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#but when he's done all he wants and needs to do and is ready to go on with the group... well
moonchildstyles · 2 days
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Do you think you could write a blurb where witch! Harry is finally comfortable w Mitch and his friends so one night when they’re all out together Including Sarah and y/n, Harry doesn’t really pay as much attention to y/n as he usually does, and y/n becomes more clingy than usual and it makes Harry happy 🥺🥺
this is a little different than the exact request but I hope you enjoy!! thank you for sending this in:)
wordcount: 4k+
—————
Fiddling with his fingers in his lap, Harry watched as (Y/N) readied herself at her vanity. He wanted to be distracted by the sweeps of cosmetics across her skin or the flutter of her lashes as she dusted sparkles over her eyes, but he knew it was a losing battle. He'd already spent all of his distractions when he conjured up his outfit and fussed over his own hair in the mirror. His nervous hands had prepped him too early, leaving him with way more time available than he needed. 
"You know," (Y/N) started, catching his gaze in the reflection, "we don't have to go tonight if you don't want to. We can stay here and relax or go back to yours and cuddle with the girls. I don't mind." 
There was a split second where he considered her offer, folding his bottom lip between his teeth before he thought better of his indecision. (Y/N) had agreed to these plans earlier in the week and was almost done with her makeup already, there was no way he was going to let her cancel on his account. 
"No, I want to go," he insisted, matching her gaze though he figured he looked about as convincing as he felt, "I know I'll have fun, 's jus'... You know." 
A gentle smile touched the corners of his lover's lips. "I know," she assured, "We'll have fun once we get out there. This is the hard part." 
He gave a quiet nod in agreement. It was easier to stay home with her and luxuriate in the familiar, but he was trying to grow himself into a member of the world once more. Besides, Sarah's boyfriend, Mitch, was supposed to be there tonight with a couple of the others he'd met a few months back. As long as he found his space in that group again, he'd be able to make it through. 
Worst case scenario, he'd cling to (Y/N), say the word, and they'd be on their way home before he had a chance to crawl out of his skin. 
This was going to be good for him, he reminded himself as he continued watching (Y/N) through the mirror. 
He was going to have fun tonight. Probably.
—————
With his fingers laced between hers, Harry followed (Y/N) into the restaurant. The plan tonight was to go to dinner before heading to some of the bars downtown as some kind of informal celebration for Sarah's upcoming birthday. (Y/N) had gently let Sarah and Mitch know to go ahead without her and Harry (it was a small ruse to allow her some extra time to get ready and Harry an extra moment in the quiet apartment before braving the world), leaving them to be one of the last to arrive. 
The restaurant was loud and crowded, tables packed with chairs and bubbly patrons. The bar was busy, both servers and guests seated on the stools keeping the bartenders busy with plenty of orders. Fresh pizzas were being fired in the brick oven that worked as the centerpiece of the establishment, though there were plenty of spicy, greasy bar staples flooding out of the kitchen. 
As much as Harry worried over these kinds of outings, still on unsure footing when it came to the world outside of his bubble, the energy of this place fed him. Though it was a different kind of feeling compared to the hazy parties of the seventies that he was so ingrained in, this wasn't that far off from what he had been so accustomed to in the past (there were decidedly less drugs here, and more decency but that's besides the point). He could feel eyes trailing after him when he walked past, his stride bringing attention to the glimmering threads of his clothing and the woman on his arm. 
"Hey, guys!" (Y/N) greeted as they approached the table in the back the hostess had directed them to. On either side of the long table, faces turned to the sound of (Y/N)'s voice. Harry recognized the majority of them, though there were a few unfamiliar faces that he was both eager and nervous to meet. 
"You made it!" Sarah cheered, Mitch at her side with his own usually stoic features shifting into a smile when he caught Harry's eye. 
"Yeah, sorry," (Y/N) started, leading Harry down to the two free spots at the end of the bench seating, across from Mitch and Sarah and next to a familiar head of bleached hair he'd met at the concert night a few months ago. "The Uber took the weirdest way, and then hit traffic. I don't know what he was trying to do." 
Sarah shrugged and rolled her eyes as if this was a story she'd lived through just as many times herself. 
(Y/N) took the spot next to the semi-unfamiliar couple, leaving Harry on the very end of the bench without any extra neighbors. She and Sarah took up another avenue of conversation, others beginning to jump in now that the party could truly start with all guests in attendance. He held her hand tight in his lap, his attention drifting this way and that as more and more color and noise and new caught his eye. 
"Have you ever been here before, Harry?" Mitch asked from across the table, centering his wandering attention. 
"No, this is m'first time," Harry offered, a small smile on his lips. He felt a bit better knowing that Mitch was here—next to (Y/N), he was one of the only people he felt comfortable with. 
"Really?" Mitch sounded, his brows rising, "Don't you work around here, now? At that one music store?" 
Harry eagerly nodded to the question. He loved talking about his job—he loved spending so much time around music and the extra money that came with it was very exciting.
"I do, yeah," he smiled, "Have y'ever been there before? You'd love it." 
Mitch matched Harry's smile with his own grin, taking a sip from his drink with a slow shake of his head. "I haven't, but I might have to come see you sometime. Friends and family discount, right?"
Letting out a laugh, Harry nodded his head. He really hoped Mitch meant it when he said he'd come visit—he wasn't sure how to add discounts yet to the register, but he'd make sure his friend got whatever he wanted when he came by. 
As Mitch started on a new avenue of conversation, Harry relaxed further the longer the night went on, feeling less and less of the anxiety that he left the house with. He felt thoroughly distracted—comfortable, even, when the semi-familiar man (Kid, he thinks was their nickname) on (Y/N)'s other side piped into his and Mitch's conversation. The edge he had been standing on slowly dulled until he was laughing loudly and settling into his skin the way he used to back in the day. 
Once ordered, drinks and dinner were delivered to the table. Honestly, Harry almost wanted to speed through his meal knowing that the rest of the plans for the night were to head to a bar down the plaza, leaving more room to hang out with his friends. He was having too much fun to waste time like this. Under the table, (Y/N)'s hand was settled on his thigh, turning palm up once he attempted to wiggle his fingers between hers. 
Looking up at her, his hand loaded with a slice of plain cheese pizza, he saw her looking at him with a raised brow. 
"Feeling better?" she murmured to him, the others around them distracted by their own food to listen in. 
A small smile was on Harry's lips as he nodded his head. "Yeah, a lot. I forget how nice everyone is." 
"And, how much they like you," (Y/N) added, "I'm happy you're feeling better, though. Do you still want to go to the bars with everyone after?" His eager nod had to be enough of an answer with the way she let out a huff of laughter, her hand squeezing his under the table. "Okay," she smiled, "Just wanted to double check." 
Tipping her chin, (Y/N) puckered her lips just enough to draw him in for a short kiss. Harry felt his heart skip a beat in his chest, even if the contact was nothing more than a small peck on his mouth. The vine tethering the chambers of his heart to hers pulsed, urging him to stay close to her. 
"Thank you," he murmured, blinking up at her through the fan of his lashes. 
"For what?" she asked, nudging him, their private moment drawing on long enough to catch the attention of Sarah across the table. Her eyes softened as she glanced at them.
"Taking me tonight," he answered, keeping his voice low. If Sarah could watch, he just hoped she couldn't hear every word. "I know 'm a lot sometimes—thank you for still wanting to bring me even if I wasn't sure." 
She tipped her head, eyes fond and tender to match the smile on her lips. "Of course, H. You don't really have much of a choice, though—you're my soulmate, you pretty much have to come with me."
He knew she was trying to joke with him, get him to laugh the same way she realized her own plume of laughter, but he liked hearing her call him her soulmate to do anything more than surge forward for another kiss. 
————— 
(Y/N) with Sarah and some of the other women at her side, didn't take much time before getting their first round of drinks to indulge in the dance floor of the bar, cheering in celebration of Sarah's birthday. Harry, along with Mitch and the rest of the few that didn't want to brave the sweaty congregation all hung back, drinks in hand with a table luckily claimed along the back of the bar. 
More often than not, he had his eyes on (Y/N), watching her like she was a bubble of sunshine in the middle of the dance floor. He could hear her laughter, see her dancing with her friends, and practically feel the beam of her happiness even sitting so far off. Mitch was much like him, watching his own girlfriend as she celebrated her birthday, a fond smile on his lips. 
The third time Harry caught him gazing with hearts in his eyes towards Sarah and the bobbing ponytail on her head, he asked, "How long have y'and Sarah been together?" 
Mitch blinked his eyes away from the dance floor, Kid at his side jostling him as he laughed with his own companion. "Hm?" Mitch hummed, taking a sip from his beer as he plugged into the moment once more. 
Harry knew the feeling well: what it was like to forget the rest of the details around him when he had his eyes on his sunshine. Chin in his palm with his elbow resting on the table, Harry let a small smile sit on his lips. "I asked how long you and Sarah have been together." 
"Oh, sorry," Mitch offered, sheepishly clearing his throat, "We've been together for a little over three years, now." 
"Wow," Harry awed, the romantic inside him sinking at the thought of having that much time with (Y/N) at his side. "How did y'meet?" 
Only having time to open his mouth to take in a breath before his story, Mitch was cut off when Kid butted in. His eyes were a bit glassy thanks to the alcohol in his system, but his words were clear when he interjected: "I set them up!" 
Kid's partner—Jenny—laughed at his insistence, especially when Mitch rolled his eyes though he couldn't completely stave off the amusement on his features. 
"Barely," Mitch countered, voice a petulant mumble when he looked back at Harry, "He just happened to know the both of us, but he didn't set us up." 
"Was I not the one that invited both of you to my birthday party?" 
Harry sat back, drink in hand, as he watched the light-hearted argument. It felt nice to be sitting among friends for the first time in decades, learning tidbits about their lives and finding where he fit in within the dynamic. (Y/N) was his heart and soul, everything that made his existence feel purposeful, but this was a facet of his life he hadn't realized he was craving so badly until it was offered to him. 
"Harry, don't you think that qualifies as a set up?" 
Perking up at the sound of his name, he plugged into the conversation once more, only to have three pairs of eyes waiting on him. Both Jenny and Mitch held amusement in their gazes though Kid seemed terribly serious with his request for backup.
Unable to help himself, Harry had to prod. 
"Well," he started, breathing in a sigh as he laid his forearms out on the table, "How long after your birthday did they go on a real date?" 
It was the chatter that started almost immediately after he finished speaking that had Harry smiling into the rim of his own cup, pretending to sip as he took it all in. 
—————
With sweat sticking her baby hairs to her temples and slicking down her back, (Y/N) practically stumbled after Sarah as they drifted from the dance floor. The few others that had paraded out there with them stayed behind for the rest of the song, while Sarah had insisted that she needed another drink before she could dance any longer. Sweaty hands pressed palm to palm, (Y/N) followed her out in the semi-fresh air of the rest of the bar now that they weren't tucked between the rest of the patrons on the dance floor. It was suddenly sobering to be out of the crowd, but that didn't mean she wasn't feeling the effects of the cocktail from dinner and the celebratory shots they took once stepping into the bar. 
With Sarah leading her to the bar, (Y/N) traced her eyes through the space, knowing Harry was around somewhere but she was a touch too intoxicated to rely on the tether between them. She found him, a bright sunshiney yellow spot, tucked at the end of the booth next to Mitch with Jenny and Kid laughing along to whatever it was that Harry was saying. It was silly to her, as she took in the moment, just how nervous he had been before leaving, worrying over not fitting in, doing nothing but clinging to her side, not having fun, to now being the center of attention. It was just as she figured it would be—no one was immune to his presence. 
Tugging her forward, (Y/N) went along with Sarah to the bar until they had fought through the two-deep crowd to the counter. Sarah didn't need to ask what she wanted, instead slurring out an order of two fruity cocktails with a drunken declaration that it was her birthday. Over her shoulder, (Y/N) could see the bartender laughing at Sarah's excitement, though that information would surely garner them a discount anyway. 
Once their drinks were in hand, Sarah didn't waste time before putting the straw between her lips and gulping down the drink. "Let's go say hi, then we'll go back!" she shouted over the music after taking down the mouthful of juice and vodka, gesturing towards their claimed table with the rest of their party. 
Nodding with her own straw between her lips, (Y/N) was more than happy to take a break and see her soulmate before heading back into the sweaty throng of people. 
It took a bit of maneuvering, but making it to the table was quick enough and well worth the small spill she made on her shoes when she saw Harry's face light up when he caught sight of her. Whatever story he had been in the middle was put on pause when the pair of them made it to the table, Harry opening his arms for her to fall into. Mitch as well looked amused to see his mumbling girlfriend, a familiar glimmer in his eyes when he took her in. 
"Hi, you," Harry murmured, taking a hold of (Y/N)'s drink and setting it on the stable table. "How are y'feeling, sunshine?" 
"I'm good," she smiled, languidly draping her arms over his shoulders as she fought the urge to climb on his lap instead, "Kind of drunk, I think, though. Are you having fun?" 
Dimples deep in his cheeks, dots of glitter shimmering on his cheekbones, he looked to her with tenderness coating his gaze. "'M having a lot of fun, sunshine. Are you?" 
"Mhm," she hummed, unable to hold back from pressing a clumsy kiss to the corner of his mouth, "But I feel like I've barely seen you tonight. You said you were gonna come dance with me." 
"Sorry, love," he crooned, smiling despite the pout on her own lips, "Jus' got a little distracted, but you know 'm right here if y'need me." 
"Yeah," she sighed, drooping like some long-suffering spouse, "But, I've missed my soulmate—I know you're right here, but it's not the same. You're too busy with your friends." 
Her petulance only pulled a plume of laughter from him, even if there was something decidedly softer than before in his eyes. "You're still m'best friend, love, you know that. Jus' wanted to let y'have your fun, then I was going to bother y'the rest of the night." 
"You never bother me," she countered, canting her head.
It was Harry's turn to tip his chin and press a kiss to her lips, though this contact was much more coordinated than her previous attempt. (Y/N) sunk into the contact, allowing Harry to hold her steady just before there was a call of her name from Sarah. 
"Hm?" she asked, pulling away from Harry with her lipgloss surely missing from her mouth though it now sparkled on Harry's. 
"We need to go back," she bubbled, taking her half-finished drink with Mitch looking on with a poorly hidden smile. "Listen to the song! We need to go out there!" 
Tuning into the moment once more, (Y/N) took note of the bright notes filtering through the bar. It took only a quick look over her shoulder to see the familiar bobbing heads of the friends they had left behind to get their drinks, one of the girls catching sight of Sarah and beckoning them back to the floor. 
"Go have fun, sunshine," Harry murmured, giving her a pat on the small of her back as if to send her off. 
That seemed to be all the encouragement needed for Sarah to grab a hold of (Y/N)'s hand and take her back towards the floor. Drink in hand, (Y/N) made a point to look back to Harry and give him a small wave goodbye for the moment. His smile only widened when she did. 
—————
"I love you." 
Despite the sweet declaration, Harry couldn't help the laugh that bubbled from his chest. He tightened his grip on (Y/N) as she draped herself over him in the backseat of their Uber (a concept he thoroughly struggled with until Mitch helped him both understand it as well as order one). 
"I love you too, sunshine," Harry murmured back for the third time in the span of five minutes. 
"Nooo," she moaned, curling into him as if she weren't practically on his lap already, "You don't get it, H. I love you—like, love you." 
His heart warmed even when she slurred over her words, the night dancing and drinking catching up to her finally. He wondered what their driver thought, listening into this drunken conversation. 
"I love love you, too, (Y/N). I—" 
"Why would you say that to me?" she cried, cutting him off drawing away from him with offense written all over her features. 
Glancing at the rearview mirror, Harry caught their driver attempting to hold back her smile before focusing back on the road before her. As a quiet favor, she turned up the radio just a hair more, an offer of privacy. 
"Why would I say what?" Harry crooned, unsure of how his love for her could cause her to feel so upset. 
"You called me by my name. Why would you do that? You never call me by my name, are you mad at me?" 
It took all he had in him to keep from laughing at her distress. He hadn't meant to upset her, he had hoped by saying her name she would see he was just as serious as she was. His arm looped around her middle kept her steady at his side. 
"Of course, 'm not mad at you, love," he cooed, erring on the side of caution with his voice terribly gentle, "Jus' wasn't thinking, I guess. I love love you, sunshine." 
His amendment seemed to be just enough to placate (Y/N) once more, drawing him into her with a blissed smile. 
"I love you more than anything, honey," she told him once more, back on track with her declarations, "I don't tell you enough, but I do. You're my favorite person in the whole world, and it's crazy that we could've never met if you didn't decide to live up in the mountain and do all your witchy stuff and—" 
"Oh, love," Harry cut her off before she could say much more about whatever witchy stuff he's got up to. Even with that, hearing her say she loves him more than anything in the world was enough to have his skin pinkening and warming. "You're my favorite person, you know that. Love you, so much." 
Before (Y/N) could try to argue anymore, declare her love for him to be the biggest (which was not true, because he loved her more), the car came to a stop at (Y/N)'s apartment building. 
"Here you are," their driver declared, peeking through the rearview mirror.
"Thank you," Harry smiled, the curl widening when (Y/N) seconded him with a bright chirping Mhm! 
"You're welcome," their driver smiled, "Have a nice rest of your night, you two." 
"We will!" (Y/N) brightly answered, struggling to get her seatbelt off. 
After helping her out, Harry collected (Y/N) in his arms and kept her steady when she stepped out on the sidewalk. She gave a final wave to their driver before clinging to Harry as he led her towards the building. 
"I had so much fun tonight, Harry," (Y/N) drawled, hanging off of him as he entered all the codes to get inside the building, her eyes warming the line of his profile. "Thank you for coming with me and taking care of me." 
"Thank you for bringing me with you," he said, parroting the sentiment from dinner. 
As he listened into her babblings as he took her up to her apartment, Harry felt his heart bloom like the petals in his garden. He'd had a perfect night, truthfully. While these were still people he had met through (Y/N), it didn't feel like he had spent the night with people putting up with him because of who his soulmate was. He felt like he had spent the night with his own friends, the kind that would have been a part of his hazy memories from the seventies, full of laughter and silly conversation. 
All for him to end the night with the love of his life. 
"I had a lot of fun tonight too, sunshine," he crooned to her, getting her safe inside the apartment once more. "I love you." 
"But, Harry, you don't get it." 
He could only laugh as he led her to her bedroom. He knew she would be arguing with him over the rest of the night.
Harry couldn't be happier.
—————
thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas of your own please send them in!!
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gi4hao · 2 days
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☆ SEVENTEEN COMFORTING YOU AFTER A BAD DAY (hip hop unit)
— pure fluff! (some mentions of food)
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— SEUNGCHEOL
• he lets you cry and cry and cry in his arms until you physically cannot produce any more tears
• his hands are softly stroking your back as he lets you vent about your day
• “i’m so sorry you had to go through all that baby” he tells you when you’re done, placing a kiss on top of your head as he lets you cuddle as close to him as you need to
• definitely tells you to let him take care of you that evening, because he wants your day to end on a better note
• and he 100% means it: he pampers you like royalty, giving you his undivided attention and nothing less
• you feel like taking a bath? you’ll have one with scented bubbles and candles. you feel like going for a walk to clear your head? he’ll go with you and hold you close the whole time.
— MINGYU
• so so so supportive
• the moment you get back home, he’s already waiting for you with his arms wide open, ready for you to collapse against his chest
• definitely listens to you rant about the people that upset you that day, all while cooking a hearty meal for the two of you
• i think some of his bubbliness would definitely rub off on you, and he’s kind of counting on that to make you feel better
• because it’s hard to stay upset when your boyfriend keeps peppering kisses all over your face, all while looking at you with the kindest eyes on earth
• he just wants you to be surrounded by happy things overall. whether it’s by showing you a cute puppy he saw on tiktok or sharing the latest gossips he got from the members, he thinks it’s important to take your mind off of whatever’s weighing you down
• and when you thank him for always being your happy place, his heart does a little jump that fills him with nothing but pure love
— WONWOO
• he’s probably already comforting you over text during the day. he hopes his little messages to check up on you can bring you a bit of comfort (they do)
• he makes sure to get home a little earlier to do some chores so that you don’t have to stress about that as well
• and yes he’ll definitely let you cuddle for as long as you want if that’s what you need when you come home
• he’ll even let you play with his hair if it helps you relieve the tension (which also benefits him because he gets to admire you up close, something he loves to do)
• the next day, he leaves a post-it note on your bathroom mirror for you to read when you wake up
• it’s something along the lines of “had to leave early but don’t forget i love you + there’s an iced coffee in the fridge and a muffin on the table <3”
— VERNON
• an amazing listener, for sure. no matter what kind of emotion you’re feeling, he’ll patiently listen for as long as needed
• but he’ll speak up if you start to talk in a self-deprecating way, reminding you of how amazing you are and how proud of you he is
• “i’m not letting these thoughts take up too much space in your brain” he tells you, handing you yet another tissue to wipe your nose with. “which is why i think the smartest thing to do tonight would be to watch a really, really dumb movie. what do you think?”
