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formulas-bitch · 24 hours

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Come Back Home - Charles leclerc X leclercsibling/reader

4.9k words

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the concrete floor of the garage. It was always like this, Charles thought, when his older sister, Emily, returned home from her latest tour in the army. There was a certain air of anticipation, of excitement, that seemed to fill the room, as if the very walls themselves were vibrating with the energy of her presence. Even the old, rusty tools hanging on the walls appeared to glisten under her watchful gaze, as if they too were proud to be a part of her story.

Charles could feel his heart race with a mixture of nerves and joy as he watched Emily walk towards him. Her uniform was spotless, her posture straight and tall, her hair tied back in a tight bun that emphasized her sharp features. Her eyes, a deep shade of blue that he had inherited, sparkled with an unmistakable twinkle of pride. She held out her hand to him, and without a second thought, Charles took it, feeling the warmth and strength of her grip.

"You look great, Emily!" he exclaimed, unable to hide his grin. "I can't believe you're finally home!"

Emily smiled warmly at her little brother. "I missed you too, Charles. I've been thinking about that race of yours. You know, if you want, I could give you a few pointers. I mean, I might be a bit out of practice, but I've got some experience under my belt."

Charles' eyes widened in excitement. "Really?" he asked, barely able to contain his enthusiasm. "That would be amazing! I've been practicing a lot, but it's always better when someone who's been there can help you."

Emily nodded, her expression softening. "Of course, little brother. I remember when you were just a kid, always tagging along with me to the track. I never imagined you'd grow up to be such a talented driver." She placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "We'll make a great team, you and me."

As they walked out of the garage and into the warm evening air, Emily glanced over at the dusty old trophy case by the side of the house. There, amidst the faded ribbons and tarnished medals, were a few shining reminders of her own racing days. She'd never won anything quite as impressive as the prize Charles was vying for, but she knew that didn't matter. Her pride in her little brother's accomplishments far outweighed any lingering feelings of envy or regret.

They made their way to the track, the familiar smell of hot rubber and burning fuel filling their noses. Emily's eyes scanned the course, analyzing the turns and the jumps, the potential hazards and the ideal lines. She'd spent so much time here, honing her skills, pushing herself to the limit. Now, standing here beside her brother, she realized that it had all been worth it.

"So," Emily said, as they walked along the fence, "tell me about your competition. Anyone I should keep an eye out for?"

Charles nodded, his expression a mix of determination and nerves. "Well, there's this one kid, Max, who's been winning everything lately. He's really good, but I think I can beat him. I've been practicing really hard, and I've got you to help me now." He glanced sideways at Emily, a hopeful smile playing on his lips.

Emily placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I believe in you, Charles," she said, her voice steady and calm. "I know you can do this. And even if you don't win, remember that it's about having fun and challenging yourself. That's what matters most." She gave him a wink, trying to ease some of the pressure he was feeling.

As they continued to walk along the fence, they came across a familiar-looking car, its paintjob faded and its tires worn thin. Emily recognized it immediately as Max's car, the one that had given her brother so much trouble during practice. "Hmm," she mused, "it looks like your competition could use a little help too. Maybe I could take a look at his car before the race and see if there's anything we can do to give you an edge."

Charles' eyes widened in surprise. "Really?" he asked, unable to hide his excitement. "That would be amazing! I mean, I don't want to take advantage or anything…"

Emily smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it, Charles. It's not about taking advantage. We're here to help each other out, remember? Besides, if we can help Max improve his car, it'll only make the race that much more interesting." She glanced over at the car, her eyes assessing its condition. "Let's take a look at it, shall we?"

Together, they approached Max's car, and Emily began to inspect it carefully. She checked the tire pressure, the alignment, and even took a look under the hood. After a few minutes of examination, she pulled out a rag and began to wipe away some of the grime from the engine. "This car has a lot of potential," she said to Charles, "but it's not being used to its fullest. If I were you, I'd focus on these few areas." She pointed to a worn-out suspension and a faulty spark plug. "With some TLC and a few simple adjustments, this car could be unstoppable."

Charles nodded, his eyes shining with determination. "Thanks, Emily. You don't know what this means to me." He paused, his expression growing more serious. "Listen, I've been thinking… I know you're my big sister and all, but what if we were to team up? I mean, not just for this race, but for future ones too? We could be unbeatable together."

Emily considered his words carefully. She had always been close to her little brother, but the idea of actually racing alongside him had never crossed her mind. It was an intriguing prospect, but she wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do. "It's a nice idea, Charles," she said finally, "but you need to remember that we're still competing against each other today. I can't help you win the race if it means losing it myself. and also i never know when i will be called back to base and go on tour again."

Charles nodded, understanding her dilemma. "I get it," he said, his voice softening. "But maybe…maybe we could just see how today goes, and then talk about it afterwards? You know, if we both do well and have fun, who knows what could happen?" He flashed her a hopeful smile.

Emily smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Okay," she agreed, surprised by how much she wanted to make this work. "We'll see how it goes. And even if we don't end up teaming up, I promise I'll always be your biggest fan, no matter what."

As they continued to walk around the car, Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with her brother. They had always been close, but this newfound understanding and trust was something special. She could tell that Charles felt the same way, his movements more confident and his posture more erect.

The race finally began, and both Emily and Charles took their places at the starting line. Their engines revved in unison, and the air was filled with the smell of burning rubber and hot metal. As the flag dropped, they roared forward, their tires squealing against the pavement.

Emily and Charles stayed close together, watching each other's every move. They weaved in and out of traffic, avoiding potholes and other obstacles with ease. They could feel the tension between them, a mixture of determination and sibling rivalry. But they also felt a newfound respect for each other, a mutual understanding that they were in this together.

As they raced past the halfway mark, Emily began to pull ahead slightly. She glanced back at Charles, hoping he was doing alright, but didn't want to lose focus on the track. Suddenly, she heard a loud pop from his engine, and saw him slowing down. "Charles!" she shouted over the radio. "What's wrong?"

Charles gritted his teeth as he fought to keep the car under control. "I think I blew a tire," he replied, his voice strained. "I'm going to pull over and see if I can fix it."

Emily felt a pang of guilt as she watched her brother struggle. She knew how much this race meant to him, and she didn't want to be the reason he lost. She considered stopping as well, but she didn't want to give up her lead. Instead, she radioed back, "Don't worry about it, Charles. Just focus on getting the car fixed. I'll keep an eye on things until you're back."

As she continued to race, Emily couldn't help but keep glancing back over her shoulder. Each time she looked, she could see Charles frantically working on his car, trying to get it back up and running. The delay gave her a slight lead, but she knew it wouldn't last forever. She had to keep pushing if she wanted to win this race.

The track twisted and turned, winding its way through the lush greenery of the countryside. Emily expertly navigated the turns, her tires squealing against the pavement as she forced them to break traction. She could feel the engine beneath her, purring contentedly despite the recent setback. She knew that if she could just make it to the finish line, she had a good chance of winning.

In the distance, she could see Charles' car slowly making its way back onto the track. His progress was steady, but it was clear that he was struggling to keep up with her pace. Still, she couldn't help but feel a surge of pride watching him battle his way back into the race.

The finish line came into view, and Emily redoubled her efforts, pushing her car to its limits. She knew that she had to maintain her lead if she wanted to win. The stands were packed with spectators, their cheers echoing across the track as they urged her on. She could feel the heat of the sun beating down on her helmet, but she refused to let it distract her.

Behind her, Charles was gaining ground steadily, his car running more smoothly now that he had fixed the tire. The determination in his eyes was unmistakable as he closed in on her, inching closer with each passing second. Emily could feel her heart racing, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through her veins.

As they neared the finish line, the cheers from the crowd grew louder, their voices a deafening roar that seemed to envelop the entire world. Emily glanced over at Charles, her heart in her throat as she wondered if she would manage to hold on. With a final burst of speed, she crossed the finish line, her tires squealing in protest as she slid sideways. She looked up to see Charles just inches behind her, his face contorted in a grimace of determination.

The race officials waved their checkered flags, signaling the end of the race. Emily slowly pulled her car to a stop, her heart still racing, her muscles aching from the effort. She climbed out of the car, her helmet in her hands, and took a deep breath. She glanced around, searching for her brother, and saw him emerge from his car a few feet away. His face was flushed with exertion and emotion, and there was a mixture of pride and disappointment in his eyes.

They met each other halfway, clasping hands in a gesture of camaraderie and understanding. "I'm sorry, Charles," Emily said, her voice hoarse from shouting over the engine. "I didn't mean to cause you to blow your tire."

Charles smiled, his expression softening. "It's alright, sis. You didn't do it on purpose. Besides, you helped me realize that I can still keep up with you." He glanced at the track, a distant look in his eyes. "I'm just sorry I couldn't pull ahead this time."

The two of them stood there for a moment, lost in their thoughts. The sound of the crowd slowly faded away, replaced by the gentle rustle of the leaves in the trees and the occasional hushed voice. Emily reached up and adjusted her helmet, feeling the sweat beading on her forehead. She knew that despite their sibling rivalry, she and Charles were a team. They always had been. all of a sudden Emily hears her phone ringing and sees it is her captain from the army calling.

"Sorry about that, Charles. I'd better take this. It's probably about my orders or something." Emily says, already walking a few steps away from her brother. She answers the call, pressing the phone against her ear. "Hello, Captain. What's up?"

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line before the captain replies, his voice grave. "I'm afraid I have some news, Emily. Your unit has received orders for a deployment. You're to report to base immediately for processing." Emily feels a chill run down her spine. "But, I thought… I mean, I was supposed to be here for the rest of the season. What about my brother's race?"

The captain hesitates for a moment. "I'm sorry, Emily, but these orders are top priority. You need to put your training first. We'll work something out with your brother's race, but for now, you need to focus on getting to base." He gives her the details of where to go and when, and then hangs up the phone.

Emily feels a mixture of shock, fear, and guilt wash over her. She glances over at Charles, who is watching her with a concerned expression. "I've got to go, Charles," she says, her voice barely audible. "The army's sending me into deployment." She takes a deep breath and tries to steady her racing heart.

Charles's face falls, and he steps forward to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "It's alright, Em. We'll get through this together. You're not going alone." He pauses, looking at her seriously. "I'll race for both of us now. I promise."

Emily looks up at him, tears welling in her eyes. She knows he's right; they've always been there for each other. "Thank you, Charles. I love you." She returns his hug, feeling the familiar weight of his arm across her shoulders.

Together, they walk back to their pit area, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the empty space. Emily can't help but feel a sense of loss, not just for herself, but for Charles as well. She knows that this will change everything for them.

As they approach their cars, they see their mom and siblings waiting for them, concern etched on their faces. Emily's older brother puts his arm around their mother's shoulders, offering what little comfort he can. Charles's mother reaches out to him, her hand trembling as she wipes away a tear.

The two of them get into their cars, Charles taking the lead as they pull out of the parking lot. Emily looks over at him, noticing the determination in his eyes as he focuses on the road ahead. She can tell that he's not just racing for himself anymore; he's racing for her too.

Their mother and siblings follow close behind, their mother's tears silent but steady as she watches her two children drive away. Emily's brother drives a bit more slowly, occasionally glancing into the rearview mirror to check on his sister.

The race track stretches out before them, the sun dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the track. Charles takes a deep breath and focuses on the task at hand. He shifts gears, pressing his foot harder against the accelerator as he speeds up, his car whipping around the turns with precision. Emily watches him from the passenger seat, a mixture of awe and pride filling her heart.

In the car behind them, their siblings talk quietly among themselves, trying to distract their mother from the tension of the moment. They know that this race is more than just a race for Charles; it's a way for him to honor his sister's sacrifice and to show the world what they can achieve together.

Their mother, though quiet, is fiercely proud of both of her children. She wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. She remembers the day Emily left for basic training, how proud she was to see her daughter stand tall and strong. And now, she watches Charles race with the same mix of awe and pride.

and now she has to watch her only daughter be shipped out again and prays she make to back home safe.

Emily leans forward in her seat, her knuckles white as she grips the dashboard. She can feel the tension in her body, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She's not the one driving, but she feels like she is. Every move Charles makes, every decision he makes behind the wheel, feels personal to her. She can't help but wonder if this is how he feels when he's on the track with her.

Their mother glances up at the sky, watching the shadows grow longer. She wonders if Emily is thinking of her at this moment, if she can see the sky the same way. Perhaps they're both looking up at the same stars, hoping that one day they'll be able to watch Charles race together again.

Charles speeds past the finish line, his car screeching to a halt as he crosses it. He jumps out of the car, his heart racing and his lungs burning. His eyes dart around, searching for his family in the stands. their brothers are already there, clapping and cheering, their mother close behind. They spot Charles and their faces light up, relief and pride washing over them.

Emily watches from the pit area, her heart in her throat. She knows Charles did his best, and that's all she could have ever asked for. As he waves to them, she waves back, feeling a sense of accomplishment and love wash over her. Their mother stands up, wiping away a tear, and gestures for them to join her. They hurry over, their siblings forming a protective circle around them.

Their mother takes Emily's hand in hers, her grip firm and reassuring. "I'm so proud of both of you," she says, her voice cracking. "You did her proud, Charles. And you, Emily, you've been his strength when he needed it most. You've both shown such courage and resilience."

Charles squeezes his sister's shoulder, feeling the weight of their mother's words. "Thanks, Mom. And Em, you have no idea how much I appreciate everything you've done. You've been my rock, my inspiration. I couldn't have done it without you."

emily wipes her eyes as she pulls her mother and brothers in a hug.

" now lets get out of here and grab some dinner before i have to report back to base"

Their mother smiles through her tears, nodding in agreement. "Of course. We'll celebrate tonight, just like you wanted." She turns to her oldest son. "Arthur , why don't you and Emily go with Charles to pick up some food? We'll head straight home and get everything ready?."

Arthur nods, stepping forward. "Sounds good, Mom. We'll be back in a jiffy." He turns to Emily, offering her his arm. "Shall we?" They begin to walk towards Charles' car, a light breeze rustling through the trees behind them.

Charles pulls up to a local food truck park, parking his car between two brightly colored vehicles. The aroma of various cuisines fills the air, making their stomachs rumble in anticipation. "So, Em, what do you feel like getting?" he asks, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.

Emily shrugs, her mind already wandering to the dinner table at home with their family. "I'm not really sure. Whatever sounds good to you, I guess."

Charles nods, glancing at the menu board above the truck. "Hmm, I'm in the mood for some Mexican tonight. How does that sound? Chicken tacos, maybe some quesadillas?"

Emily smiles, feeling her stomach growl in agreement. "That sounds delicious. I'm sure Mom would love some help with the dinner too."

They step up to the window, watching as the friendly food truck owner takes their order. As they wait for the food, they lean against the car, enjoying the warm evening air. "Hey, Charles, I wanted to thank you again for letting me come with you today. I know it's not easy for you, being away from everything and everyone back home."

Charles shrugs, trying to downplay his emotions. "Hey, it's fine. I'm glad you're here. I'd rather have you by my side than anyone else. Besides, it helps me remember what I'm fighting for." He pauses, looking at Emily seriously.

Their food arrives, they grab it and start driving home.

