#like i sat on the floor about for like an hour it was so serious for me

[dreadfuldevotee]

Today, I let myself be a bit nerdy and fan-ish and listened to the ep of David Tennant's podcast that he did with Jodie Whittaker just as like, a bit of background noise and cuz I thought they'd be a fun duo (they are).

I was not! expecting to get about 10 minutes in before I had to sit on the floor and Cry a bit because Jodie casually shattered my heart into a million pieces. Not because what she said was sad itself, but it made me realize what I've been doing and the root behind something that's been sitting on my soul for the past couple of years.

I'll give you the cliff notes, cuz leading up to the sentence is like 3 different anecdotes (which is a Mood). but basically, in specific regard to persuing acting but applicable to really anything, not having some backup plan. That you are a cat with 9 lives and you should put everything into that "first life" and go after it while youre energetic and willing. If it fails- well then you tried and you've experienced something but its not the end of the world and can go off and try again with the next "life".

It was just so astounding to me! Its such a simple concept and one I've heard put in similar ways to me when I was applying for acting programs as a highschooler, but the difference is the belief and the kind of cavalier nature of it. Actors will always say "if you can imagine doing anything else go do that". Even when they're telling you it's all or nothing, they're actively trying to psych you out, or act like your world will end. And as the shakey ass, mentally ill teenager I was faltered and got so afraid. But never because I was scared of never working or it not panning out, but just so ashamed of myself- that the Thing that's Missing In Me was the cause of doubt in everyones tone. Was why all the support in my life had that deep under current of "run for the hills, get out while you can".

And so I did. I flaked out on all my acting auditions, broke down in tears infront of my voice teacher and ghosted her, never saw my acting coach again and I switched gears completely to go into costuming. Which, I should say, I do love. Its a genuine passion and anyone whos talked to me- and especially anyone who's seen me in my day to day know that I am a certified Clotheswhore™️. But also I'd go into tech on shows and get so envious, it'd bring me to tears. I'd sob through any show and just listening to cast recordings would put me in such a deep depression. I would day dream about being on the otherside of my fittings, about being the kind of actor that my friends and I thought were the "Good Ones". As much as I loved what I was doing, I was always dreaming of something else.

I think the fact that I loved it so much helped me forget that it wasn't really what I wanted, though. I said to a friend like a week ago! that I had stopped listening to show tunes because it depressed me. Which is just? so sad? I have boxes of playbills that I've collected and gotten signed and going to the theater was something I adored. I made so many friends because I was Such An Annoying Theater Kid on both here and twitter and I think that kid would be so mortified that this thing that I still love brings me such pain right now.

This is kind of a shitty revelation to be having right now tho, because I actually still have a semester left of my degree and school is already hard enough before I'd come to realization that I'm only here in this program because I severely hate myself and was too afraid to do what I actually wanted. It was so heartbreaking to me, because I had this immediate wash of "What have I done? Have I made a horrible mistake? is it all too late, did I squander my time?" Theres something to be said about classical education or just any acting education. Most everything I know is my own personal snobbery and Autistic Affliction, but I dont know what thats worth in reality.

A Lot of this can be summed up in "20 smth feels like life is over if you dont have it figured out by graduation" and ik that's silly and untrue at heart. But I felt it then at 15 the way I do now at 21- That theater is a true love of my life and that I've been in a kind of agony being away from it that I wasnt prepared for.

I dooon't know what that means or what that says about me or even what the fuck to do with this information now that its been beat across my head. The self hate is still there. I still feel a burning shame whenever I become aware of how honest I'm being about myself where other people can see. But I think I'll die unhappy if I never tried. I don't want it to be a casual thing because its never been a casual love for me. I could be so happy sewing in my freetime or only doing it as something to keep bills paid but I would want acting to consume my life. I want to take it seriously and squander all other prospects to keep fueling it.

[shaguro]

⤿ synposis: you can't ever leave the house without giving toji a kiss good-bye.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ tags: fluff fluff fluff. (toji x fem!reader, established relationship, pet names used ( girl, baby, doll) toji's just in love idk. i wrote the majority of this at like 1 am nd barely proofread!!) wc ⇀ around 0.7k!

"girl", toji drawls, cerulean orbs trained on your figure by the front door. he’s manspread on your living room sofa, sitcom on the tv screen long forgotten as he turns his body around, all his attention on you and only you. “aren’t you forgettin’ somethin’?”

“hmm? what are you talking about, baby?” you keep your head low while you fumble with your stilettos, a hand on the wall for balance as you finally slip it onto your stocking-clad foot, the last step before you head out for your shift, the sun just peeking over the horizon.

of course, you know exactly what toji’s talking about. it doesn’t matter where you’re going or whether you’ll be back in ten minutes or a few hours, whether he’s in deep sleep or in the middle of an intense workout session — toji expects a kiss good-bye before you leave the apartment you share. he’s real strict about it too, he doesn’t accept any excuses, no if’s, an’s or buts.

does knowing all this stop you from testing the dark-haired man? absolutely not.

“i packed my work-bag last night and i have the car keys right here, looks like i’ve got-“

“now you know that’s not what i’m talkin’ about,” toji deadpans, completely unamused. barely keeping up the act, you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling. “don’t play dumb with me, baby.”

you do just that — tilt your head all cute and innocent as you furrow your brows, crossing your arms against your blouse. “i’m being serious though! i dont know what you’re talking about, i swear.”

“girl, please.” toji scoffs, scarred lip almost turned in a scowl. he’s always so sassy when you start to annoy him. “ya really stress me out, y’know that?” in a quick motion, he stands up, stretching out his long arms before he turns to face you. “you don’t know, huh? c’mere and let me remind you, then.”

toji’s tilts his head down. with low eyes and a coy smirk on his handsome face, he beckons you close with a single finger.

you can’t hide your smile now, it spreads ear to ear as you bounce over to him, the click clacking of your heels resounding on the hardwood floor until you reach the plush carpet where toji stood. he wastes no time, cupping his hands on the globes of your ass and tugs your body flush against his. toji’s so warm — he’s shirtless and all his sculpted muscles are on display, flexing when your cold hands glide across his pecs to snake around his neck.

toji leans down and his plump pink lips meet your glossed ones, the strawberry-flavored gloss sat sweet on his tastebuds but he prefers your taste instead, sliding his tongue through your slightly-parted lips with hopes to satisfy his glutinous craving and he’s not disappointed when your tongues mingle. “mm.” never tired of that saccharine taste, toji grunts into your mouth, taking his time kissing you — oddly soft and gentle.

toji pulls away and your lips part, only separated by a string of sticky saliva before he goes back in, giving you one, two, three quick pecks before he’s had his fill.

soft pants fill the air as toji holds you close, foreheads touching. “that jog your memory?”

toji rolls his eyes when you hum happy ‘mmhm!’ in response, hands rubbing on his broad shoulders, your fingertips ghosting the sharp line of his jaw. “you’re a pain in my ass…” he huffs, and you burst into a fit of giggles at his annoyed expression, unable to contain it anymore. it’s just so adorable — an infectious melody that toji prays he’ll continue to hear, for many years to come.

“lucky y’er so fuckin’ pretty . . next time i won’t go so easy on ya.” as if to seal the promise, he lands a heavy smack! on your ass. “toji!” you squeal out, the force of it propels you forward, temple thumping on his toned chest.

it was his turn to chuckle now, soothing the blow with a gentle rub of his palm prior to kissing the crown of your head. “now that i got my kisses . . s’time for you to head out, doll. don’t wanna be late again, hm?”

i'm finally back after disappearing for like a thousand years yayyy (don't beat me up yall pls)

[faeriekit]

#i'm very pro danny accidentally adopts a whole bunch of talons previous installments

*

The next day, the body was back.

The green was gone from its eyes, but the awareness wasn't; it spent about an hour watching people go around outside Danny's apartment, which was new behavior. None of the corpses that shadowed him had shown any interest in garden-variety humans before. Now it sat at the window and watched families come home from school or head to their afternoon shifts.

That went into Danny's notes.

After that hour, it taught itself to flush the toilet repeatedly, rearranged the contents of Danny's half-assed linen closet (again) and then stood hovering over the safe where Danny had stashed the ectoplasm.

"...Okay," said Danny.

The dead body croaked. It was a new sound, but there was no context for it. Danny just kind of...wrote it down and hoped for the best.

The day after, Danny woke up at a very reasonable ten forty eight in the morning to find stray corpses feeding each other spoonfuls of ectoplasm in the kitchen.

At that point he kind of had to throw out the notes on how much each one was dosed with, because what the fuck.

"Really?!" Danny shouted, spooking the bodies into fleeing behind chairs and doors and back into his closet again. The only one that didn't flee was Danny's ringmaster corpse of the hour, of course. "You really couldn't wait??"

It stuck out a withered black tongue out at the mortician, who was, really, the victim in all of this. A victim to his parents' whims and a victim to the dead people who followed him around all the time.

This was how Danny found out that, when it doubt, the corpses could just tear through solid steel if they were motivated enough. The finger-marks were so deep and so embedded that they actually looked more like rough claws in the metal.

Great.

Danny ordered a new locking cage for the fridge on Prime and darted off to work. One of his regulars was on the table, though, so Danny just ended up doing what he would have at home— sewing up a gash in its neck and reattaching dead fingers back onto dead stumps.

On the third day, in which four of Danny's frequent fliers had learned from the first how to flush the toilet (and therefore raise the water bill immensely) Danny got a ring from a dark voice he (almost) recognized.

"Is he here?"

Danny squinted, jerking the phone further under his ear as he whipped up some scrambled eggs. The dead girl leaning over his shoulder leaned a little closer to watch the egg froth up. "Is who here? Who is this?"

"This is Batman. Is— the body requisitioned from your facility currently at your place of residence?"

Danny fully let go of the whisk. It landed haphazardly in the glass bowl he'd been stirring in. "What on Earth is a Batman?" he asked, incredulous.

"I visited your workplace previously."

Oh! "Yeah, the cop's friend. I remember now." Danny pulled the whisk out of the liquid eggs and held it out to the body. The unusually animate cadaver mostly prodded the whisk wires and paid no attention to him. "No one's here but me, though. Not that it's your business...?"

"And there are no non-living bodies currently in your apartment?"

Danny ignored the flushing noise in the other room. "I don't know, dude. They practically live in the walls at this point. Don't come over unless you have a warrant."

The call ended with a click.

His omelette turned out amazing, by the way. In case you were wondering.

On the fourth day, the ectoplasm was gone, because the corpses had apparently all taught each other how to lockpick the container in the fridge.

"Okay, some of that was meant to be my dinner. No more lotion at the funeral home now, okay? Now you all can be ashy forever. I'm so serious," Danny complained to the only visible dead person in the room.

The dead person held up a cracked egg. It was probably a gesture of peace, but now there was egg on his vinyl flooring to deal with. And. It wasn't exactly all that comforting in the end.

On the fifth day, Danny awoke to the sensation of a hand jamming itself through his neck until it punched into the mattress beneath him.

Fuck.

[calumfmu]

tell me its a bit

"Steve, can I ask you something? What are we doing?"

He pulled away fully to look at you, brows knitted together in confusion as his eyes went back and forth between your eyes and mouth. "Uhh.. sex?"

He loved the cat and mouse game you had once started, not choosing to end it despite him being yours and you being his, despite titles given.

or; the extended version of Baby, No Attachment: Steve continues to reveal his true self to you.

cw: 18+, mdni, soft!Stevie, smut, teasing, spanking (brief), fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, wrap it up kids, cream pie, hair pulling, slight choking kink if you squint, yada yada yaddaaaa (2.8k+ words)

The Steve you had become so accustomed to had been different in the last few weeks since that car ride. Treating you with grace and kindness, he tended to your needs no matter what they were. It had taken some time getting used to, always feeling like he was lying about something despite giving you no reason to believe so. His act had shaped up, him treating you like the princess he had once called you, not hesitating to leap whenever you said jump.

He loved the cat and mouse game you had once started, not choosing to end it despite him being yours and you being his, despite titles given. Still sneaking into your bedroom window at all hours of the day, throwing rocks at the glass, throwing himself at you in the back of his BMW whenever he had the chance, no matter the welcoming arms your mom held for him (she was still his favorite). It made you feel like a young preteen again, the excitement of this romance pulling at your heartstrings in every possible good way there was.

The window was open, blowing in cold air as late winter made its final claim in Hawkins. Bedroom curtains were bunched up at the windowsill, caught up from where he had fallen through, shoes kicked off at the bottom. His jacket was thrown somewhere on the floor, half draped over the radio that softly played George Michael in the background. He had insisted on turning it on, whispering ‘We’re gonna get caught’ despite you urging ‘My mom loves you, shut up’. It didn’t stop him, silent moans filling the air as he touched you, your bodies so familiar with one another.

You were pressed into the mattress, both mouths slotted together as one of his hands snaked at your chest, slowly unbuttoning your top as he half-laid on you. His bulge ground into your thigh, small gasps escaping his mouth as you tugged at his hair.

Pulling away slightly, you mumbled into his mouth, “Steve, can—can I ask you something?”

He barely nodded, moving his weight over you to push you further into the bed. The hand at your chest moved to caress your hip, fingers splayed wide across the skin.

“What are we doing?”

He pulled away fully to look at you, brows knitted together in confusion as his eyes went back and forth between your eyes and mouth.

“Uhh… sex?” He laughed, leaning into you to return to his previous position. You stopped him with a touch to his chest. He looked even more confused than he did previously, shaking his head at you.

“No, Steve,” you sighed, slightly rolling your eyes at his comment. One thing you learned about him was that the boy loved playing dumb, especially when it came to actually discussing important things. “Like what are we?”

Realization crossed his face as his eyebrows shot up, an ‘O’ formed between his lips. The look went away as quickly as it appeared, a smirk given to you.

“You’re my girl, right?” He returned his mouth to yours, moving his hand lower to run across your inner thigh. Frustrated, you pushed him completely off of you, noticing the way he just looked so shocked at your fast movement.

He remained silent as you sat up, turning your body to look at him as he was laid on the bed, stuck in the position that he fell in. His hair tussled over his face, eyebrows raised and hands slightly up as he seemed to be awaiting your next move.

“Are you serious?” Your voice was raised, anger between your eyes as you looked down at him. He seemed small in the moment, a red blush crossing his cheeks.

“Do you not want to be?”

“No, Ste—” you cut yourself off with a sigh as you pinched your nose bridge, pulling your knees to your chest. You searched for the patience to deal with him, not understanding why he didn’t get it. “Steve. That’s not what I mean.”

“Well… what do you mean? I thought we were, like, together,” he asked, voice small compared to yours as he slowly sat up. He raised to lean on one hand, the other being placed on your knee, rubbing the skin.

You shot your eyes open to look at him, a loud cackle thrown at him that caused his face to fall. You felt bad to laugh at him, realizing that this ‘King Steve’ who had fallen from grace had so much to learn about girls, despite revolving his life around them.

“Together?” He pulled away from you, moving to sit at the end of the bed with his back turned to you. You saw him lean over on his knees, heard him clear his throat in discomfort. “Babe…”

He ignored the nickname as you moved to perch behind him, pulling him so his back was pressed to your chest, your head resting at his shoulder. Wrapping your arms around him, you felt him relax into the embrace, head tilting onto yours. With your legs on opposite sides of his hips, you leaned into him, the size difference between the two of you causing you to melt.

“Babe… we’re not together because… you never asked me,” you whispered, pressing kisses to his cheek in the pauses of your words. His head turned to look at you, shock the only emotion you could decipher.

“I never asked you?”

“No, dummy,” you giggled, pressing kisses to his cheek and jawline interchangeably. He fucking giggled at the touches of your lips on his skin, tilted his head to try to ‘avoid’ them, yet he made no other effort to move—you knew he loved it.

“Well, do you want to be my girl th—my girlfriend then?” He asked you, looking at you through long lashes, blinking slow as he became shy. You pressed your lips together, shaking your head, laughing as his mouth dropped open at you.

“No?” His voice raised a pitch, suddenly moving so you fell into his arms with a loud laugh. Steve pressed kisses to your nose this time, nuzzling his face into yours as he held you.

“That’s not going to cut it, Harrington.” His last name fell from your lips in a faux-mock, you haven’t muttered his last name since the two of you made amends, if you wanted to call it that—really it actually was just the two of you fucking for the first time in the back of his car. It felt foreign to you, cheesy nicknames shared behind closed doors and whiny drawls of each other's names replacing it.

He paused for a moment, face inches away from your own as he studied you. Drawing your eyes over his features, you took note of the moles dotting his face, constellations drawn in the beauty marks that you loved to trace your fingers over. Steve Harrington was a beauty, a wonder that you felt so grateful to have between your fingertips. Words couldn’t describe the feelings you had bubbling in your chest for him, he was everything and more you had thought him to be.

His breath hit your face with a flutter of your eyes closed, enjoying the bliss of being in his arms.

“You’re going to make me work for it, princess?” The nickname he used to call you had you shivering, arousal pooling between your thighs. His voice dropped an octave, a chill through your spine at the lowness.

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as he leaned into you, pressing a kiss to your mouth.

“I can do that,” he whispered back, deepening the kiss as he maneuvered the two of you to the previous position you held, you on your back, legs sprawled with him in between. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at it as he ground down into you.

“What else are you going to make me work for?”

One of his hands trailed down the length of your abdomen, fingertips dancing over your stomach before settling at your groin. Your legs widened without a second thought, hips arching onto the touch. He began to work a small circle over your clothed clit, the material dampening as your wetness deepened.

“Ah—” your voice cut off as you tried to respond to him, his fingers working magic as you began to fall apart.

