#i like how you can zoom in on gifs on tumblr
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two lonely rabbits, two hearts beating as one 🐇🖤🤍 (animated gif)
now on inprnt !
old sketch from march I decided to finish <3 usually when one of my sketches (intending to become a completed drawing) gets put on the backburner, it never surfaces. I usually have to prioritize other drawings and then months or years pass and once I have time, I lose interest and start other drawings in their place... but I'm glad I mustered up the energy to finish this one, ESPECIALLY since I strongly felt I needed more gothic pieces in my gallery hehe
the relationships between characters in this series are so interesting, because there are so many character parallels. I actually had to change the personality of white alice from the sketch to the final, since I .. think I misinterpreted her story! (so I think it turned out less gothic horror than desired but you know what I'll take this <3) I first read this story when I was 14 and I 1000% BET I'll still be finding nuances and new details in the writing years into the future...
I had a lot of fun with the animation albeit just being a blink animation 😩👍 but blinks can be animated in a variety of ways! in terms of my animation skills, I do consider myself on the weaker side. so if i can integrate more animation frames into my illustrations, it'll help me become more familiar and comfortable with the medium. I especially like the difference in how many frames it takes for dark Alice vs white Alice to blink. I think the blinks came out fluidly and I'm quite satisfied with how this drawing came out!
#pandora hearts#alice baskerville#alyss (pandora hearts)#will of the abyss#mochizuki jun#COMING TO YOU WITH ANOTHER HAUNTED PORTRAIT#you: “another? bro that last one was 2 years ago”#me: 😔#tumblr will probably have the highest quality of this drawing everywhere else compresses gifs/videos to hell#i like how you can zoom in on gifs on tumblr#vanitas no carte#animation#also dark alice and white alice have slightly different details on their dresses!#i actually didn't know at first and i feel like a lot of people didn't notice!#my art
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CQL's crybaby Nie Mingjue appreciation post
I always see people talking about CQL's Nie Mingjue crying constantly, and they're right to do so, but I haven't seen those scenes compiled so I thought it would be a good idea to do it, since it's one of my favorite things about this version of NMJ.
*I'll consider the times he was tearing up too because I think they're important, but i'm only considering "full crying scenes" the ones where there are actual tears falling down his face.
*It's all in chronological order.
Episode 41 - defending Meng Yao
Why is NMJ crying? Crying is his response to everything, okay? NMJ is very emotionally invested in everything he does. He's very mad these men for saying terrible things about Meng Yao while benefiting from his labour. He's so emotionally invested in everything he does.
Is it a full crying scene? No, he tears up the entire time he's scolding the cultivators but those tears don't leave his eyes.
Episode 10 - being threatened by Wen Chao
Why is NMJ crying? Wen Chao is being very disrespectful, as he often is. And it's understandable, NMJ is hurt, his home was invaded, some of his soldiers are dead and it's overall a terrible time for everybody. To be honest, though, I think he's tearing up out of pure rage because Wen Chao just mentioned what Wen Xu did to the Cloud Recesses.
Is it a full crying scene? No. I almost didn't include this one because it's very subtle but his eyes look too shiny to be ignored.
Episode 10 - expelling Meng Yao from the Unclean Realm
Why is NMJ crying? It's a very emotional and conflicting moment on top of a terrible day, on top of a very stressful period of his life. He was betrayed by his friend who saved his life right afterwards; his home was invaded and they're at war! He has every right to cry as much as he did.
Is it a full crying scene? Hell yes, and it's glorious. They even end the episode with his miserable little crying face.
Episode 41 - Everything, really
Why is NMJ crying? Everything sucks, he's defeated and hurt in front of the man who killed his father. He didn't get his personal revenge and he didn't free the world from Wen Ruohan's tyranny either. Instead, he watched helplessly as his men were murdered and now he has to watch his former deputy mock his father's death and threaten to have Wen Ruohan damage Baxia like he did with his father's blade.
Is it a full crying scene? No, only because he's being very brave about it. I have no idea how those tears didn't fall.
Episode 41 - confrontation at Jinlintai
Why is NMJ crying? Very difficult topics being discussed here. People who are way better with words than I am have already written amazing meta on how having his worldview challenged like this affects NMJ emotionally, so I won't go there. But between the song of turmoil making him more emotionally unstable and the disdain with which JGY talks about the men he killed, evoking this very traumatic moment I just mentioned on the previous crying scene; I think it's very understandable.
Is it a full crying scene? Yes! Most of the time he's holding back tears, but you can see the one dramatic tear running down his nose (on the outside of it) on the second gif!
In conclusion: he has so much to cry about, it's surprising he didn't cry more, it must have taken so much strength (or he was just crying offscreen, which is plausible, because sadly this isn't The Nie Mingjue show and we don't see him all the time)
Anyway, I am not here to claim he's not a crybaby because he absolutely is, but on the actual show we only have 2 full crying scenes. They were so impactful it feels like much more crying happened. Fatal Journey is it's own thing so I made a separate post for those tearing up, crying and emotional breakdown lovely scenes <3
#nie mingjue#this isn't meta this is me discovering the joy of making decent gifs#cql#long post#kinda#despite often being at the crime scene i won't tag jgy or nieyao because i don't go there and i'm not a fan but yall do whatever you want#i just wanted to look at his pretty crying face and have more than just screenshots of it#like look at him!! how can you say mean things to him or in his general vicinity knowing it will make him cry?#monsters all of them#the zoom on the second to last gif makes it so funny though#anyway i hope my gifs aren't horrible to tumblr standards
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The Assistant (officeAU!Geto x Fem!Reader x officeAU!Gojo)
based on this request, tumblr hates me.
Plot: Senior Partner at the prestigious Gojo Group's legal department, Geto Suguru never expected to fall for his newly-hired personal assistant. But when his lifelong best friend and boss takes an interest in you, Suguru fins his own feelings rapidly escalating into an uncontrollable obsession.
Tags: Office!AU, Geto POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Secretary!Reader, Lawyer!Geto, CEO!Gojo, Office Sex, Oral Sex (m.receiving), Doggy Style, Degradation, Praise, Pining, Jealousy, Obsession, Sexual Coercion, Abuse of Authority, don't get your hopes up; this isn't a threesome, MDNI obviously.
A/N: Number one bestie, you still owe me Gojo smut. But here, 14k words to quench your thirst for Suguwu.
Masterlist | AO3 | Requests
“How about this one? She’s pretty hot, don’t you think, Suguru?” Satoru waves yet another paper in Suguru’s face, his excitement wearing off the moment he catches his best friend pinching his nose bridge between his fingers.
“Satoru, we are picking associate candidates, not swimming-suit contest winners.” Suguru chides in a calm tone, crossing out the woman’s name from his list with a red line that’s identical to the line above and the ones that rank above it too.
This is the 78th candidate whose CV is rejected by the two men, their task of finding Suguru the perfect assistant turning rather daunting after five emptied cups of instant coffee.
Suguru insisted he could’ve done it alone—similar to how he’d insisted he could’ve kept handling his own affairs by himself and argued against a congratulatory party in honor of his promotion. But certain wishes outweigh others, and in the legal department of Gojo Enterprises, Satoru’s word is as good as the law—one of the many perks that come with being the president’s only son.
“What’s wrong with swimming suit contests?” The white-haired man sulks, long limbs hanging gracelessly from over his chair’s backrest. He zooms in on the woman’s picture one final time before crumpling the paper into a ball that’s flung straight into the garbage bin by the door. "Hey, that was a three-pointer!"
Sigh.
Even though the two of them have been friends since Suguru can remember himself, sometimes it feels as if only one of them outgrew their fourth-grade selves. It’s nothing new for Satoru to confuse play time with work time, yet as the man who will come to inherit the entire Gojo empire, he should at least focus on how to better the company, not tear it apart.
“Nothing wrong with swimming suits or gravure models, but we should choose someone based on their skills. Remember what your father always says: a business is only as successful as—”
“‘Its team is,’ yeahyeahyeah , spare me the preach. My ears are tired of that old man’s nagging.” Satoru spins around in his chair, the rollers squeaking under his weight. “Just because someone’s pretty doesn’t mean they can’t be competent. Take me for example.” His thumb and forefinger shape an angle below his chin.
A quiet chuckle evades Suguru as he sorts the files before him and slides the next batch across Satoru’s side of the table. “Fine, if we don’t find someone who checks both criteria, then you can be my assistant.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Satoru rips another instant coffee packet open. “My hands are full already.” Throwing his head back, he empties the powder into his mouth and washes it around until the sugary substance dissolves.
“I can see that,” Suguru murmurs, masking his distaste by returning to work.
The stacks of paper soon decline, with Satoru needing a cursory look to dismiss the candidates and Suguru meticulously processing their accomplishments down to their high school extracurricular activities. Work at the firm is hard enough as is. He’s seen far too many young, ambitious interns crack under pressure and pop pills into their mouths like candy just so they can keep up.
Narrowing down his options, Suguru gets a decent idea of what he’s looking for: adaptability, flexibility, and drive. Those traits are common to all three finalists, with two of them having touched a variety of fields and the other having a background in volunteer work.
He’s all but decided on candidate number 99 when a paper plane crashes into the side of his head.
“Oops!” Satoru’s shoulders scrunch up coyly, though both he and his partner know it was very much intentional.
Suguru catches the plane, appreciating the craftsmanship behind the carefully folded wings, before he sets it on the table.
“Satoru.” His voice gains a slight edge after he spots candidate 42’s face decorating the underside of the aircraft, a comically large mustache drawn on top. “Was anyone else to your liking, or did the rest become fodder for your fleet?”
He watches his friend fish a paper crane out of his jacket, clearly pleased with himself, and he has every right to be, considering the paper is seamlessly trimmed without any scissors. Cute. Suguru smiles, withholding his praise lest it become another point of distraction.
Rolling his chair away, Satoru jumps up and slams the desk with enough force to break it. “Number 98!” He declares.
“98?” Suguru asks, and in seconds, Satoru is found hovering above his shoulder, one hand drumming against the leather chair and the other covering the (presumed) woman’s picture.
“Good grades, prestigious papers, and all that education shit you’re so fond of.” His forefinger trails between the lines. “University of Tokyo, Department of—blah blah , Essex something something, worked three years as a paralegal for the Kamos. Whole damn package, and the best thing?” He draws his palm away, slowly enough to build anticipation. “She’s drop-dead gorgeous.”
“Satoru, I told you—”
Whatever was supposed to complete that sentence withers at the tip of Suguru’s tongue, amber irises blown as they take in every detail of your face, animating your features as if you’re truly there with them, and for a moment, he tricks himself into thinking you are.
He sees your lips—those pretty lips he swears taste like honey without kissing them—drawing away from your teeth, the mellifluous sound of your laughter coating the rumble of prints being made somewhere in the background. He knows that a picture can’t possibly hold such power, and yet the subtle floral notes in your perfume reach him, prevailing so easily over the stench of ink and coffee and enchanting him into agreeing with his friend.
She is gorgeous. Perhaps the most gorgeous woman he’s laid eyes on.
You are.
“Come on, Suguru. This one’s super cute!” Satoru argues in your favor, his jaw piercing his friend’s shoulder. “Seriously, if you’re not hiring her, then I am. I can always lay off one of my—”
“Looks like you are off the hook, Satoru. This one will do.”
“And this is the kitchen. I recommend making the most of our espresso maker or heading to the cafeteria on the first floor—unless you don’t mind your coffee tasting like watered-down sugar.” Suguru nods toward the pyramid of instant coffee boxes stacked in the corner, conscious of the doe eyes that track his every gesture.
The picture barely did you any justice. You are so much prettier in person with your well-fitting two-piece suit and the pocket notebook you carry, penning down everything he says, down to the locations of kitchenware and the names of employees you meet along the way. He can’t tell whether you’re not confident enough in your ability to memorize things or simply overzealous. No matter the case, he finds your little habit endearing, but then again, the opinion of a man who endeared himself to you ahead of your acquaintance is not to be taken at face value.
“What’s the matter?” He cocks his head to the side, gaze drawn to the pen stilled in your grasp. “Too much info?”
“More like too many handles and blinking lights. One wrong button, and the whole building detonates.” You glance at him over the pages, your tone delineating a smile he cannot see.
He returns it, piecing the bang that typically never bothers him behind his ear. “Sato—I mean, Senior Partner Gojo received this as a gift from Zen’in Naobito when we moved to this building.”
“Is that so? I thought Zen’in Group was notoriously at odds with Gojo Group.”
“Oh, they are. But it’s common business tactics to trade one overpriced gift for another to see who breaks bank first.” Suguru hums, grabbing a clean mug from the rack and initiating the twelve-step process required to brew a single cup of coffee. “If I remember correctly, our side sent them a private sushi chef. His work hours were paid; the fish, not so much. Sugar?” He smirks, stirring the amount you call in your coffee.
“What happened after? Off the record.” You tap your notebook shut, and the smile he thought he heard is there, seen on your lips and felt in his heart, warmer than the beverage his hand offers.
“They kept him around for about a month before politely declining our generosity. I guess there’s a limit to how much bluefin tuna the rich can stomach.” His narrowed eyes crinkle fondly while he watches you blow the steam from your face and take your first sip. “Hope it’s to your liking.”
“The coffee or the story?”
“Both. But mostly the coffee.”
“It’s really good.” You nod appreciatively. “Thank you!”
“Don’t mention it.” Suguru disposes of the used coffee beans, failing to, however, rid himself of the soft smile perching on his lips. “It’ll take a while to get used to it, so feel free to come to me whenever you need more coffee. Or another story.”
“I could never disturb you for something like that.” You shake your head along with your hands. “What kind of assistant asks her boss to make her coffee?”
The word “boss” carries a negative connotation coming from your lips; the few inches that keep you apart rapidly expand into miles, and he hates that. It’s a gap he doesn’t want to see widened any further.
“How about you think of us as partners, then?” Suguru takes a leap while the distance’s short. “None of us gets paid to make coffee either way.”
You seem hesitant to agree, holding the weight of his stare until your determination crumbles. “Fine. But only till I get the hang of it. Then you’ll be greeted with a cup of freshly brewed espresso on your desk every morning.”
“That’s very thoughtful, but I’d rather be served tea instead. Red with one sugar?”
Overzealous , he decides as you hurriedly flip through the pages to scribble his order.
He wonders what your handwriting is like. Whether it’s scrawled and stumpy or eloquent and delicate, which isn’t the most fascinating thing to wonder about a person, but he can’t help himself from trying to pierce through the hardcover for a glimpse at your thoughts, unwittingly attracting your attention.
You share a look that flourishes over a second and withers within an eternity, its remains scattering into an airy chuckle as the machine cuts in with a sudden choo .
“I’m s-sorry!” You bow your head, bottom lip sticking out while you fail to suppress your amusement. “I didn’t expect it to sound like this. It’s just like—”
“Mhm, it does resemble the bullet train to Sendai a bit, doesn’t it?”
Suguru doesn’t necessarily think of himself as a funny man. But witnessing the little dance your fingers perform as you struggle to keep the cup steady, he might as well be the funniest man in the whole wide world.
“Shall we get going?” He prompts. “I still haven’t shown you to your office.”
“Please lead the way. Partner.” You add, unaware that the man who cruises you by almost trips over his feet. In his mind, at least.
Walking among the cubicles where various paralegals have their noses buried within tower-height stacks of memoranda, Suguru goes over your shared schedule and what is expected of you in the upcoming days, silently praying that you don’t question his insistence to wipe his sweaty palms against his slacks. He hasn’t been this stressed since he and Satoru were studying for the bar exam, and even then, it wasn’t him he was stressing about.
He recites, and you diligently take notes, up until the compact desks lessen and you find yourselves standing in front of an open space with its own reception. The senior partners’ offices—or, in other words, your boss’ and his boss’ offices.
“Hey, Shoko. Got anything for me?” Suguru asks the disinterested brunette seated at the front desk.
The woman’s eyes dart between the two of you. She acknowledges your presence with a curt bow, hardly bothering to put out her cigarette in the tray behind her. “Just this.” She pulls a yellow folder from one of the drawers and hands it to him, smoke wafting when she speaks. “It’s a letter of intent; Nanami brought it himself. Says it’s important.
“How much longer do I have to keep this up?” Shoko asks, a red imprint from where her wrist was previously propping her cheek against her elbow.
Suguru takes out the papers, skimming through the lines before stuffing them back inside and giving her a tiny smile.
“Thank you for your service, Shoko. You are fired.”
“Yay!” The woman excites in the same deadpan tone, grabbing her bag and almost knocking you down with how quick she is to flee the company premises.
“Is she—”
“Don’t worry about her.” Suguru’s attention returns to you. “She’s just a friend filling in for us.”
The way he uses the term friend is deliberate. Normally, he wouldn’t care what people make of his and Satoru’s relationship with the third member of their group, but he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.
Tucking the folder under his armpit, Suguru proceeds to lead you to your office, situated in the same open space although much closer to the wooden door that spells his full name and title in capital gold lettering—another of Satoru’s fanciful insistences.
Your desk is half as wide as the reception’s, yet twice as spacious as the cubicle ones. The company’s logo bounces across an idle computer screen, dust particles dancing amidst the glaring light of high noon. There is a telephone and some stationery that’s either sorted in a silver pencil holder or frames the hefty planner at the center, though it’s the sticky notes dangling from its pages that end up piquing your interest.
Suguru suffered through the teasing of a lifetime for spending his entire weekend summarizing case files just so your first days wouldn’t be hectic.
(“Good for you, Suguru.” Satoru snickered from his sumptuous recliner, a tennis ball bouncing from the wall back to his hand. “Getting your first crush at the age of 28. What’s next? Drawing your initials in little hearts for her to see how well your names fit together?”
“Shut up." Suguru clicked his pen against his head, stretching his feet below the workbench-turned kotatsu. "Some people happen to function better in organized environments.”
“Mhm , all I’m hearing is Suguru and Y/N sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Satoru sang at an annoyingly gleeful pitch.)
“This,” you reel him back to the present. “You did this?”
Your eyes gleam like twin stars in their sockets. Clear, brilliant, and bright, but most importantly, boring into his.
Good for you, Suguru. Getting your first crush at the age of 28.
Suguru nearly waves his hand over his face to disperse his friend’s voice. It’s not a crush. He doesn’t think it is. Admitting to what is beautiful and reacting to it is a natural human response that has nothing to do with feelings of any kind. This is ephemeral.
“Y-yes.” A dry cough clears the hoarseness in his throat. “Thought it’d make your life easier if you knew where to focus instead of running around like a headless chicken.” He shifts through the pages in your hands. “Naturally, the indicators attached to closer dates are more urgent than the ones pushed further back, though they’re also sorted by color. Green means you can do it at your leisure, while bright pink means—”
“Danger, death, don’t skip?” You smile, and he nods eagerly. A bit too eagerly. Just like a schoolboy who was praised for giving the right answer, even though you were the one who answered correctly.
Maybe kissing on a tree wouldn’t be so bad.
“Thank you for doing this. And for hiring me.” You suddenly grow timid, bottom lip trapped in a shy smile as you extend your hand to him. “Working for this company is a great opportunity on its own, but working under—with ,” you correct yourself, “someone who values their juniors and goes the extra mile for them is like hitting the lottery.” A chuckle slips. “Apologies, the different colored sticky notes got to me.”
Soft. So damn soft. Your hand is so fucking soft, enveloping his own, that he curses himself for not coming up with the idea of a handshake when he first welcomed you at the lobby. It is a problem because he doesn’t want to let go, and when he does, he does so begrudgingly, his rougher finger pads dragging over your smooth skin and lingering above your polished fingernails with such delicacy as if they were freshly bloomed rosebuds.
“There are more in the drawer.” He nods toward the first drawer, a smirk coming as an afterthought. “Paper clips too.”
“Don’t tell me there’s a stapler in there too!” You gasp dramatically.
“Guess you’re gonna have to see for yourself.” His head droops to the side, and he smiles.
Your head droops to the side, and you smile back. You. Smile. Back.
The notion settles in his heart before registering in his brain, nestling where nothing can pry it off and inking itself as an indelible memory that’s bound to haunt him throughout the review of the Tengen shares redistribution, on which he better get started.
“Well, then. I’ll leave you to it.”
He manages about three steps away when your voice has him stopping in his tracks.
“Mr. Geto, you shouldn’t have!”
There are quite a few things he shouldn’t have done. For starters, waking up two hours ahead of his alarm, mixing the salt with the sugar in his morning tea (though something tells him that was the work of someone else), wearing his watch on the wrong wrist, and letting himself be smitten with his brand new assistant, whom he’s barely known for half a day. But you don’t know about any of those things. At least he hopes you don’t.
So, which one is it?
He turns around slowly, jaw almost dropping at the flower field spanning between your arms, roses redder than the blood boiling in his veins and peonies pinker than the tinge rising high on your cheeks—an arrangement bound with ivory wrapping paper.
“How do you like your welcoming gift?” The harbinger of disaster, conveniently known as his best friend, boss, and apparent competitor, makes his entrance.
“You are—”
“Gojo Satoru—local entrepreneur of the year, number one in Forbes’ 30 under 30, featured on the cover of Times magazine, most eligible bachelor in the world after his highness, the Archduke of Austria, and ringleader of this establishment—in the flesh!” He introduces himself like a certain character from Game of Thrones would, taking an excessively dramatic bow and rushing to your side with a wolfish smile that sharpens his otherwise gentle features.
“And you must be Y/N, right?” Without hesitation, Satoru hops into first name basis, cerulean eyes casting an indiscreet look over his sunglasses as he bends forward, hands kept on his knees. “My, you are even more beautiful in person! The picture did you no justice at all!”
And just like that, every single word that’d steadily been brewing in Suguru’s mind is taken away from him, Satoru praising you with the same ease and unparalleled confidence he bought the extravagant bouquet in your embrace, one that befits a lifelong lover more than a newly acquainted colleague.
“Mr. Gojo, I—I don’t know what to say.” Your eyes remain glued to the flowers, tense shoulders slightly squirming.
“Hmm, how about you start with dropping the honorifics? I hate having barriers between me and my employees.” He didn’t seem to hate barriers when he made Ijichi address him as Grand Emperor Gojo for a month straight as punishment. “We are all the same age here. Call me Gojo unless,” he smirks playfully, tilting his head to where you can no longer escape him, “you feel bold enough to call me Satoru.”
“Satoru.” The monotone intonation of his name carries a warning the white-haired man heeds, sparing you in favor of using his friend’s shoulder as an armrest.
“Suguru! Are you done with showing our”—our?—“lovely new assistant around?”
“What’s with the flowers?”
“The flowers?” Satoru chuckles boisterously. “What are you talking about? That’s how I welcome every new member of our team!”
“I don’t remember receiving any flowers when I signed my contract.” A mumble is met with a light elbow to his neck.
“You get paid enough to afford your own.” Satoru huffs, switching back to his amicable persona in the blink of an eye—your watchful eye that’s been studying them without daring to interfere. Another chuckle, accompanied by a poke to Suguru's cheek. “Tulips or dahlias? Name it, and I’ll turn your office into a greenhouse.”
“Please, don’t.”
“Are the two of you close?” Your voice forces the two men to break from each other, a furtive glance shared among them.
“Suuuuper close!” Satoru squeezes his friend’s shoulders into another unwanted embrace. “Been best friends since—third grade, was it? Hah, remember the time you called principal Yaga mom during morning assembly, and he started growing out his beard ‘cause he thought he wasn’t manly enough? Hilarious.”
Anger seethes in Suguru’s guts like a shaken can of soda about to combust, fizzling out before it can reach its boiling point. “Satoru.” He grits his teeth. “Weren’t you supposed to be at the shareholder meeting?”
“The shareholder—” He repeats, almost surprised, laughing awkwardly to himself. “Oh, turns out I wasn’t needed much. Left Ijichi in charge; he should be fine. Probably .”
A caricature of Ijichi suffering a mental breakdown while trying to placate those senile, cymbal-hitting monkeys plays in both their heads, barring yours.
“Ijichi is President Gojo’s personal assistant.” Suguru explains, pinching Satoru’s sleeve away from his body—except he doesn’t budge. “He’s been working under Satoru for the past four months as his secretary, reporting directly to his father since his only son wasn’t so good at budget handling and had his allowance cut. Isn’t that right, Satoru?”
“Let’s not talk about such tedious subjects in front of Y/N.” The man pulls away at once, running a hand through messy strands of white.
“I actually don’t mind—”
“Measuring up to all your quirks and abiding by your crazy filing system should bore her enough on its own.” He cuts you off, speaking behind his palm as if his words are meant solely for you. “Has Suguru shown you his little planner? Took him two all-nighters to put it together, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
He rests assured in his victory, not counting on you being the one who knocks him down a peg.
“Mhm, he already did, and I already thanked him. I’m a firm believer that a clear desk means a clear mind, and a clear mind means efficiency.” The flowers are at last unloaded upon your desk, their lengthy stems covering about two-thirds of the furniture. “Cluttering your workspace with a bunch of unnecessary items will only stagger your progress and make you fall behind. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Gojo?”
It’s rare to catch Satoru at a loss for words, yet there he stands, completely still and utterly speechless at your mercy, his expression akin to that of a wrongfully sprayed kitten.
The two of you turn to Suguru, seeking some sort of recognition that would settle the score. Any other person in his shoes would side with the authority in the room, but your referee decides to sit this one out.
He knows what Satoru is thinking. Substance is dull without style, and tri-colored dango tastes best in spring. He never had to choose one over the other, but giving you a piece of his mind would make him look indecisive—or worse, shallow—and he doesn’t want that. He wants to look good in front of you, or else he wouldn’t have worn his most expensive suit and bailed out of the most important meeting of the month.
He dug his own grave, and unexpectedly, the helping hand that pulls him out belongs to the one who first cast dirt upon his casket.
“Thank you for the flowers, Mr. Gojo. They might not have a place on my desk, but they’ll sure make a lovely centerpiece for my table at home. Peonies, right?” Your smile is effortlessly disarming. “I don’t know much about flowers, but I hear they symbolize good fortune.”
“They do?” Satoru asks, slapping the stupefied expression off his face. “I mean, yeah! Of course they do!” He bounces back, soft dimples obliterating a deep-carved frown. “I hope your time here brings you lots of good fortune. I know the place already seems more fortunate with you around.”
You chuckle warmly, locking eyes with an impressed Suguru. No one’s ever made Satoru both lose face and helped him save some over the span of a single five-minute conversation. No one but Suguru himself.
He made the right choice by hiring you.
“The rumors about the future head of the company were true. You really are everything they make you out to be.”
“Huh? What rumors? What do they say about me?” Satoru chases you to your desk, an imaginary tail wagging behind him as he watches you pick up your notebook and flip to a blank page.
“How do you drink your coffee?” A tap of your pen. “I know it’s not much, but...I’d like to repay your kindness.”
Oh no. Here we go again.
“I’m pretty easy. I drink my espresso with six sugar cubes, my cappuccino with nine pumps of caramel syrup, sweet condensed milk, whipped cream, and caramel drizzle on top—and, of course, the six sugar cubes. In the summer— oh crap, I almost forgot, I also like mocha, both white and regular, again same toppings—I usually go for iced lattes with—”
Two minutes into taking his order, and about twenty seconds after your pen stops moving, you glance at Suguru for help. The man simply shrugs, amusement hinted in his cat-like eyes.
There is a good reason why the kitchen’s loaded on instant coffee, and that’s because it’s the only thing that can quench Satoru’s sweet tooth on the spot. You’re going to have to figure that out on your own, just like every other unfortunate soul in this company did when they stupidly offered to treat him.
“That reminds me!” A finger snap concludes his monologue. “Suguru, you know what day it is?”
“Tuesday?”
“You mean one-plus-one Tuesday. Ah, you have no idea how much I've been looking forward to my weekly croquette sandwich; wouldn’t have gotten out of bed if it wasn't for it. Erm , and you ,” he says, again running his fingers through his hair as he bestows you with another laid-back smile. “The two highlights of my week.”
