch marks and of course, the baby fat.

You chewed your bottom lip hesitantly, your first instinct to take it all off and shove it back into he closet when you saw what you didn't like.

But... you knew that Marc, Jake, and Steven loved you. And that they would go feral if they saw you in it.

For added measure, you slid on the sheer, white stockings up to your thighs, the soft material squishing the plushest parts of your legs.

You had to shove the second one up hastily when you heard the front door unlock, and Steven's voice.

"Ey, love?" Steven called out.

"Uh--egh--fuck--hold on a minute!" You say, scrambling for your fluffy bathrobe. It concealed enough that they wouldn't see much... save for if they looked at your feet.

Steven had walked into the bedroom just barely after you'd tossed the box back into the closet and the door clicked shut, you awkwardly smiling and standing with your hands clasped in front of you.

"Heeeyyy... You!" You tried pitifully.

A thick brow raised behind those dark-rimmed glasses of his. Gods, he looked gorgeous. Dressed in a nice smooth button-up, his blazer buttoned halfway up and his curls falling into his face? His sweet, boyish curiosity had you already blushing.

He looked every bit like the kind of professor many college students would fantasize about taking "extra credit" with...

"What's got you in a tizzy?" Steven chuckled, walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to kiss the tip of your nose.

"Oh uhm.... Ah." You squirm, giggling at his kisses.

"Is it because Victoria is out?" He asked, tilting his head to the side like a curious pup.

"Well, uh, eh... Uhm." You cough awkwardly. Oh, this was a horrible idea. So stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Oh! Actually, hold that bubble." Steven chirped, fishing out a small paper bag out of his back pocket.

Inside the bag, was a small box. A jewelry box.

Your hand goes to your mouth as he opens it up and grins sheepishly. "Took us forever to agree on something. Marc was being a real bellend about it, y'know?"

He frowns over at your mirror, his brows creasing as he scowls at his reflection.

"What! You were!" He snapped.

Inside the box was a silver pendant, cut in the shape of the crescent moon, with engraving on it.

"We love you, to the moon and back."

"A bit cheesey, innit?" He mumbled, pulling at his sleeves as his hands darted all over your face, his teeth snagging his lip.

You honestly felt like tearing up. It was so... so cheesey, and so romantic. Very much a Steven thing to do. But you could tell even Marc and Jake had a hand in it, too. It was a united effort.

"Steven...." You begin, lifting your eyes to lock with his doe-like brown ones.

He tosses a nervous, awkward smile.

"I love it. It's gorgeous." You say, your thumb brushing over the shiny material.

"Let me put it on you?" Steven asked you hesitantly, as if worried you'd say no.

"Sure." You smile warmly at him, noticing how his demeanor lights up and he cheerfully brings the chain around your neck as he moves to stand behind you, carefully locking the clasp so the moon hung just beneath your collarbone.

You hear Steven go "huh" under his breath as his fingers brush beneath your bathrobe, touching the straps of the lingerie you were concealing.

"What's this, love?" He asked you, and you jolted slightly.

Oh, shit. Right. The lingerie. You'd almost forgotten it!

"Uh.... It's.... Eh...." You stammer out awkwardly, stepping away to fiddle with the sash of your robe.

Steven watches, curiously and patiently waiting for you to speak, his head tilted to the side.

"So, I've been trying to figure out what to get you guys for Valentine's day, y'know? I was stumped, trying to think on what I could do, so... I... Um."

You looked at Steven, his curls flopped over his head, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he nods, urging you on.

'Damn it, now or never...'

Your fingers undo the knot of the robe and let the fluffy material slip down to hang from your forearms, your face erupting in a heated flush as you feel his eyes rake slowly up and down your body and hear him gasp just barely audibly.

"Oh, love." He breathed. "You... That looks--"

He snapped his head to the mirror, his face scarlet red. "Sh-shut it! I was--no! You just shut it!"

You watch as he looks at you again, bashfully as your eyes reconnect. He rubbed the back of his head and said sheepishly, "S-Sorry.... Jake just won't... Stop being Jake right now."

"Oh..." You reply, licking your plush lips anxiously as Steven walks closer to you, his hand reaching out to brush the various straps, moving to delicately cup one breast, his thumb brushing over the strap that covered your nipple as he continued to look at you and that silver pendant that hung from your neck.

You really completed a gorgeous image; like a swan perched elegantly on a lake's smooth surface.

Sometimes, Steven felt like a clumsy and loud goose next to you. He knew it was a poor comparison, that you would never look at him or Jake or Marc that way, but he had his own insecurities as much as you did...

"Do... you like it?" You ask slowly as his other hand, warm and more than a little sweaty rests on your hip.

"We love it." He replied, leaning in to kiss you softly on the lips. As he pulled away, you noticed his dark eyes become almost smoky--heavy.

"We.... Wouldn't mind seeing this on you more often."

"Well... Hm." You say, feeling his hands encircle you, moving down to cup your ass as his mouth kissed your jaw.

His calloused fingers squished and rolled your cheeks beneath his palms, pulling you closer to his own body, allowing to feel his hardening cock press against your thigh while his knee parted your legs and your back connected with the cold plaster of your bedroom wall.

The chill made your nipples harden, poking through the fabric of your lingerie and you yelped at the sensation.

"Hell.... You 'right, love?" Steven asked, his curls falling over his forehead as he looked at you with wide eyes.

"Yeah." You chuckle, goosebumps erupting on your body. "The wall's a little cold."

"Oh...." Steven says, his lips brushing your ear.

"Then... we best move to the bed, yeah?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You were positive there were going to be bruises on your hips from how desperately Steven had gripped them, rabbiting into you, his cock sliding in and out of you effortlessly, the sound of slapping skin sinfully loud inside your bedroom.

"S-Steven!" You squeaked, your poor cunt abused and sensitive as he fucked you, the texture of the condom he wore sending little shocks through your body with each drag of his hips.

You had already cum--twice--once from Steven's hands and mouth, and once more from how he'd fucked into you.

Steven had cum while his face was buried between your legs, rutting his clothed hips hard against your mattress as you squirmed and writhed against him. The way he looked when he pulled back, lips swollen, face flushed; his beard wet from your juices, his hair tousled and hanging over his brow. He looked utterly fucked out and he hadn't even been inside of you yet.

"....k-know, love." Steven whimpered, rutting into you a bit more, practically bent in half over you as he kneeled between your legs, his cock angled at an eye-rolling tilt so it slammed once more against your g-spot.

"Almost--almost--" He panted hard, his grip on your hips slipping a little because of how sweaty you both were, so instead he hooked his hands through the straps that still adorned you and used them for leverage as he relentlessly pounded into you.

You dug your nails into his shoulders as you pulled him down, mouthing at the apple of his throat as it bobbed, tasting the thin layer of sweat that dewed his skin, sucking a bruise onto the skin, there.

"L-Love!" Steven whimpered, his pace stuttering as you feel him twitch inside of you, the condom beginning to swell a bit as he pumped his load into the safe cocoon of latex.

His hips slowed into languid rolls, prolonging his orgasm just by a tiny bit as he came down from his high.

You kissed his temple softly, petting his sweat-damp curls as his breathing began to even out. You feel him slump against against you and his arms lock.

You feel a shuddered breath escape him before his breathing finally became steady.

"Steven?" You ask him softly, running your fingers through his hair again.

He lifted back and supported himself on his forearms, looking down at you with a grin, his eyes twinkling.

"Think again, cariño."

"Jake." You breathed, already feeling a thrill creep up your spine as his lips traced your jawline.

"Steven got to have you all dressed up," His fingers playfully snapped one of the straps on you, making you squeak softly. "Now it's my turn. Can't let such a nice, pretty present go unwrapped."

"Oh.... So you're gonna take it off me, now?" You asked, shuddering as he pulled out, still rock hard.

"Nah." His hands went to your hips and with a jerk, flipped you onto your belly, pulling your ass up, his hand kneading the soft flesh as he looked down at you.

He moved the panties to the side to see your red, puffy cunt. "Coño más bonita que he visto."

He didn't change the condom; instead, he pushed right back into your pussy, groaning deep in his chest as he felt your heat grip and squeeze him invitingly.

"Nice..." Jake hissed through his teeth, pulling back slowly before sinking back in, relishing in how your body so eagerly welcomed him back inside of you; your thighs glistening so beautifully, wetting his own, dripping down his shaft to coat his balls as he started fucking you into a steady rhythm.

He winced himself, feeling tense as the body had cum while Steven was in control, so his nerves were still highly sensitive to everything right now. He wasn't going to last long, he knew and it frustrated him. He made a mental note to remind the other two to leave him alone with you for a day or so at some point, wanting to be able to ravish and ravage you properly.

He leaned over, kissing the skin between your shoulder blades as he muttered against you.

"Touch yourself for me, mamí. Want to feel you choke my cock." Jake rasped.

You moan weakly, complying with his request as your fingers slide down beneath you, grazing circles over your engorged clit, choked-out whimpers coming from you as Jake began thrusting into you hard and rough, his skin slapping you so hard you thought there would be red marks from the sheer ferocity of it.

"Oh, god--Jake--" You wail into the pillow, your fingers swiping and circling more and more, trying desperately to match his pace as your squishy, wet walls crushed his cock beneath their fluttering onslaught.

He growled and fisted a large bit of the straps in one hand, pulling your ass back against him, watching as your skin rippled and jiggled with every slap as he fucked into you over and over.

"Fuck, yes. Just. Like. That." He hissed, each word punctuated by a slam of his hips into yours.

You could feel another orgasm just about to burst, your head swimming in that blissful haze as Jake plowed into you at a bruising, aching pace.

"Such a gorgeous mamí." Jake said to you, his voice was heady with arousal.

"So fucking pretty, such a good fucking mamí. Sabes lo bonita que eres, ¿no?"

Your mind was turned to mush as your orgasm washed over you, filling every pore with a dizzying pleasure, rendering you barely aware of what he was saying, let alone to translate it as his hips snapped into you one final time.

However... You felt a new sensation inside of you, and with a few jagged, harsh thrusts, you felt Jake cum inside of you, flooding your deepest reaches with his thick load, making your eyes snap open.

"Shit." He groaned, pulling out of you, watching as the ripped condom clung to his cock, a thick ring of white at the base as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.

"Well, now. This is a pickle." He laughed.

"Jake, you--you know that--" You sputter, groaning as you roll over to look at him.

The bastard didn't seem upset in the slightest; that cheeky little shit!

"Yeah, yeah, mamí." Jake smirked at you as he pulled the ruined condom off of his cock as he caressed one of your spread thighs idly.

"Then why aren't you--FUCK!" You wail, feeling him bottom back out in one deep thrust, your nails scraping his skin at the blinding sensation.

Jake grinned as he nipped at your throat, "Baby, whatever happens, we aren't going anywhere. Even if that means I stuff you so full--or Steven or Marc--that your belly gets all cute and round."

You whimpered and gripped at the meat of his shoulders as he started fucking into you again, blood once more rushing straight through his dick, renewing him with more energy and drive.

