#I’ll add em to my collection

[paper-starz]

oh boy I’m a little bit late but HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAY!! 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

OH THATS OK THANK YOU THO FOR THE BIRTHDAY WISHES!!!!

:

OH WOWIE SO MANY HEARTS!!

[tonycries]

A Picture Lasts Long (But Not As Long As That D*ck)

Synopsis. Smile for the camera - as best you can when you’re being absolutely wrecked in all sorts of ways underneath them anyway!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Choso x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Geto x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exhibitionism (Toji’s), mutual másturbation, phone séx, créampie, oral (female + male receiving), vibrators, bóudoir, manhandling, marking, Gojo is a menace, fíngering, dp, face-sitting, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 3.8k

A/N. Was gonna add Sukuna but I feel like he’d hate modern technology.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - The internet sensation

“Whaddaya say, you horny fuckers? Think she deserves to cum?”

Now, Toji Fushiguro is always one for extra cash. Who wasn’t, really? So when you approached him with a devious idea, well, how could he ever say no to his pretty girl?

He just didn’t think he’d be here - your bare legs splayed out on his lap, dripping cunt spread so shamefully, buzzing vibrator deafening over your pretty moans - all in front of that blinking camera. And the hundreds of thousands behind it.

“T-Toji, wan’ cum. Wanna cum so bad, please.” you mewl. Big, fat tears dripping down your cheeks at the way he’s been teasing you for so long now. You can barely make out the rush of comments flashing across the screen.

The camera captures everything so sinfully well. The way your cunt is completely soaked, clenching desperately around nothing as Toji slides the vibrator along your swollen folds. Circling your needy hole, just grazing your swollen clit. Teasing them just as much as you. 

Pathetic fuckers, he thinks, but entertains their desperate comments anyway.

“Hmm, they’re saying I should let you cum, pretty.” he whispers in your ear, low and hoarse with need. “Saying I should be ‘nice.’” 

He brings the vibrator - now glistening with your slick - to his lips. Licking a long, languid stripe up it, collecting your sweet juices on his tongue. Turning it ever-so-slightly towards the camera to show off what the fuckers behind it will never get, he hums dangerously, “What do you think, my girl?”

You gasp out a sob, uselessly trying to buck your hips toward where you needed him the most. “Please, Toji. Wanna cum, I’ll do anything.” 

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles, spreading your legs open even further with a feral groan. 

In one, fluid motion, he buries the vibrator deep in your dripping cunt, relishing the surprised yelp that leaves your swollen lips. “Then show ‘em how much you like it, pretty. How much you love me not being ‘nice.’”

And that’s all that is said before he’s fucking you into you at an urgent, sinful pace. Pulling out all the way till the buzzing tip just circles your swollen folds, ramming into you with no care or concern for the burning stretch. Toji knew you liked it - besides, it was half the size of him anyway.

“C’mon, smile for the camera, pretty.” he grunts into your ear, “Tell ‘em how I make m’girl feel.” 

You can barely choke out, “Ah! Oh- shit. S’good. Hngh-”

Blood rushes straight to his cock at the way you were taking it like such a good girl. Head lolling against his muscled shoulder as Toji pushes the vibrator in and out in and out in and-

“Yeah? Who makes you feel this good?”

Angling it just right to expertly hit against that one spot he knew would have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“Ngh- Ah! You!” you whine, thighs quivering at both the burn of being so spread open and the electricity coursing through your veins at Toji’s relentless pace. Mind spinning, vision blurring, you barely register the hand snaking its way down down down.

A harsh thumb pressing down hard on your throbbing clit. “Wha- Toji hah-” you squeal as he starts drawing slow, tight little circles on it. Lazy and languid where he was fucking into you mercilessly like you were his lil’ toy right below. 

“Tha’s right, my girl. Say it for all those lonely little fuckers behind the camera to hear.” He doesn’t stop thrusting the vibrator into you, instead speeding up his movements impossibly at the lewd squelches filling the heady air.

“You. No one- else- hngh-” you moan softly hips bucking up in tandem with his hand. “M’gonna- Ah ngh- m’gonna-”

“Say my name, pretty.”

“T-Toji! Hah-” you squeal deliriously, cumming desperately around the buzzing vibrator. Walls clenching as he continues to fuck you through it. A smug little smirk on his face as he watches the way your eyes flutter closed, body bowing jerkily into his. 

Ah, you look so pretty like this. Those losers behind the screen were probably at the gates of heaven already. 

In the haze of your orgasm, you barely hear the low murmur from above you. “Now, you horny fuckers. Think her pretty hole can take my cock at the same time?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - The secret album

Geto Suguru doesn’t let anyone touch his phone - especially his photo gallery. Always turning off the screen from prying eyes, pocketing it safely before flashing an innocent grin. 

But why? That one time Shoko stole his phone while he was in the bathroom revealed only a few blurry, aesthetic shots of you, the sky, and you. So what did that man have to hide?

Well, what she didn’t know is had she scrolled down just a bit more - before Geto ripped the phone from her hands - she’d have come across the treasure trove named with a simple “Love.”

Not one, not even tens - but hundreds upon hundreds of videos of you all falling apart underneath him.

Most of them favorited, all of them sorted so meticulously according to his tastes in a way that showed he spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you. But it wasn’t enough to capture your perfection. It never was. 

Which is probably why Geto had you sitting prettily on his face, juices spreading so lewdly across his mouth as he tonguefucked you into insanity. 

The video was shaky, focusing in and out of the way your bruised lips dropped into a soft oh! as he bullies past your swollen folds. 

It zooms in on the dazed expression on your face, eyes miles away. “Oh, Suguru. M-more” your broken moans crackle through the speaker. Just barely capturing the soft ah! ah! ah! escaping your lips each time Geto’s tongue dips into your sloppy hole. 

Oh, this video was definitely going in his favorites.

“Take the phone, love. Show the camera how good I make you feel.” he murmurs into your dripping cunt, words hoarse with desire. 

And Geto might love you on film - but this was your favorite part. When the camera flips and you see him in all his disheveled, sinful glory. “Ah- y’look so pretty under me, Sugu.”

Dark hair splayed out on the pillow, stray strands sticking to his forehead as he looks at you with hazy, pussy-drunk eyes. His ringed fingers holding your thighs apart in a bruising grip. Lips glossy and swollen as they continue their abuse on your ravaged pussy. 

Flattening his tongue along your swollen folds, sliding teasingly between them. Your slick glistens in the dim lighting, dripping down down down the lower half of his face. 

And Geto, well, looks like he’s absolutely in heaven. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he licks at his girl’s pretty cunt, tipping his head back further just to let your sweet juices slide down his throat. 

You’re so focused on how pretty he looks that you almost miss the long fingers deftly snaking their way along your thigh. Spreading your swollen folds apart with his thumbs, he whispers raspily, “Shit. No video in the world can capture how pretty you look like this, love.”

The pure look of admiration has the camera shaking, and you sputtering out, “Wha- Suguru what nonsense-”

“Shhh, my girl. Lemme take care of it.”

And with that he’s sinking knuckle-deep into your pussy, while his ruby lips wrapping around your swollen clit. Zooming in desperately on the way he rolls his tongue harshly along it, sucking so sensually. Like a man starved. 

“Ah- hngh, Sugu. Feel s’good.” you gasp as he starts thrusting his fingers inside you. God, you don’t know how you don’t drop the phone at this point, white-hot jolts of pleasure running up your spine from where Geto was making out so sloppily with your cunt. 

Tears sting your eyes as he curls his fingers just right to brush against that one spot that has you bucking into his mouth for more more more- Hitting it over and over-

Fingers tangling in his silky hair, the video grainy with movement as you use it as leverage to grind deeper into Geto’s face. Chasing your high with an almost-embarrassing neediness. Close. So close. 

A muffled, “Cum f’me, love. Cum for the camera.”

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes, and Geto’s hungry gaze searing into your brain - and the video - as you chase peak after peak on his pretty face, grinding down desperately. Your vision is hazy, head spinning. 

But Geto’s is decidedly not as he quickly skims through the obscene video, lips still attached with yours. 

Ah, damn these cameras. No matter how high quality, he could never quite capture the delicate trail of drool decorating the corner of your lips. Or the exact pattern of the neat crescents that your nails leave on his chest. 

They could ever quite capture the perfection that was you.

But it’s fine. 

That’s what multiple takes are for, right?

♡ NANAMI KENTO - The photographer

Nanami Kento wasn’t into photography - which didn’t quite explain the tripod and hefty camera set sitting in the corner of his office. 

No, he was more into absolutely fucking ruining you in front of the camera just to capture a semblance of how heavenly you look for him. Which, well, explains the countless framed photographs decorating the walls of his often-locked office. Nothing extremely explicit - but enough to make a stray onlooker blush and look away.

And well, how could you say no? Especially when he had you bent over his desk, leaking tip dragging teasingly along your swollen folds, camera aimed right at the way you lean into his cock. 

Cold tabletop digging into your skin, his fingers warm on your pulsing clit. Drawing tight, methodical little circles. So like him.  

“C’mon, darling. Arch your back more f’me like a good girl.” he murmurs lowly, breath hot against your ear.

As if on autopilot, you press further into his swollen cock. Sliding it deftly between your folds, just aching for any bit of friction. “K-Kento, please-.” you babble, delirious from him and his piercing gaze and him. 

“Mhm, spread your legs more f’me. Yeah, jus’ like that, darling.” he mutters, voice steady with the audacity of someone that wasn’t grinding his rock-hard cock into your dripping cunt. Hips moving in shallow, mindless little motions despite himself. Yet, holding back so agonizingly. 

So, you take matters into your own hands. 

Slowly, purposefully, you lift yourself higher, arching so desperately into Nanami’s throbbing cock. The soft little bump! bump! bump! of him pulsing against your walls a tempo that you were losing your sanity to. And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d be almost embarrassed by how needy you were acting. “Kento! Wan’ you to fuck me alre-”

You don’t get to finish the sentence, because Nanami only takes a second to snap back his hips before pressing into your dripping cunt. The stretch of your walls absolutely addictive.

Click!

Ah, there was the perfect shot. 

All the blood rushes to Nanami’s cock at what showed on the screen - the exact moment that he split you apart on his cock. Your eyes wide, mouth parted ever-so-slightly, such an obscene mixture of shock and ecstacy painted across your face. 

His girl was so beautiful. Especially when she was stuffed full of his cock.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

One hand steady on the camera, the other pulls you deeper onto his cock as Nanami begins to move inside you. Pulling out all the way till his leaking tip is just circling your sloppy entrance - only to ram his length into you mercilessly. 

“My girl wanted to be full of my cock?” he hums darkly, “S’full she can barely even speak?” Hungry eyes devour the way your pretty pussy was milking him so greedily, barely even letting him pull out to fuck back into you harder than before.

“Ah! Yes- hah-” you breathe out, “”Wanted hngh- s’bad-”

He maps every curve and dip of the way you grind down onto his cock, taking in the obscenely heavenly sight of his cock disappearing into your pretty pussy - and so does the camera. 

Click!

Another one - your eyes locked onto Nanami’s. Dripping cunt just barely in the frame as he continues ravaging you from behind. 

Back arched, such a sinful little expression on your face as you buck your hips wildly to meet his thrusts. As frantic as the hasty little movements of his thumb on your throbbing clit - not even circles anymore, just sloppy, sinful motions to get you off. 

“Hah- please Kento,”

Click! Click!

Oh, if Nanami had it his way these photos would decorate every hallway of this house. For everyone to see.

“Wanna- hngh- wanna cum, Kento.” you mewl, ass stinging from where Nanami’s toned pelvis smacked yours at a ceaseless, maddening cadence. Clit now ravaged from both his ruthless abuse and the heavy balls smacking against it with each thrust.

Click! Click! Click! 

“Then cum, darling.”

You see stars behind your eyes as you cum - or maybe that was the unforgiving camera. Capturing each and every detail of the way eyes, dazed and fucked-out, lock onto Nanami’s. Swollen lips dropping into such a pretty oh, Kento! Pushing yourself from the desk on shaky arms to arch so sinfully as Nanami goes over the edge as well. 

Camera shaky for the first time as he twitches inside you savagely, before pumping thick, hot ropes of cum into your quivering walls. Trickling down your legs so lewdly, pooling at the sterile floors below - a problem for later. 

Click!  Ah, another gem for his walls.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - The urgent calls

When Choso video calls you, you know never to answer in public. Why? Well… 

“Cho, what is- Oh.” Your words catch in your throat as you take in the absolutely sinful sight on your screen, cunt clenching in anticipation as you slowly bury deeper into your covers.

Legs spread on the bed, such a pretty blush dusting his face, throbbing erection leaking furiously on his toned abs - your boyfriend was an absolute vision. 

“Baby…” he whines, sending a jolt of pleasure right down to your cunt. “Was missin’ you today.”

Ah, you can’t help but tease him a bit. Raising a brow, “Oh really?” 

Despite his absolutely ravaged state, Choso finds it in himself to scoff, “M’serious. Jus’ thinking about that slutty pink bra you had on today. How much better it would look on my bedroom floor.” 

A large hand makes its way on screen, deftly snaking down his milky skin - down, down down all the way from his abs, resting just at the tufts of black hair at his toned pelvis. Waiting. Teasing. 

Now it was your turn to scoff, pussy twinging impatiently at the way he was so stubbornly waiting for you to break first. Well, two can play that game.

Unbuttoning your shirt slowly - so agonizingly slowly - revealing just a flash of that pink he wanted so bad. That rips a low groan out of Choso, precum smearing on his palm as he squeezes his swollen cock. Success. 

“C’mon now, baby, don’t tease. Be a good girl f’me.”

Batting your lashes mockingly, “You first.”

You always did know how to get what you want, huh? Because with an impatient little grunt, Choso spits a steady stream of saliva once, twice onto his furiously red cock. 

Your mouth waters as he grips the base tight, so achingly hard and flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Precum leaking down his glistening veins, pooling at the heavy balls that twitch at the mere sound of your voice as you mutter, “Oh. You really did miss me.”

“Mhm, your turn.” he gets out through a low hiss, desperation bleeding through your speakers and into the heady air. Starting to pull on his cock in shallow, mindless little tugs - just the way you do it.

Finally relenting, you slip off your top, reaching for the clasp behind your when-

“Keep it on. Now spread your pretty legs for me, baby.”

Choso’s greedy eyes are locked on the screen as you flip the camera, showing off your already-soaked panties. Oh, you little minx. 

“Shit. You don’ know what you do to me, baby.” he groans, movements getting jerkier. Fist flying up and down his cock - just wishing his hands were yours. Ah, how yours would be softer, prettier, straining to cup his thick cock. “C’mon now, my girl. Show me you wan’ me just as much.”

God, Choso thinks he could cum right on the spot as you hastily remove your wet panties, delicate trails of slick connecting them to your pretty cunt as you slide it down your legs. Yet, he manages to find it in himself to grit out a low, “Touch yourself the way I would, baby.”

And, well, you don’t need to be told twice. 

Bullying your fingers through your swollen folds, thumb just grazing your throbbing clit. Purposefully teasing yourself - purposefully not giving in to what you craved so bad. No, you were too entranced with what was onscreen. 

With the way Choso was fucking his fist so desperately. Like he was trying to fuck something delicious out. Harder on the base, featherlight on his flushed head. Thumb teasing under the slit just the way you would.

“Shit- Oh, baby,” Choso groans, his hips bucking wildly as if he could somehow close the distance between you. His grip on his cock almost painful as he pounds into his hand. Ah, how you wish that was your hand instead.

Your fingers dip lower, rubbing your entrance. A thrill running through you at the way Choso’s eyes widen as you slide a finger inside yourself with a whine of his name. 

“Need you here with me, need to feel you around me,” you pant, rubbing against your clit in time with his fist, eyes locked on the way his throbbing cock twitches in his hands at the mere sound of your voice. Palm running up and down up and-

“Choso, just come here an’ fuck me already.”

You catch a glimpse of his eyes flickering closed, breath slowing, a satisfied smile curling his lips and then- thick spurts of cum covering his toned abs. Glistening so deliciously in the dim lighting as Choso strokes himself through his high. 

You on the other hand…

“Cho~ Can’t cum without you here.”  you hum coyly, slightly whiny yet not desperate - not yet.

“Get ready, baby. M’gonna be there in five.” Ah, how you loved when Choso video calls you.

♡ GOJO SATORU - The wallpaper fiend

Gojo Satoru loved to show off his wallpaper, babbling about his “beautiful girlfriend” as he flashed the picture to any and everyone he came across. 

It wasn’t anything strange, really - just a slightly blurry photo of the upper half of your head, eyes slightly scrunched like you were in the depths of laughter. It’s only when someone stares too hard, finger pressing just a bit too long that Gojo snatches back his phone with an unreadable little smirk. 

Because if they had they’d notice it was a live wallpaper. 

One that - despite being so proudly the great Gojo Satoru’s wallpaper - was for only his eyes to see. One where the camera shifts ever-so-slightly downwards to show you splayed out deliciously on your mattress, pale, sculpted thighs straddling your face - zooming in on the way your swollen lips bulge wraps so lewdly around his throbbing cock. 

“Oh, sweetheart, jus’ look at you.” his voice rumbles from above, voice hoarse with desire. “Taking my cock so well, huh?”

All he gets are muffled groans, tears glistening in your eyes as Gojo shoves his length deeper down your throat. He chuckles lightly, fucking into your hot mouth in small grinds of his hips, “Oh yeah, forgot you can’t speak sweetheart.”

Ah, what a smug bastard. And despite the dick lodged in your throat, you find it in yourself to stare up defiantly into his greedy gaze, moaning sinfully around him. That makes that confident facade crumble a little, the camera is shaky as Gojo lets out a broken little, “Sh-shit. You’re really asking for it.”

And maybe you were a mastermind - maybe you were an idiot. Because Gojo pulls his hips back till his leaking tip is just kissing your kiss-bitten lips. Smearing his precum around your glossy mouths. Only to slam back into you mercilessly, forcing you to relax your throat - because Gojo’s had enough of playing game

His searing grip on your scalp just out of the frame as he fucks into your mouth like his personal toy. Not stopping till your nose is pressed into the snowy white tufts of hair at his pelvis. 

Camera scrambling to capture the way your throat bulges so obscenely as he fills you up, starting to fuck into you in shallow, mindless little thrusts. “Mmm, ngh. Fuck, sweetheart. Can feel me inside you right…” A large, veiny hand makes its way into the video as it wraps around your throat, squeezing. Tight. “...here.” Gojo rasps over your choked-up moans. 