Suguru sighs, convincing himself it’s the prospect of leaving so much work behind that doesn’t excite him and not the sight of Satoru’s affections being subtly reciprocated.
“So, you coming?” Satoru asks.
“I’m gonna have to pass.”
“What?” He gapes, hand clutching his chest like a child who just found out they’re adopted. “Why?”
“Because we are meeting with Tengen’s representatives at the end of the week and they’ll withdraw their investment unless we have a clear model for their merger.” Suguru reminds him. “Besides, Satoru, you don’t need me to buy lunch when you can literally buy out the place with one of your cards.”
Fixing his glasses higher over his nose, Satoru opens his mouth to complain, deciding against it at the last minute. He shoots a haughty look in Suguru's general direction. “Well, if you’re really that busy, then—ah, guess it can’t be helped. Least you can do is be responsible and send a replacement. And who could that replacement be—hmm, if only there was an available candidate.”
He scopes the place with a palm horizontal to his eyes, stopping once he supposedly detects your presence. “What do you say, new girl? Perhaps this could be our chance to get to know each other. I bet there’s so much you’re dying to ask me.” He says with a stare far too playful to be deemed salacious.
Round glasses come off as Satoru leans against your desk and plays up his charms. You are drawn to the blue spirals in his eyes, mesmerized by their sublime beauty, and in a way, it’s nature’s will for the stars to seek the skies, but Suguru can’t stand for it. Not when such bitterness floods his palate, spreading into his bloodstream like poison that prompts his body to move against every volition that isn’t his own.
“Let’s go.” He rasps in a nearly menacing tone, claw-like fingers closing around Satoru’s shoulder. “Your treat.”
"She is scary!" Breadcrumbs fall from Satoru's mouth as he takes another bite out of his lunch, tonkatsu sauce overlining his cupid's bow. "Terrifying even."
"I thought you said she was hot." Suguru states wryly, still in the process of peeling the fifteen layers of wrapping paper that encompass his sandwich, when he pauses to offer Satoru a couple of napkins.
He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like thank you, and wipes his lips clean, only to dirty them with another sloppy bite.
"She is," he agrees after gulping down, snowy eyelashes fluttering shut to a moan that has people from different tables turning heads to theirs. "Both scary and hot. Scarily hot. Mmm, so damn good~"
Another obscene sound vibrates in his throat, and this time, Suguru fails to hide his disgust, staring at his friend like a disappointed mother at a parent-teacher conference.
"What?" Satoru asks, the blue in his eyes expanding as he touches his cheek. "Is there something on my face?"
"Satoru." Suguru shakes his head, speaking in a quiet voice all the while pleading with him to stop acting grossly in public.
It's safe to say his request isn't received well, although it takes just one mention of your name for Satoru to let go of his grudge and perk up again.
"Did you see how mean she was to me?" The giddiness in his tone fails to match his words. "Ready to walk all over me with those heels. Bet she would have if you weren't there."
"And? Giving up already?" Suguru teases.
"Who said I am?" Satoru chugs his coke. "Just hafta try harder."
Any joy Suguru might have felt at his friend's misery ends up parching in his throat, squinted eyes casting an inexcusably hard glare on the sandwich he grips with malice.
"God, did ya see her smile? Bet her lips taste like heaven."
"And what does heaven taste like?"
"Probably as good as this," Satoru says, nodding to his half-finished meal, "but sweeter. Infinite times sweeter. I'll let you know once I find out for myself."
Every word that comes out of Satoru's mouth causes Suguru's fingers to clutch tighter and tighter until the croquettes explode out of his sandwich, splattering the table and his hand with bits of potato and sauce.
"Ah. Sorry, I wasn't—" Suguru drops the remains on his plate, cleaning his fingers one by one. He isn't even sure what he's apologizing for.
"Want me to get you another?" Satoru offers. "I could go for seconds."
"It's fine. Not hungry anymore."
Gardenia or tuberose?
The same question repeats in Suguru's brain, begging to distract him from the slew of paperwork he's been asked to sign, but not from the actual distraction that is bent over his desk, making him question not just his sanity but also his self-control.
Tuberose.
He doesn't think much of either is left when he breathes in the perfume dabbed around your shirt's open collar, alluring to the point where he catches himself chasing after your neck like a hound dog—heavy breath hitching in his chest.
Gardenia.
He doubts he has any left when his amber eyes peer into your cleavage, tracing the contour between your supple breasts down to the first popped button of your shirt—large palms aching to seize them.
Tuberose.
He realizes he is not half the decent man he was about a month ago when his cock twitches at the sight of your pencil skirt riding higher on your thighs, the black seams of your sheered stockings promising a fast track to your tight little cunt—and how he’d love to gain access to that.
Gardenia or tuberose; who cares?
Figuring out the notes in your perfume is about the last thing Suguru cares about when every inch of his body urges him to blow your back against the lavish mahogany, signing the rest of these documents in a mix of your spit and tears. But it's what helps keep those intrusive thoughts from spilling out.
"One more signature here." Ignorant about his dark impulses, you shuffle through the papers and point at another blank place of signature he needs to fill. "It's a referral agreement for Miss Mei's services. She said the terms were verbally agreed upon, but feel free to go over them again and suggest any adjustments."
"That won't be necessary." With a few quick flicks of his pen, Suguru jots down his name. "Thank you for your hard work."
He struggles to meet your eyes without first halting at your tits as you collect the documents and hug them (regrettably) close to your chest, pulling away from his desk to stand before him.
"Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Geto!" A sweet smile is plastered on your face, and he can't help but wonder whether you'd continue smiling at him if you ever caught a whiff of the filth festering in his brain.
He doesn't like what his feelings have matured into. He's not proud that every time your eyes cross, he muses over what they'd look like rolling to the back of your skull or how sometimes he'll lock his office door and beat his cock to the thought of your pretty nails digging in his thighs while he bullies his length into the heat of your throat.
He hates that those aren't even his own thoughts but were rather instilled in him by Satoru, who couldn't be more vocal and descriptive of his own fantasies if he wanted to. He's the same way about his advances, and it drives Suguru insane to see his friend making such quick headway because he remains Mr. Geto while he gets to be Satoru.
It's all because of that damn merger...
The first time Suguru heard you address Satoru by his first name came right after a business meal he was forced to sit out of. Someone had to deal with the last-minute amendment Tengen requested to their already-filed and approved work plan, while another entertained their prospective investors. Seeing as Satoru was the face of the company, he couldn't possibly miss such an important meeting, and so they divided responsibilities.
Suguru stayed back to deal with the crisis, but not without sending you on his behalf—all pretty and dolled-up in your navy halter dress and black pumps, shining like the evening star by Satoru's side, only to come back completely drained of light with the worst shoe bite known to man.
Ever the observant gentleman, Suguru ran to the nearest drugstore, returning to the office with his heart in his mouth and a bag full of supplies that dropped from his hands the moment he saw his best friend kneel before your feet, tying the shoelaces of a newly bought pair of sneakers.
Thank you, Satoru.
The same scene repeated itself many a time, his lesser romantic gestures outdone by a price tag he couldn't match and words he couldn't brace himself to say just yet.
A fluff of white hair orbited around your desk at a constant, like a bumblebee who'd discovered an inexhaustible source of nectar, and you grew close enough not to swat it—him—away. You'd answer his jokes with mirthful chuckles, and he'd answer your “Here's your stomach ache of a cappuccino, Satoru” with platinum-coated Mont Blanc pens and luxury Moleskine agendas. Plural.
Light touches, flirty smiles, and heart-eyes in both your voices, whose volume bypassed his closed door as an irritating buzz that had Suguru wondering whether there had been a change of offices.
The breaking point came two nights ago, when, in the spur of jealousy, he heaped you with enough work to keep your desk lamp burning all night long. He regretted it as soon as he got into his car, and then he stepped on the pedal, driving to that one Chinese place he and Satoru frequented while they were still students—driving again like a maniac to ensure the food reached you hot.
But great minds think alike.
By the time Suguru made it back into the office, a proper candle-lit dinner was held over the scattered papers on your desk that then doubled as coasters. A second chair was drawn near yours, two silhouettes huddled together. Shoulders nudging, chopsticks lifted—and he refused to stick around long enough to watch his best friend feed dumplings directly into your mouth, along with whatever was bound to follow.
Which pulls him back to the current reality of his foggy windows and the cold tea on his desk, with present-you staring at him, oblivious to his dilemma.
He knows he has no right to feel this way. You aren't his property, and contrary to what the media wants the world to believe, Satoru isn't some heartless womanizer who changes girls the same way people change socks. In fact, Suguru can't remember the last time he saw Satoru this invested in a person. You hitting it off is a good thing. He should be happy.
He should be.
He really should.
But he isn't.
He really isn't.
And he doubts he'll ever be, because in his whole life, he's never envied anything that Satoru has. Not his money, not his status, not his prestige—not anything. You're the first thing he's ever envied—the first he's ever wanted. Because you are his assistant, and within the wretched spiral of his desires, that should amount to something.
You should be his.
"So.” Suguru takes a sip of his tea, trying his hardest not to cringe at its unpleasant, lukewarm taste. "Any special plans for the holidays?"
You shake your head slowly and then with more confidence again.
"That's good." He blurts out, masking his relief with a low chuckle. "I mean—"
“I get it.” You chuckle back. “Not a big fan of the holidays, are you?”
“Not a hater either. Satoru,” he mentally curses himself for bringing him up now, “is the one who gets all excited about Christmas. Gives him the perfect opportunity to put on a show without being chastised by President Gojo. Hard to argue back when he brings up the morale of the team."
“Well, everyone seems to be excited for the party." You add. "Especially the interns; heard them gushing about it with Assistant Manager Haibara."
"I don't suppose Intern Fushiguro was with them, was he?" Suguru smirks as you confirm his suspicions. The boy might be Satoru's protegee, yet the two are like night and day when it comes to means of entertainment.
"It's Intern Kugisaki and Intern Itadori's first Christmas at our company, and the press always finds a way to glorify anything related to the Gojos." Suguru continues. "The annual Christmas party isn't an exception. Outsiders need a special invitation, and only a select few make the cut."
"We should consider ourselves lucky, then." You point out.
"Mhm," he hums. "Come think of it, it's your first Christmas with us too. Are you excited?" A teasing lilt colors his voice.
"Definitely am!" You humor him. "Especially after hearing about the ugly sweater contest."
"Fan of the sport or the prize?"
"Both. But five days at a deluxe resort in Okinawa do sound enticing."
"I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you." Suguru folds his arms over his chest and tilts back against his chair. A condescending look spreads over his features.
You mirror his stance, sticking your right heel out. "And why is that? Are you competing perhaps?"
He snorts as if the notion alone is plain ridiculous. "I'm not, but Nanami is."
"Nanami? Manager Nanami?" You blink in disbelief, trying and mostly failing to contain your laughter. Not like he can fault you. A man as practical and square-minded as Nanami sporting sweaters that feature 3D reindeer heads is a sight one must see in order to believe.
"He's oddly passionate about this." Suguru explains. "He's won every contest for the past four years, just to enjoy a little time off."
"I should give it my best then."
"I'll be cheering for you." He promises with a wink, picking up on the faint blush that dusts your cheeks. A small victory.
You bite your lip and cast a gaze to the floor before lifting your head in search of the clock on his wall. He sighs internally.
"So." You return to the beginning of your discussion.
"So." He repeats with a softer tone.
"I guess I'll be seeing you at the party?"
"Guess you will." He nods, gesturing toward the door. "You may go. I need to finish these first.
You nod back and hold onto the door knob, turning around one last time to bow at him. "There's an extra umbrella on my desk. Feel free to take it."
Before Suguru can even consider his answer, you turn into smoke, leaving him with a hopeful smile he scolds himself for. A thoughtful gesture can't possibly undo all the sorrow and anguish he experienced over the course of a mere month.
And yet he still finds himself skipping to your desk, grinning now at the little piece of paper that dangles from the umbrella's handle. It's not a spare, that's for sure.
As lightning cracks the gloomy skies above, Suguru faces toward the window, tracking the thunder's tail down to gray cement, where colorful umbrellas dance around like anemones. Yours twirls like the most beautiful flower of all, vivid petals drawing into themselves as you're ushered into a white SUV by a hand belonging to a man he knows all too well—driven away while Suguru stands there watching, feeling as if cold rain pours over him instead.
He sets down the umbrella and returns to his office.
After the fifth replay of "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" blasts over the speakers, Suguru begins to reconsider the answer he gave you less than 24 hours ago.
He hates Christmas—the buzz, the fuss. The forced happiness and the self-inflicted festive glee. The repetitive songs and the continuous camera flash. The stuffy atmosphere and the nausea-inducing blinking lights. How every snack gets labeled with an ambiguous "Christmas flavor," as if a holiday can have a taste in the first place; he hates all that.
But most of all, he hates not being the one to stand beside you under that damn mistletoe—a spectator among spectators and an outcast even among them.
Champagne trembles in his hand as he watches the crowd gather around you and Satoru, smothering you with cheers that sound a beat above the music, excessive clapping synchronized for the sake of a four-letter word chanted like a prayer. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!
You don't give in to their demands. Not immediately, at least. There is some awkward fumbling, a hand weaving through semi-combed strands of white, and the pointy end of a heel dragging incomplete circles. You shake your heads in unison, giggling, making a very weak effort to get yourselves out of this predicament, though the people know exactly what they want. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!
It's quick and painless. Chaste, as Satoru leans forward and pecks your cheek, grinning a shit-eating grin from one ear to the other when he pulls away and waves off the jeers. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Louder this time. His lips move soundlessly, wordless speech bubbles emerging in faux protest as if he isn't dying to kiss you, as if you aren't dying to be kissed by the most important man in the room, as if this poorly executed play isn't staged.
Suguru finds himself wishing you'd get it over with, yet he can't bring himself to turn away. Much like everyone else, his gaze is fixed on you, enchanted by you since day one, and imprisoned in a dismal spell that continues to wring his heart for all its worth, threatening to leave him shattered.
You take initiative this once. Stepping in front of Satoru, your fingers seek the hem of his cream-colored cashmere sweater. You pull him to you, reeling and reeling and reeling, and—
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Geto!" A pair of impressionable eyes widen before him, stretched arms springing from the man's body as he jumps before Suguru like a jack-in-the-box.
"Haibara." He acknowledges with a sigh, uncertain of whether he should be thanking him or scolding him for blocking his view.
By the time his junior pulls aside, the spectacle is already over. Everyone has returned to their previous positions, resuming their conversations away from you and Satoru, who are left gleaming like Christmas ornaments, tinged red from head to toe.
"Mm, these taste so good! Mr. Geto, you need to try one," Haibara says, lifting a platter of canapés from the buffet behind them.
Suguru forces himself to smile as he throws a salmon spread into his mouth. He swallows without understanding any flavor, washing the crumbs away with some more champagne, the buzz of alcohol promising to dull out his affliction.
"Are you enjoying the party?"
"Very much so!" Haibara answers full of excitement. "So many new faces have gathered since last year; I'm so glad to be a part of this. Nanami even let me help with his sweater design!"
"Is that so?" Suguru chuckles wryly, scanning through the guests for the blond.
He spots Nanami loitering by where your desk is normally stationed (the majority of furniture relocated for the sake of opening up the space), and while he cannot see the front of his burgundy sweater, he can easily make out the antler headband sitting on both his and Itadori's heads, the two men seeming to have joined forces.
The discussion between Haibara and Suguru soon turns stale, with the former gushing about the inner happenings of the sales department and the latter absently nodding in approval, his attention monopolized by the exchange between you and Satoru.
Even when the occasional guest butts in, you remain inseparably bound to each other through your clothes (both of you dressed to the nines despite your intent to partake in the contest), your gestures, and the hands that gain familiarity over time. His slips around your lower back as he whispers in your ear; yours throws a playful punch at his shoulder, while you giggle at whatever he just said.
Probably some crappy Christmas pick-up line, Suguru decides. Something like, Wanna pop by my apartment later? No need for any mistletoe when we're both under my sheets, followed by a Satoru! Not here; people are watching .
"Mr. Gojo and Ms. Y/N sure look friendly." Haibara's observation comes as the final nail in the coffin.
Suguru murmurs in a low tone. "Think she's interested in him?"
"Hard to find a person who isn't interested in Mr. Gojo." Haibara earnestly replies.
“Right…”
"But the same goes for you too, Mr. Geto." Haibara's voice prompts Suguru to face him. A soft smile plays on the younger man's lips, his cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink. "I've been looking up to you since I first started working here. All of us do, even Nanami."
"You do?" Suguru draws confidence from his junior's timidity, enough to bestow him with a lopsided smile. "Why is that?"
"Because you are a hard worker!" Haibara declares. "Mr. Gojo is brilliant, but he was born into it. For us to reach him, that's impossible. You, on the other hand—you built yourself from the ground up. You are not only meticulous and good at your job, but you are also immeasurably kind! Both before and after your promotion, you've cared for us juniors and made the company a hospitable place for everyone. You are the goal we aspire to reach; you are our role model."
Working with someone who values their juniors and goes the extra mile for them is like hitting the lottery.
A role model, huh...
Your words mix with Haibara's, swirling round and round at the languid pace of alcohol in his brain, inebriating enough for him to not reject them like he otherwise would. He knows what needs to be said. I'm the one who's grateful. I wouldn't have gotten this far if it weren't for such capable juniors. Satoru is the one you should be thanking instead.
Satoru, Satoru, Satoru .
It's all him; it's always him. Everyone and everything in this room is here because of him, yet for the second time, Suguru is thanked for his efforts. For the nights he spent reviewing reports, fixing typos, and making overseas phone calls. For buttering clients up and spending every waking minute of his life networking. For talking people through their breakdowns and promising them their work makes a difference; that they matter.
It's almost enough to make up for all the unconditional praise his best friend received since birth, though Suguru refuses to let that be his consolation prize. Not when the perfect winning prize lies right ahead of him and waltzes into his office. Alone .
A glassy sound is produced as Suguru drops off his champagne and smiles at his colleague from over his shoulder.
"Merry Christmas, Haibara."
The door creaks softly behind Suguru as he enters his cloakroom-turned office, the faint click of a lock muffled out by the fading party music, its people fading with until it’s just you and him, away from distractions and interruptions, but more importantly, away from Satoru.
You haven’t noticed him yet. Your back’s turned on him, the golden threads of your sweater twinkling in the dark while you rummage through the coat racks, feeling out every texture with your fingertips. Wool, nylon, leather, and finally, cotton. The dark-colored jacket is slung over your arm, with your other hand digging into each pocket for… something .
Something that falls to the wayside once you become aware of the man’s presence and let out a tiny shriek.
“Mr. Geto!” There you go with that damn honorific again. “What are you doing here?"
"Am I not allowed into my own office?" Suguru sneers as he paces farther inside, his palms clasped behind his back.
"Y-you just scared me, is all."
He settles against his desk to study your startled features. You look even more beautiful when there's no one to steal your shine—a modern-day princess Kaguya, beckoned by the moonlight to return to its cratered land, although he’s made up his mind. Unlike the emperor in the story, he won’t let you escape him.
"Wasn't my intention." Drowning out his adoration, he cocks his head to the side and nods at your jacket. “Leaving already?”
“No, uh.” You fidget awkwardly, shoving whatever it is that your fingers caught back in your pocket. “Satoru asked—”
“Satoru, huh?” His tongue clicks in distaste. "You do anything Satoru asks?"
“What?” You question your own hearing, though he knows you heard him just fine. He sees it trembling in your eyes—feels it fanning against his jaw as he pulls away from his desk and stands before you, looking down on you in more than one way.
"I said, you'd do anything as long as Satoru is the one asking?"
"I...I'm not sure I understand."
"You don't?" His tone is syrupy, yet not sweet—a smile too condescending to be compassionate. "Allow me to rephrase, then. If Satoru asked you to spread your legs for him, would you?"
"Mr. Geto, I think you had too much to drink.” You chuckle nervously, gesturing toward his shoulder while simultaneously avoiding his stare. “Should I call you a cab? I don’t think you’re in a condition to drive.”
“No.” Suguru snaps, swatting your hand away. “No, you don’t get to play good assistant now. I asked you a question. Answer.”
He doesn't miss the hesitant bow of your head, which only confirms his suspicions. You want his best friend, and for once, he doesn't care that you do. It doesn't upset him. If anything, it offers him greater incentive to keep going without regard for your feelings or his own.
"Wasn't so hard, was it?" The last vestige of bitterness follows him to the coffee table, where he grabs a seat by one of the two chairs, wood screeching like nails across a blackboard. Mounting one leg atop the other, "Can't say I blame you. President Gojo is growing too old to be running things, and Satoru already handles the majority of his affairs. Won't be long until he assumes office, and when he does, whoever is on his side will benefit the most."
Your silence encourages Suguru to continue. "But as things currently stand, you aren't all that important to him, are you? And if you were to suddenly lose your position, his interest in you would probably diminish."
"What do you want?" Your voice is meek when you speak—a pitiful sound begging to tug at his heartstrings.
Except he has no pity left.
Suguru leans forward and spreads his thighs over the cushion. His elbows prop against them, with his intertwined fingers providing a seat for his clenched jaw—dark eyes ever drilling holes into your fragile skull.
“It’s not about what I want, but about what you want. You said that working at this company is a great opportunity, and you’re right. It really is. I’d hate for you to lose it over a simple matter of allegiance.”
“Allegiance?” You echo.
He nods. “Don’t you think an assistant should be loyal to the one who hired her? You get paid to do what I say, not whore yourself to Satoru. If I tell you to jump, you should jump, and if I tell you to drop on your knees and stick your tongue out, that’s exactly what you must do. Getting the picture now?”
“Is that…so?” A hum answers your question. “Very well.”
Amber irises harden below knitted eyebrows, their transparent warmth giving way to opaque desire as he watches you approach with steady strides, his cock stiffening in his pants from the sharp intonation of your heels alone.
Something has shifted within you, though he can’t pinpoint exactly what. It’s like he sees you for the first time, confidence emanating from your very being as you drop off your jacket and gracefully sink on the floor before him, pleated skirt pooling around your bent knees—cherry lips licked together as your hands trail up his slacks and undo his belt, zipper next.
Is this really happening? Was it really that easy?
“Could you lift your hips, please?” You ask demurely, in the same considerate way you’d offer to refill his cup every morning.
A moment passes before Suguru obliges, part of him failing to separate fantasy from reality. He’s dreamed about this so many times that if it weren't for the soft palms rubbing up and down against his thighs, he’d be pinching himself awake. But you are definitely real, and you’re definitely there, and despite his conscience screaming that this is all wrong, he doesn’t let a future regret hold him back.
Shimmying out of both underwear and pants, Suguru’s cock springs free, already hard and twitching in anticipation, its slight curve pointing at your agape mouth. Your warm breath sends tingles up his spine as you inch closer, your lips rounding and then puckering hard around the fat tip. It's almost enough for him to lose composure, kissing his teeth when he feels your tongue drag a teasing circle on the underside of his shaft, wet and hot and far more skilled than he's ever imagined.
You let go before any praise evades Suguru, studying his lustful expression with a complacent smile that ends up rubbing him the wrong way. How many smiles have you offered Satoru while looking up at him like that? How many times have you practiced your technique on him to hone it to perfection? How many laughs have the two of you shared at Suguru's expense, knowing he's hopelessly wrapped around your dainty little finger?
Quick to wipe the hubris from your face, he takes hold of his cock and delivers a derogatory smack across your cheek.
"Test my patience one more time, and you'll be crawling out of here." His voice retains its smoothness even as he rubs the leaky slit against your lips, smearing a thin coat of glossy precum before he pushes his way back inside. "Better give me a good reason why I should keep an ungrateful slut like you around."
Suguru takes his time to explore your mouth, mapping out the wet cavern in its entirety. Your teeth are tucked behind your lips, their gentle firmness complementing the expert strokes laid by your tongue. Your cheeks hollow to accommodate him, air sucked and drool wetting his throbbing cock, some of it trickling to your chin. It's an extremely tight fit that grows tighter with every inch he stuffs you with, hitting the back of your throat long before he's wholly sheathed.
"Fuck." His head tips back in pure bliss. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”
Doe eyes flick up, their lecherous innocence holding him captive. He thought he'd forsaken all affection held for you, yet his heart begs to differ, lurching at the sight of your bare knees bruising against the polished marble.
He's tempted to call it quits and pull you to his lap, praying that the sweet words piling in his brain seep into your ears like poetry and register as an apology. That, somehow, you forgive the selfish arms cradling you and excuse the greedy lips drinking from your mouth as if it were a chalice; that you allow a heathen like him to express his reverence with deep thrusts and profound pleasure that will make you worship him as much as he longs to worship you, names tangling in a breathless mantra.
He's about to do just that when suddenly he's reminded of how moments ago you were locking lips with his best friend in front of a live audience, and the resentment within him swells anew, expanding like a black hole set on devouring him. He shouldn't hope for more, because you won't be coming back for more. After tonight ends, you'll go running back to Satoru, and he'll be lucky if his attorney's license doesn’t get revoked.
So much for being a role model.
Might as well enjoy himself while it lasts.
Brushing the sticky strands of hair away from your face, Suguru pulls them into a makeshift ponytail that he uses as leverage to drive himself in deeper, letting out a stuttered groan once he bottoms out. Tears well in your eyes as he holds you completely still, heavy lashes blinking rapidly to filter them out.
"Lookin' so pretty with my cock in your mouth." Suguru rasps in a candied tone, his thumb rubbing against the apple of your cheek with tenderness before he forces your head to bob back and forth on his length. "Wonder what Satoru would say if he saw you like this. Perhaps we should call him in, mm ? Have him see what good that little mouth is when it's all plugged and can't talk back. Maybe he'll want to take turns using it. Maybe you’ll walk outta here with a bonus. My capable—ngh—assistant promoted to office slut."
There’s no way for you to respond. Even if he pulls back this instant, the wit he fell in love with will still be gone. Right now, you’re nothing more than a hole for him to take out his frustrations—no better than an average whore choking on dick.
The party music continues to blare strong in the background, your soft gagging barely enough to mute the rounds of applause that still reverberate in his gauged ears—so he fucks your face faster and harder, his hips slamming forward in tandem with the mean fingers gripping your skull, each thrust producing a sound more sinful than the one before.
He’s hellbent on erasing that kiss from his memory, keen on replacing his friend’s taste with that of his cum, and he’d be damned if he didn’t feel amazing in the process, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your jaw purely addictive.
And when he catches you rubbing your thighs together, he almost busts on the spot.
“You—hah—you really don’t care who it is, do you? Whether it’s me or him,” Suguru stammers, his tone whinier than he’d hoped. “As long as there’s cock in your mouth, you’re satisfied, aren’t you? Be honest; you aren’t even doing it for the job. You just get off on being used.”
He’s slowed down enough for the pleasurable vibrations on his cock to be felt, your eyes screwed shut with a hand lost between layers of skirt, searching for some sort of relief—relief he decides you don’t deserve.
“Ah-ah-ah! Who said you could cum, hm ?” Suguru chastises you by yanking you off his cock, a string of saliva chasing after your jaw as you stumble backward. “Told you to give me a reason not to fire you, and you did what exactly?” He tilts his head curiously. “That’s what I thought. Absolutely nothing. Not even worth the trouble.”
“W-wait!”
Before he has the chance to leave you high and dry on the floor, you scramble across your garments and tug at his pants in a pathetic attempt to get him to sit back down. He indulges. Not like he was serious about leaving anyway.
Your palm wraps around the base of his cock as you lean closer, licking a sloppy stripe from the base to his tip, and then all the way down again, sucking one of his balls into your mouth while simultaneously jerking him off.
“Fuck, you’re nasty.” Suguru breathes out, grabbing at the arms of his chair—his hips bucking into your palm. “Such a nasty little slut. Must really want this cock, huh? Come on. Show me how much you want this.”
Your eyes shine as though he praised you, and this time, you hold nothing back. You moan like you’re the one who derives pleasure, humming and even mewling as you switch from one ball to the other, your nose nuzzling to his warmth.