"I think Vicky would love a baby brother or sister, no?" He muttered out, his tongue dragging over your fluttering pulse as it hammered against your skin. "So... Why don't we give 'er one?"

"D-did y-you even a-ask M-Marc or St-Steven?!" You cried, bouncing and pushing against your pillows and blankets as he fucked you.

"Don't have to... They've fantasized about it enough already." He laughed.

His lips kiss and glide over your skin as he rips the upper part of your ensemble down, freeing your breasts to bounce free from their strappy confines as Jake whispers in your ear.

"And believe me... Marc definitely wants to fill you up, now, bebita."

[ssspideysense]

₊˚ෆ bad habits

summary: peter tends to act on impulse — that’s what got him here in the first place.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: fluff, pining, peter’s a hopeless romantic

wc: 2.7k

What makes something a bad habit?

People usually use the phrase when they mean too much of something— too much coffee in the morning, too many cigarettes a day, too much to drink on the weekends. Overindulgence. Lack of self control.

Peter thought about this as he waited, the skin-tight material of his suit doing absolutely nothing to block the chilling rain running down his back. Past the city lights glimmering against her window pane, the apartment inside was dimly lit. He could make out the splash of colors against the hallway from the living room TV. It wouldn’t surprise him if she fell asleep on the couch again— she had a bad habit of staying up too late, biting off more than she could chew most nights and paying for it a few hours later. He wondered briefly, and hoped a bit selfishly, that he maybe had something to do with that.

He knocked again. Louder, in a little rhythm— bum ba bum, bum ba bum.

No more than once a week. That’s how it started out, however many months ago, when he crawled through that window for the first time. Swinging by more than one night a week would be way too much. He had things to do, really, and so did she. It wasn’t realistic to expect her to wait around, twiddling her pretty little thumbs, keeping her schedule free for a chance to let him into her bedroom window at 12:17 am.

12:18 am.

12:19 am.

Peter shivered. The cold had started to seep into his skin, but the chill that ran up and down his spine wasn’t from the sudden downpour.

Even the glimpse of her figure, a dark silhouette he could pick out in any city crowd, was enough to set off that tingle in the base of his skull, even for just a moment. He watched her scurry over to the window, an apologetic look tugging on her face.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t hear you,” she said, and her voice was music slipping over the smack of raindrops against the iron fire escape, “oh my God, get in here, will you?”

If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. Sometimes he was grateful for the mask and the few freedoms it allowed him—

“Wait here.”

—she couldn’t see the way his entire face lit up as he happily maneuvered through the window, or the way his eyes followed her as she wandered over to her linen closet to grab a towel for him.

Peter stood in a puddle on her hardwood. Obedient, embarrassingly so.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked. In the relative dark of her quiet bedroom, she handed him the towel, gazing up at him with the kind of eyes that make poets pick up pens.

“I should probably be saying yes, since it’s midnight, but I’m going to be disappointing and say no,” she chuckled under her breath and took a small step back.

Peter wrapped the towel around his shoulders like a kid getting out of the pool. It smelled like her laundry detergent, a scent he never thought he’d catch himself daydreaming about when he was miles away and objectively much busier with something much more pressing.

He had a bad habit of letting his mind wander, especially when it wanted to grip onto memories of her.

“You’re gonna hate yourself in the morning,” he replied.

She sent him a pointed look with a raised brow. “And so are you, when you wake up sick. What the hell are you doing? Does the song Itsy Bitsy Spider not ring a bell?”

She fussed over him. He liked it when she fussed over him.

“Yeah, y’know, the part where he climbs up the spout again is my favorite, actually.”

There was a pair of sweatpants and a big hoodie thrown at him before he could even pretend to argue against them.

“I’ll put some coffee on,” she said, gliding away, leaving him to drip quietly in her bedroom as he watched her back disappear down the hall.

“Decaf?” he called after her.

“Do you really want decaf?” she called right back.

She’d slipped from view, little clinks and clunks from the kitchen catching his ears. Peter shrugged the towel from his shoulders and started to peel his suit off. It’d become a second skin, literally and figuratively, clinging to every inch of him, making him shudder as the warmth of her apartment replaced the cold wrap of wet spandex.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind, bug— trying to be more health conscious this year,” Peter replied with a grin. In reality, he knew she’d be up all night and woefully exhausted the next day if she got her hands on some regular coffee, so he’d gladly take one for the team with decaf.

He stood at the foot of her bed in his boxers, looking down at the change of clothes she insisted upon him.

It was strange, the way Peter was utterly exposed like this, not even behind a closed door for a breath of privacy, but it didn’t bother him. The suit and the mask sat in a heap next to her radiator and it didn’t matter. He pulled the comfortable cotton up to his hips and slipped the hoodie over his head.

Soft, warm, foreign yet familiar all at once.

He heard her footsteps, heard them pause at the mouth of the hallway. The gut-drop feeling of meeting her gaze unobstructed, bare-faced and messy haired, wasn’t the same as it was the first time. Or the second, or third— she knew his face just as well as he knew hers at this point. Anxiety faded over time, replaced with a new, giddy sort of rush that started in his chest and spread over his body in waves.

She made him feel like a teenager again, and she didn’t even have to do anything. It was a little pathetic, maybe, how much he looked forward to these kinds of nights, but he’d ruminate about that later in the quiet of his bed.

Peter padded his way down the hall to her, moving through the space like he belonged there. He took in her small smile as she leaned back against the kitchen island. The smell of coffee hit him once the machine started to gurgle softly on the counter.

“Are you still cold? I can crank up the heat,” she offered as he drew closer. Her gaze fell on his mouth then— more specifically, the cut on his bottom lip. A little hiss escaped her as she reached up and brushed her thumb beside it.

He looked down at her with a slightly amused expression, watching her brows furrow down as she examined his face.

“No, it’s fine. I’m already walking around in your clothes, waiting on a cup of your coffee. I feel like a Tinder date that’s vastly overstayed his welcome, and I just got here,” Peter quipped, letting her turn his head by his jaw and study him some more. Her soft fingers caught his stubble but she didn’t seem to mind.

She arched a brow at him and eventually pulled her hand back. “I’ve never had a Tinder date crawl into my eighth-story window before.”

“I’m not really an expert on romance, but something tells me that’s a good thing.”

Her hum was low as she turned and gathered two mugs from the cupboard above her. “Tinder isn’t exactly the place to look for romance anyway, Spidey,” she sat them down with a clink.

Spidey.

He’d chosen to start with his face last summer. A bold choice, truly, but it felt like the safer option at the time. There was eight million people in New York— a couple thousand guys were bound to look just like him.

A face without a name was the tiniest breadcrumb he could drop to satiate that need, that desire to feel seen by her in some capacity without completely laying himself out there.

It was a dance he didn’t know the steps to. But she played along well, stumbling in the dark with him and letting him lead, however awkward and shaky.

Peter leaned against the counter and watched her pour two cups. “It’s not? I’m not really in the dating scene. Do people still meet out in the wild these days?”

And she gave him that little chuckle under her breath he liked. “You sound old,” she mused as she reached into her fridge. The pale light bathed her in a sweet, domestic sort of glow that one could only feel in sweatpants in the kitchen after midnight.

“Hey— I’m only twenty-six,” he countered, dipping his head despite the little grin growing on his face.

He watched her pause, just for a moment.

Another breadcrumb. A thread.

But she didn’t draw too much attention to it. Peter pictured her tucking it away for future reference.

“Well, to answer your question, yes. I guess people do still meet out in the wild,” she poured the creamer and scooped the sugar and reminded him that she knew so much about him without really knowing him, not yet, and he both loved and hated that, “but I’m probably not the best person to ask about all that. I think if a man randomly approached me in a bookstore or something, I’d probably assume he was some kind of weirdo.”

Peter hummed, his brow furrowed but his lips twitched into a lopsided grin. His fingers were cold when he gently accepted the drink from her.

“Alright, noted. What about guys that fall out of the sky and crash into your fire escape?”

He peered at her over the top of the mug as he took the longest, hottest drink of his life— anything to avoid the reality of what he just said for a few moments longer.

His throat burned, but it was fine.

The air felt heavier then, thick like the air outside as her gaze flicked over his face.

“That depends. Is he kind of awkward in a weirdly charismatic way?”

And Peter swallowed down the lava for a chance at a deeper breath without choking, “I mean— in this completely hypothetical and improbable scenario, yeah, I’d— I’d say so,” he replied.

The corners of her mouth curled up softly. “And did he come back a week later, trying to apologize with four different types of candy at ten o’clock at night?”

He cleared his throat to try and hide the chuckle that almost slipped out. “He didn’t know what kind you liked,” Peter said, that heat trickling up to his face for a different reason.

She blew on her coffee before sipping it, because she clearly had more sense than he did, and shrugged.

“Helping you out with a broken nose and a concussion makes for a more interesting story to look back on,” she replied softly.

This line they were toeing was a tightrope, strung high and taught and delicate.

Sometimes Peter wanted to take the leap. Just dive right onto the other side, tugging her along with him.

The clock on the stove read 12:37.

12:38.

“Do you think about it? The night we met?”

And she sat her mug down on the counter beside her. The sweater she wore was loose and comfortable on her frame as she crossed her arms. “Sometimes.”

“Just sometimes?”

“Do you?” she countered, tilting her head just a bit to the side as she gazed up at him.

Peter leaned back. His mug was empty, the roof of his mouth was a bit sore, but he swallowed regardless. “I do, sometimes.”

“Just sometimes?”

The rain outside picked up. It smacked against her windows with the whistle of wind just underneath it all.

“Sometimes, when I can’t sleep. I’m usually thinking about the last time I saw you, though. Much clearer picture there,” he said.

She rolled her eyes and looked off to the side, though her soft, slight smile cut the air of annoyance she tried to hold on to.

“Stop,” she mumbled, shaking her head, “that’s not fair.” He had a feeling he knew what she meant— and he had to agree, watching her avoid his gaze.

Peter reached a hand out to pull her arms out of their closed off, crossed position. Despite the tension in her shoulders, she was soft, pliable, letting him grasp her wrists and guide her forward gently into his torso.

He wrapped around her, his nose in her hair, committing the scent of her shampoo to memory.

“I know,” he mumbled back.

She was quiet, her cheek pressed against his chest in that borrowed hoodie she thought he looked criminally good in. After a few moments of his fingers lightly tracing shapes between her shoulder blades, she sucked in a breath. “That’s not fair, either, Spidey.” And she was right again.

He had a bad habit of trying to fix everything.

“Peter,” he said, his voice low against her roots, “it’s Peter.”

The wind shook the windows. She was nearly laying on him with how he held her, his long frame leaned back, arms circled around her shoulders. His breath came in calculated waves, but she could feel the rhythm changing the longer she stayed silent, along with his heartbeat under her ear.

A deep breath in, a deep breath out.

“Peter,” she tried it out, and it felt like hearing her voice for the first time.

His fingers splayed over her back and his palm smoothed up her spine. “Yes?” he mumbled back.

She had a bad habit of wearing her heart on her sleeve, at least around him.

