#the way I thought of a design and a day later I already have him and his relationship with sun all figured out

[stellewriites]

simon “ghost” riley tattoo thoughts (ghoap)

mdni!!

cw: slight mention of canon character deaths and slight suggestion of canon (?) historical child abuse

tattoo examples at the bottom.

‘chin up’ - this was one he got after joining the army and after gaining the ghost moniker. by far not his first tattoo in my opinion, probably got it after he finished off his sleeve.

i’m imagining a captain he admired when he first joined up said it one too many times and it just sticks. he repeats it in his head so often over the years he decides he needs it engrained on him as well as in him. a permanent, physical reminder that he didn’t need to make himself small anymore, that there was no one left he needed to try and hide from.

i do think price has seen it, though he wasn’t the inspiration for it; dealer’s choice how and why, but i think because of it he picked up the phrase himself subconsciously. the sight of the thick lettering had ran through his mind for days and now he catches himself teasingly saying chin up to laswell over the comms, to kyle when his footy team loses, and to johnny until he sees how the scot’s eyes flicker to simon every time without fail.

he wouldn’t say it to ghost, it wouldn’t feel right. instead he’d chuck him under the chin when he was being a moody bastard, pause just long enough to give him a look before moving on as if nothing happened. it was always enough.

waist/hip flowers - they’d be scottish thistles, and johnny would guffaw the first time he caught sight of them while on a mission, call him a prickly bastard inside an’ out.

but hoursdaysweeks later, finally behind closed doors back on base, when they’re no longer in forced close company with price and gaz, he’d trace the scratchy lines of them. he’d dig his fingers deep into simon’s hips where the thistles would’ve been sharpest and coo how simon’s his very own flower o’ scotland now.

that he was johnny’s, he’d marked himself so.

simon would give him a minute longer to admire them and crack another joke or two before flipping them over and biting down hard on the meat johnny’s shoulder, pinning his arms and legs to the bed ‘til he was satisfied it’d bruise ugly and jarring. he’d maybe mumble against the sore skin about who was marked by who now, but johnny would only buck up into him and moan at the throbbing pain. ask him to do the other side too, s’only fair they be matchin’ in that regard.

two headed calf - i wholeheartedly and unironically believe simon has this tattoo and got it maybe the third or fourth time i he had an appointment for his sleeve.

he would be choosing artists and studios not based on reviews or friendliness, but on how cheap they were and how quick they could book him in during his leave; probably went to a different studio each time depending on what city he was in when he had the cash too so the quality of his sleeve would wildly vary.

but i think it’s safe to assume given his criteria for a tattoo artist, he could’ve had apprentices doing his first job lot of tats. and maybe the artist had a flash sheet sale going and they offered it to him when he mentioned offhand that he needed ideas to further fill up his arm, not really expecting him of all people to want any of their designs given how different the style and content was to what he had circling his bicep already, but trying their luck either way. shy bairns get nowt, even simon knew that.

he’d have grunted at the calf, eyes caught on it’s softly sketched, placid faces as the artist explained the poem to him, maybe even read it off their phone when he pushed for more about it. and it’ll have just all snapped into place for him.

it’s him. and it’s acceptance and resilience and it’s tommy.

so i think he has the calf on his thigh where he can see it when he needs the reminder without having to twist about in the mirror, can just look down and know it’s there.

but also i think he likes when the 141 pat his leg when they’re pushing up from the couch after too long sat in the rec room or reassuringly in the helo after a long mission, how the weight of their palms sometimes catch the tattoo. and it feels like they’re accepting him as he is, welcoming the part of him that hides behind the mask, that reminds him too much of tommy sometimes. he covets the friendly pats that are then asking not just for him but for his brother to keep up, to come for drinks, silently telling the pair of them they did a good job making it back.

it feels like his brother’s still here all the same to simon.

considered the idea he’d get a dove put in his sleeve after johnny died too but

[basilbots]

So about that Lord Eclipse concept-

[strawberrysturniolo]

gaming // bf!chris

summary: you’re desperate for attention while your bf is playing a game with his brothers on twitch, and you distract him with a blowjob

My day has been filled with nothing but phone calls and stress. Work felt never ending, and when I finally clocked out, I had endless calls to make. 

I could feel my anxiety dripping out of my skin with every bead of sweat that fell. I hate letting things have this power over me, but how can I stop it? At some point it just builds up and I have no choice but to let it take control. Right now, I’m fully checked out of everything for the day. 

For some sort of break from life, I use my spare key to enter my boyfriend’s house. I would have given him a heads up and let him know I was on my way, but my phone was occupied with everyone else in the world, when all I wanted was to vent to Chris about my day so he could cheer me up like he always is able to. 

I lock the door behind me and head to his room, knocking once on the door before letting myself in. He pokes his head out, his eyes wide in surprise, and I notice when I hear Matt and Nick talking to him through his headset that he had no idea who could have been coming into his room.

“Oh, hi,” he says, finally smiling and relaxing a bit when he realizes it’s me. 

I toss my bag on his bed and kick my shoes off. “Hi.”

He nods his head to the monitor in front of him, and it’s at this moment that I realize that not only is he playing a game with his brothers, but he’s also streaming it in front of god knows how many viewers, who can all see me now. It’s a miracle I stopped myself from saying something vulgar before everyone heard. 

I whisper a “Sorry” before stepping out of the frame. 

When my back is turned, I hear Matt and Nick through the stream going, “Oooooo”

“Guys, shut up,” Chris says. 

“Who could that be?” Matt asks although he knows it’s me. They’re just trying to tease Chris for my unannounced appearance during the stream.

He turns around in his chair, moving his headphones so one ear is out. “You wanna say hi?”

I let out an annoyed sigh, already wishing I could take it back, and this only grows when Chris’ face falls, thinking I was reacting that way to him. That’s not the case at all, I’m just mentally and physically tired, and the last thing I want is to be interrogated with questions in the stream’s chat, or feel like I need to entertain people. 

“I’m not really in the mood,” I finally say.

Chris gives me a soft smile, noticing something is wrong. He always does. “That’s okay.”

He turns back to the screen, and it’s at this moment that I realize I’ve probably made myself look like a complete cunt in front of tens of thousands of people.. 

I walk behind Chris, bending over his shoulder a bit so I can see the screen better, scanning my eyes over the chat. “Hi guys, I’m sorry if I sound bitchy. I just had a bad day.”

Chris looks over to me and asks, “Wanna get ice cream later and we can chill?”

As silly as it sounds, one thing me and Chris have to do when we have a bad day is treat the other person to ice cream. It’s such a simple and somewhat foolish activity, but that’s the best part. When we have our days of stress, anxiety, and misery, we always make an effort to get ice cream to forget about our issues. 

“When is later?” I ask, getting excited for our plan. 

“In like an hour,” he guesses. “We’re still streaming.”

I nod, planning to designate this next hour to getting myself unready and trying to relax for the first time today.

As I undress myself, I can feel my boyfriend staring at me. I make sure I’m far from the camera, but my first thought when he stares is that I have just flashed our audience. 

I turn back around to double check, only finding my boyfriend with red cheeks and a stupid smile. He quickly turns back around. 

With my shirt and pants off, I purposefully let myself take more time to dress in something comfier, teasing him in front of a crowd of people online. I peek over my shoulder at him, finding him shifting uncomfortably. It’s relentless, like he can’t stop himself even if he tried. 

He has a full shot of my ass when I bend over and dig for a pair of Chris’ sweatpants, finally opting for his blue Fresh Love set. 

“Chris! Come on!” Nick shouts at him, noticing how distracted his brother has become. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he mutters before the sound of him clicking on his controller. 

I laugh to myself at the idea of him becoming distracted, a sense of confidence growing inside of me knowing that I was the one who made him that way. 

I stand next to him, staying out of the frame of the camera. I smirk at his boner, which only grows by the second. It’s prominent through his gray sweatpants. 

He notices me staring. “Stop it,” he warns through gritted teeth. 

I lower myself to the floor next to his gaming chair. My fingers take over, tracing over his thighs. He sucks in a sharp breath that is luckily mistaken as a missed shot on his opponent. 

He quickly reaches up to his headset, muting his microphone before he says, “You better be careful,” in his normal volume. 

“You better be careful,” I tell him. “You’re the one being watched by…” I peek at the monitor. “Seventy-five thousand people.” 

His eyes dart between the screen and me. “Are you just going to tease me and try to embarrass me in front of everyone.”

I pout a bit, insulted that he would think so lowly of me. “Of course not,” I assure him. “I’m going to suck you off, and you’re gonna behave and make sure no one knows.” 

He licks his lips, trying to act nonchalant. He does nothing but nod and sink a bit in his chair, making sure I will be completely out of the frame below him. 

He returns to his game, spitting out insults at his brothers and trying to seem invested in their game as they continue to play. 

My hands tug at the string of his sweatpants, loosening them before tugging them down to his thighs. He lifts his hips a little bit, helping me out without making anything too obvious. 

His black briefs hug his dick. His erection is so clear and tight against his underwear, I can see him leaking out onto the fabric. My pussy clenches at the sight. 

I trace my finger over where I know his tip is, following the pathetic splotch of pre-cum. His hips shift, and I squeeze his thigh as a warning. 

I press soft kisses to his clothed dick, peering up at him and watching his expressions change, trying not to laugh at his attempts of playing off his outward reactions to my touch to him as reactions to the game. 

I pull the last layer of clothing out of the way watching his cock smack his stomach before his pre-cum continues to leak, now onto the trail of hair between his belly button and his pelvis. 

I wrap a hand around him, stroking him lightly, spitting down on his tip and rubbing it on him through every stroke. His stomach starts to heave, already desperate for more. 

I poke my tongue out, licking over his slit and tasting what he’s been leaking for minutes now. I continue to spit on his dick, making a mess on him before taking him in my mouth. He rolls his lips into his mouth, trying his hardest not to make a sound. 

I swirl my tongue around his tip through every motion, taking him deeper over time. The sight of him struggling above me is enough to make me wet. 

“Alright we’re gonna take a little five minute break,” Nick’s voice echos. My eyes widen, and I find myself pulling Chris out of my mouth at the sound. “We’ll be back so just sit tight.” 

Chris quickly turns off his camera, pressing the mute button on his headset and tosses it onto the bed behind him. 

Then, his hands find my face, holding my cheeks as I take him into my mouth again. “Fuck, baby that’s so good.” His face contorts now that he can take advantage of the camera being off. “Oh my god, just like that.”

I continue to bob my head on him, his tip reaching the back of my throat each time. His stomach heaves harder now, his hand raking through my hair before thrusting himself deeper. 

My eyes widen before gaining a comfortable rhythm, drool beginning to drip down my chin as my mouth hangs open, getting sloppily fucked by my needy boyfriend. 

“I’m gonna cum,” he whines. “Fuck– Please don’t stop. Please, baby.” 

I nod, not wanting to take my mouth off of him and risk us losing time before the stream starts again. I lower a hand to his balls, rubbing and squeezing them until I can feel them tighten in my hold. His moans become strained, trying not to let his brothers hear us. Any other time he really wouldn’t care, but I know he’s worried about getting teased in front of fans, and the last thing we want is attention being brought to what we’re clearly doing. 

His thrusts become erratic, my eyes watering as he fucks my throat. I have to mentally encourage myself to keep going. 

“Ohhhhh, shit,” he groans. His eyes are screwed shut, opening when he feels my lips close around his cock as he releases his cum into my mouth. He watches me take it, his jaw slack. 

I pull his underwear up delicately, knowing he’s overly sensitive at the moment, before doing the same with his underwear.

I press a soft kiss to his lips, earning a pleased hum from him in response. 

“You look so pretty in my set,” he compliments me, his voice low as he presses a kiss to my shoulder. 

“Compliments to the CEO,” I grin.

He smiles back at me, hugging me tightly as we bask in the last few moments of silence before he jumps back on the game. 

[bratzforchris]

Inked Daisies (Chapter 1)

A series

Summary: For the past year, you've been running the flower shop that's next door to your friend, Matt's, tattoo studio. But what happens when the feelings start to get more than friendly?

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Matt x floristfem!reader

Warnings: There will be individual warnings for each chapter. No warnings in this one!

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Soooo...my first series on here ♡ In this universe, Matt has a nose ring and his usual tattoos, plus some other tats and piercings that'll be added later hehe<3 Let me know how you like it!! 💐💐

“Nope,” Matt shook his head as you stepped inside the shop, looking at you from behind the counter. “You can’t bring those in here.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, setting the small Mason jar of flowers down on the glass case that held a variety of glittering body jewelry. “They’re flowers, Matt. Not a bomb.”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask. Plus, they ruin the look.” Matt kept his eyes trained on whatever he was looking at on his laptop, but you could see a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“You’re so grumpy,” You tsked, maneuvering yourself behind the counter and peering over his shoulder. “Whatcha doin’?”

Matt sighed, running his hands through his hair and spinning himself around in his chair to look at you. “This dude keeps changing his fucking design even though he’s put his deposit down. And guess what? His appointment’s tomorrow,” he sighed again, brushing a hand across his nose. “Fuck, I forgot that’s a new piercing.” 

Your face dropped into a pout at Matt’s stress. You had known him since freshman year when you had become friends with Chris and the other two triplets by extension. Although you didn’t see all the inner workings of Matt’s mind, you knew that he struggled with anxiety and stress. A particular instance at Six Flags during your sophomore year had told you that much. 

“Let’s see the design,” You offered, filling up a paper cup from the water jug behind the counter. “I’m sure there’s something we can do to make him happy.”

“What? Give him the tattoo for free and then change once it’s already on his body?” Matt raised a brow at you as you poured the water into the jar of flowers. 

“You’re such a pessimist, Matt,” You shook your head, placing the now-full jar of flowers next to his computer. “If it helps take away the awful, vile sight of big, scary flowers, these are the outcasts. Their stems were too short and a few of them are missing some petals. They’re the rejects.”

Owning a florist’s shop had been your dream ever since you were a little girl. You had been captivated by flowers since the day your granny had taken you into her expertly tended garden, leading you around and telling you all the meanings for the different plants. In a way, it almost felt like you were carrying on her legacy by owning such a dainty, girly shop that sold her favorite things. Maybe she wouldn’t have liked the fact that your shop was directly across the street from an all black tattoo and piercing parlor that just so happened to be owned by your best friend’s brother, but she definitely would’ve liked the aesthetic of your business. 

You drew yourself out of your thoughts, pulling up the chair of another piercer who had left earlier in the day. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Matt moved a few things around on his laptop, opening up Procreate and clicking onto a design. In your opinion, it was absolutely gorgeous. The tall oak tree in the drawing had large branches that extended outwards, but instead of leaves, the tree held clocks that were all stuck at midnight. Underneath the actual drawing was the carefully lettered sentence ‘Until Time Stops’ in swirly letters that matched the chains of the clocks. 

“That’s beautiful,” You said softly, your eyes entranced by the drawing. “It’s…wow, it’s gorgeous.”

“I think so too.” Matt mumbled, clearly more lost in his artistic mind than here with you. 

This reminded you of the nights during high school sleepovers. Chris and Nick would pass out early, leaving just you and Matt. You both struggled with insomnia, so some nights you would both stay up, pouring over the brunette’s sketchbook together while Matt explained each and every drawing in great detail to you. You had noticed that, similar to you, Matt had an eye for the natural world. You’d never brought this notice up to him of course, but you often thought about it during the early morning hours when you were doing opening duties in the shop while waiting for your employees to arrive.

“But he doesn’t like it, so it’s a scrap,” Matt shrugged, closing out the application and leaning back in his chair, eyes closed. “God, I’m fucking tired.”

You sighed sympathetically, hopping out of the chair. “I understand. I guess I’d want something I really like if it’s going on my body permanently. Doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying, though.” You acknowledged, bustling around behind the counter as you stacked papers up, put pens back in their cups, and locked the jewelry case. 

“I get that you like flowers and animals and shit, but you don’t have to do that. You’re not Cinderella. I’ll do it later.” he sighed. 

“Later? Matt, it’s almost nine,” the only reason you had come into the shop in the first place was because you had finished cleaning and locking your own store rather early and had seen Matt sitting behind the counter. “You need to go home and eat and sleep. A) You gotta be hungry and B) No offense, but I wouldn’t want someone who’s sleep deprived to be giving me a tattoo or piercing.” You joked, bumping his shoulder lightly. 

As if on cue, Matt’s stomach growled audibly, making him fidget with embarrassment, but not so much that he couldn’t open one blue eye to glare at you. “Says you. How many times have you gotten Astrids and Hydrangeas mixed up because you stayed up all night reading.” the brunette chuckled to himself, remembering the time that you had employed the triplets’ help to create a brand new bouquet less than an hour before a certain bridezilla’s wedding. 

“Now that’s not fair and you know it.” You huffed. 

“Is too.”

“Is not.” 

“Is too.” Matt insisted, smirking triumphantly once he saw you sigh in defeat. 

“You’re annoying,” You grumbled. “I like Chris much better.”

“Sure ya do, sweetheart.” Matt didn’t even look in your direction as he closed his laptop, shoving it into his black tote bag.

Something about the way Matt said such a simple sentence had you fighting your blush, grabbing your own bag that you had sat down earlier. You tried to ignore the funny feeling in your stomach, fiddling with your phone while Matt finished the tasks you hadn’t completed. “You think Nick and Chris would kill me if I brought pizza over instead of their elaborate orders from five different restaurants?” You asked, eager to move your mind away from the implication of his words. 

“You’re coming over?” Matt turned to look at you, an expression you couldn’t read on his face. 

“Nick invited me. You know we don’t see each other as much as we did when we were kids. I miss our sleepovers.” You smiled softly. 

Matt’s eyes crinkled with nostalgia. “Yeah, I remember that. They were kind of nice, I guess.”

“You guess? Wow, way to treat us like chumps. You got a girlfriend you’d rather be hanging out with or something?”

“No.” it was a single word, yet the boy’s tone changed from one of fondness to something much deeper and almost angrier. 

“I’m sorry, I…” You trailed off, studying him as he picked up his bag, trying not to focus on the tattoos that snaked down his muscular arms and connected to the chunky, silver rings on his fingers. “I didn’t mean to hit a sore subject.” Even though you two were close, you knew Matt didn’t tell you everything about his life. 

“Let’s just go, okay? I’m sure the ruffians are hungry.” he grumbled, walking towards the door. 

You scrambled after your friend, each of his broad steps equaling four of yours. “They’re not so bad.”

“That’s because you don’t live with them,” Once you were both outside, Matt turned and locked the door to the shop behind him. “Trust me, when Chris burps in your face for the fiftieth time that day, it gets less funny and more annoying. Do you have a ride?”

“...no…” You admitted. 

“Can no one in my life get their license?” Matt sighed, not even waiting for you as he started the trek to his car. 

“Actually,” You corrected him, practically jogging to keep up. “I have my license. I’m just saving for a car.”

You believed city transportation was a perfectly valid form for getting from point A to point B, but as you slid into the passenger seat of Matt’s car, you couldn’t help but to admit that having your own personal vehicle was a much nicer alternative. Matt pulled out of the parking space without speaking, but you could feel his warm presence beside you in the car. As he migrated the car through the narrow city streets, you found yourself wondering what your life would be like if this is how every single day went for you. You knew Matt would drive you home in the evenings if you asked, but a part of you wanted to keep the rare occasion of rides together just that. Rare, special, something seemingly so mundane that it was almost silly you were even thinking about this. 

Time spent alone with Matt was rare, despite working across the street from each other. Between being a triplet and your friendship with Chris, the one-on-one actions were few and far between. But for some reason, on nights like tonight, when you thought about how he interacted with you, you wished that you could make them happen over and over and over again.  

tags ♡:  @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy

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[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

A Village Raising (2) | Yandere Platonic Twisted Wonderland

Yuuka silently cooed at the sight of precious little (Y/n) sleepily clutching at a sleeping Grim. She no doubt hit the jackpot. Having such an adorable little sibling gifted to her by the mysterious summoning of the mirror. It was a nightmarish thought: that you’d one day return to someone who couldn’t love you like she did. But it was soothed by the reminder that more than likely those at Night Raven would never allow for that to happen. 

“Mmm Yuu? Mmm C’mere.” 

“Yes baby? You ready to wake up, maybe help me cook?”

“Mmmm today I-mmm g’to work…don’t I?”

“Ahhh, yeah.”

She sighed as she recalled the way you came to a revelation, of course spurred by Grim’s whining, that you needed to work to get more tuna. She wasn’t even sure you understood the topic of currency but nonetheless you wouldn’t stop yapping about it to her and Yuuken. 

“Can-I get ready for work?” Your little voice spoke so clearly, having fully-woken up at the excitement from the thought. She couldn’t bring herslef to relay the hard truth about the workforce. Surely Azul wouldn’t torture a little angel such as yourself! 

“Yes of course baby!” 

“Yay!” 

Sending a groggy Grim to pester her fellow prefect Yuuka busied herself with helping you into the mini uniform Jade delivered not long after her baby’s declaration. How he knew your measurements she wasn’t sure but then again why ask when all he’d do is smile cryptically. 

“Already into the workforce I can’t believe how old I’ve gotten.” 