You pump him without a break, furiously rotating your palm over his cock head and squeezing right below with a ring shaped by your thumb and forefinger. Only he knows how he manages to hold back, pleasure so dizzying that his head spins, rearranging the furniture in the room.
“Th-that’s enough.” He voices amidst a broken moan, gently prying your wrist away—your mouth unlatching soon after.
Everything falls back into order as Suguru provides you both a much-needed reprieve, which you spend soaking in each other’s expressions. Dark strands of hair have fallen from his bun, clear beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. The shadows cast by the blinds conceal his flushed complexion, whereas the contrasting light exposes yours. Your chest heaves with every labored breath you take, mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and lipstick transferred from your lips to his cock, painting the pink tip scarlet red.
You look utterly debauched, but it’s not enough for him to call it a day. He wants more of you on him and more of him on you—more evidence that tonight wasn’t a figment of his imagination, taking place in the men’s room in between insufferable business meetings. Rather than keeping things a secret, he wants the whole world to know what transpired behind the closed doors of his office, and that sparks an idea.
He needs to put more of him in you.
With a small smile playing on his lips, Suguru helps you up, steadying you against his arms until you're able to stand on your own. You thank him with a hoarse voice and wobble on your heels as you're made to follow him to his desk, assuming position without him needing to speak a single command. You bend over the hard surface like you did the previous day and all the days before that, except your skirt's now rolled well over your thighs, and nothing obscures his view of your panties.
“How eager,” Suguru murmurs as he caresses the curve of your bare ass down to your clothed cunt, parting with a sigh when his pointer traces over the drenched fabric and prods it into your slit. “So wet from sucking my dick? Sure you weren’t thinking of someone else?”
“N-no.”
“No?” A smirk rings in his tone. “You don’t sound too sure.”
“Y-yes. I mean, n-no—oh fuck, r-right there!”
Your hips push back against Suguru’s hand, grinding against the long fingers that tug your panties to the side and slip into your wet hole.
He lazily works you open, each thrust concluding with his fingertips curling right into your sweet spot, coaxing soft whimpers to spill from your lips.
He pulls out once he feels you're sufficiently stretched, taking a second to admire the thin essence that dribbles down his digits before he uses it to lather up his cock, fighting back moans of his own whilst fisting himself to the lewd sight of his assistant offering herself to him.
Under different circumstances, he would've taken things slow. Under different circumstances, you’d be threading your fingers through his hair and sitting where you could comfortably watch him disappear between your thighs. You'd call out his name, and he'd lap at your juices until you're unable to hold yourself from cumming all over his face. Only then would he pepper your trembling thighs with kisses and tell you how well you did for him—what a good girl you are; his good girl.
“Doesn’t matter.” Suguru says for himself to hear, and it really doesn’t. Those ideal circumstances he dreams about are a thing of the past.
With a firm hand pressing on your back, he straightens you against the desk and runs his swollen cock head through your folds, voice laden with desire when he whispers, “Let’s see whose name you moan now, mm? ”
His thoughts hush as soon as his girth catches into the tight entrance of your cunt—a sigh gritted through his teeth as he finally sinks in.
He gives you a second to adjust, when in reality, it's him who needs the breather. All the longing and desire, the frustration and despair that'd been pooling in him for the past few weeks, culminate in this one perfect moment where your velvet walls hug his throbbing length, constricting around every inch he feeds inside you.
It's cathartic.
He remains breathing through his nose for a good while, too scared to open his mouth, lest he say something embarrassing enough to want to smack his head with the silver name plate on his desk right after. He's aware of how ridiculous it'd sound if he suddenly blurted out that he loves you, yet the warm feeling coursing through his veins can only be described as such.
Luckily, his final choice of words ends up being far more sensible.
“S-so fucking tight—”
“For a whore?” You interrupt, your droopy head lifting from over your slumped shoulders to bestow him with yet another winsome smile. God, you’re pretty.
“Never called you a whore.” Suguru's lips crack into a smirk of their own, while his fingers knead the fat of your ass, spreading your cheeks for him to see the point where you connect. A pearly ring has formed at the base of his cock from your fluids combined, his balls snugly squished between your hips. God, this is so hot.
His gaze shifts away. If he keeps looking, he just might cum without getting to even fuck you properly.
“You didn’t? My bad. Must have been someone else.”
"Aren't you cheeky?" A quiet chuckle rumbles in his chest, escalating into a loud groan as his hips pull back and jerk forward in a thrust that knocks both the wind and smugness out of you, the recoil causing your body to jiggle against the desk. "That fucking audacity of yours is what got you in this place to begin with."
You try to say something that he doesn't care to hear, muting your words with a sharp thwack across your ass. You whimper in response, clenching so hard around him that he repeats the motion on the other cheek for good measure, your pathetic whines going straight to his cock. It's scary how much he enjoys this.
"Talking about other men," Suguru begins his recital of your crimes, his hips rutting in time with the smacks inflicted on your reddening flesh. "Accepting gifts and whatnot, letting yourself be paraded around like a fucking trophy"—the hardest slap yet—"guess that really makes you a whore."
Your body doesn’t know how to react, whether to moan from the pain or cry from the pleasure, with your upper half squirming and your lower half stilled against him, taking everything he gives you without complaint.
He pounds into you like an animal, wrapping strong arms around your waist to bring you closer, his cock barely withdrawing before being slapped back inside, fucking straight into your pulsing core.
“D-don’t worry.” Suguru sounds delirious when he talks, with more and more ebony locks cascading from his disheveled bun down his face and shoulders. “We’re gonna fix that, mm? Gonna be mine from now on. Mine to kiss." His weight is held against your body as he leans forward, large frame dwarfing you as he plants his lips on your nape. “Mine to touch,” his arms squeeze even harder, “and—ngh, all mine to fuck. My. Fucking. Assistant.” He growls, punctuating every word with another thrust.
Suguru feels himself nearing his release, his balls tightening the longer your pussy grips him, until a knock on the door causes the sweat on his body to go cold and forces him to sober up.
“Hello? Is anyone in there?”
With quick reflexes, Suguru slaps a hand on your mouth, concentrating every bit of his willpower on figuring out the best course of action, all the while the knob rattles at Nanami's attempts to break into the room, complementary pangs echoing against the wood.
“I just need my coat; open up!”
Whatever took over Suguru seems to have vanished into thin air, leaving him to fend for himself. It’s only then that the severity of the situation becomes apparent. Not only did he coerce his assistant to fuck him, but he did so at a company event where reporters from every major news agency have gathered for a chance to dig up dirt on the Gojos. If word gets out, they're all done for. Suguru, Satoru, the company—every person’s livelihood that depends on the Gojo name will go to waste.
He's hit rock bottom, drowning in self-deprecation, when your fingers curl around his hand and drag it away from your mouth, your thumb squeezing the inside of his palm in a motion that compels him to trust you.
"Manager Nanami?” Your voice sounds so worn out that it's barely recognizable, but it's good. It makes your next sentence more believable. "I'm so sorry for the holdup, but I wasn't feeling too well. Could you, um, give me five to ten more minutes? I promise to bring your coat out myself."
For what feels like an eternity, silence reigns both inside and outside the room, the two of you holding your breaths while the man on the other side of the door decides your fate.
“Fine.” Nanami finally speaks. “Please don’t take too long. I have a train to catch."
"Thank you so much!" You sigh in relief, your forehead pressing forward against the furniture.
A few moments pass before Suguru braces himself to talk, feeling too flustered to let relief wash over him just yet. "Why did you do that? Why would you—"
"Because I'm your assistant." Only half of your smile is visible from that angle, yet it somehow appears more genuine than the previous ones. "You said it yourself. An assistant should be loyal to the one who hired her. It's my duty to look after you."
Your words make Suguru come face-to-face with a realization that, for the longest time, he's conveniently ignored. You aren't equals. You never were. No matter how hard he's tried to bridge the gap between you, it's still there, paralleling the one between him and Satoru, except in both cases, the sore loser remains no one but himself.
"Now, let's hurry up." Your ass rubs impatiently against his pelvis, reminding him that his cock is still snuggled in your cunt. "We don't have much time."
Postponing soul-searching for as long as he can, Suguru picks himself up and slips a hand between your thighs, easily spotting the neglected nub that throbs above your abused pussy lips.
His thumb swipes over your clit, testing a combination of short circles and light flicks that have you seesawing back and forth between his hand and hips, soft moans of pleasure playing like music in his ears. He much prefers them to your sobs.
"F-feels so good, ahh."
"Such a good girl. Learned her lesson, hm?" He hums, lusciously massaging your insides with his cock, his pace far more forgiving.
He gets to relish everything this time. From the intimate way you hold onto his free hand while pushing back to meet his thrusts, to the stuttered Mr. Geto's that complement your pretty whimpers. He feels himself burning up, the heat from your core circuiting his own body and permeating the deepest parts of his soul. He's drunk on you, feeling more heady when inhaling your perfume than he did sipping champagne all night long.
"Mr. Geto, I'm gonna—" The rest of your sentence is cut off, sharp nails digging into his flesh while your shoulders tense up.
"Gonna cum, sweetheart?" Suguru asks, adrenaline rushing to his thick cock that insists on kissing your cervix while his fingers continuously assault the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "Go ahead. My pretty assistant worked hard for it, didn't she? Proved how much she—f-fuck, she deserves her boss' dick. Cum on this dick, baby. Wanna feel you cum all over me."
"Please, Mr. Geto, pleasepleaseplease , right there, ahhh , please fuck me." Your begging has him losing his mind, the dam between his thoughts and his tongue breaking as he goes on to praise your very existence, no filter whatsoever.
"You were worth the wait. Wanted to do this since d-day one," Suguru pants out, shaking his head with a faint smile. "No, even longer than that. Been wanting you since I saw your picture, fuck—" He bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. "Feels like I've been waiting on you forever."
His confession overlaps with your release, your walls spasming and contracting while the rest of your body goes limp. Suguru knows he won't last much longer, his pace growing sloppier by the minute as the aftershocks of your bliss reel him in, sculpted abs clenching in sync with his heavy balls until his hips come to a complete stutter, ropes upon ropes of his creamy seedy sputtering into your warm cunt.
A string of curses is unleashed as he groans your name, and he's still shuddering when he pulls out, staring wide-eyed at the mess he made. His cum flows out of your hole in a steady stream, trickling down your thighs as if taunting him to plug it back in. He doesn't think he's ever finished this hard in his life, and yet his cock insists on twitching even in the comfort of his palm.
Mesmerized by the sight of your spent pussy squirting out your shared fluids, Suguru makes no real effort to dress himself until his eyes spot the sparse drops that have dribbled from his weeping tip to the carpet below, and panic rings in his head like an alarm.
Frantically, he scans the dimly lit room for some paper—a cloth or a towel; anything that'd help him clean up—only to be struck with disappointment. He keeps none of these items around, and while he's mostly proactive about emergencies, he doubts plowing his assistant qualifies as one.
He's off to find the light switch (not without awkwardly tripping in his pants like a penguin first) when you sneak up behind him, your outfit put back together, with a tissue hanging from your open fingers.
"Whores always clean after themselves." You smile sweetly as Suguru accepts the offering.
The dark-haired man crouches to pick up his pants after wiping his cock clean. A smirk is plastered on his face as he tucks himself back into his underwear and crumples the used paper into a ball that gets tossed in the bin beside him.
"Gonna keep holding that against me?" He asks once he's gone back to looking somewhat presentable.
"Hmm, probably until Monday." Your chuckle placates his heart, only to make it thrum against his chest a second later. "Unless...you don't mind speeding up the process."
Your eyes pierce through him, shining brighter than the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. He almost wishes the room were kept in darkness, for the sole reason that his surprise remains hidden, hope lumping in his throat.
"What are you suggesting?"
You clutch onto your jacket while pacing around the room, halting in front of the stacked bookshelves mounted on one of the four walls. Your head tilts slightly as you explore his collection of hardcovers and attempt to read the cursive characters on one of his certificates, your smile losing its vibrancy as you go back to facing him, your eyes focusing anywhere but his.
"Rather than neither of us doing anything special for the holidays," you finally speak, "how about we do nothing special for the holidays together?" You lick your lips together, cringing at the way your voice cracks over the last syllable. "Say, outside Meiji Memorial Museum around 6 p.m. tomorrow?"
Suguru catches himself holding his breath, nitpicking your words even when they leave no room for ambiguity. "Are you asking me out?"
Your head is held low as you nod. "I figured after what just happened, you might be interested."
The lump in his throat dissolves only to recur immediately after.
"What about Satoru?" He asks in a hushed tone, prepared for disappointment.
"Satoru is," a small smile creeps up, "he's the most amazing person I've ever met, and will probably meet in my entire life. But," you gnaw on your lips, briefly meeting his eyes, "I have a preference for dark-haired workaholics." He nearly disputes the color of his own hair, relying on the reflection in your eyes to confirm his identity.
"Is that how you see me?"
"That's how most people in the office see you. If you were to ask me, I'd add kind to the list. Generous. Warm. Sly," you giggle before whispering the next word, "sexy."
Heat rises to his cheeks as Suguru wordlessly gawks at you. To say he's taken aback is an understatement. Part of him feels so ecstatic that he could grow wings and fly off into the night sky, while another part wants him to fall at your feet and beg for forgiveness.
He's such an idiot. No, more than an idiot, he is an irredeemable bastard who deserves none of your sympathy after what he did, and yet you don't seem to blame him one bit. If anything, you gaze at him with more affection than you've ever shown to either him or Satoru, affection that obliterates any doubt.
It's him. For once, and for all, and against all odds, it's him who gets to stand under the mistletoe beside you.
"If you're gonna reject me, please do it now." You squint in the cutest way imaginable. "I don't want to ruin my make-up."
Suguru smiles, allowing himself to openly fawn over your concerned expression.
"I'm afraid it's too late for that. Might wanna," he says, vaguely gesturing at your face.
Your knuckles turn black after rubbing below your eyes. Horrified, you dig another tissue from your pocket, hurriedly scrubbing wherever you deem necessary. "Better now?"
"I'd still dash straight to the elevator if I were you." Suguru chuckles at the face you make, taking a step forward. He runs his tongue along his lips, his voice reduced to a purr when he speaks. "You're right. Don't think I can wait until Monday to see you again." The proximity between your heads begs to be nullified, and he's made up his mind. He can't afford to lose you. Not as an assistant, and certainly not as a woman. He's shameless like that.
Bringing his palm to your cheek, Suguru pulls you toward him, planting a soft peck on your lips that tastes like finally.
By the time he draws away, you're both smiling—breathless, despite the kiss lasting less than a second. His hand glides from your neck to the curve of your shoulder, caressing tenderly, while yours rises to his forehead, having mustered enough courage to tuck the the loose strands of hair behind his ear.
"I should probably go first." Your announcement prickles his heart like a thorn. Walking into this room, he'd braced himself for losing you, yet now he can't even stomach the idea of spending a minute without you. "Don't want Manager Nanami to lose his train."
Not being left with much of a choice on the matter, Suguru nods, sighing softly as he watches you grab Nanami's coat and loop it around your arm, heading for the door. Your goodbye is postponed as you turn around with a jewelry-sized box in hand, the same item you were caught fumbling with when he entered the room earlier.
"This is from Satoru." You explain. "I don't know why or what's inside, but he said I should be the one who gives it to you."
When Suguru accepts it, you smile again and bow your head. "Merry Christmas, Suguru."
On second thought, he's so happy he could die.
Suguru is tinged red from head to toe as he sends you off with the same wish, undoing the silver ribbon that holds the box together after the door closes behind you. It's too small to contain an explosive mechanism, that's for sure, but he doesn't hear much of any rattling as he shakes its contents. His confusion grows tenfold once he lifts the lid and is greeted by the folded piece of paper within.
Unfolding it, the note reads a single sentence whose meaning registers in waves that crash over him along with the memories of the past month, the truths and the lies debunked with every repetition of those seven pesky little words.
Now you know what heaven tastes like.
A/N: I know what y'all wondering, and yes. Nanami did win the competition. Oh, and Satoru totally didn't plot behind the scenes for Suguru to make the first move. totally.
Hope you enjoyed this, and I'd love to hear your thoughts, since this is my first time writing for Suguru.
Disclaimer: He did nothing wrong and he remains a pookie.
Somehow.
#geto suguru#geto x reader#gojo x reader#geto smut#jjk geto#getou suguru#getou suguru x reader#getou x reader#getou smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#gojo satoru
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STRANGERS
Don't talk to strangers or you might fall in love
Freezer bride, your sweet divine
You devour like smoked bovine hide
How funny, I never considered myself tough
summary: you've won the hunger games, and ready to return home in peace, but president snow has other plans for you, and he won't take no for an answer.
pairings: president!coriolanus snow x district6!reader
warnings: MDNI!, blood, violence, murder, manipulation, power imbalance, coercion, heavy drinking, non-con male masturbation, non-con oral sex (m receiving), roses ( pls let me know if i forgot any!)
notes: im new at publishing on tumblr so pls be patient with me! also new at writing in second person POV so sorry for any mistakes! hope u enjoy! there will be more parts coming soon!
Blood splatters onto your face.
"Please," He mouthed underneath you, but the knife was plunging down anyways. You couldn’t hear it.
The crunch of a sternum bone.
Silence. Cold silence rang in your ears and you blinked climbing off of the body a distant boom rupturing around the arena, but you only felt to shake of it, the sudden vibrational change in the air. You looked around the sun blaring down onto you as you turned away from the dead boy, you stumble forward, knee giving out from under you before you collapsed to the ground rolling onto your back staring upward. The blood oozed from the wound on your leg, it stung, it stung harshly, but it was welcomed.
It was over. Everything. It was over and all you were met with was blood stained hands and silence. You could smell the rot forming in your soul.
Boots were pounding into the ground, surrounding you, guns pointing at your body. Hands wrapped around your biceps pulling you, dragging you out of purgatory and into the looming light ahead.
~
"Congratulations." He whispered placing the small crown on your head, a dainty gold thing, his hands lingering too long on a wisp of your hair. The games had cut off your tongue it seems words never rising to the surface. His hand was under you chin, "Smile. You've won." It felt like a command so the corners of your mouth tugged up as the camera flashed upon you, shaking hands with your esteemed president.
"Thank you." His jaw ticked at your slip, the lack of his title, but he shook your hand anyways as Lucky Flickerman’s crew zoomed in for their close up. The motions were clear, set into place as you read the prepared words off the telecom. If you could get through this then you could return home where it was simple and safe. You would be okay once the Capitol train dropped you off in District 6 where you can happily watch it all disappear forever.
A hand slid to the small of your back, your spine locking up as another photo flashed of the two of you. Your smile stumbled as his shoulder pressed into yours heat pouring off of him where your bodies collided.
You met his eyes, face half turned towards each other, and your cheeks burned with a flush.
The only good thing about winning was finally eating and drinking real food again.
You downed cups and flutes of any alcohol you could find shoved into your hands drowning out the sound of people talking, congratulating you. It was cruel really how when the film of a camera was replaced it sounded like small bones cracking, so your drank more. Why were they so thankful? They arranged for you to be there...they sent you to either die or kill for them. Because some great-great grand-whatever rebelled, so now you had to live with the consequences of someone else actions.
Your brain was beyond heavy, mouth no doubt stained red from the wine. One more day, one more day and you would be going home to die of hopefully natural causes some other time. One more day and you would be out of this hateful city, away from theses entitled, hateful people. You felt it then, the dryness in your throat, the angry water welling in your eyes. You set the empty cup down, stumbling away from the party silent tears beginning to unwarrantedly roll down your cheeks. You gripped the railing as you climbed the stairs towards the mansion doors needing to hide away from the world, and when you reached the top you pushed it open harshly. The heels of your shoes clicked on marble floor in an empty hallway, a door slamming shut behind you as you kept moving. The hallway was spinning like you were stuck in a concrete mixer turning and turning and turning.
You tripped over your foot catching yourself by throwing a hand out to the wall, collapsing onto a small cushioned bench. The groan left your mouth as you slid out of your shoes feet aching, you felt the long gash of the scar the District 2 tribute had given you. It was taking a while to fully close, the wound on you soul would never heal either it seemed.
More tears. More anger.
"You should be celebrating." The cold, calculating voice cut through the air.
You could only roll your head upward, too drunk, too ashamed to be afraid at the surprise. Fresh tears rolled down your cheek. "I did."
Footsteps were coming towards you, slow, like the wolf hunting a doe, and that was when your body alerted, when he had stepped into your space, head snapping towards him. He looked as calm and collected as his tone, a rich black suit fitted to his lean body, a hand lazily in his pocket as his legs bracketed in your knee. "Then why are you in here? I have a whole party out there for you and you hide away in my home.”
"Too noisy." You stared up at him with red rimmed eyes as he towered over, your vision fuzzy at the corners.
His knuckle came up to your cheek collecting the tear freshly traveling down makeup covered skin. "You should be celebrating." He repeated the moisture glistening on his bone. "Not crying."
You sniffed, your voice cracking from crying, "Sorry sir."
"Mr. President." He corrected.
"Sorry, Mr. President sir." You cleared your throat offering him a fake smile.
His hand came under your chin, a pinky resting on your jaw his thumb tracing puffy, wine stained lips, "That's a good girl. Too much wine I suspect hmm?" You only nodded as he held you face, held your life with it too. You might have won his games, but he could still ruin everything, ruin the little family left back home. He had always made that clear to everyone; it wasn’t a shock people started dying soon after they crossed him.
"Yes. Mr. President, sir.” For some reason another tear slipped out with a wide eyed blink.
"You look so pretty when you cry." He traced over your lip one more time gently pushing in until the pad of his thumb pressed against your tongue. You heard the wet noise of his lips parting, as he took a quiet deep breath your teeth grazing his skin. Then he popped it out, bought it to his mouth, sucking gently on your leftover wine. "Come." He wrapped his arm around your bicep pulling you to your feet in front of him. "Let's get you some food, introduce you to some more friends of mine, and then bed." Two hands stroked down your hair holding your head between his palms. "How does that sounds my little victor?"
A dark gaze lingered in his eyes that there was no way around what he wanted, no telling him no. So you let him bend down and slip your shoes back on keeping your face towards the opposite wall. ”Yes Mr. President, sir.” His hand lingered too long on your bare ankle before he rose.
He smiled, a snake like gleam in it, like he had finished wrapping his body around his victim to suffocate it. One more day, and then you were done. He could introduce you to whoever he liked, feed you whatever he wanted, but come tomorrow on that beautiful train ride home the Capitol, the games would be a distant traumatizing memory, and he would just be a face on a screen come next year.
He plucked the white rose off the front of his suit jacket, took the pin out, and tucked it behind your ear to sit prettily in your hair.
His hand wrapped around your waist causing you to grip his forearm to stumble out into the party once more. Your eyes scanned the party, catching on a young girl, the winner from District 4. Her name started with an M, but you couldn’t find the rest of it in you hazy brain. The only thing you could focus on was the sad frown etched upon her pretty face as President Snow dragged you through his party.
6 months later
You wiped dirt off on your pants standing up to admire the blooming garden spread out in front of you. A smile flittered onto your face for only a moment before it fell staring at the wilting leaves on top of wet soil. They had fallen no doubt during a weeding or pruning or plain decay, but they were there ready for the earth to absorb them for nutrients.
Did the arena absorb their decaying bodies too or were they flown away somewhere else? Did they go back to their families so they could rest in peace?
You shook the thought grabbing gardening tools and the water can heading back to the house. Time was helping, the white noise of the district was helping, the trains going by were helping. The only reminder you had ever been carted away...well that and the large sum you had been gifted upon winning. You decided to ration it, save it but comfortably. It was the only thing truly stopping you from drowning yourself in alcohol or morphling, and the disappointed look your father had given you when they had carried you off the train, too wasted to walk. You took up gardening soon after the initial withdrawing, rotting period needing to keep you hands, your mind busy.
The scent of vanilla hit you as soon as you entered the house your body freezing on the threshold. It was a warm vanilla scent, which meant your mother had made tea, which meant there was company. You set your tools down, peeling off you mud stained boots. Your mother laughed as you slowly continued down the hall, the sound muffled by the kitchen wall you had yet to curve around to enter the kitchen. Alarms shot off in your head, the hair on your neck standing up knowing it wasn't anyone from District 6.
"Mother." You called seeing the outline of her at the table.
"Darling." Your mother smiled as you turned the corner, eyes flitting over to the man across the table from her sipping on his tea. A fresh bouquet of white roses sat in a new vase at the center of the table. "We have a guest."
"Mr. President." Your mouth dried out, feet heavy, gluing you to the middle of the kitchen. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Your mother only stood up rushing towards you, taking your hands to sweetly drag you to the table. "Come sit, my darling bluebell." She forced you into an empty chair around the modest circular table, a plaid green table cloth covering it. You kept eyes on him as she poured tea into the only empty cup. Once the kettle was down she discreetly tried to wipe dirt off your face, "Always covered in something from your little garden."
President Snow mouth quirked up. "Garden?"
You only managed a nod. ”It was a small little thing, something to help…” Her eyes dropped, “Something to keep her busy, and well before you knew it it had taken up most of the lawn." Another discreet pat on the cheek. "I have never been more proud than when I see her out there working on it." She chuckled, "Well besides when you put the tiara on her head." You inwardly cringed at the word tiara, at the reminded of what had been done to earn it.
"My grandmother grew roses." He motioned to the red one he worse pinned to his blue suit. His eyes met yours, "Do you?" A small nod as steam swirled up from the tea that would never be drank, "May I see them?"
Your mother stood up answering, "Of course." Her hands came upon you shoulders, "Go change and show our lovely President." You pushed the chair back using it as an escape for the moment, "Wash your face, and put on that pretty blue sun dress." You didn't answer, only walked back down the hall to your room finally able to breath normally away from his suffocating presence. What was he doing all the way out here? You had figured, had clung, to the fact you would never have to see him, or the Capitol again, and now he was here invading your home.
After washing your shaking hands and face, digging the dirt out of your nails, and braiding your hair back did you put that stupid sundress on and walk back out. Your mother was standing by the door a forced smile on her lips, "Yes sir, no sir." She reminded you, pulling small tendrils of hair loose around your face. "Don't speak unless spoken to."
"I know." You told her, forcing her hands away from your face reciting what your father and mother had both instilled in you. "I am grateful for what you've done for us President Snow."
"Mr. President Snow, sir." She pinched your cheeks to give them color then let you step around her and out of the house.
He was standing near the edge of the garden just before the walkway split separating each sections. "It truly does take up most of the lawn." He smiled holding out his arm for you. You slowly allowed him to hook it under his elbow to lead down the walkway. "It smells divine."
"Thank you." You swallowed, "Mr. President, sir."
He only smirked, "Your mother raised a well mannered woman."
You offered him a shy smile, ”My father and mother always instilled proper etiquette as best as they could. They emphasized respect and dutifulness."
"Important traits to have." He agreed. He was Capitol, he was the president, no doubt relishing in the fact district folks weren't born with those traits, they had to have it beat into them.
His hand clamped around yours, trapping it in his arm. Your breaths shook, don’t stutter. "My roses are just this way." You motioned up the path for him to lead in that direction.
The rose bush could have looked better, but it had always been a work in progress, a difficult flower to manage, and your heart had never truly been fond of roses. Red and yellow seeds were the only color you could acquire so the colors sometimes missed their mark or died all together. “Troublesome for you?” There was no hiding the disappointment in his tone.
“Yes.” An embarrassed response. "I'm tempted to rid myself of them."
"Hmm," He stepped forward fingers running along the soft petals. "I have a garden full of white roses, I brought some for you today."
You gave him a small smile. "Thank you. I'm sure my mother adores them."
"They're for you, not her." He flatly told you a sneer on his face. "A gift of sorts to my favorite little victor." He smirked down at the bush plucking a perky red rose from its stem. "Or what did she call you?" He turned back towards you, "Her darling bluebell?"
