#I never did find my arm sleeve but mom had one black one

[miss-floral-thief]

Bro got rice roni? Seems a bit odd to buy it in a pack

[lovelytaez]

𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒌 (teaser)

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺.”

Genre: romance, smut, a bit of crack, angst

Pairing: biker!heeseung x fem!reader

Synopsis: Dating your boyfriend wasn't easy with such disapproving and strict parents. They took one look at his bike, leather jacket, dyed hair, and piercings and gave you an automatic no. That didn't stop you though. You were in love with him, and he loved you and that was all that mattered. 

est wc: 10k-18k?

release date: tba but im hoping in a week or two😥

a/n - I might change this a bit if I don't like it but this is it for now! Reblogs and likes are appreciated! <3 comment to be added to taglist <:

➡️ snippet!

teaser wc: 1k

teaser undercut!

Dating your boyfriend was one of the best things you’ve ever done. Despite his disheveled and rough appearance, he was a sweetheart.

The day you became his girlfriend was probably the best day of your life if not the best. Not only was he good-looking, treated you well, and loved you, but he had a fun side too. He believed you only live once and you should live it how you want.

You still lived with your parents because it was close to your campus, ten-minute walk tops. One night, when Heeseung walked you home and kissed you on the forehead before running away, your parents went ballistic as they saw the romantic scene unfold through the window.

Your mom and dad took one look at his bike, piercings, and dyed hair and thought he was 'irresponsible' and a ‘heartbreaker’ and a man ‘who wouldn't be able to take care of you.’

You were never allowed to date in middle school or high school, as far as your parents said, ‘Live under our roof, live under our rules.’ You were good. You had good grades, hung out with sweet girls like yourself, and had a good future ahead of you.

Heeseung was your opposite. He wasn’t as keen on attending lessons and rather spent most of his free time at the garage that he and his friends owned, fixing up his bike.

He only went to class for you. To see you, sit beside you, to kiss you in between boring words the prof droned about. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do in life, certainly not become a lawyer or a doctor like his parents. He loved racing. The thrill, the adrenaline, the risk; it made him feel like he could do anything in the world.

Tonight, he was going to pick you up at eleven to take you to his race, after weeks of begging for him to take you. You've never been but he was known for winning every race, or so his friends said.

You were getting ready, wearing black jeans and a white tank top, clipping in some hoops into your earlobes.

While you were getting ready, there was a knock on your window. "Hey, sunshine," he lightly tapped on the window, waiting for you to let him in.

A smile spread across your face when you saw him, his crimson red hair, honey skin, and signature leather jacket. You opened the window, kissing him as soon as you did. “You're here early,” you said against his lips, as he looked up at you.

“I couldn’t wait to see my girl, is that a crime?” Your boyfriend teased, hopping inside your room. “Of course not, I missed you too, Hee,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“That’s good, baby. Are you wearing that? You’ll be cold,” he said softly, taking off his jacket and putting it on your shoulders. ‘I can find a jacket or something- it's fine-” you said, as you stood in front of the full-length mirror that hung off your closet.

Heeseung had his hands on your shoulders, looking at you through the mirror and kissing your temple. “Babe, it's okay. Wear it. Let everyone know you’re mine.” His voice was husky, laced with possessiveness, as he helped you slip your arms into the leather sleeves.

“What about you?” you asked with a frown filled with guilt.

“Don't worry about me. I have like ten more, now let's get out of here before I push you on the bed and fuck your brains out,” he said in a joking tone, though he was serious.

Seeing you in his jacket, your smaller frame making the jacket look oversized, the sleeves longer than your arms, it was the cutest he’d ever seen and he just wanted to protect you from every bad thing in the world.

“Okay, let me just grab my bag,” you said, scurrying over to your closet to retrieve your little Bambi backpack. You turned back to see his face, his lips pursed as he tried not to laugh. “Don’t laugh,” you pouted, as you put your phone, a small bag of chips you stole from the pantry, your AirPods, and your keys into the small bag.

“No, no, it’s cute. It suits you, babe.” He chuckled, jutting his chin for you to put it on. “Shall we, princess?” The red-haired boy asked, extending his hand to you.

Taking your smaller hand into his, he swung his legs out your window, leading you out with him. Luckily for him, your room had a roof below and a tree beside it, which was his signature pathway for sneaking into the house to see you.

He stood on the roof, helping you out of your room and onto the shingles, holding your hand comfortingly as if it were to tell you he wouldn't let go.

He guided you to the tree, making a jump onto the thick branch of the tree beside the roof, whispering, “Slow, slow, I've got you, sweetheart,” softly before you made the jump. You’ve escaped countless times without worry, but his words comforted your heart in a way no one else ever has.

He jumped down the tree, his boots stomping against the concrete of your driveway. “Jump,” he smiled, holding out his arms to catch you. You slowly slipped onto a lower branch, letting go of the trunk and jumping into his embrace.

Heeseung caught you, your arms clinging around his shoulders. “Told you I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured, tucking in his chin and pressing a kiss to your temple.

He set you down on the ground, leading you over to his bike parked on the curb. “Safety first,” Heeseung chuckled, handing you his helmet as you snugly put it on your head. It was a bit big on you, your pout covered by the chin strap.

He helped you adjust the tightness, ensuring it wasn't loose on your head. “There. All set, gorgeous?” Heeseung asked, pressing a kiss to your flushed cheek. You smiled with your eyes and nodded. ‘That’s my girl,” he whispered, lifting your hips to help you onto his bike.

“Spread your legs for me. In a nonsexual way,” he grinned, showing off pearly whites as you giggled, sitting on the leather seat of his bike. He nestled in front of you, his large frame shadowing over you as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Ready?” Heeseung asked, glancing over his shoulder to look at your approval. He flashed another pretty smile as he revved up the engine, pulling out of the curb and on the road.

[januaryembrs]

FIGHT TALK | Eddie Munson x Sunshine!Reader

Request: Hi! Can I request a Drabble with the character Eddie Munson, with the prompt “I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever.”. Imagine that Eddie being protective and acting as a bodyguard to the reader who is being bullied a lot, he feels sorry and guard her.

description: Eddie is not very happy when he finds his darling girlfriend stashed in the AV room after her first fight

word count: 1.1k

trigger warnings: swears, blood, mention of the f slur, broken nose? very quick dirty thought from Eds (it’s Eddie what can I say)

main masterlist

authors note: eddie x sunshine reader is about to be a thing around this neck of the woods since my beloved @palacearcaderadiostation demands more 💗

“He’s gonna fucking kill us,” Dustin held his hat scrunched tightly in his hands, as if he were in church or in mourning. “I never even got to say goodbye to Tews, my mom’s gonna be crushed,”

“Are you shitting me, he’s gonna make us wish we were dead,” Mike rubbed a hand over his tired face, “Do you remember what he did to Tommy H when he shook her soda can and it exploded in her face? My mom said the Hagen’s had to take him to a specialist in Chicago to get his nose fixed.”

Dustin paled even more, as Lucas returned with a sweat on his brow, the older boy hot on his heels.

“Move! Move out of my way- Out of my way,” Eddie cursed, shoving the other students hard enough they shot him dirty looks over their shoulders. Not that he cared, he had a sneer of his own as he looked down at the three boys that seemed to quiver in their place under his sable gaze, “Where is she?”

“Eddie, please understand- We tried to tell her-” Dustin spluttered as Mike seemed to biting the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from doing the same. Eddie simply put his hand in the kids face, glaring at him hard enough to silence him immediately.

The three of them would rather face the Wyvern they’d fought in their last campaign head on than have to deal with their dungeon master like this.

“Where is she, Henderson?” He growled, and the boys could do nothing but point to the AV room they’d stashed her in to keep her from the other student’s nosy gaze. Eddie didn’t need any other instruction, he was at the door in seconds, bursting through into the small, darkened room, his eyes falling on the girl sat on the table, legs swinging back and forth happily as if she wasn’t sporting a black eye and a bloodied nose. His breath hitched, his chest constricting tightly as he watched her own gaze flick to his. “Oh, baby,”

“Eds! Did you see? Did they tell you what I did?” She asked, her lips pulling into a smile as her boyfriend came closer, his hands grabbing the sides of her face, thumbs stroking over her cheeks.

“Mother of Christ, what did those shits do to you?” He snapped angrily, though his eyes were wide, the sadness written clear over them. Waving him off, she held onto his wrists with split knuckles, another factor that had him nearly clutching his pearls in aghast.

“It wasn’t their fault Eds, David Johnson was picking on Dustin for his lisp and calling them all-” She stopped, her nose scrunching in disgust when she thought of the word they’d used.

“Gay?” Eddie asked, to which she shook her head, though his eyes were quick to notice how the movement tugged on her split nose, “The other one?”

“The F one,” She muttered, hating that she even had to say it, “I dunno, I can take it when they say it about me. I just couldn’t stand to hear that about them, they’re good kids,”

He felt his expression soften, watching as she fiddled with her sleeve, another thing that had fallen casualty to her heroics as a thin tear trailed up her arm.

“You are just the bravest maiden there is, huh?” He asked, his chest butterflying when she looked up at him with the same happy smile she always had when he spoke like they were in one of his games, “And oh, your teeth! Those beautiful teeth, are they okay? Did they survive the warfare? Let me see,” Within seconds he had puckered her cheeks with one hand effortlessly, his other thumb lifting her lips up and down as if giving her an oral exam.

Her giggles vibrated on his palm that rested on throat as she tried to pull away from his grip, only partially succeeding as he took his finger out but held her still.

“-ds” She mumbled through her pursed lips, feeling him loosen on her jaw for just a moment before he gave her a gentle peck, careful not to bump her nose. Trying to pull away to tend to her ailments, he was stopped when he felt her fingers loop through his belt, tugging him forward for another longer kiss, her pretty lilac nails brushing against his tummy.

Chuckling as he pulled away, his hand moving from her jaw to cup her cheek sweetly, his eyes seemed to zero in on the cut on the bridge of her nose, the skin around it mottling into a bruise. He couldn’t miss the way it seemed to welt with fresh blood, the sight of it worrying him despite it being no bigger than his nail.

“You are just in luck, brave maiden, your medic has arrived prepared,” She smiled wryly as he dug through his bag until his face lit up as he brushed against the packet, “Ah, ha!”

Pulling out two from his collection, he held the bandaids up to her face so she could see for herself.

“Dangermouse or Ducktales?” He asked, the two brightly coloured cartoons staring back at her as she pointed to the three little ducklings.

“Ducktales, please,” She said, watching him peel the paper from the back, gently sticking it over the bridge of her sore nose, “I bet you do this for all your patients,”

“Only the most valiant of warriors,” He murmured, pecking the tip of her nose with soft eyes, “That’s just because you’re my favourite,”

She giggled again, as he picked up her scraped hand delicately, scanning over the small cuts attentively. Putting his hand to his mouth, he fake retched, covering his eyes in horror.

“Oh God,” He gasped, turning away from the sight, “Oh, god. I think we’re gonna have to amputate,”

Shoving him on his chest, she snickered at his dramatics, her fingers already scabbing over from their minor wounds. “Quit playin’. I was very brave today,”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, baby,” He said, giving her knuckles some tender kisses, not caring it seemed gross seeing as she was bleeding. “Did you get him good at least, honey?”

She perked up even more, eyes alight with a sick little delight he hadn’t seen in her before. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t have his boxers stirring.

“I split his lip, would have gotten his nose too if he hadn’t jumped on me,” She said, and Eddie couldn’t help the raucous laugh that left his throat.

Pressing more kisses to her hairline he smiled, down at her from her place still sat atop the table. “Don’t worry, you’re on the bench in round two, Balboa. I’ll give him something to cry about,” He smirked at her, his nose brushing against hers sweetly, “I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever.”

Taglists:

PERMANENT TAG LIST:

@greeneyedblondie44 @liadamerondjarin @pedrosgirlx @andy-rocks @musicartmayheminmyheart @howlerwolfmax @ciarra–mae @lou-la-lou

[macfrog]

rack 'em

the girlies watched triple frontier last week and it was the single most inspiring thing i have ever seen so here’s a lil frankie fic to cleanse my mind. dedicated to my babies @gracieispunk (who put this concept in my head for the wee laddies), @hellishjoel & @strang3lov3 🤍

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x f!reader

summary: when your parents ask you to housesit for them, you take the opportunity to spend some quality time back in your hometown, hanging with your older brother and...getting reacquainted with his best friend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, teasing & touching, dubcon (reader is a little drunk, frankie is not), oral sex (f receiving), alcohol consumption, quick mention of dr*gs, cursing, frankie's a bit of a dick but reader gives as good as she gets

word count: 6.1k (cause apparently i don’t know how to write short fics 🤪)

main masterlist

When you were four, a new family moved in across the street. Nobody knew them – your mom spent two straight days trying to scoop for information. Who they were, where they’d moved from, what was with the banged-up Ford pickup they drove. Nobody knew a thing.

You didn’t take much interest, being four years old – two months shy of your fifth birthday, by the way – and too invested in whatever politics a woman of your age finds herself wrapped up in, but you noticed one key thing about them.

The mom had tattoos.

Two full sleeves. Colorful ones, too. A bright red heart on her shoulder, a green snake wrapped around her forearm – among others. It was fucking cool, alright? No matter how much your mom whispered to Ms. Teller over the fence about them.

One night, when you were supposed to be in bed, you snuck out of your room and crossed the landing to your brother’s. Santiago and his friends were all staying at Tom’s, and you knew that in his desk he had permanent markers. You clicked the door open, as quiet as you could, and crept over his matted carpet to the drawer. You took one Sharpie, and spent the night adding snakes and hearts and whatever else came to mind to your Barbies’ arms, legs, faces, necks.

They looked fucking awesome. Just like that mom across the street.

But somehow or other – and I’m not blaming anyone – the next morning, a drawing appeared on the bathroom wall. In Sharpie. Your mom hit the roof.

As soon as Santi got home, she dragged him by the ear into the bathroom and pointed a trembling finger at the drawing. You forget what it was – it’s been years, and you were never much of an artist.

His plea of innocence helped him none; she knew he owned Sharpies, knew he sucked just as bad as you did at drawing, and he was grounded for three whole weeks. No soccer practice, no TV, no PlayStation. Which, at thirteen, is basically a stint in Rikers.

Your brother, though…he was always better than your mom at reading your mind. He saw the guilt on your face plain as the black marker behind the toilet tank. He cornered you in your bedroom as soon as she went back downstairs, and established three key rules going forward.

One: do not enter his room ever again.

Two: no touching his stuff.

And three: anytime he took the fall for you, you owed him. Big time.

You’ve followed the rules ever since. You barely knew what the inside of his room looked like, growing up. But it worked, ‘cause ever since the Sharpie incident of ’99, you two remained closer than most siblings with an eight-year age gap.

So, now, two days into a two-week stay back in your hometown to housesit while your parents head off on a cruise to celebrate their anniversary, you’re in the car with him. Listening to music, bitching about your mom, arguing over the best Cola flavor.

It’s like old times.

“She said, How’s my baby girl?” you yell over Stevie Nicks’s voice, reading from your phone.“And when I said I’m fine, she said, No, I meant the dog. Is she fucking serious?”

Santiago’s head tilts back with laughter, dark curls nudging against the headrest. He’s driving you to Lucky’s, a local sports bar he and his buddies frequent. He promised when he picked you up at the airport he’d take you out, get you drunk, and he was holding to it.

You pull your legs down off the dash as he turns into the parking lot, pulling in right under the white fluorescent sign, four-leaf clover flashing under it.

“She’s looking forward to seeing you when they get back,” he tells you, switching the engine off.

“Oh, yeah? That why she didn’t even hang around to see me before they left?”

He hands you a smug grin, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t have it all, big shot. You move a thousand miles away, you forfeit your chance of being the favorite.”