“I think I might have a thing for guys who fall out of the sky and crash into my fire escape.”

Overindulgence, lack of self control— whatever it was, it didn’t matter, really. Peter smiled against her scalp. A low rumble of a chuckle vibrated through his chest. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head once, twice, and squeezed her against him.

She let out a little grunt in response, feeling too much like a squeaky toy to not laugh. “Pe—Peter—super strength, remember?”

“Right, yeah— my bad, bug,” he loosened his hold just enough for her to look up at him, her palms now flat on his chest between them. “But, y’know, you have some pretty weird tastes. I should’ve known when you picked the gummy bears over the Reese’s.”

12:52. He had one foot dangling on the other side of that line he spent far too long thinking about.

And she laughed that laugh and scrunched her nose up the way she did when she found something amusing, yet dumb. She did that a lot when he talked. He took it as a personal victory every time.

“You really don’t have any room to call me weird. You run around the city in spandex every night,” she mused, her lips curled into a smile.

“It makes me aerodynamic.”

“Yeah, you were real aerodynamic when you smacked your head on the rail—“

Peter was never really a planner. It made sense in the moment, to lean in and kiss her, his hands shifting to either side of her jaw. And it made sense the way she hummed into his mouth, either from surprise or the fact that she was very much in the middle of a sentence. But it was alright, because they stood there in the middle of her dark kitchen at 12:55 am, and her lips were soft, much softer than his.

He decided he could excuse every one of his bad habits, maybe write them off as quirks instead, because as he kissed her, he realized that every single one had led him right there; drinking decaf coffee in borrowed sweatpants, listening to the rain and her deepened breathing.

She pulled away just enough to speak, their lips still brushing against each other, “I wasn’t done—“

“Neither was I,” his tone was nothing but a playful tease, and he kissed her again, “how rude of you to interrupt me like that,” and again, “honestly, sometimes I can’t believe the lack of manners in this city.”

Her laugh was grounding when his head was busy floating. She smacked his chest lightly. “Lack of manners? Let’s start with you. You crawl in through my window soaking wet, drink my coffee in my clothes that I totally don’t keep around for you just in case, and kiss me without permission,” she gave him the grocery list and he nodded to each point over-attentively, humming along.

“Right, yeah— you forgot the part where I interrupted you.”

“And you interrupted m—“

Peter kissed her again.

[mochamamii]

yandere!nct: you try to unalive yourself.

▹ a/n: hello loves, I can’t remember if I’ve written something like this before but I wanted write something a little darker today but soon I will force myself to write some fluff I promise lol.

▹ pairing: yandere!nct x reader

▹ triggers: self-harm, readers attempts to unalive themselves, kidnapping, forced relationships

▹ warning!: I can’t stress enough how triggering this might be, I get descriptive at certain parts and I strongly urge you to consider whether this is something you want to read, this is dark and not my normal writing. please prioritize your own well-being and do not read this if it will influence you in anyway, I have lots of other lighter reads 💕

Taeil won’t let it get this far. Taeil loves you deeply and wants only the best for you no matter how demented it appears to others. He dotes on, and nurtures you like his life depends on it, carefully crafting your meals and your routine to keep your mind and body healthy. If something like this were about to happen, he would be able to foresee your declining mental state and hopefully prevent any attempts. Taeil would do everything in his power to keep you safe and he’d do his best to make you as comfortable as possible. He’d even consider letting you go if it meant saving your life.

“How could you do this to yourself? Don’t I take care of you well?”

Johnny is always calm and collected, even when he’s pissed off, a stranger wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, he always keeps the same mask on, never giving you any idea of what he’s thinking inside his head. Until now that is…He comes home to find you on the bathroom floor. At first he thought you must’ve slipped, hitting your head and knocking yourself out in the process, not that it had been done intentionally. Johnny is at a loss of what to do, it’s one of the few times he’s not sure what to say or do to fix this. He usually has a witty comeback to lighten the mood but he knows now isn’t the time. He helps fix you up, cleans the wound on your head, and tucks you in bed. Anytime you part your lips to speak he’ll shush you. The two of you will probably sit in silence for a while until he can figure out how to address this.

“It’s okay, shhh…Just rest, save your energy. We’ll talk about it later.”

Taeyong is an angry mix of emotions. He’s known for at least a week now that you somehow managed to obtain poison. He theorized that you must’ve used cleaning supplies to mix a cocktail of chemicals, he found you hiding your stash under the bathroom sink. He assumed your plan was to use it on him, simply out of curiousity and amusement he wanted to see if you were actually capable of trying to kill him so he didn’t address it. He wanted to see how far you’d go to leave him. He waited and waited, but he never noticed anything different. He already had cameras installed in your shared apartment to watch you while he was away, he hoped to find you tampering with his food in a botched attempt to poison him. But still, nothing ever came of it. Until suddenly, you were the one who fell sick. His worry turned to anger as he arrived home one night to find you on the floor of the bathroom, the mixture of poison lying next to you.

“Are you insane? What were you trying to do, kill yourself? Do you think that will work, because I promise you, nothing…not even life itself will keep me from you. Don’t ever do something stupid like this again.”

Yuta feels remorse. It’s one of the few and probably only times Yuta will ever feel this way. Out of everyone, Yuta is one of the most intense and dangerous yandere’s, but he still loves you in his own twisted way. He likes to push your buttons and torture you a little but he’d never kill you…probably. For Yuta, part of the fun is seeing how badly you want to live, how badly you want for him to release you and return to your old life. When he arrives home to find you on the floor, a dark crimson pool of blood surrounding you he panics, all the color draining from his face as he sees your barely conscious body. He’ll clean you up, bandaging your wounds, he’ll monitor you for a few days wondering if he should take you to a hospital. In those few days as he waits to see if your condition worsens he’ll be super gentle, much more gentle with you than he’s ever been. His hands will run over all the old scarred skin where he’s cut you in different places before, a deep pang in his chest screaming at him for doing that to you. He’ll be soft with you, but he can’t help but still poke fun at you in an attempt to get you to talk to him.

“Hey, couldn’t you wait for me? At least I know when to stop, clearly you’re still an amateur…You could’ve really hurt yourself. What would I do then, huh?”

Doyoung is angry. At you, but mostly himself. He likes to believe that he knows you better than you know yourself. To come home and find you in the middle of attempting to harm yourself he will realize just how little he truly knows about you and your condition. Initially the only emotion he can really process is anger, the thought of coming home a second too late and losing you enraged him. Even while angry, he was solid as rock, never giving you much of a clue about what he was thinking. He will carefully nurse you back to health, never leaving your side not even for a second. Once you begin to recover he will experience heartbreak and grief over what could’ve happened. Doyoung won’t address the incident much and will from then on refer to it as the ‘incident’ he wants to pretend that it never happened. He’s a stubborn man and his behavior towards you might not change much, if anything he gives you less freedom, afraid to let you leave his side.

“Never do that again. Hate me. Hate me all you want to, but never do that again. Please.”

Jungwoo is distraught after finding you in such a state. He’s in disbelief and this is a rare occasion in which he is truly afraid. Afraid of what could’ve happened to you and what might happen again in the future if he’s not careful. It flips a switch in him and forces him to realize something that he cannot shake. That he might not just need to protect you from the world but from your own self too. He becomes distrustful of you, scared and afraid that you might try to hurt yourself again. There’s no amount of convincing or promises in the world that will put his mind at ease. This fear will drive him to act irrationally, he’s not above strapping you to a bed all day while he’s gone if it means keeping you safe. In his mind you forced him to take these measures to keep you safe.

“You know why I have to keep you locked up like this don’t you baby? I can’t risk you doing something like that again, what would I do without you?”

Mark is shocked. He never expected it, he doesn’t necessarily make your mental health a priority for him. He knows you probably hate him and that you’d do nearly anything to get away from him. He just never thought unaliving yourself would be on the table for you. In fact, he probably expected you to try and kill him before you ever tried to hurt yourself. He will feel shameful and for the first time a little guilty about taking you. I don’t see him ever letting you go but he might be willing to talk and see what changes can be made to make you more ‘comfortable’ in your new life.

“Don’t punish yourself for the decision I made. If you wanted to kill someone it should’ve been me. Not you, never you.”

Haechan’s response might come off as cold and heartless. That’s only half true. Initially he might try and make himself believe that it wasn’t you who did it to yourself but that an intruder broke in and attacked you. When he realizes what you tried to do he knows that nothing he will say will comfort you or inspire you to never do it again. You hate him, so much that you’d rather die than be stuck with him another second. What could he possibly say to change your mind? His approach is a little brazen and risky but he wants to test your will to live. How badly did you truly want to be free of him? He used the only thing he knows for sure works in keeping you in check. Fear. Your fear of him and what he might do.

“What? It’s okay for you to go around taking lives but I can’t?” He asks with a quizzical expression as he holds a knife to your former friend’s throat, his icy eyes piercing into yours.

[hockeyboysimagines]

F*ck me like I’m famous

Chapter 2

Warnings: Sex, oral sex (Male recieving) talks about sex, some language, mentions of alcohol, fluff.

I’m so glad you all enjoyed the first part of this! Here’s chapter 2. Enjoy🤍

P.s. big shoutout to @cellythefloshie for all her help and encouragement, and picking the color of Vince’s car 🤣@jostyriggslover96 who I can’t tag because tumblr is insisting she blocked me when she didn’t for her help proofreading and all her ideas🤍

Josie followed Vince through the door of his apartment and really looked around this time. It was huge, high ceilings and large windows that looked down on the city. Modestly decorated, which meant there was no girl living or staying there currently or in the past, which was good.

“This is nice.” She commented as she looked around, eyes moving up the walls across the ceiling before landing back on him.

Seeing her in full lighting made him realize just how pretty she actually was. He knew she was pretty, but there was something to be said about seeing her in good lighting, and not a bar or his dark bedroom.

“Thanks. Do you want a tour? I would have given you one yesterday but I guess I wasn’t really thinking about being a good host.”

She giggled and set down her purse and phone “Sure. For the sake of your reputation as a good host that is.”

He rolled his eyes and nudged his head towards the hall. She followed him through the apartment listening to him talk about the various rooms in his house.

“A person could get lost in here you know. I did actually this morning.”

“Serves you right for sneaking out like that.” He smiled at her and stopped by the last room “And this is my room, but you know that already.” He waggled his eyebrows and she blushed and rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. Sorry again for leaving this morning.” She said offhandedly as she followed him back out to his living room and watched him make her a drink.

“It’s okay.” He shrugged “I mean I’m glad I saw you again, but if I hadn’t I’d just have to settle for the best night of my life ducking out on me like that.” He glanced up and they stared at each other for 5 full seconds before they both started laughing.

She waved him off “Get out of here. Best night of your life. I don’t think so.”

“I’m serious!” He said smiling and coming around to sit next to her on the sofa and hand her a drink “It was.”

“I doubt it. But what makes you say that?”

“You really wanna know?”

“Would I have asked if I didn’t?”

He chuckled and rubbed his chin “Well. I guess it’s nice to just hang out with a normal person. If that makes sense.”