The blush bit at your cheeks, "Thank you. Mr. President sir." He smiled deeply tucking the stem of the rose behind your ear rooting it into the braid. "They are lovely." I lied. The scent of roses overtook the air to the point you felt dizzy with it, felt them swallowing you whole like he did.
"I do hope your mother won’t mind looking after it all.” He sighed his hand running down your arm as blood drained out of you, the question sitting leaden in your mouth. "We're trying something new, something Dr. Gaul believed would bring good publicity to the games." You chewed on your cheek, biting the refusal back. You remembered hearing about her death a year or two ago. "A victory tour of sorts." Both hands were on your arms holding you in front of him, "You'll go district to district letting them celebrate you and then finish at the Capitol. I'm going to throw you another party."
Oh
His hand came under your chin tilting your face up to him, "How does that sound my little bluebell?"
"Okay." You whispered because it was what was supposed to be said to him.
He beamed, "Such a good girl." His smile fell, "Since this is the first time we're doing it I'll be going with you of course to make sure everything goes smoothly."
Ice coated you. How long would this be? Would he ever let you remain in peace? Would the garden wither and die in the time you would be gone? Why did he stare like that?
You only nodded the obedience in your spine locking into place.
It wasn't horrible. The train was comfy and reminded you of home, the rumbling sound it made, the smell of the smoke and gasoline, the horn blaring through the night. They had written words, of course, to say at every district, reciting from a script how sorry you were for their losses and how thankful you are for the Capitol and their generosity. President Snow talked the most which was ironically a godsend since you didn't want to speak at all.
Mostly, there was food, tons of food...and wine.
You more self-indulgent habit to make the time go by smoother. Even more so now because you could, because it was free, because your parents weren't here to shame you. You would stop once you got home; you had done it before. When the tour was over, you would stop, you would go back home, relish in the normalcy, the garden, where it was safe. Where no one could find you.
Snow wouldn't be on the train ride home.
It unnerved you that he was here simply a few train cars down, eating, sleeping, plotting murder no doubt, planning more games. It only made you swig from the bottle more to shove the anxiety down.
You had crawled in the train car window, a comfy seat under it, curling you feet under you to watch the night blur past. Each bump comforted you, like you were in the older train cars carting people around the district. The moon wasn't out making any outline impossible to see, so you closed your eyes, pretending to hear the bustling square at home. You took another drink of wine savoring the lazy feeling coating your body.
The door slid open no doubt an Avox coming to do some chore, so you didn’t even bother to look. "You didn't come to dinner." Your head snapped up seeing Snow standing in the door a tray of food in his hands, "They said you only grabbed a bottle of wine and left."
"I wasn't hungry." Not a lie, you had felt ill since leaving District 9 the tributes faces beginning to gnaw at you once more. You had survived, and they hadn’t, and it felt wrong. "Mr. President, sir."
He wasn't wearing his normal suit instead a pair of dress pants, and a starched white button up, the top two buttons undone. His immaculate blonde hair was slightly mused a stray curling piece falling onto his forehead. "Come eat with me." You weighed the options before unfolding your legs out and turning to slid off the sill. You tugged at the nightgown they had shoved in the closet for sleep, a soft thin robe covering your shoulders over it. They hadn’t allowed you to bring any clothes from home. His eyes glanced up your body as you pulled it tighter around you.
"Excuse my appearance Mr. President, sir." You sat down across from him.
"No need." He only smiled as he pushed the tray. "Do you like the train?"
You nodded picking at the food, "It reminds me of home. We used to live by the test track before it moved, and it used to rumble the house. I used to hate it growing up, but now it seems to have grown on me."
"I bet it has." You should enjoy the food more, shovel it down until it was nothing. Your family had never suffered too much within the district not like the others, like 10,11,12... but it wasn't exactly always easy. The Capitol was always cramming food down your throat before and after the games, before you had reveled in it, the after...it tasted like dust in my mouth sometimes. You set the fork down pushing the half eaten tray away, but he only pushed it back. "Eat, please." You began to open your mouth in protest, but his jaw ticked. "Eat." A command, "All of it."
You watched his face, bottom lip trembling at the new tone he was using. It was bound to come out, but you had been so kind, always listened. You slowly began eating again forcing each bite until nothing remained, until your chest was tight with a full stomach. You took a sip of water. Always thank him, your mother had whispered on your way out of the door, Even if you are not thankful.’ “Thank you, Mr. President sir."
"You are so good to me, my little bluebell." He leaned forward the darkness engulfing the blue in his eyes. "Can you do something for me?" You made yourself nod even-though fear was trickling down your skin. He motioned with his head, "Go lie down on the bed."
The color drained from your face, "Wh-What?"
Don't stutter.
You cursed inwardly for the slip. ”Be my good girl and go lie down on the bed." His grin widened, “I won’t say it again.”
By the time your knee hit the bed tears had slipped over, you tried to stop them, but they welled anyways as you turned to look at him. He stalked towards you unbuttoning his pants, unzipping them, so you forced your gaze upward taking in the sounds of rustling. His hands pushed the robe down your shoulders letting it pool onto the bed. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to stop him as his fingers trailed along your bare shoulders, along your collarbones, up your neck. "Spit." He held out his hand. You swallowed, pulling the liquid back up and spit into his palm watching him bring it between his legs. You forced yourself to not look down, not look at what his hand was doing with a large length, to not look as he slid his hand along it. His other hand came up to your face, once again dragging across your bottom lip, pushing his finger further in, hooking it onto your bottom teeth. "Suck on it." He growled. You blinked fresh tears out before letting your tongue poke and lick up his finger, swirling around his knuckle listening to his pants. A cry of protest sat in your lungs, but would it matter? Were you always bound to be at his mercy, cursed to obey his whims to exert his power. “You listen so good." His head fell back a little the small groan hiding the sounds of him stroking himself. “Will you take my cock good too?”
"Please." You whimpered against his hand finding the smallest resistance in yourself at his words. "Please sir...I'm a virgin. I-I don't-!"
He shoved you back onto the bed with a growl his knees straddling your thigh as he pumped his hand faster and faster groaning into the air as two fingers invaded your mouth thrusting along your tongue. You felt violated, but all you could do was lie there and take it, let him do whatever he was doing because you were good, because he was the president and you had to obey. You closed your eyes tears burning your skin on the way his movements shook your body, until finally he stilled warmth shooting over your skin.
You finally breathed as he removed his fingers and stepped away. You lied there, listening to him straighten his clothes back on. "Don't change. Sleep in that." You glanced down at the white clumps running down your nightgown, some even drying to your exposed chest.
He stared at you expectantly. Thank him, even when you're not thankful. "Thank you Mr. President, sir.”
His grin was haunting as he left.
The rest of the tour went unbothered. He only occasionally came back to repeat those events, but each time it got a little easier as you began to know what to expect, each time you dared to look a little bit more. Sometimes even getting lost in the way his hand glided across his glistening cock covered in your spit. On the rare nights, you even gazed upward at him, at his hooded eyes, sweat dripping down his forehead, tongue between his teeth. You even began to listen to the noises he made, the heavy grunts, the soft groans and grit of his jaw, his vulgar words at you when his eyes suddenly met yours making you look away with heat in your cheeks.
And then he would cum over your body.
You threw up after the first night only forcing it to stay on your body because he had said so. After that it became easier to withstand the feeling, the warmth, the smell. You realized after a few times it gave off a scent you had only attributed to him, you only knew that because he often stood so close to you. It was so mild and hidden that you could only tell when you brought some close to your nose, and since it was already there you tasted it and you figured his skin might taste like that too.
It was fine, until you finished the tour of District 2. The boy's face stared down at you, and you remembered how it looked covered in blood.
Please!
The crunch of bone.
You could barely get through the reading, crying halfway through before someone had to usher you to the side. Snow was angry; you could see it in his dark eyes but maybe he could find pity. You had been so kind, so good.
It didn't matter by the time he found you curled into the corner of my room you were covered in smeared make up and tears. You couldn't even take off the stupid pink dress they had given you. He stood there for a moment taking you in then he grabbed you by the hair yanking you up onto the bed. Then he reeled back and slapped you across the face so hard your head snapped to the side. "You were very bad today bluebell."
"I-I..."
Another slap the other way. "Don't stutter."
Your cheek was stinging, "I'm sorry." A pause, and then another hard slap stars split your vision. "I'm sorry Mr. President, sir." You closed your eyes waiting for more but then you heard the familiar noise of his pants unbuttoning and your body began to lay itself back like it had registered before you did. He only darkly chuckled as he pulled you back up and shoved you to your knees in front of him, "I know you didn't mean to break the rules. Right?” You nodded, “And why do I know that?”
"Because I'm your good girl, Mr. President, sir." You stared up at him with red cheeks and pouting lips.
He groaned, his hard length pressing against your mouth. You glanced up at him with furrowed brows not knowing how to do what he was asking. “Open your mouth,” You did. “Don’t bite. I'll do the rest." He pushed past your lips, taking ahold off your face and began rocking his hips into you, his cock sliding along your tongue. "Oh fuck," He shivered shoving himself deeper the tip of him touching the back of your throat. You swallowed the gag as he pulled out to slam back into you bring your throat more tears spilling out, spit running down your chin. You squeezed your eyes as he used your mouth for whatever he wanted as he thrusted his cock into your mouth viciously. "Swirl your tongue around it." He hissed and you obeyed running it along the shaft, around the head feeling him stutter his movements, but pick up speed. His hand was rooted in your scalp yanking your face up, pain bubbling up with each abusing stroke, but something else was there too, and you realized his skin didn't taste bad. "You like that? You like when I fuck your mouth?"
You mumbled out incoherently not even sure what your answer was.
He shoved your head back, neck craned against the mattress his hips pinning you as he blatantly fucked into your mouth. ”I wonder what pretty sounds you would make if I fucked you hmm?” His hand bobbed your head against him as you gripped his thighs to hold yourself up as saliva dripped across your chest. "I can't though...too many others want it."
Your eyes shot open just as his thrust turned sporadic and warm liquid shot down your throat. Your face was covered in fluids, covered in drool and cum, dribbling down your chin as he slowly removed himself. ”What?" Your throat was raw and torn.
"I was going to wait to tell you." He sighed tucking himself back in. "But you are very desirable as a Victor, and once you told me you were a virgin...well it made you a lot more desirable." He patted your tears and cum stained cheek, "But you have been so good to me despite this slip up, so I will try to pick someone you will like. Hmm?” You were too stunned to respond. He was selling you to people, selling you to the highest bidder because you had killed a boy. You weren’t even supposed to win everyone had let you know how the tribute from 10 was slated to win, but he got taken out while you were hiding, and they had lost money. Because your life was a bet for them.
"I want to go home." You cried softly his hand cradling your face.
He cocked his head to the side, "Oh bluebell. You can't leave me yet." He stood up and began to walk to the door, "I might just have to keep you."
He left you there on your knees. No he didn't quite taste bad, in fact, you thought maybe you enjoyed the pool of him on your tongue. You cried even harder.
PART TWO here!
(if you care)
#coriolanus snow#fanfic#dark fanfic#dark coriolanus snow#president snow#president coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#coryo x reader#coryo smut#coriolanus smut#coryo x you#dark fanfiction#smut#coriolanus x y/n#tom blyth#hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes
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Just Pretend-Twenty Four
*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*
Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader
Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.
Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.
Authors Note: Did y'all bring your umbrellas and washcloths? Cause it gets a bit messy in this.
FUCK YOU. EAT SHIT. KILL GOD. DETHRONE.
We are Fallenvvitch. Goodnight.
🪽🔮
Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)
Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid @casangel1986 @qualityvoidcollectorsblog @myownthoughts12 @jilliemiw86 @bellaboo967 @halloweenaesthetic @collapsedglasshouses @iamamatus
NOAH
“So are you saying there’s a new Bad Omens music video on the horizon?”
With a trick smile, I adjusted my position in the chair and shrugged to the camera on my computer. “Uh, yeah. I can’t tell you which one but it’ll be out there soon.”
The group of people who were interviewing me via Zoom cheered until one of them asked the next question. It went like this for a few more minutes and I did my best to pay attention and not reach for my phone. Tonight was important and even with how poised and professional I looked during the interview, my knee was bouncing under my desk with nerves. Everything had been planned down to the last detail, Michael giving me shit for stressing out about nothing.
“It’s Y/N, you know she’d be fine with just an easel and new paints,” he chuckled while watching me set up Y/N’s studio.
I paused setting up the plants on a shelf to turn towards him. “I know. But she deserves this; all of this. She needs a place to escape by herself for a little while.”��
“You have to relax,” Michael rested his hands on my shoulders, looking directly into my eyes. “You need to enjoy the new beginnings of your relationship. You and Y/N love each other, that’s what matters. Not how many plants she has.”
Shaking my head from the earlier memory, I hummed towards the interviewer. “I’m sorry, what was the question?”
She chuckled. “We’ve seen some growth vocally on this new record from the last. Can you give us a little insight on that?”
With a nod, I divulged how I recently started working with a vocal coach who helped bring out this side of me that I had always hidden under a veil of self-doubt and insecurities.
Suddenly my phone buzzed on the desk and I quickly peered down at it, my heart jumping into my throat.
Angel 🪽: I’m walking out of therapy right now, I’ll be home and ready to go in an hour!
While the interviewers chatted amongst themselves briefly, I typed out a fast response before taking a long drink of my coffee.
Me: No rush, angel. We have all night. I should be finishing up this interview soon.
Another question and another answer. It went on like this for a few minutes until I noticed another text from Y/N.
Angel 🪽: You already got coffee?🥺
My heart dropped when I saw that emoji because I could vividly picture her soft lips in a pout just like it. Her bright eyes wide.
Me: Don’t do that, you know I can’t resist that face you pull. Jolly brought it from Fika. Astrid made an extra by mistake. We can swing by and get you one.
Thankfully, my hands were just off camera so no one who was watching would be able to see my texting.
Wait.
Me: Wait, are you watching? You little sneak.
Deciding to give my attention back to the interview, I finished it within the next thirty minutes and thanked them with a wide smile before clicking out of Zoom. Standing up from the desk in the studio, I read Y/N’s message as I trotted down the stairs toward my bedroom.
Angel 🪽: Of course, I’m watching. I watch all of your interviews. I also love teasing you. I already stopped by Fika after therapy. I will say that I’m excited about what you have planned for later.
Veering left instead of right, I stepped inside Y/N’s art studio and stood in the middle of the room, assessing every inch of it to make sure it was absolutely perfect. The memory of earlier today stumbling inside with both arms full of bags that contained a variety of different paint and drawing supplies. The guys merely smirked as they saw me struggling even having a bag hanging from my teeth before I motioned to the outside with my head and mumbled two words.
Help. Car.
The studio was perfect and spotless when I made sure that everything was where it needed to be. As I headed across the hall into my bedroom to finish getting ready, I sent a text to Y/N; one she responded to almost immediately.
Me: I can’t wait. I love you.
Angel 🪽: I love you too, mochi.
READER
“Oh my god, I’m stuffed. I can’t eat another bite,” I groaned while stepping out of Noah’s car as he held the door open for me.
“Greek was a good choice, huh?” He chuckled as he walked around the car towards me; a little bell jingling behind him.
I looped my arm through his and rested my head against his shoulder. “You know I’d never turn down a chance for Greek food.”
“I never thought I’d be such a fan of it. I’ve always thought it was just gyros. The spinakorprita was good.”
I stifled my laugh into his bicep. “It’s spanakopita.”
“Spa-na-ko-pi-ta.”
Noah sounded out slowly and I kissed his shoulder. “Good job! Pretty soon I’ll have you fluent in Greek and we can visit Greece.”
He brushed a kiss along my forehead and I peered down at the feline that rubbed his face along Noah’s leg.
“Are you sure he’s okay on the harness?” I bit my lip. “He can’t slip out of it?”
“Salem is fine, angel. He loves this thing. You should have seen him running through the grass when I had him a couple of months ago.”
To reassure me worries, however, Noah picked up Salem to hold him against his chest, our cat purring loudly as I pressed a kiss on his head.
“Thank you for letting me bring him. I figured it would be good to get him acclimated here in case you have to watch him for me,” I said as we began walking up towards the house.
“I’ve been wanting to show him the new cat tree I bought him,” Noah smiled.
When we came to a stop at his front door I untangled myself from him and then reached inside my purse for my camera.
“Angel,” he started.
Waving him off, I backed away a few feet and motioned to him to stay there. “Just one picture in front of the house. You look so cute tonight. Plus, I need a picture of my boys.”
Even with the dim street light but the bright glow of the moon, I saw the red hue cover Noah’s cheeks with my compliment, and eventually, threw up his trademark peace sign with one hand and continued to hold Salem in the other.
Snapping a few different poses, I pocketed the Polaroids after they printed and skipped back toward Noah, who had opened the front door and allowed me to step inside the quiet house.
“Where is everyone?” I wondered.
Noah hung up his keys on the hook next to the front door. “Movies. The local theater is playing the old Japanese version of Godzilla.”
“You turned that down?” I asked with wide eyes. “You love old Japanese movies.”
“No place I’d rather be than right here, with you,” he mused while wrapping his arms around me to place a chaste kiss on my lips.
“How sweet,” I cooed while patting his chest.
Noah let Salem off the harness so he could explore the house, he immediately found the cat tree and curled up in the top bed part.
Something was bothering Noah, however, no matter how bright he smiled. I could sense it in the way he kept fidgeting with his hands during dinner to how often he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel on the way back to his house.
“What’s on your mind?” I questioned while palming his cheek.
He left a kiss on the inside of my palm. “I want to show you something.”
“You do?” My heart fluttered.
Linking our fingers together, Noah led me down the hallway towards his room, but we veered left instead to stop in front of a closed door. With our hands on his chest, I felt the rapid beat of his heart and let out a low laugh.
“Mochi, your heart is racing,” I said.
He nodded. “I’ve been working on something the last few months since I’ve moved in trying to make it perfect. I think I’ve annoyed both my roommates and yours.”
“Chase and Malcolm know about this?” I questioned.
“Yeah. They sent me some of the products you use, your favorite brands; things like that. I wanted to make sure that you don’t have to worry about lugging things back and forth,” Noah shifted on his feet.
“Okay, what is it?” I bounced on my heels with excitement. “You’ve already surprised me with the vanity. What do you have hiding behind that door?
I gasped. “Is it a puppy?! No, wait. That wouldn’t make sense.”
Noah chuckled while cupping my face to leave a kiss on my forehead. “No puppy. Maybe down the road.”
“Well, will you show me already? I’m getting antsy!” I patted his chest before messing with his chain between my fingers.
I still wore my matching set, never taking them off.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered.
With a pout, I tried to get out of doing it but instead, Noah covered my vision with his large hand. Feeling his presence behind me, I heard the door click open and he led me inside the room. The hand over my eyes shook so I grazed my fingers over the back of it, letting him know that he didn’t have to be nervous.
“I want to make sure you love it, angel,” Noah pressed a kiss behind my ear. “OK. Are you ready?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed.
Blinking a few times to adjust to the light, a hand went to my mouth as a gasp fell from my lips. It was overwhelming and almost too many different things to take in, I didn’t know where to look first.
There were four different-sized easels in each corner of the room.
An angled desk in front of the large window, one that people would use to draw on.
Three shelves above that desk held various paints, brushes, and charcoals.
Plants littered almost every inch of space that wasn't overtaken with painting supplies.
The closet in the room was wide open, showcasing even more stock of supplies and different size canvases.
The best part? Hardwood floors.
With tears in my eyes, I slowly turned back to Noah, standing in the doorway with his hands behind his back.
“So?”
“I-,” I cleared my throat when the words came out jumbled. “You did this?”
“Yeah. I wanted to give you your own space here. To come too whenever you wanted, even if I wasn’t home,” he wrung his hands together.
“Really?” I choked out. “Don’t you think you should maybe check with the guys about having me come over here all the time unannounced?”
“Angel,” he took a step towards me and grabbed my hands, his thumb brushing mine. “Jesse was the one that suggested I give you a key.”
My eyes doubled. “A key?”
Noah now dug into his pocket to pull out a black key, gently setting it in my open palm. “I want you to have a place to come and stay. I’m not asking you to move completely in, but if it's getting a little stuffy in that small apartment with Chase and Malcolm, you and Salem can come to spend the night here.”
I let out a small chuckle, a few tears falling from my eyes, and then held the key close to my chest. “You gave me all of this but I have nothing in return, Noah.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and mused. “Your love is enough, Y/N.”
“I love you. Thank you for all of this.” I pressed my head against his chest while wrapping my arms around him.
“I love you too.” He kissed the top of my head. “Now, welcome to the other part of our first date.”
I gazed up at him through lashes. “We’re going to paint?”
“Now, I’m not a professional like you,” he snorted before pulling me over to two easels that were next to each other. “But I thought it would be a cute idea.”
“I would not call myself a professional.”
“Still better than me,” Noah said.
I raised a playful brow while crossing my arms over my chest. “Want to make this interesting?”
He smirked while resting his hands on my hips. “I’m all ears, angel.”
“Whoever has the worst painting has to get the winner's birthday tattooed on them.”
“Oh, it’s a bet,” he sealed it with a kiss.
Noah pulled out the little stool for me to which I sat with a smile, pulling up the ends of my yellow maxi skirt to sit comfortably. While Noah busied himself with setting up music to play from the Bluetooth speaker, I removed my jacket to set it neatly on the ground at my feet.
“Do you want an old shirt of mine to change into?” He asked while pointing to my white top.
I noticed that Noah had shed his gray button-up and was wearing a blank tank top. I licked my lips at the site of his muscles, the tattoos suddenly seeming more fitting now that he had been working out a lot more.
Remind me to thank Ash.
Snapping my eyes away from the broadness of his chest, I shook my head. “I’ll be fine, mochi. Thank you though. I don't typically make a mess.”
“Hm, the paint stains on the dining room carpet say otherwise,” he teased.
Playfully smacking Noah’s arm, we both got settled as the music filtered into the air and I got lost in my mind, painting whatever my soul called for. We found ourselves in a peaceful quiet, simply enjoying each other's presence. Every so often I would glance over to Noah, making sure that he was enjoying himself only because I knew painting wasn't for everyone.
He had narrowed eyes of precision as he stroked the brush wave after wave against the canvas. From this angle, I couldn’t see what he was painting. Instead, I leaned over to rummage in my purse, pulled out my Polaroid camera, and snapped a few shots of Noah before one of me, with him in the background. I set the pictures on the desk next to me before getting back to my painting.
“How’s it going over there?”
Noah’s soothing voice brought me out of my trance and I glanced over at him with a smile. “Good, I’m almost finished. What about you?”
“Promise you won't laugh?”
“Of course, mochi.”
I made a show of crossing my heart but let out a squeal of laughter when Noah hooked his foot around the foot of the stool and dragged me over towards him. He gave me a quick kiss but still wouldn’t let me see what he painted.
“I’ve been told I’m a great artist, granted that was in the second grade,” Noah chuckled before finally showing me his canvas and what he spent the last thirty minutes painting.
I covered my mouth with a hand not to stifle a gasp but instead a laugh. He painted stick figure versions of him, me, and Salem in front of a house; even with the bright yellow sun in the corner of the canvas.
“Wow,” I nodded. “All I’ll have to say is don’t quit your day job, mochi.”
Noah scoffed. “Fuck, that was cold. But it's true. There’s a reason why I’m a musician, not a painter. I’ll leave that to you, angel.”
“I love it!” I beamed while ruffling his hair and laying a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I’ll hang it up above my bed.”
“What did you paint?” He wondered.
“Oh nothing too important, just some abstract colors. I didn’t really have an actual vision. I kind of let the paint speak to me as I go,” I said.
When I showed him my painting, Noah’s eyes glinted and he smiled. “I like it. I’ll have to hang this above my bed.”
“So I think it’s safe to say that I won the bet? And now you have to get my birthday tattooed on you,” I grinned while going about to clean up the paint and brushes.
When Noah didn’t respond, I glanced over my shoulder to see that he had a very sly smirk playing on his lips and I popped my hip out, resting a hand on it.
“Noah Sebastian. Did you purposely lose this bet so you could get my birthday tattooed?”
He hummed along to the song playing on the speaker, still not answering my question but never getting rid of that smirk on his face. His silence, however, was exactly the answer I needed.
What a cheeky little...
With the dirty paintbrush in my hand, I flicked it over at Noah, the leftover paint spraying over his chest when he turned towards me. His eyes bounced down to the paint splatter over his black tank top to me, a shocked expression on his face.
“Did you just throw paint on me?”
I shrugged. “Oops?”
“Really? Oops?” Noah dipped a larger paintbrush into a handful of different colors before throwing it all over my face and neck.
“NOAH!” I screeched with a boisterous laugh.
Suddenly, he picked me up to twirl me in the air before tackling me onto the ground then started painting my arms and neck as I found underneath him.
“I’m sorry!” I giggled while trying to reach for the paintbrush I dropped; fingertips grasping at it.
“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m busy painting a masterpiece,” Noah responded, painting shapes on my cheek now.
With my fingers finally grasping the brush, I flicked some paint into his hair, covering it in bright pinks, blues, and yellows. Our peals of laughter overpowered the music still playing in the room and eventually, after we both were covered in pain, I threw up my hands in surrender.
“OK!” I chuckled breathlessly. “You win. You win.”
Noah kissed me, smearing the paint over my lips. “Damn straight I do.”
Somehow in the shuffle of our paint fight, I managed to straddle Noah, who lost his tank top; it was destroyed due to all the paint. So he lay shirtless underneath me and I couldn’t help but bite my lip at the sight of him with his arm propping his head up and his tattoos on full display for only me to devour.
Reaching up towards my easel, I grabbed a few different paints and clean brushes before settling back on Noah’s hips, getting to work on painting the flowers of his chest piece.
He hummed at the feeling of the cool brush and let his eyes flutter shut for a long moment, reveling in the feeling of me on top of him. And not in a sexual way but in a way of knowing that I was here and not going anywhere.
“Am I an adult coloring book for you?” Noah questioned after he took a few Polaroid pictures of me painting him.
“Maybe,” I teased with a glance down at his face.
His chest was a vibrant picture of greens, reds, and oranges. I was working on painting the headband in the girl's hair when he spoke again.
“Well don’t stop, I like this form of meditation.”
Once the round frame was painted gold, I adjusted my position so I could sign my name just above the words across his sternum.
Noah opened one eye and smiled. “I see you signed your work.”
“I did because you’re not it anymore.” I pressed a soft kiss along each letter.
“I’m not what?” He breathed in pleasure, slightly arching off the ground.
“You’re no longer desolate,” I promised into his skin then took a couple of Polaroid pictures of my masterpiece.
Noah let out a soft noise from the back of his throat when his strong hand wrapped around the back of my neck to pull me down to his lips, we met in a fiery, air-bending kiss. Every single fiber of my soul blazed with such passion I melted into his embrace, folding into him as we became one. His tongue brushed along my bottom lip, lapping up the strawberry chapstick I applied in the car earlier, him humming in delight.
I adjusted myself as I lay flat on Noah, his hands running up and down the skin of my back underneath my shirt. The heat radiated off of him making my insides flare with so much desire that I was practically burning up at his touch.
“Noah,” I whined when his lips began attacking my neck.
When he pulled away, his almond eyes gazed up at me with pupils blown wide with lust; pure black over taking his eyes.
“How about I run you a bath?” His thumb brushed along my bottom lip, voice hoarse from our kiss.
“I’d like that a lot,” I beamed.
NOAH
I sat on the edge of the tub to check the temperature of the water making sure it was perfect before adding the bubbles and bath salts. As it began to fill up, I peered through the open bathroom door to gaze over at Y/N who was sitting at her vanity taking off her makeup. My heart swelled in my chest when I noticed how relaxed she was, as if she was meant to be there; here with me.
Sitting here in observation, it struck me like a bolt of lightning. I’d been so lost in constructing scenarios for tonight that I was surprised to see how far I’d come. Y/N’s movements were so fluid, so serene as she gently wiped everything off her face and neck. I’d never been so jealous of a makeup towelette before.
