#And I think this is my favourite Crooks so far!

[tinyq]

"Draco?"

"Yes, love?"

"What's your hand doing?"

"It's cold."

"But you have the blanket."

"I am well aware."

[lylianrae]

A list of all the things I have manifested ⋆˚⟡˖ ࣪

We manifest everything in our lives btw - the good and the bad which is why I will be including both to prove that the law does not discriminate. If you can successfully become poor, you can most definately become rich with the same ease because everything is just a state.

Long hair

AHH this is one of my favourite manifestations. Ever since I was young I had a weird bob with a fringe (often crooked) and I wanted long hair like all the other girls (lmaoo) but my mum was strict so she didn't let me grow it out. Although I didn't know about manifestation back then, every new year and birthday I would wish for long hair and I would pretend I was a princess with butt long hair. Guess what, somewhere along the line, my mum let me grow it out and now I have butt length hair (don't really know what to do with it tho </3).

As all kids do, I went through an emo phase where I chopped off like half of my hair like 4 years ago. I literally grew back 7-8" of hair within a month because my parents got too mad. I knew about manifestation here so I just assumed my hair always grows unaturally fast. Same with when I cut bangs, they grew past my chin within a couple of weeks.

Manifesting my way into a private school

Honestly this just shows that you dont need 2430430 hours of working on your self concept to manifest. Literally so many celebs, including Marylin Monroe (the queen), manifested their fame with awful self concept. Likewise, here I was possibly going through the worst time of my life back then. I would wake up at 8 am and start studying and end at 11 pm despite being only 10 at the time. I was so freaking stressed and envious of all the other children and went into a depressive spiral where my two options were pass or die. I didn't even have enough practice and I cried my self to sleep on most nights. Anyways, when i did the exam I was deathly calm and even after the exam I was apparently so chill so my parents thought I failed.

I literally left 9 questions on one paper but throughout the summer, everytime I found a dandelion I would make a wish and imagine digging a tunnel to the examiners room where I secretly change my answers into the right ones (lmfao my tiny 10 yr old brain - idek how it worked). Anyways my results were sent back to me a month later on a random October evening and I got a really high mark. Even after 7 years of going to this school I havn't met anyone who has gotten a mark higher than mine.

Curly hair / straight hair

Sigh. We always want things we don't have. When I was younger I had really straight hair like 1A asian hair but when I was like 10, I really wanted curly hair and I would try to curl it often. After a few months, I manifested a curling iron and my hair literally became naturally curly like right after a wash it would curly af when before it was dead straight. Naturally I grew bored of it and I wanted my straight hair back and for ages I began overcomplicating the law and struggled to manifest it. It was only recently when I actually let go of the 3D that I manifested the silky, shiny straight hair.

Social life?

This is also a funny one, just shows how easily you can manifest. So back in 2021 after lockdown I felt so lonely and felt so left out of my friendship group so after a few months I began stressing myself out and spiraling for like 30 minutes, sobbing to myself about how I was so lonely and how nobody loved me (💀). Anyways it became reality, I found myself uncomfortable in many social situations and found myself becoming forgotten far more easily. I don't really remember the details but it was so bad that I think I accidently manifested social anxiety (oh well we still up tho).

However I am a loa girly so I found myself listening to popularity subliminals and slowly (but surely) my mindset change from having no friends to being the most popular girl in the year. Like no joke I became friends with like 3 people from different social circles so at lunchtime we had to join up like 3 different tables so we can all sit together. Overall I got myself 20+ close friends and even my ex friends began to admire me although it had ended badly. Even now, when someone says something thats untrue - for example saying that they are dumb when they are not, they would be like "ahaha so its like when Rae (me) says she has no friends, the whole school knows who Rae is".

Clear skin

This was sort of in the beginning of my loa (law of attraction back then) journey, I just randomly found out what subliminals were and was still quite new to everything. Now I don't even understand how it happened but I had busted some capillaries under my skin and it looked like small red viens under my skin and bro I was freaking out at the time. One night I was like just, I had enough, I'm going to get myself better skin and so I listened to a sub once for 3-4 days and on like the 4th day, my cheeks began to heat up which was odd and the next day it was 90% gone. Just like magikkkk.

Desired university?

Guys. Feeling is the secret. Don't you ever forgot that - not feeling as in emotions but rather the feeling of knowing. I had 2 entrance exams to do to apply for my universities and it was a stressful time where I wasn't getting enough sleep and wasn't eating enough simply because I didn't have the time. Like I come home from school and would have 3-4 hours of homework, then I need to revise for tests and then the remaining time would be spent on the entrance exams. Each past paper took 2 hours and I have around 13s per questions and I was already struggling on time. Anyways, I began to hate them and I would often complain to my mum saying things like "My score got even lower!!" or "I hate it so much" or "My head hurts / eyes hurt".

Guess what? Not only did I see my score decrease over time but I also made such a silly mistake on the most important entrance exam which I needed for 4/5 of my universities. I left a question and completely forgot to mark on the answer so when I finished the section I realised I had one more space on the sheet with like 10s to spare. I didn't have enough time to go back and fix it and lemme say that I did so badly in the test. Even while waiting for results I was just like "ah it would be a miracle if I scored above this bla bla".

I got the score back and it was so freaking bad like I did not stand a chance at my university at all. However, I started to affirm for a place and to my utter shock and surprise my desired university reached out and offered me an interview. I knew people who had like scores which were 50% better than mine and they still got rejected pre-interview. Anyways I began stressing about the interview and the results of the whole thing and boom. I got rejected 3 days after my birthday lmaoo. But its okay because I'm reapplying and I learnt so much more. I'm redoing the entrance exam and my score is a loooot better than it ever was last year.

A key take away would be thoughts are the result of the state you are in. Your dwelling state manifests and I was focusing on the unrealness and the difficultly of getting into this uni and thats what manifested. At the time I was heartbroken and literally went through the 7 stages of grief and spent so many months trying to revise it only for me to focus on the 3D. Just know that everything is done in imagination and it appears in the 3D as a result.

Photographic memory

So this is also something I had manifested before I actually knew about loa but the takeaway here is that manifestation is always instant. I was around 11 reading a random book on my tiny kindle and the book was on how to develop a good memory and I was like ah that'll be useful. Anyways later in the car, I asked my dad about photographic memory and he sort of explained it to me. I just assumed that I have that and I told him I do. He just laughed at me and said thats something that you have to train for and I was not impressed lmao. Inside my tiny brain, I was just like nope, I already have photographic memory and I dropped that thought. Let me tell you, my memory is actually photographic and has helped me out on so many occasions like my brain just takes pictures of things.

Learning fast

This is also something I did before I knew loa, I was just always wondering why the other kids couldn't grasp concepts as easily as I did. Literally in every lesson I would be like ah I learn so fast and now I am actually blessed with the ability to grasp complex subjects so fast. A favourite example of mine would be when I was obsessed with music but to take it to a higher level you need to be able to play an instrument. I couldn't at the time and my teacher told me the requirements a week before the actual deadline. I have never actually played piano with both hands but one day I sat down and worked through the entire song (fur elise by Beethoven) which is a grade 5 (I think) and it normally takes people months / weeks to learn. I learnt the whole thing in 3 days and from then on, I could play piano like I had been doing for ages. Again the memory thing was so helpful because I never actually used any sheet music, I learnt it off a youtube video and I remembered every single note I needed to play.

Hourglass body + 22" waist

This was a couple of years ago when I actually didn't understand loa. Anyways long story short, I would do a 3 minute workout and then flex infront of the mirror all day (💀) and be like omg I have abs. Overtime, I actually got so skinny everyone around me kept pointing it out to me and my mum got so concerned that she took me to the doctor like 4 times. It was so funny, I would loose like 2-3kg overnight and my parents would have to buy better fitting uniform.

Bigger boobs

This was also back in the day (2021?) when I didn't understand how to manifest things easily af. I had an A cup but I wanted better boobies and I listened to like 2 subs for a week and I went to a B cup. But I just assumed I have a bigger cup size recently and I just skipped C and went to D+ (haven't measured in a long time).

I'm not done but I'm tired now bye bye

[berryz-writes]

Peace

Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel finally finding peace in the morning with you

note: Yes there is no plot. Yes it's just fluff. And yes this is one fic I want to dedicate to @thelov3lybookworm the amount of fluff in this fic is half the amount of love I have for her. ILYSM YOU DESERVE EVERYTHING AND MORE <3 (ignore any mistakes ty)

The soft rays of sunlight peeked through the window bathing me in golden warmth. It’s as if my day was already off to a good start. Well it always was if Azriel was beside me. 

I turned slightly to see his eyes shut, eyelashes longer than most females brushing his cheek, full lips in the slightest of smiles. 

He looked peaceful and knowing how hard it was for him to sleep I decided letting him lie in was the best option. Trying to untangle myself from his firm grip was a harder task than I had thought it would be. Azriel inched closer for every little space I created between the two of us, his face resting in the crook of my neck. 

Finally accepting defeat and realizing I wouldn’t be able to leave without waking him up I gently shook his shoulder “Azriel?” 

All I got in return was a slight groan and him stretching out his wings before folding them again. He was not going to make this easy. 

“Az. My love I need to get up” I tried again, running my hand down his arm, the warmth of his body seeping into me. Slowly opening his eyes he blinked at me for a few moments as if making sure it was me next to him. Once he had taken in my whole face his lips turned up into the softest smiles I had seen, my heart doing backflips at his unrelenting gaze. 

“Morning sweetheart” His voice was hoarse from having just woken up and I could tell he was still tired. Pressing a kiss to my forehead he loosened his grip so I could slip out of bed.

I made my way to the balcony that connected to our room watching as the sun rose, spilling light onto all of Velaris. I could see the Sidra from here and all the small shops still with their closed signs, the sight of my favourite bakery already making my mouth water. I loved peaceful mornings like these.

As I stood on the balcony, taking in the peaceful sight of Velaris, I felt calm and as if nothing could go wrong today. The Sidra shimmered below in the morning light, and the buildings, with their intricately carved facades and soft pastel colours, seemed to reflect the tranquillity I was feeling. The air smelled faintly of fresh bread and sweet pastries, the hint of black coffee in the air reminding me to get some for Az when I stopped by there later in the morning.

Azriel’s footsteps were soft as he joined me, the warmth of his chest pressing gently against my back as he wrapped his arms around my waist. The morning was already warm enough, but his body heat was a comforting cocoon, making me sink back against him, feeling safe and grounded.

“So eager to escape from me already?” he teased softly, his voice still raspy with sleep. His fingers brushed lightly over my arm, sending a shiver down my spine.

I laughed in response, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. His eyes were a rich, golden brown in the early light, and the way he looked at me made my heart flutter. “I’d hardly call it escaping, Az. More like… slipping away.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of my head. “That’s even worse. Because then you might think you’re getting away, and I can’t have that.”

I could feel his smile against my hair, a grin that promised more. Turning in his arms, I brushed a stray lock of his dark hair back, fingers lingering as I gently trailed them down the side of his face. “If anyone’s ever tried to slip away from you, I don’t imagine they’d get very far.”

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that vibrated against me, his wings giving a small, lazy stretch. “True” He admitted. “But you know I’d never stop you”

I raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’d let me slip away?”

“I’d let you slip,” he murmured, pulling me closer, his lips brushing against my temple. “I’d just follow. And we’d end up right back here.”

His words were like honey and they made me melt into him even more. Gods was he perfect. And so were his words.

For a while, we both simply stood there, looking out at the world together. His hands were warm on my back, his breath soft and steady as he held me. Azriel’s rare moments of vulnerability, when he allowed himself to simply be around me, made me want to kiss every part of him, wanting him to know how I loved that he trusted me. He carried so much on his shoulders, the weight of past scars and current burdens that few knew of. He was gentle in ways he hardly acknowledged and I hated when he thought otherwise.

After a long moment, he gave a small sigh and rested his chin on my shoulder, his gaze distant as if he was already halfway out of Velaris. I knew what he was going to say so I beat him to it.

“Rhys is sending you out again soon, isn’t he?” I asked gently.

He nodded, his jaw tensing a little as he looked down at the city. “We’ve been getting reports from the borders. Faint movement.... but we're not sure what it is” His hand tightened on my waist as he spoke, and I felt his tension rise. “Rhys wants me to go in quietly, see what’s really going on.”

I placed a hand over his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll handle it, Az. You always do. Just....be careful”

He looked at me, a mixture of tenderness and determination in his gaze. “Always, for you.” His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from my face. “I’d never leave you waiting.”

A faint smile touched his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I hated goodbye's. But I couldn't stop them, so savouring every moment I had with him was crucial.

The sun continued to rise, casting golden light over the rooftops. “I’ll come back before you even miss me,” he murmured, the shadow of a smile on his face. As if he knew what I was thinking.

“I’ll hold you to that” I whispered, wrapping my arms around him a little tighter.

P.s) I haven't written in a while so I'm still trying to figure out who was on my taglist sorryy lovelies <3 also I would have posted this earlier except...idk how to que posts properly it seems

[llamagoddessofficial]

I don’t know if you’ve got this already but what about MC being the boss of the mafia Bad Sanses?

Villainous devotion is the only love I want

With you in charge, Dust is a different beast entirely. You might recall from the previous mafia posts that Dust doesn't want to be under Nightmare's command, so he does precisely what's required of him, nothing more and nothing less. Well... now, he's got a reason to remain. The one calling the shots is someone he loves and admires. He's not just your confidant and secret keeper, he's your secret weapon, the one you send when the job is so important you need to guarantee success. When you want a whole room of 'problems' dispatched so quickly and so silently no one even notices they're dead for several hours. Some say love and LOVE don't mix, but... Dust disagrees.

Horror is definitely not as clean as Dust, let's say that. And he requires a little more affection. But sometimes, unclean is exactly what you want, sometimes a message needs to be loud and clear, and what could be clearer than blood? There's no one he can't find for you, no scent he can't follow back to the source. Dust is precise but Horror is sudden and unstoppable, he strikes a real, tangible fear into everyone. He's a force of nature and he's perfect if you need the world to know you aren't to be trifled with. When he's not ripping people into pieces for you, he's baking! He loves providing for the people he cares for. And when he's visiting Crooks, you're always free to join him and his brother for dinner.

If mindless devotion were a person, it would look like Killer. The others go out and cause scenes, but he stays in and causes scenes, staying close by and warding away any embarrassments that besmirch the good title of 'assassin'. If you want him to go stretch his legs and kill someone, he'll do so happily, but his favourite place is wherever you are. He often seems unaware and silly and borderline clumsy... but it's a front. If anyone thinks they've snuck up on either of you, they are gravely (hah) mistaken. His dark sockets make it impossible to tell where he's looking, and he'll have spotted someone long before they make a move. He's heard many insults - people frequently call him your lap dog. It only bugs him because he's a cat person.

You'd think Nightmare wouldn't do well in the number two position. Considering his history and family feud. But it was never the act of being 'second' that irked him so much - it was feeling invisible, unappreciated, unrecognised. You very much make him feel appreciated. He's your right hand, and he's a damn powerful one, his iron fist solves any issues you may have with not being respected as a small human in an underworld of monsters. He's had proverbial skin in this game far longer than you have, his resources and knowledge are vast, you greatly value his advice and insight. People often mistake him for the boss... he takes great pleasure in correcting them. no, that would be my beloved. He can be the moon to your sun. That suits him just fine.

[theosbaby]

birthday princess

stepbro!draco malfoy x fem!reader

masterlist

part one ;; off-limits

summary; it's your nineteenth birthday and your stepbrother gives his favorite girl a very special birthday present.

warnings; college!au, innocent!reader, dom!draco, sub!reader, stepcest, SMUT, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, lots of praising and (shitty) dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it up everybody!)

author's note; english isn't my first language, so you might find mistakes. i'm kinda obsessed with stepbrother!draco lately, so i'm gonna make this a series... hope you like it!

you were back in college, the new semester had just started after christmas break and you were forced to return to your usual rutine; which you didn't want to, because that meant draco and you would have to be apart for months till you both came back home for summer break; drawbacks of going to separate schools, miles away from each other.

today, it was friday, and it was your birthday. your roommate had tried to convince you, very insistently, to go with her to a frat party to celebrate, allegating that "it was supposed to be fun turning nineteen", but you were far too depressed to party, so she ended up going alone; you just missed draco very much. you knew that what you guys had was very wrong, but you couldn't stop thinking about that night in his bedroom. the way he had touched you, the way he had kissed you, the way he had made you feel...

gods, now you were depressed and horny.

a soft knocking on your door brought you back to reality and you sighed, rolling your eyes. you got up from your bed, thinking it was just your roommate again —she tended to forget her keys very frequently. but when you opened the door and saw draco standing there, you almost cried.

"happy birthday, princess," he said with that sultry voice of his that you had missed so much.

he was carrying a huge flowers bouquet on one hand and a white paper bag on the other. he was looking at you with the biggest smile on his face, and you didn't hesitate to throw yourself at him to hug him tightly.

"draco!" you shouted, your voice muted by his flesh as you buried your face on the crook of his neck, inhaling his expensive cologne.

draco chuckled, returning the hug instantly. "missed me that much?" he teased, kissing your temple softly.

"yeah, i did," you muttered as you nodded. you pulled back slightly to look up at him with a cute blush and bright eyes, "can't believe you came all the way here just to see me! you didn't have to..."

"well, i couldn't let my favorite birthday girl spend her day alone now, could i?" draco asked with a smirk, placing another kiss on your forehead that time.

he stepped into your dormroom slowly, picking you up with one arm as if you were nothing to carry you inside. then, he closed the door behind him using his foot.

"i love you."

you smiled big, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a chaste peck on the lips; you couldn't help but blush as you did so.

"i love you more," he whispered against your mouth, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

he then set you down gently, careful not to crush the bouquet between your two bodies; you quickly grabbed it, smelling the fresh scent of the flowers. you did not have a proper vase to put the bouquet in, so you just settled it carefully on top of your desk.

"these are beautiful," you said; the bouquet was made of pink tulips, your favourites.

"i bought you a little present too, wanna open it?" he asked, giving you the white bag.

"yes!" you giggled as you took it and ran excitedly towards your bed.

you sat down on it while draco stared at you adoringly. with shaky hands, you took a little box out of the bag; it was covered in a pretty silver wrapping paper that you quickly ripped open. inside the box, you found a gold necklace with a heart pendant; on the backside of it, it could be read: "draco's little princess".

you smiled big when you saw it. "it's so pretty, i love it!"

"i knew you would." draco smirked, walking over to you and taking the necklace from your hands. he sat behind you on the bed, saying, "let me put it on for you."

he gently pushed your long hair aside to place the necklace around your neck. after that, he leaned in, planting a tender kiss on your soft skin. you turned around to face him, kneeling on the bed while you pushed your hair backwards again to show him how the necklace looked on you, your thin and tiny white singlet doing nothing to cover your body.

"perfect," he breathed out, looking at you with such intensity that it made your heart skip a beat.

his eyes traveled down to your lips as his fingers traced the outline of the pendant resting on your chest. you blushed, averting his gaze, as a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"don't look at me like that." you chuckled shyly, covering your flushed face.

"like what?"

he smirked cupping your face to force you to look at him, he was still gazing at you like he wanted to devour you. you swallowed hard as the butterflies in your stomach fluttered about crazily. you let out a breathy sigh, your lips parting slightly.

"like you wanna eat me up..." you answered timidly, your voice was merely above a whisper as you did so.

"you have no idea how much I want to," he admitted, a small growl rumbling from his chest. he brushed his thumb over your full bottom lip, causing you to gasp softly, then he added, "been dying to taste that sweet pussy of yours, princess."

you were a lost for words as his blunt statement made your heart race like crazy, you could feel your face and ears heating up from embarrassment but also from arousal.

"don't be shy, baby," he purred, leaning in closer until his breath fanned across your neck and he peppered your skin with little kisses, "would you let me eat your beautiful pussy? wanna make my girl feel good on her special day..." he asked with a soft voice.

you squirmed and let out a little whimper as you felt his hands moving down to grasp at your creamy thighs, pulling you onto his lap. your head tilted to the side, giving him full access to your neck. all that attention he was giving to your body was making you really wet, your pussy aching to be touched, so you nodded in response.

"yes, princess?" he whispered against your skin, nipping at it gently.

he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, seeing the need and desire there.

"you want me to eat your pussy? use your words, baby," he questioned again, his voice husky with lust.

"yeah... want you to eat my pussy, dray," you muttered shyly, blushing at the dirty words that came out of your mouth.

"good girl," he praised you.

he gave you a small kiss on the lips before standing up with you in his arms to place you on your back on top of the bed.

"now, spread those beautiful legs wide for me," he commanded, gently caressing the back of your knees.

you obeyed instantly, looking up at him with big innocent eyes. your tiny shorts hiked up, barely covering your skin. he eased himself between your spread thighs, his hands trailing up your legs tenderly in search for the waistband of your pijama bottoms.

his fingers tugged at it to start pulling them down alongside your cotton panties. you lifted your hips to allow him to take off your clothes easily, and both items of clothing got stuck at your left ankle, but you just left them there, too eager to feel his touch to care.

now, you laid completely bare and vulnerable in front of him, your body shivering in anticipation.

