#I thought I had it bad with the browns while drawing some chocolates

[etlu-yume]

I wonder how the painter is doing after painting in all these shades of red and pink to get the little details like the folds on his jacket and the embelishments on the sleeves, the medals etc so they're still visible but it's clearly still Very Pink/Red.

i cant get over the king charles portrait. they made that thing to age in his place. that painting hangs in the house of a too-friendly family you find in the post apocalyptic wasteland who inexplicably has a ready supply of fresh meat. if mario jumped into that painting he wouldn't find a charming platformer he would be flayed and hanged like a medieval criminal by an unseeable force in a droning red void. that painting is a color blindness test for people who work in IT but believe in the divine right of kings. that painting is going to weep the sequel to blood. after he dies charles is gonna crawl outta that thing like sadako.

[charliemwrites]

Government Asset Soap! This is half of the last part (the smut got too long and I wanted to post this dammit).

Original concept comes from @ceilidho’s military asset Soap. Further inspiration came from @391780’s Nikto version “The Summons”. Both are very good and you should definitely check out!!

Content: Post-trauma coping, Non-Con Touching and Kissing, Violence (mentioned), Unstable Soap

It’s probably a fire hazard, the candles. They’re sprinkled across your little cabin like fireflies, feeble but steady heartbeats of a home you’re failing to build. Too many of them, likely. Two, sometimes three, per room. Tiny tealights, smokeless soy, scented pine. It would be easier, safer, to just turn on the lamps you foolishly invested in.

You can’t bear anything brighter than golden halogen anymore, though. The glare drags you back to a tiny cell bisected by cruel metal, holding back an even crueler fate. No, you’d much rather wade through pools of shadow and firelight, fire code be damned.

It’s a small cabin, but you’ve already cluttered it up with furniture and rugs, a theme for each room. Yellow and blue for the kitchen. Purple and cream for the den. Green and brown for your bedroom. Nooks to hide in, spaces to squeeze into, big shapes to huddle behind. You’ll never be caught out in a cold, barren room ever again.

Your days are long regardless of the time of year. Get groceries in town every day, making a point to be friendly and seen so that someone might notice if you suddenly stop coming. Clean incessantly, so many surfaces to dust. Pick hobbies like daisies. Knitting and crocheting, different paint styles, felting. You’re contemplating carpentry, would like to build shelves for all the books stacked up in the den. Keep a dream journal by your bed that you neglect for weeks at a time.

You draw out the nights until you can count the hours until dawn on one hand. Stay up baking, making homemade ink, learning new ways to style your hair, anything, anything, anything—

It’s not the sleeping – or at least that’s not the worst of it. It’s the waking.

Laswell suggested a cat.

You told her to stop suggesting pussy to unstable people.

But it’s still not a bad idea. Another living thing to keep you accountable; the plants are pretty and time-consuming, but not good company.

You talk yourself out of it every time, knowing the worst-case scenario. It’s not catastrophizing if it actually happens, and you can feel an invisible time weighing on your shoulders like another gravity. Tick, tick, tick. Heavier, heavier, heavier. It’s hard to breathe beneath the wait.

The military doesn’t do apologies. It does platitudes at best. Well wishes and good intentions are painted in brushstrokes of blood. Victory flags are planted on bodies, living or otherwise. Laswell apologized. She swore that if there had been another way – any other way…

She didn’t promise to leave you alone. Didn’t assure you that you’d never see her or her goons again.

If you thought it would do any good, you’d tip one of the candles over and set it all aflame. Rebirth through fire. But you never did figure yourself for a phoenix. And besides, a phoenix is still itself, even when the ash falls away.

So, you spool out your time like picking at tapestry threads, one thin string at time.

Tonight, it’s bread. Cinnamon chocolate babka, to be specific. You were craving something sweet. Are debating the merits of some sort of cream cheese icing while you shower off the long, ever-busy day.

Have decided on an optimistic why not as you slip out to begin your overly complicated self-care routine. Moisturizers, hair oils, lotion. An unexpected benefit of overloading yourself, you suppose. Even when you first got out of the military, you didn’t take such good care of yourself. You have a jogging route now. You’re handling your trauma every possible way except therapy. (And sleeping.) Better than nothing, you figure.

The candles have gone out in your bedroom. You click your tongue in annoyance, trying to remember where you left the matches this time. Bedside table?

You pad across the soft carpet, using the edge of the bed as a guide in the pitch black. The only other problem with candles is that their humble light doesn’t reach very far. But you know this house and keep the floors tidy enough that you’re confident you won’t trip.

Make it to the nightstand without incident and pat around. Knock the side of your hand into the little carton and only just catch it before it hits the deck. Let out a little huff and start to fumble it open.

“Nice catch, bonnie.”

You gasp, but your voice doesn’t get any farther than the back of your tongue. The box slips from your numb fingers, matchsticks scattering across the floor. He tsks.

“Shame that. We’ll get ‘em later.”

You can’t move. Can barely breathe. You’re just frozen, heart thundering with a sudden storm of fear and confusion. Hands still aloft in front of you, spine rigid, knees locked.

You feel more than hear movement behind you, and then the warmth of his body seeping into your naked skin. Not quite touching. Not yet.

“Missed you, little bird,” he rasps in your ear.

You always thought that in a moment like this you would scream. Kick and elbow and fight, damn your certain loss. But when it comes down to it, survival drowns out all those stupid, haughty ideas about pride and dignity. So you don’t curse and shout like you always fancied you would.

You whisper, “Soap.”

He hums but it sounds like a growl in your panicked state. “Missed me too, aye? You’re already naked fer me.”

His hands are searing when they settle on your waist like they belong there. He pulls you back against him; in the dark he’s bigger, broader than you remember. At least, you think, he’s fully clothed for now.

“What are you… how are you here?” you ask.

He barks a laugh, mean and rough. “Was only a matter of time after that shite they pulled.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and see it recreated in the phosphenes behind your lids.

Soap buried balls deep inside of you, murmuring a constant stream of filth as he got harder and harder inside you. Filling you up as you twitched around him, oversensitive and teary, afraid of what would come next.

Then the lights flashed, flicked red. An alarm sounded, Laswell’s voice ordering Soap away from you. But he just snarled and hunched over you, hips snapping to bury himself right back inside while you cried out.

The locked door swung in, armed guards swarming in. Yanked Soap off you while you scrambled to cover yourself. Someone grabbing your arm none too gently to pull you from the room. Soap wild-eyed and snarling like something possessed, until he was overtaken by struggling guards and you were trembling naked in that damned hallway.

“Was mad at you, at first, cannae lie,” he says, almost conversational. Your eyes snap open, though you know it’ll do you no good. “But I’ve had time to think on it. Wasnae yer fault, was it? Saw them drag you out.”

An awful relief floods you. Fuck dignity, fuck honesty. This is Soap right behind you, completely unrestrained and unsupervised.

“Yeah,” you answer, voice small. “I didn’t know they would do that. What… um. What happened to you?”

He presses his face into your damp hair, pressing closer, snaking his arms to squeeze you against him.

“Sent me off on some shite mission,” he explains, “probably hoped I’d die out there. You smell so good, lass.”

You shiver as his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your neck. Hot, humid.

“And… and then what?” you insist, trying to stall.

You’re not sure what you’re stalling for. There will be no miraculous saves here – not that you really got any last time. It’s not like there’s any real plan to be made here, either. None that you’d be confident enough to risk his wrath on.

“Disappeared. Took care of business. Came to get my pretty little bird.”

A rough hand trails over the curve of your hip, brush the neat curls of your mound. You suck in a breath, hands twitching with the urge to stop him but not sure of putting up resistance when you’re still unsure of his mental state.

“And what about you, hm?” he rumbles. “Been a good girl while I’ve been away?”

His fingers dart down towards your entrance, not nearly prepared for anything. Least of all his thick digits.

“Y-yes!” you yelp, grabbing at his wrist. Relief makes you dizzy when you manage to stop him. “I-I’ve been good. Which means I’m not… I can’t just take you. I need… I need prep.”

He huffs, nips at the tender spot beneath your ear. The thrill that shoots through your stomach is terrifying.

“That’s what these are for, bonnie.”

And to your horror, he starts to push past your resistance like your staying hands aren’t there at all.

“John!”

He freezes. You shudder air into your burning lungs, feeling dizzy on panic.

You can get through this without pain, just think.

“I haven’t even got to see you,” you stutter, voice shaky. Can’t quite inject the disappointment you’re trying for, but hopefully it’ll work. “And I bet you’re all dirty from travel.”

He grumbles. “So what?”

You scramble to think of a satisfactory response. “S-so let’s get reacquainted in the shower, yeah? That way I can see your handsome face, at least.”

He chuckles, grazes his teeth “playfully” across your cheek. “Bossy thing.”

“You like it.”

And to your shock, he agrees with an amused huff. Hauls you up in his arms and walks you back to the still muggy bathroom. You’re set on your feet and spun around, chin jerked up to receive a savage kiss. All tongue and teeth, no finesse. He’s just licking into your mouth, hungry and animalistic, spit dribbling down your chin.

When he finally pulls away, you blink spots from your vision. Finally focus on his smug features and make a soft, horrified noise when you register the splatter of crimson across them.

“Och, that? My little bird had watchers.”

Of course you did. The horror ebbs a bit. Resentment has made you indiscriminately bitter.

“Oh,” you say, “th-thank you. Definitely glad we’re showering first, then.”

“Squeamish?”

You’d like to know when the world turned upside down and John fucking “Soap” MacTavish began teasing you about the blood on his face.

“A bit,” you admit.

“Poor dear,” he coos. “Hard to believe we were made for each other sometimes, aye? Complementary, we are.”

Is that what he thinks? Christ.

You turn to start the shower again, spine prickling with the weight of his eyes on your back. The water rushes down and then he’s crowding you against the cold wall beneath the (thankfully) warm spray.

“Y-you’re still dressed!” you protest between sharp nips to your collarbone.

“Fix it, then,” he snarls.

You claw his shirt up his back, get momentarily distracted by the impressive display of muscle hidden beneath. Draw your palms over his chest and feel him shudder.

“Fuckin’ heavenly, love,” he purrs. “Missed this.”

A vague memory comes back to you, him gripping you close because he felt you naked against him for the first time. Him admitting he hasn’t had affectionate touch in a while.

This… this you could work with.

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Masterlist

[lovdlydaz]

❝ YOU ARE FLAWLESS. ❞

artist!choso x black!afab!reader

your boyfriend has a tendency to go over the top when it comes to you, so when you express your insecurities, he makes sure to let you know how perfect you are in his eyes.

warnings: chubby reader, supportive boyfriend choso, modern au (no curses/sorcerers), angst to fluff to smut, cunniligus, p in v, unprotected sex (trying for a baby), "draw me like one of your french girls" type shit, shit tons of praise, creampie, pet names, soft dom choso, very subby reader, just a lot of soft sex and affirmation enjoy

it all started when you asked your boyfriend to go get some healthier foods from the grocery store that you had seen on social media. he was vaguely confused since he knew that both you and him didn't really eat healthy, which was fine for him but not for you. while he had a very fast metabolism and also worked out 5 times a week, you barely lifted a finger and would stay home to cook and clean since your work was at home and on a computer.

so, when you started to gain a few pounds over a couple of weeks you realized you needed to do something about it, so you did. whenever choso would go to the gym you would follow him, doing your own little couple workouts and feeling great right after. then you would stop at a restaurant to grab some food before heading home and watching your boyfriend paint while you did work across the room.

after a few more weeks of working out and eating a bit more healthier, you didn't see results at all. yes you felt lighter and you internally were healthier, your body didn't show any ounce of getting smaller. you still had fat around your hips, small rolls that were only visible when you arched, flabby arms and thicker thighs than normal. and while your thighs and arms had more definition now, the fat didn't go away no matter what you did.

so it started to get to a point where you went into bad eating habits, like eating once out of the day and even that meal was only a few hundred calories. by then, that's when your body started to get smaller, since you let it digest the fat instead of the food you were ingesting. choso didn't like how much thought you were putting into your body, since regardless of how you looked he would still love you anyways.

one day, the man you loved more than anything in the world sat you down for a whole-hearted meaning regarding your physical and mental health. he reached out for your hand and looked you dead in the eyes, his own pink ones staring deep into your chocolate brown ones.

"why did you sit me down? is there something you wanna talk about?" you asked, acting oblivious to the fact that you knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. and it was you. "baby, i know something's wrong. you haven't been acting yourself lately, being cautious about what you eat and going to work out with me when you had work to do. is there something you wanna tell me?" he inquired, making you drop your head and small tears form in the corner of your eyes.

"...do you think i'm fat?" your soft voice mumbled, causing his eyes to widen and his face looked taken aback. "...what?" he muttered alongside you. your face picked itself up and there were tears threatening to leave your eyes as you stared at him. "babe, i've gained over 10 pounds in the last month, i've gone up a shirt size and two pants sizes, i've gained fat around my stomach and hips, and i can't even get into bed without feeling like shit because my stomach pokes out more than it ever has. and i'm not even pregnant..." your voice trailed off since tears were falling down your face, causing your beloved partner to wipe them off of your face for you.

choso pressed a small kiss to the top of your head, your crying always upset him and this just absolutely broke his heart. he had never noticed you feeling this way, all those hints from you wanting to get healthier foods to you barely leaving your built-in office because you were afraid to eat. he felt like the worse boyfriend in the world for not noticing sooner, but none of this was his fault. "b-baby..." he couldn't even form words, your sobs had grown even louder from the silence he gave. all he could do was cradle you in his arms, letting you cry out all the frustration he knew you needed to.

his arms were comforting, soft and hard with a mix of muscle and fat, you felt like he was your personal teddy bear. he was always able to give you the hugs you needed and treat you like a princess when he knew you needed it. so, when you felt him wrap his arms around you to let you cry into them, it was so soothing for you. you cried for maybe about a minute until it subsided to soft sniffles and coughs. he rubbed the small of your back the whole time, letting you get nice and comfortable before you wanted to speak.

it took a few minutes but you finally started up at him, mouth quivering just a little as your glossy eyes looked into his softer pink eyes. choso looked back down at you, just staring into those lovely brown eyes he adored since the first time you two had met. his mouth opened, then it closed, then it opened again, and words started to flow out.

"princess, listen to me. you are perfect in every way, shape or form. no matter how much weight you gain or how much you lose, i will love you regardless of your body. i didn't fall in love with you off of pure looks alone, i fell in love with you because we were made for each other," he spoke, grabbing your delicate face with his rough and gentle hands. "we are like peanut butter and jelly," he continued, "syrup on pancakes, ham and cheese sandwiches, we just... click. you are mine and i am yours, nothing will ever change that. you understand love?" he asked you, looking back to see your tears had started back up, but they were happy tears.

you hugged your lover and nodded your head, which he didn't like. so, he softly pulled you away, a hand on your hip while another against your cheek. "words honey, they don't have to be perfect." he sweetly demanded, making you gulp and open your mouth. "i-i... i understand babe. thank you... so much." you smiled, making him kiss the top of your head once more, which elicited a giggle out of you. but, the praise wasn't over just yet.

now that he had calmed you down, he connected your lips, which you immediately melted into. not caring about what the world thought or what the voices were telling you, you had choso, and that's what mattered right now. it was sweet and sensual, conveying all the inter-meaningful and complex emotions the both of you shared within each other, for each other. it was a kiss that signified your love for one another, and it was just that.

until it wasn't.

after the sentimental moments dribbled away, there came the sexual. you started to softly whine as your boyfriend pressed deeper into your lips, pushing your body against the couch the two of you were on right against the armrest. it was comfortable and actually helped your back a little, but his weight was pressing down on you and you weren't that strong. you could handle it however, since he knew how much to hold up so that he wouldn't crush you. his lips were so rough yet had a smoothness to them that was oddly satisfying. you couldn't put your finger on it, it just felt right.

choso pulled away after a couple of seconds, needing to breathe but he didn't connect your lips back. instead, he dropped lower to your jaw, kissing it tenderly making your body tense with arousal. you could feel your heat start to throb from the way your boyfriend touched you, just like he loved you. and he did. "beautiful baby, wonderful girl," he panted, kissing going past your collarbone now and to the clothed part of your chest. he raised your shirt over your head to pull it off, going to your covered tits and massaging them.

