#AND THERE'S ALSO THAT ONE POSTER BUT THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT

[bunny-carrothunter]

I know Goose said there would be no ships in this show, THEN EXPLAIN THIS-

[bambiraptorx]

This post did something to my brain, so here goes.

Donnie doesn't think to ask about Leo wrist comm, not right away—he's too busy arranging his brother's broken limbs on the gurney they'd prepared to think about anything other than where to go from here.

It's been months (four months, two weeks, and three and a half days, not that Donnie's counting) (but of course Donnie's counting) since the invasion, and some corner of Donnie's mind is almost grateful for the time he's had to prepare for today.  He has all the medical gear he could possibly need and more for Leo and Mikey alike.  The whole family is here, mystics blazing and fully prepared for another alien invasion force to come out of this portal so they can fight them off if need be, and every single one of them has been training for months.

It doesn't happen, though, the invasion attempt 2.0.  Krang Prime is nowhere nearby as Mikey opens a portal to the prison dimension (successfully this time).  Pulling Leo out is easy, far easier than it feels it should be, at least until they see the blood.  The blood, the broken bones, the cracked shell, the bruises that seem to get worse the instant they get Leo through. Good thing they planned for this.

It's a matter of practiced drills, rehearsed over the past one hundred thirty-seven days until all of them could (and have) run them in their dreams.  Draxum takes his place in bandaging Mikey's arms, April holds the gurney steady while Raph lifts Leo onto it, and Donnie immediately starts running medical scans as they rush his brother to their prepared medbay-turned-emergency room.  It’s not looking good, but they’ve planned for this, planned for even worse.

They can handle it.  They have to.

Donnie manages to help remove the tattered remains of Leo's wraps and gently tug a frayed piece of paper from his brother's fingers before Draxum shoos him out of the soon-to-be operating room.

So.

Donnie's role has passed.  Now what?  He hasn't... not to say that he's never thought about what to do when Leo's home, because he has, he's dreamed of the movie nights and pizza parties and video games for months (in between the nightmares of finding nothing but a mangled corpse after opening the portal).

He stares at his hands.  He's still holding the paper (a photo he vaguely recognizes from April receiving her acceptance letter to Eastman), Leo's wraps, and...

Leo's communicator.

He hides himself in his lab and ignores the tremble in his fingers as he uploads the comm’s data to his computers.  It might have nothing, it stopped transmitting after the portal closed (because even Donnie Tech didn't take interdimensional communication into account when he'd designed them) (foolish of him, really) (but in his defense it's hard to field test) but it might have something.

His brother has dozens of half-healed injuries, breaks and bruises upon scar tissue upon wounds.  Months of suffering, and if Leo is still anything like his old self, he's not going to say a word about it. But someone needs to know, and Donnie's got an unspecified amount of time to kill before his brother makes it out of surgery (if he makes it out) (when he makes it out), so.

He opens the data and clicks the first file of hundreds.

It's Leo's voice, it's Leo, that’s his brother—Donnie hasn't heard that voice in months.  (He’s listened to all his recordings of course, but those were events he’d already been there for.  He’d known what Leo would say, and how, and nothing ever changed.  Eventually he stopped listening to them.)  He's too busy scrubbing the tears from his eyes for a while to really process the words.  But whatever, it's a quick fix to rewind the recording. "Hey, Leo here. I, uh—" a sniffle, followed by a quick inhale as something in the distance booms. "I think I lost Big Pink and Ugly, for the time being.  So.  Got that going for me, which is nice I guess.  It's been... damn, I dunno.  Couple days, maybe, of being that guy's hacky sack?  Not dead yet, though, which.  Well, duh."

A pause.

A swallow.

"This is boring as fuck.  I got beat up, I got away, I hid.  Still hiding from Angry Bubblegum. And now I'm just supposed to, what, wait for him to find me again?  The hell kind of existence is this?  What am I supposed to do?  I don't think I can W-W-L-J-D my way out of this one."

Another boom, this one closer. Leo's breathing quickens. "Shit, I think he's—"

The files ends.

Donnie opens the next one. "Okay, hiding again.  For now.  Evil Cotton Candy Man knows this place a lot better than I do.  It's only a matter of time until..."

The file ends.

Donnie sets the rest to autoplay. "Where was I?  Oh, yeah, hiding.  Had to pause and check that I could actually go back and listen to these, not a whole lot of point in listening to myself talk unless I can actually play it back later."

A laugh, closer to a wheeze or a cough.

"Although I do like listening to myself talk.  Earlier, I was on something about What Would Lou Jitsu Do, right?  Well, that's just dumb.  Lou Jitsu never went to space, he doesn't know shit about fighting in zero g.  I mean, he could figure it out, but you know who wouldn't have to?  Jupiter Jim.  That guy, he'd be super helpful here.  Knows all about space and stuff, or at least... the one in the comics does.  The real guy was kind of a nut job.

"Not that, uh, not that I'd actually want anyone else stuck here with me. Then we'd just both be stuck." Leo drops into silence.

"But... you know who wouldn't be stuck?  Both of them.  Ol' LJ and JJ, I mean.  That team up would be legendary.  Sure, there'd be all sorts of continuity errors just trying to get them together and in a pocket dimension, but... actually, if it happened just after Jupiter Jim's 37th Last Trip to the Moon, when he got hit with the amnesia ray and it messed with his memories..."

A chuckle, slightly wet sounding.  "And the Lou Jitsu movies aren't as heavy on consistency, at least unless you take into account that batshit multiple timelines theory Donnie told me about once... yeah, actually, I think it could work."

End file.

Next file.

"So about this crossover thingy, because it is a crossover, I think it would be better if Red Fox were here too.  She's the real hero about half the time, and she's way better at doing fake accents anyway.  Which you wouldn't think is important, but actually—oh, wait, did I explain that yet?  So Lou Jitsu and Jupiter Jim would...

"But anyway, it would make way more sense if this wasn't their first meeting, y'know?  It's, uh, kinda lame around here.  Nothing very... expository, is that the word?  So anyway, I think actually they would meet after the events of Punch Chowder.  Wild, I know, but the masks that the bad-good-kinda-bad-again guys use in that movie are sorta like the masks the shark people use in JJ's 38th Last Trip to the Moon.  So obviously, there's a connection there!  And…

"Wait, shit, I forgot about the Slip-n-slide Planet in comic #540.  Or was it #542?  No, nevermind, that got retconned, we're good.  So anyway, now Red Fox and Lou Jitsu have to rescue both Jupiter Jim AND Atomic Lass...

"Oh, and Tang Shen!  She was with Lou Jitsu when he went to space the seventh time—she actually snuck on the ship just before takeoff, and that's why the ship's weight was off!  She's gonna get an epic team up with Atomic Lass at some point, but that's later down the line.  For now, she gets discovered by Red Fox...

"And then Red Fox and Lou Jitsu are surrounded by the turtle aliens, held at blaster point, when who should rescue them?  It's—drumroll please—none other than Jupiter Jim and Tang Shen, who were only pretending to betray them for a little  bit so they could get a chance to get on the turtle alien's good side!"

"And then Lou Jitsu and Tang Shen get to have another romantically coded picnic dinner, this time watching the earth set from the moon.  Except it's not really romantic because, well, ew, and also the rest of the team is there.  So they get to keep the whole will-they-won't-they drama that's in the Lou Jitsu movies, which, I mean, that kinda ruins a lot of her character actually, so maybe I won't keep that..."

"Waitwaitwait I got it!  So back with Lou Jitsu and Jupiter Jim again, that part kinda got away from me but it's the point of the whole crossover, but I completely forgot about the invisible blaster!  Which, uh, I'm just gonna say that all the characters did, and in their defense, it's invisible..."

Donnie jumps at a knock at the door.

"Purple, my son, are you awake? Blue is out of surgery now." Donnie glances at his gauntlet. It's been—wow, it's been six hours. Draxum must have worked quickly, but still.  He glances at the rest of the files, trying to estimate how much more of this there is.  He's gotten through... uh.

Less than one percent of the files.

Damn, Leo was busy in the prison dimension.

"Uh, yeah, I'm coming, Dad!" Donnie calls, pausing the autoplay before exiting his lab to follow Dad to their medbay.  As nice as it's been to hear his brother's voice, it pales in comparison to the real thing. (Hopefully.) (Leo might not be conscious yet, after all.)

Donnie waves hesitantly as he enters the medbay, the rest of the family already gathered around the bed where Leo lays on his chest, and Dad must have helped with patching the shell because there's no way that Draxum could have done that well without any experience.

Leo lifts a hand, heavily bound in white bandages, in a weak approximation of a wave back.

"Long time no see," he drawls, or attempts to drawl around the wires holding his jaw in place.  It’s so indescribably Leo that Donnie almost tears up again.  But this is the first time he’s seen his brother in far, far too long, and there are much more important issues at hand.

"So," Donnie says, "Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu crossover fanfiction, huh?"

AU where Leo is trapped in the Prison Dimension for months instead of minutes and the only way he gets by with his sanity intact is through recording himself talking to his wrist comm.

When they finally manage to get Leo back and make him rest up to heal, Donnie can’t help but listen to the recordings left behind.

He’s not sure what exactly he’s expecting, only that his subconscious is screaming at him that it has to be heartbreaking, that it has to be torturous.

Instead, what Donnie is subject to is a full thousand hours’ worth of Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu crossover fanfiction. More than one part in the series. Spanning well over a million words.

(The worst part is that it’s actually good.)

[a-very-fond-farewell]

I’m back at it again folks. (*inhales k/im g/o-eun content like kirby*) I’m fine. time to write 😔🏳️‍🌈💅🏻

[seumyo]

how easy it would be to forge itoshi rin’s signature.

“What’re you doing?”

Rin sat on your bed, his back pressed against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. Your dorm was decent, neat in some areas, and cluttered in others—nothing too bad to the point where it was concerning. The desk was stacked with books and loose papers, a mug of half-finished tea sat forgotten on the little kitchen counter, and the walls were decorated with a mix of posters that he remembered you saying that you liked, candid polaroids, and lots of memorabilia.

You sat cross-legged beside him, practically bouncing as you shoved your scrapbook into his lap, your excitement bubbling over like always. Rin had long since learned that when you got like this, there was no stopping you—only surviving.

Surviving meant just going with whatever it is that you wanted.

“You have to sign this page,” you said, pointing eagerly at a newly decorated spread.

“It’s for today, so I don’t forget it.”

Rin glanced down.

The page was filled with doodles—some of him, some of a soccer ball, and what seemed to be a very lopsided drawing of a goalpost. You’d also glued a small Polaroid of you two together from earlier, where you had ambushed him for a selfie after his practice.

Without a word, he picked up the pen (a glittery navy blue one, if he may add) you handed him and flipped to the empty space at the bottom of the page. He’d done this enough times that he didn’t need to think about it. With fluid, precise strokes, he wrote his full name: Itoshi Rin.

No embellishments, no fancy loops, just his name.

As soon as he finished, you leaned over to inspect it.

You blinked.

Then blinked again.

“That’s it?” you asked, tilting your head.

Rin frowned. “What?”

“I mean…” You pursed your lips, squinting at his handwriting like you were analyzing a piece of evidence. “Your signature is so simple. I could probably forge it.”

Rin immediately shot you a warning look, as if already giving you an internal monologue. “Don’t.”

“But it’s so easy,” you said, dragging out the last word as you grinned. “Like, I could totally get away with it.”

He sighed, running a hand down his face.

“Why would you want to?”

“Well,” you hummed, tapping your chin in exaggerated thought. “What if I need to sign something important on your behalf? Like, let’s say you’re too busy being a famous soccer player, and I need to approve some official documents for you.”

“You don’t.”

“But what if?” You smiled, leaning closer, eyes gleaming with mischief. “What if a brand deal needs your signature, and you’re not around, and the deadline is right now? I could save the day.”

“You’d get arrested for fraud.”

“Would I, though?” You poked his arm, and Rin shrugged with a quick, quiet sigh. “Because I’m pretty sure your manager would just be like, ‘Wow, what a responsible lover! Always taking care of Rin!’”

Rin’s face fell flat.

“No, they’d be like, ‘Wow, what a criminal. Get them arrested immediately.’”

You laughed, completely unbothered. “Okay, fine, I won’t forge your signature for business deals. But, hypothetically speaking, what if I had to? Like, say I get kidnapped—”

Rin groaned, already regretting engaging in this conversation.

“Why are you kidnapped now?”

“Because!” You gestured dramatically.

“Some rival team wants to use me as leverage against you. They tell me, ‘If Rin doesn’t throw his next match, we’ll make you disappear!’”

He let out a slow breath. “Then I’d just find you.”

“Oh?” You awed, tilting your head. “You’d come rescue me?”

Rin didn’t even hesitate.

Why would he?

“Obviously.”

For a brief moment, you paused, your playful demeanor faltering as you stared at him. Then, just as quickly, you shook off the thought and cheekily smiled.

“Okay, okay, new scenario,” you continued. “What if you get kidnapped—”

“Why am I getting kidnapped now?”

“Because you’re Rin Itoshi! Maybe some crazy fan takes you hostage, or a rival team wants to sabotage you, or, I don’t know, some billionaire wants to add you to their private collection of elite soccer players.”

“That’s not how people work.”

“Well, whatever the reason,” you said, waving a hand, “you’re held captive, and they demand that you sign a fake retirement letter so you can never play soccer again. But! You refuse because you’re stubborn, so they bring me in and tell me, ‘Forge his signature, or else!’”

Rin leaned his head back against the headboard, closing his eyes. He could feel you draping your legs over his, and he made no move to try to move them away. “I hate that you put this much thought into these things.”

“Come on, it’s fun.”

“No, it’s exhausting.”

“Well, since you refuse to make your signature harder to copy, you better hope no one actually tries to forge it.”

He cracked an eye open to give you a skeptical look. “Are you planning to?”

You gasped, placing a hand over your heart like he had just accused you of the worst crime imaginable. “Me? Your beloved? I would never commit fraud against you.”

Rin didn’t look convinced.

“Okay, okay,” you relented, leaning back against the pillows. “I won’t forge your signature. But you should really think about making it cooler. Maybe add a little flourish?”

“No.”

“An underline?”

“No.”

“A small soccer ball doodle at the end?”

“No.”

You pouted. “You have no fun.”

“And you have too much.”

You laughed again before turning your attention back to the scrapbook. Running a finger over his signature, you muttered, “Still, I bet I could copy it.”

Rin reached over and flicked your forehead.

“Ow!” You swatted at him, though there was no real force behind it.

He clicked his tongue, though softly. “Try it, and I’ll make sure you never get to hold my autograph again.”

You gasped dramatically. “You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.”

You huffed before flopping onto your stomach, burying your face into the bed. “You’re so mean.”

“And you’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway.”

Rin rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached for your scrapbook, flipping through the pages filled with their memories. His name was already scrawled across several of them, marking the proof of your time together.

“Next time,” you said, peeking at him, “I’m making you sign in cursive.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No.”

“Just wait and see, Rin. I’ll wear you down eventually.”

Rin exhaled slowly. If it were anyone else, he would have dismissed the idea entirely. But this was you. If there was one thing he had learned about you, it was that you were relentless.

And, somehow, he didn’t really mind.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[dadsbongos]

my type?

4.3 K words

summary - Yuuji Itadori is a total knockout boyfriend - the only hitch? You’re nothing like his usual type of woman, and it’s making you unsure.

warnings - 18+!, femreader with jugs and vagene, p in v sex, unrealistic car sex, specifically stated that reader is non-tall with big tits, dumbification for both parties, squirting, non-curse AU where sukuna and yuuji are brother-roommates, unprotected sex

Itadori, Yuuji was an amazing boyfriend - something straight out of a top-selling shoujo manga.

Faithful and doting and affectionate. He handed over his hoodies the moment you mentioned an unpleasant breeze, he proudly held your hand in public, and he boasted about the very act of dating you to anyone with ears. But even those displays felt backhanded, the deeper you dug into your own mind. You had no real reason to complain about the situation.

And you especially had no reason when the cause behind your complaints would be so shallow.

You had an ass in the same way that everybody else did, but nothing comparable to the pin-up poster Yuuji tore down when you two started dating. Or his celebrity fascination, Jennifer Lawrence (which also mysteriously stopped being mentioned when you two started dating).

Rather, your body was much more endowed in ways that made Nobara tease as you passed lingerie stores with hot pink lighting and black walls and heavy busts plastered in the windows. She’d snag you by the sleeve and point, just to watch how you scoff and look away.

Yuuji pointedly ignores those stores. He ignores everything in relation to them.

You’d picked this shirt just for tonight. It dips low into your cleavage, just tight enough to still push up the tender meat of your breasts. Not to mention the color - deep crimson, Yuuji’s favorite. Well, at least the closest you’ll ever get to a favorite color with his indecisive nature.

Yuuji sits across from you at the scratched table. When his eyes aren’t scavenging the conveyor belt for small, shiny, colored plates serving anything that may catch his eye, they’re on your face. And only your face.

Normally something you’d absolutely cheer over - if this were a first date, but the fact is that this is one of many dates. And after so many dates that you can’t count anymore, you’re starting to want Yuuji’s eyes to drift.

You want him to look and you want to watch him sweat and go red. You’re starting to need it.

The need only grows more apparent mere days later.

Yuuji keeps his hands stubbornly on your hips, barely making an imprint from outside your clothes. But you choose not to make a fuss since he’s otherwise fully engrossed with keeping his lips pasted to yours. Your hands are sweaty and hot on Yuuji’s cheeks, you just know they are, but he doesn’t seem to mind when he lets you hold him close and grind on him.

Yet his palms are stiff against you. They don’t feel warm or cold or clammy or moist. They just… are. He chokes back every groan and huff and you almost feel embarrassed to be letting out hitches and breathy moans so freely in comparison.

Puffing your chest out, you can feel your breasts pillowing against Yuuji and you’re hoping to tempt him to move his hands up. Under your shirt and bra with bare skin on bare skin. The idea makes you mewl, dragging your hips harder against his and further pushing out your tits for him to grope.

And suddenly, his stiff hands are picking you up off his lap, sliding you beside him on your couch. Yuuji grins, standing and swiping his hands down the legs of his sweatpants before planting a kiss on your forehead, “Sorry, gotta pee.”

“Oversharing!” you call after his retreating form.

When Yuuji returns, he sits down and rewinds the movie you two had put on earlier. He frowns and murmurs about how much the both of you missed. When you don’t turn back to the TV immediately, Yuuji smiles again and kisses your cheek.

Your gut twists unpleasantly.

And that need festers into utter desperation by just the next afternoon.

“Hey, Yuuji,” you come up from behind your boyfriend, arms dangling over the back of his couch and framing his shoulders. You place your chin on his head, staring at the intense cooking competition he’s watching, “So, I know I just got here… but! I’ve got a small, teensy errand to run.”

“Mhm?” he tilts his head back to meet your eyes, “Want me to go with you?”

His offer has you nodding, trying to smother down the bright simper he threatens to drag out of you, “Yeah, if you’re not busy.”

Sucking in air noisily through his teeth, Yuuji gestures out to the show he lazes in front of, “I dunno, babe, I am watching TV.”

“Very funny,” you back away from his couch, already heading to the door to tug your shoes on, “Just saying, you don’t have to come with if you don’t want to,” Yuuji always wants to come with, you like that about him, “Just getting some new bras.”

Your current ones are fine, but maybe a stuffy changing room is that nudge he needs.

“Oh,” your boyfriend pauses, eyes widening, “Uh. You might want to take Kugisaki for that, she’d know more than me,” he can’t even look at you, “I’m not really the kinda person you’d want around for that.”

You almost ask what he means by that, but the rejection has fried your brain to a gray, crunchy crisp. The kind of fry that looks like it could flake apart with a harsh jab. Again, that terrible, awful knotting in your stomach returns, but you carry on. Because if you claimed to no longer need this errand ran, then he might know what your scheme was - and that was far worse than whatever this hell was.

So you nod slowly and meekly call out that you love him before exiting the door. He says he loves you more.

You really wish you asked what he meant.

Finally, desperation comes to a head when you meet Yuuji’s friend - Todo, Aoi.

Todo, Aoi, who stares at you - eyes narrow as he judges each wrinkle in your clothes and jitter of your muscles - then turns to Yuuji, and asks point-blank, “Did you lie about your type, then, brother?”

Yuuji rips the hand in his pocket out and cuts it across his neck in a slicing motion, mouthing a couple of rude ‘shut up’s. You lean into Yuuji’s side, squeezing the hand he lays in yours tighter. It isn’t sweaty. And it isn’t very warm, either.

Aoi doesn’t seem very upset at the idea, “I’m happy you’re happy,” you look down at your shoes when he glances back over at you, “I was excited when I thought we had the same type.”