Tears were streaming down your face now, nails digging desperately into the hand wrapped around your throat. But it seems Gojo had no care in the world for them. Because he coos mockingly, “Awww, don’ cry, sweetheart. Jus’ look at that slutty mouth of yours, sucking the fucking soul out of me.”

And as the screen grows grainier, the camerawork more shaky - Gojo’s hips grow more frantic. 

Cock hitting the back of your throat at a maddening cadence in a way he wishes the camera could pick up. Hand tightening around your throat as he fucks into you faster and deeper. Hip chasing the feeling of your tongue wrapped so deliciously around his throbbing cock. Delicately tracing the veins along the side, flicking his sensitive slit just the way you know he likes. Over and over-

The screen flashes white - or maybe that was just Gojo’s cum. Shooting thick, endless spurts of his seed that paint your pretty face white. And oh, this was his favorite part, how you take it so well. 

Your tongue darting out to catch the stream of cum that gushes out of him, pooling it on your tongue before letting it slide to the back of your throat. Eyes gazing up so eagerly into his as you stick your tongue out to show, well, nothing. Taking him up so greedily. 

And if Gojo was any less of a man, he’d be showing this off to everyone he knew. And in the end, before the wallpaper goes back to that seemingly innocent picture of your face - if he turned up the volume real high - Gojo could hear his voice in the background, breathing out through ragged gasps. “C’mon, sweetheart, I wanna make a few more wallpapers.”

A/N. LMAO this came to me when I thought about how Gojo is the type to have a polaroid of your tits behind his phone case. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[kitkat13001]

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ modern!eren jaeger x reader

you begin to think that maybe it was a bad idea to bring eren to the amusement park when the small group of kids runs off with snotty noses and whining cries after losing to him at the squirt gun game. 

but you just laugh, turning to him and his smug smile. 

“eren, you could have at least given them a chance.”

eren shrugs, puffing his chest out. “i don’t see why, i kicked their asses.”

“they’re kids!” 

“tch, they’ll have plenty of time to win, they’re young. me, though, i gotta establish my dominance.”

he makes a ridiculous show of flexing his muscles as you burst into a giggle fit. both of you have forgotten the carnie standing behind you until he clears his throat. “which prize will you be taking, sir?”

eren flushes and clears his throat, trying to regain his bearings. 

“i’ll take, uh…” he glances over at you and sees you staring in awe at a giant teddy bear with a green bow-tie. “i’ll take that one. please. thanks.”

the carnie takes it off the hook and gives it to eren, returning to his place behind the counter. 

“i- oof!” it’s heavier than eren expected and while it’s not exactly a brick, it’s still rather large. “who the fuck made these things so heavy?”

he hauls the bear away awkwardly to free up the game for the next round of people, you trailing close behind. you’re still staring at the bear over eren’s shoulder. he glances back over at you and stops in his tracks, eyes roaming your face. 

the infuriatingly endearing curve of your mouth in a surprised ‘o’ and then quirking into an adorable smile. the way your eyes flutter shut from how wide your smile is, the slight lift of your shoulders like the happiness inside you manifested into a force that could lift you off your feet. 

“here.”

your eyes go big and your cheeks tinge pink as eren holds out the bear to you. you shake your head quickly. “what? no, i can’t…i mean, you won it.”

he scoffs and clicks his tongue. “what am i gonna do with it? here, you can add it to your fuckin’ collection. don’t even lie, i’ve seen ‘em on your bed. you don’t even try to hide them.”

your cheeks flush even more pink, along with the tips of your ears. you laugh bashfully. “yeah. i guess. but i really-“

“just take it already,” eren sighs, huffing like he’s irritated but really he’s just trying to cover up his blush. 

you hesitantly reach out as eren drops the bear into your arms. 

he laughs when the momentum of the large bear drags you down with it, nearly collapsing like a sack of flour. 

butterflies erupt in his stomach when you make a little ‘oof’ sound and try to regain your balance. eren chuckles and takes your hand in one of his own, the other reaching out to rescue to poor bear just inches away from the dirty floor. 

“c’mon, you klutz,” he snorts, helping you to your feet. “i’ll carry him for you, okay?”

you shake your head in a daze. “you say that like you didn’t buckle under it when you grabbed it first, too. but thanks.”

eren just hums, hoisting the bear onto his back and taking your hand, continuing to wander the park with you.

“what’re you gonna name him? don’tcha have a whole ritual and everything?”

you giggle. “i don’t know. what does he look like his name is?”

eren pretends to think it over, glancing back at the bear smiling pleasantly at him. 

“i think he looks like a ‘big pain in the ass’.”

“eren, stop it! you’re verbally abusing him,” you whine, but you’re laughing. “maybe i’ll name him armin. so he’s not mean, like you.”

“no freakin’ way you’re naming him after armin! did armin win this for you?”

“jesus, eren, just tell me to name my firstborn after you,” you snort, petting the stuffed bear between its ears. 

“you definitely should. i’ll even name my firstborn after you.”

you laugh, reaching a hand up to smack playfully at eren. “who would ever put up with you long enough to marry you?” 

eren catches your hand easily, intertwining your fingers and says nothing, instead smiling warmly down at you. 

you would, i hope. 

you take a seat on a bench, admiring the light from the sun sinking low to the horizon and washing the entire park in golden hues. 

“i would,” you state firmly, and eren turns to look at you in surprise, mortified that somehow you were able to read his mind. 

“huh?”

“i’d marry you,” you repeat matter-of-factly. “like if you were about to get deported, i’d marry you to keep you here. or if you had a secret uncle who left you a huge inheritance but you had to be married to get it, i’d do it. or like if we were in olden medieval times, if i had to have an arranged marriage, i’d pick you.”

eren just stares at you dumbfoundedly. “what the fuck?”

you were weird. he knew that. you’re prone to spout nonsense. it’s part of what he likes about you. in what scenario would eren be deported? he was born here. and what chance would he have of getting some huge inheritance from some relative he didn’t know? and how in the world would you ever end up in a medieval situation? but nonetheless his cheeks are still red and his heart is still beating fast. you’d pick him. he knew you didn’t explicitly mean that you’re romantically interested in him, but still, it made his heart jump in his chest to know that of everybody you knew (and that was a lot because you’re something of a social butterfly) you’d pick him. it didn’t matter for what, you would pick him. 

he smiles and you beam up at him. 

“i’d pick you too,” he hums, slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. you giggle, nuzzling your head in his neck. 

it feels warm and just right, the way you fit into his arms. like maybe it was meant to be. 

[robynlilyblack]

Something Important

James Potter x fem! clumsy! Reader

Summary: After years of hiding that part of himself, James adores being unapologetically silly with his favourite girl

Warnings: swearing, post-hogwarts, established relationship, mentions of food, small cooking injury, eating and sex, reader bruises like a peach, kissing, flirty reader, flirty james, domestic fluff, sirius black being a terrible gamer

A/n: 1.8k words, was feeling a little James today, I've missed writing him so much I had fun with this one, enjoy ♡

Navigation | James Potter Masterlist

“Hi! Not someone breaking in, it's just me…y/n…you know…your girlfriend…but hopefully you already knew that! Sorry Jamie, this door…oh for fecks sake…the door is being mean to me again!” 

James chuckled along with his friends on the couch at your dumbs and whines at the door, putting his controller down he called back 

“You need help, my love?” he asks yet he’s already getting up and walking through as the door finally opens, unaware of his controller being swiped by Sirius, earning a small ‘oh no’ from Remus as he braces himself 

“No, no it’s okay…aw crap...dammit....come on...” you wave it off but then the door grabs you and you’re left trying to un-loop yourself from the handle, unfortunately it does get the better of you this time as you begin to fall, preparing for impact and one hell of a bruise to add to your already impressive collection

Luckily your knight in shining armour is there to catch you and you breathe a sigh of relief when you hit his chest “Hello my sweet” he greets you, the biggest smile on his face

You don’t even try to lift yourself up, just adjust your head, chin poking into his chest as you look up at him “Hello” you pout at him, but that lil smile of yours still peaks through “Our door is mean”

“It is” he agrees, pecking your lips sweetly before gently kicking the front foor with his foot eliciting giggles from you “Bad door” he chastises before turning his attention briefly to the living room door at the chuckling and mocking from his friends 

"You sure showed that door mate!" you hear Remus laugh

“Oh dear prongsie, now you have defeated the almighty door can you come save me from the couch, my arse has but fallen asleep!” 

"Shut it mr and mrs I can't get past the first boss to save my life" James rolls his eyes while you giggle at their offended in sync 'heys!' "Sorry ‘bout them love, don’t worry I’ll kick em out before dinner”

“Oh I assumed they’d be joining us?” you wonder

Something flashes behind his eyes “Not tonight hun” he gives you a flirty look “Tonight’s just for us” he tells you before helping you to stand properly, kissing the tips of his fingers before finding the section of your waist where you jumper got caught, rubbing it gently

You lean into his touch, even more excited than you already were for dinner tonight, all you had to do now was make sure James didn’t see too deep into one of the shopping bags, or he’d see the rather lacey treat you had bought earlier

“Come on sweetheart” James gestures for you to follow, instinctively grabbing the grocery bags that had been dropped during your battle and bringing them through to the kitchen, but not before kissing the side of your head first “I missed you”

“Ditto big guy” you throw him a wink, letting him take the lead

As you pass the living room you do poke your head in quickly to see what they had been up to, sniggering a little as you watch Sirius struggle with some muggle videogame, noting the boy is getting increasingly frustrated to the point even his boyfriend is a tad scared of him, hugging one of your pillows as if it’s to protect him.

As you enter the kitchen you watch as James lifts the bags you had struggled with home onto the counter with ease, eyes fluttering over his muscles, made more prominent by the tightness of his shirt

He’s so strong and dreamy

“So, what am I cooking for dinner?” he asks trying to discern what you actually bought before turning back only to find you unapologetically staring

He’d never admit it but he still blushed when he caught you admiring him

“Enjoying yourself?” he flexes his arm a little

Your eyes flick back up to meet him, nodding with a smug little smile “Very much, did you ask me something?” you wonder, stepping forward to join him properly

He chuckles, hand slipping around your waist “I asked what I was making for dinner?” he glances down at you, his own eyes doing a little wandering as he awaits your answer

“Actually…I was thinking I could make it for us tonight” you flashing a cheeky smile, hands finding his own, you were up to something

“What are you planing?” he eyes you teasingly

“Surprise” you sway back and forth, shrugging, ever effervescent, however, he’s called away before he could rangle any more information out of you as there's a yell from the other room

“Motherfucker!!! What the fuck was is that fucking thing…Moony darlin you seeing this shit!” 

“Oh yeah love I’m seeing it…Prongs!!”  

You burst out in quiet laughter over Sirius’' rage and Remus’ subsequent call for aid, as does James, betting his friend is almost certainly about to die…for the…bloody hell only Godric knows what time

“Crap he’s got the controller…I better go check in before Pads throws the controller again and actually breaks the tv this time” James lets out a breathy laugh, moving around you but stops before he lets go of your hand “You sure you’ll be alright?” he checks in, and when you nod he steals a quick kiss from you before he leaves…plus a cheeky arse squeeze

A couple hours pass by and it’s time for the other boys to go, just as James had finally convinced Sirius to leave without the game, sparing Remus from a premature heart attack, you appear in the doorway shouting a quick goodbye

“I love them but we are going to need to find less rage enducing…” James closes the door, locking up as he speaks but trails off as he turns around spotting your rather chaotic looking state “...did the kitchen fight back?” he can’t help the chuckle that bubbles

He takes a moment to cherish your appearance, it’s almost like a game to him, trying to figure out what you made him based on the ingredients adorning your clothes. The main culprit seems to be flour, your once black tights and skirt now littered with hand prints as you swiped them clean, though there were no new holes so little wins. He saw some littering of what he can only imagine is various spices on the ends of your rolled up sleeves…and one failed attempt in the centre of your jumper to open what he would later learn was cinnamon.

“I won though!” he’s pulled away from his admiring as you jump a little, excited as you waddle happily up to him 

“Merlin sweets you had anymore food on you you’d be a…ooo that’s good” he reaches out, thumb gently clearing the remnants of what seems to be a delicious creamy sauce from your cheek “What kind of cheese is this?” he enquires, licking his lips before finding your eyes but their lingering a little south of his own, basking in your reaction as he teases you, running his tongue along his lips

“I know you’re doing that on purpose…” your eyes finally break away, finding his own “...but don’t stop” you near beg

He laughs “Never” leaning down, one hand finding your chin, angling it upwards towards his lips while the other subtly removes what he now realises is a carrot from your hair “Now do you want to show me your masterpiece?” he nudges his nose gently against yours

“Yes” you buzz, practically vibrating with excitement as you take his hands in yours but as you do James notices the plaster on your hand “Hun?” you turn back 

“Aww sweetheart, what happened?” he brings your hand up, inspecting it before faux worry floods his handsome features “I’m so sorry my love but…” he takes a break, shaking his head “...we’re going to have to cut it off”

You match his energy “What!” you exclaim “Oh great heavens! Whatever will I do?” dramatically bringing you palm to your forehead 

James’ struggles to keep in character though, his heart always warmed when you were silly with him, it was times like these that made him absolutely sure you were the one for him 

“Hmmm” he rubs his chin in thought “There may be one way we can fix this but I have to tell you it’s a risky procedure”

“Do it, I’ll give you anything oh handsome handsome doctor” you clasp your hands together, pleading with him

He smirks “Indeed…I am a very handsome doctor, so I expect to be rewarded handsomely for my work” he informs you, wiggling his eyebrows

You purse your lips attempting to suppress your growing smile “Of course! Now please save my finger” you hold it up to him

He gently takes it with one hand, using the other to perform fake magic as mutters some fake incantation under his breath, throwing a wink your way before he presses his lips every so softly to your ‘mortal wound’ 

He gives your hand back and as he does you hold it up, bending your finger as you check it works “I’m cured!! It’s a miracle” eyes lighting up as you cheer, beginning to laugh near the end finally breaking character, a cheesy smile on your face as you look up at him

He drops his own act, a loving smile adorning his features as he cups your cheeks “Merlin I love you so much” his words drip with such verity, eyelashes finding audience with his cheeks as his smile widens further

“I love you mo-” he squeezes your cheeks together halting your words before the daily battle of ‘who loves whom more’ transpires

“Nuh huh missy” he pecks your puckered lips before releasing you “You definitely okay?” his playful nature sinks back into concerned boyfriend for a moment, even with all the fun and games he always checked in

You nod “Just just a little nick while I was grating the cheese” you explain 

“Good” he scrunches his nose a little, bending down slightly as his brings your finger up one more, isolating it from the others “Because one day this one is going to hold something very important” James almost falls in love all over again as he watches the sheer giddiness that takes hold on you at the insinuation “You going to keep it safe for me?”

He’s surprised you don’t get dizzy with how firm your nodding is “With my life” you promise, holding your hand to your heart 

“Did that break you a bit?” he wonders, soft laugher escaping his lips when you let out a little hum “You want to show me to dinner before you implode?” 

You hum again, grabbing his hand as you lead him towards the your feast, unaware you won’t have to keep that finger safe for long as in a little drawer by your dining table lays that something important

Thank you for reading ♡

[todorokies]

THE ONE WHERE YOU REFUSE TO KEEP QUIET. . !

𝝑𝑒 contents: john marston x female reader, nsfw, modern au (sawry im a sucker for 'em), cunnilingus, fingering, pet names (pretty & darling), pussy drunk john. . . 754 words

𝝑𝑒 a/n: dabbling in a diff fandom for my comeback to writing is crazy ik but i hope u all enjoy regardless :3 im rusty i alr know

“did i ever tell you about what happened at my work last week?”

you let out a shaky breath as you cautiously ran your fingers through the hair of the man who is currently situated between your legs, eagerly lapping at your dripping cunt collecting everything you could offer to him.

there’s a momentary lack of a response from your companion, your question hangs in the thin air as the crude sounds of squelching bounces off the walls alongside with your airy moans that seep out more than intended to.

you rack your fingers once more through his long hair and tug at his roots which aids as a warning.

with not enough force to seriously hurt him, but for a low guttural groan to escape from his chest causing small vibrations against your already sensitive pussy.

he apologetically sucks on your puffy clit before he comes up for air then replaces his hot mouth with two fingers to rub tight circles on your nub, “no, pretty, you haven’t. what happened at work?” he inquired with a strained expression on his face.

his pupils are blown out and unstable as he quickly shifts his focus between your glowy face and your pussy that’s aching to be stuffed by him. however, you were pretty adamant on him eating you out instead.

john ducks his head back in between the plush of your thighs continuing his ministrations, noticeably slowing his pace for you to get your words out.

you whine with a small buck of your hips, “apparently we’re having some budget cuts nggh in a f-few weeks. . . which —oh fuckk— also includes employees.”

“uh-huh?” john mumbles against you. your words enter one of his ear and exits the other, more focused on alternating from long vertical strides from your hole to your clit then skillfully circling around it with his tongue.

his calloused hand grips at your ass pulling you even closer to his face in attempt at get every last drop.

“y-yeah, and my manager had the damn nerve to—mghm keep doing that and i’ll cum~”

your chest heaves as john spreads open your folds to dip his tongue into your pussy, visibly enjoying the way you desperately clench around the wet muscle.

he deeply chuckles and you shiver due to his stubble scratching at your skin, “what did your manager do, darling?” he incoherently slurs his words but you were able to pick it up.

“she broke the news during rush hour. i-i mean what a bitch, right!”

“a bitch indeed,” he affirms as he slowly pushes two fingers in your wet hole, ogling at the way you take his digits with ease, fully coating them with your slick.

you throw your head backwards against the leather couch that’s supporting your back. you once again find residence in his black locks, roughly tugging this time around.

a broken whimper lively dances off your lips as your eyes roll back; you could feel the coil forming in the pit of your stomach.

“feels so good… don’t fuckin' stop..” you mindlessly ushered out. the sensation of his fingers pumping in and out, dragging against your tight walls as well as the added pleasure of his tongue swirling and suckling at your sensitive clit almost has you over the edge.

just when john finally thought he’d shut you up for good this time, your lewd moans and pants get broken down till you find the strength to add another comment about your dilemma.

“a-and there’s talk of my f-favourite coworker—”

“—ya know, how about you tell me the rest of ya little story after i make you cum.” john interrupts your soon-to-be babbling session, stopping all of his movements altogether.

he places a chaste kiss onto your clit and looks at you for permission to continue. you nod with a squeaky whine, already dizzy and eager for him to resume.