"such a perfect body, would be such a great mama," he murmured, fondling the breast tissue in his large hands. you let out soft noises at this, feeling every emotion rise within you due to the pure fact that his words were reaching everywhere but your brain. you believed he loved you but you didn't believe your body was perfect, but he did, and with pride.

his hands traveled lower to your tummy, knowing that you were sucking in so he gave it a soft tap, which caused you to free your stomach. watching all the fat that your belly had gathered made his cock immediately stand up, it was so hot how much you had gained. and, quite frankly, it weighed your body out perfectly, now you were busty in every place and choso would have to fight every man off because he knew how dangerous you were now.

he softly played with the flesh, going a little too close to your womanhood, but he knew exactly what he was doing. that's why he didn't stop, he just kept going. he wanted you to realize how beautiful you were, how god sent your existence was to him and how fucking in love he was. so, he kept going with no intention of stopping. "such a pretty belly, great for holding my kids," he groaned, starting to slowly hump against the couch because of how much he was turned on by you and your body. he was too entranced by you, every action he did showed just that.

he kissed and marked your pudge, causing soft gasps and whimpers to escape you. you were drenching in your panties right now, which choso could see a perfect outline of your pussy lips from where he was. the only reason you weren't wearing shorts was because your shorts felt too suffocating on your thighs, so you wore one of choso's shirts to cover your ass and thighs. which obviously didn't work, since the shirt was now discarded on the floor.

it took him a while to stop, but once he did, he went back to your breasts and unhooked your bra from behind. he let the article of clothing hit the floor before he grabbed one heavy teat, kneading the flesh with his jagged fingertips while you couldn't keep down your noises. you were melting from his touch, everything about him was making you turn into jelly just from his presence alone. no other man could make you feel how choso made you feel, emotionally and physically. he made you feel things that not even god could comprehend, these feelings were so complex and for one person and one person only.

his mouth latched onto your unoccupied tit, sucking and licking the sensitive nub as his other hand pinched and rubbed the other. your nipples were very sensitive so of course this made you even more wet, causing your back to arch into his touch and your throbbing clit to rub against your panties, making you moan out into the air. he could only get harder from here, which caused a wet spot to appear in his underwear. he didn't care though, at least you were both wet together.

"such big tits, good for my babies," he moaned this time, groaning and wincing as he got as much of nothing as he could out of your tit. he would be sucking all the milk out of them when you got pregnant, he couldn't wait for that. he was so obsessed with the idea of getting you pregnant right now, your body was perfect for his children and he wanted you to know that. you would be a wonderful mother and you were both ready for kids, being together since high school and never separating. he wanted you, he wanted to have a family with you, and now was the perfect time.

once choso finished with your chest he moved down to the place you wanted him to, but he completely avoided it to go to your thicker thighs. he kissed and licked all over them, moaning as he did so. "such long and plump thighs, perfect for sittin' on me," he huffed, kissing and marking your legs as he went down. once he finished he moved back up to your heat, kissing the outside of it and licking your clit through your underwear. "such a pretty little pussy, and just for me," he gruffed, using his teeth to tear apart the barrier between his mouth and your cunt, discarding it onto the floor.

after that, he went to town. he grabbed your thighs and held them as he dove nose first into your cunt, licking and sucking around your labia and moving from your clit to your hole. you let out a surprised moan at the fact that he went so fast and ate you like a starved man, which was turning you on even more. he could taste your fluids rushing on his tongue and all he could do was whine and hump the couch, your taste putting him in a trance that he never wanted to get away from. he wanted to taste you on his tongue forever, and he made that obvious in everything he did.

he made it his duty to make sure that you understood that you could feel every bit of his love through how aggressive and hard he was eating you out. he knew that he was going hard but that's what made it fun, that's what made you realize how good of a man your boyfriend was. now you wish he was your husband, but that will change very soon. his messy work on your pussy had you reeling and keening, he knew exactly how to please you and it made you feel so good knowing that he cared this much.

"mm, choso, baby, 'm close," you cooed, grabbing his head and pushing it more into your vagina. he obviously didn't oblige, getting as much of you as he could on his tongue. you came undone a few seconds after that, crying out his name as you covered his face with your fluids. he was surprised how he didn't cream his pants right then and there, but he didn't, which meant he was going to fill you up with all his kin.

he slurped and licked everything he could, some falling around his chin and down his neck. he could feel how you clenched your thighs around him too as you came, which got him even more excited. you were too much for this man, he couldn't contain himself when he was around you. so, after a few minutes of drinking up your juices he freed himself from your grasp, panting like a dog as he stared at you through lustful eyes. his gaze was like a hungry wolf to a poor sheep, you being the sheep in this scenario. he wanted to devour every bit of you, never let you go until all the meat was consumed off your bones.

though, he needed some help as well.

choso grabbed you by under your armpits and picked you up like it was nothing, ultimately making you gasp and blush at the sheer shock of your boyfriend carrying you around like a ragdoll despite your added weight. that made you curl up in his arms as he carried you to your shared bedroom, laying you down on the bed and going to slide off his soaked boxers. his cock sprang out of its prison and hit above his belly button, making you gulp. no matter how much you had taken his cock, the size still shocked you every time. now it was getting serious.

he crawled onto the bed and in between your legs, hooking them up on his shoulders and lining his tip with your quaking hole. you realized how much weight he was actually putting on his shoulders so you tried to move your legs, but he stopped you by holding your calves tightly. "babe, your legs weigh so much less than what i squat. you're not gonna hurt me," he smiled, you about to respond until he shoved his full length deep inside you, your noises sounding like music to his ears.

the thrusts were slow, deep, appreciative of your tight walls and gushing pussy. he would lean down and kiss your lips, softly massaging your skin as his cockhead kept kissing the tip of your cervix. "such a tight fuckin' pussy, my pussy, holdin' my kids," he groaned into the kiss, you responding with a strained noise as he thrusted particularly deep inside you. you loved the dirty talk, it was so good and it had you clenching around him once again. he sucked in his lips at this, wincing and holding back a groan of pleasure.

after a minute of this however, he started to drive inside you a bit faster. you of course didn't complain, you were starting to get close to your 2nd orgasm. choso wasn't close however, despite how much pre-cum was leaking inside you. he wanted to make you cum so many times, splash your insides white with his seed and make you a mother of his children. so, a rough finger pad went to your clit, rubbing it to the speed of his thrusts, which slowly increased with time.

the noise that escaped you was pitiful, making choso's mind churn with thoughts of wanting to just impregnate you so deep that you would be pregnant with triplets, quadruplets even. he looked down at your face, god you were beautiful. lashes fluttering, thick long braids splayed all over the pillow, chocolate brown skin covered in a thin layer of sweat from the pure sex you two were having. he loved how hot you looked like this, your loud moans echoing throughout the room fueling him to go faster.

choso kept your legs up as his heavy balls slammed against your ass, the claps getting louder and louder with each thrust. they were soft yet so aggressive, like something had possessed him to just give it to you dirty. but, you didn't have a single ounce of a complaint, he always did you so right because he knew just how to please you, no other man could.

you were getting closer by the second, his rough thrusts and his fast rubs on your clit were sending you higher and higher. he knew this so he kept going, giving it to you exactly how you wanted it. he praises never stopped though, he kept making you feel good, physically and mentally.

"god, such a good pussy, and just f'me." "such a pretty girl with pretty moans, would make a good mother of my kids." "good girl baby... just keep going back on me like that."

his lips never stopped moving, which was very rare during sex. he wasn't very talkative but he was very vocal, voicing to you every noise you made him express due to you and your wonderful body. it turned you on even more, how much he was talking to you and how good he could talk to you. it had you clenching around him harder, throwing your head back and creaming his cock for the second time that night. he bit his lip and rocked his hips through your orgasm, making your noises grow and grow until they died down.

you didn't even notice choso stall inside you until his cum started to pour into you, thick creamy globs pumping inside you for almost a minute. he groaned and leaned down, panting into your neck as he finished in you. "godddd baby, pussy milkin' me dry, fuck," he moaned, you holding his back and marking it with your nails as he finished.

-----------

after your session was finished (it took all night) you were held in his arms, none of you asleep as your company was enough to keep you awake. however, your boyfriend got a little sneaky idea, so he sat up with you in his arms and looked down at you. "babe, come with me to my art room," he said, not letting you decide as he picked you up, walking over to the art room that was all the way near the garage and into the room next to the garage door.

he sat you down on a chair he had in the room, it was covered in dried paint but it was also covered by a clean towel. he went over to his potter lathe and cleaned it off with a piece of leftover wood he had from a previous project of his. you were confused as to why he was currently setting up his wheel but you didn't question it, you learned that the first year you two were together. also, heads up, but you were both naked and he didn't have anything to wipe his hands off with. but, he had a sink in the room as well, since it was an old bathroom before he revamped it but kept the sink.

he grabbed some clay from on his shelf that he had let sit for almost a week, using his strength to slice it up and smash together. he continued this until he had the perfect amount/consistency, looking back at you with a sweaty face. "baby, can you spread your legs just a little? for this next piece i want it to be inspired by you and how good you look with my kin spilling out of you," he remarked oh so nonchalantly, making you blush extremely but you obliged nonetheless. he smiled and started up his lathe, wetting the clay just a little first before starting to sculpt.

it took a good few hours to get every meticulous crease, every indent and every curve on your gorgeous body and you didn't have to do much but just sit there. the chair had a back so you were fairly comfortable, so you fell asleep in a little under thirty minutes. that was more than enough for him to be able to manipulate your body and turn you every which way he oh so desired.

the piece was done in under three hours to get your exact body shape, the clay in your exact shade of skin tone and he had to carefully take it off the wheel before getting a blow dryer and drying it manually. after it dried he got his little knife and cut all the pieces to get every detail of your body as an exact replica. while you were asleep, he softly grabbed your body to see what he was missing, getting every piece down until it was completed.

when he had finished, it was over five hours worth of work he had done just for you. he would keep this replica of you in his office as a reminder of you, a reminder of how beautiful you were to him and how your body was even better. he let the clay dry as he washed his hands off, drying them with a towel he had left in here before picking you up, carrying you to your shared bed.

he laid you down and laid down right next to you, cradling you in his arms before falling asleep, safe and sound.

"choso, why the fuck is there a replica of me in your art room with your cum comin' out of me?"

"it was a surprise, you weren't supposed to know..."

"surprise for who?"

"...me."

"CHOSO!"

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[bloodylullaby]

Summary: Lilith Rothschild, an art teacher for children and a member of the illustrious Rothschild banking dynasty lives a modest life despite her immense family wealth, keeping her financial background a secret. After two years with her boyfriend, Noah Sebastian Davis, the lead singer of the up-and-coming metal band Bad Omens, Lilith decides it’s time for him to meet her family. Using her brother's wedding as the perfect opportunity, she takes Noah to Europe, where she reveals her true background. As Noah discovers her family’s vast wealth, their relationship faces trials that put their love to the ultimate test. Will they conquer these challenges together, or will their relationship crumble under the pressure?

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x OC

Word Count: 3233

Chapter One

“Wow, Lily, you did a really nice job on this,” I told one of my first graders. “Your parents will love this; it's definitely fridge-worthy.” She gave me a giant smile and ran back to her seat. With a smile, I returned to my desk, ready to hand out stickers to the kids.

I heard a soft, hesitant voice behind me as I reached for the sticker sheet. "Miss Lilith, can I show you mine too?" I turned to see Max, another one of my students, holding up his artwork. His eyes were wide with anticipation.

"Of course, Max!" I said, taking the paper from him. It was a colorful, imaginative drawing of a dragon and a castle. "This is amazing! Your dragon looks so fierce, and the castle is incredible. I’m sure your parents will be very proud. This is fridge-worthy, too!" Max beamed with pride and skipped back to his seat.

With the stickers in hand, I started moving around the classroom, placing a shiny star on each student's work. The room buzzed with excitement as everyone eagerly awaited their turn. As I finished, the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. The kids gathered their things, chattering about their projects and the stickers they'd earned.

“Don’t forget to show your parents your wonderful work,” I called out as they headed towards the door, “ See you all Monday!” As the last student left, I sat at my desk and entered grades into the computer. As I got into the flow of things, I heard a soft knock on the door. Looking up, I met the softest chocolate brown eyes.

Standing in the doorway was Noah, his long brown hair cascading past his shoulders. At six foot three, he had an imposing yet gentle presence. The subtle, soothing scent of lavender and chamomile wafted through the room, instantly calming me.

I jumped up from my desk excitedly and walked over to him. “Baby, what are you doing here?” I asked, the biggest smile on my face. Noah returned my smile and opened his arms, welcoming me into a warm hug.

“I thought we could go grab something to eat, Sunshine,” he said before kissing me on my forehead. I smiled at him and grabbed my bag, ready to head out. As we stepped out into the bustling city street, the warm evening sun cast a golden glow over everything. We walked hand in hand, the sound of our footsteps mingling with the distant hum of traffic and the chatter of people enjoying the late afternoon.

"So, where to?" I asked, looking up at him with a grin.

“I was thinking just our regular bar and grill hole-in-the-wall,” he said while squeezing my hand. 

“Perfect! I can go for some fried pickles right about now,” I said while rubbing my stomach. He shook his head and laughed. 

He shook his head and laughed. "You and your fried pickles. One of these days, you're going to turn into one."

We walked down the familiar path to our favorite spot, the cozy bar and grill tucked away in a quiet corner of the neighborhood. The sign above the door flickered slightly, giving it that charming, lived-in look we both loved. As we entered, the comforting aroma of grilled meats and the low murmur of conversations enveloped us.

We took a seat at the bar and ordered our appetizer along with our drinks. Watching as Noah tried to eat a fried pickle while battling with his hair, I couldn't help but laugh. I handed him a hair tie, and he graciously took it, putting his hair into a messy bun.

"You know I love you, right?" I stated with nothing but love and affection in my eyes.

He chuckled and poked my nose. "I know, Sunshine, and I love you too."

We sat there, enjoying the comfortable ambiance and the warmth of each other's company. The bar was lively, with people chatting and laughing, the clinking of glasses creating a cheerful background noise. Our drinks arrived, and we clink our glasses in a small toast.

"To us," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"To us," I echoed, taking a sip and feeling the pleasant warmth spread through me.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, as it always did with Noah. We talked about our favorite trips, like the spontaneous weekend getaway to the mountains and the unforgettable beach vacation where we stayed up all night watching the stars. We celebrated the milestones we had reached together—graduations, job promotions, and even the small victories that meant just as much.

"Remember when we decided to start that garden?" I asked, grinning at the thought of our initial clumsiness.

He chuckled. "Yeah, and we had no idea what we were doing. But now, look at it. It's practically a jungle out there."

We laughed together. I noticed a hair had escaped Noah’s bun and slipped in front of his face. I gently tucked it behind his ear.

"Do you ever think about where we'll be in another two years?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"All the time," he said, his eyes meeting mine with a serious yet tender gaze. "I see us still exploring, dreaming, and laughing just like this. Maybe even with a little place of our own."

I smiled, feeling a warm glow of happiness. "That sounds perfect." Anxiety started to pick up a little as I prepared myself for my next question. 

"Hey baby," I started, "how would you feel about us taking a trip east?"

He smiled and put his hand on my knee, rubbing small circles. "Like New York? I know you mentioned wanting to see a Broadway show or two."

I smiled and shook my head. "No, I was actually thinking further east."

He gave me a confused look. "Salem, Massachusetts?" he asked.

“As much as I would love to go there at the moment, I was thinking more like Europe,” I said with a small smile. His eyes grew a little wider. “I know I don’t talk about my family much, but Oliver is getting married. I know you guys have been getting along with the few video calls you have been on with me, so I thought this would be a perfect way to share this special moment with you and introduce you to the rest of my family,” I rambled.

Noah picked up my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I would love to go to your brother’s wedding with you and meet the rest of your family. I feel very privileged that you want to take me with you,” he said softly. After Noah's heartfelt response, a wave of relief washed over me, and I couldn't help but smile back at him. The warmth of his hand holding mine felt reassuring, grounding me.

"Thank you," I said softly, my voice filled with gratitude. "It means a lot to me."

He leaned in and kissed my forehead gently. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Sunshine."

______________

After gazing into the mirror, methodically tending to my skincare regimen, I intermittently glance at my phone, contemplating whether to make a crucial call. Gradually rinsing off my face mask, I gently dab my skin dry with a plush towel. Letting out a sigh, I finally pick up my phone, holding it in my hands as I deliberate over the decision. Peering at my reflection through the darkened screen, I knew I needed to toughen up and make the call. 

Taking a deep breath, I navigate to my contacts and select my mom's number. With each ring, my heart pounds louder in my chest. Finally, she answers, and the familiar voice on the other end brings a mixture of relief and apprehension.

"Hello, darling. It's been a long time, no talk," she said, her tone devoid of emotion.

"Hello, Mother. I apologize for the gap since our last conversation," I responded, feeling somewhat defeated.

After a moment of silence, my mother's voice remained calm and distant. "What's the reason for this call?" she asked bluntly, her tone indicating her guarded demeanor.

I hesitated, feeling the weight of our strained relationship pressing down on me. "I just wanted to check in and see how you're doing," I replied carefully, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tension.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I could almost feel my mother's skepticism through the phone. Finally, she spoke again, her voice still tinged with suspicion. "Is there something specific you want to talk about?" she probed, her words hanging in the air, heavy with unspoken grievances.

I drew in a deep breath, bracing myself for her reaction. "As you may have heard from Oliver, I've been seeing someone for a while now," I began tentatively. "I've decided I want him to come to the wedding with me. I'm ready for him to meet you, Father, and Grandmother."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, the weight of my words hanging in the air. Then, my mother's voice softened, tinged with surprise. "Oh," was all she said at first, her tone betraying a mixture of emotions.