You swing your door open and hop out, chasing him around the car to follow him inside. “You say that like I was ever in the fucking running.”

He snorts, pushing the door open, and a loud cheer roars through the bar. You blush as you follow your brother across the room to two tables full of familiar faces.

“Hey, baby.” Your best friend’s arms pull you in, her gold hoop earrings cold against your cheek. She smells like rose and cedarwood.

“Mal,” you hum, smiling as she pulls away.

“My mom said your parents only just made it on board,” she says, detaching strands of her long, black hair from the cuff of your jacket. “Said they had a flat tire and had to race to get to the boat.”

Your head jerks back. “She never told me any of that. Just asked how Ange was.”

Mal snorts.

“Hey, lil Santi!”

You glance over your shoulder to watch as Benny Miller stalks over, almost shoving some old guy off his feet, arms wide open, wide grin spread across his lips. His brother, Will, follows behind, and gives your shoulder a loving slap when Benny pulls you in for a hug.

“How’s Boston treatin’ ya?”

“Good,” you reply. “How’s…MMA treating you?”

“Good!” he echoes, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

It’s kinda part of the deal that your older brother’s friends become brothers in their own right to you, especially when you’re as young and easily-influenced as you were. They used to use you in their elaborate plans – send you in as a distraction while they filled their pockets with food at parties, or use your smaller stature to their advantage when attempting to break into places they shouldn’t.

By the time you were old enough to follow their orders, they were well into their teens. Which is basically grown-up, as far as six-year-old you was concerned. They were always allowed to do things you’re still not sure your mom would permit you to do at twenty-eight, like disappear all day without checking in, or come home black and blue after an organized street brawl with the boys from the other side of the neighborhood.

But there was no denying they cared about you. Will, Benny, and Tom, at least. They showed their affection by ruffling your hair as they passed, or sneaking you candy under the table even after your mom had told you you’d had enough. They’d christened you ‘lil Santi’, a name that – despite the embarrassment it always casts over you anytime you hear it – still sticks to this day.

Your brother’s friends were family to him, and, by extension, family to you.

Well. All but one.

Frankie Morales – nickname Catfish: long-time best buddy of your big brother, and long-time fucking asshole. There isn’t one thing on Earth that you two see eye to eye on, except for that very fact: he hates you almost as much as you hate him.

Always have, always will.

He’s in trouble almost regularly for drug-related stuff you don’t bother asking Santiago about. You don’t need to hear details to know he’s a pain in the ass. He’s been antagonizing you for as long as you’ve known him – where the others ruffled your hair, he’d shove into your shoulder as he passed, sending you – and whatever you were holding – flying. Any attempt you made at conversation with any one of them resulted in an argument between you and Frankie.

You hated him. Fucking hated him.

And tonight, you almost think yourself lucky. Almost go over to thank Santi for not inviting him, when you notice the silhouette of his baseball cap and that denim button up hunched over in a bar stool, and your eyes narrow.

You can’t help yourself. It’s been a years-long feud. And you’re old enough to take him on now. So, you stride over.

“You here to poison my drink?”

“What?” he asks, shaking his head. Already exasperated just by the sight of you.

“I bet you cheered the loudest when I walked in.”

He shrugs. “Cheered when your brother gave me fifty bucks to show face.”

Your upper lip curls. When the bartender notices you standing, elbows propped on the bar, he leans over.

“Beer, please.” Your smile twists into a grimace when you catch Frankie watching you. “What are you doing here? You have to be the person least excited to see me home.”

“I told you,” he says, lifting the bottle to his lips, “I’m bein’ paid.”

“Alright, so what do I gotta pay you to make you leave?”

Frankie scoffs, opens his mouth to answer what you’re sure is a comment laced with just as much venom, when Will’s strong arms slap down on each of your shoulders.

“We buyin’ our favorite veterinary nurse a drink, Francisco?”

You take your beer from Nick’s outstretched hand, sliding him the cash in return, and hold it up to Will in reply. “I’m good, thanks. Wouldn’t wanna eat into that fifty bucks, Catfish,” you mutter, turning to wander off.

You weave in and out of bodies, making your way to the opposite side of the bar where the pool tables sit. Doused in the warm strip light over the green felt, Santi chalks his cue ready to play against Mal, who’s already lining up her shot.

You hop up on a stool right next to the table, glancing back over to the bar where Frankie sits, now turned to face your direction. His elbow sits on the wooden surface, head turns from the football game showing behind the bar, over to you. And when he sees you looking, turns back to the TV screen, cool expression never changing.

“You done?” Mal asks Santiago, feeding the cue through her ring-decorated fingers.

He nods, tossing the chalk back over to you. “Better get your purse out, Bennett. Lotta sober people in here, all gonna want a free drink once you lose.”

“As if,” she breathes, and breaks the rack.

Somewhere throughout the game – a grueling and controversial one, by all accounts – Frankie makes his way over, following Will. You’re thankful when he plants himself on the other side of the table, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other around a bottle of beer. Though the light only comes up to his chest, right where the last button is done up, you notice him looking. Every fucking glance.

It pisses you off. Not the glancing. The way it makes you feel having him watch you. Wherever it comes from, you swallow it down with one big gulp of alcohol.

The game ends in a questionable loss. This side of the table swears the white skimmed off of Mal’s final solid when Santi hit it, right before it potted the black. The other side objected, claimed it was a clean shot ‘n you all know it. A winner wasn’t officially announced, but, being that Mallory Bennett is a force of nature where her competitive nature is concerned, Santiago was forced to buy the loser’s round.

She saunters up to you with her free whiskey in her hand, silver jewelry clinking off of the cold glass.

“Proud of yourself?” you ask, smirking.

She hands you your third beer of the night, sweeping her silky hair out of her face. “It hit it, alright? I saw it move.”

“Was that before or after you nudged the table?”

Mal holds a finger to her lips. You swat her hand away and the pair of you giggle, leaning into each other like schoolgirls whispering secrets in the playground.

“You know something,” Santiago materializes over Mal’s shoulder, shaking his head, “if you gotta cheat to beat me, I’ll give you the win.”

“Oh, get out,” you throw back. “Don’t blame her for your bad aim. Ms. Teller could’ve hit that shot and she’s got cataracts in both eyes.”

Your brother nods at you, tongue in his cheek. “Alright, smartass. Grab a cue.”

You scoff. Look around the room, shaking your head. The crowd has dispersed a little, folks have turned back to the TV screens, shifted focus back to the alcohol in their glasses. And then you look back to Santiago, holding his arms out.

“Alright. Fuck it.”

You hop down and snatch the second cue, wandering around the table while he racks the balls. He lifts the triangle, rolls the white over to you, and tells you to break.

The multicolored balls scatter in a fleet, two stripes tumble into pockets, and you stand back to survey your options. There’s a third stripe close to a pocket on the right, so you wander around to your left and turn.

“’scuse me,” you mutter, nudging Frankie’s stomach with the bottom of your cue.

He shoots you a dead-eyed stare, and takes one step back. And then his eyes drop, and you feel like you could slap him.

But you’re three – almost four – beers deep, and there are heads turning to watch how this plays out, and you can feel the bassline of the music rippling up from the soles of your feet all through your body, and you can feel the heat of his stare on the backs of your thighs, right where the hem of your dress sits.

Suddenly, slapping isn’t what you want to do to him.

Your head turns back to the pool table and you bend over, drawing the cue back between almost shaking fingers, and slam it into the white. It fires into the red striped ball, which hits the corner of the cushion, millimeters away from falling into the pocket.

You sigh, straightening up and waiting for your brother to begin his taunting, but it never comes. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone, tapping the screen and holding it to his ear.

“Yep?” There’s a pause, Santiago’s face sours, and then he glances around the bar. “Right now? Really? No, it’s just…” He sighs. “Alright. I’ll be there. Just…I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He hangs up the phone and curses under his breath, then turns back to you, answering the question on your expression with: “One of our informants just got himself killed. I gotta go.”

“You haven’t even taken a shot yet,” you huff, taking his cue when he holds it out.

“I’ll make it up to you, hermana, promise. How are you gonna get home?”

You shrug. Mumble an, “I dunno.”

His eyes scan the room, passing over Will – already worse for wear, leaning shakily against a nearby table slurring to a group of strangers, then to Benny – stumbling out of the bar door with some girl on his arm, and finally land on the figure behind you, sliding a bowl of peanuts across the table to himself.

“Morales,” Santiago calls, and you throw the cues down on the felt.

“No, no way,” but your brother is already pushing past you to get to his friend. “Pope, no fucking w–”

Frankie turns, handful of nuts, cheek full and chewing.

“I gotta go, trouble at work. Can you do me a favor, man, ‘n make sure she gets home alright?”

“No,” you repeat. “He is not taking me home.”

“Baby,” Santi pleads, “just go with him, please?”

“I’ll walk. It’s, like, a twenty-minute walk.”

“No way. Mom would kill me.”

“Well, then, we just don’t tell her. Pope, please.”

He ignores you. “You are not walking home after dark. No.”

“Probably be safer than in the truck with him.”

Frankie’s head stops flitting between the two of you and his glare settles on yours. “Fuck you,” he spits, shaking his head.

“Right back at you,” you reply, insincere smile on your lips.

Santiago puts his palms together and holds them out to you. “Look, just – please. Just this once. I’ll owe you one.”

He doesn’t owe you one often. Makes a point of deliberately trying not to owe you one. This is an interesting offer. You sigh, and roll your eyes.

“Fine. You better fucking pay me back, though!”

“You got it,” he says, patting your shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he whispers to Frankie as he passes, slipping through the crowd toward the exit.

You and Frankie are left, two feet apart, filled with silence and resentment.

“You looking for someone else to hand your ass to you, lil Santi?” he asks, tossing another handful of peanuts into his mouth.

“You’re funny.” You hand him a smile, which drops the second he looks at it.

But when you turn back to the table and lift the cues, you hand one to him. Push it into his chest, shoot him a narrow-eyed glance.

“One game. And only ‘cause I need a sub.”

He dusts his hands together, shrugs. “Shouldn’t take me too long.”

You stalk back over to Mal, who’s giggling into her glass. “You two are unbelievable.”

“Don’t.” You hold your hand up, taking another swig of beer as Frankie lines up.

On his first shot, he pots that same red you were trying to hit before. His eyes lift only for a second, but you catch the cocky look he throws you and screw your face up.

“Fucking…ass,” you whisper.

Frankie’s shoulders jump, his teeth take his bottom lip. He’s laughing to himself when he takes his next shot, and pots another stripe. And then he stands up straight, holds his hands out.

“Just tell me when.”

“When what?”

“To start going easy on you.”

Fuck off. Fuck off, fuck you, fuck this. Fuck!

One more ball potted and finally, fucking finally, he misses a shot. It’s an impossible shot, anyway, there’s no way in hell he was gonna make it, but that’s not what matters. What matters is the way you twirl your cue in your fingers, then lift it and wander around the table, squeezing between Frankie and the wooden edge to get to your shot.

Your ass brushes past his jeans, and when you turn your head to whisper a sarcastic Sorry, he fucking growls. Low, almost inaudible. But just enough for you to notice, and enough for you to keep pissing him off.

The buzz you’re getting from antagonizing him this much must awaken some sort of billiards skillset you never knew you fucking had, because you pocket four balls in quick succession. Red, then green, then blue, and purple. There’s one ball between you when Frankie rounds the table, eyes scanning the felt for the next best shot he can take.

“Hurry the fuck up,” you mutter as he passes by you, on his third lap of the table.

He tsks. “Impatient,” he replies, shoulder brushing yours heavily. You feel the rough denim of his jeans graze your thighs, the weight of him against your backside for the second time. You push back, leaning into him as he moves past, then leans over, slinks his cue between his fingers, and takes his shot.

The yellow sails into the nearest pocket like there’s a magnet pulling it. The purple does the exact same – he barely has to tap it with the tip of the cue and it’s dropping in atop its predecessor.

Frankie turns, shimmying a little up the table, hip nudging yours out of the way. “Move,” he mumbles, shutting one eye to aim for the black. “Come on…” he breathes, and then shoots.

It bounces off of the opposite side of the table, thudding off of the cushion before it’s rolling toward the pocket and dropping in with a plunk.

He stands, fixing his baseball cap, and leans the cue against the table. “Good game, loser,” he says, ruffling your hair as he passes you.

“What age are you?” you sneer as he wanders back off to his beer, waiting for him on the table next to his bowl of peanuts.

Will wraps an unsteady arm around your shoulder as Frankie tips his bottle against his lips. He’s swaying, dragging you left and right with him as if you’re on a boat.

“He’s…he’s always been the best outta us all,” Will slurs, using his bottle to point at Frankie. “’s why he’s such a good pilot. Good aim.”

You sigh, pushing his heavy arm off yourself and slip back over to Mal, who hands you a sad smile and fixes your hair.

“It was a good attempt,” she says.

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, tossing your bottle up and draining the last of it onto your tongue. “I need another drink.”

You cross the room, suddenly less blurry and tilted, more boring and flat, and lean over the bar. “Nick,” you call, and he twists around, “grab me another–”

“It’s alright, Nick,” a voice yells over your shoulder, “I think she’s good.”

You spin around and it’s that stupid fucking baseball cap and the stupid denim button up again.

“What, I’m not allowed to drink now?”

Frankie’s head cocks. “You don’t think you’ve had enough?”

“I’ve had three. Three beers. The fuck is your problem?”

He tuts, glances left and right, and then back to you. “I think I should get you home.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

“Are you this fucking difficult with everyone when you’re drunk?”

“Nope,” you beam at him, “just you.”

He lets go of the grip he has on your arm and starts backing away. “I’m leaving, baby,” he tells you, nodding goodbye to Nick. “You’re either coming, or Pope’s gonna hear all about it.”

You ball your fists, watching the door swing closed behind him. Your feet stay rooted to the ground, eyes flitting from the parking lot over to Mal, who lifts her arms in a question. You shake your head in response, and her shoulders drop.

Sorry, you mouth, beginning to walk off in Frankie’s footsteps.

Mal blows you a kiss, winks once, and then salutes you goodbye. You shoulder out of the bar.

The ride back to your parents’ place is silent, except for the dull drone of whatever fucking music Frankie has choking out of his radio. You watch your hometown pass by, never taking your eyes off of the blurry streetlights or passing mailboxes, refusing to turn your head further than the middle of the windscreen at him.

He’s humming along to the song, jaw swinging as he chews on gum, arm hanging out of his open window. Everything he does is so fucking irritating, like a constant buzzing in your ear, an eyelash stuck in your eye, the feeling of stepping on a wet floor in socks.

So why, every time you do sneak a glance of him out of your peripheral, does the sight of those focused brown eyes, the strands of gray in his beard, the way his curls flick under the brim of his cap – why does it all stir something inside of you?

Frankie pulls up across the street from your house, white wood a milky blue in the moonlight. You unbuckle your seatbelt and let the strap whip off of your body, rattling against the interior of the truck. The most you’re willing to offer him is a nod of the head in thanks, which he returns, and your fingers hook around the door latch.

“Hey, mind if I come in ‘n use your bathroom?” he asks.

You pause. “Uh, yeah. I mind. No.”

“Come on, baby, I gotta piss like a racehorse.”

You scoff, ignoring him and slip down out of the truck. The door slams closed and you wander over to your parents’ drive, hearing a second slam as you cross the street.

“Uh, where do you think you’re going?”

“If your mom knew you weren’t letting me use her bathroom, she’d kill you, ‘n you know it.”

“My mom doesn’t know you like I know you, asshole,” you retort, but he’s still following you to the front door. “Just – alright. Do me a favor and disinfect it once you’re done. I don’t need them coming home to piss all over the floor.”

“You think my aim’s that bad? Just schooled you in a game of pool.”