Yukken mockingly held his face in his hands as he pretended to cry as you carefully finished descending the stairs with your back turned to him, slowly making your way down the steps. With both your feet safely on the ground you waddled over to the ‘crying’ giant. 

“Ken-Ken is okay! I’ll be back after a hardsday work.”

Patting his pant leg, you waited until he bent down to your level. Giving a firm hug with your little body, he sent a worried look over your shoulder. Yuuka could only huff out her nose in stifled worry. She wasn’t trying to ignore her worry of letting you out of their watchful eyes. Pulling out her phone she sucked her teeth as the clock ticked closer to the designated time. Time for her final instructions before sending you into a battlefield.

“Alright (Y/n) now listen to me, you can’t sign or write anything while you’re there okay?”

“Hmmhmm.” 

“(Y/n) are you listening to me.”

You continued to fiddle with the locks of your backpack briefcase before turning to the crouched Yuuka. 

You kissed her cheek and in a voice imitating a character from your tv-shows you said,”Don’t worry Honey. I’ll be home soon, take care of the kids for me.”

The knock on the Ramshackle door had you skipping in its direction. Already beaten by Yuuken who opened the door to none other than the tweels. 

“Good morning, Prefect.”

“Hiya shrimpies! Where’s the little business eel!”

“Here I am!” You squealed, running past Yuuken’s legs to be scooped into Floyd’s awaiting arms. Immediately abandoning your working persona you enjoyed the way Floyd playfully pretended to chomp at your cheeks.

“Remember, (Y/n)! No signing anything!” 

“Weee-ah okay!” 

You spoke breathlessly as the eel mer caught you from your descent from the sky, shouting from over his shoulder as he was already trotting away. Yuuka sighed again, turning her gaze to Jade who happily accepted the little bento box Yuuken had made.

“Back by sundown.”

“Yes, yes it will be before nightfall. Otherwise the doting parents will stay awake and worried until then.”

“Jade!”

“I jest I jest. We’ll see you later.”

With that the vice-warden went on his way catching up to the waiting Floyd before traveling over to the school’s hall.

_______________________________________________________

“We’re back!” 

“Hi hi, Azul!”

The dorm leader couldn’t help but genuinely smile as he saw you in your mini-Monstro-uniform. 

“Morning (Y/n), ready start your first day of work?”

“Yup!”

“Then follow me, to the kitchen.” 

You did just that skipping beside Jade who stopped at the kitchen. 

“This where we make all the drinks and food for everyone. And your job is to take whatever we make to the customers.”

“Okay!” 

“How about we practice, okay (Y/n)?”

“Yes, yes!” 

In no time at all you were handed a smaller tray and told to not spill as a plastic cup of water was placed on its center. Azul went to the far end of the kitchen along with Floyd who anxiously awaited your wobbly and shaky journey. Jade originally planned to only keep his hand on your back from where he was originally standing but he decided to follow along as he watched the water jiggle dangerously in the glass.

“W-woah!” 

“It’s alright I’m right here. Take your time.”

“This is really h’rd.”

“It’s okay you’re doing great.” Azul chimed in, eagerly awaiting you to reach his side. Both Floyd and Azul anxiously leaning in tandem as you tilted dangerously to one side. The dorm leader did his best to keep his mouth shut as he quantified more than 50% of the water on the checkered floor or coagulating at the bottom of the tray. 

“How’d I do Mis’er Bossman?”

Smiling up at him with sparkling (y/e/c) eyes–only one decision was clear. 

“You did perfect. We are happy to have you work with us at Monstro Lounge.”

He’d have to remember to account for the smaller amount of the drink.

“Yay! Hear that Floyd, I’m hired!”

“YES, I knew you could do it-mini eel! Now I can give you the little apron!”

Or maybe he’d just upsell it anyway.

“Jade, do I get to cut my hair too!”

“Sorry (Y/n), I’m sure all three of the prefects would have my head then.”

“Awww.”

“But I do have a hat you can wear.”

“Yay! Gimme gimme.”

___________________________________________________

“What in the Seven’s is everyone getting so worked up about?”

Ace groaned and sucked his teeth as if Deuce was the stupidest man on the planet. His friend was already frowning at the action but still waited nonetheless. Ace began to smirk as he casually followed the crowd. 

“Pft you don’t know? There’s a special event going on in the Monstro Lounge. With a special edition menu too.”

Deuce gawked as he tensed up. “Then we’ve got to get going! By the time we arrive…”

He trailed off as Ace continued to smirk while shaking his head. 

“I had an inside scoop and got us reservations ahead of time.”

“Whoa, that’s real nice of you Ace.”

“Yeah yeah you just got  to pay for whatever I get!”

“And that’s the Ace I know.”

The two Heartslabyul first years took their time to the mirror hall. Avoiding the crowd fighting to become a line, Ace flashed an email on his phone to the intimidating guards of Monstro Lounge, where they directed the duo into a specially gated section.Sitting in the booth Deuce couldn’t help the pit that formed in his stomach; as if reminding him of his past servitude. He shook the feeling off, sending a questioning look towards his friend, who was busy browsing the menu.

“I’m curious, Ace. How did you afford this?”

Ace faked offense,”What?! You think I can’t get on the list?”

“Not without us, you couldn’t.” 

Hearing that familiar country twang, Deuce turned to see the short Pomefiore student: Epel. Sporting a prideful smirk on his face he motioned for Deuce to scooch away to make room for him. Behind him was Jack from Savvannaclaw who was a mix of embarrassment and determination. 

“Epel? Jack?”

“Of course this guy didn’t have the energy to wait to get on the waiting list.”

Jack scoffed, “He’s lucky he asked those of us with healthy morning routines.”

“Your morning routine’s start before the sun is out! I No way was I ruining my sleep for that.”

Sooner than they could think they had begun joking and laughing per their usual hangouts. It almost let Deuce forget why they had gotten the reservation. 

“Oh, you don’ know do you? Check it.”

Epel handed the menu to Deuce.

“Uhm a Aqua Smoothie a special delivery? A clam cake for special delivery? What is this special delivery that’s bringing up the price?”

Epel and Ace just continued to snicker and laugh at him before arguing about what to order. Which left Jack to sigh and explain.

“For one day only the Monstro Lounge has a very…special employee working. Everyone’s been very excited to cheer them on.”

“Special employee? But who would all the school want to cheer on? 

In that moment whispered praise and excited voices start to get louder as the sound of clicking loafers were heard. 

In an Octavinelle uniform and a tray small enough for them to hold little (Y/n) hurriedly walking by with a beautifully decorated dessert. The group of four, as well as everyone in the special section quickly pulled out their phones. 

“Here’s your scrone, mister!”

“T-t-thank you (Y/n).”

Sooner than everyone would like the little one hobbled back into the kitchen. The crowd collectively awwed before the excited chatter began to start back up again. With a renewed sense of vigor Deuce picked up the menu.

“What should we get? Should we stay away from drinks? I wouldn’t want them to spill.”

Clank!

The sound made him jump as he and his friends looked up at the intimidating faces who so aggressively delivered some waters.

“I assure you our employee is more than capable.”

“Yeah Mackarel. So is your school going to order or would you rather be on the menus yourselves?”

______________________________________________________

Yuuka shook the sleep that plagued her face as she recognized the creaking of the Ramshackle gate. Leaving her other prefects behind, she nearly trampled Grim on the way to the door.

“Finally! The sun’s nearly finished setting!”

She eagerly took the backpack and sleeping child as Jade smiled coyly. 

“I did say before nightfall, did I not?”

She scoffed, turning back into the living room where she passed off the backpack to Yuu heading up the stairs. 

Yuuken sighed, “Sorry about Yuuka. She’s been anxious all day.”

“I understand the feeling but you shouldn’t worry they had a fun day, a full meal, and lots of work experience.”

Yuuken chuckled. “I bet.”

Jade’s polite smile stretched a bit as though he remembered something, calling Floyd he snatched a container from his brothers clutches. Turning back to Yuuken he delivered the tupperware to him. 

“Of course (Y/n) couldn’t finish our larger portion sizes so I figured I’d package the rest for you all.”

“Oh wow thanks Jade. Ah but this container I’ll empty it now so you can take it back-”

“No need! Whenever you're done just have you and (Y/n) bring it over.Maybe then I can convince Azul to maybe give out a discount.”

“Thanks Jade.”

“No problem.” “Ughghgh can we go now!? It already sucks we’re not sleeping over.”

Jade smile returned to his polite one as he sent a piercing side-eye towards his brother. 

“Well we all have responsibilities to put to bed. I’ll see you at the next club meeting.”

“Yeah, see ya then.”

Yuuken watched as the Leech brother’s left with a glaring tension between the two. The prefect could only guess as to what the annoyance was about. With a shrug he closed the door storing the food away. 

He could only guess what tales you’d have to tell when you woke the next day. It’s only a shame he couldn’t be there himself. Even though Yuu assured him they’d get photos he wondered who’d they entrusted with the task.

________________________________________________________

The student stood rigid in the heart of the Monstro Lounge, unbothered by the emptiness and the unusually alone dormleader waiting there.

“We here to collect our prize.” 

Silver’s monotone voice filled the space. Azul smiled presenting the box filled with horribly shaped pastries,“It’s always a pleasure doing business with Diasomnia.” 

Lilia opened the box, smiling happily as he approved of the contents. 

“It’s a shame you’re not willing to send the pictures you took of them while baking these. It would have made Malleus so very happy to see their smiling face.”

Azul’s smile twitched. “Well as I’m sure you know, some things are just invaluable.”

Lilia matched his crooked grin with one of his own. “Oh do I know it.”

______________________________________________________________

“Hey Tsunotarou, want to look at the pictures Ace got for me?”

Green eyes lit up with anticipation as though a chest full of treasure had been found. 

“I would love to.”

Yuu smiled flipping through the various polaroids of the little server. 

Unexpectedly Malleus spoke up, “These memories are very precious.”

Yuu didn’t look up from the photos. 

“Right?”

“It’s a shame that they don’t last forever.”

Yuu shrugged. “Yeah but that’s what makes them so special right?”

Malleus tilted his head. “Wouldn’t they be more special if they lasted longer?”

Yuu giggled leaning against his shoulder. 

“I’ll let you keep this one if you want it.”

“I would love that.”

[yangfleurs]

stray kids reaction: they call you clingy

maknae line

pt.2

(hyung line pt.1 is here)

jisung

what you liked most about being with jisung was that it was never complicated with him. you two seemed to always be in tune with each other, knowing when to keep your distance and when to show your affectionate sides. but you knew jisung was an introvert, through and through, and there was nothing he loved more than his time alone. and so you left him to himself when he needed you to; you and him both knew it was good for couples to have their own lives and interests outside of each other.

it was one of those days with jisung, where he needed to spend some time with himself to recharge so he could be his best self at work the next day. you didn’t mind, obviously; you were a busy person yourself, and between school and work, there really wasn’t any time for you to let loose with jisung today anyway. 

you spent practically the entire morning after breakfast sat on the living room floor and glued to your laptop, fervently typing away on a paper you definitely should’ve started earlier. but if you pushed through it the whole day and only took a few short breaks, you were sure you’d be done by midnight. you were ready to take your first one of those planned breaks to make lunch and eat, but a wave of laziness washed over you. you didn’t feel like cooking at all, not after pouring your brain’s contents into your work for so long. you started convincing yourself you could work through your designated lunch break and just eat a big dinner when jisung came out of the bedroom, bundled up in his puffer jacket.

“I’m going to the convenience store.” he grumbled out, shuffling towards the door.

why didn’t you think of that? you could grab some cheap, prepared food to eat there, while also getting some fresh air on your skin and a little bit of time to spend with jisung. “let’s go together! I need to grab something to eat, too.” you said, rushing to your bedroom to grab your own jacket. you quickly scrambled through your closet, finding your own puffer, before heading back into the living room. when you came back out though, jisung was nowhere in sight. you figured he was just downstairs and hurried to throw on your shoes so he wouldn’t grow impatient waiting for you. if there was one thing jisung hated, it was waiting, you thought to yourself as you skittered down the stairs.

when you got out of your building, jisung was already walking towards the direction of the convenience store, clearly not waiting for you. you ran to catch up with him, a little embarrassed at how he left you behind.

“hey, why didn’t you wait? I literally only took two minutes.” you mumbled, a little bummed out by his attitude.

“I wanna get back to my show, y/n.” he said with an over-exaggerated sigh which made you roll your eyes. 

“you’re always so serious about your shows, it’s cute.” you giggled a little, leaning towards him and reaching for his hand. just as you were about to hold it, he briskly tucked his hand into his jacket pocket, keeping his eyes straight ahead and away from you. you coughed a little and turned your face the other direction to hide the humiliating red crawling up your neck and onto your face.

you arrived at the convenience store in complete silence, immediately going your separate ways to grab your food. you grabbed a triangle kimbap for lunch and then a ramen you could make quickly later in the night for dinner. you made yourself an iced coffee too, hoping some caffeine would help you focus in on your work and ignore the tension between you and your boyfriend. you found him already at the counter, putting his things down. you put your things down to the side of the counter so you could search for your wallet. you pat around your pants and then your jacket, but you don’t feel it anywhere on you.

“shit, shit, I forgot my wallet.” you groaned.

"we’re together.” he muttered, pushing your things with his and handing the employee his card. you thanked him quietly, hiding your smile by looking down. there was your jisung, considerate and always looking out for you. 

“you forgot your wallet on purpose, didn’t you? y/n, I know you’re on the clingier side, but don’t you think that’s too much?” he huffed as he waited for his card to go through, “I asked for literally one day on my own and you just had to follow me to the convenience store and then you just conveniently didn’t remember your wallet? seriously?” he rolled his eyes.

you were stunned, to say the least. the employee looked at you both awkwardly, coughing a little and turning away so she didn’t embarrass you. but it was too late for that; as he started to put the food in his bag, you yanked him by the arm to turn him to face you. he looked at you, completely bewildered at your aggression. you didn’t care, though---if he got to give you an earful, you should return the favor.

“who do you take me for, jisung? god forbid I forget my wallet while rushing out to catch up with my boyfriend who’s running away from me like I’m some sort of fucking plague,” you seethed, “I haven’t eaten in hours, jisung. I’ve been working my ass off, not once even trying to talk to you. I am not as obsessed with you as you’ve deluded yourself into thinking.” you spat, shoving your food into his arms. “and since you’re so concerned about the what, ten dollars, you had to spend on me? take the food. I just lost my appetite.”

you walked out of the convenience store and away from him in the opposite direction, so you could both hide the tears that you were bound to spill as well as to go anywhere but back to your shared apartment. 

you headed to your school, figuring you could finish your paper at the library there. you had already wasted so much time, and an all-nighter was soon going to be inevitable. you also knew you had a limited amount of energy left in you on an empty stomach, hearing it growl as you thought of your situation. you quietly groaned, sniffling as you trudged along. you’d kill to just have your boyfriend comfort you and support you through this grueling assignment, but instead, you were burning with humiliation at being berated by him in front of a complete stranger.

you walked slowly, counting your steps and hoping you’d hear jisung’s heavy footsteps running to catch up with you any moment now. but that moment never came, not even after you’d barely walked half a block in fifteen minutes. you had both, literally, parted ways. and it made you wonder if it symbolized something more than just a small argument.

felix

you were walking backstage to meet your boyfriend, felix, and his members to cheer them on for their final music bank performance of the season. this was a tradition for you; at the end of all of their final comeback performances, you would bring them as well as their staff a well-deserved, expensive meal to end the comeback strongly. it wasn’t burdensome for you; if anything, you were always thankful to them for taking care of felix and you wanted to express your gratitude through feeding them some delicious food. 

you walked in clumsily, stumbling a little as the boys’s manager let you past security. you greeted him politely, handing him the food that was meant for him and the staff. you greeted the staff as well, bowing deeply at all of them like you always did; you knew they were practically family to your boyfriend, so you treated them with as much respect as you would his actual family. you turned to their manager again to speak.

“I’ll take the food for the boys in myself.” you let their manager know with a smile. he nodded, thanking you for the food for the millionth time before freeing up the hallway for you to go down. you bowed one last time before heading to the waiting room. as you turned the corner, you saw changbin coming from another direction .

“oh, hey y/n!” changbin waved, immediately grabbing the heavy bags out of your hands. “I just got out of the restroom, let’s head to the waiting room together.” he said, smiling. you nodded, thanking him for his help. you both chatted as you walked down the hallway, catching up on each other’s lives and listening to him explain how excited they were about upcoming plans for the group. you listened with a smile, making a note to bring it up to felix later when you got some time to talk to him in the waiting room. 

you made it to the door of their waiting room first, and noticed the door was left slightly ajar. you overheard a familiar voice, chan’s, addressing your boyfriend.

“so how are things with y/n?” you heard chan ask felix. “she should be coming with the food any time now. she’s so sweet.” you smiled at his compliment. you shushed changbin as he caught up with you; you needed to hear what felix would say.

“well...she’s clingy for sure.” he chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever dated someone who needed this much attention, hyung.”

 you were taken aback. is that what he thought of you? were you just some needy, clingy person pestering him for his attention all the time? you were a little embarrassed, but not nearly as much as you were hurt. you and felix both loved each other’s attention, you couldn’t believe he would say something like that. you gulped, grabbing changbin’s arm and heading backwards to the corner you had just turned.

“y/n, I’ll talk to him.” he said, distressed. you knew changbin, and you knew he would try to fix the situation like the good friend he was.

“no, you won’t. you’re going to tell him I was busy today and only had time to drop the food off. I’ll figure it out later, okay?” you said in a rush, wanting to get out of the building. the whole place suddenly felt suffocating, you couldn’t stand being there, somewhere you clearly weren’t wanted. you didn’t want felix to think you were any more needy than he already thought you were. your insecurities were slowly creeping in on you, and it was distressing.

changbin hesitated but finally relented when you promised you would talk to felix about it when he came home tonight. you practically ran out of the corridor, giving nothing more than a cursory bow and goodbye to the staff and manager, shabbily covering most of your face with your hand to hide that fact that you were on the verge of crying.

you got into your car and let yourself let go. the tears flowed freely, and you had no intention of stifling them. your relationship with felix was the closest thing to perfect you’d ever experienced. you adored how attentive he was to you---he never, not once, missed a birthday or anniversary. he was the first person to congratulate you when you passed your exams, and the first one to comfort you when you didn’t. there was never a moment when you were both home that he wasn’t following you around, trailing you even to the bathroom sometimes just so he wouldn’t be apart from you. you loved it and you thought he loved it, too. and the attention wasn’t one-sided, either---otherwise, you wouldn’t have even come here, arms overflowing with expensive food for practically everyone that interacted with him. 

you sighed, satisfied with the release of emotions, and wiped your eyes carelessly. you drove yourself home, not even bothering to listen to the radio or try to calm down from your rush of feelings. you got home, unlocking the door and plodding into your apartment, feet feeling weighed down by how heavy your mood had become. you chugged a whole glass of water; all that crying had made you thirsty---and exhausted. you slid your jacket off and onto the ground before plopping down right there on the couch, not even bothering to change or wipe your makeup off. you didn’t want to do anything except stop thinking about the words your boyfriend had said about you to his friend earlier. you drifted off to sleep just like that, with mascara tears and a broken heart.

seungmin

there were a lot of things that went unspoken between you and seungmin. that was one of the best parts about dating him---you could both show your love for each other in the way you were most comfortable with. for both of you, that happened to be doing things to make the other’s day a little easier. 

seungmin took the trash out early in the morning so you wouldn’t have to do the heavy lifting on your own. you made him his coffee before he left. you would order lunch to where he was, whether it be the company building or at the dorm with the boys, in advance so he wouldn’t have to bother with cooking anything. he would stop by during your lunch break at work with your coffee order and a small bite to eat in case you didn’t pack food that day. he has your favorite show ready to play as soon as you’ve washed up after work and you’re always ready to greet him with open arms after a long and tiring day at practice.

you both anticipated what the other needed, and that made you guys always in tune with each other. you’d never even had a serious fight, the worst one being a five-minute quarrel about seungmin buying the wrong shampoo on your grocery list, which was easily resolved by him driving to the store after work and exchanging it for the right one.

tonight, you knew seungmin would come home exhausted. he had practice from sunrise to sunset, with only a short break here and there to eat or use the bathroom. the choreographer for the comeback they were preparing for was one of the best, but she was known for being incredibly detail-oriented (which was, of course, what made her the best), and according to your friend and seungmin’s, hyunjin, she was especially keen on ironing out all the tiny mistakes seungmin was making. she was the reason your boyfriend was exhausting himself for endless hours and the reason he was going to come home tonight like a walking corpse.

you stuck a gatorade in the freezer to chill it quickly, knowing he would need the reminder to replenish himself. you warmed up the food on the stove, laid out his sleep clothes on the bed, and started cleaning up your home so the both of you could head to bed right after you both ate dinner and he showered.

you started putting your hair up and walking back to the living room after washing up yourself when you heard the jingling of keys outside of your front door. seungmin was home.

the door creaked open and seungmin came in, looking pale and drained of life. he didn’t greet you, which you didn’t blame him for---you knew he just wanted to get his rest as soon as possible.