"Well, I made sure your room is ready for you. I know your father and Grandmother are excited to see you after a year," she said, her words laced with expectation. I fought the urge to sigh, determined not to succumb to her guilt trip.

"Thank you for preparing my room," I replied evenly, "but Noah will be staying with me."

There was a palpable tension in the silence that followed, broken only by the faint sound of my mother's movements. "I have been remodeling the house. I don't think there is enough room for him, but I can arrange for him to stay elsewhere," she stated her tone firm.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at her predictable response. "Mother, as I said before, he will be staying with me," I reiterated, trying to remain calm despite my frustration. "We can stay at one of our hotels if that is the case." I could sense her reluctance through the phone line, but I refused to back down. This was non-negotiable.

Finally, she let out a resigned sigh. "Fine," she conceded reluctantly. "If that's what you want."

Relief washed over me, but I remained wary, knowing that this concession was likely the beginning of further negotiations. "Thank you, Mother," I said, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“I will notify the staff to let them know of your arrival and make sure that everything is up and running in the suite,” She stated. “Oh, and dear, please do make sure that you don’t bring up this phase of being a teacher to anyone at the parties. You do know how that would make our family look.”

Her words landed heavily, a reminder of the delicate facade our family maintained. I clenched my jaw, suppressing the frustration bubbling within me. "I understand, Mother," I replied, my tone strained with resignation. "I'll ensure our conversations steer clear of any mention of my teaching."

There was a brief pause before she spoke again, her voice softening slightly. "Thank you, dear. It's for the best, you know," she said, her words laden with an unspoken expectation.

I forced a tight smile. "Of course, Mother. I'll do my best to uphold our family's reputation," I assured her, though the bitterness lingered beneath my polite facade. 

The line went dead with a click, leaving behind a void where warm farewells should have been. It was always about appearances, never about genuine connection. Frustration boiled within me, and I hurled my phone onto the bed with an angry gesture, the weight of disappointment heavy in the air.

I switched off the light and settled into bed, the darkness enveloping me as I stared at the ceiling. A sense of unease settled over me, weighing heavy on my chest. The realization dawned that I could no longer shield Noah from the complexities of my family. Despite my love for him and the vision of a future together, the thought of exposing him to the pressure and expectations of my family filled me with apprehension and uncertainty.

With a heavy sigh, I rolled onto my side, my gaze drifting towards the window. The darkness outside seemed to mirror the weight on my shoulders. As sleep began to tug at my consciousness, I whispered reassurances to myself. I vowed to shield Noah from the pressures I had faced, determined to be the protector I longed for during my upbringing. With that comforting thought, I surrendered to the embrace of sleep, trusting that somehow, everything would fall into place.

_________________

Saturday came and went quickly. It was filled with chores and preparing the house for Noah’s album release party. He protested and said his apartment was okay for a small party, but you didn’t have it. As much as you try not to use your family’s money for everything, being able to afford a decent house was a must, so you gave in when your father offered to buy it for you and sent in contractors to fix it. 

No one suspected that the house belonged to you; you crafted a narrative that you were renting it from an elderly lady who had offered you a significant discount as a favor for watching over the property after her husband's passing. Remarkably, nobody questioned the story, and everyone marveled at your stroke of luck in stumbling upon such an advantageous arrangement.

When Sunday dawned, excitement and nervous anticipation filled the air. Most of the day was devoted to procuring food and beverages for the evening's festivities, which were scheduled to commence at 8 o'clock. As the clock struck six, Noah and his band arrived, lending a hand with the final preparations.

The boys hastily assembled a makeshift stage in the backyard, their hands moving with practiced efficiency as they meticulously arranged amplifiers, instruments, and microphone stands. Each band member was focused on their task, ensuring that every detail was perfect for the slight performance they had prepared. With a flurry of activity, the stage took shape, bathed in the warm glow of string lights strung up earlier in the day. As they worked, snippets of melodies and harmonies floated through the air.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the sky, guests began to arrive one by one. At first, it was a small gathering of close friends and acquaintances, chatting and mingling as they sipped on drinks and nibbled on appetizers. However, as the evening progressed and word spread about the impending performance, the crowd swelled in size. Friends invited friends, and soon, the backyard was buzzing with laughter and conversation as more and more people crowded in to join the celebration.

All eyes turned towards the stage as a tap echoed through the microphone. There, standing in the soft glow of the lights, was Noah. A hush fell over the crowd as he cleared his throat, a smile spreading across his face.

"Hello, everyone! Thank you all for coming!" His voice rang out, carrying a warmth and sincerity that resonated with everyone gathered. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, their excitement palpable as they supported Noah and his bandmates.

As the cheers subsided, Noah's gaze swept over the audience, his eyes alight with gratitude. "Tonight is a special night for us," he continued, his voice tinged with emotion. "And we're thrilled to share it with all of you." Noah’s eyes scanned the crowd as the crowd cheered until they landed on you. His smile deepened. 

"Before we dive into the music, I've got to give a huge shoutout to someone incredibly special," Noah's voice rang out through the microphone, carrying a tone of genuine admiration. "She's my own personal sunshine, the one who brightens up my darkest days. Without her, this party would lack its sparkle, and this entire album wouldn't even exist. So, let's hear it for her!"

As Noah's heartfelt words resonated through the crowd, a wave of cheers swept through the audience, filling the air with a contagious energy. Those who knew me well offered gestures of appreciation, whether a knowing nod, a warm smile, or a supportive pat on the back.

Feeling a flush of warmth spread across my cheeks, I couldn't help but blush as the spotlight momentarily shifted to me. Grateful yet slightly bashful under the sudden attention, I offered a sheepish smile to those around me. Thankfully, Noah swiftly took the reins, launching into their performance with infectious energy and passion. As the first notes filled the air, everyone shifted back to the stage, captivated by the music and the electric atmosphere it created.

As the clock crept closer to 11, the atmosphere began to shift. Guests started to gather their belongings, exchanging last-minute conversations and farewells as they prepared to depart. Laughter and chatter filled the air, mingling with the sounds of footsteps and the rustle of coats being retrieved. With the house now quiet and still, Noah and I were left alone.

Deciding that he would stay the night, we went upstairs to my bedroom, the anticipation of spending the night together adding an extra skip to our steps. As we settled into bed, the warmth of the blankets enveloped us, creating a cozy cocoon of comfort and intimacy. We relaxed into each other's embrace, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window casting a gentle radiance over the room.

Feeling determined, I saw this as the perfect chance to open up to Noah about my family. Internally, I rallied myself, pushing aside the nerves that threatened to hold me back. With a deep breath, I turned to him, meeting his gaze, and was met with a look of awe in his eyes.

Caught off guard by the intensity of his expression, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with nerves. "What?" I asked, my voice tinged with bashfulness, curious about the thoughts running through his mind.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his words soft yet earnest. "I'm so lucky to have you in my life, sunshine. And I am extremely excited for this trip."

I smiled back at him, feeling a rush of affection as I leaned in to kiss him tenderly. As he held my hand, tracing delicate designs on my skin, I felt my heart swell with love at the simple yet intimate gesture.

"When are we leaving?" he asked.

"Next week, we will be gone for a week or two tops," I announced softly, expecting a response from Noah. Instead, he hummed in reply, cuddling closer to me with a contented sigh. 

Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself to broach the topic of my family. "Noah?" I asked, hoping to initiate the conversation. However, I was met with silence, and after a beat, a soft snore escaped from his lips. 

Suppressing a chuckle, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at how effortlessly Noah could fall asleep. With a fond smile, I nestled closer to him, feeling the warmth of his presence comforting me. As my eyes grew heavy with drowsiness, I made a silent promise to myself that I would talk to him about everything before the trip.

[storiesfromafan]

Moral of the Story

Mattheo x Fem!Reader

A/N: so I tried something different with this one. Also posting on my phone, will fix it up when I can get on a computer.

Summary: don't hate me for this being about Mattheo and the reader.

Moral of the Story

So I never really knew you

God, I really tried to

Blindsided, addicted

Felt we could really do this

But really I was foolish

Hindsight, it's obvious

It’s funny how an attraction to someone can turn to a crush, which can lead to liking that person. And before you know it you’re in a relationship. All the while barely knowing them. Though over the course of a relationship you are meant to learn about that person you have chosen. Learning their likes and dislikes, hobbies and interests, if they are a dog or cat person. But for you it hadn’t been like that. Blinded by the Angel face of the Slytherin heartthrob Mattheo Riddle.

Like many girls before, and probably not the last, his chocolate brown eyes and curly brown mop caught your eye first. Then there was that smile that made butterflies flutter in your stomach. And not to forget that charm he just radiated when he talked, eyes focused on his prey, drawing you in whole heartedly. Every ounce of the male screamed sex appeal, every girl's fantasy. The bad boy, heartbreaker of Slytherin. He would blindside the girl he was interested in, causing them to become addicted to him. He was the drug of choice, and every girl became a drug addict on him.

You had believed you could be end game, claiming his heart just as quickly as you had offered up your own. But the fool you were. Mattheo had done it time and time again. Showing interest in a girl, becoming infatuated but really it was a game. Seeing how long it took from the first flirty look he sent their way to obtaining that first date with them to Hogsmeade. Round two in his game was to see how long it took to kiss them, which usually only took half their date. Extra points if he could get a make out session out of them before getting back to Hogwarts. Round three was for those that he found himself interested in for longer than a month. That was borderline full relationship status. Only a few had made it there, yourself included. 

You were the exception though. For he chose to go full relationship with you, shocking all that watched your dalliance closely. Y/N L/N, the first girl to make Mattheo Riddle her boyfriend. That day was the happiest moment of your life so far. But with it came the looming shadow of those that wanted your head, though not literally. You had a target on your back from the moment you accepted to be his girlfriend of four months. Everything should have been obvious; Mattheo and his ways, the target on your back. You should have seen it coming.

Talking with my lawyer

She said, "Where'd you find this guy?"

I said, "Young people fall in love

With the wrong people sometimes"

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

You can think that you're in love

When you're really just in pain

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

In the end, it's better for me

That's the moral of the story, babe

Sitting in the Great Hall for lunch surrounded by your friends, you pushed your food around your plate. You were hungry but had no appetite for what was on offer. But you ate a few bites, which had been hard to swallow. The conversation your group was having was like white noise; you could hear it but did not focus on it, wanting to tune it out. If attendance wasn’t important you would have stayed in bed, wrapped in your blankets wallowing in self pity.

“What do you think Y/N/N?” Pansy asked drawing you from your mind.

You looked at her with a confused look. “Ah, come again?”

She sighed. “I asked what your thoughts on Snape’s pop quiz. But I think your head was somewhere else, no doubt dwelling on the sorry excuse of an ex”, her tone had been sharp.

You weren’t the only one hurting from your break up, though it was more Pansy wanting to hurt Mattheo for the number he had done on you. Pansy thought the world of you, after just clicking in second year over putting a couple Gryffindor girls in their place over your house; Slytherin.

“I know you cared for him Y/N/N” Pansy said with a pointed look, “mistake made, that’s alright. In the end it's better for you, save yourself true heartache. Once a player, always a player unfortunately”.

If only she truly knew that ship had already set sail. For this was true heartache. Stupidly on your part handing over your heart freely, though you had thought Mattheo was doing the same. Wrong. 

It's funny how a memory

Turns into a bad dream

When running wild turns volatile

Remember how we painted our house

Just like my grandparents did?

So romantic, but we fought the whole time

Should have seen the signs, yeah

Looking down the Slytherin table you saw him sitting with both Draco and Blaise, all three in a heated discussion. How you longed for those moments. Sitting by his side as they conversed on a number of topics. You would even weigh in on the discussion with your own two cents. And they all seemed to enjoy your input on their banter. Those moments were a fond memory. Along with the stolen moments between the two of you. Such as a snog session in a corner of the library. Or lazing under a tree in the courtyard, Mattheo’s head resting on your lap.

But with the good there were always those that were turbulent. In the beginning there were a few moments that had been rough, and maybe a red flag, but the happy moments outweighed the bad. The last month of your relationship there was more turbulence than ever. It started out as small things; comments on your friends, conversations with friends or others from different houses, being late to meet him, etc. You had words with each other before turning into full on arguments, that many thought would lead to one of you hitting the other. It was all so toxic.

Talking with my mother

She said, "Where'd you find this guy?"

Said, "Some people fall in love

With the wrong people sometimes"

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

You can think that you're in love

When you're really just in pain

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

In the end it's better for me

That's the moral of the story, babe

Sneaking out that night you found yourself in the Astronomy Tower, cigarette between your lips as you lit it up. The first draw hit the back of your throat in familiarity, holding that burn for a few seconds before releasing it in a puff of smoke. With the lack of appetite, cigarettes became an addiction, bringing you some twisted comfort. As he was the reason you found yourself smoking. You consider it a parting gift of some sort.

Leaning against the railing of the tower, you looked up at the night sky. Grateful you never brought Mattheo up here. Or else this space would be tainted, like everywhere else you used to like to go. The stars in the sky seemed dull tonight, possibly mirroring your melancholy mood.

With the silence of the tower you heard the footsteps clearly, faintly coming up the stairs and growing louder as they came closer to you. It had to be one of your friends. No one else knew this was one of your hiding spots.

“Here you are” signed Pansy. “I have been looking everywhere for you”.

“You caught me” you sighed, releasing another puff of smoke before taking another drag of the cigarette. A soft, sympathetic look crossed Pansy’s face. Which you didn't like one bit. “Don't look at me like that. I don't want or need your sympathy”.

“You got hurt Y/N/N. He hurt you” she said, refusing to use his name. A true friend to the end.

“Yeah, and my dumbass knew what it was getting into. I saw it all before I stepped up to the Quidditch pitch. I ignored the red flags Pansy. It’s on me”.

“No!’ She said, raising her voice. “It’s on him! He took it further with you, he made you his girlfriend. If he intended to be serious he needed to work on himself”.

She had a valid point, you know that. You had changed for him, he should have done the same for you. Be the best version of himself for you. That wasn’t his plan. His plan was to be himself, you change for him and he would take from you while finding his next play thing.

“Well they say it's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. That could be a load of shit” you said with your cigarette hanging from your lips while lighting it once more and taking another hit. “But that’s how it goes. Blinded by affections of the heart”.

“I understand that. But it’s still no excuse” retorted Pansy. “He could see how you felt, he chose to abuse that”.

But I just need to tell you all

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

You can think that you're in love

When you're really just engaged

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

In the end it's better for me

That's the moral of this story

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

You can think that you're in love

When you're really just in pain

“True, but I need to tell you some mistakes get made. That's alright, that's okay. In the end it's better for me, that's the moral of the story, babe” you said looking her in the eyes. “Chalk it up as a learning experience”.

“I don't disagree with your words. But I hate seeing you like this. It worries me” Pansy said, worry shining through her eyes brightly.

You gave her a soft smile that didn’t meet your eyes. “I know Pans. Honestly I am hurting, it sucks. But in time I will get over it, maybe not completely. Yet just enough to be some version of the old me. Promise”.

With those words, and a promise, Pansy let it be. And shortly after headed back to the Slytherin common room, you said you wouldn’t be far behind her. Alone once more, you continued to smoke your cigarette, your now old friend. You thought over what you had said to Pansy, the promise made. You weren’t sure if you believed your words or not. But hoped it was somewhat true. It gave you hope. Hope needed in a dark moment in this chapter of your life. Your first heartbreak, at the hands of Mattheo Riddle.

With the final drag of your cigarette, you put out the tip before flicking it over the edge of the tower. Taking one last look at the night sky, you saw a shooting star, a small sad smile forming on your lips. Taking your leave, you headed down the quiet staircase, along the portrait covered hall ways and back down into the depth of the castle, and the Slytherin common room.

Oh-oh, oh-oh (that's the moral of the story, that's the-)

(Oh-oh, oh-oh)

(Oh-oh, oh-oh)

A/n: any constructive criticism welcome 😊

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

Late Night Comfort (Morrigan x Reader)

Warnings: Angst and fluff

After another bad breakup, you go to your bestfriend for comfort, when something snaps into place.

I run away, tears falling down my face as I make my way through the beautiful streets of Velaris.

I couldn’t notice any of its beauty right now, not as my now ex-girlfriends words were ringing through my head.

We had been having a discussion once again about letting people know about our relationship.  I had told her when we first got together that I wasn’t, and might never be ready to be out about anyone I loved.

“You’re selfish Y/N.  This isn’t just some fling anymore, I actually love you!”

Those words were the killing blow.  I knew after that, that no matter how much I wanted her to understand, she would never believe me when I told her that my reluctance to let people see in was the reason, and not her.

I had still fought for her though, because I loved her.  I mean, I thought I loved her.

Now… I wasn’t so sure.  I was still sad, but I also felt surprisingly empty, like part of me had already moved on.

Maybe it was because I knew this had been coming for a while.  The way she tried to hint to her friends that we were more than we appeared, her attempts to plant kisses on my cheek in public places.