“So your saying I’m average?” She stared at him over the rim of her glass, one leg crossed over the other.

His mouth fell open “No-I don’t-I mean-.”

She cracked a smile and started to laugh “I’m kidding.” She put a hand on his arm “I had a good time.”

“Well I hope so considering I’m not average.” He leaned back and looked a little smug.

“Says who?”

“Please.” He scoffed waving her off.

“Your awfully sure of yourself for a guy who only managed to bring home someone average.” Her eyes were twinkling mischievously as she took a sip of her drink.

“That’s not what I meant. What I meant was your just a regular person. You didn’t even know who I was. It was kinda nice.”

“I had no clue. Just thought you were some hot guy at the bar.”

“I was a hot guy at the bar.”

She pulled a leg up underneath her and faced him fully “Agreed. But why didn’t you use that you were a hockey player as a line.”

“I never do. I never have to. I just try and be nice and that’s usually enough.” He smiled and she could see exactly why that was enough.

Vince was the type of beautiful that knocked you off your feet when you looked him in the eyes. The type of beautiful that Josie had never seen close up like that. He was less than a foot from her on the sofa and it was making it hard to breathe.

“I can’t imagine why.”

“I would imagine you don’t ever have to use lines either.” He was looking her up and down, eyes moving slowly from her face to her feet and then back up again. She coughed to avoid squirming around in her seat.

“I don’t have to either because I never go home with guys.”

“So then why’d you come home with me?” He looked confused but leaned forward interestedly, eyes rows rising on his forehead.

“Well. I figured you were just too pretty to be a serial killer, so I rolled the dice. Thankfully I didn’t get murdered.”

He shrugged “It’s still early.”

Josie rolled her eyes and gave his arm a light tap “Well it was fun while it lasted then.” She took a sip of her drink as he spoke.

“Glad I could give you one last orgasm before I have to kill you.”

She froze, face reddening but he was laughing “And don’t try and deny that either. Your welcome.”

Josie blew out a breath and cleared her throat. He was killing her. Metaphorically of course, or at least she hoped.

“I wasn’t going to deny it. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, I just didn’t know it would come up later on.”

“Oh it came up alright.” He giggled at his own joke and shook his head before he looked down at his glass “Did you enjoy yourself last night?” He asked quietly, eyes flicking up to meet her own.

“I did, but not nearly as much as I think I’ll enjoy tonight.”

A mischievous smile spread slowly across his face and he set his glass down on the table and then hers. He leaned forward a little, hand coming to rest on her knee, eyes moving across her face to her mouth and then back up to her eyes, before he leaned in to kiss her.

Kissing Vince was great. It had been great when she was drunk, but it was even better now that she was clearheaded. So great that she would even go as far as to say it was the best kiss she had ever had, and maybe ever would.

Which would make it worse when this hookup thing they were doing ended.

But she had very little time to think about that because Vince was drowning her in the heaviest, most intense kiss of her life, that was surely about to turn into something more.

He pulled away for a second and came in at another angle, tongue pressing gently against her lower lip as he did.

Zing right in the lady parts.

She didn’t even realize he was pulling her to her feet until she was standing, and pulled back dazed. He nudged his chin forward and turned her around, hands on either side of her waist, steering her to his bedroom. Her heart was beating so loud she was sure the neighbors could hear it and her ears were blocked.

She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been here before. Last night the kissing and touching had been a little fuzzy due to the alcohol, but she’d only had enough today to take the edge off. He turned her around once inside the door kissing her again and kicking it shut with his foot. The blinds across the large windows of his bedroom were half open and a blazing sun had just begun to set, bathing the entire room in an orange glow.

He attempted to ease her down on to the mattress but she turned and pushed him down instead, climbing over to straddle him. He ran a hand up beach of her jean clad things on to her hips, pulling himself up a little to kiss her again, fingers knotting in her hair. Everything about her was intoxicating. Her face, her voice, even her smell drew him in and made him never wanna stop kissing her. Her sweater had fallen down and pooled around her elbows, and he tugged it off tossing it to the side and running his hand down her arms, gripping her skin lightly. She pulled on his shirt, allowing him to pull it over his head and toss it across the room.

She ran her nails over his bare shoulders, biting her lip as her fingers moved across his skin and rested on his chest. He was watching her, eyes piercing hers, moving his hands under her shirt. She flinched as his hand made contact with her skin, sliding up to grip the fabric and pull it over her head. He pulled himself up a little and let his eyes move over her, from her neck, down her chest and then to her stomach before he looked back up at her. A lock of hair had fallen across his forehead and he never broke eye contact as he leaned forward letting his lips just ghost over her skin before he pressed a kiss on her sternum, fingers gripping the skin around her waist.

She let out a breath and her head fell forward as he did it again, hot breath against her skin. The strap of her bra had slipped down her shoulder and he reached around to unhook it and pull it away. His mouth moved across her bare chest and up her neck, hands coming down to unbutton her jeans.

She pushed him backwards, fingers running from his shoulders down to his abdomen before she sprung the button on his own pants open and pulled them down his legs until she was standing at the end of his bed. She slowly slid her jeans down her legs, glancing up at him as she kicked them off and fixed the band of her underwear, a small snap against her skin.

His heart rate had picked up by now and he watched her climb very slowly back up the bed, stopping around his waist and leaning down.

“Jesus Christ.” He hissed, head falling back as she let her teeth graze against his lower abdomen. Her lashes were casting long shadows across her cheeks, as her lips moved across his skin. She had her back arched perfectly, lacy black underwear on display. He watched as she glanced up to look at him, hooking her fingers on the waistband of his boxers and sliding them off agonizingly slow. The light was hitting her just right as she threw them to the side and crawled back up, kneeling between his legs. He shivered a little as her hair, which was tousled and messy around her shoulders, brushed against his knee.

She paused momentarily as she watched him gulp, and the slow movement of his throat as he did and it made her feel good that she was the one getting him so worked up. She propped herself on her elbow and very slowly took him in her mouth. His legs tensed up and he let out a sharp breath, one fist gripping the bed sheets, the other one coming to rest on his abdomen. After a few moments she pulled her mouth back up and then down, tongue swirling around him.

He was propped on an elbow now, the hand across his stomach coming to push her hair off her face so he could see every movement she made. He fisted it, twisting it around in his hands as she continued to move up and down. She had struck him as the girl next door type, but there was nothing innocent about the way she looked at him when she moved her eyes up to meet his own.

“Good girl.” He whispered as she pulled completely off and took a breath, nails scratching his legs. He gave her hair a tug and she paused running her tongue across her upper lip before she put her mouth back on him. After a few more minutes he couldn’t take it anymore. He gripped her by the chin and pulled her up to him, kissing her heavily and flipping her over. He yanked her underwear down her legs and and braced one hand on her left thigh and used the other to spread her legs wider.

Josie closed her eyes and relaxed her body, feeling his lips on her throat, and a jolt of pleasure as he pushed inside her. It was even better than the first time now that she could feel everything without the vodka induced buzz from the night prior.

He moved a little faster this time, hand coming to rest at the base of her neck, long fingers wrapped around it, squeezing gently. She opened her eyes to find him already staring at her, as he moved in and out of her. She felt hot, body tight and the best head rush she’d ever had as he quickened his pace. The familiar ache in her legs started to burn as he pulled one up to hook it over his elbow and braced the other arm on the bed near her head.

Her back arched, her chest got tight and she got hit with a freight train orgasm that made her want to scream till her lungs gave out. He was breathing heavy as his pushed became erratic and sloppy and he eventually let out a gasp and fell slowly forward, head falling in the crook of her neck. She reached a hand up and gave his arm a squeeze, feeling the tightness of the muscle underneath.

He picked his head up to look at her, stray curl still across his forehead and kissed her very softly. After a few moments he pulled out of her and laid on his back, attempting to even out his breathing.

“You okay?” He asked, head turning to the side. He was smiling sweetly at her and it made her want to squeal and kiss his socks off, but he wasn’t wearing any so she just smiled back.

“Me? I’m great. Are you?”

“Better than great. I think you should come over every night.”

She turned on her side as he did, and he reached forward pushing her hair off her chest and over her shoulder. She laughed and shook her head.

“You’d get sick of me.”

“No I wouldn’t. Trust me.”

She pursed her lips before she smiled slowly and glanced at the clock behind him.

“I-“

“No. Don’t say it.” He reached forward and silenced her by kissing her hoping he could steal her words.

“I have to go.” She whispered when he pulled away.

He sighed and rested his forehead on her shoulder, giving her hand a squeeze before he let her sit up and lean down to pick up her bra.

He watched her for a minute before he spoke “So since this is our second date.” He said leaning back.

She paused and looked over her shoulder, hair spilling down her back “You call this a date?”

“You don’t?”

“Uh no. I call this ‘we’ve spent two days in bed together’ but not a date.”

He smiled and turned further on his side, propping his head up on one hand “Well if that’s how it is, then let’s go on a date.”

He was surprised even as the words came out of his mouth. Everyone who was anyone knew he didn’t do the girlfriend thing. Not to say he would never do the girlfriend thing, but it wasn’t something he was interested in right now. Then again, he hadn’t really been looking.

But there was something to be said about her. She was different. He’d only known her 48 hours and he wanted to know her more. By that time he was usually bored and wanted something new. But he felt differently when it came to her.

“You wanna date…..Me?” She looked confused as she pulled her shirt over her head.

“Did my bringing you home two days in a row not give you that impression? Why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t anyone?”

“I don’t know. I’m just….me. And you’re you.”

He frowned “I don’t follow-“

“Your an athlete. Wouldn’t you rather date a model or something?”

“Listen if you don’t wanna go out with me just say no. My heart can’t take your excuses.” He clutched at his chest.

She rolled her eyes “I’m sorry. Your just not cute enough to date.”

His mouth fell open and she burst out laughing as she continued “But I’ll go on a pity date with you. I guess.”

He smiled, slow at first until it stretched across his face “Your too kind.”

“When?”

“Friday? I’m not doing anything.”

“Sure. But that means I’m going home tonight.”

“Wait what? Why?”

“Because we can’t have a sleepover 2 nights in a row. It goes against the rules of ‘Dating” she quoted with her fingers as she stood and shimmied her jeans back up her legs.

“I was only kidding. I don’t wanna date you.” He patted the mattress suggestively and wiggled his eyebrows. But she wasn’t buying it.

“Nice try. Now your taking me on one.”

He deflated and huffed “Fine.”

She smiled and picked up her phone “ Walk me out?”

He bid her goodbye at the door with a very chaste kiss and watched her walk down the hall. He closed the door and fell into his sofa, eyes closing as he fell asleep, small smile still on his face.

**********

Much to his dismay Josie was serious about the no sleepover rule. Over the next 4 days their schedules, annoyingly, never seemed to align so he hadn’t seen her since Sunday afternoon.

Though they’d been texting, it wasn’t the same as actually seeing her. He had to slap himself, literally and metaphorically here and there to remind himself that he was getting bothered over a girl he’d known a week, and had sex with twice.

Granted it had two really good times but still. He found himself just thinking about her. What was she doing? What was she thinking? What was she wearing?