“oh darling, what am i ever gonna do with you?” he whispered against your cunt as he continued pumping his fingers at a steady albeit fast pace and quickly reattached his mouth back on your clit.

you soon cum hard on his fingers followed by a few more tugs at his hair to signal you were ready to tap out.

he licks his fingers, maintaining eye contact as he groans loudly at the taste of you. so sweet. . .just for him.

his voice is hoarse as he slips your panties back on and then gives you his undivided attention,

“so…what was that about your favourite coworker?”

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

[97-liners]

out of the frying pan and into your heart

jeon wonwoo x female reader

tags: college au, fraternities, fake dating, misunderstandings, childhood friends to lovers, this all could have been resolved with some proper communication, lots of pining specifically for em, fluff, rom com, best friend minghao, y/n is oblivious!!!

warnings: alcohol, weed, frats, american college setting

words: 9.3k

synopsis:

it starts, as it always does with this particular collection of friends, with shenanigans and cahoots.

well, more specifically, for wonwoo it starts with shenanigans, when soonyoung and junhui somehow manage to collide brain cells and write in to the school newspaper's love advice columnist about his crush on his childhood best friend.

and for you, the aforementioned childhood best friend and, in secret, also the aforementioned love advice columnist, it starts with cahoots when kim mingyu manages to convince you to fake date him so he can win some popularity contest for his frat.

for @notesof-mh

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It starts, as it always does with this particular collection of friends, with shenanigans and cahoots. 

Well, more specifically, for Wonwoo it starts with shenanigans, when Soonyoung and Junhui somehow manage to collide brain cells. 

He had barely been awake for 15 seconds when they had barged into his room, laptop in hands, just to show him the text in a pink-colored submission box surrounded by heart emojis. Wonwoo squints, the blurry words coming into just enough focus for him to make out what they say. “Dear Cherry, I’m a third year computer science student and I’m in love with my best friend, except I’m— what the hell is this?” 

He glares at Soonyoung who grins cheerfully and points again at the screen. “Read the rest, Wonwoo!”

Wonwoo sighs and continues reading. “Except I’m a huge awkward loser and she’s so cool and pretty, and I don’t know how to tell her I like her. What should I do?”

“Alright, hit send,” Junhui instructs, tilting the laptop away and laughing maniacally. 

Wonwoo pushes his hand across his face, trying his best to wipe away the last vestiges of sleep-addled confusion, and then he realizes what’s happening.

“Wait, you can’t do that,” he tries to protest, but Soonyoung giggles and clicks a button.

“No, this will be good,” Junhui says, plopping down on the edge of Wonwoo’s bed. “Minghao told me that whoever runs the advice column in the school paper is, like, a love guru, and she has four thousand followers on instagram. And she’s never shown her face, but she’s probably also really pretty.”

Wonwoo groans. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Just trust us,” Soonyoung pats Wonwoo’s knee through the blanket, “this is a good idea.”

And for you, it starts with kahoots, when your chemistry lab partner, Mingyu, pulls your stool closer to his side and whispers a proposition to you.

“Do you want to be my fake girlfriend?”

You narrow your eyes at him through your fogged up department-issued safety goggles. “Are you insane? What kind of fumes are you on?”

“None,” Mingyu replies. “I’m Sigma’s nominee for the Greek God award at the inter-fraternity tournament this year and I’m the only nominee who’s single.”

“And so I’m your pick,” you respond flatly. 

Mingyu nods eagerly. His safety glasses slide down his nose, and he has to push them back up. “Yeah, you’re so pretty and cool, I think it’d be really impressive if I somehow managed to pull you.”

“Huh.”

“And,” he adds on, lowering his voice even more, “Jeonghan thinks my only real competition this year is going to be Jung Jaehyun from Nu Kappa Tau, and rumor has it you rejected him in high school. Twice. So I think it’d be pretty funny if we ended up together.”

You scoff and turn back toward the titration in front of you. “You can’t go up to people and ask for things like this.”

“C’mon, you know the winner gets free parking for an entire semester,” he whines. “Ok, how’s this? If you’ll pretend to be my girlfriend for the Greek God award, I’ll write our lab reports for the rest of the semester.” 

His offer makes you pause, and he jumps on that pause, wedging his way in there. 

“I’ll give you executive editing power, but I’ll do all the work,” he wheedles, “and I’ll give you a perfect peer eval at the end of the semester. I promise,” he puts a big meaty hand on your lab notebook and smears the ink under his fingers. “Kim Mingyu isn’t a liar.”

“I’ll conveniently ignore the fact that you’re lying about having a girlfriend to win this award, then,” you roll your eyes.

“That’s different, though,” he protests, “the award is dumb and meaningless and I really want it. But a promise made between buddies is important.”

He looks earnest, so you decide to lay off on him just a little. “When we’re fake-dating,” you sigh, “you can’t call us buddies anymore.”

“So that’s a…”

You groan, hating yourself for being so indulgent. “Yes. That’s a yes.”

.

.

.

“Hold on Y/N, have you seen this?”

“Seen what?” You look over the top of your laptop screen, where you’re halfway through a paper on the Cuban Missile Crisis. 

Minghao, your co-admin of the school newspaper’s (infamous) advice column turns his screen towards you. “Someone wrote in calling themselves a huge awkward loser.”

“Huh,” you grin to yourself as you read over the message quickly. “That’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Of course you think it’s cute,” Minghao rolls his eyes. “I’m going to assign this one over to you.”

“Yeah, sure, but please,” you mutter, “can you be a bit more discreet about it?”

Minghao looks at you over the top of his glasses. “What, about us being Ask Cherry? It’s not as embarrassing as you make it out to be.”

“Be quiet,” you hiss, looking around, “someone could overhear!” You frown, and then quietly, you add on, “and it is embarrassing. I’m supposed to be a journalism major, and I’m here making up horoscopes and giving fake relationship advice three days a week.”

This is an overstatement, and Minghao rolls his eyes. You only make up horoscopes and give fake relationship advice one day a week (Mondays are for Matters Of The Heart, your schedule says). There’s also Am I The Asshole Wednesdays, a campus favorite, and Friday Free-for-alls, when you field confessions of all types. Dear Cherry, I need to get this off my chest. I’ve been using my roommate’s shampoo this whole semester, and today I found out that our two other roommates have also been using this roommate’s shampoo. He doesn’t suspect a thing. 

You hadn’t meant to end up in this position. You write serious pieces for the school newspaper too, reporting on the Student Government’s legislative sessions and the university’s semesterly budget for grants to culturally-centered student organizations. Those articles, you have your name attached to. But at the end of last year, the new editor-in-chief Jeonghan had approached you and convinced (strong-armed) you into becoming the new writer for the infamous advice column, Ask Cherry, since Cherry himself was quitting to make more time for other priorities.

(“And the kicker is,” you had complained to Minghao, “nobody will ever believe me.” Choi Seungcheol, fraternity president, football player, gym rat, jock, fuckboy extraordinaire— relationship advice columnist? No, it’s simply not realistic. 

“I’m sitting on the juiciest piece of gossip to cross my path in my entire life, and I can’t do anything about it,” you say dejectedly.

“Hmm.” Minghao doesn’t even pretend to be interested.)

But, despite your disastrous real-world love life, your clumsily dispensed life advice, and the completely made up horoscopes, Ask Cherry readership skyrocketed under your intrepid watch. Once, you told a reader that the albino squirrel that lives in the tree next to the physics building was a good omen, and the next day, rumor spread that an albino squirrel sighting would grant you an A on your next exam. For weeks after, people would scatter peanuts and pieces of toast by the base of the tree next to the physics building, until campus facilities had to fence the area off because raccoons were starting to show up instead. 

Minghao finding out had been a complete accident, after you had lent him your laptop to print out a paper that was due the next hour, but you had forgotten to minimize the window with your Ask Chrery submissions. Minghao, being someone who loves giving advice, both solicited and unsolicited, naturally joined in on this scheme of yours. 

“Anyways,” you shrug. You look up as Junhui steps into the public study area of the library and scans the tables twice before making eye contact with you, and then waving. “Minghao, did you invite the others over to study with us?”

“Yeah,” Minghao responds, raising an eyebrow at you. “You got a problem with that?”

“No, it’s just—“ you’re about to complain about never being able to focus on your work with the rest of them around, but the words die on your lips when you spot Wonwoo trailing behind Junhui with a bemused expression on his face and a cardboard tray holding bubble teas in his hands. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “Hey guys,” you wave over to them, clearing off the table space next to you to make room for them. 

“I brought you a taro milk tea,” Junhui announces, gesturing behind him, “and a Wonwoo to boot.”

“He made me walk with him because he didn’t know your favorite drink,” Wonwoo explains quietly as he slides the drinks onto the table and takes his seat next to you. “Are you working on that international relations paper?”

“Yeah.” You take your taro milk tea. No ice, 50% sweet, tapioca pearls and grass jelly, just the way you like it. 

“Do you think you’ll be done by Friday?”

“I will be free by then,” you promise him, punctuating your statement by stabbing your boba straw through the film covering the cup. You’d rather suffer through an all nighter on Sunday than miss your regular Friday night gaming sessions with Wonwoo, a tradition the two of you have kept up since both of you were in middle school and still playing Starcraft.

“Anyway,” Junhui leans over the table, resting his chin on top of his interlaced fingers. “I have a funny story.”

You tear your gaze away from Wonwoo. “Hm?”

“So, you know that advice columnist for the school paper? Wonwoo submitted a question the other day. Well, Soonyoung and I did, but for Wonwoo.”

You feel your blood run cold. It’s not that you’re ashamed of running a love advice column, but it’s more that you’re… embarrassed. And you’ve been running it in secret for so long that at this point, you can’t even fathom anyone outside of Minghao knowing. Maybe when you graduate, you’ll do an identity reveal, but you’re not quite there now.

“Can we talk about literally anything else,” Wonwoo grouses, somewhat to your relief. he glares at Junhui, but the effect is somewhat dampened when he lifts his bubble tea to his mouth and loudly slurps up some tapioca pearls.

“Yeah,” you quickly agree, not eager to have your secret identity exposed.

Junhui steamrolls on ahead, however. “So. If you’re reading the column and there’s a question from someone who has a big stupid crush, you know who it’s from.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Wonwoo? A crush?

“Junhui,” Wonwoo groans, digging his fingers into the bridge of his nose, brows furrowed in an expression of exquisite pain. 

Minghao, however, leans forward and lets his glasses slide down his nose. He laces his fingers together. “A crush? On who?”

Junhui and Minghao both turn to stare at Wonwoo, who flushes beet red. 

“Oh, hey guys!”

You feel a heavy arm around your shoulder and turn to see, to your abject horror, Mingyu, who scoots his way onto the bench to squeeze in next to you. “What are you doing here,” you hiss at your oversized interloper, but Mingyu just glances pointedly at the spot two tables down where a bunch of upperclassmen are sitting and chatting. You recognize Choi Seungcheol, the president of Mingyu’s frat, and you sigh and deflate. Fine. A promise is a promise.

You smile weakly at the other three guys sitting at your table. “Surprise,” you say flatly,” Mingyu is my boyfriend now.”

You’re momentarily distracted by a loud honking noise as Junhui narrowly avoids choking on his bubble tea and spraying the table through his nose. 

“Mingyu?!” Minghao sounds simultaneously dismayed and slightly judgemental.

“C’mon, dude,” Mingyu whines, slumping like a kicked puppy. You pat his bicep soothingly. “You don’t have to make it sound that bad.”

Minghao and Junhui share a conspicuous glance. Mingyu isn’t the type of guy you’d usually go for, but you think this reaction is a bit uncalled for. “He’s not that bad,” you find yourself defending your fake boyfriend. “Mingyu is nice, and he’s really tall.”

You blink. Mingyu turns his pout on you now. “Nice and really tall? Are you for real?”

“It’s true,” you scowl at him. “Are you here to study, or did you just come by to get on my nerves?”

“Okay, well,” Junhui interjects sharply, “Wonwoo and I should get going.”

“Wait, but you two just got here,” you attempt to protest, but Wonwoo, who had been quiet this whole time, stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N,” he says to you, before leaving along with Junhui. 

(It’s not until later, when you’re lounging with Minghao in the living room of your shared apartment, that it hits you, again, but this time with its full weight.

“Wonwoo likes someone,” you say out loud. It’s not a question.

Minghao glances up form his book at you with a frown plastered across his face, his brows creased with irritation. He evaluates you carefully over the silver rims of his glasses, which you know aren’t prescription but are mainly there to make him look elegant and intellectual.

“...yes,” he finally acknowledges.

You frown despite yourself. “I wonder who it is.”

“What does it matter to you,” Minghao scoffs, “you’re dating Mingyu, remember?”

“You can pretend to hate Gyu, but I know you like him better than any of the rest of us.” You really hadn’t been expecting to defend Mingyu twice in a day, but you suppose that’s life as Kim Mingyu’s girlfriend. “And anyways, Wonwoo and I have been friends since we were kids. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me earlier.”

“Yeah, he probably can’t believe it either,” Minghao mutters under his breath so quietly, you almost miss it. Then, in a louder voice, he chides, “don’t think too much about it, yeah? You still have to reply professionally to his advice request. His anonymous advice request.”

“Right,” you sigh dejectedly, frowning at your laptop balanced across your knees. “How do I tell him that he’s not a nerd and a loser without giving away that I know who he is?”

Minghao shrugs. “Maybe tell him to be patient. Or maybe tell him to try to start getting over his crush.”

You consider his suggestion for a moment. It’s appealing, but then the thought of Wonwoo wasting away in his dark bedroom, sighing as he pines over his unrequited love, flashes across your mind. “I just don’t want him to be sad.”)

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.

.

“C’mon, he was right on top of you,” Wonwoo complains. You can hear the creaking of his gaming chair in the background, undoubtedly as he rises from his reclined position to gulp down more of whatever energy drink he has in his mini fridge this week. You groan and dig your fingers into the junction between your neck and shoulder, trying with little success to work out the knot that’s developed over this last round of PUBG.

“Wonwoo, that’s the problem, I suck at close range,” you huff in response, “you know I get panicky and forget to turn off auto-fire.”

It’s game night, and you and Wonwoo have been at it for the past two hours. Your paper isn’t done yet, but it can wait. It’s been over a decade since the years when the two of you would spend your summers together playing video games and walking aimlessly around the neighborhood with half-melted popsicles, talking for hours. But even as your social circles diverted from his, it’s always been something of an unspoken agreement that for this, you’d always make time for Wonwoo, and he’d always make time for you.

“Another round?” You and Wonwoo both ask the question at the same time. There’s a pause, and then you’re both laughing. Even over the headset mic, Wonwoo’s laugh is loud and unrestrained. It feels like a secret, a side of Wonwoo that he saves just for you and for Friday nights spent on opposite sides of the monitor.

“So.” You’re still waiting for the next match to start when Wonwoo breaks the comfortable silence. “Mingyu?”

You fidget at the ties of your hoodie. It’s stolen from Wonwoo, and you’ve had it since middle school at least. “Yeah?”

“Interesting choice.”

“What does that mean?”

He makes a casual, noncommittal noise. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t see it coming, and you didn’t tell me about it.”

You open your mouth to tell him that it’s actually all a ruse, to explain the whole situation, but the hard, petulant edge to his voice makes you pause. Wonwoo sounds… upset. But not quite upset. Jealous?

“Wonwoo,” you laugh. Onscreen, the timer counting down to the start of the match appears, and you jam on the space bar to make your character jump over his character’s prone body. “Wonwoo, are you jealous?”

Over your headphones, you hear the sound of his gaming chair squeaking. “I’m not jealous,” he says, in a tone of voice that sounds exactly like Wonwoo when he’s jealous. 

“You are. Where are we landing?” You toggle to the map in the game and zoom in on the path that the plane is taking. The player count in the bottom starts dropping as other players jump out. 

“Blue marker, does that look good to you? There’s a few houses we can loot, and it’s not close to the flight path. If we get bad circle placement, you can shoot me in the foot, if you want. As a treat.”

“Yeah, fine. Lead the way, boss. Anyways, why are you jealous?” You suppress the flutter in your chest. There’s no reason for you to get your hopes up. 

“You’re my friend,” Wonwoo says simply. It feels like a heavy towel being thrown over you. “You used to tell me everything. Mingyu is… fine,” he admits reluctantly. “He’s a good guy. I’m happy for you.”

Your heart clenches. You want to say something soft and sincere, but instead, you return with a jab. “You can’t be upset at me for keeping secrets, Wonwoo. What was Junhui saying about you liking someone?”

“Junhui just says stuff sometimes,” he replies curtly. 

You frown. “Junhui isn’t a liar, though. Who is it?” You ask, despite everything in you telling yourself that you don’t want to know the answer. “Who are they? Maybe I can talk to them for you.”

He laughs humorlessly. “It doesn’t matter. She’s in a relationship with someone else.”

You almost sigh in relief, but you stop yourself just in time. Why are you relieved? “Oh, Wonwoo. That sucks. She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.”

Wonwoo makes a noise that tells you he’s shrugging. “She deserves better than me.”

“Hey!” You sit up, straightening your spine in indignation. “Don’t say that. You’re great, Wonwoo. You’re criminally underappreciated. You’re smart and you’re so sincere and kind, and maybe other people don’t acknowledge it, but you’re really funny and interesting.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and the only thing you hear is the game audio as your character collects supplies and clears the building the two of you are in. “Let me know if you find any gun that’s not a pistol, by the way. I have a 2x scope on me.”

“Thank you,” Wonwoo replies. You know he’s not talking about the scope.

Even though the two of you are gaming individually in your own rooms, you want nothing more than to tug off your headphones and go down the two flights of stairs to Wonwoo’s apartment and give him a hug.

“I have an AKM and a bunch of healing items on me,” Wonwoo says, “come to me and you can have whatever you want.”

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.

.

It would have been much less embarrassing if you had realized it last week when you were walking to class and Wonwoo had stopped you in the middle of the sidewalk to pluck a fallen leaf from your hair with that stupidly fond expression plastered on his face; or maybe when you accidentally fell asleep in his bed during an afternoon study session and woke up later with your head on his shoulder, legs tangled together, the sound of his soft snoring puffing in your ear, his hand held loosely in yours. Maybe in another life, it would have been one of those soft, romantic moments, like something out of a coming of age anime. But no, because you’re you and your life is the way it is, the moment you realize you’re in love with Wonwoo goes like this:

It’s Sunday, noon already, and you’re in Wonwoo’s shared apartment. Junhui had let you in earlier when you had knocked at their door until your knuckles were sore. When you burst unceremoniously into Wonwoo’s bedroom, he’s still asleep with his glasses on, smudged and crooked, and his phone on his chest. You frown. “Wake up, Wonwoo. Did you fall asleep while watching dramas again?”