You sigh, refusing to rise, and open the door. There’s the gentle scuffing of claws on the wooden flooring, trotting nearer and nearer in the dark hallway, and then the weight of your childhood dog shoves into your body.

“Hi, Angie. Hi, girl,” you whisper, scratching the dog’s white fur, her front paws against your tummy.

She jumps down when Frankie slips in behind you, wandering over with her tail swinging back and forth. He crouches down and holds his hand out, cooing, “Hi, baby,” as she nuzzles against his palm.

“She likes most folks who come by,” you utter, hanging your coat over the banister. “Don’t think you’re special.”

“She always loved me most,” he says, still fussing over the pup, “didn’t you, girl? Yeah, yeah you did.”

You roll your eyes and wander upstairs, leaving Frankie to find the bathroom, use it, and fuck off on his own.

It’s been almost eight years since you last lived here, but your room still looks oddly similar. Same bedframe, different sheets. Same wallpaper, only not covered in posters of your favorite bands. Same shelves, too, just that they hold stuff like vases and seashells and other random ornaments your mom’s picked up, rather than a collection of your favorite movies or framed photos of you and your friends.

You pull your dress over your shoulders and kick your boots off, grabbing a tee from your bag to sleep in. The Nirvana logo lies loose across your chest, the hem dancing along the line of your panties.

As you kneel on the mattress, tossing the million and one fucking pillows your mom has stacked down to the foot of the bed, you hear the door creak open.

“Damn,” Frankie mutters, glancing around the room, “haven’t been in here since I was, what, seventeen?”

“Weren’t welcome then, still not welcome now.”

“You still got that Black Eyed Peas poster rolled up somewhere?” He’s walking in, boots scuffing along the wooden floor.

“Are you lost?”

He looks over to you, stood by the bed, t-shirt barely reaching your thighs. “You know something, you ‘n your brother are so fucking different, it amazes me you’re related.”

“I imagine there’s a lot that amazes you, dumbass.”

He scoffs. There’s a hint of genuine humor in it. Like he’s impressed. And then his eyes scan down your body, lingering on the bare skin of your legs, shifting up to the pink cotton of your panties. They shoot back up when you speak again.

“Seriously, dude. What are you still doing here?”

Frankie turns to the dresser by the window, adorned with framed pictures of you and Santi as kids. “Making sure you get home alright, like Pope told me to.”

“Well,” you shrug, “I’m home, ‘n I’m alright. So…”

He picks up a silver frame; inside, faded by the sun and years that have passed, lives a photograph of you and your brother. He’s on his BMX bike, wide, toothless grin, and you’re behind him, standing on the pegs and gripping onto his t-shirt sleeves as you battle not to fall off.

Frankie laughs a little, turning the frame to show you. “You were always so fuckin’ annoying, you know that?” And then, with a shake of his head as he sets the frame back down, “Still are.”

You cock your head, throwing your hands up with an infuriated sigh. “If I’m so annoying, then why are you still here?”

The look he gives when he turns back around answers that question for you, in a way that his words never could. Never would, to be honest. He’d never admit the thoughts running through his head right now, same as you won’t admit that, likewise, they’re running through yours.

It’d be fucking weird. It’d be wrong, hooking up with his best friend’s little sister. Santi only asked him to get you home safe, not follow you inside, walk straight into your bedroom, look at you the way he’s looking at you right now, silhouetted by the streetlight shining through your still-open shades.

So then, why can’t he walk away?

You make to step forward, and Frankie’s already moving. He meets you halfway, stood on some fancy-looking rug your mom probably spent too much money on, his arms instantly finding your waist underneath your short tee.

“You fuckin’ piss me off, you know that?”

“I know,” you breathe, bottom lip brushing against his, “I know.”

He pushes you backward, sends you stumbling across the floor on your toes until the back of your calves hit the mattress and you fall, dragging him down on top of you. You knock the baseball cap from his head and run your hands through his brown curls, pulling him nearer as his hands begin to move north under the worn cotton of your shirt.

His rough hands cup your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples as his lips fall to your neck, sucking a bruise into your soft skin.

“Frankie,” you breathe, “what the fuck are we–?”

“Shut up,” he whispers back, teeth grazing over your collarbone. He’s moving down, kissing over your tee as he goes, until he’s kneeling on the floor, your legs dangling off the bed either side of his body.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching him as he presses fleeting kisses to the insides of your thighs, making his way closer and closer to your center, covering ground painfully slow.

“Would you – just – fucking – get there?” you ask, head tilting back with a groan.

“Always so fucking impatient,” he mutters, pulling your legs further apart. “Makes sense, though,” he whispers, finger hooking around your underwear, “already so wet.”

“Dick,” you hiss, laying back flat on the bed.

Frankie holds the lace off of your core and then dips his jaw, lips lightly ghosting across your folds. You hum with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, ready to buck your hips up to him if it’ll just make him move faster.

But you don’t have to wait a second longer. He licks one broad stripe up your center, pressing one chaste kiss to your clit before his tongue dips where you need him most. Your legs go to clamp shut, stopped by his shoulders.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan, hand coming down to knot your fingers in his hair.

He hums against your pussy, tongue lapping inside you, nose at the perfect angle for you to rut your clit against.

“Fuck…” you repeat, and he fucking laughs against you. “Quit it,” you hiss, and he lifts his head.

Your eyes shoot open, finding his. Alarmed meeting cool.

“Fine,” he says, smirking. “I’ll quit it.”

“Don’t you fucking– Frankie.”

“Your words, baby.” He shrugs, eyes flitting down to your cunt, soaked under his touch.

“I didn’t mean it,” you moan. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

He looks back up. The corners of his mouth pull his smirk into a grin. Some devilish grin, thick with arrogance.

“I’m an asshole,” he echoes, elastic of your panties shifting up to his knuckles.

He watches your cunt as he does it. Runs two fingers between your folds, coating them in your arousal, dipping them deeper until they’re at your entrance.

Your head hits the bed heavily, your body writhing over the white sheets as he pushes closer and closer. His free hand comes up and pushes down on your tummy, holding you steady to the mattress, then –

“I’m the asshole.”

He inserts his fingers, curled, thick, stretching you out over his hand as he pushes in deep. A gasp passes through your lips, exchanging itself for a throaty moan when Frankie begins fucking you on his hand, lowering his lips to your clit again.

His wrist pumps in and out, tongue swirling over the swollen bud, palm pushing harder into your stomach to keep you from upsetting his rhythm with how badly you want to move around.

Your fingers lock a vice grip around his hair, your hips the only part of your body he’ll let you move. You establish a pace of your own, fucking up to meet his fingers, grinding yourself on his wet tongue.

“I’m close,” you pant, Nirvana logo distorted in ruffles at the base of your neck. “So fucking close, Frankie.”

And he can feel it. Feel you tightening around his hand, feel the rhythm of your hips start to miss beats, move clockwise instead of up and down. He can hear as your mouth stops rounding the words, fading into slurs and breaths and moans instead of coherent language.

“F-Frankie,” you cry out, and it’s like music to his ears. “’m there, I’m–”

“On my mouth, baby,” he mutters, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his lips again, tongue pushing inside you as you fall apart all over him.

Your back lifts from the bed, fists ball around his hair, pushing his face even harder against your cunt as you ride out your high. You’re moaning his name over and over, echoing off the walls of your little room, escaping out the door and swirling around the hallway.

If you could hear yourself, or cared enough to try, you’d feel fucking embarrassed at what you’re doing – coming apart under Frankie’s touch. It’s Frankie.

The same Frankie you started an argument with one Fourth of July over which was better: ketchup or mustard; the two of you spitting insults over the striped tablecloth, obscene hand gestures being thrown up over plates of burgers.

The same Frankie who’d found out it was you who drew on the wall, and from that day on used it as leverage anytime you set a foot out of line. Used it to shut you up, anytime you so much as thought about talking back, or ratting on the boys.

You’re supposed to hate him. Ask anyone – Santi, Mal, your parents. They’ll all say the same. Like cat and dog.

And yet, here you are. Begging him not to stop, keep his hands and his mouth on you; gasping for breath when he eventually lifts away from you and you collapse back into the bed.

You glance down from under heavy lids, watching as he kisses your thighs again, slowly bringing you back to the room. His chin’s glistening, covered in your cum, beard soaked in you.

You slowly sit up, holding yourself steady with two palms pushed into the mattress. Frankie readjusts your underwear and sits back on his heels, running a hand down his chin and wiping himself clean.

“That was…” you pant, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

He just nods, breathing heavy himself. “Yeah.”

“I gotta…I gotta let…Ange out,” you say, words swaddled by your breath.

Frankie nods again. “I should go.”

You stand at the same time, straightening up face to face. His right side is lit warmly by your bedside lamp, the brown of his eye reflecting a tiny yellow orb back at you; the left side is darker, flecks of hair lit in the pale light from the street, face dark and unreadable. Like he’s two different people, split down the middle now, a before and after.

You’re staring at one another, mapping every inch of the other’s face. Learning it, like it’s new. Like you’ve never really seen each other until right now.

And then he’s turning, picking his hat up from the floor in one swooping motion, and walking out of your bedroom. A deep sigh passes your lips as he goes, relief mixed with satisfaction. And then you follow.

Angie circles him when his boots thud down from the bottom step. He bends to give her more attention, waiting for you to softly pad down alongside him. The dog trots off toward the kitchen, and he turns to you.

He’s back to his unphased self, jaw circling around the gum that he’s still fucking chewing. “Two drinks you owe me, now, lil Santi.”

You cock your head. “Hm?”

“One for showing your ass at pool, ‘n another for that.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Morales.”

He snorts, wandering off down the hall. You spin on your heel and follow the sound of Ange scraping the back door, throwing a glance over your shoulder.

Frankie meets your eye, and like a reflex, the pair of you toss the finger to one another. He laughs, stepping out onto the porch.

“Anytime you feel like losing again, you know where I am, baby.”

----------

taglist: @serenaxpedro @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @pattwtf @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Jacket | Seth Jarvis

wc. 1.6k

Jarvy sees you in the wags playoff jacket for the first time

(not my best writing tbh. im sorry!)

Growing up, you never had an affinity for fashion. 

Your mom was the one who always dressed you and middle school was always that awkward fashion era of everyone’s lives. In high school the different outfits everyone wore had started to pique your interest, wanting to finally find your own style and make yourself feel more confident overall. 

By college you had hit your stride and everyone in your life was incredibly confused when you decided to major in fashion business. Your dad was over the moon that you added the business side of it, being a finance director himself, and while your mom was still confused, she enjoyed the new fashion advice from her daughter. 

You grew up in North Carolina, heading to FIT in New York for your undergrad before returning home. You spent that summer trying your best to figure out what to do with this new degree, when your life intertwined with Seth Jarvis. Through a mess of awkward run ins, late nights, and a final first date that sealed the deal, you were quick to realize that Seth was it for you. Three years later and you and Seth were closer than ever. He was on his way to another playoff run while you had been living your dream job for a couple of years now. 

As April loomed near and the season was coming to an end, the wag groupchat had started to pick up. The girls were discussing playoff chances and who should be planning the wag jackets this year and you were voted the number one choice. You tried to get out of it, worried that what you made wouldn’t be good enough but the girls shut you down quickly, knowing whatever you make would be iconic. 

You found yourself dreaming up ideas in the middle of meetings, doodling in the corners of your notebooks, looking up colors and fabrics, and finally caving to create a full fledged design when Seth had come bounding home with the news of a playoff clinch. 

The drawing you come up with is a high school varsity style jacket in black, the front saying Carolina in uppercase bold red letters, with the words cause above one pocket and chaos on the other side. One sleeve has the previous cup win dates while the other sleeve has the boy’s number and the original canes logo underneath it. Lastly, the bottom hem of the jacket is decorated with the storm warning flags similar to the boys jerseys and classic name and number on the back in the same color and font as the Carolina. 

Ever since finalizing the design, you instantly headed to the store and grabbed a blank black varsity jacket and started your work. You had fallen so deep into the job, focusing on each tiny detail for your prototype that you didn’t even hear Seth coming home. You had just finished on the front when you heard the door of your office creak open and you turn to see Seth with a tired smile on his lips. 

“Hey there pretty girl,” he says, sauntering his way into the room and your heart skips at the sight of him. You’re distracted for a moment just at the sight of him, but when you notice his eyes flicker over to your current project you flinch and get up. 

“No!” you screech, taking quick steps towards your boyfriend and covering his eyes with your hand. Seth freezes against you, concerned in his movements but when he hears a breathy laugh escape from your lips he knows everything is okay. 

“Uh why can’t I look?” 

“It’s bad luck!” you squeal, nudging your boyfriend out of your office and Seth rolls his eyes, his lashes fluttering lightly against your hand. 

“I’m sorry did I propose and forget or something?” he asks when you finally drop your hand from his eyes and shut your office door behind you. 

“No but if you are going to propose I’d wait till off season,” you respond cheekily and Seth grins. 

“I was making the wag jackets,” you tell him, slinging your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you. 

“Mmm were you?” 

Seth leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, trailing one up to your cheek and then finally on your lips, his hips pushing you back against the door so you’re caged in his embrace. 

“Mhm,” you murmur against his lips and you feel his grin, the scruff of his beard scratching against your skin. “And you need to go so I can finish them.” 

“Or we could do this,” he says and before you know it, Seth has grabbed you around the waist, throwing you over his shoulder and marching his way towards your shared bedroom, your protests of work and prototypes deaf to his ears. 

The week leading up to the first playoff game was complete chaos. You hadn’t seen Seth at all, occasionally when he was slipping out of bed and you were just slipping in, bumping into each other when he was out the door and you were coming in and so on. 

You were finalizing all of the wag jackets, making sure the matching shoes had arrived and were in good condition as well. You had decided to add a pair of nikes with the players last name on the side to match the jackets and you couldn’t wait to see how each girl would style their outfit. One by one as each girl received their jacket you would be on the other end of a million texts and several facetime calls of the girls freaking out about the job you did. You couldn’t help it, you started to feel good about your work too after being praised so much. 

Unfortunately due to both your schedules, you couldn’t see Seth before the playoff game but promised to make it in time for warmups. You and a few of the girls head out together, taking pictures both at your place and when you get to the arena. You head straight for the front, your nerves getting the best of you and you’re bouncing up and down on your heels waiting for Seth to come out on the ice. 

Somehow even with the nerves you miss his initial entrance onto the ice. Normally Seth is all serious mode when he starts warmups, only deciding to relax and goof off towards the end of them but when he sees you first, he’s a complete goner. 

You’re facing away from the glass but Seth could spot you from miles away in a crowded area, it truly didn’t matter. Your hair was pulled up and out of the way so everyone could see his last name and jersey number plastered on the back of the black varsity jacket. Your smile is wide and he knows you’ve been nervously fidgeting by the way you twist and bounce as you stand. 

His heart is pounding twice as hard now, not even registering the world around him as he sees you in your heavenly state with his name on your back. His. His jacket. The one that claims you’re his. God, how did he get so lucky? 

He doesn’t know when he stopped paying attention to the movements he was making on his skates until he’s smacking embarrassingly into the glass just before you, startling both you and everyone around. You look up, Seth with an unreadable expression on the other side of the glass and you can’t help the shy smile that creeps onto your lips. 

Seth tries to regain some kind of confidence again, shooting a wink in your direction and mischievous grin before taking off on the ice again. 

You swear your face hurts from smiling and your throat is no doubt sore from the screaming you had done all of game 1. You and the girls make your way down to the tunnel and talk about the events of the game while you wait for the boys. One by one each girl disappears in the arms of her man, you smiling and bidding goodbyes while you impatiently wait for Seth. 

“Is that the future Mrs. Jarvis?” you hear from behind you and you turn to see Jarvy smiling like he just won the damn lottery. 