"I'm sure you'll make a great soldier when you're back in the field," Enzo says, taking a bite of his quesadilla. "I mean, you're already so strong and brave. And I know Dad is so proud of you and remember he is always watching you em"

Emily feels a lump in her throat as she listens to Enzo. She knows he's right; their father is always watching over them, and she wants to make him proud. She takes a bite of her taco, savoring the flavors and the warmth it brings to her insides. As they continue to eat, she can't help but feel a sense of pride and love for her family. They've been through so much together, and she knows they'll always be there for each other.

as soon as they finish their dinner Emily stands up from the table

and hugs her mother and brothers tightly before leaving to go back to base. she kisses her mother on the cheek and tells her that she loves her. she walks with Charles to his car and they drive off in silence. as they pull up to the gate, Charles turns to Emily and says, "you know, em, you're not just my sister. you're my best friend. and i want you to know that I'm always here for you, no matter what. if you ever need someone to talk to, or just want to hang out, you know where to find me." Emily smiles at him through her tears and says, "thank you, Charles. i feel the same way about you. and I'm always here for you, too. little brother. take care of everyone for me ok, and make sure to take care of your self too alright?"

He nods, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. They get out of the car and hug tightly once more before Charles heads back to his car. Emily watches him go, wiping away the tears that fall silently down her cheeks. Even though they're apart now, she knows that they'll always be connected.

As she walks towards the base, she can't help but feel a sense of determination growing inside her. She's going to make it through this, for her family, for Charles, and for their father who is always watching over them. She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, and marches forward with renewed purpose.

Emily arrives at her barracks, dropping her duffel bag onto her bunk with a sigh. The familiar sounds of soldiers going about their duties fill the air, but she hardly notices them as she lies down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. .

The days blur together in a haze of training exercises and long nights. Emily throws herself into her work, determined to prove herself as a soldier and make her father proud. But even as she pushes herself to the limit, she can't shake the feeling that she's missing something important. Something that was once a constant presence in her life.

She tries to stay in touch with Charles as much as possible, sending him letters and care packages whenever she can. In return, he sends her stories about their mother and brothers back home, about their father's garden and the new puppy they've adopted. Their conversations are brief but filled with love and support.

soon Emily is off to Iraq to start her tour.

The days in Iraq are long and brutal. The heat is relentless, and the dust seems to get into everything. Emily spends most of her time patrolling the streets, keeping an eye out for danger. At night, she huddles in her tent, trying to sleep amidst the constant hum of generators and the occasional gunfire.

She finds solace in the letters from Charles and her family back home. Their words are a lifeline, reminding her of the love and support that she has waiting for her when this is all over. In one particularly heartfelt letter, Charles tells her about a time when they were kids and they would go fishing with their father. They would spend hours by the riverbank, laughing and telling stories, and their father would always cook up their catch for dinner. Reading this, Emily feels a pang of longing for those simpler times.

As the weeks turn into months, Emily begins to see the impact of her service on those around her. She meets soldiers who have been through multiple tours, their eyes haunted by the memories of what they've seen and done. She tries to be strong for them, to be the steady presence that they can rely on, but sometimes she feels so young and inexperienced. She wishes she could talk to her father about it, but she knows he's not here anymore.

One day, as she's sitting in the makeshift chapel, writing a letter to Charles, she notices a familiar face in the corner. It's Sergeant Johnson, the veteran who has been giving her extra training. Something in his eyes tells her that he understands what she's going through, and without a word, he comes over and sits beside her. They sit in silence for a while, listening to the chaplain's voice as he reads from a worn book. Finally, Emily musters the courage to speak.

"Sergeant Johnson," she begins, "I don't know why you're even talking to me. I'm just a rookie, and I don't know half of what you've been through." He looks at her kindly, his eyes creased at the corners from a lifetime of smiling and frowning.

"Ah, Emily, you're not a rookie. You've been here, through this, just as much as anyone else. You're just new to it. And that's the important thing. You're here now, you're doing your job, and you're making a difference. You don't need to have been through ten tours to know that." He pauses, looking out the window at the dusty, barren landscape beyond. "Look, Emily, I've seen a lot of people come and go through here. Some of them…they just couldn't handle it. They couldn't find their footing. But you're different. You're strong. You've got a good head on your shoulders. and you have lead many tour to successes "

" So and with that me and the board have seen all the hard work and dedication you have put after each and every tour that we have decided to announce you as first lieutenant"

"Wait, what?!" Emily exclaims, her eyes widening in surprise. "But I'm not even halfway through my tour!"

Sergeant Johnson chuckles. "Ah, you're a quick learner, that's for sure. But you've earned it, Emily. You've earned it ten times over. And I can't think of anyone I'd rather have by my side as my second-in-command." He puts a hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Now, let's go tell the others. They're going to be just as pleased as I am."

As they walk back to their base, Emily feels a strange mix of emotions coursing through her. Excitement, of course, but also a deep sense of responsibility. She knows that she still has a long way to go, and that there are countless challenges yet to face. But with Sergeant Johnson's guidance and the support of her new family here in the army, she knows that she can make it through.

The news of her promotion spreads like wildfire through the base, and the looks of surprise and admiration on her fellow soldiers' faces are enough to make her heart swell with pride. She spends the rest of the day sharing stories and laughter with them, feeling more a part of this unit than she ever thought possible.

Emily is quick to write a letter to her family telling them of her promotion and how she is doing.

As the days turn into weeks, Emily finds herself growing more comfortable in her new role as first lieutenant. She spends countless hours planning missions and training exercises, pouring her heart and soul into making sure that her soldiers are prepared for anything they might face. Her father's words echo in her mind: "A good leader isn't born, Emily. They're made." And so, she strives to be the best leader she can be, learning from her mistakes and always seeking the counsel of Sergeant Johnson when she needs it.

The landscape around them slowly begins to change as the seasons pass. The once barren earth turns green with life, and the skies grow heavy with the promise of rain. Even in the midst of war, there is beauty to be found, and Emily takes solace in the small moments of peace that these changes bring. She finds herself thinking more and more about her family back home, and the day when she'll finally be able to return to them.

anyone a part two maybe????

#charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc one shot #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 x y/n #f1 blurb #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #leclerc siblings #army #family leclerc

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storiesofsvu · 2 days

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Decadent Desires Ch 4

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol, sexually charged conversations and situations, minor kinks slightly explored. Happy (early) Birthday @d33pd3sire-blog !! I hope you have a wonderful day!🩵🩵 (thank you for the kofi)

Emily was blessed with gorgeous weather when she woke up the following Friday, the sun cascading though the sky, flooding the city with the perfect warmth that would last through until the evening. She was pleasantly surprised that she was feeling considerably less nervous about tonight than she had been about your original meeting. Not that she had any better idea what she was doing or about to get herself into, but that she knew you were going to be a much better match. On top of finding you physically attractive she also enjoyed spending the evening with you, the conversation had flowed smoothly, you were smart, quick witted and there was an underlying hint of sexuality that you’d kept just beneath the first layer, ready to reveal once the discussion had finally shifted in that direction. And that was one she was more than eager to explore.

She made sure to arrive at the Conrad with more than enough time to spare, checking in and dropping off whatever she didn’t need in the suite before heading back down to the Summit. The rooftop lounge had an extensive cocktail menu, delectable food offerings and incredible views of downtown D.C. and The Capitol. She grabbed a table and ordered a glass of wine while she waited, looking through all the options on their menu.

The sound of your infectious laugh was what pulled her attention upwards a few minutes later, looking up to find you chatting with the hostess, gesturing in the direction of her table. You had a simple yet gorgeous plum cocktail dress on, the top dipping down to show more cleavage than the last time she’d seen you, the bodice nicely fitted while the skirt flared out. Your hair was loose, curled nicely and your makeup darker, more seductive as you gave her a little wave with a grin before walking over to the table.

“Hope I wasn’t keeping you.” You smiled.

“No, not at all.” She stood from the table, giving you the opportunity to take in her full outfit, form fitting dress pants and a gorgeous red blouse that showed off the curve of her chest perfectly. Her hand landed on your elbow as the two of you leant in, kissing cheeks before you slid into the other chair.

“How was the week?” You asked, picking up the cocktail menu to look through.

“Surprisingly good.” Emily replied, nearly confusing herself at the realization, “got a few of our snags figured out and the pile of papers in my inbox is finally smaller than the outbox.”

“Sounds like you need an assistant.” You teased from across the table, and she huffed a laugh.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think the bureau would like it too much if my signature was forged on everything.”

“Well at least you managed to catch a break.” You offered and she nodded.

By the time the server came by the two of you had managed to shake off any early jitters, slipping into an easy rhythm of conversation. You got a glass of sangria and Emily ordered the cheese and charcuterie plates, tempura shrimp, and scallops to share.

“So, I know you’ve been all over,” you started, taking a sip of your drink, “why choose D.C. to settle?”

“It’s a long story.” She chuckled, “but there were people I wanted to be close to, a few things to keep an eye on here. Just so happened to be close to Quantico.”

“Were you always interested in some form of law enforcement?”

“It was more about helping people, learning how to fully understand the whole psychology of it, why they do what they do. I was always interested in more than just chasing down the bad guys.”

“I’m curious then… why return to the BAU from Interpol?” You asked and Emily’s head titled.

“You know about Interpol?”

“You’re not the only one who knows how to run a background check.” You chuckled, “you may be the fed, but I still like to vet who I spend my personal time with, especially behind closed doors.”

“You’re smart.” She smiled, “I like that.”

“So?” You raised a brow, “what made Washington so much more appealing than London?”

“I missed it. That team had been my family for years and I wanted to come back to them. I knew there was a potential offer hiding in the wings that wouldn’t demote me in a sense and I wanted to help out an old friend. He only trusted me with the job, and I didn’t want the team to fall into jurisdiction of someone who wouldn’t do it justice or only wanted to disband them.”

“How’d you like Unit Chief compared to now?”

“Honestly I think I prefer it.” She laughed, “though I wouldn’t dream of stepping back down into it for the same reasons I took it in the first place.”

“Last thing you want is Bailey directly in charge of your team.” You grinned and she rolled her eyes.

“He’s got his claws deep enough in already.” She groaned.

“Too many politics involved with Section Chief I assume?” You raised a brow and she nodded, a look of near melancholy in her eyes as she switched her gaze to look out on the horizon. “You miss being out in the field, don’t you?”

“Paperwork is menial. And tedious. And so much of it seems entirely fucking pointless. When we were all mainly working from home still, it at least kept me occupied, tied to the job, like I still had a purpose. But now we’re back in the office, my team gets to run off into the face of danger and I’m stuck with the pencil pushers attending meetings that are entirely redundant. The only time I end up opening my mouth is to remind them the BAU is an integral part of the bureau, and they shouldn’t shut it down.”

“Sounds like it’s definitely about time you have yourself some fun.” You rested your chin on the back of your hand, a smirk on your lips and Emily chuckled. When she looked up at you, you could see her eyes darkening just the slightest.

“I suppose it is.”

You were interrupted before things could move further, plates of food now scattered across the table that you were both picking through, loading up your own side plates to get a little bit of everything.

“You mentioned UCONN last time.” Emily started, taking a sip of her refilled wine, “are you from Connecticut or did you just go to school there?”

“Born and raised, figured I may as well take advantage of a rent free college experience while I could.”

“Did you know Heather back then or was it just sheer coincidence?”

“Our parents ran in the same circles.” You replied with a huff, taking a bite of food and you noticed the very brief change of expression on Emily’s face before she managed to conceal it and you laughed. “Before you ask, no I’m not drowning in wealth. The Dunbar’s come from very old money and they’ve always been smart about it, they know how to invest, how to make money into even more money. I’ve never been able to understand it.”

“I assume your parents didn’t either?” She asked and you practically snorted.

“Not in the least. They liked to pretend they knew wealth, shove their way into all the fancy places and while the façade was enough to win over most people, it all came from an inheritance my mother got. Could have been worth something if my father wasn’t blowing it all away on fast cars while mother spent all of her days at the casino chain smoking, binge drinking and consistently losing.” You sighed, taking a large sip of wine, “I’m lucky there was enough left for my college education.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You shrugged, “the discrepancies between our bank accounts doesn’t mean the Dunbar’s were better parents or anything.”

“Oh, I’ve heard.” Emily chuckled.

“What about you? Good relationship with your parents?”

“It’s… complicated.”

“So, no?” You laughed, pulling one from her.

“Mother travels a lot for work, she isn’t based here. We tried to kinda work through things when I was younger but between our careers it just never happened, and I’m fine with that. Spares me the lecture about still not being married or giving her grand kids.”

You let out a louder laugh, “why does it seem that that’s any mom’s only concern with their kid’s lives? There’s more than one way to succeed and be happy and in my opinion that’s all that really matters.”

“Exactly.” Emily smiled across at you, “there’s so much more to be concerned about.”

“Mmm!” You suddenly changed gears as you took your first bite of a scallop, “these are incredible.”

“You haven’t had them?” She raised a brow, “I assumed you’ve been here before.”

“Yeah, Conrad’s a pretty high choice of stay for any visiting politician but I’ve only ever had time for drinks. Try them.” You urged, breaking off another piece on your fork and holding it up to her, your other hand cupped underneath it so it wouldn’t drip on the table. She barely hesitated, lips wrapping around the fork as you gently pulled it out of her mouth, not even blinking before scooping up the last bite into your own mouth on the same utensil.

“Oh my god.” She mumbled over the food, “you weren’t kidding.”

“You’ll learn to trust my suggestions sooner or later, I’m sure of it.” You grinned at her across the table.

“I have no doubt, you wouldn’t guide me astray, now would you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You smirked across the table at her, and Emily felt a tingle shoot through her body.

A few minutes later the server came by to clear the dinner plates and offer a dessert menu that you turned down, feigning to the server that you’d had enough, and Emily asked for the cheque.

“Not a sweets fan?” She asked, polishing off her wine and you chuckled over the rim of your glass.

“I prefer to get my sugar a different way.”

“So you are interested in moving this upstairs?”

“Well, I sure hope so. I was bargaining on more than just dinner tonight.” Your lips turned upwards in a sly smile that Emily returned, slipping her credit card back into her wallet.

She guided you up to the ninth floor, letting you into the suite first. A small entry way opened up on the left into a large studio space, a breakfast bar splitting up the counter where the microwave and fridge were and the sitting area. A circular table with two chairs, a small sectional that faced the television and a thin divider that hid the bedroom space, the bathroom connected to that.

“Help yourself.” Emily gestured toward the bottle of wine on the breakfast bar, and you wasted no time in pulling down two glasses from a cupboard to fill up. Sliding one across the counter to her you settled in on a stool, unsurprised when she returned with a file folder in hand. “To be completely honest, I’m not even really sure how to do this part.” She let out a slightly awkward laugh and you hummed.

“Don’t overcomplicate it. Think of it as a business transaction with a little bit of negotiation.”

“I guess that’s actually a good place to start.” She took a sip of wine, “I think the first step should be letting you know that this is exactly that, a business transaction. It’s casual, and I don’t want you to think of it as an exclusive relationship. I’m busy, we’re both busy, if you happen to see someone else that’s more than okay as long as everything is done safely.”

“Understood.” You slipped a sheet of paper from your purse, sliding it across to her before resting your chin on the back of your hand. “I figured you’d want a clean bill of health.”

“Thank you.” She tucked it into the back of the folder, “I guess money would be the next step?”

“I’ll save you the headache.” You snagged the agreement from her, eyes scanning the page until you found the blank lines to be filled in about allowance and picked up a pen. “I’m also giving you one hell of a deal, considering I don’t need to do this for money my rates are extremely low.”

“Noted.” She laughed.

“Considering our schedules I’m going to veto the allowance and say we just do a price per date, there’s likely weeks we’re not going to see each other, and I want things to be fair. One hundred for casual dinner and drinks or something of the equal amount of time that’s simply companionship.” You began to scraw notes out on the agreement, “two hundred for a date night and sex. Three for anything longer than a standard date and if you drag me to any of those horrendous FBI galas, I’m tacking on another hundred.”

She barked out a laugh, “more than understandable.”