• you gladly accept, of course. because nothing can comfort you the way vernon and a silly movie can
• and that night isn’t like your usual movie night, when the two of you are just lazily slumped on the couch with random snacks on the table
• this time, he goes all in: pop-corn, a nice blanket to keep you both warm, his comfiest hoodie (for you to wear of course), and most importantly: he lets you pick the movie!
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bewitchedsouls · 2 days
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princess treatment with simon pt2
warnings: use of female descriptions (wife, girl), food and eating
• simon who sends you money to go and get whatever to want done, whether that’s your hair, nails, shopping, even though you tell him he doesn’t need to as you have your own job and your own money, he still insists, in his eyes whatever his wife wants his wife gets
• simon has your favourite flowers in different colours on pre-order for every month of the year, he would love to give them you in person but incase he’s away on a mission he doesn’t wanna miss the little tradition he’s made for you
• simon who comes back from missions and the next day tells you to get ready, as he has a day planned out for the both of you and a special date for you in the evening
• simon who’s breath is taken away every time he watches you walk out your bedroom door in your pretty clothes ready for your dinner date, who’s heart practically skips a beat as he takes in what he’s missed
• simon who makes you leave your purse and any money you have at home, he would never allow you to pay for anything when he’s around, you might as well insult him
• simon is also a man who when you go out to eat wants you to be eating good, he makes sure you get what you really want and doesn’t ever tell you to hold back, in fact constantly checks if you would like to add anything else, he just wants his girl to be happy and well fed and he’s gonna make that happen
�� simon who as soon as you arrive home, sits you down to take off your shoes for you, being the gentlest giant he can possibly be, you wouldn’t believe this was the cold ghost man who goes into tough battlefields and dangerous situations killing people
• simon who gets his pretty girl to sit on the sofa watching the tv as he runs you a soothing bath with one of the many bath bombs he’s bought for you, lighting you’re favourite candle, anyone would think you were the one doing the job he does
• simon who doesn’t mind doing all this for you though, he just wants to dote on his wife and allow her to feel important, treated and pampered, he is a man who loves his wife and would do anything for her
i hope this one is a good as the last but i feel like it’s not :(( still hope you enjoyed !!
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novulen · 2 days
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𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇 (𝐓𝐈𝐏)𝐒! — *:ꔫ:*
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"Kento!" You call out as you hear the front door swing open after the telltale and familiar jingle of his keys. After aching to see your lover all day, you practically run up to him, arms acting on their own and nwrapping around his neck.
You take in his cedar wood cologne, basking in the comfort and relaxation the smell provides to your nerves. "I missed you."
Nanami drinks in the feeling of your soft body in his hold and smiles. "I missed you too."
After your mushy greetings, and a quick kiss, Nanami allows you to shrug off his suit jacket. Your touch has always been so soothing to him, but somehow, today, you seem to be catering to him more than usual.
Escorting him to the couch and having him sit down, Nanami's essentially putty in your delicate hands as you straddle his lap.
"Sweetheart, is there something you need to tell me?" he asks, catching on to your stratagem, tilting his head, amused.
In a feigned fit of hurt you gasp, clutching your chest dramatically. "Ken, how could you?!" you frown, sighing into the skin of his neck soon after, knowing he's caught you. Nanami doesn't say anything, his steady breathing fanning past your ear.
"Okay, well..." he fights to bite back his delight, his eyebrows raising as he listens. "I want to get a new set," you mumble, placing your manicured hand in his.
Nanami gazes down at the pink acrylic, with white French tips completed with bow charms, and hums. "What's wrong with these?" he questions, taking your dainty hand in his rougher one, and inspects your fingers closer, unable to find anything flawed with your current set.
"I just have something else in mind. And I promise once you see them, you'll get why." you pout, innocent eyes peering up at him with that look you know he can't refuse.
How could he ever possibly say no to that irresistible look--how could he ever say no to you?
Now having fell into your own trap, a noise of deep contemplation rumbles from Nanami's chest.
Hell, he has the money, why not?
"Alright. When do you need the money, love?" he questions, and Kento swears he can't hear his own thoughts with how loud you squeal in glee.
"Thank you, ken," you swoon, your eyes overtaking a lusty, familiar hue. His breath catches in his throat as you kiss him, completely under your spell as you yet again escort him to another place, this time, your shared bedroom.
"By Friday, baby."
-
Friday comes relatively smoothly. Nanami sends you the money--a hefty 350 for both your manicure and to get yourself something.
You get your nails done, and with every opportunity, hide them from him until the 'big moment'--or so you called it.
"Are you ready?" you ask, excited, as you hide your hands behind your back. Nanami sits on the bed, deliciously manspread, nodding along.
"Mhm.."
"Okay! Here it goes."
Slowly, you reveal your nails to him.
Utter silence takes over the bedroom.
You frown as you look at Nanami, an indifferent expression on his face. "You don't like them?"
He shakes his head. "No, I do. but they're just pink,"
And he's right, they're just pink. a brownish-blush pink acrylic—a color that oddly resembles the one of his tip.
"Well, yeah. That's the point, Ken." you smile, slowly advancing towards the blond sat on the bed. Placing yourself on his lap, you begin to speak again.
"doesn't this color seem...I don't know, familiar?" Your lips are now snaking up his neck, soft and plush. Nanami finds it hard to speak when you're on him like this, talking in that tone.
"I--" he stutters, attempting his best to inspect your fingertips. "No."
You giggle, a breathy laugh fanning across his skin.
Perhaps once you compare he’ll get it.
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beawhatchumean · 2 days
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BOOM! IT'S FINISHED!!
after so long, it finally done and dusted and ready for public release :3c
LMK SIX EAR MACAQUE SHIMEJI VER 1.0!!
Just click on the big words and ya can download, ye :D
Contains 2 zipfiles: The normal version and less frames version
Read down below for explanations on that
if got any problems launching and stuff, dont be afraid to message me, i'll try to help ya out :>
but as seen in the quick lil poster i made there, it says extra animation + more more info about that underneath the read 👇
from the top,
EXTRA ANIMATION
Same like the SWK Shimeji, this one is has unique frames for each action of the Shimeji. best example is the walk, run, dash actions seen below
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there are other actions that have unique frames like these, you are free to explore them :>
CUSTOM ACTION NAME
There are a few actions renamed in the shimeji code. Here is a guide for what they do:
Take Out Lantern = Mac takes out his lantern and admires it
Create Clone = Shimeji breeding 1
Visit Shadow = Shimeji breeding 2
disclaimer, I plan on making a full action guide list in the future so you can much easier reference what each action does :>, so stay tune when that happens
CUSTOM ACTION
Just like SWK, you may pet the Macaque!! >:3c give the lil bugger all the love he deserves~ (credit to Kilkakon for the original script)
as seen in this gif :3
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Steps to do this action is as followed:
Make the shimeji sit down (any surface is okay, ie work floor/window top)
Move the cursor to the shimeji's head
Make sure it is a hand cursor and not an arrow cursor
Pet away!!
If you want to pick up the shimeji without prompting the pet action, just move the cursor lower until it turns into the arrow icon
NON-SYMMETRICAL SHIMEJI
One more thing that causes this to be my fav Shimeji so far. HE HAS NON-SYMMETRICAL FRAMES. Meaning his black sleeve stay on his left, while yellow stay on his right.
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To do this, Mackie needed much more frames compared to SWK, which might cause him to lag on some devices. Hence why I prepared 2 versions of Mackie here. One with symmetry and one with none
PLEASE DOWNLOAD THE LESS FRAME VERSION TO NOT FRY YOUR PC'S!!
UPDATES WILL HAPPEN!!
just like SWK, this is version 1.0
updates will happen and I am at work working on the next csutom action. But it will not come out anytime soon since it requires me to draw a bunch of more frames again hhhh
BUT DO STAY TUNED >:3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
but for now that will be all for ver. 1.0
many thanks to anyone interested in this project and of course
BIGGEST THANKS TO THOSE THAT HELPED BETA TEST THEM
for privacy reason they shall stay anonymous but
❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ >:3
PLUS EVEN MORE HEARTS!! ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
158 notes · View notes
undercoverpena · 2 days
Text
7. honey cream
frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seven of do me yourself
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summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.
wordcount: 3.9k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. bad tool names. anxious!reader. an: can i just say a massive thank you to all those who show up EVERY SINGLE WEEK. i adore you so much. thank you. if you're new to the ride, also welcome. even if i loved this story so much, i never expected people to love it even half as much as me, never mind the love i keep getting. so thank you.
prev chapter | series masterlist
key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics
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Nice forearm in your story.
Thanks, It’s this guy I met in a hardware store? We’ve been kind of seeing one another.
Oh, tell him he has a nice watch.
I’ve been told to tell you that you have a nice watch.
You’re hilarious.
I try to be.
You can say no to this, but do you want me to call you later?
That’ll be nice. I’ll be working late so I'll take a break when you do.
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Tomorrow, I just need to grab some bits from the store and then I’ll be with you.
Are you sure you want to spend your day off helping me paint?
I was promised to see you in overalls, so yes.
They’re nice, but please lower your expectations.
I bet they look great on your ass.
Everything looks great on my ass.
Including my hand.
Yes, specifically when you slipped your fingers in my jeans pocket on the way to brunch.
I can’t wait to see you.
Drive safely, Butterscotch.
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“I feel bad that your day off is spent painting.”
Flicking the lid off with a screwdriver, Frankie just smiles—eyes looking up at you from under his cap.
When he looks at you, you might as well be a fly irresistibly drawn to the brilliance of it, captivated by it.
He’d come in clothes that were long since paint-splattered. A set, you assume, he wears most times—an over-washed and over-loved flannel over a greying white tee, and a pair of cargos that have more pockets than you know what they could be used for.
It had been more natural when he’d arrived this time. A sweet kiss at the door, a long hug where he walks you in and his heel kicks your door shut. A muttering of 'you smell nice', into your neck—grinning over his shoulder because you’d sprayed far too much of your perfume.
“Don’t—I want to be here.”
“I think I’ll likely apologise another three times, at least, before we’re done.”
Standing, wearing a slightly twinged expression on his face, he steps over the clean trays and folded step ladders. His hand rises, turning the beak of his cap around, before he’s in front of you, staring at you before he kisses you.
Kisses you like he wishes to rid you of your worries and make your guilt wash away. Like he wants to empty your mind of things you’ve once been told, make you forget them, purge them. Fuck, his mouth almost does.
“So, rule of thumb—ceiling, walls and then kickboards, window sills.”
“Did you… Did you really just finish kissing me and immediately talk about painting?”
Grinning, he chuckles, bending down to grab a paintbrush. “Did you want me to linger on why you feel bad, or are you ready to get your hands dirty?"
You hesitate for a moment before taking the brush, fingers brushing over his. “I guess I’ll get dirty, since it’s with you.”
He seems to swallow, gaze holding yours as a soft smile tries to tug at his lips before flattening out to a line. Then, you just watch as he pours the off-white paint into the trays—its thick, glooping contents filling it quicker than you’d banked on, but he took it perfectly in his stride.
The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, forearms flexing as he tilts the larger tub until he appears content with the measurement in the tray.
You know a thumb covered in paint shouldn’t cause your throat to dry, but it does. Your mind thinking up all the places he can leave a stamp of it, a trail of it, turn you into a map showing where he’s been—over a thigh, collarbone, your —
“Race you to the end of the wall?”
Blinking, finding him already readying his roller on the blank, sun-stained wall.
Before you can respond, he's off. The roller glides smoothly across the wall, leaving a trail of fresh paint in its wake. You laugh, shaking your head at his competitive spirit before joining him, your own brush meeting the wall—cutting in.
In time, the room fills with the rhythmic sound of brushes against the wall, the occasional laughter, and gentle conversations. The room transformed over the hours, looking fresher, already a thousand times better than it had this morning with the patches off filled in holes and cracks.
Taking the brush from your hands, you step back to the middle, looking around, not initially aware of how he’s looking at you. Not until you spot a satisfied smile and a glint in his eye.
“We did good, didn't we?”
You shrug. “Think you could do better—put your back really into rolling next time.”
Shaking his head, he throws your brush into the used tray before he’s grasping, tugging, your body connecting with his in an oomph—his reflexes quicker, arms longer than you’d expected—as laughter escapes out as you slide your hand around the back of his neck.
“Thank you. For helping me.”
“Sure,” he whispers, cheek close to yours, fingers on your hip. “Have I told you how good you look in your overalls?”
Rolling your lips, you slowly turn in his hold—all set to turn his cap for him again. To whisper to him that they’re easy to remove too, that he could slide his fingers up, even slant your mouth back over his again.
But you hear his stomach. It rumbles—practically thunderous.
“I haven’t even offered you food,” you confess, words laced with guilt. “I should make you food.”
“You don’t have to…”
Fingers entwining with his, you pull him—finding him happily following, even as he mumbles about cleaning up, that the paint will dry in the tray. You don’t loosen your hold until the two of you are in the kitchen, a hand needed to open the fridge, both required to pull out some ingredients.
“You cooking for me?”
“I’m going to try, if that’s okay?”
He leans against the counter, watching you with a soft smile.
“I'd love that, baby,” he says, the affection in his voice making your heart flutter like it keeps doing.
Before you’ve even sliced the first vegetable, Frankie excuses himself—a kiss to your cheek, all domestic, normal. It not feeling weird even as he goes back to the “project room” and you hear him tidying.
Because it’s not odd in the slightest him being here.
A thing you turn over as you continue to prepare ingredients, cutting and marinating. By the time he’s returned, sporting an amused smile on his face, you’re about to begin frying things.
“Can I do anything?”
Shaking your head, you glance at him over your shoulder, finding he’s taken up his earlier spot. “Just keep me company.”
And he does. Asking you things, questions—some about your childhood, your family, friends. Every word spoken, he hangs onto. Staring like he’s making notes in his head, committing them to memory, somewhere inside that beautiful, amazing mind of his.
“Should I get used to you cooking if I come round and help you with your project?” he teases, taking a water from the fridge like you’d instructed.
“You better not get used to it,” you retort, throwing a small piece of bell pepper at him playfully. He ducks, laughing. “I batch cook most of the time—easier when you eat for one.”
His eyes follow as you move around the kitchen with a fondness in his eyes, you focusing on not burning anything. Stomach knotting itself when it comes to dishing it up, placing it down, and watching him slide into the stool.
When he takes the first bite, you swear you are frozen—unable to move, or think. Eyes just focused on his, watching, waiting, until you breathe a sigh of relief at the way his eyes light up. “This is really good, baby.”
You can't help but feel a little proud. “Thank you.”
He raises his water in a toast. “To more cooking then,” he proposes, and you laugh, agreeing wholeheartedly.
As you stick your own fork in, it's easy to find comfort in the shared silence, a contentment you continue to be amazed at. The atmosphere all at ease. There's no need for words as you both eat, side-by-side, a relatively normal thing for most, but not for you.
But, none of it feels weird, awkward. It never has—even if part of you continues to wait for it. If anything, it continues to be comfortable, right.
Even as the food effortlessly vanishes off both of your plates, it's not until you've reached your fill that you clear your throat.
“So, how often do you have Luca?”
Chewing his food, he puts down the remainder—wiping his fingers on the napkin. “It’s a weird rota. But it works? I’ll have him in the week for two nights and then overnight on a Saturday one week and then one night in the week the following and then Friday to Sunday, and then I’ll have him for three nights in the week the following. Sometimes, extra if I have time off or I want to take him to see family.”
Nodding, you take a sip of your drink.
“Does that… bother you?”
“No! No, of course not,” you grin. “He’s the most important, in all of this. It was just curiosity, I couldn’t… I couldn’t work out the pattern.”
Chewing his cheek he smiles. “You trying to work out when I’m free?”
Shrugging, you look away, aware of the heat warming your cheeks. “Well, someone did post about brunch on their Stories…”
“I remember someone else posting my forearm on theirs.”
Smiling, you plate your cutlery down. “It’s a very nice forearm.”
Shoulder nudging you, Frankie chuckles—cutlery lined up on his plate, your hand moving to take it. Sliding around the kitchen as he begins debating what part of him will appear next, a thigh, an ankle.
“I can include all of you next time, if you like?” Hand testing the hot, soapy water filling the bowl.
“Yeah?”
Licking your lips, you smile. “I don’t cook for anyone, Morales.”
Shifting to meet your gaze, his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Is that right, Rainy? I must be pretty special then.”
“You have no idea,” you reply, your voice a mere whisper but the words carry an immense weight, one you suspect has snuck out, and embedded itself into him.
You're quick to turn your back to him, hide the heat and shyness, as you carefully rinse off the dishes. Only hearing the stool shift at the last moment, the sound of his sock-covered feet padding around until he's standing behind you.
His presence is unmistakable, more so when he places his hands on your hips. “I think I'm beginning to,” he murmurs into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.
You turn to face him, the plates forgotten in the sink. Looking up into his eyes, seeing a reflection of things fluttering in them.
“You better,” you say, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek, “because I'm not planning on posting anyone else’s arm for a while.”
His grin widens at your words, his hands pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. "Good, because I don't plan on trying brunch with anyone else."
And as he leans down to kiss you, he pauses, mouth hovering over yours. “Speaking of…”
Narrowing your eyes, you retract your head, soap suds sliding off your wrists.
“My friends… they want to meet you.”
His words catch you off guard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Meet...me?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.
As soon as he confirms with a simple nod, you feel a tightness in your chest. An explosion in your mind. A vortex of thoughts, all overwhelming, non-stop.
Each second you try to breathe, the knot in your chest tightens, sitting, carving a bigger hole where your happiness had just been—
“Yes,” he confirms, his hands soothingly rubbing circles on your hips as though noticing your sudden tension. “I think, maybe, I’ve talked about you too much?”
Running your teeth over your lip, you feel a piece of skin. One sticking up, not as smooth as the rest. Lip balm would solve it, fix it—but you pick at it anyway, pick, pick, pick—
Running your teeth over your lip, you notice a stray piece of skin, protruding slightly, disrupting the otherwise smooth surface. Lip balm would fix it, effortlessly smooth it out—but despite knowing this, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to pick at it. Listening to him as he explains, hearing names, a day suggested. As you compulsively pick, pick, pick—
Until he says your name.
Soft. Gentle. So cautiously spoken it makes your heart do a double take as you taste copper on your tongue.
“Are you sure? I mean, I want to. I just… don’t want to intrude or anything,” you reply, and you know it’s left your mouth shaky, bathed in nerves.
Attempting to shake the suds from your hands, hoping to fling off the worries with it, you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. Mind a flurry, a snowstorm of ifs, buts and maybes.
Because meeting his friends is a significant step—a thing you’re happy about, pleased he feels the same way. Yet, you're also terrified.
Digging your hip into the counter because of it, rooting yourself as you flex your fingers.
“Hey.” His fingers gently lift your chin, forcing you to look up at him; eyes full of warmth and reassurance. "You wouldn't be intruding, baby. They're… they’re like my family and… I want them to meet the person I can’t stop thinking about.”
Shoulders sliding down from your ears, you move to rest your hands on his waist. “You really talk about me that much?”
Scrunching his nose, he smiles. “A bit.”
“Okay,” you agree, your voice sounding more confident than you feel. “I'll meet your friends.”
“Great,” he grins, his relief evident. He pulls you close, hugging you tightly. “Benny—the one who fights—that's who we'll be supporting.”
“When?”
He frowns, but vanishes it away as though realising you hadn't been listening. “Not this weekend, but next. They’re going to love you, I promise.”