You rush forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing kisses anywhere you can reach. You exclaim your praise between each kiss and Seth grins shyly against you. 

“You did amazing,” you say leaning back to finally look into your boyfriend's big brown eyes and they shine with pride at your words. 

“Thank you baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips before pulling back and staring at you, his eyes roaming your figure, his fingers tracing the outline of his number on your shoulder and his name on your back. 

“What’s up lover boy?” you ask, nervous under his gaze. 

“You look damn good with my last name,” he murmurs and your face flushes further. 

What Seth doesn’t tell you is that from the first day, he’s known you were the one from him. He doesn’t say that since you had your first date he knew you’d be married one day. He doesn’t say how he wants to spoil his proposal right now and just ask you to marry him because he can’t go another second without having you share his name. 

He doesn’t tell you that one piece of clothing has made him imagine the next 50 years of his life in the matter of seconds. 

But you don’t need to know that. Not yet at least. So Seth settles for another searing kiss to your lips before slinging an arm around your shoulder and leading you home so he can take that jacket off of you and love you properly.

[mattheosgyat]

Cat Distribution System

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Contents: Major fluff, cute kitty, Benjamin Wadsworth fan cast as Mattheo Riddle, Hogwarts, fun fun fun

Important Info: You are a Ravenclaw that lives at Hogwarts, your character is named Rory. U little cat mom.

┍━━━━━━━━━━━☽【❖】☾━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┑

┕━━━━━━━━━━━☽【❖】☾━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┙

It was around 8pm, about the time I calm down for the night. I'd much rather be watching tv by myself in the peace of my bed rather than entertain bimbos all day and night. My room was dimly lit, the brightness flashing away every now and then as South Park distracted my attention. I felt nothing but peace in the moment, well, until something brushed against my hand..

If the loud smack of my hand against the wall didn't alert my neighbor that a monster was coming to take me, my scream sure did. I jumped out of bed, immediately putting my back to the wall because of a stupid superstition. But just then did I realize it was a cat. I reached my hand out and slowly started petting it, trying to find a collar, but nothing. I uploaded a picture of it to the school profile before laying back down, playing around with the grey cat. It looked like about a 3-5 year old cat, pretty lazy but playful nonetheless. In about 5 minutes, a text rang through my phone. I'm never one to keep up with messages, it being no different this time. I brushed off the first 3 or so messages, finally checking after getting annoyed

Maybe: Mattheo Riddle

Hey, why's my cat on your bed?

Because there's no way she just snuck into your closed dorm..

I want her back tonight.

Great, an asshole to come ruin my night

Maybe: Mattheo Riddle

My air lock is broke and my roommate is out to pick up food, so I kept the door cracked

My dorm is Ravenclaw, 3rd floor, room 312, you are more than welcome to come pick her up

I'm not coming to your dorm when you took my cat

Read 3m ago

I set my phone down, done with what I needed to say. Get the cat or not, I'm fine either way. I slipped on a hoodless sweatshirt over my sports bra, just incase the guy does actually end up showing up. Mattheo Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, the name didn't ring a bell. Not in any of my classes I'm pretty sure, and Ravenclaws stay out of other houses business. He must be a bit careless if his cat is wandering around Ravenclaw dorms, but maybe the guy had a tough day or something.

I didn't even hear a knock or a door creak, just my bedroom door swing open. A fairly sized man stood at my doorway. He had a long sleeved plain dark blue shirt on and blue plaid pajama pants, his strings untied and his waistband crooked on his hips. He had dark brown curly hair, matching his dark black eyes. He looked like he was ready to be in for the night too, obviously annoyed by having to be here. His eyes studied my face as he stayed silent, his arms crossed and his fingers tapping in order on his arm. It was almost like he was judging me; reading into every good and bad thing about me.

"I have a busy night wheres Birdie?" He muttered, pissed off that I didn't read his mind apparently. His cat was tucked against my stomach, curled against my legs as I laid on my side. I moved my legs down, showing him where his cat was since he couldn't see past my legs in the blanket.

"Birdie? Odd name for a cat. Doesn't look like you have anything planned." I said as i scanned his clothes and messy hair. His plans included scrolling on his phone, watching tv, and sleeping.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, reluctantly walking over to wrap his hands around his sleeping cat, lifting her against his chest. He backed up quickly, trying not to invade my personal space as he headed back to my bedroom door.

He nodded as a 'Thank you' and walked out of my apartment with his cat back. I heard my front door shut and immediately jumped up and ran to it. Fuck, I'm locked in. I grabbed my phone and had no time to text, immediately facetiming the Mattheo guy. He couldn't have gotten too far. He answered the phone with a confused face, still walking down the hall.

"Hey so sorry to bother, do you have your credit card with you by chance?" I asked quickly, not waisting any time. My face was close to the phone, not giving a care in the world what I looked like. His eyebrows scrunched up even more, a confused laugh coming out of his mouth slightly.

"What crazy cat girl?" he said as he stopped walking, waiting for me to explain further. That probably did sound confusing and not what I meant at all, I should've thought about that first.

"My door, it's broken and when it shuts it jams. Do you have your card with you? And it's Rory." I explain, rolling my eyes at the last part. With a small chuckle he hung up the phone, a card flying under my door about a minute later.

"If you steal it I'll release Birdie on you. She does some serious damage" he raised his voice over the door, joking with me. I giggled a little to myself as i stuck the card through the latch trying to open the door. It took about 7 tries, but it finally stuttered open. When it opened, I saw Mattheo sitting on the hallway floor against the wall, his cat sleeping in his lap as he pet her slowly, glancing up at me when the door swings open finally. I handed his card back with a smile, doing a dramatic pose when i opened the door.

"I'll give you your card ifffff you let me see Birdie again next week" I say with a stupid little smile on my face, looking down at the cute kitty asleep in his lap. He rolled his eyes and snatched the card out of my hand, standing up with the cat held against his chest again.

"And I'll definitely need to re-discuss this with you over text!" he mocked, walking away from me. He took a couple steps backwards and kept his eyes on mine before he turned around, heading out of the dorms and the Ravenclaw common room. He's not even a Ravenclaw? How the hell did his cat get into my dorm...

I'll make a part two if this does good!! This is my first Tumblr post and my first time writing so I hope this isn't too bad!

[guccifrog]

THINK FAST P6

chris sturniolo × f!reader

summary: where a silly dare leads to a lot of unexpected events

did i serve :3

part1 part2 part3 part4 part5

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:

pretty boy- the Neighbourhood

0:09 ━●────────── 3:47

ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ

y/n's pov ☆

I stumbled into the house, particularly throwing my backpack on the couch, as Jane followed behind me. I flopped down next to it, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes as the weight of the argument with my mom hit me all at once. She hadn't stopped calling me ever since the day she said I was grounded, just to make every day feel like hell for me. I knew I shouldn't have snapped, but I was so tired of feeling like I was never good enough for her. I just wanted to be able to go out and have fun without feeling like I was going to disappoint someone.

Wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, I forced a shaky breath out of my lungs as I made my way to the mirror. My cheeks were still red from crying, and my hair was a mess on my shoulders. I looked like shit, but I didn't care. I decided earlier that I was going to get ready and go to Cassie's party tonight, even if it was just to forget about everything for a little while.

I felt Jane wrap her arm around me, giving me a small smile as I leaned into her. I let out a sigh, trying to push away the nagging feeling in the back of my head that I shouldn't go out. "Jane" I mumbled as she hummed in response, squeezing me gently. "I wanna go to the party," I said, more firmly this time.

She let out an annoyed huff. "You know your mom, she's going to flip if she finds out."

"she can suck a dick, Jane. I need to forget about this." I said, my voice surprisingly strong despite my earlier tears. Jane sighed, shaking her head" You know what? you're right, she's been a bitch lately. Let's go get you all dolled up and go have some fun."

She led me over to my closet, and I began rummaging through my clothes, trying to find something good enough for the party. I end up settling on a pair of low-waisted jeans and a black tank top, revealing a fair amount of cleavage.

I paused, looking at myself in the mirror, unsure if this was the right choice. Jane, however, seemed to like it. "Oh yeah, you look hot." She grinned, giving me a little shove.

I couldn't help but smile back. "Thanks, Jane." I adjusted the hem of my top, feeling a little more confident. I quickly finished getting ready, throwing on some jewelry. With my makeup done and my hair straightened, I took one last look in the mirror before nodding to myself. 

"damn," I heard a voice mutter from behind me. Amber?

I turned around, confused when I saw her standing there in the doorway. "when and how did you get here?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as she walked into the room, her hands shoved in her pockets. "You should learn to lock your door," she giggled, taking a seat on my bed." just wanted to check on you guys"

"And I also need a ride" she blurted out suddenly, looking anywhere but at me. I raised an eyebrow, confused by the sudden request. "Isn't that Dylan's job ?"

"yeah...well, we fought. I thought he'd be here, but...I dunno." She shrugged, looking away. 

"wait what ?" I repeated, not sure if I heard her right. She rolled her eyes. "yeah, we had an argument. He's not coming with us." She shrugged again.

I glanced at Jane, who looked just as confused as I felt. But she recovered quickly, nodding at Amber. " Give me like five minutes to change and we can go."

Amber nodded, as Jane quickly got ready and we left the house. Jane had her own car, so it only took a few minutes to drive to the party. The whole way there, I couldn't stop thinking about what Amber had said about her and Dylan. Why would they fight? and what did they fight about? I had a feeling it had something to do with Cassie, but I couldn't be sure.

As we pulled up to the party. Lights were flashing, music was blasting, and people were everywhere. Jane parked the car and we got out, making our way to the front door. Amber trailed behind us, looking nervous.

Once we were inside, I immediately felt my mood lift. Cassie saw us from across the room and waved us over, grinning.

"Hey guys! I'm so glad you could make it!" She gave me a quick hug before pulling away, looking me up and down with a frown before smiling. "Oh my god, you all look amazing!" She exclaimed, with the fakest tone I've ever heard.

Jane and I exchanged glances before grinning. "Thanks, Cass. You look pretty great yourself." Jane replied. Amber still hung back, her eyes darting around the room.

I decided that I was going to get a drink and try to relax a little, so I headed over to the kitchen. Amber followed me, still looking a little nervous.

"No way they have vodka here." I gasped as I checked the liquor cabinet." what do you want ?" I asked Amber, who was leaning against the counter beside me.

"Um, just...a beer, I guess." She replied. I nodded, grabbing her a beer from the fridge. "Here you go." I handed it to her, before grabbing a glass of ice and pouring myself some vodka. I needed to get absolutely wasted tonight.

Not even an hour into the party, I felt a familiar buzz starting to form in my head. The vodka was going down smoothly, and I was starting to relax a little. I found myself laughing at things that weren't even that funny, but it was better than sitting in a corner and moping. Amber seemed to be having a good time too, although she was sticking to beer. She was dancing with some guys. I glanced over at Jane, who was deep in conversation with Nick and Jake. She seemed to be having a good time too.

I glanced at the bottle in my hand and realized I had already finished it. "Shit," I muttered to myself.More. I needed more.

Out of nowhere, I felt my head spin. The room was moving, the music was deafening, and suddenly my emotions felt like they were spilling out of my chest. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to hit something. Why was I feeling like this so suddenly? just a while ago I was having fun.

I made my way over to the kitchen to grab another drink, only to find that the liquor cabinet was empty. Apparently, everyone had already gotten their fair share. "Fuck." I slammed my hand against the counter in frustration.

I looked around, trying to find a quiet spot where I could collect myself. My heart was racing, my head was pounding, and my vision was blurry. "Where's Jane?"

Everyone I knew was nowhere to be seen. The music had faded into the background, replaced by the sounds of my own heartbeat and my breath coming out in ragged gasps. I couldn't control my thoughts; they were spinning out of control, I desperately needed to find some quiet.

I made my way to the front door, having no idea where else to go. As I opened it, the cool night air hit my face, bringing with it a sense of calm. I took a deep breath and walked out into the empty backyard, collapsing onto the grass. Blinking up at the stars.

chris's pov

My heart was pounding so fast against my ribcage, my palms were sweaty, and I could feel the rage welling up inside of me as I watched his every move. Just as I thought I couldn't stand it anymore, I heard Cassie laugh at something the motherfucker said and felt my blood boil. I couldn't believe she was actually enjoying this. Just earlier she had been all over me, telling me how much she loves hanging out with me, how much she wanted to be with me. And now, here she was, laughing and flirting with that fucker called Dylan like I was nothing to her.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down, but it was no use. I couldn't take it anymore

"Chris, are you even listening?" A high-pitched voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I realized I had zoned out.

I looked down at the random blonde who had interrupted me and forced a smile. "Uh, yeah, sorry, what did you say?" I asked, not really caring what she had to say. My mind was still consumed with thoughts of Dylan and Cassie.

Without another word, she stormed off, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I took another deep breath and tried to focus on the party, but I couldn't help but feel like everyone was staring at me. I wanted to be anywhere but here.

With a sigh, I grabbed my drink and began to wander around the room, trying to find something interesting to do. Or someone, maybe. But everyone seemed to be paired off, and I was the odd man out. I hated that feeling. I hated feeling like I wasn't wanted like I wasn't good enough. It was like a knife in my gut, twisting and turning with every passing moment.

Just as I was about to leave the house, the window caught my eye. It wasn't the window itself that drew my attention, but the fact that someone was lying outside on the cold grass, staring up at the sky.

I quickly made my way out to the backyard and peered outside. My ears perked up as I heard the familiar lyrics of pretty boy by the Neighbourhood sung horribly by the person lying outside. The moonlight illuminated the person's features, and My eyes widened as I realized it was none other than the stalker.

"and if it's all over, I'm taking this momennttt" She was lying on her back, her arms stretched out above her head as she sang off-key. Her hair was a mess of waves, and her lips were slightly parted as she breathed in the night air. She was definetly drunk.

I don't know what took over me, but something inside me made me walk over to her. I crouched down beside her and looked at her face. "You shouldn't be out here alone," I muttered, but she completely ignored my presence and continued singing. "I mean, you could get hurt or something." Again, no reaction.

"pretty boy" She pointed her finger at me" You did this with me boy" I raised an eyebrow at her, confused.

"Now it's all about to end" She continued as she glanced at me Her eyes were red and puffy and it was clear she had been crying.

I sighed before, lying down next to her. "You know, I hate you," I said, looking up at the night sky as well. "You always manage to find a way to get under my skin" I muttered, my tone slightly bitter. She giggled softly, as she finally stopped singing and looked at me. 

"You're such a drama queen," She said, before reaching over and playfully nudging me.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help but smile a little. "And you're such a pain in the ass" I retorted, now looking at her. She pouts as if my comment actually hurt her feelings.

We lay there in silence for a while, just watching the stars and listening to the crickets chirp. It was a weird sort of peacefulness, considering the interactions we had shared the past month.

"Look at that" She suddenly pointed to the sky, and I followed her gaze. In the distance, a bright streak of light flashed across the sky, leaving a trail of stars in its path. "A shooting star!" She exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "Make a wish!"

"No, it's childish" I scoffed. But she just rolled her eyes and nudged me again. "Oh, come on, don't be a grandpa" she insisted, before closing her eyes and clapping her hands together. I sighed, feeling a little bit stupid for being so bitter about it. "Fine, I wish-"

"no dumbass, you should keep your wish a secret," she interupted, before leaning over and playfully pushing me over. I let out a yelp as I tumbled onto the soft grass, my back hitting the ground with a soft thud. "You idiot" she giggled, helping me back up. "You know what? I wish...I wish I knew who I really was." She looked at me, her eyes serious. "I feel like I've been lost for so long, you know? Like I don't even know who I am anymore."