That one he’d actually asked and the picture she sent him made him sweaty. Damn she was hot.

He had to remind himself to slow down a little and play it a little cooler before he gave himself away. Though he was pretty sure he already had. Now that the season was over and the heavy celebrations had died down a bit, he was left with a whole lot of time on his hands to think.

For the first time in a long time he was going on a date with a girl. A girl he actually liked enough to ask. This was a big step for him and honestly a little bit of a scary one too.

He hadn’t told anyone about her either, number 1, because he knew they would make fun of him and he’d never EVER hear the end of it. And the second reason was because of something was happening that went beyond sex, he didn’t want to jinx it.

He spent the rest of the week doing absolutely nothing besides texting her, and thinking about her, and trying to persuade her to come over but it was no use. She was playing hard to get.

V:Come onnnnnn. You know you miss me.

J:Even if I did, I’m still not coming over.

V:Why do you hate me?

J:Where would you like me to start?

He let out a noise of frustration but smiled.

V:Where would you like me to start as in on the couch? The bed? My car? I’ll let you pick.

He could practically feel her face get red from wherever she was and he could only hope she was at work or something because it would serve her right for giving him such a hard time. He’d never had to work this hard to get a girl to come to his apartment, especially not one that had already been there.

He watched with anticipation as the three dots appeared and disappeared several times as she typed and then stopped, smirking to himself that he had gotten the upper hand on her.

J:Why not all three?

In his apartment a phone fell to the floor and he let out a loud groan. She was killing him. Slowly but it was happening. It had been so long since he’d done it he’d forgotten how fun sexting was. And this wasn’t even sexting. This was more like slow torture, but it was turning him on none the less.

V:Okay fine. You win.

J:Oh this is a competition? In that case I’ll up my game.

Which was immediately followed by another message containing a picture of her chest, completely covered by her shirt, just the very top of that goddamned pink bra and a necklace hanging against her collarbone. He felt his pants get tight and looked at the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut. This wasn’t fair. She was beating him at his own game, and by a significant amount of points. It was usually him who had girls in a puddle, and here he was melting into his couch because she sent him a photo with a minuscule amount of cleavage that couldn’t even qualify to be called soft core porn. What was happening to him? It was liked been reverted to a virgin again.

V:Stop😭 please come over. I’m actually begging. On my knees.

J:Sounds like you should be saving that for the sleepover🤷🏼‍♀️

Damn she was good. He giggled a little and the two of them preceded to text each other until the late hours when they both fell asleep.

***********

Josie spent most of Friday shaving…every part of her body with the hope that silky smooth skin would entice Vince to touch her all over after their dinner date.

She was freshly shaved, made up and had just slipped on shoes when he texted her that he was out front.

He was waiting for her, leaned against the passenger door, looking at something on his phone when he glanced up and then down, and then whipped his head immediately back up.

She felt a little flip flop in her stomach as a small smile spread across his face when he looked her up and down as she neared him.

“Hi.” He said simply eyes lingering on her legs before they made their way back up to her face.

“Am I dressed okay?” She looked down at her dress and then up at him.

“You look great.” He stepped to the side and opened the door, still smiling as she came forward and slid into the passenger seat. It was a low slung, silver Mercedes that probably cost more than her life, but it was totally Vince. She situated herself against the leather as he shut the door and came around the other side. It was quiet for a minute when he glanced over at her.

She looked phenomenal.

Deep red dress, black heels, long hair hanging loose. He thought she looked hot that night in the club, but she’d outdone herself this time.

“We can always skip dinner…” he said glancing at her sideways.

She turned slowly “I knew you didn’t wanna be seen with me in public but sheesh-“

“Oh please. We’re fucking making out on the St. Louis times website!” He said laughing as he turned left “Being seen with you is the least embarrassing thing I’ve done in my life. I mean if you want me to turn this car around and go back to my place, your place, wherever I will. Just sayin. “ he said putting his hand out to emphasize it.

Josie was quiet and leaned down slowly. The car was dark and he couldn’t really see what she was doing but she was moving something around. She straightened herself out and leaned over towards him. She reached down and he felt a jolt of excitement, wondering if she was really about to do that while he was driving, but was even more surprised when she balled up her underwear and slipped them in his pocket.

“What-?” He felt his face burn, which was no easy feat, and pulled at the neck of his shirt. No one had ever stuck their underwear in his pocket before, although Schwartzy had tried once but it wasn’t nearly as sexy. She was smiling mischievously as she leaned back in her seat.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He asked shaking his head.

“Behave yourself tonight and I’ll be doing something else to you.”

He straightened up in his seat as he pulled into a parking lot “I will. Scouts honor.” He held up three fingers that had absolutely never been used by boy scouts and Josie burst out laughing.

Vince was so funny, the first guy who’s made her laugh like that in a long time. She was so used to guys trying to impress her with bad jokes and even worse lines, and yet it was so natural with Vince. Like she’d known him in another life.

He parked and when she reached for the door handle he gave her arm a small nudge “Don’t you dare open that door.” He said unbuckling his seat belt. He got out and came around to her side and pulled the door open, extending his hand to help her out. She felt a small blush come to her cheeks as she awkwardly swung her legs out and stood.

He looked confused, eyebrows furrowed as she stood up stiffly but then grinned “Oh right. Your not wearing underwear.” He patted his pants pocket and shut the door, putting a hand on the small of her back to steer her inside.

She sat down glancing around awkwardly at the people around them. They were all looking, most of them girls that appeared to be around her age with boyfriends, fathers or whoever, and they were all staring. She was confused for a second before she looked at Vince and remembered he was an extremely hot successful athlete who’d just won a prestigious trophy, and also had her underwear in his pocket. Not that they knew that last part, but she did.

“Why is everyone staring at me?” She asked leaning forward across the table. He looked up for the first time and frowned.

“Are they?” He too glanced around “Oh shit they are. Are you famous or something?”

She pulled a face at him but then smiled “No I’m not. And until I met you no one looked at me twice. So I don’t think I’m the problem here.”

“Oh come on that’s not true. I looked at you way more than twice.”

“Yeah because my shirt was see through.”

“Noooo-well okay that’s part of why, but I couldn’t help it, it was a nice bra. Are you wearing it now?” He leaned over to peer at the neck of her dress and she leaned away, covering it with one hand and smacking him on the arm with the other.

“Hey!” She giggled leaning away from him.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen what’s under there already. After all this is the most clothing I’ve seen you in-“ but he was cut short by the waiter arriving at the worst possible time. Josie looked moderately horrified and shrank in her seat turning as red as her dress.

“I uh-I can come back.” He gestured over his shoulder, lips pursed. Vince was giggling at her from across the table but shook his head.

“No it’s fine. I was kidding by the way. I just met her outside.”

The waiter cracked a smile and glanced at Josie who then too smiled a little bit.

“Are you ready to order drinks? Wine perhaps?”

“Yes wine sounds great.” The waiter left and Josie glared at him.

“Really?”

“Hey I had to give him something to tell the tabloids.”

“That’s right I forgot your a celebrity here Mr. Stanley Cup champion.” She smiled and picked up her menu.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

After the waiter returned with wine and took their order, Josie glanced around. Most of the people looking at her had gone back to minding their business thankfully, which left them to speak freely.

“ Thanks for coming out with me.” His smile was genuine as he continued “It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date, but this is…nice.”

She smiled back “It is nice. This place that is, hanging out with you is just okay.”

He squinted at her “I’m leaving you here.”

“You would never.”

“Wanna bet?” He was smiling cheekily at her from across the table.

“Sure. I bet you won’t. If you do, the only action your getting tonight is from those underwear in your pocket.”

His eyes widened and he looked at his lap, presumably at the pocket they were in and nodded “Alright. You win.”

She got him talking then about everything and anything, mostly the cup win and the celebrations that had followed and what would happen now that it was over. She was listening to him talk about it when she heard him say something that surprised her for a split second.

“When I have to head home for a bit.”

She paused and looked at him confused but then nodded “Oh right. Your Canadian.”

“I am?!”

She rolled her eyes “So when do you leave? I forgot you’re not from here.” She laughed a small laugh which masked her slight disappointment. She’d been having such a good time with him she almost forgot who he was.

“Uhm. A few weeks or something like that. It’ll be a short summer because of the playoffs this year. I’ll come back to St. Louis in August.”

“I see. Looking forward to going home?”

He shrugged “Yeah I guess. I might miss you too much though.”

She had just begun to sip her wine when she chuckled a little and made a sad face “Same. I’ll try and hold it together until you get back.”

He laughed but then she could see a lightbulb turn on “Would you-?” He stopped and for the first time in 5 days Vince looked unsure of himself.

“What?”

“Well.” He scratched the back of his neck “There’s this thing, when you win the Stanley Cup, everyone gets it for a day and you can take it places. It sounds lame, but it’s actually pretty fun. Would you maybe wanna come? No pressure if your embarrassed to be seen with me or anything but I just wanna remind you that I’m a celebrity and I’m great in bed.”

Josie started laughing and he felt a little bit better that he hadn’t completely weirded her out. Because he had weirded himself out. The words had left his mouth before he even had time to think of what he was saying. He’d known her barely a week and he’d all but asked her to come meet his friends and family back home. He didn’t regret it, but this was a little bit serious. He’d never thought twice about introducing anyone to his mom, or his friends and here he was thinking of doing it with a girl he’d only known a week.

“I mean yeah. That doesn’t sound lame. Sounds like something you should be proud of celebrating. If you want me to come to Canada I’d like that.”

“Really? Do you think you’ll fit in my suitcase?”

She glanced down “I’m not sure what do you think?”

“I don’t think so, but I’m pretty good at making things fit so.”

“Did you just call me fat?” She said mouth falling open.

“What-no I-I would never-“

“I’m kidding! Stop taking me so seriously.”

While what she said was joking, it had a different meaning to him. He would like to take her seriously in the sense of his relationship with her. It had crossed his mind during the week many times. She had caught his attention, which wasn’t hard to do but she had held it for a week now, which had never happened to him before. That meant something to him.

He smiled and shook his head “Stop catching me in bad jokes and I won’t.”

“Stop making them!”

“Touché.”

They chatted for the rest of dinner, laughing and talking until it was time to leave. He couldn’t remember a time when he felt more comfortable with someone who he hadn’t known for a long period of time. He held his hand out for her and pulled her to her feet. He thought for a split second about holding her hand, but didn’t for a reason he couldn’t even explain to himself. She followed him out the door and into his car, reaching for her seatbelt as he started it and turned to her smiling.

“So about that sleepover.” He said as they buckled themselves in. She glanced over and smiled, clicking the seatbelt “Are we still on or do you want these back?” He pulled her underwear from his pocket and held them up, handing them to her.

“Sounds great. I’m exhausted.”

He paused, key halfway to the ignition “Wait we’re not really going to be sleeping right?”

She smiled slyly “Take me to your place and you’ll find out.”