“hey seung, rough day?” you asked gently, earning a passing grumble as he walked straight past you to the bathroom. you sighed, walking to the kitchen to fix him a plate and pulled out the gatorade so he could eat quickly. he could be as moody as he wanted, you weren’t about to let your boyfriend go to sleep without dinner, especially after the hours of choreography he had just gone through. 

the water droplets of the shower softly padded against the walls of your apartment for a couple of minutes before it was quickly shut off. seungmin stepped out right after, lazily drying his hair with a towel as he walked straight into the bedroom. you hummed, waiting for him to come back after changing into his sleep clothes. but a couple minutes soon became ten, which soon became fifteen. you got up from the sofa and walked into the bedroom, worried as to what was taking him so long. you found him lying in bed, scrolling through his phone.

“coming to bed?” he mumbled, not looking up from the screen.

“I made dinner and put out some gatorade for you, come eat.” you said, tugging his leg a little as a sign for him to get up.

“not hungry.” he sighed, turning a little in bed.

“come on, seung. I know you and you definitely skipped lunch to practice more. you need to eat well if you want to do your best tomorrow.” you told him firmly but gently so he knew you were serious.

“why are you so pushy, y/n,” he rolled his eyes, “you’re not my mom. I’ll eat whenever I want.”

you cringed a little at his rudeness but persisted. “seungmin, just eat something. and then we’ll go to bed, it’s not that hard. just do it for me?” you asked.

“oh my god, you are so pushy and clingy. please just leave me alone, you don’t need to always be on my ass.” he groaned, turning off his phone, and turning his face into the pillow.

you were bewildered. seungmin knew you were the type to look out for him; if anything, he should be sympathizing with you, considering he would’ve done the same for you after a rough day. his words felt like being slapped, the hurt fresh and confusing. you turned around and left the room.

“where are you going? can we please just sleep.” he whined.

“I’m sleeping on the couch, I do not want to be next to you right now.” you muttered, heading to the living room.

“seriously? dramatic much?” he groaned, “whatever, suit yourself.” he mumbled turning off the bedside lamp to sleep. you sighed, closing the door behind you.

you covered the food you had ready for seungmin before plopping down onto the couch. you pulled the living room throw blanket on top of you and tried to fall asleep. your legs were cramped together on the too-small couch and your neck was in an awkward position that you knew would hurt in the morning but all you could do was accept your fate and sigh. you shuffled a little, closing your eyes tightly. but with seungmin’s words still reeling in your mind, you knew there was no way you would be getting any sleep tonight.

jeongin

jeongin was your best friend as much as he was your boyfriend; teasing and poking fun at each other was a natural part of your relationship. it wasn’t uncommon for you to take light jabs at each other; you both knew not to take it too seriously---or to take it too far.

it was an unusually quiet evening at the dorms. a bunch of the guys had gone out for a drink and dinner, save for jeongin, who stayed back to spend time with you. you guys were sitting on the couch, stuffed to the brim with a bunch of takeout---you had gotten a promotion at work and jeongin was keen on celebrating. jeongin laid down in your lap with a whiny groan.

“remind me to never order food on an empty stomach ever again.” he mumbled into your lap, making you giggle.

“thank you for treating me, baby.” you hummed, running your fingers through his hair.

he shot up to look you in the eyes and smiled sweetly, pulling your face closer to his and kissing you gently.

“ew, jeongin!” you heard felix yell from the door.

“in the living room? our innie’s an adult!” lino laughed.

jeongin practically flew to the other side of the couch. neither one of you had heard the door unlock and open, nor had you seen all the members pile into the room.

“he has a way of surprising people,” you chuckled a little, patting him on the cheek, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, be right back.” you winked at him as the red on his cheeks only grew brighter from your teasing.

you headed to the bathroom at the end of the hallway, laughing to yourself thinking about the hell the members were probably giving jeongin right now. you quickly used the bathroom and cleaned up your appearance a bit before you headed back. you straightened out your clothes as you walked back. before you turned the corner, you heard jeongin’s voice loudly defending himself to the boys.

“and besides, y/n’s super clingy and needy for attention. she wouldn’t have left me alone until I gave her a damn kiss! leave me alone, you guys are the worst.” he huffed angrily.

“so you’re just going to make shit up about me and blame me for a kiss you initiated? what, so your friends won’t tease you a little? grow the fuck up.” you rolled your eyes, feeling the irritation start to make your skin burn.

he sat there silently, not even bothering to correct himself or apologize. the boys dispersed immediately, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of your (albeit justified) explosive temper. you scoffed at his immaturity, turning for the door and angrily shoving your feet into your shoes and grabbing your coat off of its hanger.

“call me when you decide to stop acting like a dumb kid who can’t handle his friends seeing him act like a boyfriend to his girlfriend.” you spat. you slammed the front door behind you, still coming down from the adrenaline rush your confrontation with jeongin gave you. it hurt you; how could jeongin of all people make you into a needy, annoying girlfriend? all of that, for what? to save face in front of his friends? you sighed, deciding to just head home to your apartment and call it a night.

[eternalxvenus]

୨⎯ Like a good neighbor, Gojo is there ⎯୧

summary: You've just moved into a fixer-upper in a quaint neighborhood, excited to start building and designing your dream home. Everything's perfect…or would be, if it weren't for that gorgeous but obnoxious Satoru Gojo next door, who you fight with practically every day.

cw: smut 18+, satoru gojo x f!reader, smut, a little fluff, a smidgen of plot if you squint, gojo is annoying, no curses au, gojo is stupidly rich, pet names (baby, sweetheart), oral f!receiving, p in v, light choking, squirting

word count: 1.5k

notes: this is my first time writing smut so pls bear with me… the tile is bc that logo has been stuck in my head all damn day </3, im also debating on making a part 2… and lastly HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!

You woke up to the sound of birds and wind, the sun shining brightly through your uncovered windows. As you stretched your limbs out with a groan trying to fully wake up, you thought about all the things you had to do today.

The clock shown 9:15am. Getting out of bed, the house was warm thanks to the summer morning. After doing your morning routine and eating breakfast you decide that you’re next project for the house will be painting the outside porch railing. You already had the paint, opting for a soft brown color.

Outside the air was warm and almost humid. The half empty coffee cup rested on the small table you had out there. Your clothes were already stained and rugged from previous projects done on the house. You picked up a paintbrush and promptly started on the porch.

About an hour or so later you were still painting, a light sheen in your forehead as you hummed a song stuck in your head. This was the peace you were looking for.

“Heyyy Y/N, how’s your morning going?” You roll your eyes, recognizing the all to chipper voice. Your neighbor Satoru Gojo. He was the most non-peaceful thing about the entire neighborhood. You tried to ignore him, but of course he was already making his way over. “I said good morning, what’s wrong too tired to speak?” he inquired.

A loud huff leaves your mouth. “No Gojo. I just don’t want to speak. To you at least.”

“Ah don’t be like that. I know what’s got you in a sour mood. It’s that ugly paint color isn’t it? Looks like shit— literally.”

“Gojo please do not come over here starting nonsense. It’s a pretty neutral brown. Now go away and leave me be.” You pick up the paint can and move to the next part of the porch. Gojo watches you lazily as you move about. He’s uncharacteristically silent and you almost forget that he’s even there. Glancing up to give him a look that says ‘What?’

With a no good smile on his face he says “Have lunch with me Y/N. Take a break and i’ll make us something good.”

You thought about declining but you were really hungry. As if on command your stomach growled rather loudly. “What’s the catch? You berate all my artistic choices thus far?” you deadpan.

With a hand over his chest in mock offense Gojo replies saying, “I would never!” He starts walking over to his house beckoning you to follow. “C’mon i’ll make us some sandwich wraps.”

You follow Gojo into his house and i soon as you step inside you see the stark contrast the inside has compared to the outside. Everything looks modern and sleek.

Gojo clears his throat before speaking. “Have a seat wherever. I’ll get started on the wraps.” You give a brief nod, walking into his living room to get a closer look at the decor. Fifteen minutes later, Gojo walks in empty handed.

“I put the wraps in the fridge. I usually let them sit in there about 10-15 minutes before eating so they have a better crunch and don’t get as soggy.” He plopped down on the couch stretching out his arms and legs. His eyes kept moving down to your ass as you walked around. “Come sit and let’s talk.”

You sit down next to him, making sure to leave a good amount of space between you both, before he scoots you closer by the hips.

“You know, I’ve never had such a pretty neighbor before…” Gojo’s voice is smooth and filled with seduction. Your heartbeat picks up as he places a hand on your thigh squeezing lightly.

“Gojo… what are you doing?” You ask in a breathy voice. His touch had an effect on you and you hated it. The last thing he needed was an ego boost.

“Oh come on Y/N, why do you think i’m always coming to bother you? I needed an excuse to see your pretty face.” He lowered his head to place light kisses along your jaw and neck. You moved your head to the side to give him better access. It couldn’t hurt to have a little fun…

Gojo moves from your neck and looks into your eyes. You see the dark lustful look in them before he pulls you in for a heated and bruising kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, both of you barely stopping to get any air. You can feel the heat and arousal rushing through your body as he pulls you into his lap. Lifting his hips up slightly you can feel that he’s already hard and definitely not small. You break the kiss to pull off your shirt and Gojo nearly rips off your bra before taking one of your hard nipples into his mouth while working the other between his fingers. “Ah… Gojo-”

“Satoru” he says breathing heavily and looking into your eyes. “Please call me Satoru.”

“Satoru… don’t tease.” you nearly whine.

“Fuck… i need to taste you.” Without missing a beat Gojo lays you down on the couch, making quick work of getting your jeans and panties off. “You’re so wet, this all for me?” his lips formed that cocky smirk. “Shut up and do something.” you say squirming. He grabs your hips to still you then lowers his head to taste your arousal. “You taste better than I could’ve imagined… so fucking sweet.” He goes straight into it, sucking your clit into his mouth and teasing your hole with his tongue like he’s starved. Your hands immediately find purchase in his hair. You tug slightly making Gojo moan which only adds to the knot that’s already forming in your stomach.

You try to lift your hips but he has you in an iron grip. Heavy pants and moans slip past your lips as you feel that familiar sensation or your orgasm. “Ah! Sa-satoru! Fuck i’m gonna cum!” he continues working his tongue on your clit as he inserts two of his long fingers inside of you, curling them to hit that spot that has you seeing stars. Gojo eagerly licks and sucks all that you’re offering as you slowly start to come down from your high. He kisses your thighs and slowly makes his way up to your face. “I could eat you out all day” he breathes out. “But right now I wanna be inside you.”

You watch as he takes off his pants, seeing the wet patch on his boxers from his precum. After removing the rest of his clothing he now rests in between your legs, stroking himself as he rubs his tip against your clit. You buck your hips trying to get more friction but Gojo won’t budge. “Tell me what you want.” he whispers aligning himself with your entrance. “Satoru just fuck me please!” You say impatiently. The only warning you have is Gojo saying “If you say so.” before sliding his cock in until he bottomed out.

He threw his head back with a groan. “Shiiiit baby you’re so fucking tight.” He gave you a moment to adjust then started fucking you at an almost inhuman pace. All you could do was moan not able to form anything coherent. You felt Gojo’s hand come to your neck and squeeze just enough to heighten the force of his thrust. “You take me so well… this slutty pussy just keeps sucking me in.” His free hand slipped down to rub harsh circles on your clit causing you to practically scream. “Satoru! Too much!”

“You can take it baby i’m almost there. I want you to cum for me.”

Gojo keeps up his unrelenting pace and overstimulates your clit. You can feel him throbbing inside of you as his thrusts start to stagger and get sloppy signaling he was close. “Fuck baby I’m gonna cum… gonna cum all over those pretty tits.”

“Please Satoru! Feels so good… fucking cumming ah!” You feel a gush of warm liquid between your legs just as Gojo pulls out whimpering while spilling his cum all over your stomach. “F-fucking shit! Fuck baby…” you both lay there panting as Gojo gives you small feathery kisses. After a minute or two he gets up to grab a towel to clean you up with. He’s back in his boxers and had one of his shirts for you to wear. You blush taking it with a small “Thank you.”

Once you’ve sat up and slipped on the shirt you notice the wet spot staining the couch. “Shit… sorry about your couch Satoru. I’ll give you the money to replace it.”

Gojo laughs at your concern for his couch. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart.” He moves you both over to a the other side of the couch that isn’t ruined. “No really i’ll replace it, how much was it?” He mumbles something that you don’t understand. “What?”

“$3,600.”

You stare at him in shock. “Satoru what the hell!” He dismisses your shock with a wave of his hand and lays you both down. “I told you don’t worry about it. Right now just lay here with me.” Just as you both got comfortable and closed your eyes, your stomach growls loudly.

“I guess now would be a good time to get those sandwiches.” Gojo laughs.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[schrodingers-romy]

Jilted (not) Lover [Mitsuya Takashi x Reader]

Pairing: Mitsuya Takashi x GN!Reader Word Count: ~2,100 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: Takashi is your best friend (who you have some more than friendly feelings for); so you don't understand why he never seems to want to spend time with you anymore.

Warnings: mild misunderstandings, kissing, no gendered terms for reader; reader is a bit insecure, and Takashi is a little less emotionally mature than normal.

Notes: wasn't feeling good so I finally sat down and wrote an idea I've had for a while. Probably needs more editing but I want to let it finally fly free

You thought nothing of barging into your best friend’s room; after all, he gave you a spare key for a reason. “Takashi!” you called excitedly. “They let me off work early today! Do you wanna maybe go out and do something? I heard there was a new—”

You were cut off before you could even finish. “I’m sorry,” Takashi said, not even bothering to raise his eyes from the patterns in front of him. “I really need to finish this today.”

“Oh,” you said, deflating slightly. “Well, I could just hang around here if you want some company. I can help too!”

Still, you received barely any acknowledgement. “I’ve got it, I just need to focus. I’ll see you later, though.”

Your smile felt brittle. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll go see Yuzuha then. Don’t forget to show me your new design when you’re done.”

The door clicked shut softly behind you.

Later, you heard from Yuzuha that Takashi went out to the arcade with Hakkai that same day. You were hurt, but you wanted to think the best. Takashi probably just finished early and assumed you were busy. It was nothing.

Except it wasn’t.

-

Ever since the two of you met in middle school, you had never gone more than a few days without hanging out. Throughout high school you basically lived at his house, becoming almost like another sibling to his sisters. Even once you both graduated and got different jobs, the two of you spent most of your free time together. (Enough time together for you to develop a horrible infatuation with him, at the very least.)

And yet, for two weeks straight Takashi had been completely blowing you off.

He was always busy with last minute designs, or he had to take his sisters to something, or he already had plans with Draken or Hakkai or the old Toman members. Normally, he would ask you to tag along, but he barely talked to you other than to let you know he couldn’t see you or spend time with you.

You never said anything, keeping a nonchalant tone around him. But god, did it hurt. You didn’t know what you did wrong to deserve this treatment; you couldn’t remember anything. Maybe he had just finally gotten tired of you and was trying to let you down easy.

You did your best to ignore those thoughts. It’s Takashi, you thought. If there was something wrong, he would communicate with you. It was probably nothing. (You needed to tell yourself that to keep from breaking down.)

-

Even though your relationship with Takashi was at a standstill, you still talked to his sisters.

Today, you had come over to make the girls lunch before they left to go hang out with their friends. Takashi hadn’t come out from his room when you called.

[“It’s fine,” you said, “I know he’s busy.”

The girls gave each other a look when they thought you weren’t paying attention. At least these Mitsuyas noticed something was up, you thought bitterly.]

They were long gone, after thanking you for the food and each giving you an awkward teenager hug on the way out. You have the rest of the day free, so you take your time cleaning the dishes, in the pathetic hope that Takashi will come out and you two will go back to normal.

You think that your prayers are answered when you see him come down the stairs. He seems a little surprised to see you still there, and he gives you a small, distracted smile. Your heart flutters as you smile back.

You think he’s coming towards you, but he walks right by the kitchen and heads towards the door instead. “Thanks for making lunch for the girls. I’m sure it was great,” he says, lingering for a moment. “You can leave the rest of the dishes; I’ll get them when I come back.”

“Oh. Where are you going?” you ask. You can hear a nearly imperceptible buzzing in your ears. You wonder if you’re angry or just sad; it’s hard to tell sometimes.

“Just out with Draken. I’ll see you later, yeah?” He’s already opening the door to leave.

You try to keep your composure, but the way you slam the plate as you set it on the counter is telling. “Yeah. See you later, I guess.” You wince. Even to your own ears, you sound bitchy. And you were doing so well in keeping it straight...  

There is a second of hesitation, and then the door closes. You busy yourself with drying the remaining dishes, not bothering to look up. Takashi probably left already.

But then you hear his footsteps as he comes into the kitchen. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks.

You still don’t look at him. You hate how concerned he sounds. Because of course he noticed how snotty you sounded; it wasn’t subtle. And Takashi was nothing if not a mediator, so he would obviously want to talk it out. But now, even after praying for the barest scrap of his attention back, you want nothing more than for him to leave you alone. You aren’t ready for whatever sort of conversation this is going to be.

On one hand, you are still hurt by how he treated you, how he hung out with you less and less as he replaced you with Draken and Hakkai. On the other hand, you feel like you’re being nothing but a spoiled brat. Takashi doesn’t owe you anything; he’s nice, so this is probably his own way of letting you know that you were too clingy and that he needed space while trying to spare your feelings. You just don’t want to hear that out loud.

At this point, you can feel yourself getting worked up. Your own thoughts buzz in your head like a swarm of angry locusts, rattling to the ever-quickening beat of your heart in your ears. You don’t quite know if you want to cry or scream.

He’s right in front of you now; you can see his shoes sidle up next to your slipper-clad feet on the kitchen floor as you valiantly avoid eye contact.

“C’mon, talk to me,” he says, voice softening even more. Because of course he can tell you are getting more upset.

“Just go,” you say. You sound muffled in your own ears. “Go hang out with Draken, or Hakkai, or your other gang friends. I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s up.”

“Oh, now that I want you to leave me alone, you won’t.”

“Hey, what is that supposed to mean?” He sounds a little offended now, and that just makes you angrier.

You spin around to face him for the first time. You can see how his eyebrows furrow, purple eyes glistening with concern as they take in your expression.

You lose your grip on your emotions. “Oh, what does that mean? I mean you’ve been ditching me for weeks now! Every time I come around, you’re too busy, or you already have plans with someone else!” You take a deep breath, trying to rein yourself in. “Look, if you don’t want to be around me anymore, just say something. Not any of this ‘hinting’ bullshit. Just…just say something…because I honestly don’t know what’s going on, Takashi.”

Your anger burnt through you quickly, like a flashfire, and you can feel your eyes starting to water.

Takashi looks stricken. One of his hands comes up to grip yours, using it to pull you into a tight hug. It only takes one murmur of your name, spoken gently into your hair as he tucks your head underneath his chin, for you to fully break.

There are tears streaming down your face now. You start to babble. “You’re my best friend, Takashi,” you say, pitifully. “I miss you.”

You feel his arms tighten around you, until you can almost feel your bones grinding together. It kind of hurts, but you are just happy to be held. His grip loosens soon enough, and he pulls back so he can look you in the eyes.

“I fucked up.” He smiles sadly at you. “I never wanted to make you feel like that. You’re my best friend to…but I couldn’t stay like that, and I didn’t know what to do about it.”

You feel your heart drop; you don’t understand. “What’re you trying to say?”

He lets out a sigh, and then reaches to clasp both your hands in his. His eyes dart around the room, nervously, before settling back onto yours. There is a quiet intensity in them that he only has when things are serious. “I want to be more than friends. I like you…romantically. I realized it a few weeks ago…you were always so special to me, and I didn’t understand why until Draken pointed it out to me.”

He let out a light chuckle. “I treated you differently than I did everyone else because I had—have—a crush on you. I didn’t know what to do about it, so I started avoiding you. I thought I would blurt out something that would ruin our friendship. I didn’t think about how it would affect you. I’m so sorry.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. It seems so inconceivable that he would return your feelings. You don’t even know what to say, so you focus on the end of his short speech. “So much for being the emotionally intelligent one, huh?” you say, tone lighter than it has been this whole time.

He lets out a self-deprecating laugh, tilting his head down. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I’m better with other people’s problems than my own. But cut me some slack, this is the first time I’ve been in love with someone before.”

You freeze. “Love?”

He already told you he had a crush on you, but this brings your thoughts to a halt. Love is a much more serious claim than a simple crush.

Takashi seems to think so as well. His face shutters. It’s clear he didn’t mean to say that much, but he doesn’t back down. “Yeah. Love. But it’s okay you don’t feel the same way. I’m good with just being friends. Or whatever makes you comfortable. Um. I owe you that much after being such a shithead, huh?” He looks uncomfortable, like he is just waiting for you to reject him. Like it’s inevitable.

You give him a sharp flick on the nose. “Idiot. Who says I don’t feel the same way.”

“…You do?”

You let out a snort, fighting to keep a grin off your face. “Like I wasn’t pining after you for years. God, Takashi, I follow you like a lovesick puppy, and you didn’t catch a hint?”

You open your mouth to say something else, but you’re swept back into his arms before you can. The two of you are face to face now; from here, you get the full force of his blinding grin. He’s smiling so wide that his eyes are nothing more than crescents of purple, his pretty eyelashes nearly brushing his cheeks. He looks breathtaking.