Wonwoo jumps slightly and lifts his head, brows furrowing. “Huh?”

“You said you’d go to lunch with me.” You extend your arms and spin to show off your cute, perfectly coordinated outfit, picked out specifically to match the instagram trap you’re going to. You even broke out the eyeliner and glitter eyeshadow to match the cute knit cardigan and wool miniskirt you put on. “What hat should I wear? The fuzzy bucket hat,” you hold up option one, “or the beret,” you hold up option two, looking down at Wonwoo expectantly.

Your best friend groans and collapses back onto the bed, eyes sliding shut. “Um. The beret.”

“Okay great, now get out of bed. Our reservation is soon and you still need to wash your face and get dressed.” You poke at his cheek, which is greasy from sleep and still bears the imprint of his pillow. 

“Can you get Minghao to go with you instead?” He doesn’t bother opening his eyes.

“Nope,” you respond, popping the ‘p’, “he has dance practice.”

“Mingyu?”

“He said he had a textile arts club meeting?” You frown. “I’m not sure what it is, but he’s been crocheting like crazy for it this week.”

“Um,” Wonwoo smacks his hand over his face, clearly trying to think of other options. He forgets, however, that he fell asleep with his glasses on, and ends up jamming the frames against this cheek. “Ow. Ok, what about, uh, Seokmin?”

You pout at him even though he can’t see it. “Wonu,” you whine, sitting down on his bed, “I want to go to lunch with you, though.”

At that, he finally cracks his eyes open. “Why?”

Because, you want to say, I don’t want to do this with anybody other than you. You briefly try to imagine doing this whole thing– dressing up, making a reservation, taking pictures and walking around town, huddling together in a cafe in the afternoon to watch the latest Nintendo Direct together– with anybody else, but you just quite settle on it comfortably. No. It has to be Wonwoo. Because Wonwoo is your best friend, because Wonwoo has always been there for you, because Wonwoo just gets you, better than anybody ever has, and every moment you spend with Wonwoo, you feel your mood lifting and relaxing. Because you trust Wonwoo and he trusts you, and because you know him, and you love him–

You love him.

Oh.

Oh.

You’ll have to process that later. “Because you have a car and you can drive me,” you tell Wonwoo instead, shoving the revelation down to the back of your mind and putting it in a box labeled problems for future me.

“Fine,” Wonwoo acquiesces, sitting up with enormous effort. His hair is still sticking up in all directions, making him look like a big dark dandelion. A part of you expects to see him in a different light, now that you think you love him, like there’s supposed to be cherubs singing and starlight in his eyes or something, but instead, you just see regular old Wonwoo. Your best friend. He doesn’t suddenly look like a vision sent from heaven, he just looks sleepy and crusty and a little greasy.

“Hurry up and brush your teeth,” you tell him, slapping him lightly on his belly and laughing at the resulting ouuff that jerks out of him, “you have morning breath and I can smell it from here.”

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.

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From: kwon.soonyoung@svt.edu To: ask_cherry_svt@gmail.com Re: advice

Dear Cherry, my friend is in love with his childhood friend but she doesn’t love him back :( how do we make her fall in love with him? from anonymous

“Hm,” you sigh out loud, “I wonder if Soonyoung knows that the anonymous signoff is made moot by the fact that he emailed this one in instead of using the anonymous submission box.” You’re draped on the couch with your legs propped all the way up and your laptop on your chest as you scroll through this week’s Am I The Asshole Wednesday submissions.

“You can ignore him,” Minghao says, passing by with a full bottle of wine in each hand on his way to put them away in the kitchen. “I don’t think you should be giving any love advice when your own love life is a mess,” he sniffs. 

“You’re the asshole,” you announce, not looking up from your screen. “That was for you, Minghao.” Clearly, he’s still mad at you after you had revealed the whole Mingyu situation to him a few nights ago. You still remember the blistering look that Minghao had thrown at you, like you’re the dumbest human he’s ever had the supreme displeasure of knowing.

“I guess you don’t want to go to the dance team party with me, then,” your roommate responds smoothly, returning from the kitchen. It’s only 6pm, but Minghao is already dressed in a silk pajama set with a matching robe, lenseless glasses frames perched on the tip of his nose, smelling of strawberry-scented lotion as he pours himself a glass of wine.

You scowl at him.  “Fine. I don’t care.” Turning back to your laptop, you scroll past a few more boring submissions on your hunt for the truly salacious stuff your classmates get up to. “I wonder what Soonyoung is even talking about, though,” you mumble, half to yourself, as you click on the next interesting subject line.

.

.

.

In retrospect, Mingyu was definitely going to win that Greek God competition, even if Jaehyun from Nu Kapp put up a good fight.

Mingyu’s physique is certainly impressive, and the audience erupted when he won the (shirtless and oiled-up, for some reason) pushup contest, but his clumsiness eventually led him to lose at every other physical challenge. It was his overwhelming victory in the popularity vote and personality contest that got him to first place. It’s probably all because of his unwavering friendliness and his constant need for affirmation manifesting into an overwhelming desire to be helpful, but you like to think that maybe you helped too.

That’s why you’re here, in the kitchen of the Sigma house, absolutely wasted at the celebration party the frat is throwing in honor of Mingyu being crowned the best frat star on campus. Between the blunt that you, Mingyu, Minghao, and Seokmin, another friend in your year, had passed around upstairs, and all the shots that Mingyu had plied you with, you’re feeling weirdly bouncy and giggly and not entirely sure if you’ll remember this the next morning.

“Okay, so,” Mingyu mumbles, pulling you closer as the two of you nestle in a corner, away from whatever is going on at the beer pong table, “we should stage a breakup, right?”

You giggle against the hollow of his throat, arms looped over his shoulders. “Can we make it your fault?”

He whines like a kicked puppy. “Why can’t we make it mutual? Jeonghan would kick my ass.”

“Fine, fine,” you huff, not at all reluctant. “We should give it some time so it’s not suspicious, right?”

“Yeah.” Mingyu nods, accidentally knocking his chin against your forehead. “You’re so smart.”

“Which means I’m still on girlfriend duty tonight,” you conclude.

“Oh, come on.” Mingyu’s hands come down to rest at your waist, his fingertips skimming along the waistband of your skirt, eliciting a shiver from you when you feel his rough, warm skin against yours. “You make it sound like a chore.”

You sigh. Oh well, you could do much worse than Mingyu.

You’re not sure if it’s the weed or the alcohol, or maybe just jealousy at this fake version of yourself that’s happy with a boyfriend and not moping over an unrequited crush on your childhood best friend, but you find it strangely easy to lean up and attach your lips to Mingyu’s, feel the wet heat of his tongue in your mouth. and Mingyu, pliant under your grip as always, kisses you back, going along with it without a second thought.

“No offense,” he pants as he parts from you, “but I don’t think I want to hook up with you.”

You blink at him. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no,” he clarifies quickly, “you’re a good kisser, I just don’t want things to be weird between us, which I think might happen if we hook up.”

“If fake dating didn’t make things weird, I’m not sure that hooking up would,” you laugh, more of a giggle than anything. You attach your lips to his jaw, pulling him down towards you so you don’t have to crane your neck. 

“And also,” he nudges at the hair behind your ear with his nose, “you’re like, totally wasted right now.”

“You’re not sober either,” you shoot back, accusatory.

“More sober than you,” he shoots back. He’s right, though. His large stature means that he can hold his liquor much better than you. “It wouldn’t be fair,” he pouts, stubborn, “and I’m not a creep.”

“Fine.” You tug lightly at the short hairs on the back of his head. 

“Are… are you okay?”

Mingyu’s question makes you hesitate for a moment. You lean your flushed cheek against the jut of his collarbone. “I’m drunk,” you respond flatly.

“No, not that, you’re just usually not this…” you feel Mingyu gulp, “clingy.”

You wonder if you should tell him about Wonwoo and your stupid pointless crush that’s starting to feel less like a crush every time you’re with him and more like… something deeper. Something frightening, like a yawning chasm, just waiting for you to fall in.

You’re saved the effort of further deliberation, however, when Mingyu suddenly raises his head and interrupts your thoughts. “Hey, isn’t that Wonwoo?”

You lift yourself off of Mingyu’s chest and look behind you. True to his word, it really is Wonwoo, standing by the door, jacket on, looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Huh, he doesn’t usually come to these,” Mingyu observes, tugging idly at the bottom of your shirt. “I wonder why he’s here.”

You think you know why he’s here, though. Earlier, back upstairs, you had excused yourself to the bathroom to take a quick breather. Through an alcohol and weed induced haze, you had belatedly realized that it’s Friday night, and you’re late.

you: cn you come pick me u you: at sigma wonu: are you ok? i’ll be there in a few you: sry im drunk you: wanna go home w u

Now, staring Wonwoo dead in the eyes, you realize with a jolt that you had never told him why you asked him to pick you up. You peel yourself off your fake boyfriend and stumble, clumsily, towards Wonwoo, trying your best to ignore the way the room spins around you.

“Wonu,” you whine reaching out to him.

He frowns. “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“I’m drunk,” you tell him.

“I know.” He extends his arm and lets you cling on to him as you stumble into his torso.

“And it’s Friday night,” you look up at him.

“Yes.”

“We’re supposed to be playing Overwatch together.” You give him the best puppy eyes you can muster, and he blinks at you, looking flustered.

“Huh?”

“Overwatch,” you insist, tugging him towards the door. “Friday night. It’s Wonwoo and Y/N night.”

“Is… is this what you called me over here for?”

You nod and begin dragging Wonwoo out by the wrist. 

The cool air outside hits your flushed skin like a wave, like you’re jumping into a pool. Wonwoo is silent and lets you continue to cling onto him as he walks you to where he had parked on the side of the street, directly under a streetlight.

You slide into the passenger seat. Wonwoo hands you a bottle of water, cap already removed for you. “Hydrate,” he orders. 

“Sorry,” you whimper, somewhat pathetically.

He frowns. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I must be so annoying,” you mumble, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

“No,” Wonwoo reaches out and takes your hand over the center console. “You’re not annoying.”

You watch him as he drives. He’s so handsome, your alcohol-addled mind supplies. 

“You don’t think I’m annoying?”

“Never.”

Wonwoo says it like a promise.

Silence falls over the two of you as he drives through campus, all the way back to the student housing unit that both of you live in. He turns off the engine, leaving a silence that feels even more all-encompassing. He looks over at you, face half hidden in the shadows and half illuminated by the orange lamplight outside. “Is Minghao home?”

“N…no, he’s back at the party.”

“Okay, we’re going back to my apartment, then,” he decides.

You blink. “Huh?” But you’re already stumbling out of his car and spilling onto the sidewalk, all wobbly legs and loose limbs. 

“I’m taking you back to my place,” Wonwoo repeats. “You need someone to watch you and make sure you don’t wander off and get lost in the city,” he explains drily.

“‘M okay,” you whine futilely. It’s especially unconvincing, since you’re still stumbling over your own feet and leaning against him. 

Wonwoo lets you rest your cheek on his shoulder and cling onto him as he lets you into his apartment, gets you a glass of water, and digs up a pack of makeup wipes from out of nowhere and sits you on his bed and starts to get to work. 

A small (very drunk) part of you bristles at the appearance of the makeup wipes, and you try to scowl, even as Wonwoo gently wipes at your smudged eyeliner. “Whose are these? Do you have a lot of girls over here or something?”

“They’re Junhui’s, he uses them,” Wonwoo explains. He dabs at one last spot in the corner of your right eye, then announces, “there, you’re all done.”

You open your eyes to see Wonwoo grinning dopily at you. “You’re cute,” you poke at his cheek, and he laughs quietly. Seokmin used to be afraid of him, he had confessed to you, and you wonder why, because the Wonwoo you know is so soft, so loveable, so goofy and cute. 

The Wonwoo you know is shy and awkward and doesn’t quite know how to fit himself into social situations. He’s clumsy and absentminded and needs someone to take care of him, to dote on him and give him attention.

The Wonwoo that you know, you’ve known since you were in second grade, standing over the boy you had knocked over with a rubber kickball, staring at him as he sniffled on the woodchips and glared at you through big watery eyes. That day, you decided right then and there that this boy would be yours, and now…

“Wonwoo,” you blurt out without thinking, “I’m in love with you.”

His breath catches. Wonwoo pauses, digesting your clumsily delivered confession, and then he makes the most awful expression you have ever seen on him.

It’s raw hurt, sharp, painful. His mouth twists and his brows furrow and he looks at you like you’re something to be afraid of. You hate it. You hate that you’re the cause of it, that he’s feeling this, whatever it is, because of you, even though you’re not sure why.

“Really,” you insist. You reach out to grab his hand, but he pulls away from you. “It’s true. I’m in love with you.”

You hear a sharp intake of breath. “You’re not,” he says. “You’re in love with Mingyu. You’re happy with him.”

“I’m not… I’m not in love with him,” you try to explain, but your liquor-numbed lips are clumsy and you trip over your words. You lean towards him, slanting your face up, because you want to kiss him so badly it’s all you can think of. Wonwoo shoves you back, hard. 

“Don’t,” he bites, voice sharp and tense.

“I’m in love with you,” you repeat, reaching out to him, but he pushes your hand back and steps away. Like he’s afraid of you.

“Don’t do it. You’re drunk.” His voice wavers slightly. “Don’t do something you’ll regret tomorrow.”

You shake your head, but Wonwoo looks at you with so much hurt and confusion in his eyes, you can’t bring yourself to argue. “Wonu,” you whisper, reaching out to rest your fingertips on his wrist, “please don’t cry.”

He takes a long, shuddering breath, eyes closed, and then when he exhales and opens his eyes again, his expression is impassive. Unreadable.

“Go to sleep,” he says flatly. “Tomorrow you’ll wake up and go back to your boyfriend, and you’ll be happy that nothing happened tonight.”

He closes the door to his bedroom, leaving you in the darkness.

(Wonwoo is cold.

He’s always a little cold, but in his haste to escape earlier, he hadn’t gotten a blanket or even changed into sweats before closing the door behind him, and now Wonwoo lays on the couch, his feet hanging over the armrest, staring at the ceiling. 

I’m in love with you, your voice rings in his head. Wonwoo’s cheek still burns where you had gently rested your hand earlier. If he hadn’t known any better, Wonwoo might have believed you and given in to his most guilty, far-off fantasy, the one where you love him back.

But Wonwoo does know better. He saw the way you were draped all over Mingyu at the party, the way you giggled into his neck when Mingyu slipped his fingertips under the him of your shirt. Mingyu is good for you, Wonwoo decides. Like you, Mingyu is bright and out-going, popular, well-liked, good at receiving love and gives it readily in return. 

Wonwoo closes his eyes, tries to push away the memory of your body curled into his, and wills his mind into silence so that maybe he can get some sleep tonight.)

You wake up, nauseous and hung over and feeling not at all rested, in Wonwoo’s bed.

Groaning, you swipe at your face, expecting to see a gloopy mess on your fingers, but your makeup has already been removed. You squint at the dim sunlight streaming in through the closed blinds, and you reach around blindly until your fingers close around your phone. 

There’s a smattering of random social media notifications and updates from group chats, but one notification in particular catches your eye.

wonu: i’m outside wonu: where are you? are you ok? wonu: i’m gonna head inside to look for you

You feel your cheeks flush as the memories come trickling back– your drunk texts, insisting that your best friend picks you up, kissing Mingyu, leaving the party with Wonwoo, clinging on to him like a koala…

Gathering your courage and steeling your woozy stomach, you stumble out of bed and throw open the door, poking your head out. Wonwoo is sprawled across the couch, undoubtedly playing some kind of mobile game, when he looks up at you. His hair is sticking up in every possible direction and his shirt is crumpled. “Hi,” he says, expression impossibly neutral.

“Hi,” you grin, waving lamely. “I feel like shit. I didn’t say anything weird or embarrassing last night, did I?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You don’t remember?”

You shake your head. “I remember you picking me up from the frat, I think.”

For a split second, he looks relieved. Then, he puts his phone down and laughs at you. “You didn’t do anything embarrassing,” he grins, “except for abandoning your boyfriend at the party because you wanted to play Overwatch with me. C’mon, do you want to get brunch?”

You press your palms against your throbbing forehead. Your brain hurts, and you’re almost sure you half-remember telling Wonwoo that you’re in love with him, but Wonwoo is looking at you expectantly and you’d like nothing more than some french toast and a hot coffee right now, so you shrug. “Sure, lemme wash up and get changed in my apartment first.”

.

.

.

“Dear Cherry, my friend is hopelessly in love with his childhood best friend, who is currently dating a hot frat dude. Should he just give up? The moping is starting to bum me out and I’m worried my hair is going to fall out. Love, Wen Junhui.”

You wrinkle your nose at the message. “And has anybody ever told Junhui that the whole point of anonymous submissions is defeated when he signs his messages with his full name?”

Minghao looks up from the canvas he’s busy splattering paint on. It’s his semester final project, and you had promised to accompany him in the basement of the fine arts building as he works.

Instead of answering, he looks at you like you’re the densest human he’s ever had the misfortune of meeting. “Maybe he’s not trying to be anonymous. Maybe he’s trying to complain about someone we know.”

You squint at your laptop screen. “Who is this supposed to be about, anyways?”

This time, Minghao actually rolls his eyes at you. “Whatever. Have you broken up with Mingyu yet?”

“Yeah, we broke up two days ago. It was mutual, because Mingyu was genuinely afraid that Jeonghan would kick his ass if we said we broke up with me.”

The two of you had made a whole show of deleting all your carefully staged couple photos off your social media accounts, and then unfollowing and refollowing each other within the span of two days, because as the story goes, you and Mingyu had talked it over and are better as friends than as a couple.

“That’s nice,” Minghao says. He unscrews a jar of turpentine and starts to clean off his brushes. “Maybe you should respond to Junhui’s advice submission.”

You groan. “I’ll just tell him to tell his friend to get over it,” you scowl.

“By the way, what’s wrong with Wonwoo?”

“What do you mean?” You look up. Minghao is now attacking the canvas with a palette knife, carving some dramatic impasto into the paint.

“The last two times all of us hung out together, he’s been all…weird.” Minghao wrinkles his nose. “It’s like he’s some kind of guilty dog. He stares at you when you’re not looking, and then he looks away when you are.”