No, you weren’t very tall. And no, your butt wasn’t exceptionally big. You fell on the more mediocre sides of those categories, the thing you excelled in (what you thought most guys were thrilled over) was having a large bust.

“Dude!” Yuuji hits Aoi in the shoulder. Hard, “Shut up!”

He squeezes your hand so tight you think it might bruise.

“Sorry, brother,” Aoi, you were warned, was extremely unusual - little to no boundaries and almost inept at social interactions outside of fighting. He does seem sympathetic enough, turning to you, “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

It’s all so sickening. How you wish Yuuji would hurry up and show interest in shallow things. How you place personal esteem on this whole fiasco. How right Aoi is. How badly you’re letting everything affect you.

The ringing in your ears, for example. The way you no longer think you can stomach whatever Aoi was cooking tonight. The shortness of your breath.

You try to push it down. Tonight is supposed to be fun.

Yuuji shoves his friend, much more lightheartedly than his previous blow, and goes to kiss your forehead - but hesitates. His smile is uneven, “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he squeezes your hand, “I love you,” then, apologetically, he smooths his thumb over the sore spots where he clenched your hand, “I love you so much.”

And you know that. You know it like you know your favorite movie.

Tonight was supposed to be fun.

He loves you, you know that - what you don’t know, is if he wants you. Doesn’t he get sweaty palms like you? Doesn’t he feel his intestines tie into bunches of little knots like you? Doesn’t he get all hot in the face like you? Doesn’t he want you like you want him?

It’s humiliating to imagine that he doesn’t, and the mere idea makes you so nauseous you think you might hurl at this very moment.

Maybe your boyfriend just doesn’t find you as attractive as you want him to.

Maybe you should give up this repetitive scheme.

The car is quiet, unbearably so. Your knees are angled away from Yuuji defiantly, legs pushed to the far side of your seat so it’d be a hassle for him to reach out and hold your thigh. You used to think it meant something when he did that, but now it seems as though he’s doing it out of duty. Like holding the door for someone behind you. Or offering your seat on the bus to elderly passengers. Simple acts of simple kindness.

The most basic peacekeeping, if anything.

Yuuji peeks at you without turning away from the road, hands tightening around the steering wheel, “Are you upset?”

You could be snippy. You could even opt to not respond.

But you do neither, “Yeah.”

He sighs through his nose, “Seriously, don’t listen to Todo. He doesn’t know anything.”

Now, you’re a little snippy. To point out that Aoi’s being stupid isn’t uncalled for, but to claim he doesn’t know exactly what stupid shit he’s saying is.

“He has a point.”

“Huh?” Yuuji turns his head fully to look at you, something he only does because the quiet backroad home is empty, “What’re you talking about?”

Only flickering, crooked, rusty street lamps are witness to your impending breakdown. Your boyfriend returns his stare to the road. Crickets sing outside and the wind flattens over long grass that shines under moonlight.

“Yuuji,” sinking into your seat, you ignore his eyes, “You can’t seriously say you have no idea,” he’s quiet, lips pressed thinly, “Since we met, practically everybody has known your type. I knew you had a type! It was a shock to our friends when we got together! And now that we are…”

Pulling off into the grassy plain lining your way home, Yuuji slips the key from the ignition and unclicks his seatbelt to really examine you. His eyes scramble over you, every part the sensitive, concerned boyfriend you know and treasure. He pouts, but it’s in earnest; hurt simply because you’re hurt.

“And now that we are?”

“Why don’t you look at me?”

“I look at you!” he rubs the back of his neck, now quirking a brow at you, “I look at you all the time.”

“No,” you whine like a petulant child, hands coming up to cover your face, “It’s different!”

Aoi’s words just won’t stop creeping up your spine. Yuuji setting you aside on the couch. Yuuji insisting that you bring Nobara to a lingerie store instead of him. He was lying to someone, right? Was it to Aoi or you?

But everybody had seen that poster, and everybody could hear him declare his preferences.

“It’s way different,” you’re so humiliated you’re nauseous, your voice wobbles.

Yuuji tenderly takes your wrists, dragging down your hands. His smile is squiggly, brows high to his forehead, “Talk to me, pretty girl. You want me to look at you?” you nod, “So tell me what you mean by that.”

You almost hate how soft his voice is. It makes it so hard to be upset.

“I’m not your type,” your eyes trail the way Yuuji’s fingers dance around yours, “And every time I try to… you know, get you to think of me as something other than just cute or pretty - you turn me down. I feel like you don’t find me attractive.”

“Oh, like sexually?”

“Mhmm,” you nod glumly. When he’s quiet for just a couple of seconds too long, you ask, “Did you know what I was trying to do?”

“Kind of,” Yuuji’s cheeks are growing red, eyes now abandoning your entwined hands to stare out the windshield, “I do find you attractive - that’s a little bit of the problem.”

“What?”

He sucks in a breath sharply, engulfing your hands completely with his and squeezing (much more mindfully this time), “I’m crazy about you,” he can tell you don’t believe him, “It scares me a little,” he pulls his hands away and cradles his own over his lap, “I’m worried that if I give in, I’ll scare you off… like I’m too eager or something.”

“Yuuji!” you adjust in your seat, moving sideways and finally letting your knees face your boyfriend again, “You wouldn’t scare me off by being eager about my body! That’s a good thing, right? When we’re both into each other, that’s good!”

“No, I mean,” he’s gone rouge all the way up to his ears now, a fire bright in his chest, “I want you so bad it makes me feel like all my skin’s burning. My hands get all gross and sweaty so I have to wipe them on my pants, and- and I can’t think straight,” he’s still not looking at you, but the way he’s pressing his arms down on his crotch tells you he wants to, “Even now, I think I’m going crazy just imagining you…”

You sit up on your knees, leaning over the center console just to watch your boy squirm at the invasion of space, “Imagining me?” he nods shakily, “Imagining me how?”

He whines, turning his head and pressing his scorching face into your neck, “You know how.”

“Come on, pretty boy,” you kneel over the console entirely, squeezing behind the wheel to settle on Yuuji’s lap - slapping away his hands from the growing tent in his baggy pants, “Entertain me, please?”

“Imagining you under me, on me, between my legs,” his hands fly to your hips, palms slipping up under your shirt, and, God, his palms are sweaty, “Any way you’ll have me,” you cup his cheeks and press messy kisses to his lips. Yuuji’s hands roam further up your shirt, fingertips teasing under the cups of your bra, “Any way I can see your tits.”

“I thought you were more into ass,” your bravado falls under his admission, suddenly bashful.

Yuuji closes his eyes, swallowing hard while pushing his hands under your bra, he can feel his heartbeat all the way at the back of his throat. His rough palms cupping the soft, fleshy fat on your chest, “As if that matters,” his brows knit, hips subconsciously jerking up into yours, “I’m a horny guy: my hot girlfriend has big boobs, and I’m obsessed with her big boobs.”

“Just ‘cuz you’re horny?” you tease, grinding down on the bump of his hard cock. His loose pants let him spring up under your skirt, knocking into your panty-clad cunt.

“Nah,” his eyes flutter open, sweaty palms moving around your back and clumsily unhooking your troublesome bra. It takes him three tries, “I like every part of you all the time…” the tip of his tongue parts his lips in hard concentration, “Your whole body makes me feel like I’m full of bugs.”

“‘Full of bugs?!’” you snort, lifting your arms so Yuuji can yank off your shirt and bra in one ungraceful motion.

“In a good way,” he promises, eyes locked on your heaving chest. You can hear the thick breaths he struggles through, “‘m so nervous and horny at the same time, it feels like bugs in my stomach.”

“What’re you nervous for?”

“‘Cuz I wanna make you cum, but I’m worried I’ll cream my pants before we even get to it,” he finally looks into your eyes, he smiles at you with flaming cheeks and palms at your breasts, “It was so hard making sure I kept it together… Been jerkin’ off every night thinking of you - ask Sukuna, he’ll tell you. It’s been embarrassing.”

“Augh, Yuuji!”

“It’s true!”

It makes your palms hot and sweaty, the image of him so desperate. All for you.

“Hm,” you croon, grinding against your boyfriend’s cock, back arching to press your tits closer to his face, “Yuuji...”

Wrapping his arms around your waist, Yuuji sucks one of your nipples between his lips and laves it with his tongue. He bucks up against your wetting panties. Pulling away from your nipple with a soft pop, Yuuji stares up at you with another earnest, flustered pout, “Can you take it out for me?”

As if you could forget what he’s talking about, he humps you again.

“Please, take it out,” he cranes his neck to run his warm, wet tongue over your other, unattended nipple.

“Aw,” you didn’t think seeing your big, energetic boyfriend act so pathetic would set you on fire the way it does. One of your hands stretches down between you and Yuuji, wrangling down his pants with him lifting his hips to help, “Do you want me to play with your cock?”

He hums against your breast, nodding eagerly, “Yuh- yeah- ! Please?”

Your fingers wrap around the warm softness of Yuuji’s erection, thumb playfully nudging his mushroom tip’s slit. He throws his head back, ricocheting against the car seat headrest with a throaty groan.

Giggling, you lean in to kiss the sensitive spot just under Yuuji’s jaw, hand still working up Yuuji’s weeping cock, “Having a good time, honey?”

“Uh-huh,” he unwinds his arms around you to grasp your hips once again, fingers bruising at your sides, “Feels so good - so, so good…”

“Who’s making you feel good, Yuuji?”

“You!” his right thigh twitches under you, “You, you - ‘s always you!”

“Always me?”

His chuckle breaks off into a slack-jawed moan, “Said I jerk off to you every night, didn’t I?” he reaches for your wrist, “Wait, wait!”

“Were you…?” so soon?

“I told you!” now he’s the one whining like a petulant brat, “I don’t wanna cum before you, but you just make it so hard.”

So soon.

Your thighs squish around Yuuji’s, hips grinding on nothing - desperate in search of friction.

“You like that?” he sounds breathless, staring at you as you watch his bobbing cock. All red at the head and straining against your hand, “You’re so mean, babe.”

“I like it a lot,” you sit up, lips finding Yuuji’s drool-slicked ones, “I like knowing I have that effect on you.”

“Since I first saw you, I think,” he admits, hands skimming under your skirt now, “Can I… ?”

You nod, holding tightly to Yuuji’s shoulders while you lean on one leg. You could, theoretically, drag your panties down your lifted leg by yourself - but Yuuji stubbornly joins your hand all the way down to your ankle.

Before trying to slip inside you, Yuuji cups your hot sex. His chest tightens, middle finger shakily tracing along your soaked cunt. Tongue lolling back out of his mouth, Yuuji tucks your nipple back into his mouth when he inserts his finger in your hole. Trying to keep his mind as busy as possible so he can stop thinking about how badly he needs to bury himself inside you.

“Yuuji,” your breathing is ragged, already lowering yourself before he even pulls his finger out of you, “I’m so past ready.”

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles against the swell of your tit, teasing his teeth against the full flesh, “I dunno if I’ll be able to get in…” he chuckles to himself, lightheaded when he taps the head of his cock against your clit, “Might slip right out, huh?”

“Stop teasing,” you cradle Yuuji’s head to your chest, arms thrown around his neck, “You’re the mean one.”

“I know, I know,” he lowers in his seat, pressing himself finally, finally, finally inside your pussy. Your tits press even closer to his face when you gasp at the stretch, “I’ve been ignoring my poor pretty girl this whole time,” he says it so mournfully, so heartfelt, “So selfish, just thinking of my pride - I didn’t even wonder how my girl felt.”

“Ahh, Yuuji,” you moan, piercing your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl,” he pushes down on your hips, lowering you on his stiff cock until your thighs are flush with his soft pants. They’re a little wet. You don’t care much, and you don’t think Yuuji does either right now. He screws up into you, one arm tight around your waist to pull you down into his thrusts and the other hand finding your slippery clit, “I’m so sorry, angel, can you forgive me?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” his fingers work quick circles on your nerves as he fucks you and you’re barely able to scramble together the words (let alone carry those words out in a sensible form), “Yes - ah! - yes, Yuuji!”

There’s something in the way he twists his hips this time because his cock beats into a particular spot that sends white sparks through your veins. You snap back, head hanging and forcing your bouncing tits directly in Yuuji’s face. Before you can even begin to beg, your big, energetic (and maybe a little pathetic) boyfriend is already nodding to himself.

“Right there, angel?” his fingers leave your clit to press down on where his cock batters your insides, “Is that it? Want me right here?”

“Please!” you squeal, thighs quivering and lungs fresh out of air.

“Uh-huh,” he keeps nodding, head too empty to realize he doesn’t need to anymore, “Uh-huh, anything for you… fuckin’ anything…”

When your lower half burns out, Yuuji keeps you upright - fully fucking up into you at that same spot he pushes down on your tummy. The need to cum burns every nerve in your body - it burns and burns and burns until it changes.

Something fuller and more familiar - in a more daily-life kind of way.

“Ah, Yuuji,” your hands perch on his shoulders, body bouncing with the weight of Yuuji’s hips slinging into yours, “I think- ! It feels like- !”

“Talk to me, angel,” dumbly, he looks up at you, almost snickering, “‘Entertain me.’”

“Feels like ‘m gonna pee,” you try warning him, you really do.

But something behind his eyes just shines brighter, grin widening and he actually laughs, “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Fuck yeah,” he stares, wide-eyed, at where you’re creaming on his cock, “You gonna squirt on me, baby?” his foolish nodding quickens with his hips, “Squirt all over me, angel, I want it - want it so bad. Soak my car, oh,” his pretty mouth circles into an ‘O’ just at the thought, “Please, please soak my fucking car!”

Your head jerks back, nails digging into Yuuji’s shoulders, throat snapping raw as you cry out braindead mixtures of your boyfriend’s name and pleas for more and harder and his cum.

He moves the hand on your tummy to swish your clit and spread your mess as far as he can, mouth popping open almost instinctively just to catch stray droplets of your cum in his mouth. One day (tomorrow) he might regret (will definitely regret) intentionally making you spray cum all over his front, and even back, seats, but right now he couldn’t possibly imagine not doing it.

“‘m gonna cum,” he grits his teeth, moans choked back in his throat, “‘m gonna cum - where?” before he can ask again, you find the strength to swivel your hips down on him, “Inside?”

“Inside!” you sob, chest tight and eyes watering at the overstimulation of Yuuji still swirling a thumb on your clit, “Cum inside, Yuuji!”

“Fu- ck,” he squeezes the word out of his chest, seating you fully on his lap when his cock throbs. He juts his chin out towards you when he starts cumming, “Kiss me?”

And you waste no time throwing yourself forward to press chaste, sweet kisses on Yuuji’s drooling lips. He hums and whimpers into your mouth, greedily drinking in the taste of your lips on his. As if he’d been starved of it his entire life.

Yuuji keeps you against him, the both of you slowly coming back down to Earth.

His sopping pants are beginning to cool underneath you.

“Ugh,” you groan at the feeling, “I think we made a mistake.”

“Yeah…” Yuuji sighs, “Oh well. Can’t unfuck in the car now.”

You’re kind of dreading pulling off Yuuji’s soft cock - if you hadn’t done enough to ruin Yuuji’s pants before, then that most certainly will.

Yuuji sighs again, heartier, hands coddling your hips and tenderly rubbing circles into your bone. His eyes fall to your breasts and remain there, “I really am sorry, angel. I- I never, ever wanted you to feel like I didn’t want you.”

Because he does. Good, God, he always does.

Every time he sees you, his hands get all sweaty and his cheeks are hot and his stomach twists into jumbles of knots.

“It hurt,” you admit, “but it’s fine now,” you giggle at the idea of him apologizing over trying to be respectful, “It isn’t like you were being a dick, you know?”

“Yeah, but! Ugh!” he clenches a hand over his heart dramatically, frowning, “I hurt my girlfriend’s feelings. My sweet girl :( “

“You’re cute,” you kiss one of Yuuji’s fiery cheeks, “Okay, help me off.”

“Oh, yeah, huh,” he stretches over your shoulder to wring your panties back up your leg, “It’ll be unpleasant, but I think you need to wear these back to your apartment.”

“I’ll live,” you pick at the elastic to Yuuji’s pants and snap them back against his sweaty thigh, “Can’t be worse than this, pee pants.”

“Hey, it’s not pee,” he pouts once again tonight, “And be nice.”

You shake your head, leaning down to press your lips against Yuuji’s once again. Soaking in the taste like you’d been starved of it your entire life, “Never.”

[gojoest]

FIRST WORD — girl dad!gojo satoru

girl dad satoru, established relationship (you’re married, it is indicated that you have two other kids besides the little one that appears in this drabble), nanami cameo, suggestive credits at the end (breeding hinted, just to be safe), sry this lowkey sucks + not proofread, i typed it out in 10 mins but i hope you enjoy!

satoru is trying really hard to get his little daughter to say “papa”, but oh well

“come on, my life — say it”

satoru, crouched down before the baby chair where his little daughter is sitting, a picture of his face in one hand while the other alternates between pointing at the photo and then at his face, slowly repeats, over and over, with utmost perseverance and patience, the first word he wishes his little one would utter—

“pa-pa”, he carefully speaks, syllable by syllable. “pa-pa”, and again. “come on, baby — at least you don’t betray me, i know you’re papa’s girl — come on now, say it”, he pleads.

this has been going on for the past few weeks.

your entire house currently looks like the room of a teenager where it’s posters on the walls and little trinkets on the shelves, courtesy of heavy hyperfixations. but instead of posters and trinkets it’s your husband’s face, everywhere. kitchen, living room, hallways, your baby’s room — every-single-where and every-single-surface and wall has the photograph of your husband’s face on it. he even purchased custom-made plushies and toys of himself, some of which are hanging from the musical baby mobile above your daughter’s crib — but instead of music it’s his voice, teaching his toddler through made-up songs how to say ‘papa’.

“satoru, don’t you think this is a little bit, um— “, you once brought up, pausing to clear your throat, trying your best to sound softer while you say this. knowing how sensitive he is about the matter, and how devoted to have this innocuous win — “…too much? hm, love? it’s like you’re… brainwashing the baby…”

lips immediately pursed, satoru pouted under his nose — “easy for you to say, our two other kids said ‘mama’ first — effortlessly, at that. let me have this one at least”

okay, you shrugged and backed off.

and this morning, as you sipped on your coffee, you silently watched your husband in the kitchen — kneeled down before the baby chair, going about his educational routine.

after he was done with the photos, he took your daughter’s hand and pressed her fingers on his lips, while he kept repeating the word ‘papa’. he said that this method allows the baby to see the way your mouth moves as you speak but also hear and feel the sound all at the same time. (he sure has read a lot of things on the internet)

but your little one remained silent, only giggling here and there as she poked around her father’s face, completely refusing to cooperate with him despite his desperate attempts.

it is an endearing sight, really. part of you felt pity for your husband, you cannot lie. he was trying so hard, and for what...

all of a sudden,

the doorbell rings.

“i’ll take it”, you quickly pad over to open the door.

it’s nanami — dropping by with some baked treats for the kids, as he often does. your children love him a lot. during dinner gatherings he always sneaks away to read them bedtime stories. even though he doesn’t look like the type on the surface, he sure has a soft spot for children. and, truth be told, they are all naturally drawn to him as well. maybe it’s his calm demeanor and the sense of safety he brings along with his presence.

“ah, thank you — these look so delicious, i am sure the kids will die for a bite”, you chime, as you guide him into the kitchen.

“oh— nanami, it’s you”, satoru casually points out without even turning his head to greet him, his eyes glued on his little daughter… who seems to be looking elsewhere, past her father…

…at nanami.

a bit bothered by that, satoru shifts a little bit to the side, to block the view — to, once again, be the main focus in his daughter’s eyes. but, alas…

she tilts her head, googly eyes glancing at the blond man behind her father.

she opens her mouth, a giggle first escapes, and then—

“na-na—”, she pauses… “—mi” — a beam of laughter and her hands reaching forward, pointing at nanami.

silence in the kitchen befalls.

you cover your mouth with a hand, trying to prevent yourself from bursting into laughter. it’s tragic but funny at the same time, and you know — in just a few seconds the real baby in this room will not be your daughter.

“nanami”, satoru slowly stands up, shoulders hanging low and voice — monotone and stern. “get out”

p.s.: satoru makes a scene. he is absolutely devastated. you have to drag him away and pick up the pieces and calm him down. and, of course, he thinks — the only way to make things better is to give him another child. a new opportunity…and you need to get down to business, now. while nanami is babysitting downstairs.