You break out into your own smile, unable to keep the happiness off your face. You feel so light, lighter than you have in a long time. The knowledge that Takashi loves you is like a shot of dopamine straight to your brain; you feel nearly delirious from the sudden rush of happiness.

“I love you,” he says. He sounds so tender when he says it, you can’t help but tilt your head up to press a kiss to his lips. It’s nothing more than a peck, but the touch of his soft mouth against yours sends sparks through your body.

“I love you too,” you say.

He looks at you in awe, before he leans down to steal another kiss from your lips, this one longer, and deeper.

You never want to leave; you would happily spend forever standing in the middle of his kitchen, trading heartfelt kisses and basking in the warmth of your love with Takashi.

-

(Draken wonders what happened to Mitsuya; he missed their hangout without so much as a “can’t make it” text. He can only hope the other boy finally got the balls to confess his feelings to you. He loves his sworn brother, but he’s getting tired of seeing Mitsuya avoid you. And he is definitely getting tired of hearing his lovesick ramblings. Well, if the two of you haven’t gotten together by now, Draken supposes he could always go with Yuzuha’s plan to lock the both of you in a closet until you worked things out.)

[atomicami]

the perfect fit

model!abby anderson x fashion designer!reader

- summary: it’s the start of your new job working for armani as a fashion designer, and your first assignment is to design and create a suit for an upcoming runway event. despite the fact that you can’t stand your chosen model, you also can’t help but find her very attractive too.

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, nyc living, reader has a degree in fashion design, reader is a bit of a perfectionist, model!abby, abby’s a little cocky, work sex, fingering & strap usage (r!receiving), abby refers to her strap as her cock, size kink, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything

- author’s note: so i was highly inspired by this abby x model!reader fic that i decided to try to write out a fic of my own with this new pairing!! i hope y’all like it :)

also dedicating this one to my girl @whore4abby ily darling 🤍

New York City was always known to be the place where one’s dreams were meant to fly as high as the skyscrapers that rose in its urban atmosphere. It was known to be the perfect capital city for all professions, including fashion.

Living in New York had always been the dream for you, and although you were now residing there for school, you weren’t exactly fulfilling your dreams just yet. So when you had called your parents one day to break the bad news to them, you knew that they weren’t going to be on board with your sudden change of plans.

“You’re switching majors? But why?” your dad asked through the phone. “I thought you wanted to study law.”

No, you didn’t. Your parents had been telling everyone they knew in your small town that you were going to major in law after high school and become the best lawyer to walk the streets of New York, and as a result, you couldn’t help but select that major just to please them.

“I don’t, Dad…If you had listened to me in the first place, you would know that I never wanted to do that,” you tell him.

“Well, that’s alright, law school isn’t for everyone now.” your dad told you before continuing. “What are you going to study instead? Medicine? Psychology? Business?”

You took a deep breath before continuing. “Fashion design…” you mutter back to him.

You can already imagine the outburst he was going to have. It was almost as if you could feel the anger bubbling within him through the phone.

“Fashion?! Are you seriously out of your mind?!” your dad exclaimed back at you. His reaction was so uncalled for that you had to take him off of speakerphone.

And after a long lecture from him later, he simply told you that he wasn’t going to pay for your tuition anymore before hanging up the phone.

Even though you were expecting that kind of reaction from your parents, your father more specifically, you still couldn’t help but feel so…discouraged. You’ve been wanting to be a fashion designer ever since you were little, and your parents’ lack of support did nothing but steal your happiness in fulfilling your dreams.

But at the same time…you felt determined to prove them wrong. You wanted to show them that you weren’t making this change just take the easy way out, you were doing it because you’ve been wanting to pursue this career your whole life. You wanted to show them that you were meant to be working in a fashion studio, not a courtroom.

Fast forward to now, and you’ve graduated from Parsons at the top of your class with a fashion degree, only to soon land a job working as a fashion designer at one of Giorgio Armani’s establishments right here in New York City.

Once the first day of your new job came around, you needed to give the best impression there, making sure to arrive before your boss did. After all, if it weren’t for Tess selecting you as one of the potential candidates as a fashion designer for that establishment, you’d probably still be job hunting by now.

You sat at your desk, eyeing the surroundings of the large studio you were in at this moment. All of the fabrics, mannequins, tools, and machines just waiting to be used. It still felt like a fever dream to you.

The sound of the opening doors of the warehouse startles you, causing you to and some of the designers in the studio to turn around, while the others are still chattering.

Tess walks into the studio and stands in the middle of the room before bringing everyone’s attention. “Alright everyone,” she shouts with a loud clap of her hands, causing the rest of the room to quiet down. “I have decided to put you all in charge of creating the looks for Armani’s upcoming winter fashion show. Each of you will be given a model to work on, and you are welcome to create whatever you’d like, as long as it meets the requirements for the show.”

“But, isn’t the winter fashion show only a month from now?” one of the designers asked.

“Yes, Yes it is, actually,” Tess replies with a nod. “So I expect to see the best work done by you all within the time being. I’d like to see how well my designers can work under pressure.”

You let out a sigh in frustration and held your face in your hands. How the hell were you going to have a look ready in just a month?

Tess checks the time on her watch before looking up at the clock for reassurance. “The models should be arriving any minute now, once they get here I’ll be assigning them out to everyone, and we’ll start today off by taking their measurements and sketching out designs. When you are finished, I—“ Her words are cut off by the sound of the warehouse doors opening again.

You look over again with the rest of the designers to see another staff member enter the room with a variety of models trailing behind her in a single file line. She then approaches Tess to talk to her for a brief moment before soon exiting the warehouse by herself. “Alright everyone,” Tess shouts out again, looking down at the clipboard that was in her hands. “When I call out your name to your assigned model, I would like you to stand up from your desk so they know who you are.”

As Tess begins to assign the models, the sound of a chair swiveling over to your left makes you turn your head, and you see that it was Dina scooching closer to you. “See anyone you might like?” she whispers over to you, her eyes still fixed on the line of models in the room.

“I honestly could care less about who Tess puts me with,” you whisper back to her, leaning back against your chair and crossing one of your legs over the other. “As long as they don’t give me a hard time, I should be good.”

Dina nods in response, she opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by the sound of Tess calling out your name. As a result, you rise from your seat and stand behind your desk.

“You’ll be working with Anderson as your model,” she tells you, and you watch as Tess looks over to your model and points at you, indicating her to walk over to where you were.

Intimidation strikes through you as she approaches your desk. You can’t really put your finger on it, but from the first impression, you’re quite convinced it's because of her broad figure that stood out from everyone else. You look over to Dina, to which she looks back at you and simply mouths a ‘good luck’ on your end.

Tess soon does a quick check around the room, making sure each designer has a model to work with. “Alright, now that everyone has an assigned model, you can all get started. Remember now, the winter show is a month from today, so I hope you can all make the best use of your time.” and with that, she exits the studio, leaving you and the rest of the designers to be.

Abby has her side resting against your desk, watching you draw out some looks on your sketchbook. “Just so you know…” she starts, leaning in closer to your right side. “I’m like, the biggest model here, so don’t be surprised when you run out of fabric for that pretty outfit you’ve planned out for me.”

You look over to Abby and roll your eyes before setting your pencil down and opening the side drawer of your desk. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” you tell her as you take out the soft tape measure from your drawer and stand up from your seat. “Come on, let me take your measurements now.”

Based on that first interaction alone, you knew that Abby was going to be a distraction for your project, and boy you were right.

This past month has felt like hell for you, and Abby’s cocky, conceited persona wasn’t making it any better for you.

Things were fine at first, at least enough for you to manage. But it wasn’t until the second fitting that she’s been starting to really get on your nerves.

The fitting room in the Armani establishment was spacious, each designer/model pair had their spot to do the fittings and make any adjustments if needed.

Abby walks over to your side of the fitting room fully dressed in her runway outfit. You had beautifully created a navy blue suit that complimented her freckled skin and blue eyes perfectly, and the entire outfit had Swarovski crystals sewn all over the place. It was a timeless and classic look for the show.

It’s a shame that your model has to be so arrogant for the time being.

You look over to her and snap your fingers. “Stand over there,” you tell her, pointing over to the small, round altar that was next to you. Abby simply obliges and stands up on the altar to face you, both of her hands crossed at her front.

You notice this and walk over to her, grabbing at her hands. “I need your hands at your sides, you’re a model, not a security guard.” you tell her sternly, separating her hands so each one is at her side. You then sit down on the stool behind you, bringing yourself down to face her lower half so you can check the fitting of her suit pants.

Starting at the bottom of her pants and making your way up, the pants seem to fit well on her so far. Given Abby’s large build, the fit is as snug as can be, but not too tight to where it would make her uncomfortable when walking. If you had made it any tighter, you’re convinced that the fabric might rip.

However, it wasn’t until you look at the waistline of the pants. For some reason, that area looked unusually tighter than it was compared to the last fitting. The zipper on her pants looked like it was going to burst. It’s almost as if she was hiding something underneath…

You tap the side of her thigh to get her attention, causing her to tilt her head down. ”What’s this?” you ask, pointing at the slight bulge that was sticking out of her pants.

She simply smirks back at you and shakes her head. “Wouldn’t you like to know…” she mumbles out, looking back up.

Your eyes were still fixed on her face, and you grabbed at her crotch, causing her to slightly jerk back. You knew damn well what it was that she had in those pants.

“Jesus,” she says, looking back down at you. “Chill out, will you?”

“Take it off,” you tell her sternly, standing back up from the stool. “I’m not going to have my look completely ruined as a result from one of your little games.”

You were close to having an outburst in the middle of the fitting room since you were starting to get some looks from some of the other designers and models in the room, including Dina. It was a good thing that Tess wasn’t there to see it though.

Abby simply rolls her eyes at you and clears her throat before stepping off of the altar and exiting the fitting room to go change. The two of you were being quite immature about this, but you were seriously in need of your look to be perfect for the show, and Abby was keeping you from doing so.

A couple more weeks pass by and before you know it, the day of the show is just right around the corner from now.

Your shift at the studio had just ended, and people were starting to gather their things to leave, while you still sat by your large mannequin, making adjustments and adding touches to your look.

Dina walks up behind you and taps your shoulder, causing you to pull out one of your headphones from your ear and turn around.

“Hey,” she says. “Some of us are going to head out to Dalton’s for drinks. Wanna come with?”

You shake your head in response. “I can’t, I really have to finish this look in time for the show, I have to make sure everything’s perfect.”

You hear her let out a sigh and nod. “Alright well, just don’t stress yourself out, okay?” she asks, gently squeezing your shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” she says, and you nod back at her as you watch her put her bag over her shoulder and exit the studio.

Once she leaves, you notice Tess at walking towards you at the corner of your eye. “Hey kid,” she says leaning against your desk with her arms crossed, keys jingling in one of her hands. “You plan on leaving soon?”

You let out a sigh and turned your head to face her. “Just let me stay a little longer, Tess…I promise I’ll be out of here soon.”

She sighs back and hesitates for a moment while rubbing the back of her neck. “Alright, I’ll give you an hour, but that’s it. I don’t want you spending the night here.” She then gets off your desk. “I’ll see you tomorrow, the doors will lock automatically once you leave.”

You nod in response and thank her before watching her walk away from the dim lighting that shined on your side of the studio. You were instantly relieved to be able to have some time for yourself to work on the suit.

However, that doesn’t last long when another set of footsteps enter the studio and begin to approach you from behind once again.

A large hand grabs at your shoulder, this time causing you to jump up and turn around in fear for a moment before realizing who it is. “Jesus, Anderson…you scared the hell out of me,” you say, trying to catch your breath. “What are you even doing here? Your final fitting isn’t until Friday.”

Abby lets out a chuckle at your frightened reaction and shakes her head. “I just came here to get my car keys,” she says, grabbing them off the shelf where she had left them. “I left them last time I was here.”

You rolled your eyes and stood back up to face your desk and away from her. “Well, now that you have your keys, can you go now? I need to keep working.”

As you were about to put your headphones back on, Abby began to speak once again. “What’s your deal?” she asks you.

You let out a huff and set your phone down before looking back at her. “My deal is that I’ve had to deal with your arrogance this past month and it’s been driving me insane. All I want right now is to have this time to myself so I can finish this suit in time for the show.”

The smirk that was growing on Abby’s face right now was so big you could practically see it from your peripheral vision. She then begins to walk around until she’s behind you on your desk. “It seems like you could loosen up a bit, you know…” she tells you as she slightly leans in closer to your ear, trapping you between your desk and her chest. You could already feel a familiar bulge poking at your lower back. It was that same bulge that you were just grabbing at in the fitting room not too long ago.

You roll your eyes at her in response. “Is that so?” you whisper back to her, just enough so she can hear you. “And what might that be, exactly?”

Her hands make their way down to your waist, grabbing you and turning you around so you are now face-to-face with her. “How about I show you, yeah?” she whispers to you, to which you nod desperately.

Despite how much you couldn’t stand her, you really couldn’t help but be into her at the same time, and not only has she also been aware of it, but she felt the same way with you too.

You feel her hands move from your waist down to the buttons of your pants, and you look down at your lap as a result. “Let’s see what we have here now…” she murmurs, slowly undoing your pants and sliding them off your legs and to the ground. Once your pants were fully removed, she helped give you a boost so you could sit up on your desk.

Abby instantly opens your legs the second your ass hits your desk, immediately eyeing the visible wet patch that was seeping through your black underwear. “Well well well, what do we have here…” she mutters out, hooking a finger underneath your underwear and shifting it to the side, causing your wet pussy to be exposed to her and the cold air of the studio. “This all for me?” she asks, looking back up at you.

All you can simply do is bite your lip and nod as you try to resist the cold air hitting against your pussy. “Fuck, yes, Abs…it’s all for you…” you whine out to her.

“That’s what I thought,” she mutters back. Two of her fingers make their way into your cunt without warning, causing you to jerk back and involuntarily close your thighs shut. However, her other hand makes her way into the middle just in time before you do so. “Nuh-uh, don’t get shy on me now, princess,” she says, forcing your legs back open to stand in the middle. “You’ve been so bold with me this past month, so you’re not backing out of this now.”

Her fingers successfully go into your pussy the second time around, causing a moan to escape from your mouth as a result. Abby’s fingers were huge, to say the least, but they managed to stretch your pussy out so well. There’s no way that your pussy can’t take anything bigger than this.

But what Abby was about to pull out next was going to prove you wrong.

As Abby’s fingers continue to pump inside you, she begins to undo her jeans with her free hand, effortlessly getting them open and slightly pushing them down to her thighs. She then digs that same hand into her boxers and pulls out her black strap-on, causing your eyes to widen at the immense size. She was fucking huge.

“A-Abby…” you stammer out to her, quickly shaking your head. “That—That’s not gonna fit…It’s too—“

“Yes it will,” she says, cutting off your words. “My cock’s gonna fit. You’ll see.”

Her fingers quickly slide out of your cunt, leading you to whimper at the loss. With both of her hands now, she rubs her cock against your folds, collecting some of your wetness before sliding it into your tight hole. The stretch of the strap was a bit uncomfortable at first, but after a moment, you were shocked to see how well your pussy was easily taking it from the tip down to the base. It really was the perfect fit.

Abby smirks as she looks down at the piece of silicone that connected your bodies. “See? I told you it’ll fit,” she mutters out, bottoming out completely inside you. “This fucking pussy was made to take my cock.”

You were already starting to feel dizzy over Abby’s cock nestling inside your pussy. You were desperate for some movement.

“A-Abby…” you whine out to her, squeezing her bicep. “N-Need you t-to move…”

“What’s that, princess? You want me to move my cock?” she asks, to which you nod in response. “Need me to thrust my big cock in that desperate little pussy of yours? Don’t worry, baby, I’ll do just that for you.”

And with that, she begins to slowly thrust inside you. You could practically feel it all within her movements, the girth, the veins, hell, even the tip would kiss at your cervix every time she bottomed out into you.

Abby grabs at both of your thighs, slowly starting to speed up her pace. “I think I can go a little faster now, don’t you think? Your pretty pussy’s already doing so well for me, angel…”

“Fuck, y-yes, Abby…f-faster…” you slur out as you throw your head back in pleasure, gripping both of your hands onto your desk while she continues to thrust inside of you.

One of her hands leaves your thigh and grabs at your jaw, tilting it down to face her. “Look at that now, my girl’s getting so cockdrunk for me…I bet it feels good, doesn’t it?”

Abby’s gaze soon brings down to your chest, smirking once she notices your hard nipples poking through your shirt. She then lets go of your jaw and pulls your shirt up to your tits, watching in awe at the mere sight of them. “No bra?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you to be such a slut like that…It’s almost as if you were waiting for this to happen.”

At this point, your brain was losing focus, and you couldn’t figure out what Abby was saying to you right now. Once she sped up her pace again, all you could think about now was getting to your release.

Abby now has her gaze focused on the sight of your pussy, watching as it squeezes and contracts around the strap with every thrust. “Looks like you’re getting close, princess. Are you gonna come for me? Gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock?”

“Y-yes, f-fuck! I-I’m getting close…” you whine back to her, leading her to thrust even faster inside of you, your moans soon getting loud enough for them to practically echo inside the whole studio.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak. Your cunt pulsed a few more times around Abby’s strap before cumming completely with a loud moan of her name, causing a white ring to form around it.

As you began to catch your breath, Abby slowly pulled herself out of you, groaning as she saw a thick white string of your cum connecting between your pussy and the tip of her strap before soon breaking. She then ran her fingers through her length, collecting all of your release before soon sticking them inside of your mouth while it was still agape.

After sucking her fingers clean, she pulls them out of your mouth and tucks her strap back into her boxers before putting her jeans back on. You watch as she briefly gets down onto her knees and brings her face into your fucked out pussy, gently licking and sucking it clean, savoring each bit of it as she did so.

Once you were all clean, Abby rose back to her feet, helping you with your underwear and with the rest of your clothes as well. Her hands then moved from the button of your pants back down to your hips, guiding you off of your desk and back on your feet. You stumble a little bit into her at the sudden movement.

“Hey, you okay?” she asks softly, catching you in her arms.

“Y-yeah, yeah I’m okay…just a little worn out.” you pant out to her as you gain back your composure to turn around towards your desk and gather up your things to leave.

“Well, at least let me give you a ride back to your place,” she insists, grabbing her keys off your desk. “It’s already late outside, and I don’t think it’s quite safe for you to be walking around out there at this time.”

You hesitate for a moment at first. You’d honestly hate to inconvenience Abby to give you a ride home, but given that she was the one offering, you didn’t seem to mind too much about it. In all fairness, it was already late hours in the city, and given the damage she’d done to your legs, there was no way you were going to last walking for five minutes down the street. So you end up accepting her offer.

“Yeah, sure…I’m not stopping you, honestly…” you tell her with a chuckle as you put your bag over your shoulder, ready to head out.

You then follow along beside Abby as the two of you exit the establishment and make your way to wherever her car is situated. Abby opens the passenger door to let you in first before letting herself in on the other side. She then starts up her car before merging into the city’s busy roads.

The ten-minute drive flew by surprisingly fast, and before you knew it, she was now parked in front of your apartment complex. She leans in to give you a quick kiss before soon pulling away. “So, I’ll see you on Friday, then?” she asks.

You can’t help but smirk back at her, even though you were biting your lip to hide it. “I’ll see you on Friday, Anderson.” you tell her with a nod before opening the door to let yourself out.

But Abby doesn’t leave just yet. Instead, she makes sure that you get into your apartment safe and sound. Once your lights were on, that was her cue to go.

You watch from your apartment window as she drives back into the busy roads, soon disappearing from your view.

And for the first time this month, you have to admit that you’re now actually looking forward to seeing her again.

a/n: i hope you guys liked this fic!! i might make another part if this goes well?? but aside from that my next fic will be bfm!abby for those who are waiting, i promise 🤞🏼 lmk if you’d like to be tagged for when i post it!!

(also ty for 700, i love you guys 🫶🏻)

2023 © atomicami | all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or translate any of my works.

[haggishlyhagging]

I was standing before the desk of my doctoral dissertation adviser who was angrily telling me that I was not going about my dissertation in a way that suited him. He shouted at me, from his intimidating height, that my master's thesis adviser had told him I had pressured him unmercifully too and hadn't asked his advice either all along as I should have. I asked my fuming educator, as calmly as I could, why my master's adviser had never indicated this to me. I suggested that if he hadn't approved of the way I was proceeding, he should have said something to me at the time. And that since he always signed everything I took to him to sign, and since he had not stood in the way of my receiving my master's degree, I had simply assumed he approved.

Even as I asked the question, however, I knew the answer. I hadn't behaved femininely. I hadn't asked their advice. I hadn't acted as if I weren't capable of doing all this without their help. Hadn't, in short, acted incompetent, helpless, childish, and infinitely grateful for every little scrap of attention or advice they, as superior beings, had given me. I was twenty-eight years old when I began my master's research. I knew exactly what I wanted to do and how to go about doing it. I proposed it to my adviser. He agreed. I did it. That was that—I thought.

Oh, but not so. I didn't lean on him. To me he was just part of the red tape. I cut through him as quickly as possible. And I had no time to linger. Already we had one child and were ready to conceive another. I had to move faster almost than humanly possible, and I did.