“I hope so,” you whisper into his chest, your heart rate trying its best to slow down.
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I need you to tell me what I need to do with the office room, if your friends happen to not like me. They’re going to like you. But if they don’t. Rainy, they will. Introducing you is more so they don’t think I’ve made you up. You have a habit of making up people? No. But apparently, the way I talk about you makes it seem like you’re made up. Why? Because you’re perfect. I am not. You are, but let’s have that battle another day. What are you worried about?
It sits there, in your fingers. The answer to his question.
Foot kicking out at your kitchen island, laptop light illuminating your face as you roll your tongue over your lips.
Foot kicking out nervously at the kitchen island, the harsh glow of the laptop casting an eerie light across your face, you roll your tongue over your lips.
A nervous tic. One you find yourself repeating—letting it trace over the same path again and again, desperately seeking a sense of calm that seems perpetually out of reach.
The question doing its rounds, spinning and swirling: What are you worried about? What are you worried about?
Like a bell has been wrung, it blares out. The answer.
It vibrates through your bones and comes back to you in an echo. Almost a chorus: That I’m not good enough.
A thing you’ve done well to ignore, to stuff down. But now, it's crawling up out of its boxes, the tape having barely kept it down, flapping about in the whirlwind of worries in your head.
As your phone screen dims, memories flood, recalling the evidence. The words flung at you, feelings you’ve wrestled with in bathrooms at loud parties and brutal quiet nights; arguments in places that don’t feel like home and tears against brick walls that cut shoulders.
Unlocking your phone, you tighten your jaw because he's not like them. He's good, kind. A sudden unwillingness to bend to insecurity roaring inside of you as you list every good thing about him; not willing to let a good thing be ruined by things that could never happen.
Sliding your fingers over the screen, you type words that seem easier, less difficult to confess:
Living up to the stories you’ve said. No stories, just a mention of your name and apparently a smile they’ve not seen in a while.
With a mouth-closed grin, you purse your lips.
Reading over the message again and again as your teeth sneak out to bite your lip, thumbs darting out over the phone’s keyboard.
Would it be okay to pick you up? You want to pick me up? I do. Yeah, sure. I was going to offer to pick you up. I think I’d like to pick you up, and if I don’t make a fool out of myself, would you like to stay over? I’ll pack your robe.
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As soon as he throws his bag into the backseat and slips into your car, you feel at ease.
The drive over to grab him had been a combination of whispered mutterings about how it was going to be fine and a mind full of all the ways it wouldn’t be.
It’s further helped when his lips press to your cheek, allowing hands to loosen on the steering wheel, and when that low voice sweeps over you as he greets you—as other words hang there unspoken.
You almost say it on sight, I've missed you.
Because you have. A week and a half of messages and phone calls sufficing, but you’ve missed his presence, his face, the chance to brush your fingers over his cheek.
“You look nice.”
Eyes widening, he stares down at himself, palms brushing out over his thighs. “Me?”
“No, the ghost you brought with you—of course, you.”
Snorting, he fastens his seatbelt. “Says you, hermosa.”
“Smooth talker.”
The drive to the fight continues with similar, gentle teasing, all comfortable conversation filling the vehicle. He begins to fill you in on the new developments in the saga of Luca’s newfound love for blanket forts rendering the living room a disaster and you about the sign-off on the work you'd been worked up over.
As you navigate the roads, excitedly sharing about how you've picked a wallpaper you like, Frankie's warm hand finds a home on your thigh, his thumb idly tracing patterns over the fabric of your jeans as he continues talking.
No smirk, nothing. Just the usual smile, as if he'd done this before.
Yet, he hasn't. Unfamiliar sensations surge through your body, catching you off guard, body all ill-prepared for the way it warms you. It almost urges you to shuffle in your seat so his hand rises north; Electricity crackles along your veins, accompanied by a tightening in your abdomen that refuses to dissipate. And, it only worsens when he coughs and his hand grips you a little tighter.
As more of the cityscape flits past your windows, you steal glances at Frankie. His profile illuminated intermittently by the passing street lights, shadows highlighting the rugged contours of his face.
By the time you're pulling into the parking lot, you wish the drive had been longer. Momentarily, you press your thighs together, for reprieve. Only doing so when his hand moves to open the door, the liveliness and music spilling out onto the sidewalk as he comes around the vehicle to take your hand.
“So, where will your friends be?”
Frankie tightens his hand on yours, leading you, holding the door open. “They’ll be in the locker room. Will is Ben’s non-official trainer.”
Nodding, you smile, letting him lead until the two of you come to a stop at the bar—him asking you what you’d like, giving you a look that says please don’t fight me as he takes out his wallet.
“You not needed there?” Shaking his head, ordering drinks as he faces his head forward but his eyes slide down to you. “And what are you, what's your role?”
“His other non-official, less present trainer.”
“You slacker.”
Shrugging, he shakes his head, paying for the drinks. “I know, so much free time to do it too.”
Grinning, you follow him to a spot out of the line, sliding your arm around his back, curling into him—the ice cubes in your plastic cup colliding in the fizziness of your drink.
“I’m glad you came.”
“Because you missed me?”
His mouth opens, parts—the tip of his tongue peeking out as you feel his chest expand before relaxing. “Yeah. Nine days was too long.”
Biting the inside of your cheek, you slide your hand under his jacket, it taking a moment, more awkward than full of ease before you can fan your fingers out against him.
“Technically, it was five—if you count me half-waving to you when I came in to get a screwy.”
Almost spluttering as he takes a sip, he clears his throat, staring down. “You can’t call it a screwy?”
Narrowing your eyes, smirking away. “And why not, Morales?”
“Because suena mal... dirty,” he argues, trying to suppress a laugh.
Your eyebrow raises in question, but before you can retort, his lips are on yours, effectively silencing you. The place around you is all of a sudden silent, muted—as if no one else is around at all. The ring, the lights, and all of the people blurring into nothing, not as your fingers tease over his chin, as your mouth reminds itself what his feels like.
Pulling back, mouth hovering close to his. “So, what do I need to know about your friends? Outside of the obvious.”
The obvious is that they all served together. Frankie had explained it one night as you cooked for yourself, him on a shelf—face filling the screen as you sliced and brewed on the stove.
It was clinically given, top-level you'd been sure. Just the need to know—the need to understand.
“Well, Ben is loud—but he’s gentle. Will is a bit protective, especially since we've all been through a lot together," he begins, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand. “But they're good people. They're upfront and honest.”
“Does Harold like them?”
Tutting, he pauses as he lifts the plastic cup to his lips. “The only person Harry likes is you. And his own family.”
“I’ll be sure to drop that in conversation then. Show them I’m one stamp approved already.”
Tilting your chin up, he licks his lips—slowly, intently. “You have nothing to worry about, alright?” You nod, trying to take in his words. “I mean it.”
“Okay.”
Kissing the top of your head, Frankie keeps his arm around you. Even when Benny's name is shouted and the crowd goes wild.
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I think they like me.
Are you texting me from the bathroom?
Maybe. But, I think it’s going well.
Baby, are you peeing and texting me?
No! I dried my hands and then messaged you.
So you’re leaning against a dirty wall texting me.
Are you grinning like an idiot at your phone?
Don’t answer I can see it.
Shut up.
If that’s the grin you wear when I message you, no wonder they wanted to meet me.
Basta!
You're cute when you're flustered. Can see the red climbing up your neck from here.
Come back and keep me company.
Grin a bit more and I might.
Rainy.
Fuck you're handsome, Butterscotch.
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NEXT CHAPTER ->
an: while the meeting happens off-paper (haha wanted to say off-screen) all meetings won't appear like this 👀. we knew they'd love her, and in time we'll see how much. also, her texting him in the bathroom may be my fave thing she's done off her own accord (i am merely just a body and fingers when rainy begins talking to me)
193 notes · View notes
pedrostylez · 2 days
Text
I’m Here When You Need Me
Joel Miller x f!reader One Shot
Warnings:Angst, feelings, longing, cheating on the readers part, Joel just wants you to be happy, high key hating reader’s husband, age gap mentioned (Joel is in his 50’s, no reader age), insecurities, mentions of body and working out, insecurities, nipple and breast play, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected piv sex ( wrap it people), oral f recieving, I think that’s it
Word Count: 4.1k
A/N: this has had minimal edits and I’m posting from my phone so don’t be judging me!!!! Heed the warnings. I hope you guys enjoy 😊
He’s at it again, dreaming of you wrapped around him. Soft to the touch, warm and needy, just how he likes you.
The telltale sound of his phone wakes him from the comfort of his dreams, vibrating through the pillow to his ear. When he squints his eyes to see your name on the screen, his heart freezes for a moment. You don’t typically call, so it must be important. “Hello?” He sounds groggy, and he hears your pause before a deep sigh. He knows you feel bad for calling him, even though you knew he would be asleep. “What is it, baby?”
“Don’t call me that.” You hiss, breath coming quickly through the receiver, the sound of your teeth biting at your nail.
“Are you alone?” He asks, now sitting up in bed. He’s used to a rogue text here and there, asking if he’s home so that you can slip out while your husband is asleep, or at work. He’s never texted you first, never been the initiator except for the once when he first spotted you in the bar. But a phone call in the middle of the night? Unheard of.
“Yeah.” You sigh, frustration clear in your voice.
He frowns, rubbing at his chin and shuffling out of bed. “Door’s open, baby.” It slips out, and he winces, figuring you’ll correct him again. He can’t help it.
You don’t say anything about the nickname, just give him a quiet goodbye and an ETA.
He doesn’t bother to remake the bed, doesn’t bother to clean up anything. He used to; used to make sure all the dishes were done and that the floor was swept for you. He was embarrassed, a 50 something year old man still living alone and had somehow gotten your attention. He wanted to leave a good impression.
But after enough times of you storming in, how you would grab around the collar of his shirt and thrust yourself at him to feel something, to distract you from whatever issues you were having with him, he stopped worrying.
A habit he shouldn’t get into, but he knew you would come around again and again.
Joel flicks on the outside light, looking out the curtain briefly before sitting on the couch and turning on the TV. He keeps the sound low, listening for the sound of your truck to pull up next to his. His pants are low, riding just below the elastic band of his underwear, loose and warm under the flannel.
He sighs, switching the channel and scratching at his incoming beard. He doesn’t know what mood you’ll be in, what you’ll want, but trying to wake himself up after a long day on the job is all he can do to prepare for you.
The sound of your door slamming has him turning his head, listening to your sneakers shuffle on his brick pathway. The pause at his door, where he swears he can hear you take a deep breath before twisting the knob and letting yourself in.
Your hair, swept to one side and down, loose, wild, has his mouth upturned out of habit. He loves you wild. “Hey.”
“What’s going on?” He asks quietly, letting you shut his front door and slip your sneakers off. He doesn’t dare move, afraid that he might scare you off by being too concerned. You’re in your own set of pajamas, loose shirt and flannel pants with a sweatshirt zipped in the front.
When you sit beside him, you lean into him with your head on his chest. One, two, three big breaths leave your mouth as he wraps an arm around you. It gives you the courage to say what you came here for. “I don’t think he loves me.”
Joel’s heart sinks, the sound of your voice defeated. His arm squeezes around you, looking down to the crown of your head. “No, baby that’s not true.” It slips out again, and he closes his eyes to try and recenter himself. Stop calling her baby.
“He won’t even look at me anymore.” You say again, tilting your head to look Joel in the eye. You’ve accepted it, eyes not shimmering with sadness. “He says he wants me but…never initiates. It’s like I’m begging just for an ounce of attention.”
Joel holds his face neutral, his blood boiling. He wants you, he would give you the attention you deserve. He knows that’s why you’re here, that’s why you called–
“I don’t think he finds me attractive anymore.” You whisper, an uncommitted shrug before you bury your head back against his chest.
Joel rubs his hand up and down your back, looking up toward the TV for a moment. Reruns of Seinfeld, laugh tracks and a bright screen fill his senses. He keeps quiet, keeping his hand moving to reassure you before he says, “I think the world of you.”
You shake under his arm with a brief chuckle, resting your hand on his stomach and swirling, swirling, swirling your finger around his belly button.
He resists sucking his stomach in, knowing you’ll chastise him like you have before. He wants to hold you, body against body to prove to you how much he wants you. “Do you want to go lay down with me?” He asks quietly, feeling your hair slide away from his arm as you pull away from him.
“Sure.” You reach for the remote, clicking off the screen and unzipping your sweatshirt. You turn to him, smirking as you step in the direction of his bedroom. “Just to sleep?”
“If that’s what you want.” Is his immediate answer. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve come to his door just wanting to fall asleep on his chest; he wouldn’t mind it in the least, just to have you next to him.
But the way you smile, the way your eyes shimmer with want, he knows that isn’t what will be happening.
No, not when he turns off all the lights and heads to the bedroom and finds you already under the covers. Your quiet voice asking him to turn off the lights is new, but he obliges.
He fumbles to the bed, getting under the covers and hearing your giggle when you reach for his hand and place it on your breast. He laughs as well, swiping his thumb back and forth over your nipple until it is taunt, peaked against the pads of his fingers. He presses his mouth to your jaw, lightly pinching to hear your whimper against his ear.
He sighs happily, groaning when your fingers wrap around his cock through his pajamas. Your hands are warm, pressing heat into him in ways he misses when you’re gone. He lets his fingers drift down your side, counting your ribs quietly to himself. “Let me see you, baby?” He inquires, letting his lips run down the column of your throat, pressing deeply into the curve of your collarbone.
He feels your tension, the way you freeze for only an instant before going back to your loosened and easy going movements. “What? Don’t like surprises?” You question, squeezing your hand around the head of him briefly before pushing down his pants.
He springs free, your fingers lightly dancing down his shaft making him groan. He wants to tell you that it’s not that he doesn’t like surprises, but he wants to watch you. He looks down, blankets haphazardly in the way, only giving him a peek at what your hand is doing around him.
It feels like heaven, your hand with small calluses at the base of each finger. The smoothness of the rest, silky and enticing pumping up and down, your thumb swiping at the weeping hole to spread some of the wetness around.
He moves the sheet out of the way, letting his eyes trail to your chest before looking up at you as his tongue pokes out, circling the same nipple from before. Your mouth opens in awe, eyes fluttering shut and head thrown back. “J-Joel–”
“Let me see you.” He’s muffled against your skin, flicking his tongue against you and letting his fingers drift further and further down. Joel’s fingers brush over the hem of your underwear, and he can’t help the smile that grows on his face as you giggle. He knows it’s ticklish there, just as he dips his fingers into the humid skin beneath.
Your breath hitches, eyes opening more fully as he moves the blankets with his arm. He notices how you watch it, suddenly self conscious as your legs start to spread for him. “I’m cold, Joel.”
He pauses, letting only the knuckle of his first two fingers continue their movement under the strain of your underwear. You’re slick, his fingers easily moving over your clit with a laziness that he knows you like. You don’t want to be rushed-ever; it’s why you go to his place to begin with. “I’ll warm you up.”
“N-no.” You close your eyes, shaking your head as if falling out of this fantasy. “I want the blankets up here.”
Joel’s fingers pause now, head tilting up to you and frowning. He can see you more clearly now, his eyes having adjusted to the street lamps that filter through his curtains. You’re almost naked below him, frowning with your eyes downturned, looking toward his hand instead of his face. He brings his other hand up, tilting your chin to look directly at him. “What’s wrong, baby?”
You attempt at a scoff, but he’s not buying it. “I’m cold, I told you–”
“You know I think you’re beautiful, right?” He gruffs, frown going deeper as he sees you shake your head. “You know I like to see how you react, touch you, look at you. Why do you want to be covered?”
“I’ll just put my shirt back on.” You snarl, teeth coming out to bite as you lean over the side of the bed, reaching for the shirt you had tossed off before he followed you into the bedroom.
His fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your arm back and holding you to the bed. Unable to roll, you wiggle under him, pulling your hand free to reach again. When he catches you again, you groan unhappily, getting into a pulling and pushing match with him.
He’s stronger than you, the creases in his forehead deepening as he let’s you get away enough times to tire you out, but not letting you escape his question. “Quit fightin’ me, and tell me what is going on.”
Your hands are secured to the pillows below you, breasts bouncing from the intensity of it and your deep breaths. He can’t help how his eyes trail down, wanting to look at you, but seeing you squirm uncomfortably.
You stay silent, glaring at him and then looking to the ceiling as if you’re just going to ignore the question. Joel sighs, annoyance bubbling up in him and trying to tamp it down. It clicks suddenly in his head, that something must have been said to you. “Why do you want to be covered?”
Your eyes trail back to his, your furrowed brow slowly relaxing, the tension in your arms reducing to where Joel releases his grip and lets his fingers trail down to hold your torso. His hands wrap around you, his thumbs stroking at the soft skin under each breast. He’s not sure if your eyes are shimmering with tears, or if it is just a trick in the light when you say, “He…he asked if I had been working out lately.” You swallow, shaking your head. “A-and when I said no, he…he said ‘that’s obvious.’”
Joel’s breath comes quickly, his fingers subconsciously digging into your skin to hold himself steady. He said what? He can’t help but stare at you, waiting for more to come, but you just stare back with a slow buildup of tears in your lash line.
Another moment of silence before you’re sniffling, bringing a hand up to cover your eyes as if embarrassed. Joel releases you as he feels your body shutter, pulling the blankets up around you both and moving his fingers to cradle your head. He lets his dull nails scratch at your scalp, shushing and cooing at you until you’re pressed against him, naked skin on skin in a humid cloud under his blankets.
He lets you cry; it’s the first he’s really ever seen you do so since meeting you. You’ve always been strong, secure and confident in how you present yourself. He found it off putting, in some ways-he had never been with a woman that didn't need him. He was used to being the provider. But you’d always taken care of yourself, came and went as you pleased, and didn’t ask for anything else.
His heart swells with want. “You’re alright baby, I’ve got you.” He husks, moving his fingers to the back of your neck and massaging at the tense muscles there. “He’s a fucking moron, you know that don’t you? You’re beautiful, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”
You shake your head, tears having stopped and a small smile making its way across your face. “No I don't, Miller.”
“You do.” He relents, tilting his head down to look at you again. Red eyes and wet lashes, but otherwise okay. His thumb runs under your eyes, absorbing tears from your face almost instantly. “He shouldn’t be speaking to you that way.”
You roll your eyes. “It’s not a big deal. He’s right, it’s probably why our marriage isn’t going great.”
“That’s not true.” He says immediately, letting his thumb drift to your lower lip and pull it down briefly. “You think your marriage isn’t going well because he doesn’t find you attractive?”
“Among other things.” You sigh, now back to your previous demeanor. Your fingers are dancing over his chest, swirling his chest hair around. “Joel, it’s fine.”
“It’s not.” He argues. “You’re someone any decent man would want. How can he just–”
“Please just, let’s move on.” You cut him off, pressing a flat palm firmly into his chest.
He closes his mouth, breathing heavily through his nose to calm himself down from giving a full lecture. He wants you to understand, to hear him fully. You deserve better than what you have.
You both lay there silently for a moment, just breathing together and not moving. He keeps his eyes on yours, watching yours flick down to his mouth and feeling the way you minutely move towards him. He doesn’t dare move, wanting you to be the one that initiates.
Your hand is gentle against his lower stomach, gliding down again to his now softened cock. It stirs, easy to respond to you. Joel stops your hand, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes.” You’re breathy, pupils having gone wide as he lets go of your wrist. It doesn’t take him long to get hard again with how you move your hand, his mind both empty and racing with thoughts.
When you roll on to your back, offering a silent invitation for him to get on top, he’s eager to let his legs tangle with yours and settle between your thighs. He presses his mouth to your collarbone, trailing down below the blanket as you wished for before, his tongue peeking out when he gets to your core.
You sigh happily when his tongue meets your clit in slow, agonizing circles. He prefers to watch you when he does this, eyes up on your face as his tongue swoops back and forth, over and over the hood of your clit until you’re squirming and reaching down to fist at his hair. He likes watching your neck shine with a thin layer of sweat, the way your hair begins to stick to your face and your eyes closing tightly to just feel him.
But right now he’s below the covers, holding one leg down and open to better feast on his meal, the other reaching up and intertwining his fingers with yours. The hand not in his must be bracing yourself against his headboard, your moans muffled by the sheets and blankets surrounding him.