"gods, you're so fucking gorgeous," he muttered, his voice low and husky.

he lowered his face to kiss your stomach, trailing hot kisses all the way down to your mound as his hands gripped your hips tightly. you whimpered at his compliment, your hand reaching to grasp at his blonde hair.

"draco, don't tease." you pouted, running your fingers through his soft strands.

"ask nicely," he purred, nipping at your inner thigh playfully, while he groaned in pleasure as you continued to tug on his hair, encouraging him.

"dray, please, need you so bad," you pleaded, your hips jerking forward; your clit was throbbing with need.

"very well, princess," he cooed, kissing his way up your inner thigh towards your sensitive pussy.

his tongue flicked out to tease your little bud before he sucked it into his mouth, groaning against your skin as he tasted you for the first time. you moaned in delight, pulling gently at his hair to push him closer to your cunt. the new sensation made your toes curl; you had never had your pussy eaten, and gods, it felt so fucking good.

"mhmm, you taste so fucking sweet, baby," he hummed against your cunt.

his tongue kept tracing slow circles around your swollen clit before he sucked it into his mouth, causing you to gasp and buck your hips. you cried out so softly, your pretty voice echoing in the silence of your dormroom, while your back arched from the bed.

"love those pretty sounds you make for me, princess," he praised between licks and sucks.

his hands gripped your hips tightly to hold you still as he continued to worship your pussy. you felt one of them sliding up and underneath your singlet to cup one of your breaths. you panted when his fingers toyed with your perky little nipple, that hardened instantly beneath his touch.

"draco," you moaned, grinding your pussy against his face.

"so fucking desperate for your stepbrother, huh?" he teased, "you gonna cum on my face, baby?"

he switched his attention to your other nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers as he continued to eat you out. he lifted his eyes to look at you, his lips curling up into a predatory smile as his tongue flicked against your clit faster now, knowing that you were close.

"yeah," you muttered in response between needy whimpers.

you breathed out, your chest raising and falling rapidly as you felt your pussy clenching and pulsing around nothing; the coil in your belly tightened, announcing your upcoming orgasm.

"come for me, princess," he growled against your pussy before taking your clit into his mouth and sucking hard. you moaned, your hips jerking up as he worked to pull your orgasm from you.

letting out a cry of pleasure, you came on his face while your whole body trembled. you couldn't help but arch your back from the mattress as you gasped for air. the feeling was so good that your vision went blank for a second. when you finally came down from your high, he slowly pulled away.

"that's my good girl," he purred, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

he stood up and helped you remove the last of your clothes before starting to unbutton his own shirt. panting, you reached to unbuckle his belt eagerly while he got rid of his dress shirt. your skin was flushed and your body still flustered from your recent orgasm.

"so impatient," he chuckled, pulling his trousers and boxers down before climbing on top of you.

he grabbed his hard cock to press the tip against your slick pussy, rubbing it teasingly as he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. you moaned into the kiss, your hips bucking against him while he teased your clit with his cockhead.

"you want this cock, baby?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble against your lips as he continued to tease you. "want me to fuck you?"

"yes, please..." you answered, wrapping your legs around his hips to urge him.

with a smirk, he thrust forward, burying his cock deep inside you in one swift motion.

"fuck," he groaned, feeling your tight pussy clamp down around him. "you're so fucking tight."

your eyes rolled back at the feeling, his cock obviously too big for your tiny cunt, but somehow he managed to make it fit like he did the first time. he started to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he fucked you hard. you gasped out his name with each deep thrust, your nails digging into his back as you tried to get closer to him.

"you like that, huh?" he whispered, "you like your stepbrother's cock stretching your tight little pussy?"

your cunt tightened in response to his words, your face scrunching in pleasure while you nodded, unable to form any coherent sentence. your face was flushed as you heard the creaking from the bed and the filthy wet sounds of his skin slapping against yours.

"look at you, all fucked out on my cock," he growled lowly.

you truly were a sight for sore eyes; you looked so innocent, but at the same time you were taking his dick like a total slut, making him go bloody crazy. he grabbed your legs to pull them up so he could fuck you deeper. you cried out, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he went balls deep.

"you're such a dirty little thing." his dirty talk was making you so wet that you were dripping onto your bedding.

"oh, draco," you moaned loudly

your hands reached to grasp at your own thighs as he pushed your legs onto your chest; the new angle had your toes curling and your legs shaking. he was holding onto your calves, gently kissing your ankles. his grey eyes glazed with lust as he continued to pound into you, hitting that spot inside you that had you squirming under him.

"fuck, feels so good," he groaned, his teeth nipping at his bottom lip.

you let out a breathy whimper as you clenched around his thick shaft, saying, "i'm so close."

"let go, princess," he commanded sweetly, "cum on my cock."

he gave you one last hard thrust, sending you over the edge. your orgasm crashed down on you and you cried out in pleasure, your body writhing beneath him as your cunt engulfed his dick harshly. his eyes fluttered closed when he felt you pulsing around him, his whole body shuddering while you milked his cock, making him cum inside you with a low groan.

"happy fucking birthday, baby."

fuck you if that hadn't been the happiest birthday of your entire life.

[miguelsslvt]

friends- chase atlantic

nerd! ex! miguel o’hara x popular! reader college au

word count: 1335

TW: mild smut under cut, overstimulation, smoking, drvg use, manipulative friends.

A/N: so basically, this is my interpretation of a scenario that happened in the nerd! miguel lore!! obviously this isn't 'canon', this is just my interpretation of the wonderful storyline by @nymphomatique !! always go check her out, her stories are honestly the best <33 hope you all enjoy and welcome to the club!!^^

'he's not good for you y/n!' 'he's a freak y/n!' 'he's such a weirdo compared to you y/n!' 'get rid of him y/n!' 'get rid of his ass y/n!'

that's all your 'friends' ever said to you about miguel o'hara. they hated your relationship with him. he was a nerd sure, but all your 'best friends' were adamant that he was no good for you. or your name, for that matter

he was a bit of an outcast and nerd, sure, he used to sit alone at lunch, he would get bullied by the football team, he never got invited to parties, and don't even get started on his glasses.

but, no matter what, you wanted him. you had a reputation of popularity and cockiness sure, but you wanted to introverted freak nonetheless. he was just so.. sweet. and no matter what, you wanted him.

eventually you listened to your friends, cutting off everything you had with miguel so you could stop hearing the constant nagging of 'when are you gonna get rid of him?'

miguel being miguel, he was heartbroken. he cried for days, while you were enjoying your free time partying or sleeping with randomers.

a few weeks swings by, and parker's usual summer party is just tonight. he has one every year, and without a doubt they're the best parties of the whole school year. you were obviously first invite, and you happily agreed. but what you didn't expect, was the conversation in chemistry class that parker and his other 'popular' football friends were saying.

'yeah i invited that o'hara kid, it's gonna be so funny!' peter said, as one of the boys joined in. 'i say we throw him into the pool!' he said, as you chimed in. 'don't be dicks you think you're all so cool and popular bullying a kid? grow up.' you snapped.

peter smirked. 'aw, is little y/n getting possessive over her little ex fuck toy? i swear if you two are gonna fuck in my bed-' 'even if we do i'm sure it'll be better then having another night with your 2 incher. at least he knows where the clit is.' you replied snarkily, the boys laughing as peter went red in the face in anger.

'you're such a slut!' he snapped, you smiled. 'yeah well at least i didn't fuck mandy simpson in the back of english lit last semester.' you said, as peter was livid. he turned around, as you and your friends laughed.

the party arrived, and you wore your favourite black tight dress. it was a spaghetti strap, paired with gold hoop earrings, a gold necklace and some black strap heels. you packed a black and gold bikini just in case the boys decided their usual 2am pool dip.

you grabbed a bottle of vodka, pouring 50% in, mixing it with some coca cola. you noticed the usual hockey boys sniffing some sort of substance you didn't really care, you then saw the pick me girls all over peter and his friends. your friends were smoking back in the garden, beside the pool. you decided to walk over to them.

'hey girl! you want a smoke?' gracie asked, as you smiled and lit a cigarette, smoking it with your friends.

'hey, is that.. o'hara?' kate said, pointing to a corner. you turned around quickly, seeing the boy you oh so fondly missed (but you would never tell anyone that).

he looked more ripped. he had been going to the gym, you noticed that when you stalked his instagram story last week. he wore a pair of black jeans, and a polo shirt that was a little too tight for him. his hair was slicked back, and his glasses were a little crooked as usual.

'what a nerd, who invited him?' grace whispered. 'i heard peter invited him just to take the piss outta him. a little far fetched if you ask me.' maddy said, as abbie chimed in. 'well after making y/n look like an absolute freak for dating him, i'm sure the nicest thing o'hara could do is at least look popular so y/n doesn't look like a complete moron.'

'say that again?' you swung your head to abbie, who immediately shut her mouth. 'you can't talk abbie. i swear you fucked hobie brown during spring break?' you replied, as your friends laughed, abbie nodding. 'i deserved that.'

a few hours rolled by, and you were.. tipsy. your friends were either dancing, drinking or making out with one of the hockey dudes. you however, was searching for miguel. and when you found him, your heart boiled.

'cmon o'hara! we so kindly invited you to our party, why don't you just take a little swim with us?!' peter said, pinning miguel up to a wall. miguel was a shaking mess. you sighed, walking up to peter. 'hands off him.' you said, sternly.

'cmon y/n, you two ain't even together anymore. let's just show this little freak what parties are really about hm?' peter replied, as you smacked him swiftly, causing peter to lose his grip on miguel.

'WHAT THE FUCK?!' he snapped. 'touch my boy again, and i'll fucking end your career. you hear me?! one snapchat story and you could lose everything parker, you hear me?! now fuck off, enjoy your little party, and leave me and MY man alone!' you yelled, as peter's friends were awe-struck. they knew you were mouthy, but jeez.

'stupid bitch!' peter yelled, before walking away. tears welled miguel's eyes, as y/n grabbed his hand, taking him into her car.

she started the car, as the two were silent on the way home. 'w..where are we going?' miguel asked. 'my dorm.' you said in reply. '..i'm not your boy y'know. not anymore.' miguel mumbled. that made you raise a brow. 'i'm sorry, what?'

'you said i was 'yours' earlier, a-and..' tears fell down miguel's face. 'i'm not. n-not adfter y-you dumped me.' he said, as you sighed.

'..you're supposed to be smart, o'hara. why the fuck can't you see why i dumped you?' you said, as miguel looked away. 'i do know. i- i know it's because your friends said so. th-they didn't want you to be unpopular and weird.' he said.

'..i'm.. fuck man.' you mumbled, sighing. 'you know me, miguel. you know i hate saying this. but.. i'm sorry.' you said, that made his heart stop. you're.. sorry?

'i do want you. i've always fucking wanted you. but my friends they.. they just- they were in my ear for so long i-' 'tell me.' he cut you off. 'what?' you asked. 'what were we? we weren't exactly together, b-but we weren't not? i.. all i know is that we weren't just friends.' miguel stated.

he had a point. technically speaking, you two were just fuck buddies. 'we.. we were just fuck buddies.' you said honestly. 'and i stopped that because of my.. stupid fucking friends.' you parked outside the dorm. 'and y'know? i don't give two shits what anyone thinks about us.' you said, looking at miguel. he wiped his tears.

'do-does that make us.. something again?' he asked. '..get out.' you stated, as you got out the car, grabbing his hand and dragging him into the dorm.

---------------------------------------

'm..mistress p-please..' he begged, his legs shaking. you had been sucking him off for about an hour now, not stopping. it was his nth orgasm, and he couldn't feel anything.tears were streaming down his face, but you weren't done. not yet.

'let your mistress please you, yeah baby? i've been neglecting you for so long..' you cooed, stroking his cock as his eyes rolled back. you tutted. 'aww, so sensitive.. is my little dweeb tapping out before even touching mistress?' you teased, as he shook his head.

'n..no.. w-want to feel y-you mistress.. p-lease..' he whimpered, as you let go, moving to sit on his lap.

'trust me baby, we aren't stopping until i say so.'

[cumikering]

F1 John Price x reader 3

2.8k | fluff, suggestive John Price was not jealous of a lap dog (part 1) (part 4)

“So let me get this straight,” you said, plating the sliced loaf on the counter. “You love berries.”

John hummed as he stepped closer, turning you to him by the hips.

“You love to nap and you’re crazy about salmon.”

Crazy about you too.

You scratched his bearded jaw. “You’re a bear, aren’t you?”

He laughed as he leaned in. You smiled against his lips.

The both of you made breakfast. You thanked him again for the loaf, saying it paired wonderfully with tea. In the sunlight, you gazed at him with those pretty eyes, smile sweet, that his heart skipped a beat.

There was something about you, or your place, or the quiet morning that was like a warm embrace to him. Safe. Serene. It was easy to be with you, like there was nothing that could go wrong when you were with him.

You looked out the window and he revelled in the way the diffused light caressed your skin. The sun had grown warmer.

“Need to go to the shops later today,” you muttered.

“I can take you.”

You turned to him, beaming. “There’s a small park I like nearby.”

When he pulled up, it was then he realised he’d forgotten his cap at your place. He reached for the pocket behind your seat, lucky to have kept a spare team cap there.

“Orange looks good on you.” Your fingers curled over the crook of his arm.

He turned to you smiling up at him. I think it would look even better on you. “Yeah? We call it papaya at McLaren.”

You let out a small laugh. “That’s adorable.”

You took a short stroll at the quiet park, his strong hand engulfed yours, and headed to the shops before it got too cold. He hauled the shopping to and from his car, and he swore he fully intended to get out of your hair after he helped you put away your shopping, but when you pulled out two mugs for tea… Well, maybe you didn’t mind if he tarried a little.

At the end of the night, John gathered his toiletries and zipped his luggage up.

“You always come to me, John. Let me return the favour,” you said at the door.

“My place is a bit far.”

“All the more reason why I should, no?”

“I really don’t mind.” He brought your hand to his lips. “Maybe next time when we're in the area?”

You gave him a quick kiss and he pulled his cap on before walking away. He hoped you didn’t mind that he left the orange one on your dining table. You’d look better in it.

January days crawled into a pattern. John picked you up from work for dinner two, three times a week, staying over on the weekends. Seeing you, no matter how short always made him smile.

John, you don’t have to pick me up. I’m closing today. Sophie’s ill so I sent her home. See you tomorrow?

No. See you later

You poor thing. You’d be too tired to cook dinner. He could buy you something instead, guaranteed to taste good – you deserved it after a long day, but he wanted to show his appreciation too. You’d taught him how to cook upon his request, and it was his time to show you what he’d learnt (hopefully). But as he was swinging by the shops for your favourite protein, an idea struck.

When he pushed the door of your shop open, you were wiping down the counters. He pulled his mask down and greeted you with a kiss. His beard had grown full, and he found himself addicted to the way you nails scratched his jaw when your lips met.

He insisted on helping you with the washing – it was the least he could do for his favourite lady, but not before cornering you against the counter, lifting you by the waist onto it and savouring your glossy lips a little longer. You tasted even better when you giggled, your fingers digging into his biceps, making him hum.

In the car, he pulled out the Tupperware of sub sandwiches from his backseat. “Eat up, love. I’m taking you somewhere.”

“You made these?”

He nodded, glancing at you. “I hope you like it.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

The streets had simmered down and the drive to the other side of town was shorter than expected. The doorman greeted you warmly, swinging the door open to a vast lobby with a classic grand chandelier, accentuating the lustrous marble floors. He picked up a small bag from the concierge and pulled out an access card.

“Oh, it’s such a nice place, John,” you said as you stepped into the lift.

He pressed the button to the top floor and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his side. “My manager lives here. I like the view.”

John had called her earlier as he drove to you.

“Kate, do you mind if I borrow your spotting scope tonight?”

“Let me guess.” She let out an amused chuckle. “You’re at the coffee shop and you need me to deliver it in half an hour?”

Kate had started teasing John ever since the GTI favour. Always self-sufficient, he wasn’t one to bother anyone unless it was necessary. Someone had to make him act that way, for him to go out of his way to ask for favours, especially something so trivial.

It might be off season and they didn’t have to talk about work nearly as often, but they’d always meet for a meal once or twice a month with Kate’s wife. Not this time though. She didn’t miss the way he only responded during working hours. Kate didn’t press, but it was a slip of the tongue when he said he’d made plans with you when she suggested dinner one weekend.

“I’d like to go to your rooftop actually.”

“Your balcony has a far better view.”

“Well, your building is quieter.”

“You can’t hear anything from the 30th floor.”

A beat. “Can I borrow the scope, please, Kate?”

“Yeah, alright, sure. What time are you swinging by? We’re going out for dinner.”

“Yeah, no worries. Could you leave it at the concierge for John Sloane?”

She chuckled. “Sloane? Like your mum’s maiden name? They know who-“ There was a pause. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

John could imagine Kate’s pitying look. They’d been working closely for years, even before he got into F1. A karting champion in her younger days, she was his mentor before becoming his manager. Naturally, she was privy to his relationships, especially the one which was flaunted all over the media.

She had encouraged him to play along, stomach it. You can’t run from this if you’re in the business, she’d said, and she was right. It was evidently favourable for his career, until it wasn’t for his feelings anymore.

Perhaps Kate had been callous to his discomfort, something she had apologised for numerous times. She had since said nothing about his personal relationships, not like there was much to say though. He couldn’t be too cautious of who to let in.

He sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“It’s none of my business, John, but that doesn’t sound right.”

“I know, I know. I’m just… Taking it slow. I’m telling her before the season starts.”

John pulled the beanbag chairs from under the canopy. He plopped down, tugging on your wrist to sit between his thighs. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you lose to his chest before you looked through the scope.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Someone came in in a McLaren polo today, said he was getting cookies for his boss. It was my first time seeing someone with a mohawk in real life, but he definitely pulled it off.”

He laughed. “Wait, let me guess. He’s Scottish?”

“Yes! You know him?”

“His name is John too, but we call him Johnny or Soap.”

“Soap? Like a bar of soap?”

“Yeah. One time, someone got a box of decorative soaps – I think it was macaron? He mistakenly took a bite out of it.”

You laughed and lowered the scope, turning to him. “Are you serious?”

“To be fair they did look hyper-realistic and smelled wonderful. But I like to think I wouldn’t have been fooled.”

You held the scope back up, the smile still on your lips. “I didn’t think you’d know him. I said a friend works there.”

“A friend, huh.” He kissed the top of your head. “I hope I’ll be more than that one day.”

“You are.”

He heard the tease in your voice. “You are to me too. I like you a lot.” Too much.

It had only been two months since the day you made him his double-shot Americano, but it felt much longer. Seeing you the past weeks had been the highlight of his time off, allowing him a glimpse of your everyday life.

Despite disliking driving outside the track, with London’s dreadful traffic at that, he didn’t mind at all dropping you off work and picking you up again. It was rude how soon he daydreamed about being a part of your life, but kissing you at your door at the end of the night was the best part of his day.

“John, you live around here, right? Should we just go to yours?”

“Not tonight, love. Place is a mess.”

“I don’t mind. You said we’d go when we’re in the area.”

Shit, he’d forgotten. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting a guest. Next time?”

You hummed, pulling his arms tighter around yourself.

John, once more, breathed a sigh of relief. But he’d meant it – he would tell you soon. He just needed some more time.

You started wearing his papaya cap on rainy days, and on that gloomy Friday, John decided on kebab for dinner. You were supposed to sit at the park, but the cloudy sky didn’t look promising. Instead, you ate in the car before heading home.

Before he exited his car, he placed the cap over your head, making you smile. The colour really looked wonderful on you.

Near the building entrance, you stopped in your tracks.

“John, do you hear that?”

“What?”

“Like a puppy whining- There!”

The noise was faint but he heard it then. You followed it to the SUV at the end of the lot with John trailing. Under the bonnet, a small dog was curled up, soaked and trembling in the cold.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you said, stooping down and inching your hand out. “You must be lost.”

The brown pooch whined louder and made the slightest hint of a scoot towards you amidst the shivers of its body. It was all it took for you to scoop it into your arms.

“I’ll get you warm-” You inspected the glinting tag on his collar, flipping it over. “Holden,” you muttered. “John, could you help me call his owner while I dry him?”

“Of course.”

You rushed to the bathroom to dry the pup off. Later, with the collar and his phone in hand, John cracked open the door.

“They’re not picking up, but I sent a text. Hopefully I’ll get a reply soon.”

Holden stood on the toilet lid as you knelt down to blow dry him. John sat next to you, watching how gentle you were to the strange dog as you fluffed him up, muttering reassuring words at him. He stopped shaking.

You switched off the hairdryer.

“Wow, it’s like he put on a few pounds.” John stroked his now blond-grey fur. He looked up at him with doe eyes and licked his hand. “What breed is he?”

You laughed, rising to your feet and scooping him into your arms. You scratched the back of his ear and his tail swayed at the attention. “Yorkshire Terrier. He’s such a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

Just like you are. He followed you out to the living room. “I’ll get him water.”

You and John lounged on the couch, Holden napping on your chest, finally warm and cosy wrapped up in one of your old towels. You caressed him mindlessly as you watched the telly.