“Not so much to say now, yeah?” He laughed at you, mouthing at your neck as a breathy sigh escaped you. As much as you hated to admit it, you loved this side of him, the cockiness that once was returning to your lover boy, dominating the situation as he made you melt.

“Shut it, Harrington.”

The only words you were able to mutter before he took over, filling up your senses with his body against yours. He was overwhelming, crowding your brain with thoughts of him, thoughts of his touch, his everything. His fingers began to creep lower, pushing your panties to the side as he ran a finger over your slit.

He leaned up to nip at your ear, teeth digging at the lobe of skin, your neck craning to the side as you exhaled in pleasure.

"Not quite sure I like that name anymore," he whispered against your skin, tongue darting out to lick at the skin beneath your ear. He exhaled against you, the coolness of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

"You-"

You couldn't speak as he began to tease you, finger inching into you slightly, just for him to remove it, reaching up to toy with your clit ever-so-slightly.

"I?" He dragged out the letter, leaning back to smirk down at you as he questioned what you were going to say. Irritation crossed your features as you took him in between hooded eyes, lids fluttering shut as he took his teasing to a new level.

His hand left your underwear, grasping your hand between his as he grinded against you. His clothed crotch rubbed between your legs, an exasperated sigh leaving you.

"Steve."

Your tone was firm this time, chastising him as he pushed your leg up with his own. Your free hand reached down to grab at the top of his jeans, fingertips dancing over the button there.

"Yes, princess?" His breath grew a little more shallow, his head dipping to watch your fingers slowly unbutton his jeans, the zip sliding down audibly in the room. His bulge poked out of his jeans, boxers tenting towards you.

"Cut the act."

With a nod, it was over—his mouth was pressed into yours, and his hands were pushing down his jeans, boxers following suit. His cock sprang free of its restraint, beat red and dripping with arousal. In the heat of the moment, you were flipped over, ass sticking straight into the air with your underwear pulled down mid thigh.

It was just enough freedom of the two of your sexes to make ends meet, the head of his cock nudging between your legs, pressing at your entrance. He had his fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back as he entered you in a swift motion, pressing to the hilt.

The two of you groaned in unison, hips flush to one another with Steve taking a break to breath, his head pushed towards the ceiling.

"Fuck, you're so—"

He cut himself off, a hard smack filling the air as his hand made contact with the plump skin of your ass. You pushed your hips back at the assault to your ass, groaning as he pressed even deeper.

"You're going to fucking kill me, princess."

He began to thrust into you, hips rutting into your own. It was quick, thrusts relentless and brutal as he fucked into you. Your hands tried gripping at the sheets around you, failing as the movements had you faltering, body rocking in unison with his own.

His name left your mouth in high pitched whines, eyes fluttering shut with the pleasure that overcame your senses.

"Ste-Steve, fuc-"

You could barely get a word out as he continued rutting into you, his hand gripping your hair tightly, the other running over the skin of your back, reaching down to rub at your lower back, rearing back to smack down into your cheek. The loud sounds of your sex and the smacking of his hand filled the room, becoming louder with each thrust.

You tried shushing him, worried that the sounds would be able to be heard from downstairs. The last thing you needed was your mom coming up the stairs, opening the door to find her sweet daughter in this compromising position.

He leaned over you, pressing your hips into the mattress as he continued fucking into you, grinding his hips in small motions. The atmosphere of the room changed, love filling the air as his hand left your hair, reaching around and down under to grip at your neck. Your neck craned back as he pulled you into him, back to chest.

Steve's breath was hot in your ear, small grunts leaving him.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked, tone of his voice gruff with arousal.

You attempted to nod, eyes squeezing shut and sweat prickling at your hairline from the heat of the moment. He reached down underneath you to rub at your clit, the bundle of nerves growing more sensitive as the two of you were brought closer to completion.

"Making me work for it—you're such a tease, princess."

The nickname had you whimpering, memories of your prior relationship flooding back. That first night spent together filling your mind, overcoming the small amount of senses that you had left.

A high pitched uhh left you, breath caught in your throat as his grip tightened, hips grinding down into you even further. He couldn't get any deeper, reaching that spot inside of you that was only reserved for him.

"'S not enough, Harrington."

You were insistent on teasing him, eyebrows knitted together, eyes squeezed shut. He quickened his pace, pulling out almost completely just to thrust back into you.

His fingers at your clit sped up, he sensed how close you were solely on how your body tensed up.

"Come on, princess. I know y—"

His hand covered your mouth as you came, drowning out the loud whine that escaped you. He knew your body so well, knew exactly when to stop torturing your clit, when to slow his thrusts so you wouldn't become overwhelmed. Steve's own pleasurable end reached him, a low groan suppressed by pressing his face between your shoulder blades as he came deep inside you.

"Ah, fuck, princess, I lov-"

He cut himself off, another moan escaping him as he bottomed out before pulling out, collapsing on the bed next to you. You took a few moments in silence, catching your breath before turning to face him, blinking slow as you took him in.

Fingers reaching to you, he pulled you closer to him, pulling up the blanket that was pushed to your feet in the same motion. It was so domestic, this moment, your favorite side of Steve making an appearance that was slowly becoming the main event of your relationship.

He lay beside you, leaning on one elbow and hip, his fingers running over the expanse of your skin. You were starstruck in his beauty, the way his hair fell over his eyes, the slight glimmer of sweat sticking to his skin, moles dotting his body even in places the sun couldn't reach. And he was all yours, even if he was being stubborn, being Steve about it.

"You know I loved you the entire time?" He suddenly said, low in tone as he stared you down. Eyes leaving his body, you looked into his deep brown, shock evident on your face.

"I-you what?"

It was the first time these words left his mouth. You knew how you felt, but it was shocking to hear it from him.

"Since the day I saw you, I loved you. Love you," he confirmed, finger running up his body to run against your breastbone. He hovered over your heart, mimicking the shape of one over the skin.

"So... you were being an asshole just for fun?" You teased, turning on your side to lean into his space. Being in his proximity brought you a comfort that should have scared you, but definitely didn't.

He smirked at you, wiggling his eyebrows as he recalled the memories of your early relationship.

"How else was I supposed to make you fall for me?"

Your mouth dropped open in faux shock, your hand reaching up to slap at his chest. A guffaw left him as he grimaced at the red mark forming.

Rubbing at the spot, he whined your name. "Well it worked, didn't it?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, pretending to turn up your face at him. Turning on your side away from him, you closed your eyes, ushering sleep.

"You're such an asshole, Harrington."

You felt his arm snake around you, pulling you into his chest, both of your naked bodies pressed against each other. Instantly, you melted in his arms, your own hand coming up to grip at him.

"I love you too, princess."

Ah jeez, here it is. I love this pairing so much, I never want to part ways with them. part three.

Masterlist. <3

[hazbinwhoree]

ADAM WITH A HEAVY BREEDING KINK WHEN???

Come Inside

Part 1/2 Part 2

A/N: This shit is absolutely sinful.

Adam’s breeding kink, much like his virginity kink, was rooted in his abandonment issues.

Normally, (Name) would feel a need to address that (therapy friend), but she couldn’t really care when he was inside of her, fucking her like he hated her.

Adam’s sex drive never failed to impress her. They’d already had sex that morning, and they were just watching a movie when suddenly he was on her again.

“Adam,” she giggled as he sucked on her neck. “We literally had sex two hours ago.”

“Not my fault you’re so fuckin’ sexy, babe,” Adam said against her neck. He continued marking her, one hand slipping under her shirt and fondling her breast, and one hand travelling down to rub between her legs over her sweatpants.

(Name) moaned. Adam removed his face from her neck and connected their lips in a passionate kiss. (Name) slipped her fingers under the base of Adam’s mask and pulled back. She looked at him, the question in her eyes. Can I? Adam nodded after a moment.

(Name) pulled his mask up and over his head, discarding it on the floor. (Name) smiled, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling his head forward to kiss him again. Adam kissed back with vigor, forcing his tongue into her mouth.

The hand fondling her breast pinched her nipple, and the hand that was rubbing between her legs suddenly slipped under her sweatpants and panties.

(Name) gasped, throwing her head back. Adam licked down the column of her neck. He slid two slender fingers into her, and (Name)’s breathing became heavier. He scissored his fingers experimentally before adding a third.

(Name) sighed, her head falling forward and resting her forehead against Adam’s.

Adam didn’t spend long loosening her up before shedding his own pants and boxers. (Name) began to tug her sweatpants down until Adam got impatient and yanked both her sweatpants and panties down to her ankles. (Name) kicked them off.

Adam sat down on the couch, manspreading and showing off his dick. “Come here, baby,” he patted his lap. (Name) crawled over and into his lap, his erection pressing against her pussy. She briefly realized they both still had their shirts on.

Adam seemed to realize it too. “We’re fucking like Winnie the Pooh.”

(Name) giggled, but it quickly became a quiet moan when Adam squeezed her tits, swiping his thumbs over her nipples. She ground down against his dick and they both moaned. She raised herself on her knees to allow Adam to line himself up with her opening.

Once he did, she sank down, letting out a gasp as he stretched her once again. “Ride it,” Adam demands, grabbing her ass. (Name) did, for about a minute, before her pace slowed down as her legs got tired. Adam got impatient, squeezing her ass and thrusting up into her, fast and hard.

It caught (Name) off guard, who cried out. She held onto his shoulders like her life depended on it, as Adam fucked her like he was mad at her.

So was his pace usually.

Tears brimmed at the corners of (Name)’s eyes. “Fuck,” she hissed. Adam stared at her intently. “Yeah? Does this feel good, babygirl?” (Name) whined. She loved when Adam talked during sex, he was always so dirty.

“Is my cock filling your pussy just right? God you’re so hot, you make me want to put a baby in you.” (Name) gasped, nearly reaching her peak. “Gonna cum so deep inside you.”

(Name) came, clenching around Adam’s dick. His thrusts slowed as she squeezed him, the tightness pushing him over the edge. He snapped his hips upwards, burying himself to the hilt, and came inside of her.

(Name)’s stomach grew warm. She panted, moving to get off of Adam, but he grabbed her hips and pushed her back down on his dick. (Name) let out a strangled moan, overstimulated. Adam held her in his lap, keeping her plugged with his cock.

“Can’t waste any of my cum,” he told her, smirking. “I was serious. I’m gonna put a fucking baby in you.”

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part three)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes, fighting (verbal).

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: idk yall, this kinda ate ngl. I’m so proud of this and I really hope you all enjoy it as much as I did! <3 also I’m sorry to all the Pedro girlies…I had to. 

part three: uninvited

The past few days seemed to drag on slower than you wished they had. The rest of your time in London was spent doing various interviews centered around your upcoming album release and Ashley dragged you around to every possible tourist attraction around. It was all rather mundane- every interview was the same and every attraction too crowded for your liking. You were being a grump but you were tired and anxious. All the hype around your sophomore album delighted you, truly it did, but the doubts always took up more space in your mind than you cared to admit. With this album, you took a lot of inspiration from the pop girlies of the early 2000s, Britney being the biggest influence. You allowed yourself to explore your sexuality and true self. The songs were erotic in the best way and in just a few weeks, everyone would have access to that side of you. The image you’d been portraying wasn’t that of a ‘soft good girl’ per say but you hadn’t been this open and honest before. It was terrifying. 

You landed at LAX around two in the morning, giving you a few hours of sleep before your 11am meeting. This was one of those times you didn’t mind using the perks of your fame. You had a car waiting to pick Ashley and yourself  up to take you straight home, allowing both of you to get some sleep as the driver fought through the airport traffic. The moment you reached your small house, you threw your luggage across the living room and dropped face down into the couch, falling back into a deep sleep with Ashley right next to you. When your alarms go off at nine am, you’re banging your head into the couch cushions, the seven hours of sleep feeling like a blink. You roll slightly allowing yourself to fall the short distance from the couch onto the floor. “Ow…” You mumble, rubbing the back of your head. Dragging yourself up, you sluggishly made your way to the bathroom to take a quick shower. It was something you should have done last night. Just thinking about all the germs sitting on your body right now made a quick chill of disgust roll down your spine. You heavily disliked sleeping in your ‘outside clothes’ but the tiredness beat the cleanliness last night. 

Sweat pants and a hoodie weren’t exactly meeting appropriate but it wasn’t anything serious, just a little gathering to figure out some last minute details for the album listening party being thrown for your friends and family. You didn’t want it to be a huge deal but your label saw it as a marketing opportunity. If it were up to you, it would be a simple get together at your house but they insisted on it being at some club that would have paparazzi waiting to take pictures. You aren’t even sure why you're needed at the meeting because your input wasn’t even being considered, you just sat and gave the ‘stamp of approval’. Ashley was still knocked out when you walked to your kitchen to grab a small breakfast- a protein yogurt and some apple slices. You’d much prefer french toast but your trainer has been onto you about your diet with a tour coming up. You needed to be in good shape to dance and sing at the same time, it was ridiculous how hard it was. 

“Hey Ash, imma head out, i’ll be back soon.” You shake her shoulder lighty. She opens her eyes to some degree and mutters, what sounded like, an ‘okay’. You sighed as you started the engine to your 2000 green Toyota Corolla. It had been making a funny noise before your trip overseas that you had forgotten all about it. A lot of your newer, richer, friends have made fun of your car but you couldn’t find reason to part with it. It still ran and got you where you needed to be. You loved your fugly little car. The car ride was surprisingly short, traffic light. Pulling into the office parking lot, you sent a quick text to Stacy. 

You: please tell me you’re here already 😭

Stacypoo <33: I am. 4th floor, take a right. I’ll wait in the hall for you. 

You sent a thumbs up and made your way to the front doors. The elevator ride was quick, luckily you were the only one in there, saving you from making any awkward small talk with some random person. You were too tired to keep up your friendly demeanor. Stacy was standing outside of an office door when you first saw her. Giving quick hellos, she motioned you into the room. 

“How long do you think they’ll have us sitting here this time?” You ask jokingly. You’ve made yourself as comfortable as possible in the cheap plastic chair with a thin cushion on the seat. With your elbows propped up on the table, your head sat heavy with both hands holding up your cheeks. 

She lets out a snort before responding. “Who knows. I swear these people make us wait on purpose as some kind of power move.” 

Stacy had left London a day before you had. The moment your last interview was over, she was jumping on the first flight back home. She looked well rested and put together. You envied her ability to bounce back into routine so quickly. The two of you filled the small room with back and forth conversation about the day in London she had missed. Three people from your management/ label came tumbling in fifteen minutes later. As you suspected, you were doing a whole lot of nothing. 

“The team we hired are allowed to go into the club at noon to start decorating and the party will start at 10pm.” One of the people spoke, you think his name is Mark, but you aren’t completely sure. 

“Will y/n need to be there at a certain time or is 10 fine?” Stacy asks. 

“She can show up at ten but she won’t be in the main room until 10:30 so she can give a speech and introduce the album.” Stacy gives a nod and types that into her laptop. You didn’t like the idea of giving a speech. 

“Okay, let's go over the guest list one more time and then we can wrap this up.” Mark, you think, says. You’re paying closer attention now, they hand you a list and you skim it. There's a lot of names of people who you consider more of an acquaintance than a friend but you can’t really uninvite them. 

“Um, can I actually add two more people to this list?” You ask and Mark nods. Stacy is giving you a questioning look. 

“Can you add Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman? I um.. I met them the other day and they said they were fans. It would be cool to have them there.” You smile and from the corner of your eye, you can see Stacy pursing her lips, trying to hold back a laugh. One of the other people in the room, not Mark, adds their names to the guest list. Stacy and Mark talk for a few more minutes before the meeting is coming to a close. Once Stacy and yourself are enclosed in the elevator, she’s looking over at you with a lopsided grin, shaking her head slowly. 

“What?” You give her a small chuckle, feeling extra giddy. 

“You're unbelievable. Why even extend the invite to Mr. Reynolds when all you want is to see Huge Jackman.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at the play on Hugh’s name. 

“So not true. They like my music, why not invite them to hear the album before anyone else?” You deny her accusations. 

“Whatever you say y/n.” She drags out the ‘ever’ a little too long to emphasize just how much she doesn’t believe a word you say. The elevator is opening and the walk to the parking lot is silent. Stacy bids you goodbye and says that she would be in touch soon before she’s walking away. 

“Wait! Stacy!” You call out to her and she’s turning back to you.  “I need you to track down Hugh’s number, I want to personally invite him.” You smirk and she’s just shaking her head in a joking manner. 

“Byeee Stacypoooo!” 

—

When you got home, Ashley was awake and watching tv on your couch. You sat with her and talked about everything you had learned at the meeting. She was more excited for the event than you were, it was her type of scene. You knew you'd end up having fun once you were there but you were nervous. You might have left out the fact that you had invited Ryan and Hugh as last minute guests- it was something she could find out the day of if they showed up. She left not too long after, leaving you to pick up your home a little bit. You cleaned it pretty thoroughly before leaving the country but you felt a little overwhelmed by the unpacked luggage that sat in the middle of your living room floor. You packed too much clothing for the short trip, a lot of what was in the suitcase never even got worn. You decided to throw it all in the washer anyway. Dirtys clothes touching clean clothes makes them all dirty in your mind. In the middle of moving your laundry into the washing machine, your phone quacked signaling that Stacy had messaged you. She earned her own notification sound after the endless mixed texts and calls over the first few months of her working for you. It was a terrible habit you had, not answering your phone, but you usually paid attention to it when you were expecting contact. You pressed start on the machine and sauntered over to the kitchen counter your phone sat on. 