So maybe I had known, but I still had hoped.  Hope that someone would understand.

I made my way up to the front door of my friend, Morrigan.  She had been with me through every bad breakup, partied the nights away with me until I was too drunk to remember why I had been sad in the first place.

So I knocked on her door, hard enough to wake the neighbors up from a dead sleep.

Normally I wouldn’t wake her up at such a late hour, but it felt almost as if there was a string tugging me towards her.  It was like that sometimes, like we were connected, she understood me so well sometimes it scared me.

As I wait for her to answer, I huff a laugh as I think of the first time I met her, how dorky I was and the gigantic crush I had on her.

She was, and is, way out of my league, and even if that wasn’t a problem, I had no idea where she stood with females.  I know she’s had quite a few flings, but I don’t know where her heart lies.

I sigh, realizing that she may not even be home, and turn around to leave when her door creaks open.

“Y/N?”  Mor’s tired voice called out, opening the door wider as I turned around.

I ran up the stairs of her porch, launching myself into her arms, barely holding back another wave of tears.

“Oh, hey, it’s okay.”  She murmured into my hair, drawing me more tightly into a hug.  “Hey, come inside, everything will be alright.”

She led me inside, locking the door behind her, and I went over to her stupidly extravagant couch and sat down, sniffling back the rest of my tears.

“I’m going to make us some hot cocoa, you don’t move.”

After two warm mugs or hot chocolate and me spilling everything that happened, I was exhausted, half laying on her shoulder.

“That’s awful.”  Mor said, petting my hair.  “You’re not selfish Y/N, and you did nothing wrong.”

I shuddered, trying not to start crying again.  “But I did.  She’s right, I should have just sucked it up and let people know-”

Morrigan grabbed my chin gently, pulling my head so I was looking into her eyes.  “No.  If she had truly cared about you, she wouldn’t have kept pulling those little tricks in public.  She crossed a line, and honestly, I think you should have dumped her right there and then.”

I laughed lightly, trying not to think about the deep emotion behind her words as her rich brown eyes bored into mine.  “You’re forgetting she dumped me.”  I say, looking away in an attempt to hide the blush that was now creeping up my cheeks.

“Her loss.”  She says, and normally it would be just another reassurance, but the way she said it felt more… personal.

I look at her again, and she’s studying me, her brows knit together in concentration.

My breath turns shallow as she leans forward, her head tilting slightly as she cupped my face with her hand-

And then she gasps, and I feel it too.  That string that I felt connecting us- it wasn’t just some emotional attachment as I thought it was.

It was a mating bond.

I quickly pull away at the wide look in her eyes.

She was horrified, she didn’t want this- she was never going to talk to me again.

I went to move off the couch, to run away, to vomit, I didn’t know.

I’m stopped by her hands on my shoulders, pulling me forward and kissing me deeply.

I’m dizzy as she pulls away, both of us gasping for breath.  “Don’t go.”  She said, letting go with one hand to tuck my hair behind my ear.

“Please don’t go.”  She repeats, hugging me closer to her.

I open my mouth to apologize, but I stop.  Maybe, maybe for just a minute, I could let myself imagine this is real, that she actually wants me.

So I wrap my arms around her, hugging her back for a long time, and eventually I fall asleep in her arms.

[kookieswan]

Red Light - The Sweetest Promise

Nightmare!Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Horror AU, Monster AU, Psychological horror, some Angst as always , definitely some dollops of Fluff.

Warnings: Talk of self harm. It should be noted that this story will contain themes of horror/psychological horror and also explore obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. Please be warned!

Summary: You make a sweet promise built on chocolate kisses.

Notes: Going back in time s bit! I urge you to go back and read ‘Foiled Secrets’ if it’s been a while, this is set directly after it! I hope you all enjoy ♥️

This is Part 31 of the Red Light series. Find the Masterlist here ♥️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Kisses…?” Namjoon looks giddy, eyes wide as you step toward him. You unwrap one of them quickly, almost laughing as he nearly unhinges his jaw in anticipation. Hoseok watches bemusedly as you pop the kiss into the other Nightmares mouth.

“Chocolate kisses for you since we know it can have certain affects on your emotional state. We’ll start with one and go from there to see if it makes any difference. I know sweets spark a sense of… Something for you so that’s why I chose this method.” The Nightmare doesn’t chew, doesn’t move as he stares ahead, likely letting the chocolate melt slowly in his mouth. Hoseok clears his throat noisily, drawing your attention over to him

“What about my kisses? Don’t I get any dearheart?” Snorting, you shake your head with glee. He looks almost offended by this, eyes widening as his mouth drops open slightly, wings stretching out behind him.

“No, you’ve been bad. Now sit there and be good and maybe you’ll get one at the end of our session.” Your Nightmare kisses his teeth but a smile’s there, almost cheeky in nature as he shakes his head. There’s suddenly a small groan from Namjoon, a very clear sign that he’s enjoying the sweet treat you’ve supplied. Good, that likely means progress toward your goal.

“What do you think Namjoon? Is it good?” He moans again, and you watch in awe as his eyes shift back and forth between his regular deep brown and a crimson red. They settle finally on the brighter tone as he wiggles in his seat, eyes wide as he finally regards you, batting his eyelashes.

“Delicious; so deliciously divine Doctor. Can I have more? Pretty please? I promise to be good if I can have more.” He asks earnestly, so unbelievably polite that you just can’t say no. How could you anyway, you’re clearly making some sort of headway here. Perhaps you should have brought a chocolate cake…

“Sure Namjoon. Here’s another one for you. Now, can you tell me how you feel? Any different?” He chews this time, eyes closing as he savors the chocolate. It’s quiet as you wait for his response, but it finally comes out low and almost curious in nature.

“It’s hard to describe feelings after so terribly long but I suppose I’m feeling giddiness now? Excitement? Kind of like I want to explode… I feel more trying to break through. I wonder if it will, if I can contain it; if I’ll want to. I prefer this method to ripping at my skin though.” Ripping st his skin? You never even thought of pain as an option; but it’s something you’ll definitely address down the line. You see Hoseok’s wings flex from the corner of your eye, see how he sits forward in his seat. You choose to ignore it for now though, Namjoon needs your full attention.

“More of…?” You try to coax it out of him, letting him ponder his thoughts. He doesn’t seem like he’s trying to hide anything, eyes searching yours as he squints. If anything, he’s likely at a loss for words and overwhelmed. Having your feelings go in and out can’t be easy…

“More of everything. I feel more, I’ve always felt more and that’s always been the problem. It’s caused so much chaos in the past. Fun for me, not so much for others.” It’s a known fact that Nightmares in general feel every emotion more intensely. Namjoon has had that increased even further, and so it’s a little shocking he hasn’t completely gone mad from the overstimulation.

“I see. Since you’re an empath, you feel everyone’s everything all the time. I can’t imagine what it must be like, but I suppose you’ve always had a sort of way to control it?” There must have been something keeping him grounded over the years. Some sort of technique or some other stimulus to keep him distracted? Namjoon huffs, eyebrows furrowing as the corners of his lips downturn.

“My lovie always helped before, but… Ah, but what if I can’t control it now, hm? It never stops, it’s overwhelming. I can feel your unease I can feel his anger, Doctor. I can feel it all, and in turn it becomes mine to bare. It’s much too easy to influence others when I lose it.” Seokjin, hm? It’s interesting, both the Nightmares in front of you can sense sometimes general disposition in one way or another. Namjoon’s ability is just a lot harder to deal with it seems, and so you press into why that is.

“Do you not like being able to feel others emotions and in turn control theirs? Has it always been something that’s bothered you?” Again, Hoseok shifts in his seat, eyes not on you but on Namjoon. He’s openly staring at the other Nightmare, eyes slitted. Namjoon pays no mind as you pop another chocolate into his mouth. He chews quickly and swallows, not taking nearly the same amount of time to really enjoy it.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s one extreme or the other now. Feel everything or feel nothing. It’s not much of a choice, not really fucking fair I was dealt this card. Not fair, not fair, not fair…” He stomps his foot, the action startling you ever so slightly. Hoseok’s voice echoes across the room instantly, commanding and firm.

“Namjoon.” A warning perhaps, but not one that holds much malice. Namjoon blinks up at you, the crimson wavering just slightly so a softer shade of red. You smile down at him, a silent affirmation that it’s fine, that he’s fine. When you speak, you do so gently because really, you feel horrible for this man. He’s had so much ripped away and hasn’t received much empathy in return.

“It isn’t fair Namjoon, you’re right. It’s up to you though, you get to pick what you want. I only want to be able to aid you in your journey to whatever that choice is.” It’s true, you just want to help them. Help them thrive in any way they can even if you can’t truest free them. Perhaps it’s foolish in a way, but you’d rather be a fool than a monster like every other person down here.

“You were able to live with it before though, right? You and Seokjin traveled together, you functioned and were clearly happy. Do you not want that again?” Hoseok’s voice is careful yet curious, eyes scanning the other man swiftly. He almost looks conflicted, a careful smile coming to his face as Namjoon nearly melts in front of your eyes.

“My Seokjin…” His eyes turn to a pretty shade of pink, a soft dimpled smile coming to his face. He looks at you dreamily, eyes so intensely bright that they’d likely glow in a pitch black room.

“I miss my Seokjin. I want him Doctor, I want him so bad but they won’t let me have him. I’ll behave so good for you if you let me have him, I will.” You believe him outright, fully aware of how terribly both Nightmares crave each other. It would be dumb if you to keep them away from each other any longer, it would only be a matter of time before one of them gets too impatient and all hell breaks loose.

“Well, I think that we’re thinking the same thoughts Namjoon. With everything I’ve been told during this session, I believe the next step is bringing you to see Seokjin. Chocolate is one thing, but your lover…” if you had to pick between Hoseok and a piece of candy, well… The option is pretty obvious. Namjoon nods excitedly, happy giggles leaving his lips as Hoseok fidgets in his seat.

“I don’t mean to rain on your parade Doctor, but the chances of that happening aren’t very high.” Stepping back from Namjoon, you step right into Hoseok’s space again, finger coming down to boop his nose. He scrunches it cutely, wings flexing again behind him, the little cracking noises now a comforting sound.

“I’ll make it happen. I don’t know when and I don’t know how soon, but I’ll make it happen. Stop frowning Hoseok, it’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.” Placing your pointer fingers on either side of his lips, you push them up into a smile as he stares at you. The smile remains as you pull back, slowly morphing into something more smirk like.

“I’ve been good, do I get my kiss now?” He turns his wings out towards you, tongue peaking out to wet his lips. Not being able to resist, you brush your fingers against his cheek, slowly following the curve of his jawline until you’re cupping his chin again. You wonder idly if it’s normal to want to touch this much.

“Do you think you deserve it? You’ve been quite the pessimist darling.” His eyes shoot open in shock as gears up to reply, likely something teasing, maybe a little snarky, but you silence him with a quick peck to his soft lips. His chest rumbles darkly as you pull away a second later, his displeasure resounding as you step away from him with a whisper of ‘patience’.

Turning back toward Namjoon, you pull out the rest of the small bag of kisses out of your jacket pocket. Placing it in the breast pocket of his jumpsuit, you lay your hand there with certainty. Namjoon feels warm, the heat radiating though his jumpsuit nearly enough to be uncomfortable.

“The rest of the kisses are yours, a token of my promise to you; the next time you see me, you’ll be seeing your Seokjin as well. And please, no more hurting yourself if you can help it?” Namjoon laughs a true laugh, loud and excited as you pull back from him. He nods his head and hums, likely the happiest and most emotive you’ve ever seen him, and you want this version to stay.

“That’s a sweet promise Doctor. I do hope you’ll keep it.” Namjoon closes his eyes then, humming to himself as Hoseok mumbles something about intrusive thoughts. With a smile, you turn back to the door, fully intending to keep your sweet promise. In the end, you’ll either make it so or at the very least die trying.

“That’s all for today boys. Hopefully I’ll see you both soon.”

[flannel-cladpika]

Who - Miya Atsumu x F! Reader

A/N: This is part of my new series “The Big Questions”. It’s the first one, and as a side note, they are all stand-alone fics, not related to each other, just connected through the idea of them each being based off of the prompts “Who, What, Where, When, Why, and How”

TW: Fluff, Social Anxiety sort-of

Being the only manager for a volleyball team from a powerhouse school had it’s pros and cons. One of the big pros, was that it gave you a way to stay involved with the sport you loved, even after you had knee surgery due to a bad accident back in first year. You could still watch the game and analyze other teams’ playing strategies to give pointers to your own team.

However, one of the cons was that you had to attend major tournaments filled with strangers around your own age. It was terrifying. Every time.

Crowds were never your favourite. Too many people bumping and breathing and talking and-

Just breathe. In...and Out. You thought, taking a deep breath and letting it out, trying to keep your nerves under control. 

You usually stayed beside your team during big tournaments so that you wouldn’t get lost, but they were off in the locker room getting ready. 

So, you were left on your own, listening to mellow music and hiding inside your school hoodie while attempting to navigate the strange hallways of the arena. Gods, the place was huge!

You continued to walk towards where you hoped the concessions were, as you knew your team tended to be hungry monsters before matches, so they’d likely go there first. You mostly looked down at your feet, only looking up to make sure you were still headed straight.

Then the worst happened.

You bumped into someone. Hard.

You fell on your backside, jostling your headphones and hood off your head and causing them to rest around your neck. You let out a small expletive at the sudden pain in your lower back and bum.

You were about to get up and run, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself than you likely already had, but a sudden hand in front of you stopped your escape.

“Need some help?” a masculine voice asked.

You looked up to see the owner of the voice.

Your eyes widened at the view.

His hair was like a sunflower, with gold on top and a dark brown undercut. His physique was that of a full-time athlete, with his black t-shirt hugging his torso in a way that outlined all the muscles he must have worked hard for. Deep chocolate eyes stared down at you expectantly, waiting for you to take his hand.

“I-I’m ok. Thank you, though.” you stated, starting to get up on your own, not wanting this very attractive stranger to know that your hands were terribly sweaty.

However, as you tried to get up, you noticed a little too late that your leg had fallen asleep. You tried to get up, but soon started to fall back again as your leg suddenly gave out from under you.

You shut your eyes, expecting to meet the hard floor for the second time, but the impact never came.

You felt your arm being grasped by the elbow, then all at once, you were met with a very warm and sturdy surface. 

It took a moment to realise that the surface was the handsome stranger’s chest.

Upon realisation, you stepped out of the (rather comfortable) embrace.

“Sorry about that! My leg fell asleep and-” you started, before being cut off by a laugh. You looked up at the sound.

“Ha ha ha! It’s alright. After all, it meant that I got to hold a little cutie like you before my match, so I think we’re even.” he said with a smirk.

Your face rivalled a cherry at the blonde’s words, flustering you beyond comprehension. 

“W-Well, you thank, I MEAN thank you! For catching me that is!” you stated nervously with a low bow, wanting to hide your face as much as possible.

“Hey, no problem cutie~. But there is one thing I would like in return.” the Adonis of a man stated.

You straightened up and peeked at the brown-eyed boy before practically squeaking out “What is it?”

He smiled coyly. “Just an answer to a simple question.” he said smoothly.

You nodded a little, managing to finally make a bit of eye-contact. “Ok...what’s your question?”

The stranger stepped forward so that he was only a few centimetres away from your face, before speaking in a hushed tone like he was telling you a secret

“Who are you? And what time do you wanna go out later?”

-THE END-

A/N: So, this is my first time writing for Atsumu, so I’m really hoping he’s not too OOC, or anything like that. I know I haven’t uploaded in a while, but this idea was just in my head and decided to come out immediately.

[star-kissed583]

These are just some head cannons that I thought of for the septic egos. While they may change from time to time-These are some of the main one:

Henrik:

National: German/Jewish

Height: 5 ft 10 in (179.9cm)

Gender: He/him

Sexuality: Gay 🏳️‍🌈 homoromantic

Looks:

light brown hair with few gray strikes,

pasty white skin with freckles around cheeks and nose

Icy blue and grey eyes behind round glasses

Has a tattoo sleeve for both arms

Prosthetic left leg from an accident (maybe I’ll right about it

Pretty muscular form but not too muscular. Just enough

Fun random facts:

Lost his leg when he was 10 years old

Was part of wrestling and track team

Everyone knows he’s a ✨nerd✨ but a handsome 🔥nerd🔥

He used to want to be an astronaut…but after his accident he wanted to be a doctor

More probably will be told later😌

Marvin:

Nationality: French/American

Height: 5 ft 7 in (172.31cm)

Gender: He/they/she (Gender-fluid)

Sexuality: Homoromantic Asexual

Looks:

Long wavy, dirty blond hair

Light tan skin with a small mole by his right eye

Almost violet-blue eyes

Piercing on her belly button and ears.