[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy (Frenemies/Tenderness AU)

ONE: It’s a Start

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Frenemy!Reader

Summary: There’s a new customer that’s been coming into the White Dog Pub, where you tend bar. He’s stoic, gruff and difficult to engage, but you’re a bartender. You know how to get the most deadpan of customers to talk, and this aloof mountain of a man is no exception. You’ll win him over, one way or another.

Tags/Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Eventual smut- but not in this chapter. That’s really the only warning I got. I don’t even think I used profanity. Weird, right???

(Notes: Sooo... I decided to attempt my first series. *(nervous twitching)* Not gonna lie, I’m freakin’ out a little bit, y’all. Is it gonna suck?! I don’t know! I hope it doesn’t, for everyone’s sake.

Anyway...

This is set in the Frenemies/Tenderness AU, same as ‘Try a Little Tenderness’, with Simon and his frienemy ‘Doll’ (or ‘Dee’ for short), which can be found here. 

We’re just establishing the relationship between Simon and Reader at this point, along with a little world building. Sorry, horn-dogs. No smut this round, but we’ll get there... eventually. Hope you enjoy.)

Word Count: 1576

‘Fate leads the willing; the unwilling it drags’   —— Seneca 

🖤💀🖤

He was a quiet one. A silent giant. 

He came into the pub every night, mumbled out his order in a low gravel and took the same seat at the end of the bar. He’d been doing this for more than a month, some nights staying until last orders, other nights only long enough for one drink. He never speaks, at least not to you.

He’s close with your boss, the owner of the White Dog, Ollie Turnbull. Ollie’s always pleased to see him, giving him a familiar pat on the back as he growls out, “How ya doin’, Riley?”

The two men will sit for hours, sometimes, leaning their heads together as they talk in low murmurs. You suspect Riley’s a soldier in the military, like Ollie once was. He just has that look about him. He holds himself the same way your father used to, like a coiled spring wound too tight, even when seemingly relaxed. You’re certain if anything ever went down inside the pub, he would be the first to react, Ollie a close second.

You’re curious about him. He’s an ‘odd duck’, as your nan was fond of saying. He has his little quirks, odd little idiosyncrasies that set him apart. For one thing, you’ve never seen the man without a hoodie. He wears different styles and colors, but they’re all dark in hue with a deep hood he keeps pulled up over his head at all times. He never pushes it back, always keeping his face half-hidden in shadow.

And then there’s the mask.

Sometimes it’s a fitted hood with only his eyes exposed, other times it’s a neck gaiter or a black surgical mask. When he takes a drink, he always lifts his mask from the bottom, never revealing his entire face. You’ve seen the hint of various scars around the edges of his masks, jagged lines turned silver with age, but they don’t seem severe enough to be horribly disfiguring. He’s hiding, you realize, but from what you’re not sure.

Riley’s sitting in his usual spot again tonight, every now and then his eyes shifting left or right, always on alert. He casts his gaze over you every now and then, too, lingering for a moment before looking away. You can’t help but wonder what he thinks of you.

It’s been a slow evening, just a handful of regulars showing up for a pint, but not staying long. There’s only one other customer at the bar, dear old Ned, and you’re pretty sure he fell asleep half an hour ago. You’ve already restocked and finished all your prep work for the night, so you’ve pulled out an old paperback of short stories to read, but you’d much rather be getting a head start on your cleaning. The sooner you’re done, the sooner you can leave.

Heaving a sigh, you walk down to the end of the bar, waiting for Riley to acknowledge you before you speak. When his dark eyes peer up at you, you give him a little smile. “Sorry to bother you, but do you mind if I start cleaning? I can top up your drink first.”

His gaze darts over your face before he glances down at his glass and shrugs. “’S fine wif me. ‘M good.” His voice is gruff, but not unkind.

You nod, offering him a grateful smile and lay your book face down on the bar. “Thanks,” you call over your shoulder, already heading for the supply closet.

You gather your cleaning supplies and get to work, wiping down tables and turning up chairs. Every now and then you glance up to check on your two customers. Ned, bless him, is still snoring. Riley, however, is leaning slightly forward, torso stretched so that he can look at the book you’ve left in front of him. You watch as he turns the book around to get a better look at it. It makes you smile.

Finished with the tables, you head back towards the bar, noticing how Riley stiffens and quickly turns the book back to its previous position. Pretending not to see, you grab your bottle of water, taking a sip as you lean your hips against the back counter, facing him. When he inevitably lifts his eyes, you meet them and motion to the book.

“You like to read?”

He shrugs. “Some.”

You nod and take another sip. “What genres?”

His brows knit together. “Depends.”

“On what?”

He heaves a sigh and leans back to cross his arms. “On what ’m in the mood t’read.”

“Oh. Yeah, I get that. I’m the same.” You take another sip then recap the bottle, pushing yourself off the counter. You fiddle with the ties of your serving apron as you scramble for something to say. “You, uh, need a top-up before I get back to work?”

He stares down at his glass and then slides it forward. “Yeah.” Again, he sounds gruff, but his tone has softened the tiniest bit.

He watches you pour the drink, eyeing you with an almost cautious expression. When you slide the glass back to him, his eyes flicker down to the book. “I’ve read tha’ one before. Which story’s yer fav’rite?”

You tilt your head and give him a considering look. “’Sticks’ by Robert Wagner.”

He nods, a gleam of approval in his sharp gaze. “Good choice.”

You give a slight nod at the compliment. “And yours?”

His eyes blink down at the book then back to you. “Same.”

“Good choice,” you say with a crooked smile, returning the compliment. You replace the bottle of Dewar’s on the shelf, then turn back and nod at the book. “You can borrow it, if you like. I just brought it in case I got bored. I’ve got plenty more at home.”

“’M good. No thanks.” he mutters. He leans forward again, shoulders hunched, and drops his gaze.

You deflate inside. Damn, I lost him. 

Not wanting the situation to get any more awkward, you try to soothe him with a casual, friendly tone and an easy smile. “That’s okay. Offer still stands. If you change your mind, feel free to take it with you.”

His eyes slant towards you and he gives a curt nod. Good enough.

You go back to work, sweeping around the tables in silence until you see him stand and lean over the bar to slip his glass into the dish water. He snags a towel and wipes down his area, before pushing his seat back into place. It’s a thoughtful gesture, something you wouldn’t have expected from him. Picking up his overcoat, he shrugs it on, then adjusts his mask as he walks towards the entrance. When he opens the door, he pauses, and his head turns in your direction. “Left some tenners on the bar for m’tab.” Another short pause. “’Night.”

You smile and give him a little wave. “Good night, Riley. Drive safe.”

His head snaps up and his posture goes rigid at the use of his name, caught off guard by the familiarity, but he quickly recovers. Relaxing his stance, he nods and takes a step out the door, uttering just loud enough for you to hear, “You, too, doll.”

He then slips out the door into the night, leaving just you and snoring Ned in the building. You stare at the entrance a moment longer, then go back to your sweeping. Your brain slowly sifts through the conversation as you work, picking over the words he spoke, digging for any hidden nuances you might have missed. He’s a hard one to read, but you think you did okay. At least he spoke to you without being prompted. It’s a start.

Right?

When you finish cleaning, you go wake Ned and call his wife to come pick up her husband. He smiles at you, bleary-eyed, and pats your hand. “I was awake, luv. Jus’ restin’ m’eyes.” You smile and nod, but don’t really believe him until he grins and adds, “Never heard tha’ big fella speak a’fore. He must’ve taken a fancy to ya.”

A slow smile spreads across your face. “Think so, Ned?”

“Oh, aye. Never seen ‘im go out o’ his way to talk to anyone else. Well, ‘cept for Ollie, o’ course. Don’t think the lad keeps many friends. Bit of a loner, tha’ one.”

A horn beeps twice outside, so you help Ned to his feet and walk him out to his wife’s car. Waving goodbye, you head back inside the pub to turn out the lights and lock up for the night. Grabbing your coat and bag, you make a beeline for the entrance, thrilled to be leaving early, but then realize you forgot your book on the bar. Huffing out a sigh, you turn around and go back to get it, only to discover that... 

It’s gone.

He took the book.

A pleased little smile lights up your face and you bite your lip.

He even told you good night... sort of.

You shrug. It’s a start.

That pleased little smile is still on your face when you lock the door and head for home.

-

>> Next

@stillinracooncity

@cumikering​

@cutiecusp

@glitterypirateduck

[viccharine]

hurry, hurry (you put my head in such a flurry, flurry!)

( prints available [HERE] )

reblogs greatly appreciated!!!

process and commentary under the cut:

ok so w.a.m.s is one of my FAVORITE (if not my favorite) songs off folie à deux and since it was recently folie’s bday (I’m like. two week late but it doesn’t matter) i thought i should do a piece for it!!!!!

about the piece: this piece went thru a LOT of redesigns because I really didn’t have a clear idea of what I wanted it to look like—at first I wanted to have a bit of a retro, 50s diner, mid-century modern look but that kinda all fell apart with the composition I ended up choosing (and yes, i could have changed the composition to make it work but that is seriously overestimating my creative ability tbh). it’s supposed to be like a headshot covering the waitress’ face (haha get it. bcuz w.a.m.s stands for waitress, actress, model, singer. get it) but also I haven’t drawn an actual face in SO LONG so that’s why it. looks like that. originally I wanted to have some sort of receipt or diner menu that had the lyrics to the song but ultimately i couldn’t make that composition work so I scrapped it

speaking of which, the LETTERING FOR THIS DAMN PIECE. oooooh i Talk a lot about having trouble w lettering but this one takes the cake—i could not, FOR THE LIFE OF ME, figure out how I wanted to make this lettering and I’m not 100% sold on it so do me a favor and just tell me it looks good without looking tooooooo closely at it.

while I work in black and white usually, the colors weren’t all that complicated because they are taken from the folie à deux album cover! in case it wasn’t obvious LMFAO

also ended up using a different brush than my other pieces so it looks a bit more polished than the rough, traditional art-looking vibe of my other FOB pieces—I’m not sure which one I like more!! what do u guys think :0?

some process pics (you can kinda tell how much i struggled with the composition and lettering here):

about the song/album: I’m a relatively new fall out boy fan and let me just say. i did not believe that folie was originally so hated because it’s genuinely my fav FOB album. it took a couple of listens to reeeeeaaaaallly get into it but it is such a good album. like omg. THEY COULD NEVER MAKE ME HATE U FOLIE!!!!

cork tree, stardust, and folie are all probably my top FOB albums (do NOT ask me to choose between those three. i could never)

i also didn’t really like w.a.m.s at first but the second time I listened to it was like something unlocking in my brain. clouds parted, angels singing, trumpets blasting, the whole thing. ITS SUCH A GOOD SONG it makes me want to scream into a pillow do u guys understand me.

anyway, that’s pretty much all I have to say k thanks byeeeeee (and go stream folie!!!!)

[tojisbbygworl]

The Worst Mistake - Hobie Brown x Black!Reader pt. 1

Summary: Hobie has never been one to shy away from anything. Even if the risk is greater than the reward.

Or; Hobie takes too many shrooms, and all of his fears and doubts about the woman he loves comes rushing all at once and he makes an extremely irrational decision.