Now my doctoral adviser had heard from my previous master that I had not been sufficiently humble and impressed (did not respect the priesthood enough, meaning the men). But this one wasn't going to make the same mistake. He'd show me who was boss. I understood this as women understand it, not intellectually, just in the flesh of my face as he scowled at it, just in the resignation of my weary-with-watching-male-ego-signs flesh. And I knew exactly what to do about it, without thinking, without strategizing—cry. So he would know I wasn't trying to show I was as smart as he was and didn't need him to tell me what to do next. Cry—so he would realize I was just another weak little woman and he had no cause for alarm. Cry—so he would feel bigger and more rational, and still, above all else, still blessedly in control.

So I cried on purpose that day, and because I did I became Dr. Johnson a year later, moving with great speed through a system designed to slow doctoral candidates down. Because I cried.

If men hate to be thus manipulated, then they must allow us to be real, they must not force us to manipulate their egos in order to live a full human life. I hate such machinations. I despise them with all my heart. But women are forced to resort to them because men won't otherwise allow us to exist. And we have a right to life.

-Sonia Johnson, From Housewife to Heretic

[lewisvinga]

salvatore | esteban ocon x fem! reader

summary; after living a life full of cold exes, y/n never expected to find her ‘salvatore’ during a summer in monaco

warnings; toxic/abusive exes, slut shaming,

word count; 1k

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minkyungseokie @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri

notes; this is song has been on repeat

‘born to die’ series masterlist.

masterlist !

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“C’mon, Y/n, you need a man. You need to live a little!" Y/b/f exclaimed as she followed around Y/n who was tidying up around her home.

"Y/n," She sighed, "I don't need a man."

"It's been 4 years since you broke up with your ex. You haven't dated anyone since you were 21!”

“And you know why.”

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5 years ago

“C’mon, Y/n, let’s just go out!” Y/b/f asked through the phone. “You’re already ready!”

Y/n sighed as she cleaned the counter with a damp towel. She kept looking over her shoulder and back at the front door. “Louis is on his way. I can’t-“

“You can’t or he won’t let you? C’mon, Y/n, you deserve better.”

“I can’t.” She huffed as she rushed to finish off a quick chicken dish so it could be ready when her boyfriend arrived. “How ‘bout we go out tomorrow for lunch? I’ll call you later, promise-“

“Call who?” Louis's voice interrupted her mid-sentence. She hadn’t realized he arrived and she quickly hung up on Y/b/f.

“Y/b/f. She just wanted to hang out and-“

“That’s why you’re dressed like a whore?”

“I-I was about to ch-“

“Change into another slutty outfit?”

Y/n let out a sigh, keeping her gaze on the floor. She could feel Louis’ harsh stare as she turned off the stove and grabbed him a plate. Fortunately, he wasn’t so frustrated after work so he wasn’t as mean to her as usual.

Still, she felt tired of everything. She felt tired of constantly being paranoid. She hated how every word of his left her a mental scar. She hated how sometimes she had to wear sweaters in warm weather to cover up the black and purple marks on her skin. She was just tired.

Y/n glanced at him as she served the food on his plate. In the back of her mind, she knew Y/b/f was right and she was already thinking of the perfect time to leave him.

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present day

Y/n held onto her Dior tote bag as she strolled down the streets of Monaco. She was killing time in the shops before having lunch with Y/b/f and a couple of other girls to celebrate her best friend's engagement.

Y/b/f had instructed them to wear white so Y/n wore a short white sundress. She had an iced latte in her hand, glancing through the window of various boutiques and designer stores.

The summer was hot but she didn’t mind it. She spent the past week working on her tan, eating soft ice cream, and enjoying her week off.

She was lost in her thoughts when before she knew it, she suddenly bumped into what she thought was a wall until she heard a panicked voice. “Oh, fuck! Are you okay?”

The collision had caused her to spill her latte all over her white dress, staining it brown. She let out a chuckle as she looked down at the stain and at the empty plastic cup. “I’m fine. I wasn’t paying attention! Sorry for that.”

Y/n glanced up and was met with probably one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. His deep brown, almost black eyes were filled with concern as he looked her over. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair before running his hands over his equally jet-black stubble.

“I’ll-i’ll buy you a new dress! Where’d you get it from?”

“I said don’t worry! It’s a pricey dress anyway.” She said with a smile but that didn’t seem to satisfy him.

“No, please, let me. I can afford it. I’ll even get you another latte.”

“You won’t drop this will you?”

His lips curled into a smile as he shook his head. “Nope!” He said with a shrug. “But the least you could do is give me your name.”

She shook her head slightly and laughed as she holds her hand out. “Y/n, and you must be?”

“Esteban.”

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3 years later

“Bonjour. Good morning.”

Esteban’s soft voice woke Y/n up from her deep slumber. Her vision was still blurry as she slowly sat up against the bed, rubbing her eyes and letting her vision get used to the bright lights.

She realized that he stood in front of her with a tray in his hands. Once her vision cleared up, she noticed the iced latte and a croissant with a small candle resting in the middle of the tray.

“Joyeux Anniversaire, chérie.” [happy birthday, dear.] Esteban whispers, sitting beside her on the bed. He kissed her forehead as she took the tray from him. “Now make a wish.”

A small pout decorated her lips as she looked down at the candle. He purposely picked a pink candle knowing that it was her favorite color. Something her ex-boyfriend never bothered learning about in their 3 years of dating.

A panicked look appeared on Esteban’s face when he noticed Y/n’s eyes fill with tears as her bottom lip quivered. “Chérie? What’s wrong? Shouldn’t you be happy on your birthday?” He asked, his voice filled with concern. He reached over and fixed her bed hair.

“I am happy.” She replied while tears streamed down her cheek. She lifts up the tray and softly blows the candle out. She turns to look at her now boyfriend of nearly 3 years with a wide smile on her voice.

“I just never had anyone care for me like you have, Estie.” She whispered as she set the tray on the bedside table. He wraps his arm around her shoulder, tucking her into his arms. “You’re my salvatore. [savior] You saved me. I didn’t even need to make a wish because you’re all I’ve ever wanted. You’re the best thing in my life.”

Esteban places his finger under her chin, causing her to look up into his deep brown eyes. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on her lips. He whispered against her lips, “I’ll always be your salvatore.”

[thoughtsfromlayla]

If I Dream Hard Enough

Summary: Morpheus' daughter Elise wants you to become her mommy against every odd in the world. Will you?

Notes: ~8.1k words. Happy birthday to @givingmyhearttoyou, this is for you, you fabulous human. Also, this fic was supposed to be like 1k words long and now... well! Hope you guys like it, sorry it took so long

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, ModernAU!Dream, DaughterDad!Dream, slow burn(?), smut, P in V, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, slight angst all comfort, don't worry you guys get together in the end

Masterlist

You knew of Morpheus several months ago when he stopped at the restaurant you worked at to pick up an order for his daughter. At that time, you didn’t officially meet him, you just thanked him as he left the door as the other two waitresses did. Then for the past few months, he has been a regular, always sitting in your section right after dinner rush. You thought it was planned out by the way the two other waitresses snickered whenever they saw him there. 

You didn’t mind. He was a great customer and always left good tips and he often brought his daughter along. And while she was still young, about 7 years old since the last time you asked her, she was often a highlight of your week. Elise often brings you a wildflower she finds, growing in her garden to bring to you. Each time you accept with a smile and Morpheus is there watching. 

The day that Morpheus came in without Elise, the restaurant was dead silent. The other two waitresses had left early and you were left to defend the shack. So, you sat down with him and had a meal with him. He asked you about your life and you asked about his. You learn that his wife and he had separated after the unfortunate death of their first child and that he works as a psychiatrist for those who have trouble sleeping. He has a pet Raven named Matthew and for Halloween last year, his daughter made him dress up as a scarecrow named Mervin. 

After that conversation, the two of you grew closer as friends instead of your previous professional relationship. The first time that you met with Morpheus outside of work was when Elise invited you to watch her theater performance. She was cast as Wendy in the year’s show Peter Pan and you couldn’t have been happier to come along.

Morpheus had picked you up at 6:30 PM on the dot later that week. You wore something nice and comfortable for the early spring winds. Your heeled boots clacked against the concrete pavement as you made your way from the front door to Morpheus’s car. He was waiting for you by the passenger door, leaning against the sleek black design that matched his outfit well. 

When he saw you approaching, he smiled and offered the door for you. 

“Thank you,” You smiled as you got into the car. It smelled nicely of leather and a hint of McDonald’s french fries, probably a small lunch for Elise before her show tonight. 

“Did you have dinner yet?” Morpheus asked after he put on his seat belt. 

“No, not yet,” You say. It was a bit too early for dinner for you. Plus, you told yourself that the show would only last an hour so, you could just make something when you got home anyway. 

“Great,” Morpheus practically beams, in his nonchalant way. He places his hand on the back of your headrest and looks at you. “Elise wanted to go out tonight after her show, you should join us.”

Heat blooms across your cheeks and ears at how close he was to you. You smell his cologne and you feel like you’re going to go dizzy. But you bravely push through it. 

“Y-yeah, that sounds lovely.” You say, turning your head to look straight ahead. He looks behind you as he backs out of the driveway of your small house. 

When the two of you arrived at the school, it was surprisingly packed. Quite a few other parents were waiting in line to get a spot for their car in the limited parking lot. And luckily, Morpheus was able to find a spot near the middle. When you opened the door, Morpheus was already waiting for you on the other side, he held his arm out and offered it to you. 

“Why, thank you very much,” You smile, going along with it. The wind blew a bit harsher as the sun’s final rays disappeared from the horizon and you subconsciously huddled closer to Morpheus for a bit of extra warmth as the two of you walked toward the school entrance. 

Morpheus removes his arm from you and you frown a bit. You recover quickly, maybe he decided against it, and that’s fine. The next moment, his long wool peacoat is draped over your shoulders. The smell of him envelopes you as the warmth seems through your clothes. The warmth of your cheeks returns and you feel like you’re blushing to the highlands

“Won’t you be cold?” You ask, your hands grabbing at the opening of the coat to keep it closer to you.

“No,” He says and hands the lady a five-dollar bill for two tickets. His arm extends out again in invitation and you take it happily. 

The tickets gave you two some good seats, not too far back and not too close to the stage where you would have to crane your neck for the whole show. Before you took your seat, you took off Morpheus’ jacket and folded it in your arms. Then a lady stops the two of you in the aisle of the auditorium, right before your seats. 

“Morpheus!” She exclaims and walks towards the two of you.

“Oh, Jesus,” Morpheus mutters under his breath and hides it with a cough. “Hello, Becky.”

“Why, I haven’t seen you in years, not since my little William’s birthday those years ago.” She goes in for a hug, all-embracing and big grins. Her hoop earrings jingle with the rest of her jewelry: a big statement necklace, and bold silver bracelets on each arm. She sported a leopard print blouse and her round hips had some brown slacks to match the spots. 

Her hair had large curls, just recently blown out as she flicked it behind her shoulders. When she finally notices you, her smile drops for a brief moment before it broadens again. 

“Morpheus!” She exclaims again, her hands with fresh manicures going up like a surprised red panda. “I can’t believe you brought a girlfriend!”

“Um, she’s not-” 

Becky interrupts him and grabs onto your shoulders. “Let me take a closer look at you, sweetheart.” 

“Uh, hi,” You say as she gleams at you, looking you up and down and nodding. This was awkward. 

“You. Are. A. Gem!” She annunciates. “You know, I was beginning to worry about how long it was going to take this guy to get into a relationship again.”

“Oh… that’s…” You drift off your words, Becky was starting to make the both of you uncomfortable.  

“Let’s find out seats,” Morpheus interrupted us and you couldn’t have been more grateful. Becky nods as well before passing the two of you to sit somewhere near the back of the auditorium. Morpheus leads you with a warm hand on the small of your back. 

Eventually, the curtains draw back and the lights dim. A tiny Elise is in a makeshift nightgown and pretends to wake up from her bed. Almost immediately she spotted you in the audience and the grin she gave you made your heart clench. You give her a small wave and she waves back before remembering she had lines to deliver. 

===

You and Morpheus wait outside the school auditorium with the other parents and friends who came by to support the elementary play. You had fallen into easy conversation while waiting for Elise to get out of her costume. 

“She looked lovely tonight,” You comment, peaking over shoulders to see if she had come out yet.

“She sure does,” Morpheus says by your side and you miss the way he looks at you. When you turn to look at him again, his direction is directed forward instead. 

“Daddy!” A squealing voice giggles as it comes barreling toward the opposite of everything she embodies. Pink and glitter clashed against midnight black and pale skin. A rare smile pulls at Morpheus’ lips at her hug. 

“Hi, starlight,” He pulls Elise up until she is hoisted on his hip and her arms are securely wrapped around his neck. “Are you hungry?”

Almost comically, her stomach rumbles and she hides her face in the crook of his neck in embarrassment. The two of you laugh and you place a reassuring hand on Elise’s back. After little debate, the three of you are off to some local Italian restaurant. 

After dinner, which Morpheus kindly paid for, it was well past Elise’s bedtime but the little one was as hyper as if it was only noon. The drive back to your house consisted of her talking about rehearsal, her school days, her lunch yesterday, and a project on magnets that she has to finish by next Wednesday. 

The night ended with Morpheus walking you to your door. You stared at him, the fun you had from the night still evident on your face. You find that your cheeks are starting to hurt from how much you’ve been smiling. 

“Goodnight, Morpheus,” You say, one had already on the doorknob. 

Morpheus answers a few seconds later, almost lost in thought. “Right… goodnight,” He whispers and neither of you realize the unconscious step he takes closer to you. His face leans down and you can see the complicated colors of his eyes. 

You give him one last smile before turning the doorknob, unable to break eye contact with him. Before you could enter your house though, Elise rolls down her window from the back seat and shouts at the top of her lungs. 

“Goodnight Mommy!”

Your face snaps towards her, jaw unhinge and remains gaping open at her outburst. You turn to look at Morpheus, shock still evident on your face and you are greeted with a similar expression. His shoulders raised and stiff and if he were to open his eyes anymore, they might as well have popped out of his sockets.

“Elise!” He hollered from your doorstep. “I’m so sorry.” He quickly apologizes before briskly walking down the long driveway. 

Elise giggles from her backseat and the light heart sound fades as she rolls up her window again. Morpheus stares at her through the tinted backseat window before sighing and climbing into the driver’s seat. He gives a small awkward wave before leaving your driveway for the night. 

Somewhere along the year that you had known the two, you had caught feelings for the tall brooding act. But, love is difficult and while you love the both of them dearly, it is not his love to accept if he didn’t want it. You wouldn’t blame Morpheus for not being ready for that type of relationship, even if his daughter were to think differently. You overthought to the brink of exhaustion, but time waits for no one. You had rent to pay and customers to serve. 

A couple of weeks after, it was dead again. Just one customer sitting in your section, their refilled drink in your hands. The cool night air blasted through the front door and your heart clenched in your chest when you saw the new customers. Elise stands behind Morpheus, hand holding onto his much larger one. 

When she sets her eyes on you, her eyes glimmer in excitement.

“Hi, Mommy!” She giggles and runs towards you, hugging you around your legs. 

From your peripheral, you see Morpheus sigh and your heart sinks. You adore this child, but at the end of the day, she’s not yours to adore. Your smile drops slightly at the realization. 

“I thought your dad told you not to call me that?” You say to her jokingly, even if, to you, it was no joking matter.

“Well, my daddy says that if I dream hard enough, you will become my mommy.” She states, matter of factly. Her hands release from your legs and prop themselves on her hips. She looks up at you with adoration fit for a king and a toothy smile full of braces. The confession takes the breath out of you and gives you a breath of relief in the next inhale. 

“Is that so?” With a smile, you quirk up an eyebrow and look past her small figure on Morpheus. Blush looks great on his skin, you think to yourself when you see the blood creep up his neck and over his cheeks. 

He avoids your gaze, instead finding fascination in his not-so-new shoes. Wow, they sure look like shoes tonight, he thinks to himself as he puckers his lips in deep thought. You smile at the sight, of a large daunting man turned into almost nothing by his daughter’s comment. 

You seat the two and go about your job for the rest of the night. When Morpheus was ready to leave you bring his check to him and he pulls you aside. 

“Do you have time this weekend?” He asks while taking out his credit card. 

“Yeah, I do actually. My friend canceled at the last minute on some plans we had, why?” You ask back. 

Before Morpheus could respond, Elise pops into your field of view. She stands on the booth, hands propping on the table almost spilling over her kid’s cup of lemonade. 

“Daddy has to go to a… um, conserferants. He’s going to teach other doctors about something he learned!” 

“Yes, that,” Morpheus confirms. “I will be gone for the weekend and will not return until late. Elise wants to know if you would be willing to babysit her?” 

You look between the two, Elise giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes she could muster - and it was working. 

“I will pay you, of course,” Morphes quickly adds when you don’t answer immediately. 

“Please, pleeeease?” Elise asks, she goes in for another hug, arms wrapping around your chest at her new given height, and looks at you again with a pout. “Please?”

“Oh, alright,” You can’t say no to her. Squeals fall out of her mouth as she jumps on the booth, the cheap springs squeaking underneath. 

“Here,” Morpheus says handing you a napkin with his home address on it and after a few more exchanges of pleasantries, the two were on their way. You were to be at Morpheus’s house on Friday at 3:00 PM. 

The rest of the week goes by fast, each day that brings you closer to seeing Elise again and taking care of her for the weekend has your heart pounding in your chest. What if you set the house on fire? What if you accidentally serve her a knife in her sandwich or something? These thoughts follow you until you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Morpheus’ house and a trembling finger presses the doorbell. 

When the door opens to tall, dark, and mysterious, it is quickly subdued with the aggressive cawing of a raven. Its black wings spread as it flies onto Morpheus’ shoulder and caws at you again. Confusion clouds your mind for a moment before you remember about the pet raven he mentioned a few months ago. 

“Matthew, right?” You smile and give a small wave to the bird. 

Morpheus sighs and nods. “Yes, but you need not worry about him. He will be coming with me.” 

“I’m Matthew!” It caws and your eyes go wide.

“He talks?” You unapologetically point at the bird as it stares at you with a turned head. 

“Ravens raised in captivity can learn to imitate human voices, yes. Though, I would not go as far as to brag about talking. More like… mocking.” 

He stands to the side and allows you inside. Morpheus’ house was, well, the best way to explain it was an organized chaos. Toys were everywhere, breakfast plates were still on the dining room table, and Matthew’s enrichment toys were in places you never thought a bird could drop things. That being said, the hallways were clean, the house smelled of fresh air, and the interior decoration was deliberately placed. 

Morpheus gives you a quick tour of his house, the first stop being the kitchen, everything has a place and everything is in place. The fridge and pantry were both stocked and you could immediately think of a few easy recipes to cook for you and Elise for the next few days. Next was the joined sun room, and you stared in awe at beautifully displayed stained glass. It shined a rainbow of colors over the entire wooden room. Ivy plants swung from the ceiling and sunlight covered floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in a coat of warmth. 

The rest of the tour was simple, Elise’s room which was an explosion of pink and ocean blue with Barbies and legos on the floor, and lastly Morpheus’ room. 

“You are permitted to stay in my room.” He says as he enters the space with you following closely behind. The entire room was based around a midnight blue color which you found comforting. It was neat, unlike a certain daughter’s, and has a lone suitcase sitting on the bed, already packed and ready to go. 

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” You’re quick to interject. The king-sized bed and soft duvet call your name, but it felt personal. And are you that personal with Morpheus yet? 

“I insist,” He says, hand on his suitcase and Matthew swoops down to stand on the box instead.

“No, really, I can sleep on the couch or-”

“I insist,” He repeats and it didn’t seem like much of a choice. 

“Fine, you’re very persuasive, you know?” You joke and you see his lips twitch into a smile for a moment. 

The squealing of rusty wheels and then the collective commotion of children stop your tour a bit short and the front door bursts open to giggles. You knew that laugh like the back of your hand, and you both went into the living room to greet Elise. 

“Daddy! You’re still here!” She exclaims and throws her backpack onto the couch, the shimmering glitter of princesses catching briefly on the sunlight from the large windows. 

Her hands reach up and does a grabbing motion to which Morpheus picks her up and props her on his hip. It doesn’t last long as she soon lands her eyes on you. 

“Mommy!” She squeals in excitement and starts squirming in her dad’s arms until he relinquishes her.

She barrels her way towards you and launches herself into you, giving you no choice but to grab and pick her up so she doesn’t slam into you. She’s soon holding on to your neck as you hold her and your smile grows bigger. 

“Elise,” Morpheus warns and at his sudden shift of tone, Elise buries her head into your neck, knowing that she got in trouble again for calling you that. The mood of the house sudden brought down and seemingly so did the temperature. 

You hold onto her tighter as Morpheus’ frown deepens. “Elise,” He calls out again, this time his arms folded over each other. “We’ve talked about this.”

“La, la, la, I can’t hear you,” She murmurs into your neck, holding on tighter to you. 