More lean and skinny figure

Random facts:

Basically started their own clothing line

Best friends with Jackie (known since 8 years old)

Sassy bitch that wears makeup and WILL judge your style

An amazing cook (could beat Gordon Ramsey-but not JJ)

Is a survivor of breast cancer (has small tattoo symbol on side)

More to be known later 🤭

Jackie:

Nationality: Netherlands

Height: 6ft 3in (190.5 cm)

Gender: he/him

Sexuality: pansexual panromantic

Looks:

Long enough dark brown hair to tie in man bun

Baby blue eyes

Big bright smile

But more muscles that Henrik

Has scars a some burn marks—Special scar is the chest scars

Random facts)

Did American football in high school

Definitely doesn’t have ADHD

Transgender (born Female and transitioned to male)

Always wanted to be a police officer-but Marvin says he should get a restraining order for his fashion😌

Bad habit of not caring for himself 😬

More added later-

Chase:

Nationality: probably Mexican/American

Height: 5 ft 6.5 in (169cm)

Gender: He/him

Sexuality: bisexual biromantic

Looks:

Super dark brown hair that’s curly

Light brown skin colour

Chocolate brown eyes

A well built enough figure

Birth mark on his side of the neck

Fun facts:

Played soccer and did track and got the legs of steel😎

Best friend is Henrik and both had trouble speaking English at first

Shitty ex, but got some sweet kids who are his entire world

Dad jokes-lots and lots of dad jokes

Stubborn as hell but who’s to stop him 🤷🏻‍♀️

Anti:

Nationality: Irish/Korean

Height: 5ft 7in (170.7cm)

Gender: He/they

Sexuality: BIG GAY

Looks:

Black hair

Pale ass skin

One green eye and the other is blue

Lean figure but don’t let it fool you…they’re stronggg💪🏼

Piercings and the scar on his neck

Fun facts:

Black belt in martial arts

Owns a motorcycle that he treats like his B A B Y

most definitely not the emo one

Probably works as a spy or assassin 🤷🏻‍♀️

A teddy bear if you’re close to them (JJ)

Loves porcelain, antique teacups. Probably has a shit ton in a furniture

JJ:

Nationality: British/Greek

Height: 5 ft 3in (160.02cm)

Gender: they/he

Sexuality: Demisexual and romantic

Looks:

Black hair

Bright teal/green eyes

Pale skin with freckles all over

Has some scars but don’t ask about them

Fun facts:

They’re an Angel. Don’t mess or upset the Angel or everyone is after you…especially Anti

Wears the most bright pastel colours of the group

Does dance, ballet, ice skating-no judging allowed

Super flexible because they used to be in gymnastics when they were young

Best friends with Anti and under his protection.

Depending on what I’m writing-they’re mute, selective or not, or has powers to think his thoughts to others mind, or other exceptions that may happen depending on the story🤷🏻‍♀️

Basically these may change depending on what I write or draw-but these are basically main ideas I had of these egos! They may change or more will be added😌

[lady-assnali]

In the 7/11 Under Fluorescent Lights

(it’s just Crygi’s first date with a line from All My Ghosts by Lizzie McAlpine as the jumping point with no return) I can’t even be bothered to make a cover for this. I tried to convince myself that this is part of the teacher au but in reality Gigi has a chokehold on me and I’m over it. I couldn’t do a single other thing until this whole thing was written, so now that it’s out in the universe maybe my brain will let me focus on something else. I blame it on that stupid ass cleavage dress. I am done and I deserve to be fired from my status as a human being. Thank you. ———

            The April air is brisk and inviting, brushing daintily against the heat that had been swirling around the crowded bar. With the night still young, the popular hot-spot crowded street is crowded with people. They move in and out of buildings, rushing away from the cold or holding their jackets tight. The lights dance against the darkness, and in the flurry of people Crystal feels almost woozy from the thrill of it all. She had a birthday crown perched on her curls, and strangers walking by (admittedly half of them most likely drunk) shout and raise their hands to her in celebration. Their words float around her in an echo; she is too focused on Gigi to let anything else take over her senses.

            Gigi, who presses her body flush against Crystals. Gigi who kisses her neck, lets her hands get lost in her open jacket. She smells like strawberries and some kind of light flower-just like she always does-only this time the perfume crashes over her existence, fogs up her ability to form a coherent thought that doesn’t start and end with her name. The brush of Gigi’s lips against her skin is the physical manifestation of finally, and outside of the bar, wrapped in each other, it’s a record on repeat. Finally, finally, finally.

            “Cry’s,” It’s a feeble whimper against her skin, and she shivers against the sound of her name. “Let’s go home.”

            Crystal draws herself back swiftly, immediately regretting the decision as Gigi’s eyes widen and drop to her hands. 

            “No no no no, it’s not a bad thing, I’m not-I just don’t,” She groans in frustration at herself, taking the ginger’s hands in hers and lacing their fingers together. Gigi still won’t look up, opting instead to take in her bottom lip, a habit that five years of friendship made into reading an open book. She’s nervous. 

            “Ireallyneedtotakeyouonadate!”

            “What?”

            “Geeg, I’ve been waiting so long to kiss you. But I can’t just take you home, I can’t cheapen us like that. You are so important to me, you’re the most important person in my entire life. I know that if we go home now some part of me is always going to be trying to make up for the fact that I didn’t even take you on a date first.”

            Gigi laughs then, light and brief, before cupping Crystal’s cheeks in her hands.

            “I don’t need to go on a date,” She moves her hands to thread her fingers through curls of chocolate brown hair. “We have the rest of our lives for that.”

            She draws a whimper from the brunette, who responds hungrily to Gigi biting her bottom lip. She settles her hands on Gigi’s waist and pulls her as close as she can, an electric energy fizzling in each place their bodies are connected. A tug on her hair draws out a moan that draws Crystal back once more, and she crosses her arms over her chest.

            “Gigi Goode, we are in public!” The words that had sounded so authoritative come out shakily. She can’t look a the ginger in this dress, can’t let herself imagine the different ways she’d maneuver it off of her best friend’s body. While her voice is wobbly and her eyes aren’t able to take themselves off of her, Crystal has to rely on grabbing hold of Gigi’s hand.

            “We’re going on a date,” she decides, “We’re going on a date right now, and then we’re going home.”

            The ginger pouts but wraps her arms around one of Crystal’s anyway, brushing her nose against her cheek.

            “Okay, let’s go.”

            They walk by several restaurants on the strip and Crystal does stop at a few, but with each announced wait time Gigi groans, running a hand up the brunette’s arm with a murmured too long. With each stop she feels her own restraint wavering and attempts to focus on the lights and the people-watching rather than those legs in that dress. Gigi fills the silence with questions about the birthday cake they’d left behind-do you think Jaida will save us a piece? Maybe Jan can sneak it into the fridge there and we can pick it up tomorrow. I mean, it’s your cake and you didn’t even have a piece! You just blew out the candles! Do you think we should just go back and steal it? Wouldn’t it be nice to have cake for breakfast?

            The rambling keeps Gigi occupied and away from the long, steep track of thoughts it had started when Crystal had initially pulled away. She wants this forever and it hasn’t even really started yet. She wants this forever, and Crystal is the best friend she’s ever had, so of course there is a spiraling of catastrophe weaving in and out of the warmth of being so connected to her again. If they fall apart, it’ll ruin her. She can’t really remember the last time she’d been in a long-term, serious relationship; no, those had all been ruined by curly hair and thick-rimmed glasses, giggling and late-night FaceTimes and inside jokes and things she’d never wanted to share with anybody but her best friend. They were ruined by it’s me or her because of course she’d pick Crystal, she’d pick her every time.

            She’s worth it.

            The older girl shifts their walking positions to hold one hand on Gigi’s lower back, rubbing circles with her thumb absentmindedly as she hums along to the conversation (and denies the idea to steal the cake). And if the ginger feels a little faint at the touch she says nothing about it. She says nothing until the feeling of Crystal’s thumb begins to feel intimate and soft. Gigi’s legs are wobbly and her head is foggy and she pulls Crystal through the next open door and steps back from her defiantly.

            “This is it, this is where I want to have our first date.”

            “At…at a 7/11?” Crystal looks at their surroundings with a mix of intrigue and horror; this is the last place she would have imagined taking her for a date, and she’d been thinking about this moment for way too long to find aisles of snacks and random household essentials and a bored teenage boy an acceptable option. Gigi won’t accept her hesitation, merely pulls her by the hand again and walks her through the snack aisle.

            “See, Crys, isn’t this nice? Walking, window shopping…”

            “For Takis?”

            “For whatever you want, it’s your birthday!”

            “No, no, I’m taking you on the date. You can’t buy me anything!”

            “Well then I think I want….” Her eyes light up and she bounces to the back of the store, standing triumphantly next to a wall of whirring machinery.

            “A slurpee?”

            “A slurpee! A red one. My mom used to get them for me after school and then she’d take me to the playground to run off all of the extra sugar. She never let me drink it all, though. She’d only fill it up halfway, and then we’d share.”

            “So your mom didn’t let you have fun.” Crystal deadpans, picking two cups from the side of the dispensers. “No wonder you grew up like you did-normal on the outside, weirdo underneath…all that sugar you missed out on.”

            “Yeah? And what’s your memory of these?”

            “Oh, easy. I just did this.” She slips her cup underneath the blue machine, waits five seconds, and slips it under the orange. Gigi wrinkles her nose and watches as the brunette eagerly fills her cup, switching between the two flavors until it is full. 

            “And this is the woman I’ve chosen to date.” She says playfully, shaking her head while Crystal takes a long sip of her Slurpee. 

            They haven’t fully looked at each other since they’d chosen their drinks and the second Crystal indulges herself with a glance her breath is caught in her throat. Gigi’s leaning against the counter, white dress be damned, her lips closed against the long red straw of her Slurpee. When she catches Crystal’s eye she draws a finger to her lips, shushing her before topping off her cup with an attempted stealth. 

            “Hey, I think someone’s trying to cheat the system over here,” Crystal’s voice is only loud enough for the two of them but the ginger still giggles furiously, slapping her arm and continuing her begging for secrecy. 

            “No, I mean it’s fine, I’ll still write to you when you’re in prison,” She mimes the opening of an old scroll, pushing her glasses down to the tip of her nose and clearing her throat. “My dearest darling Georgina Goode, it’s been another five years and I haven’t seen your beautiful face. I am absolutely stranded at home raising my son alone, and,”

            “Crystal Elizabeth, my love, wait for me! Tell Tic Tac that I love him! This cherry slurpee was just too good for me to resist!”

            “I guess we’ll have to do a jailbreak then”

            “Sounds dangerous.”

            “Alright, overkill, don’t get too excited about it. In all of the time I’ve spent imagining the start of us I never once included jail break or evading arrest.”

            “You’ve thought about it before?”

            “Geeg, did you not hear me explaining that I have been waiting for this forever? Because I think I really do mean forever. I’m pretty sure me letting you drag me into a 7/11 as a first date is the perfect example of that.”

            “What, you don’t charm all your girls with free Slurpees?”

            “Nope.” She pops her p and grins stupidly, taking a step into Gigi’s space so that she’s backed all the way up to the cabinet that holds the machine. “Only you.”

The younger girl closes the distance, pulling Crystal in by her jacket and kissing her, letting her lips linger. When they pull away Gigi is smiling wide and Crystal hums, touching her finger to her lips.

            “You taste like cherries.” It’s all she can think of to say, mesmerized, before she seeks out the sensation again. This time she’s less delicate, hands finding their way to the cutouts on Gigi’s waist while her head swims with artificial colors and her soft skin against her hands.

            “You’re freezing!” Gigi covers Crystal’s icy hands with her own, pulling them from the slits in her dress. Crystal groans and moves to settle her hands over the smooth fabric, but the ginger side-steps her, picking up both of their Slurpee cups in defiance. 

            “We’re never going to make it home if we don’t get these. This was beautiful, but if you promise to check out so we can leave then I promise to take you out for breakfast tomorrow as our second date.”

            “Oh, so now she thinks she’s getting a second date?”

            “Oh, I know I am.” She winks, a half-serious gesture that leaves them both laughing toward the entrance of the store. 

            They walk with their slurpees in comfortable silence, arm in arm. It isn’t the shortest walk to Crystal’s from the bar but they’ve already covered most of the distance, and calling an Uber doesn’t seem right even though Gigi’s shoes are making her feet ache a bit. She’s happy in the cold with Crystal by her side. Their drinks dye their tongues and lips, decorating the bare patches of skin they find when they stop, huddling between storefronts, to dust each other with kisses.

            There’s a lot of giggling.

            When Crystal unlocks the door and they stumble through together, Gigi laughs when she’s unable to turn the lock correctly. They have to stop so the older girl can focus. They giggle against each other’s lips while they fumble with each other’s clothes, breathless. The white dress is the first thing to go, shed on the living room floor as they move in synch to Crystal’s bedroom. Her cheeks, already hot, burn with the pink that colors them as she looks around the floor.

            “It’s been crazy,” she explains between catching and instantly losing her breath. “And I’ve been really sad, so,”

            “You’re fine, Crys. I’ve been waiting five years-I’ve been thinking about you all month. Do you think I’m going to care that you have some clothes on the floor?” She cups her cheeks with a bit of force, countering it with a feather-light trace of her cheekbones and a kiss on her nose. “I really only care that it’s not the clothes you’re wearing now.”

            “You could fix that.”

            Gigi’s nimble fingers make light work of Crystal’s top, pushing it off of her shoulders and admiring her with darkened eyes. It’s almost as though she doesn’t know where to go first, her lips on the tattoo in the same moment both her hands find her breasts, her imagination finally allowed to feel the metal ring she’d heard so many complaints about after the brunette had first gotten it. 

            “So pretty,” She indulges herself, her mouth back and forth between each breast, letting her fingers dance around the ring as Crystal squirms beneath her.

            “Your turn,” Gigi squeaks as she’s turned over, sinking into the mattress. She pushes back on Crystal’s shoulders, pouting.

            “It’s your birthday”

            “Mmhmm,” She’s barely listening, leaving blossoming marks in a trail down Gigi’s porcelain skin followed by tender, delicate kisses. All she can hear is the sound of her own heart slamming against her chest, the sound of Gigi rendered breathless underneath her.

            “Let-let me give you what you want.”

            “I want you.” She fingers the thin lace of her underwear, thumbs brushing the skin of her hips with a shivering, feather-light delicacy that leaves the ginger trembling. Before Crystal can do anything else Gigi has made quick work of the job, slipping out of them and tossing them aside, hands rough in Crystal’s curls as she pulls her in, crashing their lips together and begging for entrance with her tongue.

            She’s denied. The brunette smiles against her as Gigi whimpers her name, lets her head fall back with a sigh as Crystal continues her worship.

            For Gigi it was always her name, the thing so stuck in her brain and her throat and her thoughts, clogging her body with untouchable sensations and rendering her useless. It had always been Crystal. And although her head still swims and her mind runs rampant the thoughts are like never-ending sparklers, or ocean waves kissing bare feet, or looking up at a sky of fat, slow falling snowflakes. She feels full with Crystal’s hands mapping our her skin, loved with her praises whispered hot against her thighs. She feels everything so deeply and all at once that she doesn’t realize that she’s crying until Crystal stops abruptly, sliding up her body and running a hand though her hair.

            “Jesus,” Gigi’s voice is a watery giggle, and she covers her eyes with her hand. “It’s so stupid but I’m so fucking happy I can’t even see straight. It’s so good, Crys, you’re so good.”

            “Did you-do you need a second, or do you want to stop,”

            “No,” Both girls are taken aback by the tone of Gigi’s voice, certain and direct and much louder than she had been before. “Don’t stop.”

            “Look at me, Geeg. What do you need?”

            “I need you to fuck me.”

…

            The next morning brings golden light filtered through sheer curtains, waking Crystal up with a satisfied yawn. She stretches out in the warmth of it, washed over with the bliss of Gigi’s familiar scent lingering next to her-light and floral and home. The space next to her is empty, but she doesn’t worry. She can hear Gigi’s bare feet making paths through the kitchen, Tic Tac’s food being poured into the bowl, her sing-song voice absolutely babying the tabby. The door creaks open and she peers through, lips turning up in a cheek-to-cheek smile as their eyes meet.

            “Morning, sleepy.” She pushes the door open with her foot and Crystal’s heart is gone in an instant, floating into the space around them as she watches Gigi’s perfect, sleep-mussed form walk in. She’s thrown on a robe Crystal had completely forgotten she’d even had, let her long hair lay in a beautiful mess of fiery waves down her shoulders. She’s holding a tray with a purple box on it, walking over to the bed with a proud flourish.

“I know I said I’d take you out but leaving this bed would be a cruel form of punishment, so I got you this instead.”

Crystal eyes both Gigi and the box with piqued curiosity, which turns into a befuddled and incredibly charmed grin as she reads what’s inside.

            “Happy retirement Nancy?”

            “What?”

            “That’s what it says!” Crystal opens the box wider to reveal a beautifully decorated white cake with perfect lilac roses. She turns it over so the ginger can get a closer look. Gigi’s hand hits her forehead.