He lets his tongue dip into you, squeezed briefly by your walls and the yelp you let out makes him chuckle. You never expect the first intrusion, spreading your legs wider to let his shoulders be flat against you, his laugh vibrating against your skin.
He continues this pattern, dipping into you with his tongue, circling your clit, and back again. He doesn’t know how long it goes on for, over and over to the point that he’s closed his eyes to feel you instead of watching you. His cock is hard between his legs, pressing against the end of his mattress and begging to be touched by your hand.
There’s a gust of cool air as you lift the sheet away from him, tossing it to the cold side of the bed and reaching down to his hair. He groans again, missing the feeling of your hand on any part of him, and he winces at the tug you give.
You’re pulling him up, wanting his lips on yours and for him to cover you. He obliges, pressing his lips to yours and grabbing at your thighs to lift around his middle. It would be embarrassing, how hard he is for you right now, pressed to your center and grinding against the slick that he left there, but he can’t care right now.
You want him, and that’s his priority; keeping you wanting him.
“Taste so sweet, baby. You want a little?” He says gently against your lips, pressing into your again and letting his tongue sweep into your mouth. You moan, a high and breathy sound that he loves. “That’s right, you like that, don’t you?”
He waits for your nod of approval, how you lunge for his mouth again and happily kiss his lips and jaw as he adjusts his hips to better line himself up with your center. “Joel, please, get inside me already.”
“Impatient.” He mumbles, smirking at you and tilting his head to bite at your ear. He knows you’re ticklish there, wanting to hear your laugh another time before he fills you and loses all sense of himself inside you.
He feels you tilt your hips for him, letting your half-lidded eyes meet his. The head of his cock weeps, aching to be inside you. Joel moves himself to let his head rest against your waiting entrance, beginning the slow slide in.
He can’t stop the thoughts in his mind, racing around in circle. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Once fully seated inside, you both groan in unison, his arms strained to pull away just enough to look down to where you both are connected. “Fuck.” He bites out, looking back up to your face and letting one hand rest on your jaw. “You’re so fucking perfect around me.”
“Joel, move honey.” You whine, reaching out to his shoulders and pulling him back to you. Your nails dig into the taunt muscle, the feeling soothing him.
Honey.
You don’t call him that unless you’re in a different headspace–where you forget the circumstances of why you’re here. It was difficult early on for Joel to get you to relax, even though the act itself made you like putty in his hands. No, he focused on you mentally relaxing, truly forgetting your worries. When you were like this, he could say what he meant. “You’re so perfect baby.” He strains, thrusting into you at a slow and methodical pace. His hips press into the backs of your thighs, his fingers holding around your jaw tighter. “So fucking wet, you wanted this, huh? Wanted me to fuck you like this?”
You nod as he speeds up, the sound of your skin slapping against his now more prominent, the frame of the bed creaking quietly behind it. I love you. I love you. I love you.
He has to stop himself from saying it. The first time he had, he thought it would be the end of whatever the two of you had going. It had slipped out over six months ago, on your way out the door after riding him on the couch.
“I love you.” He had said quietly, watching you redress after climbing off of him.
You turned to him, a half smile on your face. “No, you don’t.” You said simply, waving at him and going on your way. He didn’t expect you to call him after that, and was shocked when just the next night you were on his doorstep waiting for him after work.
And now you’re below him, and just as every time before after that first admission, he wants to say it again. You’re crying out, asking him to come instead of announcing you’re going to, and he speeds up his movements. “You wanna finish around my cock?” He asks, his voice unrecognizable. “I’ll let you, go ahead baby. Let me see it.”
You nod, tears brimming your eyes again for a different reason than before. He feels you tighten in waves around him, sucking him in further as he tries to hold himself back. Joel continues to pump his hips, his lower back tingling with his own release ready.
“J-Joel–” you moan, digging your nails deeper into his shoulder. “Come inside me, pl-please.”
He grunts, forgetting himself and pushing forward with a whine he’s never heard leave his mouth. His eyes close as his come coats your walls, warm and welcoming of it. Joel rests his forehead against yours, sweaty skin pressed to sweaty skin, smiling down at you and breathing heavily. “Fuck baby–”
“Don’t call me that, honey.” You tease, eyes fluttering shut and an award winning smile spreading across your face.
He pulls out, wincing at how tight you are around him still, resting on his side and letting his arm wrap around your middle. “Stay?” He asks quietly, watching you turn your head and opening your eyes to look at him.
You think for a moment. “I need to clean up, and then I’ll decide.”
He grunts in disapproval, letting you slip out of his grasp and step into the ensuite bathroom. The light blinds him briefly, your ass the only thing he can see as you lean over the sink to get a closer look in the mirror. Joel props his head up, watching as you push up on the balls of your feet to get closer, your arms coming out to the door frame and leaning over to look at him. “Do you have wipes?”
He had bought some after the first few times of you being there, asking every time if he had any. He had got you to say what brand they were, and he kept them stocked now. “First drawer on the right.”
You hum happily, pulling out a face wipe and turning back to him, watching him as you scrub at your forehead and cheeks. “Did you want to clean up?”
He shakes his head. “Want to keep you on me, if you don’t mind?”
You smirk, rolling your eyes as if you don’t care. When you finish, you flick the light off and walk toward the bed, Joel blinded briefly from the change in light. “Where’d you go, baby?”
“I’m here.” You whisper, shifting the bed as you climb in and pull the covers from the other side to cover you both. You’re still naked, now cooled skin against him. “I’ll stay, if that’s okay.”
“Of course.” He whispers back, smiling to himself and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, enjoying how you snuggle into his body and neck, fitting perfectly with him. “I’d let you stay as long as you want. You know that.”
You sigh, circling your fingers against his chest hair. “What if…” you trail off, fear taking hold of your voice in a way that makes Joel uncomfortable. He squeezes an arm around you, waiting. “What if I’m too scared to have things change?” You whisper, tensing in his arms.
Joel remains relaxed, his mind swimming with I love you, I love you, let me love you. He sighs, pressing another kiss to your head. “I’m here for when you need me, if you want me.” He says quietly, feeling you relax in his arms again.
Your eyelashes flutter against his skin, your breath slowing down and becoming deeper. As you fall asleep, Joel swallows harshly. He’s here when you need him, and it was never going to change.
144 notes · View notes
zepskies · 2 days
Text
Take Me Home - Part 6
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Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 
Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 
AN: Get ready for a rollercoaster of emotions…
Word Count: 4.6K
Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, tinge of spice~
❤️ Series Masterlist
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“Michael?! What are you doing here?” you asked. 
He stood there with determination set across his face.
“We really need to talk.”
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“We already did! Just leave me the hell alone,” you said. If your day hadn’t been long already, you knew it was about to be even longer. 
Because just as you began to close the door, Michael slapped a hand on the center of it and pushed his way into your apartment.
You gasped and had to back up a couple of steps. “What are you doing?”
“Just hear me out, and then I’ll leave,” Michael said, staring down into your eyes. “That’s all I want.”
He pushed the door closed behind him, but it swung open, just a crack. In his heated state, he hadn’t even noticed. Neither did you. You stepped back further into the center of the living room and crossed your arms with an angry frown. 
“I don’t care!” you snapped. Your patience quota for the day had run out a long time ago. “I just want to be done. Don’t you get that?”
“I know,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. He looked tired as hell; like he hadn’t been sleeping well for weeks. Now in the light of day and not a dusky bar, you could see the darkness under his eyes and the stubble on his cheeks, though he was usually clean-shaven. 
“I know and I’m sorry. I hurt you badly, and I never even told you why,” he said.
You tilted your head in contemplation. Because he was right. For all these months, you’d been so incensed at the bare facts of what he’d done, you’d never looked too deeply into the why.
The one time you’d asked him (while throwing his clothes and possessions out of your shared apartment at the time), he’d never given you a good answer.
“Okay, fine. Why did you do it then?” you asked. “Why did you betray me in the worst way possible, and still try to marry me?”
Michael sighed, his shoulders sinking. “The truth?”
That sparked your anger once more.
“No, keep lying to me like you’ve done from the very start!” you retorted.
“It wasn’t from the start!” he barked back. “It was around six months in, when we were dating. You and I had argued about something stupid. Kate came over to talk it out with me…just to talk. I swear to God. But we were drinking and…”
You let out a sigh, casting your gaze upwards. You really didn’t think you wanted to hear this after all. Michael earned your attention back though, when he took a step forward into your orbit.
“She got pregnant,” he admitted.
Your mouth fell open as your breath left your lungs. Your hands went to your temples in disbelief, and you made a sound of pure shock and distress.
“But she lost the baby early on,” he said. “She was devastated. I was too, but…I tried to help her through it. And it became this, this thing that wouldn’t let go of me. She wouldn’t let me go.”
You shook your head as furious tears welled up in your eyes. This was just too ridiculous and upsetting to compute. You didn’t even recognize the man that was standing in front of you anymore.
How could he blame Kate for what they’d done to you, and for clinging to him after losing her baby? How could he keep that from you, even when he asked you to marry him?
And how could he tell you all of this now and expect you to forgive him?
You didn’t have the words, but you held out a hand against him when he tried to take another step toward you.
“I know I fucked up. I fucked everything up. But you don’t have to come all the way here to run away,” he said. “Your parents miss you. Our friends…they all love you. And most of them rightly don’t want anything to do with me.”
He looked down then, with shame coloring his features. 
Through your tears and the struggle of collecting yourself, you studied him closely with your arms crossed.
You’d known Michael for several years. Even considering the months you two had been apart, you knew he was the same—stubborn and hot-headed and full of audacity as ever. But…he also seemed genuinely remorseful. And desperate.
“If you give me one more chance, I promise I won’t mess it up again. I’ll be the man you deserve,” he said, taking your hand and uncrossing your arms in the process. “Believe it or not, I took a week off without pay, just to be here and get a chance to say this to you: I love you. I love you. And I know now that it’s meant to be you.”
You hesitated, and even made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. They were a crisp dark blue, and yet, not the warm green you’d come to crave. You shook your head.  
“I get it, Michael. I really do…but I can’t do this anymore,” you said. “It’s too damn much.”
You began to slip your hand out of his, but he held you a fraction tighter. He frowned. 
“Are you seeing someone? Is it that guy from the other night? That cop?” Michael asked. 
“Stop it,” you warned in anger. Beau was part of the reason your heart held pain, but it wasn’t the main reason you wanted to be done with Michael Hadley.
You tried to twist your wrist out of his grip. He wouldn’t let you, instead, trying to bring you closer. 
“That’s not an answer,” he said in frustration. “Please, we can start over—”
“Let go!” you demanded. You yanked your hand out of his, and the rest came on instinct. 
Your slap was loud against his cheek, and it made your hand sting too. You also pushed him hard in the chest. Michael was forced to step back while holding his reddening face. He looked back at you in disbelief. 
You were breathing hard, shocked even at yourself. You’d never done that before in your life, but then again, never had you felt the panic of a man holding you against your will. 
Michael’s brows furrowed. He called to you in a pleading tone, and he reached for your arm to placate you.
You quickly stepped back again on reflex. Your heel tripped on the tile floor and you gasped as you felt yourself careening back…onto the glass coffee table behind you.
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After putting his investigation of Avery to bed for the night, Beau felt drained on all counts.
He punctuated the end of his day by calling to check up on Frank Davis, the local firehouse chief, and the father of one of the firefighters who was killed a few months back. Brett, one of the other victims, had carried the guilt of his best friend’s death to his grave. 
Inevitably, that case brought up old memories for Beau. It also reminded him of you, and the situation with your firefighter ex-boyfriend. ‘Scuse me, ex-fiancé.
He also felt bad about how things ended with you in his office. He knew he wasn’t being fair to you. 
As his daughter reminded him the other night, if he’d just been a bit more “open” and honest, maybe he could’ve saved his marriage.
Now with Michael likely trailing you, he didn’t want you to feel like you couldn’t come to him, or even call him for that matter.
He seemed to be a bit of a hothead too, Beau thought. While he climbed into his truck and peeled out of the station, he debated stopping by to see you. Carla and Emily wouldn’t be getting over to his place for a couple of hours. That did give him some time. 
And when it came down to it, was he a man, or was he a coward?
He knew it wouldn’t sit right with him if he didn’t try to make this right, in whatever small way.
So with that decision made in his mind, he drove over to your apartment complex. When he parked in one of the guest spots, he noticed another one occupied by a rental car, a gray sedan.
A small tingling of unease buzzed in the back of his mind. Beau approached your building, went inside, and started up the stairs. When he began to hear raised voices, a man and a woman who sounded too much like you, that gut feeling became a red hot alarm making his chest tighten.
He took the stairs nearly two at a time to get up to the second floor, where he saw that the door to your apartment unit was cracked open. He could hear glass shattering from inside.
He sprinted down the hall, and with a hand on his gun at his belt, he swung the door open.
The first thing he saw was Michael’s tall frame standing over you, frozen in shock. You were lying on your side amidst a shattered coffee table, fallen through the wooden frame. There was glass everywhere and underneath you, with magazines and pictures and other knickknacks strewn across the floor.
“What the hell’s going on here?!” Beau barked out.
Michael had turned at the sound of the door banging open. He met the sheriff with wide eyes. Beau’s expression set with a grim, angry frown. Though he willed himself to hold his temper in check, he immediately stepped forward and grabbed Michael’s shoulder, pushing him back and creating space between him and you.
“Step back,” the sheriff snapped.
“Beau,” you uttered in disbelief. You had tears in your eyes at the sight of him.
“Hey, darlin’,” said Beau. His voice was still rough, but more gentle for you. He knelt down at your side and carefully wrapped an arm around your waist to help lift you off the glass.
“You okay?” he asked you.
“Y-Yeah.” Though you raised one of your hands from the ground and blanched at the sight of a sizable piece of glass embedded in your palm. Beau’s lips flattened into a line.
He paused for a moment, turning his head back towards Michael.
“Stay exactly where you are,” he ordered, in a tone that boded no argument.
And Michael offered none. He stood there with furrowed brows. He even looked on at you in worry and frustration, knowing he couldn’t help you. He could only watch the sheriff make slow movements to help you out of the glass.
“Okay, slow for me,” Beau said. He spoke to you in low, calming tones whenever you made a sound of pain. He hooked an arm under your knees and lifted you out of the coffee table’s remains.
“Easy, I gotcha,” he murmured, helping you sit on the couch. You folded your legs off to the side, so you weren’t continuing to step in the glass on bare feet. Besides your right palm, your arm and right thigh had a few bleeding cuts of various degrees.  
After making a short glance at a still concerned Michael, Beau turned to you.
“Did he push you?” he asked.
“No, I didn’t fucking push her!” Michael said. 
“He didn’t,” you confirmed. “But he did shove his way into my apartment.”
Beau’s jaw tightened. He looked back at Michael, and his gaze demanded an answer. 
“I just—I just wanted to talk! Obviously I didn’t mean for this. Goddamn it,” Michael said, wiping a frustrated hand over his face. “Are you okay?”
You sighed. Beau set a hand on your shoulder. 
“Do you want to press charges for trespassing?” Beau asked you.
“Oh, come on!” Michael exclaimed. Beau pointed at him with a hard stare.
“You pipe the hell down,” he said tersely. “And don’t you move a damn inch. Because if you do, so help me, it’ll just about make my day.”
He flashed the other man a look at the handcuffs (and the gun) on his belt.
Beau then returned his attention to you. You were attempting to pick the glass out of your hand. He stilled your movements with a gentle hand on your wrist. 
“Hey, hey, wait on that for me, okay?” he asked. You looked up at him tiredly. 
“It’s okay. Just let him go,” you said. You shifted your gaze to Michael. “Go back to Chicago, for real this time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Michael’s face became disheartened, but his eyes fell to your injured hand. Blood was streaming all the way down your forearm and dripping on the tile floor, along with the other smears of blood amongst glass. 
He knew what he’d done. It made him even more sick with himself.
He turned to leave.
You watched him go, and you could no longer hold in your quiet tears. It wasn’t for him leaving. You just couldn’t believe it had all come to this. 
Beau lightly squeezed your shoulder. 
“Hey, I’ll be right back, okay?” he said. “Do me a favor and don’t move.”
“Okay,” you said, in an uncharacteristically small voice.
Beau tried to give you a reassuring smile. He gave into the desire to sweep a stray lock of hair away from your eyes, allowing him to brush your cheek with his fingers. You gave him a small smile back, despite your watery eyes.
Beau nodded and got up from the couch. He made swift strides out of the apartment, making sure to close the door behind him. He then hastened down the hall and the stairs to catch up with Michael in the parking lot. Beau was hot on his trail to the rental car.
“Hey!” he called out.
Michael paused in his gait. He turned to face the sheriff, sporting a look of frustration.
“What?” he shot back.
“You better take her warning for the gift it is,” Beau said. He closed the distance between him and Michael, but resisted the urge to grab the other man and hurl him against the car.
“It’s time for you to go home,” Beau said. “I don’t want to see you in town. I don’t want to hear that you’re following her around or blowing up her phone. Do you hear me?”
Michael stood straighter, his jaw working in anger.
“Are you threatening me, Sheriff?” he asked.
“No. I’m thinking you’ll be smart enough to take some friendly advice,” Beau said, but his eyes were sharp. “If I have to threaten you, then we really will have a problem.”
Michael was younger, leaner, probably faster, but Beau edged him out by a couple of inches, on both height and build.
“Just let her get on with her life,” said Beau.
Fortunately, the standoff didn’t last long.
Michael’s anger soon relented, letting the guilt and shame shine through.
“Make sure she’s okay,” he said. “Tell her…that I’m sorry.”
Then he turned and walked away. Beau watched him get into his car and leave the premises.
It wasn’t until the rumble of the engine faded away that Beau released the clenched fists at his sides. He pivoted slowly on his heel and made his way back up to your apartment.
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And your door was locked.
On one hand, he understood your fears. On the other hand, he’d asked you not to move from the couch.
“Who is it?” you asked, after he knocked.
“It’s just me, don’t worry,” Beau answered. You opened the door with your good hand and let him in, while holding up your bloody one with a bunch of crumpled gauze and medical tape hanging down your arm. It looked like you got the glass shard out, but you were struggling on the “wrapping it up” part.
“Oh, sweetheart, I asked you to wait for me,” he said. His brows furrowed as he took your wrist and elbow to steady you.
“Yeah, well, I got impatient,” you replied, but your attempt at a smile lightened him too. 
Beau followed you to the kitchen sink and grasped your hand carefully. You’d already cleaned and sterilized the wound, so all he had to do was wrap it for you with some gauze and medical tape. 
“This is kind of deep. You might wanna go to the ER,” he said. “I could take you.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s really not that deep,” you replied.
“You sure?” Beau asked, frowning at you. “How you doin’? You okay?”
Your face had been tight with pain while he tried to get the wrapping right with deft hands. At his questioning, you softened with a wry smile. 
“I’m fine, more or less,” you said. “But…how…why were you here to begin with? How’d you know I was in trouble?”
Beau met your gaze for a moment. He was able to delay answering your question until he finished wrapping your hand. Afterwards, he sighed.
“I came to apologize,” he admitted. “But first, can I help you clean up around here? You just sit and relax. I’ll sweep up all this glass and mop the floor.”
You let out a long breath, your shoulders sinking. “Oh, Beau, don’t. You don’t have to do all that.”
“But see, I actually want to,” he said, giving you one of those grins you’ve come to know and expect. You couldn’t help but smile back.
“Okay.”
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A thorough sweep, vacuum, and mopping, then a couple of cracked open beers and an order of Chinese later (plus cleaning and patching up the rest of your cuts), Beau sat next to you at the dining table and officially made his apology.
“I’m sorry for how things turned out today at the precinct,” he said.
You shook your head. You’d had some time to think about all of that, and there were things you could’ve handled better too.
“Beau, look. I get it,” you said. “You’re dealing with a lot at work, with Carla and Emily too, and…really, we haven’t known each other all that long. It wasn’t fair of me to expect you to open up on something that clearly still hurts you. Especially in the middle of your office.”
Beau let out a breath through his nose. He smiled and laid a gentle hand over your uninjured one, earning your widened gaze.