John Price was not jealous of a fluffy lap dog. It was silly to think so far, but he thought he’d love a pet with you, something to take care of together. Your tenderness made him fuzzy.

It was then his phone rang on the coffee table. It was the owner.

You headed to the address given, just a few minutes away from your place. As you walked up to the door, Holden’s tail went wild. You cooed at him and a woman answered the door.

A little girl rushed past and gave your midriff a big hug. “You found him! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You stroked her hair and stooped to hand the pup to her.

“Thanks so much for bringing him back, love,” the woman said to you before nodding at John. “It was my fault, I left the door open and he slipped away yesterday. We were worried sick.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I found him. He must have been so scared.”

“Here, please accept this.” She took your hand and clasped it over a wad of bills.

“Oh- No, no, I can’t accept that. It was my pleasure. I’m just happy he’s alright now.”

The woman smiled. “Thank you so much, love, really.”

“You be good now, Holden.” You patted his head, and he let out an excited bark before you turned.

At the end of the night, John climbed in bed with you, pressing his chest against your back.

He planted a few kisses on your neck as he mumbled, “I got you this.” He reached over, presenting you a small, custom bear plush wearing an orange cap.

You turned to him, beaming. “Is that supposed to be you?” You ran a finger over the cookie on the bear’s paw.

“Maybe.” He smiled.

“I love it.” You gave him a peck. “What should I call him?

“What about JP?” He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“I never got to ask what that stands for,” you whispered against his lips.

“Jean Pierre. You got it right the first time.” He laughed. “My mates call me that sometimes.”

“Have you all got nicknames?”

“Some of us, yes. There’s Gaz, Ghost, and you already know Soap. My manager gets called Watcher.”

“They all sound so fun. Would love to meet them one day.”

“They are. They’re good people.” They’d love you.

Seeing his teammate’s recent obsession with cookies, Kyle didn’t take long to connect the dots. While John was initially reluctant to show your photos to Kyle and the others, he couldn’t hide his grin when Johnny said you looked even better in real life.

“She gave me a free coffee, said she’s got a mate who works at McLaren. So it was you, Cap. How modest of her to say,” he’d said.

They asked when they’d get to meet you, the mystery cookie lady John Price couldn’t stop talking about. Except Kate, the only one who knew why you hadn’t met his closest people yet.

A pause. Your warm breath tickled his skin in the silence.

“Thanks for JP. Now I’ll have you with me every night.”

“You can always ask,” he grunted.

“What if I never want you to leave?”

“Then I won’t, love.”

“You promise?” you murmured.

“I promise.”

It was stupid, really, to let himself feel so much, so fast. But he couldn’t help but want more and more. He felt enough with you, for you, like he didn’t have to be anybody else but some bloke from Liverpool.

He couldn’t keep doing this to you, someone so special to him.

You pulled him close, the small puffs of breath he knocked out of you warm against his shoulder, nails raking deliciously down his back. Just like in his daydreams, the beautiful sounds you let out made his skin tingle and sear. Was he the one making you feel this way?

He dipped his head, breath hot and heavy, grunting into your ear. You made his head spin. He’d never get tired of the way his name slipped past your soft lips, the way you caressed his face, or the way you planted wet kisses on his neck.

He knew it right then. You wouldn’t break his heart.

John sighed, the thin layer of sweat almost gone from his skin. On his bare chest, you slept soundly in his shirt and the smile wouldn’t leave his lips as he buried his nose in your hair. He wanted this with you, always.

He’d tell you in the morning. But tonight, with lungs full of your sweet scent, he’d sleep in peace knowing nothing would change tomorrow.

Masterlist Ex bf John Price

@tiredmetalenthusiast @le16erc @kyletogaz @ohtobehappy @yikes077

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[niceonejames7]

it's a pathetic feeling.

sirius black x reader

words: 1.1k

content: sirius and you both attempt pottery, and ofc he's better at it. not that you're complaining.

genre: fluff, pining(?)

cw: swearing(?), metaphorical self depreciation, if that makes sense. other than that, nothing

a/n: in honor of my baby's birthday<33

this is a repost, so if you've seen this pls forgive me, idk what happened to my old acc.

song mentioned: blue suede shoes by elvis presley

15 minutes ago, Sirius saw your hands mold the lump of clay that sits there now as he absentmindedly spins the wheel. He's thinking about how soft your hands were when he put them around yours, telling you cup your palm to create a bend, or when both his and your thumbs made shape into a bowl. He's thinking about how you offered your hands after finishing it, to scrape off clay, and he had taken his sweet time getting off the extra mud. He's wondering if you noticed, or if you thought he was obvious, or desperate. This train of thoughts pulled into a halt when you came in, shaking your hands to dry them.

Sirius isn't used to feeling shy, or vulnerable, or even desperate. If he wants something, he gets it. He feels pathetic when he wakes up early to make you coffee, so he can hear your voice first. Or when he brushes his teeth so you don't have to smell the cigarette on him. When your hands cup his face, every other time as a way of thanking him. It's his favourite form of thank you.

It's a sickening feeling, like someone is pulling down his heart further and  further deep, twisting it like a wet towel. His dirty hands give him excuses to keep busy, they're always trying to look for you. They always want to touch your arm, ruffle your hair, to hold your face, to have his thumbs run across your cheek. 

“What do you think?" You ask him, and he looks at the lumpy bowl in front of him. It's not his best, far from it, but he didn't let her change it. You made this, with him, that was enough to make it special. The strange tugging feeling hits him again, and he tells himself it's because it's your first attempt. “Stupid”, he mutters to himself. 

“It's great, my love.”

Your head tilts in amusement, a smile across your face, “This is useless Sirius, I'm gonna make another one.” 

You roll your eyes and reach to take the bowl, to mush it together when his hands stop you. “Don't you even dare.” He takes a thread to get it off the wheel, and carefully picks it up. 

“I will cherish this bowl you call useless forever,” he clutches the thing closer to his chest like a baby, but very gently, “Get away, you heathen.” Sirius says, all in his dramatic ways, as he flips his hair to walk off and set the bowl. 

A strange sensation erupts in your body, it's warm, and cozy, even though it's cold out, and your hands are wet, slightly covered in mud. You panic a little, this comforting feeling is too familiar, too easy to skip into. Too addictive.

You look at your muddied hands now, which you had cleaned just seconds ago. 

“I just washed my hands, dickhead.”

“Shouldn't have tried to ruin my masterpiece then.” He mutters quietly, but enough to let you hear.

You shake your head and find another piece of clay, and lay it down on the wheel. You spin the wheel, wet your hands and slowly start to mold the clay. Sirius comes back and sits down beside you, but as his hands reach yours you swat them away, “I'm doing this one by myself.”

Here goes his excuse. He doesn't protest, just sits there waiting, knowing you will ask for help.

As a shape starts to build, a crack forms down the side of the half crooked vase and a huff of annoyance escapes your lips. Sirius smiles and covers your hands and this time you let him.

It feels as if he's too aware of everything. The way your fingers fumble around his, or that your hair is too near his face, maybe you can hear his heartbeat. A faint feel of hot breath is evident on your neck and your shoulders, his usual scent more prominent because it's not covered by the cigarette smoke. Your breath is shallow as his arms are wrapped around yours.

The music Sirius had put on had now slipped into something light, and slow. All you wanted to do was squirm out of his grip, it was too much. You took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. You leaned back and relaxed against his chest. Your faces were touching now, lips so close and Sirius wanted to scream. Your hair was done up, your neck exposed and so close to his lips, it was driving him insane. 

“There you go.” Silent words come out his mouth like a whisper, as he detaches his hand from yours, eager to get as far as he can, this want in his chest was too much for him to bear. 

The anticipation hanging in the air is too much, too intense. “Thanks.”

And the one word answers aren't helping either. 

Sirius' eyes lock in with yours, and for just a few seconds it's silence. But then the music bursts out, “WELL, it's one for the money, two for the show,” and you both jump in your seats.

This time the second you and Sirius look at each other again, you're laughing your ass off. 

As the laughter slowly goes down, a new wave of it hits me an Sirius looks at me incredulously, followed shortly by his own amusement, and asks,

“What the hell?”

In fits of laughter you manage to get out,

“Did you hear Peter tried to make a move on Marlene?” You say, clutching your stomach,

“WHAT? No he did not.” His voice raises in incredulity, half laughing, half shocked,

“Yes, he did.”

You cannot speak anymore because it's hurting your stomach now, the situation being so funny as well as pitiful. The aprons you both wore were now dirtier than while you were actually doing pottery. 

“Poor lad, he doesn't have a chance.”

Both of you pant to catch your breath, when the doorbell rings.

“I'll go get it.” Sirius says, jogging towards the bathroom to wash his hands. You take the vase and carefully take it off and place it beside the lumpy bowl. 

An odd thought appears in your brain, where you compare it to Sirius and I. He's the vase and I'm the lumpy bowl, you think. The vase is clean, beautiful, perfect and smooth, and the bowl is everything opposite. It's a thought you cannot share with him, he will shut it down, and yell at you, all out of love, of course. You smile looking at your works and go wash your hands.

Sirius takes the food they ordered, pays the bill and sets it down on the kitchen table. Beside it, near the window, he sees their works. 

His eyes are fixed on the bowl. He decides he will paint it, and put it as a showpiece. “Maybe with green, that's her favourite color,” he thinks. The vase is fine, but the bowl is much too special for him. 

...........................

english isn't my first language so pls forgive any mistakes lmao

[kyunzin]

Hey my love, I absolutely love your writing especially with the JJK men. But spinning off of that and only if you have time, could you write a fic where each of them (whom ever you chose) react to chubby y/n wearing a brand new dress they got?

𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲

character; 𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

cw; the price doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy (f!reader)

tags; chubby reader, public sex, slight voyerism (people can hear what’s going on), body worship/ oral mentioned (f!receivng), fingering, standing sex

a/n: thanks ☺️ and I’m always happy to make time for requests

✰ so what if he went a bit overboard in buying dresses.

✰ so what if it may have drained the money he just earned from his recent mission.

✰ why should it matter if he gets to see your bright smile as you walk out of the changing room with the the tightest dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.

he sits there in front of your stall watching as you walk out in a crimson off the shoulders short dress that barely covers your ass and outlines your figure perfectly. a pait of stilettos, a small shoulder purse and a thin black neck scarf to tie the outfit together.

“fuck me”

his hand is covering his mouth so you just barely catch the end of his sentence but you can still see the beaming smile from under his hand. this is your favourite one out of all the ones you’ve tried on so far so you hope he likes it too. “what did you say baby, and also what do you think of this one”

“dont worry about what i said, i think this is the best one you’ve tried on all day”

he stands up, rubbing his hands together as he walks over to you. you turn back around looking at the way it fits on you with a conflicted look on your face. “you really thinks so, I thinks it’s a little bit tight” not a moment later you feel his arm wrap around you as he leans down to press a kiss into the crook of your neck.

“it looks perfect on you baby, I promise”

it’s only a second later that you feel something poking into your back and you have half a mind to know that it’s not his belt and you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to get your attention pressing into you further. upon realising you let out a shocked gasp “really ‘toru, we’re in public”

“cant help it baby, wanna help me out?”

you can hear the smile in his voice as he rubs up your sides and you cant say that you’re against the idea, but you’re a little nervous about being caught. “we have yo be really quite ‘toru or they’ll hear us.

he doesn’t wait a second before turning you around and picking you up, causing the bag to slip from your shoulders, bringing you back inside the small dressing room closing the door behind the two of you and you let out a surprised yelp when he pushes you against the cold surface of the mirror.

he holds you up by your plush thighs and even with your weight you have no doubt that he won’t drop you as he has proved multiple times that he’s able to hold you.

he long since got rid of your insecurities even though it may have taken hours of him spent down between you plush thighs eating you out and worshipping every inch of you body kissing and licking away any doubts of his desire for you.

your hand reaches to grip his hair as his mouth latches onto yours. after a moment his tongue darts across your lips pushing it’s way into your mouth, which you accept and moan into the kiss as you feel his fingers slide under the dress to pull your thong to the side and slide his fingers into your cunt.

the only reason he’s able to curl his fingers inside you with ease is because he had fucked you against the door before you left, pulling up your tennis skirt sliding your thong to the side for a quick fuck before you left the house. it’s like he’s insatiable, unable to keep his hands of you, fucking you on any surface he deems suitable not that you’re complaining .

hence why the two of you end up licking your way into each other’s mouths in a public space with no shame and it’s not long before you start to feel yourself cuming around he lengthy fingers only for him to quickly remove them. you let out a whine as you break from the kiss “fuck, no no no! please don’t stop. I was so close, why’d you stop?”

“you know you only get to cum on my cock baby, don’t forget that”

“then hurry up and fuck me already” he laughs at you impatience but works on completing you request by pulling your legs around his waist and you get the silent command and lock them behind his back so his hands are free. while he works on undoing his belt and pulling down his trousers you occupy yourself with sucking hickeys into his neck and collar.

you have to bite down onto his shoulder in order to muffle your moan as he pushes into you with no warning though he does let out a whispered growl as he sinks into your cunt. “oh fuck! a w-warning would be nice next time asshole”

he laughs at your irritation and lifts you up from his cock slightly before slamming you back down without warning again. the both of you moaning out a shared “fuuuck” at the jolt of his hips connecting with yours, the slap of your skin against his resonating in the small space.

you expect him to go slow but he does the opposite of setting a brutal pace, lifting and dropping you on his cock like you weigh nothing. the sound of your dripping cunt stretched around his thick cock circulating in the space, both of you panting and moaning out. he has to kiss you in order to keep both of your moans quiet not wanting to draw much attention to you two.

“oh fuck, your gripping me so fucking tight, taking my cock like a -shit! good girl, such a good girl f’ me arent ya”

you nod your head frantically moans to frequent for you to get out a coherent secret but he’s able to make out your little rambles of “fuck m’ gonna cum, don’t stop, please please please!” even without you saying it he can feel it by the way your pussy grips into his duck as he lifts it up. he’s not surprised when he hears your moans of “m’cuming. fuck fuck fuck!”

he feels as you gush around him and it almost sends him over the edge but he’s able to keep it with a harsh bite to your shoulder. he really wants to cum but he can’t because he knows that you would hate having to walk in public with his cum dripping out of you, he regrets not bring a plug with him to keep you stuffed, so he reluctantly pulls out after the waves of your orgasm fade.

“cant fucking wait for us to get home, lets go pay for these and leave”

he gently sets you down and the both of you work on fixing your appearance in the mirror though theres nothing that will hide your bite marks, not that there’s anything you can do about that. you change back into your original outfit and he picks up all the dresses you left hanging on the wall and opens the door leading the both of you out.

it’s hard not to notice the stares of the other customers and he cant help but smile knowing that everyone definitely knows how good he fucked you. the cashiers face is reddened and you notice that she fails to meet either of your gazes as he pays for the dresses, you hide behind him in shame and wait for him to finish paying before quickly pulling him out the store.

✰ so what if you hear people whispering as you walk past.

✰ so what if he has to walk through the mall with a prominent bugle in his pants.

✰ why should it matter if when he gets home he drops all the bags on the floor and fucks you against the door again and then fucks you in all the pretty dresses he bought.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@riowmie @tyunixia

[maxillness]

╰┈➤Favorite || DR3 x bsf!reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, oral (f), nipple play

Wordcount: 0.8k

Her and Daniel were good friends. She would even go as far to say they were best friends

But honestly? She just wanted his body to feel her. Hear him say her name so the neighbours could hear it

She wanted to be his girl. Let him taste it. She wanted to be his favourite

She wanted him to tell her he craved her. She wanted him to take all that he wanted

He says their just friends, but in private behind closed doors, his touch got much more intimate than what was considered as “just friends”

They were watching a movie in his apartment, her legs on his lap, his hands caressing her calfs

It was innocent at first, but his hand traveled up above her knee, caressing the spot just above

She sighed softly, seeing Daniel smiled softly in the corner of her eye

His hand moved further up her thigh, his fingers tracing the skin just where her shorts ended

He yelped slightly when she forced his hand away and got into his lap, straddling his waist and kissed him softly, making sure he could get away if he wanted

He didn’t though. He kissed back, deepening the kiss even

One of his hands held her waist, the other on her jaw, not letting her go of the kiss while her arms were around his neck

Both were panting heavily as Daniel pulled back to give them both some air. Both their pupils were dilated, covering the colour of their eyes

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do that” He chuckled breathlessly

“Then why haven’t you don’t it before?” She asked softly, her fingers threading through the hair in the nape of his neck

“I was scared you didn’t…” He took a moment to think of his words “I didn’t think you liked me like that, but… I was proven wrong” He smiled softly

She chuckled slightly before she leaned in, kissing him again. This time he wasted no time to kiss back, again deepening the kiss

“Can I taste you? Please?” Daniel panted, looking into her blown eyes, his hands on the back of her thighs, feeling her soft skin under his rough hands

She didn’t even think before she answered “Yes” She nodded slightly, her voice soft

Daniel didn’t hesitate before he positioned them so she was pressed against the couch, his body between her legs

While Daniel’s lips were planting kisses on her neck and throat, drawing out small whimpers from her while his hands were working on getting her shorts off of her legs as well as her panties

He pushed her shirt up, letting him trail kisses down her stomach to end on the insides of her thighs

“Daniel” She whined softly, trying to pull him closer by his curls

He chuckled slightly at her eagerness, but gave her what she wanted, his tongue going through her folds, earning him a moan

“Danny” She moaned, grinding down on his tongue, his nose rubbing against her clit

“Please, Daniel. I need you” She moaned, her hand tight in his hair

He chuckled slightly, pulling away from her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand

He took off his shirt, throwing it to the floor, her hands immediately attaching to his torso, touching him anywhere she could reach

While her hands roamed his chest, his own hand worked on getting his pants off of himself

He positioned himself closer to her, her legs closing around his hips as he lined himself up with her

They both whimpered as he slowly pushed himself into her

He helped her out of her shirt as she adjusted to him, his lips immediately going to her chest, his hands around her back to get her out of her bra

She whimpered as he started moving his hips, his lips around one of her nipples

Both their moans became louder as Daniel sped his hip movements up

His head fell into the crook of her neck, his words mumbled against her skin “You’re my favourite” He moaned softly, her nails digging into the skin of his back

He started kissing and sucking on her neck, his fingers circling her clit

She arched her back, her walls clenching down around him, only encouraging him to go faster with both his hips and fingers

“Ah- Daniel, please. ‘M close” She managed to get out between her moans

“Come on, baby. Come for me” He panted into the crook of her neck, placing small kisses on her skin

His thrusts became sloppy and out of rhythm, as well as his fingers

Her nails dug deep into his back, her teeth biting into his shoulder as she came, her loud moans mumbled into his skin

The feeling of her rapid clenching around him sent him over the edge, his hips still as he came inside her

He laid down on top of her, both panting heavily

“I’m sorry” She said softly, kissing over the teeth marks on his shoulder, making him chuckle slightly

“I don’t mind” He smiled, kissing her softly

[autisticlancemcclain]

“You’re nervous.”

“Hnnngh,” Keith says, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He looks straight ahead, left leg bouncing, hair pulled back into a ponytail but flyaways everywhere. He keeps having to push up his glasses when they slide down his nose, nudged forward by all the tension in his eyebrows. “Being stressed before a stressful situation is not being nervous, Lance, it’s just my brain responding like a brain.”

Lance hides a smile. “You’ve met my family before, baby.”

Keith slows to a stop as they approach their turn, looking at Lance instead of the road for the first time in twenty minutes. His indigo eyes are wide and pleading. Lance is distracted by the tiny mole beside his nose.

“I’ve met your mom,” he says emphatically, breaking eye contact with Lance to crane his head to the left, checking over the hill for any cars. He’s far more careful than he needs to be — there’s never anyone on this road. But Keith is always endlessly careful when he’s driving other people around. “I’ve met your siblings. I’ve met your abuela. I’ve met the twins.”

“Mighty number of people,” Lance agrees. He looks at his boyfriend pointedly. “All of whom love you.”

“Because they love you,” Keith stresses. “You’re, like, their favourite person. You hyped me up so of course they have a nicer view of me. But this is like — your great grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles and, I dunno, second sister in law five times removed —

“Not how that works,” Lance interjects, amused.

“—and now I gotta impress them all? At once? I still don’t know how I did that with everyone else! I panicked! I forgot all my lines and conversation starters! I just — was awkward, and they were cool with it because your family is cool!”

“Ah, yes, you were yourself and people liked you,” Lance says, nodding sagely. “How bizarre.”

Keith looks at him imploringly. He has a — really cute nose, holy shit. It’s crooked from the three separate times it’s been broken and Lance is kind of obsessed with it. All he can think about is pressing a kiss to the bridge of it and watching how Keith will crinkle it on reflex. He has to fight back a giggle.