She sighed "It's hard, you know? Not knowing who you are or where you belong." I didn't say anything, but I knew exactly how she felt. There was something about her that made me feel like I could trust her, even though I couldn't stand her. "I mean," she continued, "I look at you and I see someone who's pretty damn confident, You've got this air about you that just screams 'I know who I am and what I want' even though you're always being an asshole to me."

Her words took me by surprise. I never really thought about it that way. "Well," I said, glancing back up at the stars, "I mean...I guess it's just something you have to figure out on your own, you know what I mean? You can't really rely on anyone else to tell you who you are." I took a deep breath and continued, "But I think...I think you're stronger than you give yourself credit for. You may be annoying but..." I trailed off, not quite sure how to finish that thought.

She smiled softly at me, her eyes glistening in the moonlight. "Thanks, Pretty Boy" She leaned in and gave me a quick peck on the cheek before rolling away from me and lying down on the grass. closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

I didn't reply, instead, I just stared at her, examining her face in the moonlight. There was something about her that was...I don't know, strange ?

.･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.･｡ﾟ

taglist ☆@mattestrella @chrisfavoritepepsi @sunsetsturniolos @littlebookworm803 @sturniozo @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @crybabycat1 @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss @braindead4l @sturniolosreads @mattsturnzzz09 @itssophiasstuff @mayhem-72 @b2cute @buckys-celestes @4iriss @graceciesiels22 @urmom2bitch @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @b2cute @1horrormoviewhore1 @kqyslyho3 @whicked-hazlatwhore @ilovechrissturniolo1

[that-one-random-writer]

Rowdy Romance Part 2

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x (Southern! Female) Reader

Summary: Jake comes back to the Ranch. You both had been flirting through text, but he didn't expect you to be at home waiting for his return home.

⚠️ Fluff just pure fluff and allusion to baby making thanks to his momma and his dad.

The fluffiest of all the fluffs.

Part 1. My masterlist

Hangman had taken a week off to fly out to his family. Little did know that his mother had a surprise for him.

You sat at the dining room table with your beer in hand. His mom had placed it in your hand, saying this was the one her son likes.

She was trying so hard to get you two together. She was begging her son not to find an interest in a girl up in California. She wanted her grand babies around for holidays.

You heard the door open, and there Jake stood. As soon as he walks through the door, he puts on his black cowboy hat. He had on the most handsome cowboy get-up on.

A pair of boot cut light wash jeans with a black tee shirt. It was so simple but looked so good on him. He hugged everyone around him.

His sisters, his mom, his dad, all piled on him for a hug and you stood up making your way over a little slower than the rest of the family. Of course, they deserved the greetings first.

You smiled nervously. "California cowgirl. How are you doing?" He never questioned why you were there. He knew his mom had something to do with it, but he was genuinely excited to see you. His smooth talking ways hadn't changed even though the outfit and the location had.

"I'm doing good! How are you doing?" He bent down and picked up his four year old niece. "I'm doing much better now."

You stayed in the shadows while he visited his family, joining in some small talk. "Jake honey, show ol' honeydew around the farm." She called you by her nickname she gave you.

Jake smirked. "Hasn't she been here before?" He poked fun at his mom. Their relationship was exactly what you would expect.

She grabbed some ingredients for dinner while she popped back. "She's fed our chickens and our cow multiple times. Now do as I say and yall go outside. Hell, take jóse the bull out. Maybe she can show you how eight seconds is supposed to look."

She shooed the pair off and went back to the kitchen.

"Your momma is sweet." You laughed.

"She can be when she wants to be." He chuckled.

"It's been about three months since I've seen you. What has the cowgirl been up to?" He smiled, grabbing your hand lacing your fingers with his. "I've just been working out on the farm. The Rodeo wasn't too long ago. I wish you could have made it for that. I took on jóse. I made it 8 seconds." You smiled brightly.

He raised an eyebrow. "What was it, that crazy woman in there was talking about? Showing me how it's done?"

You laughed. "No, I mean I could, but I'm not really dressed for a bull ride." You clenched a piece of your dress in your hand.

He smirked, nodding. "Sure, take the easy way out," he playfully rolled his eyes.

You grabbed his arm and wrapped yours around his. "I don't doubt you can keep a hold on a bull. Especially with these arms. I can't imagine your grip on his back, " you giggled.

He smiled confidently. "Yes ma'am, I do a lot of push-ups and leg work." He had the pride worn on his sleeve.

"Oh, I can tell," you spoke softly, admiring his arm, trailing your fingers up and down slowly.

"You know I've thought about you everyday since you left." He smiled down softly, looking into your eyes.

The moonlight was brightly shining on the full moon night. It gave him a perfect view of you. He was slowly falling for you. Yall had been texting here and there for the time in between the vacations.

He really did miss you. He slowly leaned down. He looked down at your lips, almost asking for your permission like a true gentleman. Butterflies fluttered around in your whole body.

You looked down to his lips, then closed the gap. You both kissed under the moonlight on the gorgeous ranch. He picked you, and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He sat you on the wood beam fence. You both broke apart and rested your foreheads against each other. "Do you want to come back to California with me? Take an extended vacation." His eyes were full of hope and wonder. He was a hardass at work, but back home, he was just a southern man. He was a chip of the old block, took the rough edges from his old man, and his kindness from his momma. You smiled softly, nodding. "I would like that." He smiled with his laugh lines showing how genuine it truly was. You both connected your lips once again.

Jake's dear old momma watched from the window. "Honeyyyy," she called in a sing song voice to her husband.

"Yes dear?" He called back from the living room.

"Get ready for some more grand babies, they're out there smooching on the fence post." She walked back to the living room and sat next to her husband. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Do you remember when we did that?"

He chuckled. "Yes honey, that's how we ended up with her." He pointed to his oldest daughter. He laughed a huge barrel chuckle.

Jakes sister gagged. "Gross!" The pair on the couch laughed. Jakes mom smiled with her whole body radiating happiness at the thought of little grand babies running around. Little did she know she was going to get more then she bargained for. Triplets ran in your family.

You and Jake were dancing the night away to old country songs on a moonlit ranch he stole kisses where you allowed. He knew this was the start of something incredible.

I do not give permission for my stories to be posted anywhere. Stealing stories makes you a c u next tuesday.

[rowdyhughesy]

i saw you were taking requests, so i have one (:

maybe like, jack gets down on one knee and asks y/n to be his fake date for a wedding he has to attend?

Cats and Wedding dates - J.Hughes

Thinking about doing a part 2, let me know what u guys think!

Jack was completely freaking out, with all the stress from the season he had forgotten about one of his family friends wedding. He’s known about it for months but it still slipped his mind and with forgetting about it he also forgot about getting a date.

Pacing back and forth in Nico’s living room he’s running his hands through his hair. “Jack calm down its not life or death if you don’t have a date.” The devils captain laughs from his place on the couch. Watching one of his best friends stressing over a wedding is slightly amusing. He knows that Jack could get a date in two seconds if he wanted to so what’s the problem?

“No but yes! I’ve already told everyone I’m taking a date and if I don’t bring one they’ll all know I forgot about it and then mom will lecture me.” Stopping in his tracks Jack let’s out a noise between a whine and a laugh. He doesn’t even have a suit. Or a present. Fuck.

Scrambling to gather all of his belongings Jack rushes out of the apartment. Yelling about how he needs to go as he runs out. Nico blinks in bewilderment at what just occurred in front of him but decides that he doesn’t even want to know.

Walking down the streets of downtown New Jersey Jack has the suit bag thrown over his shoulder, music blasting in his headphones as he’s in his own world.

Suit? Check

Present? Nope

Date? Absolutely not

Stopping outside of some fancy gift store he ponders for a moment before going inside. Surely they must have something for the couple. The strong smell of vanilla and cinnamon hits his nose and Jack pulls the headphones of in case he needs to ask for help. Which he probably will because he has no idea what to buy.

The store is small but cozy and filled with small unique Knick knacks, candles, porcelain and what looks like some type of fancy candies. It feels like a store his mom would love, he takes a mental note to bring her next time they’re in Jersey.

Suddenly Jack feels a presence by his feet grabbing his attention, looking down he’s met with the sight of a cat that resembles a fluff ball. He’s never been much of a cat person but having those blue eyes staring at him Jack can’t resist squatting down and petting the light fur. The cat lets out a small meow, stroking it’s head against the palm of his hand. “What’s your name huh? Cute lil buddy.” Jacks voice is soft as he continues petting the animal, the cat purring in answer.

“I see that Dude has made a new friend.” The unknown female voice makes Jack freeze in place. Hand still in the air he turns his head. A girl dressed in a white long sleeve, black overalls and converse stands above him. A huge smile on her face as she looks down at the boy and cat. “His name is dude?” Jack laughs turning his attention back to the cat. “Hey there Dude. I don’t really like cats but you seem cool.” The girl let’s out a snort at him telling Dude that he doesn’t like cats.

“Is he yours?” Jack stands up from his previous position, he notices that the girl is about a head shorter than him making him tower over her. “Yep, been my partner in crime the last three years.” She bends down picking up Dude in her arms. He seems content with it as he starts rubbing his face against the exposed skin of her neck.

“How did you come up with the name dude?”

“I tried about 100 names and one day I got frustrated and yelled come on dude at him and it was the only thing he reacted too.” The admission earning a loud laugh from the hockey player.

“I’m Jack by the way.” She takes his outstretched hand and he misses the warmth of her skin as soon as she lets go. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you Jack.”

The two stand there for almost an hour just talking and Y/N helping him find a present for the wedding. It’s easy to talk to the store owner, she’s sarcastic and funny. Like a breath of fresh air after a thunderstorm. Maybe she could be his date? She seems like the type to help a person out and they just met so if she says no he won’t die of embarrassment.

Deciding to take caution to the wind Jack takes a deep breath he goes down on one knee as Y/N has her back to him wrapping the present on the counter. A noise of surprise rises from her throat when she notices this almost stranger down on the floor. “What is going on?” Y/N flicks her gaze between Jack and Dude who is sitting next to the male staring at him with confusion. Or at least as confused as a cat can look.

“This might sound crazy but Y/N will you please be my date to the wedding? I told everyone I would bring a date and I don’t have one, I’ll owe you a favour.” She thinks about it before loudly laughing. Jacks face burns from embarrassment, certain that she’ll reject him. Then a beaming smile spreads across her lips and Jack feels like he can breath again.

“Yeah Jack I’ll gladly be your date to the wedding. Do you have any purple ties?”

[c0zmo-writes]

Hello! I was inspired by the always amazing @possum-quesadilla to write some details, background stuff, and other little notes for my harpy Beetlejuice fanfiction, Birds of a Feather. This is just chapter one for now.

Chapter 1- Feathered Finds

“It had what was either a scraggly beard or lichen on its face. Maybe both?”

Beej has plant life growing on his body! He could be his own little forest if he wanted to.

“My name is Shilo. I study cryptids and monsters. Ever since I found out that a harpy lived in the deepest part of these woods eight years ago, I dedicated my life to finding it! Yes, I moved to the woods and built my own house here, and yes, all my friends and family think I’m crazy, and yes, they tried to get me diagnosed with something, but it’s all been worth it! I knew you were real! Oh, what’s your name by the way?”

Fun fact: Shilo is autistic and has ADHD! She is also a big infodumper. She either talks to herself a bit, doesn’t talk for three days straight, or never stops talking. She’s just like me fr.

“And to answer your other questions, first, because when I get focused on a project, I get focused, and I’ve been interested in cryptids and monsters my whole life.”

Special interest moment !!

“Shilo wanted to fight back, wanted to argue that she didn’t wait this long searching for him just to not be able to publish her findings,”

By “publishing her findings”, Shilo was really planning on screaming about Beej on Reddit. I love this nerdy mad scientist loser girl <3333

“Before she could change her mind, Shilo wrapped her arms as far as she could around the harpy. He smelled of roadkill and pine sap. His soft chest feathers tickled her nose and she held her breath as his body stiffened.”

Is it a good idea to hug a large forest bird monster that you’ve just met? Probably not. Not that Shilo cares. 

“You, my feathered friend, are a whopping seven feet and two inches tall!”

He’s a tall boy!! Even larger than the average male harpy (based on my slightly modified version of the species at least)! I wonder if there’s a reason behind that…

“Yeah? What, is parrot Shilo comin’ back again? If she is, you should dress the part. You’d look good in a bit of color.” He gestured to her current attire, a long sleeved black undershirt, ratty lab coat that looked older than time itself, and some black pants, stained with grass and grime”

All of her clothes are either stained or dirty. This girl is Not Good at keeping up with laundry.

“I dunno about immortal, ‘cause my mom definitely wasn’t. I guess I just have a long life span? I never really questioned it.”

…

“Wow!” Shilo stretched the word out, speaking a few octaves higher than normal. “That’s… such an interesting answer!” Beetlejuice didn’t seem to see her discomfort.”

Shilo isn’t amazing at picking up social skills, but Beetlejuice is worse.

“It was populated with tables, corkboards, and journals. So. Many. Journals.”

She has around 50-ish journals. She’s written in about 34. She’s actually completed about 10.

“He kept roaming the lab, sniffing at books, tables, and walls. From upstairs, he could hear the quiet clattering of what he assumed were pots and pans. He crawled onto the mattress and inhaled deeply. It smelled like her. Sweat, earth, and something vaguely floral. He liked that. He nuzzled against her pillow a bit,”

Sensory input is incredibly important to him, especially scents and sounds! He’s got a very sensitive nose and ears.

“SALMON!!!” Beetlejuice leapt up from his spot on the floor and lunged for Shilo. In his rush, he bit down on both the salmon and the plate, narrowly avoiding Shilo’s finger.”

Poor guy was starving :(

“He tried to sit down the way Shilo did, but his wings got in the way. After a bit of struggling, he stood up, made a low growling sound in the back of his throat, then kicked the chair over in a rage, sending it flying.”

When you try to fit in with your new friend but you’ve got two heavy duty feather dusters permanently strapped to your back.

“He jerked his head up, face smeared red with raspberry carnage.”

I picture him looking like a baby eating cake for the first time. 

“A soft purring sound emitted from him as he dozed off again. Shilo made a mental note to write about that as she ran her fingers through his crest of hair, eventually joining him in slumberland.”

Despite being half bird, Beetlejuice purrs like a cat!! His feathers and hair are also very soft and fluffy! 