Stacypoo <33: the deed is done…have fun loser 

There was a second text that contained a number to which you assumed was Hugh’s. You smiled brightly as you texted Stacy a quick ‘thank you, love you’ text with a million heart emojis. You wasted no time, immediately creating contact for the man you were so eager to see again. 

You: hey hugh, it’s y/n! my label is throwing a listening party for my album that’s coming out soon and I thought it would be really cool if you were there. no pressure to come if you don’t want to but it’s on september 14th at Disco Lights at 10pm. 😊💕

You hit send, put your phone back on the counter, and ran across your house, needing to be as far away from the device as possible. Keeping yourself busy was probably your best option right now, so that’s what you did. You continued where you left off by putting your suitcases back into the storage closet in your hallway. Living alone made you realize how neat of a person you were. Back home it felt like you were constantly cleaning but you didn’t have to do as much in your own home. It was a simple three bedroom with one and a half bathrooms. Two of the three rooms weren’t used that frequently- one being a guest bed and the other being an at home studio/ office. The most you had to do was an occasional dust and sweep. You ran out of things to do too quickly. It had maybe been an hour since you sent the text and you were too nervous to even take a peek at your phone yet. You walked over to the counter comically slow and stared down at the phone screen, too afraid to look at the notifications. There were only three outcomes to this situation- one he doesn’t respond, two he can’t come, or three he agrees to come. You were hoping it was the latter option. The worst outcome was him ignoring you, you hated being ignored. It would also overall be the awkwardest outcome because his team will more than likely extend the invite to him as well. Maybe it would have been easier that way but you really wanted an excuse to get his number and talk to him. 

It felt like eternity had passed before you finally grabbed your phone, but in reality it was probably only a minute, you’ve never had the best self restraint. You unlocked it, opening the home screen, not even bothering to look at the pile of notifications, instead opting to go straight into the message app. 

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Hey y/n. I’d be delighted to come. 😁

You let out a loud screech after reading the message. If you were laying down, you’d be kicking your feet in the air and twirling your hair. You knew he was old but the way he texted did something to you. It was weird but the simplicity in his words was such a turn on. Everything about him turned you on, he was sex on legs, and he was coming to your party. You checked the time he sent the message to see that he responded only ten minutes after you had sent yours. You felt bad for leaving him hanging for so long. 

You: YAY!! I’ll see you there 😘

The added kiss was bold and flirty, you’d hope he would see it as such. You wanted to continue texting him but didn’t want to bother him, so you left it up for him to decide to text you back or not. Just as you were about to swipe out of the app, three little dots popped up at the bottom of the screen. 

Hugh Jackman 🥰: What should I wear? I haven’t been to a club in awhile. 

You: wear whatever you want. I'm sure you’d look good in anything ;)

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Thank you sweetheart. I genuinely do need help though. I’m too old to pick out club clothes. 😂

You: hmmm.. if it would help I could send you a picture of my outfit? maybe it will inspire you 

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Yeah we can try that. 

Ashley begged you to go shopping with her the moment you told her about the event and you both have had outfits picked out for a few weeks. When you got home that day, you put on the outfit, snapping a quick mirror picture to send to your hair and makeup artist so she could start brainstorming. You opted to send the same picture to Hugh. 

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Oh! That’s nice. 

You laughed at that. The picture of you wasn’t the best quality but you still looked hot. You were wearing a silver mini skirt that was lined with large sequins, ones that reminded you of a purse you had when you were younger. The top was a silver latex halter top that made your cleavage look devine. To top the look off, you wore a pair of shiny silver heels that could almost be classified as stilettos, but you wanted to be able to move around comfortably. You could have easily pulled the outfit out of your closet and snapped a picture of it but you wanted to tease him.

You: thank you! did that help at all? 😊

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Yeah, it did... Thank you sweetheart. 

You: no problem! 

He didn’t respond right away this time and being the menace you are, you were hoping it was because you made him flustered. 

—

The two and half weeks leading up to the listening party seemed to drag on now that you were more excited for it. Now that Hugh was coming, you were also extra nervous. While you got your hair and makeup done, all you could think about was how everyone was about to hear about your sex fantasies for almost an hour straight. You were counting on the beat of the music and the fact that this was everyone's first listening to distract them from processing the lyrics right away. You hadn’t heard much from Hugh and you were scared that you might have offended him with the picture you had sent. You decided to send a text two days ago asking if he was still planning on coming, to which he replied positively. 

Butterflies danced around your tummy as you posed for a few pictures before you went out to join the party. You could hear it in full swing, a playlist that you had curated playing in the background. Breathing in and out slowly, someone handed you a microphone and you were being ushered to a small stage that sat in the back of the club. The music got turned down and the lights centered towards you, a wave of quiet flooded the room. 

“Hi everyone! I’m beyond thankful for everyone here tonight. This album has been so much fun to make and I feel like it really represents me as an artist. It pays tribute to the amazing women of the late 90s and early 2000s who changed the pop game and who inspired me to make music. I really hope y’all like it! Without further ado, here is ‘Secret Sounds’!” The gathering of your friends, family, and acquaintances cheer as the first song starts to play. You rush over to the side to hand the mic back to the crew member and you begin to make your rounds. You stop here and there, speaking to people you hardly know, thanking them for being here. The club was packed, making it hard to move around without stopping to talk every step you took. There were only a few people you really wanted to see right now. A smile is glued to your face, soaking in all the love in the room, with it only being partially forced. You can see Ashley across the crowd and you start making your way towards her. You don’t make it far before there's a hand on your shoulder stopping you. 

“Hey baby.” A familiar voice comes from behind you causing your smile to drop as you turn around. 

“Pedro…what are you doing here?” You ask with a mix of shock and irritation in your voice. 

“You invited me, remember?” He’s smiling as if he hadn’t broken up with you in the cruelest way almost two months ago. 

“I thought you’d be smart enough to take the breakup and me ignoring you as being uninvited.” You roll your eyes. 

“Don’t be like that baby.” He’s smiling down at you with those stupid puppy dog eyes. He reaches down to grab your waist but you step back before he can. 

“Don’t touch me!” You say louder than anticipated but no one’s paying attention to you over the loud music. “You broke up with me, remember?” You’re thoroughly pissed off. 

“I know, baby and  I regret it everyday. I want you back y/n. I need you back…” He’s reaching for you again, you step back again. 

“I said don’t touch me..” You don’t yell this time. You need to get away from him. This was supposed to be your night and he’s ruining it. You go to turn around but you’re stopped by a very hard object.

“Is everything okay over here?” A gruff voice asks and you feel two hands grab either side of your arms. “Are you okay?” You look up to see Hugh looking down at you, concern in his eyes. 

“Hugh..” Your voice is weak and breathless. 

“Oh don’t tell me you already moved on?” Pedro lets out, anger lining his words. “What is he, your boyfriend? I wasn’t old enough for you y/n? You had to run and fuck my friend?” His voice grows louder and louder but miraculously no one seems to notice the commotion. 

“He’s not my boyfriend…” You mumble, too embarrassed by the situation. 

“What’s it to you? Huh? Why don’t you mind your business and leave.” Hugh’s voice matches Pedro’s energy effortlessly. He lets go of your arms and instead points an angry finger at Pedro. 

“You know what, I don't need this and I don’t need you.” Pedro says looking into your eyes with a malicious stare. “Good luck with her, she’s nothing but a good fuck and trouble.” He’s walking away before either of you could answer. You felt Hugh go to move towards the directions Pedro went but you stop him by putting your hand on his chest. 

“Don’t…” You whisper and you weren’t sure if he could hear you over the music. Tears were starting to pool at the bottom of your eyes, threatening to escape. 

“Are you okay y/n?” Hugh asks and that’s all it takes before you let out a soft sob. He puts his hand under your chin and is lifting your head. “Let's get you out of here, is that okay?” All you can do is nod. You grab his hand and walk towards the hallway that leads to the room you got ready in. You open the door and make your way to the couch that sits along the wall. Hugh follows behind, closing the door and takes a seat close to you but not too close. He doesn’t say anything, what could he say?

“I’m sorry.” You let out, tears still falling. You pull your knees up, trying to hide the tears from Hugh, even if he already knew they were there. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.” He cautiously places a hand on your back and rubs it in soft circles, soothing you. You untuck your head for a moment. 

“You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.” You frown at him. 

“What he did is not your fault. Okay?” You can’t find the energy to answer him right away, not sure if you truly believe his words, but you nod anyway. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come.” Sadness fills your voice.

“What? Why not?” He asks confusingly. 

“Everyone is going to think what Pedro thought, that you’re my boyfriend. We shouldn’t be seen together. It won’t be good for you.” 

“Hey, don’t think like that sweetheart. Whatever we are is our business, nobody else's. I want to be seen with you, I'm here to support you. I don’t care what people have to say. I’m not him.” His hand stopped moving around your back, eyes filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. 

I’m not him

You don’t respond but you do feel better about the whole situation. You can hear the fourth song of your album playing and you get hit with another rush of sadness. 

“I should probably go back out there, people will start to wonder where I am.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Let's get you cleaned up. Stay right here.” Hugh stands up and grabs a tissue, wetting it slightly by pouring a few drops of water from a water bottle onto it. He walks over and bends down, sitting on his knees right in front of you. Even at this angle, his head is still resting above yours. Hugh grabs your chin lightly and begins to dab the tissue, wiping your tears away. You can feel the heat from the air leaving his nose hitting your face. It’s comforting in a way.

“There we go, good as new.” He says with a big smile. Your faces are inches away from each other and you wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him in. 

“Thank you Hugh. For everything.” You return his smile, eyes locked onto his. You took a moment to appreciate his appearance. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a gray, almost silver button up, as if he tried to match with you. 

“Don’t mention it sweetheart” He stands up and offers his hand to you. “Now let’s get the star of the show back out there, yea?” 

You grab his hand and smile. “Do I look okay?” You ask, afraid that your disheveled state might have ruined your hair or outfit somehow. You pull him towards a mirror to check your full appearance, a firm grip still on his hand. It engulfed yours beautifully. 

“You look gorgeous.” You can tell he means it by the look in his eyes and the small smile that sits on his face. You see a flicker of something in his eyes, you don't fully catch it, but before you can think it over, he’s leaning down to leave a soft kiss on the crown of your head. 

“Let’s go.” He says pulling you out of the room and back into the sea of people, never letting go of your hand.

Thank you for reading!!

part four

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[grimmweepers]

— ☆ 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: when you fall ill, alhaitham takes care of you for the first time and you enjoy the gentle way he shows his love when he thinks you aren’t watching

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: alhaitham x gn!reader. sfw. fluff. sick reader (nothing serious). established relationship. i get a bit yappy about him, sorry! 1k wc. masterlist | byf/dni

this piece is a submission for a flufftober event by spookuna ♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You lay on your side, feeling the warmth of Sumeru’s balmy sun kissing your skin as it cascaded through the windows. The faint ticking of a clock on the wall filled the quiet room while soft footsteps moved around you. 

Alhaitham. 

You could have sworn he told you he was going to leave once he readied your breakfast so you were surprised he was still here. He was careful as his feet shuffled on the floor, avoiding waking you, but his attempts at silence only made him more pronounced. 

The clink of a glass on your nightstand, the rustles of fabric that eventually dissolved to murmurs— these were the sounds you had become hyper-aware of in your pretend slumber. 

Truth is, you’d been awake for the last half hour but your eyes remained closed out of curiosity about what he would be up to when he thought you weren’t looking.

Your body felt heavy, and not just from the illness that plagued you, but from the weight of blankets he had tucked you in earlier. His attention was soothing, yet as he hovered around you, you sensed a bit of uncertainty in his movements that you found quite endearing.

Alhaitham was not one for overt displays of affection but this unspoken care was so entirely him. 

The bed dipped as he sat down and you heard a sigh escape him. It was foreign in its gentleness and spilled out of him like there was much on his mind. 

Was he… watching you? 

You were tempted to open your eyes and catch him in the act, but something told you to wait. For a moment, nothing happened until the sheets beneath you shifted.

Then, you felt it— a barely-there touch to your forehead. His fingers felt familiar and comforting while he checked your temperature, the pad of his thumb tracing light circles that made your heart ache in the sweetest way. How did it feel, you wondered, to be so utterly indifferent to the world and then to finally let his guard down around you?

It wasn’t long before you found your answer.

“You should take better care of yourself,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a hint of frustration in his tone but underneath it was also something softer, more protective. “It’s unsettling seeing you this way.”

You pictured what his expression would be— furrowed brows and narrowing eyes while he tries to make sense of the emotions he’s not used to always showing. But if he knew you were awake, you’d tell him that he didn’t need to hide.

The gentle touch on your forehead moved to your cheeks, then traced the outline of your jaw, deliberately highlighting all the little features he had grown to love over the many months. 

“It’s quieter without you,” he said, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Alhaitham knew it was a bit absurd to be talking to himself but without your voice there was nothing to fill the silence. There was a faint chuckle in his words— he was beginning to understand what you meant when you told him ‘everyone is foolish when they are in love’.

You heard him shift again, and then you felt something against your lips— a light, fleeting kiss so delicate you almost thought you imagined it. But the ghost of his touch lingerered and it took almost everything in you to not break the illusion of sleep. 

He held you as if you were something precious and fragile to him but, to your dismay, he pulled away just as quickly as he had leaned in, and his immediate absence left you internally pouting.

The bed suddenly felt lighter and soon the realisation of him retreating toward the door started creeping in. But just before he stepped out, he paused.

Unbeknownst to you, he cast a sideways glance in your direction, wondering how much longer he would have to wait before you stirred. Or how much longer he had to keep talking to himself despite your telltale flinches while he caressed you.

You weren’t as sneaky as you thought so, yes, he noticed.

“It would be a shame if you remained asleep so might I tempt to wake you up and spend time with me in another way?” He called from where he was standing.

Even in your poorly state, you broke into a smile and finally let your eyes flutter open. Without hesitation and with a little triumph in his stride, Alhaitham returned to your bed, resting his hand on the blanket cocoon he had left you in. 

Before he met you, Alhaitham believed that his simple life was full and complete. Then you came along and made him realise what he had been missing all that time. You have done a lot for him but more than that, you’ve undone a lot for him, like allowing him to let go of his rigid control and embrace vulnerability.

The man who once had given you no more than a small and polite ‘Hello’ when you were acquaintances was now tending to you with such warmth that you didn’t need to hear words to feel the depths of his care— it radiated from every quiet gesture. 

Sometimes you forget that people don’t see Alhaitham the same way you do. He is stubborn, unpredictable and speaks abstrusely but to you, he is a source of unwavering support. Always in the background with a stoic but reliable presence— like a testament for the patience you’ve nurtured him with.

However, at the end of the day, you cannot describe what is indescribable and you cannot explain what there is to love about him unless you love him yourself.

“You know,” you began as your fingers slipped into his hair, “You shouldn’t have kissed me. You’ll only end up getting sick.”

“I’ll survive,” he replied with a slight shrug, dipping his head towards your lips again, “It’s a small price I’ll pay.”

And in that moment you understood that this was his way of saying he loved and missed you. Not in grand declarations but in the way he stayed, the way he cared, and the way he was always there, silently holding your world together.

a/n: i kept getting distracted while writing this because i love him so much he makes me sick.

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform.

affiliations: @houseofsolisoccasum & @nereidsrealm

divider by @/attxnt

[happy74827]

hey pookieeee, how about mike and reader are like new to dating and mike just got his job at freddy’s fazbears pizzeria as night guard. and he has trouble paying the bills and stuff and taking care for abby. and reader is like lemme help you. and mikes like no i got it. just rlly angsty to fluff? if you get what i mean? thanks xo

Resolute Hearts

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: All you wanted to do was to save him from drowning.

WC: 2883

Category: Angst to Fluff, Happy Ending

I absolutely adored this request. I hope you were serious about the angst, because it is there and it is heavy 🫠

『••✎••』

Tears…that's all you could feel. You felt them running down your cheeks, and you could feel your lips trembling as you sat on the tile floor, hugging your knees to your chest. The surrounding air was thick, a suffocating feeling. It was hard to breathe. Your head felt light, and your vision was a blur. You took in deep, shaky breaths, trying to hold back the sobs you desperately wanted to let out.

You never thought you would feel this way. It was like everything you had worked for your entire life had fallen through. It was like nothing meant anything to you anymore. Your life, your family, your friends. They didn't mean anything to you. You didn't care about them. You were alone, and the only person you cared about didn't seem to care about you back.

The apartment was dark and quiet. You sat in the bathroom, the door locked, the lights off, the fan running to block the sound of your tears. Your roommate had left hours before, saying she had an early morning class. You didn't know why they even had classes so early in the morning.

It felt like decades had gone by since you sat there on the bathroom floor. The bathroom tiles were cold and uncomfortable. You were cold and uncomfortable. You didn't feel like yourself. You weren't the type to get so worked up about anything. You weren't the type to sit on a bathroom floor and cry over things you couldn't fix. You were the type to keep your head held high. To smile through everything, even if the situation was tough. To be the rock for your friends to lean on.

But, you felt alone. You felt so alone.

Michael, Mike. Michael was the one who made you feel alone. You loved him. God, you loved him more than anything. You loved him so much. You loved how caring he was. How sweet he could be. How considerate he was. You loved every inch of him and every inch of what he did for you. He was so considerate of your feelings; he never pushed you to do things you weren't ready for. So, why did his words hurt you so much? Why did his actions make you feel so small and worthless?

Why?

It had only been a few months since you started dating, and everything seemed to be perfect. He was charming, sweet, and an all-around amazing guy. You were so happy with him. He was everything you wanted in a boyfriend, and you were over the moon with how everything was going. He even seemed to care for you; at least, that's what you thought.