“I am going to get eaten,” Keith says miserably. “My luck is going to wear out. I’m gonna say something stupid and offend your third cousin or trip over someone’s toddler and destroy your mother’s flan by crashing into the table and upending hot coffee on an elderly person. Then I’ll get arrested for assault and you’ll have to visit me in prison and my cellmate will make a comment about you or something and I’ll have to kill him and then I’ll get retried and the death sentence, probably, and then Red will bust me out of prison and cause intergalactic meltdowns and —”

Lance can’t hold back anymore. Quick as a dart he reaches out, fisting Keith’s collar, and yanks him over the gearshift, kissing him softly and soundly until Keith sighs, surprise fading into something calmer, relaxed. His hand comes up to cup Lance’s cheek.

“You need a Xanax,” Lance says gently as he pulls away.

Keith huffs, the manic look in his eyes replaced with something much softer. Relieved, even. “Yeah, probably.” He tears his eyes away from Lance, rechecking his turn and finally actually putting on his blinker and moving onto the right road. His free hand reaches over the gearshift and Lance grabs it, tangling their fingers together and resting them in his lap. “I just — I want your family to like me.”

Lance smiles, a wide one that brings a flush to his cheeks and makes him shy, even though he’s not self-conscious; a smile that makes something flutter so intensely in his stomach that it feels so intensely private.

“They’ll like you,” Lance says simply.

Keith exhales. His hand tightens. Lance squeezes back.

The rest of the drive is easy.

———

By the time they make it to Lance’s great-grandmother’s farm, he can tell that some tension has crawled back into Keith’s shoulders. But he’s always been brave, when fighting dictators or meeting parents, and doesn’t hesitate to pull into the gravel driveway and park the car. He squeezes Lance’s hand again before letting go, stepping out of the car and heading to get their stuff.

“Tío! Tío!” scream two voices, and Lance doesn’t even have half a second to brace himself before Nadia is launching herself at his stomach. He manages somehow to spin them both around to offset the momentum, keeping them both upright. Keith is not quite so lucky — Lance hears a slam, a startled oof, and then he sees their bags go flying out of the corner of his eye.

“Jesus Christ,” Keith wheezes, flat on the ground with Sylvio crowded on top of him.

“I got you!” the boy crows, scrambling off Keith’s body in order to adequately dance around in victory. “You went splat!” He whirls around to face Lance, still dancing around. “Tío Lance! Did you see?”

Lance adjusts Nadia on his hip, making no attempt to hide his amusement. “I did. You got him good, buddy.”

Beaming, Sylvio turns back to Keith, who’s finally managed to get enough breath back in his lungs to stand.

“You got me good,” he wheezes in approval.

“Just like you showed me!”

There’s no mistaking the smugness in Sylvio’s voice, the challenge, the I’m-little-you’re-big-and-you’re-a-loser.

Keith recognises the challenge easily, eyes glinting, and before Sylvio can run away Keith scoops him up, tossing him over his shoulder and whirling them around ‘til he’s dizzy.

“Just like I showed you, champ. Think you can get out of this one, though? It’s easy!”

Sylvio shrieks, pounding on Keith’s back with fists weak from laughter. Nadia squirms in Lance’s hold, so Lance sets her down, and in seconds she’s run and attacked Keith’s other side, climbing up his legs to try and free her brother. Keith scoops her up, too, throwing her over his other shoulder as she laughs just as shrilly.

“Clearly neither of you learned very much!” he shouts, grin so wide it practically splits his face. His already precariously dangling glasses slide right off his face but Keith doesn’t even spare them a glance, stepping over them easily and shaking the twins as he goes. “You’re trapped!”

It doesn’t take the bright twins very long to unite forces, attacking Keith with renewed vigour all at once. Lance bends down as they wrestle, scooping up Keith’s glasses and their discarded bags.

“He’s good with them,” Lisa says, sidling up beside him and sliding her hand around his waist. Lance mirrors her, squeezing.

“He thinks they’re hilarious. He loves them to pieces.”

“Believe me, they love him too. I heard about Uncle Keith so much on the drive down that I was tired of him before you two even got here.”

Lance snorts. “Yeah, right, dweeb. No one else here reads Jane Austen. You need your nerd buddy.”

“Indeed,” she says, grinning. She pats him on the hip, pulling away and taking one of the bags slung over his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get your stuff dropped off. Marcela will want to fuss over you, I’m sure. She hasn’t seen you since your last mission.”

Lance looks back at his boyfriend before following her, making sure he doesn’t need Lance’s help. The twins have wrestled him into doing their bidding, it looks like, or more likely he didn’t even put up a fight, and sit on one shoulder each, guiding him around the property with shouts and points and frenzied gesturing. Keith has his hand locked firmly over each set of knees, careful not to let them fall, as he wobbles around to make them gasp and laugh.

Lance smiles. He’s fine.

———

Keith finds him within the hour, Nadia and Sylvio off to play with their cousins.

“You abandoned me,” he pouts, hand wrapped around his elbow.

Lance notices, idly, that he’s slouching again; that his ponytail has been abandoned entirely and his hair curtains his face.

Hm.

“You were busy being a doofus,” Lance teases, brushing his hair out of his face. He nobly resists the urge to quote Regina George. “One of us has to be the mature one. We wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong impression about the saviours of the universe.

“You’re hiding out on a random couch on your phone,” Keith deadpans. He glances down at the screen. “You’re watching a seven year old vine compilation. On mute.”

“Like an adult,” Lance says primly. “Watch with me.”

Keith rolls his eyes fondly, but slides on the couch behind Lance, arms wrapped around his waist and chin hooked over his shoulder. Lance digs in his pockets until he finds Keith’s glasses, twisting around to slide them on his handsome face. His hands linger on Keith’s temples. Keith’s smile is small and crooked and bares the tiniest peek of crooked incisors, and Lance’s heart flutters.

He leans back into Keith’s chest as he plays the video, watching a compilation of dorky videos he’s seen a thousand times. He feels Keith’s grin press into the juncture of his neck as he starts to mumble along. His hand rests just under Lance’s shirt, flat on his stomach. Lance fights the urge to squirm.

You Are In Your Abuela’s House, he reminds himself firmly. Your Ancestors Are Watching You. And Jesus, Probably.

Luckily, someone calls out their names before Lance really needs to find a vat of ice water to dunk himself in.

“Leandro! Keith! Come eat before your hog of a brother takes it all!”

The two of them don’t even need to pause for a moment before throwing themselves off the couch, scrambling towards the kitchen at top speeds because Marco absolutely will eat their portion of the food. Not even because he’s hungry for it, just because he’s a butthead who thinks it’s funny.

“This is your fault,” Keith informs him, careening around a questionably placed side table.

“Nothing is ever my fault ever in the entire universe,” Lance shoots back.

(Is it Lance’s fault? Possibly. But in his defense, the several years he spent as a child waiting for Marco to be distracted before eating his favourite thing on the plate still make him crack up when he thinks about it. Marco just got so mad, every time. Plus his eyes bulge a little when he loses it. How was Lance ever supposed to avoid poking that bear?)

Luckily, they make it in time to wrestle a plate away from Marco’s snickering ass.

“Keith, Lance,” Lance’s mother greets warmly before Lance can crack a plate over his brother’s head. “I’m glad you made it!”

“Mother,” Lance squawks dramatically, hand flying to his chest, “I am the second to be greeted? You’re son? You’re youngest angel? The one who went missing for several years and returned to you, prodigal?”

She reaches over and flicks Lance in the forehead. Keith snorts. Marco cackles.

“Keith called me on the flight home,” she explains, ruthless. “So he is the son, and you are the son-in-law.”

Keith flushes as he always does when Mamá pairs them like that, when they’re both her sons, when she implies what it implies. Lance lets the warmth of that expression soak into his bones, deep in through his back, from every point Keith is touching him.

“I was sleeping off being maimed!” Lance despairs.

It does him no favours. Mamá waves her hands wildly, setting down her own plate in favour of placing her hands over her ears. “Gah! Sh! Do not tell me of these things! I am meant to pretend your job is nothing more than ornamental! Do not ruin that for me!”

“It was the slightest ever maiming,” Lance mutters, sullen.

Keith visibly bites back a retort to that, no doubt out of respect for Mamá.

(Lance knows that Keith would have been the world’s biggest mama’s boy had he grown up with Krolia. He has shared this hypothesis with Shiro, who had laughed so hard upon hearing it that he had sprained a muscle in his neck, and then explained later with a heat pack and a wryly smiling Adam that Keith used to scold Shiro for pushing himself with exact quotes from Shiro’s mother herself.)

“Nobody ever wants to hear my side of the story,” Lance laments.

Keith bends down to kiss him on the cheek.

“That’s because you are a liar,” he says kindly.

Lance catches his chin before he can pull away, kissing him to shut him up.

They head outside to join everyone else, plates stacked high with food and plastic cups balanced precariously with spare fingers. Keith starts to slouch again as they walk out the sliding screen door, but he keeps his hair out of his face, eyes flitting between different people. It helps that hardly anyone spares him half a glance, too used to random new people in such a big family.

“Hey, Patito! Over here!”

Lance whips his head up at the familiar voice, breaking into a wide smile when he sees his sister’s wilding waving hand. Keith, too, seems relieved when he catches sight of Veronica, rushing over almost faster than Lance is.

“Hey, losers,” she greets, flicking water from her cup at them as they sit across from her. “Took you long enough to get here.”

“Lance is a distraction and danger to the road,” Keith says immediately, because he is a snitch. He is also unfortunately very quick and manages to duck away from Lance’s pinch.

Veronica snorts. “Believe me, I know. Every ride back to the Garrison on weekends was a near death experience because he kept smacking me every ten seconds. A menace.”

“You manipulator!” Lance accuses. “I slapped you because you teased me! Constantly!”

Keith and Veronica share sharp, matching grins. Lance takes a nanosecond to ponder what he ever did to deserve the sufferings of their friendship.

“That’s because you’re so goddamn easy to rile up, sweetheart,” Keith says with a wink.

Lance attempts to shove him off his chair. Unfortunately, while he does flail backwards, he manages to stay upright.

“You two were supposed to hate each other,” he mutters into his congrí. “This friendship thing is bullshit.”

Neither believe him for a second.

They’re barely into their meal when the nosiness starts. In fact, Lance is honestly surprised it has lasted this long. Luis probably said something to convince everyone to tone it down, because he is a saint and also Lance’s favourite.

“So,” says his Aunt Vena, “…Keith.”

Keith freezes, cheeks bulging. Lance tries very hard not to laugh at him.

“Hi,” he says, swallowing. He says nothing else and looks agonized about it. His memorized conversation starters have no doubt fled his brain.

“You know, I feel like I already know you,” jokes Aunt Vena, never bothered by awkwardness. Or boundaries. “I only see Leandro a few times a year were the only thing he talked about for ages.”

Lance goes pale. Oh, please God, no. Please let Aunt Vena be suddenly gifted with the ability to read Lance’s mind, or at least notice him waving his hands frantically behind Keith’s head, making cutting motions at his throat.

“Keith this, Keith that. Keith Keith Keith.”

Lance cradles his face in his hands. So much for miracles.

“He did?” Keith asks.

“Stop investigating immediately or you’re sleeping on the floor tonight,” Lance threatens under his breath. Keith’s hand finds it’s way to his thigh and rests there, as if laughing at him.

“Oh, yes,” laughs Aunt Vena. “Every other word was about how you sat in class or walked in the hall or flew your planes. He was always angry about it, but he was quite focused on you. Oh, and your hair.”

Aunt Vena turns away to chatter with someone else like she didn’t just ruin Lance’s life. Lance would hate her if he didn’t find her so goddamn loveable, but he does, so instead he looks up and suffers Keith’s wide, shit-eating grin, and ponders deep in his heart how he will re-humble his boyfriend so they’re back on even ground.

“…You were big on the hair, huh.”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll chop it off as you sleep.”

———

“Keith.”

“I’m just saying.”

“You dorkbrain.”

“I’m just saying!”

Keith’s hair is in a knot at the crown of his head, glasses pushed all the way to his face. He’s got Lance’s hand in his but he’s not paying attention to him in the slightest — he cycles between leaning back, then forwards, then craning his neck and shifting his eyes. Every few seconds he lets out a muted gasp.

A group of children run yelling in and out of the house, heedless of doors and stairs.

“You are such a mother hen,” Lance says with great amusement.

Keith is too distracted to even roll his eyes. “Some of them are very little,” he says worriedly. “Maybe they should play a game outside. There’s more space.” He looks around at the various adults sitting and chatting, aghast. “Should me maybe get a — pool noodle, or something? Just for the corners. So there are no head injuries. That’s the most common way they happen, you know. Tripping during play.”

Lance hums, leaning into his side. “Reading a lot of parenting books, are you.”

Keith is very deliberately silent. Lance flicks up his gaze to watch his face redden.

“…Akira.”

“It’s Shiro’s!” he says defensively. “It was — he had it on the shelf! I read it when I was younger! It was traumatizing! Do you know how easy it is to fuck up a kid? Very easy, Lance! Their heads are very squishy! They don’t know balance yet! They repeat everything you say!”

“Was this book,” Lance starts, choking back laughter with everything he has, “perhaps about raising toddlers?”

Keith’s jaw snaps shut.

“Children under two? Hm?”

Keith glances away. “It didn’t mention.”

Lance loses his battle, burying his cackling in Keith’s shoulder.

“How was I supposed to know that ‘A Guide To Raising Healthy Children For New Parents’ was about — babies? Shiro was the dumbass who had it!”

Lance laughs harder. “Did he — did he buy it when he —”

Keith puts his head in his hands. “He bought, like, forty books when he first started fostering me, they were all basically the same, he’s such a dumbass —”

“Stop, stop,” Lance begs, grasping his aching stomach. The image of Shiro, twenty years old, panicking after impulsively deciding to apply to foster the delinquent who stole his car, frantically googling advice for new parents only to unknowingly receive information about toddlers is the best mental image he’s had in a while. He’ll have to share with Pidge and the rest of the Holts the second they get home.

“You’re such a butthead,” Keith grumbles, but it’s half-hearted. His attention is still mostly on the way Mateo, Lance’s four year old second cousin, very nearly brains himself on the corner of the brick entryway trying to swerve away from his older sister. Keith’s sharp inhale would have been comical if Lance didn’t feel his own heart drop.

“Okay,” Lance concedes, “maybe it’s time for a new game.” He pats his boyfriend on the knee. “You’re up, champ.”

“Wait, me?” Keith asks, bewildered. “You’re their cousin.”

Lance shrugs. “You’re the worried one. Plus, I want to go get wine drunk with Rachel. Mamá said she just got here. She’s been avoiding my calls all week which means she has Information to share and doesn’t trust herself not to tell me immediately. I have to know what’s up.”

Keith still doesn’t look convinced. “But I’m a stranger to them, basically.”

“So start with Nadia and Sylvio, dummy. Once the rest of the kids see a cool newer and accidentally safer game to play, they’ll join fast. Plus, the stranger aspect is intriguing, probably. You’re like a new toy.”

To solidify his point, Lance calls his niblings over, gesturing to Keith. The twins light up, immediately abandoning whatever they’re doing — trying to shove a sleeping Luis’ finger up his own nose — to sprint over to them.

“Tío Keith has a game for you two,” Lance whispers conspirationally.

The twins burst into howling cheers.

“Game! Game! Game! Game!” they chant, each grabbing one of Keith’s hands and tugging him away.

Keith looks back at him, panicked. Lance blows him a kiss, then turns back into the house to go hunt for his sister.

She finds him first.

“LANCE,” she shouts, whipping around to face him. Lance immediately shifts backwards slightly, knees bent, legs widened, arms held out protectively in front of him. He smirks. She matches it.

She charges.

She aerials into a heel kick, as always, aiming for his skull. Lance back handsprings out of her reach, careful of the various relatives around him, who are well used to their brand of bullshit and don’t even pause their conversations as they lean away.

He comes back up just in time to throw up a block to her fists, aiming a kick to her stomach that she can’t fully dodge. She gets him right back, though, like she always does, aiming a sweeping kick for his ankles that he has to flip on his hands to avoid.

“It’s good to see you, fucker,” she pants, roundhouse kicking the dip of his waist.

“Likewise, asshole,” he grunts, grabbing her ankle and flipping her to the ground. She drags him down with her.

They’re both grinning.

“Tomorrow morning we box for real,” she proposes as they lay there, getting their breath back.

“Deal,” he agrees.

By the time they finally get back on their feet, they’re both parched, and since they also make frequent poor decisions, they head straight for the bad boxed wine. Lance pours them both heaping glasses and Rachel guides them to an open lawn chair, which they both sprawl on, a hundred percent in each other’s space.

“So,” Rachel says, chugging half her glass, “my grades are in. I’m graduating top of my class.”

Lance gasps. “Rachel!”

“And,” she continues, building up suspense with a grin, “I got word back from all my residency applications.”

Lance thinks he might explode. He remembers them when they were little, huddled on the floor of their bedroom at one in the morning, glow sticks guiding their planners, mapping out heir lives together. Where they would go to school, when they would bother with dating, how they would do it all together. Lance, best pilot to come out of the Garrison next to Shirogane. Rachel, the first surgeon to successfully transplant a brain.

“I got in,” she says, beam so wide it forces her eyes shut. “Lance, I got in!”

“Rach!” he screams, eyes blurry from tears and heart full to bursting. “Rach!”

He wraps his arms around her shoulders and squeezes, weeping with joy and elation and buzzing from his head to his toes. This is what Rachel has wanted since she was old enough to talk. This is his sister, his first and best friend, getting everything she has ever wanted, as she has always deserved.

“I’m so fucking proud of you!”

She squeezes him right back, her own tears wetting his t-shirt. Her relief is palpable, and Lance knows it, the indescribable feeling of finally crossing that goddamn mountain, finally getting what you’ve been working for for longer than you can remember.

“Everything is falling into place,” she says softly, pulling back and holding up her cup. Lance laughs and clinks them together.

They settle back into their shared chair, too happy for words, gathering themselves. Lance catches his mother’s eye and returns her soft smile, wine making him warm and happiness making him bright. He feels like he’s swimming in sun-warmed water.

He settles back with a sigh.

Rachel nudges him. “Hey, Loverboy. Look.”

Lance follows her pointing finger. Away from the tables and lawn chairs, in a wide, open space, there’s Keith — surrounded by every single child on the property, ordered in neat rows. Each of them has a hefty stick, held carefully in their hands, watching Keith with great intensity. Keith himself has his bayard out, stretched out in a battle position, back straight and shoulders loose. He has the same bright look on his face that he has during Lion training, or riskier missions. Excitement, steadiness, and a hint of cockiness that has Lance shivering. He demonstrates a move, and with a single minded focus, the children repeat it.

It has always been impossible not to want to be a part of everything Keith does, Lance has found.

“…You kind of scored,” Rachel observes.

Lance’s laughter is breathy, high-pitched. “Believe me, I know.”

There’s a rousing shout from the kids, then a cheer, then Keith shouts, “Ready?” and at their raucous response, chaos breaks out. Sticks are strikes and parried and children throw themselves dramatically on the floor in pantomimed deaths, scrambling to their feet seconds later to get back into the fray. Every few seconds Keith calls out rules and reminders, weaving through the children to point out places for improvement or congratulate someone for doing something right.

“I have never seen them all gathered this long without any crying or fighting,” Rachel says, something like awe in her voice. She pauses. “Well, real fighting.”

Lance smiles, something small and secret and over which he has no control. He catches his boyfriend’s eye and waves, which is returned at twice the enthusiasm.

“Keith’s good with kids,” he says quietly. To himself, he wonders if it’s possible to have a heart so full it bursts.

———

The blankets are scratchy but warm, and Keith smells as he always does, and Lance is half asleep. But the words come leisurely out anyway.

“You awake?“ he whispers, words tucked into the spot above Keith’s heart.

Keith hums. Lance feels the rumble of it in his cheek.

“Barely.”

His eyes are too heavy to keep open, so he lets them slip shut. He breathes deeply the smell of his boyfriend’s body wash, and traces meaningless patterns on his chest with his fingertips, breathing slowly, taking his time. He might fall asleep, but that’s okay. They have time.

“‘M glad you came, today.”

Keith’s breathing is slow and even, just like Lance’s, but he can feel the heavy weight of his gaze, those indigo eyes.

“I go where you go.”

Lance quirks his lips. The blankets rustle softly as Keith slowly slides up his hand, encircling his fingers around Lance’s wrist, palm resting on his forearm. After a minute Lance can feel his heartbeat, at the same time that he hears it, head pressed to Keith’s chest. “You’re good with the kids.”

Keith’s breath stutters. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I like them. And your family.”

“Told you.”

“Yeah, you did.” He’s silent for a minute, palm heavy on Lance’s skin. “I wanna — do this, Lance. Forever.”

Lance turns his head slightly, just enough to press his lips to Keith’s sternum. “I will love you until the end of time.”

He feels Keith’s smile, sweetening the air.

“I love you, too.”

[judeswhore]

don’t call me baby - jude bellingham

summary: jude isn’t happy you brought a date to the monthly hangout and jealousy gets the better of him

pairing: situationship!jude x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, minors dni, fingering, choking

notes: you can find my masterlist here. kinda based on this ask that i got

"ow, what're you doing? get off." jude clicked his tongue at your tone and the way you yanked your arm from his grip, pushed you lightly through the bathroom door. he locked it behind you, leant up against it with a deep frown. you hated him for looking so hot when he was clearly pissed off at you. you matched his glare with one of your own. "what do you want?"