Characters: Hobie, Miles

Tags: 18+, Substance Use/Abuse, ANGST, Hurt/No Comfort, Bad Break Up, AU - No Powers, Hobie lives in Brooklyn, Hobie is 21+, Miles is 18+ only cuz it makes sense for the story not weird I promise, Miles is kind of an ass, Hobie and you need a HUG, I forgot he was British, OOC but it’s because of the drugs

author’s note: Okay, this is a plot that I have been wanting to write for months now but didn’t know which fandom I should write it for. I will be pouring all my feelings out into this so hopefully you shed a tear or two and even if u don’t lie and say u did!

Part 2 Part 3

AO3 version

My AO3

Masterlist

It was getting late. The tv was blaring with some random show that the both of them didn’t have to pay attention to. She was sleeping next to him, a scowl on her face. And Hobie had never felt more alone.

The day was going so well at first. The two of them had all day to spend together. He didn’t have a gig or practice, she didn’t have to work or go to class, they made some sandwiches and had a nice picnic by a river. What went wrong?

What? Is he a fucking idiot? He knows exactly what went wrong.

For months now, Hobie’s been getting into heavier drugs than weed. She was never interested, the ‘don’t do drugs’ campaign going to work in her brain whenever he even mentioned anything else. But, she didn’t judge. She understood that shrooms just weren't for her and he never pressured her or pushed. So, he took them.

The first time was nice. They found that he was a lot more clingy than usual. He opened up more. Touched her more, kissed her more. He even giggled a few times that day.

Then he grew a small tolerance. So he started taking more…and more…and each time something was different. Shrooms made him speak his mind a lot. Sometimes too much and inappropriately. He didn’t know how to get what he was saying across in a way that wouldn’t insult her so he just said what was on his mind.

In the middle of the night, after having a quick dinner at the diner near his apartment, he remembered all the times he’s thought about breaking up with her. Usually, when he would have these thoughts, he swallowed them knowing it was just his paranoia. But his mind was scattered. So he told her. And when she started crying he just sat there and stared. To his defense, at least he looked sorry. But he didn’t take it back. And his explanation was half assed.

“Sometimes, I just get scared for our future. But I try to ignore it because I love you so much. And I know you love me.” That’s…not what he meant to say. He’s scared that he is not enough. That he won’t be able to give her the life she deserves. Why can’t he just say that instead of sitting here and watching her wipe her tears?

How they even came back from that night is nothing short of a miracle. But, Hobie was sure that there was no coming back from this.

It wasn’t until too late that he realized that he isn’t the "Tolerance God" that he seems to think he is. He thinks because he’s not throwing up, seeing smells, and hearing colors that he’s doing just fine. Today, he took more grams than he ever had. 7, to be exact. Along with the lemon tekking, it was certainly the strongest dose he ever had or will have taken. And he can feel it.

She fell asleep hours ago when they got home from their beautiful picnic. She hadn’t spoken a word to him when she got in the bed, the only indication he had of how she felt being the sneer she gave him before she pulled the blanket over herself and turned around. She left no room to cuddle, there were two blankets on the bed and she snatched the entirety of one of them. He deserved it.

“You know babe, you need to grow up, okay?”

Why the hell would he say that? Why did he start thinking about all the faults of their relationship at that moment? About how every fight they had was over something stupid, and even though they weren’t often, they were exhausting. She held onto her anger and refused to let go. It’s been something he’s wanted to talk to her about, but why now? And why like this?

She was laughing before he said that, smiling because they were both gushing about how much they appreciated each other and how excited they are for their future together and then he dropped that bomb. And he smiled while he did it. The way her face dropped and her eyes began to water; he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget it.

He tried saying sorry when they walked in. She didn’t listen. And why would she?

Hobie looks at the back of her head. Then he stared at the ceiling. His heart was beating fast and he started to feel a little sweaty. Taking in some deep breaths, he realizes that his girlfriend giving him the cold shoulder is absolutely not helping his high. He swallows his pride then reaches over to shake her awake.

When she does, she turns to him. She still has that pained and troubled look on her face. He gulps, but can’t stop staring at her. His mouth opens only slightly, and his big brown eyes flicker between hers.

“What is it?” She says quietly, her voice raspy from sleep.

“I just…” he gulps again before taking a part of her blanket and lifting it up, tugging at it slightly. “I wanted to get under the blanket.” His voice is full of vulnerability that he never imagined he’d be capable of.

Unfortunately, she didn’t hear it. “There’s a blanket over there.” She snapped at him.

He looks down at the blanket sitting next to his feet. Then, looking back up at her and pleading with his eyes, he tries again. “I know…but…” Once again, his words are stuck in his throat. He just can’t convey what he was trying to say to her.

‘But I want to be under your blanket. With you. Please?’

He can say that she didn’t give him a chance as she scoffed and tugged her blanket out of his arms and turned back around again, but she was attentively listening before he trailed off. It felt as though the blanket was ripped from his grasp, and he stared in dismay at his hand still reaching out to her. He doesn’t try to wake her up again after that.

His hand falls and he rolls on to his back completely again, staring at the ceiling. Damn. So this was it? Are they really never going to recover from this? There’s no way, right? So why was he feeling so much anxiety? Why was he so terrified?

A tear slips from his eye down the side of his face. Then another. And then another. One by one, salty droplets force themselves out of his eye sockets until he is full on crying. Why is he even crying? He doesn’t know. He just knows that he fucked up and he’s not sure if she’ll forgive him so easily this time.

His brain was working full time filling his head with desolate thoughts about his future with her. He remembers every fight, every mistake, every tear she’s ever shed because of him. Why was she even still with him? He wasn’t a good boyfriend. He never was. Will he ever be? Can he-

“Hobie?”

Unbeknownst to him, his sobbing had woken her up, filling her with worry as soon as she saw his chest shaking. She immediately caressed his face and when she did, as if it was instinct, he turned and embraced her tighter than ever. His crying got louder, his body violently jerking with each sob. She was distraught. This complete and utter dejection was not something she had seen on him before. It was breaking her heart. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” he wailed into her shoulder. He couldn’t seem to keep still, to just hold her in his arms. No matter how tightly he wrapped himself around her, she was still to far away. His hands were ever changing and would grab her waist moving across it in an effort to bring her closer to him. “I’m so sorry.”

She relaxed but only a little. “Aw, baby,” she wipes the tears from his face with her thumb. It was contorted in pain. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I’m not upset with you.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

She shakes her head. “Babe, it’s okay. I promise-“

“I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

She furrowed her brows. “What are you talking about baby?”

What is he talking about? He wasn’t even sure himself. But he knew that he wasn’t happy right now. He continued to cry, his eyes closed and his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry for trying to change you.”

Okay…what? With everything he said, she only got more and more confused. When was he trying to change her? Was it because of what he said? Does he understand why she was even upset about that? “What do you mean? What do you want me to be?”

He took a deep breath and wailed, “My wife.” A long series of sobs escaped him after that.

“I’m going to marry you. You don’t have to be sad.” She said, still not understanding why he was so upset.

He shook his head. She started to let go of his face. “I’m trying to turn you into someone you’re not. That’s why we fight all the time. And I’m sorry.”

She lets go of him and he lets her sit up from the bed and look down at him. They don’t break eye contact for a minute. He looks into her eyes, still crying, but not as violently. She’s terrified. She’s always been smart. She knows exactly what he’s saying. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“Yes.”

Her world falls apart. She gasped horrifically, sliding off the bed and standing up to stare at him. Her mouth doesn’t close and now it’s her turn to cry violently. “What?”

“I’m sorry. It’s time.”

“Why? What did I do? What did I do?” She became beside herself. She clutched her shirt as there was nothing she could do that could help with the pain she was feeling.

“You didn’t do anything. It’s not you. I just-” he sat up and on the edge of the bed cutting himself off from trying to explain what he was thinking. But of course, he wasn’t thinking at all, was he? At least not rationally. “I need to really think about what I want out of life.”

Hobie, no. Why are you telling her these things? You want her. She wants you. So fucking make it work. But there isn’t a logical voice in his head and she’s too upset to be a voice of reason as well. So now they’re stuck.

She fell to the ground, collapsed, more like. She cries and heaves into the floor while he just looks at her. Like he always does. He should get up and comfort her the way she comforted him but he doesn’t. Does she even want him to touch her right now?

She looks up at him and desperately pleads, “Please don’t do this to me.” She holds her chest. “I love you so much…”

Yes. She wants him to walk over to her and hold her. But he doesn't. “I love you too, but-”

“Then tell me to lay back down and go to sleep.” He had never heard her beg like this in the 2 1/2 years they had been dating. It was breaking him. But instead, he stood up and opened his bedroom door. She gasped again. “Why are you doing this?”

Hobie grows frustrated with himself, but from the way he starts crying even harder and the angry look he had on his face, it comes off as him being frustrated with her. He grabs his head and repeatedly slams his hand on it as if he’s trying to get his brain to work. “Because,” he spat, “There’s a question in my head and I need to find the answer.”

“And this is the answer?” She asks. “Breaking up with me?”

Hobie doesn’t answer her. He doesn’t know. But, it’s the only answer he has. She breaks down again and hunches over. “You’re breaking my heart.”

“I know,” he said.

Hobie…what the actual fuck are you saying? How could he tell her that? He loves this girl so much and she’s looking at him like she doesn’t recognize him. He’s betrayed her. He’s certain they will never come back from this. Ever.

It takes her some time, but she stands up on her own, still in shock and disbelief. He doesn’t say anything, just watches as she gathers all of her things and walks past him. He follows her out his bedroom door, down the hallway, through the kitchen, through the living room, and finally at the front door.

“When did you stop loving me?” She asked him before he opened the door.

“I haven’t stopped loving you,” he tried to explain.

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“I don’t know.” He muttered.

Befuddled, she glared at him. “You don’t know? What the fuck does that mean?”

Hobie, again, angry with himself but taking it out on her shouts, “This is about me finding the person I want to marry.”

No. No, no, no, no, NO! Why, Hobie? Why? He didn’t mean that. That’s not what he wanted to say. And he regrets it the moment he says it. She gasped and held her mouth. Then she becomes furious. Hobie’s face jerks to the left and he holds his stinging cheek. He looks back at her, the both of them still crying.

“I fucking hate you.” With that, she walks away.

Hobie stands there for a few moments, trying to understand how everything went so bad in such a small amount of time. Trying to understand why he still wasn’t happy; why he was even more upset than before. That question was still there. He hadn’t answered it. What has he done?

Not long after she left, Hobie grabs his keys and leaves the apartment as well. At first, he doesn’t know where he’s walking. He just doesn’t want to be home right now. He only had his keys and his phone, which died when they got back home. He walked through Brooklyn like a ghost, people moving themselves out of his way and going right back to their own lives.

It felt so surreal that the worst decision he’s ever made in his life was just some odd minutes ago. His entire world was destroyed and he was the one at fault. How could he do this to her? To himself? What was he thinking?

After some time, he stops in front of a townhouse door. These were a lot nicer than his own apartment building, bigger too. They were basically glorified flats, anyway. Fit for a family.