Observing her using the vanity table I fussed over for weeks made my stomach flutter, the ongoing moment of quiet bliss was by far my favorite way to let time tick by.
Waiting here offers me time to let my mind escape the boundaries of the ordinary. From where I sat here in the bathroom, watching her carefully with the faintest of smiles, I knew I wanted this view for the rest of my life. After all the bullshit endured on and off over the years, for both of us, this was what I got to see.
Watching Y/N was such a gift, a blessing of time. Something I vowed right now that I wouldn’t take for granted.
Shaking off the excess water after checking the temp, I turned off the tub and walked into the bedroom with a light spring in my step. I snuck up behind Y/N and rested my chin on top of her head, watching her smile in the reflection of the mirror.
“Your bath is ready, angel,” I informed.
She reached for my left hand to lay a gentle kiss on the floral design. “You mean, our bath is ready.”
I raised a brow at her when she stood and led me into the bathroom with her.
“Wait, what?”
Y/N chuckled at the slight confusion in my voice. “You heard me. You’re covered in paint too, Noah. You need to clean up.”
I rubbed the back of my neck as we stood together in the bathroom. “I was-uh- going to take a shower once you were finished. I don’t want to pressure you into-.”
“Stop overthinking this,” she cupped both sides of my face and pressed a kiss to my nose. “I want you to join me if you’re comfortable with it.”
I may have nodded a little too eagerly but it didn't bother her.
“I’d love that, angel.”
While she shed her clothes, I stepped out of my pants and briefs, both of us watching each other with such inferno in our eyes and when we were naked, Y/N reached for my hand. She stepped into the tub first then me, positioning myself behind her. Even though it was a larger tub, it was still a snug fit for the both of us so to make sure she had enough room, I kept my long legs bent; my knees breaking the surface of the water.
“Oh this is perfect,” Y/N groaned while leaning herself into my chest.
Reaching for her shampoo, I went to work scrubbing the paint out of her hair, my nails scraping along her scalp. Her fingers traced over the rose tattoo on my knee, delicately following the design.
“What’s on your mind, angel?” I questioned after rinsing out her hair and then applying the conditioner.
“You’ve really thought about everything, huh? You have all of my products here so I don’t ever have to bring a bag over?”
The giggle that erupted from her throat made something twinge inside of me.
I kissed her shoulder. “I’ve already told you. This is your home just as much as your apartment is. We can bounce back and forth as long as you want.”
Once she was completely clean of the dried paint, Y/N turned to position herself on my lap to face me. The head of my cock brushed along her folds and I grasped at her hips, trying not to let my hormones push her too far.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She smiled and reached for my shampoo. “You washed me. Let me wash you now.”
Sighing in content, I sat back against the tub to let Y/N wash my hair. Her fingers worked meticulously in scrubbing out the paint.
“You know,” she shifted herself on me and I choked on a groan.
Surely she had to know what she was doing.
“While I love how you look with this new haircut. I really do miss your long hair.”
I gazed up at her, tracing the drop of water that trailed down her neck, over the silver chain, and between the valley of her breasts that were just peeking above the bubbles.
I licked my lips, tongue begging to trace the water in its wake, but refrained.
“Imagine if you gave yourself bangs. You’d be in your Shelby era,” Y/N chucked while moving my hair in a certain way so I could have bangs.
I glanced over to the mirror above the sink and smirked at the sight of us in the tub, especially me with bangs.
“You think so?” I asked.
“You can pull off any look, mochi.”
She gently went about washing the paint off my chest with the loofah while I continued to watch her.
“You’re staring,” her eyes flicked up at me.
“I love you,” I brushed away the wet strands of hair from her face.
“I love you too,” Y/N kissed the freckles on my shoulder.
Once again we found ourselves in our previous position, her back to my chest, and we sat there for some time as the water began to chill. Although neither of us was ready to get out yet.
“Noah?”
Snapping my eyes open, I wrapped my arms around her. “Yeah?”
Y/N shifted a bit in my embrace and with how she was wading her fingers through the water, I knew something heavy was on her mind.
“Do you think we could listen to Bad Decisions?”
My body stilled behind her. I knew at some point we would have to talk about the songs I wrote when I was in the dark parts of my life but it still didn't prepare me for the moment it happened.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
She turned slightly in my arms to leave an array of kisses on my chest.
“I know you were in a dark place when you wrote it. It holds bad memories so I’d like to create new memories for this song with you if you want to.”
“I’d want nothing more, Y/N,” I whispered into her hairline.
After asking the Alexa device on the bathroom counter to play the song, I let my voice echo in the confines of the room. Y/N eased into my embrace as I linked our fingers together while I sang along with the words in a hushed tone. She hummed along with me as our bodies swayed together in the water.
“No God. No religion. Just you,” I vowed when the song faded out, cupping her cheek so I could kiss her lips.
Without missing a beat, Y/N returned the kiss just as slowly as I, our tongues lazily fighting for dominance as her hand snaked behind my neck to play with the wet strands of hair.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled against my lips.
Pulling away, I remained holding her face but furrowed my brows. “What are you apologizing for?”
Her gaze left mine. “I just hate that it took us so long to get here. I know we talked about everything at the party but I still feel the need to apologize for everything.”
“It’s not all on you, angel. I did some things I wasn’t proud of during our time apart and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it.”
“Stop, Noah,” Y/N straddled me again to hold my chin with a stern grasp, the water sloshing around us. “You need to stop blaming yourself for what happened. I’ve already told you all is forgiven. Please stop letting that moment of weakness eat away at you.”
I blinked away the burning tears in my eyes and cleared my throat. “I only want to make better memories with you. I know in the beginning I couldn’t communicate, even now it’s a bit hard for me, especially with everything that happened. It was a mess and I apologize too.”
Y/N bent low to kiss me; it was slow at first but soon became heavy with passion when her tongue slipped between my lips. Her hips began grinding against my cock revving me up with such force, I wrapped my hand around her neck with my thumb against the pulse point in her neck.
Breaking free from the kiss, I dragged my teeth along her jawline and then down her neck.
“Noah,” Y/N breathed. “I love you.”
Her pussy was now brushing over the head of my cock and every inhibition with me wanted to plunge myself deep inside of her, feel her grip me with that vice grip I’ve missed and longed for.
Something inside of my chest rumbled before I realized it was my voice.
“How many have you loved before me?” I rasped as my tongue brushed over her nipple.
Y/N arched herself back so she could fully expose herself to me. “None.”
With one hand holding her throat, my other slipped between our bodies underneath the now-freezing water to glide over the slit between her legs. I attacked her lips again with a ravenous desire, nibbling on her bottom lip.
“And after me?” I demanded to know, slipping a finger inside of her finally.
“None,” she moaned while digging her nails into the skin of my shoulders.
Trembling fingers trace Y/N’s skin. To be in her company is a little slice of heaven as if her aura were an elixir. Emotions swam in our eyes, in our body language, and the inflections of her voice.
She was the one who I thought of when I needed to restart my heart and rekindle my soul; for so long I kept that to myself. Feeling the intensity of her intelligence, Y/N’s words were my medicine.
Deep inside I couldn’t help but feel like I’ve over-explained my feelings to compensate for what hadn’t been said. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t shake the fear of losing her. She needed to know where I stood, where we belonged.
Soulmates.
To be a possessor? I don’t know if you’d call it that. I yearned to be her protector, the one who held her heart in my hands, just as she held mine. These large hands are secured. I would grant her any wish in my power, to be the one who will always love her.
My fingers worked in sync as I pumped them in and out of her. She squirmed in my grasp, and the head of my cock nearly slipped inside of her. Every single part of me was sensitive to her touch and it felt like any moment I would combust underneath her.
Peering up at her face, I noticed that there was worry pulling tight in her forehead.
“What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?” I asked briefly, stopping.
“No, you’re fine,” Y/N reassured me with a kiss on my forehead. “It’s just-.”
When her words trailed off, I lifted her chin with a knuckle. “Talk to me, angel.”
Her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “The water is really cold and I was hoping we could move this to the bed.”
A playful smirk pulled on my lips and just before agreeing, I was struck with a thought.
“How far do we want to take this?”
“Noah, I can’t wait anymore. I need this. I need to feel connected to you again,” she rubbed herself against me.
Shit.
Even though I was ready for this, something was keeping me from lifting her out of this tub and tossing her on the bed to feel all of her again. The last time we slept together, it ended in disaster and heartbreak. I was stronger than I was back then but I don’t know if I could recover if it were to happen again.
It won’t.
It was as if Y/N’s soul could feel the pain in mine because she cupped both sides of my face so I had no choice but to meet her gaze.
“I’m not going anywhere, Noah. I’m right here. Always.” She reassured me with a firm nod, not an ounce of lies behind her bright eyes.
I kissed her palm. “I know. Are you sure this is what you want? I don’t want you to feel like you have to rush.”
“You’re not, Noah. I want this. I need this. I need to be connected to you so deeply, that it feels like we’ll never be apart again.”
Her hand wrapped around my cock, pumping it up and down under the chilled water. By now the bubbles have dissipated and I peered through the clear water to choke on my moan.
“We won’t,” I promised.
Y/N’s warm breath fanned over the shell of my ear. “Please, Noah. I need you to fuck me.”
READER
I erupted with laughter as Noah dropped my wet body on top of the bed. Resting up on my elbows, I gazed over his naked form as he stood at the foot of the bed. Water traced every bend and groove of his muscles and the tattoos that littered his skin were something that seemed to surprise me each time.
When my gaze lowered to his cock, a starved moan fell from my lips and I licked them hungrily.
“Y/N?”
I hummed while tearing my gaze away from him to look into his eyes.
“If you feel any pain, please let me know,” he said.
“I’m okay,” I nodded. “I promise.”
Noah towered over me as he crawled up the bed, droplets of water falling from his hair onto my chest. His chain hung just above my lips as I looked up at him, spreading my legs when his fingers tickled the inside of my thigh.
“I want to make love to you tonight, angel. Will you let me?” He asked into the crook of my neck.
“Please,” I nodded vigorously.
Once more, Noah’s fingers slipped between my folds to gently tease me, slowly dragging them up and down. I whined in protest and dug my nails into his back, feeling his muscles tense from my touch. When the pad of his calloused finger pressed against my clit, I arched my chest into his, the itch I felt from the moment we were in the tub together finally being scratched.
My knees buckled when his finger twirled in fast circles and when Noah flicked his tongue over my nipple, before slowly trailing down my stomach. The warm wetness of his tongue flicked over my nub when he replaced his fingers. His lips wrapped around my clit to suck up my arousal.
“Noah,” I hissed. “So good.”
I ran my fingers through his hair to bring his mouth closer to me as the coil in my stomach pulled tight. I’d been on edge all night, I knew I wouldn’t last long. And it was like Noah knew or understood because his tongue speared inside of me, in and out, before rubbing against my clit again.
Stars danced at the edge of my vision, nearly overtaking my gaze when I looked down at Noah between my legs. His face was buried there as if he was meant to be there. I brushed away the hair from his face just for his eyes to meet mine, his tongue darting in and out of me. There was pure darkness in his eyes when his hand ran up my stomach and torso to grasp at the silver chain around my neck. He wrapped it around his fingers, pulling taunt, and I felt the breath leave my lungs briefly. Before I could say anything, Noah loosened the grip but still held onto the chain.
I raised my hips off the bed to try and get closer to his mouth when his tongue began to slow, fearing that maybe he was getting tired. But I was so close that my body ached with the release it so desperately needed.
With a tight hold against the back of his head, I tensed my legs and core when he flattened his tongue. Now I rubbed myself against his tongue and my moans echoed throughout the room. I couldn’t even warn him that I was about to cum because my orgasm washed over me without warning. Noah hummed in delight when my arousal coated his lips and chin; it dripped from him and he gathered it up with a finger before sucking it clean himself.
“Fuck,” I panted while running a hand through my hair. “That was-fuck.”
“Watching you cum is addicting, angel,” Noah buzzed with a tender kiss inside of my thigh.
As my heart rate slowed, I ran my tongue over my bottom lip and let out a deep breath in a way to center myself again.
“Missionary hurts right?” Noah asked while leaning over me.
“It depends,” I shrugged. “But if I’m being honest, it’s not my favorite.”
The smirk that pulled on his lips made me tilt my head at him. However, before I could ask what he had in mind, he swiftly turned me to lay on my stomach and raised my ass in the air.
“Noah,” I breathed while peering over my shoulder at him.
Not saying anything, he leaned over towards the nightstand to rummage through it and retrieved a condom. Lust-filled eyes watched as he ripped it open with his teeth and swiftly rolled it over the length of his cock, which was thick and dripping with his arousal.
“Stay on your knees but if you need to lay your lower half on the bed, do it. I want to make sure you're comfortable,” a gentle kiss in the middle of my back; against the snake tattooed there.
I positioned a pillow underneath me to give myself some more leverage and comfort while Noah lined his cock up with my entrance. Slowly, much to my dismay, Noah sank himself inside of me inch by inch until he was fully seated inside of me.
“Shit,” his forehead rested against my shoulder blade. “So tight. I’ve been dreaming of this feeling again, angel.”
“Me too. Oh fuck.”
I moaned when Noah pulled himself almost out, pumping just the head of his cock in between my folds. Then with a snap of his hips, his cock stretched me open again and the weight of his body pressed me farther into the pillow. His chest collided with my back every time he thrust into me and his nails dug into my hips to keep himself grounded. For extra measure, I managed to hook my feet around his ankles.
“I love you,” Noah panted in my ear.
My smile was buried in the pillow. “I love you too.”
“Any pain?”
I did my best to shake my head. “Keep going. Please.”
One hand caressed the grooves of my spine, up and down, while his other wandered around to thrum against my clit again. Noah’s pace was slow but steady, his words from earlier ringing true.
I want to make love to you.
I brushed away the hair from my face so I was able to see, noticing our reflection in the large mirror Noah had leaning against the wall next to the closet. A strangled moan crawled out of my throat when I saw the muscles in Noah’s ass clench with every drive into me. I could vividly see his cock every time he pulled out of me, my arousal glistening on the condom, before disappearing inside of me again.
“I.”
Thrust.
“Love.”
Thrust.
“You.”
I mewled at Noah’s proclamation in between each of his thrusts. “I love you too, Noah.”
The slow pace of his cock but the fast pace of his fingers worked in perfect harmony and I felt my second orgasm slowly creeping its way into my veins. The heat spread like wildfire inside of me with such intensity I began to shake underneath Noah.
“I love you, angel,” he proclaimed again then bit down on the sensitive part of the skin at the back of my neck.
I was gone, blissed out in sheer ecstasy that my words were muffled against the pillow. That wasn’t good enough for Noah so he turned my cheek so I could face him.
“I love you too,” I huffed when my orgasm was seconds away from bursting.
He linked our hands together as he continued to meld with me from behind and I noticed that the hands that were linked were the ones that both had our bracelets. It was almost a good omen, no pun intended, that our souls were always destined to be one. For added measure, I felt the coolness of his necklace brush along the heated skin of my back.
Noah lightly laughed, almost as if he thought the same, and when his cock twitched inside of me, I realized he was close. I wanted to watch him when he fell apart because of me so I glanced back over to our reflection in the mirror. Then with two fingers pressed against my clit, Noah began rubbing up and down which was exactly what I needed for the coil to snap. To finally teeter over the edge where ecstasy was waiting for me.
His name fell from my lips in prayer.
“Fuck, Noah. Oh God, it’s so good,” I cried out through the rest of my orgasm.
“No God. Just us,” he grunted.
There was no God; only him and I.
In the reflection, I watched as his movement stilled, cock throbbing between my walls, and his mouth fell open when he tilted his head back; groaning out his release. Then softly, Noah’s body fell onto mine and he buried his face in my neck.
“Are you okay?” He wondered.
“I’m good, mochi. So fucking good,” I lazily smiled but whimpered when he pulled out of me.
“Let me get you a washcloth,” he left a kiss on my shoulder before slipping into the bathroom.
I snuggled closer into the pillow on my chest to let my eyes rest for a moment. Exhaustion dug itself so deep within my bones that I didn’t even notice when Noah began cleaning me up with the damp but warm cloth then he draped the blanket over my naked form.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed or noticed he left until the bed dipped beside me and I opened one eye to stare up at him. Noah kissed me from between my shoulder blades down my back, his nails grazing beyond the wake of his lips as he traced over the large snake tattoo on my back.
“This sight is familiar,” Noah spoke quietly.
I propped my chin on my hand. “But I’m not going anywhere after. I’m not leaving you to deal with my inconsiderate decisions. I’m right here with you, Noah.”
“I know,” he nodded. “We’re creating new memories now. Righting all of those wrongs. I’ve been excited for both of us to leave the past and move forward.”
“Me too,” I left a chaste kiss on his chin, feeling the slight stubble tickle my lips.
Noah tucked a piece of hair behind my ear then began tracing the line of my cheekbone, and jaw, then booped my nose, earning a giggle from me.
“I brought you some clothes in case you want to get dressed,” he said while handing me a pair of black joggers and a matching shirt.
I took them with a smile. “I think I should start keeping some clothes here.”
“Plenty of space in the closet,” Noah threw a thumb over his shoulder.
My heart fluttered at his words, realizing yet again that Noah was allowing me to occupy parts of his private sanctions.
“I’ll clear out two of my dresser drawers for your stuff the next time you’re over,” I promised with a kiss on his lips.
He hummed while grasping the back of my head to keep me there for a second longer.
“It’s a deal, angel.”
Slipping out of the bed, I trotted into the bathroom to get dressed while I heard Noah open his bedroom door and rummaging in the kitchen. When I hopped back into his bed, Salem came bounding into the room with the bell on his collar jingling.
“Hi baby,” I cooed when he jumped up on the bed. “So, what do you think of the cat tree dad bought you? You like it?”
His response? Curling up on Noah’s pillow with a chirp of approval.
“I’m gone not even five minutes and he steals my spot,” Noah chuckled entering the room again; dressed in nothing but a pair of black Bad Omens joggers and bright yellow socks.
“Get used to it. You invited him over and now what’s yours is his,” I scratched between Salem’s ears.
“I’ll gladly share with him,” he said while handing me a plate.
My eyes lit up as a gasp fell from my lips. “Is that limoncello tiramisù?”
“Yeah, I picked some up from that Italian bakery you love. Carlos’.”
“Yes!” I exclaimed while quickly digging into the treat.
As I leaned against the headboard to eat, Noah sat cross-legged in front of me to eat his share, both of us basking in the silence; beside Salem’s purring.
“Are we a family now?” Noah asked.
With a bright smile, I leaned over to press a kiss on his cheek. “Yeah. We are.”
I set both of our empty plates on the end table next to Noah’s bed then pulled my knees to my chest.
“You know what I’d love right now?” I asked.
Noah winked which caused me to playfully smack his chest. “Not that.”
“OK, sorry. What would you love?” He chuckled while rubbing his chest.
“I’d love to listen to The Grey. I’ve been dying to know how you worked in my poem ever since you sent me that video.”
“Alexa, play The Grey by Bad Omens,” Noah said with a smile.
“Now playing The Grey by the band Bad Omens.”
When Noah’s voice finally broke through the music, I let out a small gasp. It was different, new, hearing this voice come from the man in front of me. It made me proud to see how far he’d come from Finding God Before God Finds Me, knowing what his work ethic was like. He was always trying to break down the typical stereotype of what rock should sound like. He wanted to make changes and from this song alone, Noah was doing that.
Gave you way too many chances, you ran through 'em all. Got everything I could want, but it wasn't enough. Nobody left for me to talk to, nobody to call. Got everything I could want, but I still wanted more.”
My eyes lit up. “Oh, this was from the video!”
Noah giggled. “Yep.”
I continued to listen to the song when he linked our hands together, bringing them to his lips to leave a kiss on each of my fingers.
“I did it to myself, tried to be someone else. I let it tear me down, and I'll never be the same. I did it to myself, tried to be someone else. And you didn't notice 'til I finally got, finally got away.”
“Noah,” I beamed. “This is amazing. The lyrics, your voice, the beat. Everything about it.”
A red hue crossed his cheeks as he sheepishly glanced down at his lap where our intertwined hands were.
“Do you like it?” He gazed up at me through his long lashes.
Rising to my knees, I now draped my arms around his neck and kissed his forehead, nose, both cheeks and then finally his lips.
“I love it, Noah. And I love you.”
He twirled my necklace between two of his fingers. “I love you too, Y/N.”
For the first time since we rekindled our love, it was then that I noticed the tattoo on the side of his hand.
K.E.A.T.O.N.
When Noah realized I was reading the letters, he held up his other hand so I could read the letters on that hand.
P.I.E.R.C.E.
“Noah,” I breathed while putting his hands against my chest.
“I needed to. He needs to know that he can sing his songs through me while he’s gone,” he explained with a lone tear slipping down his cheek.
“I know.” I kissed his hands. “It’s okay.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I took notice of the time and frowned. Earlier, Noah mentioned that tomorrow, well technically later today since it was already nearly two in the morning, Bad Omens were shooting the music video for The Death of Peace of Mind and he needed to be up early for it.
In six hours.
“I should probably get home,” I sighed.
Noah’s hold against my hips tightened. “You can stay. I’ll sleep better if you’re next to me.”
“You need your rest, mochi,” I patted his cheek. “I also have plans with Astrid to help her open up Fika then we’re going shopping right after.”
Reluctantly with a sigh, Noah agreed and let me go, not before leaving a kiss on my forehead.
“Salem is staying here tonight though,” he said.
My jaw dropped as I stood from the bed and placed my hands on my hips. “Excuse me?”
“Look at him,” Noah pointed to a sleeping Salem. “You can’t wake him.”
“Fine,” I dragged out the word with narrowed eyes. “Tomorrow night. My place.”
Noah towered over me when he stood to full length in front of me. “I’ll be there, angel.”
NOAH
Stuffing my hands deep into the pocket of my yellow hoodie, I let my black slides drag my feet behind Y/N as we walked closer to her apartment door. The chill midnight air breezed through the loose strands of hair but I was too far gone in my mind to brush it away. Even though we promised to see each other tomorrow, making plans for me to spend the night here tomorrow night, part of me was worried. Afraid that once we parted ways, Y/N would second guess everything that happened and ignore me for months on end.
Why was I so nervous?
I kept asking myself that as we came to a stop in front of her door. I shook at the thought that what I was doing in all aspects of my life mattered. I felt the need to get it right; especially with Y/N.
Dr. Poulos once said “Nerves are a signal of truth, of what you value, of what you need and cherish. The constant needs of what I’ve wanted, the comfort and stability I desired. That the idea of not gaining happiness brings on those telltale tremors. Always ask yourself what the nerves are telling you. It’s an important way your body speaks.”
She wasn’t wrong. I knew in the back of my mind that I was terrified Y/N would never come back.
What if I wasn’t good for her?
I desperately needed to fight these demons and not let them win.
Y/N loves me. She loves me.
“Mochi, you’re shaking.”
Snapping out of my thoughts, I noticed that Y/N had wrapped her arms around my midsection to pull me closer to her.
“Oh, I am? Didn’t notice,” I mumbled under my breath.
“What’s wrong?” She questioned.
“Angel, let it go. It’s nothing.”
Part of me wanted to remove her grasp from me; the part that was used to shrinking away from my problems. But the other part of me that wanted to be a good man for her made me cup the back of her neck instead.
“Talk to me,” she quietly begged.
However, I remained silent; the words weighed heavy on my tongue.
“Noah-.”
“I don't want you to leave,” I blurted out.
Y/N’s eyes softened. “Noah, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“No. I-I don’t know. I’m-.” I ran a shaking hand through my hair. “I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and change your mind. I’m not perfect-.”
“Stop,” Y/N shook her head. “Don’t even say that, Noah. You know I love you. Just like I know you love me. Nothing will ever change my mind, alright? We’re both right here. We need to remain here, focus on that.”
I let out a broken breath and brushed my lips over her forehead, my hands going back to grasp behind her neck. “Please don’t leave, don’t leave me in the shape you found me.”
“Never. I will never leave you like that again,” she buried her face into my chest, breathing me in.
I rested my chin on top of her head. “I love you and I want this so bad, angel. I want you.”
“I love you, Noah. I’ll reassure you as many times as I have to,” Y/N turned her head up at me now. “But you have to trust that I won’t let you fall. I’m here with you. It’s you and me, okay?”
I blinked while letting out a calming breath. “I didn’t mean to ruin the night with my worries.”
She kissed the tip of my nose. “You didn’t. And don’t apologize for your feelings. I know what we’ve gone through has done a lot. But we’re moving past that, Noah. I’m proud of that and I’d like for you to start trusting me.”
“I do,” I promised her with a kiss. “I do trust you.”
“Good,” she rose to her tiptoes to lay another kiss on my lips, this one deeper than the last but she pulled away before I could slip my tongue in. “Take care of our baby. I’ll see you two tomorrow night.”
With a heart doubled in size and adoration in my eyes, I watched Y/N as she slinked inside her apartment, throwing a peace sign over her shoulder at me.
We’ll be okay.
NOAH
Grunting, I helped Nicholas, Folio, and Jolly maneuver the large board out of the truck and down the ramp to bring it inside the large warehouse where we had everything else almost set up. It was just before eleven a.m. and even with a second cup of coffee, the caffeine hadn’t seemed to take effect quite yet. After I dropped off Y/N at home last night, I returned to Salem, who was still curled up on my pillow when I left him, and as I lay next to him, my mind was plagued with negative thoughts I tried so hard to push away. It kept me up till almost four in the morning then four hours later, Jolly knocked on my bedroom door to wake me.
As soon as we all arrived at the warehouse, I put on my best professional face and went to work going over the original plans with Orie, making sure we all were on the same page. This was our first music video in our new era so we wanted to make sure it was perfect.
Now, as I stared up at the large board, pulling on the ends of my white shirt, I allowed my mind to wander to Y/N, wondering what she was up to right now.
Did she like the paint idea?
Was the sex good enough? It was great for me but I hoped there was no pain for her. She said there wasn’t.
It sounded like she enjoyed it.
Was I too vocal in my proclamations?
No, I know I wasn’t. Y/N returned those proclamations every time.
I ran an unsteady hand through my hair while letting out a long sigh, and staring down at my feet.
My emotions were a part of me, and in this relationship, they blended with Y/N’s. Although, there are times I had these storms inside of me, never because of her, but from previous damage; the triggers from my past. I was certain things would be okay and this self-deprecation would pass.
I desired Y/N’s presence like a madman gone awol. In those moments of a storm, I had to find my calm and center myself, typically by myself. But with Y/N, I didn’t have to do that. Like my music, she was my muse.
“Noah?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I gave a small smile to Nicholas. “Yea?”
“Are you alright? You’ve been kind of quiet all morning,” he observed while stuffing his hands in the pockets of his black hoodie.
I eventually knew someone would notice my quiet demeanor. I’d only been humoring when it was dire to do so.
Fuck, I missed Y/N. The negative thoughts monster has bitten his way through the bars.
I hated that this had come out of nowhere, sinking its teeth inside of me with no abandon. Our date last night was amazing but these fucking nerves kept trying to sabotage things once again. I did my best to not allow them to.
I needed to stop worrying about last night, knowing I could change anything about what happened even though there was nothing that needed to change. Just like today, I needed to stop worrying about everything that could go wrong and focus on everything that would go right.
“You know you can talk to me,” Nicholas’ voice snapped me from my thoughts.
“I know,” I nodded curtly. “I’m fine. I just want things to go perfect today.”
He reassured me with a squeeze to my shoulder. “It will. We’ve been planning the details for months.”
I shifted all of my weight from one foot to the other, casting my gaze away from him and towards everyone who continued to work tirelessly.
“You miss Y/N?”
My eyes darted back over to Nicholas. “She texted me earlier after she helped Astrid open Fika. They’re going shopping before grabbing some late lunch. I was going to meet Y/N at her place with Salem once we were done here.”