[misswynters]

𝐗𝐎𝐗𝐎

jinx x fem!bombshell!reader

synopsis: You are a model for (victorias secret equivalent but in arcane universe) and jinx becomes infatuated with you. Known for you bombshell persona and explosive personality, you are the most well known model in all of piltover and zaun. Possibility even watching noxus and the other regions.

warnings: 18+, smut, kissing, smut, wlw , the use of a toy, jinx calls you sugar,

a/n: my first jinx fic <3, also on ao3 (not yet, under doorkiluv)

note | pls give me feedback (and don't only just like but also reblog and comment) this was supposed to be short but it went overboard

𓏲 ˖. ♡ 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐱 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 for Piltover. Too clean, too polished, too boring. The people were all fake smiles and ridiculous hats, and she preferred the chaos of Zaun to its glittering streets. That all changed the day she first saw you. She’d been in Piltover on a whim, loitering in the shadows as she planned her next prank. Explosives in a fancy clock tower, maybe? She hadn’t decided yet. But her chaotic thoughts screeched to a halt when she looked up at the enormous neon screen in Piltover Square and saw your beautiful face.

You were walking down the runway in a show so glamorous it put Piltover’s polished spires to shame. Wrapped in a shimmering, barely-there gown that hugged your curves, you strode with an air of absolute confidence. Your bombshell persona was magnetic, your hips swaying to the rhythm of the music as the crowd erupted into applause. You gave the camera a cheeky wink and blew a kiss, and Jinx’s brain short-circuited.

“Holy… Who the hell is that?” she muttered, her wide eyes glued to the screen.

A vendor passing by glanced at her. “That’s her. You don’t know? The biggest model in all of Piltover and Zaun. Hell, even Noxus and Ionia are crazy about her.”

Jinx didn’t respond, too transfixed by the image of you flashing across the screen. You were a living firework, a walking explosion of charisma, beauty, and sheer presence. Your bold, flirty persona was a match for her own chaos, and it wasn’t just your looks that had her hooked—it was the energy you carried, the way you owned every moment. From that point on, Jinx was utterly captivated.

Back in her lair, your face became a constant presence. Jinx scavenged every poster, magazine, and billboard she could find that featured you. Her walls were covered in them, glossy images of you smirking, posing, and looking like you owned the world. She couldn’t get enough of you, and it drove her mad in the best way possible.

“Look at her,” she’d whisper to herself, lying on her bed and staring at a magazine cover where you lounged in a shimmering gold corset. “She’s a walking explosion.”

Whenever one of your commercials aired on Piltover’s big screens, Jinx made a point to watch. She’d perch on the rooftops, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you spoke directly to the camera, your voice sultry and teasing. Sometimes, she’d mimic your lines, laughing to herself at how ridiculous she sounded compared to you.

The first time Jinx saw you in person, she nearly short-circuited. You were in Zaun, of all places, stepping out of a sleek transport at one of the fancier underground clubs. It was rare for someone like you to venture into the depths, but you carried yourself with the same confidence that lit up your photoshoots. Heads turned as you walked through the crowd, a knowing smirk on your lips as if you knew exactly the effect you had on everyone around you. Jinx’s pulse quickened. This was her chance.

She darted through the crowd, weaving between gawking onlookers until she was standing at the bar beside you. Up close, you were even more stunning, your beauty almost overwhelming.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you in a dump like this,” Jinx drawled, leaning casually against the counter. Her nerves were on fire, but she masked it with her usual cocky grin.

You turned to her, one perfectly arched brow raising as you took her in. Your gaze lingered on her bright blue hair and manic energy, and a small, amused smile played on your lips.

“Maybe I like a little chaos,” you replied, your voice smooth as silk. “And you certainly look like the chaotic type.”

Jinx grinned wider, her confidence surging. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not just chaos—I’m a full-blown explosion.”

The two of you spent the night trading flirty remarks and playful banter, the tension between you crackling like a lit fuse. Jinx couldn’t believe her luck. You weren’t just a pretty face. But you had a fiery, explosive personality to match. You were bold, unapologetic, and just as dangerous as you were beautiful. At one point, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she murmured, “So… what’s it like knowing the whole damn world’s obsessed with you?”

You laughed, the sound low and sultry. “I don’t mind the attention,” you said, turning your head so your lips were almost touching hers. “But right now, I’m more interested in you.” Jinx’s heart nearly stopped.

Back at her lair, were things escalated rather quickly. Jinx couldn’t keep her hands off you, tracing every curve and line of your body like she was memorizing you. Her fingers lingered on your hips, her lips trailing heated kisses along your neck as she whispered breathless praises. “You’re even better than the posters,” she murmured, her voice filled with wonder. “Didn’t think that was possible.”

You teased her with your signature confidence, your voice dripping with flirtation as you pulled her closer. “So you’ve been staring at my posters, huh? What did you think about me?”

Jinx blushed, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she grinned wickedly, her fingers tightening on your waist. “Thought about all the things I’d do if I ever got you alone,” she said, her tone low and rough. “And now, I’m not holding back.”

The tension was electric, charged with the crackling hum of her inventions and the intensity of her gaze on you. She had been teasing you mercilessly all evening, brushing her hands against your skin, dropping flirty remarks that sent heat pooling low in your belly. You could feel the mischief radiating off her as she twirled one of her newest creations in her hand. It was a bright, colorful pleasure device she'd been gushing about for days. Jinx loved experimenting, and tonight, you were her favorite subject.

She grinned at you, her sharp, mischievous grin that made your heart race every time. "Alright, Sugar," she purred, tossing the toy between her hands like it was some casual gadget and not something designed to make you lose your mind. "You trust me, don't ya?"

You raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain your usual flirty composure. "You mean to tell me that thing isn't gonna explode?"

Jinx cackled, tossing her head back. "Not this time, babe! Well, probably not. But hey, if it does, at least we'll go out with a bang!" She winked, and despite your hesitation, you couldn't help but nervously laugh. "You're impossible," you murmured letting her guide you to the mattress piled high with pillows and blankets.

"And you're irresistible," she shot back, pressing you down onto the bed with a surprising gentleness for someone so wild. Her hands were steady as they traced over your skin, her fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.

She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. "Let me take care of you, Sugar," she whispered, her voice dripping with sweetness and heat. "Promise I'll make it fun."

The first sensation was the gentle hum of the device she'd created, a soft vibration against your folds that made you arch into her touch. It was colorful and whimsical, much like Jinx herself, with blinking lights and playful patterns painted across its surface. Despite its toy-like appearance, the way it worked against your body was anything but innocent.

Her free hand skimmed over your inner thigh, her touch featherlight and maddeningly slow. The wetness pooling between your legs became impossible to ignore, and Jinx took full advantage, sliding the toy up until it pressed directly against your bundle of nerves. A slick, wet sound began filled the room, the vibrations amplifying the noise as your arousal spread. Jinx froze for a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter. "Oh, look at you," Jinx teased, her eyes bright as she watched your reaction.

"Didn't take much, huh? Bet I could've just touched you, and you'd be melting for me." You tried to retort, but the words caught in your throat as she pressed the device lower, her mischievous grin widening as your body jerked in response.

"Aw, Sugar, don't hold back," she crooned, tilting her head to the side as if studying you. "I like hearin' you. Makes it more fun for me."

Your head fell back, a moan slipping past your lips as she adjusted the settings, the vibrations intensifying. She laughed softly, her free hand stroking your thigh as if to ground you. You buried your face in your hands, mortified but too overwhelmed by the pleasure to stop her. The toy’s vibrations grew stronger, and the obscene wet noises only intensified as she moved it against you, her laughter turning into a low, appreciative hum. “Damn, you sound so good,” she murmured, her tone dipping into something more serious. “Bet I could make you scream just with this.”

Your hips bucked against the toy, your slick arousal coating it and making the sounds louder and wetter with each movement. The lewd squelching only seemed to spur Jinx on, her grin growing wider as she adjusted the settings, sending sharper bursts of pleasure through your body. “Listen to that, Sugar,” she teased, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re a fuckin’ symphony for me. All wet and messy, just how I like it.”

The embarrassment of her words was quickly drowned out by the mounting pleasure, your moans growing louder as the toy worked you closer to the edge. Jinx’s free hand slipped beneath your thigh, lifting your leg to spread you open further.

“Look at you,” she said, her eyes dark with hunger as she watched the toy glisten with your slick. “So damn pretty like this. Could stare at you all day."

Her words made your cheeks flush, though you couldn't focus on embarrassment for long. Every nerve in your body was alight, the sensation of her toy paired with her teasing kisses and caresses driving you to the edge. And then she pulled it away, grinning wickedly at your gasp of frustration. "Not yet, Sugar," she said, clicking her tongue. "I'm not done playin' with you."

She shifted her attention, leaning down to press her lips against your neck. Her kisses were hot and open-mouthed, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. You felt her grin against your throat when you whimpered, your hands clutching the sheets beneath you. Her lips found your collarbone, her teeth sinking into the delicate skin to leave another mark.

"Gotta leave my mark," she murmured between kisses, sucking a particularly dark bruise just below your jaw. "Let everyone know you’re mine. My perfect, messy little bombshell.” Her words sent a shiver down your spine, but you hesitated, your modeling career flashing through your mind. "Jinx, I..."

She pulled back, her wide, manic eyes locking with yours. "Aw, don't worry about all that fancy-shmancy stuff," she said, her voice teasing but with an edge of sincerity. "Bet they'll just airbrush it or whatever. C'mon, Sugar, lemme have my fun."

Your protests melted away as she kissed you again, this time harder, deeper, her hands pinning your wrists above your head. The way she looked at you, like you were the most precious thing she'd ever seen, made your resolve crumble. "Fine," you murmured, breathless. "Do your worst."

Her grin was feral. "Oh, babe, you asked for it." Jinx worked her way across your body, leaving a trail of marks in her wake on your neck, your collarbone, and the valley between of your chest. Each one was a testament to her possessiveness, her need to claim you in a way that went beyond words. "You're gonna look so pretty tomorrow," she murmured, her hands and lips everywhere at once. "Walkin' around all marked up, like a damn work of art."

You couldn't even bring yourself to care about the consequences anymore. Her touch was overwhelming, every kiss and bite sending jolts of pleasure through you. She alternated between using her toy and her hands, keeping you teetering on the edge but never quite letting you fall. "Beg for it," she whispered, her voice dark and playful as she hovered above you. "C'mon, Sugar, lemme hear it. Tell me how bad you want me to finish you off."

Your pride wavered, but the need coursing through you won out. "Please, Jinx," you gasped, your voice shaking. "I need you. Please."

She chuckled, clearly satisfied with your quick surrender. "That's more like it," she said, finally pressing the toy back against you. The sensation was overwhelming, and this time, she didn't stop, driving you higher and higher until you finally shattered, a cry escaping your lips as you came undone beneath her. Jinx didn't stop right away, drawing out your pleasure until you were trembling, your body spent and your mind hazy.

When she finally set the toy aside, she crawled up beside you, pulling you into her arms with surprising gentleness. "See?" she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Told ya it'd be fun."

You tilted your head up to meet her gaze, a small smile playing on your lips despite your exhaustion. "Guess I'm stuck with you then," you teased, your flirty nature peeking through even now.

Jinx grinned, her signature chaos in her expression, but there was something softer there, something that tugged at your heart. "Damn right you are. You're mine, babe. Every last gorgeous inch of you." Her fingers danced across your body, tracing the bruises she'd left, her eyes filled with pride as she admired her handiwork. You shivered under her touch, the sensitivity from her earlier teasing still lingering.

"Look at this," she mused, her tone somewhere between awe and glee. "You're a freakin' masterpiece, Sugar. Better than any of those shiny posters they plaster all over Piltover and Zaun."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound weak but genuine. "You think so?"

"I know so," she said firmly, leaning down to nuzzle her face into your neck. "They see the bombshell, the glitz, and the glam, but I get this. I get the real you, all wrecked and perfect just for me." Her words sent warmth spreading through your chest, the vulnerability beneath her usual bravado making your heart ache. You reached up to cup her face, your thumb brushing against her cheek. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

Jinx snorted, pulling back just enough to smirk at you. "Too good? Babe, I'm a menace. But I guess l've got a soft spot for you."

"Lucky me," you teased, letting your fingers trail down to the nape of her neck. She leaned into your touch, her grin softening into something sweeter. "Damn right. You're the luckiest gal in all of Piltover, Zaun, maybe even Noxus." Her playful boasting earned another laugh from you, and she kissed you again, slower this time, her earlier fire giving way to something gentler. The kiss lingered, her lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

When she finally pulled away, she flopped down beside you, pulling you into her arms as if she couldn't bear to let you go. You rested your head on her chest, listening to the steady thrum of her heartbeat as your body relaxed into hers.

"Y'know," Jinx murmured, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back, "I used to look at those big, fancy posters of you and think, ‘She's way too good for someone like me!"

You tilted your head up to look at her, surprised by her confession. "Jinx..."

"But then I thought," she continued, her voice growing steadier, "what's life without a little chaos, right? And lucky for me, you're just as explosive as I am." Her words brought a smile to your lips, and you reached up to brush a strand of blue hair from her face. "Guess we make a pretty good match then, huh?"

She grinned, her manic energy shining through even in this quiet moment. "The best, Sugar." As the adrenaline from earlier began to fade, you let yourself sink into the warmth of her embrace, her steady presence grounding you. Despite the chaos that always seemed to follow Jinx, moments like this reminded you why you'd fallen for her in the first place.

banner: @anitalenia

taglist: @blazemaster4014 @st6rship @axoluxy @1nakitofan @redskye11 @cxcilla @evneedshozierrn @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @raspberry-lava @alduinworldeater11 @m00nd0v3 @idk2anym @emmy21842 @ladey @keysmashsstuff @blkmystery

[airybcby]

Call It What You Want To

(soft launching with the bllk boys)

a / n — i love soft launches and blue lock…so why not combine them?

content — fluff, cutesie stuff, bllk characters x fem! reader, pretty much gn! but i did use ‘she’ so just to be safe, + your faves if you want!!

synopsis — soft launches with the boyfies <3

✿.｡. “ nobody’s heard from me for months , ” .｡.✿

is NEVER on social media. has accounts of course, but never posts on them. usually the most they do is repost things about soccer on their stories. so when they post these pictures as their first post EVER? it’s inevitable that their fans are going to go insane.

they preferred posting these pictures, neither of your faces showing. you’d both decided to keep your relationship “private but not secret” , if someone were to find out it was you in these photos? so be it. they would never dream of hiding you from the world.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ RIN ITOSHI, barou shouei, sae itoshi, jinpachi ego

they don't have many posts, but the ones they do have no less than a million likes each. their fans are adoring, so when they post a new photo, thousands of people get the notification and within seconds the post has 200k likes.

their fans are insane, and that's putting it lightly. they find your account within a minute all by looking at your phone case and finding your account.

the both of you wake up the next morning and find yourselves not only trending on twitter, but also with thousands of edits made of the two of you. AND A SHIP NAME??

so much for a soft launch.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ YUKIMIYA KENYU(im biased), shido ryusei, MICHAEL KAISER, hyoma chigiri

a chronic poster. i mean literal photo dumps GALORE. they had many fans, obviously with them being a famous soccer player, but also because of how 'real' they were. they would constantly post stories in the bathroom and ranting- all that fun stuff.

their fans had no indication that they'd been in a relationship at all. which was strange because due to their openness, their fans began thinking they deserved to know every little thing about them.

they just wanted to keep you their little secret for a little bit, so they posted these very inconspicuous photos and had the internet up in a frenzy.

soccerluver44: WHO IS THIS??

urmomshouse: no way

and thousands of comments just like that flooded their inbox.

this was fun, they thought. maybe for a little while longer they'd keep you their little secret. the thought crossed their mind as they pressed the 'your story' button, posting a photo of them sitting on the sink with your arms wrapped around them.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ MEGURU BACHIRA, isagi yoichi, EITA OTOYA, oliver aiku

not a constant poster, but definitely has a social media presence. they mostly post about their upcoming games and where to get tickets and watch. they definitely don't post about their personal life, so when people log on and see a soft launch??

the world goes into a state of shock. the comments are limited, so no one besides people they follow back (most of which who already knew of the relationship) are allowed to comment.

they did this on purpose. they saw no point in having strangers question them when the caption said it all

" spoiling my girl <3 "

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ REO MIKAGE, tabito karasu, jyubei aryu, DON LORENZO

✿.｡. “ i'm doing better than i ever was ” .｡.✿

took myself to the computer version to do this since there's a photo limit on the mobile version.

hope yall liked it though, i've never done anything like this before!!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[venomvalley]

LIGHTS, CAMERA—

onlyfans!leon kennedy x pornstar!reader // 5.6k words

summary: Leon needs a way to pay off his tuition for the police academy and you, his long-time friend slash rising pornstar, help him start his OnlyFans career. But things get a little awkward when your fans start begging you to collab.

tags: 18+ only! oral sex (m!recieving), safe sex, enthusiastic consent, p in v, praise kink, light corruption kink, reader films a non-leon threesome for plot reasons. continuing my submissive leon propaganda. there are also feelings here.

notes: jesus christ i finally finished this behemoth. based this around my own experience with sex work so it should not encompass the industry as a whole. this is just fiction.

-> read on ao3

The bedroom is bathed in dapples of red and blue when you open the door. Leon stands on a new shag rug just before the couch, arms spread wide when he turns and notices your presence.

“So, how's it look?”

You close the door behind you as you survey the room, eyes darting over decorations old and new.

His bed sits in one corner, sheets recently used, a set of sleep clothes tossed carelessly at the foot. Half-shoved beneath an askew pillow is the stuffed koala you bought him for his birthday last year. Band posters taped to the wall overhead.

Good thing he wasn't asking your opinion on that.

The remodeled filming area in another corner looks the most inviting. His soft, fluffy couch and pillows that quickly became a staple in his videos; two lamps on either side, lights perfectly aimed at the center cushion where he always sits (mood lighting is important, you had told him. an easy way to increase production quality); a small end table to store lube, condoms, toys for the day's shoot—anything you might need for filming amateur porn.

Your smile gleams with pride as you set your bag down near the door. “You've gotten really good at decorating. The fans are gonna love it.”

“You think so?”

You scoff at him in dramatic jest, shirking your coat somewhere near his bed. “Are you questioning my judgement?”

“Never. Couldn't have done it without you, honestly.”

Something sweet and sticky settles at the center of your lungs, and his cheery tone wrings out your breath. You couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

This all began as a way to pay off tuition from his current stint at some expensive police academy. If you're being honest with yourself, you much prefer him doing this. Maybe a bit selfish of you, given the circumstances, but he's good. And here's the thing: Leon paid off his debt months ago. He obviously loves the attention, the praise, the sharp spikes of dopamine each time he gets behind the camera (you get it—why else would you still continue fucking for some strangers on the internet?). He held the perfect recipe for stardom: an early twenties guy in prime shape, inexperienced to the point of blushing around any naked body beside his own, with the prettiest noises of pleasure you've ever heard. Everything fit into place.

Your presence in his life predates the porn. Just two almost-friends from high school who reconnected at a grocery store back home. A star in your own right, with a career spawning from NSFW subreddits you used to post on for fun. And when he came to you with news of his financial issues, desperate and embarrassed and all grown up, you didn't tell him about your job. You knew the risks, the side effects, the potential consequences. The internet—people—can be cruel.

Then he found your twitter (a happenstance, he swears) and the videos you posted. The website you linked in the description of all of them.

I think it's cool, he had said over text one night. At least it looks fun.

And so the floodgates opened.

You ensured the quality of his videos. Took some inspiration from a few guys you worked with in the past—lighting, angles, making noise is a must—and applied your own knowledge to craft Leon into the perfect sellable package. It's all business at the end of the day.

Until it isn't. Porn is one of very few industries that require the mix of business and pleasure for success. And although you play your directorial part well, you'd be a dirty fucking liar if you said that watching Leon jerk off every Tuesday and Friday isn't the highlight of your week.

He's a good boy so he leaves his face out of the shot, whines please and thank you to some invisible voyeur when he cums. Makes you food after a long session because you refuse to take any form of payment, but that first time he looked at you like a kicked dog when he insisted he pay you in a nice meal at least, and how could you resist?

So here you stand, the light casting soft shadows over his body as he plops down on the couch, boxers tight around his hips and thighs, bulge front and center when he spreads his legs wide.

Don't look don't look don't look. You might be a whore, but you can express self-control around your friend.

“What are we doing today?” you ask, turning around to sift through your bag on the floor.

“I got a few gifts in the mail, so…”

"Damn, already?”

He offers up a smug shrug, arms resting on the back of the couch. “What can I say? My fans love me.”

You set up the tripod and the camera (the same one you use for your own videos), as he sifts through the end table with a set of muffled thumps. He then places a bottle of lube and an unfamiliar cock ring on the coffee table, leaves to the bathroom for a moment before returning with the most sophisticated fleshlight you've ever seen. The material is see through, textured to perfection inside the sleeve. It's a work of masturbatory art.

“Holy shit.”

“Cool, right? It even has suction settings.” He slides a finger into the toy, and you watch through a filter of opaque glass as the silicone stretches beneath his exploration. “It's really soft.”