“I expect you to pick up the tabs most nights, but if there ever is a day that I plan or invite you out onto, don’t feel obligated. Then treats and gifts are obviously welcomed and encouraged but that is up to your discretion, think of them as rewards.”

“And you’re sure about those rates?”

“Considering the costs hotel rooms like this will run you? Absolutely.” You laughed softly.

“Do you have preferences when it comes to gifts?” She asked and you scrunched your nose.

“Not particularly? Gift cards and cash obviously work, I could use a few new pairs of shoes, a dress or two, jewelry’s always nice, standard date type gifts. Could definitely use some new lingerie sets, and I mean…” you glanced over to her, that sly smile back on your cheeks, “new toys are always fun.”

“I do not disagree with you there.” She grinned back, “so let’s talk sex.”

“I am curious, is this about you needing to get off, relieve some of that stress and relax for once, or will you be the one fucking me into next week.”

“Christ.” Emily muttered, the tingling in her body moving lower, surveying you with a gleam in her eye. “I was thinking a mutual benefit but to be blunt I’m the one wearing the strap more often than not and I have no qualms with fucking you into next month.”

It was your turn to feel the fire prickling under your skin, heading south as you tried not to shift too obviously in your chair, “a confident woman with a cock? I love it.”

“You won’t be disappointed.” She assured you and you huffed a small laugh.

“I’m sure I won’t.” You took another sip of wine, “so let’s talk kinks. I’ll tell you right now the hard off the table ones are piss play, scat play, major pet play, age play, I’m not really into anything involving food in the bedroom and please nothing involving feet.”

“You can count yourself safe from all of that.” Emily laughed, pulling a warm smile from you, “I personally don’t like being restrained or blindfolded, but I have no issues tying you up.”

“As long as you’re not using work issued cuffs.” You noted.

“Do I dare ask?” She raised a brow in your direction.

“I dated a local cop in college, those things hurt.”

“Oh, I know.” She laughed back, “I’m partial to silk ties, it’s nice to keep things pretty.”

“Agreed.” You smiled at her before glancing back down at the agreement, flipping through the pages and she watched as your brow furrowed.

“What?”

“There’s nothing in here about how to address you.” You looked back up at her.

“I thought we went over that last week.” She laughed, “just Emily is fine.”

“No ma’am?” You asked and she was very quick to shut you down.

“God, please no.”

“Most women like the title mistress, or mommy.”

“Oh…” Emily’s nose scrunched, “I guess I hadn’t thought about that….”

“I mean some do go with daddy if you’re more inclined.”

“Is that like, an all the time thing? Or just in the bedroom?”

“Could be either. I’ve heard of relationships where it’s constant and I do find that over the top but every once in a while in bed, it’s kinda hot. I mean after all, one really just wants to be a good girl for mommy.”

Emily paused, letting your words sink in for a moment as she tried to figure out how she felt about the whole thing, especially considering she was about to be your sugar mommy. “Let’s… bookmark it for later.” She looked up at you, catching a small nod but it was the wicked smirk on your face that caught her attention first, “what?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head, “I’m just not that surprised you might be intrigued. I heard you had quite the fun time entertaining Benjamin Reeves last month.”

“Oh god…” Muttering, she dropped her head, running her hand over her face and you let out a playful laugh.

“Walls really do talk.” You teased, flipping through the rest of the file, “speaking of…there’s no NDA in here?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary.” She shrugged, “there’s a piece near the end saying anything involving my work that comes up in conversation isn’t to be publicly aired anywhere but that’s all I really need.”

“Well,” finding the piece you scrawled your signature under it, “you don’t have to worry about me running to the press. Your secrets are safe with me.” You flipped the papers back in order and closed the file, sliding it back across the counter to Emily before scooping up your wine glass to walk around the counter. “Now… I do believe we’re done with the boring part…”

You approached her where she sat on the stool, your wine glass coming to rest on the counter only an inch from her own as her body turned toward you. Her hand found your waist, nudging you closer to her so you could slot yourself between her legs while she leant forward, her free hand brushing your hair back from your face. You could feel her breath hot on your skin, lips parting ever so slightly as you leant in, eyes flicking from her own down to her mouth, the distance about to be closed when there was a sudden, very loud, and repetitive buzzing on the counter.

Emily groaned, her eyes falling shut as her head fell back and you let out an annoyed huff.

“I swear to god if that’s fucking Heather I’m resigning.” You reached towards your phone at the same moment she did.

“Nope, it’s me.” She opened the screen, groaning again as she read the text messages, “and I have got to go.”

“Political crap or serial killer?”

“Serial killer.” She stood from the stool, her hand squeezing your wrist while she leaned, kissing your cheek quickly.

“Go save the world.” You raised your wine glass in a salute to her as she grabbed her bag from the couch.

“Please, finish the wine, feel free to stay.”

“I’ll take the bottle home.” You replied.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need.” You assured her with a soft smile, “next time.”

“Oh. Guaranteed.” She nodded, “get home safe. I’ll text you when we’re back.”

“I look forward to it.”

With another apologetic smile she was gone from the suite, leaving you to dump the remnants of her wine glass into yours, wandering up to the window to take in the city views as you finished it.

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @blackbird-brewster @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @honeyycatt @trauma-factory @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #decadent desires #emily prentiss fanfic

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yunqitv · 3 days

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THE BOY IS MINE PT 1 _ ENHYPEN _ JAKE

💜 GENRE : COLLEGE STUDENTS, FRIENDS TO LOVERS, CHEATING, BULLYING

💜 PAIRING: college!student!jake x college!student!male reader

inspired by "why r u? kr. ver"

“My M/n!” M/n perked up from his notebook at the sudden coo of his name being called out. He was sitting in the quad on campus, textbook and stationary sprawled out on the table as he set them where he wanted since he was by himself, well, not anymore.

A dark-haired male came jogging towards him, bag on his shoulder bouncing just like his hair in rhythm of steps. M/n sighed, snatching the reading glasses from his face. “Can you be any louder, Jake?” He grumbled.

“My M/n~” Jake repeated, throwing his bag on the table on top of M/n’s stuff carelessly as he wrapped his arms around M/n’s neck from behind, lifting the latter’s face as he gave him an unconditional amount of forehead kisses.

“Ugh, Jake! Gross, you fucking dog,” M/n whined, referring to Jake’s justifiable nickname, Golden Retriever.

Jake giggled, completely unfazed by M/n’s slaps and kicks as he pulled away and sat uncomfortably close to M/n on the bench. “What are you doing?”

“I was preparing for mid-terms, but I just got assaulted by a puppy and now I want to go home.” M/n huffed, gathering his stuff together. Jake reached out to M/n’s hands, taking them just for a second but M/n took them away, giving him a grim look.

Jake’s big smile stuck on his face even after rejection, “Should we go to a party?”

“Why?”

“‘Cause, I wanna drink with my favorite best friend!” Jake screeched, a little too happy to announce his title. M/n rolled his eyes, resuming his packing.

“You won’t be asking if you weren’t already planning. Who’s party?”

“May’s birthday gathering at the pub. She misses you, y’know.”

Oh, right. May. Jake’s girlfriend of two, almost three years now. You would almost forget all about her when just the two M/n and Jake were together.

M/n shuttered. “You’re not asking me to go to her birthday party with you, you’re asking me to be her gift because you forgot, right?”

Jake pouted but lowered his head and nodded, “I’ve been so busy with these sets for the theatre department, that I completely forgot to make her something.” M/n almost felt bad when Jake returned to his chipper self, “But once she sees you, no one else’s gifts will matter. So, you gotta come!”

Going to this party was M/n’s first mistake. Just a group of maybe twelve students from the university all drinking shots like a fish drinking water, causally sipping after every sentence. About a third of them were probably already tipsy by now and it was only the first thirty minutes.

M/n sat at the end of the table, sipping his beer as his eyes darted between Jake and May, who sat chatting about, close. M/n knew it was wrong not to feel a difference, but why does Jake hold May the same way he does him?

Jake was a weird kid. He’s nice to everyone and touch is his love language, but there should be no reason his touch is the same as his touch with May. That’s his girlfriend. Right?

“Hey, hey, let’s draw chopsticks, yeah? Whoever gets this red-marked one has to do something.” One of the partygoers suggested, and the table erupted in cheers.

“Ah, well how about the birthday girl chooses the dare,” Another said, pointing at May whose face is flushed red.

“Oh, well, um. I guess, I found Jake during one of these parties, right? Let’s keep the love in the air!” The table all coos, in unison. Except for M/n who’s face goes flat at the mention of the couple.

“So, how about whoever gets the stick has to kiss, um… hmm, M/n!”

M/n coughed, hand covering over his mouth. “W-What why me?”

“Well, aren’t you single? You stick around Jake so much, I hardly get to see him!” M/n chuckled, refraining with all his might not to roll his eyes.

Jake’s face dropped to a concerned one as he put a hand on May’s shoulder “Hey, maybe pick someone else. It’s obvious he’s uncomfortable, May.”

“I’ll do it,” M/n said, downing the rest of his drink. “Draw the sticks, maybe I’ll get a girlfriend today.”

M/n was being sarcastic, Jake knew this but couldn’t help but wish he hadn’t been. Because Jake didn’t want to see anyone even touch M/n in any kind of way.

Everyone put their chopstick in a glass as M/n waited anxiously to see just who was going to meet him at his demise tonight. May swivel the chopsticks around for a few seconds before everyone reached for one without looking at the bottom.

“Okay, okay, everyone look now!” May shouted in excitement.

Everyone looked at their chopstick, then at the person next to them.

“Oh my God, Jake has it!”

The table ran silent as everyone looked at the three awkwardly. Then someone broke the silence.

“Well, it’s that bad, right? It’s just a little boy’s love kiss? Nothing real, right May?”

May’s face showed it all, she was not amused anymore.

“U-Uh, never mind we don’t have to-” Suddenly, Jake rose from his seat and shuffled towards M/n, the table ooing. Jake stopped behind M/n’s chair, placing his hand under his chin he lifted his head like he did earlier and leaned forward on the tips of his feet, “Should we kiss?” He whispered.

M/n looked up as far as he could, Jake’s smiling.

“Wah, look at Jake. He doesn’t want anyone to kiss M/n but himself!” Someone squealed. The tension is cut thin as the slam of May’s hand on the table snapped everyone’s heads in her direction.

“I-I need to use the bathroom, I’ll be back. Jake, come with, please.”

The next few days at the university were different. Jake was no longer interrupting M/n's study sessions in the quad, instead just walking past as if they didn't know each other.

May believed something was going on between the two. If it wasn’t for the jabs she took at the pub, it was the drink she threw at him while he was walking to class.His books and papers dropped down to the ground, dowsed in her drink at his feet.

“I heard boyfriend stealers like to get wet. Thought I’d help you get started.” May spat. M/n hung his head low, not looking up because he knew if he looked into May’s eyes he was either going to break down crying and apologize or wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze so hard that she just might take her words back.

Either way, it didn’t matter because as quickly as a dog comes at a whistle, Jake Sim was standing in front of M/n with a paper towel, blotting his face.

“Hey, HEY” Jake shouted, smacking M/n’s face lightly as he tried to get his attention. M/n didn’t even notice it, but he was hyperventilating as tears dripped down his face like lava erupting from a volcano.

M/n didn’t remember what happened after that, somehow though, he ended up in Jake’s bedroom lying like a corpse in a casket with his hands folded on his chest. All he could do was look up at the ceiling as he recounted all the times he should’ve avoided causing problems with May. Starting with meeting Jake altogether.

Jake was leaning against the wall on his bed as well, legs crossed. “Knowing you, you’re probably thinking about how you could’ve changed all of this. You stupid Psych majors, always thinking and shit.”

Jake sighed, “But it’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

“But… Do you think it’s a crime to fall in love with your best friend?”

#enhypen x male reader #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #jake enhypen #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jake x reader #jake x y/n #jake x male reader #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #kpop #yunqitv #kpop boys

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clangenrising · 2 days

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Month 14 - Newleaf

Now that the nausea was behind her, Mystique was starting to enjoy pregnancy again. It wasn’t as nice as the first time, obviously, what with her being stranded in the wild territories away from her Folk, but there were perks. For one, she got her pick of the prey and plenty of it. Whenever Russetfrond would get after her for being “gluttonous”, she would remind him she was eating for three and that would shut down any kind of argument. She couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed like he was putting in extra hunting trips just for her which was nice.

As well, she had been able to use her growing stomach as an excuse to stop running combat drills with the Clan cats. Despite their attempts to keep it from her, she had inevitably learned about their plans to murder Razor and she wasn’t going to have any part in that. True, he wasn’t a good cat, she had come to accept that, but that didn’t mean they had to kill him. Still, Scorch in particular seemed insistent that it was the only option and she had a powerful hold over Goldenstar, or so it seemed.

Mystique often turned her options over in her head while she sunbathed, trying to think of an alternative solution, one where no one else died and she got to go home as soon as possible. She always came up short. When it came down to it, she was just one cat. What could she do? So she tried not to think about it and focused on getting plenty of food and rest.

Today, she was resting on top of the warriors’ den in a warm beam of sunlight, idly watching the goings on. Oddstripe and Aldertail were sharing tongues in the shade. Scorch finished talking with Goldenstar in hushed voices then joined Pantherhaze, Slatepaw, and Fogpaw as they headed out of camp. The little white tabby jumped in excitement, making Mystique laugh. It was strange to see a cat that looked so much like Ghost moving with that kind of energy instead of stomping around like an old curmudgeon.

The new kitten, Lake, padded out of the nursery and stretched with a big yawn. Aldertail looked up and waved her over with a smile.

Oddstripe grinned too and called, “Afternoon, Lake! How are you feeling?”

“Lots better!” Lake purred, padding over to them. “Those weird plants you gave me helped lots!” She was looking better too. Her ribs were slightly less visible under her fur, her coat glossier. Mystique had never seen a kitten look so poorly before. It was reassuring to see her improving so quickly.

“Aren’t they something?” Aldertail chuckled. “Are you hungry?”

“Oh, yeah,” nodded Lake. “Starving!”

“I’ll grab you something,” said Aldertail, jumping to her paws.

“Gee, thanks miss!” the kitten said as if it were a rare wonder. Oddstripe smiled and pulled the kitten close to give her a few licks around the ears. She giggled and sat up tall to let him. Aldertail quickly returned with a bird from the prey pile and the two adults sat back and watched as the kitten tucked into it voraciously. Mystique caught them glancing at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. It made her skin crawl, just a little, which she felt guilty for.

She stood, hoping to get away for a bit and put them out of mind. She noticed Aldertail stiffening when she did, eyes darting over like Mystique was about to lunge for her, claws bared. She groaned under her breath and started out into the grass.

“Uh, Mystique, hold up,” called Sparrowpaw who was on guard duty. “Where are you going?” She’d nearly forgotten he was there.

“For a walk,” she shrugged, “I just want to be… away from here.”

“Well, I’ll come with you,” he said. It was a statement of fact, not an offer. She sighed. He was like a smaller, more pleasant Russetfrond.

“Fine, whatever,” she sighed. “I’m going to the river.”

“Alright,” Sparrowpaw said. “That’s okay.” She lashed her tail.

“I know,” she growled. “I wasn’t asking.” Back home, no one treated her this way. No one ever told her what she was and wasn’t allowed to do. Sure, Razor had jobs for her every now and then but those were things that needed to be done, not arbitrary restrictions on her free time. She was sick of it.

Sparrowpaw blinked in surprise but said nothing - a victory for her. She made her way briskly towards the river, not worrying about her long strides out pacing her smaller companion. Her back was starting to ache and all she could think about was dunking herself in some cool, fresh water.