“So let that be the light to help you through today.”
I scratched my chin and nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“Noah! Nicholas! The red lights on the masks aren't working!” Orie’s voice boomed in the vast space of the warehouse.
Motioning Nicholas along, we spent the next handful of hours directing, watching, and redoing some scenes of the music video a few times over to make sure everything went off without a hitch; the perfectionist in me. We even stopped for a few-minute break so Orie could try and throw candy into Folio’s mouth while I peeked at the few unread messages from Y/N.
Angel 🪽: I may have bought a few things I’d like to model for you later. If you’re up for it. 😉
A sudden burst of warmth spread to my cheeks, something that didn't go unnoticed by Orie, who snickered.
“Oh, there’s only one person who can get you to smile like that.”
My eyes pinned into him, a sharp look that said mind your own business. Stepping away from the group of them, I responded to Y/N’s message.
Me: I’d never turn down a show from you, angel. Can I get a hint?
Angel 🪽: It’s red. And I’m very excited for you to take it off.
Fuck.
I adjusted myself with a cough and spent the next couple of minutes texting her with a bright smile. It was nearing nightfall which meant we were close to recording the next scene of the music video.
Angel 🪽: Astrid has not stopped gushing about Jolly. It’s kind of cute though when she calls him Joakim. Did you know that she’s thinking of naming a drink after him at Fika?
I snorted while glancing up at Jolly, who was busy texting away on his phone; most likely to Astrid.
Me: I’d love to know the name of this drink.
Angel 🪽: Älskling. It means honey. She’s thinking honey, Earl orange, and pomegranate tea. Because he’s “sweet like honey.”
Angel 🪽: Noah Sebastian, don’t tell Jolly I told you because I know you can’t keep things like this to yourself.
Feigning a hurt expression, I sent her a selfie and then typed out my response.
Me: My lips are sealed. But I have to get back to work. Me and Salem should be at your place around ten. I’ll grab some food on the way.
Angel 🪽: Burgers? 🥺
Angel 🪽: Also, you gave you the right to look so fucking good, huh? I can’t wait to kiss those lips.
The way my heart jumped in my chest made it almost hard to breathe.
Me: Whatever you want, angel.
Angel 🪽: Just you. And burgers. I’ll always take a burger.
Pocketing my phone, I rounded a finger towards everyone, my voice carrying throughout the space around me.
“Alright! Let’s film this pool scene before it gets too cold for the girls.”
Two hours later, it was nearing eight in the evening and all we had left to shoot was Bad Omens part of the video. We were in the home stretch and I was practically bouncing on the soles of my feet knowing that I’d be seeing Y/N in a few more hours.
As the four of us were dressed in our outfits for the music video, I chatted quietly with Folio while fixing the collar of his jacket. He’d been busy on every break today either talking to his girlfriend or planning something.
“How are things going with her?” I questioned.
The smile that spread on his face made a faint one pull on mine, knowing that one of my best friends was happy.
“Really good. I’d love to have you guys meet her soon.”
I nodded. “Definitely.”
Folio’s eyes peered over my shoulder, a smirk now pulling on his face and he wiggled his eyebrows. Before I could ask what he was staring at, that invisible string in my chest vibrated with such vigor, that it nearly knocked me off my feet.
“Well, look at this group of handsome men!”
Spinning on my heels, I saw Y/N and Astrid walk into the warehouse with bags of food from one of our favorite diners and both of them holding onto two trays of drinks. My heart ran amok in my chest as my stomach flipped three times over at seeing Y/N wearing the yellow hoodie I wore last night when I dropped her off.
“I swung by your place to grab Salem and pack you an overnight bag so once you’re finished here, we can head straight to my place. And yes, I did steal your sweater,” she answered my thoughts.
“Yellow is your color, angel,” I mused while slowly closing the distance to her. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”
Astrid walked up to Jolly, who grabbed the things from her and laid a kiss on her lips; her laughter echoing around us.
Y/N shrugged while I mimicked Jolly’s actions of taking the things from her hands.
“We know how hard all of you are working today, it’s the least we could do.”
Orie came up to grab the food and drinks from me before dispersing it to everyone.
“Thank god you’re here, Y/N. Noah’s been really bossy today.”
She placed a hand on her hip, cocking it out while narrowing her eyes at me. “Bossy, huh?”
“He’s a tyrant,” Orie chuckled before taking a bite of his burger.
I wrapped my arms around Y/N, breathing her in when I brushed my nose along her hairline. “You’re not going to turn her on your side, Orie. You’re wasting your time.”
She raised her lips to meet mine and I hummed in delight when I tasted the milkshake she must have had on the way over here. Even though Y/N was here in my arms, I still couldn’t quiet the negative frame of mind that plagued me throughout the day.
“I like this new look,” Y/N straightened out my jacket.
All I could do was nod in response and her brows creased in worry. “Are you alright?”
Linking our hands together, I pulled her through the warehouse to slip outside where I knew no one would be. We finished the pool scene a while ago and the extras had left for the night.
“Oh, a pool? Are we going skinny dipping?” Y/N teased with a wink.
I ran a hand through my already-styled hair, still not saying anything. My mind was a jumbled mess and I was afraid if I tried to speak, my words wouldn’t make sense.
“Noah, what is going on? You’re worrying me.”
Her warm hands cupped my cheeks so I had to look at her, those bright eyes pleading with worry.
“Talk to me,” Y/N breathed.
“Did you enjoy our date? Was it to your standards? Did I do alright with everything?”
The questions blurted out like word vomit.
“Of course I did, Noah!” Those eyes darted back and forth between mine. “I had a wonderful time. Did I do something to make you think otherwise?”
I clutched her sides. “No, you didn’t! I promise. I know we talked about things last night. I wanted to make sure last night was everything you wanted.”
“It was,” she adjusted the collar of my turtle neck. “I promise.”
“I felt even closer to you than I ever have before. Especially when we had sex and I just wanted reassurance,” I sighed. “That’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“Mochi, I loved every second with you. I loved everything about it. I felt closer and more connected with you too. Stop fussing if I had a great time. I’d sit and watch ants crawl out of the ground if it meant I could be with you.”
Something flashed in my mind that brought a genuine smile to my face and washed away all of those worries.
Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. "You'd sit and get a tattoo with me?"
I brushed away a loose strand of hair that fell from her braid behind her ear, fingers trailing against the skin of her neck.
"I'd sit and watch ants crawl out of a hole for hours if that meant I'm sitting next to you," I vowed with hooded eyes as I stared down at her lips.
I pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I take it we’re on for a second date then?”
“I’m wide open,” Y/N winked with a kiss on my cheek.
“Good,” I grinned.
“Noah! We’re ready!”
We both glanced over to the large opening of the warehouse to Nicholas who was waving us inside.
“So, you’re staying the rest of the shoot?” I asked.
Y/N beamed. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
READER
As I moved about my bedroom, tossing things into the suitcases that laid out on my bed, there was a delicate knock on my open door and Chase gave me a warm smile.
“Malcolm and Noah are at the store right now and wondering if there’s anything else you need for this weekend,” he sat down on the edge of my bed.
“No, just the list I gave them,” I said while zipping up my suitcase.
“Are you nervous?” Chase asked, playing with Salem.
“A bit, yeah,” I sighed while plopping down onto the bed next to him. “This is our first album as a three-piece. It’s completely different from our other albums so I’m afraid people won’t vibe with it.”
Chase squeezed my knee. “They will. The reviews from the singles we already released are positive.”
“I know. I’ve just been in my head a lot.”
There was a slight hesitation in Chase’s breath before he asked his next question.
“Have you talked to your parents at all?”
My heart sank with guilt and I began chipping away at my nail polish. “It’s been a few days since I talked with my dad. With everything from trying to plan the album release party and Noah, I guess I kind of forgot to call him.”
Chase wrapped an arm around me to pull me into his chest. “Your dad understands how busy you are. He’d never hold it against you.”
I snorted. “Unlike my mom. Part of me wants to call her and give her an update on my life. Because I do love her, regardless of all of her faults, but I’m just afraid that she’ll judge me; again.”
“Do whatever your heart tells you, sweets. You never know, she might surprise you.”
Both of us shared a knowing look before we burst out in a fit of laughter knowing the odds of that happening.
“But stop worrying about the small stuff, Y/N. Ethan said the house is booked, the guest list was sent out, and the caterers are paid. Everything is set, all we have to do is show up and promote the album,” Chase said as Salem lay between us.
When I nodded, he stood to his feet and placed a kiss on top of my head then slipped out of my room. Pausing packing for a moment, I reached for my phone that was charging on my nightstand and I let my finger hover over my mom's contact for a long moment, wondering if I really wanted to do this or if it was the guilt for not reaching out to her more.
Pros: she could be happy for me and even want to show up at the party.
Cons: she calls me a disappointment yet again and criticizes my choices.
“Fuck it,” I groaned then clicked on her name.
It rang twice before going straight to voicemail. I rolled my eyes, knowing that she ignored my call, but tried not to dwell on the way my stomach dropped.
“Hey mom, it’s me. How have things been? I heard you went to Greece for a few weeks to visit family. I bet that was nice, I’d love to see some pictures. Maybe we could meet up for coffee to talk?”
I ran my sweaty palms on my sweats before continuing. “I have some news. Hollow Souls new album releases this Saturday and we're throwing this party to celebrate it. I know you never were too keen on my career choice but it would mean a lot if you came. I’ll text you the details. S'agapó.”
Ending the call by saying I loved her in Greek, I hit the red button with a disappointed sigh. I knew there was a higher chance she wouldn’t answer my call rather than actually answering it. Instead of dwelling on it, I texted my dad.
Me: Can I call?
His response came almost instantly.
Dad: You never have to ask, sweetheart.
With a smile, I decided to FaceTime him instead and broke out in a large smile when his face appeared on the screen. His hair had a bit more gray than the last time and a few more wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. The glasses were practically falling off his nose but when he saw me, he pushed them up.
“There she is! Oh, I’m loving the new hair!” He beamed.
“Thanks Dad. I’m sorry I haven’t called in a while, life’s been kind of crazy,” I explained while leaning against the headboard.
My dad waved me off as he spun around in his office chair, the large and filled bookcases now his backdrop. “It’s alright, sweetheart. How have things been?”
We spent the next few minutes catching up when Noah entered my room, both hands full of bags. When I went to help him, he held up the bags higher so I couldn’t. With a playful glare at him, I turned my attention back to my dad while Noah went about emptying the bags.
“So your mom didn’t answer?”
Briefly ignoring the questioning glance from Noah, I shook my head at my dad.
“I don’t know why I’m surprised. It’s like she has this radar that goes off before I call to talk about my life. If it’s not about her, she doesn't care,” I pulled my knees up to my chest so Noah could sit down in front of me.
My dad took off his glasses to rub his eyes before putting them back on his nose. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I wish she never took her own frustrations out on you. She’s unhappy with how things ended with the divorce and she can’t seem to heal from it.”
Noah’s fingers grazed over the exposed skin of my ankle.
“All these years later and I still try to make her proud of me,” I shrugged.
“I know sweetheart. But sometimes, you have to think about yourself and make yourself proud before her. That’s what matters.”
Noah’s hand brushed away the hair from my face and I smiled up at him.
“Oh, whose hand is that?” My dad's questionable voice came from my phone. “Those are a lot of tattoos.”
With a glance at Noah, he nodded so I shifted my position for my phone to not only show me but him as well.
“I wish I could introduce you two face to face but this will have to do. Dad, this is Noah.”
Noah gave a small wave to the phone. “Hi, Mr. Y/L/N, it’s an honor to meet you.”
“Shit, even your neck is covered! That had to hurt,” my dad chuckled while rubbing his own neck. “It’s an honor to meet you as well, Noah. My daughter has told me quite a lot about you. All good things, no need to worry.”
My cheeks burned and Noah wrapped an arm around my side, pulling us closer.
“You have a wonderful daughter. I want to assure you that I love her and will take great care of her,” he vowed.
My father snorted while moving about his house now. “I knew it from the moment I saw that video of you two performing on stage together during your last tour that you loved Y/N. It was clear in the way you smiled at her.”
“Dad,” I muttered under my breath.
Noah, however, looked at me with deep affection in those almond eyes. “I think I knew it back then as well, it just took me longer to admit it.”
“Call it father’s intuition,” my dad said. “But I have to go. I’m meeting some friends for ramen.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. “I would kill for some Japanese ramen right now.”
“Well,” my father started while slipping into his jacket one-handed. “Bring Noah the next time you visit and we can all go out for some. There’s this great place next to this shop that sells some kind of Manga drawings. I don’t understand it but the kids your age seem to love it.”
“We’ll be there,” Noah promised with a kiss on the side of my head.
“Have fun at the album release party, sweetheart. I can’t wait to hear the new songs!”
We both waved at the screen before it went black, me hanging up the call.
“Your dad seems like a great guy,” Noah noted while rolling off of my bed and trotting over to my dresser.
He opened the top two drawers, rummaging around for some of his clothes.
About two weeks ago, he slowly brought some of his things over here while I did the same at his place. We’d been bouncing back and forth between the two but with how busy I’d been planning the album release party and all the finishing touches for the album, it’d been a few days since Noah and I spent the night together. So now that we were leaving tomorrow for the weekend, he decided to spend the night at my place so we could ride up to Big Bear with Chase and Malcolm.
“He is,” I rested my chin on my knees. “I really hope one day we can visit him together.”
“We will.”
Noah promised with a kiss on my head before retreating out of my room so he could shower while I finished packing all of our things, the excitement of this weekend making me dance around my bedroom.
READER
My heels clicked against the hardwood floor as I typed away on my phone, the hustle and bustle of everyone setting up for the party falling away from me.
The Power Puff Girls group chat:
Me: You guys on your way back?
Astrid: Had to stop at the store quickly! Matt texted Jolly to grab some Dr. Pepper. We picked up Maxxine about thirty minutes ago but would have been back at the house by now if Jolly wasn’t taking FOREVER in the book section. He’s trying to find some kind of new fantasy book to read this weekend.
Maxxine: It’s kind of cute watching the two of you giggle with your own inside jokes while I just stand here as a third wheel.
I let out my own chuckle as I stopped in front of the large mirror in the rental house, brushing away any lint from my white dress. The sleeves were lace and stopped right at my elbows and the bottom of my dress rested mid-thigh. I was afraid that the front may have been too low cut but Noah reassured me it was fine.
With an array of kisses between my breasts.
My phone vibrated in my hand and I read the new message.
Astrid: Oh hush you.
Me: Well, we’re very excited for you to join us, Maxxine. Bring some more females into this group of male hormones. I’d been dying to introduce you to someone!
Maxxine: No, Y/N. Please. My last date was so horrendous, I still haven’t recovered.
“Angel?”
Glancing away from my phone, I smiled at Noah as he came bounding down the stairs dressed in a black long-sleeve and almost eggshell white pants. I licked my lips at the sight of him dressed up. It wasn’t anything fancy but it still made my heart flutter.
“Have you seen my shoes? The black-.”
“The black lace-ups,” I nodded. “Yes, they’re in the closet in our room. Next to my house shoes.”
He pressed a kiss to my lips. “Thank you.”
As Noah retreated upstairs again, I turned back down to my phone.
Astrid: We promise, this guy is different!
Maxxine: I don’t know. I think I should just be single for a while. My luck with men hasn’t been the greatest. I always chose losers.
Me: Please, you’ll be thanking us for setting you up with him.
Setting my phone on the kitchen counter, I peered over to Jesse, who was setting up the drinks and snacks at the dining room table. Noah mentioned to me the other night how Jesse had been feeling quite down a lot lately due to his anxiety and had been falling into himself, closing himself off from everyone. While Jesse wouldn’t admit it, we all had an inkling feeling that seeing some of his best friends get into relationships, made him doubt himself in finding someone. We also knew how hard of a time he had in Pittsburg when Erra was there touring a few months ago, so Astrid and I decided to set him up with a mutual friend of ours and I invited her to the party tonight.
“Hey,” I slinked up beside Jesse and bumped my shoulder with his.
“Hi,” he smiled. “You look beautiful. Excited for tonight?”
“Thank you! I am. But I just wanted to let you know that there’s someone I want you to meet tonight.”
He set down the cups and raised a brow. “Why me?”
“Oh, no reason,” I shrugged before patting his chest and walking away.
“Y/N! What’s that supposed to mean!”
Giggling, I met up with Chase and Malcolm in the main living area of the house. Chase was brushing away Maclolm’s long auburn locks and I smiled at the two of them. I knew they were nervous about being open about their relationship in the beginning but now they were blossoming together and I couldn’t have been happier for them.
“How are we feeling?” I asked them to check-in.
Malcolm ran a hand down the front of his black dress shirt. “Nervous as hell.”
Chase rubbed his shoulder. “It’ll be fine, love. The support already has been incredible. It’s only going to get better.”
I wrapped my arms around both of them. “In case this album flops, I want you guys to know that I’m glad we took this chance. I love what we created.”
“It’s not going to flop,” Chase rolled his bright blue eyes but returned the hug. “Love you two, idiots.”
I pulled away from them and turned towards the front door when it opened, smiling at Astrid, Jolly, and Maxxine who walked inside. My eyes darted from Maxxine to Jesse, who froze in the middle of his tracks. He took in the sight of her; long legs, olive skin, long black hair, and bright hazel eyes.
Maxxine, who had her arms full of bags, gave a slow once over of Jesse with a blush and faint smile.
“Hi,” he cleared his throat. “Let me help you.”
“Thank you,” she allowed Jesse to take a couple of bags from her.
Astrid and I shared a proud smile.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
Noah’s deep voice sang in my ear as he wrapped his arms around me from behind, a kiss to the side of my neck. Turning in his embrace, I pecked his lips.
“Hm, once or twice,” I wrapped my arms behind his neck.
With the soft tune of music playing in the background, our bodies began to sway lightly. When his eyes fell behind me, his brows furrowed together.
“Who’s the girl with Jesse?”
I turned slightly in his embrace to see Jesse and Maxxine laughing about something with each other. She was lightly touching his arm and the smile on his face was one that you couldn’t scrub away no matter how hard you tried.
“Oh, that’s a friend of mine and Astrid’s. Her name is Maxxine. I thought that maybe she and Jesse would hit it off,” I explained.
Noah’s lips left feather-like kisses along my forehead. “I love you.”
I grasped the front of his shirt, engulfing myself in his scent.
“I love you too. But before the party starts, I want to show you something.”
Linking our hands together, we slipped away from the group and down the hall of the rental home to the office where I already had things set up. I closed the door behind us and motioned for Noah to sit on the long sofa while I sat on the recliner chair diagonal from him. On the table was a pair of wireless headphones that were already hooked up to my phone.
“What’s this?” Noah wondered after falling onto the couch.
I handed him the headphones. “I know you’ll hear this song later but I wanted you to hear it for the first time with just the two of us. It’s an important song and it means a lot.”
My heart was drumming inside of the confines of my chest making it hard to breathe. I finished recording this song months ago and besides me, Chase, and Malcolm no one else heard it. I wanted Noah to be the first.
Once he placed the headphones over his ears, I loaded up the song on my phone and hit play. Even though I couldn’t hear the song physically, I could hear it in my mind.
I know it's warmer where you are and it's safer by your side. But right now I can't be what you want. Just give it time.
Noah’s shoulders went stiff as he flicked his eyes up at me, steepling his fingers together in his lap. I gave him a reassuring nod, urging him to continue.
And if you and I can make it through the night. And if you and I can keep our love alive, we'll fight.
Now nothing gave way on his face as he stared down at his hands, the only movement was the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
We can meet in the middle. Bodies and souls collide. Dance in the moonlight where all the stars align. Oh you and I, oh you and I, oh.
I couldn’t bear being so far from him while not knowing how he was feeling so I rose from my chair to sit on the other end of the couch next to him.
Well, it's cold when we're apart and I hate to feel this die. But you can't give me what I want. Just give it time
Noah’s eyes fluttered shut and I swore I saw all the oxygen leave his lungs, telling me I knew what part of my lyrics he just heard.
But for now we stay so far. 'Til our lonely limbs connect. I can't keep you in these arms. So I'll keep you in my mind.
My bottom lip caught between my teeth as my knee bounced with anticipation, wanting desperately to know what he thought about my song. But I didn’t want to disturb him yet.
Can we meet in the middle? Bodies and souls collide. Dance in the moonlight. Where all the stars align. Oh you and I, oh you and I, oh.
Glancing at my phone, I realized the song ended, but Noah made no effort to take off the headphones. My lips parted to speak when I noticed a lone tear roll down his cheek.
“Noah?” I tapped his arm.
With the heat of my touch, it was as if he came alive again. Ripping off the headphones, Noah’s lips attacked mine with an inferno, making me fall back onto the couch with him on top of me. My fingers quickly found their usual place in his hair while he hooked my leg around his hips.
“Angel,” he fanned in the crook of my neck.
“Did-did you like it?” I asked.
Noah’s tongue brushed along the pulsepoint of my neck and I shivered underneath him.
“I loved it,” he breathed as his teeth scraped up along my jawline before slipping his tongue into my mouth.
We had a short fight for dominance before reluctantly I let Noah win, his hands running up and down my bare thighs. When he pulled away, I was dizzy; kiss drunk. And his eyes burned as he looked down at me.
“Are you sure?” I questioned, still filled with worry he didn’t like it.
“Y/N,” he lifted my chin with the finger that had the small heart tattooed on it. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. It was perfect.”
“Thank you,” I wrapped my legs around him to bring his body closer to mine, moaning when I felt the outline of his cock brush along my heated core.
His forehead fell onto my chest and sighed. “Do we have to go out there? Can we stay here the two of us? In our bubble.”
I lifted his head to kiss his nose. “Unfortunately, this party is partly for me so I have to show up.”
Grudgingly, Noah untangled himself from me and then helped me to my feet, fixing my dress and hair for me.
With our fingers linked together, he led me back into the main part of the house where the party was already well underway.
THIRD PERSON POV
The crowd of people kept congratulating the members of Hollow Souls for an amazing album. Everyone loved the new songs and was excited about the new direction they were headed toward. Chase and Malcolm chatted with one of the reps from the record label while Y/N was talking with someone she didn’t expect to see there.
“I can’t believe you flew all the way to Los Angeles from Vermont for this! You didn’t have to,” she smiled while wrapping her arms around the man in a hug.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Y/N,” Joe shrugged. “Where’s Noah?”
“Um, last I saw he was talking with his friend Bryan.”
She glanced around the room but broke out in a large smile when Noah slinked up beside her and left a kiss on her cheek.
“There you are. I have someone I’d like you to meet. This is Joe,” Y/N pointed between the two men.
Noah extended a hand. “Nice to officially meet you.”
“Yeah you too,” Joe shook his hand with a smile.
The three of them chatted for a long while after moving to one of the couches in the living room, Y/N watching with fondness as her boyfriend and one of her good friends got along pretty well. She even stole a glance over towards Jesse and Maxxine who were seated on the couch across from them. His arm was thrown over the top of the couch, fingers grazing over the skin of Maxxine’s shoulder. Every so often she would slink in closer towards him.
“Would you like a drink, angel?” Noah asked.
Her eyes snapped back to him and she nodded. “Dr. Pepper, please.”
Once Noah stood from the couch, Y/N opened her mouth to ask Joe how life was going when someone else sat down on the couch next to her, almost in Noah’s previous spot.
Devon? Derrick? No, his name was Dennis; a mutual acquaintance of Ethan, their manager.
“Hey, Y/N. I thought I’d sneak in to tell you how awesome the new album sounds,” he slicked back his overly gelled hair.
She gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you.”
While she knew of him from things Ethan would say, Y/N never actually met him.
“I love the new vibe you guys have going on. It’s very different from your old albums. Although, I must say that my favorite is still your self-entitled. Trey’s vocals kick ass on that.”
Joe sat up straighter from his spot on the other side of Y/N while she narrowed her eyes at Dennis.
“Everyone has their own opinions I suppose,” she said while trying to pull down the ends of her dress when she caught Dennis staring at her legs.
“You know,” he licked his lips and moved closer to Y/N. “You’re doing really well without Trey. How about we go out for a drink?”
“No thank you, I’m not interested.”
Y/N slinked back closer to Joe, who gladly accepted it.
“One drink?” Dennis tried again with a sly smirk.
“I don’t drink,” Y/N narrowed her eyes while crossing her arms over her chest, hoping to show the guy that she was finished with this conversation.
Joe sent a look over to Malcolm, who was standing in the kitchen next to Noah, and with that shared expression, the redhead nodded.
“Noah,” Malcolm motioned behind Noah.
With a perplexed look, Noah turned around and nearly crushed the glass in his hand at what he saw. Y/N was almost in Joe’s lap, trying to get away from some douchebag who kept advancing towards her.
“What the fuck,” he grumbled under his breath, nostrils flaring.
Tonight was not the night to lose his cool but he could feel that ugly feeling burning low in his gut; the feeling he despised. He didn’t want to come off as jealous or that he couldn’t trust Y/N because he could. But Noah did not like the way this guy was almost undressing her with his eyes.
Joe wanted to intervene but also knew that Y/N had it handled; something she’d proven before.
She glanced around the room with panic in her eyes until they fell on Noah, utter relief filling them. The guy followed her gaze and scoffed when he realized what she Y/N was looking at.
Noah’s blood ran cold as his heart was thumping loudly in his ears, everything becoming white noise to him. His fingers shook at his sides, doing his best to remain calm.
“Who is that guy?” He asked Malcolm.
“Dennis. Ethan’s assistant.”
Matt, who had snuck up beside Noah, urged him with a look.
“This asshole just asked Y/N to go outside with him for more privacy.”
Fire burned in Noah’s eyes as he snapped them back over to the couch, where he nearly choked at the sight in front of him. Dennis was dragging his fingers down Y/N’s neck with intimacy that was reserved for Noah only. That was his spot. Y/N was his, it was proven tonight when she played her song for him.
His insides burned with rage that it nearly made him unable to see anything in front of him.
The sound of Y/N’s hand smacking Dennis’ hand away broke through the haze in Noah’s vision.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” she seethed.
Joe quickly pulled Y/N up from the couch just as Noah pushed himself off the edge of the counter and made his way through the crowd over towards his girlfriend; hands shaking with more vigor now. It would be so easy to punch Dennis and show him who Y/N belongs to, however, Noah wouldn’t create a scene tonight; not when this night meant so much to Hollow Souls.
With three deep breaths, Noah came to a halt in front of Y/N who quickly found solace underneath his arm.
“Everything alright?” He wondered.
Y/N, albeit with the annoyed look in her usual bright eyes, wore a faux smile. “Yeah, now it is.”
“I think you were just leaving, no?” Joe asked Dennis.
The man shook his head while slowly rising to his feet. “No, actually I wasn’t. I heard that Y/N is single so I thought to shoot my shot.”
Noah’s body vibrated with anger so Y/N rested a hand on his chest, her touch immediately calming him.
“I’d like to know where you heard that,” Noah spoke slowly, even though he was on edge.
“Does it matter?” Dennis harshly laughed. “All I’m saying is that she looks sexy as fuck tonight. I thought we could sneak away for a bit but it seems like she’s too far up your ass to even notice there are other guys here.”
“I already said no,” Y/N’s voice was stern.
Noah’s eyes sliced Dennis in half but remained calm; an eerie calm that seemed to have the gathering crowd of their friends on edge. His arm was still around her, claiming Y/N as his own but for added measure he left a kiss on the side of her head.
Dennis raised his hands in defeat. “Alright, I get it. It’s fine, from what I hear from Trey, you can’t be satisfied anyway.”
Chase appeared almost out of nowhere and grabbed him by the collar of his green polo. “Time for you to go. Now.”
“Chase, please. No fighting,” Y/N begged still in Noah’s embrace.
His usual bright blue eyes were dark, a deep hue of midnight, while he glared at Dennis.
“I promise, no fighting,” Chase gritted out through clenched teeth. “I’m only going to show this asshole the way out.”