You swallow thick, eyes glued to the movement of his long fingers. “Oh, I gotta see this.”

His boyish excitement rubs off on you. Can't help it when he settles on the couch with a grin, fingers drumming along his thigh as you make last-minute adjustments to the lighting and camera's framing. The final result is beautiful, movie-like. Smooth gradient and hard shadows, showcasing his figure from neck to knee (an upward angle, of course—the most popular, a perfect showcase of the thickness of his thighs, a POV of sorts that places the watcher on their knees before him).

He slips into a role that mirrors much of his real life: curious and inexperienced, an endearing amount of confused. Changes his voice enough that, should anybody familiar stumble upon his videos, they wouldn't immediately recognize him. Makes a show of palming himself through his underwear, hips grinding a slow rhythm against his hand. He asks hushed questions, teasing and bashful as his cock swells beneath the fabric.

It's the ‘you really wanna see it?’ that does you in. Because yes, no matter how many times he's bared himself before the camera, you always wanna see it through the **technical filter **of the viewfinder. Can't bare to sneak a peek with the naked eye. Too afraid that he'll catch you staring.

And when he finally tugs down his underwear, waistband tucked snug beneath the weight of his balls, you curse the natural mechanism of blinking.

The show begins.

He takes time spreading the lube over his length, favors slow, teasing pumps as he tells you (no, not you specifically—the viewer) how good it feels. How he wishes his hand were yours. And it’s so easy to pretend that the camera isn’t there. That this isn’t a performance for hundreds of people. That he’s talking to you, the unseen face behind the lens, the catalyst of this whole affair.

He gets nasty as time goes on. Whines about how needy he is, how good it would feel for somebody to come and sit on it. The squelch of his fist is almost overstimulating. His palm rubs over his belly, follows the path of his happy trail to cup at his balls. It’s the perfect shot, really. The flex of his forearm, the show of veins along the back of his hand, the clench of his abdominals.

For the first time since you began filming his videos, temptation proves too strong to bear. For the very first time, you chance a look over the viewfinder. A simple rise of your head, a hairsbreadth of movement, but he notices. Locks lidded eyes with you and pins you there, the usual blue of his irises now deep as midnight, bottom lip pillowed between his teeth.

Your heart drops, settles somewhere snug between your hips where your pulse thumps heavy. If he said the word, you would crawl over on hands and knees and kneel between his legs and continue where he left off. There’s a pretty curve to his cock that you’d love to follow with your tongue. You wonder how the slick mess of his precum might taste.

Okay. So you’re a whore.

From what you’ve heard from friends in the business, porn isn’t supposed to be sexy for the cameraman. They’re too focused on camera angles and making sure the lighting stays good to worry about the actual sex. But it’s not like that with Leon. He and his pleasure sit front and center at all times. The scene is stagnant, with very few instances of framing or lighting changes. It’s just you and the man in the viewfinder.

You almost black out when he fits the fleshlight over his cock. The first pump leaves his thigh muscles tensing as his head falls against the back of the couch (heat settles in your belly when you realize that you’re the only one allowed to see his face and, by extension, his face when he's jerking off). His hips grind, chasing the suctioning pleasure as his fist builds a steady rhythm. He’s noisy: whining and moaning, cussing under his breath.

It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and it ends much too soon. After a few minutes of milking vibration, he replaces the fleshlight with his hand, fucking his fist, body tensing as his orgasm looms.

He cums hard and heavy over his belly in pearlescent streaks that wet the line of dusky blond hair you find there. A horrible part of you wishes to lick it up. To clean his cock with your mouth instead of the wash cloth that you promptly run and fetch.

You trap yourself in the bathroom to calm the stampede of your pulse between your thighs. The weight of your need bends you over the sink, and you stick your hands beneath the warm water, gripped tight around the fabric, as you watch your sanity empty down the drain.

You come back with a smile, tossing the rag on his belly. “Good?”

He cracks open an eye, cheeks rosy post-orgasm, body melted into the couch. “You have no idea.”

As he starts to clean up, the red blip of your camera catches your attention. In your haste to escape, you forgot to end the recording. A definite first for you at this point in your career, and you should be way more humiliated than you feel about letting the camera run for five minutes, but you're currently soaking through your shorts and are far too worried about the wet spot you might leave on his furniture.

On cue, Leon turns to you, tying the strings of his jogging pants, and says, “What do you want for dinner?”

.

.

.

The message you receive from a long-time twitter follower on a boring Wednesday night licks heat up the back of your neck:

would love to see u collab with that new guy everybody's raving about. i'll tip extra…. dont make me beg ;)

ps ur so sexy. love that last DP video… blue is ur color

Then a link to Leon's twitter.

You're used to requests and the generous money that accompanies them. From the vanilla to the weird to the dehumanizing, you've admittedly filled each category. Film yourself smoking an entire cigarette? Two hundred bucks, easy. Sticking your feet in a store-bought lemon meringue pie? Five hundred, just like that.

You don't like to think about the last category too often. Luckily, you're well-off enough financially that you don't have to accept those requests anymore.

But this one frays your nerves solely for the fact that you consider it. You exit out of the browser and close your laptop and sit in the dark silence of your bedroom for a long few minutes.

It's not like you haven't thought about it. He's beautiful and sweet and genuine. The sex would undoubtedly be fun.

You imagine yourself teaching him a few things. The blush across his cheeks the first time you swallow down his cock, the high-pitched sigh he would make at the first feel of you around him, buried to the hilt, all clenching muscles and white-hot heat.

But you can't. Could never ask that of him. How much are you willing to ruin for a few hundred bucks?

You spend the better part of the next hour with your hand between your legs. Fantasizing. Nothing wrong with that. Just need a little release to make yourself feel better.

When you finally cum, it’s to the thought of bouncing in Leon’s lap. His hair fisted between your fingers. The thrum of his pulse beneath your lips.

The cleanup is embarrassing. Fantasy is one thing, but the proof of your betrayal spreads sticky between your thighs, on your fingers and lips. It’s the first time you’ve ever done something like this—come to the thought of a fellow sex worker.

But damn, you’ve never been this wet in your life. Never came this hard either.

Suffice to say, you’re considering your twitter follower’s request.

.

.

.

Moments like these are why you love your job.

Your friend’s face smothered by your thighs, a pretty cock deep down your throat. His name is Nate, tall and burly and hairy where it counts, and he knows how to fuck. He does it well.

The scene had been set in the bedroom of a mutual friend’s apartment. Fluffy pillows and soft sheets and ambient lighting. Bee sits in a chair just out of view of the camera, prepping herself with two fingers in her pussy and another circling her clit. She’s a sight to behold: thick at the hips and thighs and waist, soft to the touch, curly hair tied away from her face in an intricate updo.

You have two gorgeous people in the room with you, and yet all you can fantasize about is Leon. How he would fill your mouth, the softness of his tongue on your clit. If he’d be gentle or rough.

(You want him to use you like his fleshlight.)

You pull away from Nate’s cock with a gasp as he sucks hard on your clit, fitting a thick thumb inside your pussy to give you something to clench down on.

This is what you’re used to. This is fun.

And yet—

Bee climbs up on the bed, crawling over to your splayed bodies with a low-lidded grin. She joins you between his legs, kisses you hard on the mouth before licking a wet stripe up the length of his cock.

Threesomes are your favorite scene to shoot, no matter the mix of genders. A good change in routine, a pleasurable overstimulation. The diversity of bodies, of taste and smell and texture.

And yet—

The condom makes its arrival shortly after your first orgasm, and Bee helps you into place, taking her seat on Nate’s slicked-up face. With weakened legs, you seat yourself on his lap in one long stroke, balancing yourself with a hand on each of his thighs. He fills you full, more thick than lengthy, fitting perfectly against your g-spot with each grind of your hips.

And yet—

all you can think about is Leon.

The space he commands inside your head infuriates you. When the fucking is over and you’re all washed up and lounging on the couch, your friends take note of your distraction.

“Nobody else is gonna notice, but we do,” Bee says, nursing a glass of blood-red wine, cuddled up to your side like always.

She passes it to you with a knowing look, and you take a hefty swig before handing it back. “It’s just this guy. I’ve been helping with his content.” You shake your head, massaging a hand over your cheek. “It’s stupid, and it’s pissing me off.”

A bit of an understatement. You can’t tell them that he occupies every aspect of your waking mind. That every moment of free thought goes to fantasizing about fucking him.

Beside you, Nate dips his head, brows raised in surprise. “Oh shit. You in love, kitty cat?”

“Jesus Christ, no. He’s just—“ you sigh, “different. Cute, like a puppy or something.”

Bee nods. “Yeah, I get it. You’re in loooove.”

Your frustration reaches its peak, and you would pull your hair out from the root if not for the way she grabs your hands in a dramatic show.

“I’m not in love. I wanna fuck him.”

Your friends share an understanding ahhhh, and Nate wraps a comforting arm around your shoulders. Pulls you in close to say, “Listen, he’s forbidden fruit. We’ve all been there.”

The lilt of his tone portrays jest, and the heat in your cheeks makes you want to shrivel up and crawl into the crack between the cushions.

Bee laughs, and your shoulders curl toward your knees in resignation. “I can’t believe I have sex with you two.”

“Shut up. We’re the best you’ve ever had.”

You blink a moment, considering the statement.

Yeah. Can’t argue with that.

She pats your bare leg, pity woven in the lilt of her brow. “Just talk to him.”

“Absolutely not. We’re actually friends, and I don’t wanna mess it up.”

.

.

.

Leon texts you a few days later, well past midnight. A screenshot of a very similar DM to the one you received, quickly followed up by a set of question marks.

leon [2:45 am]

have u been getting these too

You snap out of your half-asleep state and roll over onto an elbow.

me [2:45 am]

yeah. when you get popular enough people request for you to collab with other creators.

leon [2:46 am]

wait they requested u to collab with me????

You adjust your grip on your phone, palms turning clammy at the question. The unknown of how this conversation may go strikes the fear of rejection in you. He’ll either voice his disgust or his excitement, and you—

Who are you kidding? You know exactly which response would be worse.

me [2:48 am]

they’re pretty much begging me actually

leon [2:49 am]

hmmm

The next evening, you show up at Leon’s apartment with your trusty duffel bag in tow. He sits on his couch, dressed down in a baggy shirt and sweatpants. A huge shift to what you’re used to. No sex toys or lube or neon lights to be found. Just Leon and whatever odd reality show he watches on the television.

“Hey,” you say, abandoning your bag and shoes and coat by the door.

You collapse on the couch beside him, a ball of anxiety wound tight in your chest. Not sure why. Things just feel different, off with him today. Like the living room holds its breath in anticipation.

He gives a simple greeting in return then focuses back on the tv, and you dissect the line of his shoulders, his expression, the relaxation of his muscles to give any sort of hint as to what the problem is. If there's even any problem at all.

Leon is one of your closest friends, and you don't want to lose him to some intrusive DMs on twitter. Or to the volatile nature of the porn sphere (you know firsthand how it chews people up and spits them back out).

“I kinda just want to… talk this time.” His voice comes out of nowhere, a loud break from the drone of the tv.

You turn to face him, throwing a leg over his knee. “We can do that.”

Subconsciously, he reaches for your thigh, palm warm through your jeans as he soothes a thumb along its seam.

He clears his throat. Says, “So. Saw your new video.”

Ah. The threesome. Wonderful reception from the viewers (you checked the comments). A lot of orgasms to be had. The first time Bee had ever squirted. Sex with them is always a treat. Comfortable and messy.

“What’d you think?”

“It looked… uh, fun.”

“It was a lot of fun.”

“I…” His brow furrows, head turning to stare at the wall behind you. “I wanna do something like that.”

Your heartbeat picks up in your chest, a thumping that vibrates your throat. “I have some people I can set you up with—”

“No, not like that.” He heaves a sigh, turning to look at you. Frustration clouds his expression, mouth twisting into a pout. “I'm not… experienced like you are.”

You remember him speaking about his ex—his first kiss, his first love, his first everything. A passionate relationship that he thought would last forever, now just a blip in the timeframe of his life.

The sex, however, left a lot to be desired. Expected given their inexperience, but you think it time for Leon to graduate, and given the current state of your conversation, so does he.

“You’ll be happy to know that a lot of people get off to that.”

“I know, but I want somebody I can trust.”

There's a heaviness to his words, a hidden meaning that he nudges you toward.

You think you might faint.

“Like who?”

You need to hear him say it. Couldn't bear the humiliation of being wrong.

He glances away, gaze bouncing over the coffee table. “You can say no, but I'd like it to be you.”

Inside your mouth, your teeth grit to force down a wide, beaming smile. It festers in your chest like a bonfire, the smoke almost suffocating.

“I'd be honored, Leon.”

He looks you in the eye for the first time since you walked through the door, and you swear you see the sun rise. His grip on your thigh tightens. “Seriously?”

You nod. “We gotta do this right, though. I work for a company that has actors fill out forms before every scene.”

“Forms?”

“Consent forms, the kinks you're into, that kinda thing.”

“Oh.”

“It's a formality, but it keeps everybody safe.”

“Okay, yeah. Let's do it.”

It happens on a Saturday. He comes over to your place this time—wants to see where you film your own videos, where you eat dinner in the evenings, where you lay your head down at night. You think a huge part of it is that nobody but you has ever been inside your office. All the videos you film in this room are solos.

Except for this one.

He prefers a submissive role. Light choking. Praise. Pet names.

You've psychoanalyzed him more times than should be healthy to see what makes him tick and now, sat on your lush, comfy bed, you hold the passkey to his psyche. The knowledge is exhilarating, many of your theories proven correct by the heavy ‘X’ of his pencil markings.

Bondage: yes.

Anal (giving/recieving): maybes for both.

You look up at him with a sharp grin, lips spreading wider at the sight of his fidgeting.

“Can I ask why anal is a maybe?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never done it before. Eventually I’d like to, but…”

“But not now?” He shakes his head. “That’s fine. Just checking.”

Specificity is important to you. Asking as many questions as possible to understand where the comfort and discomfort lay, so you know exactly where he defines his boundaries.

Once you’ve checked and double-checked his answers, the scene begins. Soft lighting to blur the edges, to aid in the dream-like nature you try to portray. Setting up the camera is second nature to you, a simple shot without an extra hand wielding it. You choose to go for a more amateur, intimate angle for his first video to make up for the lack of immersion.

Two creators meet up for a shoot, and if they seem like they know each other personally, you can thank chemistry and hormones.

A good cover for any future skeptics.

The video begins with Leon sat on the end of the bed, your form kneeling between his legs. You had promised him that you would hide his face, and the framing reflects that—you in full view, Leon from the neck down.

Your hands massage at the muscles of his thighs, the length of his cock a heavy weight against his belly. He’s bigger up close, the sight of his slicked-up head making your mouth water. Thick enough to provide a stretch. Perfect.

This is it. What you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

You catch his eye then lean forward to press a chaste kiss to his frenulum, and beneath your hands, his muscles tense then release. The blue of his eyes darkens beneath the furrow of his brow.

So pretty. Always pretty, yes, but even prettier with his dick in your mouth. He tastes masculine, like salt-musk and body wash. Weighs down your tongue like you imagined in your fantasies. You drool over his length and swallow him down in one smooth motion, your throat sheathing around the flared head of his cock.

His head falls back, hips twitching against your mouth, a whine building in his chest. You begin to bob your head, slow enough for him to reach for you—fingers brushing your shoulder, a palm soothing down your back, touch feather-light. Reverent.

And then he pushes you away. Says, “I don’t wanna finish like this.”

When you smile up at him, his thumb plucks the swollen curve of your bottom lip, lidded eyes meeting your softened gaze. Like a sledgehammer to the chest, affection slams into you. The suddenness is enough to take your breath away.

He helps you to your feet, steadies your hips as you straddle him, and then he kisses you. Sweet as sugar. Slow pecks of his lips against yours, the quiet noise of your mouths, the weight of his warm hand massaging over the small of your back.

For the first time in a while, you forget about the camera. You forget about posing and angles and looking your best. The world narrows in on Leon—the tenderness in which he holds you, the softness of his skin, the pretty cock pressed against your belly.

You pull away and lay a hand to his chest. “Lay down, honey.”

He obeys your instruction in silence. Spreads out on the bed as you roll the condom on and soak his length in lube. Your hands shake as you carry out the motions (second nature), excitement heating your blood.

How many times have you dreamt about this?

You part your labia with the plush head, slicking up your clit, back and forth and back and forth until he shudders. Grips hard at your waist. Pleads with you under his breath.

“You want it, baby?” you whisper, voice a messy shudder as your pleasure begins to climb, syrupy and slow. Thawing molasses.

He nods his head, swallows thick when you line yourself up.

It's always the first thrust—thick, stretching heat—that gets you. The way you both gasp at the fresh sensation, and you find it difficult to keep up your porn star persona when his eyes glisten like your pussy hangs the stars in the sky.

You settle in his lap for a long moment, whispering praise as your body stretches to accommodate him.

You're so pretty.

How do you feel so good?

It's like we were made for each other.

He grinds up into you, already bottomed out but chasing more of that plush heat, brows arching when you follow his rhythm with your own hips.

As if remembering the actual reason behind the sex, you arch your back for the camera, slowing the rise and fall of your hips to better present the way your hole stretches around Leon's cock. You even give a fucked-out smile to the lens, head turned to gaze over your shoulder, bottom lip tugged between your teeth.

You hook your feet over his spread thighs for leverage, hands steady atop his broad chest, and begin to bounce in earnest. The harsh slap of skin, the wet squelch of your coupling leaves you clenching hard around him. He whines beneath you, effectively pinned in place, his grip on your hips shifting to your ass.

You circle trembling fingers over your clit, gasping at the pleasure that coils heat in your belly. He fills you to perfection, brushes every nerve inside your pussy as you ride him, and you can't stop looking at him. His face, in particular, more expressive than you've ever seen it. Wide eyes wet with tears, brows drawn, pretty lips open in a silent moan.

He grabs you at the waist, hard enough to bruise in an effort to still you. To pull your chest to his. Traps you there with an arm wrapped around your back.

“Are you—”

He huffs. “I need a second.”

You grin against the side of his neck, nipping at the cute mole just beneath his jawline. “It's okay if you cum.”

“No. Not—not yet.”

During the downtime your mind drifts back to the camera, long enough to question how the shot looks, how long this will take to edit, if people will even like it. It's different than anything you've done thus far. Fitting, you suppose, considering Leon is different than everybody else you've slept with. Something you can't take the time to unpack right now, but you like being with him. The sex feels like your heart might collapse under its own weight.

He kisses you and you melt into him, fingers mapping out the bulk of his arms, the heave of his chest, the stubble along his jawline. You tilt your hips to relieve the pressure building in your belly, grinding your clit against his pubic bone when he parts your lips with his tongue.

The motion sparks an all-consuming blaze, your bodies a forest fire. He rolls you over, face buried in your neck, then seats himself between your spread thighs. Smooths his cock over your pussy, the fat head catching on your clit.

“Fuck, baby,” you sigh, and stretch your arms over your head in offering, thoughts turning to static at the abrupt shift in dynamic. “That's so so good.”

He bottoms out in one stroke, arms flexing at the velvety clench of your cunt. Exhales a steadying breath before finding his rhythm: a steady, rough slap of his hips that jolts you against the sheets. His name rests a searing, heavy weight on your tongue, but you can't risk crying out to him. One issue during editing and you've suddenly doxxed him.

But oh, the temptation rears its head, a silky suggestion at the back of your brain.

You grab him by the nape of his neck and tug him down, until you can whisper into his ear. Breathe his name like a prayer, over and over again, quiet enough for only him to hear.

His thrusts intensify, and your fingers slide between your bodies to rub over your clit. You clench hard around him, a burst of heat singeing the base of your spine, and he groans into your neck with a stutter of his hips.

You cling to him as the pleasure rises, teeth sinking into the meat of his shoulder.

And then you’re cumming. It comes on fast, slams into you with a force that steals your breath, and Leon crushes you against his chest as he weathers the rhythmic fluttering of your cunt. Grinds his hips into yours as you milk him.

When the last of the aftershocks finish, you barely manage a breath before he kisses you again. Devoid of heat, a slowness both languid and loving.

He pulls away long enough to whisper, “Thank you,” against your lips.

You smile.

.

.

.

Your video with Leon is a resounding success, garnering you new followers and subscribers after posting the teaser on twitter. People compliment your chemistry, how comfortable you seemed around one another. Some speculate that you’re dating. Others beg for you to work with him again.