            “He must’ve picked up the wrong cake! I know it’s Saturday morning and everyone is really busy, but of course when I order something specific…” She trails off, her rant fading into widening eyes and nervously upturned lips. She puts the tray of cake on the bed and reaches under her pillow for her phone. She’s a sight to see, half-naked and muttering to herself incoherently.

            “I think I should call the bakery, maybe Nancy’s people haven’t picked up her cake yet.”

            “You think they’ll take yours instead? Imagine; you finally retire after years of hard work manning the front desk at a hospital or something and you get a cake that says ‘Happy Birthday Crystal.”

            Gigi’s voice is small.

            “That’s not what it said.”

            “What?”

            “That’s not what I had them write-oh god, I need to call them. They can make her a new one, it’s fine, but they can not give that cake to this woman at her retirement party. To work your whole life and then get a cake that says…”

            “Gigi, what did it say?”

            “Nothing. It said nothing.”

            “Geeg,”

            “Crystal Elizabeth, it was very early in the morning. I was feeling pretty sex drunk, and it was  a silly thing to write on a cake. Now that we have Nancy’s cake the world absolutely doesn’t need to know. That can be left to me and the cake artist I may or may not have tipped extra.”

            “Gigi!”

            “Shh, it’s fine. I’m going to make this phone call, then I’m going to take off this robe and eat cake with you in bed, okay? Just me, you, and Nancy’s old lady buttercream flowers.”

            “Well then go quick,” Crystal sits up further in bed, reaching her arms out. “We have a lot of time to make up for, and yesterday was my birthday, so…”

            She’s indulged with a long, adoring kiss before Gigi groans, dialing the number into her phone.

            “Hi, I just got my delivery? We had a little mix-up…” 

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Heya! It's me again, may I request a male matchup for Disney (except for Descendants), here's my newest version of my info Thank you so much!

𝗦𝗘𝗫𝗨𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬/𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗦: Biromantic Pansexual and Genderfluid; He/They (though I'm biologically woman irl)

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘: 21 years old, 5'1.5", Southeast Asian (Filipino). Chubby with messy shoulder length brunette hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a small beauty mark on my forehead. Feminine Tomboy or Soft Vintage (like Malia Tate's style from Teen Wolf) but loves to wear Korean makeup style

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬: Libra-Scorpio cusp, Slytherin with patronous spirit of Hummingbird, INFJ, my enneagram is 4w5 and Neutral Good. I may have a slight introverted tendencies and awkward/anxious nature, I describe myself as fiery, swears like a sailor, confident, jokester, and, passionate. Religious, super talkative, sometimes hyper (because of excitement), giggly (I always laugh/snort for stupid reasons), nerdy, also sweet and nice though I can be aloof, intimidating, and scary when I get so angry. I tend to become really fiesty, stands boldly on what I believe (claiming myself as a realist though some of my views doesn't makes sense), unbothered to be myself, stubborn, young-at-heart, clumsy unfortunate and inattentive. Would don't give af towards the people that I hate, sarcasam and savagery is my main language. But on the other side, I overthink a lot and cry over small things many times which I sound like a drama queen, and a perfectionist that provokes even more, yet recognizes a soft spot for dumb jokes, cheesy pickup lines and prefer people with a good sense of humour who see myself as equal. Chill in academics, but very competitive that manages to the top even for my dreams---I'm very dedicated on what I want for my life, and I display modesty and gracefulness towards some people that deserves respect. One notable feature about her is her multi-potentiality due to being naturally gifted in artistic fields (this includes singing).

𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦/𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗦: Arts, choir, poetry, karaoke, literature, history, makeup, beauty pageants, fun/deep/dumb conversations, expanding my knowledge in Christianity, documentaries (about saints), reading interesting stuffs, talking about social issues, and creative writing, chilling both indoors and outdoors

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦: Stereotyping, obligation (without a logical reason), getting excluded, being interrupted, invalidating my feelings, judgemental people, telenovelas, hypocrites, dirty bathrooms, blackout, lightning, firecrackers, toads, snakes, cockroaches, toxic masculinity, misogyny, fake woke individuals, colonial mentality, and absurdly girly things

𝗛𝗢𝗕𝗕𝗜𝗘𝗦: Drawing, singing, dancing when nobody's around (I'm very bad at it), sharing nerdy or opinionated thoughts, walking like a model (if I ever feel so confident), sleeping, listening to music (2000s, rock, kpop, and EDM), chatting or browsing on social media, watching videos on YouTube, making terrible jokes/puns, watching cartoons, writing, cooking, reading interesting things, and conceptualizing my artworks. I also used to study Italian language a bit

Hello dear 💖, thanks for your request.

For disney I ship you with:

Flynn Ryder⚔️

He would first meet you when you were heading on your way to repunzle.

He would be stealing the tiara when you were also an assassin trying to hide from the knights.

You bumped into him and you both ran while introducing yourselves.

Flynn was witty and sarcastic but he wasn't horrible.

He would joke with you and seem flirty.

You met rapunzel along with Flynn, you took her out of town to see the outside.

Rapunzle had feelings for Flynn but he felt more for you.

Flynn and you had your first kiss when he was in the boat with you.

Flynn protected you from the guards and mother gothel.

You were wounded but luckily rapunzle healed you.

Flynn and you wedded when everyone was saved. You both married and lived in the forest to which your child has his eyes and hair (and smolder).

Anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta ✨️

[slytherinslut0]

mattheo riddle | focus.

PAIRING: Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: you thought you were just going to have a peaceful night with your boyfriend, cuddling while watching the newest episode of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. you thought.

WORD COUNT: 4.1k. (i’m sorry?)

TAGS: 18+, SMUT MDNI, praise kink, some teasing, matty being an absolute dawg per usual, unable to keep those delicious hands to himself, maybe like the tiniest bit of degradation, fingering, multiple orgasm, PIV, doggy/prone-bone, um yeah the usual filth i provide.

DEDICATION: this was a little bday gift for my lovely friend @pizzaapeteer🤍 hope u had the best day bbygirl ilysm!

"Matt," you exhaled your boyfriends name, leisurely rubbing your tired eyes. "...any minute now, please."

A muffled yawn from inside the bathroom was the only outward sign of his acknowledgment before he appeared in the doorframe--like a vision materializing from a dream. Your groggy eyes clung to his shadow, watching as he lazily sauntered toward you--looking cozy, yet as exhausted as ever.

It’d been a busy day for you both, between his quidditch tournament finally drawing to a close and your ruthless potions exam--you’d found yourselves lacking routine, your schedules treacherously out of sync--because not only had you not seen each other since this morning, the way the day had started was frantic enough to send your mood into sours so intense it’d make a fucking lemon grimace.

There was no cuddles, no intimate shower time, and certainly no morning sex. The only bout of intimacy Mattheo was able to steal from you was a quick peck on the cheek before you scurried out the door, desperate to cram in as much studying as you could.

It was safe to say that by this point, the two of you were fucking spent, slightly annoyed, and most certainly, drained. And all you’d been thinking about--for the entirety of your day, was getting to snuggle, catch the latest episode of your favourite muggle/guilty-pleasure show, preceded by dozing off embraced within your boyfriend’s loving arms.

"Look, I love you and all, but can't we watch something else?" He was so utterly unenthused you'd think you were forcing him to watch paint dry, his expressions a mirror to his tone as he combed a hand through his hair. "Something that maybe won't give me a bloody headache."

Messy chocolate curls framing brooding brown eyes, grey sweatpants and a black hoodie was all that it took to make you rethink your plans for the evening. It was clear to you, almost immediately, that Mattheo wasn’t as deterred by the craziness of the day as you were. You could see that twinkle in his eye, that hunger barred behind cheeky grins and teasing words.

You rolled your eyes, biting your lip in attempt to quell your smirk. "Oh, come on, Mattheo," you teased, shifting on the comforter to make space for him beside you. "You know deep down you love the drama. That's practically your middle name."

"If I'm being completely honest," your boyfriend scoffed, settling into bed beside you. "I'd probably enjoy it more if we turned the volume off."

Your face flushed with warmth as Mattheo immediately drew you into him, one arm slipping under your head while the other coasted a light path up your thigh. A pair of lips pressed to your neck, wet and soft against your aching skin, igniting bliss to burn a scorching heat in your belly. Against your better judgement and instigated by a force well beyond your control, you sighed--exhausted lids fluttering shut as you revelled in the warmth his presence evoked within you.

It right was then, that you knew--as instinctual as breathing--that simply watching your show and going to bed wasn’t going to be enough for your boyfriend. Of course you wanted him--wanted him just as bad as he wanted you--but your exhaustion was prevailing, and therefore, so was your brattiness.

He was going to have to be patient. He was going to have to work for it.

So with a sharp inhale, and in an honest attempt to avoid the volcano of desire before it erupted irrevocably, you turned your back to him--seeking refuge from the imminent intoxication that came along with your boyfriend's perfect lips.

"Wow, Matty," you teased, "and here I was actually considering letting you be the little spoon for once..." you fixed your sight on the TV, fighting to ignore his touch on your hip. "Guess you'll just have to be the big spoon all night."

Mattheo's chuckle rumbled against your back as he tightened his embrace, his warmth enveloping you completely. His lips brushed against your ear, and you could practically hear the exhaustion in his tone, his voice as rough as gravel.

"That's not the punishment you thought it'd be, princess," he murmured, the cheeky grin on his lips practically audible, each syllable tickling the back of your neck as he spoke. "This just gives me something far more interesting to focus on than that dumb show of yours."

You couldn't stop yourself from tsking him, a giggle escaping your lips as you gently pulled his wandering fingers away from your backside, intertwining them with your own. This was one of the many things you adored about him—the way he couldn't seem to keep his hands off you whenever you were together.

"Nuh-uh, Mattheo Riddle--your focus is on the show," your attempt to scold him was warring with the need to keep your voice steady, playfully tilting your head back slightly to meet his gaze. "I know you're just dying to find out who said what behind whose back, aren't you?”

Mattheo huffed, an exhale of pure amusement. A certain intoxicating devilism that you knew all-too-damn-well twinkled in his honeyed irises as he caught your gaze, scorching heat over your skin.

"I'm dying for something, undoubtedly," his arm beneath your head curled inward, large palm finding a handful of your breast and kneading it. Before you could react, his lips graced your earlobe, and he drew it into his mouth, nibbling it, forcing an eminent whimper to flee your throat. "And it's not that."

Involuntarily, you groaned--a noise of pure restraint--your other hand moving up to tug his fervent fingers away from your chest. It took every ounce of your willpower to hold back a sigh of desperation as you mentally reminded yourself of your prior mantra.

Make him be patient. Make him work for it.

"Matty, quit being a brat," you muttered, playful scolding tracing your tone. You honestly couldn't believe you'd just said that. "We’ve both had such a long day…let’s just watch this and goto sleep, yeah?"

His response was a low, rumbling murmur, his voice thick with desire as he turned his head toward the television, his fingers still for the moment.

"You're so right, baby," he conceded, his breath warm against your neck. "I'm just watching the show. I don't even know what you're--"

"Mattheo," you interjected, a hint of warning in your tone, and he let out an exaggerated huff, falling silent. After a moment, you giggled at him. "Salazar help you."

Even without seeing his face, you could practically hear the cheeky grin on his perfect lips spreading from ear to goddamn ear. You were certain he was seeing right through you.

"Alright, alright, I'll behave," he said, though his voice betrayed him. There wasn't one ounce of sincerity in those devastatingly deep cords. "Would you just like, stop squirming, though? It's distracting."

You rolled your eyes. Gods, how you wanted to smack him while simultaneously kissing his perfect, annoying face. "Matt, I literally haven't moved."

Mattheo shrugged, his breathy chuckle washing over your neck, his eyes now fixed on the TV. As the two of you settled into stillness, you exhaled--his playful antics never failed to humour you, a reminder of the delightful chaos that came with dating this messy, yet undeniably wonderful boy. Sometimes, it truly felt like living in your own reality TV show, though you wouldn't have it any other way.

Nestled in his embrace, a sense of tranquility washed over you as you immersed yourself in the drama that this weeks episode had to offer. However, as the clock ticked on and the show progressed, you could feel Mattheo's restlessness grow stronger behind you.

His movements were subtle at first--a shift here, a slight adjustment there, but soon enough, his hands began to wander after breaking free from your hold, tracing delicate patterns along your skin. Despite your efforts to remain focused on the show, the sensation of his touch was relentless, subtle ministrations laced with clear intent that had you distracted from the TV without much effort.

"Mattheo," you whispered, trying to sound stern but failing as a soft sigh escaped your lips.

"Shh, princess," he cooed, voice so sweet it was sugar incarnate. "We're watching the show, aren't we?"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his teasing, but before you could protest further, his hand moved to roam along the curve of your waist, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Your breath caught in your throat, his touch igniting a familiar spark between you, threatening to engulf you both in a different kind of drama altogether--one that had absolutely nothing to do with the show on the television.

And you longed to utter something, anything--longed to form some semblance of coherent speech--but words would simply elude you as Mattheo's hand continued its eager exploration, mapping every inch of your curves as it started trailing its way from your hip down your thigh and back up, softly rolling his hips against your backside.

Somehow, throughout all this, you kept your eyes focused on the screen in front of you--hardly even daring to blink--though your mind was monopolized by the feeling of his calloused palm catching on the fabric of your leggings, the way his fingernails dug into your flesh as he gripped your hip, gripped your thigh, gripped your waist--anywhere his hungry hand could find purchase.

"I want you," his voice was a breath on your neck, his grip bruising your hip as he bucked into you. "So fucking bad."

You whined from lust, your vision fogged by need. His words sent heat straight to your cunt. "Matt..."

"I know, baby," his tongue drew a wet line up the side of your neck toward your ear, and he whispered into it. "Watch the show. Just let me take care of you.”

A lump formed in your throat, your mind so clouded with desire that forming a coherent response seemed impossible, your teeth clawing at your bottom lip to prevent any sounds from slipping out as his other hand moved to grope your chest, kneading your breast within his palm.

Your entire body was in flame, and the truth hung heavy in the air--of course, you wanted him just as desperately as he wanted you, and were more than willing to abandon the show and lose yourself in his touch--but it was frustrating, maddening even, how effortlessly he could disarm you, even while exhausted.

A mere whisper, a few tender touches, and you were putty in his hands, melting under his gaze. So much for making him work for it.

Mattheo hummed and bit the tender flesh between your neck and shoulder, sucking an angry, puckering red mark into it while he continued to grind against your ass, his throbbing desire jabbing you, seeking friction.

"Keep those eyes on the screen, baby." Gods, that bastard. That beautiful fucking bastard. Impossible to resist, completely useless to attempt to ignore. "Forget that I'm even here, yeah?"

A whimper escaped your lips, a tacit admission of how adeptly Mattheo had unraveled you, his touch igniting a starving fervour that coiled tight within you. He possessed an uncanny ability to unravel your defenses, leaving you malleable and pliant under his fingertips, consumed by an overwhelming need that pulsed with every beat of your heart.

"That's..." the words died on your tongue as he kissed your neck again--one hand moving to slip underneath your shirt and the other bruising your hip with his grip, pulling you closer against him. "...impossible."

"Oh, is it?" a pleased huff escaped him, his curls tickling the sensitive skin below your ear as he buried his face against it, teeth grazing your pulse. "Are you saying you can't multitask, baby? You want me to stop-"

"No," you cried out without hesitation as he finally glided up your stomach and slipped under your bra, thumb brushing against your nipple. "I...I can do both."

"Mhm, yeah you can," he purred, five slender digits slipping down to caress between your thighs, grazing over your mound and resting there for a moment, feeling your heat through your leggings. "You can do both because you're my good fucking girl, aren't you?"

His tone was intoxicating, the teasing and gentle praise melding together, creating a concoction brewed with the sole purpose of making your fucking head spin. Each word he uttered seemed to fan the flames of desire within you. Your teeth dug into your lower lip, wanting to plug as many noises as possible, his mouth moving from below your ear and slithering up to the line of your jaw.

Gathering yourself with a sharp inhale, you nodded. "Yes, Matty, I am..."

One hand shifted to your other breast and he groaned against your cheek, flooding your flesh with warmth as his fingers kneaded it, thumb twirling over the sensitive bud, erection grinding against you with another harsh snap of his hips.

"You are what, baby..." he muttered, burying his face back into the crook of your neck, his thick hair soft on your skin. "Wanna' hear you say it."

Another whimper escaped you, loud and shameless as his hand between your thighs shifted slightly, pressing against your clit for a moment before releasing pressure. You knew what he was after. You knew he wasn't going to give you what you wanted until he got it.

"I'm..." you choked on your breath, forcing the rest of the words past your teeth. "I'm your good girl, Matty."

Your arousal surged to dizzying heights, eclipsing any awareness of the television's presence in the room. Your focus had been hijacked, seized by the insatiable force of the hungry heathen at your back.

"Yeah, that's right, baby," Mattheos fingers sprung to action again, dragging the pads of his pointer and middle tantalizingly slow along your slit, teasing you through your leggings, your back arching instinctively as you fought the urge to grind against his touch. "Say it again for me."