“You’re a sweetheart for that, but the truth is, you had a point today,” he said. “I’m a difficult man to know. It’s a flaw of mine that my ex-wife has pointed out several times. And even my daughter. Sometimes she looks at me like she can’t understand me.”
You bit the inside of your lip. You debated asking the question you wanted to ask. With his hand over yours, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand, you were able to gather your courage.
“Does it have something to do with the reason you were in grief counseling?” you asked. “About your partner on the job?”
Beau nodded, his smile fading. “Yeah, it does. It has a lot to do with Randy.”
He took a moment, but you gave him the time he needed to find his words. Eventually he began to explain to you what happened in Houston.
How he’d been an upper-level officer dealing with a narcotics case. His partner, Randy Santos, had volunteered to infiltrate a drug cartel undercover. He stayed in the field for a few months longer than protocol, but he was so close, he’d claimed. One bust, and they could arrest the kingpin. The entire cartel would crumble.
Beau had backed him up with the Chief, against his better judgment. When the time came that Randy had helped arrange a drug deal, Beau was the one leading the squad on the bust.
“It went south so fast,” he said.
And he paused in his story for a moment. His eyes were far away, lost in memories.
You squeezed his hand over yours to bring him back. He met your gaze.
“When it got down to it, I had two choices,” he said. “Take out the boss, or take out the guy right in front of me, Dante. Now, Dante had his back turned. He couldn’t see me. Would’ve been fish in a barrel…but I went for the head of the snake. I shot the kingpin. I didn’t realize that Dante had already burned Randy. Knew he was a cop.”
Beau met your gaze then. “Dante shot Randy in the head, point blank.”
Your mouth fell open in disheartened shock. Beau took a long sip of his beer, wishing it was whiskey.
“I saw it all…in slow motion. Just like the movies,” he said. “I see it almost every night, without fail.”
You shook your head helplessly. “Beau. It’s not—”
“Not my fault?” Beau gave you a sad smile. “Oh, but it was. Nothing else to it. Bad leadership. bad police work. Bad friend.”
He continued to drink his beer.
“And I checked out,” he said. “My wife and daughter paid the price of my absence. Picking myself off the bottom of whatever crusty bar would have me that night. Refusing to go to counseling. Generally making an ass of myself.”
You covered his hand with your bandaged one. It got him to look at you and forget his beer for a moment.
“It was a hard call,” you said. “Anyone could’ve made the same one you did.”
“Yeah. And it got my best friend killed,” Beau said. “His wife, his ten-year-old boy, his parents. They’ll never be the same because I messed up. I can’t abide that.” 
He sucked in an unsteady breath. “It still…sometimes I wake out of a dead sleep, and I see his face. I see the body they brought back.”
His eyes were red and shining. The emotion in his voice choked you up as well, making your eyes sting. 
You raised a hand to touch his cheek, your thumb drifting tenderly across his chin. 
“You’re not a difficult man to know,” you said. A tear found its way down your cheek, and then another. You didn’t bother to wipe them away. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you care. About your team, your family, everyone…even messy, accident-prone women.”
You gave him a smile at the last bit. He was able to give you one back, through his own unsteady breath.
“Especially those,” he agreed. Your hand moved down to his shoulder. 
“And you also like to eat. A lot,” you quipped. “I think you’ve got about three stomachs.”
“Probably four, realistically,” he said with a tearful laugh. He wiped at his face with both hands. You waited for him to meet your gaze again before you continued.  
“You’re also an old-fashioned cowboy,” you said, with a brighter smile. Your hand slid down, this time to his chest, over his heart. “But you’re a good man, Beau. That, I knew from the very beginning.”
Beau clasped your hand where it lay on his chest, almost on reflex. He was sure you could feel his heart tripping up, double timing. He reached out for your cheek, guiding your face up to his. He leaned over slowly, giving you time to say no, whether with words or with actions.
But your eyes, though still a bit shiny from tears, were nothing but beautifully welcoming. So he took a shot. He began to cross the distance between your lips and his.
And his phone buzzed on the table, making both of you jolt. 
It was just a text message. Frowning, Beau looked over and read the preview. When he saw Emily’s name, he cursed under his breath. He reached for his phone and opened up the message.
Hey, where are you?
“Shit,” he said. “Emily’s been staying with me all week and Carla’s joining us tonight, to be safe. They’re there already, asking where I am.”
You would be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed beyond measure, but you nodded.
“Then you should go,” you said.
You squeezed his hand before you released him. Beau wasn’t happy about it either, but he did the same. He helped you clean up the dining table and gathered up his wallet and keys. You walked him over to the front door, where Beau debated how he should leave this.
The door was open, literally and figuratively as you leaned against its frame. You couldn’t hide your unease. You didn’t know where this left the two of you either.
Beau sighed and propped a curled finger under your chin, earning your gaze.
“I need to settle some things. After…” he trailed. You nodded at what he was trying to say.
“When Carla and Emily have stability again, we can talk,” you finished for him. “I’ll be here.” 
He looked at you in wonder. 
“You’ll really wait for that?” he asked. His brows creased, and he truly marveled at your patience with him. “You know you don’t have to.”
A smile curved your lips. “Something tells me you’re worth waiting for, Sheriff Arlen.”
Beau grinned at you fondly. He cupped the side of your face and pressed a kiss to your cheek. 
“Well, thank God for that,” he said. “Really, thank you…”
Lord help him, but he couldn’t help himself. He finally crossed the distance and kissed you.
Your chest rose with your breath, but when your eyes fell shut, you couldn’t help but melt against him. You gripped the front of his buttoned-down shirt for stability while his fingers tangled in your hair. It all grew with heat when he tilted his head, tasting you deeper with each new kiss.
He pressed you into the doorframe, trapping your body with his. You held onto him like a lifeline.
While his hands drifted down your back and rested on your hips, bunching the material of your pretty yellow sundress, you twined your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. He felt your every curve, soft breasts and thighs and sweet sighs.
He released a sound of pleasure, deep in his throat. His lips veered away from yours to burn a slow trail down to your neck. He was satisfied by the way you moaned and struggled to catch your breath at his ministrations.
Your fingers wound up sweeping through his hair. It both soothed and aroused him, somehow. But Beau knew if he didn’t stop here, he wouldn’t be able to again.
He laid one last kiss under your ear that hinted with teeth, making you shudder. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. You two breathed together for a moment, just existing here, hearts racing.
“I gotta go,” he said. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
You nodded, biting your lip. He pulled back further and thumbed at your lower lip. 
“Don’t do that, or I just might have to go back on my word,” he said, giving you a smirk.
You smiled in amusement. “Promise?”
Beau chuckled. He stole one more heated kiss before he withdrew from you, his hand lingering on your cheek. Heaving a sigh, you turned him around by his broad shoulders and reluctantly sent him on his way. 
Halfway down the hall, he slowed to look back at you. Seeing you leaning against your door, still catching your breath, all hot and bothered…it nearly broke his resolve.
“Nope,” he muttered.
He shook his head and forced himself to keep walking until he hit the stairwell for the umpteenth time today. 
He would stop three more times on the way to his car before he actually left your building.
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AN: 😘 So, how'd you like the official "end" of Michael Hadley? And finally, finally, we get to a first kiss. In Part 7, we enter some even deeper waters...
Next Time:
“I’m actually glad you’re here,” she said. “I’ve kinda got a question for you.”
“Kinda?” you echoed with a smile, but you pat her on the knee. “What’s on your mind, honey?”
Emily looked a little unsure. It had you giving her your undivided attention.
“It’s about my dad,” she began. Your smile slowly fell, but now you were really listening.
“Okay,” you nodded.
Emily opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, the lights in the entire office went out.
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Ko-Fi Me ☕
Series Masterlist
Big Sky Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Series Tag List (Part 1):
@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @ades106
@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @deans-baby-momma @tabsluvsu @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons
@antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @deans-spinster-witch @agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @iprobablyshipit91 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @lostin-jensenseyes @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow
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circle-with-me · 16 hours
Text
make me feel like a god - noah sebastian x g/n reader
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pairing: noah sebastian x g/n reader (no use of pronouns)
content warning/tags: 18+ MDNI!! handjob, spit as lubricant, use of sex toys (anal plug), overstimulation, whining/whimpering noah gets his own warning <3
word count: 1.6k
tag list: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @darksigns-exe @malice-ov-mercy @to-be-written @sitkowski @tearfallpixie @collective-heartbreak @cookiesupplier @cind6547 @meekahy @lacktoesandtoddlerants @jilliemiw86 @sammyjoeee @collapsedglasshouses @broken0mens @itsafullmoon @bruisedleftknee @0fth34byss @unicornfairytail @catharsis-in-darkness @agravemisstake
if you would like to be added to my tag list please sign up here.
author’s note: this idea came from a fun little fever dream i had when i was sick with strep throat last week. so, shout out to fever dreams, i guess.
dividers by @saradika-graphics
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Noah mentioned the idea to you in passing. It came a few days after the two of you had spent an evening together watching porn. One particular video had a man using an anal plug during sex. A vibrating plug, specifically.
As you watched together, you noticed how it intrigued him. How sensitive it made the man on the screen, the intensity of his orgasm. By the end of it, he had hit replay and pulled you on top of him, desperate to be inside of you.
So when he sidled up to you in the kitchen a couple of days later, you had to hide your knowing smile. He struggled with his words, wringing his hands together like it was the world’s biggest favor. It broke your heart a little, knowing he was so nervous to ask you for something he wanted.
Finally, he managed to ask. He told you he had been thinking about it all week, making sure he really wanted to do this. He had done research. How he needs to prepare, the best kind of lubricants, even the best toys for beginners.
Once he’s finished you sneak down to the hallway closet. You pull a small black gift bag out and return to the kitchen quietly. Noah gives you a quizzical look as you sit the bag down but he opens it without question. His eyes bug out of his head when he realizes you’re already one step ahead of him.
“It’s simple.” You say, bumping your hip into his. “Nothing fancy. The shop owner said to start small.”
It was indeed simple. A black slender device with a flared base about 3.5” in length. Noah comments on the different speeds and pulses. You look over them together and he seems elated. You can’t help but feel excitement pool in your belly.
Noah nearly shoots through the ceiling when you ask if he wants to try it out. He tightly grabs the bag and bounds up the stairs to shower, but not before kissing you on the cheek.
Nearly an hour goes by and you’re getting worried. You consider going up there to check on him but you don’t. If he needed help he would ask. Plus, you know how he is, if he said he’s researched it he’s definitely a pro by now.
No sooner do you finish your thought does he call down the stairs for you.
He’s sitting in the chair by his desk when you enter your room, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. He sees you watching him and flashes a nervous, crooked smile at you, your heart fluttering in response.
“Are you ready, baby?”
Noah nods, straightening himself in his seat.
“Yeah, it’s um… it’s in. I haven’t turned it on. I was going to let you do that.” He stretches his arm out to hand you the remote and you take it. He looks at you expectantly as he glides his fingers down your leg.
“Do you want to stay here or move to the bed?”
He considers the question for a moment, looking to the bed and back to you. Eventually he decides to remain in his current position and you nod, bending over him to place the remote directly behind him on the desk. His gentle touches against your thighs become more insistent, dragging you to sit down with him.
Settling onto Noah’s lap, your hands drift into his hair. The locks at the nape of his neck are still damp as you twist your fingers through them. You nuzzle against his neck, inhaling his scent, catching your strawberry shampoo he used in the shower. The fruity notes blended with his own natural musk has your head swimming.
You trace your tongue along the outside of Noah’s ear, feeling him shiver from your touch. As you graze your teeth over his earlobe he whimpers, the chair creaking underneath the two of you as he shifts. He’s so sensitive already.
Tonight is going to be even better than you imagined.
Noah attempts to slot your hips over his but you resist. He tries again and you refuse, focusing on marking up his neck. His frustration is clear but he doesn’t try again. Instead, he lays his head back against the chair giving you more access to explore. His fingers tighten then relax around the back of your neck while his other hand ventures up your shirt.
He whines when you don’t remove your shirt as quickly as he wants and you quietly scold him. He apologizes with the prettiest little pout and you reward him by removing the rest of your clothes, returning to your seat on his lap. His breath catches in his throat when you glide your hips over his, grazing his half-hard cock.
His hands shake as he reaches for your hips to guide them over his own. You allow him to indulge for a moment, getting your own satisfaction out of it as well. It takes all of your willpower to stop, however, reminding yourself that this is about him, not you.
Noah is easily soothed when you ask if he’s ready to turn on the plug. He nods enthusiastically, dragging his lip between his teeth in anticipation. Running your fingers through his hair you ask him if he’s ready. He takes a deep breath and nods, telling you to continue. You grab the remote and hit the button.
Noah's moans quickly mute the quiet pulsating buzz from the device. Every muscle in his body tenses as he gasps for air, reaching out for you desperately. You allow him to pull you close, snaking his arms tightly around your center. He crashes his lips into yours, prying your mouth open savoring your taste. You press the button again, and the vibration speeds up slightly, making him quiver beneath you.
He holds you against him so tightly you find it hard to breathe. Nothing but quiet gasps and whispered curses escape him as he hangs off of your lips, trying to regain his composure.
“Please..” Noah pitifully chokes out. You kiss the sides of his mouth repeatedly in an attempt to coax out his words but it’s of no use. He’s entirely too blissed out to speak. Adjusting yourself on his lap just so, you move your hand between the two of you.
“Shh, baby. I’ll take care of you.”
Sweet words of praise spill from him as you take him in hand. His words are cut off by a moan when you spit on his cock, spreading your saliva along his length. He calls out your name, resuming his praise. Stuttering how good you are to him as he digs into the meat of your thighs.
Noah watches you jerk his cock slowly, begging for you to go faster. Quieting him with a kiss, you ask him to be patient. He tries to relax and be good for you, but you can’t help but notice tears welling up in his gorgeous brown eyes, his desperation evident when he raises them to meet yours.
Saliva pools at the edges of his open mouth and spills onto your hand. You speed up your movements, forcing a strangled whimper from him. Writhing beneath you, he leans back against the chair, head lolling over the headrest.
The orange glow in the room lights up his tattooed body. Beads of sweat glide down his heaving chest. His muscles contract with every new sensation he feels. You watch as his jaw clenches tightly, only to relax again as he cries out for you. The man before you is so strikingly gorgeous everything that surrounds you fades and disappears.
Noah’s efforts to speak come out as incoherent nonsense. Seeing him so completely subdued and in this euphoric state stirs up feelings inside of you so intense you can’t place them. His half-lidded eyes bore into you and it becomes clear to you that he’s surrendered himself to you completely.
You soothe his face with your hand, kissing the tears cascading down his cheeks. The intimate act is in stark contrast to the way your hand is furiously maneuvering over his cock. For all of the beautiful sounds you’ve pulled from him, you get a sense he needs something else. Something in the way his hips stutter into your fist indicates he needs more.
As you whisper into his ear, he nods, a pitiful “mm-hmm” falling from his lips. Reaching for the device behind him, you press the button one last time. Instantly his back arches and he cries out, his warm release erupting up and over your hand. His hands grip your thighs, the sides of the chair, any surface he can find to ground himself.
You talk him through his earth shattering orgasm, uttering praise after praise into ear. His body convulses so violently you’re afraid the chair will fall over. Finally, he begins to come down, body still jolting occasionally with aftershocks. He threads a hand through your hair, blindly searching for your mouth unable to pry his eyes open.
Giggling, you attach your lips to his and he sighs, bringing you with him as he melts into the chair. Noah shifts, placing his hand between the two of you and you gasp when he touches you. He grunts, feeling how affected you are from your activities.
“Baby…” Noah breathes. “Let me return the favor.”
As tempting as it is, you turn his attention to the mess the two of you have made and he chuckles, agreeing that it needed to be dealt with first. Once he regains feeling in his legs you run to the shower to get cleaned up, making sure to bring the remote with you.
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maxsimagination · 16 hours
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can you make a Alanna Kennedy fic ?
𝙬𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙞𝙩 - 𝙖.𝙠𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙙𝙮
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warnings: none
------
it was that time of the year again.
while most would think of christmas, as a footballer, your first thought is national team call ups.
i wasn’t old by any means, only 21 years old, but i still hadn’t had my first cap.
most of my teammates at manchester knew, especially alanna. both of us were australian, the only difference being that she’d been playing for the matilda’s years longer than i had.
it was a training day today, an early start so i was driving down to my favourite coffee shop before reaching the fields.
“yn!!”
i heard a familiar voice shout after i’d hopped out of my car in the parking lot.
“lani!!”
i knew it was the blonde waiting for me at the entrance, just like she did every morning.
we walked in together, joining the rest of the girls before the coaches called us all out onto the pitch to start training. it was a solid session today, most of the team sweating profusely at the end. gareth had us running drills for at least two hours before we had another hour rest then back in the gym for weights.
finally we were finished and all the girls walked out, so ready to head home. i was walking to my car when alanna sauntered up behind me and jumped into my car with me.
“lani why are you in my car? you have your own car and house.”
i laughed at her antics but she simply grinned at me.
“well, my dear yn. i don’t have my car here today, mary drove me in. and i want to go to your house, it has a cat.”
i should’ve known she wanted to come to see marley. i’d adopted her a year ago when i signed for city and moved to england to play. alanna was the first person i met and had helped me move into my apartment.
marley had taken an instant liking to the tall blonde defender, which had surprised me and alanna. she usually wasn’t keen on people and lani was usually a dog person.
but every time she got the chance lani would tag along to see marley, never missing the chance to see her favourite feline. and she brought cat treats with her.
when we reached my place, marley was right there waiting at the door when we got in. alanna reached down to pick her up, cradling the purring cat to her chest. i laughed at the two, they were the cutest thing i had to get a picture.
the three of us spent that afternoon and evening doing some cleaning, cooking some dinner and watching netflix. and by we i mean me, while the other two sat on the couch and waited for me to finish so they could watch the netflix too.
it was roughly 07:00 pm when my phone rang. i answered, not thinking much of it.
“yn? this is tony gustavsson. how are you?”
i froze for a second, my brain not believing what my ears were hearing.
“yea hi tony i’m good, what can i do for you?”
“well, as you know it’s almost international break, and i’ve yet to select the team for the matilda’s. i would like to personally offer you a place on the squad.”
i sat in silence for a solid minute before i remembered i had to respond.
“you’re joking.”
“i can assure you i’m not.”
tony could tell i was astounded, laughing at how unbelieving i was.
“you want me to play for the matilda’s?”
“yes.”
“oh my god. thankyou.”
“thankyou, yn. i’ll let that sink in for you. have a good night.”
he hung up the call, thank goodness, because i was stunned into a statue. alanna had been comfortably sitting on the couch with marley the whole time when she noticed how shocked i was.
“are you okay?”
i nodded, just needing a bit longer to process things.
“i got the call up.”
alanna snapped her head up.
“no. please don’t tell me you’re joking.”
“i’m not joking. tony just called me.”
it was then that we both broke into squeals and laughter. i was so excited and ecstatic, i couldn’t believe i was getting my first ever national team call up.
“you did it.”
“we did it, lani.
couldn’t have done it without you.”
116 notes · View notes
Text
Chasing Starlight: Chapter 23
Pairing: Poly!Feysand x female!Reader
TW: This chapter contains a brief discussion of sexual assault. There is enough context at the end that you can figure out what happened if you need to scroll. This wasn't an easy chapter for me to write for many reasons.
     “Your mate.” I flinch as the words fall from Eris’s lips, dripping with derision. I don’t notice Rhysand’s hand in mine until I feel the squeeze, accompanied by a low, rumbling growl. Darkness has gathered at the windows, ready to pour in and snuff out the light. The fire in the hearth jumps as the Autumn heir leans across the table, his nostrils flaring as his molten eyes narrow further. “What sort of game is this? Is the other one in on it? Surely she must be, since your mate reeks of you both-”
     “Enough,” I interject, clearing my throat as I tilt my chin a little higher. “This isn’t a game, and we didn’t ask you here for a pissing contest-”
     “We,” he scoffs, pulling out his chair at last. As his eyes rake over me, something in me withers in the face of the terrible fire blazing in that gaze. It’s crueler than hate and colder than rage, the way he looks at me- no, through me. I think of my mother, her words when they made that oath. I haven’t had much cause to think of all the ways I resemble her before now. My heart might have ached for him if I thought it hurt him, but I am not certain he can be hurt anymore. “Are you in trouble?”