"you brought a date?" it was mostly an amused scoff but you heard the hard edge of annoyance in the last word, a stab of victory flaring inside of you. you folded your arms and leant back against the bathroom counter, the few feet between you suddenly feeling like miles. your skin felt hot under his gaze, need blooming deep in your chest because it had been at least two weeks since he'd last touched you and as much as you hated it, you craved the feeling of him.

"he's not my date."

"he know that?" you narrowed your eyes at the boy in front of you before lowering your gaze, picking at your nails in a disinterested manner. your heart thudded because he'd stepped a little closer and you could smell the faint scent of his aftershave. it was your favourite, the one he told you once he only wore because he knew you liked it and knowing he'd chosen to wear it tonight made you just a little giddy.

"probably," you shrugged. "who cares, i'll be going home with him whether he's my date or not." you wouldn't be but jude didn't need to know that. you wanted to rile him up enough that he'd break the two week drought you'd been in. you knew it was working when his jaw clenched, nostrils flaring just a little. his brows dug a deeper groove in his forehead and he took another step towards you. his white shirt was open at the top and the tiny slither of skin almost had you drooling.

"oh really?"

"mhm, he promised he'd take care of me." jude's eyes flashed and then suddenly he was directly in front of you, both hands on the counter by your hips to block you in. he'd clocked the underlying meaning to your words and you knew he wasn't happy, the glare on his face making you ache, thighs pressing together in an attempt to dull the feeling. the scent of his aftershave again wrapped around you, made you want to press your face into his neck and breathe him in.

"did he now? what exactly did he promise he'd do, babe?" his head dipped and for the first time in two weeks his lips were on your skin. he brushed them lightly over your jaw, grinned when you shivered against him and your head tipped back just slightly. his touch was too light, his chest too far away. you wanted him against you, wanted to feel the heat of his skin, to feel his fingers grip you so hard there were guaranteed to be bruises left behind. "he promise he'd fuck you?"

"i don't really think it's any of your business." your voice shook just a little because he'd sunk his teeth softly into the sweet spot below your ear, soothed his tongue over the mark only a second later. everything beyond the bathroom door faded away, it was just the two of you, still stuck in this dangerous dance. you needed him to touch you properly, to get it over with because the ache was so intense you almost wanted to cry. hands balled into fists, you refused to touch him first, willed him with your mind to press his hand beneath your skirt.

"is that a no then?" he made a noise of faux sympathy, lifted his head from the crook of your neck and met your gaze again. a hand lifted from the counter and he brushed his knuckles softly over your jaw, the gesture far too adoring for the relationship the two of you had. you tried not to lean into him, swallowed thickly when he thumbed at your bottom lip. "how long's it been?"

"hm?" you couldn't think straight, his hips were flush to yours and you could feel his cock, hard and heavy pressing against you. his fingers danced across your throat, tickled over your collarbone but he kept his eyes fixed on yours, even when they grazed the swell of your boob in the low cut top you'd chosen to wear.

"how long's it been since someone fucked you?" he wasn't asking out of innocent curiosity, what he really wanted to know was if he had been the last person to fuck you. instead of answering you gave him a half shrug. "well you're looking at me like you want me to take you right now so i'm guessing it's been a while." his lips tilted into a smug smirk, his hand finding it's way over your side and down your thigh until he could tug at the hem of your skirt. "tell me you want it."

you stared at him in silence for a few seconds, brows drawn in together, pussy wet and throbbing from how close he was to touching you. his fingers were toying with the lace of your underwear, slipping beneath it to smooth over your skin. he shifted his hips to grind his dick against you and your breath hitched, annoyance and lust tangling together. you were hypersensitive to his touch, to his fingers and the way his lips were hovering over your jaw, his breath washing hot across your skin.

"or do you wanna go home with someone you know can't make you feel as good as i can?" he was so cocky you wanted to punch him but a stronger part of you wanted to kiss him, to shift his hand over just a few inches and let him ruin you. the second part of you won.

"god, you're so fucking full of yourself." your arms were suddenly around his neck, one hand against the back of his head to tug him towards you and the second your lips landed on his it was over. his mouth covered yours in a heated kiss, a sigh of relief catching in your throat. jude pressed a hand against your back, pulled you closer to him as he rocked his hips towards you, his other hand still dangerously close to your pussy.

the kiss turned harsher, the desperate drags of his tongue over yours making it hard to think, even more so when he nipped at your bottom lip. with his foot he knocked your feet a little further apart, pressed you harder into the counter with a low groan. he still wasn't touching you and it was driving you insane, your hips wriggling against him.

"jude."

"tell me what you want."

"you know what i want." his mouth was on your neck, teeth and tongue teasing across your skin until you were whining, all composure out of the window. one of your hands reached for his, fingers wrapping around his wrist to guide him between your legs. he pressed his palm flat over your underwear and let you grind yourself over him.

"tell me or i'll stop."

"why're you being so difficult?"

"if you wanted it that bad you'd just tell me." you rocked into his palm, the constant bump against your clit making your head spin but it still wasn't enough. jude sucked a mark against your jaw. "c'mon, use your words like we talked about." before jude you would never be demanding during sex, would never ask for what you wanted but with him it was different. he wanted you to ask. he wanted you to tell him exactly what you needed from him.

"i want you to make me cum."

"yeah? how?" you pouted despite the fact he wasn't looking at you and pressed a little harder against his palm. your underwear was in the way and the pleasure going to your clit wasn't enough, you needed more of him.

"your fingers. please, jude. want you to finger me." your cheeks burned, half in embarrassment, half in need and jude made a soft sound, kissed his way back to your mouth and offered you a grin.

"what would greg think if he heard you like this?" he slipped his hand into your underwear and the second his middle finger found your clit you went weak against the counter. he circled it slowly.

"his name's george."

"i really don't care." he was kissing you once more, brushing his fingers through your folds before pressing over your clit again. it was humiliating how worked up you already were when he hadn’t really done anything. the slick sounds between your thighs had jude groaning into your mouth. “you’re fucking soaked, babe.”

you thought he was going to draw it out, make you work for it considering how annoyed he’d first seemed but he surprised you when he circled the tip of his finger around your slick hole. he teased it inside, pulled out and went back to your clit, rubbed soft circles over it with the pads of his fingers. your head fell back and his lips were on your throat in an instant, sucking and biting at every bit of skin he could reach, his fingers swiping over you just a little bit faster.

when he finally sunk his fingers into you, your entire body tensed, walls wrapping snug around the two digits and sucking them back in. jude hummed against your skin, let his mouth travel down your chest and across the swell of your boobs. his fingers twisted inside you and he bit down, had you whimpering his name as he marked you with his teeth. his pace started slow and steady, fingers hooking to press against that spongy spot that made your back arch and your legs quiver. your nails dug into the back of his neck and he hissed at the pain.

somewhere in the back of your mind you were aware your friends were all downstairs and had probably realised the two of you had disappeared together. it was no secret to them that the two of you had something going on, they’d caught you on more than a couple of occasions but you’d promised this time was different. you’d sworn there would be no going back to him, george was supposed to be proof of that.

george.

the boy you’d brought along was still downstairs, most definitely wondering where you were and although you should feel bad about that you couldn’t bring yourself to. instead you rocked against jude’s fingers, clenched around them when he scissored them slightly. his thumb was on your clit, pressing over it in messy circles, pushing you further and further towards the edge. you were so wet you could feel it dripping from you, making a mess of your thighs and underwear, stickying jude’s wrist.

“that’s it, fuck, can feel how tight you are, wish i was fucking you with my cock instead .” his mouth found yours again and he kissed you a little harsher than before, slowed the thrusts of his fingers as he switched his angle and pressed them a little deeper. your head felt thick with desperation and you couldn’t bite back the loud moan when the fingers of his other hand curled around your throat. he squeezed the sides lightly, let his mouth hover over yours as he watched your reaction.

“think you can handle another?” for a second you weren’t sure what he was referring to but then he stroked his fingers against your slick walls, smirked and you understand. you were quick to nod, rolling your hips forward again. your tummy burned and your clit throbbed, your orgasm fizzling low inside of you. “good girl.”

his third finger was quick to join the other two, the stretch making you whine and cling to him, pussy clamping down so tight jude gave a low groan of pleasure. his cock was hard in his jeans and he had no issues grinding against you to get some relief. he crooked his fingers and picked up his pace, fucked you so hard tears started to fill your lash line. the sounds were obscene, loud and echoey in the bathroom, your moans and the slick wetness of your cunt fighting for dominance over what could be louder.

jude upped the pressure around your throat, kissed softly at your bottom lip before pressing his forehead to yours. he was so close he was swallowing all the pants and moans you were letting loose, your noises only spurring him on until he was fucking you at such a brutal pace your knees threatened to give out. you clung to his biceps for support, nails digging deep into the muscles they were sure to leave behind marks. the pads of his fingers repeatedly assaulted the most sensitive spot inside of you, each pass against it making you even wetter.

“tell me you missed me, baby.” the term of endearment dripped from his lips in a tone you’d never heard before, soft and adoring, loving like it never had been. it had you whimpering, head shaking as your walls started go spasm around him.

“don’t call me that.” jude blinked and then scoffed, twisted his wrist harshly and bumped your clit. the action was a little mean and you half sobbed in reply, teetering so close to the edge it was almost painful. he squeezed again at your throat, tipped your head back a little and sucked at your jaw again. you knew you were gonna be covered in marks from his hands and his lips but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“y’don’t want me to call you baby but you wanna fuck yourself on my fingers?” you managed a weak glare in response and shut him up with a scathing kiss. he rocked his fingers faster, stretched you open even further with them as you started to gush around them, your orgasm right in front of you. jude knew it too and he pulled back with a slow grin, released your throat so he could wrap the material of your skirt on his fist and lift it.

he made sure your pussy was on display for him, soaked and puffy, tight hole stretched around his fingers and gripping them so tight. he angled his wrist so each time he fucked into you his palm rubbed over your clit, his actions rough and messy the way he knew you liked. his smirk doubled when your thighs started to shake and your moans got increasingly higher in pitch, walls fluttering around his fingers as you tried to suck him back in.

“there it is, c’mon, pretty girl, give it to me. wanna feel you cum. you’re doing so well, taking it like a champ, babe, gonna fuck you later, yeah? cause you’ve been so good f’me.” jude’s words made you light headed, made you ache with the need for release as he kept up the brutal pace. he fucked your hole as you leaked over your wrist, tears spilling over your cheeks from how good his palm felt over clit.

“jude,”

“shh, s’okay, i’ve got you. let it go. c’mon, soak my fingers, want everyone downstairs to know what i’m doing to you.” he let go of your skirt and slipped his hand around the back of your neck, brought you in for a desperate kiss and the second his lips met yours you were letting go.

you came around his fingers with a muffled cry, your release making a mess of his hand, dripping down your thighs as he fingered you through it. he shifted so he could rub soft circled over your clit to drag out the aftershocks, his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of you. he kept them there, stroked your swollen walls until you were shaking your head and clamping your thighs shut.

you pulled your lips from his, blinked heavily at him as he withdrew his fingers, sticky with your cum and brought them up to your mouth. you wrapped your lips around them obediently, sucked and swirled your tongue until they were clean. jude gave a quiet moan, went in for another kiss as soon as you let the three digits go. it was messy and a little lazy, slow drags of his tongue over yours.

you’re not sure how long you stayed like that, his body pressing yours into the counter, your mouths moving in slow tandem, his hand on your hip brushed soothing circles with his thumb. it was intimate, more intimate than coming on his fingers and you knew something had shifted between you. a sudden knock on the bathroom door broke you apart, had you shoving at jude’s chest and straightening out your clothes.

“if you two are done fucking, george is looking for you.” your best friends voice was laced with amusement, a stark contrast to jude’s expression when you met his gaze. his eyes were dark, brows drawn together, a twisted look on annoyance around his mouth. his voice was rough when he spoke.

“why don’t you go be a good girl and tell george you’re leaving early? i’ll get us an uber.” he didn’t have to ask if you were going home with him, it was a given after what had just happened. and it was sad, really, how quickly you'd ruin something good for the smallest chance jude might finally decide he wants you completely.

[updownlately]

in your embrace (this crowded room doesn’t matter)