[doctorguilty]

A

I went out today to pick up meds and get my covid and flu shots (was gonna get the sat but had to reschedule) and then went to goodwill for a bit to look for some work clothes (need some like black underlayers and could use an alternate pair of boots cause like my usual work boots are steel toe and kinda heavy for like Halloween acting where I might be like crawling around and my fashion boots and getting pretty worn out and they've got the kind of lace up things that come undone if you're also, like, crawling around.. need crawling around boots), ended up finding some stuff I needed + couple extra goodies including some little gifts for my mom, I've been feeling less tense spending money this week knowing I'll have a paycheck incoming, MOSTLY it has just been necessities like pet stuff or like work related thing like I preemptively ordered some clothes online as so if I can't find even cheaper stuff irl before work starts I have it but otherwise I can totes return it, but even that has been a relief like yay I'm super prepared here, I got black long sleeve shirts because I'm gonna be outside so this way I won't freeze, I did in fact find some perfect boots at goodwill today a little on the higher side for second hand faux leather at like $15 but I'm like, but you know what I'll be paid I don't need to leave behind what I need to be comfy and regret it if I can't find anything else just cause I'm like "well maybe if they were $10 🙄" cause that's the thing like I'm always having to forgo my comfort to shave off dollars here and there it sucks!! Ultimately it's not gonna be like an ENORMOUS check it's a seasonal gig with only a certain amount of days buts it's still significantly more money I usually rake in per month so

I've made like one single more luxurious purchase of a couple skincare things cause I'm like scraping the end of my last jar of moisturizer and I really need to do something about my facial hair coming in it's getting itchy and feels kinda dry, I perused reddit and men say like working a quality balm into it down to the follicles before bed really helps, and wouldnt you know it the etsy shop that makes the moisturizers I really like makes a beard balm too??? 🥺 I'm using the word luxurious so loosely though like even that's not all that expensive it's just like fhjdgjkf I almost never buy any special things for myself these days like Me as a person is just not in my budget, but anyway that's probably mostly it for now at least until I find our like when checks get deposited like if it's weekly, biweekly, or what, and at the end of the whole season I'd like to see what my checking account looks like after evenings all deposited and my credit card balance is at 0

Oh I got so side tracked all I meant to get at originally was I passed out dead asleep when I got home and woke up less than an hour ago after having super weird stress dreams all afternoon/night... also my arms hurt, both of them, I'm gonna feel so shitty I just know it I just hope it passes before my rehearsal on the 14th

[millermenapologist]

https://www.tumblr.com/millermenapologist/753018718824660992/ive-read-right-now-your-list-of-topics-you-would?source=share

Actually, that was a smart fucking response!! I doubt I would answer in this level, I mean, you made me realize I talk like a teenager compared to you (that's a compliment btw💖)

And I as someone who haven't read the book, You managed to clarify some things I had no idea about, and the whole concept of 90s is actually true and a point that never came to my mind when thinking about lolita: this was an era in Hollywood with this concept of "oh naughty teenager falls in love with older man or a male with some kind of power (like a teacher)" - I mean, The Crush starring Alicia Silverstone is an example. Those really had a part of internalize to people the belief that teen girls have a dubious innocence.

And what you said by the end just confirmed that this movie is truly what I was thinking: a coquette horror story🫠

I feel bad for her. I mean, she had a hard ass fucking life even after him, and then died so early giving birth. When I remember about the girl reading in her backyard or loving a normal life with her mom, it's hard to imagine that this person is the same one that had that life and ending. Does the movie says something about her baby and husband, or not?

Anon you're too kind (๑•з•)))⋆♡⋆ฺ=͟͟͞͞=͟͟͞͞

Also, I 100% talk like a teenager too. I'm one of those annoying ass people who repeats "like" every other word, the magic of having learned English by watching YouTube videos from 2016. My writing just happens to be a lot more curated in style because my college internship was at a place that required a lot of writing and not only I was the only woman, but I was also the only ESL, so... it was the trenches. The trenches, I tell you!

Oh, and on this topic! In his entire career of (bestselling) writer, Nabokov rarely did impromptu interviews: if someone wanted to interview him, he'd ask for them to send him a letter containing all the questions they wanted to ask him, would type down the answers, and then read them out loud during the interview. He claimed that his reason to do so was because English wasn't his native language, but it was very much another way for him to fuck with people.

Rest of the "professional" answer below the cut, and beware that, because of the very last question, I'm gonna mention stillbirth.

We are still getting this kind of movies, tbh. Miller's Girl is from this year, and it comes with a very similar premise too: young girl (albeit this time we managed to get her to turn 18! Let the kingdom rejoice!) goes out of her way to seduce a much older man because the idea of it tickles her fancy, and, as a consequence, his life is ruined from top to bottom despite him being the actual victim of the story.

We did get a lot better, as a society, at treating kids like kids (just look at the stark difference between Katherine Hardwicke's Thirteen and Bo Burnham's Eighth Grade), but as soon as we're talking about (especially) girls in their late teens, then it's still treated like open season.

Anyways, yeah, the movie is a coquette horror story, and I can't but find funny the fact that so many people on TikTok got up in arms when others started referring to Lolita as "coquette." It is. We can acknowledge it's a story about a child being abused while also recognizing its soft atmosphere and pastel tones.

I do wish that the coquette people would also find a way to include the horror too, tho...

[...] to buying beautiful things for Lo. Goodness, what crazy purchases were prompted by the poignant predilection Humbert had in those days for check waves, bright cottons, frills, puffed-out short sleeves, soft pleats, snug-fitting bodices and generously full skirts! [...] Did I have something special in mind? coaxing voices asked me. Swimming suits? We have them in all shades. Dream pink, frosted aqua, glans mauve, tulip red, oolala black. Part 1, Chapter 25, p. 107

You picked them? They're just there for a second, a small detail that your brain barely notices, but Humbert did, indeed, refer to the shade of pink he wanted to buy for Dolores' swimsuit as "glans mauve," and the black swimsuit is not simple black, it's "oolala black," which hints towards it being a lacy undergarment designed to look sexy.

The whole book is littered with descriptions of what Dolores wears, and although the coquette style definitely does fit those descriptions, what it constantly misses is that sense of uneasiness that comes from them, the little details that make you furrow your eyebrows, re-read, and go "Oh."

Also, I definitely forgot to mention this in the other response, but I think that the movies (both) aged Dolores up, brought her to a very vague age that was around ~16ish, but in the book Nabokov was very clear: Humbert is only attracted to children aged from 9 to 14 at most (he has a whole monologue about it that wasn't brought up in neither of the adaptations), and Dolores was 12 when they first meet. The bulk of the novel takes place between the summers of 1947 and 1949, and Dolores was born on January 1st 1935. At her oldest, when she was with Humbert, she was 14.

Sooooo... to your actual question (the yapping I do, my god...).

Charlotte wasn't exactly a good mother to Dolores, and the movie sweetened her a lot, and not just because he brought Humbert into their home (it's a common trait of predators, to target single mothers to have easier access to children).

In the book, Dolores used to have a younger brother, a child who had died at 2 in a very tragic accident (he's never brought up again afterwards, but it does reinforce one of the main themes of the novel: childhood lost, in the most literal of senses), and Charlotte is hinted as having greatly preferred him to her daughter.

The reason why Humbert escalates to plotting her murder isn't because Charlotte sent Dolores to summer camp (although he complains and complains about it, defining it as him losing two months of her beauty), but because she wants to send her away forever.

"Ah," said Mrs. Humbert, dreaming, smiling, drawing out the "Ah" simultaneously with the raise of one eyebrow and a soft exhalation of breath. "Little Lo, I'm afraid, does not enter the picture at all, at all. Little Lo goes straight from camp to a good boarding school with strict discipline and some sound religious training. And then - Beardsley College. I have it all mapped out, you need not worry." Part 1, Chapter 20, p. 82-83

We have no reason to doubt the truthfulness of this conversation because it works in Humbert's favor: of course he planned to murder his wife! He wanted to take away from him the love of his life, whatever else was he supposed to do? Wouldn't the kind gentlemen of the jury understand his actions, had they been in his place?

So... Dolores would've probably ran away from her mother too, if she had had the possibility. Or from boarding school.

As for her husband and baby, the movie greatly diminished their role in the themes of the plot.

For starters, when she writes him the letter asking for help, she does so by opening with "Dear Dad," and then continues to do so for the entirety of it, referring to herself as "Dolly" in the bottom signature. She desperately wants to believe that that's what he'll now be for her: a father, nothing else. Just... she was terribly scared, and this is a sentiment that's completely overshadowed by Humbert's feelings. She's pregnant and penniless, and so terrified for her future that she went out of her way to contact the man who abused her for years (and that she suspects killed her mother) in the hope that he wouldn't act like a monster and lend her just enough money to get to Alaska, where her husband wants to go because he heard that there are a lot of jobs there.

And you know what his response to the letter is? He becomes angry, violent, and plans to murder her and her husband both. He goes to her house with the intention of doing so, and the only thing that stops him is that he suddenly finds himself recognizing his Lolita in Dolly.

Her husband, Dick (and yes, the name is not a random choice), is a hard-of-hearing man who is completely oblivious to what happened to her. Dolores, a girl who spent her entire life being unheard, ultimately married a man who cannot hear her either. She has to yell at him to be heard, has to scream or force herself into his field of vision to make sure he's paying attention. No matter how much the people say they feel for her, she's still isolated, she's still alone, she's still unheard. Dick is as deaf to her needs and voice and personhood as Humbert was.

As for the baby, we gotta do some plot "rearrangement". The movie opens with Humbert reminiscing his early adolescence spent on the French Riviera with Annabel (again, I still don't understand why in the adaptation they have sex, but whatever), and only at the end (and in text) we're told that Humbert died in prison, Dolores died in labor, and that her baby was a stillborn.

In the book, we get this information as a first thing, in a Foreword written by John Ray Jr, PhD, who informs the readers that:

[...] their author, had died in legal captivity of coronary thrombosis, on November 16, 1952, a few days before his trial was scheduled to start. [...] Mrs. "Richard F. Schiller" died in childbirth giving birth to a stillborn girl, on Christmas Day 1952, in Gray Star, a settlement in the remotest Northwest. Foreword, p. 3-4

Nabokov makes you read the entire plot already telling you how it ends: Humbert gets arrested and these are his confessions, a woman married to a certain Richard Schiller dies in childbirth. You already know, and yet, plot-wise, it makes perfect sense that he'd spoil it within its very first few pages.

The following decision I make with all the legal impact and support of a signed testament: I wish this memoir to be published only when Lolita is no longer alive. Part 2, Chapter 36, p. 308-309

Again, Nabokov is fucking with us. The sole act of getting the book published means that Dolores is dead, and therefore it should be of absolutely no surprise, when the reader realizes that "Mrs. Richard Schiller" is no other than the titular Lolita and that she died in childbirth (and generally, though, the very last paragraph of the novel contains so much information and deserves so much analysis that it'd require a post of its own lol.)

So, now for the baby.

One of the main themes of the story is that of the double (Dolores is the double of Annabel; Humbert is the double of Quimby; Charlotte is a double of Humbert's mother; Humbert's name itself is a double; in the scene in which they walk in their room at the hotel where Humbert assaults Dolores for the first time, he describes it by saying that each object has itself and then its twin reflection in the mirror), and Dolores' baby has a double too.

Some motels had instructions pasted above the toilet (on whose tank the towels were unhygienically heaped) asking guests not to throw into its bowl garbage, beer cans, cartons, stillborn babies. Part 2, Chapter 1, p. 146

It's the slightest of mentions, just as with many other things, but it's there, aids the theme and serves as foreshadowing for what's to come. And, again, Nabokov just genuinely liked fucking with his readers.

Uhm... I think this response is finished here? Lemme know if you (or anyone else) wants more of this, because I could seriously go on all day ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

[lizzyk137]

His Complicated Mate- Chapter Six

--------------- Jaxon -------------------- I heard her sigh and felt her eyelids flutter against my neck causing me to shiver. Something about this girl made me excited, nervous, calm and wanting more. I just met her a few weeks ago but this feeling I had with her made me feel like I've known her for a long time. I gently placed her body on my bed and went to undo her arms around my neck when she tightened her hold on me. "Lucille, you got to let go." She murmured nonsense but held on tight. I sighed and then sat against my headboard next to her and she cuddled in.

I've never cuddled with any girl before. That's not the type of guy I am. Even my ex-girlfriends never cuddled with me. It was sex, making out and occasionally a hand hold when either one of us was pulling each other into the bedroom. Sure, my siblings have cuddled into me but as far as an actual woman it's never happened. But with this girl I just couldn't say no.

Last night she had fallen asleep watching Frozen and she was starting to sway as she fought sleep until she backed up into me and used my chest as a pillow. I had laid there frozen for a second and was about to push her off when she nuzzled her head into me and snuggled her body in closer. Her breathing was slow, and she had these pouty lips while her white hair cascaded down her face and arm. She was gorgeous and I don't know why I realized was finally noticing it then.

Her robe had hugged her body in all the right place and that made my wolf excited. I tried not to peak earlier when I barged into the bathroom but when I let go of her mouth and took a step back my wolf was vibrating with pleasure just at the sight of her.

I couldn't figure out what was so special about her that made me feel so many things. She didn't seem to care for me much besides when she was asleep. She had her moments when she was cute but overall, she didn't say much to me and rolled her eyes way too many times. I found it fun trying to get a reaction out of teasing her, but she always remained calm, the only annoyance that I could see was when she rolled her eyes.

She finally let go of my neck and I carefully got out bed without waking her and placed a throw blanket over her to keep her warm. I turned the heater in the room up and got some clean, dry clothes to change into. I quickly took a hot shower, changed and then quietly headed downstairs to the main kitchen where my mother was showing a group of young teens how to make her secret spaghetti sauce. The girls squealed when I walked in, and I just politely smiled and grabbed a water from the pantry.

"Jaxon, I have some milk warming up can you fill the red mug over there? I made it for Lucille, it'll help warm her up." I mother asked with a sweet smile. I went around and kissed her cheek then did as she asked. "Isn't he the sweetest girls?" The girls all cooed their agreements, and I shook my head at how my mother liked to fool around.

I headed back upstairs and knocked on the door. When I heard nothing, I opened the door to find Lucille coming out of the bathroom. "Oh hey, I was just about to find you." She said with a small smile.

"My mom made you this. Well, I did, but she warmed up the milk." I mumbled awkwardly, which annoyed me because I was always overly confident.

"Oh, thanks. Tell your mom I said thanks too." She grabbed the cup from me and took a sip. "I know it's a weird question to ask but do you know where I could find some clean clothes?"

"Here you can borrow some of mine." I went over to the dresser and grabbed out a black long-sleeved shirt, a white basketball t-shirt and a grey pair of sweatpants. "Choose whatever fits best. There are also towels in there if you want to take a shower too." She thanked me and sat her cup down on my desk and took the clothes to the bathroom.

As soon as the door closed, I fell back onto my bed and let out the breath I was holding. I don't know what I was so nervous about. I've had plenty of girls in my room before so what was the big deal about her being in here. A bit of time went by, and I heard the water from the shower turn off. I sat up and looked out the window at the storm that was still brewing. A shriek pulled me out of my thoughts and without thinking I barged into the bathroom to quickly turn around as I saw a naked Lucille before smacking my face off the half-opened door behind me.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Lucille cried out.

"I'm fine, just cover up!" I shouted while holding my bleeding nose.

A tiny hand wrapped around my bicep, and I looked down to see her standing there with a towel wrapped around her holding up a small washcloth. "Let me clean that up, it's getting everywhere." She tugged on my arm and brought me over to the vanity.

She wet the washcloth and started dabbing my face as she stood on her balls of her feet. Her chest was lightly pressed against mine and my wolf was getting irritated either by my nose bleeding or her being so close.

"Why did you shriek?" I asked, annoyance spewing out a little.

She rewet the washcloth and went back to cleaning up my face. "I almost slipped coming out of the shower. I caught myself just as you barged in."

Her chest pressed against mine. I growled in annoyance before snapping, "You know I can clean my own face since you're too short."

She pulled back, her face quickly flashed a face of disappointment. "Oh, I'm sorry." She rewet the washcloth and went to hand it to me. I sighed looking at her sad face and put my hands under her armpits, picked her up and set her on the vanity.

"There, now you can reach better." I grumbled before she could say anything. She just looked up at me, sighed then went back to cleaning my chin and neck.

"There, all done." She whispered after a few minutes and pulled her chest away from mine. She set down the washcloth next to her and looked back up, her black eyes peeking through her thick eyelashes. My wolf howled in excitement and next thing I knew I was crashing my lips onto hers.

----------- Lucille -----------

His lips were rough on mine, and it took me a second to realize what was going on until my wolf howled in approval and I felt myself kissing him back. My hands went up to his hair where I tangled my fingers in his soft locks as his arms captured my body and pressed my chest to his while his hands explored my back.

The way he moaned as I tugged on his hair made me excited and an urge of lust overcame me as I deepened the kiss. One hand found its way to his chest where I let it roam up and down as I felt up his muscles. His hand found my thigh and gently ran it up and down teasing me as he got close to my sensitive areas. His right hand gently grazed my breast, and I felt my hands dig into his chest in pleasure. He growled in our kiss and spread my legs apart exposing me as the towel fell off my body.