When they reached the river, she slipped into the water without hesitation, sighing in relief at the sense of weightlessness. She rolled over to make sure all of her fur was doused thoroughly then threw her head back to get the water out of her eyes as she came up for air. She hummed pleasantly and looked over to see her chaperone hovering near the bank.

“Come on in,” she said, jerking her head in invitation. “The water’s great.”

“I’m alright,” said Sparrowpaw, settling down. “You really enjoy getting wet?”

“Yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s literally the best. I don’t know why so many cats are scared of it.”

“It’s not… scary,” he said, “just really unpleasant.”

“Weirdo!” Mystique called, easing herself down into the shallows to let the water flow over her.

“Maybe,” Sparrowpaw laughed awkwardly. They sat there in silence for a good, long while. Mystique closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sun and just let herself enjoy the moment. She tried not to think about home or her Folk or her brother.

“Can I ask you a question?” said Sparrowpaw at one point.

“Sure,” she shrugged.

“Have you considered maybe staying after the kittens are born?” he asked. “Like, joining the Clan full time?”

“No,” Mystique said flatly. “No, I’m going back home the first chance I get.”

“Why?” asked Sparrowpaw.

“Uh, ‘cause it sucks out here?” she said. “You don’t know any better cause this is all you’ve ever seen, but being Exalted is a million times better than living out in the dirt and the heat. I get free food any time I want it. I have a soft bed and lots of great toys and it's always the perfect temperature inside. My Folk give me tons of attention and pets. Have you ever been pet before? It's the best.” She glanced over her shoulder at Sparrowpaw to find him looking unconvinced.

“I haven’t,” he said. “But don’t you think you would enjoy the freedom of living out here? There's satisfaction in hunting for your food and supporting your Clan.” He seemed so earnest, it was almost sad.

“No thanks,” Mystique snorted. “Not interested.”

He frowned. “I mean, if you stayed, maybe you and Russetfrond could stay together. I’m sure that you could make up if -”

“Look, kid,” she rolled over to look at him head on. “I don’t really care about trying to ‘make up’ with Bee Face Mc Pouterson.” Sparrowpaw’s ears pressed back against his head. “He was a bit of fun, nothing more than that. Honestly, he’s not even really my type, I was just bored.”

“O-oh,” Sparrowpaw swallowed. He looked pale. Mystique sighed. Maybe she had been too hard on the poor boy. Or maybe she’d traumatized him with her casual language. Clearly, these wild cats didn’t know how sex worked.

“What I mean to say is, it’s fine,” she said, swiping a wet paw over her face to cool it off. “I’ll have the kits and then go home. He’s happy, I’m happy, win-win.”

“Right,” Sparrowpaw said. “I guess we’ll just have to hope things go well.”

Mystique squinted. “You mean with the plan to kill my brother.”

Sparrowpaw paled further. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I thought you didn’t know about that.”

“I’m not dumb kid,” she said, “plus the camp is small. Sound travels.”

“Right…” He looked down at his paws, tail curling around them. “I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“Why does it?” Mystique sat up a little taller. “Why can’t we just, like, talk to him?”

“Because we tried that,” Sparrowpaw said, looking up at her. “He killed Smokyrose.”

Mystique’s voice caught in her throat in a frustrated lump. “That was… That was an extreme circumstance,” she said. “It wouldn’t happen again.”

“You have to know that’s not true, right?” Sparrowpaw said earnestly. “I mean, he’s your brother. How can you not see what he’s like?”

“You don’t know him!” snapped Mystique, slapping one paw loudly against the surface of the water. Sparrowpaw flinched at the noise and she briefly felt guilty but she shoved the feeling down. “He’s my brother. He’s not a monster.”

“Sorry,” Sparrowpaw swallowed. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Mystique sighed, a deep frown creasing her face. He almost sounded like Aldertail. It made the Shadow Truth wriggle deep in her gut, worming its way closer to her conscious mind. She dunked her head under the water to try and get away from the feeling but even the cold shock didn’t help much. She sighed, stood, and shook out her pelt, spattering the sand with droplets.

“I think I’m done,” she grumbled and headed back to camp to sulk.

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #clangenrising #Mystique #Sparrowpaw #Lake #Aldertail #Oddstripe #Newleaf

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fallonsfics · 1 day

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Pretty When You Cry

Warnings: Smut, dacryphilia, fingering, pussy slapping, p in v sex, profanity, all porn no plot (Like I’m talking immediate smut. What can I say? I was feeling a little whoreish last night)

Overview: You just couldn't help it, you couldn't wait til he got home. Now you have to face the consequences.

Word Count: 900 (Short and sweet for you guys today)

Coriolanus had you bent over his lap; his digits pumping in and out of your drenched pussy. He had caught you fingering yourself when you promised him you’d wait for him to return home from the rounds he made as a peacekeeper in District 12. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you moaned. “Such a fucking slut, couldn’t wait til I got home hm?”

“I-I’m sorry Coryo—” He cut you off with a swift slap to your cunt.

“No, you don’t get to call me that right now. Only good girls get to call me that, right now you’re acting like a greedy whore. Try again.” He spat.

You whimpered as you squeezed your eyes shut tight as the stinging sensation lingered on your cunt. “I-I’m sorry sir!” You yelped, tears brimming in your eyes.

“So desperate you couldn’t wait til I got home, hm?” Coriolanus jeered as he easily plunged his fingers back into your cunt. You tried to babble some form of apology to him but your repertoire of words disappeared as he thrust his digits quickly within you. “Already have you fucked dumb and I haven’t even used my cock.” Your eyes rolled back as he degraded you, moaning loudly. Coriolanus suddenly pulled his fingers from you, leaving your pussy clenching around nothing. You let out a pathetic yelp as he suddenly tugged you by your hair to pull you off of his lap.

“Here’s what you’re going to do for me,” he said, glowering at you, “you’re gonna ride my cock until I cum. If you do a good enough job I’ll let you cum too, you understand?” For a moment you didn’t respond, you were still dazed from the brutal pace he fingered you at. He gave your face a light slap. “I asked you a question.” He reminded firmly.

“I-I understand.” You managed to stutter out. Coriolanus unzipped his trousers and tugged them down, his erection sprang up as soon as he tugged his boxers down as well. You blushed and looked away for a moment.

“Don’t act shy now, we both know how much of a whore you are.” He said huskily. You slowly straddled him and sank down on his cock, letting out a shameless moan. You had been waiting for this all day. Coriolanus let out a ragged breath as you started to move your hips, grinding down on him. “That’s it, that’s a good fucking slut.” He hissed as he gripped your hips.

You started bouncing faster on his cock, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. “Come on, you can do better than that baby, we both know that.” Coriolanus teased. You let out a whine as you picked up the pace. You started clenching your muscles to squeeze his cock tighter. He let out a low groan as he tightened his grip on you. He started moving you up and down to help you keep that brutal pace that he loved so much. “That’s it, take it like the needy bitch you are.” He grunted. Tears flowed freely down your cheeks as he used your aching cunt.

God, you loved when he degraded you. He was right too, you were a slut. His slut and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You tried to lean down to kiss him, however he tugged your hair back to stop you. “No, sluts don’t get kisses. Make me cum first.” He commanded.

You let out a sob but kept bouncing on his cock. “P-Please I need to cum, please let me!” You cried.

You looked down at him with those pretty tear filled eyes of yours. He felt himself twitch as you gazed at him with pleading eyes as you rode his cock. He reached down and started rubbing quick circles around your clit. He let out a deep groan as he came deep inside you. “Good fucking girl. Good girl, go ahead and come for me.”

You felt your eyes roll back at his praise. That coupled with feeling him rubbing circles around your clit had you seeing stars. You let out a broken moan as you came undone around him. “Good girl, you deserve it for making me feel so good.” He praised.

You both caught your breath as you sat together. He had his arms wrapped around you, holding you close to his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Did such a good job, baby.”

You nuzzled against his chest, and finally, you lifted your head. “Can I get my kiss now?” You asked.

Coriolanus chuckled and tipped your chin up further. He kissed you deeply, running his hand through your hair as he did. “Naturally. You were such a good girl for me weren’t you?” He said.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you…I just missed you so much Coryo.” You admitted shyly.

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head once more. “I understand that but I don’t want to miss all the fun.”

"I won't do it again Coryo, promise!" You said with a little nod.

"Somehow I highly doubt that." He mumbled into your hair with a smirk.

#coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow #smut #coriolanus snow x reader smut

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scoonsalicious · 15 hours

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The Pocket MCU: Avengers 1/?

In Which Pocket Meets the Avengers for the First Time.

Word Count: 1.5k

Scene In-Movie @ 53:45

You offered Couslon a Sour Patch Kid as you walked toward the bridge with him and Tony. You could hear a group talking up ahead, mentioning something about iridium.

“It’s a stabilizing agent,” Tony said, immediately jumping into the conversation.

You continued your conversation with Couslon. “It’s really not a problem, Phil,” you told him. “Take the jet.”

“I’m just saying, pick a weekend,” Tony turned back to add. “I’ll fly you to Portland. Keep love alive.”

You nudged Coulson with your elbow, giving him a reassuring glance. “Think about it,” you offered as you followed Tony onto the bridge. Your eyes lit up when you saw Natasha Romanoff sitting at the table in front of you. “Natty!” you exclaimed, rushing forward to give the spy a hug. It had been ages since you’d last seen her.

“(Y/N)!” she exclaimed, returning your embrace. “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but what are you doing here?”

You shrugged and rolled your eyes. “I go where he goes,” you said, gesturing toward Tony.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” a sandy haired man in a red, white, and blue getup behind Natasha asked. He turned to Coulson. “I thought this was a top-secret situation. Need-to-know, only, and you’re just letting civilians in here?” He gave you a once over, taking in your black leggings and your off-the-shoulder Disney World t-shirt you’d had to tie back with an old hair tie.

“Trust me,” you said, popping another Sour Patch Kid into your mouth as you sized up the man before you who could only be Captain America, himself– Steve Rogers– “you’re gonna be real glad this one’s got his own handler.” You jerked your head in Tony’s direction.

“Hurtful,” Tony called out as he moved toward a row of computers on the bridge. “The iridium means the portal won’t collapse on itself like it did at SHIELD.” He passed a big, beautifully beefy long-haired blond man that looked like he came straight from a viking saga and patted him on the arm. “No hard feelings, Point Break,” he added, “you got a mean swing.”

“Dr. (Y/L/N).” Bruce Banner stepped forward and reached for your hand. Your eyes widened in surprise at being recognized by someone as prestigious as the Bruce Banner as you wiped the sugar on your fingers off on your leggings. “I read your dissertation on examining the ethical considerations and societal implications of developing and deploying advanced technology for global live-saving purposes. Brilliant work.”

“Oh, shit,” you said, blushing as you reached out to shake his hand. “Dr. Banner, thank you. It’s an honor.” Sometimes, you forgot that you, too, had finally managed to snag your PhD. And to be reminded by someone like Bruce Banner was… well, it was fucking flattering.

“This little one is a doctor?” boomed the tall, viking-like god of a man. “She is so small, I feel I could place her in my pocket and abscond away with her home to Asgard before any of you would even notice she was gone!”

“Who is he and can we please let him do that?” you whispered to Nat, who managed to conceal her laugh behind a cough.

“(Y/N), this is Thor. Thor, this is (Y/N). You already know Dr. Banner, and this is Steve Rogers and Maria Hill,” Nat made swift work of the introductions. “(Y/N) is Stark’s–”

“Ward,” Tony interrupted. “She’s my ward. I’m her guardian. It’s very touching, very heartwarming.”

“Chief Technical Officer of Stark Industries,” you amended, shooting him a glare. “Legal adult, thank you very much.”

“Listen, Doctor Pocket,” Tony began, but you interrupted him.

“If this Loki guy gets a hold of iridium,” you began, talking over Tony, “he’ll be able to keep his portal open as wide and stay open as long as he wants.”

“Uh, raise the mizzenmast,” Tony commanded, raising an arm over the bridge. “Jib the topsails.” Everyone on the bridge gave him a confused look. “That man is playing Galaga!” He pointed to a crew member of the helicarrier who was, in fact, playing Galaga. “He thought we wouldn’t notice, but we did.” You rolled your eyes and sighed. Tony needed to be the center of attention at all times, otherwise, he tended to… act out.

Tony proceeded to look around the bridge controls and Tony covered one of his eyes. “How does Fury even see these?”

“He turns,” the woman Nat had introduced as Maria Hill deadpanned.

“Sounds exhausting,” Tony said, running his hands over one of the screens. “The rest of the raw materials, Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily.”

You put a hand on Nat’s shoulder at the mention of Clint’s name and squeezed gently. You knew how much he meant to her, how devastated she’d been when she’d learned he’d been compromised.

“So, the only major component he still needs is a power source of high-energy density,” you added.

“Something to kick-start the Cube,” Tony agreed.

“When did you two become experts in thermonuclear astrophysics?” Hill asked, arms folded across her chest.

“Last night,” Tony replied. At Hill’s disbelieving look, you added:

“The packet. Selvig’s notes. The extraction theory papers.”

“Did no one else do the reading?” Tony asked, exasperated.

“Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?” Captain Rogers asked, trying to get the conversation back on track.

Dr. Banner paced in the background, thinking. “He’d have to head the Cube to 120-million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.”

“Unless,” Tony added, “Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect.”

Banner opened his arms. “Well, if he could do that, he could achieve heavy ion fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

“Finally,” Tony said, holding a hand out to Banner. “Someone who speaks English.”

“Hurtful,” you shot back, but Tony just stuck his tongue out at you.

“Is that what just happened?” Captain Rogers asked as Tony and Banner shook hands behind him.

“It’s good to meet you, Dr. Banner,” Tony said. “Your work on antielectron collisions is unparalleled. And I’m a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage-monster.”

“Do you want me to book the honeymoon suite for you now, Boss?” you asked with a sardonic grin, “or do you want to wait until the two of you have found a place to register, first?”

“Jealousy is an ugly look on you, Kiddo,” Tony said with a grin. “Daddy can have more than one genius friend.”

You pulled a disgusted face. “I swear to god, if you ever refer to yourself as ‘Daddy’ in my presence again, I will rip that arc reactor from your chest and shove it so far up your ass that you choke on it.”

Tony looked contemplative. “Yeah, yup– I hear it now. Horrible choice of words, totally my fault. My apologies. Never again.”

“Wait,” said Captain Rogers, clearly confused. “I don’t understand. Are you her dad, or–”

“Absolutely not!” you and Tony both shouted at the same time.

“I was hoping you might join Dr. Banner in tracking the Cube,” said a voice from the entranceway to the bridge. You turned and saw Nick Fury enter the room. “That’s Banner’s only purpose for being here.”

“Oh, hey, Nick!” you chirped. “Sour Patch Kid?” You held out your box to the SHIELD Director.

“You got any blue ones?” he asked, to your utmost delight, and you fished through the box to dig out two before placing them in his outstretched palm.

“They’re my favorites,” you told him, smiling. “You’re lucky I like you.” Fury winked at you– or, maybe he just blinked, you couldn’t tell with the eyepatch on– before bringing the candy to his mouth.

Captain Rogers narrowed his eyes at you. “Maybe we should start with that stick of his,” he said, eyeing you up closely. “It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nick said, trying not to pucker his face as his Sour Patch Kids proved sour, “but it is powered by the Cube. And I’d like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys.”

“Monkeys?” said the sexy viking-man–Thor, you reminded yourself– he had a name! “I do not understand.”