     “Trouble?” I tilt my head, pursing my lips at the question. Eris presses on with a nasty sneer.
     “It’s the only thing that makes sense. You certainly had nothing of value to offer them. I can only assume you were the one in need. What sort of bargain did you make with them? What did they offer you to take you to bed? Surely it’s no shock to you, and he’s certainly used to such arrangements.”
     I make a disgruntled noise. The statement about my own worth matters little, but my cheeks burn at the blatant insult to my mates. Icy, writhing darkness floods the room until the only light remaining burns in the hearth and the tips of the Autumn lord’s fingers, glowing like red-hot embers against the tabletop. I sit up straighter, feeling my hair begin to rise as the air grows more humid and my head begins to pound. Rhysand’s hand is cold in mine, a deadly sort of cold, and I feel the weight of his eyes on me. Watching, waiting, allowing me to stand for myself if I choose to.
     “What’s between us isn’t a bargain, or anything else you might have insinuated. It’s a mating bond,” I state, calm in spite of the hot anger swirling in my gut, and swallow hard against the bile rising in my throat. That strange, frenetic energy builds beneath my skin, like pulses of lightning escaping a gathering stormcloud. Something slick slides along in its wake, a sludge that seeks to suffocate it. To devour it. Suppressing a shudder at the thought, I press on. “Triad mating bonds are uncommon, but aren’t unheard of. Surely the concept isn’t a novelty to you. Please, I only have a few questions and then you can leave. We don’t have to meet again after this, I have no desire to deal in endless political drama. I just want answers – no, I want the truth.”
     “The truth of what?”
     “Me,” I whisper, “my mother. And, to some extent, you.”
     “Why do you believe there’s anything to tell?”
     “Because I saw it,” I whisper. “Like some strange memory imprinted in the tangled mess of my mind. I know what you did in that cottage, Eris. What you promised my mother. Now I want to know why.”
     “What do you intend to give me in return?” Eris asks. His voice is dangerously low, hushed in a way that’s reminiscent of dead, dry leaves rustling across the floor. “You may not wish to deal in political drama, lady, but you sit at the heart of it. The answers you seek are dangerous. What do you have to offer that will make divulging them worth my time?”
     “I…what do you want?”
     “Have your mates done you such a disservice that they did not teach you how to negotiate before bringing you here?” he tuts, shaking his head.
     “I’d hardly call this a negotiation,” Rhys muses, raising my hand to his lips. “You’ll give us the information we want.”
     “Or what? Will you attempt to take it?” Eris’s molten amber eyes glimmer with challenge as they meet my mate’s, who merely smiles in kind. A smile with far too many teeth. The shadows in the room seize, rising like a viper poised to strike.
     “Oh, Eris, I can and will do far worse than that.” My blood chills at the deadly edge Rhysand’s voice takes. I’ve never heard him speak like that to anyone, never felt that deadly chill I’ve only heard whispers of. The High Lord of the Night Court has never given me reason to fear him before, yet that sleepy, glazed look in his eyes sends shivers down my spine. “Your shields aren’t so well crafted they can truly keep me out. I’ll have the information I need and, when I’m rifling through your memories like so much loose paper, I’ll end our alliance. All of the monetary aid I give you to pay your bribes, and every spy I have gathering the fuel for your little rebellion will vanish with only a word from me. Can you really afford that when you’re so close to achieving your goal?”
     “Can you afford to lose an entire court to Koschei?” Eris snaps. Not even the fiery, impassioned anger rising in him can smother the fear flaring in his eyes. I take a breath, swallowing against the bile rising in my throat as he continues. “Can Prythian afford even another few months of my father’s reign? He’s bleeding our court dry attempting to free Koschei, there isn’t much left for him to take. If you allow us to fall, Rhysand, it will be to the detriment of our entire country - not just one court. Nevermind the innocents that will suffer and die for the sake of your pride, what will you do when there’s a death god at your door?”
     The people of Autumn have not been my people for a long, long time, but my heart aches at the thought of their loss. Those fearsome, ancient forests will burn before they yield to the might of a foreign king, and all of those orchards and fields and the people who tend them will burn as well. I could never let that happen. My blood heats at the very thought until I think I, too, may burn alive.
     “It won’t have been for my pride, Eris, but your own,” Rhys says, his thumb moving in slow, soothing circles over my skin.
     “No,” I murmur, my voice filled with a quiet thunder I barely recognize. It’s anger and pain and so much sorrow I think I’ll burst from it, but it’s enough to stall whatever male argument that was about to commence and ruin so many lives in the process. “This does not need to come to that. Innocent fae do not need to suffer or die for this. If you do not wish to answer my questions, Eris, no one will force you to. It’s fine. You can just leave.”
     “It is not fine.” There it is, the indignant snarl of a male unwilling to lose his mate. When I look at Rhys, there’s a fear swirling amidst all of that cold anger that I’m not sure Eris would notice, but I do. I tighten my grip on his hand and do the bravest thing I can: I smile. It’s a weak, tentative thing, but it’s all I can offer.
     “It is. My intention is not to be the source of more suffering. Not for even one person, let alone an entire court. The only life that is lost in his refusal is my own, which is more than enough. Autumn deserves liberation from Beron’s cruelty, whether I’m here to see it or not. Your alliance predates your knowledge of my existence, my love. I ask that you honor it.”
     “What do you mean?” Eris asks, his eyes narrowing as they return to me. I shift in my seat, removing my hand from my mate’s. The Autumn heir likes knowledge and secrets and I’ve just given him something to pique his interest. He hasn’t left the table yet, there’s still a chance he’ll give me what I need. My nostrils flare as I take a deep breath and try to remain calm. The panic slowly rising in me might cause my voice to shake if I don’t keep it suppressed, but this feels like the fight of my life and I don’t want to lose. I can’t afford to.
     “I mean that I don’t have the luxury of time to barter or beg for what always should have been mine,” I tell him. Something flares in the depths of his eyes, blazing like the heart of a star. Surely, my words have hit a nerve. “The spell my mother used to bind my magic seems to have gone a bit off - I suppose it’s to be expected, she’s been dead for quite some time. We’re not certain how long it’s been poisoning me, but…but there isn’t a lot of time left to stop it. And I want- no, I need it stopped. I never imagined I’d be much more than the outcast daughter of a traitor, I never thought I’d have people to care for, but I do. I do. I have a family and a life I desperately want to protect, so I am asking…I am begging you for help. Please, help me. Please.”
     Rhysand’s anger sparks at the other end of our bond, blazing hotter than any Autumn fire, but I’m not too proud to beg. Not for this, not for the sake of the family they’ve welcomed me into. I’ve heard the pain of losing a mate is unspeakable, I won’t put them through it if I don’t have to. I’ll beg Eris Vanserra on my knees for his help before I let myself die now. Not when I finally have the chance to be genuinely happy.
     Eris, to his credit, looks vaguely ill. His pale skin has taken on a sickly sort of pallor that makes the brown freckles on his nose and cheeks stand out like constellations splattered across his skin. The light in his eyes has dulled and, when he turns his gaze upon Rhysand, he swallows hard before he speaks again.
     “There’s something new beneath this mountain.” He taps his finger against the tabletop as he speaks, the beat reminiscent of a ticking clock.
     “Been talking to Keir, have you?” Rhys asks silkily, taking my hand in his once more. His fingers shake in the brief moment they press into my palm, and I make a mental note to give him a little more attention before we leave, to try to ease whatever ache my words have caused.
     “No,” Eris responds bitterly, shaking his head. “I felt it earlier, like a pulse beneath my skin. Whatever you’re hiding down there, Rhysand, it wants out.”
     “And it reached for you?”
     “I don’t know that it reached, per se, but I felt it all the same. If it’s useful-”
     “I don’t know if it’s useful. I don’t know if it can be controlled, or if it’s even worth trying to master. But if it proves to be worth more than the effort it would take to put it down, and if you can provide us with any useful information, I will see that it finds its way to you at the appropriate moment.”
     After a long, quiet moment, the Autumn heir nods. Returning his attention to me, he says, “Tell me what you saw.”
     So I do. I recount every moment I can pull from my, admittedly hazy, memory and watch as, with every word, his eyes take on a hollow, haunted sort of look. Something about it feels cruel, like I’m wielding my mother’s memory like a weapon to save my own skin, but I’m not just doing this for me.
     “And what would you like me to say?” he asks when I’m finished. “You know what we did, you know what the price of satisfying the blood oath is. I should have paid it sooner, I meant to pay it sooner, but that hardly matters now.”
     “I want to know why it had to be done at all. What did you see in me as an infant that was so dangerous it had to be locked away? I was a babe. What could have been so terrible that it warranted such drastic measures?”
     “Your mother was special. We hadn’t seen a lesser faerie of her kind in an age. Her skills in healing and herbalism were unparalleled, but those weren’t the aspects of her my father coveted. Her gift of prophecy was often accurate and, truly, a useful tool for his arsenal. But it was not nearly as reliable or useful as the curses she would cast to devastating effect. She was proud and lovely and wicked in a way he found enthralling. The entire court knew of his interest in her, they once placed bets on whether he’d set my mother aside for her. He pursued her the way a fox might hunt down a rabbit. I don’t know that he necessarily expected to chase her into my bed.”
     “Yet he did,” I murmur, my heart sinking like a stone. “Did you love her?”
     “More than I ever believed possible.”
      “Are you…?”
     “No,” Eris mutters, shaking his head. “No, there was one night I was away, one night overseeing field operations alongside a captain that was due for a promotion. That was all it took. He found her working late in the healers’ office, long after the rest of them had gone to bed. My father has never been one to be refused. When she wouldn’t give him what he’d come for, he took it by force.”
     I can feel my mouth fall open as my vision begins to blur. I blink furiously against a rush of hot tears as I think of my mother. She’d always possessed a bitter sort of strength, and had kept herself behind a wall of quiet, simmering anger that I’d never been able to break through. As Eris watches my face, that haunted look turns to something sharp and lethal as the flames in the hearth flare. I shudder to think of what he may do with all of that rage.
     “As fierce as she was, not even your mother was a match for a High Lord,” he continues, his eyes flickering between my face and the hand Rhys clutches. Surely he can’t think my situation is anything like hers. The corner of my mate’s mouth twitches in the echo of a snarl, but he remains silent at my side. “She wasn’t able to fight him off, but she took something as well. Something her magic must have deemed of equal value to what he stole.”
     “What was it?” I ask, dread softening my voice, making it so much smaller in the otherwise oppressive silence filling the room.
     “My father used to fly into fits of rage when I was a boy that would rattle the trees in the forest. I remember the way the clouds would gather and the winds that would shake the walls of our home. It was one of his lesser used abilities as High Lord, since he only found it worthy of use as an intimidation tactic. But after that night? It took me a few months to realize that, no matter how irate he became, he could no longer call in a storm. Your mother and I had hoped - prayed, really - that I had been the one to sire you. But the moment I saw lightning dance at your fingertips, any hope I’d had of claiming you as my own died. It would not have taken long for my father to piece together what happened once he saw what you could do. And if he’d gotten his hands on you…you were a danger to yourself, your mother had to do something to protect you. And I would have done anything she asked. Anything. I owed her that much.”
     And he had, hadn’t he? Together, they’d severed my connection to most of my power and any hope I’d had at fitting into a court that prized power above all else. I’d been a decent enough healer, nowhere near the standards my mother had set, but now I know why. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to live with it. With the knowledge that I…that I’d come from–
     “And my father?” I ask. “I know that he knew I…I wasn’t his, that he agreed to- to claim me.”
     “He cared enough for your mother to not wish to see her - or you - harmed. He loved her, in his own way, and I was weak enough to let her go to him. I became so consumed with my plans to assassinate my father, to get my revenge for what I thought he’d stolen from me, that I was blind to everything else. I thought, with him out of the way, I might be free to claim her as my own…and you along with her, if that’s what she wished.
     “When your father and brothers offered me their support, I took it. What did I care if they were willing pawns in my game? It would have been easier to get them out of the way that way. When we were compromised and all of our plotting unraveled like so much loose thread, I let them take the fall for it. All of it. And as I lit their pyres, I watched you in the crowd, trembling like a lamb to slaughter. I had hoped you’d be frightened enough to run before I’d be forced to hunt you down.”
     And I had been. I had been scared and so very alone. No one would stand at my side, lest they’d be called a traitor themselves. I’d run like a coward and resented myself for it every single day.
     “Thank you for telling me,” I murmur, rising from my seat. I pull my hand from Rhysand’s, though I truly cannot feel it anymore. There’s a chill to my skin I don’t believe any fire will warm, and there’s not enough air in this room to breathe. I need to get out. I need to leave. I’m aware of Rhys speaking, though I’m not quite sure what he’s saying. I can’t hear it over the painful roaring in my head.
     I only begin to shake when I leave the room. Will the shock of it all be the thing that actually kills me? I’d wanted the truth so badly, and now I know. Now I know and I feel as if it’s going to eat me alive.
     Tearing down the hallway, I fling open door after door until I stumble into a bathroom and promptly heave the meager contents of my stomach into the toilet. Much like the night the poison finally eroded my mother’s binding spell, I retch and choke on foul, black bile until my muscles ache. Too much, it’s all too much. How stupid I had been to think knowing any of this would give me peace, would help me find an answer worth having. None of this is going to save me – revealing this information makes me more of a target, not less. I am little more than stolen magic in a body that should not exist, it would have been better if I’d burned with my family. I might have been more useful as kindling.
     “No.” That’s Rhysand’s voice, so close I can feel his breath against the back of my neck as a hand smooths over my hair. The toilet flushes and I feel my body easing back, nestling into the curve of my mate’s like it’s what I was created for. “No, my dove, don’t think that. Don’t ever think that.”
     “You said you wouldn’t read my mind,” I sniffled, crossing my arms protectively over my torso. Like that might do something to block the pain.
     “You’re projecting your thoughts, my love. I can’t help it.” His lips brush against my temple, my forehead, as though it might soothe the mental anguish of the past day.
     “I don’t want to see him again,” I whimper.
     “You don’t have to, I promise. Feyre and I will deal with Eris. You don’t have to see him again if you don’t want to.”
     “My mother, Rhys…”
     “I know, darling. I know. I’m sorry.”
     It’s not enough. No apology will ever be enough to fix everything that is so desperately wrong with me. My headache is no match for the pain in my chest, or the way my muscles spasm as I think of all the ways I’d like Beron Vanserra to pay for the pain he’s caused. For the life he took from my mother, and the future she might have had if she had not been saddled with me. Eventually, Rhysand’s hand cups my chin and, for a moment, I fight it. I don’t want to look at him, afraid of the pity or worry I might find in his eyes. I don’t think I can bear it.
     “Look at me, Dove.” I can’t, I can’t, but then he says it again with a softness that crumbles my resolve. “Please, look at me.”
     I do. And all I can see in his magnificent violet eyes is love. Love I desperately need and will probably never truly deserve, but it’s there. And it’s mine, he is mine in the way that I am his. Whatever I may have come from, I was made for this.
     “Please don’t kiss me,” I mumble, lowering my arms so I can properly settle into his embrace. “I’m very sure my mouth is disgusting and we’d both regret it.”
     “How can I help?” he asks, running his thumb along my jaw. “Tell me what I can do to ease some of this for you and it will be yours. Anything, all you need to do is ask.”
     “And what, Rhys? You’re mine to command?”
     “Always.” It’s a fervent prayer, a promise made between kisses pressed against my brow.
     “I want Beron to suffer, Rhys. I want him to pay. I want him dead for what he did to her, to them, to…to everyone. I want him to bleed.”
     “He will. I promise, I’ll see it done.”
     “And I…” I sigh. “I want to go home now.”
     “Are you sure? We can take more time here if you need it, there’s no rush.”
     “I am,” I nod, resting my head on his shoulder. “I want to see Nyx and Feyre, and I want to forget this awful day for just a little while. I want us to just be together and enjoy each other until something else inevitably goes wrong - don’t laugh, you know it’s true. Every time it seems things are beginning to go well for us, something terrible happens. I just want a moment of my life that’s not tainted with grief or pain. We’re newly mated, we should be enjoying this time together. Can we do that, in spite of all of this? Can we still have that?”
     “We can, we will. I believe I’ve exhausted my ability to share you for the rest of the week.”
      “Feyre won’t like hearing that.”
      “Feyre is one of two exceptions,” Rhys murmurs, briefly tightening his grip on me. “And I don’t know that I’ll ever mind sharing you with her.”
     “Let’s go home then.” Everything we’ve learned here has waited this long, it can all be dealt with later. Once we’ve all had time to breathe. And to plan. "I'm ready to see our mate."
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Text
Mr. Vargas
𖤐Pairing: Professor! Alejandro x College girl! Reader
𖤐Pronouns: She/Her
𖤐Warnings: smut, language, age gap (23-40 yr old), blowjob, fingering, P in V, Dom!Alejandro, innocent Y/n, groping, nipple play, eating out, hair pulling, ass slapping, praising and degrading,
𖤐Summary: Professor Alejandro gets his life distracted by one of his students
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3:00PM
Alejandro sat in his office flipping through papers of his students work, but he was looking at one of his students that he has been having a bit of problems with.
“Gah-“
“Hey now…did I say you could stop?” He looks down at this certain student.
“Sorry sir,” Y/n says as her face rested close to his hard dick.
“You scored a 40% on my quiz…have you even been paying attention in my class?”
“I…” she looks down knowing she hasn’t.
“Obviously you haven’t and it shows, you scored the lowest out of everyone,” Alejandro says. He grips her hair tightly behind her head, pulling her and making her make eye contact with him.
“Ah!”
“Hush. We’re going over the ones you miss,” he yanks her up off the floor and bends her over his lap. “If you get it wrong, well, you know what happens,” he says lifting her skirt exposing her ass to him and as a warning he smacks her ass earning a yelp from her.
"A crime with a punishment of 1 year or less in jail is the definition of what word? A. Miranda, B. Arrest, C. Misdemeanor, or D. Felony?" Alejandro asked, gently rubbing her butt getting ready.
"C. M-Misdemeanor."
"Good...but why did you get it wrong if you knew? Did you get it wrong on purpose knowing I might do this to you?" He teased her.
"Next one. When the police trick someone into committing a crime that they would not otherwise commit is the definition of what word? A. Entrapment, B. Curtilage, C. Misdemeanor, or D. Felony?"
"A!" She shouts.
"And yet you got it wrong...you know everything but yet, you purposely got most of them wrong..." He smacks her butt anyways. Earning a loud yelp. "You wanted this...you wanted my attention, you got it, but why lie when you know you could just ask, and I'll give you all the attention you need," his hand went under her chin making her look up at him.
"I want your attention, Mr. Vargas," she moans.
"I know you do," he smacks her ass over and over till seeing red on her ass and a handprint on her right cheek. "And now you get a punishment," he growled.
He pulls her off his lap and stood her up on his desk, he stood between her legs, his hands went to her thighs and he started to kiss her neck, earning a soft moan from her. His hands went under her shirt and pulled it over her head.
"I give you so many opportunities to be a good girl and yet you still disobey me," he smacks her thighs this time earning a whimper.
"I-I'm sorry-"
"No, you're not, if you were you wouldn't have done what you did, you failed just for attention, that's fucking pathetic," he growls at her.
"S-Sir," he smacks her thighs again.
"You don't fucking get to speak," he says.
She bites her bottom lip holding back every word. He smirks and starts going down, he licks his lips and pull her panties down off her lower half and tossing them to the side. His head goes under her skirt licking up her wet slit.
The bottom of her skirt drapes over his head, she collapse on her elbows, her thighs wanted to close around his head but he was holding them open from closing.
She moans as his tongue was licking her up. Y/n then fell on her back, her finger joint her mouth but Alejandro's hand grabbed her wrist pulling her hand away.
"I want to hear your moans," he demands. As he goes back down on her. His hands gripping her thighs pinning them to her chest, he sits up and spits on her clit, he then starts slowly rubbing the spit on her before shoving three fingers inside of her.
Her head goes back hitting against the wood of the desk. She groans from the pain.
He looks at her face seeing her in pleasure, he smirks knowing he could make his girl feel good. Her hand goes to his wrist to keep up his pace as the other fondled with her left tit. She moans then looks at him, she knows he could treat her this good.