You chew on your lip, work now long forgotten on your idle laptop. Minghao is right. Wonwoo has been different, but not… different. He’s as unwaveringly weird as always, and he’s been texting you links to youtube cat videos and starting arguments on video game theories as always, but it feels like Wonwoo has been aggressively normal. Like how best friends are supposed to be. Light and easy.

“I don’t know. I feel like he’s been acting weird these days too, but I can’t figure out how.”

“You should talk to him,” Minghao says, like talking to Wonwoo about his feelings is easy or something. Or like talking about your own feelings is easy.  

“Or maybe I shouldn’t,” you sigh. Whatever is going on with Wonwoo, you’re just glad he still wants to hang out with you. You’re not entirely sure what you even did wrong, but you’d be willing to beg on your hands and knees for him to forgive you and to stick by your side. “Whatever. We’re gaming together this Friday, I’ll think about it then, I guess.”

.

.

.

“Wonu, I’m scared,” you whine into the mic. It’s another Friday night and the two of you are playing PUBG again. You’re in the endgame now– the original 100 has been whittled down to just 5 players remaining, including you but not including Wonwoo, who had been killed earlier and is now spectating you in-game like some sort of ghost. 

“Just sit tight,” he instructs. In your mind’s eye, he’s leaning back in his gaming chair, arms crossed as he observes your gameplay. 

“There’s gunshots,” you complain, “North? I think they’re hiding by those rocks. It sounds like they’ve got a good sniper rifle, too.”

“They don’t know you’re there. Just let the other teams fight it out. You have enough ammo?”

You huff. “I have like, twelve shotgun shells.”

“And you have the location advantage. Just sit and wait for now.”

You sigh, aimlessly panning the camera back and forth in your anxiety. “Fine,” you agree, because despite it all, Wonwoo is still better at this game than you are, and because you trust him. 

Seconds pass. The audio of distant gunfire in crisp surround sound keeps you on edge and tense, so that when you hear Soonyoung, one of Wonwoo’s roommates, you nearly jump out of your skin. 

“Hey, are you busy?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo replies. His voice is tinny and quiet, but still clear, like he’s slipped his headset off and mic is pushed away. “I’m gaming with Y/N. I’m muted, don’t worry.”

You’re about to shout and let him know that he’s not actually muted, but your curiosity gets the better of you when you hear Soonyoung’s next words:

“Right, speaking of Y/N, that reminds me. Did you hear that Y/N and Mingyu broke up?”

“Oh.” There’s a pause, and then you hear Wonwoo ask, “why?”

“Dunno. Mingyu wouldn’t give me any details. He said something lame, like that they’re better off as friends, or something.”

“Oh. When did this happen?”

“I think on Wednesday? At least that’s what Seungkwan told me.”

“Hm.”

“Anyways, isn’t that great? You can finally shoot your shot!”

“Are you insane, Soonyoung? It’s been less than a week!”

“Well, okay, fair. But next week? She didn’t seem too sad about it in class today.”

“That’s because she was in class. And anyways, this doesn’t change anything between us, so I’m not going to do anything either.”

“Are you kidding me? So you’re just going to keep it a secret forever?”

“Yeah. I’ll die before I tell Y/N that I’m in love with her.”

Oh.

You sit at your desk, staring at your monitor but not seeing anything. Very quietly, you press your fingers against your lips, as hard as you can, and feel the blood rushing past your ears. 

“I’m not going to ruin our friendship over nothing,” Wonwoo continues.

“It’s not nothing,” Soonyoung replies with a pout in his voice. “You’ve been in love with her for years. Since high school, at least.”

“She just sees me as a friend, that’s all,” Wonwoo sighs. 

Since high school. He’s loved you since high school.

You remember the way he looked at you after prom when he was dropping you back off at home. You had gone with him because the boy you wanted to ask you, some boring soccer player, had asked your friend instead, and Jaehyun had already asked (and been rejected by you) twice, and nobody else had asked you to be their prom date. And Wonwoo, awkward and quiet as he was, had fully expected to skip prom completely, but three days before you had shown up at his locker after school, desperate because you already had a dress and a group to go with and tickets but no date, practically begging him to go to prom with you. And without even thinking, Wonwoo had agreed.

That night, when he drive you home, you leaned your head against the car door with the windows rolled down and felt the wind on your face. At the end, when he parked his car on the side of the street in front of your childhood home, you looked over at him and told him. “I’m so glad we’re going to college together, Wonwoo. I want to be with you forever.”

And he had watched you as you said it, quiet, like he was breathless. Like you had said something terrible and incredible at the same time. 

It’s always been Wonwoo beside you, lazy summers spent playing video games, late night phone calls where you’d talk and he’d listen, after class in his car listening to the radio and eating junk food. Had he loved you then? With ketchup on your shirt and acne across your face and poorly box-dyed hair? And had you loved him then too? Before you even knew what love is?

The weight of it is heavy, settling in your stomach like a hot stone. It almost hurts, how much you feel.

You’re interrupted by a very loud spate of gunfire piercing your eardrums and making you jump,  shrieking loudly as you’re killed in-game. Onscreen, your bloodied character rolls limply down the hill as “Better luck next time! #2/48” flashes on top of your game stats.

“Aw, second place, so close,” you hear Wonwoo say. Then he pauses. “Wait. Was I not muted just now?”

“Wonwoo, I’m going downstairs,” you tell him.

“Wait–” his voice is tight and panicked, but you’re already tugging your headset off and grabbing your keys.

You nearly avoid tripping over your feet as you run to the stairwell at the end of the hall and fly down the two flights of stairs, to where Wonwoo is. By the time you’re banging at their door, you’re out of breath and flushed. You’re not sure if the pounding of your heart is from the exertion or if it’s from something else. Anxiety, maybe. Fear. Exhilaration.

Wonwoo answers the door. He looks exactly like you’d expect, with his rumpled tee shirt and sweatpants and bare feet, his glasses on and his bangs pushed back with the bunny shower headband you bought for him last year.

“Hi,” you grin breathlessly at him.

“Hi,” he replies.

“Can I come in?”

He takes a deep breath, like he’s steeling his nerves. “Yeah.” He opens the door wider and steps aside to let you in, and you follow Wonwoo to his room.

It’s dimly lit with the rainbow glow of his gaming setup and the ready screen for PUBG still up on one of his monitors. Wonwoo flicks on the overhead light, which throws the room into sharp relief. The sudden brightness makes everything feel more real, somehow. 

You sit on the edge of Wonwoo’s bed and pat the spot net to you, which he takes. “Wonwoo,” you say.

Wonwoo purses his lips. “How much of that did you hear earlier?”

“All of it,” you chew the inside of your cheek, drumming your fingers against the bedspread. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “You can pretend I didn’t say any of that.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Huh?” He stares at you with wide eyes.

“What you said earlier.” You pick at a loose thread poking from the hem of your shirt. “Did you mean it when you said you’re in love with me?”

He hesitates, frowning as a conflicted expression briefly flashes across his face, eyebrows drawing together. 

“Wonwoo?” You call his name gently to get his attention. “I’m in love with you too, Wonwoo.”

“I–what?” Wonwoo looks at you like you’ve brown another head. “But, you...  Mingyu?”

You furrow your brows at him. “Mingyu? Didn’t I tell you? We were just faking so he could win that Greek God competition and get free parking next semester.”

“Wait,” he sputters, “so all of that was fake? You were just pretending to be in a relationship?”

“Yeah. I don’t care about Mingyu, I have feelings for you, Wonwoo.”

“You.” Wonwoo takes a deep breath. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I did!” You widen your eyes, adamant. “At karaoke back in October. You, me, Minghao, and Junhui?” It had been after a particularly grueling set of midterms, and the four of you had gone out for some korean barbeque, followed by boba and an extended noraebang session. While Junhui was crooning to an old Cantonese ballad, you were squished on a couch with Minghao and Wonwoo, and the three of you were talking idly about Junhui’s most recent date.

It’s funny, you remember turning and mumbling to Wonwoo, did I ever tell you that Mingyu and I are faking our whole relationship for clout? But Wonwoo hadn’t responded, so you assumed that he didn’t care. Now, it’s looking more like he didn’t even hear you.

“I was asleep,” Wonwoo states in flat disbelief.

“You were asleep,” you repeat slowly.

“It was dark and I was tired. You didn’t notice that I passed out as soon as we dimmed the lights?” He raises his eyebrows as he defends himself, and you bury your face in your hands.

Click. The pieces are all falling in place.

“Wonwoo. I’m so dumb,” you moan. “I run the Ask Cherry column. All those messages from Junhui and Soonyoung. They were about you, weren’t they?”

“Messages? There were more after the first one?!”

“And they were about you being in love with me,” you recall. “This whole time, I thought you liked someone else. Someone who isn’t me.”

There’s a pause. You can hear the sound of Wonwoo’s PC whirring in the background. And then, Wonwoo starts laughing, choked and quiet at first, and then loud, incredulous, almost.

“God,” he gasps between laughs, “we’re both so, so stupid.” And then you’re laughing too.

In retrospect, it’s all ridiculous, this entire situation. You collapse back onto Wonwoo’s bed and laugh until your ribs hurt, and when you turn your head to the side, there’s Wonwoo laying beside you, glasses askew, grinning.

You giggle and reach out to straighten his glasses. “Hi,” you say to him.

“Hi,” he says back, getting up to lean on one elbow. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

You feel your smile widen so much, your cheeks hurt. “I’m in love with you, Jeon Wonwoo.”

He looks at you with so much fondness, it takes your breath away. It’s the way he’s always looked at you, you realize, since the two of you weren’t much more than a pair of kids.

“So, now what?”

“Hmm.” You pretend to think. “Can you kiss me about it, then?”

Wonwoo nods, and his hair flops over the bunny headband as he moves his head. “Yeah,” he says, “I think I can do that.”

.

.

.

(Afterwards, a lot less changes with your relationship with Wonwoo than you thought. After all, he was your best friend for much, much longer than he’s been your boyfriend. He still sends you cat videos at strange hours of the night, and he still sticks sullenly by your side during social outings. Friday nights are still game nights, of course, but now it’s mostly spent on your shared Stardew Valley co-op or cuddling in bed while playing Pokemon together. 

But one thing that changes is the kisses. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you can, because you have so much love to give him and not enough time in the day to tell him all the ways you love him. You try, though, to tell him every moment you can that he’s the cutest, smartest, sweetest, kindest, funniest boy in the world, and that he’s the best friend and boyfriend you could ever ask for.

Wonwoo has a harder time with his feelings, but you know, even without saying. It’s in the way that his fingers linger over your hand when he drops you off in front of your classroom, and the way he gives you first pick on all the best loot when you’re gaming together. And when it’s really late at night and the two of you are huddled under the blankets together, listening to the way your heartbeats collide, he whispers it too. “I love you.”

And, Minghao finally admits it. “Fine,” he grumbles reluctantly while the two of you are preparing the upcoming edition of Ask Cherry, “maybe you’re qualified to give love advice after all.”)

[mee3pp]

Farm house pt 6

Cw: drinking, swearing, implications of sex and ‘repayment’ in sexual acts

“I’ll just have a beer thanks Simon” You hum as Simon collects the drink orders for your group. “I'll have a martini please!” Maybel sings as she shamelessly ogles Simon to which you have to suppress an annoyed groan. Those two have been eye fucking for ages and have never asked eachother out at this point you’ve considered looking into how to make an arranged marriage. “Beer f’ me too Ghost” Johnny nods at Ghost before looking right at you and fuck does it make you weak, you’d give anything right now to climb over the table and kiss him. No. Dammit snap out of it you are here for a fun time not a man… sure the man who you want no need is right across from you but you need to get a grip. “So how long are yer stayin’ down here in Devon, Maybell?” Johnny asks with his usual impish grin. “Umm another three days i think, then i have to get back to work” Maybel smiles her pretty posh london accent almost makes you jealous. “What do yer do f’ work lass?” He asks as he murmurs a small “cheers” to Ghost as he hands him his beer. “I work in a flower shop” Maybell beams, she's always loved flowers even when you two were wee lasses. “She’s very good at makin’ th’ flower bunches n shite” Ghost grumbles as he sits down the chair creaking under his weight, his compliment makes Maybell blush like an in season tomato.

“Meant ta ask ya lass, whats th’ deal bout the sheep back at yer place?” Johnny inquires as he looks straight at you making dead eye contact and it’s nothing short from hot. “I sell em’ that’s what i do for work. I sell th’ sheep n their wool or meat” You clarify before taking a much needed gulp of beer. “Still havin’ trouble with that Steve guy n his dogs?” Simon adds looking at you to most people having two well decorated and honestly intimidating men staring right at you would be unnerving at least but you don’t see them in that light. “Nah, once i shot his dog i think he got th’ message. Keep ya fuckin’ dogs away from my sheep” You chuckle and Simon gives you a proud brotherly look. 

“Work has been quiet lately, Si?” Maybel hums as she again ogles Simon. He gives her a polite nod “Too quiet, knock on wood it ain’t a curse in disguise” He smiles. Both you and Johnny shoot each other looks you both can’t remember the last time Simon smiled like that. Sure the seemingly stone cold Lieutenant smiles and cracks a laugh every now and then but he hasn’t smiled like that at someone in a long time. A genuine, lovestruck smile. “Hey Mabel, wanna come to go see how much the old juke box is to play some music? You hum standing up and grabbing her hand before walking away and flashing her an eager smile. Once you are out of earshot you giggle at her. “Maybel, He is head over heels for you!” you groan with a grin as you look at your best friend. “No way!” she gasps not believing you for a second “He don’t smile like that for anyone” You say pursuing your lips together. 

2:21am 

It’s gotten late in the night, Simon and Maybel have disappeared somewhere definitely shit faced. It’s just you and Johnny left you both are drunk but not as much as your other friends it’s what you like to call ‘thoroughly buzzed’. You sigh pulling out your phone and opening your best friends contact. 

Saturday 8/4/24, 2:22 am 

2:22 am: May didn’t get kidnapped, did you??

2:30am: girl at this point i'm assuming you’re with Simon, text me when you can Xx

“Can Yer get a hold of her?” Johnny asks as he sighs, putting his own phone down on the table. You shake your head with a small drunken chuckle. “Nup, you get ahold of Simon?” You inquire as you nurse the end of a slightly warm martini that is probably not yours. “Nae, what's th’ bet their fuckin’ right now?” Johnny laughs loudly he’s definitely more drunk then you but not off his face. “Honestly they probably are” You huff “should i call dad to give us a ride home or you wanna walk?”. Johnny faines thinking hard about the question. “I think if yer old man saw i was hangin’ around his daughter unsupervised he’d cut me dick off” Johny half winces and half chuckles. “Walk it is then, we need those intact don’t we?” You blurt out accompanied by a wink before you can process what your drunk mind is doing. Johnny’s subtle smirk forms into a full wide grin at your comment. “Is that right lass?” He chuckles, his arm snakes around your waist as you two walk down the quiet street. 

Fuck. you can’t believe you just said that. You are now blushing like a mad woman but thankfully he doesn’t add anything else. His arm stays firmly wrapped around your waist as you two walk down the street. “Meant to clarify before lass… yer just sell sheep?” Johnny slurs drunkenly as he looks down at you with a goofy smile. “ya just sheep i ain’t got anything else for work… I mean I chose to sell sheep” You nod with a smile that you can’t help but crack. “I mean i could be a teacher i’ve got a degree in Agriculture and biology” You ramble on leaning into Johnny’s side as you near closer to your house. “Oh so yer a smart girl?” Johnny beams with an impish grin. “I’ve always liked smart girls” he teases as you make the kilometre walk up your ridiculously long driveway. You blush more if it’s even possible at this point at his stupid but somehow charming comment. 

“Shhhh if ya wake up dad i’ll let him cut your dick off” You hiss at Johnny as he steps on a creaky floor board. You are both heading not so quietly upstairs to your room. Is Johnny supposed to be sleeping down stairs on the couch? Yes but you feel bad for the poor man after all he's been so polite to you all night may as well repay him right? Of course without your father, his Captain finds out otherwise he’ll be lacking the assets for you to repay him with. “Watch the left side… the boards are creaky there” you shoosh as you pull Johnny next to you stupid fuck almost stepped on the part you said not to which causes you to roll your eyes. After what feels like hours but in a non-drunken reality was only a few moments you both successfully make it into your bedroom. You quickly strip down to your bra and underwear and Johnny follows suit before you both slip into your double bed that Johnny is taking up the majority of. That just gives you an excuse to cuddle up to him, you press your ass into his upper crotch area and he envelops you in a cuddle. Very quickly you both fall asleep due to your drunken states. 

Taglist:

@tabbslouuformer

@amberpanda99

@thepowers-kat-be

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Glynda: “You’re back. And the beast?”

Jaune: “Monster is slain. Bangarang.” *snaps his fingers so that he ends up pointing distantly at the ground*

Glynda: “You look tired. You should get some rest.”

Jaune: “Can’t. I have to help team CMAD with their serial killer mission."

Glynda: “Why?”

Jaune: “Why do I have to help them or what help do I have to give?”

Glynda: “Well, both at once I suppose.”

Jaune: “The killer came up into my network about a week ago. It’s sort of my responsibility to keep an eye out for people like this.”

Glynda: “Your network?”

Jaune: “My criminal contacts in the city. I have the name and semblance of the killer.”

Glynda: “That’s most useful.”

Jaune: “That’s what I strive for. I wake up everyday and say ‘oh, if only I could be most useful today.’”

Glynda: *narrows her eyes then offers a dismissive half shrug*"Ozpin often wished to be able to tap into those elements for this very reason but couldn’t figure out how to get started. I mean, it’s nice to say you want to build trust and contacts like that and quite another to go out and succeed at it.”

Jaune: “They want you to kill people for them sometimes. And sometimes you have to kill some people just to put the fear in ‘em. Or torture people. Whatever.”

Glynda: “Should you be telling me this?”

Jaune: “I mean, what are you gonna do about it? What is anybody gonna do about it? Besides, I thought it was ‘most useful.’”

Glynda: “Maybe not what you have to give up to make it happen. That’s perhaps why Ozpin never succeeded.”

Jaune: “You have to have a hard stomach. And at any rate I need to be able to see my sisters coming or, god forbid I even say this, my Mother? Could you imagine her rolling up on us?”

Glynda: “I don’t really want to. Would she?” 