He had been distant for the past few weeks. You found yourself seeing Abby more often than you did Mike. You would wake up, and he wouldn't be there, only to find him passed out on the couch or working on a late project in the kitchen.

He said he was fine, but you knew he wasn't. You could tell he wasn't okay. You knew something was bothering him, but he never opened up to you about what it was. You thought about telling him it was okay. That he could talk to you about anything, he didn't need to keep it bottled up. He didn't need to worry you like that.

You did eventually open your mouth to say something about how he was feeling, but before you could even get the words out, he shut you down. He said he was fine that you were overreacting. That you needed to worry about yourself more and stop thinking about his feelings all the time. You just needed to trust him.

You believed him. You foolishly believed him until it all came crashing down. During one of your many late nights babysitting Abby for him, you accidentally stumbled upon papers that he left on the coffee table. One of which was a delinquency notice dated back to last week. He was behind on rent and had a couple of other bills that were due soon. You didn't want to add to his stress, so you figured it wouldn't hurt to try and help him with those.

Apparently, it did hurt. It hurt enough to make him snap at you when you decided to approach him the night before about it. Abby was tucked into bed in her room for the night, so you decided it would be a good opportunity to talk to him just as he was about to leave. How stupid you were. How naive. You didn't know what he was going to say, but you had no idea he was going to get so angry. So angry, in fact, that it ended up waking Abby up.

You felt your stomach churn at the memory of his voice getting louder, your name getting harsher, the tone of his words getting angrier.

"I said I can take care of myself, just like I've always done." He was livid, his face red with anger. He was trying to keep his cool, but it seemed that it was just too much for him. "Why do you have to get involved? Just butt out, alright?"

"I just want to help, Mike. You shouldn't have to pay for everything on your own. I just want to be there for you, like you are for me," you said, reaching out for his hands, but he pulled away from you.

"I don't need you to take care of me. I can handle this on my own. I've been doing this on my own for a long time," he told you, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't want to be touched, you could tell.

"You're right," you admitted. "You're an adult; you've been taking care of yourself for a long time, and I shouldn't try to change that. But I'm here, okay? I'm here for you and for Abby. And I'm not trying to take care of you; I'm just trying to help you. Just let me help you."

"What the hell do you think this is?!" Mike practically screamed at you. "You think this is easy?! You think I don't want to get out of debt, huh? Do you think I like being in debt? I don't! But it's my fault, and it's my job to take care of it!"

"Mike, calm down! Abby is sleeping in the next—" You tried to reason with him, but he didn't want to hear any of it. He was too mad. He was too angry. He turned and grabbed his car keys, turning back to look at you, the hurt and anger evident in his eyes.

"Abby isn't your concern; she's my responsibility. She's my sister, not yours. You're just—" Mike stopped himself, not wanting to say the next thing that came to his head. But you were right there, in front of him, looking up at him with eyes full of hurt. You were so close, so close he could see the tears glistening in your eyes.

“I'm just… what, Mike?" You asked him, your voice hitching. The tears that you had been holding back began to fall. You were at a breaking point; you didn't know how to feel anymore. You didn't know what you were feeling. All you knew was that your boyfriend just screamed at you and hurt you with his words.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked over your shoulder to see Abby standing there. She looked up at her brother with wide eyes and a confused expression. She looked from Mike to you, then to her hand that was on your shoulder. You felt numb. You couldn't believe what was happening.

"Abby…" Mike took a deep breath. "Abby, go back to bed, okay? I'll be back soon." He gave her a soft smile. The one he always gave you when you needed it. She looked up at him, giving him the same sad look she was giving you. She rubbed her eyes and walked back into her room, closing the door behind her. Mike turned his attention back to you, but he didn't say anything. He looked like he had more to say, but the words just didn't come out.

And that was the last time you saw him.

You spent the next couple of hours curled up on the floor, crying until you couldn't cry anymore. You tried to sleep in the own comfort of your bed, but every time you closed your eyes, you would see his face. His angry face. The face he made at you the last time you spoke. The face he made when he screamed at you. You hated it. You hated everything about it.

It was around six in the morning when you decided to finally leave your room. It was cold outside, but you didn't care. You needed some fresh air. You needed to get out of there for a little bit. You needed to get away from the suffocating apartment, the suffocating situation. You needed to get away from everything that reminded you of Mike. You walked down the hall to the patio, and you were almost to it when you heard the faint knock on the door.

You stood at the entrance to the living room, listening to the faint knocks. It was the first time in hours that you heard a sound other than your own voice. Your eyes were glued to the door, your hands in fists as you listened. And listened. And listened. It felt like an eternity before you finally decided to get the courage to walk up and answer it, reaching for the knob and pulling it open.

There, standing on the other side of the door, was your boyfriend. Michael was standing there, staring back at you. His face wasn't angry. He wasn't mad anymore. He didn't look sad either. He didn't look like anything at all. He looked blank, empty. Like he didn't have any emotions, his eyes were void of the emotions that you loved so much.

He wore his security vest, the little medallion dangling in front of his chest. He had his name tag attached to it, and you realized he came straight from work. He had bags under his eyes, and his hair was a mess, sticking out at the side. His posture was slouched, his shoulders hanging low. He looked exhausted. But he was there, and he was standing right in front of you like he was the one who had been waiting for so long. Like he was the one who was worried.

"Hi," he spoke quietly. He almost whispered. It was soft, and it was quiet. His voice was scratchy and dry. He was trying to smile, but he was trying so hard to force one that it hurt you to see it. You felt a sharp pain in your chest at the sight of him. "Can we… Can we talk?"

"What are you doing here, Michael? You need to be home for Abby." You felt the lump in your throat rise up as you spoke. You could feel the tears coming back to your eyes, and you knew he saw them. He was always good at seeing through you.

"I couldn't go home knowing we're not okay." He looked at you with the saddest look you had ever seen. The look made you want to cry again. You didn't want to cry anymore.

"I… I can't right now," you said, moving to close the door in front of you. "I need some time to think." You started to shut the door, but his hand was quick to stop you from closing it. He put his foot in between the door and the frame and held the door open.

"Please," he begged, practically whining. He was so desperate. You knew he was desperate. You could see it in his eyes, the way his eyebrows were furrowed, and how he was clenching his jaw. "I know I shouldn't have said what I did last night. I was just… I was just angry. I didn't mean what I said, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't want to lose you because of my shit."

"Mike…" you started, but he cut you off.

"I'm just not used to having someone around all the time… Having someone help me. I know I get angry easily; Fuck, I know I'm stubborn. I know that I get mad at myself a lot because I'm not perfect, but I'm trying. I really am. For the longest time, it's just been Abby and I and no one else. I never really had someone who was willing to take care of me… and I've always been fine. I'm fine." Mike shook his head. "But I don't want to be just fine anymore. I want to be happy, and I want to be happy with you."

You felt a fresh set of tears fall from your eyes. You couldn't help it. The words were too much for you to handle. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at you with his big hazel eyes, and how his voice cracked as he spoke. He looked like he had more to say, but he didn't. He just looked at you. He looked like he was searching for something. And you realized it was your forgiveness. He was waiting for your forgiveness. He was waiting for you to give him another chance.

You thought about all the times he opened up to you. All the times he let you in, and you helped him out when he needed it. You thought about how he was there when you needed him to be. You thought about how he would smile at you when you needed him to, how he would make you smile even on your worst days.

"I think you owe a dollar for the swear jar, maybe more," you spoke softly, looking up at him with your red, puffy eyes. He gave you a confused look, but he soon realized what you were talking about. He chuckled as he wiped the tears from your eyes.

"Yeah, I guess I do. Sorry, Abby," he apologized, acting like he was talking to his little sister. She wasn't here right now, but you knew he still felt like he needed to apologize to her for his actions, too. He always felt the need to apologize. He felt the need to try and be a better brother. To try and be a better son. He looked at you with those big eyes of his. The same eyes you fell in love with.

"Hug?" you asked, a small smile gracing your face. You didn't know why you asked, but you did. You felt the lump in your throat slowly ease up, and you finally felt the air in your lungs start to flow. He smiled back at you, opening his arms, and you stepped into them, burying your face in his shoulder.

He pulled away and kissed your forehead, resting his on top of yours. He rubbed your back as you wrapped your arms around him. He felt safe and warm. He felt like everything that was missing.

"I still don't want you covering the debt," he told you. "But… I'll take the help. I can take the help. I'll take it as long as it's you." You could hear him smiling, and you squeezed him tighter.

"Of course. Of course."

Everything was falling back into place. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't fixed. There was still so much to work out, but it was starting to feel a little better. You felt a little better. You felt a little more whole again. The ache in your heart wasn't so bad. It was bearable, and you could finally breathe again.

"You can let go of me now." Mike's voice was muffled against the top of your head, and you realized you were squeezing him too tight.

Still, you didn't let go. "No, you're warm," you said, smiling into his chest.

He let out a small sigh, shaking his head. "Is this my punishment? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?"

"It could be worse. I could still be mad at you," you replied, kissing the side of his neck.

"Well, in that case," he suddenly grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you up over his shoulder. He laughed as you yelped out in surprise, flailing your limbs. You felt the world turn upside down, and you screamed as he turned and walked back inside, closing the door behind him. "Let me show you how sorry I am."

He might've ended up causing Abby to be late to school that morning, but it was okay. It was okay because you were laughing. You were smiling, and most of all, you were happy.

You were happy because even though it wasn't perfect, he was trying. He was trying to make things better for himself and for you. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like you were finally home.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

What if when Nyra gets crowned, she has a crown made for Jace? His wife could help him get ready for the coronation (I’m talking bathing, hair, dressing, everything). Maybe it’s to show him how serious she is about him being her heir

When I saw this picture (not my edit, idk who made it), I had to write something

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’The prince’s bath is ready, Princess,’’ one of the maids informed you, coming to the table where you had been breaking your fast. ‘’Does the prince needs us to assist him? I will call a male servant.’’ 

You thanked her for the bath, then shook your head. ‘’That won’t be necessary,’’ you replied. ''And leave the towels on the chair.''

''Yes, Princess. Should I have his morning meal brought to his chamber? He must break his fast before the coronation, her Grace said.'' 

You glance at the bed in the distance, seeing Jacaerys' sleeping form under the covers. He had difficulty falling asleep last night, his nerves making him restless, so you let him sleep longer. The coronation wasn't until late morning. 

''I will see with him after his bath. I'll send someone to the kitchens.'' 

The maid nodded, then left. 

After you finished your meal, you went to the bed and gently woke your husband, caressing his messy hair. It always baffled you how all over the place they get during his sleep. You pressed a lingering soft kiss to his soft cheek. ‘’It’s time to wake, my love.’’ 

As you expected, Jacaerys grumbled sleepily and pressed his face deeper into his pillow. 

You stifled a smile, finding him endearing when he was acting like a child in the morning. On other days, you would have joined him for another hour of sleep, but you couldn’t allow yourself that luxury today. You needed to prepare for the day you’ve all been waiting for: Rhaenyra reclaiming her seat and — officially — becoming the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. 

‘’Your bath is ready. Come.’’ You stood, knowing he’ll try to pull you with him if you stayed seated on the bed. 

Jacaerys reluctantly dragged himself out of bed. He sleepily followed you to the bathing area, his eyes still heavy with sleep and his curls sticking out in all the places. He looked adorable in his groggy state. 

Like a toddler running after his mama, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. ‘’You left me alone in bed,’’ he complained, his voice still raspy from his sleep, as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. ‘’It was cold without you.’’ 

A smile curved on your lips, and you leaned into your husband’s embrace. His lips skimmed lightly over the sensitive skin of your neck. ‘’Cold? I find that difficult to believe, my love. You were wrapped in a blanket with the fire blazing in the hearth.’’

‘’Still cold,’’ he grumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to the spot where your shoulder met your neck, making you shiver slightly. ‘’I prefer having you in my arms to keep me warm.’’

‘’And I would prefer if you disrobed and sat in the bathtub so I can wash your hair.’’ 

Jacaerys huffed, then released you and started to remove his night tunic. He left it in a lump on the floor, then stepped into the hot bath. 

You sat on the stool right by the tub and filled the pitcher with water to pour it over his hair. ''Cover your eyes.'' 

He closed them, letting the water fall down his face instead of shielding his eyes with his hand. 

You lathered soap in your hands and Jacaerys sighed as you began to wash his hair, finding it soothing how your fingers massaged his scalp. Before he was wed to you, he had servants who assisted him and they were nowhere near as gentle as you. 

''Cover your eyes again.'' 

You poured more water, washing down the sods before applying oils and brushing them with a comb. It was better to brush curly hair when wet than dry. Jacaerys had learned that the hard way as a child...

 Once his hair was oiled and brushed, you began to wash his back and shoulders, the hot water cascading over the light dust of freckles. He hummed pleasantly, enjoying the feel of your slender fingers rubbing the soap into his skin.

‘’I still cannot believe Mother had a crown made for me. Heirs don't wear crowns,’’ Jacaerys said, his nerves making him pick at his nails. 

When the King named Rhaenyra his heir, there was no crown given to her. He only organized a grand ceremony at court to publicly declare the princess  as his rightful successor. 

But Rhaenyra wanted to make things different. 

''Her Grace remembers your fear that a lowborn with white hair might lay claim on the Iron Throne after her passing. By giving you a crown in front of all the Lords, Ladies and other nobles, she wishes to remind you —and everyone — that you are the future rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and that no one can take your place. Being a dragonlord or having Valyrian features does not grant anyone a claim to the throne. You are the heir because you are the son of the Queen.'' 

Absent-mindedly, Jacaerys continued picking at his fingers, drawing blood out. He was more nervous now than he had been on your wedding night. His mind was going through all the possible and impossible scenarios of the coronation... What if something went wrong? What if he tripped in front of everyone? What if the remaining supporters of the Greens tried to sabotage the ceremony?

''Quit doing that,'' you scolded, taking his hand from him. ''A prince cannot receive his crown with blood under his nails.'' You took a brush and scrubbed the blood and dirt around and under his nails. 

He apologized. 

''You're nervous, it's alright,’’ you said, your eyes soft and understanding.  

He sighed and reached over the tub to take the sponge. ‘’You don't need to do everything, you know. I can wash myself.’’ He lathered soap on a sponge and scrubbed his skin while you continued with his nails. 

Once he was thoroughly clean, Jacaerys dried himself with a warm towel, then slipped on his robe. He never wore one before you came into his life, claiming it was for women, but he loved to lounge in one after his bath. The silk was soft on his skin and light. You had one made for him for his eight and ten nameday — a dark and rich red color with an embroidered dragon at the back. 

You made him sit at your vanity table. It was unusual for him. The vanity was your spot. He enjoyed watching you sitting there in the mornings, picking jewelry and scented oils, or simply brushing your hair. Sometimes, he would even offer to brush them for you.

You combed through his damp hair, twirling his curls around your fingers to make them more defined. ''You're gonna be the most handsome prince the court has ever seen,'' you declared, tucking a last curl behind his ear, showing off his beautiful face. 

Though he lacked the classic Valyrian traits, replaced by a perfect reflection of the former Lord Commander of the City Watch, the gods had blessed him with the gift of beauty. If you hadn't been already married to him, you would have been jealous of the woman he called his wife.

 Jacaerys rolled his eyes and pulled you down on his lap. From this close, you could see every freckle across his nose and cheeks. His lips were a slightly darker pink, stained from the cherries he just ate. You couldn't resist kissing them. 

The kiss was brief, causing the prince to pout.  

You gave him another kiss, this one slightly longer, then stood when he tried to chase after your lips for more. You knew that game. You'll never be ready on time if you let him get what he wants. 

''Later,'' you promised, lifting his chin and pulling down a single strand of hair, curling it around your finger. 

He'll look glorious with his crown.

—

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[eloves-writes]

🤍 with Max verstappen. 🌶🌶 pretty pretty please

i really really enjoyed writing this one🫡🫡

song lyric prompt: “oh i’ve never done it, let’s make it cinematic” naked in manhattan ~ chappell roan 🤍

warnings: loss of virginity, sex, fingering, swearing

minors dni

——————————————————

“you are serious? you haven’t done it before?”

you shook your head.

max looked at you incredulously. he was supposed to be helping you practice different circuits on the racing sim since you were new to the team, but as it had gotten later at the redbull factory, you’d ended up sat on the floor next to the sim talking to max endlessly about your careers as he demonstrated his best laps for you. conversation was easy with him; as intimidating he seemed on track, he was actually very talkative once he got started, and you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t listen to him talk for hours. whilst having a crush on your teammate wasn’t technically against the rules, it felt like a slight misstep, even thought it was practically impossible when max was so fucking hot. after a particularly impressive lap time, he’d remarked that that feeling was ‘better than sex’, and you replied jokingly saying you wouldn’t know, which had lead you here.

“you don’t have the time? you don’t want to?” he probed, apparently more interested in your lack of a sex life than finishing the mock practice session he’d started.

“um, i just haven’t, i guess,” you laughed awkwardly.

“wow,” he replied, raising his eyebrows. “you’re very beautiful, you know y/n. not to mention how talented you are on the track.”

“are you trying to tell me something, verstappen?” you joked, completely unserious and not expecting his reply at all.

“no. i’m … offering.”

your face dropped. “what?”

“there’s no one here. if you want to do it, why not do it with me?”

your brain short circuited. 3 time world champion max verstappen had just casually offered to take your virginity. he had an inarguable point; why not do it with him?

“ok,” you said simply, feeling like a complete rookie once again. you looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

he was still in the driver’s seat of the sim, a wanting lust in his eyes. he had found you hot since the first time you got into the redbull car and overtook him on a flying lap, finishing the practice session just 2 tenths ahead of him; he had wanted to fuck you since you got out of the car afterwards and teased him about it.