Morpheus sighs and comes closer, placing a hand over her back, and starts rubbing smooth circles. Wetness soon coats your skin as you realize that Elise has started crying. Her trembling shoulders and hiccups were soon to follow and you and Morpheus shared a concerned look. 

“I want a mommy,” She chokes into your shirt. “She’s my mommy…” 

Morpheus and you share a look again. His face was apologetic and worried at his daughter’s sudden confession. Children have no filter and what they say is what they mean. How can you leave her like this when she so clearly expresses what she wants?

“Okay, Elise,” You soothe as you pet her hair. “Let’s say goodbye to Daddy first and then we can grab a snack.” 

Elise peaks out from the little hidey-hole of your neck and gives a small wave to her dad which he reciprocates. Morpheus leans in close to the point where you can smell his subtle cologne and aftershave and he gives a quick peck to Elise’s hairline. 

“Be good, Elise. I’ll be back in a few days.” He says and brushes her hair away from her face to reveal red eyes and a runny nose. 

“Bye Daddy,” She says back but doesn’t find the courage to meet his eyes. 

He sighs again before going into his room to grab his suitcase. You follow him to the door, Elise still latched onto you, but now her breaths have evened out. 

Morpheus looks back when he’s just outside the door, storm clouds are rolling in and you can smell the petrichor in the late spring winds. He gives you another look of concern to which you simply nod in understanding. Matthew caws impatiently as large drops of rain start to make their descent. 

“We’ll be fine,” You say as an unconscious hand wraps around Elise again.

Silence is shared between you two, an understanding that there is going to be a heavy topic to talk about when he returns. Until then, Morpheus comes closer and wraps his long arms around the both of you and you stand there stiff. You feel the warmth of his lips press to your cheek before he pulls away. 

He doesn’t explain and instead turns away quickly to get into his car, leaving behind the shocked look on your face. The two of you stand at the entrance as you watch him pull out of his driveway. Elise waves a small hand goodbye as he disappears down the street in fog and rain. 

When Elise sees the last glimpse of her father’s car leaving the horizon she slides off of you and walks to the kitchen. She sits patiently at the kitchen table when you find her again. 

“Can I have a snack?” She asks and swings her legs back and forth. 

The sudden change in her emotions gives you a bit of a whiplash but did as she asks and made her a small snack. After which you clean up the kitchen a bit while she munches away. When she was done, she asks for some help on her weekend homework which you didn’t help much, just guided her back to the paper when her thoughts started to wander. After homework was a simple dinner of chicken parmesan and then you sent Elise off to shower. 

The rain still hadn’t let up and continues to pelt down in harsh drops against the roof. The longer it goes on the more you grow anxious. You never did well in thunderstorms, rainstorms were fine, but as soon as you heard that boom of thunder, you were nothing but a child again, hiding underneath your bed. The monsters under the bed were less scary than the bright flash of light across the sky. 

When Elise comes back out to the common areas after her shower, freshly scented with bubblegum body wash, she finds you in the sunroom. The once cozy space grew cold when the weather changed. You huddled yourself against the corner and stare out the window, absentmindedly looking at the wildflowers that grew in their backyard. Thoughts cloud your mind just like the weather outside, and just like the rain slamming against the glass, you were beating yourself over.

Morpheus seems adamant about not letting Elise call you her mother, so that means he must not want you to be her mother. Your feelings for him had bloomed into something more over the months that you had known him. You subconsciously began chewing on your nails, some odd habit that you still haven’t broken since your high school years. 

Maybe, it would be best for you to stop being friends with Morpheus. You could never ask him to make that kind of decision and instead make that decision for him. It would be easier for both of you, you told yourself - lied to yourself if you wanted to be honest. 

The tugging motion on your shirt pulls you out of your thoughts. Elise stares at you, hair still wet from her shower, and now cozy in her pajamas. 

“What are you thinking about?” She asks you and climbs into your lap. 

Your hand goes to her back to support her as she makes herself at home. 

“Adult things,” You reply vaguely, hoping that she takes the answer. She doesn’t, because of cause she doesn’t. Elise is too bright for her age.

“Is it about how daddy doesn’t like it when I call you mommy?” She questions.

A sharp inhale comes into your lungs as you stare at her. After a few silent seconds, you respond simply. “Yeah.”

A few more seconds go by.

“Do you… want to be my mommy?” She asks again.

“...Yeah, but I don’t think your dad would allow it.” You confess to her. Guilt clouds you, someone as small as her shouldn’t be in the middle of all of this. 

“I want you to be my mommy, too.” She yawns this time and her eyes begin to droop. She leans her head against your chest and her breath starts to slow. 

“I know,” You whisper and when you look at her again, her eyes are closed. You kiss her on her forehead and pet her hair. A sigh leaves you again, decisions, decisions. 

Picking up Elise carefully to not wake her, you make your way to her room and set her carefully in her bed. You tuck her in, extra tight, and turn to leave her room. 

“Mommy,” She calls out groggily.

“Yes?” You say as you turn your attention back to her, kneeling so that you are on the same level as her. 

“I think,” She yawns again. “I think daddy thinks he doesn’t deserve to have a mommy… after what happened to my brother. I think he thinks he did something bad, so he can’t have something good again.” 

Yeah, she’s too bright for her age. 

“Let’s not think about it anymore tonight,” You conclude the conversation with another forehead kiss and she falls back asleep. With one last look at her sleeping form, you leave the room, leaving the door slightly cracked, just in case. 

Your shower was just how you liked it, but your thoughts come back to haunt you in the quiet house. The thoughts follow you, nagging you, as you unpacked your clothes and stacked them on top of Morpheus’s drawer. It still hasn’t left you alone when you changed into your sleepwear and did your face routine. 

You stare at the large empty bed and sigh. It was still relatively early, only 10:00 PM, yet your bones were tired and even though Morpheus said you could use his bed, it still felt wrong. The couch was just fine, but who were you kidding? You climb into the bed and pull the blanket up to your chin. 

The bed smelled like him, the pillows smelled like him, and everything reminded you of him. Perhaps this was a mistake. Oh, but the bed was so comfortable and the rhythmic splattering of the rain lulls you to sleep before you even knew it. 

You wake up to a phone call, and the blinding light makes you squint at the notification. Morpheus was calling and your heart rate skyrockets. You answer and put the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?” You greet and even you can hear the grogginess of your voice. It made you cringe for some reason. 

“How are my girls?” He responds.

Morpheus’ voice is something else and it makes you giddy. It certainly made you feel like a teenage girl again, wanting to kick your feet and scream while running around the house. His voice was somehow better over the phone. Tired, low, and seductive almost - you could fall back asleep to it. 

“We’re doing good,” You start. “Elise has been asleep, homework’s done and all that.” You update him. “How’s your conference?”

“It’s tomorrow, so I can’t say yet.”

“Mhmm,” You reply and you feel sleep tugging at your eyes again. 

Morpheus keeps talking about his day, something about giving Matthew to another friend to look after and the drive to the next few towns over. The words go through your ears on one side and out the other as his voice lulls you to sleep. 

“Are you asleep?” You hear him say from far away. You don’t have the energy to respond. A few seconds later, on the verge of consciousness, you hear his voice again. 

“Goodnight, my dove.”

The three-tone dial is the last thing you hear before you finally release the last of your waking hours. 

The next day, the rain still hadn’t let up and you ended up driving your car into the garage so as to not have any damage done to it. Elise was bummed out as she was supposed to go to the local park with her friends from school, but for obvious reasons, it was canceled. The two of you ended up making a pillow fort in the living room and watching Barbie movies for the rest of the day. It was low maintenance and cozy and everything you’ve ever wanted, not that it would have been much different if you were home by yourself instead. 

Elise hadn’t brought up the conversation you two had last night and you were grateful for it. The insights that the kid’s little brain could understand were astounding to you. She spends the day glued to your side while singing along to the movie’s songs and eventually falls asleep mid-movie with a cold popcorn bowl in her lap. 

You carry her back into her bed just like the night before. This time watching her sleeping form for a little while longer. After which you went back to the living room to clean up. There was a tough teriyaki sauce stain that was stained onto one of the blankets in the pillow fort that you ended up just throwing into the laundry instead of trying to spot clean. While the laundry runs, you put away leftovers and cleaned up the dishes. 

After the chores are done, you find yourself in the sunroom again, finding it ironic that the two times you have used it were when the sun was away. You run your hands across the spines of the many books that Morpheus kept. Many of them were scientific journals on the mind as you would expect regarding his job. A few were fairytales for Elise and a few seemed to be picked up from local libraries or garage sales. 

You select one from random, a short novel about a princess who sets out on a quest against the Greek gods to find her missing brother. An easy enough read for tonight, you think to yourself. You find annotations from handwriting that you didn’t recognize as Elise’s or Morpheus’ and come to the conclusion that it must’ve been his ex-wife’s. A bittersweet conclusion that he kept her books all this time.

Her handwriting was beautiful and so were her thoughts. They were eye-opening, sweet, and romantic, and through her annotations, you come to love her as well. If it were a different world, you would’ve loved being her friend. 

You are on the last few chapters of the book when your eyes became droopy. You set down the book, hoping to pick it up again tomorrow morning, and head to take your shower. The warmth of the shower only solidifies your tiredness and was a great way to relax your muscles before you grudgingly climb into bed, hair still damp as it hit the pillow. 

Everything about you was tired, but that damn rainstorm just had to test its luck and turn into a thunderstorm. You lay on your side, paralyzed, pulling the blanket as high as it can over your chin without suffocating you and squeeze your eyes tight. You imagine the blanket was the arms of your deceased mother hugging you again. You think of summertime by the lakeside, flowers blooming and butterflies flying. Your father is fishing on his small boat and is trying to catch something fresh for dinner. You think of your mother in the lakeside cabin making freshly baked bread and your breathing slows. You could relive this moment every day if it only allowed you. 

You’re playing with the weeds that grow by the stairs of the cabin porch, ripping at them and releasing the earthy scent, throwing them off into the lawn when you were successful. Your palms had several thin cuts from stubborn weeds that didn’t want to be uprooted. 

The smell of rain is heavy in the air as the temperature cools drastically and storm clouds roll in. Your father tries one more time to catch something and lightning cracks amongst the horizon. The wind picks up and creates aggressive currents along the lake, rocking his boat back and forth. You hear your mother shouting at you to get inside the house as cold, fat drops of rain pierce your skin. But your eyes don’t leave your father’s boat and soon your mother joins you on the porch, hand shielding her eyes to look out. 

Lightning strikes the lake, blinding you, your mother screams and thunder booms and hearing is lost. One moment your father is on the lake and the next he isn’t. The boat is on its side before the water fills it and drowns it, too. 

Your mother moves past you in a blur and you follow quickly. The rainwater mixes with your tears, hot and cold, running down your cheeks. You scream for your father, choking as the water comes into your airway instead. Is this what your father felt as he drowned? All you saw was your mother, in her perfect summer dress that stuck to her figure double over on the dock as she screamed, the rain drowning away all of her grief. 

A terrifying boom jolts you awake into a sitting position, your heart pumping at a mile a minute. You feel sweat coat along your browline as you lay back down, the back of your hand over your forehead. You hadn’t had that dream, or more accurately, that memory in a long time. You find the courage to get up and head to the connected bathroom to splash your face with some cold water in hopes of calming yourself down. 

You are so consumed by your own thoughts, that you don’t see the tall figure standing in the middle of the bedroom. A scream crawls up your throat before another lightning bolt lights up the room, making you jump as the thunder follows. You could recognize the disheveled hair anywhere. His confused face relaxes as he realizes that you are still here. 

You swallow some air, pushing your own feelings aside for a moment. “What are you doing back so early?”

“We were sent home early in regards to the storm. It would have been too dangerous to travel the next day,” Morpheus explains. On cue, another crack of lightning follows his words. 

“Well, welcome home,” You say, hospitality gone from your system at the late hour. You grab a pillow from the bed and head out the door. 

“Where are you escaping to?” He asks.

You quirk an eyebrow, not entirely understanding the question. “The couch?” You answer with a question as if it should be obvious. He’s home so he should be using his bed. 

You think you see his jaw tick at your answer but you’re not sure due to the dark. Another strike of lightning had you stiffen and you walk out of the room without another word. You managed to lay back down with a throw blanket that was in a basket near the couch and cuddle with yourself as much as you could. The blanket didn’t provide as much warmth or heaviness as the comforter did. 

You toss and turn back and forth but no matter how you position yourself, tiredness nor comfort found you. The thunderstorm had gotten worse and after much debate with yourself, you give in with a huff. You grab the pillow and hug it to your stomach as you stand and make your way to Morpheus’ room. 

You give a quiet knock and open the door, feeling almost childish at how you are going about this. You should have gotten over your fear a long time ago and yet here you were, standing vulnerable in your pajamas, staring at Morpheus as he sits up in his bed.

Your mouth opens but the words don’t come out. They’re lodged in your throat at what they’re about to say. Before you can find the courage to do so, Morpheus speaks for you.

“Are you afraid of the thunder?” He asks. 

You nod your head yes, and the grip on the pillow increases. 

“Do you want to spend the night with me?”

You nod again. 

He lifts the blanket on his side that you took the pillow from and you slip in. Warmth envelopes you immediately and you let go of a restrained breath. You turn to him and whisper your thanks as you face each other, your body deflating as stress leaves it. Silence fills the air and awkwardness follows after. Sleep is on the back of your mind and it tugs hard for rest. Your fear gets the better of you and you’re left lying awake, looking at Morpheus’ sleeping forming. His breath is rhythmic and his face is peaceful. A deafening boom of thunder jolts you and a small shriek leaves your lips. Unconsciously you snuggle closer to Morpheus and his eyes snap open. 

He feels you shaking and wraps a protective arm around your figure, one hand snaking under your neck to wrap itself around your head. He brings you closer to him as if shielding you from the raging thunderstorm outside. 

“Shhh,” He hushes as the rain pelts against the windows. “I am here.”

Your fingers are clutched to his shirt, knuckles white when he speaks to you. At another crack of lightning, you pull yourself closer to him, bracing yourself for the boom of thunder that follows. His hands cover your ears and you feel the sting of tears threatening to fall. The rain continues and after a few long minutes of only rain, you relax again. You lay in the comforts of his arms as you realize the thunder had stopped. Sleep pulls at your eyelids again and with a hiccuped breath you close your eyes. 

Morpheus’ cheat rises as he inhales before he speaks. 

“I am consumed by thoughts of you,” he confesses in the dark light of the night. Lighting cracks far away and you almost miss the confession. Is he trying to distract you? The thunder that follows isn’t as loud as your beating heart. 

He lays still with you over his chest and you hear the way his heartbeat accelerates. When the words finally, finally, register in your head you perk up and look at him. 

He opens his eyes and tears form along the bottom. “I cannot deny it anymore. Everything of me is filled with you. Your laughter, your scent, your voice. It has filled the crevices of my heart and healed the wounds of the past.”

You whisper his name, nothing else comes to mind for his confession. You sit up now and he follows after with his legs on either side of you. You cannot bear to look him in the eyes, his love for you is too strong to face head-on in the middle of the night. His fingers run across your back and you can’t deny the goosebumps that follow after. 

You feel his lips, just as warm as the first time, on your shoulders and he leans into you. He peppers kisses up your shoulder to your neck and you lean your head away to give him room. His arms snake around your waist again to hold you still, feeling the leftover tremors from the passing storm. 

“Tell me to stop and I will stop,” He promises in a whisper in your ear. 

His voice, oh so heavenly, has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “No, don’t stop,” You assure breathlessly. His hands slip under the thin fabric of your shirt and move upward, fingers featherlight and ticklish. Heat shoot straight to your cunt at his administration and your nipples perk as he runs a cold finger over them. His other hand travels lower and brushes against the rim of your shorts. 

He stops, only to continue when you whine in rebuttal and grind your ass into his front, feeling the heat and hardness of his arousal. Your heat clashes with his cold fingers as he runs them along the length of your slit. A moan escapes you at the feeling, it’s been too long since you last had a good sexual experience and your fingers are just not the same. 

His fingers part your lower lips and another runs circles around your clit. You clench around nothing, head thrown back and leaning against his shoulder as he continues. He’s stopped kissing you now, just watching your expressions trying to figure out what you enjoyed most. 

You needed more, something, anything. Before you could ask for it, he sinks a long finger in and your mouth falls lack. His hand comes to cover your mouth, muffling the wanton moans that fall out shamelessly.

“Shhh,” He hushes against your ear, sending shivers through your body again. You feel his teeth nibble at the shell of your ear, something so simple, and yet it felt so perfect. 

You feel his lips tug into a smile as your cunt clenches around his finger, to which he adds another, moving them in and out, in and out. His pace was calm, and collected, but you’re greedy. You want to bargain with him, another finger? His mouth on your cunt? How about a little bit of everything?

“Do you want more?” He asks, his voice low in timbre like the faraway thunder that rumbles. 

You nod, a small squeal leaving your lips as his fingers push up into your G-spot. You hear him groan behind you when your tongue darts out to lick his fingers that cover your mouth. He nips at the junction of your neck before he backs away. 

“Turn around for me, dove,” He directs you with a hand. 

You find yourself on your knees and you want to place your head back down on the pillows but Morpheus stops you.

“No.” He holds you up, his body flushed against your back. “Like this,” He pulls you up and holds your hand on the headboard, his fingers intertwining with yours as he keeps you there. 

His lips follow your spine, kissing down, inch by inch. His hands leave you and go to pull down your pajama pants, leaving the heat of your core bare to the cold late-night air. Your back arches as his fingers find themselves into your cunt again and you feel the wetness of your pleasure dripping down the back of your thighs. The rapture feeling makes your head dip down, but you don’t dare to let go of the headboard as Morpheus had instructed. 

Morpheus’ hand comes around your mouth again when your moans grow louder, your eyes roll to the back of your head as his fingers grow slicker and faster. You find yourself at the brink of your orgasm, cunt spasming as you clench on his fingers and your fingers gripping hard on the headboard, knuckles white, and head thrown back. Morpheus’ hand leaves your lips and gently wraps themselves across your throat, gently restricting the air that you want to breathe. White and blinding lights flash across the back of your eyelids as the searing pleasure of your orgasm shakes through your core. His fingers slow down as he helps you ride through your orgasm, leaving you panting and spent. 

You feel his lips against your ears again, whispering sweet nothings to bring you back down to earth. Your teeth are still buzzing from the orgasm when you feel something hot and hard press against your entrance. He presses forward and you feel the pressure of it, but he doesn’t enter, not yet. You’re shaking your head no, mumbling for recovery from your previous orgasm. 

“I can’t, not yet. I can’t,” You plea between pants. 

“Yes, you can, darling. I know you can,” Morpheus says. He runs the pad of his finger down your spine, making your ass perk up higher into the air from the sensation of it. “Yes. Just like that,” His praise continues. 

He sinks into you and the stretch is foreign. He’s girthy, bigger than you have taken before, but it’s not too uncomfortable. He has you panting without him even starting to move. He stays still as you squeeze your cunt around him and you’re further spurred on by his groans. Morpheus silences himself by pressing his lips to the nape of your neck, fingers intertwining with yours again on the headboard. His brows furrowed in concentration to give you time to adjust to him, but it’s hard, especially when you keep sucking him in like that. 

Morpheus only starts to move when you push back against him, taking him in another inch. 

“Fuck,” You hear him murmur in between your shoulder blades. One simple word and he has you palpable and jelly-like in his hands. 

Morpheus starts his thrusts slow, but much like how he loves, they soon become more - harder, better. Your moans go from soft to loud to muffled until he’s inserting himself over and over with such force that you’re left soundless. His power of his thrusts makes your shirt rise up until it just barely covers your breasts and the spaghetti straps fall from your shoulders. He snakes one of his hands down the sweat-dewed skin of your stomach and makes contact with your enlarged clit. 

He moans into your ear, unembarrassed when your cunt clenches harder around him when the finger pushes onto your clit. He starts to move the finger in slow circles around the nerves and your thighs start to shake. The rest of your body grows taught as his finger and cock slowly brings you to your second orgasm. 

Your mouth remains open, whines and whimpers falling out, Morpheus had long given up on keeping you quiet and only the brief remembrance that Elise was just down the hall make you bite your lips to silence yourself. Your orgasm was there again, just a little bit more and you’ll feel euphoria again. But no matter how much Morpheus keeps thrusting into you, you don’t get any closer. 

“Come for me,” He growls into your ear. 

“I can’t!” You whine out. You’re trying! Can’t he see that? You want it just as bad. 

“Yes, you can,” He huffs. His sucks a hickie on the peak of your shoulder blade and presses harder onto your clit. 

“Now,” He commands and you do. 

The snap was instantaneous and you taste blood on your tongue as your lip breaks open from the force of your bite. You feel each pulse of your orgasm rippling through you and then the sudden loss of Morpheus within you. You push your ass back into him, hoping to take him back into you. His cock instead rests between your ass checks when you feel the hot splurge of his cum splatter onto your back and the sound of your shared pants. 

You’re not entirely sure how long the high of your orgasm lasts but you come back to you laying on Morpheus’ chest except this time completely naked. 

“Did that really just happen?” You ask as sleep tugs on your eyes for the third time that night. The thunderstorm was long gone, and soft rain concludes the weekend long storm. 

A soft chuckle leaves Morpheus’ lips and it shakes your head. “Yes.” 