You growled in frustration, feeling the heat blaze over your skin as his breath ghosted over your neck. Inhaling sharply, you fought to gather whatever shreds of sanity remained within you.

"Your good fucking girl, Matty," you declared, the words dripping with equal parts hunger and desperation. "All yours. Only yours."

Mattheo's response was a low, guttural growl of approval, his grip tightening possessively as he pulled you closer against him. His teeth dug into your shoulder as he finally sprung into action, hand on a hunt, tracking up to find the band of your leggings and slipping beneath it.

"That's fucking right," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "All mine.”

Without wasting another second he slid two digits along your slit, pulling apart your slick folds and dragging the rough pads of his fingers over your clit--maddeningly slow. His grip on your breast tightened, breath leaving his lungs in shallow grunts as fervour engulfed him--engulfed you, engulfed the room and set it in flame.

"All yours." you whimpered, nodding.

"My good fucking girl, always so wet for me--so eager, hm?" Your moans filled the room as he took those two thick fingers and slid them into your cunt, the feel of your walls stretching around him igniting a quiet groan from his throat. "All day without this pussy and you really expect me to be able to keep my fucking hands off you? You're all I've been thinking about..."

Then, his thumb was on your clit while he curled his digits inside of you, stroking that sweet spot of raised flesh, your trembling hands flailing to find his arms, fingers digging into his skin, grounding you as though he was your lifeline, your anchor in the rough sea of pleasure he was providing.

"Gods, Matty." Your lids were squeezed tight, lips pinched together, rubbing your head against his as the heat from his mouth grew sweat on your neck. "You're all I--ah--all I think about too..."

Mattheo groaned again, working fast, building the pressure inside of you in record speed, warm heat rushing out over your skin. Your walls throbbed around him, heart a rabid animal barred beneath your sternum, and he added a third digit, pinching your nipple with his other hand--sending stars shooting behind your lids.

"My good girl isn't focusing on the show, is she?" His voice was the tantalizing depth of a black hole, sucking you into his orbit. You forced your eyes open. "You wanna' cum you better start focusing, princess."

Your brain was short circuiting--your mind fogged by a desire so intense it eclipsed any awareness of the television before you. Though your eyes registered its presence in the room, its glow seemed distant and hazy, as if it existed in separate realm from the searing heat encompassing you. You glimpsed it, focused on it, but your brain couldn't quite grasp its purpose as the only thing that held any significance in your consciousness was the sensation of your boyfriend's fingers, relentlessly driving you closer and closer to the edge of euphoria.

"That's better." He hummed, lips pecking at your cheek. "So good for me," his fingers scissored inside you, thumb increasing its pace on your clit. "So, so good."

Your ears rang, your sight blurring. You were so fucking close. "Matty, fuck—I'm gonna-"

Your boyfriend groaned. "Cum for me, baby."

Without needing any further instruction, the coil of pressure inside of you burst, exploding through your skin and enveloping you in a hot, convulsing warmth--you were crying out, cumming hard around him, your walls clamping down on his fingers, pulling him into your body as you pulsed and throbbed with pleasure. You thought you'd kept your eyes open, though you couldn't entirely be sure as your sight blanked, your consciousness consumed by a days worth of pent up sexual energy.

As Mattheo slowly withdrew his hand from beneath your leggings and distanced himself slightly, his voice carried a palpable strain. "Turn over, facing the TV."

Confusion flickered across your features as you blinked, glancing over your shoulder at him. "What?"

"Face the TV, on your stomach," he repeated, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of desperation. "Please."

You watched as he palmed his throbbing, angry erection through the fabric of his grey sweats, and every single nerve ending in your body roared to life again. Still buzzing with the remnants of your climax, you quickly moved, shifting onto your stomach and facing the TV like he asked, unable to shake the boiling anticipation churning within your core.

You could feel Mattheo's dark eyes boring holes into your flesh, searing the seams of your skin as he shifted up onto his knees and moved between your legs behind you. Two strong hands gripped your thighs, and you tried to peer at him over your shoulder before he tsked you playfully.

"Focus on the screen, baby." There’s that sweet voice again. Sweet like honey oozing off his lips. “Be good.”

Your boyfriend was methodical, moving without urgency even though you knew that he was more than vibrating with it. Leaning down, he pressed soft kisses along the back of your thighs, slowly journeying upward, tracing a path to the curve of your ass cheek where he playfully sank his teeth into the plump flesh, eliciting a shudder that rippled through your body.

You suppressed a moan, the sound caught in your throat as his hands found purchase, kneading and groping the sensitive flesh between his digits.

“Matty..."

A low hum of satisfaction reverberated against your skin as he continued his exploration, his fingers deftly hooking around the band of your leggings and underwear. With a teasing tug, he began to pull them down your thighs, revealing the fresh expanse of your skin inch by tantalizing inch.

"Shh," he cooed. “Beautiful girl.”

The breath in your chest was a rapid circle, your entire body trembling with desperation. The moment your pants were off, you felt Mattheo's hands shifting to his own, a soft groan escaping him as he freed himself from the confining material. Without hesitation, he loomed over you, his presence dominating as he leaned forward to snake a hand around your throat, forcing your head in place, facing the TV as he aligned himself with your centre.

"Since you're having trouble focusing, I'll help you," his fingers wrapped around your jaw, his breath hot on your ear. "My good fuckin' girl."

A cyclone was roaring in your brain, tearing apart coherent trains of thought with primitive, physical clamoring. You felt him glide the head of his cock between your thighs, slicking himself in the wetness he'd caused, teasing you with false thrusts before he finally pushed in, spearing you open with one long, deep, slow thrust.

"Fuck." His breath was a hidden hiss through his teeth as you groaned, walls clenching around his cock. "Been waiting all day for this, baby. Fuckin’ tight little pussy."

His grip intensified on your jaw, his breath washing warm over your ear as he pulled out slowly and slammed back in. You couldn't think, couldn't speak--brain already cock-drunk, inebriated by lust.

"Matty," you gasped, gripping the wrist to the hand holding your head in place. "Fuck."

"Mhm, that's right," his voice was shattered, his tone strained against his throat. Each thrust was deeper, harder, faster than the last one, his curls tickling your cheek as he nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck--warm, wet lips pressing against your pulse. "So fucking tight. Fuck, I missed this--fuckin’ missed you."

You whimpered, struggling with every ounce of your existence to keep your eyes open, to remain focused on the glowing box infront of you--but you weren't even sure if Mattheo cared much about that anymore. Even without seeing his face you knew he was above you, looking down--teeth barred, jaw tensed and pupils blown wide with lust.

You knew he was just as gone as you were.

"Fuck," Mattheo snarled, fucking deeper, his hips smacking against your ass with every angry thrust, drowning out the sounds of the show. His hand moved under your belly, reaching for your clit and quickly connecting with it, causing you to writhe and spasm against his hold. "How's that feel, princess."

Little choked moans left you while your jaw hung slack, his cock pounding into you--then his fingers hit just the right spot, and the massive, asphyxiating pressure inside of you bordered on the very edge of exploding.

"Fuck," you replied, as though it was the only word that you seemed capable of reliably saying. "Fuck—good, Matty...so good..."

"That's right," he muttered. "You're so beautiful like this, so fucking perfect." He held you fast, pounding your cunt, catching groans in his throat. "You have no idea what you do to me."

You groaned. His words alone were enough to make your head spin. "Fuck—"

Delirium ascended into ecstasy, pleasure amplified by the stretch of his dick fucking you deep. His weight pinned you to the mattress, his hand holding your head firm as he growled in your ear with each harsh thrust, pent up sexual tension pouring off of him and threatening to drown you beneath it.

"Mhm. Little slut. Dumbed out on my cock." A low moan left you, the heat and friction and feverish thrusts sending your sanity to space. His fingers circled your clit faster, and you tweaked, eyes rolling. "Poor thing couldn't even focus on the screen if she tried, could she?"

"No—fuck, I can't." Bliss burned to burst, stars swarmed your sight entirely, and you knew it, knew it was happening, knew that you were about to break. "I—I wanna' cum for you, Matty...please..."

"Go ahead, princess." He cooed. "Cum for me."

You clamped down on his swollen length, your orgasm cleaving you in half as you shook with euphoria, heat and pleasure tearing all the way to your fingertips and toes. Mattheo keened, grip on your jaw turning almost painfully tight as he groaned and drove into you with a final thrust, cum spilling into you, hips snapping while he convulsed with the tremors of his falling climax.

The room was spinning, your bodies stuck with sweat, every breath of air too hot, too thick with sex. Your boyfriend's face was still nestled into your neck, and, exhausted too, you let your head be entirely supported by his hand, exhaling a long, trembling breath.

After a moment, Mattheo rolled off and slumped down onto the mattress beside you, grinning. “Good thing we can just rewind, hm?”

You grinned, letting out a breathy laugh as he pulled you into his chest. “You’re something else, Mr. Riddle.”

[samspenandsword]

1. Idk how I missed your follow celebration but i hope not too late!! It’s the 29th where I am! First of all congratulations on the follow count! Second can I please request a ship request and a bestie request? I’m bisexual so either gender is fine! Here we go:

2. I go by she/her and am 20 so I don’t mind some nsfw!

3. Appearance:

As for looks, I’m 5’1, average build, tanned olive type skin, dark brown eyes, full lips, dark brown shoulder length wavy/kinda curly hair with curtain bangs. I also wear glasses with a slight cat eye to them.

4. Personality:

For personality I’m creative, introverted, and individualistic. Though I’m introverted, around my friends I can be quite talkative, humorous and outgoing. However I definitely treasure my alone time the most.

5. Hobbies/Interests:

As for hobbies escaping to new worlds while reading books/comics, watching movies, and playing rpg video games. My favorite genres are fantasy and sci-fi, though I do love a good classic from time to time. Apart from that, I love working out.

My interests on the other hand are art focused. I’m currently in art school working with both digital and traditional mediums. I love my practice and everything from interaction design and digital illustration to graphite drawings and inking.

6. Likes/dislikes:

Likes: coffee, chai tea, dark chocolate, rock/blues/jazz/ music, cafe art shows, arcades, comic book stores, purple, thai/Indian/Chinese food, roller blading to classic rock with the wind in my hair, quality alone time

Dislikes: people i am unfamiliar with and have to make small talk with, the biting cold, rain, non fiction, staying too close to reality and not being allowed to daydream/imagine/roam freely in my thoughts, physical touch, overly crowded areas

Random stuff

My favorite planet is Dathomir. Don’t ask why but I love the aesthetic and the witchy spookiness. Also maul and ventress yes pls. Idk if I’d want to live there but the vibes are immaculate.

If I had to live on a planet tho it’d prolly be Naboo, Alderaan or coruscant (pre empire ofc)

Thank you and congrats once again!

Hey there!! You're absolutely fine, your request was before the deadline (I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this out I'm such a flake oml lol). Thank you so much for participating, and I hope the week has been treating you well so far!

Sam's Pen and Sword Follower Celebration (Closed)

Danzalladagger's Follower Celebration Request

Ship request 👄

Okay, okay, okay, okay, listen. The sequel trilogy I know is pretty polarizing, especially here on Tumblr (I don't write for them most of the time), but you and Rey would be so CUTE!!! She sees your art and she literally had no idea that something could be so beautiful. You get a bit bashful because it's just a rough sketch and the dimensions are all off and tbh it was really just a warmup but Rey falls in love with it and it warms your heart so much you give it to her. She scrimps and saves money to get it properly matted and framed and she just adores it. Also, pls get this girl some healthy emotional relationships she would just flourish on Naboo. The water!! The greenery!! It's warm enough for you both but it's not a desert! HUGE plus. The war ends and Rey just wants to come home with you, to a peaceful place where she doesn't feel weighed down by her past and her powers and her responsibility. She wants a place where her friends came come and go and enjoy being there. She loves that her friends can become your friends. But the both of you also get overwhelmed with too much social interaction, and quiet nights in together, ones where Rey sits and tinkers with some mechanical bits and bobs. Ones where you've ordered takeout and you're sitting working on a new piece of art or reading Space-Dracula with Space-Ella Fitzgerald playing quietly in the background. Peaceful nights. A peaceful life. It's everything Rey didn't realize she wanted until you came along.

"It wasn't that bad." You were a bit pale in the face. For all your interests and talents, a pilot you were not. Your beautiful, powerful, pure partner, however, was a pilot of extreme skill. But every time she flew it was like she was in battle, and the ride had gotten a bit rocky there. You'd think you'd be used to it by now. "Rey, my love, you fly like Poe was on your ass." "Poe could only hope to keep up with me." You giggled a little. Poe was also a fantastic pilot, and he and Rey had had a few "friendly" competitions to see which one was better. And every single time, they asked you and Finn to judge. And every single time, you and Finn stayed the fuck out of it and were happy to let your partners be competitive little flyboys. You and Finn were quite happy to gallivant off towards a coffee shop with pastries and laugh at their antics. "Good thing he's not here to hear that," you said. "He'd be squaring up right now." "Again, he could only hope to keep up with me." You laughed again, with a fond little roll of your eyes, and reached up to kiss her cheek. "Come on, Reybird, home's awaiting." Rey smiled, that beautiful, radiant smile of hers. The one that made your cheeks warm and stomach flutter. The one that had stolen your heart. The one that you did not want to go a single day without seeing. And it felt like you were already home.

Bestie request 😎

I came this 🤏 close to putting Sabine Wren down as your ship request, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought you two would be better suited as besties. (Also I hope you're okay with me putting down a Rebels character 😊). You two would bond so easily over art. Sabine is also well-known for her individuality, creativity, independence, and introversion. Sure, she loves being with her friends and family, but sometimes Sabine just needs some goddamn alone time. And you just have to do, "same lol." I think Sabine and you would also love meeting up at your favorite (space) Thai joints cause you two can handle spice and no one else on the Ghost Crew can lol. You and Sabine would also love working out together, giving each other shit for being out of shape lol, griping and being dramatic about how tired you are.

You could hear the gentle hiss of Sabine's paint gun somewhere around the corner from you. You wondered if she was leaving behind her trademark starbird or if she was leaving something a little more detailed. The longer the paint gun went, you knew she was painting something a bit bigger than her signature symbol. Your own piece was coming along nicely. A smirk curled at your lips as the details and colors came together, a mural of pure beauty materializing and giving the drab slate durasteel wall a bit more character. Your didn't use a paint gun yourself, only for linework. You preferred a classic brush to blend and apply the colors of your work. Even if it took a bit longer. You weren't worried. You and Sabine had yet to be caught. A few more flicks of your brush brought the piece together. And with a quick arc of some black paint with your gun, the piece was done. "Nice." Sabine had finished her own work and was now sniggering at your mural. You smirked over your shoulder at her. Your mural was a wonderful rendition of one Grand Admiral Thrawn being strangled by that chimaera he seemed so fond of. You were quite proud of it. "Thanks." You slapped up a stencil and sprayed with your gun, leaving your own symbol to sign your work. "What's yours?" Sabine's was as comical and poignant as your own. It featured a figure cloaked in black, a figure you recognized as The Emperor, with a lightsaber through his ass. You sighed a little dramatically. Oh, if only. "Come on, I've still got some ideas to get out that will get me grounded if Kanan or Hera sees." Sabine flourished her paint gun. You barked a laugh. "Then I want to see it!" Sabine grinned, and as the two of you darted through the city to find your next displays, you left behind nothing but fresh paint and the knowledge that rebels had been there. Rebels were everywhere.

[sunflowershouto]

if they thought you liked the other twin (osamu, atsumu)

𝐚/𝐧: i was suddenly struck by inspo for the miya twins so here's this -leo

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: pining fluff, friends to lovers, light angst with a happy ending

my haikyuu masterlist

𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔

✰ Atsumu is so whipped for you.

✰ He enjoys the attention he gets for being a star player, and even the fangirls help to feed his ego sometimes, but he didn't care about any of them. Not like he cares about you.

✰ They don't really know him, so what's the point?

✰ You're different to him, though. You didn't care about the fans or the TV interviews, or any of the usual things that people noticed about him.

✰ You got to know him, and it made him want to get to know you back, and somewhere along the way, Atsumu fell in love.

✰ The only problem was Osamu.

✰ Well, maybe that wasn't the best way to put it. It wasn't like Osamu was doing anything wrong, but it was hard for Tsumu not to notice how much time you'd been spending with his brother.

✰ You'd come up to Osamu after practices and whisper something to him, and he'd nod, and Atsumu would have to watch as the two of you disappeared off somewhere that he wasn't invited.

✰ It killed him inside a little, since he'd always thought that he was closer to you than Samu was; if you had feelings for Osamu, then why hadn't you told him?

✰ He tried not to be a dick about it; he would whine a little whenever you and Osamu would disappear after practices, but what he was showing was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to how deeply he was hurting at the thought of you falling in love with his brother.