Leon comes over the night after you post the video to read the comments, and you spend the next few hours combing through the best ones.

hybridscreamer07: i could see ur pussy clenching when u came... so hot kitty xoxo

sabrina_daniels73: MORE OF THIS PLS!!! i love seeing couples make porn together :)))

titsandass.fan replying to sabrina*_daniels73**: are u new??? theyre not a couple dumb fuvk*

aquaticcrage: mmmmm idk which person i'd rather be

And then you have a talk, curled up in your comfy bed, some youtube video droning in the background. He had brought over some wine coolers to celebrate, and you're both halfway through the second one before he sets it on the nightstand and turns to you.

“I was wondering something.” His timidness makes a return, cheeks blooming into a deep blush.

“I’m listening.”

“So… was that a one-time thing?”

You curl up against him, resting your cheek on his shoulder. “Did you want it to be?”

Anxiety pierces your chest, strips your soul raw. You liked the sex. A lot. Fantasized so much about it that you feared he could never compare, but being with him was better than any thought conjured by your brain. But most importantly, you like him. Like spending time with him, and seeing him naked, and his smile, and his cooking. Such mundane things, yet you can’t imagine living without them.

He swallows thick. Says, “No.”

You can breathe again.

“Good. I don’t either.”

He blinks down at you, lips parting in surprise. And then, as if the words finally register, his face softens. “How soon is too soon?”

“We can start right now.” You move to straddle his hips, slipping your fingers beneath his shirt.

“You don’t have your camera.”

You press a kiss to the purpled bruise on his shoulder, blotted in the shape of your teeth. “We don’t need one.”

[suhsweet]

for halloween ⟡ kmg

wc: 3097 | pair: bf!mingyu x afab!reader | genre: smut, 18+ (minors go away) | tags: horror movie mentions, brief mention of gore (in relation to horror movie), living room sex, netflix & chill, size kink, fingering, reader has medium to long hair

summary: “I want to see if we can fuck each others’ brains out, so good to the point that we forget that there’s a scary movie playing right in front of us.”

authors note: sorry, i’ve been away for forever. with halloween coming up, i rushed this to get it out in time. it's not the best, but please enjoy <3

“Kim Mingyu, we are not spending our Saturday night watching a horror movie out of all things.”

“Sure we are, for Halloween.”

You smack a palm against your forehead, watching your stupid boyfriend flick through stupid Netflix on the stupid TV to search for a stupid horror movie. The options flick past, each movie poster looking more creepy and gruesome than the last.

“You forgot the biggest issue here. We both hate horror movies. We don’t like horror.”

“I know, but I think I might come to love it after tonight,” Mingyu smirks to himself and he waves you over towards him.

“Why do you think that?” Your eyes narrow, watching your soon-to-be-dumped boyfriend choose a film that you didn’t bother to learn the name of. As the screen goes black, the movie poster remains in your mind. All you remember are the blood splatters on the main character’s face, and the shadowy figure behind them.

The image brings about a chill down your spine, causing you to spin around and start heading for your shared bedroom. “Nope. Actually, don’t worry. Enjoy your movie! I’m just gonna hide here for the next hour and forty five minutes...”

“Baby no!” Mingyu laughs and you hear him follow you.

The heavy slap of his house slippers rapidly follow you as you speed away, a squeal threatening to escape your throat. Nevertheless, you're effortlessly scooped up into his arms bridal style.

Maybe if you close your eyes and go limp like a dead fish he’ll change his mind… You give up on fighting your boyfriend's strong hold, allowing your head to flop backward and your arms to your sides.

Entering the living room once more, Mingyu's laughter echoes throughout the apartment. Still holding you in his arms, he falls onto the plush sofa causing the both of you to let out a simultaneous ‘oomph’.

He keeps you sideways on his lap, one arm braced around your waist. He fusses over you, brushing your hair out of your face as he acts oblivious to your squirming.

You're trying your best to wriggle your way out of this cage of yummy tanned skin and muscle before he presses play on the movie. “Let me goooooo!”

“No!” Mingyu grunts, and if you thought his hold was tight enough, he pulls you in even tighter.

After three minutes of Mingyu chuckling at your poor attempts of escape, you eventually give up. It's times like these that you remember that he goes to the gym everyday, and never fails to meet his target protein intake. With him sitting down, you also forget he looms over you like a skyscraper. Fighting him is impossible.

You pout, crossing your arms with a soft, "Hmmph."

Mingyu gives a satisfied whoop as he settles you in his arms. Your attempts of appearing annoyed with him immediately dissolves as the ominous music grows louder.

Suddenly, the lamp beside your sofa switches off. Apart from the TV itself, it was the main source of light in the otherwise dark room. Your head whips over to see Mingyu in the process of retracting his hand from the switch, a devilish grin on his face.

“Where is my boyfriend!?” You practically wail. “My Mingyu wouldn’t even look at the horror section on Netflix!”

Mingyu just chuckles to himself. You bury your face in his chest, and wrap your arms around his neck. The beginnings of the jump-scares and screaming starts, and you feel the thrum of your pulse quicken.

Mingyu coos at you and begins to rub his hand across your back rhythmically. His other hand cradles your head to him. His lips softly press kisses into your hair, slowly trailing down to your temple, cheek, jaw, and then your neck. The kisses gradually go from sweet and brief, to slow and burning. You can hear his lips coming into contact with your skin, and the soft suction of his mouth.

“Mingyu…” You clench the fabric of his hoodie in your fist.

“I had a thought,” he says, completely ignoring you.

“Something you should stop doing after this,” you grumble. Being scared and horny is a weird and unfamiliar sensation.

Mingyu chuckles softly. The light touch of the back of his pointer finger tickles your cheek. You notice the way his eyes become half-lidded, hypnotized. “I want to see if we can fuck each others’ brains out, so good to the point that we forget that there’s a scary movie playing right in front of us..”

A shocked laugh bubbles up inside of you. It takes you a second to process the unexpected turn of events. “For Halloween?”

“Yup,” the side of his mouth quirks up slightly as your eyes meets his.

“You better make me scream louder than her,” you point your finger to the TV screen where all sorts of terror is occurring to the main character.

Mingyu kisses up and down your jaw once more, his fingers gripping your sides as if wondering whether to rip off your clothes or take them off intact. “I’ll try my best, baby.”

Suddenly upright and straddling Mingyu’s lap, your fingers snake through your lover’s hair. Through your lashes, you delight in the way he completely succumbs himself to your touch. Like he's happy to take anything that you'll give him, his head is tilted backwards and his eyes are shut.

Mingyu is chasing your lips when you pull back from the kiss, refusing to have your faces more than an inch away from the other. You’re about to tease his dopey expression when the back of your head is held in place by his hand, and his lips are back on yours. Your teeth clash briefly before you find your rhythm, his tongue teasing your own. And all while this is happening, he’s humping up into you.

“How am I already pussy drunk and I haven’t even taken your clothes off?” Mingyu whispers into your ear, nipping the lobe before kissing your neck. He’s licking stripes, making marks, and worshipping the skin where your jaw and neck meet. The sensation has your toes curling and your eyes screwing shut.

“Min…gyu,” you sigh out. Your hands steady themselves on his firm shoulders and you begin to grind against his heavy bulge. He watches in amazement, lazily palming your breast and breathing heavily.

You’ve always loved the sounds that Mingyu makes when you fuck. His raspy voice was already attractive, but in bed? When it’s heavy with lust and need for only you? It’s fucking heavenly.

“So, so pretty,” Mingyu sighs, eyes rolling when your hips move a certain way. You pause to reach under the waistband of his black sweats, easily finding his arousal.

His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the shape of your bottom lip. You immediately catch it in your mouth and start sucking it like you would a lollypop. Your tongue in particular starts drawing patterns on the pad of this thumb. Mingyu’s gaze seems to grow darker as he watches you.

Immediately he retracts his hand, and starts stripping you of your shirt. You help take off the last of it off your body while Mingyu eagerly latches his mouth onto your chest, a hand greedily grabbing and squeezing the one that doesn’t have the attentions of his tongue.

You’re the one holding his head close this time. You watch Mingyu with his mouth on your tits, licking and sucking as if you’re his life source. He looks completely drunk on you, focused on worshipping your body. Your sounds encourage him to reach down into your pants, nudging away your panties to find your slick folds.

His fingers outline the folds of your pussy, then focus on your clit. You hum with approval as he starts drawing circles on the little nub. You feel him go back to tasting your tits, switching between kissing your neck and whispering dirty things into your ear.

“Your fingers… Fuck,” you pant. “I’m gonna-”

“I know baby,” Mingyu takes in your expressions with a satisfied smirk. His fingers speed up, pressing firmly. He pulls your head down to kiss you, wanting to feel you moan against his lips as you cum.

And you do; with your lips pressed to Mingyu’s, holding onto his shoulders as you buck against his fingers. His gaze burns into you, and it's so intense that if you weren’t in the middle of an orgasm, you would’ve blushed furiously.

As you come down from your high, Mingyu's there to hold you steady. You lazily kiss him, telling him thanks with your tongue and soft moans. His fingers dive into your hair, making your pretty tresses snake around his fingers. He plays with the ends of the strands just as you pull away and start to get on your knees.

"What're you doing?" He whines, hands gripping your arms firmly.

You frown. "Returning the favor."

"No, no, no," he rushes out. You're pulled back up on your feet when Mingyu unceremoniously yanks your pants down and pulls you back onto his lap. "I need you now."

You giggle at his desperation, and allow him to manhandle you. He strips himself of his shirt while you line his cock up to your pussy. You’re so close to having him stretch you out that your toes curl from anticipation.

However, after many lessons learnt you remembered to prep yourself at the last second. Effortlessly, you lean down to spit onto Mingyu’s cock, rubbing it all over the tip until it glistens.

Mingyu groans. “It’s so hot when you do that.”

You wink at him. His grip on your waist keep you steady as you slowly lower yourself. On instinct your eyes flicker to his to watch the minor changes in his expression as he feels your body take him. The softening of his eyes, the soft flare of his noise and the plush of his lips caught between his teeth.

And although the two of you have had sex enough times to know the other’s body like their own, the feeling of you bottoming out on his cock never gets old. Feeling so full, and so stretched out, nothing could feel as good as Mingyu’s heavy cock.

His eyes seem to dart across every plane on your face, wanting to take in your expressions too. You tenderly kiss him on the mouth and slowly start to move.

“Fuck…” Mingyu breathes out, his eyes fluttering closed.

As you start to work your body on his dick, Mingyu’s arms circle around your body. His trunk-like arms keep you close to him as he presses his head into your shoulder, breathing heavily and taking in your scent.

It’s so intimate, and perfect until you hear the movie and remember that it's still playing. Your attention unintentionally flickers over to the TV just in time to witness a jump scare. The sudden close up of the monster's morbid features, combined with the loud music has you squeezing Mingyu tighter, and a minor squeak leaves you as you jump in fright.

Mingyu’s perks up, alert. You briefly witness the protective side of him come out. His misplaced concern has you feeling sorry, and a small laugh escapes you.

His expression softens when he looks back at you and sees you smiling. He doesn't say anything, but his face asks you about what happened.

"I saw a jump scare," you admit, noticing your movements have slowed.

Mingyu shakes his head in mock disappointment. "Well that won't do. My theory would be proven wrong..." His warm, large hands trail upwards from your hips to your sides. His warm palms smooth over your upper back, creeping up past your shoulder blades before stopping at the curve of each of your shoulders.

You gaze up at him just as he pulls your body down onto him by your shoulders. The sudden intrusion doesn't hurt, but it makes you gasp. Suddenly feeling full brings an unfamiliar pleasure, and judging by your lover's face, he definitely loves it.

Mingyu's heavy lidded gaze never strays from your face, but he breaths heavily as he fucks up into you. His grip never weakens, even while your chanting his name, even while your legs squeeze together in an effort to halt his movements as you come. He manages to continue to fuck you regardless.

That has you forgetting about the movie in an instant.

"Holy... Fuck," you groan in between heavy breaths.

"What do you think of the movie so far?" Mingyu teases as he lifts you off of him and onto the sofa, on your back. As he covers your body with his own, you feel him tease your breasts. Each nipple is pinched, and the other even gets a little nip.

"Mmm," you gather your hair out from under you in an effort to get comfortable. You reach between your legs to reach for his cock. "What movie?"

Mingyu laughs as he slowly kisses up your chest and onto your lips. Your open mouthed kisses are interrupted by the sensation of him filling you up, and the two of you groan into each other's mouths.

"Fuck, angel," Mingyu's rasping into your mouth. He lays his right forearm down next to your head, while his other arm is next to your waist holding himself up. They both work to keep his weight from crushing you, but allows him to still feel every inch of your skin touching his own. "You don't understand how much I fucking need you."

Feeling caged in like this has you feeling so safe that you start to go delirious. Everywhere you look is Mingyu. If you look up, you'll find him watching you with your name escaping his lips like it was a prayer. If you look between your legs, you can see the silhouette of his heavy cock thrusting into you, making you feel so full. If you look to either side of you, you'd see his muscles working to keep himself up.

"So good," you gasp. He seems to agree from the way that his head dips down to kiss you. Your bottom lip gets stuck in-between his teeth as he sucks at it hungrily.

Unlike you, Mingyu isn’t caged in. He has the freedom to look anywhere but down, to avoid looking at your pretty face and increase the chances of him coming early. Yet, like magnets, his eyes can’t stray far from your pretty lips or flushed cheeks. The little sweat beads that decorate your face are his doing, just like the fucking delectable view of your breasts bouncing from his thrusts.

The possessive side of him revels in the fact that only he can see you like this. He likes that it’s because of him that you’re feeling this pleasure.

Your arms loop around his neck, tugging his head back down. Your lips meet in another round of hungry kisses. The two of you are as close of you can get, sharing the same breath, with your foreheads pressed together. Your skin is slick with sweat– his or yours, you're not sure. Mingyu looks close, and to catch up, you bring your fingers to your clit.

"Good girl," he praises. "Make sure you come with me. Come on this cock, baby."

You can't even give him a proper reply. All you can do is nod as you watch him work you both to the edge.

Without warning, you feel yourself come first and your words come out slurred. "'Gyu, 'm cummin'."

Your words act as the catalyst and Mingyu squeezes his eyes shut. He buries his head into your neck, allowing only you to hear his deep moans.

The last of your orgasms drain from the two of you, and you laugh softly up at your lover. He grins down at you, leaning in to kiss you when the final jump-scare from the movie makes itself known.

A loud screech from the movie’s demon, combined with the sharp music has you both jumping in fright. Mingyu collapse onto you, hugging your body and burying his face into your neck. You instinctively stretch your arms around his shoulders as if that would protect him from any bad guys, and you shut your eyes from seeing any more of the film.

The music changes after a few seconds, making you peek an eye open. The credits are creeping up the screen, and you let out a loud sigh as you go limp.

Mingyu’s head perks up to look at you, and then the TV. “Hey! We did it.”

You laugh, remembering the stupid theory your boyfriend came up with. Your hand rises in a hi-five to which Mingyu slaps enthusiastically.

Mingyu takes in your dopey, fucked-out expression with a toothy grin of his own. You feel him press a smattering of kisses all over your face, and then the pressure of his body rolling away from you to retrieve the TV remote. Even if it's just to turn the TV off, you whine in protest at the idea of having to separate from him so soon. You rise and attach yourself to his back like a koala would a tree.

Mingyu stands, fixing his arms into the crooks of your knees to piggyback you. He walks to your bedroom with a pep in his step. He mumbles to himself, “I won’t be able to sleep all night after that movie.”

His innocuous tone makes you laugh. “Because you were definitely focused on the movie and nothing else.”

“Yeah, yeah. It had demons and stuff.”

“Oh yeah, I remember seeing that too,” you laugh. "Did you see the thing that happened to that person at that place?"

"Oh yeah, totally," Mingyu scoffs. "I know exactly what you're talking about. Wasn't scared of that at all."

He deposits you at the foot of your bed and starts to crawl up on top of you again, his body acting as a cage once more.

The predatorial gleam in his eyes elicits a shiver from you.

“You know, I normally find it hard to fall asleep after watching scary movies too,” you say as Mingyu leans down to kiss your jaw.

Mingyu hums in interest. “Glad to hear it isn’t just me. But I know a couple things we could do to help us sleep.”

You burst out laughing at the cheesiness of it all. Mingyu looks up at you, giving you another of his precious toothy grins. You smile, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging gently. “Alright, alright, let’s get into round two already.”

[theflorasdiary]

The problem with this show are not the characters or how the episodes are made,but the writers that decided to develop a literal masterpiece into a circus.

The campaign for season two literally started with making the audience choose between team black and team green:we had two trailers,two official posters and even the actors were “divided” to promote their teams.

So they basically told us to pick a side since the beginning.

Then they procede to turn team black in the saint team:making them the victims of the patriarchy,the heroes of the story.They showed us team black as if they are more Targaryen then the other team only because they know a prophecy and use this fact to excuse them from anything they do.

They made team black loved and worshiped by the small folks after Rhaenys killed hundreds of them during her dumb and useless girl boss scene and after Rhaenyra starved them.When in the book the small folks hates Rhaenyra and her incompetence,they will literally kick her out of the city and she has to run away or they will kill her just like they did with the dragons.The small folks instead loved team green,they loved Helaena as their queen and blamed and hated Rhaenyra for her death.

They forced use to like Rhaenyra just because she is one of the main characters,pushing on her the role of strong female character that is fighting a male society and then again just because she is a woman she is excused for everything that she does.We had to sit and watch two scenes of her giving birth and two of her weddings because we needed to empathize with her.We need to see her on her dragon constantly so that we can see Daenerys resemblance.They had to make her a saint,of course she wouldn’t want to kill a child she is too good,she would never hurt Helaena,everyone is loyal to her and she can do no wrong.They even took down Nettles to not show us Rhaenyra racism and the way she wanted to have a little girl killed because her pedo uncle-husband was rumored to be her lover.

On the other side we have team green that was completely dehumanized,stripped down of every good aspects they had in the book,changing and canceling everything.

We had never saw Alicent give birth to children that came to her out of marital rapes,we also did not see her getting married as a child bride to a man that will abuse her.Apparently the love of her life is Rhaenyra instead that her own children,she betrays them and her own side of the family in favor of her ex best friend that didn’t do anything to help her in the past and instead laughed in her face about her trauma.They keep telling that Alicent has never sacrificed anything when she has sacrificed her all life for duty and family unlike Rhaenyra.

Healena is totally marginal as the “weird bug girl” that just rants things out.She was a dragon rider that enjoyed being with her dragon Dreamfyre,yet in the show apparently she doesn’t like that.Even her dragon legacy was taken by team black,because now Dany dragon eggs comes from Syrax.In Viserys last days Helaena used to visit her father with her children but again this was taken from her and put on Rhaenyra instead.She was also stripped down of her coronation,of the way she was loved as a queen and how Aegon made sure that she was remembered as the true queen during the dance.They took from her the grief and mourning of her son one of the things that will literally drove her to death,because only Rhaenyra can cry her son and no one else.

Aegon was transformed into a rapist,because you can’t like him,you can only like Rhaenyra.There was no scene of him and Sunfyre beside the battle of Rook’s Rest,they have the strongest bond between a dragon and a dragon rider,he loved Sunfyre to the point he changed the family sigil to a golden dragon.They took down his will to fight,his family support and loyalty to him,his rage as a father that had lost his son.They took two of his sons,because Maelor do not exist and now he can’t have any more children because in the show he had lost his penis.They made him useless and pushed him on the sidelines in his own story.

I still don’t understand why they had to make Aemond betray his brother when in the book he was loyal to him,also in the book there was no indication of Aegon bullying him so again i don’t understand why choose this path.Daemon had a “redemption arc” after his betrayal one but of course Aemond can’t,only team black can.

Criston Cole is portrayed as an angry incel that still hates one woman that coerced him into having sex with her after he told her no multiple times.So much wasted potential in this character,when in the book he was one of the masterminds of team green,convinced Aegon to take the crown,took care of Sunfyre and served his king just right.

Daeron…sorry who?What do you mean that there is a third brother?I just know that his character will be completely destroyed,he probably will be a bastard with dark hair and we already won’t have the Maelor storyline for him,we definitely won’t see him making Ser Hugh and Ulf change sides or any of his victories with Tessarion.He will probably be marginalized like he already is,because again you can only like team black and only them can have the best.

How can you “pick a side” like they desperately want you to do,when they do shit like this?Literally forcing you to like team black because they are paint as the saints/good guys and assassinated every good thing about team green?

Keep telling me that this show is not team black propaganda and that’s is fair like this.

[hainge]

Makeup and fun!

bllk!dads feat:Michael Kaiser, Itoshi Sae, Shidou Ryusei, Yukimiya Kenyu and Chigiri Hyoma a/n: I am in fact so proud of chigiri's one adhabdahbfhj wrote it while kicking my feet it’s also almost 2am </3 productive life

Michael Kaiser

It started off normal.

Michael was on the couch, reading a book with one leg up, while Matilda sat beside him, munching on an apple and staring at him like he might suddenly turn into a movie.