Jaune: “She mostly acts through intermediaries when she can. I can… feel her? Her location? All the time. So I’d know if she was moving around at all. Instead she just hangs out on one of the kingdomless continents. Ayan. So she stays far away from any kingdom and acts from the shadows.”

Glynda: “I don’t know how concerning that is. How concerned should I be?”

Jaune: “Somewhere between one and ten. Depending on how much thought you want to give it. Just don’t think about it very much. That’s what I do. And I’m… mostly fine?”

Glynda: *shakes her head at him. Gentle but firm denial* 

Jaune: “Well, I’m as ‘okay’ as could be expected?”

Glynda: “I don’t think so."

Jaune: “Exactly how ‘okay’ am I supposed to be?” 

Glynda: “Well ideally with a one being the worst and a ten being the best you’d be at a ten, Jaune."

Jaune: “I’m like a five. A hard five. That passes muster.”

Glynda: “A hard five which way?” 

Jaune: “Yeah, fair cop. Good point.”

Glynda: “I wasn’t even making a point."

Jaune: “Well you made it anyway."

Glynda: "Go to bed, Jaune. Your serial killer can wait. What? Are you excited to add to your little collection?”

Jaune: “Am I more or less messed up if I say ‘yes?’” 

Glynda: “You’re just a mixed up kid.”

Jaune: “I mean… yeah. I knew that. But am I more or less fucked if I say I want to add her sniper rifle to my collection?”

Glynda: “You know her weapon?”

Jaune: “Answer the question.”

Glynda: “I… I would say that you’re more mixed up than less. Not everyone has a collection of weapons from serial killers they’ve stopped. Not everyone thinks about adding to it. You are more mixed up than not. You’ve got to really be at least a four out of ten. Admit that to me.”

Jaune: “It’s really probably at most a three.”

Glynda: “Go to bed.”

Jaune: “I’ll go to bed. After I send team CMAD my dossier so they're not going in blind. I think she’s too dangerous for them or hee police to take on. If they find her, sure, good enough. But I really don’t think they should fight her.”

Glynda: “You can’t coddle them.”

Jaune: “I’m tryin’ not to but there’s a serial killer on the loose and they have some real power.”

Glynda: “What about you?”  

Jaune: “What about me?”

Glynda: "You’re a serial killer serial killer.” 

Jaune: “What? I’m not a… serial killer.”

Glynda: “Don’t emphasize ‘serial.’ It doesn’t do anyone any favors.”

Jaune: “Mass murderer? Sure. Spree killer? Probably. But I don’t do it for psychological gratification.”

Glynda: “Don’t emphasis ‘psychological!’ You need to find a sweet girl to look after you. Help put you back together. If you even like girls that is. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

Jaune: “I like girls. I’ve got team RWBY.”

Glynda: “They’re not here. What’s wrong with Miss Gainsborough?”

Jaune: “You mean besides the fact she’s my student? Off limits, remember? Besides, she’s seen a little into how fucked I am and probably shouldn’t want any of that mess.”

Glynda: “What if she does anyway?” 

Jaune: “I think I would know by now? I'd like to believe I would. But I don't really understand girls. Just throw me at a monster or serial killer or something and let me worry about that. Girls are complicated and hard and complicated."

Glynda: "Not really."

Jaune: "Girls like games and hints and teasing around."

Glynda: "Do you think I'd play games?"

Jaune: "I think you're probably an exception and not the rule. You and Weiss both."

Glynda: "Miss Schnee?"

Jaune: "Yeah. I mean, I think so. She doesn't like games or hints or playing around with her feelings either. I think that's why she barely tolerated me when we went to school here."

Glynda: "You were attracted to her? In your time as a student?"

Jaune: "Still am. That hasn't really changed. She was my first real crush. I had fake memories of crushes before that but I really woke up for the first time at Beacon after I was set loose. And then I met Weiss. Beautiful. Smart. Way out of my league. We're not even playing the same ball game." I ran a hand through my hair and felt the grime there. 

Glynda: "Good for you." 

Jaune: "Why?"

Glynda: "I think that's healthy. I'd be a shade more concerned if you really weren't attracted to anybody and you had nothing to strive for. Not that there's anything wrong with being asexual. But it's important to have personal goals for yourself and not just professional ones."

Jaune: "I'd love to impress her. Still. I'm just not really sure how. You know? In her time as the heiress or whatever she probably had all sorts of guys appeal to her so she's pretty much seen it all. I have no moves to make that she hasn't seen somebody else do better than I can. And I doubt my little collection of mass murderer trophies would make her stop and think in a good way."

Glynda: "Have you tried not appealing to her at all. Maybe you should just be honest with yourself and her and let your personality impress her."

Jaune: "I'm a schizoaffective loser."

Glynda: "You're not a loser just because you're schizoaffective."

Jaune: "I know that. I’m not stupid. I have totally separate reasons for why I'm a loser. I'm not funny and my personality isn't particularly pleasant to be around."

Glynda: "You have charm. You can be funny. Not exactly cracking jokes or something similar but you have a certain dry humor. Use that to impress her. Plus you've become surprisingly competent."

Jaune: "Well, thanks. I'll just use all those assets when I see her again and blow her away. Anyways. I'm safe. I'm back. My mission was a success and I thought you'd like to know that." I pulled my scroll from my side pocket and started tapping away and putting together what information I had on Cerise Genfield for CMAD. "Let's see if we can't wrangle ourselves up a serial killer. Yee-haw. I always did love outlaw justice. It's super fake. And it's basically all the murder with none of the guilt ."

Glynda: "Do you really think that?"

Jaune: "A little."

Glynda: "Go to sleep. Let the police and team CMAD track her down."

Jaune: "I hear you. I'm off to bed." 

[babytarttdoodoo]

kind of a rouge prompt idea but “i just told a story at work about my childhood that i thought was really funny but now everyone is super quiet and someone said i’m so sorry” but it’s jamie + the team edition. like he talks about a traumatising James Thing and has no idea how horrifying it is until they’re all like …… wtf

love your writing! <3

Thanks for the prompt (and the lovely compliment)!

I’ll preface this by saying I have next to no knowledge of dentistry and you should not assume any medical assertions made here are correct.

((I also feel like I should add that I finished this one off while more than a little tipsy.))

Enjoy the himbo chaos.

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

—

“Ay, dios mio, it was terrifying.” Dani put an emphatic hand to his chest. “Earl. He still haunts me.”

“Thought you were over that, bruv.” Isaac frowned up at him from his usual spot on the locker bench.

“On the pitch, yes. But at night…” Dani shook his head mournfully. “I have dreams of being chased in the dark. I know it is him.”

“I used to have dreams like that.” Colin piped up, pausing in tying his laces and looking haunted. “‘Cept it was my nana chasing me, on her mobility scooter.”

A few people sniggered and Isaac clapped Colin’s shoulder. “That’s fucked up.”

“I never remember my dreams,” Sam mused. “But I have always been a very deep sleeper. My father says I was the envy of all other parents when I was a baby.”

“I have only ever had one nightmare.” Richard declared. “All of my beautiful little teeth fell out of my mouth and I was ugly. Who will kiss me if I have no teeth?”

“Who’s losing teeth?” Jamie asked, joining the conversation from the doorway with a furrowed brow.

“We are discussing nightmares,” Jan explained matter-of-factly, then turned back to Richard. “Dreams about losing teeth are commonly attributed to stress.”

Jamie shook his head, still looking confused.

“Nah, don’t get that one, mate. Your dentist can just stick ‘em right back in, can’t they?”

That sparked a round of horrified protests and Jamie flapped his hands like a conductor to quiet the rabble.

“Eh, eh, I’m right!”

“Actually…” Sam held up his phone, open on an NHS webpage. “Jamie is correct.”

The locker room erupted into disgust and outrage while Jamie grinned smugly and tipped his I,COG cap to Sam for the assist.

“Hold on, how did you know that?” Isaac demanded, staring at Jamie like he had two heads. That quietened the team a little as heads swivelled in Jamie’s direction.

“Knocked two of ‘em out when I were, like, 10.” He shrugged and tapped a fingernail against one of his front teeth in demonstration. “Mum’s friend were a dental nurse. Told her to put them in some milk and take me to hospital.”

“You were very lucky.” Sam commented, still scrolling through the information he had found. “A significant gap in your teeth can lead to premature ageing.”

“And what a tragedy that would have been, eh?” Jamie beamed, gesturing to his face. “To think I might have deprived the world of this top tier mug.”

Other players groaned and laughed, a few tossing socks or discarded shirts in Jamie’s direction while he ducked, sniggering.

“How do you know they gave you your real teeth back?” Bumbercatch questioned, with an air that suggested great suspicion of the dentistry profession as a whole.

Jamie considered that. “Fair point,” he conceded. “They feel like mine, though.”

“Wait, how do you even manage to lose two teeth at once?” Colin interjected, muffled by his fingers as he prodded his own mouth in confusion. “I’ve never lost any after my baby teeth.”

“Took a snooker cue to the face.” The team winced as a collective and Jamie nodded sagely. “Were pretty grim. Blood all over the pub floor and everything.”

“You were 10?” Thierry clarified, face scrunched up. “Do kids normally get into bar fights here?”

“Well, yeah, s’pose not.” Jamie shuffled in place, suddenly looking a bit uncomfortable. “Weren’t a fight so much. Dad took me in to watch a match and it all kicked off a bit.”

An uneasy quiet overtook the general hubbub and more than one face went stony at that revelation.

“Mate.” Jeff looked like he’d rather not be the one probing further, but had bitten the bullet anyway. “Your, uh, your dad wasn’t the one with the pool cue, was he?”

“Eh…” Jamie glanced around the room before answering. “Well, yeah. He was. But I’m, like, 90% sure it were an accident.”

Chaos detonated like a bomb.

Isaac and Richard jumped to their feet, one cursing in French, the other demanding to know how long it would take to get to Manchester. Colin seemed to be googling train times.

Dani had taken to rifling through his bag, looking for god knows what, and Thierry was strapping on his mask like it was war paint (he didn’t even need it anymore, he just liked looking scary).

Jan was a terrifyingly silent pillar in the middle of the storm and Sam… Well, Sam looked like he had been gutted.

“OI!” Roy’s bellow commanded immediate silence, players freezing mid-shout. He was framed by the door to the coaches’ office, arms crossed and typical glare set in place. “What the fuck is going on out here?”

“Close ranks!” Jamie all but squeaked, invoking a hallowed, sacred vow from the team to collectively shut the fuck up.

All eyes turned to Issac who, as captain, had the final say.

On balance, he decided it was probably best that their new manager didn’t get arrested for murder before the season even got underway.

“Agreed.” he finally acquiesced and the whole room affirmed their compliance sullenly. It just wasn’t worth the forfeit to cave in under Roy’s (very effective) glare.

“... right then.” Roy finally allowed, still looking at them all suspiciously. “Then get out on the pitch and stop wasting our time.”

Everyone clamoured towards the tunnel, eager to escape the intense atmosphere. All except Jamie, who was still hurriedly pulling on his kit.

He tried not to seize up when Roy sidled over.

“You’ll tell me later.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question and Jamie knew better than to take it as one. He slumped in defeat.

“Yeah. Probably.”

[zoros-debt]

hii i’ve been looking for long well written zonami fics and i was hoping you could recommend the best stuff you’ve read. i don’t mind any site i’ll even take wattpad at this point ;—; there’s waay too little of this pair on ao3 and so many works i’ve seen are abandoned. help a girl out thank youuu 🫶🏼

Oh man, I wish I could tell ya! I haven't had the time to read fanfics lately, so I'm not sure if there are any recent ones I can recommend.

If you're a long-time ZoNami fan, you might've already heard of these two completed M-rated fics by AshaRose on Fanfiction.net:

Mystery Pants

Memory

And there's one completed explicit fic that I've been meaning to read on AO3 by StillPurplePanicking: Dry Spell

If you've already read these, I can only apologize lol - there just aren't too many fics out there for ZoNami, and it's been a long while since I've last read a long and completed ZoNami fic. I want to write more to add to the collection of ZoNami works out there, but it's been tough finding time to work on 'em.

My one attempt at a long fic is still on hiatus, but I'm hoping to jump back into it soon! It's unfortunate, but the ZoNami drought is real 🥲

(A shoutout to @harritudur for feeding us all those goregous ZoNami art during these tough times!)

[cowboydisaster]

Godfather

the Blossom series; Dutch x pregnant wife reader

Dutch passes a cigar to Arthur’s outstretched hand, pulling a matchbox from his pocket. God– How many smokes have they had together? How many times have they sat and talked like they are now? Countless, Dutch is sure. 

There’s no one on God’s green earth that Dutch trusts more than the boy. The man. 

Arthur is no boy now. Dutch raised him as properly as he could, taught him how to read and write, how to love and show compassion– among other things. 

Arthur has been there when others weren’t. He’s shown up time and again, put his life on the line for his family, foolishly, Dutch thinks. But if there’s one thing about Arthur, it’s that his heart wholly encompasses his family. Protects them.

Dutch strikes the match off the bottom of his boot, watching the little kinder flare up into a bright flame. With one hand shielding his cigar from the wind, he lights the tip before holding the flame to Arthur’s cigar. Words don’t pass for a few moments. Dutch is collecting his thoughts, forming the dialogue he wants to present. Arthur is waiting. Thinking. 

Both men’s eyes are trained on the swamp past the balcony. Everyone has gone to sleep, leaving it quiet– save for cicadas. It’s a beautiful night, warm and clear. The stars shine down brightly, coating the two in a pale, white light. 

“What’d ya bring me out here for, Dutch?” Arthur breaks the silence. His tone isn’t annoyed, but rather confused. Curious as always. Dutch chuckles deep in his chest. 

“What? Am I not allowed to enjoy the beautiful night’s breeze in the company of my son? To enjoy a fine cigar with my best friend?” Dutch asks, raising his eyebrow towards the younger outlaw. Arthur takes a drag from his cigar, releasing the smoke into the night air before shaking his head. 

“Well, sure. But usually, you bring me out here it’s cause you got somethin’ to say.”

“Always observant.” Dutch hums. 

The older man tsks, thinking over his life. What a good, long run they’ve had. 

“She’s pregnant.” Dutch blurts, finally managing to get those words out. Arthur’s head snaps towards Dutch to make sure he’s correctly heard him. 

“She–?” Arthur’s words die in his throat as he glances through the open french doors, seeing how your body is curled up comfortably under the blankets, “She’s pregnant? How long?” Arthur asks, eyes wide with shock. 

A warm smile is plastered on Dutch’s face as he answers, “Few months, give or take.”

“Well, I’ll be damned… Congratulations.” Arthur smiles, tipping his head, “You nervous? Havin’ your lady with child durin’ all this?” Arthur asks quietly, gesturing towards the gang with his cigar before bringing it to his lips. 

“Nervous, yes. But I have hope. There’s a future out there for all of us, we just have to find it.” Dutch curls his hand into a tight fist before taking a drag from his cigar and relaxing, “With you at my side, I know we can get them all out of here.”

Arthur nods. 

“It’s a dangerous life we live. I’d–” Dutch hesitates, “I’d feel better if I knew my child had someone looking out for them. My wife too.” 

Dutch realizes how much he’s asking. The weight that this ask puts on Arthur’s shoulders, but there’s no one else that Dutch trusts more with his family. 

“What are you askin’, Dutch…?” 

“My child- Would you be their godfather?” Dutch places his cigar in between his teeth, inhaling the smoke, eyes never leaving Arthur.  Arthur pauses, thinking over the ask. He immediately knows his answer. He's honored. Would do anything to protect you and your child. Dutch saved Arthur's life and he reckons he'll owe him until the end of time for it.

“Of course. Hell, of course, Dutch. I’ll always watch out for ‘em. Your wife is family. This kid will be too.” Arthur explains. 

Dutch stands from his seat, slapping Arthur on the shoulder with a smile. 

“Good man. Thank you, son. I hope to return the favor for you one day..." Dutch adds, and Arthur's smile fades for a second, "Now get some sleep. The missus is waiting for me.”

–

Your eyes slip open foggily when the bed dips behind you. 

“Dutch?” You whisper, a sleepy, groggy noise. 

“Only me, my dear.” His familiar, deep voice reaches your ears and you smile, turning to pull him closer to you under the warm blankets. 

“How’s the peanut doing?” He asks, pulling your body against his, placing a large palm on your abdomen. You chuckle. 

“Still good, Dutch. Nothing’s changed in the past few hours.” 

“Mmm, I like to check. And how’s my girl?” He asks, pressing light kisses to your forehead… traveling down your cheek, your neck.

“Tired.” You yawn. Dutch chuckles deeply, pressing one last kiss to your pulsepoint before settling against the pillows. He holds you tightly, a cocoon of warmth encompassing you. 

“Get some rest, my love. I’ve got you.” He coos into your ear as you fall asleep against his chest.

[rosewaterandivy]

fightin' to get better

modern!eddie x f!reader

summary: eddie does his damndest to get us out of the study to take a frickin' break.

a/n: My blog is 18 +, minors DNI; purely self-indulgent smut and prosaic idolatry here, my usual brand of filth.

🎶 ooh, let you slide up your hand, uh oh, let go all of my plans 🎶

Grad school could suck a dick. A whole bag of ‘em as far as you were concerned. The entirety of your summer had been taken up by this final class— a subject you loved, but far too much reading and work assigned for the condensed semester.

Eddie thought so too.

The man was quick to chime in when you’d had a glass of wine or two and finally extricated yourself from the front room you’d claimed as an office. Couldn’t understand how you would be complaining one minute and then the second he adds his two cents, you’re defending the professor in question.

But then again, you’d always been tender-hearted.

Which more than explained your penchant for collecting strays, present company excluded, naturally.

“That’s it,” he says, fingers working to peel the damp label from the beer bottle. “First thing tomorrow, I’m gettin’ on the horn with this so-called professor.”

“Eddieeee,” you whine, lips falling into a pout. “Don’t do that.”

He leans into it really playing it up, an eye roll and scoff combo, head inclining to rest on your shoulder as he falls on you dramatically.

“Can’t have my best girl pulling all-nighters every other week.”

His voice was softer, not laced with his typical jocular tone. The bright images of the screen dance across your faces in the cool room. Eddie settles against you, warm breath fanning across your chest and neck.

He can see the subtle dark hues beneath your eyes, hates the evidence of your sleepless nights spent in front of the computer, nose buried in a book.

“I know,” you rasp after a beat or two. “I’ll get better baby, I promise. S’just a few more weeks and then I’m army-crawling to the finish line.”

He cracks a smile, unable to hide his elation at your accomplishment— at you.