“What does this mean for us? For Elise?”

It takes a moment for Morpheus to answer and you think you fell back asleep. 

“It means that we can be a family, shall you want it,” Morpheus says. 

“That sounds perfect,” You smile and you know Morpheus could feel it on his chest when you do because when he speaks next, the happiness in his voice is genuine. 

“Then how about a date tomorrow, my love?”

Ngl, this was so fun to write you guys. Thank you to [redacted] on hmmm, "helping" me with the smut inspiration. If only you knew this blog existed.

Working on a couple more fics! 26 Ways of Taking You is basically going to be my own version of the NSFW Alphabet so they'll be short, porn no plot fics with our lovely Endless.

Don't be shy! Request a prompt or ask a question :D

Have a lovely day

♡ Yours, Layla

[chiscribbs]

Updated Future Donnie Concept Art!!!

So, I've been hesitant to try my hand at designing an Apocalyptic Future version of Donnie for a while, for a number of reasons - mainly that I just didn't have a clear idea of him in my brain yet and the thought of attempting to update his already pretty perfect design was highly daunting - but I finally caved and decided to take a crack at it. A couple months and several revisions later, I'm actually genuinely happy with the result. I'd still consider this "concept art" more so than a final design, elements of it could definitely be improved, but I really do like the concept as a whole - I think it could work!

The main goals I had in mind while working on this were: A. Must fit the character/look like something Donnie would canonically wear and still be easily recognizable. B. Must work in the Rise world & style (i.e. not be overly detailed or have too complex a silhouette.) C. Must fit in with the other (canonical) Future Rise designs.

I was also thinking about what problems Donnie might be trying to solve, which is what inspired the belt (more info on that below). All-in-all, although there might still be a few kinks to work out, I think I managed to come up with a pretty solid base design for my favorite Warring Warrior Scientist (Jr.)

Some additional character tidbits under the cut.

Also, I can't draw mechanisms to save my life, so just pretend those vague ninpo-gun-things make sense lol

Donnie has a mechanical prosthetic leg. How'd he lose that leg? Up to interpretation - my working theory is that it was a minefield accident that occurred when he was trying to blow some Krang dogs to Timbuktu. Naturally, since it's Donnie and they are in the midst of an alien apocalypse, he designed the leg to do a whole lot more than just help him stand without falling down. It's a multifunctional tool that contains a plethora of secret uses - including, but certainly not limited to, sawing off ugly Krang faces. It's essentially his new tech bo.

Bonus leg tidbit: Casey Jr. saw him deploy the saw blade in battle once when he was little, he then proceeded to beg for a saw-leg of his own to fight the Krang with. Donnie, realizing that amputating a perfectly healthy child's leg is probably not that most morally acceptable option, instead made him his own "sawing stick"(AKA, his motorized hockey stick)...which the others then made him wait until Casey's 10th birthday to give him.

The belt that Donnie's wearing here is a prototype of his latest invention. Its intended purpose: to deflect the Krang's mystic-blocking attacks, allowing them to use their ninpo in close combat. It took a lot of risk-taking to collect the necessary information to create such a device, and he experienced a number of way-too-close calls (one of which may or may not have resulted in that large gash across his plastron), but he finally managed to crack the code and pinpoint the frequency of the Krang's sound waves. He's testing it out right now to make sure that it works and is safe to use, but once it's out of beta, he plans to mass-produce them for every mystic-wielder in the Resistance to use in battle. He believes it could turn the tides of the war...unfortunately, the device never makes it out of beta, as he dies before its completion.

Donnie's gloves are fashioned after the ones his dad used to wear in his Lou Jitsu days (with some modifications, for comfort and to make working with screens a little easier and less annoying.) The material they're made out of is far more durable, of course, since he's working with them near-constantly and under varying conditions. But maybe he designed them to look like this as a way of keeping his dad's memory close, similar to Leo's sword hilt?

Ironically, Donnie uses his ninpo probably the most consistently out of all the brothers (even though Mikey uses his to the greatest extent, hence his rapid aging). He's constantly using it to check on the base's security status and multitask while working on other projects. Because his ninpo takes a good deal of brain power to operate, it puts a significant amount of strain on his nervous system and this causes frequent complications. Seizures, spasms, and blackouts become a semi-regular occurrence - especially in the latter part of his life. Donnie does his best to manage them, but the workload makes it almost impossible to do so properly. Mikey is able to help with these attacks when they happen, but Donnie - not wanting his brother to overuse his powers any more than he is already - usually opts to just ride it out and save the mystic healing for people who need it. The exception to this rule being when he's in the middle of an extremely important procedure and can't stop long enough to let the attack pass naturally, then he has no choice but to accept Mikey's aid.

This is probably needless to say at this point, but much like Leo and his other brothers, he is a giant. Equal in height to Leo (if not slightly taller, even without the goggles.) The doodle in the top-left corner of the sketch page where he's next to April is meant to be them sitting, so don't take it as anywhere near an accurate representation of their height comparison. It is not, he dwarfs her by several feet, lol.

[angels-fantasy]

☆ you go shopping with mitsuki for bakugo's surprise b-day party decorations! ☆

day 3 of the explosive birthday celebration ! hosted by @queenpiranhadon

hanging out with katsuki's mom secretly was not easy, especially when he liked to know where you were and who you were with. not in a crazy, possessive way of course, it's just how he showed he cared.

but when mitsuki, his mom, asked you to go decoration shopping with her, you couldn't just deny her offer. maybe this could be an opportunity to learn more about katsuki, you thought.

while you were shopping for the decorations, you quickly noticed that katsuki had gotten a lot of her personality traits. this was something you knew already, but spending time with her one on one really solidified that idea.

"what do you think about these banners, sweetie?" mitsuki asked, holding up two different 'happy birthday' banners. one was all black, and the other was orange. the color theme of the party was his hero costume colors, which were black, green, and orange.

you hummed and looked at the rest of the decorations in the cart, noticing there was already a lot of color, "i think we should go with the black."

she nodded and threw the banner into the basket, "you've got a good eye, kid." she said, making you smile at the small compliment.

suddenly your phone began to ring and you already had an idea of who it was. picking up the phone, you said "hey katsuki." causing mitsuki to turn around and make a questioning face at you.

you shrugged your arms at her, trying to silently tell her you didn't know why he was calling.

"why the hell are you at the store with my old hag?" he asked, making you chew your nails nervously as you thought of an excuse.

"we're just shopping, katsuki. why are you looking at my location anyways? stalker."

you could already see the veins popping out on his forehead at your question, "answer my question dammit!"

you rolled your eyes, "if you really want to know, i just wanted her help with some outfit ideas. your mom is a fashion designer, you know."

he hmphed and said, "whatever. why didn't you ask me?"

you groaned internally at his question, "because i know you're busy with school work right now-and don't even try to say you're not!"

he mumbled something on the other side, "fine. have fun with the hag."

"stop calling her that! anyways, i need to go okay? talk to you later-bye!" you said, quickly cutting him off before he could say anything else.

you sighed and faced mitsuki, "sorry, he had a million questions about why i was with you. i had to lie about why we were shopping together."

she laughed, "that damn brat doesn't know how to keep his nose out of other peoples business." she said, making you laugh in return since you knew how true it was.

the two of you continued shopping for decorations, finally stopping when the cart seemed full enough.

"i think that's everything, right?" you said, double checking the list you made beforehand.

mitsuki nodded. "it should be. if not, i'll get what we need by myself another time." she said, making you hum.

after checking out and paying for everything, while walking back to her car she said, "thanks for helping me with this. i know katsuki can be a pain sometimes, but you're good to him, so i'm glad you get to help plan his party with us." she then proceeded to pat the top of your head with her free hand roughly, much like katsuki would.

you smiled at her words, "it's no problem. i'm glad to be here."

authors note

i'm so happy i got to be apart of this :) thank you sm to kae who invited me to be apart of this event! this was a great experience and it was fun to write, so i hope you liked it! i'm sorry it was pretty short though... -.-

here is the masterpost, please go check out every one else's work!!

day 1: you make a birthday gift for katsuki - @zanarkandskylines

day 2: you invite all of class 1-A to the party - @xbabyd0lli3x

🪽day 3: you go shopping with mitsuki for bakugou's surprise b-day party decorations - @angels-fantasy

day 4: coming april 17th - @starieq

day 5: coming april 18th - @lowkeyremi

day 6: coming april 19th - @queenpiranhadon

day 7: coming april 20th - @cashmoneyyysstuff

taglist for the event: @gina239 @mystic60 @meowze4r @icedemon1314 @bigsimpo343 @ah-mya @whezdostuff @berry-vioo @seonne @slayfics @food8me @katsuisbaby @azzo0 @kit-katsukii @stoned-anime-babe @kukikoooo

those in orange couldn't be tagged unfortunately :(

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Pt. 2)

—

Tw: canon-typical violence (Batman), emetophobia at one point

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

Danny sat in the back of one of the transport trucks currently on the way to Arkham, his hands in his lap.

So far, everything was going to plan.

About a quarter of the team had gotten themselves admitted into Arkham in the days leading up to the raid, carefully sneaking in supplies and weapons for both themselves and the rogues they were going to free.

Half of the team was on trucks, ready to storm the building with their fancy new tech. A couple others were keeping an eye out for the Bats, and the last one was holed up in a recently condemned building, ecto-modified sniper rifle in hand, ready to fire.

Danny’s hands were cold.

He hadn’t always run cold, from what he remembered. Even after he died—hell, even after he started developing his ice powers—he had always been warm.

Now, though, his body was freezing.

Maybe it was because of the ecto siphoning he and Derringer had done the day before.

He couldn’t make the ecto guns work without fueling them, after all, and the only ectoplasm he had access to was the stuff inside his body. So, he had Derringer hook him up to a GiW machine and filter the ecto out of his blood.

The process was excruciating.

Not only did he get light-headed from the loss of fluids, the machine also chilled his blood considerably during the filtering process, and when it was pumped back into his body, it was freezing. Derringer had to cover him with heating pads and thick blankets to get him to stop shaking.

Still, that had been a little over eighteen hours ago, so that probably wasn’t it.

Maybe it was just another side affect of his time with the GiW.

Overuse of his ghostly wail, he had realized earlier, was the reason that he had lost his voice permanently. Maybe he had accidentally used his ice too many times the same way, and now his body was irrevocably changed. Maybe warmth was just another tiny privilege he had taken for granted, that had now been lost forever.

Danny stared down at his hands.

Maybe his body had just given up entirely on keeping him warm, on pretending to be human.

“Kid, you alright? We’re almost there.”

Derringer’s voice snapped Danny out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Danny signed, “just tired. And cold.”

“We’ve got to get you a jacket, kid,” Derringer said, “it’s not even winter and I already have to worry about you freezing to death.”

“I died a long time ago, it’s fine.”

“No,” one of the other men in the truck drawled, “it means you’ve got to be extra careful. You’ve got a second chance at living, so you better not screw it up.”

“What did he say?”

“Danny thinks that because he’s died before, he doesn’t need to worry about freezing to death.”

The truck went quiet for a few moments. Most of the guys in there didn’t know he had died before. He didn’t exactly like to advertise the fact.

“I have a cousin who had a heart attack, and it only made his heart worse,” one of the guys near the front of the truck offered.

“See, kid?” Derringer said, “I’m right. As soon as this is over, you’re getting a jacket.”

Danny crossed his arms, slumping over in his seat with a huff.

A few moments later, a loud clang echoed through the truck. Danny jolted, almost falling out of his seat.

The door opened, the driver looking at them with boredom written all over his face.

“Alright, up and at em. It’s go time,” he mumbled, smacking the door loudly for emphasis. “The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can leave.”

They all stood, hopping out of the truck and making their way to the fence line.

Danny moved his hand to the bandolier on his chest, fingers brushing against the small ecto-bombs he had attached to it.

There were five of them, their bodies made of tempered glass and black steel, and they glowed a sickly green in the night. They were designed mainly for combat; he had a few larger ones meant to blow a hole in a wall in his backpack, which was securely zipped shut.

His hand then drifted to the holster on his left side, and the ecto-gun nestled securely within it.

Most of his parents’ inventions were far too big and bulky to be practical in any real combat setting, so he had downsized them considerably. The weapon he had was modeled after a standard glock pistol, matte black paint covering the GiW white of the gun’s body.

The gun should be able to fire around fifty shots a minute without overheating, which was more than enough for Danny. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to fire a single round tonight. However, for whatever reason, the words should and hopefully didn’t inspire much confidence in him.

Danny followed the group as they snuck up to the facility, Derringer by his side.

Originally, neither of them were going to go on the raid, but someone on the patient list had caught Danny’s eye, so he decided he would investigate in person. Derringer was just along for the ride because Mr. Cobblepot wasn’t willing to lose an asset as valuable as Danny.

Danny would make it up to the bodyguard later, he decided.

Entering Arkham was, all things considered, pretty easy. Mr. Cobblepot had connections to a few of the orderlies, and it was all too easy to convince them to “forget” a few steps in setting up the security system for the night.

However, since nothing can ever just be simple, they ran into an unexpected patrol of nightshift guards just a few minutes after all splitting up to find the rogues.

Danny and Derringer were able to take them down pretty quickly, but not before they sounded the alarms. And, according to a few guys on the comms, they weren’t the only ones to run into guards where they shouldn’t be.

“They must have changed their patrols,” Derringer huffed, spinning the pistol in his hands, “c’mon, let’s go see about freeing our good friend Victor Fries.”

Danny nodded, scampering after the man as he sprinted through the halls.

The inmates, who had woken up from the loud alarm’s continuous blaring, shouted at them from their cells. Danny’s pulse was loud in his ears, drowning everything out.

Distantly, he wondered if those guards were going to die. Maybe they were dead already.

He supposed that it didn’t really change much if they were.

Soon, they were at the cell. It was custom-built to hold Mr. Freeze, constantly kept at subzero temperatures to avoid killing him.

Derringer hefted his bag off of his back, pulling out the suit and freeze gun that Mr. Cobblepot had procured. As he did so, Danny took a few of the larger ecto-bombs and placed them on the joints of the door.

They carefully moved away, putting some distance between themselves and the door, and Danny detonated it.

The explosion was loud. It shook the entire building, the shockwave knocking Danny to the floor.

Danny brought his hand up to his safety goggles, yanking a small piece of metal shrapnel out of them and dropping it on the floor. He was dimly aware of more pieces sticking out of his kevlar suit. Derringer was similarly peppered with metal, luckily uninjured as well.

They had come from the body and mechanism of the bomb, he realized. He’d have to fix that later.

Mr. Freeze emerged from the cell a few moments later, a scowl on his face. Derringer quickly shoved the suit and freeze gun into his hands and he retreated back into the cell for a few moments, getting dressed.

“I could have died from that, you know,” he hissed. “Killed by some amateurs with shoddy explosives.”

“The Penguin sent us,” Derringer said, ignoring the man’s clear annoyance, “our getaway car is outside. If you’d come with us…”

Mr. Freeze nodded sternly.

“Hurry up, then.”

Derringer and Danny hurried out, Mr. Freeze right behind them. Then, at a certain hallway, Danny paused.

He had to check.

“Kid,” Derringer barked, “we have to go.”

Danny shook his head.

“You go,” he signed, hands trembling, “I have to check.”

“Oh, what’s the problem now?” Mr. Freeze asked, his frown more pronounced by the minute.

“Danny…” Derringer sighed, “Danny thinks his sister might be in here. He hasn’t seen her in years. It’s the whole reason he was a part of the Arkham raid, actually.”

Mr. Freeze paused for a moment.

“Well, lead the way, then,” he said, clearly regretting his words as soon as he said them. Danny just nodded, scurrying forward, the other two men close behind him.

They came to the right cell quickly. Danny looked in through the glass, and he felt a piece of himself shatter.

That was Jazz, his sister, sitting in a padded wall wearing a straightjacket and a muzzle.

She didn’t bother looking up at them as they arrived, not stirring even when Danny slammed his hands on the door to get her attention.

Shakily, he attached an ecto-bomb to the door, hoping with all his might that she wouldn’t get hurt.

The door blew open, and Danny rushed in.

Jazz’s head swiveled to look up at him, her eyes narrowed.

He slipped the goggles up and his bandanna down, exposing his face as he came to kneel beside her.

Slowly, her expression shifted to shock.

“Jazz,” he creaked, his broken vocal chords cracking painfully as he spoke, “it’s me.”

She looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Danny?”

He nodded, pulling her into a hug, careful not to let the shrapnel dig into her skin.

“I thought you were…”

“Very heartwarming,” Mr. Freeze snapped, “but now isn’t the time. We’ve got to go, now.”

Jazz nodded, leaping to her feet. Danny stood as well, slipping his mask and bandanna back on, and grabbing onto one of her arms for support.

They left the cell, Danny doing a double-take as he saw the frozen-over pathway that they had just come from. He looked to Mr. Freeze, tilting his head questioningly.

“There were guards,” he said flatly. “Now hurry up, we need to get out of here.”

Derringer grabbed the two of them, dragging them along as he sprinted through the hallways. They had to take a bit of a detour, coming out of the main entrance instead of the side one they had entered.

Unfortunately, there was an active gunfight going down.

Danny was roughly pulled behind a desk, just barely dodging a few rounds.

His hands shook as he pulled a small ecto-bomb from his bandolier, priming it and throwing it at a small grouping of night guards. They cried out as the pure ectoplasm collided with them, covering their bodies in burns.

The smell, while familiar to Danny, was still horrific.

They took a few shots off at the night guards, trying to take them down. Their group was efficient, but with the rate they were going at, it wasn’t going to be enough. Only adding to that, the gun Mr. Cobblepot had prepared for Mr. Freeze had broken after just a few uses, leaving them unable to create an ice wall.

Then, Danny heard the sound of a gun’s safety being turned off behind them, and his vision went white.

He grabbed onto Jazz and Derringer, making them intangible right as the night guard opened fire.

Waves of nausea hit him all at once and he doubled over, his vision swimming. Danny was only dimly aware of Jazz taking the guard down with a high kick right to the head, and Derringer pulling him into a protective hold.

Ignoring everything, he pulled the last of the large bombs from his bag, throwing it into the air, pulling everyone behind the desk.

The entire room went white.

Danny’s ears rung as he scrambled out from behind the reception desk, dragging Jazz with him.

Luckily, none of the hired hands on his team had gotten injured, but the guards…

Danny looked away, trying to ignore the taste of bile in his mouth.

It was fine. He was fine. Everything would be okay.

The next few minutes were a blur. He knew that he had puked only a few seconds after they had left the building, and that Derringer had picked him up afterwards, carrying him to the truck with Mr. Freeze and Jazz in tow.

Danny’s entire body was wracked with tremors, an unbearable phantom pain passing through the still-healing surgical wounds in his head and torso like lightning. He dry-heaved, shivering uncontrollably.

They drove off soon after. Luckily, no one had been left behind. Someone, probably Derringer, helped Danny rinse out his mouth and got him a bottle of water to drink, wrapping him in his jacket.

As soon as the truck doors were opened within one of Mr. Cobblepot’s safehouses, Danny became aware of the sound of wailing.

Hopping out of the truck, most of his mind still far away, he saw a man being rolled out of the room on a stretcher. He was one of the people who had been on the other truck, Danny realized.

Beside him was a teenager, probably only a few years younger than Danny, who was screaming and crying uncontrollably. They wailed at Mr. Cobblepot, who only stood there with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Oh shit,” Derringer breathed. Danny pulled on his sleeve, tilting his head at him questioningly.

“The guy on the stretcher, that’s his sibling.”

Danny just stared, a hollow feeling deep in his chest.

Jazz, her arms now freed from the straightjacket, pulled him away from the scene. Danny let her.

—

[leclsrc]

reciprocate ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, pwp, very very filthy, fem!reader

word count: 4.5k

You have trouble maintaining your vow of Max celibacy when you’re on vacation together. (part 1 here)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because… sexual tension like tons, dirty talk, masturbating, descriptions of sex, kissing, SEXUAL TENSION.

hope you like it everyone! :) req’d and i was gonna make this a drabble, but it kinda grew. kind of gives way for a part 3, so lmk if u would wanna read thaaat...?

You’re bored more than several times over the dry, chilly stretch of winter break.

With not much to do, you’ve taken to traveling before you settle back into reporting on what different teams are doing to prepare for March. It’s all car prep, helmet design, new advancements, some drama on budget breaches. But that all comes in the condensed end of February, so now you’re wandering around, aimless.

The invite comes after Christmas and before New Year’s. It’s also last minute, and you would’ve normally rejected it, but Lissie had managed to convince you despite yourself, so you text Daniel a thumbs-up, greenlighting his proposition to jet off to Monaco.

“I’m starting to think I should’ve just said no,” you mutter, dumping a bundle of clothes into your suitcase. Across you, equally busy, Lissie scoffs. 

She looks up from where she’s busy folding something, then, “In what universe would anybody want to pass up on a free Monaco trip where we can spend the entire week drinking our body weight in cocktails and swimming it off?”

You laugh, nodding in semi-agreement. It’s not Monaco, you want to tell her. It’s because everybody’s going, even Max. “You’re right,” you say instead, making a show of being excited. 