He then leans down and starts to lick her nipple, suck on her, and nip at her bud. She moans and holds his other wrist playing with her. She clenches around his three fingers and then he quickly pulls them out.
She whines at him.
"Oh shut up," he says, smacking her thighs. He starts unbuckling his pants and pulled out his hard cock, he rubs his tip against her wet folds teasing her.
He watches her moan and whine. Then he pushes himself inside of her, he thrusts inside of her, immediately rough and hard, she bounces up and down against him moaning and her hands trying to find a place to rest.
Alejandro smirks down at his little play thing, he holds her waist and starts pounding a bit faster and sloppier. Alejandro leans down kissing her neck and then kissing her lips.
His tongue forces its way into her mouth. Her eyes opened slightly, her gaze looked at his eyes that narrowed, they looked dead or bored.
"Flip over, on your stomach," he demands, flipping over and then grabbing her wrist holding her back. Her body off his desk and her feet felt like they were going to slip out from underneath of her.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
"Mr. Vargas, I'm hear to talk about my grade!" A voice was heard on the other side of his office door.
"Not now, Eliza, I'm still talking with my other student, come back in a few minutes!" Alejandro groans like he was annoyed that he was interrupted.
As he fucked Y/n his hand covered Y/n's mouth muffling her moans, but she couldn't help it. As he moves his hands drool drips from from her mouth and his palm.
"You nasty, slut," he smacks her ass earning a yelp from her.
"Ah! AH! AH!" She moans.
"Shut up," he groans.
"S-Sir, I'm-I'm going to cum," she says softly.
"Do it...but I'm not going to stop," he says, smacking her ass.
She grips the wood but of course no grip anywhere. She squeezes her eyes shut and she felt herself come on his dick, but like he said, he wasn't going to stop, he's not fucking done.
"God, you slut, you made a fucking mess," he smirks, gripping her hair and making her look at him form over her shoulder. His lips kissed hers.
"I-I'm sorry," she says.
His hand held her mouth making her quiet and then he starts picking up the pace a bit, skin slapping against each other in his office. He was rough and then he felt himself twitch inside of her and then cum leaks from his tip, he pulls out and watched cum leak from her.
He then sits in his chair, keeping Y/n against his desk, watching cum slowly leak from her. He smirks grabbing tissue and cleaning her up and then leaning forward to taste her cum.
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7:00PM
"Up...down...up...down, good girl...there you go...keep going," he was gentle, hands on her waist guiding her.
Y/n moans as she starts moving her hips so gently, grinding on him and smiling when Alejandro kisses between her breasts.
He then starts kissing and sucking on the side of her tit, she moans as her hands went to his hair.
"You're so gentle," she says.
"It's my way of apologizing for being so hard on you," and it's true. Alejandro will get all worked up and then take it all out on Y/n, then afterwards he starts being gentle and sweet with her, treating her and what she likes.
Alejandro and Y/n agreed to this type of thing when Y/n was a freshman in his class, and they made a deal that they both could help each other with their sexual needs and wants. Y/n is single and Alejandro was divorce from his ex-wife and no kids.
"Come on, amor...I want you to cum," he says with a smile.
"I'm trying," she says, moving a bit faster but his hands held her waist to keep her slow pace.
"No, no, slow, amor, slow," he says.
She just nods listening to him. She was slow, and gentle, she felt herself close again, she looks at Alejandro and then let's out a soft moan before coming, he smiles and comes as well.
"There we go," he placed his left hand on the back of her head and the other on her lower back. He gently rests her on his desk, he was above her. "We'll go one more time...I know you're tired, mi amor," he coos next to her ear as he moves slowly, her arms wrapped around his neck, her moans echoing in his ears.
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glenechoslasher · 2 days
Text
"Savior" ||
Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader
Rating: None
Length: 2.1k
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Asked by: @photo1030
Ooo! Random thought, maybe can link to my last request. Reader (or character, your choice) gets hurt and Arthur has to take care of them. Maybe shot in the leg and he has to carry them. They get to see a softer side to him, being all caretaker and protective.
Protective Arthur is just... *chef's kiss* I can't explain it but seeing him so good with a gun, being able to down someone within seconds then to turn around and be so gentle with you?? I need it, crave it, even. Thanks for the ask, hon!~
*
It was supposed to be a simple bank coach robbery, just a quick in-and-out sort of situation, and you insisted that you go along to assist Mary-Beth and Sean, but with Arthur being as worried as he always was, he felt it was best to tag along and make sure Sean didn’t pull you into any other mischief. The Irishman, of course, took offense to that, but he didn’t exactly mind that you two wanted to tag along. The more the merrier, even if the cut of the pay was less.
As much as Arthur tried to insist you remain back, you were headstrong and refused to let him tell you what you were capable of. You’d had a successful string of heists you were able to pull off with the other gang members, so why would this one be any different? Without much argument afterward, you rode off on your horse behind Sean and Mary-Beth, and a disgruntled Arthur followed you all from the rear. 
It was difficult to put into words how this made Arthur feel, but he knew that going along to assist would have eased his discomfort, and hearing Sean’s plan to distract the coach was more than entertainment in itself. But with Sean being inept with firearms, Arthur had ridden alongside your horse to listen in on the plan. 
Mary-Beth was more than excited to get out of the camp and put her talent to good use, and even more so when you had offered to tag along if they wouldn’t mind. “Oh, this is excitin’!” She exclaimed with a large smile on her face. “Easy enough to flag ‘em down, I think.”
Sean was proud of his idea and felt that he should have had more credit, but Arthur, being who he was, was unsure and unimpressed with Sean’s usefulness when it came to stressful situations. 
“I’m just keepin’ an eye on you, MacGuire, I know they’re solid,” he stated matter-of-factly as his horse trotted along to the speed of Ennis. 
“Alright, alright, you get knocked out on a mission one time-”
“More than once,” Arthur corrected. 
The Irishman just scoffed and shook his head. “Look, you can write about it in your journals, but let’s get back to my job, the one I brought y’all in on!” He huffed.
You couldn’t help but laugh at how much those two men were always at each other’s throats, no matter what the other was doing. “Let’s focus, gentleman, the lady and I will have this done lickety-split, it’ll be a cakewalk.” You looked over at Arthur with confidence shining in your eyes, and you thought you caught a glimpse of a smile from across his face, but it was gone before you could blink. 
Sean led the way until they came to a crossroads, then he told you all to keep the horses out of sight as he scoped out where they could hide for the time being. “Alright then, here we are, they’ll be comin’ from the North any minute, you both know what you’re doin’, right?”
Arthur just scoffed and shook his head. “Course they know what they’re doin’,” he replied gruffly.
You jumped down from your horse and patted its muzzle gently. “Mary-Beth is gonna run out and flag ‘em down, I’ll be off a ways to scope out the guards, and you two will be behind the log. Sean will ring off some shots, and Arthur will come in and clean up while I pick ‘em off from behind. Easy.”
Sean looked satisfied with that response and nodded. “Alright, perfect! Now, Morgan, let’s go and get behind this log, you-” he pointed in your direction, “-get over to those trees and don’t be spotted. Mary-Beth, get ready.”
The redhead felt proud of this plan, he was sure everything would work out, and he had the details down to a T. Everything went fine until it didn’t.
Instead of spooking the guards to throw them off, Sean took aim after hearing the way one of the men spoke to Mary-Beth and scoped him from his spot behind the log. Arthur immediately began to fire, albeit reluctantly since Sean was deviating from the initial plan. He hadn’t caught sight of you yet, but he figured you were doing alright for yourself. Then suddenly, a man lunged for Mary-Beth and held a gun to her head, his arm clenched around her throat.
“Let GO of me!” She snapped, trying her best to claw at his arm.
“Got your little lady friend here! Drop your guns!”
Arthur removed his rolling block rifle and watched the man hide himself behind the woman through the scope. “Dammit, he keeps movin’, don’t got a clear shot.”
“I got it!” You suddenly yelled out, and before you had a chance to line up the shot, the man had heard you and took aim. The shot rang out and the bullet penetrated your upper thigh. 
Your scream echoed out and Arthur finally had a clear shot to take the man down for good. “Sean, get Mary-Beth! I got them!” He said as he threw the gun over his shoulder and took off running where you’d fallen to the ground. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbled to himself as he finally caught up to you. 
You were trying your best to hold onto your leg the best you could to apply pressure, but it didn’t help much, you couldn’t stifle the scream you released when it hurt a little too much. “Shit, guess I messed that up badly…”
“Nah, you didn’t, lemme see,” Arthur said as he moved your hands, checking out where the wound was. “Ah, right through the meat of the leg but just missed your femoral artery. You’ll be alright, just gotta treat it when we get to camp. C’mon, it ain’t gonna feel pretty.” 
Arthur grabbed his bandana and tied it around your leg the best he could to keep pressure, then he scooped you into his arms and carried you back to his horse. 
Sean and Mary-Beth had cleaned out the coach and the dead men’s pockets as he took care of you, but Mary-Beth felt awful. “Are they gonna be alright?” She asked, her tone laced with worry. 
He just nodded and helped you as carefully as he could onto his horse, but the discomfort was a lot, yet you remained as strong as you could and held onto the horn of the saddle. “Call my horse, please…” You whimpered. “Can’t leave ‘em here…”
“You worry ‘bout yourself, your horse’ll be fine,” the gunslinger assured you as he hopped on behind you. “It’s gonna hurt with the ride but the faster we get back the better. Y’all go on, we’ll split the money when we meet back, don’t let anyone follow you.”
“Sir, yes sir,” Sean said with a meek smile, feeling awful you’d been hurt. “Take care of ‘em, will ya?” 
Arthur nodded in response, whistled for your horse to follow, and rode off as quickly as he could. The ride was definitely painful, but you managed to hold out long enough until you got back to camp, where Arthur had taken you to your tent, which thankfully had some privacy. He left you alone for all of two minutes when he came back with all the necessities he needed to fix you up proper. 
You lay there on your cot, and as you tried to look up at him to speak, all you could do was groan in pain until he placed his hand gently on the back of your neck, having you sit up slightly. “Here, take a shot of whiskey, it’ll help a bit. I gotta dig the bullet out and cauterize the wound.”
After hearing all that and swallowing the burning liquid, your consciousness was in and out, very hazy, until you saw black and just heard the sound of Arthur’s voice. 
Hours later, you awoke with a dry hoarseness in your throat, your eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the low lamplight that had been inside your tent, and you looked up to see Arthur beside your cot. He already reached for the deerskin and placed it to your lips. You drank greedily at the water until you felt satisfied enough to pull away, coughing from the coldness. 
“There you are,” Arthur greeted softly, removing the deerskin from your grasp. “You’re gonna be fine, just gotta stay off the leg for a while,” he commented. “You feelin’ alright?” He leaned over and dunked a cloth into a bucket of water, then wring it out, and placed it gently over your forehead. 
You looked over at him and smiled softly. “Didn’t know you were so caring,” you joked softly, chuckling to yourself. 
Arthur waved his hand dismissively and scoffed. “Had my fair share of bullets is all, makin’ sure you don’t pull a stunt like that again, you hear?” 
You nodded and a small smile crept across your face, you couldn’t help but stare up at him and admire the man. He acted as if he didn’t care much about others, that he wasn’t any better than a stone-cold killer, but here he was worrying about you and taking care of you. Usually, it was left up to one of the women who were more well-versed in bedside manner, like Miss Grimshaw, but Arthur had insisted on your behalf. Naturally, he didn’t tell you this, it was Mary-Beth who informed you when she came in to visit while Arthur had gone to refill the bucket and grab some more medical supplies from Strauss’s wagon.
“Oh it’s been real sweet, he ain’t left unless he needed to get somethin’ for you,” Mary-Beth beamed. “Almost like somethin’ straight out of one of my books, he’s been real particular, too.”
“Of what?” You questioned.
“He hasn’t let anyone other than me and Tilly into your tent, even was on edge when Charles offered to help.” 
This information made your cheeks feel warm, he was practically babying you back to health, you’d never seen this side of him before. “Wow, I would have never expected Arthur Morgan to be at my bed-side,” you teased as you looked up at the young woman. 
She nodded, still all smiles. “Well, I hear him comin’ so that’s my cue, better leave you to it or else he’ll kick me out,” she joked and stood up from the chair. “You feel better, and holler if you need anythin’ from us.”
“Thanks, Mary-Beth.”
She nodded her head and left the tent, then was quickly replaced by Arthur, who set the bucket down beside his chair and had a bowl of stew in the other hand. “You think you can eat yet?”
You hummed in response and wet your dry lips with your tongue. “I can try if it’ll make you feel better.”
“It would, now here,” he offered as he slowly placed his hand beneath your shoulders, giving you a little push to help you sit up.
“Heard you’ve been fussin’ over me since we got back, that true?”
Arthur sighed, knowing damn well Mary-Beth was going to say something to you at some point. “It ain’t a big deal, no big drama,” he waved it off. “Just makin’ sure you’re gonna be okay, which you are, by the way.” He held the bowl until you were ready to take it and try to feed yourself, but still leaned forward in case he needed to grab it from you. “Just rest up and you’ll be right as rain soon enough.” You grabbed the bowl and smiled over at Arthur, the adoration in your eyes quite apparent. “Arthur… thank you, I know you’re gonna think it’s no big deal, but it is to me. Couldn’t have made it without you,” you remarked. “I owe you-”
“You don’t owe me nothin’, well, except maybe one thing.”
Your head perked up and you offered him a smile. “Anything.”
With that, his mouth curled into a wide smile, thoughts running through his head as if he could have said so many things, but those thoughts would be shared later. For now, he figured he should settle on the obvious. “Promise me next time you ain’t gonna go runnin’ with MacGuire, you need a job done, you ask me.” He sat back in the chair and offered a lopsided grin. 
Thankfully you didn’t bring the spoon up to your mouth; you’d laughed and almost dropped the bowl. “Sure thing, Arthur, anything for you.” Your eyes locked with his and you couldn’t help but feel like you owed him more than that, but for now, you owed him to get better and listen for once. You’d show him how grateful you were when you could use your leg again. 
“Hey, Arthur?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks again,” you said softly. 
The man just chuckled and lit up a cigarette after getting your permission. “Anytime, sweetheart.”
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greatooglymooglyyy · 6 hours
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Lovers and Friends 2 (M.S.)
summary: when y/n's boyfriend invites her out to a dinner a week before her birthday, the last thing she's expecting is to get broken up with. but little does she know, it opens a window for her bestfriend, matt, to tell her what he's been trying to for years; that he's hopelessly in love with her. headed off to vegas for her dream music festival, matt (and the rest of their crew) try to find a way to open her eyes to what she's been blind to for years... that it's been them all along.
executive produced & cowritten by sienna @rootbeerworshiper
contains: pining, brokenhearted reader, fluff, cussing, flashbacks (in italics), 2.4k words, dual pov
a/n: sigh, i couldn't bring myself to proofread tn. maybe tmw. also ik the real lovers and friends festival is only one day BUT i needed it to be 3 days so just vibe lil baby
series masterlist
Y/N's POV
“How the fuck are you still not done packing?” Nick questions, standing there like a disappointed father while I shove random articles of clothing into my suitcase.
“I….. well I’m not sure. I just procrastinated.” I reply, a slight wash of embarrassment settling over me as I attempt to zip up an already full pouch in the suitcase.
Madi just laughs from the couch, her bags packed and placed neatly beside her. “Y/N always takes forever to pack. It’s just who she is."
“Well I want to meet the person who’s great idea it was to book plane tickets for a six am departure time.” I groan, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I think about what else I might need.
“Hey, are we ready to go?” A familiar voice says, walking out of his bedroom on the main floor.
“There you go! The man of the hour.” Nick jokes, gesturing towards Matt who’s walking towards the living room with freshly wet hair and a duffle bag slung on his shoulders.
“Y/N, are you still not done packing?” Matt questions, walking over to me after setting down his bag on the floor.
I look up at him, scolding him with my eyes. “No, I'm not done Matthew. Someone decided to book the world’s earliest flight.”
He chuckles softly, bending down to my level and beginning to help you repack slightly, his hands rolling up my clothes smaller than I could have.
For whatever reason I can’t bring myself to look away, infatuated by his focus as he tucks away random shirts into my suitcase.
This is until his eyes meet mine, looking up at me and holding my gaze for a moment. My head keeps telling me to look away, but it’s as if my body is speaking for me, our eyes maintaining contact until someone walks in, the sound of the front door breaking the hold we shared.
I cough, clearing my throat as Nate makes his way up the stairs. “Are we ready to go?” he asks, making his hands comfortable on his hips.
Before I can speak, Matt answers. “Yeah I think we’re good now”
“Wait where the fuck is Chris?” Nick asks, standing up from his spot on the couch next to Madi.
“Did no one wake him up?” Nate questions. “This happened last time too.”
I laugh at the irony of being judged for packing at the last minute when a member of our group is still sound asleep. “He’ll be fine. It takes him two seconds to pack.”
“Christopher!” Nick singsongs, skipping out of the room and heading to annoy Chris awake. Nate laughs and trails behind, yelling something about the city that never sleeps.
Madi and I share a long-suffering look before I turn back to Matt and shrug. “I think I’ve got everything.”
He sweeps his eyes over the room doing a last scan, his eyes stalling on the kitchen counter. “You’re not taking your glasses?”
“Nah. I’ll put my contacts in when we get there. I don’t really need to see anything before that.” I say as I place my suitcase on the ground and yank up the handle.
“Okay.” Matt says, hesitating and dragging out the word like he’s unsure.
Before I can respond, Nate and Nick come back up the stairs, each of them holding one of Chris’ bags. He trails behind them, yawning and clearly cranky. When he sees us staring at him, he throws us a hard glance. “What are you looking at motherfuckers? We going to Vegas or what?”
*********************************************************
After we get through security, we sit in our section huddled over Nick’s phone as he explains the itinerary. I squint down at the phone, throwing daggers at Matt when he gives me a pointed look. Okay so maybe he was right about the glasses. So what? Broken clocks babe.
“Wait!” I cut in as I look at Sunday’s lineup. “What if we miss N-Sync?”
“Then I’ll do my little dancey-dance.” Nate mutters under his breath and Madi pushes his shoulder.
“We won’t.” She assures me and I smile at her gratefully.
My phone pings alerting me that my ex has posted and my face drops. Before I can open Instagram, Nick looks over my shoulder and sighs. He holds out his hand and gives me a stern face. “Give me your phone. I’m deleting the app.”
“But-”
“Y/N. You are not spending your birthday trip cyberstalking this fucking loser. Phone.”
I groan and hand over the phone, dropping my head onto Chris’ arm who pats my back awkwardly. Nick grins and hands me my phone back sans Instagram. “There. Download it back and I’ll hurt you.”
Over the intercom, an attendant calls for our group so we stand to line up. I walk over to Madi and link our arms since we had to get seats a few rows behind the rest of our group. “I downloaded the Corpse Bride just for you babe.” I say as we make it to our line.
“Um, actually” Madi says, pulling away from me, her face showing a tinge of panic. “Matt, is it okay if we switch seats? I have something I need to talk to Nick about.”
Matt looks confused for a fraction of a second but nods and steps out of line, swapping spots with her.
I look between all my friends with a raised eyebrow, the feeling that I’m missing something rising. “What do you-” I start to ask but Matt cuts me off, uncharacteristically loud.
“What’s your favorite song of the week?” He asks, giving me a small private smile. I grin at the question, pulling out my phone to check.
“favorite color?” matt scrawls out, sliding a piece of paper across the desk when our teacher turns back to the board.
“light pink” i write back quickly, watching his reaction and smirking before he even writes back.
“basic.”
“okay mr.blue” i toss him an joking evil eye when i pass the note back and he bites his lip to hide a smile.
“favorite song?”
i stare at the note for a long time, tapping my pen against my chin, before i finally answer. “that’s impossible to answer. there’s too many to pick from.”
matt thinks for a while, leaning back into his chair. “what’s your favorite of the week?”
“probably selfcare by mac. why?”
he smiles over at me when he passes the sheet back. “i’ll keep asking you every week. maybe one day something will stick.”
And for the last six years, he’s done exactly that, remembering to ask like clockwork. I look up at him from under my lashes, already knowing he’s going to make fun of me. “Okay, hear me out.”