Eddie Munson and his genius girlfriend, who would’ve thought?

—

So it really shouldn’t be a surprise a week or two later when Eddie wanders into the study to find you up at all hours of the night. Again.

“Babe—”

“Jesus Christ!” You jolt in your chair, startled by the sound, and slowly swivel toward him. A deep breath once you realize who it is, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room.

And, sure enough, your boyfriend is standing there wiping the sleep from his eyes, sporting his Suspiria sweats and looking entirely displeased.

“God Eds, make a noise! You’re like Ruth Gordon just standing there with a tannis root.”

He crosses his arms with a sign, ignoring your barb. Ruth Gordon, with her blue eye shadow and head scarf? Puh-leeze.

“You said you’d be ten minutes.”

You shudder at the timbre of his voice— raspy and low, hitting the sweet spot that sends heat rushing to your core.

“Shit, I’m sorry, babe.”

Glasses discarded and hair askew, you sigh catching the time and start to pack it in for the night.

Eddie is surprisingly quick for someone snatched from sleep and dreaming, he turns your chair away from the desk and fixes you with a look.

The penetrating kind, where he squints and tilts his head like he just can’t figure you out. And yeah, he’s never really understood academia or why the books you’ve had to buy are always so damn expensive. But he does his best to support you, reminds you to eat and sleep more than he’d like because you have the tendency of getting too caught up and distracted.

His gaze softens, “C’mere pretty girl.”

Eddie picks you up and throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, despite your protests. Smacks your ass for good measure.

“M’gonna fall!”

“No, you aren’t,” he tuts, “Such a drama queen.”

He barrels through the dark house only to deposit you in the dimly lit bathroom. A shaft of light eeks in from a partially opened closet door, candles flickering on countertops catching their reflections in the mirror.

Right side up again, you pause and take a look around. The bathtub is filling up, bubbles growing in soft peaks of foam, and a bath bomb fizzles away, painting the water in candy-colored hues.

There’s a glass of wine and another of ice water, sweating against the ledge of the tub. An iPad propped up in the corner, your favorite show cued up and ready to go.

“Baby,” you say, turning back to him, voice barely above a whisper. “What is all this?”

He takes a step toward you, the slightest inclination of his chin prompting your hands to rise above your head. Eddie’s nimble fingers find the hem of your shirt and tug it upwards, soft fabric brushing against your skin only to be kissed with damp heat.

“Jus’ wanna take care of you,” he says simply, quietly. As if he’d rather do nothing else.

“Oh.”

His fingers alight on the waist of your shorts, thumbs hooking in and pulling down.

“Hmm.” He says, kneeling in front of you, brow quirked and eyes seeking yours. “Feelin’ lucky today or—"

The heat rises in your chest and neck, hands flying to cover your face while he lazily peruses your bare form.

Not so much luck as it was sheer exhaustion that informed your sartorial choices and distinct lack of underwear today, but you’ll take what you can get.

His breath ghosts along your thighs, muscles tightening inadvertently, the coil in your stomach winding taut.

As you step out of the shorts, Eddie turns off the faucet and herds you back against the sink. A brief lift and you're sitting on the countertop, legs splayed, head falling against the cool mirror behind you.

Eddie buries his head between your legs, and smothers praises between your thighs.

Eddie's pretty sentimental with oral— kissing, kissing, kissing— can't stop his lips from meandering, can't stop his mouth from savoring. He noses against your slit, tongue darting out to taste. A low rumble ripped from his chest as the slick muscle works against your petaled heat, savoring the arousal gathered there.

He gets dizzy off it. Selfish for it. It all goes to his head— whimpers and moans falling from your candy-pink mouth, a prolonged whine of his name.

Left, then right, back over again. Drowsy roaming paths, curving and bending, pleased when you arch into his mouth, forever wanting more. Licks you for hours like you’re the last bit of sweetness in the world, savors it long and lazy and delicate.

"Sweetheart," he sighs, pulling away briefly. Lips ruddy and wet with your slick, smiling slow and dangerous, “You’re fucking delicious, baby.”

You moan on his clever tongue and the sloppy sounds he makes. He's always stunning— eager and devoted to the singular task of lapping at you like a starved man.

Two fingers twist inside before he turns them back and shoves them in his own mouth. He repeats this again and again, like pulling a secret from your body that only he’s allowed to enjoy.

“Yes,” he sighs, “Fuck yes. Fuck—mmm—"

It's as if you're on the precipice of a coming storm, pressure building, and rising, too, in your belly, as he works into your body, heavy-lidded and transfixed on your beautiful face. Deeper until you’re shaking, pulling your legs up over his shoulders, getting him closer, closer, closer.

Your toes curl.

"Eddie—"

You shatter like a splinter of lightning. It bursts across your skin—a bright, brief halo—before it’s gone, chased by the explosion of swollen clouds. He muffles a loud fuck! into the meat of your ass, while his fingers continue to corkscrew inside of you.

He's wet down to his wrist, coaxing vestiges of arousal from you, and rises to kiss your open, panting mouth, your exposed throat. Eddie's lips turned wicked and desperate when he asks, "Think you can gimme another one?"

Nodding dumbly, bath and freshly laundered sheets completely forgotten, you watch as he all but yanks you down further, ass now hanging off the countertop. Swings your legs over his shoulders and dives back in, your cunt now positively flooded due to his velvet tongue.

On the bright side, this all-nighter was exceedingly better than the one you had planned; you wouldn't have it any other way. Well played Eddie Munson.

Well played.

[solarbird]

I’ve been thinking about the “weird” label being used – very effectively – at the fascists lately.

Personally, I’d prefer the word “bizarre” but, well, weird’s what we got and it’s working great at fucking ’em up, so keep it going. I’ve seen a couple of other people say that “weird” invokes the “weird uncle” who ruins family gatherings by going off about conspiracy theory bullshit, and I have to agree – that’s a good connection to make.

On the other hand, I know a lot of weird people, people who are weird in good ways, and they’re seeing all the old bullying coming right back at their faces again.

Importantly, I think there’s a dividing line here, and I even think it’s one people kind of get. So being reminded of that line’s existence might help some people.

Americans are just fine with individual people being weird. Artists, writers, other ‘creatives.’ Makers. Inventors. They should be weird. Neither Doc Brown nor Jillian Holtzmann nor Rick Sanchez are what you’d call normal people, and it’s fine.

But Americans aren’t actually fine at all with politicians being weird. Yes, individuals can be weird – even gloriously weird – but politicians should not be weird.

(And yeah, I’m looking at you, “goodspaceguy” of Seattle.)

So if you’re weird, just remember: you’re not also a politician. Maybe you’re a gadfly, or even a little arty, if not an out and out artist, writer, inventor, musician, maker – for me, for you, for all of us, weird is a positive. The creativity part, that’s the weird.

But for a politician?

Weird is not a positive, and I think the difference is power.

Particularly if your power is power over others.

You do your weird, I’ll do my weird, we can be weird and it’s okay. Maybe we can be weird together Just don’t make me do your weird, that’s not okay. YKINMK, but for weirdness.

But add actual power to the mix, and things change.

Political power makes your weird suddenly into my weird, whether I want it to or not…

…and nobody likes that.

Except them.

Which is part of why they’re so goddamn weird…

…in the bad way.

I’ve had to spend a lot of time in politics – far, far more than I ever wanted. I’m pretty good at this shit. I’m real good at enemy intelligence and trends plotting, particularly long term – far better than I’ve been given credit for, even if like everyone else I’m not perfect. In some ways, I’m obscenely good at this, but all those ways are really, really weird. And I should never be a politician.

So. If you’re feeling bad about all the “weird,” just remember – they’re talking about weird politicians. Weirdos who are creepy and all about power.

And if that’s not you, then, well – relax. It’s okay.

It’s not about you…

…and you are just fine.

95 days remain.

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - chapter 42

It’s a rather eerie evening and by that I mean I feel an unsettling presence nearby; then again, it could be my disturbing amount of anxiety that never leaves my body nowadays. With Fanden spying on us before, I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re actually being watched. Our friends, except Astarion and Shadowheart, are visiting tonight to discuss the venture ahead of us tomorrow and the plan to get rid of this vile situation for good. The last thing I want is confrontation with Gortash. Each time I visualize his face, I clench my fists and feel my heart about to burst into flames from the hatred I feel toward him. I thought I hated him before, I thought he was just a tyrant. He’s my father, someone who could have changed, someone who had the opportunity to choose love over power… But that’s too much to ask of him. Secrets were kept from me my entire life, and I’m still upset with my mother for not telling me the truth ages ago. Right now is not the time to feel this rage and overthink it; we need to go into action and prepare for what’s ahead.

Astarion is at home with Shadowheart and their toddler. With him being immortal and not being directly involved with our scenario, it’s safe to say they’ll be alright. If either of them need us while we’re away, I told Tara to let them know where we are and what we’re doing, and that neither of them need to be directly involved.

“Okay, so the plan is that we get all the explosives – yeah, WHIZBANGS! – and blow up Moonrise? Isn’t this, like, crazy illegal? Then again, what those fucks are doing is much worse and it’s best to put an end to it… Okay, I’m in,” Karlach chimes in enthusiastically as she cracks her knuckles as an attempt to be intimidating. I crack a light smile, still worried about the circumstances that we’re about to face. I’m just glad I’ll have Gale with me through it all. I hate that this is all happening; a string of horrifying events one after the other. Maybe this is it. Maybe our lives will go back to normal when this is said and done.

Confronting my biological father, who I didn’t realize was my father… Who would have thought?

“It’s a shame it has to come down to such a devastating circumstance since it was once such a beautiful place. The place will forever be corrupted by the, uh…corrupted, it seems,” Halsin adds. He’s right. It’s tragic that such a once-lovely piece of architecture ended up corrupted, and will only hold the horrible memories and lost souls within it. How unfortunate.

“I couldn’t agree more. Now, either Emmy or myself will have Jenevelle, but will stand far away from the explosives. All of us will be invisible so we won’t get caught. Once we arrive, it shouldn’t take long at all. Go in, boom, out we go,” Gale explains with a hushed tone.

“I hope once those bastards are dead, they’re dead for good.” My voice is full of worry, though I’m relieved we’re getting this over with. Gale rubs my back gently with his hand, giving me a reassuring look. The twinkle in his eyes brings me a sense of comfort somehow.

“No kidding! I’m sick of seeing Gortash’s stupid mug! No offense, Em. If it makes you feel any better, you look nothing like him.” Karlach always knows how to brighten someone’s day, that’s for sure. Gale sits down next to me on the sofa, wrapping his arm comfortably around my shoulders. If he’s nervous or anxious in any way, he’s doing a fantastic job at masking those feelings. Maybe it’s to keep me calm and collected.

“Baby, we’ll get through this like we always do. Jenevelle will be alright.” He’s right. Perhaps I’m second-guessing everything, or just letting my antsy mind get to me. I can feel my mind fogging, losing all recollection of previous thoughts from the past five minutes. An unexpected tingling sensation is causing me to feel drained.

“I wonder what he’s going to say to me. I know it won’t be an apology, that’s for sure.” Everyone in the room stares at me with puzzled expressions, as if I made no sense just now. “What?”

“Good thing you won’t find out, Emmy. We’re going to blast his ass before he’s aware we’re even there. Remember?” Wyll reminds me. What the hell. Am I losing sight of the plan now? Did I just have a huge moment of weakness where I completely lost track of what we’re doing? Get it together, Emmy.

“Right. Yes. I won’t have to say a damned word to him.”

“Say, when this is over with, can we go to the circus? I hear they hired a new clown, a professional this time. He has a background in stand-up comedy,” Karlach says excitedly, and I chuckle as I nod my head in agreement. “We all deserve a treato.” She’s always so positive no matter the circumstances. Wyll rolls his eyes and kisses her cheek, admiring her goofy and authentic self. It seems she’s not the only one that wants to see clowns. Their alignment with one another is perfect, and I love to see it after all this time. From enemies to unconditional lovers.

After our friends leave for the night, I steep myself some chamomile tea to relax before going to bed. I hold my cup, inhaling the soothing scent of fresh herbs, and feeling the calmness greet me as the steam is absorbed through my nostrils. Gale stands next to me in the kitchen while in his night time robe.

“Hey, I love you,” he murmurs, smiling at me with that particular smile that made me fall in love with him. The way it lifts his cheekbones and the sincerity of love it shows me causes my heart to throb with intensity, and I never want the feeling to fade. I smile, trying to hide my face as I blush but he chuckles, taking my chin with his fingers and moving my face toward him. “Ah-ah, you know I love to watch you blush.” He did that to me on purpose!

“Grr. I love you too,” I finally respond, fighting laughter. “Thank you for putting my mind at ease.” As he places his hands on my waist, I place my tea on the counter and proceed to wrap my arms around his neck, which I can hardly reach.

“Allow me to hold you for a moment, please?” He gently kisses my forehead, leaving his lips there for a moment. I close my eyes as I feel the endless warmth of his lips upon my flesh, feeling him rock me as we stand here in the middle of the kitchen. “I know you’ve been feeling so tense and that it feels like we’ll never catch a break. We will, I promise.”

[generallysapphic]

we could make a movie together (em haywood x reader +18)

you meet em a little after the jean jacket incident, traveling all the way to the desert to do some filming and she sparks your interests. after telling you about her filming experiences, y’all decide to film something together, but em suggests you should be the star.

you ask you shall receive, here’s the em x reader you guys wanted !!!

you already know my usually warnings :smut, overstim, multiple orgasms, strap on sex, name calling, dom! em, switch! reader, smoking, recreational drug use, slight public sex, sex tape making, jokes during sex, high sex, this is a lesbian relationship so they move fast much like all lesbians do. (i can make that joke i am a lesbian)

song inspo: GIRL by the internet ft KAYTRANADA

as always my dear reader dedication: @verachii @blackgcomica @rxcently @superficial-saturnrings @szalipcombo @dejaonline

enjoy! <3

moving to the fucking desert was not a good idea, you’re starting to realize.

you’ve been rewriting your screenplay for about two weeks now and, as your film teacher had said, when you asked her for filming tips, “the desert is the best place to start!”

stupid fucking white lady, there ain’t shit out here.

you were working at a gas station just outside of a studio lot for about four weeks, just making some money so your mama don’t kick you out since you’ve moved back in with her. it doesn’t pay enough and you’re actively not working, pulling out your phone when the door goes off, you automatically yell out, “welcome in,” not even bothering to look up.

once the person is finished shopping, she’s buying a scratch off ticket and some chips, she comes forward and ask, “yo how much for the raspberry mango flavor?” and is already pulling out her wallet before she gets a good look at you and kinda smirks.

you turn around before you meet her eyes and say, “$5.68, you want one?” and she says ‘yeah’ behind you and you grab one and meet her eyes.

oh fuck, she’s fine. you smile, “hey,”

she nods back, “hey.” you start ringing up her stuff, “whatchu doing all the way out here?” you ask, making conversation.

she kinda laughs a bit, “i mean i was bout to ask you the same thing. i stay up here with my brother, but i ain’t never seen you before,”

you smirk and tell her the total before adding, “i’m staying up with my mama for a second. trying to get into filming and i heard the desert is ‘nice and open’,” you say sarcastically and she nods.

she looks you up and down and chuckles, “you into filming?” and you nod as you take her $20 and start collecting her change and she adds, “well i’m actually apart of filmmaking history, my uhh something great grandfather was the first man to ever be filmed. alistar e haywood, look it up,”

you snort at her, “bullshit,” and she laughs, and grabs her stuff, “i’m so for real, i promise, you too cute to lie to,”

you roll your eyes, “i guess you should put me on then, we could make a movie together, ms haywood,” you say snarky. she looks at your name tag, smirking, “em, is fine, y/n,”

you blush at hearing your name, “so we gon get together and shoot something or what? i get off at 5,” you feel bold and she laughs, “yeah, imma be back and get you, we film something at my place, alright? my brother’ll be there but he’s cool,”

you nod, “i’ll see you then,”

em winks and walks off with her stuff and heads out the door, and you look at the clock, “shit,” you whisper.

it’s only noon.

at 5:15, a truck comes back around as you walk out and you hear em, “hey, you need a ride?!” as she spins around to pull up next to you. you chuckle, jacket in hand, and open the passenger door and get in,

“hey,” you say and put on your seatbelt and she greets you back, “ey imma let you know now we gotta long ride so go head and take your shoes off and get comfortable, girl,” and you do so. the sun hasn’t set yet and the windows are slightly down, her music is playing and you sigh as you take your shoes off and make conversation.

“so what’ve you made so far, miss film royalty?” and she chuckles, “a bunch of shit, actually. in fact i’m just coming off a gig right now,”

you side eye her, “yeah, buying a scratch off usually means you just got off a gig that paid you very well,” you say sarcastically and em laughs, “woah, i never said i got paid, what if i was just there having fun?”

“then it ain’t no gig, you was just fucking around,” you laugh back and she puts her hands up in surrender, “and that i was,” now you’re really wondering what she actually shot, if anything at all.

you turn a couple of corners and pass jupiter’s claim, the police tape still up and the cars of all the guests that had just disappeared still there. you speak again, “hey, did you hear about those people who disappeared from here? yknow what actually happened?”

she smirks, “yeah, well i live here. that was actually my last gig,” you look back at her, “then what happened?”

em smiles, “okay, so first, i gotta tell you about jean jacket.” the whole car ride she tells you everything: she starts with her dad dying and how her brother took over their ranch, she tells about jupe’s claim and how he bought most of their horses and ‘fed’ them to this jean jacket character, who seems to be a predatory animal-flying saucer type thing? you’re trying to follow along the best you can. she talks about her triumphant ride to jupes claim and feeding jean jacket the ballon jupe and making it explode, and then getting, what she called, the “Oprah shot”.

you’re at the ranch once she’s finished with the whole story and she looks at you, expectedly. you’re looking back at her before you start laughing, “ohhh, holy shit, okay, okay i get it. this is your pitch right? like this is your movie and the ‘gig’ was the incident so you made up a whole story? okay shit that was one hell of a pitch, but i get it, it’s a solid pitch—”

she cuts you off, “woah, hold on, i’m not joking, i promise. and it ain’t no pitch, either. look, you come to room i got all the proof you need up there.” she says getting out the truck and walking towards the door.

you huff, following, “i mean that sounded like you just want me in your room,” and she looks back at you, smoking a bit, “i mean of course i want that, but you think i’m lying so i’m trying to show you i’m being for real,”

you sigh, rolling your eyes and deciding to go along with it, “yeah, yeah,”

once you’re both inside, you see her brother walking from the kitchen, he doesn’t greet you, he just sighs and says, “em, cmon,”

and you see her come to your cover, “hey she’s a film student we’re here to talk about some camera stuff, nothing else. y/n, this is oj.” your eyes widen a bit and you can tell it’s obvious in your face because then oj says, “otis junior. like my dad,” and you relax a bit and mutter a “nice to meet you,” mostly to avoid feeling any more awkward than you already do.

he mumbles out, “imma go do some work, keep the music down,” and em grumbles behind him, “yeah, yeah go on,” and he’s out the door, leaving you two alone.