Noah and Dennis shared one final glance, victory dancing on the former's lips before he whispered in Y/N’s ear.
“Upstairs. Now.”
Her eyes sparkled when she gazed up at him with a mischievous smirk. The both of them slipped away almost unnoticed by everyone, running up the stairs two at a time with Noah smacking her ass, her giggles echoing far behind them.
READER
As soon as we were in the confines of our bedroom in the rental house, Noah lifted me in the air to press my back against the door. I wrapped my legs around his waist while his hands gripped my thighs. There was a dire need of want in his eyes as he crashed his lips to mine in such a frenzied, hungry kiss, that it made me see stars from the force of it. His teeth grazed over my tongue and then my lips, drawing the teeniest bit of blood.
“Fuck, Noah!” I exclaimed while dotting a finger to my lip.
Growling, he began biting my neck, licking away Dennis’ touch. “I don’t know who the fuck he thinks he is. No one will ever fucking talk to you like that or touch what’s mine.”
“Oh god, yes,” I hissed, running my hands through his hair when he sucked on my sweet spot.
Somehow Noah managed to yank off my panties in our position and stuffed them deep into his pocket. One lone finger slipped between us when he pinned me to the door again and started rubbing fast circles on my clit.
“Shit. Fuck. So good,” I crowed while pulling on the ends of his hair.
Once I was wet enough, Noah quickly pulled out his cock, rubbing a fist over it for a few pumps before slipping in between my folds with a hard snap of his hips that we rattled against the door. I felt so full, so stretched open, that I gasped; not realizing at first that Noah forgot to put on a condom.
“I want that motherfucker to hear who you belong to, angel,” he grunted with each thrust, nails digging into the skin of my bare ass to keep me grounded against him.
“Fuck, god. So good,” I panted while scratching at his shoulders. “Right there.”
We both were grunting so loudly and with the banging of the door, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that everyone could hear us downstairs. But none of them mattered.
Only Noah and I did.
His lips attacked mine once again, teeth smacking and tongues exploring every inch of each other's mouths.
“Say my name, I want him and any other man who thinks they have a shot, to hear who you belong to,” Noah bit down hard on my neck, his thrusts were fast and relentless.
“NOAH!” I screamed when his finger pressed against my clit again, being exactly what I needed to come apart on his cock.
My body writhed in his tight hold on me and with the force of his hands on my ass, I knew that I would have bruises in the morning but I didn’t fucking care.
“You’re mine.” He grunted while craning my neck back by my hair.
Noah went back to working on the raised red mark on my neck, right alongside the other bite marks he left before.
“Yes, I am,” I rasped, gone in ecstasy.
“Forever angel,” Noah’s hips stilled before pulling himself completely out of me. “Fucking say it.”
“I’m yours forever, Noah!” I proclaimed with a feverish nod.
“You’re mine, angel,” he gruffed while now wrapping his hand around his cock.
It was thick and red, almost angry from being denied release.
“It felt too good and I didn’t want to risk it,” he sighed while letting me fall to my feet.
I kissed his lips, this time more gentle than our previous kisses. “Cum on my chest.”
Noah’s movements around his cock faltered for a moment, pupils dilating to pure black.
“What?”
Dropping to my knees, I pulled down the front of my dress to expose my bare chest to him and peered up at him through my lashes.
“I want you to mark me, Noah. Mark what’s yours,” I begged.
“Shit, Y/N,” he mused while running one hand through my hair, dragging his fingers down my neck over my chest to pull and pinch my nipples.
His grip around his cock was tight, knuckles turning white as he moved his hand up and down with such a velocious pace, it almost made it hard to focus on it. I licked my lips when I spotted the precum Noah used to spread over the head of his cock and I whined with the desire to taste him.
The hand he had wrapped around the back of my neck to keep me in place tightened its grip as he bent over me, resting his forehead against the door. Noah was still dressed but I could only imagine that the muscles in his stomach were taut, his release so close.
“Cum for me, Noah. Please,” I begged with a whiny breath.
“Fucking hell,” he howled my name when his warm release shot all over my neck and down between my breasts.
I hummed in pleasure, seeing the white stickiness run down my stomach, reveling in the feeling of his mark all over me. Noah stared down at me through hooded eyes, his chest heaving with each deep breath.
“I didn’t think,” he took a deep breath while licking his lips. “I didn’t think that would be so hot.”
Allow him to help me to my feet, I couldn’t wipe the smirk from my face. “I did, why do you think I asked for it?”
Noah’s eyes flashed as he bent low to capture my lips in a kiss. “Am I going to keep finding out your secret kinks, angel?”
“I think so since you discovered two of them already,” I dragged a finger down his cheek.
“You like possessive sex? I feel terrible for throwing you against the door,” Noah rubbed the back of his neck.
I shrugged. “It’s not so much the possessive side of it but more so the dominant side of you.”
He lifted my hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on my palm. “Do you want to head back downstairs?”
“No, I’m exhausted and need a shower,” I giggled while motioning to my chest.
Even though his cheeks reddened, the look that crossed his face as he looked me over made my core clench.
“Get cleaned up and I’ll sneak downstairs to grab us some snacks,” Noah patted my ass, dismissing me towards the bathroom connected to our bedroom.
“Think Folio will share those chocolate-covered pretzels he brought?” I wondered.
Noah chuckled while stuffing his cock back into his pants before zipping them. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
Right before he slipped through the door, I chastised him when I noticed the large red mark on my neck.
ASTRID
“Okay, I think they’re finally finished,” I chuckled while walking into the bedroom I was sharing with Jolly. “The door stopped rattling awhile ago and when I walked past their bedroom, I heard one of them snoring.”
Jolly peered up from strumming a few notes on the guitar in his lap and smiled at me.
“It’s most likely, Noah. Do you know he wears those nose strips?”
“No way!” I gasped while pulling down the sleeves of his sweater I was wearing, moving about the room to finish getting ready for bed.
It was his black Bad Omens hoodie, with the hand and gun on the front.
“Yeah, try sleeping in a moving sweatbox and hearing that. I sometimes worry he’ll inhale the bus curtains. That’s Y/N’s problem now,” he chuckled while reaching for me and pulling me to the bed with him.
I broke out in a fit of giggles when he placed me in his lap and then rested the guitar in mine. He set my fingers in the position they needed to before helping me strum a few notes.
He placed a kiss on my shoulder. “I’m glad you were able to leave Fika for the weekend to be here with me.”
I turned my head towards him and kissed his lips. “Jessica can handle it. I need to start loosening the reins a bit and enjoy things more.”
Jolly’s eyes glinted as he set the guitar down on the floor before lying me back down on the bed, lifting my end of the sweater to reveal all I was wearing underneath was a pair of black underwear.
“You walked around like this?” His voice rumbled deep within his chest.
I innocently shrugged. “I didn’t run into anyone. Besides, I’m practically swimming in your sweater. No one would have seen anything.”
Hooking my underwear with his fingers, Jolly practically ripped them down my legs before flipping me onto my stomach.
“Keep the sweater on, käraste,” he demanded while spreading my legs wide.
“Fuck, yes,” I nodded while burying my face into the pillow, hearing Jolly’s belt buckle fall to the floor.
NOAH
Jolly and I moved around the large kitchen, almost with ease like we’d done this countless times before as we made breakfast for everyone. It was our last day up in Big Bear and we had a full day of activities planned.
Breakfast, a mountain hike, lunch at a diner in town, and Y/N wanted to steal me away for a few hours to go horseback riding.
The large table was filled with everyone and I had to stop for a moment to appreciate everyone here who came out to support Hollow Souls. They didn’t need to but they did because Y/N, Chase, and Malcolm became part of our family with that tour that seemed so long ago now.
“Noah, can you hand me the eggs?”
Snapping my gaze away from everyone, I turned towards Jolly and handed him the carton of eggs.
“So,” I smirked while pouring more pancake mix onto the sizzling griddle. “I heard you had a great night last night. I walked past your room to come down to the kitchen for a drink and heard you grunting something in Swedish. What was it?”
He froze, mixing the eggs in the large bowl for a moment before scoffing. “Like you’re one to talk. We all heard you guys last night. The door wouldn’t stop rattling, shaking the walls.”
My face was beet red and I adjusted the collar of my sweater to ease it away from my neck. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m surprised you even heard anything over your snoring,” Jolly shrugged with a sly smirk. “I told Astrid you use nose strips.”
I dropped the spatula, it clattering to the counter and gasped. “You did not!”
A sudden movement from the stairs caught both of our attention, our heads snapping to the forms of Jesse and Maxxine walking down, her wearing one of his shirts. With a shared look, Jolly and I scurried over to our girlfriends, me pulling on Y/N’s shirt while she poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Mochi,” she smacked my hand away. “Not now. I’m hungry and need caffeine. Sex in the shower took a lot out of me this morning.”
“Angel,” I reached for her again.
“I’m serious,” she held a stern gaze over the rim of her cup as she looked at me. “I need a break.”
Rolling my eyes, I turned her around just in time for her to see Jesse hold out the chair for Maxxine, who blushed up at him in thanks.
“No fucking way!” Y/N sputtered into her cup and then looked back at me. “She stayed the night with him?”
I wrapped my arms around her, breathing in the peach scent of her body wash, and smiled. “Look at you, little matchmaker.”
We shared a kiss before I motioned for her to sit down at the table so I could bring her a plate of food.
Everyone went about the kitchen, filling up their own plates while I sat down next to Y/N, handing her the plate. Once everyone was seated, Malcolm took a long pull of his coffee before setting it down on the dark oak of the table.
“So, who do you think was louder last night? Jolly or Noah?”
The noise of my fork falling on my plate rang loudly in all of our ears while Jolly nearly choked on his scrambled eggs. Both of us slowly sank into our seats while Astrid and Y/N shared a look across the table, stifling a fit of giggles behind their hands.
Noticing the way our faces reddened, Folio spoke up to change the subject. “Did anyone enjoy seeing the snow dogs? Michelle and I had a great time when we were here last time.”
“Oh that’s right,” Davis nodded. “You guys were here for Valentine's Day, right?”
While their conversation fell on deaf ears, I felt my heart stutter in my chest and glanced over to Y/N, who was having her own conversation with Michael who sat next to her. The realization hit me with such force, that I had to lean farther back into my chair.
Even though it was well into March, we never spent Valentine's Day together, and honestly, that wasn’t something that sat well with me. My heart yearned to make up for all the times we missed during our time apart and for the rest of breakfast, I made those plans in my mind.
“Were we really that loud last night?”
Y/N asked me at the same time Astrid asked Jolly and I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into me with a chuckle, brushing my lips against her ear.
“Want to see if we can get even louder before we leave?” I nibbled on her ear lobe.
#noah sebastian#noah sebastian and reader#noah sebastian x reader#noah sebastian reader insert#noah sebastian smut#enemies to lovers#right person wrong time#tina and sarah talks
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Dive into the World of Occult and Esoteric Teachings with Me!
Hello wonderful people, it is I, WanderingSorcerer, an occultist and practicing Mage with over 19 years of experience
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HEY BITCHES, BROS, AND NONBINARY HOES ‼️
ARE YOU A 15 TO 28 AGED WRITER? ARE YOU LOOKING FOR A COMMUNITY OF FELLOW POETS AND WHATNOT LIKE YOURSELF? DO YOU HAVE PETRIFYING LONELINESS? ARE YOU STRUGGLING TO PAY THE BILLS WITH YOUR 9$ AN HOUR?
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Now I know what you're thinking...
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Thanks Finch, you're really helping our image... /silly
We also prioritize keeping the server small—90 members is our limit—so as not to be overwhelming. We're currently at 45 members (but surprisingly active 🤯), because we took a sit back from advertising since we were comfortable with the size and vibe of our server overall, but we're back at it, and guess what! Since we have a member limit, this is your
"But OP!!! I want to know MORE about this server before joining!! 🥺" You may or may not be saying because you're just so damn impatient and want the link immediately 🙄 /silly
Well, my dear dear Tumblr user, our writing community is diverse, from poets to original authors to fanfiction writers of all genres! And our range of skill levels is just as wide. We have people just stepping foot into the writing scene to folks who've been stuck in the paragraphs for centuries. We chat about our stories, share our work, brainstorm, proofread, and do prompts and sprints. However, I would like to make it clear that our server is more of a writing community, so it isn't as writing-focused as other writing servers out there. I'd say it's 60% fun shenanigans and 40% writing-related. Aside from the writing akin, there's plenty of fandom talk, artwork sharing, fun as hell VCs, movie nights, and speechless music bot VCs if you're feeling extra introverted. /pos
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I can't stop laughing anytime I think about like toddler reader/baby fushiguro waking people up at night like "I frew up"
Lol okay this is how I imagine they'd react:
Yandere Papa Toji Fushiguro:
He hears the sound of your little feet padding in, cracks an eye open and sees you standing there with a small face and teary eyes.
"What's wrong?" He croaks out, a hand reaching out to caress your face.
"I- I threw up."
Toji nods, pulling you up on his bed and grabs you a water bottle from his table, pushing it to your lips.
"You good?" He asks, wiping your face with his shirt.
"Yeah."
"You wanna sleep with me tonight?"
You nod, letting him plop you on his chest, kne arm securely around you while the other pulls the covers up.
Toji kisses your forehead and pats your back until you fall asleep.
Yandere Uncle Naoya Zenin:
You could've gone to anyone in the Zenin clan and they would've happily coddled you. But no, tou decided to give your beloved uncle the heart attack of his life.
Like Naoya opens his eyes and sees a dark shadow standing right next to his face and he almost shits the bed.
Luckily his hand hit the lights first.
"Y/n?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"
You suck your bottom lip. "I- threw up."
"And? What do you expect me to do about it?" Naoya asks, watching you shrug. You then proceeded to throw up again, barely missing his foot. Naoya gasped at your audacity, as you stood there and stared back at him after you finished puking.
"Can I go run outside?"
"What-? NO!" Naoya face palms, before grabbing you, all his annoyance washed away when he felt how warm you were.
"Shit." He whispered. You're running a fever.
Naoya picked you up, letting you rest your head on his shoulder and walked out of his room, and down to one of the servants room. Of course, he kicked the poor guy off the bed to wake him up.
"I- who the fuck- M-master Naoya?!" The servant corrected himself.
"Shut it. Fetch the doctor, and have one of the chefs cook some soup for Y/n. And this better be done in the next 20 minutes or so help me god, I will break your neck."
Yandere Choso:
Panics. BIG TIME PANICS.
He thinks you're doing because why else would you be emptying your stomach?
Hauls you up and pretty much zooms to Yuji and wakes his ass up.
"YUJI! Y/N'S DYING!" and Yuji looks over at you and you look pretty content for someone who's dying.
"Choso, I need you to tell me what happened, calmly."
"I- I was holding her little hand when I put her to bed, Yuji- you know she can't sleep without holding my hand! And then, all of a sudden she lurches up and starts throwing up!"
Yuji looked at you both for a couple of seconds. "Is that it?"
"What do you mean "is that it"? SHE IS DYING-"
"Choso, shut up. Come on, I'll show you how to fix this."
Yandere Sukuna:
You summoned Sukuna in the middle of the night and he was concerned because he knew it was way past your bed time. But he masked his concern, as he usually does.
"What do you want, little brat?"
"I threw up..."
Sukuna sighs, picking you up and walking to the kitchen. He warned up some water and added a couple of leaves in it.
"Drink this, it'll heal your stomach."
When you smelled the concoction, you shook your head. But he persisted, pushing the hello kitty cup to your lips.
"Drink it. Or else you'll be sick for the rest of your life and you won't get to go to that pink hell cat store."
Of course, the bluff works.
Sukuna takes you out to the garden, a light breeze in the air. He unconsciously rocks you back and forth to sleep, his heart swelling with joy that you came to him for help.
There's something wrong with my tumblr because I can't give double spaces in between paragraphs.
#yandere sukuna#yandere sukuna ryomen#yandere sakuna ryomen#yandere sakuna#yandere choso kamo#yandere choso#yandere naoya zenin#yandere naoya#yandere toji fushiguro#yandere toji#yandere jjk#yandere jujutsu kaisen
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On today's episode of "Rachel exaggerates things to make herself sound cooler-"
Soooo this is a lie.
No seriously, this has to be a lie. I don't make these kinds of accusations willy-nilly. This has to be a lie.
First of all, if her file sizes are truly 11GB for each episode, that would mean her file resolutions would have to be stupid high, and I just ain't buying that when so much of her art comes out looking like fried chicken.
But again, look at the backgrounds. Crystal clear. Which supports my theory that Rachel has her assistants draw the characters flat and exports them as PNG's so that she (or another one of her assistants) can slap the backgrounds in afterwards which is why when they pinch and zoom, the backgrounds look fine (as they're added in afterwards) and the characters look like they've been drawn with chalk. The shading itself isn't deep fried though, which is, again, because Rachel adds in the shading in post after her assistants have sent her all the flats.
Anyways, moving on from that, if her file sizes are actually 11GB per episode, that would mean her resolution would have to be STUPID high and that would mean there's no excuse for panels to look like this. This is not a Webtoons compression problem, Webtoons does compress images for you if you don't do it yourself but they don't result in specifically deep fried textures like this, that's ALL happening on Rachel's side. If it were a Webtoons' problem, the entire comic would look like that, not just select panels.
This is also what the panels tend to look like in book form. The book art is clearly very compressed and blurred from being too low of a resolution for print, which means either the editor is not being provided the root files, or the root files weren't ever that crisp to begin with. Either one is plausible and either one isn't good.
But of course, I'm not going to make these claims without my own proof. So here's the file sizes for Episode 12 of Rekindled, the longest episode in the series so far by panel count and page length, clocking in at 42 panels and an average of 25 layers per page (and that's including the text layers which adds a good chunk on its own, the actual art layers are like, half of that).
Also, here's what a pinch and zoom panel in Rekindled comes out looking like:
You can still pick up on some fuzziness, but the lineart doesn't look straight up chunky like it does in LO.
Meanwhile, one of my longest episodes of TIME GATE: [AFTERBIRTH] has a file size that honestly shocked me with how small it was.
Guess how many panels that episode had?
Go on, guess. Take a second. Compare it to the file size of Episode 12 of Rekindled, take your best educated guess. Time Gate: [AFTERBIRTH] is also a full color webtoon with full shading and rendering that I used to upload once a week. Go ahead, I'll wait.
Ninety-seven.
Ninety. Seven.
Not only is that more panels than what LO dishes out on a weekly basis, but its overall file size doesn't even come out to be 10% of what Rachel is claiming LO's file sizes to be.
This is what Time Gate: [AFTERBIRTH] looks like, by the way:
(don't mind the blurriness that's working against my point, that's Tumblr, not me LMAO)
But, let's face it, I didn't want to just use my own examples as a comparison, because that seems unfair. I'm not an Originals creator, I just put myself under similar pressures as one because I'm an idiot who tries too hard.
So I asked one of my Originals pals. I will not disclose their name, but they are someone who works for Webtoons Originals and has similar panel requirements and deadlines. They also work with a similar flatting + shade workflow as LO, they have cel-shaded colors and bold flat coloring.
When I asked them how big their file sizes were, they said that at 2500px width - similar to what I draw at, 2400px width - and 200-300k pixel length (again, they're drawing an entire episode on one canvas) their episode file sizes come out to roughly one gigabyte, very rarely much bigger than that.
Rachel is full of shit. This is some Tommy Tallarico level shit, exaggerating stupid things that don't matter to try and make herself seem impressive. It isn't impressive. It makes her look like an unorganized dunderhead at best, and at worst, makes her look like a flat out liar who needs to prop herself up on the dumbest shit to make herself look good. File gigabyte size isn't impressive or indicative of anything, you can achieve high quality art without your file size amounting to 11 GB, and let's face it, Lore Olympus is not high quality art. You're telling me art like this:
amounts to 11 GB?
Now the only way I can see this happening is if maybe, maybe she had like, a bajillion layers full of garbage-
Oh. Oh no. Lore Olympus. Is a sprite comic.*
(*edit for clarification: I've had people confused over what I mean by sprite comic because LO clearly isn't made with 16/8 bit sprites. Sprite comic was a term universally used back in the day for comics that reused the same body parts, heads, expressions, etc. much like how sprites are designed, often keeping an entire file full of different layers made up of these assets to make for easier development. This technique was utilized in comics like CTRL + ALT + DEL. LO is definitely not literally a sprite comic but the way its layers are designed feel very much like something that's being cobbled together like 'sprite' comics were. I'm old.)
Even with these pics for proof, with 600+ layers on one canvas, if there's barely anything on those layers, then it still wouldn't make up that 11GB file size because the amount of layers doesn't necessarily add to file size on its own, at least not by that much, unless they're actually filled with stuff. And again, Rachel's art in LO doesn't scream "highly detailed with many layers". It only had many layers because for some reason she insists on working that way even to its own detriment.
From the looks of it, Rachel's importing all of her assistants' PNG's as separate layers and adding all the shading and the extra details on their own separate layers and basically dividing everything up into tiny bite sized pieces. That's the only clear explanation I can come up with. But if so, that means she's being INCREDIBLY inefficient with her workflow that it's amounting to SIX HUNDRED+ LAYERS AT 11 GB PER EPISODE. THAT IS ABSURD. THIS COMIC IS WAY TOO LOW QUALITY TO JUSTIFY THESE FILE SIZES AND LAYER COUNTS. RACHEL DOESN'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK SHE'S DOING-
She's also very clearly using the cloud as a way to backup her work and work with her assistants. God knows how much she's spending on cloud space because of her own incompetency.
Honestly, at this point, as I sit here playing the Photoshop equivalent of Cookie Clicker, clicking the 'new layer' button over and over and over again with my mouse to truly understand what it would feel like to operate at 600+ layers per episode of a webtoon, I'm more inclined to believe she's just lying. Capping. Pulling shit out of her ass. Straight up making shit up. It wouldn't be the first time she's done that. But also because the alternative is a lot more grim - the #1 best selling webtoon on the platform is being operated like the world's worst group project and still coming out on the other side looking like deep fried garbage despite its stupid high file size.
#hoo boy i wasn't expecting to write an essay today#but i got tagged in this discussion in ULO#my 10+ years of being a deadbeat washed up webcomic creator with zero street cred finally pay off#lore olympus critical#lo critical#antiloreolympus#anti lore olympus
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Hey it me again. Let’s try this for round two of my request for the tadc cast ( plus Caine) helping a reader with crutches at the breakfast table after they accidentally left them for the new i.h.a.
TADC cast x reader who uses crutches!
Side note I'm on mobile still for tumblr and my asks are getting weirder; the asks look fine in the inbox but when I go to answer them it like. Makes it on long thing, single worded lines. it's annoying and I dont like it!! It happened with the last request too grrrgrr
CAINE:
It takes him a while because it's not uncommon for circus members to skip out on IHAs, I mean zooble openly says they dont want to do them! But when he decides to go make sure you're not doing anything you're not supposed to (cough cough going into the void/j) he stumbles upon you
You can practically see the gears running in his head before he realizes the issue
Immediately zooms to your side and makes a show of apologies while helping you up
Shit he might even be frantic enough to scoop you up
Honestly I feel like Caine would feel so so bad and he would try to make it up to you
POMNI:
Feels very bad when she realizes you're not around; shes still trying to get hard to the digital world so shes still learning everyone and their whole deals
You know how some characters run with their hands out in front of them. In like a weird scurry. I think pomni would lowkey run like that when she tries to search every corner of the circus for you. Shed already check your room and a bunch of the halls before she even thinks about the main area
Letting out a stream of apologies as she gives you a hand, trying to let you know that she didnt do this to be malicious or hurtful
I think it would take a while longer for pomni to really, really, embed your needs into her schedule since shes juggling so much between coming to terms with being trapped and finding an exit, but she does promise to do better (and she does, eventually!)
RAGATHA:
It's rare that ragatha would just up and forget something like you needing crutches to really be able to move around; even rarer for ragatha to forget you as a whole for a brief moment
No I think the only way this scenario would work is if caine suddenly sprang up the days adventure out of no where as soon as the last person was done eating; and he decides to make it a really high energy chaotic one that takes everyone off guard
It's not long until she remembers you were left behind, though, shes probably one of the few who would take probably at most 10 or so minutes to go and get you.. jax is the second, oddly enough
That said she's apologizing and fretting over you before filling you in on everything you missed
Very sweet very nice, she wont let it happen again
JAX:
I like to think that jax does the "really fast run that he did leaving kaufmos room" a few times, especially when hes struck with a brilliant idea for a prank. So there definitely has been at least a couple instances where he left you behind. It's not so much that hes doing it out of malice, but its like. Those huge motivation spikes that prompt you to work ASAP, you know?
"Heh did you see that, reader?" After the prank he planted in an IHA goes off, turning around to find you're not here
Puts two and two together and runs off to where you were before and pulls you up
Lazy apology, I think, I mean I think jax is the type of person to struggle with apologizing but thats just me
KINGER:
Genuinely forgets because I mean... kinger has multiple instances of forgetting/not noticing gangle is right next to him in the pilot.. so do I really need to explain that kinger simply forgets? Obviously hes not doing it to be mean, assuming kinger truly is losing his marbles
I think it would require someone else outwardly asking where you are before he suddenly swivels in every direction trying to find you
Similar to pomni he runs around trying to find you before finding you by chance
Rather than immediately apologizing and helping you he runs over to you and expresses that he was scared SKMETHING had happened to you and how relieved he is to find that ultimately, you're okay
Then the streams of apologies start
Though I think this is a rare occurrence, because hes always trying to keep you in his line of sight; to align it with my other kinger hcs.. hmm.. perhaps this could happen in one of his worse days
ZOOBLE:
Zooble likely skips IHAs, so it would admittedly take them a while to find you. I mean if they're not at the IHA then they cant notice you're missing. I think they would find you when they decide to leave their room to wander the grounds, far from the chaos and
Oh!
You're kinda just, there. It looks like you had fallen over, your crutches far out of reach; perhaps you had tried to leave yourself after being stranded for a while
Zooble feels.. bad.. but they're flat in terms of expressing their emotions outside of annoyance and fear/surprise, so it kind of comes off as a
"Oh shit man my bad" reaction as they quickly try to get you your crutches and help you up
Takes you to their room after the fact, apologizing for bolting off so fast after breakfast
GANGLE:
Doesnt take long for her to realize you're not here, too, shes probably behind jax in regards of how fast shes going to retrieve you. Letting out these short squeaked apologies while helping you up; probably struggles doing so because shes made of ribbon and likely isnt that sturdy (I'm sorry that was mean)
Honestly you two probably skip out in the remainder of the IHA, gangle feels too horrible to go out and continue it snd you're tired, you know?
Two mirmir
#tadc x reader#the amazing digital circus x reader#digital circus x reader#caine x reader#pomni x reader#ragatha x reader#jax x reader#kinger x reader#zooble x reader#gangle x reader
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hi everyone! I've gotten several requests to make a tutorial on how to make gifs for someone just starting out and I finally got around to slapping a tutorial together.
This tutorial will cover:
software recommendations
choosing what to gif
creating a gif step by step with probably a lot of unnecessary detail
some tips and tricks:)
(This particular tutorial will not cover how to find tv and movies to download and gif, or any specific instructions on coloring. only the basic gif making process.)
so for the purposes of this tutorial, we will be using Adobe Photoshop, which is the most common program for making gifs, and the one I recommend. the version you have doesn't make a major difference in terms of capabilities but the interface may be slightly different looking if you have an older version or a different type of device. you cannot make or edit gifs in any mobile version of the photoshop application.
Optionally, we will also be using Adobe Premiere Rush/Pro or another video editing software of your choice. wherever you are downloading Photoshop, whether from Adobe or a third party, you should easily be able to acquire Premiere as well.