Captain Rogers excitedly pointed a finger. “I do!” he said, and Tony rolled his eyes behind him while you tried to stifle a giggle. “I-- I understood that reference,” Rogers nodded happily, looking to you, as if for approval. You just nodded at him.

“Good for you,” you said.

“Shall we play, doctors?” Tony asked.

“This way, sir, madam,” Banner said, indicating for you and Tony to follow him into the belly of the helicarrier, where no doubt his lab was waiting.

You turned back one last time as you followed the two men, wanting to wave a farewell to Nat before the ship swallowed you up. The second after you turned, you notice Captain Rogers turn quickly turn away from you, a blush coloring the side of his neck.

Huh, you thought as you turned back to follow Banner and Tony. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have sworn Captain America had just been checking out your ass.

#Pocket MCU #Unwanted Prequels

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em-harlsnow · 3 days

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part 2 of my tattoo speed write, find part 1 here.

Tattoo date!!

so mickey goes in to get his tattoo with ian. he’s been for a consultation already because believe it or not he doesn’t want someone to do a shoddy job of it.

he’s drawn a cross between a serpent and dragon and shown the person doing it what size he wants and where he wants it.

ian asked him to draw his ‘MM’ tattoo as well so it’s sort of cursive, or at least has some swirly patterns ingrained into it because he doesn’t just want it printed on.

the guy doing it is just covered in tattoos and piercings. mickey thinks they look sort of cool, but the piercings look way too painful for him to ever consider it. the guy sits him down in the chair and starts running through the process, even if they already talked about it in the consultation. Ian’s sitting on a chair next to him, out of the way of the tattoo artist.

“I can see you’ve already got some ink, but i still have to go through everything.” Mickey nods. “So what you want is big, so it’ll take a couple of hours. Just a reminder: it is permanent. It’s not gonna rub out or wash off.” Mickey snorts, looking down at his knuckles and the guy laughs. “Yeah, i know you know that. I’ll draw it out first so you can confirm it’s what you want. But when we actually start just let me know any time you want to take a break. It’s also common for people to faint, so let me know if you feel lightheaded.”

He makes Mickey sign some stuff which he hardly reads because he understands that a tattoo is permanent thank you very much, and he is also familiar with the healing process and the pain.

So the guy starts to draw it out and that only takes like twenty minutes, during which him and ian just have a conversation about the next gallagher family thing. Then the guy asks Mickey to check if it’s okay, and Mickey’s pleased with it.

The tattoo artist (I’ve decided his name is Zyler) leaves the room to get the ink and prepare the needles.

“are u nervous?” Ian asks him, to which mickey rolls his eyes fondly.

“no, copper cock, i’m not nervous.” Except he is a little bit because tattoos still hurt and he’s never gotten one with this much fucking preparation before.

Ian just smiles at him and grabs his hand (on the side not getting tattooed) and mickey sighs but allows him to think he’s helping (which he definitely is)

Zyler returns and starts and yep, that fucking hurts. It’s not too bad after a while, and it’s the shoulder so it’s not close to the bone. he may have been drunk and it may have been a while ago but his knuckles hurt more by miles.

Zyler talks to them, asking about how long they’ve been married. ian answers most of the questions because Mickey’s not one to chit chat with strangers when he’s not being stabbed over and over by said stranger, never mind when he is.

Around half way through, Zyler says they’ll take a 30 minute break, because they’ve been there for like an hour already.

Ian reaches over to see how it is, and Mickey yells out.

“don’t touch it, idiot!”

“I’m not going to touch it, Mick, just let me have a look.”

Mickey twists to show him the progress and Ian smiles, telling him something like ‘looks good’.

Zyler talks to Mickey some more, asking about his current tattoos. Obviously, he’s had to take his shirt off for the procedure because even with sleeveless shirts it’s just easier to take it off entirely. Mickey tells him how he got his knuckles when he was like 14, to which Zyler looks surprised but not entirely shocked. Mickey explains how he designed the one on his forearm and got some unlicensed guy in Mexico to do it for him. He explains how he gave the ‘Ian Galager’ one to himself in prison, but doesn’t elaborate.

Zyler states that the nature of his previous tattoos makes sense considering his clearly high pain tolerance.

“I mean, i’ve been shot twice, so that probably has something to do with it as well.” Mickey laughs.

Zyler looks surprised again, because he may run a tattoo studio so he meets a lot of characters, but this is a lot.

“You’ve been shot twice?”

“Yup - all of ‘em his fault.” Mickey jabs a finger at Ian, which he snorts at.

“They aren’t my fault, they’re your fault. I was just in the vicinity.”

“In the vicinity my ass, Gallagher. Your fault.”

“You were the one who got too cocky and showed off to Kash, then got too cocky again and tried to steal a fuckin’ Grandfather clock, Mick. None of that was my fault.” Ian’s laughing and Zyler laughs too, although he looks somewhat puzzled. “Also - I was the one who got someone to patch up your ass the last time you got shot.”

“Yeah, i’m so fuckin’ grateful for your kitchen table and a grandpa with a pair of pliers”

“Better than your kitchen table with all the guns and knives on it and two dirty fuckin’ forks held by your high brothers.”

Mickey just does a little eye roll, and Zyler looks all the more intrigued as he cleans the equipment to continue.

“You got shot in the ass?” Is the bit he focuses on, too interested to maintain professionalism.

“Yup. All because of him.” Ian just rolls his eyes.

“The first one was in the leg, and both were because of your stealing habits.”

“Stealing habits- I don’t? I don’t have fuckin’ stealing habits, Gallagher. You’re making be sound like a klepto.”

Ian just rolls his eyes and smiles, squeezing his hand has Zyler starts up again.

“So… how long have you been together?” He asks, because all this lore he’s learning doesn’t sound like people who’ve been married for just two years.

“Better part of eleven years.” Ian answers.

“Jesus- how old are you two?”

“I’m 26. So, I was 15 when we first got together and he was 16.”

“Wow, real high school sweethearts.”

Mickey scoffs at the term.

“Yeah, I mean. We went to the same school so technically we’ve known each other since like elementary.”

Zyler raises his eyebrows again.

“But he looked like a dork in elementary so i didn’t go near him.” Mickey adds, voice somewhat strained.

Ian slaps his arm lightly.

When they’re finished, him and ian switch positions. Mickey’s shirt is back on, but he now has a plastic plaster-thing over the new ink. He keeps looking at it, almost touching it, and Ian slaps his hand away in warning not to.

Ian doesn’t even have to ask for Mickey to hold his hand during his tattoo, because he just does it anyway.

“Any meaning behind this one?” Zyler asks as he draws out the patterned ‘MM’ on his wrist.

“His initials.” Ian gestures towards Mickey with his head. “Mikhailo Milkovich.” And Mickey chides him for saying his full name because that wasn’t necessary, Gallagher. “He drew it, too.”

“That’s sweet.” Zyler tells them. “Usually I feel like people who get each others names tattooed aren’t gonna last, but I gotta say I think you guys might be the exception.” Ian beams and Mickey grumbles around a smile.

Ian squeezes Mickey’s hand tight throughout the whole thing, much the same as how Mickey had. He gets a matching plastic wrap and they both get some care-gel thing they need to put on each night as well as a reminder to put more sunscreen on areas with ink.

Ian waves a friendly goodbye to Zyler, and Zyler has a great story to tell his coworker Sasha, who he’s been hoping to ask out soon, when she gets back from her sister’s wedding.

#shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #gallavich fic #shameless fanfiction

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livingformintyoongi · 2 days

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Misunderstanding | Kim Taehyung

a/n: I'm so bad with titles lol. At least you get the idea a bit :). In one part it is mentioned that Y/N is not a public figure like Taehyung, even though she is a chaebol. This is because her family is somewhat like that of Samsung's owners, they keep their children's identities secret until they make their own place in the company.

Summary: It's basically your reaction to hearing about the dating rumours between Taehyung and Jennie while the two of you are still in a relationship. And obviously, he is trying to fix things as quickly as possible.

wc: 2.9k (I didn't think it would be so long honestly).

When you started dating Taehyung, you never thought it would be a big problem. You knew that his schedule was complicated, but you didn't have any drama with that because yours was pretty much the same. You also knew that you wouldn't be a public couple because of the criticism you might get, but that was even better for you because you didn't like being in the public eye either. Problems on tour? Phones were there for a reason, not being able to have children? You were too young, can’t go out in public? Loved the cozy, private dates, little quality time together? Even better! Every moment with him would feel even more special because of how exclusive it was. Yes, you were willing to accept all these disadvantages because you never saw them as an insurmountable problem. At least until now.

You and Taehyung started dating in 2020, during the pandemic. You met him at the concert in cooperation with Lotte Duty Free, one of the companies your father founded, because yes, you were the youngest daughter of the Shin, the family in charge of the Lotte company and all its subsidiaries.

The two of you got along very well while preparing for the concert, so you decided to exchange numbers to keep in touch. It only took a few months before you started dating him officially, and you were very happy at first.

His schedule was busy, of course, but he had time for you. He would greet you with a big smile, hug you from behind, and take you to the dining room where he had a whole show set up for you. Jazz in the background, scented candles, rose petals everywhere, and two plates of food of dubious origin that you would enjoy anyway because your boyfriend made it.

You were willing to put up with all those cons if he gave you moments like this every chance he got, moments where it was just you and him.

Once the pandemic was over and your schedule returned to normal, things got complicated.

And no, time, work, dating, none of that was the problem, because it didn't even have anything to do with you two as a couple.The problems were caused by a third person. Kim Jennie, one of the members of Blackpink and one of the most beautiful women you will ever meet.

You never had any problems with her. You had bumped into her once or twice in the hallway on your way backstage, but obviously she wouldn't recognize you, you were always covered from head to toe.You thought that your friend had the same relationship with her, something casual that couldn't even be called a friendship because you barely said hello to each other when you were together, in fact Taehyung never looked at anyone when he was with you.So why did this happen now?

Your boyfriend was on tour and it was the time of his concert, so you couldn't just call him and ask him about it. You looked at the screen of your cell phone for the sixth time, the headline in big, dark letters seemed to mock your feelings.

"Dispatch confirms, V of BTS and Jennie of Blackpink are in a relationship," you muttered to yourself, trying to get your brain to catch the words, to process them, to react. It didn't.

You scrolled down the page until you stopped at the myriad of photos they had as proof. None of them looked doctored.

You saw the blue short-sleeved shirt with flowers that Taehyung was wearing in the photo and put your phone down to go to the closet you shared. You pulled out all of his clothes until you found it. You grabbed it and crumpled it in your hands.

Only then did you burst into tears. You covered your eyes with your shirt and screamed until you felt your throat couldn't take it anymore. Your heart hurt so much that you even had trouble breathing.

You looked around the room you both shared, trying to understand why he would do this to you. You thought you were fine, everything seemed fine, so why were there hundreds of videos and pictures of your boyfriend with another girl? You felt like all these people were making fun of you by being happy for them. What about you, why don't they think about his real girlfriend who had to put up with years of being locked away in secret while these two were fearlessly dating?

The sadness soon turned to anger, and it wasn't long before you got up and grabbed the biggest suitcase you could find, whether it was his or yours.

You stuffed it with as many clothes as you could, taking your time because you knew he wasn't coming. You lifted the suitcase as high as you could and carried it into the living room. You looked at every single picture of the two of you as a couple. Another few tears fell from your eyes and you let them out as you took the frames and threw them away.

You threw out everything you could. Mugs, matching pajamas, pictures, rings, absolutely everything. When you were done, your eyes were dry and your head hurt too much, but you didn't care. You grabbed your suitcase and headed for the door.

The only thing that stopped you from leaving was Yeontan, who stood in the doorway, staring at you while wagging his tail from side to side.

"Tannie, mommy has to go do something, okay?" you nuzzled behind his ear and sobbed softly. You knew he wouldn't understand. "Don't worry, I'll visit you every day until your owner comes."

You stood up, took a breath, and walked away. You didn't know where you were going, but that apartment was no longer an option.

You stood in front of the buildings where you lived and watched for taxis to pass by. Just then you received a phone call. For a moment you thought it would be Taehyung, but no, it was just Jimin's girlfriend, Soyeon, to whom you had become very close over the past years.

"Yes?" you mumbled hoarsely.

"Honey, it's me, Soyeonie," she said in a much calmer voice than usual. She was probably aware of your situation. "I read the news, are you okay?" You opened your mouth to reply, but she interrupted you so quickly that you didn't have time to say anything, "Of course you're not," she sighed, remaining silent for a few seconds, "Look, I know maybe I shouldn't pry, but I understand that you're hurting and the last thing you want is to be in a place full of... him."

You sob softly, wiping your cheeks as quickly as the first tears came.

"I haven't sold my old apartment yet, it has some furniture, enough to live decently, why don't you stay there for a few weeks?"

"Soyeon-ah," you cried, wanting to hug her until you fell asleep. That's what you needed, a long nap.

"Relax, everything’s gonna be okay, Unnie will come and see you there, I'll send you the address, just wait."

"Okay," you nodded, even though you knew she couldn't see you, "thanks."

"It's nothing."

And she hung up.

You looked around. It was full of cars and buildings that looked too big.

You felt so stupid as you mentally wished that Taehyung was here to comfort you.

You saw a taxi coming your way and you made it stop. You weren't sure if this would be the end of your relationship, you were willing to hear his side, but you weren't willing to have to live with him or a place filled with his presence.

This was best for you.

Taehyung called you the next day, about twenty times, not counting messages. You didn't answer any of them, mostly because you were asleep until 4 pm. You had a hard time falling asleep. Every time you closed your eyes, you could see the two of them holding hands, together in the car, on a date to some kind of zoo. You cried every time your brain projected those images.

Your phone rang for the 21st time. You were still a little groggy from sleep, but you answered it anyway.

"Y/N!" You turned the phone away from your ear. It was too painful to hear his voice so loud with the headache you were feeling, "Oh God, I was so afraid something bad had happened to you. I called the girls, but none of them knew anything about you, so I got worried and..."

"Why did you call me?" you asked curtly. You thought maybe you were being a little cruel, but you didn't care. Answering him like that wouldn't make him feel a thousandth of the pain you felt and still feel since last night.

He was silent for a few seconds. You'd never answered him like that before, you guessed that's why he was so quiet.

"I..." he cleared his throat, sounding a little more tense than when you answered him, "I was a little worried, my manager told me about the news and I thought maybe you were feeling a little depressed-".

You interrupted him again, but this time with a mocking laugh, "A little depressed? Is that how you think I felt? A little depressed?" you laughed again. You had completely woken up this time, "Tell me, Kim, how would you feel if overnight it was all over the news that I was dating an idol? Huh? What would you do if this news came to you on the fucking Dispatch, while I was on the other fucking side of the world enjoying a concert? Would you be a little depressed? A little hurt? Would you even have taken the fucking trouble to answer my calls?" you began to raise your voice with every word you said. You didn't even notice at what point your voice broke. "You have no idea what I'm going through, and you never will, because unlike you I'm not a public figure! I could be fucking any man in Korea and you're never going to see an internet media outlet post it and 'celebrate' my relationship, you're never going to see any fan of mine go on social media and celebrate my relationship with someone else while you're behind the curtains" You sobbed, wiping your cheeks awkwardly.

"Honey, I know it's-"

"Don't you dare call me like that" you growled, clenching your jaw, "I don't even want to hear you say my name, do you understand?"

"Y/N" he muttered, his voice trembling. You assumed that at some point in your verbal vomit he had started to cry, "Just give me 1 minute, I'll explain everything, I promise."

You tried to control your anger by taking a big breath of air, it worked enough to stop you from sending him to fuck off... for the second time.