“come here, schat,” he encouraged, motioning to his lap. you carefully stood up and straddled his lap.

“don’t look so nervous. i’m not gonna hurt you. unless you want me to,” he added with a smirk.

“i don’t think i’m there yet,” you laughed, easing into his lap more. “what do i do?”

“well have you kissed someone before?”

you embarrassingly shook your head; you didn’t think any of your teenage ‘kisses’ really counted towards anything.

“ok,” he said nonchalantly, tucking you hair behind your ear. “let’s start there then.”

he pressed his lips against yours, letting you get used to the feeling before you kissed him back, the movement coming to you instinctively. his hands remained firmly on your waist as he deepened the kiss, with his fingertips gripping you tightly as if he needed to hold you there. it felt like a movie scene, kissing him with such passion as the sunset cast golden streams of light through the large window at the other end of the room.

once you seemed equal parts comfortable and needy, max pulled away. “can i take your shirt off?”

“okay,” you replied. he lifted the redbull shirt over your head, revealing a plain but cute blue bra. you were glad you’d at least worn matching underwear, even if they weren’t particularly sexy. max ran a finger under one of the straps.

“can i take this off too?”

you nodded again. nobody had ever seen this much of you before. he expertly unfastened your bra, slowly taking it off you before throwing it to the floor with your shirt. his eyes darkened at the sight of your bare boobs.

“so perfect,” he commented, mostly to himself, before palming one side with his large hand. he gently pinched your nipple, watching it harden beneath his fingers and enjoying the soft gasp it elicited from you.

“take yours off,” you whispered as he continued to play with your nipples. you tugged at the bottom of his matching redbull shirt so he knew what you meant. he smiled at you before obliging, adding it to the growing pile of clothing. his chest was beautiful, toned to perfection but not too muscled, unlike his biceps that were thick from years of vigorous training. you knew he was bigger than you, but this visual confirmation made you involuntarily grind yourself against him.

he took this as a signal that you were ready to go further, helping you out of your jeans and underwear. you felt completely exposed, but it somehow turned you on even more knowing it was max you were exposed to. you sat back onto his lap, starting to worry about getting his jeans damp from your growing wetness. he placed a hand at the top of your thigh.

“i’m going to touch you, ok?” he said, making careful note of your body language and facial expressions in case you were uncomfortable. that was not the read he was getting; you wanted him, badly, and it was obvious.

“ok,” you breathed, his finger tracing the length of your wet cunt.

“all this for me, y/n? pretty girl.”

you murmured in agreement, completely lost in the moment. his fingers moved smoothly against your clit, making you moan out and place your hands on each of his shoulders to stable yourself as he begun to tease your hole, starting by inserting just one finger and pumping it gently in and out of you.

“feels good, max,” you confirmed, whimpering a little.

“going to put another in, ok? get you ready for me.”

he inserted another finger, your pleasure increasing, especially as he angled his hand so the heel of it bumped your clit as he fingered you. you’d touched yourself before, but having max do it was a completely different feeling and you found yourself releasing onto his hand sooner than you thought.

he coaxed you through your orgasm, telling you how good you were and encouraging you to cum until you were so overwhelmed with pleasure you came with a loud moan.

“you like that, schat? huh?,” he said as you came down, brushing your hair back behind your ears.

“yeah,” you managed. you felt unashamed of how needy you were for him.

he took your hand and placed it over his crotch. even restrained against his jeans, you could feel how big his hard cock was.

“that’s what you do to me,” he said, staring intensely into your eyes. “unzip my jeans, schat.”

you followed his order, unbuttoning the top and sliding down the zipper. he nodded, encouraging you to keep going. he moved his hips up so you could slide the jeans along with his boxer shorts down past his ass and push them down his legs just past where you sat. his cock hit his stomach, leaking a little precum from watching you orgasm minutes earlier. he ran a hand over himself, jerking it to show you that it wasn’t scary.

“can i?” you asked, nervous again. max nodded and you copied his movements, your hands much smaller than his.

“ok, baby,” he moaned, moving your hand away. “gonna make me finish before i even fuck you.”

“what do i do?” you asked again, eager to have him inside you.

he instructed you to place your knees either side of him on the race seat so you could hold yourself up, and lined himself up with your entrance. you sank down onto him, gasping at the way he filled you up.

“ok?” he asked, hands finding your waist again.

“yeah,” you replied. “feels weird. good weird.”

max laughed. “you want to start moving?”

you nodded and brought your hips up and back down again, sliding along his cock. “like that?”

“yeah like that. that’s good, baby.”

you did it again, feeling butterflies in your stomach and pleasure building up. max guided you up and down with his strong hands, never looking away from your perfect face and the expressions of pleasure that were gracing it. as he sensed you getting closer, he decided to help you and thrust his hips upward to match the pace you’d set for yourself, which slammed the tip of his dick into your g-spot and you really realised what sex was all about. it felt insanely good, bordering on too much but not crossing the line. max was getting close too; having his beautiful young teammate bouncing on his dick was really working for him, as he continued his praise of you.

“taking it so well, schat. so pretty, you feel so good,” he moaned.

his words pushed you over the edge, another orgasm washing over you and the fluttering of your walls as you came was enough to push max too, and he spilled out inside of you.

you both went still as you came down from your highs, panting and sweaty, yet each of you thought the other had never looked better.

“that was good, yeah?” max asked as you both re-dressed.

“really fucking good,” you laughed. “i see what i was missing out on now.”

he chuckled as he checked the size of the redbull shirt in his hand to determine which was yours and which was his. he threw the smaller one to you and you put it back on.

“you know, if you wanted to make this a regular thing, i would be happy to do that.”

you looked at him and smiled. “sure. thanks, by the way.”

he smiled back. “the pleasure’s mine, really.”

[gghostwriter]

Hey can I request something? Maybe something where Spencer comes home to find his partner passed out on the bathroom floor?? Perhaps due to a hot prolonged shower? No serious ailments just a little bump on the head and a worried spencer hehe. Thank you!!! I love your work!!

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff! Just fluff Warning: Medical inaccuracies A/N: This is a little bit shorter than my first request but still cute nonetheless. Hope you like it anon! Main masterlist

Blackout. // Spencer Reid

It was late into the night—10:30pm, to be exact, when Spencer arrived back home from a case in Dallas. The team had spent four grueling days catching the unsub and sleeping in highly questionable hygienic motels. The thought of the stale smell of cigarettes and grimy countertops made him shudder. All he wanted to do now was take a deep shower, kiss and cuddle with you, and crash into a deep sleep. 

He entered the threshold quietly, knowing your on-call schedule at the hospital for the whole month was taxing. He expected you to be passed out on the bed—dreaming of sunshine and rainbows but imagine his surprise when he noted the bathroom light open and the door slightly ajar. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m home,” he called out. 

A muffled groan answered his call. 

That alarmed him enough to drop his satchel and coat on the floor, feet clad in mismatched socks sliding across the wooden floor. The sight of you sitting on the bathroom floor, back against the wall, stopped his heart from beating—thirty second full stop—before it started beating again at twice the normal speed. 

“Y/N. Are you alright—“ he bent down to peer into your fluttering eyelids. “—did you hit your head? Is your vision blurry? What—” 

You raised your hand to stop his spiraling. “I felt faint from the heat, Spence. That’s all.”

His eyes widened in alarm as he tried to spot any external injuries. “Did you faint? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

You shook your head, causing him to gasp with worry. 

“Don’t shake your head! Sudden movement can stretch and further damage brain tissues—we should, we should get you to the hospital!” His voice cracking at the end.

“No hospital, I’m alright Spence. I sat down when I felt dizzy so no head injury to worry about,” you smiled, taking in your boyfriend’s fussy hands, touching your face and head, and his face showcasing a variety of looks, all painting worry. “Plus, I’m a doctor. Pretty sure, I know what I’m talking about.” 

He sighed. “I’m a doctor, too, and your boyfriend, I have every right to worry.” Wrapping his arms around your waist, he brought you up to a stand. “Lean on me, let’s get you to bed.”

You hobbled to bed where Spencer fussed to situate you in. Having spent all your working hours doing the opposite, it was amazing to be the receiving end—especially from someone as dedicated and caring as Spencer. 

He rushed to bring you a cup of water. “Drink slowly. It’s possible that you’ve been dehydrated and it was exacerbated with your hot shower. Did you drink enough water today, Y/N?” 

“Yes, Dr. Reid. I drank plenty of water during my breaks,” you teased. 

“I sense you’re starting to feel better. The sarcasm is back,” he jested with a smile before replacing it with a look of seriousness. “I know you like your hot showers but do you think you could lower the temperature to prevent the fainting spells from happening again? I worry about you, especially when I’m out on a case. A study found that hot water increased heart rates by 32% and blood flow by 44%, which isn’t bad in itself but combined with your fatigue and resistance to drink lots of water, there’s a higher possibility of you fainting again and again.” 

You caressed his cheek before nodding your head. “Alright, I will, Spence. Y’know all this worrying for me will give you premature grey hair and that—“ ruffling his wavy locks “—would be a travesty.” 

He laughed, giving you a peck before stepping out of his work clothes. “I’ll take a quick shower, be right back and please, stay where you are.”

You watched as he entered the bathroom, leaving the door open just in case you’d call and he’d come running. Sliding down under the covers, you felt your exhaustion pulling you under to a state of in between reality and dreamland. 

Your last coherent memory was Spencer sliding next to you, cuddling you to his chest, giving you a kiss good night, and his sweet murmurs of ‘I love you.’

My inbox is currently open for any more fluff requests! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[wakeup01]

Playing It Straight

“Roomieee. I need your help with something.” I hear the telltale high pitched cry from my twinky roommate Yuan’s bedroom. The last thing I need right now is his whiny ass distracting me.

“What it is? I have a date with this hot chick in half an hour. You better have clothes on this time dude.” My hand pushes the door to his room ajar and I see him laying down on the bed facing away from me. There was some upbeat trashy pop song playing on his sound system. Yuan begins to gyrate to the beat. “Don’t dance. No dancing.” I order bluntly, turning off his music.

There was being gay and then there was Yuan, who seemed to make it his whole identity. It was bad enough his room was colour coded in pastel purples to match his dusty lavender hair. But he had now painted the whole door too.

“It’s my big butt, I think there’s something wrong with it.” He announces with fake concern, rolling his hips on the bed sheet - revealing more of his smooth slim body than I ever dared wish to see. I make a internal note to ‘mace own eyes later’.

Yuan was not as innocent as he liked to make out and had on numerous occasions attempted to trick me into indulging in his fantasies. Gifting me a bright crop top and calling it a ‘fashionable tank top’ - it certainly turned heads at the gym the one day I wore it, or inviting me to a progressive club with the promise of scoring ‘lots of ass’. And the less said about ‘locktober’ the better, that was NOT a halloween costume. Only last week he had convinced me to listen to some gay as fuck audio tapes while I slept; obviously that crap didn’t work on a man like me. His justification always being ‘you’ll like it, I swear’. This one was a bit on the nose, even for him.

“Dude we talked about this, I’m flattered, really. I get it, I’m a gay bottoms wet dream. I can’t blame you for eying my superior meat.” I puff out my well built chest, barely contained in my tank top. “But fuck, it ain’t gonna happen.” I attempt to not make eye contact with him as he looks over his shoulder at me.

“No, like seriously. Something feels wrong, can you pleeease juth take a looksee. Pretty please.” He pulls down his shorts and moons me as I shield my eyes. It’s like the sun, you’re safe if you don’t look directly at it, right? Internal note: ‘buy more mace’.

“Serious like when you said we were in a ‘mandatory hand holding zone?” I hear muffled giggling coming from his pillow. “Bro it’s probably from all the things you shove up it.” I shudder, trying not to picture THAT in my head. “I’ll look but only if you promise me that you’ll drop that ‘I know you’re secretly gay bullshit.’ My friends at the gym heard that crap last time.”

“Hehe. Ooo thuch a manly jock. Geez, I pwromise. Meathead.” Yuan winks at me and I hated him for it. Hated the weird way it made me feel in my chest.

I sigh loudly for effect and bend down until the cleft of his…cheek is at eye level. I felt so self conscious, how on earth did he talk me into this? I look at my chiseled body just to remind myself, yes I am a man. A masculine man. God, here we go. My eyes briefly glance across his—ew—his raised butt before I quickly look away.

“Bruh I don’t see a thing. It’s a mans butt. Congratulations.” What the hell am I even looking for? I’m sat on the floor checking out a dude’s…posterior. And for what?

“Come on, look clother.” Yuan insists with a slight lisp, curving his back and pushing his rear higher.” Again, I look at my thick biceps, yes, still a man.

His hands pull at his buttocks and slowly part them, revealing his tight hole to me. Woah. One glimpse was all it took. I should have recoiled but instead I was fascinated. I’d never seen a man’s hole before, it was different…

I hear him say something to me but whatever it was, it didn’t seem too important. I couldn’t stop staring, it was like looking into a black hole, and the more I looked the more enraptured I became. It was distorting my worldview, it made me feel like I had been missing out on something all these years.

“Helloooo! See anything?”

“Uuhhh. Maybe.” I mumble, my head getting closer to his rear.

I pull away his hands and replace them with my own, laying my fingers across his round cheeks and spreading them wider. Wow, it was…dare I say, enticing? The rest of the room faded from my mind as my eyes fall deeper into his needy, winking hole. I lean in and my nose makes contact with his crack. I can’t help myself, I inhale and suck up his scent, it acts like an immediate aphrodisiac. My cock wakes up, poking against the edge of the bed.

“You have been lithening to your programming for me then. Good Meathead. Remember when you were the stuck-up clever one, going to college? That was thuch a bore.”

“Say what bro?” College? Did I…? Nah. That smart shit wasn’t for me bro, my head was like beef central. I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about but I was happy to be a good fucking meathead. Something in my mind told me I was supposed to be. It made me even more pumped about the gym session tomorrow, I gotta bulk up my pecs.

“Make sure to take lots of selfies tomorrow ‘bro’, I need to see your gains.” I continue to breathe in the sweet aroma emanating from his behind. What was I doing again? “So, anything there dummy? How about now?” giggle “Isn’t it likth so big.”

He wiggles his hips and pushes back into my face, my lips making contact with his boy pussy. My eyes go wide. Fuck, this was soo gay. I should be revolted, why am I still down here? I could get up and walk away whenever…whenever I wanted to. Suddenly my mouth felt parched, like I had spent a week in the desert. It became clear where this was going. I’m not sure if I could even stop myself at this point, one tiny thing could tip me over the edge and disintegrate my own self image. It was as If I was having an out of body experience, seeing myself pressed against him. I wouldn’t, I was stronger than this. I was straight. Straight as an arrow… straight as a…

“Eat up jock.”

F—fuck. My lips open and my tongue presses up against his rear, dragging up and down between his cheeks and then swirling around his inviting hole. It was like a dam breaking, once I started I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. He tasted too good. Ready for the main course, my tongue dives deep into him and begins to eat him out in earnest, my mouth sucking at his entrance like I’m slurping on a ice cream filling.

While giving him a very manly rimjob I think of a solution to our problem. I finish up indulging in his sweet cake and pull my face out, slapping his jiggly butt cheeks.

“So what’s the issue?” He asks impatiently.

“It’s empty for one. Huhuhu. But I can fix that bro.” I say confidently, rushing to remove my underwear so I can finally nut inside him.

I push his skinny back down against the bed and line up my monster cock with his lubricated hole. Yuan moans into his pillow like he should. I slide into him with ease and flex my arms, feeling proud at ‘conquering’ my roommates hole.

“Good Meathead.” He praises between loud panting. “Mmm. But I thought you were straight.”

“I am. Unff. Just helping a bro out. No homo. Though I do need to see if there’s anything wrong with your throat after I plant my seed in your hole.”

______________________________

The next day.

“Man that was a fucking lit workout.” I exclaim, marvelling at my bulging muscles. I tense my arms and see my veins pop, sweat dripping to the floor. “Though you losers sure focused a lot on your glutes today. Hey—aren’t you ‘queens’ gonna shower?” I turn as my gym bros stop behind me in the locker room.

“Well… we spoke to your roommate about your progress yesterday.” Xavier states, removing his damp muscle tee - his dark shiny skin reflecting the harsh lights from overhead.

Yesterday…for some reason my memories from the day before were a blur. For the life of me I can’t remember what happened. There was some strange taste lingering in my mouth that had been making my dick hard all day. My roommate was certainly in a suspiciously good mood this morning too and made some strange comments about me ‘being hungry for more’.

“About what bro? That Yuan can kiss my ass. Huhuh. Come on, stop checking out each others dicks and let’s go!”

“Uh see, he thinks you’re now ready to be our…” I’d never seen him so unsure of himself before, I roll my eyes at him and slam my locker closed.

“Y’all acting like a bunch of girls.” I swear if Yuan is back to spewing his gay bullshit again…

“Go on. Say it.” One of the others insists, nudging Xavier’s shoulder.

Xavier hesitates and then looks away from me, his cheeks flushing red. “There’s uh, there’s something wrong with my…butt…so could you?” The others fail to stifle a laugh.

I do a double take as Xavier turns and points his toned ass at me, his jockstrap framing it like a wrapped gift. “What the fuck? Bruh what are you doing? Put that shit away.”

“Be a good Meathead.”

I see a flash of my roommates butt cross my minds eye. Uhhh. My cock throbs at the image. Before I know it my legs are kneeling behind my friend, what am I doing? My body certainly seems to be one step ahead, my hands grab at his muscled legs for support. “What the actual fuck. Guys…” I’ve never felt so embarrassed, how am I ever gonna live this down?