| leah williamson x reader

~~~

“You tired yet?” The soft murmur of words against your ear had you relaxing, the familiar voice automatically putting you at ease. 

Closing your eyes at the feel of her breath on your ear, you hummed in thought, processing the question as music filtered in from the speakers near you. 

Continuing to sway gently in the dim light, you tightened your grasp around Leah’s neck and pulled back ever so slightly, your eyes meeting blue ones.

“Not quite yet. Are you?” 

“I don’t think I can ever be tired while being in your arms…” 

Smiling shyly, you shook your head. “Half past midnight and your flirting just doesn’t stop huh?”, you questioned. 

The cheeky shrug and teasing smile you received in response had you quietly laughing, you tucking yourself back into the crook of the blonde’s neck, letting her guide you as the song changed. 

You both had spent the day celebrating love, having been invited to an old teammate’s wedding.

Partying hard through the better part of the evening and night, on the dance floor with friends and teammates, Leah had whisked you away a short while ago, just as the slow songs had once again come on, more than glad to finally get some time alone with you after the hectic day. 

The pair of you had ended up tucked near the back, lost in your own world as song after song had played, tons of other couples rotating on and off the dance floor as you two stuck around.

“I can’t believe we managed to make it on time…”

The quiet statement had Leah groaning in playful annoyance, her grip on your waist tightening.

“Not my fault you’re a distraction!”

“Me? I was ready on time…hair and makeup both done long before Uber had arrived. And if I recall correctly, it wasn’t me putting on lipstick and blush in the car, love.” 

Your hushed jest had the blonde hanging her head back, your pace slowing as she chuckled quietly at the memory. 

“At least the music was decent this time.”

Biting back a smile, you followed Leah’s movement without thinking, mind occupied recalling the morning before the wedding ceremony. 

Though the pair of you had woken up on time- a miracle if you were asked, considering it was a Saturday off- you had somehow managed to spend a tad bit (read: over an hour) too long in bed, more content with lazily cuddling as the time ticked by, you both blissfully unaware until your warning alarm had rung.

It had been a scramble to get ready in time for the wedding, the both of you running around the apartment grabbing all that you needed, you claiming the main ensuite and ushering Leah and her suit to the guest one so that you could both be ready to go.

Even with your strategic separation, the blonde had ended up over in your shared bedroom, eventually roped into zipping you up and helping you with your jewelry. 

Somehow, helping you out had turned into a small make out session, and well, if Leah had to fight the bumps on the road as she sang along to the radio whilst sorting out the final touches on her make up as the result of the time lost, you definitely weren’t the one complaining, more than content with your finished look and the presence of the blonde beside you. 

Snapping out of your thoughts as you heard the familiar strumming of your favourite James Arthur song play, you pulled back to smile at Leah, the blonde returning the sentiment as she tugged you ever so closer, your faces mere inches apart.

Matching grins on your faces, you matched your steps with Leah, softly waltzing under the dimmer lights in the back, satisfied with the knowledge that you would likely not be bothered, more than happy to be consumed in your own world, in your love. 

“…I’m so in love with you…and I hope you know…,” Leah sang lowly, just loud enough for you to hear. 

Finishing her line, you smile grew as you continued the song. “…darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold…” 

“…we've come so far, my dear…look how we've grown…and I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old…just say you won't let go…”

Voice dropping as you let the midfielder finish the stanza, you shook your head in amazement, blush coating your cheeks as your thought of how lucky you were. 

Head tilting as the soft hue reflected perfectly off of Leah’s eyes, you took a second to admire the darker colour that they appeared to be, as well as the rest of your girlfriend.

“You look absolutely incredible in this dim light- the way it’s perfectly highlighting your jawline and cheekbones, you’re gorgeous. And it’s somehow making your eyes nearly look this ethereal navy colour. Never thought they could get prettier but here we are…” You let your voice trail off, the quiet murmur over the music disappearing as you traced over the facial features of the one you loved, noting the rosy hue that covered her cheeks at your compliment. 

Rubbing your thumb comfortingly on the nape of Leah’s neck, you watched her wordlessly accept your compliment, her eyes not meeting your gaze telling you that Leah appreciated your comment. Picking up your pace once again and tightening your hold around her shoulders, you brought yourselves closer, picking up the pace to match the new song that played, an Ed Sheeran one this time. 

Taking a second to break out of your bubble as the song faded out, you took a look around the hall, realizing you were the only couple left on the dance floor, even the straggling drunk folks having sat down or headed out. 

Glancing up at your watch, eyes widening as you saw the time had nearly hit half past one, you slowed down your pace, looking around once more only to notice even the DJ wasn’t at their station, likely a playlist the source of the music playing. 

Bringing Leah’s attention to the station as you stopped dancing, you cast the blonde a look of disbelief before bursting out into laughter. 

“Leah, I can’t believe we’ve stayed out here that long…everyone else’s nearly gone!”

And as Leah’s head swivelled around in search for your friends, well aware that the newly-wed couple had headed out a little while ago, you held back your laughter, amazed at how the time flew by as you both had spent the nearly two hours dancing together, lost in each other’s embrace, completely blind to everyone else’s presence (or lack thereof) in the room. 

Turning back to you with a shocked look on her face, the blonde just barely managed to sputter out her next words. “We surely couldn’t have been dancing for that long, right?”

“Leah, I really think we ‘J-Lo’d’ this and very much have ‘danced the night away’,” you responded, giggling at your horrible joke. 

Shaking her head amusedly at the lame line, the blonde grabbed your hand, leading you towards your table. 

“I wish we could’ve danced a bit longer…forever even…” 

Wrapping your arm around Leah’s waist, you brought your joined hands up to your lips, placing a kiss on the back of her hand before stopping her in her tracks and nudging her to look at you, your voice just loud enough for you two to hear.

“How about this...at our wedding, you and I’ll make sure to dance until both our feet ache, okay?” 

Looking up into eyes shining with unspoken love, you let yourself be pulled into Leah’s embrace, sinking happily into the emotion-filled kiss being placed on your lips- the unsaid agreement clear.

Basking in the pure adoration, you held on tightly to Leah, grip only loosening as Leah pulled back, her wiping the slightly smudged lipstick gently off your face. Blonde head nodding vigorously, her response was enthusiastic. 

“I think I’d love that.”

Balancing on your tiptoes, you placed a final chaste kiss on the blonde’s lips as if to agree to the final decision before grabbing her hand and continuing your trek to your table.

Looking back as you walked ahead, you shot the blonde a wink and a sly smile, quickly grabbing Leah’s coat before speaking.

“Great! Then all that’s left is for you to propose!”

And as you left a wonderfully perplexed Leah at the table, you slowly began walking backwards to the parked car, a proud smile on your face as you faced the Englishwoman, a lovesick grin of disbelief shining from her.

You absolutely couldn’t wait to marry her. 

[katelynnwrites]

Sydney's Little Liebe | Sydney Lohmann x Child!Reader

warnings: not proof read but i promise you it's fluffy

word count: 900

summary: the very first time your favourite tante meets you, part of Sydney's Little Liebe

a/n: look at that! i've upgraded my game to making my own gifs 😂

You’re only a couple hours old when you meet your Tante Syd.

Of all your Tantes, she is the first to meet you.

In fact, other than Momma and all the medical staff, she is the very first person you meet.

Your Momma is absolutely exhausted after having you but she texts Sydney a photo of you nonetheless.

The midfielder has just finished a gym session when she sees the photo, as well as the caption, ‘Look who’s here….Do you want to meet her?’

You’re all red in the photo but you look to be sleeping peacefully. There’s a pink blanket swaddling you and your face is kinda squashed but Sydney is positively sure she’s never seen anything cuter.

She had known you were due to be born any moment but she didn't think that today would be the day.

With one hand already throwing her belongings back into her bag, she uses her other hand to reply to your Momma, telling her that she’s already on her way.

It’s not even twenty minutes later that your Tante's knocking on the door of Momma’s hospital room.

She had only stopped to pick up a bouquet of flowers and to rub her hands with a liberal amount of hand sanitizer, the bottle being conveniently located at the hospital elevator lobby.

Your Momma says to come in and Sydney pushes open the door.

‘Oh.’ She breathes as she sees you in your bassinet.

The blonde is not even aware that she’s crossing the room until she is right by your side.

You’re awake and less red now, more of a pink really and Sydney gently touches your hand.

She jumps when you close your hand around her finger, her heart beating fast.

‘Hi…’ She murmurs, completely and utterly taken by you.

Your Momma laughs, knowing that you have worked your charm on the midfielder and that she’s definitely going to spoil you silly.

Sydney takes you in for another long moment, looking at how tiny you are and how you already have the beginnings of fine hair growing on your head.

You look so serious, with your wide eyes and she can’t help but cry a little.

‘She’s entirely perfect. You’ve made the most perfect baby on Earth.’ She chokes out, to your Momma.

Walking over, she places a delicate kiss onto her fellow Bayern Munich player’s forehead and passes her the flowers.

‘She’ll have a lot of people looking out for her. Honestly, there is no way you’ll be able to keep our team away from her once they find out she's been born, especially Glo but I am here for you okay? I’m looking out for you. Anything you need, anytime you need it, just let me know. I will be there.’ Sydney promises.

‘Thank you Syd. That means more to me than you will ever know.’

Your Momma’s voice is soft and slightly tearful. She reaches for the midfielder’s hand and squeezes it before smiling, ‘Do you want to hold her?’

Sydney’s bottom lip trembles, ‘Really?’

‘Of course really.’ Your Momma tells her, slowly getting out of the hospital bed and picking you up.

The blonde remains motionless, staring at you with nothing short of awe.

Momma chuckles and quietly asks her to sit down.

So Sydney mechanically does but her hazel eyes never leave you.

‘I-I don’t know how to carry a baby. I’ve never held one before.’ The midfielder nervously stammers.

’You’ll do alright Syd, just make sure to support her head.’ Your Momma reassures her.

Then she transfers you into your Tante’s waiting arms.

Sydney releases a shaky breath. You are far lighter than she expects and she keeps her arms steady so as to not jostle you.

By cradling you to her chest, she gets an up close look of your little features.

‘She’s beautiful.’ The blonde murmurs.

‘You’re so precious.’ She whispers to you, brushing her finger across your cheek.

She makes sure to do as your Momma asked, supporting your head in the crook of her elbow.

You wiggle in her hold and scrunch your nose up, making her laugh.

‘I’m your Tante Syd and when you’re a bit bigger, I promise you that we’re going to have so much fun. I promise, Little Liebe.’

Your Momma giggles, ‘Little Liebe is cute and I know I’ve been referring to her as it for a while but don’t you want to know what her name really is?’

‘Oh so you finally decided on one?’ She teases.

Momma rolls her eyes, ‘Yes, yes I did and while I didn’t use any of your suggestions….’

Your Tante pouts, ‘Not even Sydney? What’s wrong with my name?’

‘No and that’s just it, it’s your name but…I did the next best thing. Her middle name is Tilly. Short for your middle name, Matilda.’

Sydney inhales sharply.

She’d tried so hard to keep her tears at bay earlier but now she’s completely unable to.

Your Momma takes a photo as the blonde emotionally presses a kiss onto your forehead.

‘I’m going to be the very best Tante in the world for you. I’m gonna buy you so many presents, I'm going to teach you how to play football with your Momma and get you all the ice creams you want when you're older. Just you wait Little Liebe because you and I? We're going to be best friends.’

German Translations:

tante - aunty

Little Liebe - Little Love

[neetily]

Just Hanging Out — M!Robin, M!Kylar, M!Whitney, M!Sydney

— ✧ warnings: Piss kink, pissing, Cockwarming, Fingering, Creampie — ✧ word count: 1,117 — ✧ genre: smut (18+)

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

Late at night, when most of the orphanage has went to bed and all the lights are out lest Bailey shows up to shout expletives; a bright screen illuminates your face. Robin's, too, though less so with the way he's got you situated on his lap, the low drone from the video game filling the room does very little to hide his huffed breaths heaved from behind you. Brushing up against your neck, your back to his chest; it's rather warm, isn't it? Both of his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, controller in his twitching hands resting between your legs. You're so soft, did you know that? Completely exposed and trembling against him, letting out little gasps for air and bitten back moans. Gotta stay quiet, he'd reminded you. The late night gaming session paired with his head buried in the crook of your neck, half closed eyes just barely focusing on the blurry screen in a half hearted attempt to pass the next level, cock buried deep in your squishy cunt for you to squirm on. It's his favourite way to game, he decides, forcing you to endure cockwarming him as some sort of private game only he can play with you. Even if you can't be as loud as he'd like to make you, feeling you struggle to sit still enough for him to win the game is addictive, drooling over your sensitive neck in mutual frustration. The casual setting just getting to him when he's balls deep in you, struggling himself. Who will win, do you think?

Though he'd never encourage it, seeing your pretty face show up in the library as you skip classes to be with him is secretly Sydney's favourite sight. Reading time, right? That, similarly, is his favourite time of day. Pulling out a new book, getting you situated on a seat in a hidden corner of the library with him by your side, pressed shoulder to shoulder so that you can see the words too. It's fun getting to read with you, not just because he enjoys experiencing new things with you, a shared interest in literature is a good way to spend some time together, he thinks. But also, more selfishly, because the cute way you shift in your seat as he pushes another finger into your little cunt is by far the best part of it all, no? Slowly, almost lazily, fucking his fingers into you. One by one, never missing a beat in the story as he finger fucks in and out of you idly, cock straining in his dress pants from the blatantly loud squelch your cunt makes in the relatively quiet library. Curling his fingers against your sweet spot when he's knuckle deep, only taking a break from the story to gently remind you to hush, you're in the library, when you start to moan a little too loud for his liking. He can't help but to tease you!

Kylar can't seem to focus on anything useful when you ask him how his day was, finding it difficult to keep his lewd expressions contained when you're bouncing on his cock so well like that. His tummy filled with butterflies at the way you seem to act so... Casual, as if you weren't riding him into the sheets below right now, his nervous fingers digging into your hips with a thick gulp. He can never answer you appropriately when you take to engaging in small talk while fucking him, his voice coming out all strained and broken. F-fine, he usually responds with; regardless of if that's true or not. It's just, well... Fuck, he feels so fucking stupid when you circle your hips on his lap like that, eyelashes fluttering shut as you continue to talk absentmindedly. Like you couldn't care less for his answer, God that's so hot. What did you do today, Kylar? as you drag your hips forward, grinding your pretty puffy clit against his pelvis, still yet looking unbothered by the way his cock throbs inside of you. I, uh... I don't know, nothing? he answers with a moan, back arching off the sheets when you drag your hips back down his pulsing cock. Did you at least eat well today? you ask nonchalantly, and his mind is so fucking blank from the inane conversation and bland tone you adopt that he hasn't even got the chance to warn you of his approaching orgasm before he shoots a load inside of you, cheeks red hot at the realisation that he's came to mere chitchat. That's how much he loves you, gasping a quick no to answer your previous unimportant question as you effortlessly milk him with a bored expression.

He knew you'd be in here like clockwork, waiting for him to show up like how he always does every morning before classes start. The mundanity of it all is exciting to Whitney, swinging the bathroom stall open to find you standing where you should be, toying with the hem of your shirt in assumed giddiness for the daily ritual. So normal is the routine, in fact, that he no longer has to prompt you into pulling your skirt up for him, the sight of your no panties aiding his fat cock to harden as he whips it out above the toilet. There's no need to use it though, is there? Stroking himself once or twice to make sure he's fully hard, enough to easily glide his twitching tip into your tight little hole just in time, too. You should be thankful he refuses to use the bathroom at home, dealing with the uncomfortable pressure in his tummy all the way to school just for you. A quite hiss escaping him at the warm feeling that immediately wraps around him, little cunt instantly coaxing piss to stream out from his erection as if begging to be used. His own personal toilet, wrapping an arm around your back to keep you pressed snug against him, unable to stop the barely there humps inside of you as he pisses, emptying himself into his favourite hole. Huffing right against your ear as he bends his upper body into you, marking your insides with his piss, just keeping the freaks away from my slut, he reminds you. And it's a long piss too, some of it dripping from your filled up hole to coat his cock, dribbling down to the actual toilet under you as he finishes with a shaky sigh. And that's all he ever does, pulling out to gently dab himself clean now that's he's done pissing. See ya in an hour or somethin' he taps your cheek twice before leaving.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #43] Circles

warnings: subby koo <3, begging, handjobs, semi-public ig, jk calling himself a slut <3, edging, fingering, pussy eating, finger sucking, reader on top yeehaw, jk calling reader a slut (nicely i promise), titty sucking, vvv messy finish lawl, cum swapping, confessions??, feelings??, communication???, the moon????, some v cute moments actually!

notes: my fave thing about bd chapters is the doodles that went with them bc they're lil time capsules and u just know how the release of seven influenced me/bd hehhehe

wc: 11.8K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"You've got so much sand in your hair," you muse softly, resting your head on Jeongguk's shoulder. Legs are wrapped around his waist, your chest is to his broad back as he carries you through from the kitchen to the living room.

It's just you and him, now, the main house quiet, save for your giggles and his reciprocation. The sand is residual from your chat on the beach, but you're still not really sure how he managed it—but it's sort of like your glitter. Gets everywhere even when you don't mean for it to.

The noraebang session you had returned to had died a brutal death. Jimin and Taehyung blessed your eyes and ears with a theatrical rendition of Bop to the Top from High School Musical, which scored them a mere 28.

Jimin threatened legal action. Taehyung begged Danbi for reassurance that his version of Sharpay's lines were flawless.

Too drunk for their own good, the rest of your friends had trundled back to their bedrooms. You and Jeongguk insisted that you wanted to clean up. Get the kitchen and sitting room fresh for the morning.

Really, you had just wanted an excuse to spend more time together. After an evening of ignoring him, you're desperate to fill your heart with his energy.

So far? So good.

The kitchen is spotless, as if the sitting room. You could go to bed now, if you wanted to.

But you don't.

As you reach the sofa, Jeongguk continues to keep you wrapped around his body, sitting you both down together. The scent of his aftershave is a little subdued, worn away throughout the evening, but it still drives you wild. Gets you pressing a silly little kiss into the curve of his neck.

He's pretty sure if you do it again, he'll die.

You're only in this position 'cause you'd started yawning, and Jeongguk didn't want you to fall asleep. Wanted you to stay awake with him into the early hours. You'd gladly obliged, his broad back the perfect place for you to get cosy.

Easing your position, your legs loosen, hands dropping to his waist.

The scent of his fabric conditioner steals the show as you press a kiss into his shoulder. 

Apparently you've lost your Goddamn mind, and are ignorant to the boundaries of platonic friendship. You don't behave like this with 'friends'—but it's nothing new, you suppose.

And you and Jeongguk most definitely aren't just 'friends'.

He's your favourite of all your friends, yes, but you care for him like a lover. Comfort him like it was your soul's purpose in a lifetime before this one. Find his gaze in crowded rooms as if you've spent millennia looking for him. Rest your head on his shoulder as if the crook of his neck was carved just for you.

He thinks it was.

"Like a little koala," Jeongguk fondly muses, one of his large hands stroking down your ankle while the other uses the remote to flick through the television options. He doesn't care much for shows nor movies these days, but just doesn't want to say goodbye to this day just yet. Wants to spend more time with you. "Watcha wanna watch?"

"Not fussy," you hum. In all honesty, your eyes are a little heavy. Whatever he puts on, you're gonna end up falling asleep. It's just a lame ass excuse to snuggle up with him in the most domesticated of ways. "Whatever you want."

Squeezing at your ankle, he says, "So you won't complain if I put Boss Baby on? WWE? Teleshopping? Porn channels?"

Shaking your head against his back, you smile. "You won't put Boss Baby on 'cause you've spent all weekend with Jimin."

"True."

"And teleshopping is a bad idea because you're weak," you tell him with absolute certainty. "They'll trick you into buying things"—

"Will not."

"Will too," you insist, knowing that he's just as bad as you when it comes to ridiculous, unnecessary purchases. "Porn channels are redundant 'cause I'm the only thing that gives you a boner these days"—

"Fair."

"So it looks like wrestling is your only option," you deduce, ignoring the way he just confirmed your joke about his boner situation.

In all fairness, Jeongguk hasn't even tried getting hard thinking about anything other than you lately. You're the only thing he desires. Only person, only body, only heart. Why waste time thinking of anything else? Wouldn't make him cum half as hard.

"I know your tricks," Jeongguk hums with a jovial air of nonchalance, opening up Netflix. "Get us watching WWE, learn a few tricks, then tackle me in a bid to seduce me. I wasn't born yesterday, Byeol. Can't fool me."

The way your body gently moves behind him when you laugh is nothing short of euphoria for Jeongguk. He loves this. Loves being with you.

For all the jokes that could be made about the validity of your claims of platonic friendship, you really are his best friend.

There's nobody else he'd ever wanna hang out with like this. Enjoys his space, yet seems to hate space when you're around. Wants to be close, close, close; always, always, always. Will stick to you like glue, if you'll let him.

"Don't need to tackle you to seduce you," you assure him. It's proven by the way his breath hitches as your hands sink to the top edge of his leather belt. You don't do anything. Just toy with the material a little. Tease. Say, "I barely have to touch you, do I? I bet you're getting hard now, aren't you?"

Suddenly, you don't feel so tired, anymore. 

Sleep can wait. Getting Jeongguk off can't.

There are two options for Jeongguk in this situation: denial, or acceptance.

He's pretty sure both of them will end in his dick getting wet.

May as well have a little fun with it.

"Nope," he lies.

The truth of the matter is that Jeongguk gets stiff at the drop of a pin when it comes to you. The mere mention of sex sends blood flooding to his cock. The implication that you might want to fuck him? Oh, he may as well have been going at it for half an hour with how much it makes him throb.

"Don't believe you," you whisper.

Jeongguk is still flicking through Netflix, but doesn't choose anything to put on. Is too distracted by the way you delicately stroke his belt. You could find out for yourself, if you really wanted to. He wouldn't object.

In fact, he encourages it, when the hand that had been holding your ankle comes to rest over one of your hands. Pushes it down. Rests your palm over his crotch, and pushes his hips upwards. Grunts.

"Yeah," he says, slowly pulsing his hips, building a firm pattern, the bulge of his cock fitting perfectly into the shape of your hand. "You're right to not believe it."

The Netflix search is abandoned as soon as you purr, "Let me get you off, Gguk."

The position you're in is kept, Jeongguk's belt threaded through its buckle, trousers unbuttoned, zip yanked down in a desperate bid to get your hands around his cock as quickly as you can.

Jeongguk tips his head back, breaths laboured. His crown rests upon your shoulder, as he hums into the satisfaction of the feeling your hands provide him with. "Tighter, baby. Grip it tighter."

You can't see what you're doing. Are relying on the feeling alone. Know his cock well enough by this point that it's no issue.

He gets a little pouty when you pull one of your hands away—but gets so incredibly vocal when you spit on your fingers and wrap them back around his thick shaft. Tells you how good you feel. How pretty your hands are. How much he wants to cum all over them.

God, he'd defile you right now, if he could. Sully your skin with his sex. Get those slender fingers of yours, and pretty nails, and just cover them in his cum.

Thing is, he wants to last. Has to push thoughts of finishing to the side. Can't embarrass himself like that, even as he whines into your touch like a little bitch.

Pushing his hips up into your slippery palms, Jeongguk is utterly obsessed with the way you feel.

"Oh, fuck, baby," he whimpers when you pick up the pace, his breathing all out of sync and so terribly cute. "You're so good to me," he praises. "So good."

Handjobs are typically fleeting whenever you fuck Jeongguk. A means to an end. This is different. Your hands are moving with purpose. He's jerking himself up into your palms 'cause he needs it. Needs you.

So you tease him—"So needy, aren't you?"—and are ever so pleased when he confirms your accusation. He nods. Grunts. Bites down on his bottom lip to stifle his noises.