It didn’t seem the slighest bit sane to be going on a non-work trip where Max was going to be around. Your first tryst, barely a month ago, before the grand prix in Abu Dhabi, had given way to three days straight of retiring to his room, foregoing afterparties, and then, after deciding to go to one, sneaking back off and fucking in his room after just an hour of dancing.

Max is just as insatiable as you are, and it scares you—because it took every ounce of resistance from you to sit him down and affirm the statement that the constant sex was a bad idea. Outside of his room, outside his bed, you two still maintained the same caustic relationship, but the sex became like clockwork, and you could tell it wasn’t the best idea.

“We need to stop the sex,” you’d said, setting it down firmly. “It’s—it’s getting in the way of work.” 

“It really isn’t. You still have no problem calling me out after races and then getting fucked less than an hour later,” he said.

“I’m serious, it is. And if not now, it will.”

He’d shrugged. “Fine.”

“It’ll be easy,” you’d said sharply. “For me, at least.”

It feels like cosmic karma, then, when you’re told by Lissie that Max’s room is beside yours.

—

Almost funnily, Max’s is the first face you see after you’ve settled in your hotel room. You see him first, and then notice he’s joined by Daniel and Lando, at the bar near the beach where everyone else in your little group is hanging out. You make eye contact that you tear away from instantly, willing yourself to ignore him.

Daniel notices you first when you show up to order yourself a drink. “Swam yet?”

“Nope,” you say. “Think I’ll join the girls and tan today.”

“Just glad you finally accepted the invite,” Daniel comments. “Lissie told me you almost bailed for some weird reason.”

Your eyes dart over to Max, who’s drinking whiskey. He’s already looking at you, gaze cutting. You clear your throat and look away. “I thought it wouldn’t be the best idea, but I’m about three drinks away from loving it here.”

The small talk continues, and you even get your drink, but eventually Daniel and Lando are too enticed by the sunset water, running off and yanking their shirts off on the way. You shuffle nervously on the barstool, just two seats apart from Max.

“You’re here the whole week?” He asks, not looking at you. 

“I am,” you say, leveling his tone of nonchalance.

He makes a noise of petty disapproval, leaning back. From where you sit, you get fleeting glimpses of how he looks, and it isn’t helping your vow of celibacy. He’s big, which, while you knew this, still sends a throb of arousal through you. The tight tee he wears does nothing to hide what’s underneath, and his arms give you the impression that he could just throw you onto a bed or slam you against a wall like it’s nothing.

(Two things you could personally attest to, but that’s besides the point.) You’ve only just begun to get used to not having sex with him, but you’re starting to think you should get on the next flight off, because the thoughts creeping into your head of his hands, his tongue—

A cry of your name grabs your attention, and you blink, turning your head. Farther up the beach, Lissie and Lily are waving their hands around, calling you. “Let’s swim!” Lissie orders. “Now!”

“Bit busy there, were you?” Max asks, smirking. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, downing the rest of your cocktail and jogging over to your friends. Absently, you hear him chirp another teasing remark behind you—hope you drown. The abrasive remark lets the remainder of your scandalous thoughts filter out for the time being. You’re positive, though, that they won’t be gone for the whole two weeks.

You stop in front of Lissie to undo the clip in your hair when Lily asks nonchalantly: “Why’s Max staring at your ass?”

“Lil, oh m—” You swat her playfully. “Don’t just say things like that!”

“Sorry! Jesus. It was a serious inquiry. Guy’s eyes are glued. Don’t you hate each other?”

You resist the urge to turn around and maybe get in a dig of your own, but clear your throat and shrug. “You’re hallucinating. I’m sure he’ll have some random girl in his hotel room later tonight, anyway.”

You don’t miss the way Lily’s face is still etched with lack of conviction, but you tug her toward the beach anyway, splashing around and playing frisbee with the Daniel, Charles, and Lando. At some point, talk of clubbing arises through the six of you, and at Lando’s insistence, you all agree to meet up somewhere to get hammered later. A warm Monegasque welcome, Charles had dubbed it. 

A sluice of nerves slide across you when you hear Charles relay the idea to Max, and the latter reply with a fuck yes count me in. 

You learn a few short hours later that Monaco lives up to its predestined reputation as a nightlife beast, greeting you with vigor and sophistication. You’d been here before, but mostly for work—the immense drinking, dancing, and occasional drug is still a novel experience. Evidently, though, the drivers have little trouble settling into it, accepting and ordering shots and extravagant bottles like they’re nothing.

You’re off work, you figure, and you have no concrete responsibilites tied you as of the moment, so why not join in? 

Lissie is drunkenly slurring something into your ear, about how some guy is flirting with her but he’s a 6 at best and maybe I should just make out with him to make him feel better hey wait maybe he’s an 8 actually no 9, maybe 9.5 max—no he’s a 10 I’m fucking him bye, and Lily is pissed, likely being taken care of by Alex.

Charles had upheld a promise to remain sober, but said nothing of bringing a girl home, which he’d successfully pulled off just twenty minutes ago. Lando’s obviously busy spinning the tunes at the DJ booth behind you, howling with excitement every time he plays something he likes. Which, you realize, leaves you with Daniel.

You fix the hem of your tiny dress, throwing back another shot. Your tolerance doesn’t allow for alcohol to permeate fast; it goes slowly, and never results in too much of a headache, thank the Lord. You’re pleasantly buzzed, but you want more courage, more gravitas. A timely wish, considering you haven’t quite learned how much of a party monster Daniel is.

He leans in closer. “I bet you three shots of vodka you’re not kissing someone tonight.”

“I’ll take the opposing side,” you say, laughing. “Nobody here is doing it for me.”

“A gentleman’s agreement!” He hollers, waving a passing waiter over and ordering shots for people to share.

Although you’re in a roped off area of the club, there are still people walking around and crowding the area, including a girl who’s seated on Daniel’s lap. She whispers something mumbled and low into his ear, and you roll your eyes at his equally flirty response, pinching her thigh and kissing her neck. 

He turns back to you after, like it’s a casual conversation. “How can nobody ‘do it for you’ in a Monaco nightclub, man?”

There’s a question you can answer, but woefully won’t. You change the subject instead, cupping two shots. “How about you and I just do three shots each?”

“Make it four,” he says challengingly. “And take a hit.”

“Already did, Danny,” you refute. You’d smoked half a joint before drinking anything, not wanting to get too caught up in the crossfade. You’re half sure somebody in the group took molly, but your mouth is zipped all the same. “Come on, four shots.”

“Up, up,” he pauses, thinking. “Two shots of Patron vodka—and two of Clase Azul.”

Agreeing, you search for the liquor on the lit-up table, throwing the vodka back with relative ease and then standing up to do the last two. You stumble when you place the glasses back on the table, shaking hands with Daniel and moving about to shake off the alcoholic taste in your mouth.

You pass by Lando, and he flips you off from his place at the DJ booth, but eventually you meander your way to the bar instead, wedging yourself into an empty alcove that only houses a storage room door. It’s quieter, and here you can start to feel the alcohol in your system. You lean back against the wall, and just as you wished, a guy eventually approaches you.

He’s cute(ish), tall(ish), and charming(ish), and even in your hazy mind he registers as passable and definitely way too drunk and overconfident to be approaching somebody as hot as you. His arm wraps around you, toys with the flimsy strap of the minidress you’d worn today. His accent is clearly touristy and American when he asks, “What, bored tonight?”

“Little bit,” you say lowly, leaning back and letting your lips curl up into a smile. “Nothing is really exciting.”

He hums drunkenly. “I could be exciting. Show you something exciting.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you say, playing into him. “Tell me more.”

“I could tell you lots of things in my hotel room.” He smiles. “Don’t you want to have fun?”

“She’s had plenty, mate,” a voice unmistakably Dutch says, and pride wells up in you for having had your plan succeed so beautifully. You blink, reaching an arm out to gently push the guy out of the way—and meet eyes with the one behind him. Taller, broader, and evidently more sober than either of you, Max looks pissed (more than usual, at least.) “Piss off.”

“Christ, had I known she had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t’ve approached, man. Let’s all be calm.”

Max waves him off dismissively and approaches you, a glint of concern shadowing the irritance in his eyes. “This some kind of plan of yours?”

The alcohol has begun to rush through you. You’re hot, flushed all over, thinking of all the times you’d been in this position, purposely testing Max’s limits so he could test yours, albeit differently.  

“Dunno what you mean,” you say. Your gaze slips downward, to the big, rough hand wrapped around the glass of whiskey. You want them on you. Then they meet his again.

“Sure,” he says, unconvinced. “You’re having a lot of fun prancing around like you’ve no responsibilities.”

“Lighten up,” you insist boredly. “It’s called a vacation. It’s for letting loose.”

“Are you letting loose enough?” He asks, suggestive.

“Max.” You lean forward, and the movement lets him see more of your chest, or what your dress allows. He coughs. 

“No.” But despite himself, he’s leaning downward, too, his gaze stuck on your lips. “You told me yourself. It gets in the way of work.”

“This isn’t work,” you say, nerves hammering through you.

“Been looking after you all night, it might as well be.” His voice is cold and serious. He steps forward, effectively caging you against the wall with how bulky his frame is. “You need to be careful. I had to pry that asshole off of you.”

“What if…” You trail off, tilting your head back so you’re making searing, unbreaking eye contact. “That’s exactly what I wanted?”

You’re both frozen in place, staring up at him with the kind of coy you only get when you’re tipsy like this. Wide eyed, lip bitten, and dress riding up—this is exactly how Max likes you. Ready for him to wreck. One jerk of his knee in between your legs and you’re his. He considers other options: a light grip around your neck, or even just a hand on your waist would render you weak, too.

“You test me too much, Y/L/N.” You feel hazy from the way he says your name, in the way he always does—formal, professional, like you’re in the paddock interviewing him again. You can feel yourself growing wet. 

But you’d gotten yourself into this mess. You wore this dress, took those shots, let that guy flirt with you in hopes that Max would come over and give you his time of day. Deny as you might, you know deep down this is exactly what you were waiting for. You press a palm to his stomach, feeling the hard surface there, fisting it in his shirt. 

He grunts, lets his hand cover yours. “Schatz,” he says, guttural.

He lets your lips meet, but when you lean in for a proper kiss, he stands back up to his full height. One look in your eyes lets him realize you’re sufficiently sober, and he turns and walks away.

—

A volleyball hits your shoulder for the third time today.

Prior to that, it’d hit your forehead twice, putting an effective end to your beach volleyball winning streak. Beside you, Lando lets out a strangled cry of defeat.

“The volleyball legend is tapping out!” Daniel hoots from a nearby lawn chair, mimicking the racing commentators you’re all familiar with. 

“Piss off,” you say. “I’m off my game, too tired.”

You wave a dismissive hand to Lily and Alex and they flash thumbs up signs. You squeeze a bottle of water into your mouth, needing release from the thoughts plaguing your mind. The events of two nights ago weigh terribly heavy, annoyingly so, on your mind. 

Not Max himself, you argue. His voice. His touch. They’re so irresistible to you. The way he’d grunted out the pet name he reserved for sex, the way his hand was so much rougher, bigger than yours.

Absently, you wonder, if he hadn’t stopped it—what would’ve happened then? He must’ve been resisting his strongest demons to put an end to the flirting like that. Any other time, you think, it would’ve gone differently.

He’d crowd you against the wall, press hot, whiskey-flavored kisses to your neck. He’d drop his glass, uncaring if it shattered; he could pay for fifty of those and then some. You picture his big hands roughly feeling you up, pressing against your panties, asking if you wore them just for him. Mumbling about wanting to taste you, get on his knees and have your pussy right here, for his tongue only. You picture his fingers, nimble, yanking away the lace and pushing into your cunt, kissing your jaw, moving, moving, until you’re fully in an open-mouthed kiss, messy and dirty, just how he likes you. He’d say something mean. Do you enjoy being a slut, letting all these people watch me take care of you? You’d nod. It’s true, you do, humping his fingers and chasing release. You picture his dick, hard and thick, big like the rest of him, pressed against your bare thigh, and—

“Your gelato!” Lissie hollers crankily, waving a cone of coffee ice cream in front of you that’s begun to melt and stick to her fingers.

“Thinking of sum’in, mate?” Lando’s amused, sunglasses-clad face comes into view.

You flip him off and apologize to Lissie, attempting to enjoy your ice cream before you descend into a state of craziness. The beach day passes with additional moments of blank stares, though none to a worrying degree. Most of your friends chalk it up to you waking up late or spacing out thinking of work, thankfully. 

But, at least, you think. At least this just proves that you and Max can stick to your vow of celibacy. Right?

—

Max is never usually one to eavesdrop, but when he learned from Lily earlier in the week that your room was adjacent to his, he couldn’t help but become more conscious of it. Two days of silence, the occasional TV noise, and some stumbling provide nothing, so he’s since stopped paying attention. Between you two, you’re the one always out on the shore anyway, so there’s nothing much for him to listen to.

Tonight is different.

You don’t usually make noise—and he’s generally speaking here. You’re not a loud person. Even with the aid of a mic, your voice is composed, on the edge of quiet, during paddock reports. So why can he hear you so clearly now? The walls are a bit thin, sure, but something else contributes to it.

Something else, like maybe you’re doing all this on purpose.

The shuffling on the other side of the wall grows louder, then he hears your faint, breathy whimpers. He pauses, sitting a bit more upright on his bed, curiosity piqued, anticipates something else. Your whimpers grow louder, passing through the walls with relative ease. 

He could totally tune this out, maybe put on a movie, hell, leave the room for a late night walk or a drink somewhere.

But he’s rooted to his spot, listening intently, wanting to hear more of you. He hears it then, so breathy at first he almost doesn’t. Max.

Your moan. He blinks, feeling himself grow hard. Maybe he didn’t hear it right, but then he hears it again: Oh, Max. Please. Wanna, wanna— 

He palms at his dick through his sweats, swearing under his breath. You sound exactly like you do when you’re underneath him, two lithe hands wrapped around his wrist, begging for release, for his tongue, for his fingers. You’d been so sure, so high and mighty when you sat him down and demanded the sex stop, but here you are fucking yourself on your fingers, moaning his name.

Barely even ashamed, he tugs his dick out, already drooling with precum. He uses it to ease the glide of jerking off. Max, you say again, louder this time, higher. He remembers your conversation clearly, your solemn voice when you told him you couldn’t ever have sex again with the way it interfered with your jobs. The way you slid in a snide remark about how it’d be an easy challenge for you.

He can’t help but be amused, fucking his fist and listening to your moans, growing in volume as you near your climax. He wants to ask if your fingers are as good as his, as his tongue, his cock. He knows you’ll say yes but think the opposite. You’ve always grown so weak around him.

Gonna cum, he hears again. 

He pictures you writhing on your bed, eyes rolling back, fist half-bitten to try and silence yourself. Your thighs are probably shaking, brows knitted together, tongue lolling out—he jerks himself faster, panting, chest sweaty. It’s your last, loud moans that send him over the edge. 

I’m cumming, Maxie, fuck—! He swears under his breath, cum spurting out all over his fist. He catches his breath, pursing his lips, squeezing his eyes shut. Tries to purge himself of his thoughts of how you might look right now and retreats into his bathroom.

It doesn’t work.

—

Lando personal phone 30s ago

Lissie wants her own bacardi and could you get doritos too x

And a box of condoms pls mate xx

“One more Bacardi and a bag of Doritos,” you dictate boredly. Who knew a high profile, all expenses paid vacation in one of the richest countries in the world would still entail the mandatory grocery run? “…And condoms.”

Max turns from where he’d retrieved the rum, a brow raised in question. “Sorry?”

“Lando, not me,” you defend, holding two hands up. You two had been the unlucky pair who drew short straws and were thus stuck with a long list of niche items in an empty convenience store not far from your hotel. Outside, the sun’s already gone, leaving behind traces of orange in an otherwise dark sky. The group had decided to stay nearby and drink instead of going out tonight, since you’d all been at a club basically every other night anyway.

You review each of your baskets. “Seems like this is all,” you conclude, “except the condoms, which we’ll get at the counter.”

“Did Lando specify a… brand?” Max asks, pacing to the cashier. There are already some on display, with varying features and sizes. 

You recheck your phone. “Nope. Just get anything.”

“Alright, then.” Max picks up an XXL condom box and waves it around. “For Little Lando.”

Irritated, you roll your eyes. “Be reasonable, Max.”

“You said get anything!”

“You’re so annoying,” you fume. You catch sight of the cashier looking uncomfortable with the tension between you and Max and figure the situation needs to deescalate. “Okay. Fine. Whatever, just get something reasonable. Put that back.”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘reasonable,’” he says teasingly, clearly trying to push your buttons.

“Just get a standard condom box.”

“What is a standard co—”

“Get the ones you normally use,” you say, realizing the words after they leave your mouth.

The cashier coughs.

Shrugging, Max grabs the familiar box off the shelf and tosses it, emptying both your baskets right after. His face is amused when he turns and you see him again, but you’re both wordless while the payment goes through and you exit together. The car ride back to the hotel is quiet, stuffy, and tense, your arms crossed over your chest and Max’s occupied with both of the plastic bags.

“I’m surprised you remember what condoms I use.” He says with a smug smile when you’re both in the elevator. He’s parked his car on the basement floor, so you need to get to the lobby. You watch the lights signify what floor you’re on, waiting desperately for the ground floor button to glow yellow.

Still annoyed, you humor him despite yourself. “Why’s that?”

It dings yellow right as he responds. “You’re always begging for me to cum inside you, anyway.” 

The doors open but neither of you move. Max watches you grow flustered and take a deep breath. “You’re a sicko,” you declare, walking out. He follows you with a laugh, knowing he’s right.

You meet the group outside the lobby, where they’re already piling onto a yacht, big enough for everyone. It’s ridiculously huge and expensive-looking, bobbing softly by the dark water. Charles emerges from the upper tier and waves to you and Max with a goofy grin.  

After you help spread and deposit the groceries on the table, you walk around, finally detaching yourself from Max’s side. Eventually drinks ebb around the group, shots and crude cocktails that are fed to you like water. Buzzed with warmth and courage, you move to the back of the boat where there’s a ladder to swim, grunting when you find Max already there.

You clench your cocktail. “What’re you doing?”

“Preparing to swim, what’s it look like?”

“Oh.” You pause. “I didn’t know you could swim.”

You down the rest of your drink, leaning against the side of the boat and watching as he sheds his shirt and jumps into the ocean. Some of the water splashes onto you, and it’s cold, sending goosebumps throughout your body. He surfaces, hair darkened from being wet and smile dopey. A few strands of hair stick up. 

“Wanna join?”

“Over my dead body,” you say, taking a seat and dripping your legs instead. 

“The water’s nice.”

“It’s frigid,” you counter. “You should be wearing a snowsuit, dumbass.”

“How mean,” he says, diving underneath and surfacing again. “You’re too chicken, is all.”

Emboldened, by the buzz of alcohol maybe, the music, or—most likely of all—Max’s teasing, you nod. “Chicken?”

You get up, legs dripping, and pull your shorts down, tugging your tiny tank top off right after. You’re left in your bathing suit, and watch as Max’s eyes lock onto your tits, spilling out of your bikini top. His gaze is slow on you, like it’s his first time seeing you like this.

You step onto the cool ladder to avoid jumping, your back turned to Max’s as you feel more and more of your body submerge into the freezing water. You turn, taking a seat on one of the rungs. Max swims toward you, wiping a hand over his face. 

“Not a chicken. But I’m not going any lower,” you say firmly, in the water from the waist down. “It’s too cold.” 

“I’m fine having you like this,” he says lowly, his voice thick with desire. He cages you in, two big hands on either side of the ladder. For leverage, your legs wrap around him. You’re so close together. After days, weeks, of resisting.

You release a shaky breath, staring at him, his shoulders, his hands.

“How’s your vacation been?” He asks, lips near your ear.

“Fine,” you say. “Fun.”

“Bring anyone to your room?” You shake your head; he persists. “So you’ve had no luck there, then?” 

“None at all,” you say blatantly.

“S’that why you’ve been…” A hand leaves the ladder to squeeze your thigh. “Moaning my name while fucking yourself?”

Your eyes widen, blinking, undeniably caught. You open your mouth to formulate a defense but you can’t. “What are you talking about?”

“Aw, don’t be shy, schatz. You were the one who kept insisting we swear off sex, but I think you’re starting to miss me.”

He presses two fingers to the crotch of your bottoms, rubbing softly. It’s enough to let you whimper. “Max—”

“You keep prancing around in tiny bikinis, skirts, tops. Is it on purpose, hmm? I can’t stop thinking about claiming you. On my bed, my balcony, over any surface.”

He quickens his fingers, and you whine. It feels so good, reminiscent of how wicked he is in bed. You picture it—being bent over the side of the boat, his hands big on your waist, cock sliding in and out of you.

“Feels s’good, Max,” you breathe.

“Does it?” He asks, egging you on. You nod, gripping his wrist—your hand’s still circled around it when he yanks it away.

“But remember what you told me? Before the break?”

“I—fuck,” you mutter, frustrated. “Please.”

“They were your words, not mine, schatz,” he says, easygoing as he dives back underwater, leaving you alone and sexually frustrated. You curse lowly. It’s going to be a long rest-of-the-week.