"Do you want me to listen to you?" you mumble, looking down at your hands, remembering all the times he came home late, wondering if all those times he was at her house, doing god knows what while you tried to stay awake just to see him before bed.

"Y-yes, please, I just need a minute".

"Fine," you smiled half-heartedly, "then come and explain it to me in person. If you're really sorry and say it's a misunderstanding, come here and tell me."

Your more conscientious side chided you for your request. It was his job, you couldn't just order him to make a trip from the United States to Korea just for you. Maybe that's why you gave him that condition. You knew he wouldn't come all this way just for you.

The line went silent, you could barely hear his breathing. You ended your conversation.

"I thought so," muttering much calmer than at the beginning, "I guess Soyeon was right in saying that the only one who would have to make sacrifices for our relationship would be me."

And you cut the call short.

You put your phone on airplane mode and plopped down on your bed, ready to go back to sleep for the rest of the weekend.

It had been a day since you heard the news, barely 17 hours since you last spoke to Taehyung, because yes, you counted the hours. You hadn't eaten anything, you'd barely had a glass of water, and the only thing you felt like doing right now was taking a very long shower and then crying yourself to sleep. Yes, it sounded like the perfect plan to try to get over your ex, if that's what you could call it.

You got in the tub at 10am, didn't get out until 12:30, and when you did you could barely feel your fingers and toes. At least your muscles had finally relaxed.

You dressed more slowly than usual, in just your pajamas, the only ones that weren't your partner's, and went to bed.

Until the doorbell rang.

You changed direction, confused. You were sure that no one besides Soyeon knew you were here. It crossed your mind that maybe she was worried about you and that's why you'd decided to open up and politely turn her away.

Except she wasn't the one waiting for you on the other side.

"Y/N," Taehyung said, trying to regulate his breathing. "You really were here," he whispered, entering the flat and closing behind him. It wasn't until the door rattled that his arms wrapped around you so tightly that you almost stopped breathing. "Why did you leave home? I got so worried when I saw our stuff in the trash and the wardrobe almost empty" he cupped your cheeks, inspecting your face.

You didn't understand what exactly was going on.

"What are you doing here?" you mumbled, letting him search your face.

"You told me to come" he looked into your eyes and, almost instantly, his eyes began to fill with tears. "I couldn't let you because a misunderstanding made you hate me to the point of breaking up with me, I... I don't want to be without you, at this point I don't think I can be," he bent down until he could place his forehead against yours, his thumbs caressing the skin of your cheeks, "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, I don't plan on losing you over something stupid like this."

You looked at Taehyung, still not understanding what he was trying to say.

"The pictures are real" he exhaled deeply, "but it's not like you think" he pulled his phone out of his trousers pocket. His hands were shaking slightly. You wanted to hold them, but you completely erased the thought, "We dated for a few months, it was a very short thing, about two or three months before we met".

He showed you some conversations from a few years ago. He was asking her to bring him the shoes he had left at her house last time, and that he would appreciate it if she would bring the leash they had bought Yeontan. You also saw the last messages they sent to each other, it was only a few days ago.

Jennie told him that someone had hacked into her phone and most likely found the pictures they took the time they went to the zoo. She apologized and sent him stickers of crying puppies, saying that the lawsuit against the hacker had already started and that she would try to speed up the process so that he wouldn't be affected.

"I totally understand how angry you were, and obviously I also understand that you want to talk about this face-to-face, so I took the first flight I could find so I could come talk to you and-".

You didn't let him finish. You couldn't do that, not after everything you've been feeling the last few days. So you did the only thing you could think of since he came into the flat. You kissed him.

It was much more awkward than your kisses usually are, but you didn't care. You were so relieved that it was all a misunderstanding that no matter what kind of kiss it was, it would still be amazing to you.

He followed your kiss as soon as he came out of his surprise. He clung to you as if his life depended on it. He was the one who deepened the kiss and lifted you off the floor so he could kiss you better.

"I'm so sorry" you whispered in the middle of the messy kisses he was giving you, "sorry for doubting you" you sobbed softly, hugging his neck with all your strength.

He shook his head, holding your cheeks, "Don't apologise, it was a normal reaction, you said it yourself, I wouldn't have even answered your calls if I had been in your place" he kissed your shoulder softly, letting out a soft sigh. It felt so good to have you with him after all the tension he experienced during the flight.

"You were right about everything you said" he murmured, pulling away enough to look you in the eye, "so please don't apologize to me".

You nodded a little calmer, closing your eyes as you felt Taehyung's nose on yours.

"Now let's go get your things, I don't want to go back inside the house and not see your things in it."

Masterlist.

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hayleythesugarbowl · 2 days

Note

U should write more Ian x reader, like a besties to lovers one? No pressure if ur busy ofc <3

More Than Friends || Ian Hecox x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: you have been ignoring your growing feelings for your best friend ian, but when you are chosen to do a romantic scene together will those feelings stay hidden?

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mild cursing

a/n: ahh thank you so much for this request ml, i’ve been meaning to write for ian again!! hope you enjoy this and have a wonderful day!! 🎀☁️🍒

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ok, hear me out. The story is ‘getting a root canal’ but we make it a full on musical with production numbers and everything.”

Angela’s loud voice broke over the chatter you had been drowning out and you looked across the table.

You had been sitting in an early-morning writers meeting discussing ideas for a new sketch for what felt like hours.

Whoever thought it would be a good idea to make you and everyone else be creative at 8:00am….

“Angela,” Chanse chided.

“What? I had a dentist appointment this morning and I was inspired.”

“Anyone else have any ideas that don’t have the words ‘root canal’ in them?” Chanse asked.

“What screams Smosh more than a root canal musical!” Angela looked around the room for help.

Alas, it didn’t look like you were getting anywhere anytime soon.

You watched as Ian, who sat to your left, let his head slip from his hand where it had been rested on the table.

“Look alive, Mr. President-of-the-company,” you whispered to him, covering the fact that you had definitely been watching him longer than was friend-like.

Looks like you weren’t the only one who suffered from drowsiness that morning.

“I was totally paying attention,” Ian yawned. “Something about boats.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled at your best friend. You’d known Ian since you two were little—in fact, he was the reason you'd got your job at Smosh all those years back.

You’d been staying with him for the past week while your apartment was being renovated and you'd definitely stayed up too late last night watching reruns of friends. Which probably contributed to you both nodding off during this meeting.

“Twenty bucks says someone suggests kiss currency part two,” you whispered to Ian.

“Are you kidding? No way I’m gonna take you up on that, I don’t have spare cash on me.”

“Did someone say kissing?” Courtney waggled her eyebrows.

“Yeah, (Y/n) was just begging me to suggest a kissing sketch,” Ian teased.

You smacked Ian’s arm, feeling your cheeks warm. “I was not!”

“Ian just wants to kiss you, that’s all,” Anthony leaned over his friend to tell you conspiratorially.

Ian pretended to gag. “I’d rather kiss Shayne.”

“Hey!” Shayne threw up his hands in outrage.

You laughed along with everyone but you couldn’t stop yourself from clenching your fist around your coffee mug.

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when you had begun to have feelings for Ian that were more than friendly. One minute he was just your best friend Ian and the next he was this funny, attractive guy who made your pulse race when he touched your arm or gave you one of his smiles.

You knew Ian didn’t return your feelings—you were sure of that. This new development was entirely one sided. Which was why you were absolutely, definitely never going to tell him. Ever.

You sighed as you watched Ian lean away from you and towards Anthony to whisper something to him.

Everyone was silent for a moment and you leaned back in your seat, running a hand through your hair.

“Hey, to piggyback off of the kissing thing,” Anthony started, his voice breaking through the silence, “what if we did an ‘every dramatic love confession scene ever’? It’s been a while since we’ve done that style of video.”

“Ooh good idea,” Ian said, “Those ‘we want the old Smosh’ people will love that. I can already see the views.”

“Always ‘the content’ with you,” you teased him.

“He’s right though,” Spencer chimed in, “Especially if we had you and Ian do some scenes together. People would eat that up; it’ll give ‘em more material for their edits. I’m talking Shourtney part two.”

You watched as Shayne and Courtney looked at each other and grinned. Damn it, why couldn’t you and Ian be like them!

But, Spencer wasn’t wrong. Ever since you had begun working at Smosh, fans had been convinced you and Ian were dating. You guys had always laughed about all of the comments and posts together.

You and Ian? As if!

But lately, as you watched the fan edits and read the YouTube comments, you couldn’t help but wish that you and Ian actually were what all of these people thought you were.

“I can see it now: April 1st, 2025, Ian and (Y/n). Shourtney part two” Ian echoed Spencer’s comment and nodded. “Zach Justice and Tara level shipping.”

“You know who they are, grandpa?” You snorted.

“For the last time, I’m four months older than you!”

You laughed as Ian spoke again.

“I mean, I’m in if you’re in,” he turned to you, “For the sketch. If you don’t mind pretending to be into me. I know it’ll be hard not to fall hopelessly in love with me.”

“How will I ever manage,” you deadpanned sarcastically, even as your palms began to feel sweaty. Ignoring your feelings on a daily basis was hard enough, let alone doing a love scene together. But you couldn’t very well refuse and have everyone, including Ian, wonder why.

Besides, it could be fun. It’d been a while since you’d done a sketch, and regardless of how you felt about Ian, he was still your best friend and you would get to spend a lot of time on set with him.

You took a deep breath. You were probably going to regret the next words that came out of your mouth.

“Let’s do it”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

“Shut up and kiss me,” you said, throwing your pretend purse to the ground as you stepped forwards.”

“Not until you promise me that I’m the only one,” Ian sniffed dramatically. “I cant lose you again, baby.”

“It’s only you,” you yelled, “It’s always only been you.”

“Then kiss me,” Ian took a step towards you. “Kiss me like you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” you leaned in.

“And then we kiss,” Ian said in a lighter voice, breaking character as you ended the scene. “I feel like it should be raining in the background of this, damn. Ooh, note to self: talk to them about fake rain.”

“Right,” you smiled shakily, trying not to let the scene have affected you. You were at Ian’s place—your apartment still wasn’t livable—and Ian had suggested you rehearse your scene again for the shoot the next day.

You had just received the script and were already panicking a how real it all was. The two characters in the scene were friends who fell in love with each other. Just your luck.

You silently cursed whoever had written the whole thing.

“So do you want to rehearse the kiss before tomorrow?” Ian’s voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, um, I think it might be better if we just wing it. You know, realistic first kiss and all.”

“As long as you don’t pull a Jennifer Lawrence on me,” Ian laughed, “No garlic fries.”

You placed a hand to your chest in mock surprise, “Wow Ian, two pop culture references in one day? I’m so proud.”

“I learned from the best,” Ian booped your nose and you felt your heart flutter.

You flopped down on your couch-bed in the middle of the living room and kicked your pajama-pant-clad legs out in front of you.

Ian sat down next to you and picked up the TV remote. “Do you mind?”

You shook your head as he turned on the television. A show was playing that you’d definitely seen before, but you weren’t paying attention.

You couldn’t focus on anything but Ian’s presence next to you as he scooted closer to you and laid his arm over the back of the couch behind you. He smelled like pine and soap and a hint of the day’s cologne and the scent was so familiar and so damn attractive that you couldn’t ever imagine a time when you hadn’t wanted him all over you. How had you been so ignorant then?

You rested your head on Ian’s chest and let out a sigh. All of this was so normal—you two laying there, watching TV, falling asleep next to each other—and yet it felt so different.

Ian kissed the top of your head gently and mumbled “Goodnight, (Y/n).”

You muttered a soft, “‘Night.”

Sometimes, when you were really desperate, you imagined that your best friend felt the same way about you that you did about him. In all the little ways that he made you feel special and loved, you found an almost something. It was times like these that you let yourself imagine, what if?

But then you reminded yourself that you and Ian had always been this way. The only difference was your pulse racing and your heart jumping into your throat whenever he looked at you or touched you.

You let your eyes close as the sounds of whatever comedy was on played in the background.

It was strange how you could feel so anxious and so comfortable at the same time. Despite all the new uneasiness that came with your romantic feelings towards Ian, you were still calmed by his presence. You still knew him better than anyone else. You still wanted this forever. Which is why you couldn’t let yourself change things.

You felt Ian wrap his arm around you and you shifted slightly on the bed. This felt right, you thought. How could you dare mess that up with unrequited love making everything difficult?

Because that was scary. Changing everything was scary. Losing him was scary. But this? This was comfortable, you thought. And it was true.

You had never felt more comfortable before in your life.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

You had never felt more uncomfortable in your life.

You’d thought last night was awkward, reading through the script with Ian. But today, as you reminded yourself you’d have to kiss him and not make it seem like it meant anything to you, you were sweating through your floral-pattern dress.

“Hey (Y/n)!”

You spun around to find Ian wearing a full on tuxedo, complete with a boutonnière and everything.

“Wow, you look—”

“Like prom threw up on me? Yeah, I know,” Ian joked, “But you look like the lead in a romcom so thumbs up costume coordinator.”

You looked down at your dress. You had gone to costuming earlier on and had just come out of hair and makeup. You hoped you hadn't already sweated it all off.

You looked back up at Ian. He looked—well, aside from drop dead gorgeous—like he had eaten something that didn’t quite agree with him.

You opened your mouth to ask if he was feeling ok when you were called to set by one of the directors.

“Looks like that’s us,” Ian smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You walked over to the set that you would be using, which looked like the outside of a building that could have been a school or a convention center. Apparently Angela had just had it lying around from a previous play. It looked really realistic, almost too realistic.

You took a deep breath as you stepped onto set and Ian followed you.

You got this, you told yourself, you know all of your lines and you’re not going to mess this up.

You looked out at the rest of the Smosh cast and crew, busy on set or waiting for their scenes.

“Ok and rolling…” you heard the director call.

You prepared yourself. Ian stepped to the side of you. “You ready for this?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, “definitely. Are you ok? You look pretty pale.”

“I’m good,” Ian assured you with a nod, “just ate some weird pistachios at the snack table. I’d stay away if I were you.”

“Noted,” you giggled.

“…And Action!”

You immediately were thrown into the scene. Ian had the first line and you tried to get into character.

“What is your problem, Amy?” Ian said.

“My problem?” you spat, trying to channel your inner romcom protagonist, “Are you really going to make me sit here and spell it out for you, Jake?”

“That’d be nice,” Ian—Jake—scoffed.

“Fine,” you made your voice shaky, “You wanna know what my problem is? My problem is that you came here with Veronica when you knew that all I wanted to do was be your date tonight.”

“How would I know that? Was I supposed to just guess? You’re my best friend, Amy, why wouldn’t you just tell me!”

“You want to know why I didn’t tell you?” You—Amy—asked him. “Because you’re my best friend. That’s why. I’ve had to sit here and watch you with girl after girl while all I wanted was as to be one of them.”

You stepped closer to Ian as you kept saying your lines, trying to summon tears “I have been in love with you for years. Years, Jake. But I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t want to lose this.”

You gestured between the two of you, trying to clear your mind and do what you had rehearsed. You refused to let any of your own thoughts slip in.

You continued, “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. So go ahead. It’s ruined now. Go back to your date and have the best night with her. I’ll just be here on the sidelines like I always have been.”

You turned and pretended to walk away and as planned Ian grabbed your wrist and you spun around.

“You don’t get it,” he started, “I love you. I always have loved you. From the moment I met you, I have loved you. I love the way you tie your hair up when you’re working on something. I love the way your nose scrunches up when something amuses you. I love your perfume and the way it kinda makes me dizzy when I’m near you. I love you. I have never loved anyone more.”

Ian’s eyes were intense as he looked down at you.