And it's cute. So cute how much he likes even the simplest of sexual endeavours with you. Kind of feels like he never knew how good it could be—to fuck and be fucked in return—before he met you.

There's something about Jeongguk when he's like this— pathetic —that just really gets you going. You know you're soaked in your panties. Dress pooling around your hips, you wonder if he can feel your arousal. It's sort of unintentional, the way you grind your hips up against him. You're just turned on. Want him as badly as he wants you.

"You're fucking yourself into my hand like a desperate little slut, aren't you?" you giggle into his ear, nibbling on his lobe. You know it will drive him mad.

"Shit," he curses, leaning his head to the side to give you more access to his neck. Whimpers when your lips latch right onto his sweet spot. "Such a slut for you, B. God, baby, you're gonna make me cum. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard."

Every single word he utters is laced with a heavy, lustful breath. He's losing his mind. Forgot the simple pleasure of a pair of pretty hands.

"Beg for it."

"Byeol," he whines.

"Beg for it," you repeat. "Tell me why you deserve to cum, huh?"

"Cause you fuckin' want it," he grunts, shuddering a little as his torso twitches from the pleasure he's fighting. "You wanna see me cum. I know you do."

"That's not begging," you say as you press a light kiss to his neck. "Do better."

And against all odds, he does.

"Let me cum," he breathlessly whispers. "Byeol, please let me cum. I'll do anything."

The power trip is unbelievable. Too good to give up.

But the tortured, laboured whimper he mewls as you release your hand? The way his body doubles over? The hushed curses under his breath?

Makes it so incredibly worth it.

"I'm on the verge of death," he pants when he realises what you've done. Squirms beneath the pressure of his undelivered pleasure. "Oh God, I'm gonna fuckin' die. You're gonna kill me."

He's being dramatic. All you've done is withheld an orgasm. Edged him a little.

All weak and limp, Jeongguk's hips are still involuntarily pulsing, cock desperate for release. Balls so tight he really does think he might die.

And so he pulls away. 

Decides that if you're gonna be a brat, then he's gonna be even fuckin' worse.

He gets to his knees. Rids himself of his dress shirt. Positions himself right between your spread legs. Is gonna give you a taste of your own fuckin' medicine.

Jeongguk hooks his arms under your thighs and yanks you forward, for no purpose other than to plant kisses all over the soaked lace of your underwear as quickly as he possibly can.

Dress pooled by your hips, the access is easy. He's already deduced that you're only wearing the bra and panties of the three piece set, but he doesn't give a fuck.

Truthfully, when it comes to having sex with you, none of that matters.

Skin on skin is what he wants. Closeness. Togetherness.

"Oh, fuck me," he chokes out when he's sees how badly you want him, dark eyes tracing over the lines of your slick core.

He slips his index finger beneath the strip of fabric that covers your pussy, and pulls it to the side. Has never felt hunger quite like it. Brings his middle finger to your already soaked hole and gently pushes inside. Sinks down to kitten lick against your clit, utterly obsessed with the taste, the scent.

"God," he barely pulls away. Brushes his lips against you as he speaks. "I could just fuckin' die in this cunt."

"Then do it. Die for me," you tease, hand coming to tangle in his hair, encouraging his lips to suction around your clit. His finger continues to fuck itself into you, quick in its pace. He pulls back. Spits. Reattaches himself to you, as if he can't bear to be apart.

The sensation of Jeongguk is almost too much to bear. Almost .

Toying and teasing, he's manipulating your pussy with his hands all in a bid to get your body writhing.

There's something to be said for the way his touch just absolutely controls you. Domineers. Dictates. How he can be as soft as his silky hair in one moment, then as hard as his sharp jaw the next.

He hums in approval as he sucks on your pussy, palm to the sky as he begins to pick up the pace of his fingers. There's a lewdness to the sounds that you make together; a harmony that's so disgustingly human it almost makes him forget that you're not of this world.

Brighter than any of the stars shining in through the window, you're beaming. Alive with the feeling of Jeongguk laying claim to you, as if he's just discovered one of those scam name-a-star websites. Card data already input into the checkout, he'd waste all his resources on you.

His tongue is flat as he delves between your folds. Flat, and firm and fucking divine— until it's pointed, and precise and overwhelmingly perfect. Heat travels through your entire body, from the tip of your toes to the tops of your fingers. It's bliss. He's bliss.

The thing about stars is that they burn. Are red hot in a way that Jeongguk failed to realise when he first became acquainted with you. Every touch of your body has rewritten the fabric of his. There are constellations in his fingerprints; cosmic entities where your lips have pressed your adoration into his skin.

Jeongguk is not the same man he was before he knew you, and he'll never be the same again. The scars you leave are promises. I'm yours. Invisible to the naked eye, yet entirely obvious to anyone who spends time in his company. You're mine.

His mouth is a little too preoccupied to make any silly declarations right now, mind you. Lapping at your pussy, Jeongguk eats you out like he hasn't had a good meal all week. He'd starve for seven days if knew he'd have the luxury of your taste by the time Sunday arrives.

"Nicest pussy ever," he promises when he finally takes a second to breathe. Looks up at you, eyes glossy. Starry. The tip of his nose shines in the haze of your hedonism, lips wet. "Nicest pussy in the whole world."

"Oh yeah?" you giggle, a little amused with how sweet his compliments are. Sweet, and stupid, and simply impossible for him to test the validity of.

Not that he ever wants to. Only wants you.

You scratch behind his ear, and Jeongguk's puppy-dog tendencies return as he leans into your touch. Smiles. Hums in complete contentment.

"Mhmm," he says, leaning back down to press kisses all over your slick lips, fingers thick as they continue working your pussy for his viewing pleasure—and for your pleasure, full stop. Punctuated with pretty kisses in the place of full stops, he says, "And it's mine . I get to have it. So lucky, baby. So lucky."

There's no luck to this. None whatsoever.

A little fate, maybe. Destiny.

"Yours?" You raise a brow.

He doesn't give you a verbalised response.

Just wraps his lips around your clit, and keeps his eyes open this time. Looks up at you, dark eyes twinkling, dewy nose pressed into your skin, his desperation to devour you evident. Lets his fingers scissor inside you. Gets your toes pointing. Has you looking to the sky. Your back arches, fingers tight in his hair.

"Gguk," you whine, as if he's in any position to respond to you—but he does .

He hums, and— fuck —the vibration around your clit sends you orbiting.

"That's it," you breathe out, looking back down as a familiar sensation begins to take control. He doesn't ease up. Keeps stroking at your sweet spot. Keeps sucking on your clit. Keeps doing what he's doing 'cause he loves what's about to happen.

Ever the gentleman, and incredibly unlike you ten minutes ago, Jeongguk decides to let you ride the wave of the orgasm crashing over you. Doesn't wanna deprive you. Wants you to feel good. Knows it won't be the last time it happens tonight.

"Shit," you choke out as your shoulders press down into the sofa, one of your hands instinctively cupping your chest. The dress you're wearing is still covering most of your body, but it doesn't matter. Jeongguk'll get you out of it eventually. "That's it. That's it— fuck ."

The way your walls begin to tighten, legs hooking around the back of his head as your entire body shudders, is almost enough to make him finish, too.

He thinks it's the hottest thing he's ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Doesn't understand how he can find such pleasure in someone else's orgasm, but knows if it came down to him or you, he'd sacrifice all of his for one of yours.

Moaning as he drags you to a height of pleasure reserved only for the brightest of stars, Jeongguk smiles through it all. Reluctantly pulls away from you with laboured breath, chest heaving from the fact he kinda forgot how to breathe. Was busy. Thinks your pussy is more important than his survival.

"You good?" he checks, resting his pretty head on your thigh. Keeps his fingers plugged inside you, but slows the movements to a halt. Just keeps you full, 'cause he can. 'Cause he wants to. 'Cause he's lowkey obsessed with you.

With a nod, you let your body relax into the plush pillows of the sofa. Giggle. Keep your legs over his shoulders, but hold your face in your hands, as if you're embarrassed by how hard you came for him.

But then a kiss is pressed to your inner thigh, pretty and soft, accented by the hardness of his lip ring.

"You came so well for me, baby," he praises. Thinks it's cute how shy you get whenever you cum. So pretty and perfect and his. A shallow laugh gets caught in his throat, before he shakes his head and sits up a little straighter. "So gorgeous when you cum. Pretty, baby."

Jeongguk has never been more in love.

Slowly, he pulls his fingers from you. The tepid movement makes your back arch ever so gently, pussy still sensitive from your climax. Eyes on his, you know him well enough to get a read on his intentions. His desires.

So you just smirk. Let your lips part. Hold your tongue out ever so slightly, eyes wide, expression playful. He follows your lead. Brings his messy fingers to your lips. Sinks them into your mouth, and is met with the most glorious sight.

The expression on your face changes . Darkens .

While, yes, your eyes are still wide, it's your cheeks that really get him, now.

Your typically sweet cheeks are hollowed, your bone structure exclusively on show for him. It gets him throbbing. Gets him wrapping his spare hand around his cock—not that it needs any encouragement. He's still rock-hard for you. Still wants you.

Is proven, when he begs once more. "Let me fuck you, babe."

A smirk settles on your lips as he pulls his fingers back. You shuffle in your seat. Readjust. Keep your legs spread and encourage him to squeeze onto the sofa with you.

The angle is a little off, and it definitely isn't gonna be how you fuck him, but it brings him closer to you. Close enough to kiss. Close enough to smell your arousal on him. Close enough to let him sink his tongue between your lips and get lost in you once more.

All you ever seem to want these days is to be close to Jeongguk, and even then, close is never close enough. His lips are on yours, your tongue in his mouth, his hands all over your body—and still it's not enough.

There's something missing; words that would fuse you to him. Words that you know damn well if uttered right now would end in disaster—so you bite back the desperate, hungry, declarations that are dancing in your throat. Reach for Jeongguk's hand. Force him to wrap his fingers around the base of your throat, just so you can keep those pesky words at bay.

The squeeze of his wide hand around your neck is welcome. Not too harsh, just strong enough to let you know that no other necklace would suit you half as well as Jeongguk's pretty, tattooed hand does.

It's force of habit, more than anything, that makes his spare hand drop to your pussy. Fingers flat, he rubs over your clit at the speed of lightning, not for any grand purpose other than to make you shake a little. Smirks, when you do exactly as he thought you would.

"Look at how easy you are for me," he husks, pressing his lips across your cheek, down your jaw. Squeeze your throat a little tighter. "You gonna let me fuck you, huh?"

The tables have turned.

You're the pathetic one, now.

"Uh-huh," you whine when he sinks his middle finger back into your pussy. He's quick. Repeats it a couple times. Loves how needy you are; how noisy your pussy is. So fucking wet for him.

As he pulls his hand from your cunt and wanks himself a little, he revels in how your slick juices feel against his shaft. Doesn't know how the fuck he found pleasure in anything before he knew you. Knows he'll never find pleasure in anything else. You've corrupted him. Completely and utterly. Ruined.

His lips trail to your ear, hands roaming your body. Squeezing. Appreciating. Devouring.

He's quiet, when he husks, "Want you to ride me."

"Say please," you quip back without missing a beat.

It's not like you're gonna say no—but you are gonna make him beg a little.

"Please, B," he says so daintily it's as if his cock isn't all red and engorged and leaky at the tip for you. He's got the body of an angel, but all it makes you wanna do is sin. "Be a good girl for me. You know you want to. Fuck me how you want to fuck me."

He does know how to ask nicely, you'll give him that much credit.

Jeongguk pulls away and sinks into the sofa beside you, certain you'll do as you're told.

His arrogance will catch up with him one day, but you're too eager to please him right now. All you wanna do is fuck him right, 'cause you know he'll fuck you right in return.

There's no objection as he pulls you onto his lap. No time wasted as he rubs the tip of his cock between your soaked folds. No bodies more connected than yours when he finally pushes up inside of you.

He groans. Throws his head back. Holds your waist and is reminded of your dress. Decides that it absolutely needs to go.

The way he rids you of the silky fabric is barbaric. You don't know where he throws it. Don't know if it's still in one piece. All you know is that his lips are on your skin as soon as they can be, his hips rutting up into you, cock nudging so deep inside of your cunt you can feel him in your fucking throat.

Okay, so maybe that's dramatic, but he just fills you so fucking well. Is so big. So nice.

His hand wraps around your back to release the clasp of your bra with little to no effort. He sheds you of your clothes and has you exactly how he wants you: naked, whiney and ever so beautiful as you take his full cock inside you.

Jeongguk's not small. Not by any stretch of the imagination. He's easily got the biggest cock you've ever taken, yet your body adapts to him effortlessly. You're tight, yeah, but not painfully so. It's all pleasure. You're made for him, and him for you.

The thickness of his cock is amplified when he grabs your waist and begins to bounce you at a faster pace.

"Oh, shit," he curses. "God. Taking me so well, aren't you, B? Taking this fat cock so easily. Oh, fuck yeah. Pretty, pretty slut."

It's been a while since he got vulgar with the name-calling. Was reminded of how much he likes it when you'd done it earlier.

You'd forgotten how much you like it too; how much you like the acknowledgement that you'll slut yourself out for him, and him alone.

"Whose slut are you? Huh?" he asks, never caring for a response. Just gets a little loose with his lips when your pussy gets tight. "Who does this cunt belong to?"

"Oh, God," you mewl, unable to form anything coherent.

He almost fuckin' snorts as he laughs. "Don't think this cunt does belong to God."

"Fuck off," you laugh. Find it so endearing that he still finds the time to joke with you. "Gguk"— his hips thrust up harder, and you have to curse him out a little before you can continue —"It's yours, you prick."

He smirks. Tips his head back, the clamminess of his body making this all so much filthier. There's a sheen to his skin, sweat dappling him. His tattoos seem even more vibrant now, your hand holding onto his arm for dear life as he rams his cock into you.Slows his hips a little. Rolls them now. Husks, "Mine."

"So big, Koo," you mumble into his lips, as if he doesn't know. It's so much more satisfying hearing your stay. Your words are stuttered. Slurred. Fucked out. "Baby, you're so big."

"Don't call me that," he husks. Grabs your tits. Plays with them just 'cause he can. Teases your nipples. Pinches. Makes you mewl. "Call me that, and you'll make me fuckin' nut."

It's not just 'Koo' getting him needy today. It's 'baby', too. 

Jeongguk has always been the one more naturally inclined to call you baby—but just because you don't say it as often doesn't mean you don't think it.

God, you wanna call him baby all the time these days. When you're lazing around together, when you greet him, when you're giggling with him in the sanctuary of his bedroom, birds looking on with a fond curiosity. Baby would just roll off your tongue so naturally, if you let it.

And so, in this moment, you do.

"Hmm, baby?" you torment him.

"B," he stays sternly as he pulls you down onto his dick. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix, as deep as it can possibly go. You mewl. Gasp. Whine. And he loves it. Loves the way you sound; loves that the sounds are all involuntary and that it's his size making it happen. "Don't wanna cum yet. Wanna fuck you for hours."

It already feels like it's been hours, but it also feels like it's been no time at all.

Sex with Jeongguk alters the time-space continuum. It has to. There is no way that fucking Jeongguk doesn't transform the world in some way, shape or form.

Or maybe it's just your world that it alters. Your life. Your heart.

Taking back a little control, you rake your fingers in his hair, and pull them taut. He gasps. Stutters out a moan. Eases his grip on your waist to let your hips roll at a slower pace. He puts you in control, 'cause it's what you want.

He'll give you anything you ask for. Everything.

"Shit," you curse, grinding against him. The friction of your clit rubbing up against the neatly trimmed pubic hair is nothing short of euphoric—and when his lips latch around one of your tits? Sucks on it softly? Is tender with his touch instead of the slightly aggressive, domineering Jeongguk you were expecting? Oh, you won't last long at all. "Feels so good, Gguk."

"Mhm?" he hums, vibrating around your nipple, his thumb coming to rub at your neglected bud on the other side. God, he loves your tits. Wants them in his mouth all the time. Quite the change since your first meeting. Doesn't know how he lived without them before.

"Mhhm," you nod, pressing your lips to the top of his head.

The way your bodies are moving together is anachronistic; of a time before casual fucking and the conventions of modern dating. It's primal. Lethargic in the way you want to experience one another; eager in your yearning.

It's as if you knew him in another life. As if the stars have always intended on you merging. As if you've been a black hole waiting to happen, but now in the abyss you find abundance: Love, acceptance, contentment by the bucket load.

Eventually, the pace builds like you knew it would. Jeongguk's grunts get loftier. Your moans get shorter. Sharp. They hitch at the back of your throat, and Jeongguk kisses you until they dissolve onto his tongue.

It's as he's playing with your clit that a second, far stronger, orgasm is drawn from you. You think you see stars. Jeongguk knows for a fact he sees stars.

He also takes it as confirmation that you're getting worn out; that he doesn't need to hold off finishing.

His hand grips your ass, working you up and down his shaft in a desperate bid to coax an orgasm out of his cock, even if you're a little fucked out. It really doesn't take much to get him there; to have him cursing your name and kiss your neck.

"Oh, shit, babe," he pants. "Where"—

"Tits."

" Fuck ."

Neither of you care for the awkward clambering as you get between his legs once more, nor the dizzy disposition of your knees after your orgasm.

All you care about is Jeongguk. His pleasure. Making him cum.

You want to be the reason. Want him looking at you.

And he does.

It's delicate, how violently his body unloads itself for you. His lips are parted, brows furrowed as he wanks himself for you. You've always loved him like this. It reminds you of the early days—a little too scared to touch one another, but desperately wanting to.

It's different now. Touching Jeongguk is a natural inclination that's reciprocated. If he couldn't touch you— innocently as well as intimately —then he'd probably die.

"Cum for me," you beg, holding your tits together for him.

He shudders, legs twitching as the sensation boils over, and he shoots thick spurts of semen all over your chest. You gasp as he does so, and regret not asking for it in your mouth—so you lay your tongue flat for him. He gets the memo. Rests the tip of his cock on your tongue as massages the final spurts of his load into your mouth.

"Shit," he curses, then drags you back up to his lap. Clasps either side of your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss so desperately that he doesn't even wait for you to swallow. Licks into your mouth. Whines when he tastes himself. Drops a hand to squeeze at one of your tits, and ends up just rubbing his cum into your skin.

It's filth. Real fucking dirty.

And yet it's pure.

Unadulterated desire shared between you both. Reserved only for one another.

Eventually, as the kisses begin to ease into teeny tiny pecks, Jeongguk laughs to himself. Shakes his head. Beams as he cups your jaw and presses one final, deliberate kiss into your lips.

"If you keep fucking me like that, you're gonna get me saying all kinds of dumb shit," he promises.

"Oh yeah?" You giggle, reaching across the sofa, still in his lap, to retrieve his shirt. Thread it over your arms, you don't bother to do it up - you just know that dawn is brewing on the horizon, and fear a rogue friend of you both strolling over to the main house for some reason. Your back is to the large windows, but wouldn't take a genius to work out what's occurring. "What kinda dumb shit?"

"Dunno. Shit about how you ride me so well," he praises, eyes darting around your face, 'cause he's obsessed with every single part of you. Eyes, nose, lips. Wants them all. Settles for a nudge of noses. "So good at making me feel good, baby. So good. God, I can't believe I get to fuck you."

There's a genuine look of relief on his pretty, smiley features, as if there'd be a reality in which you'd ever turn him down.

"Can't believe I get to fuck you," you giggle right back, as Jeongguk begins to preen you. He smooths your hair. Studies the glitter on your cheeks, but doesn't change it. Loves it just as it is.

"Shut up," he says, a little bashfully—as if he wasn't the one to start this whole complimenting one another bullshit.

Jeon Jeongguk always looks so pretty in the afterglow; skin made of stardust, a smile that shines. The clamminess of his skin always makes him seem a little rounder, a little softer. It's cute—and right now? It's just for you .

You half think Jeongguk is gonna throw some sort of childish remark your way, until his demeanour sort of stiffens a little. His teeth press down on his bottom lip, and the ring, of course, does the thing. He seems perplexed. Concerned.

You're about to ask, but then Jeongguk decides that you shouldn't have to.

He should just tell you. What he thinks, how he feels.

And so he says, once more, "Byeol, I don't wanna keep going around in circles."

Pulling away a little, you snuggle down into the couch beside him. Giving him the space to pull his Calvins back up, there's a comfort to the serenity you're basking in.

Anyone who saw you now—you naked save for his shirt, traces of his sex glistening on your skin, and him in his underwear—would be forgiven for thinking you were a pair of newlyweds after their big day. Snuggling into another, it's a dangerous place to get too comfy. You really should go back over to the side-house that you're supposed to be sleeping in.

"Then start going in a straight line," you counter, childish in your tiredness.

He hums out a small laugh, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. "I mean it, B. What I said earlier."

"Which part?"

"The part where I told you I wanted you," he says quietly. Squeezes you tightly. Needs you to know he's telling the truth. "No one else. It's just as true now as it was when I first said it."

"You don't know what it's like to 'have' me. I'm not easy to handle," you say candidly.

Jeongguk thinks you're incredibly easy to handle. It's your asshole ex-partners that have been difficult.

"Nor am I," he says softly instead, not fighting back against the perception you presented. Knows how you work. Knows you'd never believe him regardless. Will just have to prove it to you over time. "I don't want easy. Don't want anyone else. Just want you."

Feels like a moot point, now.

You know how Jeongguk feels. It's been established.

But it's late, and you're both a little tired and probably a bit cranky from the alcohol. Need to sleep.

And so when Jeongguk cuts the conversation, chucks you his shirt and offers you a piggyback ride to the house, you accept it.

Just like you accept it when he drops you off in your room, and never leaves.

His own bedroom is rendered useless, for there's nowhere else he'd rather dream than right next to you.

Jeongguk doesn't fight sleep when it comes. Falls into it willingly, arm still looped over your waist to keep you close. He doesn't mind the heat. Doesn't mind your hair in his face, or the inability to move freely. Would far rather sleep with you like this than alone.

Typically, you'd find it easy to fall asleep in such a position. Not with anyone else—you'd be frustrated with their warmth, and imposing touch—but with Jeongguk, it's always welcome.

Tonight, you stare at the ceiling.

Grey in the light of the bay that seeps in through the window, the emptiness feels as calming as the boy beside you. There's no reason why you shouldn't be able to sleep, but your mind seems to be racing at a mile a minute, filtering between the security of time spent with Jeongguk, and the instability of exactly what you are.

The conversations had today have shined a little light on Jeongguk's feelings, but it's still nothing solid. You're still just friends. An attempt had been made at changing that, but it was a fruitless endeavour. Just feels like Jeongguk was right—you are going round in circles.

People can be fickle, and you know that Jeongguk has been holding out his heart from hurt recently. You doubt he'll be willing to venture down the path he's already travelled with Hayun. Why make the same mistakes twice? You're both supposed to be growing. Learning.

Falling into something with you is the opposite of what he should be doing.

Yet his arm is looped around your waist, bare skin sticking to yours in the heat of your embrace. He clearly finds comfort in you, but isn't confident enough in his feelings to actually commit to you.

And you shouldn't compare—you know this—but you've been made to feel like this before.

So you adjust. Shakes out of his shackles. Can't leave, 'cause it's your room, but you consider it - where would you go? To his room? To the beach?

Anywhere but here.

There's not really much thought put into it when you eventually slip out from the duvet, and quietly head down the stairs. Are childish as you stick your middle finger up in the direction of Hayun's room, just 'cause you're sick of her and her impact on your life, but aren't willing to actually argue with her. Unseen passive aggression is your new best friend.

Sliding the front door open, you're met by the chill of the cold spring air. All you're wearing is Jeongguk's button-up - the same one he'd taken off you before bed with little care for seducing you.

That being said, he did frown when you went to change into pyjamas. Insisted that you didn't need them. Had you naked beneath the sheets with no intention of fucking you - which felt like a headfuck within itself.

You don't mean to be this way; to be so suspicious of innocence.

Your insecurities are deep-rooted. They'd been so well conditioned into the fabric of your being that they now sit flush against your previous expectations of relationships. They're impossible to pick away. They need to be excavated, then re-filled with a new understanding of what it's like to be loved.