A hand pulls on the strap hugging Xaviers left buttock and lets go, letting it snap back into place, a slight jiggle vibrates over his firm rear. Was it my hand? I couldn’t even tell.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe those tapes actually worked. He’s come a long way since he was that scrawny nerd, thinking he was above everyone. Now he’s dumber than all of us. We just need Yuan to join us next. Damn someone make sure to record this” It was hard to take in what they were saying, my mind was fixated…elsewhere. One of them leans down to my side and points their phone camera at my zoned out face. “Dude, we stink…I’m next after you.” Someone pats my back as another hand holds my shoulder in place. “Nothing more manly than licking the salty sweat off a bro’s butt.”

No….

Xavier bends forward, his pert dark cheeks pulling apart - sweat glistening on their surface. And then I see it. What my body craved. His hole. Everything falls into place, my mouth watering at the sight, my eyes entranced. I could no longer deny what I wanted, deny the inevitability of what I was about to do. The depravity would be immortalised on camera too, my dumb face shoved in a mans ass. Oh fuck.

The perfect black void nestled between his tight buttocks seems to suck away my shame as I lick my lips. “So manly.” I repeat to the crowd that had gathered around me. Mmm. Rimming a man’s ass was almost as good as fucking it. I wanted a taste of all the guys, their shiny sweaty bodies, their musk. It was my place in the group, I was their meathead after all. My cock was already throbbing at the thought. Maybe Yuan was onto something with this whole ‘gay’ thing. Yeah, let’s try going full homo. Huhuhuh. Anything for the bros, bro.

Looking down at me confidently, Xavier grips the back of my head.

“Clean my hole bruh.”

_____________________________

A few days later I check in on Yuan to see his progress after a few nights obliviously listening to his ‘jocking’ tapes. Dude, I’m going to enjoy watching him slowly bulk up and dumb down. He’s sat up in bed casually tugging at his cock, mouth agape. The heavy thumping bass of trap music is blaring from his speakers. His room is a complete mess.

“How’s it hanging lil bro?”

“Just…mm—wanking.”

“Can see, Meathead. Hung and dumb, nice. I think you’re about ready to join us at the gym.”

“Hmm. Roomie, I—I need your help with something. It’s my big dick…”

“Huhuhu, there’s something wrong with it, let me be a bro and give you a hand with that stick.” I climb over him and wrap my lips around his cock.

“Thuck…ahem. Fuck yeah brooo!”

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roomates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: angsty (very minimal), smut, jealousy, possesiveness?

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8!!!!!

------------

When you get to the restaurant he has a large hand resting on your lower back. This spot is in the most crowded part of the city, meaning the ride was a bit over half an hour. He opens the door for you, stepping aside to let you in first. You sigh at the heat that radiates from inside as you step onto the hardwood floor of the very extravagant restaurant.

“John, I don't think I’m dressed for this kind of place.” You should’ve asked where you were going, god why didn’t you ask.

“What do you mean?” he asks confused, he looks down at you noticing the way you slightly sink into his side.

“I mean I’m underdressed for this place.” You whisper up to him, he looks around then back to you not seeing the problem at all. 

“I actually think you're overdressed.” He says winking at you, making you look away bashfully.

“John, I'm serious.” His eyes remain on you admiring the way your hair falls just above your collarbone, how you have your gorgeous legs on display for everyone to see. He simply doesn’t know what you’re on about. 

“You look beautiful, cut it out.” He says softly kneading at the meat on your hip, you pass up the long line of walk in groups and wait for the hostess to return which she quickly does.

“Reservation for John.” He says in his usual deep tone. Every so often you swear he lightens it for you.

“Okay follow me.” She gives you both a wide smile and collects two menus. 

John follows her and leads you through saying his ‘excuse me’s to the servers you pass by, keeping you tucked firmly to his side. Although it’s an intimate spot it’s also bustling with business inside. You realize this place is probably hard to get a reservation at as the walk in line piles up.

Once you’re sat and given menus she lets you both know your server will be with you shortly before leaving. 

“Have you been here before?” You ask as he glances over the drink menu.

“I have actually, Laswell and her wife got engaged here.” He smiles and remembers the very eventful night. Him and some old friends had hidden in a booth so they could watch it all take place and ended up getting caught in the end. 

“How long has she been married for?” 

“Nearly a decade.” You sigh with a smile. You want that. You want that terribly.

“Hi, can I get drinks started for you guys?” The server asks, John orders himself a scotch as you decide on what you want.

“I’ll just get an iced tea.” You say before looking up. But when you do you’re surprised to see an old friend.

“Adam?” You say with an awfully wide smile. 

“I knew that was you.” He says leaning in for a hug that you gladly reciprocate. 

“I’m so happy to see you.” You exclaim, last you heard of him he was in America. You wonder when he got back to the UK and how long he’s been back for.

“Me too, it’s lovely to see you. Anyways I’ll be back with your drinks.” He leaves as quickly as he came, stopping by other tables to check in.

“How do you know him?” John asks, you notice his gruff voice has an interesting pitch to it.

“Childhood friends.” You reply.

“Ah has it been awhile?” He asks curiously.

“A long while, he moved to the states and now he’s back I guess.” You shrug not really knowing what else to say.

“interesting.” You notice the way his eyes slightly trail your old friend as he walks around. 

“Okay, do you know what you're going to get?” You ask him to regain his attention. 

“I think so, you?” You nod your head also looking over the menu once more before making your final decision. 

“Here you guys go.” Adam says setting the drinks down at your table. 

“Are you ready to order?”He asks, keeping his eyes firmly on you. You don’t notice it but your very watchful date does. 

“No actually, could we have a couple more minutes?” John says, catching your attention as you give him a puzzled look. 

“Yeah, take all the time you need, by the way I heard from your sister not too long ago she told me you and Brian broke up. I was shocked, truly we all thought you guys would get married .” He says turning back to you. 

“Well they didn’t.” John says lowly beneath his breath. You and your old friend look at him for a second before you reply.

“Yeah, it just didn’t work out.” You reply a little awkwardly in remembrance of the breakup. Brian had also been a childhood friend and a highschool sweetheart.

“You were always too good for him.” you can't think of an appropriate way to answer that so there's a second of silence before he takes the hint. “ Okay then I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“He’s flirting with you” John says once he walks away.

“You think?”

“You don’t.” He feels like he just watched the man’s pupils turn into hearts at the sight of you.

“Are you jealous?” you ask, trying to read his expression.

“Of the childhood friend, or possibly family friend that's flirting with you, no.” He feels like it’s childish but in the end he’s just a man.

“John.” 

“Please doll, don’t.” You can't believe your eyes as you watch his jaw tick.

“Okay.” you try to suppress the smile that makes its way onto your lips. John has absolutely nothing to worry about but nonetheless is pent up.

He changes the topic and asks you about your next painting project, what you think it’ll be and where you think you’ll put it. You ask him about his own work, where did he meet his task force or rather how until Adam is back for your order.

You guys go back and forth on whether princess diana's death was an assassination or simply a horrible accident you say it was an assassination while he calls you crazy till your food is brought out to you.

There’s still light conversation between bites and sips. He’s not jealous, he tells himself, just bothered, bothered that you’ve known that man longer, how he knows your sister and had recently spoken to her, how he looks at you like you're more than friends. 

When dinner finishes up you offer to pay out of kindness and he just laughs shaking his head. When the check comes and he reads it he notices how your items have been paid for and prays dearly to remain collected.

“Did they double charge you or something?” You are confused at the subtle scowl on his face. 

“More like undercharged, do you see your friend anywhere?” He says looking around and you do also.

“No.” 

“It looks like all your items are paid for.” He’s clearly upset and although you sort of understand why, you can’t completely understand.

“It’s probably just a nice gesture John.” Why did he have to do that? 

“Doll I’m a man, I know what this means.” He sighs, jaw clenching. 

“Okay but we’re old friends.” You say trying to calm him down but failing miserably. 

“Oh you don’t say.” He says pressing his lips together. 

“Let's just forget about it, come on.” You softly plead.

“I’m not leaving without paying for your meal.” And he means it. When your unfortunate friend comes back around to collect the check, John's talking before he can get a word in.

“I’m sorry but I’d like to pay for these items.” John says to him with a husky deeper, irritated tone.

“I thought I’d treat an old friend.” Adam says looking to you while John’s holding onto every inch of his patience. 

“I’d like to treat my girl if you don’t mind.” Adam looks back to you for whatever reason but your eyes are stuck on John like you're in a trance. 

“Okay sir I’ll um I’ll rerun this.” He says walking away. It’s awkward silence and he’s still breathing in an unnatural pattern. But my girl, my girl, my girl. Is all you could think about.

“Here you are sir.” He says handing back the check. John gives it a quick glance before placing his card inside and handing it back. 

When he comes back around to give John his card back and a receipt for a signature you guys both get up to leave. 

“It was nice seeing you, maybe we can hang out soon?” Adam says facing you. 

“It was nice seeing you too.” John patiently waits for you to join him at his side.

“Maybe I can get your number?” The tone is one you’d only identify as flirtatious. You shut your eyes for a second realizing John was right but regardless of that he has nothing to be jealous about. 

“I'm sorry if you hadn’t noticed but I'm actually here on a date and I think that would be a little inappropriate.” You say politely while walking away. Once you're next to John his hand is around your waist as he is now the one trying to suppress a smirk. You walk out into the cold air huffing as you tighten your hands around yourself. 

When you get to the car John opens your door as he always does, waiting for you to sit before closing it. He gets in quietly turning the key in the ignition as the car hums to life, you look towards the window and out into the city, in another life you're definitely a city girl who sits at bars with friends and smokes cigarettes on fire escapes. As he’s driving he can’t help but notice the pout on your face. He fears he upset you in some way as your eyes stay on the road.

You can’t help but feel like he’s upset with you for not shutting it down sooner. His silence only leaves room for your mind to take over. This is the common dance between you two. He feels bad for how his jealous tendencies may have affected your first date and you feel guilty for letting this man openly make a pass on you infront of John.

“Doll.” 

“Hmm.” You reply not looking towards him. You’ve entered the long highway that leads home. The city is now in the rearview mirror getting smaller and smaller. With his right hand he caresses your chin turning you to face him. 

“What’s with this look?” He asks softly as his eyes bounce from you to the road. The hand that’s on your face makes its way to rest upon your upper thigh.

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, I’m genuinely asking.” He says a little confused.

“I truly didn’t think it meant anything.” He sighs realizing you're overthinking, that’s why you're quiet. 

“Don’t let that bother you, it’s okay.” He reassures you.

“I just don’t know what kind of man sees a woman who’s clearly on a date and is still so bold. Although when it comes to you I fear I’d be the same way.” John says and you scoff with a small smile looking away.

“I would, you're gorgeous, a gem. But my gem.” You can’t help the rise of warmth to your cheeks. You realize John is always complimenting you, always making sure you know how valuable you are. Does he not realize how you feel about him? 

“And how do you think I feel about you?” You say in a tone close to a whisper. His eyes search yours wondering where this is going.

“Getting jealous over a man who doesn’t compete with you and never could is beyond me.” You continue when he doesn’t respond.

“John, you're the most attractive man I’ve ever met, and I’m gladly all yours. My mind is too full of john price to think about anyone else” He groans quietly at the admission, not quite enough for your sensitive ears to pass up on though. 

“Yeah?” He says shifting in his seat as your words go straight to his cock.

“Yeah.” You gaze at him with the widest eyes, his hand clenches and unclenches around the steering wheel as he tries to remain gentlemanly.

You unbuckle your seatbelt causing him to turn his head at the sound. You’re still about five minutes away from home so he's slightly confused. Though all that dissipates when you lean up against the center council placing a hand on his thigh grazing over the growing erection he knows you know is there to plant a kiss on his cheek then one on his lips before sliding back into your seat.

“Thankyou for dinner.” It’s laced with seduction. 

you approach home at a faster speed than usual. He’s out of the car the second it's set in park rushing to your side to help you out. You can’t read his current expression as he practically drags you inside.

“Are you alright?” You ask, he scoffs at your audacity, fumbling with the keys to get the door unlocked. He’s ushering you inside quickly so the heat doesn’t escape from inside the home. You remove your boots by the door as John locks up. When you look up he's closer than you expected and his eyes are staring at you hungrily.

“Have I ever told you that you have a staring probl-“ his mouth is on yours before you can finish. There’s no easing into the kiss this time. He’s forcing his tongue in your mouth taking you by a welcomed surprise. He lifts you up like it’s nothing, hoisting you firmly around his waist. 

His lips drag messily down your neck as he pulls your sweater down further, any and all access to your skin available to him he wants to taste. You’re pressed up against a wall one second and then being walked towards his room another. He’s impatient and it's unlike him, yet he’s never felt more like himself. 

Your hands are in his hair pulling up his mouth to meet yours. His pants are so strained in the crotch area that he’s bucking his hips unintentionally searching for any kind of attention. You've grown embarrassingly wet in a matter of minutes,  being turned on doesn’t describe how you feel. Your skirt has become scrunched above your bum from all John’s touching and kneading. 

“Please.” You whine. He meets your lustful stare, smiling at how submissive you’ve become from just a little touching. 

“What do you want?” His voice has dropped octaves and his accent sounds extra thick as he says it in the short space between you. When you refuse to answer he presses more into you sparking friction so intense and so needed that your eyes shut softly. 

“What is it, hmm?” 

“You John, I want you.” You admit, you’re truly trying your best given what you want sounds too raunchy to speak aloud.

“Well I’m right here, gonna need more of an explanation.” He’s trying his hardest to not just give you it all. 

“Your fingers.” You can’t look at him as you say it. But the smile that forms on his face is so large and proud. 

“Don’t be an ass.” You say watching as your words definitely go to his ego. He knew you had a thing for his hands as he often caught you glancing at them when you got the chance. 

“You’re making my greatest wishes come true, why can’t I just be happy about it.” You smile now as his lips return to yours. He walks more down the hall this time you believe he’s heading into his room until your backs pressed up somewhere else. You open your eyes confused looking around before you notice you’re up against the candlelight painting, before you can question him he reads your mind.

“Don’t think I ever told you how much I love this one.” He says as he begins to remove your top. You raise your hands for him as he throws it to the floor beside you. You feel his hips stutter a bit when he sees the black Lace bra that adorns your chest.

“You’ll be the death of me.” 

“Promise?” 

His hands waste no time in finding the space between your thighs as he rubs an experimental finger over the damp spot that’s soaked through your tights. He nearly drops to his knees for a taste when he realizes just how wet you are. 

“Is this all for me?” he asks, pressing more firmly into the area.

“Yes.” it lacks that poised tone you always have. He grips the thin fabric and rips it in the crotch area and just like all tights, once one thread becomes undone the rest basically tears itself. He peers down looking at your matching panties clicking his tongue. His eyes go immensely dark at the sight of your arousal smeared on your plump thighs. He pushes your panties to the side shamelessly dipping a finger into your glistening cunt. Your back arches off the painting at the new sensation, mouth dropping a bit In anticipation. You hear how wet you are as he slides a finger up and down through your folds simply getting familiar with you, committing this to memory. 

“Please john.” you whine. His eyes find yours as his index finger begins to prod at your sopping entrance. He watches your face intently as he slides it inside, groaning at the way you clench around the single digit. His fingers are thick and coarse and your newest obsession. He can't get enough of the look of pleasure on your face as he begins to pump it in and out of you. You've sucked your bottom lip between your teeth to keep your moans mostly muffled trying your best to make little noise but that just doesn’t work for him. He leans in sucking it into his own mouth before kissing you deeply as you try your hardest to reciprocate. He begins to introduce his middle finger slowly easing it inside next to his other, your mouth falls open as a sound of pure pleasure escapes at the stretch. 

“D’s that feel good?” he asks breathlessly as the nearly painful erection in his pants twitches. You can't bring yourself to answer as your eyes fall to the hand that’s delivering you this feeling of ecstasy. He too watches in awe as your arousal leaks into his palm. 

“S’good all yours john.” you cry out as he presses his thumb to your clit. He can feel you getting close by the way his fingers are fighting to keep pumping inside your tight hole. He keeps the pace as he places sloppy kisses on your breasts sucking a little roughly on the soft tissue and watching the little bruises that immediately arise. 

He watches you in admiration, this is a paramount moment in his life. He curls his fingers towards that spot that makes you mumble incoherently, creasing your eyebrows in diversion.

“John, I'm close.” you're not close you’re practically there and he can't wait to see how pretty you look coming on his hand.

“Come on doll.” he wishes his eyes were cameras, he wants to keep the look on your face as you moan out his name forever. How your hands are holding onto his shoulders for dear life as if he’d drop you. And the way your long eyelashes flutter close. You're a dream, an absolute spectacle. His fingers continue to fuck you through the intense feeling, making sure you’re more than sated. 

He waits for your breathing to slow as he pulls his fingers from you. You whimper at the empty feeling. Your eyes that are struggling to fully open don't miss the moment he sucks them into his mouth gathering every ounce of spilled arousal. He moans loudly around them and you feel that switch come back on as quickly as it did the first time. He takes you to his room kicking the door open and setting you softly onto his bed. He removes your panties discreetly tucking them in his pocket as you still struggle to fully regain awareness. 

“May I?” He asks kindly, leaning down as he begins to hook your thigh around his shoulder.

“Oh John I never you don’t-“ 

“You never what?” He questions in absolute disbelief.

“You know this.” You gesture down to him with your hands, slightly embarrassed.

“I won’t if you don’t want me too.” He wants a taste desperately, truly doesn’t know what he’ll do if you deny him. 