His hand cup my breast as his tongue licked my lips for entrance. I granted him access and our tongues danced while I felt my way down his chest to his pelvis area and rubbed him through his joggers. He moaned again breaking the kiss and planting kisses and bites down my neck causing me to hiss in pleasure.

My hand found their way into his pants where I continued to rub him through his underwear. In one swift motion he ripped off his pants and underwear leaving him exposing his very large cock. My wolf was pulsing with excitement as we took in his giant manhood, and I instantly reached out enveloping him in my hand as I rubbed up and down his long shaft.

"Fuck baby." He moaned as he captured my breast in his mouth earning pleasurable cries from myself. My hands started to claw his back as he inserted a finger into me.

"Jaxon." I said shakily as he interested another as he fingered me. I want all of him, my wolf cried out to me.

"If you want all of me, I'll give you just that."

He picked me up cupping my butt in his large hands and made his way to the bed without breaking the kiss. He laid me down and pulled off his shirt revealing his toned chest and abs and a deep v-shape of his pelvis bone. I looked him up and down as he cockily smirked catching me checking him out. He opened his top drawer and pulled out a small black package. Taking a condom out he spread my legs and dipped his face down to meet the folds of my womanhood. He kissed, licked and sucked every part of me making me moan and cry out.

Jaxon gave me one last kiss on my clit and then rolled the condom on. A wave of panic came over me, "Wait!" I cried out, Jaxon giving me a look of confusion. "This is my first time." I said quietly.

"Oh, then we can stop." He said gently. He got off the bed and turned away and that's when I noticed the fresh red claw marks on his back. I groan as a wave of desire overcame me and I grabbed his arm. I stood in front of him with one hand on his chest. "I didn't say we had to stop," I said as I pushed him down on the bed. I climbed on top of him and rubbed my most sensitive area on his, my wolf fully in control.

"What are you doing to me," He growled as he set me on his tip. "I wanna fuck you so hard right now and I'm doing everything to keep my wolf from doing what he wants with you."

"Just do it then." I said through our mind link as I pushed myself down on to his dick. I cried out in pain and Jaxon kissed my neck and held me as my body adjusted to his. After a minute he slowly started to push himself in and out of me and soon pleasure replaced pain as we picked up tempo. My breasts bouncing up and down as I rode him while he held my hands in his.

"God, you feel so good." He said as he captured my breast in his mouth. A wave of pleasure started to rise in my lower body, and I started to cry out. "Cum for me baby." He moaned as his shaft grew harder and I felt my body tighten around him as I screamed out while my climax hit, my nails digging into his back as I felt him release himself into me while moaning out my name. My wolf had this strong desire to mark him, but I resisted.

He continued to fuck me as we rode out our highs when I felt his teeth gently pierce my shoulder causing me to cry out in pain. "Fuck." He growled out as he released his hold his mouth had on me. "I almost fucking marked you."

My laugh came all shaky and breathy. "Don't worry, I had the same urge."

He helped me off, scooping me in his arms as he carried me to the shower. He turned it on and let the water heat up before placing me on my feet. He stood behind me as he gently started to clean my body. After a few minutes he spoke up, "I don't know what came over me. My wolf took over and it led to that. I took your first time. I'm sorry." His voice shaky, his head resting against mine.

I turned around the face him. "It's okay. My wolf took control too. I wouldn't have continued if I wasn't okay with it."

"You sure?" His eyes looked like a small puppy's begging to their owner.

I chuckled over how cute he was. "Are you always this attentive to girls you sleep with?"

"Nope, just you for some reason." He shook his head and turned the shower off. He grabbed a towel from the rack and place it around me. "Get changed, dinner should be done soon." He grabbed a towel and head out of the bathroom.

I dried myself and put on his sweatpants. They were three sizes too big, but I tightened them and rolled them a couple times to fit. I gazed into the mirror where I noticed a few puncture holes from his teeth that were beginning to close up. I gently brushed them with my fingertips my mind wandering to what it would feel like to be marked when I found my mate. I brushed the thought away when a light knock sounded on the door and Jaxon's voice called out. "Dinner is done, I just wanted you to know."

"I'll be out in a second." I quickly pulled over the long-sleeved shirt then the t-shirt since it was chilly out and made my way out of the bathroom. Jaxon was sitting in his bed that looked freshly made staring down at his phone. He looked up when he noticed my presence and looked me up and down, his eyes covered with lust quickly before it was replaced with calmness.

"Here's some socks. The floors are cold." He handed me a pair of grey chunky fuzzy socks. "And don't judge, the twins got them for me." I chuckled and just shook my head and put them on. He opened his bedroom door and closed it after I walked out.

We were halfway down the hall, when he pushed me up against the wall and hungrily kissed me. I wrapped my hands around his neck, once again playing with his hair. We pulled back after a few minutes out of breath. "You look too good in my clothes." He growled as he tucked his head in my neck leaving small nips here and there. "Fuck, what is wrong with me, I can't get enough of you." His lips found his way back to mine where he planted a soft kiss on my lips before pulling away. "We should get going." And with that he left me breathless and confused wanting more as he made his way downstairs.

[cocothecoconut]

In Another Life

“You’re just an idiot!”

My voice rasped, a record screeched. Horsed, perhaps a scar was inside my throat from all this screaming you would think. But it was all natural.

“Just get the fuck out of here Marcy.”

A tall male glare struck into my core, slamming the door onto my face. But its not like I cared about that door anyways. Not like I wanted that door to stay opened and had him still stare and listen to the same scratchy song replay over and over again only to have the same end result again.

That door was stupid. That house was stupid. Maybe everything inside it was stupid. It must’ve been a disease. Or a curse. I’m grateful he kicked me out. Or else it would have been to late for me, and I would have been stupid too.

I don’t want to be stupid.

So why do I waste these tears on someone thats stupid? Grumbling under my breath, the harsh texture of my sleeve wipes at my red cheek. I must look like a mess to anyone who sees me. Or stupid.

That thought makes me feel more annoyed. I turn around to the familiar alleyway his backdoor face, picking up my things he threw out. Sniffling away as I recount the words stupid over and over like its my favorite quota. But it doesn’t make me feel better. Not like how the song Elvis Presley when he singed ‘You’re the Devil’ when he hanged his hand around my waist, singing the words like no tomorrow. But his eyes wandered on. I felt no-one was anywhere around us, even if we were in that club. Maybe that was my first stupid mistake.

The fact his eyes wandered onto someone else. He truly was a devil as he talked like an angel. Thanks Elvis Presley. Should’ve took your words to heart.

Maybe that was when the rustling begun. Or did the rustling noise happen a while ago? I looked up to the dumpster that I crouched down next to, curiosity filling me as my eyes pondered about the legs that sticked out of the ledge.

Slowly, arms emerged from the black bags; as a head poked out from the harsh musty tang of oil smell of a dumpster. Only more curiosity filled me, but what stunt me was when the person had three fingers. Black smooth, sleek black gloves; but you wouldn’t know they were sleek from the smudged banana peel on it- moving up to his head. Fixing what supposedly were a wig to hide……a antenna.

“I never knew people lived in dumpster.”

I spoke like if I didn’t just get kicked out by my EX boyfriend now. Stupid one, may I remind you.

“….” The person yelped, as if my presence was a complete delusion to them.

“….I never knew people get clothes from dumpsters.”

He replied snarking , eyeing the clothes that rested in my hands.

I could only laugh. After everything that happened. In that stupid house, with my stupid ex. In this stupid situation. And my stupid clothes.

Maybe one stupid moment.

One stupid conversation.

Isn’t so bad.

Chapter 2

I’ve been living with my mom for a while. Working at retail. Trying to find apartments good for my credit. My mom tells me I can stay, she says I can stay for as long as I need.

I smile to the thought. Corny, my mother always was. But even the desperation in my mothers eyes grasped desperately onto my aching heart. The worries of all of my troubles releases into the void of the world alongside my sigh.

“Excuse me?”

A chipped voice called behind me, awakening me from my depressive hole. Which I so desperately hated. I mean seriously I’m on ‘stationing randomly around the store’ duty. When a worker is doing that, do you go talk to them? No.

They are being depress at that moment to pass the time quicker, or thinking about when is the next episode to The One Piece is coming out- or if the Kim Kardashians will ever make a comeback. I mean thats top serious shit.

But…yet….I couldn’t stay mad for long. The familiar face and that most obvious fake black wig on the green skinned male stood before me. Staring wide eyed at me with this curious gaze.

Something about him just made me feel so….nice.

“Do you suppose you’d have any weaponry here or any…..shields? Protecting this place? No reason at all, no reason.”

Even the way he spoke was more stranger then the way he looked- and dress apparently. He had a caped ragged at the end for heavens sake! It wasn’t even halloween yet!

If he was trying to hide from the IRS, he was doing a horrible job.

“Uhm….” Was this a joke? I was to stunned. But yet…the world went bright. Was I fainting? No…my chest didn’t feel heavy. If anything, it felt like a weight lifted. And my voice….it was fluttering. And I felt myself giggling.

I laughed. And my eyes could only stare at the guy. That strange, strange guy. Who seemed bewildered by my giggling. Perhaps, even I would be bewildered to. Maybe if there was a mirror- my reflection would stare in wonder.

Wonder about who is that girl. Who is the one giggling?

“Hey wait a minute. You were the strange dumpster clothing human!” His voice ranged in a sympathy. Like if he were in a acapella.

“Right…were they your clothes? You were living in the dumpster…” I jokingly accused him.

The effects this guy has me in were more better then my ex could ever have.

He seemed to have taken me seriously however.

“Why would I live in a dumpster? Its smelly and gross….I AM NORMAL!!! NoormAAALLLL! I live in a house.”

His voice continued to range in the strange talking. The way he ended it, just…talking normally. I couldn’t help but giggle again.

“Of course. Like how its normal for retail stores to not have any weapons or shields.”

He seemed to have take my answer to deep thought. Seeing his gaze stare at his tapping foot as his fingered glove rested on his green chin, his lip pouting. Before a malicious grin moved upon his face.

“Right! Of course! Normal! And I, a NORMAL human adult! Will go do! Normal activitys! In this….RETAILLLL store…..”

And off he went, to do this ‘normal activity’ he spoke of.

Yet, I doubted he had any idea of what a normal activity was.

(More two parts will come on the next day, and the next day to come until new years. Then this story will end. I hope you guys enjoyed this)

[sukirichi]

— just the two of us

request: I almost read all of your jujutsu kaisen writings and I love it. Your writing is really good! I do not know if a request about a fics🥞 about satoru gojo who is really in love and not very possessive with an oblivious reader. It will be fun to see Satoru try to flirt with her and she doesn't get it🤣

pairings: gojo x oblivious! reader

notes: THIS IDEA IS SO CUTEEE I absolutely loved every second of writing it! thank you for the request and I hope you like this! 🥞 breakfast has been served!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: none, other than this is unedited and written humorously rather than seriously~

masterlist !

Gojo doesn’t know whether he’s lucky – or completely cursed – over the fact you’ve got no idea he’s so in love with you.

It’s a bright sunny morning, perfect for outdoor training, and he walks with you all the way to school with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. You stretch your arms out in the sky to bask in the morning glow and warmth of the sun, sleeves pushed up to your forearms to “get that vitamin D.”

Satoru snickers at your statement, because you’d totally be getting a different kind of Vitamin D if only you’d notice him. Sometimes he wonders, if maybe you’d inherited the Six Eyes instead of him, would you finally be able to see him – or would you still remain unaware?

He doesn’t even know where it began. A year ago, Yaga introduced you as the newest staff member. You’d been so fidgety and nervous then, unsure of what to do and worried if maybe the kids wouldn’t love. They did, of course, how could they not. Not only were you extremely fun to be with, you’re also caring, fretting and even crying whenever one of the students got injured over a mission.

Shoko reminds you all the time that this should be normal for you by now, but you always cry every time, sobbing that they’re still only kids and should be out having fun.

Yeah, maybe that’s where it began. Your kindness struck a chord in Satoru’s heart, and before he knew it, he was falling for you. Hard. Next thing you know, he shows up five minutes before you leave for work, mock-saluting you before inviting you to breakfast. He does this every damn day, and you still don’t get a single thing.

“That café was really good,” you muse, fingers stretching outwards and giggling as the sun peeks through the spaces. Satoru sighs beside you, wanting nothing more than to slip his fingers through those softer ones. “We should go back there sometime. Maybe even take the kids with us this weekend so we can all have breakfast together!”

Satoru masks a snicker with a cough. It reminds him of the time Megumi called you mom and dad by accident, to which you happily responded with before tackling the boy in hugs, while the strongest jujutsu sorcerer only flushed in embarrassment.

Him being him though, Satoru played it off cool, flipping his hair before striking a pose. “Huh, a dad?” he smirks, “The only person who gets to call me daddy would be no one else but Y/N.”

The raven haired first year student immediately recoils in disgust. Meanwhile, the innuendo flies straight through you, and you peer up at him innocently with your head tilted to the side. “Daddy? Why would I call you my dad? My father is still alive and well, and I don’t see you marrying my mom or anything,” Just as Megumi nearly howls in laughter – another evidence that you’re really something else to get the usually stoic boy to lose his composure like that – you snap your fingers, the light bulb above your head practically shining. “Oh, I get it! You prefer younger women and you want them to call you that! Kind of like the hype for onii-chan nowadays.”

Hopeless, Satoru wants to say, you’re absolutely, utterly hopeless.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Satoru shrugs nonchalantly, sending a smirk your way. It usually drives everyone crazy, but you only smile back up at him in the same way you smile with everyone, and he tries his best to not show his shoulders are deflating. Nevertheless, he doesn’t give up. “How about you and I go out somewhere this weekend? The movies, perhaps?”

Say yes, say yes – please say yes.

Really though, he’s waiting for that ‘no’ already. Satoru knows you always go out of town during the weekends to visit your family in the countryside, only coming back on Monday the next week with a basket of fruits and traditional goods that isn’t so easy to find in the city.

But then you clasp your hands together in excitement, lashes fluttering delicately as you beam up at him. “Really? You’d like to go to the movies with me?”

“Of course I would,” Satoru tries not to stutter, hiding the fact that he’s completely taken aback. He’s the Gojo Satoru for heaven’s sake, he shouldn’t be this affected by anyone’s presence. “What makes you think I wouldn’t want to?”

“Oh, nothing, I just thought you were busy. This Saturday, then?”

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, it’s actually happening – his mind was barely functioning at this point, and he even slapped his cheeks to snap him back to life. “I thought there was a fly,” he lied with a chuckle, “But yeah, Saturday. I’ll pick you up?”

“Yeah, sure!”

Satoru wouldn’t stop smiling the whole way to the school. Even when Yuuji had face planted into the ground and Megumi sprained his ankle from training, he wasn’t able to get rid of the ridiculously big smile that stretched across his lips. He’s floating in cloud nine, flowers erupting from his ears and heart-shaped emojis bursting in his background.

“Well, you look creepy,” Shoko commented in the faculty room the moment you excused yourself, “Did you land a date with her or something?”

“That I did,” he stated proudly, even banging his fist on his chest like a deranged form of King Kong.

“I can only hope Y/N makes it out alive,” Nanami announces from behind the newspaper he’s reading, legs crossed over another before he peeks above the paper, narrowed eyes dead set on the blindfolded man. “Don’t be too wild with her, Satoru. She’s a gentle soul despite being a sorcerer – I humbly suggest you don’t mess with her feelings.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s the one messing with my feelings by being so fucking cute all the time!”

“Who’s cute?”

Shoko nearly spits out her coffee the moment you enter, glancing around the room and sitting down next to a shock-still Satoru. Nanami only huffs in his seat with a shake of his head. It doesn’t take long before Satoru regains his confidence and recovers from his shock – he’s turned to you with his torso completely facing your way.