He knocked. The door opened and he came face to face with a close friend of his, Miles Morales. They’ve been inseparable ever since they were kids but in recent years, they’ve grown apart. Hobie was older and had more responsibilities than him while Miles…

Yes, he was younger, but it was only by a few years. He never really seemed to grow. Of course he got taller, added a little more muscle, and he gained a deeper voice, but he was still immature. Hobie didn’t have the energy for that like he used to.

But, Miles was one of his best friends and he didn’t know anyone else who always has their door open.

“ ‘Sup, bruh?” He said, nonchalantly. He walks away and waits by an open door that led downstairs. Hobie takes it as an invitation and walks inside, closing the front door behind him. He follows Miles down the steps to his basement which is basically just a second living room. There was an old couch and a large TV which housed the waiting screen for Overwatch. Of course. Miles was always playing Overwatch.

Miles sits on the couch and looks back at Hobie who was clearly downtrodden. He furrows his brows. “What happened?”

Hobie doesn’t look up from the floor. In a quiet voice he says, “I broke up with Y/N.”

ending a/n: Girl I almost didn't want to proofread this that shit hurted. Just so y’all can rly get the gist abt how strong shrooms are, the dosage you should be taking is 2 grams. Also, lemon tekking (dousing the shrooms in lemon juice) will make it stronger. So 7 grams on top of lemon tekking will fuck you up badly. Don’t do this. Please.

Anywayyyyy, be on the look out for part two, I'm thinking about making this 3 parts depending on how long the second part is. Please let me know what you think! Did it hurt? IT BETTER!

Part 2 Part 3

My AO3

Masterlist

[ddoxhan]

that feeling when

baby's breath and lemon candies

word count : 2.1k words

genre : fluff in the season of spring; you were always bitter when spring came, but things changed when she came along; florist!hanni x fem!reader (a year older than hanni); hanni's a confident baby and reader fell for her at first sight but doesn't realize

t/w : none :) just cuteness overload

a/n : hanni just has the sweetest smile that can melt hearts (including mine of course) I wanted to portray that spring vibe and soft colors that are associated with it, hope I succeeded haha enjoy !

spring morning, pastel sky, chilly breeze. it was just like every other morning in this season of cherry blossoms, and that was the exact reason why you despised this time of the year. from the very first thing that greets you as you leave your doorstep, was the couple next door.

it was fine, no one was forbidding them from dating. but it was that they decided to dress tone-on-tone, to add that it was a couple look. (you were just bitter since you were the only one still single among your friend circle)

just as you make it out of your apartment building, you are met with another. at this point, you were sure that god was just making fun of you. (no, you were just bitter and single, so everything seemed to be against you, when in reality, yes you are just hella bitter)

'what a way to start my day,' as you thought to yourself. a cup of americano was exactly what you needed to refresh your day, as if whatever happened before that cup was just a dream. but soon, you do hope that it wasn't just a dream.

getting onto your bicycle, you pedaled away from your usual route, which was headed towards campus. you were on your semester break after almost losing your sanity from the dreadful event named 'finals'. (human physiology took away at least 10 years from your lifespan)

so where were you headed to so early in the morning if you were finally on that break you very much needed? to your beloved senior, chaewon's cafe. she and her girlfriend, minju, finally opened their dream coffee shop after they had graduated. (degree who? and you were so done with chaewon bringing this up whenever she was on the verge of rage quitting during her final year)

it wasn't too long ago so the shop was still relatively new to the area. that meant they neither had customers nor employees. you figured that you could lend a helping hand for the time being as they advertise their new cafe. your neighbourhood wasn't big so everyone knew everyone, therefore things weren't going to be too hard for them. yet, you wonder how you know everyone here, and still failed to notice her around.

as you were on the way there, the owner of blue rain called, pausing the music in your ears from your headphones.

"yes, ms. owner. relax, I'm on my way, no worries that I overslept."

"that's exactly why I called. I have all the right in the world to be worried cause you quite almost drooled all over your pillow while everyone in the hall was racking their brains over the final paper."

you rolled your eyes at her constant reminder of that particular 'incident' in your first year. it was a one time thing but she still brings it up whenever she gets the chance to. and like the mom she is, you're creeped out by how she knew.

"I can see you rolling your eyes at me, child. we all know you were to repeat your subject if I didn't barge into your place."

"alright alright, I made mistakes and learned from them. I'm on my bike right now, okay? continue your nagging when I'm there, bye."

"hey-"

you ended the call before she could even say another word. knowing she was going to give you an earful, all you could do is smile to yourself. the nagging can be annoying at times, but you know chaewon only meant good for you as someone older. it feels great to know that someone cares for you no matter where they are. (you're always a brat towards her, so she would cry happy tears if she knew this is what you thought of her)

making a left turn, you arrived at a road you weren't familiar with, mainly due to the fact that it wasn't the main road you usually ride past. just how did these two find a place over here? it wasn't somewhere people would drive past, not to mention that it was sort of secluded away from foot traffic.

although with that said, there were a handful of shops and a convenience store on the corner lot. this view feels familiar yet foreign, despite it still being part of the neighbourhood you knew. while the scent of flowers invaded your senses, you slowed your speed to a halt and got down, pushing your bicycle with you while admiring the scenery this street offered.

a noodle restaurant came into sight, and a laundromat sat right across it. further in, a tailor shop greeted you with a record shop beside, making you wonder if you really did travel back in time a little from all the shops. everything was so vintage until you reached the part where the cafe was supposedly located. but before that, the florist shop, blooming potion as it read, that was two lots apart caught your eye, which you still didn't know why. (flowers were always associated with spring, hence the same hatred for it)

as you approached, the sign on the glass door read 'open' but no one seemed to be in sight. maybe the owner was in the storage room, hence the unattended empty counter. the door wasn't locked either, perhaps nothing would happen if you invited yourself in, right? (you were just dumb, it's a shop, of course you can enter if it says it's open)

you looked around, finding yourself enjoying the scent of flowers, different from how it was earlier. something felt off but you couldn't put your finger on it, it just did. as your eyes laid upon a bouquet of baby's breath, a door swung open, however it wasn't the door that led to the back room, rather the one you entered from. strange, isn't it.

"I'm so sorry, miss! I didn't expect a customer so I left for some coffee real quick."

you should've known from the way you stepped into this florist shop, from the sudden fondness towards flowers. nothing could've prepared you for this sudden encounter with her. but at that moment, you didn't know.

a young girl, a little too young to be the owner, places her cup of coffee on the counter before rushing to put on her apron. she was slightly taller than you were, and probably the most beautiful girl you've ever met.

"oh, no worries. I was just taking a look around."

"is it your first time here? I've never seen you before."

she settled down a little, before flashing you that endearing smile of hers. you knew you were a goner when you noticed how your heart swelled at the way her eyes curled up into crescents. but still, you didn't know then, you couldn't have when it didn't come to mind that it was love.

"yeah, I was headed to the cafe down the road but something made me stop by."

the way her eyes sparkle every time you spoke, the glint of curiousness and attention within those orbs. it suddenly felt a little hot for you as the tip of your ears burned up a little (and it didn't go unnoticed by the girl).

"really? then it must have been fate for you to come in! feel free to choose any flower from the store, think of it as a first time gift."

you were an introvert, hence the awkwardness around people you first met. but she made you feel comfortable within this new space. so comfortable, you don't realize you were warming up to this stranger more quickly than you do with other people. (you took a total of 3 months before actually warming up to chaewon)

"oh no no, I can't possibly just get it for free."

"I insist, I left you unattended when it was my job not to, so let me make it up to you. besides, it's just a few flowers."

the attention of hers on you made your palms sweat, not that you didn't like it. you loved it, and again you just don't realize. as well as the fact that the girl don't just look at someone with such endearment.

"well, I guess I can't deny your offer if you insist, thank you."

it was already unusual that this girl seemed too young to be the owner, let alone offering a bouquet of flowers for free. you didn't question further and just accepted her kind act. not gonna lie, your heart might have skipped a beat from the thought that this was the first flower gift you received, regardless of it from a stranger. (later on, you found out that the girl didn't offer flowers to just anyone)

before the girl came bursting through the front door, you were admiring a particular bouquet of baby's breath. you remembered and decided to go with it, figuring it would be a perfect gift for the opening of the cafe. or it could be staged as chaewon's lovely thought for her girlfriend, you just knew she would do that.

"baby's breath? you must have a special someone you love a lot."

you choked a little when you heard that. usually if it came from someone like chaewon, you'd just glare at her and punch her (not literally, your punches are of a baby kitten). but when it came from her, you didn't want her to think you have a lover.

"me? not really. I've been single my entire life, it was flattering to hear that you were offering a free bouquet."

sometimes, you wanted to smack yourself when you try to impress someone with your humor but clearly, not everyone found your jokes funny. but to the girl, you were the funniest person she has ever met. (you didn't notice at that time, the girl had a small smile of victory when she heard that you were single)

"oh, that's unexpected."

"why's that?"

"I mean, you're pretty and funny, I thought you were taken."

chaewon knew you were annoying and dumb, but she didn't know that you were this dumb to not realize that the florist girl was very clearly hitting on you. the older is so glad that this little angel found you cute for being so clueless. (fun fact, minju was this clueless of chaewon's feelings that the older had to kiss her for her to realize. perhaps that was why you clicked so well with minju)

"you know, that's what I should be saying to you."

for the first time, it was the girl's turn to feel slightly flustered, but she maintained her composure. because you looked younger than you were, she thought you were her age or a year younger. which was why, she was slightly bolder than she usually is when someone interests her. (she enjoyed watching you get flustered a little, thinking you were a cute baby then)

"thank you for the flowers, really. I hope to see you around."

you didn't know where that ounce of confidence came from but you did say that, and that had the girl stifle a giggle at your attempt. you thought you were smooth, but when you heard about this interaction on another day, it happened while you were avoiding eye contact and stumbling a little over your words. as you finally got to know, you couldn't help but just cover your face with your palms as you drown in embarrassment.

"lemon candies? you really don't have to."

"I just happened to have some with me, think of it as me trying to make your day better with some gifts too."

feeling a bit overwhelmed by the flowers, you rummaged through your pockets, pulling out a few lemon candies for the girl. well, that was part of your reasoning, the part that you were mostly interested in her played a very big role. it wasn't something extravagant but they were your favourite candies, offering them to someone means they are someone important to you.

the girl brought her palm over the candies before picking it up, placing them in her apron. you swore, that smile of hers that she gives you is so contagious, you find yourself smiling along like an idiot.

"it was a pleasure meeting you too."

"if it's okay, can I get your name?"

"hanni, and I too, look forward to seeing you around."

placing the bouquet carefully into the front basket of your bicycle, you bid farewell to the girl. while you pedaled to the cafe, you couldn't figure if your heart was thumping from it, or the thought of hanni's smile.

hanni, even her name sounds lovely. if lovely and adorable was personified, it would be her. maybe this spring season was finally getting on your good side, because it was making you feel something. what was that feeling again?

that feeling when someone is in love? yeah, that feeling.

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