“Oh god-”
When we take off, I connect Matt and I’s headphones both to my phone so I can play him my throwback playlist. He’s being a bit of a hater but I know if we weren’t in public, he’d be jumping around and dancing to Jay Sean’s Down.
I huff in frustration as I bring my phone closer to my face, feeling a lot like a grandma. Matt leans down and grabs his backpack from between his legs, reaching inside and pulling out my glasses. I laugh without meaning to and give him a grateful smile. “You’re such a know-it-all.”
“Someone’s got to be.” He responds, leaning over my seat and hitting skip when Akon comes on.
As a 90’s love song starts up, I notice Matt bouncing his leg a bit like he does when he’s nervous. I furrow my brows that this, knowing he’s not usually an anxious flier. When I drop my head on his shoulder, he stills immediately so I keep it there, closing my eyes and letting the music take me away. The last thing I register before I fall asleep is the pressure of Matt resting his head gently on top of mine.
*********************************************************
“Wake up, Madi!” I say as I flop onto her bed. “Let’s go see the turtles.”
She's been crashed out in the bed since we made it to the hotel an hour ago and she's showing no signs of moving soon.
“Go. Away.”
I can definitely understand her want for a nap after that flight but thankfully I’m wide awake. Matt and I managed to sleep the entire flight away unlike our friends. They apparently started up an entire Candy Crush tournament complete with a betting ring. Madi, the saint that you are.
“C’mon. You gotta get up for Y/N and Matt.” Nick says. When I throw him a puzzled look, he adds hastily, “and Nate and Chris!”
Weird.
Madi groans but rolls out of bed like a trooper to Nick and I’s chants of encouragement. While she goes to touch up her makeup and Nick makes sure the boys are ready, I order the Uber. When it’s confirmed, I open my messages, reading the one I received last night for the hundredth time.
‘i’m sorry. i wish it was you"
My fingers hover over the keyboard as a million replies rush to my head but I force myself to put the phone down instead. I’m on my dream trip with people who love me. Somehow I can make that be enough. Even if I wasn’t enough for Asher.
When we pull up to the aquarium, I’m bouncing with excitement. I look over at Chris knowing he loves shit like this just as much as me. “What’s first?”
To my left, Nate opens up the map of the aquarium, looking like a dad on vacation. “I vote seahorses.”
“Lame!” I protest, looking over his shoulder. “They have a fucking shark tunnel, bro.”
“But can their males get pregnant?” Chris retorts as if that is the most obvious deciding factor there could be. I roll my eyes and look back as Matt gently touches my elbow.
“I’ll go with you to the sharks and we can meet back up later.”
I clap excitedly before waving at the rest of our group and heading upstairs.
“It’s been a lot of me and you so far, huh? Hope you’re not getting sick of me.” I joke as we step to the side and allow a mom with a stroller to pass us.
But Matt doesn’t laugh, he just shakes his head giving me a quiet and earnest, “Not possible.”
In the tunnel, we stand shoulder to shoulder and look up as a tiger shark swims over our heads. I glance over at Matt, noticing how the reflection of the water tinges his face a cool blue, and let my eyes wander down his jawline.
When he flicks his eyes back to me, I look away, pointing at a shark in the distance. “I wish she’d come closer. She’s beautiful.”
“Yeah. She is.” He replies, but when I look back at him he’s not looking into the tank at all. When I open my mouth to question him, I hear someone call our names.
“What, Nick?” Matt says, sounding a bit irritated.
“They are going to let us hold the baby turtles!” He says, his voice pitching up in excitement.
At this, Matt and I share a glance before we take off out of the tunnel, pushing each other childishly to be the first in line.
While we’re waiting for the show-and-tell to start, sitting criss-cross applesauce like a bunch of kids, my phone dings so I pull it out. My heart drops when I open a text from one of my friends with a screenshot of Asher’s instagram story.
It’s a picture of him and Olivia, her sitting casually in his lap while they both grin. When I look closer, I realize that I know the background; they are at his parent’s house. He’s already brought her home to them. My eyes start to water and I stand up.
The same Asher who told me time and time again that he just ‘wasn’t the Instagram official type’. The same Asher who only let me meet his mom once after months of asking.
“Are you okay?” Madi asks, standing with me and looking down at my phone. When she sees the picture, she whispers a quiet, “oh” and wraps her arms around me.
Chris takes the phone out of my hand and almost immediately starts ranting which is more than I can handle right now.
“I’m going to head back to the hotel. You guys should stay.” I say, grabbing my phone back and ordering another Uber.
“You’re not going back alone. Are you crazy?” Nate says, standing with the rest of the group.
I sigh in frustration, trying not to snap at them. I know they are just trying to help. “Please. I need to be by myself.”
*****************************************************
Matt POV
Thanking my Uber driver, I get out of the car with my bag and gently close the door. After Y/N left the aquarium, the day was pretty much over for me. After we sat together watching her location to make sure she got back to the hotel safely, I was the next to go.
I headed off to the store to get some of her favorite things in the hopes of maybe saving the first night of her trip. For some reason, I’m full of nerves as I knock on her room door. But to my surprise, Nick swings the door open instead of her.
“Oh, hey Matt. We were wondering where you were.” He says, his voice holding a bit of relief.
I give him a weary smile and peer over his shoulder, noticing Madi and Y/N sitting in the bed, all three of their faces covered in a lime green mask. Nick steps back to let me in and I stroll awkwardly over to stand in front of her.
“I…uh…got you some stuff. Thought it might make you feel a little better.” I say as I hand her the bag. Her eyes light up as she looks through the bag and I smile, taking in her face. She’s obviously been crying, the reddening of her eyes giving her away, but she seems okay.
“That is so sweet, Matty. You didn’t have to.” She says, reaching up and touching my arm.
I shrug, not knowing how to tell her I’d do it a thousand more times just to see her smile. “It’s nothing.”
I tell them all goodnight and head back to my room. As I leave the room, I hear Nick tell a joke and Y/N’s genuine full laughter. I pause outside the door, leaning against it for a second and smile sadly.
I’m just glad she has someone with her to make her laugh, someone that gives her comfort. Even if it’s not me. Even if it never is.
🏷️/ @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos
@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo
@clemlament @fwskullz @luv4kozume @lotsofloveloulou @thebottledwatersupplier
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the-oracles-maw · 2 days
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she's alright!
you trust your husband more than anything, so perhaps this is something you could explore with him. So, you surprise him with a cute outfit... under your outfit.
husband! captain John price x reader
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Not at all could you complain about married life with your husband. Aside from how you saw yourself, of course.
Your husband, John, a big, strong tank of a military man, and here you were, his shy, demure little spouse. You loved to care for him when he returned home. He greeted you with a scratchy forehead kiss whenever he walked through the front door, ready to vent and rant about the privates' rookie mistakes and his team.
You loved when he talked about his strike team. it was like they were his own sons. And he was their big, protective papa bear. However, you counted yourself quite lucky: the big, protective papa bear was also a teddy bear. This leaves one last question: If you were entirely satisfied, how was the bedroom situation? Great! But... John was your first... well, everything. You never mad many opportunities to date in your youth, nor were you very interested. John just... happened. And it was right. And it was wonderful. In short. You never had the opportunity to explore... that side of you.
You pondered that for a while. Especially when John one day gave you the news that he was given a few mandatory days off. Your eyes widen as you read the email on the laptop's screen. "Are... are you sure?" You ask John. "You're reading the thing aren't you?" John replies, chuckling, ruffling your hair. "Come on, you've got a brain, use it." "John!" John laughed, ruffling your hair playfully, giving you another kiss on your forehead. "I'm playing with you, babe. Just playing with you." "But yeah..." A long sigh and a stretch from John, allowing you a teasing glance of your husband's build: fluffy, but powerful. Not too muscular, but very, very firm. All so tragically hidden by his casual flannel. "Got the house to ourselves... The hell are we gonna do?"
Unbeknownst to your husband, you've... done some preparations.
You shuffle uncomfortably in your pajamas, the leather harness is tight but holds onto you like a hug. You were surprised of how comfortable it actually was. John had just returned from the base, and was filling out some last minute emails before he begun his extended time off. The cool evening throbbed outside. It was a warm day so you'd sought to open the windows in your little house. The draft entered from outside, forcing a shudder throughout your body, and nipples to stand erect. You raise your arms slightly to awkwardly cover them, as your harness accentuated your pectorals/breasts. You raised a fist to knock on the open door, as John's back was turned as he worked. Knowing him, he had quite the sixth sense for you.
"Oh! There y' are, luv! Need something? I'm just finishing up." John gave you a bright smile. He x'ed out of the email window to fully turn around and focus his full attention on you. His face fell, seeing your expression and posture. "Something wrong? What's with this face?" He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face.
"Nothing at all! Actually... um... there's... something I want to talk to you about."
"Oh boy, serious face." John chuckled. "About nothing bad! I promise." You give him a smile. 'But... can we... um... go to the bedroom to talk, first?" "Oh..." John draws out, sending a wave of fire through your stomach, chest. He seemed to catch on the implication right away. And he was eating it up. God, he was like a little kid sometimes. "You treat me right, luvie. You treat me right." Oh, you were going to treat him right, alright, the inner bad bitch in you whispered in your ear. Causing you to immediately shake them right off. Shifting, you sit on the bed, motioning for John to sit next to you. The leather harness was still tight, but still a comforting hug. At the same time, it reminded you that there was no going back now... "Well, John..." You begin. "I... I love you."
"Aww, I love you, (name.)" He grinned, and leaned in to give you a firm peck on the lips.
"And..." You continue, wringing your hands, scrunching all up, causing John's expression to shift again. "Come on," his voice is calm, a hand rests on your shoulder, somehow missing your leather harness. "Lay it on me, babe..."
"I've been... um..." You trail off, taking a deep breath, your cheeks completely flushed. Now or never you think. Might as well rip off the bandaid. "Can I show you something?"
John nods with a smile. "Sure. What's up?"
His smile fades, and jaw drops. He certainly was not expecting you to take off your shirt.
His eyes completely rake over you, you could swear his mouth is watering. His eyes linger specifically over the leather as it criss crosses over your chest. Tracing over the straps that went under your breast/pecs, pushing them up, your nipples rising to meet him. Eyes going lower, they widened again on the hint of lacy undergarments under your pajama bottoms.
"My my... why, (name,) what have we here...?" His hands roved to your pajama bottoms, to pull them off and reveal more of your panties, not before looking up at your flushed expression. "(name)? What's wrong? You okay..."
"Yes..." you say, just barely above a whisper. "I... I love you, and... you know you're my first... in... well... everything..." You both chuckled at that. "And... I want to... explore... um..."
"Mm?" John's smirk grew wrapping his arms around you night and tight, pressing another kiss on your forehead. "Oh wow, you feel almost feverish! Mm... you wanna experience more firsts with me?"
You nod. "I do... Do you like it?"
"Like it? By god, (name)..." John trailed off, feeling you up with rough, calloused hands. "You're joking, right?"
"Now then..." John's voice grows husky, smoldering, sending an excited, nervous pit into your loins. "I'm off for a few days now... Does my sexy little thing wanna do some celebrating? This what this is all about?"
"mm... maybe..."
John kisses your lips. "I see." He all but strips off his shirt. He reaches for your hands, taking them in his own, and living them kisses, before tying them together with his discarded shirt. "Lay down, babes, and don't stop looking at me..."
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in1-nutshell · 2 days
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Hello again! another tfa Elita One's twin sister w/ Sg Blackarachnia with a slice of life?
Maybe where Elita One's twin took a day off, like having peaceful time away from work or war related, whether shes's alone or shes accompanied by someone or group (maybe with sari, Megatron, or others)
Add idea:
She's been followed by cons/bots (probably Meg and/or Op/Elita/Sentinel), Elita One's twin Didn't know about it
Buddy really does need a break from all of this.
Hope you enjoy!
Elita One's twin sister and Optimus Prime: slice of life
SFW, Platonic, Romance, Cybertronain (techno organic)reader
TFA
It had been an extremely stressful week for both sides.
Optimus had been called over and over by his team, the city, and the Decepticons skirmishes.
The Prime was running on fumes and knew it was only a matter of time before he would collapse. He did try and get his team to lay off a bit, but he knew in the end he would have to take care of it as leader.
Buddy was starting to get frustrated and impatient with how this week had been turning out.
The number of repairs, renovations, and overall, back up was testing her.
Not even Megatron’s sweet words did anything for her.
Then one evening she did snap.
She was so done with everything.
She even threw her screwdriver through the wall nearly impaling Blitzwings wing to the wall. Marching straight into the main room and yelled catching everyone’s attention.
Buddy venting heavy looking at everyone in the optic.
“Now that I have your attention. I will be taking all tomorrow for myself. There will be no medic available until tomorrow is done. If you have an injury, there are other mechs around with medical experience. Unless you are currently offlining, You. Will. Not. Disturb. Me.”--Buddy
Megatron steps to her side.
“Are you sure that is wise—”--Megatron
Buddy turning her helm sharply to her significant other borderline glaring at him.
As if daring him to say the wrong words.
Megatron felt a bit uneasy as he chose his words.
“I mean that the last time you went out, you had been captured. I do not think I need to remind you of that.”--Megatron
There are some murmurs of agreement around.
Buddy gives him a pointed glare before morphing into a sickening sweet face.
“You are right Megatron. Maybe I should take someone with me.”--Buddy
Megatron nods in agreement.
“I wonder if Optimus is available?”—Buddy
All the Decepticon’s look at her in disbelief.
“…what?”--Megatron
“You can’t be serious?”--Starscream
“Why take the puny Prime when you have Lord Megatron right here!?”--Lugnut
“Because Lugnut! Everyone here has recently taken their mandatory breaks, which need I remind you I recommended you take. If this week has been tough on me, I can’t imagine how Prime must be and he is just as stubborn as I am when it comes to breaks. Anyways, I want to spend some time with him. It’s been a while since I’ve had a moment to chat with him.”--Buddy
Buddy looks at Megatron with puppy dog optics.
“You wouldn’t want me all sad knowing that my friend is suffering and me stuck here read to snap?”--Buddy
Megatron’s optics widen a bit.
But the leader is unwilling to give in screwing his optics shut.
Buddy smirks a bit and gently pries his servos open carefully playing with his digits.
“Megatron?”--Buddy
“Yes…?”--Megatron
Buddy suddenly thrusts her servos to his chassis bringing him down to her level.
Her optics looking at him dead serious.
“If I don’t get this break with my friend… I. will. Snap. You see that screwdriver on the wall. That’s going to be IN someone if I don’t get out.”--Buddy
Megatron gulps a bit before absent mindedly nodding.
Buddy’s face falls into extreme tiredness and hugs him before turning to everyone else like she didn’t just put fear into their leader a couple seconds ago.
“Thank you all for understanding. See you all tomorrow!”--Buddy
Buddy leaves the room ready to com in Optimus.
Megatron stands back up straightening his back, optics lingering on Buddy’s retreating form.
“Yeesh! Remind me never get on… whatever side that was…”--Blitzwing
Starscream looking at Megatron.
“Are you really going to let her go? Just like that?”--Starscream
“Of course not. We are going to watch over her.”--Megatron
Lugnut raises his servo.
“Yes Lugnut?”--Megatron
“…Is it wise to do that Lord Megatron? You could be betraying Buddy’s trust in the process. Yes, things have happened in the past with Buddy, but must we stoop so low as to spy on her as if she were an untrustworthy traitor? She is your partner after all…”--Lugnut
All the Cons look at Lugnut as if he grew a second helm.
“That was… insightful of you Lugnut.”--Blitzwing
“I am the only one here with a loving Conjunx.”--Lugnut
“… This is an order to watch over Buddy.”--Megatron
“As you command Lord Megatron!”--Lugnut
Meanwhile Prime just got off the com with Buddy.
Buddy was letting him know that she was going to pick him up so they could have a day for themselves.
He tried to tell her no, but Buddy casually mentioned what she did in the main room.
Now Optimus knew this was serious and changed his answer.
He could practically see Buddy tired smile as she thanked him and hung up.
“Attention everyone. I won’t be available for the rest of the day tomorrow. I’ve got plans with Buddy—”--Optimus
“So, we can join you.”--Sari
“She wants it to just be the two of us. A ‘friend day’ as she put it.”--Optimus
“And what about the Decepticon’s? what if they attack?”--Prowl
“I don’t think they are going to attack while Buddy is out.”--Optimus
“And how can you be so sure?”--Prowl
“Buddy can get very creative if she doesn’t get the mandatory break, even more when it gets disturbed.”—Optimus
He shivers a bit thinking about the last time that happened.
“What is she going to do? Put us in a web?”--Bumblebee
“The last mech who disturbed her peace ended up in the Academy’s med bay.”—Optimus
Silence…
“Say what now?”--Bumblebee
“Oh I know this story.”--Ratchet
“You do?”--Bulkhead
“She was one of my pupils, of course I know. She grabbed a couple rounds of sedative rounds and shot the mech in between the joint wirings. He didn’t come out of it for days.”—Ratchet
Most of the team has wide optics hearing this.
“How didn’t she get in trouble?!”--Bulkhead
“She knows how to hide the evidence. And if I know my student, she probably put the fear of Primus in Megatron if this day gets ruined.”--Ratchet
“And that’s why I’m going. Anyways it’s been a while since we’ve just had a day to ourselves. I expect there will be no interruptions unless there is an absolute emergency. And no, the controller running out of batteries is not an emergency. Good night.”--Optimus
Optimus made his way to his room as his team began to hatch a way to follow him and Buddy on their day off.
It was just a precaution; they weren’t going to let their day get ruined by the Cons.
The next day came in.
Buddy woke up earlier than usual excited for the day and ran to the exit, swinging to the city.
Around the same time Optimus started leaving the Plant.
Both teams were ready to start spying.
Buddy met Optimus in the park.
The two hugged and immediately started chatting away.
Imagine the surprise when both teams found each other spying on their teammates having the free day.
There was a small moment where they were going to fight but it was shushed by Ratchet.
He scolded them, warning that if they got caught not only would they be betraying the trust of the pair but the fact both needed this time.
“And we don’t want to end up like the mech in the medbay.”--Bulkhead
“What mech in the med bay?”--Lugnut
“Oh, she didn’t tell you? She put a mech in the med bay for disrupting her day off.”--Ratchet
“Yeah! She shot him with so many tranquilizers that he woke up days later!”--Sari
The Cons looked at each other with a sudden cold shiver running down their back.
Ratchet smirks a bit.
“By the Allspark she did put the fear of—”--Ratchet
“Shush! They’re going to hear us!”--Starscream
“Then truce. Nothing ruins their day. They both need this.”--Prowl
Reluctantly the Cons call a truce for the sake of their teammates.
They both ended up working to make sure Buddy’s and Optimus’s day was perfect.
From swatting incoming balls, shooing birds, even taking hits from a rough paint bot.
Buddy and Optimus were not oblivious to the fact both of their teams were following them.
But they thought it would be fun to play along.
Just to mess with them.
Eventually the day came to an end.
Buddy hugged her friend dearly and they both went to their homes.
Both teams raced to their individual bases and tried to act as if they didn’t do anything.
Optimus entered the plant to find most of his team scattered around the room.
They looked tired yet tried to act as if it was nothing.
“I take it you all had quite a day?”--Optimus
“Oh…ummm… Yeah! Bulkhead wanted to try a new painting style and it took all day!”--Bumblebee
Optimus gives them a look and walks to this room before stopping.
“We’re going to need to practice on your stealth Bumblebee. You can’t hide behind a hot dog cart and expect it to cover all of you.”—Optimus
Bumblebee stares at him with his jaw wide open.
Optimus smiled mischievously and went to his room.
He heard multiple groans and a sound that sounded like someone flicking someone on the helm.
Meanwhile with the Decepticons…
Buddy walked in acting a bit surprised seeing her team a little bit worn out and slightly dented.
“You guys had quite a day I’m guessing.”--Buddy
There are some groans here and there.
Buddy giggled a bit as she turns to hug each member of her team before giving an extra-long one to Megatron.
“I’ll fix all these in the morning, I think that sleeping off the day will do your frames good. Especially after getting pelted with pain guns.”--Buddy
As Buddy made her way back to her room she smiled a bit hearing the groans and something that sounded like a helm hitting the wall.
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