You bask in the attention, mimicking the gesture until your faces are mere inches from one another. The fact you’re so responsive and attentive to him yet still painfully naïve strikes a mental war of himself debating whether he wants to kiss you or knock your head upside down. Satoru chooses neither options as he leans closer, his smile growing wider when you don’t pull away, and he doesn’t stop moving until his lips are right beside the shell of your ear.

“You’re cute.”

Shoko shudders at the same time Nanami just gives up on everything, folding his paper and lying that he’s got someplace to go with Ichiji. Satoru patiently waits for your reaction; for you to crumble this time around.

You’re silent for a moment, brows almost right across each other when you register his words. Satoru ends up holding his breath for your next words, wondering: is this it? will she finally understand what I feel for her now?

Even Shoko ends up sitting at the edge of her seat, silently watching the exchange with interest barely hidden in her sparkling eyes. Satoru watches as your lips open, his eyes transfixed on the way the soft flesh moves. They tilt upwards, revealing a set of a wide smile – the smile he can never get enough of. “Thank you!” you giggle at his compliment, “You and Shoko are very cute too! And the kids too, especially Toge! Not that I’m saying he’s my favourite—”

“He’s definitely your favourite student,” snorts Shoko who is ignoring the way Satoru turns completely gray beside you.

It turns out you still haven’t figured it out after all.

“The kids this – the kids that,” the tall, lanky man whines, his head falling back on the back of the leather couch. He looks so utterly defeated you can’t help but lean over him to check if he’s okay, but Satoru pouts and hides his face under his uniform instead. “Why can it never be just the two of us?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

This time, you’ve kneeled on the couch to hover him. You even pluck one side of his blindfold off to see how he’s doing, and suddenly thankful you can’t see the way his cheeks are absolutely flaming right now. 

“Nothing,” he assures, his smile hidden behind his shirt. You look absolutely adorable hovering over him like that – eyes wide and lips pouty – what he wouldn’t give to kiss those lips right now, but it isn’t the right time, and Satoru just needs to find a better way to tell you how he feels. “It’s nothing.”

It’s absolutely not nothing.

Saturday couldn’t come faster.

Satoru finds himself willing time to go faster. Once the awaited day finally comes, he wastes no time in choosing his best outfit; an oversized black shirt tucked into black skinny jeans before styling his hair up the way he likes.

He winks at his reflection in the mirror, going ooh and aah at how hot he looks. It’s another reason why he can’t comprehend why you don’t like him yet, when, uhm, he knows he looks damn good? He’s pretty funny too – and his strength and power is already a no-brainer. Satoru can’t wrap his head around any possible reason why you wouldn’t like him; it’s basically a life or death mission at this point.

With that end goal in his mind and a spritz of perfume later, Satoru sashays out his apartment. Even though it’s already dark outside and he spent the whole day walking back and forth in his room trying to come up with ways to confess to you, he acts coolly all the way to your apartment.

This time around, he’s more than confident. He’s going to have you wrapped around his pretty little finger, “Wow,” is the first thing he says, pulling his blindfold down just to look at you.

Satoru feels blessed in that exact moment to witness how the heavens took their time with you, creating only the best out of the best and birthing the most magnificent person ever. Suddenly, he grows an urge to run to the countryside and thank your parents for going funky one night and creating you, because you’re an absolutely magnificent gift and it really baffles him how you’re real.

“Wow,” he repeats again, and you chuckle when he shakes his head. “You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you look him up and down, smiling in satisfaction. “You look very handsome yourself.”

Satoru’s been called handsome a million times before that it’s gotten too much in his head already, but hearing it come from your lips hits different. If he was excited before, it’s nothing compared to what he feels now when you loop your arm through his, dangling off his arm like you were a lover.

He knows it’s not real and this is probably just a friendly date for you – something he intends to clear up later – but it doesn’t stop him from puffing his chest up a bit, almost as if bragging to everyone around you that he was the one you’re with, and that he was the one you’re going to the movies with.

All your babbles about everything goes straight into one ear and out the other. He wants to listen to you, he really does, but he’s so intoxicated with your voice that he just ends up nodding at everything you say; his attention mostly on how sweet you sound and smell.

His feelings only intensify a hundred times more when you finally make it to the theatre. Not only is it dark, but you’re sitting right next to him, arms and thighs brushing against each other. He takes note of every little movement you make, smiling to himself when you don’t pull away from his thigh flush against yours.

In this close proximity, your perfume overwhelms his senses. He finds himself leaning closer just to get a little more taste of it, his arm resting on the armrest beside him and placing his cheek on his open palm.

He doesn’t even know what the movie is about. All he can see, hear, feel and recognize is you – nothing and no one but you. Just as he wanted, it’s just the two of you.

Satoru reaches out to the bowl of popcorn in his lap to distract himself from the need of kissing you already. He was so smug that he’s on this date with you; now he feels like the world is laughing and mocking at him because you’re so close yet so far away. The last thing he wants is to say something weird and have you running for the hills. It’s clear you don’t like him, after all.

You end up reaching for it the same time he does, making your fingers brush. It sends a jolt of electricity down his spine and he immediately retracts it.

Looking up at him with an apologetic smile, Satoru knows he’s messed up. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, raising your hands in surrender with a nervous chuckle. “I should’ve gotten my own bowl instead.”

Satoru stares at you through his blindfold. You’re close enough that he can count your lashes – both top and bottom row – and he’s so stupefied at this point that he just says the first thing that comes to his mind; absolutely anything just to get your attention. “Cold,” he shows you his hand, “I’m cold.”

“Oh,” you nod and slip your fingers through his. Satoru nearly gasps at how electrifying the sensation is from having your smaller, softer fingers collide with his, your hands fitting perfectly in his bigger, calloused ones. Then, you close your intertwined hands and smush your cheek with it to transfer your heat – completely unaware that Satoru feels like he’s floating in his own Infinite Void right now. “Feel warmer now?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Extremely.”

Something beast-like wakes within him after that. Now that he knows you don’t mind touching him at all, Satoru can’t help but want to take out all his playing cards and just go fuck it. So he does – and he might regret, he might not – who cares? It’s just the two of you, and you’re the only one he ever cares about this much that he’d pretty much let you do anything at this point.

“You know,” Satoru begins, shifting until your joined hands are resting on top of his chest. His heart is just about ready to burst through its confines at this moment, but he holds back. It’s now or never. “Shoko and Nanami are annoyed that I talk about you all the time.”

Your eyes widen at his statement. “Really? Do you talk badly about me or something?”

“No,” he nearly groans in frustration, “You’re really pretty and cool. You’re amazing during missions, too, when you fight, it’s like I’m witnessing a warrior princess. So cool.”

This makes you laugh until the person sitting behind you rudely shushes you. You bow your head in apology, turning to Satoru with a softer smile this time; one that looks reserved and private compared to your big grins. “Oh, no,” he closes his eyes even behind his blindfold, “Don’t smile at me like that. I don’t think I’ll still be cool if I end up stuttering over my words.”

“Satoru!” you whisper-hiss, although your chest is filled with so much giddiness too that you’ve both forgotten about the movie; unaware that the entire theatre was crying over the main character’s friend’s death. “What are you going on about?”

He wants to laugh so damn hard. He thought confessing his feelings for you would end up in a pitiful heartbreak that you’d be weirded out and push him away. For a moment, he forgets it’s you, and that nothing is ever difficult or painful with you – other than, of course, you being oblivious, but that isn’t something he can’t fix. He’ll get you on the train one way or another.

“I have a confession.”

“Yeah?”

“I was practicing how to ask you out for a whole hour in the mirror,” Satoru whispers, careful to not ruin the melancholic mood of theatre. It doesn’t even surprise him that his world is filled with nothing but sunshine even if the world around you has descended into grief and loneliness. “I also called Nanami on first date tips.”

“Nanami?” you echo with a gasp, “Why Nanami?”

“Because he’s married, that’s why. Mans know some tips for sure.”

“Wait, so,” you chuckle nervously, and Satoru waits, waits for you to pull away or push him back – anything that would indicate discomfort. He’s patient the whole time, watching carefully as you only squeeze his hand and gesture to the both of you with your free one. “This is a date? Our first date?”

“Only if you want to be,” Satoru shrugs, grimacing afterwards at how sappy he sounds. “Well, I actually consider this our first date and I’ve been waiting for this for like forever now, so I sure as hell hope you want this too. I didn’t dress myself up today only to come back home crying.”

Satoru’s heart – if possible – only beats crazier and sings the syllables of your name when you start laughing harder to the point you have to muffle it by burying yourself in his bicep. He feels like his muscles and nerves could erupt at any moment. It’s crazy – absolutely insane – how you have him wrapped around your finger like this. He doesn’t complain though; he never will.

“I’m glad,” you mumble through his shirt, your erratic heartbeat matching kiss when you take the first tentative step of kissing his jaw.

Satoru stiffens underneath you, a low growl ripping from his throat. He’s feral, wild, drunk at the sight and scent of you. You make him feel like he’s fluctuating between dimensions, all the planets just crashing on one another until the stardust is left in your eyes because what else could be an explanation for what he’s feeling other than a supernova collision of hearts?

“You always make me feel so happy when you’re around that I still can’t believe you feel the same way. I was so worried that maybe you wouldn’t get my hints.”

Satoru groans, “What the hell? How long have you liked me?”

“I guess when you started bringing flowers to Megumi randomly just to piss him off.”

Satoru wants to rip his hair out. That was just a few weeks after you’ve started working with him, meaning you both have liked each other this whole time and he’s been suffering and feeling stupid just for nothing?

“God, Y/N,” he mutters to himself, “You really do know how to make a man go crazy, huh?”

That innocent smile on your face lets him know that as usual, you’re oblivious of everything. Satoru is right; he still can’t decide whether he wants to whack you in the head upside down. With a sigh, he ends up choosing the latter, nearly falling over his seat when you let out a surprised yelp at the feeling of his lips on yours.

It doesn’t take long before you grab onto his shirt and cling to dear life, laughter bubbling through your lips as you kiss. The sound is so precious he wants to bottle it up and keep it treasure for the rest of his life, but Satoru doesn’t rush anything.

With you and only with you is he ever capable of feeling like it’s just the two of you in a world filled with chaos and destruction.

[1zukuz]

THEIR S/O IS A SIMP

KENMA, SUNA, HINATA, ATSUMU, BOKUTO, SAKUSA

INCLUDES: swearing, pregnancy talk for bokuto, just fluff <3

"WHY'RE YOU CRYING?" kenma softly asks, wiping away tears with his sleeve. the light glow of the T.V illuminating both of your faces, his concerned one and your watery smile plastered on your lips. you sniffle and shrug, averting your eyes sheepishly. "i dunno...you were just really sweet just now." kenma gave you a blank look, blinking for what seems like eternity. was this how low the bar has gotten? "all i did was ask if you wanted the sims." "'n i do! you read my mind!" kenma stumbles back against the couch, your arms laced around him while sitting in his lap. his cheeks warm and he rubs circles in your back like always, the feeling familiar yet foreign to him. how you loved him so much to shed tears over him would never fail to make his heart pound. "love you, ken." "i love you too. i'll buy you anything you want."

"OH, SUNA, Y/N HAS TOLD ME SO MUCH ABOUT YOU!" surprisingly relaxed, suna grips your hand while eating a slice of pie, a lazy handsome smile adorning his face. you freeze, sending pleading looks to your mom who only grinned back mischievously. "really? what about?" he asks, but only looking at your cute embarrassed expression. he wished he could take a picture of it in his mind, save the memory forever. "oh, just the usual! 'mom, i'm in loveee~' or 'mom i'm gonna have his kidsss~" "MOTHER!" you yelp, releasing your boyfriends hand and covering your face. suna's quiet laughter followed. "or my favorite, 'mom, i don't ever wanna see him with anyone else, i've been in love with him since 5th grade: now he's all mine.'" had this woman kept transcripts of your conversations with her?! you spared a glance at your boyfriend with hands still covering your face. his chin rested in his hand as his eyes filled with love, laughing lightly. your mom only smiled, feeling satisfied.

"AH, HINATA, 'M SO PROUD!" the orange middle blocker hugged you tightly and smiled in your neck. he had just won another game, finally returning home. though his muscles and feet killed him, you both seemed to run on the adrenaline that was his latest victory. you pull away from his grasp, grabbing his cheeks, describing how well he played. "and then he tried to block you, but nope! my baby got through and-" stopping your rant mid sentence he kisses you, panting breaths and all. smiling gleefully he gripped your waist tighter as if you were going to float away. you pulled away after a few seconds, peppering his face in kisses. "c'mon, you don't wanna keep the food waiting!" "aw, sunshine, you shouldn't have! thanks!"

ATSUMU blinks, the mess of the kitchen making him snort and then immediately stops once he notices your small pout while seated on the ground. he drops his duffel bag at the door and sits next to you, a deformed red cake in front of you. putting his arm around you he stifles laughter and you pout more, leaning on his shoulder. "ya wanna talk about it or do ya just wanna sit here with flour on our asses." sighing, you rubbed your eyes. "i was trying to make you a cake...it was gonna be a heart with our initials... but then the fuckin' cake cutter broke, put too much frosting and-" atsumu's blood runs cold. shit. was it a special occasion? anniversary? holiday? "sorry to cut ya off, angel, but... what for? what's today?" he asks quietly, afraid of the backlash. you look up at him, a confused tilt of your head. "huh? no, todays nothing special. just wanted to do something for you. but it failed!" you wail, looking at the sad lump of cake. atsumu's infamous contagious smile graces his lips as he pulls you in a bone crushing hug. "yer gonna make my heart explode, y'know that? stop being so fuckin' cute, angel."

"BO, HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT? WAIT, DO YOU EVEN WANT KIDS?" you ask, playing with his fingers while he laid your head in your lap. "of course i want kids! your kids, of course!" his pretty smile in the golden hour glow made your heart throb out of your chest. "mm... i've always dreamed about having four. maybe even fi-" "okay, i'm gonna be stretched out and butt-fuck ugly by the time we get two." bokuto shoots up from your lap, a frown on his usually enthusiatic face. "not true! take it back!" your smile only widens. "it is true." "is not." "is too!" "is not!" you laugh at his determination, his frown melting away at the sound. "you're too cute, kou. love you so much," suddenly feeling soft, you crawl into his lap instead, not letting go of him for the world. the worlds strongest people couldn't pull you away from him, not when the warm fuzzy feeling you get around koutarou, your koutarou, was much stronger. bokuto, confusingly looks down at your blissful face. "thought we were arguing..."

SLUMPING FURTHER INTO HIS FRAME, sakusa thinks his day can't get any worse. "spoke too soon," he gruffly mutters, coming home to an empty house. he knows it empty because none of the T.V's are on, nor is your sweet perfume gracing his nose while you call out 'omi!'. that was all he wanted. all he wanted, universe! why couldn't it grant him one simple thing for his shit day- "omi? sorry, i was pickin' up something to surprise you!" you happily say from behind him, his thoughts deafening him from the apparent door opening and you slipping inside. in one smooth motion, he drops his things and wraps his arms around you, breathing out against your shoulder. kiyoomi didn't even care if you hugged back or not, just finding your presence comforting. "hi, love." "hi, baby. but look, look at what i got!" pulling out of his grasp, you slide out a black MSBY jersey. it was an exact copy of his, though in your size. "we're gonna match at your next game! oh and," your smile dropped into a pleading look, looking in his eyes like he hung the moon, stars and sun himself. "i'm sorry i couldn't go to your last ones, felt guilty about it all day." stroking his cheek with your thumb, sakusa sighs and nods wordlessly. who knew his shit day could be fixed in the span of five minutes.

taking requests ! ! :P