Jeongguk's been trying.

It's hard work, though. Laboursome. Strenuous. Stressful. Takes far more time than it really should.

He thinks it's the easiest job in the world.

The reward is so much greater than the investment. There's no sunk cost fallacy with you; even if it doesn't work out between the pair of you, he's hoping he'll at least heal the wounds left by someone else. Wants you happy and healthy, only. Always. Endlessly.

The sea that stretches in the distance and far beyond your eye-line is in a state of the rest. The moon has calmed the tides or so it seems. As you crouch down, feet flat to the floor on the lawn, you hope she'll do the same for you.

There's a crunch of gravel in the distance, and you know exactly where it's coming from. Who's stepping across it in search of stars.

Part of you hates that he's awake so suddenly.

Most of you loves it.

Coming to crouch behind you, Jeongguks knees spread to either side of your body. Chin resting on your shoulder, he restrains from holding you—but only because he's aware of the fact you left. Doesn't want to trap you.

"Watcha doin," he mumbles, voice croaky, the heat of his body warming you up. "Fuckin' freezing, B. You've no trousers on."

Nor does he. In fact, he's dressed even more poorly than you are, in just a pair of boxers. Though summer is approaching, the nights here are still worthy of a padded jacket. Jeongguk's temperature is running warm, like it usually does when he sleeps. If he were to hug you—which he won't until he's certain you even want that—you'd realise this.

"S'not too bad," you say of the temperature, even though you know your nose must be ever so blushed.

"Is too," he counters quietly, the movement of his jaw as he talks forcing his chin to dig a little into your shoulder. It doesn't hurt, though. Never hurts. Jeongguk will never hurt you, not really. You do that all by yourself. "And you didn't answer me. What are you doing out here?"

"Couldn't sleep," you reply without giving him space to breathe, because honesty feels too daunting.

"Did you try?"

"To sleep?"

"Mhmm," he sleepily mumbles.

The truth of the matter is that no, you didn't. Imaginary sheep remain uncounted.

Turning your head to face him, you are pleased to see him in this state: hair fluffy, eyes puffy. He's never cuter than he is in times like these.

The moon reflects on his lip ring, specks of glitter still on his skin.

"Pretty," you say, 'cause you think he deserves to know exactly what he is.

"Pretty," he just repeats back. Is soft in his tone. Gentle. Calming.

Maybe it wasn't the moon you needed after all.

Jeongguk's lips are feathery as they brush with yours, closing down slowly. The application and removal of pressure works like clockwork, just like it always does, and the subtle swipe of his tongue against your lips is welcome. You reciprocate. Swipe your tongue against his, and encourage him to intrude—but he doesn't. Not really.

While yes, on a technicality, his tongue is in your mouth, it's not how it usually is. It's slow. Lamblike. A soft reminder of how tender he can be.

"Come back to bed," he says quietly, barely pulling away. "Wanna sleep with you." He clutches your jaw. Kisses you again, but this time lets his tongue stroke against yours a little more deliberately. "Want you to stay with me, B."

He's so much needier when he's sleepy. So much cuter. Daintier.

"Don't want you to ever leave," he whispers. Kisses you again, so that you can't reject his request.

Leave what? His bed? His life? His embrace?

He doesn't clarify, and you don't ask for it, either.

Instead, nose resting against his, eyes closed, a serene smile on your lips, you say, "Ever? I have to stay forever?"

Jeongguk nods. Kisses you quickly. "That'd be preferable."

But there's an all too large awareness looming on Jeongguk that you left .

History is repeating itself, and it's so much more bitter the second time around.

There's an embarrassment that comes with this acknowledgement.

Perhaps it's his own fault. Perhaps he hasn't really given you enough time to process everything. Hayun has always been a sticking point, and her being here has shifted the mood completely, but Jeongguk really thought progress had been made. That maybe you and him were starting to figure things out.

But you've both got experiences that taint this stage of falling for someone else. Your defences have been up ever since you came to realise that maybe you've been lying to yourself about your true feelings for Jeongguk.

So to look across dining tables and be confronted with the woman he once thought he'd marry?

It sorta killed you, a little—or at least it kills the idea of longevity with Jeongguk. A pact was made, after all, and Jeongguk is a man of his word.

It's all you can think about whenever you look at her, so fuck knows what he must be thinking about when he does.

He loved her once. Her, with her cherry red lips and feline smile. Her, with her ambition and her wit. Her, with everything that you're not.

Confusion comes with the confrontation of the girls once loved by the man you adore.

"Is it not strange?" you ask, turning to face away from him. "Having to be around Hayun all the time? Is it not awful for you? Don't you"—

"No," he interrupts your final question. Doesn't care to hear it. Knows you're in your head again over stupid shit. "B, how many times"—

"You were in love with her," you stress the words softly. A fight isn't what you're looking for. Not in the slightest. You're just trying to understand . "When I first met you, Gguk, you were in love with her."

Knowing what he knows now, feeling how he feels now, he isn't so sure.

"Was I?"

Ignorant to the fact that Jeongguk thinks you're incomparable to her, you don't fully trust his questioning.

"Yes."

Jeongguk takes a second. Knows that whatever he says next will dictate the rest of the conversation.

There's something about Hayun that just gets under your skin. No matter how much reassurance you get from him, there always will be. It's his own fault, he thinks. Knows that he's the one who informed your opinion, but fails to realise that you wouldn't have liked her regardless. She's just not your kind of person. Too critical in her gaze. Too stand-offish. It's really not hard to understand why she caused Jeongguk to develop a myriad of complexes.

"Well, what about Seokjin?" He questions now, not looking for a fight either, but definitely a little agitated in his tone. "If you're so over him, why were you comparing me to him earlier?"

"You know that's"—

"Different?" He scoffs, but still holds you. Holds you tighter, actually. "How? How am I meant to hear a comparison to your ex and not think you still have feelings for him?"

Funny, how similarly you view one another's exes.

Jeongguk is sick of Seokjin. Has met the fucker fewer than a handful of times, yet he has to bear the weight of his bad behaviour as if he's responsible for it. It's not fucking fair.

And yeah, maybe he's just tried, and a little cranky, and perhaps he should have just let you leave like you apparently so desperately wanted to—but that's the difference between him and Seokjin.

Jeongguk never wanted you to leave.

The gravity of his questioning is too sharp of a blow even for him. He lets you go. Pulls away from the embrace he's been keeping you safe in.

"I don't lie to you, B," he says, getting to his feet. The closeness he was begging for feels tainted, now. Forced. Uncomfortable. "I tell you everything ."

Everything except the part where I'm in love with you.

"I never said you didn't," you insist quietly, resentful of your brain for turning this into an argument. You don't want to argue with him. Not in the slightest. You don't understand why you are. "Don't go. Please."

"I don't get it," he stresses, his voice quiet, too. "You're pushing me away and yet you still want me close. I don't understand. B, I just... What am I supposed to do?"

The defeat in your sloped shoulders and furrowed brows when you get to your feet and turn to face him is evident. All you can do is shrug.

"Gguk, I'm scared."

He nods. Knows this. Is scared, too.

When you first met, you were both scared of what it could mean to get over your exes.

This is different. Seokjin is a fracture in time; a notch in your bedpost.

Jeongguk is so much more than Seokjin could ever be. Sure, he doesn't have his life figured out yet, and maybe you've both got room to grow—but you can grow with him. Together.

"Okay, so tell me," he encourages. Holds his hand out, and when you take it, he draws you closer. Strokes your arms. Presses a kiss to your forehead. "Tell me what you're scared of."

You're not very good with anatomy. If anyone was to ever ask you about the location of your heart, you're not sure you'd choose the correct side of your chest.

What you are sure of, is that if anyone was to ever peer inside it, the chambers of your heart would be full to the brim with the very essence of him.

They'd hear his laughter echo, and the way his hushed moans vibrate into nothingness. They'd find glitter, and gold; evidence of you and him coexisting just like you're supposed to.

They'd find origami birds, and tiny folded stars, too. Chess pieces and purple starfuckers; lip rings and lace bras hidden beneath pillows. They'd marvel at how such a small organ could be so flooded with evidence of another person—and if they were to see him the way in which you see him, then maybe they'd love him, too.

There's no denying it now.

To him, yes, but not to yourself.

You're in love with Jeon Jeongguk.

And it terrifies you.

"Hmm?" he implores you to open up to him.

"I wasn't supposed to like you this much," you feebly admit, because there's no chance in hell you're baring your soul just like that, but know that you at least have to give him something. Give him the chance to reject you. "But now I do, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

He's silent for what feels like a lifetime. In reality, it's maybe three, four seconds. No more than five. Just enough time for him to digest your words. They go above the territorial need of not wanting to share. They're an indication that maybe he isn't totally insane. That maybe he could love someone and be loved in return.

But he's leaping. Knows that there's a far stretch between 'like' and 'love'. A bridge needs to be crossed, and he doesn't know if you're willing to do that.

"Guess it depends," he says, trying to remain calm even if his heart is crashing against his ribs like the waves against the shore in the distance. Wants to kiss you. Thinks it's the only thing that will get his head straight. Swears you must be a fucking drug. He's having withdrawals. Needs you in his system.

"On?"

"Are you happy?"

A simple question without a simple answer.

Yes, you're happy. Happy with your life, with your friends, with your blooming potential within the local gallerist network. Happy when you're with Jeongguk, and happy whenever you think of him, too.

But you're delicate in such a way that happiness feels underserved. As if it will be stolen from you. You're unable to ever fully revel in it for fear of losing it.

Your hesitation is noticed, so Jeongguk meets you halfway. Pulls you close, and wraps his arms around you. Holds you tight. Says, "I think I'm happiest when I'm with you, B."

"You're just saying that," you mumble against his bare chest, and then realise how bloody cold he must be, even if he radiates nothing but warmth. Feel bad for dragging him away from comfort. "Look, let's just go to bed. We're both too tired for this shit. We can talk about it in the morning."

He just nods. Agrees. Follows your lead.

While his body is tired, Jeongguk's mind is not.

When you finally settle into sleep—in his room, this time—he's the one who can't drift off. Just sort of stares at you, and wonders how the fuck something so straightforward is so complicated.

He fails to realise that just because he knows he likes you too doesn't mean you know it.

It's not like he told you. Told you all sorts of lewd shit about your pussy, but never actually told you just how much he adores the way your body rocks a little when you laugh, nor how much he likes the almond-shape that you file your nails into. Has never told you how much he cherishes the fact you challenged him in the way you did on that first Dionysus night. Isn't even sure you remember it.

But he does.

Keeps the memories stored away in his mind where only the fondest of thoughts are allowed to go.

He's never given it much thought, but memories of Hayun go elsewhere. Somewhere between the sections reserved for painful and passive moments. Those sections self-delete the files. It's why he doesn't realise. Doesn't hold onto them.

But he holds on to you when he eventually sleeps.

And when you wake?

Holds you even tighter .

Stretching out a little, you curl back into comfort with him. "Morning."

"Morning, baby."

Oh, god . You're going to die .

He presses a kiss to your head. Hooks his leg over you so that you can't leave.

Yep. Death imminent.

"Sleep okay?" he asks, as if you weren't both outside at ass o'clock debating the very nature of you... 'friendship.'

Surprisingly, you did actually manage to sleep fairly well after it all. Had worn yourself out with all those mental gymnastics of yours.

Adjusting your head to look at him, you hum a confirmation. Spend a moment or so just taking him in.

Eyes shut, his dark lashes splay over the tops of his cheeks. The curves of his face contrast with the harshness of his angles; full cheeks, sharp jaw. Soft lips, hard lip ring. Delicate cupids bow, defined childhood scar along his cheekbone, indented on his freckled skin. A man of complexities, Jeongguk will always confuse you to a certain degree.

"Had a dream about you," he mumbles quietly. Is still half asleep.

"Oh yeah?" You smile, toying with some of his hair.

"Mhmm," he nods, the side of his face rubbing against the soft cotton on the pillowcases. Squeezes you even tighter. God, he loves being with you. "You said you like me."

And suddenly your cheeks flame. You try and squirm away, but he doesn't let you. Just laughs.

Knowing you as intimately as he does, Jeongguk knows you were bullshitting when you said you'd talk about it in the morning. Knows that he has to be the one to mention it, but knows that anything other than jokes about it will make you get all defensive.

"So cute, B," he teases, grip tight around you as you flounder.

"Fuck off!"

"You like me soooo much," he teases, because it's sweet, and it is cute, and it makes him feel all fuzzy inside. The way you're wriggling and trying to get out of his embrace confirms one thing: yes, he would still love you as a worm.

"I like it when you shut up," you scowl, accepting your fate of being trapped in his arms. You kinda hate yourself for admitting it. Kinda feel awful for the fact he's not said it back.

You fail to realise that it's because he's a boy, and is stupid.

But then again, so are you - how could you not know the poor boy is beside himself with giddy excitement over the fact you finally gave him an inclination as to how you feel.

"No," he grins, eyes still closed, arms still tight. "You like me."

"I think you're a tit."

He opens just a single eye. Pulls his head back, and sticks out his bottom lip. "Okay? We both know you like tits"—

" God ."

" Jeongguk , not God, baby," he corrects you. Calls you baby as if there's a ring around your finger and both of your names on a joint lease. "Sex God, yes, but just a mere mortal man unfortunately."

"You're so fuckin' annoying," you grumble—yet when he loosens his grip, your arm slinks around his waist instead.

"Gotta get up," he says. Forces you up with him. Sees your naked body for 0.1 seconds and drags you back to bed with him. Decides, "Breakfast can wait."

Though on a technicality, it could be argued that breakfast is exactly what he has before you eventually surface from his room half an hour later.

Hair half up in a claw clip, one of Jeongguk's shirts french-tucked into your jeans, there's a glow about you as you walk side by side up to the main house. He's talking nonsense about a film you've never seen, and you're just enjoying listening to him. You encourage his enthusiastic points, and promise that you'll watch it and compare notes with him.

By the time you approach the kitchen, everyone else is already there.

"What time do you call this?" Yoongi scolds, but Jeongguk just shrugs. Sort of positions himself in front of you. Reaches behind himself to tuck you a little further out of any judgemental eyes.

"Time you got a watch," Jeongguk deadpans.

Yoongi smiles. Doesn't actually give a shit. Is just teasing. "I've got a watch. It says it's about time you got a new joke."

"Oh, shit," Jeongguk gasps, then reaches into the pocket of his loose-fit jeans. Paired with a white vest and baggy sweatshirt, he's every bit the nineties heartthrob. The chain he always wears is on show, and it drives you a little wild. Rummaging around in his pocket —"I could have sworn I had a new joke in here"— everyone knows what he's gonna do.

They're proven correct when he pulls his hand out of his pocket, his middle finger pointing to the sky.

"You're a child," Namjoon grins.

Jeongguk doesn't deny it. Just beams as he sinks into the sofa, leaving a you-sized space next to him.

You glance over to Danbi, who outstretches her legs to fill the space beside her. Rids you of your options. Smirks in your direction. You're welcome.

Narrowing your eyes in her direction as you take your seat, Jeongguk seemingly abandons all previous restraints he had. Tucks his hand between your legs and holds your knee.

From across the room, Hayun's gaze burns into you.

And yet the soft stroke of Jeongguk's thumb against your legs soothes the scorching arrows she's firing at you.

The rest of the group are embroiled in conversations, the TV also on, so no one notices when you lean over to speak quietly, just loud enough for Jeongguk to hear you.

"Hayun's staring," you tell him, 'cause you've decided that playing it cool has done no one any favours so far.

You're a little bit insane, but Jeongguk already knows this. Likes it. There's no point trying to pretend like you're not just to one-up Hayun. Pretending like you don't care will only serve to hurt you in the long-run.

Jeongguk tilts his head to look at you. Lets a slightly lopsided grin settle on his lips as says, "Well, yeah." His eyes drop to your body, then back up to your lips. Linger for a moment. Finally reach your eyes again. "You look fit as fuck. I'd be staring, too."

"I don't think that's why she's staring."

"Okay," Jeongguk accepts, knowing that even if the conversation is unserious, you've mentioned it for a reason. His hand comes to tuck a little strand of hair behind your ear, then clasps your chin and tilts your head upwards. Gets you looking at him with narrowed eyes and a curious smile. His fingers drop to your collar, tweaking it a little, as he says, "I've had this shirt for years. She probably knows it isn't yours."

"Possession is, like, ninety percent of the law," you assure him, a little pouty, and it takes everything in him not to kiss you.

But you're with friends, and shit is still up in the air, and Jeongguk doesn't understand what the fuck is happening between the pair of you. He thinks you're a thing, but, like, he isn't sure and that makes this whole situation so incredibly messy.

What he does know is that Hayun could be screaming blue murder and he wouldn't give a shit. The more he comes to realise how nice it is to be with someone who actually treats him with an ounce of respect, the more he distances himself from his former feelings.

"Sounds like you're trying to exploit a legal loophole," he counters right back.

"So what if I do?" You say, shamelessly flirting in your quiet corner, friends ignorant. Your stomach is full of butterflies, charging around, wings tickling your insides. "Maybe I'll break the law on purpose."

The way you hold your wrists together and present them to Jeongguk—knowing full well he kinda has this weird thing for wrists—is nothing short of cruel.

He knows exactly what you're insinuating. Knows he'd die to get you in a pair of cuffs. Instead, says, "Behave yourself."

It's no use. He's already got a semi.

Hayun is, at least, now in conversation with Taehyung. Something about the interview she had. You're not listening in.

There's also no need for Jeongguk to drag the flirt out. The primary purpose of it was to distract you. Keep your mind on him. Jeongguks secret weapon to ease your mind is to keep you locked on him.

Works every single time.

"You're trouble, B," he smiles fondly, before getting to his feet.

There's no discussion of where he's going—just through to the kitchen. Wants to adjust his trousers, and could also do with some water. You let him go, not really caring to stop him. Autonomy is a wonderful thing.

Instead, you just join in the conversation at hand: A debate over who won the Jilympics, for it was never declared the day before. You come to Seoyeon's defence. Insist your team won. Know full well you didn't.

When Jeongguk returns, you quickly say, "Right Gguk? You agree with me?"

He's got no fuckin' idea what you're on about. Says, "Yeah. Of course. You're right."

The smugness of your smile lets him know what a grave mistake he just made.

"Gguk!" Namjoon groans.

Jimin just smirks. Keeps the taunt of 'pussy-whipped bitch' to himself.

"What?!"

"His word is final," you assert before any clarification can be given. "Power in numbers. More people think our team won"—

"Wait, what?!"

"Shhh, Gguk, I'm doing important business," you hush him—but suddenly your mouth is covered by his palm.

"Don't listen to her!" He wails. "She's a fraud!"

Naturally, the only thing you can do in this situation is bite his finger.

"Ah— shit . Mother fucker!"

"What Jeongguk means to say is Team Seoyeon won," you smile with such nonchalance that your friends can't help but laugh at how ridiculous and petty both you and Jeongguk are.

Match made in heaven, some would say.

When he sits back down, he just sits straight on you. Is deliberately annoying. Not a single person bats an eyelash. It's expected of him. They've known him long enough to know what he's like. In fact, there are only a few laps in the room that haven't been sat on by Jeongguk and his need to be a petulant brat.

Nobody sees—'cause Jeongguk's obscuring you—but you bite him again. Just the shoulder blade. He's sitting in such a position that you can't move your hands, so it's your only real offensive weapon.

It's cute, Jeongguk thinks. Cute that you think you're strong enough to hurt, and cute that you've chosen to bite him. He turns his head over his shoulder. Mumbles, "Careful. I'm into that."

In all honesty, he's passive when it comes to using teeth in the bedroom. Likes a little bite on occasion, but by no means needs it. Just knows that you'll recoil in disgust, and it'll make him laugh.

You do just as he expects.

And like clockwork, he giggles to himself. Slides off your lap, but remains a little sprawled over you, just 'cause he can be.

Again, no one really pays it much notice.

Instead, the morning crawls on by. There's no attempt to hurry it up. In all honesty, the constant activities have worn everyone out.

If Jeongguk and Hoseok hadn't planned such a chill afternoon, then they would have been tempted to cancel it in favour of chucking a movie on the TV.

Much like your birthday—and actually inspired by it—they get everyone crafting. In this case, it's painting. A couple dozen canvases have been purchased, and the rest of the supplies were sneakily stolen from your place of work by Hoseok. You recognise it all—the brushes, the paints, the aprons—and find yourself laughing.

So often watching other people paint, you never really get the chance to do it yourself. It's a shame, considering how much you enjoy it. You're no Picasso, but you're not bad.

The rules are simple for the activity, so much as the fact that there are no rules. Knowing that their activity would fall towards the end of a busy weekend, the boys had settled on something of a little slower pace.

A playlist of chill songs curated by Jeongguk hums from the speaker in the kitchen, the large glass doors open, turning the lawn and house into a hybrid space. The supplies are kept inside, but you all opt to paint outside.

Laying flat on your tummy, you're painting the view ahead of you. It's all shades of blue and little else, an uninterrupted horizon that extends for miles upon miles.

In a small cluster with Danbi and Hoseok, it's nice to be with your people.

Yoongi and Seoyeon are in their own little world, doing portraits of one another, and Taehyung has roped the rest of the boys into posing for him in human pyramid formation. Jeongguk and Namjoon are stable as the bottom pillars, with Jimin taking the top spot.

You're not really sure what Nabi and Hayun are doing. Choose not to glance their way. It's a shame, because you really do like Nabi.

The awkwardness is beginning to grate on you. All you want is an easy life.

Regardless of the current state of affairs, once upon a time, Hayun had been liked by everyone here. She was a fundamental part of the friendship group. It sort of makes you think that maybe you should make an effort with her.

Not in some lame-ass attempt to be a 'cool' girl. You've already decided that you don't care to be one. Moreso as a white flag. You intend on sticking around, and so you're gonna have to learn to live with one another.

"I'm not saying I want to be besties with her," you tell Danbi. "But it wouldn't hurt to at least try and find some common ground, would it?"

Danbi mulls it over. Isn't so sure. Doesn't really think you should have to make an effort at all.

"Look, I won't lie," you add on when Danbi doesn't respond quickly enough. "She irritates me, but what else am I supposed to do? Can't go through life acting as if she doesn't exist."

"You can," Danbi assures you. "I would."

As much as you know this to be absolutely true, you're just not wired in the same way as Danbi.

The very first night you met Hayun, you were unable to keep your cool. Argued with her over the dumbest shit just because you were so incensed that she had the audacity to question your presence in Jeongguk's life.

Things are different, now.

You're secure in your place. He's made it that way. Made it clear that he puts you above Hayun.

He's trying.

It's only fair that you try, too.

When Jeongguk finally comes to join you, also laying flat on his tummy, but opposite you on the other side of your canvas, you choose against raising the topic. Decide not to tarnish the simplicity of him choosing to be with you now with any negative thoughts.

Not looking at him as you mumble nonsense about nothing, you continue to add hues of blue to the canvas, and don't object when he picks up a thin brush and starts to add pretty little stars in your sky.

Painting has always been a group activity for the pair of you. He can put it in the living room next to your tits.

The afternoon dissolves into an easy state of being. Mindless chatter is paired with the act of quite literally watching paint dry, but no one finds it boring. Respite had been needed, and you're quietly smitten with the fact that Jeongguk is one of the masterminds behind it. So big brain of him. So sexy.

Lazing next to you, paint smeared on his cheeks by your messy fingers earlier that afternoon, Jeongguk really can't be bothered to shower before dinner. Moans and groans, until you say you'll shower with him.

He's up and on his feet, holding a towel by his door within no time at all.

"Chop chop," he tells you, pretty face ever so pleasant. Eyes wide and round, there's something about him—hair dishevelled, skin covered in paint—that just takes you back to the early days. Gets you grinning from ear to ear.

Holding out his hand as you stand, Jeongguk pulls you closer. Presses a teeny tiny kiss to your lips, 'cause he can't ever seem to stop now that the boundary has been broken down.

"We're a mess," you smile against his lips.

Literally and figuratively.

And as you step out of his room, hand in hand with lovesick smiles on your lips, only to find Nabi and Hayun doing their makeup for the evening ahead in the communal sitting room, you realise things are about to get a whole lot messier.