✰ It was after another practice, and there you were on the sidelines with that stupid freakin' beautiful smile that he loved so much. He was standing by Osamu as they packed their duffel bags back up, and he tried to ignore the pang in his chest as you jogged up, surely going to drag Samu away again.

"Atsumu!" you called. "Could we- Uh... Could we talk?"

That was a surprise.

He glanced to Osamu, who gave him a small nod before shouldering his bag and walking off the court without another glance. He couldn't even be nervous about whatever it was you wanted to talk about; he was just glad that he was finally the one that you were speaking to. "Sure thing, darlin'," he replied, picking up his bag and following you to a more private area.

"Okay, uh- Here goes: There's something I've been needing to tell you for a while, and-"

"Ah see..." Atsumu sighed, all of that hurt hitting him again like a ton of bricks. This was where you finally did it right? This was where you'd tell him that you and Osamu were together, this was where you'd finally rip his heart out.

"You... do?"

"Yeah." He tried not to sound bitter, but he found it seeping through anyway, a harshness weighing down on his inflection. "You and 'Samu are goin' out, right? Figured that out for m'self a while ago, darlin'. Ya don't gotta tell me."

"Wha-" You stared at him in bewilderment as the pieces click into place, and you realized what he'd been thinking all this time. You couldn't help it, and burst out into laughter, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth.

"What's so funny?" he asked, puffing his chest out slightly and crossing his arms. He'd spent so much effort trying his best not to lose his shit over the idea of you in love with Osamu, the least you could do was not laugh in his face.

"Atsumu, I am not dating your brother. In any way. I've never even thought about it. I asked you to talk because, well..."

"Oh. Oh m' God." And finally he got it.

"I really like you, y'know? And I was wondering if you'd want to go out sometime? Like, on a date? Osamu actually helped me make all the plans." You were far less nervous now, in part because of Atsumu's misunderstanding, but mostly because of the huge, goofy smile that spread across his face.

"So... I'm guessing you're on board?"

"Oh, sweetheart, you've got no idea," he chuckles, pulling you into a tight hug and kissing the top of your head. "Ya scared the hell outta me, y'know."

𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

✰ Osamu's feelings for you snuck up on him.

✰ He'd always been drawn to you, but he didn't think it was any different than anyone else. You were a cool person, and he liked that you saw him for him, and not as part of a matched set.

✰ He loves his brother, but can he be blamed for wanting some things to himself?

✰ He's not annoyed per-se when you start getting close with Atsumu—what he feels isn't harsh. It's more like a balloon deflating through a tiny outlet as he feels his importance to you slowly being overtaken by your friendship with Atsumu.

✰ He can't figure out why it bothers him so damn much when he sees you joking around with his twin, or even just cheering for him at matches.

✰ He doesn't place the feeling as jealousy until he's stuck at home, flicking through channels on TV until he lands on some crappy romance movie. He watches the two main characters play off of each other, and he can't help but realize that one of the leads reminds him of you.

✰ And then he pictures Atsumu across from you, and that awful feeling comes back to him, burning a hole in his chest.

✰ Strangely, it's not so bad once he knows what it is that he's feeling, because at least he can start to deal with it.

✰ Nonetheless, he's a little worried about you. Osamu can read his brother pretty well—well enough to know whether or not he has feelings for someone. Honestly, he'd never thought that Tsumu seemed interested in you.

✰ Valentine's day was tomorrow and Samu had been unfortunate enough to overhear a conversation between you and a friend.

"You're going to bring him chocolates?" Yua whispered to you, her eyes shining.

"Mhm! I think he'll really like them too! I'm gonna go home tonight and work on decorations for the box." You had no idea Osamu was listening, and if you did, you would have probably died on the spot.

"I think he'll say yes," she replied thoughtfully. "Some of the girls have been upset lately; they say that Miya-san really likes you."

Osamu wished in that moment that the earth beneath his feet would open up and swallow him whole. Had he been wrong? Did Atsumu feel the same way that you did? And worse, had a selfish part of him been hoping that you'd be rejected?

His jaw tightened and he turned away, careful not to draw your attention as he slipped off in the other direction.

He considered faking a cold the next day, but that was childish, wasn't it? He dragged himself out of bed and got to school, dreading lunch period, when he knew everything would finally come crashing down around him.

The bell rang for lunch, and he packed his things quickly, not wanting to be there to watch you confess to his brother.

Imagine his surprise when he felt a tug on his sleeve just as he reached the doorway, and turned to see you standing there in front of him.

"'Samu? Could we go somewhere a little more private?" you asked, tensing up slightly the way that you always did when you were nervous.

"Er... Yeah."

What? This wasn't at all what he'd thought would happen, and his head was swimming as he followed you to the library, staring at the brown paper bag that you clutched to your chest.

You ended up behind one of the taller shelves in the back, and Osamu's hands were twitching in his pockets as he stared down at you.

Time was moving agonizingly slowly as you opened the paper bag and withdrew a brightly colored, heart-shaped box.

OSAMU was written across the front in careful lettering, and the world stopped around him.

"Samu, I-"

"I'm in love with you," he breathed out, hands moving from his pockets as he stepped forward to place his hands on the sides of your face, closing the distance between the two of you in one fell swoop.

Before you could answer, his lips were on yours, and your heart was bursting.

He was grinning when he pulled away, eyes gleaming with adoration as he took in your smile.

"I love you too, you big dork. I... was not expecting this to go so smoothly," you admitted, reaching up a hand to brush back a lock of his hair.

He's beaming when he says, "Honey, you've got no clue just how long Ah've been wantin' to do that."

[missgeniality]

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite​ 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest. 

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities​, @kithtaehyung​ and @baepsaetan​, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse. 

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’. 

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step. 

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir. 

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!” 

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells. 

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy. 

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink. 

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’” 

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you. 

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend. 

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses. 

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting. 

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed. 

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it. 

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame. 

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.” 

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest. 

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours. 

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls. 

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold. 

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm. 

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance. 

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.” 

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist. 

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in. 

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole. 

“Fuck me.” 

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings. 

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat. 

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no. 

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do. 

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide. 

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

 Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” 

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!” 

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!” 

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke. 

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting. 

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago. 

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not. 

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down. 

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges. 

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance. 

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream. 

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites. 

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major. 

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency. 

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless. 

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?” 

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act. 

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!” 

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day. 

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage. 

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home. 

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities. 

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man. 

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation.  He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one. 

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.” 

“Hey!” 

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self. 

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath. 

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact. 

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church. 

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out. 

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief. 

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream. 

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding. 

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out. 

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne. 

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon. 

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself. 

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin. 

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires. 

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side. 

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.  

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim. 

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain. 

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information. 

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!” 

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them. 

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck.  Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes. 

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.” 

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands. 

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.” 

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different. 

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you. 

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree. 

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can. 

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released. 

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself. 

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well. 

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat. 

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling.  You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat. 

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-” 

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say. 

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more. 

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again. 

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this. 

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long. 

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface. 

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment. 

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock. 

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back. 

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him. 

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right. 

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately. 

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release. 

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high. 

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you.  An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use. 

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him. 

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want. 

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago. 

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛:  @little7bitchh​, @afangirllikeme-blog​, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead​

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

[disasterofastory]

Disaster of the season Part 2 (Colin B. x Reader)

Disaster of the season Part 2 /Final Colin Birdgerton x Reader Warnings: none

Four times when you embarrass yourself in front of the ton and one time when Colin decides you are the one for him.

III.

Despite your promise to not show yourself again in this season, you find yourself at a Ball in a new, pastel-colored dress. After your last disaster, your mother had to console your sorrow for days to make you leave the bed, and in the end, they had to call over Eloise to chase you out of your room.

The only reason you come is Prince Friedrich.  Of course, not because you want something from the young Prince, but because if he is here, no one will talk about you.

People look at your way as you walk in beside your parents, but they don’t give you more attention.

“You see?” Your mother asks you with a victorious smile. “I told you.”

“Great, mother,” you sigh at her childish behavior but can’t help and smile at her.

“Go and have fun.”

You gulp at the thought. Oh, yeah. Fun. Because you've had so much fun in this season already.

You grab a glass of juice to busy yourself with something while you walk around the ballroom.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Colin says your name to grab your attention from your thoughts.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you smile at the young man stopping in front of you.

“How are you?” He asks. “When I didn’t see you, I was worried you got sick.”

“I’m fine,” you reassure him. “I just needed a push to leave the house.”

“And the push was my sister, I assume?”

“Who else?”

“I’m glad she was successful. She is here somewhere with Penelope.”

“I will find them eventually,” you answer with a nod. You are sure you will hear the brown-haired girl's dissatisfaction soon enough. 

“Would you like to join me for a walk until then?” Colin asks you, offering his arm.

“Thank you,” you smile at him gratefully, accepting his gesture.

The night goes uneventfully. You don’t fall out of the window or bleed out in front of everyone. It’s a success.

Until now.

You can see Cressida’s swoon from the front row. Everybody gasps worriedly around you as the young woman falls into the Prince’s arms. Soon you can hear Daphne’s voice behind you, then it happens. She giggles at the girl’s obviousness, and you can’t help but laugh too.

Loudly. Clearly.

You gasp at your own reaction, trying to hide your uncontrollable giggles, which burst out of you in waves. People start to glance at you, confused.

“Go out,” Daphne whispers to you, seeing your problem. She tries to suppress her own giggles with better success than you.

Colin grabs your arm gently, pulling you out of the crowd. Tears burn your eyes as you start to cry from laughter. You can feel Cressida’s burning glare at the nape of your neck when your eyes meet with the Prince’s before you get lost among the people with Colin on your heels.

The smaller room with huge paintings is empty and calm. The tons' chatting gets quiet as Colin shuts the door, and you let out the laugh you tried to hide from everybody.

He smiles at your uncontrollable cheerfulness, watching you laughing to your heart content.

“I can’t go anywhere with you,” he says jokingly when you start to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” you chuckle, pulling down your gloves to wipe off your tears and the ruined mascara.

“Wait, let me…” He steps in front of you without a second thought. His touch is warm on your heated skin as he makes sure you are presentable again.

He still has some boyish features despite his age. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him, stepping back before somebody catches you.

“We should go back,” he says. “Go first, I’m sure Eloise has things to say.”

He looks after you as you smooth down your dress and adjust your hair. You still try to suppress your grin as you wave at him as a goodbye, disappearing behind the door. A small smile is constant on his face, looking around the empty room, watching but not really seeing the paintings on the dark painted walls.

A life with you would be adventurous and fun.

IV.

The weeks go by, and the ton slowly forgets your mistakes. Visitors come to your house with flowers and small presents to woo you with poetry and promises.

And you hate it.

Neither of them is the one you want. A few of them seem worthy and kind, while the others are just boring and too pompous. At the end of the day, your face hurts from the forced smiles, but your younger siblings enjoy immensely the chocolates and other sweets you get. Your father seems dissatisfied with your suitors, and he doesn’t waste time to let them know behind his usual polite demeanor.

“You will find the one, I’m sure of it,” he says to you comfortingly.

But that is the problem. You found him years ago.

With a sigh, you nod to reassure him, patting his hand on your knee.

Your jealousy for Daphne seems ridiculous now. Of course, for the ton, it's good that you have so many suitors, but for you, it just gets boring and tiring. The Bridgerton girl refused the Prince of Prussia to marry with the Duke while you sit in the drawing-room for days with men who don’t interest you in the slightest.

You get out of the carriage with your mother behind you in front of the Bridgertons’ imposing house. The wisterias bloom above the freshly cleaned windows, and bees buzz around from flowers to flowers as you walk to the entrance. The butler greets you with a polite smile and escorts you to the drawing-room where the Bridgerton women are already occupied with Lady Danbury.

They welcome you with joy as your mother joins them for a cup of tea while Eloise pulls you over to the loveseat to tell you everything about Lady Whistledown. The young girl seems enthusiastic and too obsessed with the mysterious woman. You smile and listen to her words with nods and hums as you steal a small piece of chocolate from the box on her lap.

"I still can't believe that you accused Mrs. Wilson,” you laugh, and Eloise hits your arm as an answer, but before she can continue with her theories, Colin and Anthony appear in the room with a respectful bow to their mother’s company and cheeky smiles to your way.

“Lady Whistledown?” Anthony asks with a tired sigh, sitting down on the sofa next to his sister.

“Who else?” Colin answers before you, sitting down next to you with a cookie in his mouth. His eyes shine as your gazes meet for a moment while Eloise begins her monologue about women and their derogatory role in society.

“But you will debut in the next season, won't you?” You ask her.

“If it’s up to me, then no,” she answers stubbornly.

“If it comforts you, I will be there too,” you sigh tiredly, leaning back on the backrest. You grab the pillow behind you to hug it on your lap.

“You don’t have suitors?” Colin asks, surprised, turning to you more in his seat.

“I have,” you reply. “They are just…” you grimace with a shrug instead of ending the sentence.

“They are not worthy enough?” Anthony asks, knowing the feeling. After Daphne, he knows the feeling well enough.

“You can say that,” you nod.

“I’m sure you will find somebody,” he reassures you with a gentle smile.

What you don’t see is the cheeky smile he sends to his little brother’s way. The boy’s face gets hot from his brother’s unwanted attention.

“Come on, my daughter,” your mother says out of the blue. “We still have to see the modiste.”

“Have fun,” Eloise says, and you hit her arm softly for her mockery.

What you don't notice is the little teacup between her fingers that falls out of her hand because of your playful slap. Eloise gasps, trying to grab the porcelain, but it's too late. The pleasantly warm tea pours onto your thigh, soaking your dress.

Colin looks at the ruined dress, then up to your mortified expression. His chest starts to hurt seeing your series of bad luck. You really need somebody who can protect you before a piano falls on you from nowhere.

“Poor girl,” Lady Danbury sighs, seeing the tea-stained dress. “It’s definitely not your season.”

V.

The dress you choose for the ball is light-colored with darker lace decorations. The white gloves on your arms are long enough to reach your elbows, and your hair tied up in curly locks with a silky ribbon.

You suppress the disappointment because of the season and your misfortune with love so you can enjoy the last ball of the season. You didn’t see Daphne since the Cressida swooning fiasco, and you hope you can have a few words with her before they go back to Clyvedon.

The garden they decorated for the ball is elegant and flowery.  Large chandeliers hang over the dancefloor, and the painting about the married couple attracts the eyes of the guests.

You stand at the edge of the black and white floor, watching the dancing couples. The music is loud but pleasant, and the chats around you mix with the songs. Your gaze wanders to Daphne, and despite that, she is beautiful as always something seems off with her. The young girl’s face is almost sad as she looks over at her husband.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Colin greets you with a small smile and a bow. “Can I have this dance?” He asks, offering his hand to you.

“It would be my pleasure,” you answer, accepting his proposal.

He leads you to the dancefloor when the orchestra starts to play a new song. His touch is warm on your waist, and his grip is gentle on your hand as you begin to move with him.

“How are you?” He asks you quietly.

“Well, I didn’t do anything horrible yet,” you reply and smile at him when he starts to laugh.

“Then I guess I have to look out for you,” he hums.

“I think I’m too helpless for that,” you sigh, playing with him.

The few minutes you spend in Colin’s arms are amazing. You even forget every disastrous thing that happened to you during the season. Of course, you didn’t find the love you wanted, but you still have time.

“Oh, god,” Colin says suddenly, looking up at the gloomy sky.

Raindrops fall on your shoulder, soaking your hair and dress. You follow the Bridgerton boy’s eyes up to the clouds until you feel him pull you out of the rain. You let him lead you, trying to step over a fresh puddle on the polished floor.

Without success.

The floor slips out under your legs, but your hands are still in Colin’s grip. A small shriek leaves your mouth as you fall on your knees, yanking the boy with you to the floor. He falls on his bottom with a grunt, and you can’t help yourself but laugh at his surprised face. He looks over at you, standing up in his wet clothes to help you up.

Your dress is darker than before, and your wet locks are stuck to your temple and neck.

“I can’t believe this,” he says when you are protected from the rain.

From the corner of your eyes, you can see Daphne laughing on the dance floor with Simon not far from her, but your focus is on the man in front of you.

“I’m so sorry,” you say to him. Your voice is joyful and remorseful at the same time.

Colin stares at you for what feels like long minutes. His face seems content and happy, and you can’t look away despite everyone else watches Daphne and Simon.

“Marry me,” he says after a while. He is so quiet you barely hear his words, and when you do, you can’t believe your ears.

“What?” You gasp.

“I want you to be my wife,” he says more loudly. “I can make you happy and… safe,” His last word is cheeky, but he is still serious as he searches your face for an answer. “I know you for years, and I know our life would be everything but boring and unhappy.”

He watches your soaked form, your smeared mascara, and your messy hair, and his chest tightens. Or just his feelings get bigger. He can’t decide. The only thing he knows is the desire in him to be with you all the time.

“So what do you say? Will you marry me?” He urges you for an answer breathlessly.

“Yes. A million times, yes.”