“It’s not that I don’t want you too, it's just don’t feel obligated.” He laughs and you feel the air of his breath fan against you. 

“You're the one doing me the honor here, if you don’t like it just nudge me with your hand.” You nod nervously at him as he gains some focus onto the matter at hand. 

He’s eye to eye with the most mouth watering sight on the planet. You’re perfect in a way that would seem unachievable if you weren’t a living testimony that it is. 

He opens his mouth laying his tongue flat against your folds, your hips buck unintentionally and he moves to grip your hips and hold them firm. 

One taste and he’s sure you will truly be the death of him. He immerses himself in you, lapping at everything you're willing to give. You moan softly as your hands find their way into his hair. It’s good, better than anything you could’ve expected. His beard burns the inner part of your thighs and that mixed with the way John has his eyes on you while his tongue finds ways to make your back arch off the bed is mesmerizing. You try your best to not grind down onto his face every time his nose makes contact with your clit. You wonder if he can breathe, deciding he probably can’t by the way his face is snug against you, the ungodly sounds of slurping and grunting is making you woozy all around. 

“tastes so good, all f’me.” He says as he eats you out. It’s muffled into your folds, like if it wasn’t meant for you to hear. You feel that familiar build up of something hot and liquidy poor into your lower belly. A hand of yours kneads at your breast adding to the overwhelming senses of pleasure, with your other hand you pull on the locks of John’s hair, when he looks up he can’t contain it, the way his cock senselessly grinds into the mattress begging to be touched, he removes a hand from your hip carefully sliding it down the bed to release and stroke his aching red cock. He watches you lose yourself in pleasure as he fucks you on is tongue, your needy cries are melodic too him, they make him hungrier than ever before as he fucks his fist in fervor imagining the day he can split you open with it. Before he can think correctly he’s spurting loads more than he thought was possible onto his hand and dress shirt. The groan that he pours into you sends an intense feeling through your body, like thrashing waters that pull you under and keep you there before letting you back up. You don’t mean to, didn’t even expect it so soon but once the vibration hits you your clamping down onto his face. He doesn’t seem to mind, just continues to lick and prod at you letting your hips move slowly on his face. 

“John I’m-” you try catching your breath.

“You better not say sorry my love.” He can’t comprehend that this is real life. He tries to drink up all of what’s left of you before you push him away from over sensitivity.

You lay there breathless and heavy as he climbs above you planting a kiss onto your lips. You moan softly as you taste yourself from his mouth. When he pulls away you look at him with his wet beard and glistening stache. 

“What about you?” You say looking down towards his now unbuttoned pants.

“Finished about five minutes ago.” He says smugly. 

“What?” 

“What can I say doll, you're divine.” He’s not even phased by it and you’re in complete shock. He presses his weight down into you once more for a kiss then gets up and heads into the bathroom, you’re not sure what he’s doing till he comes back with a warm cloth and cleans the mess you made up. You’re unfamiliar with your partner doing aftercare but it’s nice. 

“D’ya want a pair of boxers or sweats, and a shirt or sweater.” He says while going to his dresser. 

“Boxers and sweater.” You answer quietly, you’re spent, as sleepy as can be. When he approaches you with both those things he helps you dress and opens the comforters for you to get inside. He himself is dressed in pajamas as he scoots in next to you pulling you firmly to his chest. You scoot impossibly close and intertwine your legs with his, your face is in the crook of his neck inhaling him as you fall asleep. He doesn’t want to lose this moment so quickly though so he tries his best to keep himself awake for as long as possible just to savor having you in his bed entangled with him physically and mentally. Although it doesn’t last as long as he’d like it’s enough to get him through the hard nights, his eyes drift closed as he too falls asleep.

——————-

I too am ashamed of myself🫶

Comments and re-blogs are greatly appreciated (if you do know spiritually I’m giving you a forehead kiss) ❕

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[justanothervigalanty]

Jason’s little guy

you and Jason were in the hospital. With a 4 hour old baby boy who was tiny. Very tiny. In all seriousness he was lucky to be alive unlike you you wished you were dead welst expecting child birth for the first time. But yeah your little boy was an early baby and when I say early I mean you were only 32 weeks pregnant and had only recently told your families! This was probably the most stressful terrifying thing for not only you but Jason because your water didn’t just break no no no. Jason needed backup in crime alley and you were the closest person so you put on your suit, red mast and went to kick some criminal ass. Jason was not happy about you being there but he needed the support so he didn’t complain. Until one off the shooters must off notice you small but visible pregnant belly. So take a wild guess at we’re this idiot kicked you. Your stomach. To which you feel to the floor in shock and well according to Bruce the red stain all up his suit was ketchup. So that’s how you ended up in the hospital. Yay (no). Jason had been waiting since the moment you both had talked about kids, holding a small mini him in his arms. But the odds were against him because well the kids check ups took about 1 hour to make sure he was okay and you needed to try Brest feed him which he wouldn’t take. Back to the checkups, he also to Jason’s horror had needed a injection around 1 inch long in his arm and thay just did it right there in front off him before carrying Jason’s screaming baby away again!? He just wanted to hold his son so when they brought him in and handed him to you he immediately gestured that he wanted to hold his kid. So you handed him over showing Jason how to support his head and not to squish him. God you had never seen your boyfriend so happy in your life. He didn’t say anything for about 10 minutes he just sat there staring at his son. Then around 3 doctors walked in. “Um miss L/n and mr Todd we believe your son may have some sort of genetic illness” one said walking over to a now very worried Jason with you terrified on the hospital bed. “As you can see your son has a very bold streak of white and we noticed his eyes Are glow in the dark green.” The doctor said as your son opened his eye to reveal your E/c past on to him. “What?! His eyes were green we all saw it not E/c!” Just then you and Jason laughed a bit. “What why are you laughing this is a serious issue you’re son could be permanently sick!?” Another said a bit disgusted. Jason just laughed and pulled down the hood on his jacket to show his jet back hair and white steak “it’s just some genetic from me” he said “and the eye thing is just how y/n’s eyes look in some light” Jason said holding your hand. “Oh then you should be good to go this evening. Which you gladly did. But there was a change off place you went over to Wayne manor because you had realised you hadn’t told anybody about your baby’s sudden birth. So when you walked in with a hospital bracelet and Jason holding what looked like a small pile of baby blankets Bruce was confused and concerned. “Y/n! Jason! We didn’t see you on the group patrol last night are you ok?” He asked standing up. “Well you could say that” Jason said walking over and handing over your son to him. “I told you I was good at keeping secrets” you said walking over “he is tiny!”

[whalesforhands]

what’s yours is mine (1/?)

masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse, rating may change with every update.)

“Ito Saya, reporting in for your daily broadcast. In a noteworthy shift, Omegas are increasingly finding more employment opportunities in positions of power. With a positive trend towards reduced oppression of—“

You’re averse to this sort of thing. A folly, something you can barely care about as your eyes squint at big words floating around the screen, a pretty lady holding papers and looking all serious and… Boring. TV shows are supposed to be fun, supposed to be playing that anime you had been waiting all week to see, supposed to be… Interesting so that you can feel less alone.

You definitely don’t want some silly lady on the screen talking about— Those things that you can barely understand. Why do they always talk so much? A picture could probably end their entire long spiels in seconds.

Your nose scrunches, your fingers cupping your chin like those TV characters did when they were thinking really hard. So why don’t they just use pictures? They’re more colourful and tell you stuff faster, won’t they? It’s not your fault that the TV station people are always so inefficient.

(It’s the television’s fault isn’t it? Definitely, right? Mama always did tell you it was a little old.)

Or maybe it’s because you don’t know a lot of things.

You’re 4, staring up at the glowing screen of your all too old television, sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor in this wide, wide room that was a little too empty for your liking. Your nose picks up on the scent of coffee, ears barely picking up on a clink of porcelain against a cheap wooden coaster. Mama circles things in newspapers, the gliding of her red marker against the sheet attracting your attention to the focused look in her eyes, the furrow of her brows, the way she just held that pen so elegantly…

(Your Mama is so much prettier than the lady on the TV.)

You like it when she’s focused like that, so serious-looking! This must be the pinnacle of a hard worker. Brains… And beety? Or whatever you heard some other old man on the TV used to cheer about.

So you decide you don’t wanna watch anymore, Getting up onto your small feet and barely catching yourself before you topple over, toddling over to your Mama with socks padding against the wooden floors.

You’re soon taking decisive peeks at your all too focused mother, watching over her shoulder in silence to let her focus. There should be a reason why she’s so serious, right?

Maybe it’s something fun? Something exciting? That’s why she’s so focused on it— right?

“J…Ob list…ings open…” Your eyes are narrowed, licking over your lips to wet them as you take another deep breath in. “Mini—um, ex-peer-i-sense?”

You can see the red marker coming to a halt, her sweet chuckle perhaps to humor you, to acknowledge your attempt. Patting your head when she turns her head around, and a smile upon her face as she smooths over the fabric of her skirt, as you feel yourself being lifted and plopped gently into the warm confines of her lap.

“That was a nice try, sweetie.” Her eyes meet yours when you take the decisive move to lean back, a ruffle of your hair and your quiet giggle as the short relief of her attention leaves you, though not without sating your curiosity. “Mama’s looking for a job.”

You know what that is. It’s for adults to make money, disappear for hours in a day and only come back super, super late at night.

(You think your father had one. Or… Did he really?)

And it means they spend all that time in a place nowhere close to their home or cute, adorable, obedient daughters either.

“Does that mean you can’t stay home with me anymore, Mama?” You’re still leaning back into her chest, staring up at her chin from your position as you bring yourself impossibly closer to her, the calm smell of vanilla and honey in your nostrils making you all warm and fuzzy, calm and happy.

(You always liked it when she smelled like this.)

“Maybe, sweetie.” She pulls away briefly to tap the end of the marker against your nose. “But Mama will be able to buy you more delicious food,” She pauses to smile so sweetly down at you, a pinch to your cheek. “And finally get you some toys.”

Toys. You realize that you don’t have any toys. At least— You couldn’t bring any of your toys with you when your mother had so urgently scooped you up into her arms in the dead of the night, a luggage rolling behind her as your nose picks up on an urgent, intruding scent of sour milk and rotting flowers, your senses spiked with uncertainty and fear as you soundlessly drink in the last sight of your old home for those few seconds before the darkness ate it all away.

You remember boarding 1 train, 2 trains, 3 trains… You lost count after that. Only simply remembering getting pulled along, Mama’s soft whispering and cooing promises that this is for the best, that your Papa won’t be able to follow you here, that you’ll be happier than ever. You remember her scent, less rigid, less frightened but still steeped in misplaced excitement. Like a fragrant scent of calm that beckoned you to follow and imitate.

You remember living in small apartments, tiny, squeezy and virtually no space. You remember how sickly, horridly sweet Mama’s scent was, caked in perfume when she rushes out every night for her job at the local izakaya. Her uniform always a little messed up in her haste before she leaves your dinner usually already in your hands as you slurp on ramen or eat another scoop of curry rice.

She would pat your head as you offer her a bite, giving you a smile before she tells you to be good, several locks clicking into place when she closes the door behind her.

It wasn’t much, wasn’t the most fun you’ve ever had in your life, but it was comfortable. You were happy with that simple life with her. But one day, you heard jangling at the front door, you hear hurried, panicked movements, smell sour fear despite the thick odour of perfume as your Mama hurriedly slams the door shut behind her, cold sweat on her as she hugs you close, buries her face into your hair.

You don’t like it when she’s like this.

You remember a man with a scent so different from your father come knocking at your door for weeks on end, gradually changing from slow knocks to furious banging on the metal with a rough pleads begging that he won’t hurt your mother, that she was beautiful, the she was—

That’s how you ended up here now. It’s been at least a year since then. And only about a month since you moved in.

(You think. You’re not really good at telling time yet.)

“Mama, I don’t need toys.” It’s not like you don’t want them, you just don’t need them. A lesson taught to you by more pretty ladies on the TV screen, you’ve also stopped by many a toy store only to see too many zeroes on price tags, and it’s been steeled in your mind that you just don’t need them. Not when you have Mama to play together with now that she’s smiling so much more.

So you’re adamant on not wanting any.

“Is that so, darling?” You feel a mindless pinch to your cheek as she circles another paragraph of words. “Then how are you going to keep yourself from getting bored when I’m not around?”

Now that has you in a slight dilemma, your hands freezing in place from where they had been twirling with her hair. You blink once, and again when you quietly see her marker tap against the paper, as if awaiting your thoughts as your eyes start to dart all over the room.

(She makes really good points. Too good. As expected of your Mama.)

The television? No. Mama would tell you too much is bad for your eyes. The pillows you both use for your futons? No. You’ll probably dirty it and make more work for her. Your eyes silently trail over to the window, sun shining through the panes and onto the floor as a glowing thought arises.

“I can just play outside.”

——

Be careful what you wish for, as they say.

An amused chuckle from Mama as she pushes you towards the door, nimble fingers excitedly doing up the straps of your old sandals and arming you with a couple of handmade cookies, a pat on your head and parting words of;

“Don’t wander anywhere past the playground, don’t follow anyone strange, be back by sunset and make some friends.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that you’ll go play outside.

“Honey, I know it’s only been so long since we’ve moved here.” She’s clears her throat, a cloth being gently rubbed against your face to help get rid of any stray rice grains. “But,” She sucks in a breath, a rise and fall of her chest as you blink at her.

“Have you…” She has to take another breath in. Does she have breathing problems—

“Made any friends yet?”

Oh.

The answer is no. Your go-to counter being, ‘I don’t go outside, so how can I make any?’ as if it was the most obvious thing in the world as you give her a smile.

(This isn’t something you’re meant to be proud of.)

And all she’ll give you is winced smile, ruffling your hair and saying that there was no rush. That you’ll get your chance. That you’re the sweetest kid there was. That she has faith in you and wants you to work hard!

But it’s not like it’s as easy as your capable mother makes it sound, and not like you wanted to be out here, anyway. You think the sun is too hot, that there aren’t enough clouds, that the wind isn’t picking up enough, the cicadas are too loud, that you need water—

And that you need to stop complaining so much.

You’re kicking at the path, a long stick in your hands poking at the ground beneath you, cookies pinched between your fingers as you wander and wonder. You can make friends. Surely, you can. That’s what the the cookies are for, right?

Other kids your age should love cookies. You sure do, and you’re Mama’s number 1 fan when it comes to her baking.

(Or her… Anything, really.)

So… You know her inside out, you swear you do. You love her, she loves you, she makes good food and she wants you to make friends, come back with no cookies and a new bond forged.

(Anyone would do, right?)

But you don’t see any kids, the playground you just arrived at deserted and empty. It looks sleek, almost as if it were brand new. Dark wood and galvanized steel, it was so… Clean. So untouched. Yet nobody was here? Your shoulders slump forwards in mild disappointment, yet your heart thrills at the thought of being able to have the whole place to yourself. Alone.

Well, choosers can’t be beggars… Or was it the other way around? Either way, it’s not like Mama would know if you ate them both yourself.

——

So you find yourself sat down comfortably within the top of the little hut housing the slide, your feet splayed out in front of you as you prepare to take a bite. You feel the straps of your sandals relax against your feet, a slight breeze picking up despite the shade you had hidden under. Perfect. This was perfect—

“Are those cookies?”

You can feel your shoulders jump in shock, fear pulling at your heartstrings and a startle nearly making you drop your precious dessert. So much for a peaceful time. You have to physically lurch yourself back before any harm was done to your food. Just who do they think they are? To just come up to you and—

A flurry of white snow and icicles of frost. But you’re pretty sure the summer heat is still beating down, the cicadas are still singing, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Yet the one before you defies all of that. He had an aura about him, a commanding curiosity. And he does definitely—

“Look weird.”

His eyes widen for just that fraction of a second, before he furrows his brows, the long sleeves of the firefly kimono swaying when he crosses his arms in rebuttal.

“You’re weirder.”

You blink maybe twice. Once in surprise, and the other to really blink back into reality. He must’ve heard your thoughts.

“I didn’t. Ya just said it out loud, weirdo.”

Oh. You have to say your sorries, then. Mama didn’t raise you to be rude.

“This is my playground.” Your eyes catch a glimmer of the wara zori his feet donned. They were too neat, too well put together. “Nobody else is allowed in.” His tone sounds so proper, his pronunciation so abnormally clear, especially for someone who looks your age.

“Oh.” You didn’t know that. Though to be fair, you don’t know a lot of things. “Sorry. I didn’t know playgrounds can be owned…”

“That’s only for poor people.” You hear the tap of his shoes against pressure treated wood. “If more people were like me, they’d have their own playgrounds too.”

“Oh. Sorry then.” You really are. You just thought playgrounds were a place for every kid… 

“S’that all you can say?” You can see the shine of iridescent blue, making use of his standing height to belittle and threaten your sitting position. He makes himself look big, makes the glimmer in his eye turn into one of malice and impatience. It twists his features, turns them into something rugged and rough and uncomfortable.

And you think it’s such a waste of the cute face he has.

“Sorry.” To his Mama who gave him such a nice looking profile, and to him, you guess. You don’t really know if you should be apologizing, don’t really know if what you’re doing is right.

(But apologising has always worked. It felt right to you.)

And you think he’s satisfied now.

He harrumphs, unfolding his hands. “Some old lady put me on a sweets ban.” He settles down next to you, pushing you aside to make space for himself as he plops down, and you notice the shifting of the pretty blue fabric he donned matching perfectly with the crystal blue of his eyes. You notice the print quality being one so clear and vivid, despite the simple design. That’s a really nice kimono. “So I can’t eat anymore for the rest of the month.”