They’d built Legos earlier, some weird-looking castle that had two doors and no windows. Matilda was proud. Michael was too tired to point out the structural flaws.

Then, she disappeared for five minutes.

When she came back, she held a makeup bag.

“Let’s do your makeup,” she said cheerfully.

Michael looked over his book. “Don’t you wanna draw or something?”

“Nope. You sit still. I’ll make you beautiful.”

“…I’m already beautiful.”

“You’ll be more.”

He sighed, marking his page. “I don’t think your mom will be happy if she finds out.”

“I’ll be careful.”

That was a lie. But she said it with such confidence, he let it slide.

Ten minutes in, Matilda had broken the mascara wand clean in half. She gasped, whispered “oh no,” and then used her fingers instead. It was clumpy. His lashes stuck together like tree branches after a storm.

She moved on.

Her tiny hands dug into a fancy compact, blush, probably, and then she scooped concealer with the same finger. She didn’t blend. She smooshed. Right onto his cheek.

“There,” she said. “Nice and red. Like a tomato.”

“Cool,” Michael muttered, trying not to blink.

Next came lipstick. It snapped halfway through the first layer. She shrugged and pushed the broken part into his lips like she was applying glue to a poster.

“I’m so good at this.”

“You are,” he agreed, because lying to your kid was allowed when they were already emotionally attached to the outcome.

Then came the eyebrow gel.

Except it wasn’t gel anymore. She mixed it with something else. Foundation? Water? Guilt?

Whatever it was, it ended up smeared across his eyebrows like brown glue. He scratched his head and instantly regretted it.

And then… the powder.

It slipped from her hand with a soft “uh-oh” and hit the floor like a mini explosion. €45, gone in a puff of shimmer.

They both stared at it.

“Don’t move,” she whispered. “We clean.”

They wiped, dusted, swept. Matilda even used one of his old soccer jerseys to soak up some of the fallout. When they were done, the room was cleaner than before.

They sat in silence. Michael looked like a defeated clown.

Matilda smiled. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks. I can’t feel my face.”

You came home already done with the day.

Work had been hell. Your boss was passive-aggressive, your back ached, and all you wanted was to put on your comfiest sweatshirt and exist in silence for twenty minutes without being needed.

Instead, you opened the bathroom door.

And paused.

The first thing you noticed was the powder. It was subtle, but your trained eyes caught it, the faint shimmer near the baseboards, the slightly off-color grout line.

Your heart sank.

Then came the rest.

The cracked blush compact. Your favorite lipstick, snapped in two like a breadstick. Foundation cap missing. Concealer and blush mixed. Mascara, twisted open and dried out. Your setting powder? Gone. Vaporized. You didn’t even want to touch it.

You stood there, gripping the doorframe, jaw tight.

They touched your stuff.

You stormed down the hallway, shoes still on, bag still hanging from one shoulder. No greeting. No preamble. You walked into the living room and-

There he was.

Michael. Your grown-ass husband. Lying on the couch like he hadn’t committed a war crime. Face full of smeared glitter, eyebrows suspiciously sticky, and faint remnants of fuchsia lipstick in the corner of his mouth.

He looked up, blinking innocently. “Hey.”

Your hands clenched into fists. “Michael.”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you look like a rejected Bratz doll?”

He straightened slightly. “Okay, first of all, that’s rude.”

You dropped your bag onto the floor with a thud. “What. Did. You. Do.”

From behind the couch, a small head popped up. “Hi Mommy!”

Matilda.

You exhaled through your nose. “What. Did she do to you?”

“I was her model,” Michael said, a bit too proudly.

“And my makeup?” you snapped.

Michael hesitated. “She… borrowed it.”

“You LET her?”

“She said she’d be careful!”

“She's FIVE, Michael!”

Matilda slowly slid out of view.

You marched into the middle of the room, pointing toward the hallway. “Did you not see the broken blush? The mascara? My €45 setting powder? It’s a war zone in there.”

Michael had the nerve to look slightly offended. “We cleaned.”

“I don’t care if you vacuumed it with a Dyson on holy mode. My entire routine is in pieces.”

Matilda peeked back up, holding a Lego brick like a peace offering. “We made a castle?”

You turned back to Michael. “You know what else you made? A €124 shopping list.”

He winced.

“Oh, and you’re not just replacing the makeup,” you added. “You’re explaining to the Sephora cashier why you need glitter-resistant setting spray and a blush called 'Super orgasm'”

He sighed. “Do I have to say the shade name out loud?”

“Oh, you’ll say it. Loud and proud.”

Matilda tugged at your sleeve. “Mommy… am I grounded?”

You crouched down, voice soft but firm. “Matilda, sweetie, I love you. But if you touch my serum again, I’ll file a restraining order.”

Michael cleared his throat. “Does that go for me too?”

You glared at him. “Michael, if you so much as look at my mascara again, I swear to God—”

He stood up quickly. “Matilda. Shoes. Let’s go.”

“Where?” she asked.

“To sell a kidney,” he muttered. “Apparently I owe your mom half of Sephora.”

Itoshi Sae

Sae should’ve known better the moment Kimiko came into the room with her hands on her hips like a CEO.

“Daddy,” she announced, “I’m going to be a makeup artist when I grow up.”

Sae didn’t look up from the TV. “That so?”

“I already made a lookbook. I call this one ‘Sun Princess.’” She shoved a paper into his face. It was a crayon drawing of a girl with gold eyeshadow and orange cheeks, wearing what looked like a tiara made of eyeliner pens.

Sae blinked. “Looks... bright.”

She nodded. “Yup. And now you’re going to wear it.”

He slowly turned his head. “Come again?”

“We’re trying it. On your face. With Mommy’s makeup.”

Sae closed his book. “That’s not going to happen.”

She squinted at him. “Do you want to hurt my dreams, Daddy?”

“…no"

“Sit down. I already laid out the palette.”

He sighed, like a man heading into war. “Just the eyeshadow. Nothing else.”

Kimiko was already tying a towel around his neck like a cape. “Sure, sure.”

An hour later, he’d lost all control of the situation.

The “just eyeshadow” plan had escalated fast.

“Stop frowning. You’re creasing it,” she scolded, dabbing more gold onto his lids with a tiny sponge she kept calling her “power blender.”

He didn’t dare move.

“I said close your eyes. But not too tight. Ugh, Daddy, this is hard work. I’m building a brand here.”

Sae said nothing. His cheeks were burning, not emotionally, physically. Kimiko had layered on so much blush, he could feel it tingling. Not to mention the bronzer, which she’d called “spicy powder” and generously applied all over his jawline and cheekbones.

“Looking good,” she muttered to herself, smudging one wing of eyeliner with the grace of a chaotic Picasso. One side is snatched. The other is... interpretive.

“I can’t feel my skin,” he said.

“You don’t need to. You’re art.”

He looked in the mirror. Orange undertone. Flamingo blush. Uneven eyeliner. But no products broken. No brushes destroyed. She even cleaned the sponge after each shade change. Honestly? She had technique.

Still. He felt like a baked sweet potato.

You came home to this masterpiece.

Kicked off your shoes, dropped your bag, walked into the living room and just stopped. Your tired brain tried to process the sight:

Your husband. Sitting rigid on the couch. Bronzed to oblivion. Eyeliner tragic. Sparkle highlight catching the light like a prism. And your daughter, hands on hips, nodding at her own handiwork.

“...Sae,” you said slowly. “What the hell is on your face?”

“She’s living her dream,” he deadpanned.

Kimiko spun around. “Mommy, look! He’s the Sun Princess! I even did contour but like… experimental.”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh. “Oh wow. Oh my God. Your nose contour looks like… like a lightning bolt.”

“On purpose,” Kimiko said. “It’s called editorial chaos.”

You pulled out your phone. “Hold still. This is going on the family group chat.”

“Don’t,” Sae muttered.

“Say cheese, Sun Princess.”

He didn’t even blink. Just stared, cheeks blazing with artificial color as you snapped five photos in a row.

“I hope you realize this is revenge,” you grinned. “For letting her eat frosting with a spoon last week.”

Kimiko raised her hand. “I approve this revenge.”

Shidou Ryusei

You should’ve known something was wrong the moment the house was quiet.

Too quiet.

No screaming. No running. No Shidou yelling about “epic snack time” or your daughter humming off-key to anime openings. Just… silence.

Until you stepped inside the room you shared with him, and saw it.

The ring light was on. Your makeup bag was open. And right in front of the camera, posed with one hip popped and fake lashes batting like palm leaves in a storm, was your husband.

Ryusei. In full glam.

And beside him, perched on a pink stool like a gremlin beauty influencer, was Shoko, holding a lip gloss wand like a weapon of mass destruction.

They both turned around, eyes wide.

“Hope you gu—” you started, then just froze. “What is going on?”

A beat of silence.

Then: “Welcome back to our channel,” Shidou grinned, glitter highlighter blinding under the ring light. Shoko struck a pose.

An Hour Earlier

They were sitting on the couch, halfway through watching cursed 5-Minute Crafts videos, when a tutorial for “Easy Lip Gloss in 60 Seconds” played.

Shidou squinted at it. Something in his brain clicked. Telepathically, Shoko gasped beside him.

They locked eyes.

“Let’s do a GRWM,” Shidou said.

“Yesssss,” Shoko whispered. “Get. Ready. With. Me.”

“Camera?”

“Charging.”

“Lighting?”

“Ring light from the closet.”

“Angle?”

“Front-facing and flawless.”

“Makeup?”

“…Mommy’s drawer.”

They fist-bumped.

The transformation was chaos, but organized chaos. Shoko, a menace with a mission, directed him like a six-year-old Spielberg.

“Okay Daddy, sit still. I’m doing the liner.”

“Sharp enough to kill a man?”

“Sharp enough to stab my opps.”

“Hell yeah.”

She narrated everything in a dramatic little Voiceover. “Okay guysss… so like, first we’re priming…what's primer again?…wait nevermind.”

Ryusei couldn’t stop grinning. He even helped her blend the concealer like a pro. Who knew he had technique?

And then—

“Time for the… the bonze,” Shoko announced proudly.

“Bronzer, pumpkin,” he corrected.

“Yes, that.”

She smeared it directly on his nose, no mercy. “DAMN, sweetie,” he said, wheezing.

They tried lashes. Took three tries. The glue got on his eyebrow. He may have lost some dignity but they made it work.

“Okay now do the final pose,” Shoko directed. “Look over the shoulder, then wink.”

Ryusei turned slowly to the camera, lashes flapping like moth wings. He winked. Then fake gasped.

That’s when you walked in.

Back to Present

You just stood there, blinking at the sight: Your grown-ass husband, with fuchsia blush, eyeliner wings that could lift a small bird, and lips shimmering in your limited edition gloss. Your daughter looking like she just conquered the runway.

They looked back at you with identical wide, guilty eyes.

“…Is that my Charlotte Tilbury lipstick?” you asked.

“Allegedly,” Shidou said.

“Those are my fake lashes,” you added, stepping closer.

Shoko giggled. “They’re Dad’s now.”

You blinked at them, speechless.

Then you started laughing, really laughing, because what else could you do when your husband looked like a drag queen who'd been coached by a sugar-fueled child?

“Pose again,” you said, pulling out your phone. “I’m not letting this go undocumented.”

Shoko threw up peace signs. Shidou did the duck lips. You died a little inside, and lived.

Yukimiya Kenyu

The house was calm. The kind of calm that only happened when the laundry was folded, the sun was setting, and the soft sound of your snoring floated from the couch nearby, finally getting the nap you'd been threatening to take all week.

Yukimiya sat on the bed beside a basket of warm clothes, folding neatly, rhythmically, while Emi matched socks and chatted like a little bird.

“daddy,” she said suddenly, “can I do your makeup after this?”

He paused mid-fold. “Hmm… I don’t know, sweetie. Mommy doesn’t want anyone near her vanity.”

She tilted her head, already pouting. “But I got all A’s on my tests.”

He exhaled, long and slow, but smiled. He was a weak man for his daughter, especially when her bangs fell over her eyes and her lip wobbled.

“Fine,” he said, setting the shirt down. “But we have to be quick. And we cannot—cannot—destroy anything.”

“Deal!” she beamed.

They tiptoed toward your vanity like two burglars in a heist movie. Emi took it very seriously. She had laid out each product like surgical tools. Yukimiya helped her sort everything, identifying brushes and palettes like a trained professional.

“Okay, this is foundation. Use the sponge gently. Don’t drag it.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“This is for your cheeks. A little goes a long way.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“This is highlighter, but—oh. You already opened it. Okay.”

By the time she was done, he looked like a K-pop idol. Skin glowing. Blush soft and natural. Lashes curled and coated delicately. His lips were still untouched, waiting.

“Now lipstick, Daddy,” Emi said with deadly calm.

“Wait—be gentle with that, the twisty part is—”

PRESS.

Too late.

She had shoved the lipstick halfway into his teeth with full first-grade determination. The tube cracked sideways under the pressure, smearing bright coral across his chin.

“…Sweetie,” he whispered, frozen. “Oh no. Oh no no no-”

“What’s wrong?”

“You broke Mommy’s favorite lipstick.”

Emi gasped. “Oh no. We were doing so well.”

“Ken…”

Both of them stiffened.

Your sleepy voice cut through the silence like a horror soundtrack.

You stepped into the room, blinking through your post-nap fog. You rubbed your eyes and froze.

There he was.

Yukimiya Kenyu, crouched beside your vanity. Eyes sparkly. Cheeks glowing. Coral lipstick half on, half under his mouth. Your daughter standing next to him, looking like she’d just murdered Barbie.

“Are you with…” you squinted harder, “what the…”

Yukimiya smiled with all the grace he could muster. “She got all A’s.”

You stared at him.

Then at your lipstick.

Then back at him.

“…You better pray that wasn’t my favorite-”

You blinked. Took a second look.

“…Actually, you know what? I always hated that shade. Looked weird on me. Makes sense it ends up working on you, of course.”

Yukimiya raised an eyebrow. Emi beamed.

“We slayed Mommy,” she said proudly.

You sighed, rubbing your face. “Yeah, yeah, you slayed, whatever. But next time? Ask me first.”

Yukimiya held up a tissue in surrender. “Noted.”

“I need coffee before I decide how mad I am.”

Yukimiya mouthed “thank god” and immediately started wiping his lips with a tissue. Emi was already trying to hide the broken lipstick under the table like a criminal.

Chigiri Hyoma

The night started peacefully.

You were out with your friends, finally letting yourself breathe. A girls' night, long overdue. You left the twins with Chigiri, who had promised you nothing catastrophic would happen while you were gone.

Promises are just... words, really.

8:43 PM – Chigiri's Living Room

“UNO,” Chigiri said flatly, dropping a +4 on Mayu with zero remorse.

Mayu’s face crumpled. “…Not fair.”

Himari let out the most dramatic sigh in the history of sighs. “I’m bored. Can we do something else?”

Chigiri leaned back against the couch. “Like what?”

She looked around. Scanned. Calculated. And then, there it was.

Your mascara.

Sitting innocently on the coffee table. Taunting fate.

“Makeup,” Himari declared. “On you, Dad.”

Chigiri didn’t even flinch. “Not a good idea.”

“Daaaaaad.”

“Not a goooood ideaaaaa.”

“If you don’t let us, I’ll tell Mommy about the vase you broke when you kicked the ball inside the house.”

He paused.

“…Fine. Fineeeee. But both of you get one side. We’re splitting my face. Equal rights.”

9:12 PM – The War Zone

Chigiri sat cross-legged on the floor, every cell in his body screaming, “This is how legends die.”

Mayu, gentle and focused, handled the left side of his face with unexpected grace. She actually blended.

“Good job, Mayu,” he mumbled.

Himari was on a different planet.

“Noooo, don’t move, you’re gonna ruin my art!”

“Why does it feel like you're stabbing me?”

“Beauty is pain, Daddy.”

And then, suddenly-

“...What are you drawing?”

“Nothing.”

Pause.

“Is that-HIMARI--”

“SHHHH.”

She had drawn a dick on his cheek. In eyeliner.

Where a blush contour should be.

��Where did you even learn what that is?!”

“I have bros in my class.”

1:34 AM – The Aftermath

When you walked through the door, the house was oddly quiet. The lights were low. Peaceful.

You tiptoed to your room and found all three of them curled up in your bed, the twins tucked under each arm of your very unconscious husband.

But something glinted under the dim lamp light.

You leaned in.

"...Is that..."

You squinted.

"...Is that a dick on your face?!"

You slapped his shoulder in a harsh whisper. “Bae… babe. Babe! Wake up!”

“Huh—wha—” he blinked up at you like a stunned deer. “What time is it?”

You pointed furiously. “What. The hell. Is this?!”

He wiped his cheek lazily and only smeared the eyeliner more. “Himari’s creative?”

You stared at him, then sighed and walked to the bathroom. Looked down at the toilet and...surprise! there there was your mascara, floating.

The Next Morning – Breakfast Table of Regret

You sipped your coffee, staring across the table at your husband.

He sat on the opposite end like a man on trial, face wiped clean but soul permanently stained.

“So,” you said flatly. “Want to explain why my mascara was floating in the toilet like a drowned rat?”

Chigiri cleared his throat. “In my defense… she was threatening me with blackmail.”

“And the eyeshadow mixed with concealer?”

“Himari was blending ‘like the YouTubers.’”

“And the eyeliner art?”

“…She said it was anatomically accurate. I don’t even know what that means anymore.”

You rubbed your temples.

In the corner, Mayu and Himari giggled over their cereal.

“Next time,” you muttered, “I’m hiring a babysitter. One with armor.”

[maevebabyy]

SOFT SPOT

sophia laforteza x fem reader

req! - "Sophia and fem reader (who’s also part of Katseye) where reader likes sophia but doesnt do anything about it cuz she thinks that Sophia only sees her as a friend /sister, except she also has feelings for her."

a/n - added a small twist to this anon hope that’s okay!!

wc - 2.2k

the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of your room, casting a warm glow over scattered sheets of paper and empty coffee cups. the walls are decorated with posters of some of your favourite music artists, beabadoobee’s latest album “this is how tomorrow moves” playing softly in the background. your desk is cluttered with notebooks, pens, your trusty guitar laying down beside you on your bed, waiting for you to play it again.

you sat cross-legged in your chair, your notebook in front of you, the pages filled with messy scrawls and half-formed ideas. you tap your pencil continuously against your chin, deep in thought, trying to find the perfect lines to use for lyrics for your group’s upcoming comeback.

“okay, think,” you murmur to yourself, glancing at the window where the last rays of sunlight illuminated the room. “what do i wanna say?”

you let out a soft groan, frustrated as you scribble out a line about longing. you toss your pencil aside, and lean back against the chair, letting out a deep sigh. what if i wrote about friendship? about how strong our bond is? but then, another thought crossed your mind– what if i made it more personal?

as you sat on the idea some more, your thoughts eventually drifted to sophia– the way her laughter brightened even the worst days, how her support made you feel invincible, and the friendly glances she’d give you that sent your heart racing. you felt your cheeks redden at the thought, but quickly shake your head, trying to refocus.

just then, there as a soft knock at the door, and it swung open to reveal sophia, holding your favourite snack in one hand and the same bright smile on her face that made your heart swoon. “hey, i thought you might need a little snack,” she said, stepping into the room.

you felt your heart skip a beat, this girl was a literal angel. “sophia, you didn’t have to.”

the filipina shrugged, her eyes sparkling. “i know you’ve been working hard on the lyrics. you need to eat something.”

at sophia’s words, you feel a rush of warmth spread through you, your earlier frustrations easily dismantled and fading. “thanks, soph.”

sophia grinned at your thank you, sitting down on the edge of your bed. “no problem, i need to make sure everyone’s doing well anyway. what’re you working on?”

“just some ideas for our comeback,” you say, trying to sound casual. “but i’m stuck.”

she leans in loser, peering at the notebook. “can i see?”

you feel yourself hesitate, how could you possibly show your lyrics to the girl you were thinking of while writing them? “uh, it’s a bit of a mess though…”

“that’s fine, i just wanna help out a little!” sophia spoke excitedly, her smile bright.

damn, how could you say no to that?

with a reluctant smile, you hand over your notebook. “don’t judge too harshly yet,” you chuckle, “i’m not done cooking.”

the filipina scanned the scribbles written down in your notebook, her brow furrowing in concentration. “this part here is interesting. it sounds like you’re writing about someone important.”

you feel yourself swallow, nervous. “it’s just about friendship… i think.”

sophia shoots you a teasing look, “you think?”