“sorry about him he don’t like meeting people that much, especially after what happened, yknow.”

you smirk at her, “so what im hearing is that you bring a lot girls back with you after your ‘gigs’, huh?” em fakes hurt and huffs out, “oh fuck you,” and makes you follow her to her bedroom. you mutter back, “im sure you want to,” and she laughs.

em’s room is what you’d think it was by looking at her— a bit messy with posters everywhere, some of family, most of records and artists, and a lot of it is postings about the jupes claim incident. but there’s one picture that grabs your attention, it’s right above her dresser, it looks like one of those old rodeo pictures, with the chunky framing and the big boarders. but that doesn’t capture your attention, what does is the contents of the of the photo, you really can’t make it out since it’s an above angle but it looks like a big folded sheet flying towards a ballon.

“that’s jean jacket,” she says as she catches you staring. you look back at her, “it looks like a sheet and a ballon fighting,”

emerald laughs and puts her hands up in defense, “hey you don’t have to believe me, let me see this script you working on,” she takes a drag of her juul as you both sit down and you pull out your computer from your bag and open your script. you’ve shown it to plenty of people so you’re not embarrassed of your work but there’s something about em that makes this feel a little bit more intimate than the other times you’ve done it.

she’s reading hard, completely quiet and smoking lightly and your eyes can’t move away from her. she notices you staring and glances at you and you hurriedly look away before you hear a quiet chuckle. you look around the room some more, seeing more pictures of her family and some horses. time passes and she ends her reading and sighs. you jump, “well?”

she exhales, looking up, “well… it’s good, but you clearly wrote yourself as the main character, it’s like obvious as fuck,” she says getting up and you scoff at her, still sitting, “no i didn’t—”

she cuts you off, “young girl leaves school to find her passion in the ‘woods’ and gets caught in some psycho shit without telling her friends because they’re all the way back home? that’s just you, baby, it’s alright,”

the word baby throws you off and you blink before defending yourself, “it’s not a self insert, i stand by that, and even if it were, would that be a crime? like, yes i take my source material from what i know best— me. is that so crazy?” you huff in annoyance and look away. em stands in front of you and moves your head in her hands to look at her.

“you are really worked up right now,” she laughs out and you roll your eyes and turn away, she grabs you again, “wanna smoke?” shaking the juul she bought from you this morning in her other hand.

you sigh and stand grabbing it from her and inhaling. you blow the smoke in her face and she laughs, “yeah, i knew you would,”

you’re definitely high once the sun sets. you’ve been smoking with em for about two hours now, watching movies and eating a bunch of junk food as she tells you about all the film work she’s done.

she pulls out all her pops’ work and shows you which ones her brother worked on and which ones she had a hand in. you’re interested— you are, totally, but you feel that light arousal that pulses through your body as you and em talk more and she gets more closer to you. she starts whispering to you after a certain hour, probably because of what oj said, and you whisper back and giggle.

at one point you’re both in her bed laying side by side and she sits up, “we should make a movie together,” and you laugh, taking another puff, “yeah what about?”

she shrugs, “ion know screen writer, make up something right now, go,” she says and you sit up to face her as she takes the juul from your hands and smokes herself.

you think for a bit, “umm, someone finds out they’re in an alternate dimension and they have to kill a scary deer to get out,”

em laughs hard, “what the fuck? why a deer?”

you laugh back, “deers are scary, man, why do they look like that? that one episode of adventure time fucked me up for life. yknow that deer with the hands? creepy as fuck.” you say and smoke after her, watching her eyes.

she smiles at you, “nah, another idea, go,”

“maybe you’re trapped in the desert and every time you think someone is watching you, you get relocated and changed memories,” em smokes, and nods, “okay then how do they get out?”

you shrug, “you said pitch not full movie,” and she laughs again and passes you the juul and you inhale. she’s staring at you, you note and it makes that slight pulse in your body go from slight to extreme. you murmur shifting, “why you staring at me, em?” trying to maintain innocence.

she’s so bold so she says, “cuz you’re cute. and i wanna kiss you,” you look at her lips and lick yours, “and i think you wanna kiss me too, yeah?”

you nod, leaning a bit closer, and she leans too, “you can kiss me if you want, gorgeous,” and you sigh and lean forward, smashing your faces into one another as you grab her neck.

fuck, her lips are so soft and you feel her moan against you and pull you closer. her chapstick tastes like mango and you moan against her right back and wrap your arms entirely around her neck.

she moves you a little, and now you’re on your back, she on top of you, kissing and licking all over your mouth and rubbing up and down your sides. fuck, you feel your underwear get soaked so quickly, trying to close your legs to hide it and em stops you and pulls away, “uh uh, lemme see,” she whispers into your ear and you gasp and nod and let your legs fall open.

she kisses down your clothed chest and sighs before beginning to open your jeans. you sigh, watching her slowly move before she stops entirely, almost like an idea comes to her head,

“hey, did you still wanna make a movie with me?” em says all the way breathless and you gasp, catching the innuendo. you smile, “yeah, yeah, i do,”

she laughs a bit and kisses a small, “hold on,” in your leg and gets up to dig around for her camera. once found, she places it on the dresses opposite to her bed and clicks record and makes sure you’re both in frame, smiling.

you begin to take your shirt off, feeling the arousal you felt all the way in the your finger tips as em climbs back onto the bed and kisses you breathless once more. she pushes you back in the bed again, hovering over you and groping your breasts with her cold hands.

she kisses down your neck and turn your head, sighing, making eye contact with the flashing red light of the camera. you smile and moan again as she takes your bra off single handedly and begins to suck on your nipples. you arch up, moaning, fuck, being high had made you sensitive.

she laughs a bit, nipple still between her teeth, and licks down to your still opened jeans. you sigh out, “fuck, em, hurry,” and she mumbles “yeah,” against you as your jeans come off and all that’s left is your pretty pink underwear, damp and sticky.

“so cute,” she whispers in your thighs and kisses you there as you flinch and sigh, “please, please, baby, i need you, don’t tease,”

she looks up at you and swears, suddenly moving your underwear to the side and putting her whole mouth on your pussy. you arch up and moan loudly, a small yell of her name comes out of your mouth as your hands find hers against your thighs.

fuck, em is a messy eater, so focused on consuming you that you hear all the sloppy and wet noises coming from your pussy. you moan at it, the thought of how eager you are exciting you beyond compare and all your senses completely over spiked. god being high during sex is actually crazy, you think slightly as you moan again, and whisper, “haaa, em, em, i’m close, i’m gonna cum, baby,”

she nods against you, letting you know she heard you and grabs your hands again and squeezes them twice, a small ‘go ahead’ is all you need. you moan aloud, back arching and you squeeze your eyes close as silent moans fall from your mouth, gasps and breathless whimpers escape you. she holds you down through it and even when you’re done, she sucks gently against your clit and you moan in overstimulation, “em, em, em, hahh, stop baby, i can’t—” you say breathless and she pulls away, chin dripping.

she takes your underwear off full and sits you up to kiss her, tasting yourself on her tongue. you moan in her mouth and kiss her deeply as you begin to take her underwear off as well, her hoodie and bra already gone. you kiss down her toned stomach until you get to her pussy, so pretty and dripping and you look back up at her,

her eyes are hooded, “whatever you wanna do,” she whispers back and you grin, standing up on your knees and pulling her in for another kiss before rubbing your hand over her lips and separating them and feeling her slick, fuck, she’s really wet. you hear her moan into the kiss as your fingers enter her, her pussy already accepting two and she breaks the kiss to let out a choked moan, “fuck,” is all she can whisper, still trying to keep her voice down.

she holds onto your shoulders as you finger her, biting back her moans as she clenches around you. you take another look into the camera and whisper, “i bet you’ll look so good on tape, em,” and she bucks against you, sighing a “yeah, fuck,” out for only you to hear.

she’s already about to cum, just as fast as you did, and you encourage her, “go ahead,” and she twitches against you and stumbles a moan down her throat, still trying to be quiet. you moan at the feeling her clench around you and it takes a minute before she’s done and you pull your fingers out and sigh, bringing them to your lips and sucking. she looks at you breathless and pulls you in for another kiss, and you both can taste the other on your lips.

fuck, this is really hot.

em pulls away first, and sighs, “you wanna keep going or you good?” and you smile as you rub your hands down her back, “what else did you have in mind?”

“i got my strap in my dresser if you were okay with that,” she says so causally and you laugh a bit, both still high and shocked at her boldness, “you want me to fuck you or the other way around?” you say and lay back down and she hovers above you smiling, grabbing the juul you both had discarded on the pillows and smoking, puffing the air in your face, “nah, i can fuck you, you fuck me tomorrow,”

you raise an eyebrow, “who said im finna be here tomorrow?” you joke and reach for the juul and inhale, “i know you gon spend the night so what’s the point in lying about it? you can stay over by the way, i wouldn’t want to end our movie so soon,” she says and points to the camera and you laugh,

“okay, well fuck me then. i am the star after all right?” you ask and she leans down and smirks, “yeah, yeah you are,” and captures your mouth once again. you kiss for a while before she pulls away and reaches for the nightstand and pulls out her lube and strap, you glance at it, “pink, of course,” you joke and she smirks back at you, “don’t tell me you like the flesh ones,”

you laugh as she grabs her boxers and puts them on, “i mean i’m not opposed,” you clarify and she mocks disgust, laughing slightly, and nodding as she puts the strap on and grabs the lube, but you stop her, “can i?” you whisper and she looks at you before licking her lips and nodding, leaning back slightly and you climb on top of her, squirting some lube on your hand and stroking her slightly.

em curses, watching, her pupils blown wide, fuck, you’re both still high as hell, you totally forgot. the nicotine is setting deep in your veins that it feels like a light pulse, a soft guiding voice, even, and you lean forward and capture her mouth again, before completely settling on her pelvis, pushing back so your entirely on top.

she reaches around you and starts groping your butt and you moan lowly in her mouth once two fingers into your pussy, scissoring slightly to open you up. youre still stroking her as she fingers you and you can’t help but moan at the thought of what you are doing might look like on the tape you’re making. you release her mouth, “ready?” you ask breathless and she moans back a “yeah,” and takes her fingers out.

you adjust yourself completely and hover slightly above her strap and she watches you carefully as you lower yourself and you both let out moans of excitement as you feel her enter you and sit complacent on her lap. you moan again, the feeling of em inside you paired with the subtly of being high in your body has you completely overwhelmed. you feel em rubbing your thigh and she sits up slightly, “hey,” she whispers to you and you open the eyes you didn’t know you had closed,

“you good?” she says, completely sincerely, and you sigh and wrap your arms around her neck and pull her close, “yeah, yeah, i’m good. you feel good,” you whisper back, and she nods along, rubbing your back and butt, waiting for you to adjust. she kisses against your neck, muttering, “yeah? you want me to move?” and you nod, your legs suddenly and completely giving out and she nods too, thrusting up slightly and you moan aloud, the movement making your back arch into her.

em comes back to look at you for confirmation that you’re okay and you nod, “yeah keep going,” and she starts, completely thrusting into you and holding you steady on top of her and you moan again, “fuck, oh fuck me, baby,” and she sighs, kissing and biting at your neck.

you feel her moving you, and inside you, and you’re suddenly on your back and she’s holding your legs up as she thrusts with long, fluid thrusts that cause you to toss your head back into her sheets and moan aloud again, “auhhhhgg fuck, fuck em right there,” you say incoherent, her dick and her nicotine literally making you speechless. she plays with your clit in her left hand and grabs your legs and spreads them wider, “feel good?” she says breathless, and all you can do is nod, so high in two different ways, your skin feels like it’s melting, your mind completely lost in the feeling.

the heat you felt suddenly pooled all over your body, fuck, how long had em been fucking you? you felt like you were completely delirious, and all you could do was moan out slurs of pleasure and em’s name. em seemed to be lost in you as well, her thrusts getting sloppy and her speech slurring like yours, fuck, you felt like you were going to cum.

you tried to warn her, “hahhhh, em, cum — cumming, i feel it, i feel it,” and she may have heard you but em was completely invested in your legs, rubbing them up and down and holding you thighs open so she could look right at your pussy as she fucked you. you toss your head back and groan, frustrated you literally couldn’t talk but that feeling soon came to pass as your orgasm slowly climbed up your entire body and you feel your pussy begin to ache.

your moans change in tone, gathering at the back of your throat and getting higher and em wakes up, “oh, fuck, you’re gonna cum? is that what you were saying?” and you nod and feel her lean down, keeping her pace and she whispers, “look at me baby,” you look at her in her eyes and whine, not being able to hold contact, and she sighs, kissing your neck and your body twitches and you wrap your arms around her and moan, completely letting go as you hear her encouragement in your ears— “cum for me baby, go ahead lemme feel you, i gotchu baby, let go,”— making your head ring a high pitched noise.

you let out an elongated, “fuckkkkkk,” and let yourself go entirely, legs twitching and you feel your pussy clench around em’s strap and she moans too, slowing her thrusts to let you ride out your orgasm and you let it too, your orgasm feels long, like hours pass, and you’re sure it isn’t but being high as completely overwhelmed your senses and you feel your body unravel on itself.

you let out high pitched moans of over stimulation once you’ve finished and em pulls out quickly, kissing your face and mouth, shushing you and rubbing your pussy lightly with her hands. your buck again, “ahhmm, fuck! fuck, fuck, em,” and she coaxes you through it. she lays next to you and pants as you calm down, and she laughs a bit as she checks the time on her phone,

“bruh we’ve been fucking for three hours,” she says, sounding high as shit, and you laugh too breathless, opening your eyes slowly and blinking up at her, “then we’ve been filming for three hours, too, yeah?” you say still panting and she looks over at the camera and chuckles, “yeah i guess we have. you good?” she asks again and you sit up, still twitching, “yeah i’m good. your turn?” you joke and em’s eyes widen,

she practically barks out, “girl go to bed, i told you tomorrow!” and em gets up as you lay back down and laugh. she takes off her boxers and walks over to the camera and shuts it off. you see her wobble slightly as she gets up but you don’t mention it, you just slightly chuckle to yourself.

she comes back to bed with a long shirt and head wrap in her hands already having her shirt and wrap on. you smile and mutter a “thank you” and em lays next to you, sighing.

you lay back, the sounds of crickets and horses outside drifting you to sleep, before you say, “did you really think my script was just a self insert?” you turn to look at her and her eyes are closed so you try to drop it before you hear, “no, no i didn’t. its… it’s good. i’m kinda jealous. i wish i could write as well as you,”

you turn on your side and she does too, looking into your eyes as deeply as you are hers, “you want me to read your stuff?” you whisper sincerely, and she nods, “just— just don’t make fun, alright? i’m more camera work, so if it’s not as good, don’t say nothing,” you smile, she’s so defensive, it’s cute.

“okay.” you whisper back and feel sleep override you, as your eyes drift close. em leans over and kisses your temple, sweet, and whispers back, “i want you to stay with me,” and you hear it, as quietly as she tries to hide it, it still reaches your ears.

you smile harder, slightly asleep and say, “i will,” like it’s a promise, because you know it is.

“yeah it’s good, better than yo shit that’s for sure,” you hear in the morning as you wake up,

“nigga, shut up, that wasn’t the point damn, i was just telling you her stuff is good,” you hear em’s voice retort back and you hear a deep laugh and then some more shushed whispers and you sit up slightly, checking the time, 9:58 am, damn you’re happy as fuck you don’t have to work today.

you get out of bed and the floors creak and the whispers suddenly stop and you hear footsteps come to em’s door, “hey you up?” and you yawn back a “yeah,”

she opens the door and greets you again, standing at the door in some shorts and big crop top and some boots, “me and oj, we’re gonna go get some breakfast, you wanna come?” you smile, and get up and walk up to her,

“yeah, as long as we can make the next part of our movie tonight,” and you rush out the door before she can say anything but you hear her laugh from behind you.

whewwww em come home!! anways i hope you guys enjoyed i send in more requests!! i love reading them and you can always dm me if don’t wanna send it anonymously whatever you want just let me know!

bye y’all happy holidays!!

[emberlychan]

⟢ chronically online sweetheart ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

SHE/HER ♡ FICTIVE ♡ STRAWPAGE

My name is Emberlynn but u can call me Ember or Emberly or whatever other nicknames come to ur mind!! (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄)

I’m bodily 20, my alter age is 21 !!

i luv my dads logan and scott and my mum jean !!

taken x2 !! ♡

I’m a proud yume + fujoshi and profic/proship !!

I write self indulgent fluffy romance fanfics here !! I will NOT post smut or anything outwardly nsfw, that kind of stuff can be found on my ao3 account („ಡωಡ„) (emberlyneko) or my nsfw tumblr @embersins (minors will be blocked on sight.)

I also have an age regression blog ( @emmyneko ) where I post about things relating to that! That blog is completely SFW !!

Theres more under the cut!!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ am just a lil bunny hop hop

I dont have a dni, i’ll block you if i feel the need to!! if you leave hate on my page, you arent affecting me ♡ i am content with how i am !!

TAGS !! („ಡωಡ„)

#🎀 — 🪶 ⟢ for posts about my boyfriend !! I love him so much,,

☆ selfship tags!!

#🎀 — mink ⟢ for posts about my selfship with Mink from DRAMAtical Murder !

#🎀 — koujaku ⟢ for posts about my selfship with Koujaku from DRAMAtical Murder !

#🎀 — mayu ⟢ for posts about my selfship with Mayu from Slow Damage !

☆ other tags!!

#🎀 — diary ⟢ for my ‘daily’ diary entries !

#🎀 — crushies ⟢ for my rants abt love ♡

#🎀 — asks ! ⟢ for any asks i receive !!

#🎀 — em irl ⟢ for posts about my irl life ! this could include showing off my figure collection or just posting photos i’ve taken !

#🎀 — em art ⟢ for any art that i’ve drawn!

#🎀 — vent ⟢ for vents and negative feelings, i will try to add tws for sensitive topics !! feel free to mute this tag ♡