(He really is cute.)

“But since you’re trespassing on my playground,” He holds a dainty, porcelain hand out, a small twitch of his fingers that itch for your compliance. “I’m charging you cookies for it.” He’s smiling now. A proud, smug grin with the upturn of his eyes into crescents.

”It’s okay for me to eat ‘em cause it’s tax.”

He’s kind of irritating, but… Anyone would do, right?

You swallow the lump you weren’t aware of in your throat, the sweat that you didn’t know that was starting to form on your hand. You think you have an idea. A good one, at that.

“Okay,” You produce the other packaging. “But you have to promise to be my friend.”

Now it’s his turn to blink at you in utter confusion.

“Are you—“ His eyebrows furrow deeper than before, his smile dissipating into this confused frown. His eyes scrutinize and watch you closely, as if he was scouring your every breath, your every movement to uncover something that just wasn’t there.

“Being serious?”

Why… Wouldn’t you be? The way you just blink back at him, waiting on him to continue only to be met with glaring silence… Is there something on your face? Is there a bug you didn’t see crawling in your hair?

Or maybe he just wants the cookie.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Your hand is warm as they grip his wrist, gently dropping the wrinkled plastic onto his hand with a tilt of your head and eyes that flick up to meet his. It’s innocent, genuine, even. Frightfully so. The way you smile with nothing else, the way your intent was shown upon your very sleeve.

Nothing. He garners absolutely nothing from you. Your hands feel too warm, the chocolate chips within the cookie already look like they were melting, sweat is starting to stick your hair to your skin— And he thinks it doesn’t get anymore real than this.

“Okay.”

Oh, good. He agreed. You have a friend now, and it makes your heart squeeze with just that bit of excitement, of joy. It felt like you were swinging too high off the ground, felt like you were going to be swept off your feet.

It felt good. Maybe you should make more friends.

“Do the thing with me.” His pinky is held out, pushed into your face. “Ya gotta promise me something too. That’s how promises work.”

Is that how it works? You didn’t know that either.

“Yeah.” It isn’t. “That’s how it works here, you dunno that cause you’re new.”

Well… Okay then. “What’s the promise?”

You see his lips curl up, his eyes sparkling with something unknown as you begin to stick your own pinky out. “You’re already my friend, right?”

You nod.

“Good.” There’s a smugness to his face now. “So you can’t be friends with other kids from this neighbourhood. That’s betrayal to me.”

You catch a whiff of something spicy, hot. As if it were burning you to the very edges of your body— Before it disappears completely, as if it were never there. He makes sense, to you at least, and it sounds… Fair enough, you guess.

Your pinky wraps tight around his, in spite of how foreboding and suffocating his hold feels. Your nose picks up on the scent of fabric cleaner, the scent of summer weighing heavy on your nose in this moment. You see blue and white, see oranges and pink light starting to envelop his hand from where the sun had begun to set, making his hand glow as your promise becomes sealed in this very moment forward.

“Hey,” His eyes still don’t leave the way your fingers were intertwined with each other. “Which house do you live in?”

(“I’m forgiven for coming in here without permission, right?” Your hands are stained with sticky chocolate that you’re trying to dab off with your dry handkerchief, bits of crumbs littering your lips.

“Ya can come here whenever you want now.” He wipes the remnants of soft biscuit and gooey chocolate off with a dismissive sleeve.

“That’s such a waste of a pretty kimono…”)

——

Even when your pinkies have lost their binding to each other, you still find his hand holding onto yours, adamant on them being intertwined as he huffs in annoyance at your stare.

“I’m only leadin’ ya back cause I wanna see your house.”

You give him that owlish stare again. The blank one that looks like you don’t have a thought passing through your head at all. “Okay,” You smile again.

“What’s your name, by the way?”

It’s a dismissive question, one that had only just occurred to you. You’re far more interested in watching the way the sun casted your shadows together on the concrete pavement, how your silhouettes gave you a sense of weird unity. Having a friend feels really nice, you think.

You take a glance at him when he takes too long to reply, catching an icy cold gaze that contrasted the warmth of your hands conjoined.

“You first.” Well, if he insists, you guess. It’s just your name.

“(last name) (name).” You’re pretty sure you got the pronunciation right.

“Gojo… Satoru.” You can hear him hold his breath as his name leaves his lips, his voice ever steady and confident, though with a tinge of hesitance. As if he expects something, as if he wants it to be over and done with.

It never comes. Only a confused tilt of your head as you keep staring at him like he was the crazy one in this situation.

And you can see his face change into one of disbelief, one that barely tilts over the edge of what you can only describe as ‘shocked relief’. Maybe he is as weird as he looks. Does he have some sort of weird complex? You can swear you’ve heard about it on TV before. Or maybe he just has really bad comedic timing? You can at least compliment him.

“You’re funny, Satoru-san.” Because he’s genuinely making you smile now.

“I didn’t give you permission to call me by my name.”

“Oh.” You thought friends were allowed to be on first name basis immediately. Were you wrong about friendships afterall? You stare at the ground for a little longer than needed as punishment for yourself, “Sorry, Gojo-s—“

“I didn’t give you permission to call me by my last name either.” His hand squeezes yours ever tighter in small retaliation, his face turned away from yours to hide the way he was starting to grow red with rapid embarrassment.

(You can still see the tips of his ears burning red.)

Now you’re just confused. A scratch of your head as you try to think a little bit harder.

“…do I just call you friend, then?” And you can hear him stifle a snort.

“You’re really weird.” He squeezes your palm again. “Lose the honourifics, weirdo.”

(“So, Gojo…?” You test the waters again. You see his eyes stare off to the side in thought for just that one moment before they flick back to meet your gaze.

“Satoru.”)

“My house is that one,” Your small fingers point towards the horizon, a quaint, unassuming home coming into sight. “You have to walk 3 houses down from the playground.”

You stop before the front. Trying to loosen your grip only to feel his hand tighten significantly around yours.

“Satoru.” You call his name when he’s seemingly lost in thought, his eyes staring blankly at your humble home. It almost looked as if he hasn’t seen one before. “It’s getting late.”

“Oh.” Is he copying you now?

“Don’t you need to go back home? Your Mama would be mad if you’re late, wouldn’t she?” You probe a little more in efforts to snap him out of his trance, poking at his squishy face to get his attention.

But to no avail.

He doesn’t say anything, his head only turning to the side to stare you straight in the eye as you await. You see how pinks and blues are practically reflecting off of those crystalline optics, the sky reflected in them as they shine with a certain warmth.

“Can I come by tomorrow?”

——

A small knock at your front door early into the morning, when the sun had barely risen and the skies were still painted in shades of night blue.

To be specific, it was 6:00 AM. Your Mama was startled as she sipped coffee in the kitchen, you hear her shuffling downstairs, hear the clatter of the very few kitchenware you had as you begin to stir from your sleep, your brain flaring into overdrive as you try to sniff out the air— Trying to capture whiffs of that rancid scent that you hate so much—

Nothing. Nothing but the growing smell of rotting flowers that sends jitters down your spine. It worries you, sends you into a panic as you practically trip over yourself to run downstairs, disregarding any of the instructions of hiding away in the closet like your Mama had taught you beforehand. You have to check— Have to see if she’s okay—

The door is already open.

“Is (name) home?” He’s the first to talk, eyes flicking back and forth between the slightly open door and the dim light from within your home and your sleepy mother.

Mama only blinks down at him, her phone on speed-dial to the police releasing its tense grip as her shoulders visibly slump forward. Her scent calming from the initial flare up as she opens the door just that little more to allow her full view of Gojo Satoru standing before your home accompanied solely by a pretty lady dressed in a simple kimono.

“Yes… She is—“

“Good morning, (last name)-sama.” A low bow that takes your mother by surprise. “Our young master has scheduled a playdate with your daughter for today.”

“I— Um, heard, yes. But I certainly didn’t expect it to be this early—“ Your Mama shifts in place a little uncomfortably, taking note of how the sun had yet to rise, how the street lamps were still alight.

“We apologize for the disturbance.” The servant girl swoops down into another polite bow, head low and hands holding out a neatly wrapped gift before her. “These are snacks to show our gratitude for hosting this event. Young Master Gojo was looking forward to this arrangement, and had made preparations to come as early as possible.”

What an… Interesting child.

“As I am not allowed to accompany him inside due to his request, please also take this number with you, (last name)-sama. Do not hesitate to call us if anything arises. I will arrive to pick him up when he wishes to go.”

“Ah, um… Thank you…” The box feels heavy in your Mama’s hands as you tug on her pajamas from behind, peeking out slightly once you hear the door close.

“Gojo-kun… Was it?” She has to blink a few times to really get a good look at the snowy-haired boy.

“How did you say your friend looked again?” She’s picking up a dumpling with her chopsticks, gently laying the food onto your plate as you continue to chew in humming delight.

Your training chopsticks are clacking against each other as you smile up at her, all toothy grin and happy glow.

“He’s really cute.”

She figures it checks out, the doll-like, porcelain features of his face, the shiny blue eyes and his silky looking hair. He doesn’t say anything, furrowed brows and curiosity in his eyes as he scrutinizes her too, the air starting to still just that little bit when he nods at her in greeting.

As if he was acknowledging her… And as if he didn’t know how else to react.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She leans down to shake his hand, noticing the softness of his skin, the grip of his hand. “And thank you for the gift.”

You pop out from hiding behind your Mama’s legs, blinking at how his clothing had switched from the pretty kimono yesterday— To a simple shirt and shorts.

“Satoru.” You smile only slightly, your voice dimmed with the raspiness of just waking up, waving your hand in greeting. “You’re not wearing your pretty clothes anymore.”

Mama watches, watches how his gaze had been fixated on you the moment you appeared, how he’s waiting—

“I’ll leave you both to it, then.” A ruffle of your hair as you let out a quiet giggle. “Make sure to wash up and brush your teeth.”

“Okay.”

And when she’s out of sight, her footsteps disappearing down the hallway— He starts to speak more.

“Your house is tiny.” Small. Inferior. Almost unlivable. He swears he’s seen servant quarters bigger than this as he kicks his sneakers off by the genkan, dusting himself of imaginary dust as he climbs up the step, his hand somehow finding yours with almost scary accuracy.

Is it? You always felt that it was too big. Always having too much space that you didn’t know what to do with.

“I think it’s nice.” You can feel yourself squeezing his palm with gentle self-assurance, leading him up the stairs and into the bedroom where your futon still laid upon the ground messily.

He sees darkness, hears the soft pads of your socks against tatami mats. Smells the faintest scent of honey within this room.

He stares. Silently, quietly. At the hadakake of your futon, at the thinner blanket that your Mama had taken out to deal with the sweltering heat of summer, at the overall state of the room.

“Are you poor?” You blink at him when he lays down next to you on his side, the softness of the bedding making your body feel heavy and sleepy, feeling a bit too lazy to want to keep the comfy sheets away.

“No.” Your whisper is quiet, soft. As if you were slowly fading away into sleep. “I have enough.” And he knows you’re telling the truth when you just give him a sleepy smile, a yawn escaping your lips as you cuddle against your pillow, eyes losing focus and turning the sight of your friend into a bleary blue and white.

”So I’m happy with just this.”

And he thinks you’ve really gone crazy.

“Good morning, Satoru…” Because you’re pretty sure you have yet to say it, as weird as it is when you’re in the midst of falling asleep.

“…morning.”

He’s fun to be around.

——

A couple weeks have passed, the same days of Satoru coming around to knock at your door too early in the morning, your sleep-deprived Mama getting the door and letting him in—

Only to end with both you and him sleeping in on your futon until early afternoon, when you both awaken only to play… Whatever, really. The playground, drawing at home, building pillow forts…

Mama tells you she doesn’t mind if he wants to come over, doesn’t mind if Satoru wants to play with you so often when she’s off to work. She tells you what really matters is what you want, that its up to you if you want him to come over this often, that it’s your choice to play with him.

(Mama described him once as ‘clingy’. You don’t know what that means, but you think it’s good. You have a friend. Your only friend.)

So you told him to only come once every 2 days, that you think too much interaction may ruin your alone time with Mama… Only to be met with a pout and eyes that teetered almost on watery even as you pat his head and apologise.

He still listened to you, though. Despite the glare to the side and the very evident pout on his face everytime he realises he doesn’t get to see you the next day—

Though, as of recently, Satoru had been the last thing on your mind. Your eyes taking interest in and stuck onto the house next door instead. It’s always been empty, more barren than your own. But it’s gotten ‘renovated’ as your Mama said, the walls losing their dull shade and obtaining a new shine, the boarded windows replaced with shiny, clear glass.

It looked really nice.

“Stop staring at the ugly house and look at me insteaddddddd!” Ever selfish, ever vying and whining for you to give him your undivided attention.

“(nameeeeeeeeeeee).”

“It’s not ugly, though.” You think it looks quaint, looks prettier than your own. “It looks pretty.” You’re curious what kind of people are gonna live there. Are they gonna be an old couple like how Satoru always claims? Maybe it’ll be a nice middle aged lady who likes to share her pickled vegetable dishes?

You just hope they’re nice.

“How much do you think it costs to rent-uh-vate?” Your stare is still pointed at the house next door, your window directly facing one of their rooms as you stare with curious intensity.

He narrows his eyes at the view of the empty rooms, the windows that still lacked curtains and the blank white of their freshly painted walls.

“Not much, I’m pretty sure.”

Probably not much in his terms, anyway.

“Mama said she thinks they’re gonna move in today.”

“Really? Then let’s watch ‘em later then.” He lets out a huff as he rolls around your floor, watching you settle down cross-legged next to him as he makes a grab for you. “I don’t wanna play at the playground t’day.”

“Oh. Okay then, let’s play the cards you brought then—“ Your words die on your lips, body reeling back to the window at the telltale beep of a horn, the loud rumbling of a truck starting to pull into the street just mere meters away from you.

And that has the both of you clambering up to the window, his hand holding yours to ensure you don’t fall as you both squeeze to stand on the same stool, hands pressed up against the glass as your cheeks squish against each other in hopes of getting a view of what these people will look like.

“If it’s not an old couple, can we play on the swing today?”

“Y’er on.”

Your eyes watch the dark blue Toyota pull in close behind, your heart starting to race in palpitating beats that make you think you’re gonna be sick.

“Looks cheap.” Satoru’s still as snarky as ever.

The passenger door swings open, mesmerizing you with the sight of someone new, someone unfamiliar; a stranger that you’ve never seen before. Your gaze is stuck, unable to leave the features that capture your mind first—

Black hair and purple eyes.

masterlist next

[oneluckydumbass]

You couldn't hold back the tears anymore. The stress of the last hours, the uncertainty, the panic that was clearly visible on the others’ faces were more than enough to push you over the edge. As you sat on the floor with your back against the wall, you rested your forehead on your pulled up knees and struggled to stop crying. You should pull yourself together, you shouldn't show such weakness.

But then you felt a gloved hand on your bare shoulder, reminding you that you weren't alone in this. Ghost was there when those canisters released an unknown substance in the room, which is why the two of you were now quarantined together.

“They'll figure it out,” he said in his deep voice, although you could tell his tone was laced with hopelessness.

You couldn't blame him, you were also feeling hopeless. How could you not? They didn't know what that was, and the symptoms would surely get worse with time. The headache and the nausea was already on the threshold of being unbearable, you couldn't even begin to imagine what else was about to come.

Apparently there was something wrong with the blood sample you both gave. You weren't a doctor, you had no idea what the issue was, but they sounded serious. You didn't want to die. Your job was risky, sure, but dying from a bullet still seemed like the better option.

Before you knew it, Simon sat next to you then put an arm around your shoulder so he could force you to rest with your head on his shoulder. Through the mask, he pressed a soft kiss on your head, causing you to look at him with wide eyes.

“What? There's a chance we'll die here, I'm not gonna spend it as if we were just simple teammates,” he informed you.

The thought of him being so openly affectionate warmed your heart. Simon Riley, the man who always made sure to keep his softer side behind closed doors when he was alone with you, was now ready to let the entire team know you were together as a couple. Happy and in love, although you didn't think you would go into details about how you were already talking about starting a little family of your own.

The only sound came from the buzzing neon lights on the ceiling, filling the heavy silence that was making you more and more depressed as the minutes passed. A doctor came in to check your vitals, noted that Simon had fever, then left without saying anything about what they knew so far.

“I love you, Simon,” you quietly noted as you reached out to take his hand that was resting on his thigh.

With a short laugh he pulled up the mask a little and leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, savoring the moment, turning it into a core memory. Because this was an important moment for the both of you, a slow and emotional goodbye in case you didn't make it.

“If we get out of here,” he began cautiously as you lay down with your head resting on his legs, “would you marry me? And I mean it, I don't want a long engagement or a big wedding, I just want to make it official as soon as possible.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Just the two of us.”

You pulled off the glove from his hand and placed a soft kiss on it. His big, calloused hand gave you the comfort you needed now, long fingers lacing with yours in an attempt to calm you down. It would have been a nice moment under different circumstances.

Suddenly Soap walked in, wearing a hazmat suit, but even that wasn't enough to hide the wide grin on his face. “Okay, so we left cameras here to know if you're okay, which is how we heard everything. We agreed that you're idiots because one, we knew about the two of you all along, and two, there's no way you can run away like that to get married.”

Shaking his head, Simon leaned back against the wall as he looked up at the sergeant. “What's the point if we die here anyway?” he asked with a sigh.

To your surprise, Soap took off the helmet with a laugh. “I forgot to mention; the doc gave you the green light. You won't die. It's… I don't know, I was too busy celebrating that you'll live to listen to what he said. Come on, Lt., time to go home.”