“okay, maybe not i think.” you laugh lightly, “but i’m trying write a song about feelings in general y’know?” you fidget lightly, pointing to a specific line. ‘don’t like anybody, tell me why it’s different with you.’

the 2002 girl tilted her head, a playful grin on her lips. “you sure this isn’t about anybody in mind?”

you feel your face flush at sophia’s remark, “no, no. just feelings in general. like i said.” you didn’t wanna risk sophia finding out, but you swear you could see a flicker of disappointment in her eyes as you said that.

sophia huffed lightly, putting on a light smile. “okay, okay. whatever you say.” she continued reading some lyrics, before pointing to one. “here, read this line: ‘i don’t say it much ‘cause i just always thought you knew.’ that’s pretty relatable.”

that lyric continues onto the next part, ‘it’s what you do to me, i’m wrapped around your finger and it can’t stop.’ 

you sigh, seeing the empty after that line, “this is where i’m stuck. i just can’t find the right words to finish it.”

sophia nodded thoughtfully beside you, giggling lightly. “i thought i’d be more help but i’m stuck too, y/n. but from the looks of it, it looks like you've got everything already.”

you roll your eyes lightly, chuckling, “yeah, everything except for the finishing line.”

sophia gets up from your bed, “you’ve already set a good momentum for the rest of the song, y/n. i think the next part should just really come from the heart.”

with those last words, sophia left your room, closing the door gently behind her.

-

a few days had passed since sophia last saw your lyrics. the group’s weekly movie night tradition was tonight, and it was yours and sophia’s turn to grab snacks for the group. you thought about what she said last time, ‘i think the next part should just really come from the heart.’

pulling into the convenience store parking lot, you parked the car and took a deep breath, the scent of vanilla and lavender wafting through your nose from sophia’s perfume. the sun had long set, leaving the city bathed in a soft glow from street lamps and shop signs. you could feel the slight chill in the air, a reminder that autumn was settling in.

sophia unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, her energy palpable as she stepped out into the night. but as you joined her, you noticed how she seemed to slow down, a calmness enveloping her in the quieter atmosphere.

“ready to pick out some snacks?” she asked, her voice warm and inviting, but with a relaxed cadence that felt right for the moment.

“absolutely,” you replied, feeling a smile creep onto your face. together, you walked toward the entrance, the flickering neon lights reflecting off the glass doors. inside, the air was warm, a nice contrast to the cool and crisp breeze of the night.

the store was mostly quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of a shopper in the distance. you could feel the weight of the day lifting off your shoulders as you moved through the aisles, the familiarity of the store easing any lingering tension.

“let’s start with chips,” sophia suggested, her tone casual as she walked beside you. you both gravitated toward the snack aisle, the shelves stocked with vibrant bags of chips and popcorn.

“what do you think about these?” you asked, holding up a bag piattos, a favourite of sophia’s.

“perfect choice,” she nodded, her voice soothing, as she smiled softly. “but we should probably get some doritos too.”

as you tossed the two bags of chips into the basket, sophia’s eyes scanned the shelves. “oh, we gotta get popcorn, i think we ran out last time.” 

“salty or sweet?’

“why not both?” sophia grins, putting in two bags of popcorn into the basket as well.

the two of you continued shopping for snacks that the entire group would enjoy, your basket gradually filling with an assortment of treats. after a final sweep of the aisles, you headed toward the checkout, the basket now brimming with goodies.

once everything was paid for, you stepped back outside, the cool night hair hitting you again. the city lights illuminated your surroundings, creating a beautiful backdrop for the evening. 

“alright, let’s load these up.” you began to load the back of your car with the snacks, arranging them carefully.

sophia joined you, lifting a bag of chips with a playful grin. “snack strength training,” she joked, pretending to lift it like a weight.

you laugh softly, shaking your head at sophia’s antics, continuing to put the snacks inside. once everything was accounted for, you both got into your car, with you settling into the driver’s seat. the engine hummed softly back to life, and you puled out of the parking lot, merging onto the quiet streets.

the drive back felt serene. the soft tunes of ariana grande’s vocals filled the car, with sophia obviously on aux. the city lights flickered past like fireflies, and you could feel a sense of peace washing over you.

“so, what’s on the movie lineup tonight?” sophia asked, glancing over at you, her eyes reflecting curiosity.

“manon has picks for tonight.” you chuckle softly, “knowing her, i think she’ll make us watch twilight tonight.”

-

like you expected, you were now watching the entire twilight saga for your group movie night, courtesy of manon. you were sitting on the edge of the couch, a bowl of caramel popcorn nestles in your lap, while sophia sat beside you, laughing at the cheesy lines.

“i can’t believe she just jumped off that cliff,” daniela exclaims, her eyes wide with disbelief. “like, really? is that how you solve your problems?”

“seriously! just talk to someone,” lara pipes in, rolling her eyes dramatically.

sophia nudged you with her shoulder, giggling. “I can see why twilight is a must see now.”

as the film progressed, the atmosphere shifted slightly, the warm glow of the tv flickered, casting shadows around the room, and you could see that sophia was slowly drifting. her head began to lean against your shoulder, her breathing softening.

“hey, don’t fall asleep on me, i can’t do this without your commentary.” you whisper playfully, but the words barely made it past your lips as her eyes fluttered shut.

a few moments later, you noticed her peaceful breathing, a cute and comforting sound that filled the space. you smiled, knowing she had fully succumbed to sleep.

you didn’t want to disturb her, but you also knew she wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping on the couch.

“hey, i’ll be right back,” you whispered to the others, who gave you a nod or a thumbs up.

you carefully lifted the sleeping girl, her arms wrapping around your neck, holding on tightly, at the action, you could feel the eyes of your fellow members on you two, giggling lightly. “so gentlewomanly of you, y/n” megan teases.

you ignore the teasing remarks of your members as you made your way to her room, carrying her securely, the nervous flutter in your stomach going crazy.

once inside, you laid her gently on the bed, but she tightened her grip, pulling you down beside her. “stay,” she whispered, her voice a mix of sleepiness and a hint of something more.

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your heart racing at the closeness. “alright, just for a minute,” you replied, careful to keep your tone light so as to not wake the sleeping filipina.

as you settled beside her, the warmth of her body against yours sent your heart and mind racing. “sophia,” you said, feeling the need to break the silence, “you’re kinda clingy when you sleep.”

the said girl let out a soft giggle, her eyes still fluttering closed. “i just feel safe, i guess,” she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “but seriously, your heart is beating really fast right now. are you nervous or something?”

caught off guard, you felt your cheeks heat up. “uhm, i might be a little… surprised?” you stammered, not sure how to not give yourself away completely.

sophia’s eyes finally opened fully, and she turned to look at you, her gaze steady and warm. “you know,” she said, her voice softening, as if she was letting you in on a secret. “i’ve got a soft spot for you, y/n.”

your heart raced at her words, the warmth flooding your chest felt like something straight out of the songs you were trying to write. “i…” you started, but the words got caught in your throat. “is that so?” you finally managed, trying to sound cool, but your voice wavered.

“yeah,” she replied, her expression earnest. “i really do, you’re special to me.”

in that moment, everything felt charged with unspoken words and lingering glances. you could feel the truth of your feelings bubbling just beneath the surface, and all you wanted was to translate that into the lyrics you had struggled with for days.

“sophia,” you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice palpable. “i’ve been trying to write a song, and it’s about… well, about feelings. and you–”

before you could finish, she brushed her fingers against your cheek, silencing you just for a moment. “i know. just write what you feel, y/n. just like we talked about.”

those words hung in the air, igniting something deep within you. “you’re right. i think i know how to finish it now.”

sophia smiled, her eyes sparkling from encouragement. “good. just remember, i’ll always be your biggest fan, y/n.”

with a mix of hope and happiness, you leaned in closer, feeling the warmth of the moment envelop you both. you realized that you didn’t need to hide our feelings any longer. the lyrics were right there, waiting for you to pour your heart out.

‘you know i got a soft spot for you’

a/n - this songs been on loop LMAO

[silversurfersx]

Beautiful Man

jenson button × platonic!reader × lando norris

-in which lando is a snitch

mentioning to lando who you thought was the most beautiful f1 driver might have been a mistake

Being friends with Lando has it's ups and downs, one good thing was meeting Max Farewell and one bad thing was Lando itself. Now not to mistake the absolute joy in person Lando represents, bringing a smile to your face on several occasions, but that boy could talk. And how he loved to do exactly that.

Having an interview session with Jenson Button gave him exactly that opportunity. And with newly revealed information he just couldn't help himself. He didn't even know when it slipped out of how it came up, but it did. The fact that you were in fact standing right between him and Jenson didn't matter.

"Oh, did you know that Y/N thinks you are the hottest F1 driver." He announced smiling cheekily. His boyish face lightened up with a teasing expression. Your divers senses locked in when you realised the words and your head shot over at him. Your eyes wide and mouth agape, while you head a deep laugh from beside you, clearly coming from Jenson.

"Lando!" You called out. "What the fuck, mate?"

Joining into Jenson's laughter the british men found the whole thing hilarious, completely opposite to you, who didn't know what to feel or think. For a moment embarrassment was all that filled you, but then you became achingly aware that people were staring and if you made it embarrassing now, it would be haunting you for a lot longer than if you just pretended and played it cool.

"I mean, I take it as a compliment." Jenson said smirking at you. Playfully you shook your head, shaking off the embarrassment and turned to Lando.

"See what you did there, Lan? Now he's getting all cocky." You said in mock seriousness pointing at Jenson next to you, getting more laughs from him and Lando. You too chuckled lightly.

"How is it my fault, I was just quoting you?" Lando argued hand on his heart as you pusred your lip. "I did not say he was the hottest driver. I just said that I thought he was the most beautiful one. I mean have you seen his face?"

Jenson only smirked more at the continuing compliments, wiggling his eyebrows at the camera. From the corner of your eye you saw exactly that and a sense of regret build up in you. You could have just let the whole tying go, but as often you spoke before you thought, riding yourself further in the embarrassing situation.

Groaning internally you cursed yourself out for all the things you just said. On the outside though you tried to stay strong and not let the situation get to you. The blush on your cheeks didn't agree with your internal desicion.

"Lando, I think we should stop before Y/N dies from embarrassment. And although I am quite flattered by your very truthful confession, I think that we should probably move on." Jenson said, noticing your blushing cheeks and Lando's cheeky look as he looked at you.

"Yes!" You said almost all to eager. "Thank you Jenson!"

"Also, I am sadly in fact already married." The blonde added just to put a bit more oil in the fire of embarrassment. Groaning you put a hand on your face, hiding behind it, as Jenson chuckled and Lando giggled at you embarrassment.

But Lando wouldn't be yone of our best friends, if he didn't have something else to add. "Oh she knows. She had a funeral for the posters of you in her room when she found out."

It was a quick reaction from your side that resulted in you knocking your microphone into Lando's jewels. Smiling at the groan of paing coming from him before you turned towards Jenson who didn't quite know how to feel.

"He is lying about that part. I never had a poster of you in my room, I swear on my car." You announced to him, eyes wide a expression all serious. You needed to keep at least some of your pride. And Lando was in fact lying, about the funeral, not the posters, that was a lie from you.

Jenson looked over at Lando, holding a hand in front of the spot you hit his face in a grimace. Complementing about your possible reactions, Jenson just agreed. "I don't doubt a word you say."

He did, but he didn't say that.

[lordprettyflackotara]

noise || hoody

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. remember when i talked about this hoody fic 509 years ago? yeah here it is. also yeS i am aware masky & hoody belong to marble hornets this is the only time im going to address this💀 we are in 2024 in this fandom WE KNOW. anyways enjoy !! <3

If there was anything you could’ve changed about your life, you had a particular decision in mind.

Being a desperate college student for cash, babysitting and dog walking wasn’t paying the off the debt you were accumulating.

You had scoured Craigslist, confident that there would be an odd job you’d be able to accomplish for quick cash.

Looking back you wish you had known quick cash wouldn’t come easy.

A posting offering $5k a week fell into your lap about a week later. The details seemed easy enough. The ability to clean an older mansion, whilst keeping the identities of the multiple infamous residents that resided there a secret seemed like a piece of cake.

What the posting didn’t list, was that the infamous residents were unhinged killers. Some of which you couldn’t even categorize as human.

It also didn’t list that your position would be residing in the mansion, permanently.

Being a maid in the Slenderman mansion was, in lack of better words: fucking terrifying.

The residents operated at odd hours. No matter what time you cleaned, you always received the displeasure of running into someone.

The longer you stayed, the longer paranoia began to settle in. Ben Drowned, the poster of the Craigslist ad, was a perv. You learned to stray away from electronic devices he could peep his head through. Jeff the killer, one of the most unhinged, had a short temper. He was one of the first ones to opt out of having his room cleaned by you, a decision you silently praised after walking by and seeing how filthy it was.

The next to opt out with a demonic creature named Eyeless Jack, one who specifically requested you stay out of his medical lab. Given all of the blood and goop you had mopped up at this point, a fear of being eaten led you to offering to clean it regardless. EJ knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it, given his ‘hobbies’ were the most gore filled of the mansions residents. It didn’t surprise him when you left the lab green, puking immediately in a bucket he had placed beside the door for you.

The other members whose names you were obligated to memorize, Jane, Clockwork, Jason the something maker, all were rarely home. You learned to steer clear of Jason’s workshop, the dolls he made often speaking to you as if they had souls. The only three other residents who lived in the mansion full time (minus its owner), were what you learned to be proxies. These proxies, two of them at least, seemed to be human just like you.

Ticci Toby’s mortality was still up in the air for you. He once had tripped and fallen after you had mopped the floors, landing on the marble face first. He got up like nothing happened, giggling to himself about ‘how wet you made the floor’. After observing him throw axes in the training room, you decided to steer clear of him.

Masky seemed to be the trio’s leader, his face consistently hidden behind a doll resembling mask. He avoided you like the plague, skipping the formalities and acting as if you didn’t exist. You never asked questions, not knowing how long anyone had truly been here. But Masky in particular seemed a bit older than everyone, when you accidentally stumbled upon him coming home late one night from a mission. His nose was trailing blood, his mask broken in half. You ensured to avoid eye contact, but extended a wet washcloth to him so he could attend to his nose.

After that your dynamic remained the same for the most part. Except when both of you occupied a room together, neither of you made an effort to beeline to the door.

Hoody was the last proxy, the one that made you more at ease than the others. Hoody had spoken a grand total of maybe ten words to you, introducing himself and Masky before dashing out of the back door. The only time you really saw him was when you cleaned his room, the man doing a poor job of pretending to read magazines while you cleaned. Other than that, you only caught glimpses of the proxies when they came home in the late hours of the night from missions.

Most of the time they were soaked in blood. In a couple of odd occasions you had to assist them in carrying one another up to Eyeless Jack’s medical lab. You couldn’t figure out why the proxies were here, two humans not seeming to fit in with the rest of misfits that resided here. You had no idea soon enough you’d be up close and personal.

Late night was when you preferred to clean, most of the killers away from the mansion and out hunting. The existence of the residents here only existed because of their dedication to keep their identities a secret. Night time was the perfect cover, for them and for you. You were leaning over the kitchen sink, scrubbing at a particular stubborn pot when you heard the back door open. You tried very hard not to stare, not wanting to gain unwanted attention.

You glanced up briefly, catching a glance of Toby’s and Masky’s familiar figures as they trudged upstairs. “He cost us that fucking mission, Slender’s gonna be so pissed off,” Masky growled, rounding the corner of the kitchen. Toby trailed behind him, an axe dripping blood slung over his shoulder. “Y-yeah, what w-w-was he thinking?!” Toby exclaimed, his stuttering something you had grown accustomed to. You noted Hoody’s absence, your eyebrows raising as you returned your gaze to the pot.

The sound of doors slamming echoed through out the other wise quiet mansion, the silence fulfilling you with some sort of ease. It didn’t take long for the final proxy to stumble into frame, his hand cupping his face. You weren’t forbidden from interacting with the mansions residents, your urge to help sweeping over you. Hoody was awkwardly stumbling, immediately leaning onto you for support as you helped him stay standing.

“I got it,” He huffed. His usual ski mask was half raised, the bottom half of his face revealed to you for the first time. His chin and upper lip had surprisingly clean cut facial hair, kept to a minimum. You guided him around the counter, helping him sit onto the kitchen counter by the sink. Hastily he shoved his yellow hood off of his head, yanking the ski mask off with it. You were surprised a normal human being stared back at you, a large gash sliced across his cheek.

“Jesus Christ,” You muttered. You grabbed a clean wash cloth, running it under cold water. “Didnt ask for your commentary doll,” Hoody said dryly. You swallowed, wringing out the excess water. You could’ve done what you did with Masky, handing him the washcloth and wishing him a silent farewell. But instead you didn’t. “Sorry,” You mumbled. You craved human contact, any kind of human contact. Brushing off your skirt you stepped in between his legs, leaning forward.

You were careful to avoid eye contact, focusing on dabbing the wound. Hoody silently winched under the feeling, inhaling through his teeth. As gently as you could you dabbed away the blood. “Do you want me to get EJ?” You asked. Hoody’s face was stone cold, from what you could see out of the corner of your eye anyways. “Dont bother, i’m sure he’s sick of patching us up all the time,” He grumbled. The wound didn’t look deep, just very long. Thankfully most of the blood was gone, the rest of his face covered in specs of dry blood (that you presumed to not be his) and dirt.

Turning on the sink you washed out the washcloth, the crimson paint drifting off down the drain with the water. You then returned to Hoody, wiping off his face. You weren’t sure what compelled you to be so compassionate, Hoody’s eyes fluttering shut. He took a deep breath, his shoulders seemingly relaxing. You were gentle of course, not wanting to piss the killer in front of you off. But even Hoody knew your action wasn’t callous.

Once you were done you awkwardly stepped aside, putting the rag in the sink. “You want a cig?” Hoody asked. He dug in his jeans, pulling out a beat up cigarette box. “Is this your way of showing gratitude?” You asked. The man in front of you smiled, extending you the box. “This right here is the only kind of buzz you’re getting around here doll,” He explained, allowing himself to half smile. You had never smoked a cigarette before, nor had you really planned on it. Not like it mattered now.

You put one to your lips like people did in movies, watching Hoody do the same. He pulled out a lighter, flicking it and igniting the end of his cigarette. You leaned forward, watching Hoody attempt to flick the lighter again. The flame refused to ignite, the sight of small sparks making him sigh. “Masky always takes the good lighters,” He muttered. He inhaled his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the right. You found the gesture of attempting to not violate you with smoke a little sweet.

“Well I appreciate the offer. I’ve never smoked a cigarette anyways,” You admit. Hoody shook his head. “That just won’t do then. Put it to your lips and stay still,” He ordered. You did as instructed, watching him lean closer to you. His fingers went under your chin, keeping your head held high. You felt your face beginning to burn, the end of his cigarette lighting yours as you inhaled. You both avoided each others gazes, until the second he began to back away.

For a brief moment you shared eye contact, searching each other’s eyes. For what? You didn’t know. You properly inhaled, coughing immediately. “You guys like this stuff?” You asked in between coughs, continuing to choke. Hoody nonchalantly took another drag of his, watching you struggle. “It’ll grow on you, trust me. I didn’t like it at first either,” He confessed. Once you regained strength in your lungs you properly stood up. Hoody remained seated on the kitchen counter, with you standing beside him.

“How long have you been here?” You asked curiously. You were stepping over a hundred boundaries, ones you could die for if you stepped over the line too far. “A while,” Hoody answered honestly. You took another drag of your cigarette, the taste of tobacco growing on you. “How long are you going to be here?” Hoody countered. You exhaled, glancing back at the proxy. He had exhaled through his nose, boldly making eye contact with you.

“A while.”

You found the courage to turn around, facing him fully. “You aren’t lonely?” You asked. Hoody gave you a smile, tossing the bud of his cigarette into the nearby trashcan. “I am, are you?” He asked curiously. You followed his lead, tossing the bud of the cigarette into the trashcan. If it set the kitchen on fire, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. “Yeah I am,” You admit. Hoody slid off of the counter, his tall height towering over you.

“Do you uh, wanna change that?” He asked. For a killer who had a victims blood splattered across his face moments ago, he seemed so awkward. You wondered how long it had been since he had been with a woman. How long would it be before you could be with a man again? “Please,” You sighed. Hoody kissed you just as rough as you expected, both of you melting into the other. Both of you were undeniably needy, touch depraved and lonely. You were sure this was forbidden for both of you but as his tongue slid into your mouth, you just couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

“Call me Brian but only when it’s us, okay? Thats not who I am anymore but that’s who I want to be with you, okay?” Hoody asked. You nodded, the normal name bringing your comfort. Brian’s hand snaked down your waist, squeezing and kneading at the flesh of your ass. You whimpered into his mouth, the sound only making him harder. There was no telling how much longer you’d be around, the residents of the mansion unhinged enough to snap at any moment.