I am aiming to be as detailed as possible in this tutorial, so it may sound more time consuming than it really is. once you get the hang of things, it goes fast. the most time consuming part by far is the editing and coloring.
in my opinion, one thing that majorly saves time while giffing is knowing your keyboard shortcuts and using your mouse/trackpad as little as possible. I will be going over these in this tutorial as well.
before we begin, some general tips:
gifs of single shots that do not cut between angles or subjects generally will look the best, barring exceptions
for a single gif set, choosing scenes and shots with similar lighting will be easiest to get to look uniform when compiled together, since editing wildly different looking scenes to have similar coloring and lighting is hard and takes some practice!
avoid shots that will require you to majorly crop or zoom to properly frame the subject, as this will greatly diminish quality
speaking of quality, gifs will look best using 1080p video, but you can get away with 720p as well. I would not recommend giffing with anything lower resolution than that
Tumblr's upload capacity for image and gif files is 10mb. be sure when exporting your finished gif that it is under that size. if it is a bit over, you can try trimming a few frames off your gif in the video timeline.
if you get frustrated, don't give up! giffing is hard and complicated especially if you are new to photoshop. I tried to make this tutorial as detailed as possible so it's easy to understand (although im sure I still forgot some stuff)
ok onto the tutorial!!!
STEP ONE: choose what range of frames you want to gif, and how.
once you have decided what you want to gif, there are two main way to convert your episode into a range of frames to make into a gif. the first is by screencapping. this involves downloading a program like mplayer or vlc which can be used to convert video files into "stacks" of screencaps, which can then be separated into whatever range of frames you want and imported into photoshop. this is seemingly by far the most common method I have seen amongst gifmakers*, but personally I don't care for it and I think it's more confusing and time consuming overall, so I will be explaining the second method: importing video frames to layers.
now, normally what this would mean is opening the full episode in photoshop and using the pathetic little playheads on either end of the scrub bar to trim the file into a clip. this is where your video editing software comes into play.
open whatever episode or movie you want to gif in your program. if it is a large file like a long movie in 1080p, this may take a few seconds. like I said, I am using Premiere Rush. I will be using a random episode of 9-1-1 for my example gif.
in your media browser, hover over whichever episode you want (you can also just add the whole episode to your project and scrub through, but that can take longer unless you know what time stamp you're after). click the fullscreen button by the bottom righthand corner.
now you can scrub through and trim the episode before you even import it to premiere. this makes trimming your clip even easier.
use the trim bar (yellow outlines) to trim as close as you can around the scene you want to gif.
then click this plus, and then "add" below. this will add the clip to your project.
now, move the blue playhead up to the frame you want your gif to start on. then, use the scissors button off to the left to slice the clip. select the portion before the playhead, and delete it.
now move the playhead to where you want the gif to stop. a good length for most gifs is around 1.5-2 seconds in my opinion. some may be shorter depending on how long the shot is, or longer if you plan on making them smaller (remember, the uploading capacity on Tumblr is 10mb per file.) trim again, now delete the portion after the playhead. you can also use the left and right arrows beside the play button to move frame by frame, and you can adjust the side of the horizontal scroll bar below your clip to “zoom” in on it and make scrubbing easier.
once you have your clip, go up to where it says "share". your clip will be rendered, and then you can click export to save it.
repeat step one as many times as you want for each gif. I know this may sound complicated, but like I said above once you get in the rhythm this step takes only a few seconds.
STEP TWO: create your gif!
close premiere. open photoshop. head to the control bar at the top. select file > import > import video frames to layers.
navigate to whatever folder you exported your clip to. select it, and hit enter. a second popup will appear asking you to select your range of frames. since you have already trimmed your clip to your liking, simply hit enter a second time.
now your screen looks like this, and we are going to crop and resize our gif! (troubleshooting: if you do not see the timeline bar at the bottom, select window from the control bar, scroll down, and make sure timeline is selected as part of your workspace. Adjustments and layers should be there automatically but if not add them too).
Tumblr posts are 540px wide, so in order to make my gifs as small as possible while maintaining quality, I typically crop my gifs to be around 550-600px wide, with varying heights depending on what shape I want the gif to be. experiment with this a little and decide what works for you. just don't make the width lower than 540px. once you have the portion of the frame you want inside the cropping grid, hit enter again. sometimes you have to hit it twice.
here are the measurements I am using for this gif
now in your timeline, select frame 1. hold down the shift key and scroll to the end to select the very last frame, thereby highlighting them all. from here we will edit our frame delay rate. photoshop will automatically set it to .03s, which will make your finished gif awkwardly fast. I typically use .05s, or .06s if I want a gif to be subtly slower (this comes in handy if the shot you are trying to gif is very short). anything longer than .06s will look weird though. choose "other" from this menu and type in your delay rate. make sure not to miss the zero after the decimal.
once you've set your frame rate, go to the other end of your timeline and click here to convert your frames into a video timeline.
then press option + command + A (on Mac) or windows + alt + A (on PC) to select all layers. then right click (control + click with a trackpad) on any one of the highlighted layers in your layers tab off to the right. scroll down in the popup menu and select Convert to Smart Object.
THAT'S IT!! CONGRATULATIONS!!!!! WE HAVE GIF!!!
from here comes the fun part!! you will begin adding action filters like sharpening as well as adjustment layers to color and edit your gif. experiment with different adjustments and styles until you find something you like. too many adjustment layers will up the size of the finished gif though, so I tend to keep mine to 3-4 layers max unless its a really hard to color scene. if anyone is interested in a separate coloring tutorial, please let me know!
once you are finished editing your gif, click file > export > save for web (legacy) OR hit shift + option + command + S. play your gif in the export window to make sure it looks okay, and then hit save!
I hope you guys find this helpful and informative! please hit up my in box if you have any questions or if anything doesn't make sense. happy giffing!!!
*one reason people seem to prefer screencapping to this method, is saving all the individual clips as video files does take up a lot of space on your scratch drive, which in turn can cause your computer to work slowly or crash programs. this can be rectified by making sure to delete the clips from your computer once you are done making the gifs. another space hoarder to look out for is the proxy files of your episodes that will be automatically saved to your hard drive whenever you add an episode to your project in Premiere. Periodically, go through your storage and delete all the .proxy video files. this will not delete the original episode files, only the proxy files created by Premiere.
tagging some mutuals to sb hehe: @shitouttabuck @lover-of-mine @honestlydarkprincess @eddiediaaz @compactdiscmp3 @eddiebabygirldiaz @bigfootsmom @callaplums @athenagranted @firemedicdiaz @sibylsleaves @loserdiaz @buck2eddie @diazass @eddiediaztho @giddyupbuck @monsterrae1 @icecreampotluck @sunflowerdiaiz @swiftfootedachilles @singlethread @aziraaphales @911onabc
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I feel like I or someone else asked you this, but do you think that gameplay will ever get to the point where it looks like the fancy prerendered cutscenes? Even the outstanding visuals we have now, don't really look like say, Sonic Unleashed's opening cinematic from.....Christ, 2008 was really 15 years ago. Anyway, Is there a way to match that that look in style and fidelity or is it just kind of a "physics" thing where that's basically not possible? What stops that if that's the case.
I don't believe that gameplay will ever look like fancy prerendered cutscenes because gameplay has certain needs that cutscenes do not, and cutscenes have certain needs that gameplay does not. Here's what I mean.
When you're watching a cinematic in a game like Spider-Man, what are you seeing on screen? Usually what you want to see is Spider-Man doing some amazing, spectacular action. Something like this:
Note how closely pulled-in the camera is, so that you can see all the details of Spider-Man's body and posing. The camera zooms in to see him narrow his eyes. Look at how the camera movement can barely frame him, conveying how fast he is moving. You're not looking for where to go next, because it's all pre-planned out for you - the purpose of this short cinematic is to tell a story - Spider-Man has to get out of here quickly.
Let's compare that to what you see on screen when you are playing Spider-Man:
See how the camera is framing everything very differently? Spider-Man takes up a very small amount of the screen. The vast majority of the information being conveyed here is showing the player exactly where Spider-Man is going and how fast he is getting there. We're seeing him move acrobatically through the air, but we're not seeing his emotions or his face. We're focusing on what matters - navigating through the city to wherever we (as the player) want him to go.
The needs of gameplay are different than the needs of cinematics. Even if the technology improves to the point where everything is beautiful and gorgeous, it still won't look the same because the purpose of regular gameplay and the purpose of cinematics is different. Gameplay visualizes the things the player needs to see and engage with at any given time. Cinematics visualize the aspects of the story that the designers want to tell. Even if the tech can do it, the purpose of the visualization isn't the same so it won't happen.
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What type of profile pictures would the Shelby brothers have?
A/N: I was struggling to write a fic, a cockroach entered my house and wrote this to calm down and distract myself lol
Tommy Shelby
• Doesn't have one, or didn't.
• Tommy doesn't have any private social media, he doesn't know how they work or what's even the point of them. The only ones which matter to him are the ones of the Shelby company and he's not the administrator of them.
• (Actually, he has an Instagram Finn made him a long, long time ago, it doesn't have a profile pic, the bio is only his name and the only post is a pic of a horse, he doesn't access it anymore and forgot to tell Finn to deactivate it.)
• However, Ada started to nag him, arguing texting him is like texting a stranger and he should put on a pic. Tommy argued everyone knew his number so a pic was unnecessary, but Ada insisted.
• The problem was, he didn't have any good pictures of him on his phone, he was never the one to take selfies. He only had a bunch of family and documents pictures.
• (He tried to take a selfie once and it turned out terrible. How a man as handsome as him turned out so bad was truly a mystery.)
• So during a family meeting, Ada took a pic of him with his children, he had one on each knee and a small smile on his face. If you get the luck of getting Tommy's private number, the image you'll see it's heartwarming (almost sweet enough to make you underestimate him.)
John Shelby
• John is a show off, everyone knows this.
• He has a Twitter, Tik Tok (his children forced him to create an account, he doesn't actually use it) and an Instagram full of posts which makes people jealous.
• A handsome face (and body 🤭), amazing views, food, travels, cars and a big, beautiful family. Truly enviable.
• Although he's a selfie king and always the one to take pics during family occasions, John doesn't have many posts which expose himself. He's related to the Shelby company after all.
• The only social media you can find a selfie of him is Instagram, the profile pic you can't zoom in or gather any information from.
• The rest of his posts are just showing off his expensive lifestyle.
Arthur Shelby
• Honestly? Another selfie king, but a little different from John. Arthur is good at taking selfies at the most random moments, the ones everyone else will look weird and blurry but he looks good.
• He has way too many pictures of himself on that grandpa angle, in which the phone is almost under his chin and somehow, he still looks decent.
• Differently from his brothers, Arthur has all social medias, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, Tik Tok, Tumblr, he's like a curious cat and wants to know what the fuss is about.
• At first, he creates an account and doesn't add any information (even the email he uses it's fake), he spends a few hours checking on whatever the media has to offer and if he doesn't like it, he asks Finn to deactivate the account because he doesn't have the patience to do it himself.
• However, when he likes something, he won't get out so easily, he'll make sure his account is nice and organized. His favorite is Facebook and his profile picture is one of the many selfies he takes with a black and white filter.
• (Also, I'm so sorry but I can see Arthur having a Tumblr blog, compared to Twitter and Tik Tok is much quieter, he can block tags he doesn't like, there's only the content he enjoys on his timeline and there's much more fun people than on facebook.)
Finn Shelby
• Finn went from "sad boy with self esteem issues" to "asshole fuckboy" into "ex-asshole trying to be a nice husband," anyone could accompany his struggle through his Instagram.
• At first his profile pic was a selfie with Polly, then at some overpriced club and now it's a picture of him leaning on his car at some expensive condominium in the countryside.
• It was a long journey until the nice husband phase and Finn still struggles with addiction, his wife and Polly are his biggest supporters and keep his brothers/Michael/anyone at all from mocking him.
• After so long being forgotten, he's finally recovering. He stepped away from the bad side of the family to study law so he can still help anyway.
• In his Instagram you can still find pictures of him in the club, but with friends from college who actually care about him.
• Justice for Finn Shelby, I'm still mad about season 6.
MASTERLIST
#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders headcanon#peaky blinders preference#tommy shelby x reader#arthur shelby x reader#john shelby x reader#finn shelby x reader
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ THREES A CROWD — paul & embry
WARNINGS: none
A/N: tumblr is a pos and is the most annoying platform to transfer text to like why is each paragraph it's own entity???? why is this still here take it away???????????
eleven ˖⋆࿐໋₊
For some reason, you found yourself buzzing with nervous energy, unable to sit still in the empty back seat. Your leg wouldn't stop bouncing, fingers picking at a frayed hem on your shirt. The ride back to Forks felt like it took forever, staring out at the trees as they zoomed by could only distract you for so long.
Both Embry and Paul were shooting you concerned looks every now and again, obviously sensing what they thought was discomfort. But how were you supposed to tell them that the thought of being alone with them was making your stomach do flips? That you could still feel the shape of their legs pressed against yours at Emily's dinning table, desperate for the contact as if you were lost in the desert, desperate for water.
They don't ask you what was wrong though, something you're grateful for as you will yourself to calm down. Settling yourself in for the drive home, you rest your head against the window as you listen to Paul and Embry talk about an upcoming patrol.
When they pull up to your house there isn't a single car in the driveway. Paul parks on the side of the road regardless, leaving room for your parents in the tiny driveway if they come back before they leave. From across the street, you can see the curtains in Candice's window fall into place, the dark maroon fabric a stark contrast to the light coloured brick of her house.
Looking at the rest of the house, you notice that every window has dark curtains of varying colours, all drawn tightly shut. It's odd that the curtains would be drawn while the sun was still out, and you can't help but eye the house suspiciously as you grab your bag and get out of the truck. Knowing the neighbourhood, she probably uses it as a way to keep herself out of the near daily gossip.
The walk into the house and up to your room is quiet, almost uncomfortably so. It's hard to tell how much of your emotions they're able to read through the connection you all share, but you hope they can't tell how flustered you are.
You easily fall into the same positions as the night before, comfortable but still lost in your own thoughts. You fiddle with your hands absently, trying and failing to get settled despite the comfort they radiate.
"Hey..." Embry starts, grabbing the controller from between you to pause the movie, "are you okay, you've been acting weird since the drive over."
Looking between the two boys, you smooth you hands against the top of your pants. Your heart hammers in your chest, but you will the racing to stop as you shuffle foreword, turning to face them both, though unable to look at either.
"I, uhh. I wanna kiss you," You say in a rush, voice quiet as you stumble over your words. You're staring down at your fidgeting hands, too embarrassed to try and meet their eyes. The boys are silent for a while, staring at you with blank faces. Just as the silence stretches on for too long, and you start to think that this was an awful, terrible mistake, Paul breaks the silence.
"Which one?"
You finally look up at that, noticing that both of them are desperately trying to keep any emotion from their faces. The hope still shines through though, and it makes you feel just a little bit better about your impulsive question.
"Both, if that's okay? I know we haven't really been together all that long, or have even talked about us dating, so I don't know if I'm over stepping, or—"
"Yeah, yes. It's more than okay," Embry cuts in, scooting forward so that he's sitting in front of you. He leaves enough room next to him as Paul does the same, "Who— who first?"
"Doesn't matter," You shrug, looking between the two as they look to each other. They seems to come to a decision, though, because Embry is leaning foreword, closing the already short distance between you.
He stops just short of kissing you, face so close that your noses brush at the slightest movement. His eyes dart between your own, and you realize that he's waiting for you to close the distance, to make the first move despite the fact that you asked for this. The thoughtful act makes your stomach flutter and your chest warm.
Leaning foreword, you brace one hand on the ground, the tips of your fingers brushing against Embrys, while the other cups the side of his face. Your lips brush faintly, barely even a kiss at all, but it's enough to bring a smile to your face. Letting your hand slip into his warm hair, you press firmly against Embry, lips molding together perfectly.
The kiss is over far too soon, but as you pull back, you can still feel the shape of his lips against your own. It takes a moment for your eyes to flutter open, instantly spotting the pleased, soft smile on Embrys face.
You feel your face flush hot when you look to Paul, who is staring between you and Embry with hungry eyes. Swallowing around your nerves, you turn to Paul.
You let go of Embrys face, though before you can reach out for Paul, he's got your face cupped in his large hands, pulling you towards him.
His kiss is a lot firmer, motions clearly practiced. He still moves just a slow though, taking his time. Your hands, that were hovering in the air between you, drop to the carpet, and you push yourself foreword into the kiss.
Embry slides his hand that was resting on the floor closer, threading your fingers together as he watches the kiss. When Paul pulls away your chest is heaving, lips tingling. You ghost your fingers over your lips, a dopey smile on your face.
"Good?" Paul whispers, voice rough. It's a rhetorical question, if the knowing smile on his face is any indication. You nod anyways, subconsciously swaying foreword to get closer.
He goes to meet you half way, eyes sliding closed, but then stops a hairs breath away from your mouth. His head whips to the side, eyes staring out the window and into the dark of the night.
"What? What is it?" You follow his line of sight, but you can't make out anything in the dark. Embry shoots up from beside you, rushing to your closed window to throw it open. Both he and Paul tense up, growling low in their throat, "What's going on?"
"It was that leech," Paul says, face hard when you turn to look at him, "they were here."
©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.
#embry call#paul lahote#twilight#embry call x reader#paul lahote x reader#embry call x reader x paul lahote#reader interactive#x reader#reader insert#Ꮺ. my work
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Oh hi. I heard it's gifs tips'n'tricks time.
View this as a little addition to this post I made a while back.
This time I thought I'd take you through my gif making process. It'll be very specific to Photoshop CS6 but maybe some of you will find parts of it helpful regardless.
And since our biggest nemesis appears to be ~The Tumblr 10MB File Size Limit~ I decided to go for the absolute worst premise for a gif: Lots of stupid wobbly particles and gw2 bloom and transparency effects. Because huge gifs love these.
Aah, a horrifying amount of those in this single scene. Perfect!
Let's start with a little timelapse video, and I'll get into the details with screenshots below then.
So this actually went smoother than expected? Not super much fiddling needed in the end, but here's how it went in detail:
Load the raw footage into photoshop.
You can do this in two different ways: What I do is simply drag & drop the video file into the program and it'll open with a video timeline and some rudimentary video editing options.
What you can also do is File -> Import -> Videoframes to Layers and select your source video, which will give you a timeline of separate still image frames instead.
It comes down to preference, I used both methods in the past but nowadays I find the video timeline more intuitive.
Cut the footage to roughly the right length.
From experience I know that most of my gifs are around 3-4 seconds long. This can of course vary depending on different factors. Don't get too attached to the exact seconds you selected, you might have to shave off a bit depending on how evil the file size decides to act.
Optional: Change footage speed
Depending on the gif and its purpose, I slow the footage down. I usually do this for the visual effect (especially nice for showing off animation details) but it also has the practical side effect that it can help with file size. Say you want a gif that loops after 4 seconds. At 100% speed your gif will move at your original framerate (in my case 60 fps); if you slow it down but keep the same length in seconds it'll logically use less frames. That's less data to blow up the size! Yey.
Crop the image.
Now this is probably one of the most crucial parts when it comes to your final file size, and your gif looking nice on tumblr. Since the tumblr dashboard displays images at a width of 540px, you want this to be your absolute minimum image width to ensure a crisp image. If I can, I'll make the gifs larger (I like starting at a minimum of 600px and then reduce the image dimensions if needed).
With that in mind.... choose your image crop wisely.
A "widescreen" image like this will be the most merciful in terms of file size, but might not always be what you want in terms of composition.
Given tumblr's very vertical nature, this kind of approach will look great in posts (if it fits your image composition of course), but at 540px minimum width tends to be a file size monster.
For the gif I'm attempting to make here I opted for a more square approach. The subjects of the scene fill out the image's space nicely, and it's still a nice size for tumblr posts overall. Let's see what the file size will say about this.
Replay your footage after cropping to make sure you didn't accidentally cut off any motion you didn't mean to cut.
Next up: optional colour corrections
I tend to crank up the saturation for gifs way, way more than I ever would for regular screenshots since I find that often the limited web palette can make them look fairly dull. But like everything else so far, this greatly varies depending on the scene you're showing.
Note that colour correction can increase or decrease file size depending on what exactly you're doing. The more different colours you have, the larger your file size will be.
Reduce image dimensions
Since my original video footage was fairly zoomed out, the cropped area only left me 575px of width to begin with. In an earlier attempt (that I absolutely did not fail to capture and therefore had to record the whole thing a second time) I tried to leave it at these dimensions, but the 10MB size limit did not like that so now I knew better and immediately reduced the width to 560px.
Note: After you've changed the video's dimensions it won't let you edit the speed anymore (for some reason), so make sure you've got that settled.
After all the adjustments are done it's time for the moment of truth...
File > Save for Web...
This beautiful window will open and...
Aww almost.
But honestly? That's not bad at all. I've had completely different disasters to deal with in the past (starting somewhere in the mid 20MB, good luck trying to make use of every size-reducing trick you've got up your sleeve).
Before I do any adjustments to shave off the last few KB though, I preview the gif to make sure it loops correctly. I want the Chak to sway seemlessly. Turns out it didn't, so I back out of the window to remove a few frames from the footage. And when I open the "Save for Web" window again....
Well that's anticlimatic. Apparently those few frames were enough to get the file size where I need it. (Note: Sometimes Tumblr likes to be a little b* and pretends your file is too big when you're this close to the 10MB limit. It be like that.)
While my gif journey theoretically ends here, I want to at least show you a few more things that could have helped if I had needed to get the file even smaller.
So this dithering thing I keep making a big deal of...
It can make or break a gif. In my experience this is so, so crucial to the final file size and quality of the gif.
In my own very amateurish words, dithering is a way to emulate colours that aren't actually part of the images colour palette. This is especially needed for in-game transparency effects like fog, glowy stuff, or smooth gradients. And that is part of why I chose this hell scene of all the ley line glow and the typical gw2 bloom that's particularly bad in this area.
PS CS6 offers you three different kinds of dithering techniques: Diffusion, pattern and noise.
My go-to is diffusion dithering, which has adjustable quality levels.
In my opinion it's generally the type of dithering that's often the least noticeable and creates the smoothest looking images. Unfortunately, it's also the one that creates by far the largest file sizes. Another downside is that it doesn't work super well with heavy DoF/fog etc. effects and is prone to really ugly banding, especially visible the more you decrease the quality. It looks awful for this particular scene. (Look at the glow around my asura's headpiece if you don't know what I'm talking about. Or... just the entire background.)
Both noise and pattern dithering will get you smaller file sizes, luckily.
I've never used noise so far (it tends to look messy in my opinion), but pattern gets the job done! Especially for gradient heavy gifs it's a lifesaver. It's definitely more noticeable than the diffusion dithering on static parts of the gif, but it absolutely makes up for it by not having any ugly banding effects. This is also what gave me the neat little 9.99MB file size in comparison to the diffusion dithering's 15.31MB.
Last but not least, if fiddling with the dithering or image dimensions doesn't help you get below that magic 10MB mark...
Limit the colour palette
You can either manually colour edit your image to use less colours for a more artistic approach, or you can let Photoshop limit the palette to its best abilities.
Additionally you can double click each individual colour to replace it how you see fit. (I've done that in the past when Petthri's yellow eye colour got erased and I had to bring it back manually.)
In this gif's example, reducing the palette from 256 to 128 colours has brought the file size down from 9.9 MB to about 8 MB. It can have a big effect, but doesn't always in my experience.
SHOW US THE GODDAMN GIF ALREADY!!!
Not the best quality gif we've ever seen on tumblr, but given the extremely unfavourable source material I think it turned out alright. I have to admit I'm actually surprised it worked at all.
Oh well! This got long (once again). I hope this was at least a little bit helpful to someone out there. Happy gif making!
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𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒍 𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒔
🎄christmas masterlist🎄
warning - smut, tiny elf male, human reader, stalker behaviour, elf goes flying, elf also using reader as a trampoline, slight somno, slight fluff, reader gets knocked out by dumbass tiny man, a special appearance.
18+ only please, thanks to @lavender-annd-lilac for giving me an idea on what to write for frank, the gif and header aren't mine.
Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.
Frank zooms through your house, his pointed ears twitching as he hears Christmas music coming from the lounge room. An excited grin appears on his face as he heads in that direction. He peeks his head from behind the wall. Frank’s eyes sparkle with glee as they land on your dancing form. Never knowing someone to be so free and beautiful, the room lights up as if you're glowing. For a few moments, he just stares until the shine of something catches his attention.
Frank looks over, his face lighting up, when he notices some golden tinsel lying on the floor. An excited squeak leaves his mouth as he sprints toward the object, squealing as he moves closer to it. Frank flops onto the tinsel, wrapping his tiny hands around it as he begins to tug, similar to a cat but much tinier and human-like.
“So pretty!” He’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice you moving toward it, nor that it seems to wrap around your ankle, causing you to trip and fall. The action causes Frank to be flung into the air, and a panicked squeal leaves his lips. The sound of a thud comes from where you fell, and the tiniest thud comes from where Frank lands.
Frank groans, blinking away the stars in his vision, a pout forming on his face as Frank wasn’t expecting to fly today. When his vision clears, Frank looks around, his eyes widening when they land on you and your exposed form. The feel of his cock twitching in his small black tights causes his gaze to quickly flicker down, only to look back up again, not wanting to ever look away from the sight in front of him.
There you lie, near the Christmas tree knocked out from the fall. Your cute oversized Marvel shirt is flipped, exposing your pretty little pussy and your plump ass.
Frank quickly jumps up, ignoring the slight pain and dizziness in his head. He excitedly runs over to where you lie. He leans forward, and his tiny finger pokes your cheek before he climbs onto your body.
He strips from his tights, cock throbs as it springs free. Frank feels giddy as he feels a bounce on your cheek. Like a child, he decides to use your ass as a trampoline. For a split second, he forgets about his hardened cock and how he wants to mark you as he jumps up and down.
Overjoyed squeals leave his lips before he slowly stops and lies stomach first on your body. His tiny hands grip your plumpy flesh. Squeezing and kneading it as he slowly ruts into you, soft moans escape his lips as the pleasure spreads through his body and becomes too much for him. Frank’s eyes roll back, his tiny little hips moving faster than they ever have before.
Frank opens his mouth, his teeth clamping down onto your flesh as tingles shoot through his tiny body and down to his thick throbbing member. It feels so good that goosebumps rise throughout him, and his heavy sacks begin to tighten when he feels his end approaching rapidly. Frank should feel embarrassed by how quickly this will end, but the pleasure is too overwhelming to care.
Gripping as tightly as he can, Frank grunts as his member throbs and twitches wildly. Warm white cum shoots from his thick mushroom tip and covers your plump flesh. He lies there for a while, catching his breath before he stands, looking down at the masterpiece he created. A joyful smile graces his appearance as he leans down and spreads his cooling seed across your skin. Soft, cheeky giggles escape him.
Once everything is done, Frank jumps down and pulls his tights back up his lower half before placing a delicate kiss onto your side. He continues to giggle as he runs off into the night, planning for the next time the rest of them will see you. As he exits, his eyes connect with his boss’s, and he shoots the giant man a slight wink and smile, topping it off with a small wave.
The more giant man grunts, strutting over to where you lie unconscious. He bends down and picks up your tiny body, loving how much smaller you are than him, huffing when he notices Frank's damage to your place and your pretty little head. The man cradles you carefully as he begins to walk in the direction of your room, gently placing you down onto your soft bed and tucking you in. Before he leaves, he kisses your forehead gently, wishing you sweet dreams.
thank you for reading!
feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.
#imyourbratzdollwork#imyourbratzdollchristmas#chris evans x female reader#frank adler x you#chris evans x reader#frank adler x female reader#chris evans fanfiction#frank adler x reader#chris evans#frank adler#chris evans angst#frank adler fanfiction#chris evans blurb#frank adler imagine#chris evans characters#frank adler fic#chris evans character#frank adler fluff#chris evans drabble#frank adler x y/n#chris evans fan fic#chris evans fan fiction#chris evans fandom#chris evans fanfic#chris evans fic#chris evans fluff#chris evans imagine#chris evans imagines#chris evans one shot#chris evans oneshot
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