“And I never told you because, look at you. You’re way out of my league, I was lucky to have you as a friend. But, it’s always been you. I love you so much and I can’t believe you love me back. I’ll keep saying it as long as I am still breathing. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Even though it was acting, you’d never seen Ian like this. Not even when you were rehearsing. This was raw and emotional and it was hard not to let yourself believe it was real. The air was thick and you were both breathing heavy, the room silent except for the synchronized sound of your breathing. You stepped towards Ian, preparing to tell him to ‘shut up and kiss you’, as the script said, but he kept speaking.

“I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to say all this. But, I want to be more than friends. And now that you know, will you be more than friends with me, (Y/n)?”

You jolted at his use of your name and not your character’s. None of this was in the script, as far as you knew.

“Ian—” You whispered, looking around.

He took your hands, swallowing hard. “This is real, (Y/n). And I meant every word.”

You couldn’t process what was happening. You searched Ian’s face and he looked honest and hopeful and a little scared. But he was sincere. You didn’t see any evidence that this was some kind of practical joke. Was Ian saying…

You moved to stand even closer to him.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you said hesitantly, saying the line you were supposed to say earlier.

A slow smile came to Ian’s face, getting what you were doing. “Not until you promise me that I’m the only one, I cant lose you again, baby.”

“It’s only you,” you whispered, “It’s always only been you.”

“Then kiss me,” Ian said. “Kiss me like you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” you leaned in.

And scene, You thought, So much for not letting this be real.

And then your lips were on his, and you were kissing him. And Ian was kissing you back. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. You ran your hands through his hair and you felt him shiver beneath your touch.

As you kissed Ian, your best friend, you silently thanked your luck—that this had happened, that Ian returned your feelings.

Ian pulled away gently, brushing your hair back from your face.

“Wow,” you breathed, “that was—”

“That was everything I’d imagined it would be,” Ian said.

And then, all of a sudden, the entire studio burst into applause. You looked out at all of your friends and cast mates clapping and cheering for you. Had they been in on this the whole time? Had they all known that Ian would break character and confess real feelings for you?

“Just to be sure,” Ian said, “You do actually like me back right? You weren’t just finishing the scene?”

You laughed, “Yes, Ian, I like you. A lot.”

“Phew,” Ian laughed, calling out to the people gathered, “It’s a yes guys, she said yes! And sorry about ruining the shoot!”

“You kidding? That was the most realistic love scene I’ve ever seen. How could we not use that?” Anthony called back.

You giggled and placed your hands on Ian’s chest, “About that, I didn’t know you could be so cheesy and romantic.”

“Only for you,” he said. “And I wouldn’t say cheesy. Poetic and beautiful, maybe.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but you’d never been happier. You wouldn’t be able to stop smiling for days. And you didn’t want to.

All this time, as you’d been battling your own feelings, Ian had had feelings for you. You no longer had to pretend, because everything you wanted with Ian was already happening.

You smiled up at him, “I love you, Ian.”

You had said it so many times platonically, but it felt different now. And yet the same.

“I love you so much, (Y/n).”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

You put your hair up into a ponytail as you walked towards Ian’s office. You had changed out of your romcom dress and back into the clothes you wore to the studio today. Now that you were done with the shoot, Ian had said he wanted to take you out. Your first real date.

You rounded the corner and went to enter Ian’s doorway, but you stopped when you heard voices.

“Hey, thanks man,” Ian’s voice carried into the hallway. “Thanks for suggesting that sketch.”

“Anything for my friend,” Anthony said. “When your best friend whispers ‘hey can you suggest a sketch where me and (Y/n) have to be romantic together’ you step up.”

You strained to hear. What? Was Ian saying he had planned that whole thing? He was the one who wanted to do that sketch?

“Besides,” Anthony continued, “I didn’t even really do anything. You wrote the whole thing. Speaking of which, damn man, warn somebody! I’ll bring tissues to set next time.”

You couldn’t believe it! That entire scene, about two random characters, Ian had written it all for you and him.

“You wrote all that?” You stepped into Ian’s office a look of shock on both men’s faces.

“(Y/n), how much of that did you hear?” Ian asked nervously.

“Enough to be even more in love with you than when I walked over here, if that’s possible.”

Ian looked relieved as he came over to you and put his arms around you. “Well, then yeah, I wrote it. And I meant every word I said about loving you.”

“Wow, I gotta work on my speech writing skills,” you teased, “I didn’t know I was best friends with The Bard himself this whole time.”

“It’s a gift,” Ian smiled, kissing you softly. “And I had plenty of time to practice being poetic, being in love with you for years.

“I’m going to go,” Anthony’s voice interrupted, “because I feel like a third wheel and not because my eyes are watering—damn allergies. I’m so happy for both of you.”

Anthony left the room and you both burst into laughter.

Ian placed a soft kiss to your lips again, and you smiled. You couldn’t believe this was your reality.

Some of your best memories and moments were with Ian as a best friend. And now you got to experience a whole new world with Ian your boyfriend. You couldn’t wait.

You were wrong the night before, you thought, as Ian wrapped his arms around you.

This, this was the most comfortable you’d ever been.

“Hey, I hate to interrupt,” Angela peeked into the room, “but now that we’re done with the operation-get-Ian-and-(Y/n)-together sketch—congrats by the way—where are we at on Root Canal the Musical?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hope y’all enjoyed this!! if you did, check out my other ian fic + my ian hcs 🤭🍓💌

#ian hecox x reader #ian hecox #smosh #smosh fanfiction #smosh imagine #anthony padilla #smosh x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #x reader

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actually-eldritch · 3 months

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It's all me it's aaaaalll me it's all people all the way down you know my best influence my strongest influence comes when I don't mind not receiving credit and my second strongest influence comes when I'm not afraid but the problem is that I'm always terrified and most of all, I'm starving.

#And it's by design #And I'm always thinking about how if I could just get my bloody foot in the door I could get better #I could get so much better #but I'm not gonna get my foot in the door #there is no fucking door to try propping open with my foot so I can reach the whole #everything I've come across resembling The Door I Need has been manned by someone that already decided to help someonelse #Someone who didn't even work out #I try not to think about the fact that my mother spent years and thousands of dollars on helping her niece only for her to return to her #abuser in brasil with her kids and wind up homeless of her own volition. she had a new life made.#my mum helped Her instead of setting me up for life and it was literally all for naught #those kids are no doubt developing DID because they are almost the exact same position I was #meanwhile I had to run away from home and run away three more times and barely scrape by and barely scrape by and barely scrape by #like I'm so glad the little girl got to have a princess bedroom for??? idk how long it was #like a year????? only for it to be taken from her anyway???#I just wish I'd received the diligence she gave those kids #she put more effort in to their bedrooms than she did me when I was young lmfao #and for what. and for what. and for what. and for what.#Showing them how to make stuff too #Is it because they spoke portugese? is it because I wasn't brasilian enough for you? isn't that literally your fault though?#You were the only brasilian in my life and you were my godamned mother how could it not be your fault that I wasn't brasilian enough how #could you shun me for that lmfao

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mynameisbillandimaheadcase · 2 months

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:'/

#i literally anyone to tell me that I'm not a terrible person #and not in a don't worry your not 😃 way #i need someone to very honestly tell me that #I'm going through a literal crisis #have been for the past couple of months #and ik that needing validation so badly isn't a good thing #but i can not handle being ignored while in this state #ik that I'm overreacting but i tryed to start a conversation after what happened a couple of nights ago #and I'm still left on read #I'm literally hanging on this friendship #i don't have anyone else #what they told me were right #i keep making self deprecating jokes and I'm very insecure about loosing the little friends i have #maybe I'm similar to their toxic ex friend #and they are letting me go bc of that #and that's valid #but it hurts #bc I'm literally having the realization of how clingy i am #they even mentioned that i offer too much to people that give back to me too little #and gave themselves and my other friend as example #what does that mean #I'm probably coming to the realization that my trauma has affected me deeply #and it's ruining my friendships #not all of them the rest fell apart bc they were really transphobic #but like i get it i got them used to giving way too much and when i asked for my identity to be respected in return they didn't like it #or they didn't think of me as much of a friend than i though of them #I'm never getting a happy ending #what is happening #I'm probably overthinking it #but i might be correct

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saetoru · 10 months

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had

synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling

— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)

— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)

— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON

you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.

it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.

“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”

satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?

“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.

you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.

“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”

your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”

“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”

satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on.

why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.

“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”

“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”

“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”

you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.

gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend.

not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.

but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he’s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned.

and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast.

he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?

satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?

it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up.

you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek.

and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand.

he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?

—————

breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway.

gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that.

satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake.

but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.

“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”

“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.”

satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit.

satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself.

you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness.

“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench.

“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”

you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him.

“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.”

your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself.

“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”

“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”

the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with?

—————

you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him.

in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded.

it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings.

you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too.

suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well.

there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend.

everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings.

every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted.

in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself.

you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on.

before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole.

satoru. of course.

he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.

you shouldn’t open it.

but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?

before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands.

“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”

you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know.

“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn.

“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”

“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff.

the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away.

“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”

and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here.

“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him.

“why did you leave me?” he asks.

“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”

“why? just tell me why.”

“i don’t have to—”

“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists.

and then you break.

you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love.

so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”

you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days.

“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”

“you can realize a lot in a month—”

“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”

“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly.

satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out.

“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”

“satoru, you need to leave—”

“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”

“i didn’t ask you to—”

“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”

“satoru,” you plead.

you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.

satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.

“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head.

his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.

“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying.

“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.

satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight.

“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper.

it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.

“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray.

satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion.

you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could.

“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”

“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”

“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.

“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”

“because i couldn’t!”

“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt.

it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you.

“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”

“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”

you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”

“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”

“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.

he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating.

“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“promise?”

“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”

“you deserved that.”

“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”

“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”

“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”

“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.

yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known.

“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him.

but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.

“i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”

read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

if this fic was a person i would want it dead.

#teepods.writings #fics.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

Text

Danny Fenton is so damn sick of rich fruit loops. It’s worse now, since he’s one of them.

It’s not Vlad that he’s with, thank the Ancients, but Danny isn’t sure that this is better.

Because he’s Timothy Drake, a baby, and he’s been reincarnated after the Ancient of Reincarnation accidentally drank too much wine.

He’s going to kick their ass so hard when he gets back.

Danny huffs. He rolls over, ignoring the silent manor. Sure, he’s read the comics. Sure, he laughed and imagined being adopted by Batman- come on, Danny had black hair and blue eyes even back then, he was totally adoption bait- when his parents gave him reason to lose trust in their love. But that’s it, that’s all he thought it was. A day dream, a wish for a universe that didn’t exist.

Danny hadn’t understood the reality of the whole Infinite Realms thing, a place he was now the King of. Batman? Real. Danny? Reincarnated. Hotel? Trivago.

Like, this wasn’t what he meant, dammit.

And now he’s stuck as Timothy Drake, and Ancients, he was starting to see parallels.

——

Danny tried photography. He really did. He wanted to at least stick to the source material. But that’s not who he is. Even with the shiny new brain that memorized, catalogued, and put together clues at the snap of his fingers, but Danny’s never been one to take photos. It’s a respectable art, for sure, but Danny preferred to live in the moment instead of capturing it to remember forever. It’s just-

He watched the Graysons fall. He watched Dick Grayson turn into Robin. And Danny can’t and won’t ever betray his Obsession like that, ever again. He can’t let Jason die for his “story” to begin. That’s not how Danny works.

He’s there to protect.

Danny hasn’t ever been just Tim. Danny was also Tim and the Ghost King without a haunt. But now? Gotham is his haunt. He, in lieu of an actual city spirit, is Gotham. He’s also a Drake. And Drakes were meant to hoard.

Batman and Robin? They are his.

He claimed them, as a Drake. But that claim is weak. So he claimed them as their city, and that is a claim that will never be able to be challenged.

Danny’ll be damned before he allows some lanky starved clown beat the life out of one of his Robins. So, for the first time in his nine years on this planet, Tim-Danny goes ghost and flies.

“Who- who. Are you?” Robin slurred from his place in Danny’s hold. He is broken, yes. But not dead. Danny infuses some of his vitality, his ecto, into Jason’s injuries to help them heal.

“Gotham.” Danny replied, layering his ghostly voice with those of the city.

“Goth’m?”

“Gotham. Sleep, little bird. Your city has got you.”

When Robin, Jason, settled with a sense of trust that tugs at Danny’s core, Danny carried him to Batman, whose eyes were wild and manic. He glared menacingly at the green and white ghost in front of him, who was holding his broken and beaten son-

Well, it’d be menacing if Danny hadn’t watched him eat bricks and mortar, crashing into a building while using his grappling gun.

“You-”

“I am Gotham.” Danny cut him off. Despite his wary nature and natural paranoia, Batman settled at his city’s gaze rested on him. Danny knew that Batman recognized his city. Batman’s head bowed, but his eyes stayed on Robin. “You were supposed to take care of Robin.”

“I- I know.” And that voice was all Bruce Wayne the Dad instead of Batman the Vigilante. Danny gently placed Robin in Batman’s arms, taking in the tremors as he held his son close.

“Go back, Bruce. And make sure Jason knows how much you love him.”

He laughed as Bruce whipped his head upwards. “I am your city. You are mine as much as I am yours. I’ve known of you before you were born.”

Technically? Not untrue. But Bruce will chalk it up to weird magic shit. It’s not like it’s a secret that Gotham’s kind of curse. Besides, this way, Danny will be able to help out more often. And Bruce won’t be able to connect Tim Drake to the “Spirit of Gotham.”

“Return, my knight. This is not your city. I can not protect you as well as I can in Gotham.”

“Thank you… Gotham.”

Danny sighed. He wondered when he’ll have to field questions from a John Constantine. He’s pretty sure Bruce will call in magical help, even if it was his own city he was investigating.

Batman’s lucky Danny liked him enough to allow it.

#Danny is Gotham #danny phantom #Jason Todd #Jason Todd as Robin #joker is about to get haunted #bruce wayne #Gotham’s knight #batman #bamf danny phantom #ghost king danny #dc x dp #Danny is Tim Drake #he’s like nine #Jason Todd lives #joker? probably not #the bats: hmmm suspicious #also the bats: Gotham loves me! I’m doing the right thing!#dp x dc

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violetszone · 5 months

Text

Whats your kink?

Charles x fem!reader

From this request

Summary: You've been trying to find Charles' kinks for a long time But you didn't learn this until you started taking birth control pills.

A/n: again, i don't know what i wrote,i'm too tired to read and edit it sorry...

WARNINGS: Google translated French,breeding, Quick finish,not edited writing, fully smut, unprotected sex (God, please use protection my friends.)

You always thought Charles had some weird kink and you'd find it The reason for taking this as a mission was that it started like this: One New Year's Eve, while you were playing a game with your friends, someone asked Charles this question, and he stared at you for a few seconds and then answered no. Since that day you've been trying to bring this up without letting him know.

Of course, finding this was harder than you expected because you were at the very beginning of your relationship when it happened, and now you had been dating for almost 2 years.You tried everything you thought would excite him, but they couldn't. Until one day you came home from the doctor's check-up and said that you started taking birth control pills.

You could have sworn you saw a twinkle in Charles' eyes at that moment, even if only for a brief moment.Of course, nothing happened for a while until you started using the pill regularly and one night the lust for both of you became unbearable.

Charles had returned from a meeting in Italy and you were waiting for him at home. The moment he got home, he left his backpack at the door and pulled you towards him and pressed you to his lips, kissing you passionately. Before you knew it, you were entering your bedroom, half-naked in Charles' arms.Charles kissed your entire body, licking and biting the sensitive spots he knew would turn you on, you were burning underneath him.