You couldn’t fully undress here and going upstairs was out of the question. “This has to be quick, we can’t get caught,” You whispered. Brian nodded, slipping his hand up your skirt. He rubbed against your wet cunt, your panties preventing any further stimulation. Brian had zero control over his life but he did right here, right now. You had no control over yours either, the decision to fuck each other to release steam the only free will decision either of you could make. You palmed him through his jeans, his cock practically busting through the fabric.

He guided you to the counter, grabbing the sides of your panties and yanking them down to your ankles. He shoved them into his pocket for what you thought to be safe temporary keeping. But Brian had other ideas.

“Fuck, please, wanna feel you Brian,” You whispered, trying hard to not groan loudly. Brian quickly undid his belt bringing his lips back to yours. It had been so long since he had kissed anyone, your soft lips driving him mad. It wasn’t long before his cock was at your entrance, awkwardly shuffling with his jeans at his ankles. He fell a bit backwards, causing you to laugh. “Fucking hell, sorry-” He began apologizing. You giggled, hopping off of the counter.

You brought him fully to the ground, pushing his back against the oven. “This might work better,” You replied, lowering yourself down onto his cock. Brian’s cock felt like heaven, your mouth falling open. Both of you let out a sigh of relief. You had no way to masturbate, no way to possibly release the stressful tension building inside of you. As you pressed your forehead against Brian’s, you realized that this was what you got. This was your outlet.

Brian’s gloved hands met your waist, helping you roll your hips. You let out a loud groan, one of his hands flying to your mouth. “Shh, you can’t make any noise,” Brian warned, your inability to stay composed only making him more hot and bothered. He took control, guiding your hips to ride him at a pace that worked for both of you. You were as wet as a virgin, your body yearning for more as Brian abused your g spot. Your sinful moans were muffled by his gloved hand, his other attempting to guide you.

He brought himself close to your ear. “If you wanna get off, you’re gonna have to ride me by yourself mkay? Do that and i’ll play with that pretty clit of yours doll,” He huffed, trying to control his own noises. You nodded yes profusely, trying to concentrate on grinding your hips against his. With his spare hand he found your clit, drawing sloppy circles around it. For a brief moment he was worried about his ‘skills’ not having slept with a woman in years. Whether he was good or bad at it, you didn’t appear to give a shit. You were still a panting mess, your hair sticking to your forehead from sweat.

Your walls clenched tighter around Brian as you felt yourself closer to euphoria, your eyes fluttering shut. With your forehead pressed to his you pawed at his hoodie, grabbing handfuls as your orgasm washed over you. Your sinful noises were muted by Brian’s hand, the muffled sounds music to his ears that he had made you feel that good. Your walls fluttering around him triggered his own orgasm, his cum flooding inside of you. He dropped his hand from your mouth, both of you taking a moment to breathe.

In a moment of true loneliness you leaned against Brian’s shoulder, ignoring the faint smell of dried blood and sweat. Unsurely Brian stroked your hair, trying to remember if that was comforting or not. He licked his dry lips, a bold question on the tip of his tongue.

“You wanna share a cigarette again tomorrow?”

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

Jude x older!reader where she has a kid and the kid is jude's biggest fan and makes her go to a fan signing where jude meets her and falls in love. Maybe more domestic with him spending time with the kid too 🫠🫠🫠.

Thanks love 💃

Purple

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Your son is in love with Jude Bellingham and so are you.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 3.9k

Warnings! FLUFF, cute kid, domestic fluff, sweetness,

A mother's love knows no bounds.

Which is exactly why you're standing outside the real Madrid stadium in the freezing cold with your energetic toddler practically vibrating from excitement.

You were here to attend a meet and greet that your son had been begging you for weeks to take him to.

And you didn't want to disappoint him, so you made sure to clear your schedule and make time for him.

You were up all night last night working on a project, and then you were up again at 6am so you could make Leo a nice breakfast before taking him to the stadium. You were tired, but seeing Leo so happy made it all worth it.

You look over at your son, who was clutching his soccer ball and jersey to his chest as he bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet. His eyes were shining with pure joy, and he was practically bouncing. He looked so cute like this. You hope he never grows up.

“Mommy, look!” Leo squealed, running to your side. You smiled as you took a moment to scan the crowd. The stadium was packed with fans all dressed in Real Madrid gear, all there to see Jude.

He was one of the team's most popular players and Leo's absolute favorite. The walls of his room were plastered with Jude posters, and he could recite Jude's entire history with the team from memory. You'd known he would be over the moon to get the chance to actually meet Jude.

“Look where?” You ask, scanning the crowd.

“At Jude,” Leo said, pointing to a man who was standing by a table, signing autographs. He was tall, probably around six two, and broad-shouldered, with dark skin and soft brown eyes. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a men's magazine. And you would be lying if you said you didn't feel a little flutter in your chest.

But you were here for Leo, not to flirt with a soccer player, so you put aside your feelings and followed your son through the crowd.

Jude was wearing the Real Madrid uniform, and he was grinning broadly as he laughed with some of the other fans around him. He looked up then and met your eye for a moment, and you felt a little thrill run through your body. He really was even more handsome up close.

But then, he looked away and focused on the next person in line.

“He’s coming this way,” Leo whispered, eyes glued to Jude. Sure enough, the star was making his way through the crowd, stopping to sign autographs and shake hands along the way.

“Mommy, I don’t know what to do,” Leo said, turning to you with wide eyes.

“Just go up to him, and ask him to sign your jersey,” You said, smoothing out his shirt and running your hand through his hair. “I’ll be right here behind you.”

“Okay,” Leo whimpered. He's always been a shy kid, and you knew he was nervous about meeting Jude. But you also knew that this would mean the world to him. So you grabbed his little hand and started to walk over with him.

Jude was shaking hands and chatting with the fans, so you just stood behind Leo until he was ready. It took him a few minutes, but eventually he worked up the nerve to tug on Jude's shirt.

“Hi,” Leo said quietly. He was still clutching his jersey and soccer ball in one hand, and you could tell he was trembling. Jude turned around and looked down at him, his eyes softening with concern when he saw your son’s nervous face.

“Hey there, buddy,” Jude said, dropping into a crouch beside Leo. He rested a big hand on your son's shoulder, and you noticed that his thumb was brushing against your son's neck in a soothing motion.

“I’m Jude.” He said with a smile.

“I’m Leo,” Leo replied, looking up at Jude in awe.

“What can I do for you?” Jude asked. Leo glanced over at you for a moment, then back at Jude.

“Will you sign this for me?” He asked, holding out his jersey. Jude nodded and took the jersey from your son.

“How about I sign both this and your soccer ball?” He asked. Leo nodded eagerly and Jude grinned. He signed both items, then handed them back to Leo.

“You’re so cool,” Leo said quietly.

“Thanks,” Jude said, ruffling your son's hair. “I think you're pretty cool too.” He said with a grin. Your son beamed at his words, not believing that his favorite football player thought he was cool.

“Thank you,” Leo said, clutching his signed jersey to his chest. You could already tell it was going to be his new favorite thing.

“You’re welcome,” Jude replied. He looked over at you then, and you could feel his eyes on you. You looked back at him, and there was a moment. You both knew it. He held your gaze for a moment, his eyes softening as he took in your features. You could see him drinking you in, and it felt like he could see your soul. You held his gaze for a few seconds, and then Leo was tugging on your hand.

"And who might this be?" Jude asked, turning his attention back to your son. He had a soft, warm voice that sounded like it belonged in a jazz club.

"This is my mommy," Leo said, gesturing to you. You could feel your cheeks heating as Jude's eyes returned to your face.

"Hi," You said, smiling at him.

"Hi," Jude replied, stepping closer. He was even more handsome now that he was closer. His dark skin was flawless, and you could see the definition in his muscles even under his uniform. He was a big guy, easily over six feet tall, and you felt tiny compared to him. You could see the sharp angle of his jawline, and his soft lips looked like they would be perfect for kissing.

"Are you enjoying the signing?" He asked, looking down at you with warm eyes.

"Yeah," You said, smiling back at him. "My son loves you."

You heard Leo giggle then, and you looked down to see him grinning at you.

"Can I have a hug?" Leo asked, looking up at Jude with pleading eyes. Jude's expression softened, and he kneeled back down and held out his arms.

"Of course," He said, opening his arms to your son. Leo squealed with delight, handing you his jersey and soccer ball and wrapping his arms around Jude's neck. Jude hugged him back, picking him up off the ground and swinging him in a circle. You watched them, feeling your heart swell with pride and happiness. Leo had been begging you for weeks to take him to this signing, and you knew he would remember this moment forever. You could already tell he was going to cherish this memory.

"Thank you," You said, smiling at Jude as he set your son back down on his feet.

"No problem," Jude said, smiling back. He glanced down at you, his eyes roving over your body before meeting your eyes again. You felt a little thrill run through your body at his gaze.

"Do you have a jersey?" Jude asked, holding out a pen.

"I'm just here for my son," You replied, gesturing to Leo, who was now lost in his own little world. Your sign that he was ready to go home.

"Here," Jude said, grabbing a jersey from the stack on his table. "Take this one."

"Are you sure?" You asked, feeling giddy at the thought of him giving you something.

"Yeah," Jude said, scribbling on the front of the jersey. You watched as he wrote "For Leo's mommy" in bold letters, then handed the jersey back to you, his hand brushing against yours as you took it from him.

"Thanks," You said, feeling your cheeks heat at his touch.

"You're welcome," Jude replied, smiling at you. He was still holding your gaze, and you could feel the air around you start to thicken. There was something about him that made you want to get closer, and you had to force yourself not to lean towards him.

"I better go," You said, glancing down at Leo. He was still playing with his jersey, and you knew he was ready to go home.

"Yeah," Jude said, nodding. He glanced over at Leo, a soft expression on his face. "It was nice to meet you both."

"You too," You replied, forcing yourself not to meet his gaze. You didn't want to get stuck in those warm brown eyes again, or you knew you would never leave.

"Bye," Jude said, holding out a hand to your son. Leo ran over and gave Jude a quick high five, then took your hand and tugged you towards the exit. You waved at Jude, who was watching you with a warm smile, before you walked out of the stadium.

That was a year ago and so much had changed since then.

Jude had written his phone number on that jersey and the rest was history. At first you had been very scared to be with him. I gnoring his attempts at flirty text messages and calls. You were older than him and you had a son. You weren't sure if he was ready for all of that.

But he had been persistent.

Jude would text you every day, leaving you flirty messages. He would also call you every night before you went to bed. He told you stories about his games and he would listen to you talk about your son.

After a few weeks, you finally agreed to meet up with him for a date. You were nervous, but as soon as Jude arrived at your doorstep, you felt at ease. You talked all night, sharing stories and laughing together. It was one of the best nights of your life.

After that date, there was no going back. You had fallen in love with Jude, and he loved you too. Both of you.

Introducing to Leo that Jude was your boyfriend had been easy. He already thought Jude was the coolest person alive, and he was excited to have him in your life. However, getting him used to you guys dating was tough. Especially with your ex-husband in the picture.

Leo was still stuck on the idea of you guys getting back together , so it took some time for him to fully accept Jude as your new partner. He was used to having you all to himself, and the introduction of a new person, even someone he admired as much as Jude, was a big adjustment.

But eventually everything worked out, and they have become the best of friends.

Now you guys were all living in the same house.

You woke up with a smile on your face.

You could feel a heavy arm slung over your waist, and a big warm body spooned against your back. You felt a warm breath on your neck, and a gentle hand stroking your hip. You could hear the deep hum of your lover's voice singing softly in your ear. It was your favorite song. He only sang it to you.

You rolled over in his arms, burying your face in his chest. He smelled like your body wash and soap, and you could feel his morning wood digging into your thigh. You smiled as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you.

“Good morning, baby,” You murmured, rubbing your hands up and down his chest.

“Morning, love,” Jude replied, leaning in to kiss you. His lips were soft and warm, and you felt a little thrill as you kissed him back. He was so sweet to you. He always made sure you were happy and comfortable.

You were just getting into the kiss when you heard your son's voice. You pulled away and looked up to see Leo standing in your doorway, rubbing his eyes.

“Morning,” You said, smiling at him. He smiled back and skipped over to your bed, crawling up to snuggle between you.

“Good morning, buddy,” Jude said, pulling him in for a hug. Leo squealed happily and wrapped his arms around your lover's neck.

“I had the best dream ever!” Leo said, leaning back to look at you and Jude. “I dreamt that you guys were my mommy and daddy!”

You heard Jude suck in a breath, and you looked up at him to see a look of shock on his face. You knew he had been wanting this for a while, so you didn't want him to get too hopeful.

“That's a nice dream,” You said, smiling at your son. He nodded happily and leaned back into Jude's chest.

“Can we play today?” He asked, looking up at Jude with pleading eyes. Oh boy here we go, you think. If there was one thing Jude could never say no to it was Leo. And Leo knew it. And he always used it to his advantage. He was a sneaky little brat and he always got away with it.

“No I have to go to work baby,” You said, sitting up. You were a nurse at the hospital and you were scheduled to work today. Leo frowned at your words, his little lip pouting. He hated it when you left him. But he loved Jude even more. So you knew he wasn't gonna be sad for long.

“Oh,” He said quietly. He looked over at Jude, his eyes lighting up with an idea. "Jude can play with me instead!"

The tall footballer grinned, reaching down to tickle your son's stomach. You watched as Leo giggled, his pout forgotten. "I'd love to," Jude said, smiling at you. "What do you want to do?"

"Hmmm…" Leo said, thinking. "I don't know yet."

"Well, let's eat breakfast first," Jude said, sliding out of bed. You watched as he picked Leo up and carried him out of your bedroom, your son's little legs wrapped around his waist.

You followed behind them, heading into the kitchen. You had half an hour before you had to leave, so you had to hurry. You were sad that you would be missing Leo's soccer game, but you knew Jude would take him.

You stood on your tip-toes, reaching up to grab three bowls from your cabinet. Leo was chattering excitedly as Jude got him a box of cereal and milk. You watched as he poured some into your son's bowl, and then passed you one with a wink. He loved when you cooked, but he also knew you weren't a morning person. So he always got your son's breakfast ready. It was cute.

You smiled at him as you set the bowls down on the table, then bent down to give your son a quick hug. "I'm going to go get ready," You said, pressing a kiss to Leo's head. He nodded, already digging in to his cereal. He waved at you as you walked back to your room, Jude's eyes following you.

You took a quick shower and got dressed. Then you headed back out into the kitchen, where your son and lover were waiting. Leo was bouncing up and down, clearly excited about his day. You smiled at him and leaned in to give him a hug.

"I'll see you later, okay?" You said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He nodded, clinging to your neck.

"I love you, mommy," He said, squeezing you tight.

"I love you too," You replied. You felt a warmth in your chest, and you glanced up at Jude to see him smiling softly at the two of you. He looked so sweet as he watched you and Leo hug, and you felt another little thrill run through your body.

"I'll see you tonight," Jude said, pulling you in for a kiss. You melted against him, his big hands resting on your hips. You felt him pull you closer, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to tangle with yours. You could feel Leo watching the two of you, and you broke away with a laugh. "Let me go to work."

Jude chuckled and pulled away, letting you go. You gave him one more quick peck, then leaned down to give your son another hug. "Be good today."

"I will," He said, smiling up at you. You smiled back, then grabbed your bag and headed out the door.

Now left alone with your son, Jude decided to make something to kill time before his soccer game.

"What do you want to make, kiddo?" He asked, ruffling your son's hair. He was sitting on the counter, watching Jude with bright eyes.

"I don't know…" He said, frowning. He looked thoughtful as he scanned your kitchen. Jude smiled as he watched him. He loved when he did this. He could tell your son was thinking hard, and he loved watching him try to decide what he wanted to do. "Cupcakes!"

"Cupcakes?" Jude asked, looking at your son in surprise. He hadn't expected that one. But then again, it made sense. Cupcakes were one of your son's favorite snacks.

"Yeah," Leo said, nodding. He hopped off the counter, skipping over to the pantry. Jude watched as he pulled out a bag of flour and sugar, then skipped back over to Jude.

"You sure you don't want cookies?" Jude asked, eyeing the ingredients in your son's hands. Leo frowned at his question.

"No," He said, shaking his head. "I want cupcakes. They're better than cookies."

Jude chuckled and took the ingredients from your son. He was a bit confused by your son's logic, but he knew better than to question it. "Well," He said, setting the ingredients down on your counter. "Let's get started then." He grabbed a stool for your son and set it beside him.

Leo grinned and hopped up onto the stool, peering curiously at the ingredients. He watched with rapt attention as Jude got everything out, and then helped him measure out the ingredients. He was excited to be doing this with Jude.

"Cupcakes are my favorite," He repeated, helping Jude pour the batter into the cups. Jude smiled as he watched your son work. He could see that he was trying really hard to pour it perfectly, and he was impressed.

"I know," He said, ruffling your son's hair. "I'm glad we're making them together." Leo smiled and looked up at Jude, his eyes shining with happiness.

"Me too," He said softly. "I love you, Jude."

Jude's heart melted as he heard your son's words. He loved your son so much, and hearing those words come from his mouth made everything worth it. He wrapped his arms around your son and pulled him close.

"I love you too," He said, kissing your son's cheek. He could feel his heart swelling with emotion as he held your son in his arms. He knew he wanted to be his dad. "You're my favorite kid in the world."

Leo giggled and leaned back to look at Jude. He had a happy smile on his face, and Jude could tell he was feeling content. He was happy to be spending the day with him, and he was glad they had decided to make cupcakes.

"You're my favorite too," He said, smiling at Jude.

Jude smiled back at your son and helped him into the oven. They spent the next twenty minutes chatting while the cupcakes cooked, and then they let them cool. Jude made the frosting, and then helped your son frost and decorate the cupcakes. It was really cute watching your son work. He was focused and careful as he put sprinkles onto each cupcake, and Jude could tell he was happy.

When they were done, Jude carefully helped him put the cupcakes into a tupperware container. Leo had decided halfway through making them that he wanted to bring some for his teammates later.

Your son skipped over to the table and grabbed a cupcake, pulling the wrapper off and taking a big bite. Jude watched as his eyes lit up with happiness, and then he grabbed another one for himself.

"These are delicious!" Leo said, taking a bite. Jude smiled as he chewed his own cupcake. It was good. The frosting was a little messy, but he knew Leo would like it.

"We make a good team," He said, nudging your son's shoulder with his hip. Leo grinned and took another bite of his cupcake.

"I know," He said, licking his fingers. Jude chuckled at him. He was a messy little brat sometimes. But he loved him anyway.

"You almost ready to go?" He asked, glancing at the clock. It was almost time for your son's soccer game. Leo nodded and jumped off his stool.

"Yeah!" He said excitedly, skipping over to grab his bag and cleats. He had changed into his jersey to make cupcakes, but he needed his bag and cleats to play. Jude helped him with his shoes, and then grabbed his water bottle and followed him out to the car.

The drive to the field was uneventful. Your son chattered excitedly from the backseat, telling Jude all about his friends and what he wanted to do after the game. Jude listened attentively, nodding along as your son talked. He loved hearing your son's thoughts. He had such a happy outlook on life, and it was infectious.

They made it to the field a few minutes before the game started. Leo hopped out of the car, his eyes lighting up as he spotted his teammates. He waved goodbye to Jude and ran off to join them. Jude watched as he ran over to hug his coach (his uncle), then turned and waved again. Jude waved back at him and hopped out of the car, grabbing a seat on the bleachers.

The game went quickly. Leo's team won 4-2, and he scored one of the goals. Jude must've been the loudest parent on the sidelines, cheering for him and shouting encouragement. When the game finally ended, he jumped down and walked over to where your son was waiting for him. His coach was giving him a high five, and your son looked happy. He was sweaty and dirty, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

"I did it, daddy!" Leo said excitedly, running over to hug him. Jude froze at his words, shock filling his chest. He looked down at your son and smiled. He had never heard him call him that before. He like it.

"What did you say?" Jude asked, voice soft. Leo looked up at him, his face serious.

"I called you daddy," He said. Jude could hear the nerves in his voice, and he knew he was worried he would get in trouble. But Jude would never scold your son. Especially not for something like that. He wanted your son to call him that.

"Are you sure?" He asked, pulling your son in for a hug. He wanted to make sure your son was comfortable with it before he said anything else.

"Yeah," Leo said, smiling up at him. "I want you to be my daddy."

Jude's heart swelled with emotion as he heard your son's words. He was so happy to hear that. He wanted to be your son's dad. He wanted to protect him and care for him. He wanted to be there for him and give him everything he wanted.

"Okay," He said, kissing the top of your son's head. Your son's face lit up, and he squeezed Jude in a tight hug. He was so happy. Jude smiled as he held your son in his arms. He felt complete. He wanted your son to be happy, and he was glad he had made him happy.

He would always be there for him.

Always.

-Bianca🌻