When he put his hand into the bedside drawer, he frowned and got up, cursing. You looked at Charles, out of breath "what's wrong?"Charles rummaged through the drawer for a while and looked at you with disappointment and sat down next to you. "I'm sorry my love, there is no condom, I must have forgotten that, I'm sorry"

You rose up on your arms, looked at him and spoke hesitantly. "I'm on pills you know that-" Charles bit his lower lip, examined your face, then shook his head no "There is no guarantee and it will leave you in doubt, I can't do this" you put your hand on his shoulder and climbed onto his lap, "but I can do it. Please Charles, I miss you so much." While you leave little pecks on Charles' lips and neck he moaned softly and his hands came up to your waist.

You whispered "please" against his lips as he slowly pulled you away from him He laid you back down on the bed and returned to his previous position, stroking your hair. “I have to do whatever my sweet thing wants.” While his words made you smile, Charles' hand slipped into your underwear, causing you to moan. "Look at this, is this all for me Y/N hm tell me. Do I make you this wet every time I touch you?" You moaned and closed your eyes as Charles's two fingers entered you. When one of your hands reflexively tried to hold Charles' arm, Charles pinned your hands to the bed with his free hand.

He fingered you, giving you brutal pleasure as you writhed and moaned underneath him. Just as you were about to reach climax, Charles pulled his hand away, you made a sound between a moan and a whimper and opened your eyes. While he took off his trousers and underwear with one hand, he sucked the fingers of his other hand that gave you pleasure "What a gorgeous girl you are hm. You will cum on my cock, beauty, you heard? I will make you cum on my raw cock. Look how excited you are.Do you want my cock beauty? "

You moaned and moved your hips towards Charles.Charles rubbed his dick with one hand and pressed your hips to the bed with his other hand "behave" You whined when he growled "Fuck, don't you have those tits, you're destroying me, especially when those tight dresses squeeze them, my god i want to fuck them some time" He pinched your nipple with two fingers, making you moan, He came closer and licked and sucked and bit your tits ""Cha-ah!" You made a sound that was a mix of moaning and screaming, and he put one hand over your mouth.

"shhh be quiet beauty, we wouldn't want the neighbors to hear what a loud slut you are, would we?" As your eyes filled with tears of pleasure, you nodded your approval. Charles took his hand from your mouth, connected his lips with yours and kissed you passionately. "Let me love you baby" While kissing your neck, he started to slide his length into your wetness.

"oh fuck Charles...o- oh my god" When Charles was completely inside you, he paused and looked into your eyes, "fuck sweetie, this is heaven." Charles slowly started to move inside you. Feeling each other completely for the first time was very different for both of you, you felt like you were going to die.

As Charles' movements speed up, you felt yourself getting closer to climax and dug your nails into his back. "My fuckkk please omg! Charles I'm gonna-" Charles moaned as he squeezed your breast with his free hand "cum baby, cum on my cock" While your back was arched , you held on to Charles's arm, which held your chest. While your body was shaking, you closed your eyes and moaned.Charles' movements became sharper and harder as you cum.

"Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm gonna fill you up hmmhhh. Putain, tu es si sexy, je vais remplir ta taille de mes bébés. Let me fucking breed you" (Fuck, you're so hot, I'll fill your belly with my babies) You just moaned what Charles said, you were out of breath, after a few seconds he started to cum inside you, He came deep down to the last drop.Then hugged you tiredly without putting all his weight on you he gave you a kiss on your cheek, came out and lay down next to you.

You started laughing as you stared at the ceiling, out of breath. Charles frowned and looked at you “what's the matter?” You turned sideways and placed a kiss on Charles' arm. "Breeding kink. Really? I would never have guessed.I've been trying for a year in vain " Charles rubbed his face with his hand and looked into your eyes again. "Have you been doing those weird sex things for a year to find my kink? God baby.." he chuckled, you rotated your hips and placed one of your legs over Charles's. Both of your pleasure juices were still flowing out of you. Charles groaned at the sight and closed his eyes.

"Omg you really have a breedink kink" Charles put his finger to your lips "shut up, god" you giggled your head on his shoulder "and my tits? seriously?" This time Charles took his arm off you and tried to turn around, and you laughed. "Come on Charles I'm just kidding...I actually liked it really" Charles turned and hugged me "hey Charlie, stop looking at my ass please" Charles laughed at your words, inhaled your scent and pulled back from the hug and played with your hair, "I'm sorry, it was just so beautiful." You put a small peck on his lips and smiled "i know baby thank you for that" You leaned your head on his chest again and started to doze off while he caressed your hair and kissed your head.

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feistyfreaks · 6 months

Text

the physical p2 - miguel o’hara

pairings ❀ ⋮ doctor!miguel x shyf!reader

₊❏❜ content ⋮ softdom, sweet tempered mig, dirty talk, genitalia touching, loss of virginity, lube tasting, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, porn with a taboo subject, and nicknames.

note ⋮ i was going to leave it as a oneshot but since you guys were interested for a part two here you have it. i just wanted to say thank you so much for all the likes on my last post, i really do appreciate it. might’ve came out a little short but anyways i hope you enjoy 🌷.

not proofread !

taglist ⋮ for the people who asked to be tagged, thank you for liking my work ➯ @hazelnutbitch, @reverieblondie, @m4dyy, & @pewpunk ➯ wanna be tagged? click the link to join the taglist ♡.

part one.

✧*･ﾟ

you jumped out of your car in a hurry but your foot got caught on the carpet, your weight falling forward as you landed on your palms before hitting the pavement with a painful thud.

you yelped, your hands were all rusty now.

great, as if you needed your morning to get any worse.

you laid there, feeling helpless, but you helped yourself up, hissing at the rashes left on the palm of your hands. you dusted off the dirt from your pants and beeped the car locked. you swerved a corner, dashing into the double doors and swinging them open.

the bell jingled that hung from the door as you jogged into waiting room, “name?” the lady asked, eyeing your messy appearance.

“y/n l/n” you replied shortly, a little out of breath. “your appointment was at nine fifty, it’s past ten.” she clicked her tongue, a little annoyed.

“sorry, i got caught in traffic.” you lied, forcing a smile and interlaced your hands together to appear more presentable.

“it’s okay, i’m sure the doctor is still willing to attend you - just need you to fill this out real quick and then the nurse should call you in.” the lady replied handing you a form. “thank you.” you replied, taking the clipboard with the paper stuck onto it.

you walked past empty chairs and the corner that was the farthest part away from the door. you sat down, your back sinking into the chair as you sulked.

how could you meet his gaze after everything? how you completely made a mess on his clothes because of how excited you got. the thought gave you extreme second hand embarrassment.

“fuck me” you exhaled under your breath, grabbing the pen as you scribbled on the paper aggressively.

first you slept over your alarm, second you threw on a random outfit that didn’t even match, and third of all the only thing you ate was half a granola bar you stuffed inside your mouth before you fell face forward on the road.

you took a deep breath.

‘it’s okay.’ you smiled, trying console yourself.

‘no it wasn’t.’ you frowned.

a couple minutes go by and you hear the nurse call out for you.

“y/n l/n.”

you rose up from your chair not long after, handing over the paper you filled out and walking into the examination room. instant flashbacks hit you all at once from last years physical when you stepped in.

you eyed the room, plopping down onto the bench.

“so how’d it go?” the same nurse from last year asked with a grin. your eyes slightly widened, realizing what she had meant.

“it went well.” you lied, shortening your answer to avoid any further questioning.

“so.. was he nice?” the nurse continued as you stared at her, giving her a look that said ‘i don’t want to talk about it’.

but it seemed like she didn’t get the idea because she was still searching for a response from you.

“he was sweet i guess.” you replied softly.

the room was silent as she finished taking your blood pressure. “all done, here’s the robe - you know the drill and the doctor should be in soon.” she bubbled, giving you the robe that was neatly folded.

“have a good day!” she beamed, heading out the door. “you too.” you attempted to return the enthusiasm, only for it to come out dry. as she closed the the door behind her you slid your heel around and turned a 180 degree angle before getting down to work.

you ripped off your horrendous outfit you threw on earlier and kicked off your sneakers, leaving your socks on as you wrapped the white fluffy robe around your waist.

you folded your clothes like you did the first time coming here, and then you crawled onto the examination table and waited.

your eyes were glued onto the handle on the door as the clock ticked intensely. you could hear your erratic breaths from the inside of your head. you began to think about all the outcomes this situation could end in.

but another part of you was slightly eager to be here again.

you wanted to see him again.

you might’ve or might not have developed a teeny tiny crush on your doctor.

what?

you couldn’t help it alright.

he was just too good to be true.

the loud knock interrupted your thoughts and snapped you back into the realm of reality. and as the handle turned, you immediately sprung up.

yet again you met eyes with the same gorgeous man you met a while back. and as soon as he stepped in he locked the door behind him with a simple click.

“it’s been a while hasn’t it, love?” he spoke, his voice deep and seductive.

you could’ve sworn you had folded right there and then, all over again.

“it has been.” you gulped, choosing your words out wisely as you broke eye contact for a brief moment.

“i thought you wouldn’t come back after all that.” he chuckled softly. “you made quite the mess.”

your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and he couldn’t help but laugh at your shyness. “i’m sorry i-i didn’t mean it.” you murmured, lowering your head.

“no need to apologize baby, don’t be embarrassed about the way your body reacts, besides it’s not in your control.” he replied. you remained silent as you found yourself heating up quickly.

“so how was your morning?” he asks, changing the topic and approaching you ever so casually. his thumb and pointer finger lifted your chin up to get your attention.

oh gosh, and as he mentions it you wanted to rip your hair out remembering how horrible your morning had started off. angry tears formed in the corner of your eyes as all the stress boiled back into your bloodstream as they threatened to drop. so you found yourself rambling to doctor o’hara about how your morning was a mess.

“oh baby, i’m sorry to hear that. you sound so pent up, maybe you could use a hand and let me ease you up, hm?” he cooed understandingly, wiping your tears away.

his comfort and sympathy made you feel better, and you forgot about the doubts you had when arriving. you felt attached to the man as you nodded, not giving much thought to his offer.

he leaned in and gently pecked a kiss to your cheek, his hand reached to caress your arm blandly.

“tell me, what’d you do all year because i spent mine thinking about you none stop.” he whispered, placing wet slow kisses on your jaw.

you blushed at his confession ~ a shiver running down your spine when his hot mouth connected to the warm skin on your neck.

“i visited family.. a-and” you moaned softly, feeling him nip at your neck. “i spent most of it studying and taking exams for college.” you hummed, slowly exhaling.

“that doesn’t sound very fun darling, how about i take you out to dinner tonight and we can go on vacation sometime wherever you’d like?” he suggested, pulling away from your neck to view at the effect he had made on you.

“really?” you asked with a flustered look on your face. “of course, just to see that pretty smile again.” he murmured, squishing your cheek and leaning in and closing the gap between you two.

his lips attached onto yours, the kiss was slow and doting before a hunger aroused in him. the sweet and moderate kiss had vanished and converted into a rough and greedy one.

his hand snaked around the back of your head, pressing you deeper into him as he began to kiss you more vigorously. you let your guard down, becoming weak as his tongue slipped into the submissive of your mouth.

a mewl tore from your throat as you wrapped your arms around his neck. the two of you making out in heat in the examination room.

he bit your lip before pulling apart from you with a cocky smirk, his eyes filled with lust and his lips wet, coated with your saliva. the two of you breathed for air and that’s when you realized the patch of wetness pooling in between your legs.

this time you both were left hot and bothered.

he licked his lips, his eyes hungry with a newfound desire, “do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked, his arm snaking around the small of your waist to roughly haul you into him until your stomach collided with his.

“n-no” you said under your breath, staring up at him with innocent doe eyes.

your robe was slightly falling from your shoulder, and his hand squeezed your thigh playfully. “been driving me insane all this time, y’know how badly i wanted you to squirt on my dick like that?” he growled vulgarly.

you looked at him, a guilt building up in your heart as you hear him out. “wanna have you make a mess f’me all over again.” he whispered, his hot breath fanning your ear sent a static wave throughout your body.

“the things i would do to you if you gave me the chance.”

“i could make up for it..” you offered, wanting to make things right.

a smile crept on his lips.

he pushed your robe apart as his fingers traced your slit. you felt embarrassed and exposed for how wet you were already. “and how would you like to make up for it hm?” he cooed sweetly into your ear.

he pecked another kiss to your cheek as his digit flicked your swollen clit, earning a whine from you.

with his other hand you listened to his belt unbuckle and watched him pull out his thick, veiny cock as he dragged it against the puffiness of your folds. “you could.. use me..” you gulped, looking downwards you watched his tip tease your entrance.

“use you?” he chuckled. “it’s too early for that love.”

“but you could make it up to me by being my cum dump for today, yea?” he purposed, the head teasing your sensitive bundle of nerves.

your vulnerable gaze peered back into his chocolate irises.

“okay..” you breathed, a familiar heat returning to your cheeks as he turned down your offer. you felt more inexperienced than what you were to begin with.

you watched him open a familiar drawer and pull out a cylinder red bottle with a dispenser.

“it’s cherry flavored, that’s why.” he snickered at your confused expression. “lube has flavors?” you asked, now invested in the lubricant. “mhm, wanna taste it?” he smiles, and with that you opened your mouth as he slips his fingers inside.

you swirl your tongue around, tasting the sweetness of the flavored lube that made you hum, your head cocked to the side as his fingers slip out of your mouth. waiting for a reaction.

“it tastes good.” you laugh, merely shocked. “it gets pretty kinky from favorable lubes.” he grinned, pouring the flavored lube onto your heat. and without giving you a heads up he sunk into you with one smooth motion making you moan and grip the bench beneath you.

miguel slowly bottomed out inside you, waiting for you to adjust to his size. his hand traveled to rest at your cheek. his thumb gently swiping across your plump lip, and his thrust was just as soft. the stretch stung, and your eyes slightly watered. he cooed at you, kissing your teary eyes as he waited patiently.

and when you adjusted he began slow and steadily, grinding into you as your mouth hung open. the two of you moaning at the pleasant sensation of penetrative sex.

you threw your head back, your nails engraving into his biceps. he brought his thumb down to rub at your bud, his rough pad sent a new pleasurable wave of ecstasy to shoot through your veins.

your pussy squelched with how much your juices were dripping down his shaft. he threw your leg over his shoulder and positioned himself to hit your sweet spot. his hips rutted into you with more passion, increasing the friction between the two of you as his tip fucked into the front of your gummy wall, angling at your gspot. “that feel good?” he asked, his arms caging your head.

“yes, harder!” you pleaded. his brows were furrowed, dark orbs glinting with pleasure as he plunged into you, chasing both of your highs.

his thumb roughly kneaded your pearl, “i’m close!” you warned, your orgasm nearing faster than you expected. you shook underneath his grip, gushing messily on his cock and lower abdomen. and with one last thrust he pulsed inside you, his tip bruising your cervix as spurts of hot cum filled you up to the peak. your thighs clamped around his sides. his thrusts coming to an end as you both heaved heavily.

your body laid there limb, and he slowly pulled out of you. he cleaned himself up with a cloth, using the other side to clean you up next. once he finished tucking himself back in his pants, he brought your clothes over to you and helped you change. “you may need to reschedule your appointment, think we got a little out of hand.” he chuckled, his hand coming to caress your cheek.

and so that very morning you skipped your exam and instead were sent home with your doctors cum leaking out of your hole.

#feistyfreaks #hornyhour #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #kinktober

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