#WAIT FUCK IS THIS WHAT NORMAL FEELS LIKE?

[jjkbambi]

the morning after luigi mangione x reader (18+)

summary!!! part two of is it new years yet because you do not get back together just cuz he has good dick OMG 🖕🖕🖕🖕😒 he also has a great personality and loves eating pussy

warnings: smut, kinda angsty, he’s manipulative but honestly he’s such a nice guy, you should really give him a second chance

^ not edited let’s alll just practice gratitude 🙏

seven days, thirteen hours, and nine minutes and thirty six seconds.

that’s how long it had been since luigi had seen you. not that he’d been counting, he was truly trying to be normal about the distance this time around.

he replays the morning after on a loop, searching for the slightest hint he’d done something wrong to no avail. as a matter of fact, your quiet body was beside him until deep into the afternoon, nothing but soft snores exchanged between the two of you. he wakes before you, kissing your forehead before taking his leave. his frat brothers whistle at him as he enters the wretchedly messy house, throwing him a water.

“happy new year, big guy,” one of them, hasan, greets. “did’ya spend your night thinking about new goals or scoring the same one?”

luigi rolls his eyes. “fuck off.”

another brother chimes in, bright-eyed. “when are we meeting her?”

“in your dreams.”

he had no intention of sharing you in any way; the thought of anyone else even looking at you irritated him. but starting the new year off by your side was far too great a fate to be stoic about. he grabs a plate of what’s left of their shitty communal breakfast (jar salsa from the night before, scrambled eggs, and two pieces of mostly burnt toast) and brings it into your room.

“y/n,” he calls out while entering. the door to the bathroom is now closed, and he sees your shadow shuffling around the room.

hesitant, the door creaks open. youre back in your black minidress, holding onto your heels. “hey, pretty.”

“hi,” you say tightly, the mistakes and soreness from the night before lingering in your mind. you’ve just wiped away the tears still streaked on your face, yet your ex-boyfriend hardly looks hungover.

“dressed up just for me?” he jokes, kissing your cheek. he offers you the plate of food but you shake your head.

“lacy’s waiting for me. i’ve got to go.”

“stay,” he says, his voice honey-sweet, like the boyfriend you knew months ago. it makes you feel sick, the familiarity of it all suffocating you. the room feels too small.

you push away from him. “i have to go.”

“baby,” he drops everything he’s holding to grab you again. “what’s wrong? is everything alright?”

he always blows your mind with his audacity. “no, everything’s not alright, luigi,” you spit back. “we shouldn’t have—none of that should’ve happened.”

“what do you mean?”

“luigi,” you sigh. “we’re over, alright? it’s done.”

“y/n—”

“i mean it,” you raise your voice so slightly, but still it breaks. “you cheated on me, then pulled all this shit, i can’t do it anymore.”

“you can’t do it anymore? are you serious?”

“yes!”

“you ignored me for weeks then showed up at my fucking party, dressed like that,” his voice was low, but angry. brows furrowed, he doesn’t lose his grip on you. it scares you. “you can’t tell me you weren’t bartering for my attention.”

“i wasn’t.”

his jaw sets. “then who’s?”

“oh my god. nobody’s!”

“don’t fucking lie to me—”

“lu, stop, seriously.” your voice trembles this time, and you both notice it. he drops your hand.

“i didnt mean to hurt you,” he says, soft at your upset. “i swear—i dont remember cheating on you. i’m not gonna mess up like that again, i promise.”

he leans in to kiss you, to seal the pledge with his gentle touch, but you pull back. “it doesn’t matter that you didn’t mean to hurt me—you did. you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.“

his big brown eyes bear into yours and he swears, “i can make it up to you.”

“luigi,” you hadn’t even realized you’d been crying until he brings his hands up to wipe your tears away. “i just don’t think this is a good idea, i’m sorry.”

“come on,” he says, frowning. “i love you. only you.” his lean-in to kiss you is successful this time. the kiss feels much better—softer—than last night’s. he’s gentle with his desperation, intent on making you stay. “‘m sorry, okay?” he says between kisses. “let me make it better.”

“no, luigi, we shouldn’t—”

“you’ve got to hear me out, y/n,” he takes your lips again. his hot kisses move down your neck—and it all feels so different this time around. even the air in the room feels lighter. his voice is against your ear when he swears, “i’ll be good to you, sweetheart, i promise.”

saying no to him is near impossible—it’s why you shut yourself off of him for weeks, avoiding places he frequented, deactivating your social media, ignoring his constant stream of messages and calls. now, he has you, and within minutes, you’re pressed against the wall again.

“feels good?” he teases, grinding his hard-on into your core. you melt underneath him, you can’t help it, he’s so warm.

“lu,” you whimper. you’re still sensitive from how selfishly he took you the night before, you can’t help but react to his touch so quickly. it felt so raw.

“wait—” he never does. his hands are on your hips again, moving your body against his.

“just let me take care of you,” he says, trailing kisses down your neck again. this time, he was sure to leave marks.

he keeps the dress on this time. he places you back onto the bed, and as you gather the courage to take him in again, he moves beneath you.

“knew i recognized these,” his voice hot against the fabric of your panties.

you told yourself the lacy black panties were just meant to match the dress, but it all seemed so intentional—the party crash, the kitchen drive-by, the fact that you were wearing his valentines day gift. whether this was a manifestation of your greatest fear or desire, you couldn’t tell.

he kisses your thighs, then runs his tongue against your core through the fabric of your panties before ceremoniously ripping them off. he kisses and sucks at your wetness. you tremble at the suddenness of his movement. his big nose is so prominent in your pussy, you can’t help but grind yourself against his perfect face and whine as he drinks you in.

“you’re such a fucking mess,” luigi says, smiling into your warmth. his unshaven stubble tickles your sensitive cunt, sending a tremor through you. “so wet, i’ve barely even touched you.”

“i can’t help it,” you whimper.

he grabs your ass, pulling you closer to his relentless mouth. it’s ridiculous how good he feels. he’s completely shameless in his endeavor to ruin you.

“look at me,” luigi orders, so you do. you look down to see him, finding that he’s already gotten to touching himself. his hard length at the edge of the bed, furiously red, as he strokes himself. “i think about you everyday,” he admits in between licking at your core. “i missed how this pretty pussy tasted. i missed having you like this. holding you down so you can’t squirm away. missed hearing you beg.”

you’re almost there, fidgeting underneath his hands. “luigi, please. it’s too much.”

“you’ve taken worse,” he growls into you.

he feels like he’s on fire. one hand moves up and down along his cock fervently, while the other lends itself to fingering your frothing pussy. you mewl at the sudden entry, back arching.

“luigi,” you whine. “please.”

“i’m trying to do a nice thing for you, y/n,” he hums, “but you want me to be selfish, hm? want me to take you?”

“yes,” you say, breathless.

“fuckin’ slut,” he grumbles, pulling himself away from your wet cunt. he grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. “what d’you want from me, huh?”

“want you.”

“course you do,” luigi says, surprising you with hard slaps against your sensitive clit. you cry out at the sensation, the unfamiliar storm of bliss and torment, and he chuckles darkly. “you fuckin’ belong to me.”

he grabs your chin and forces you into another kiss, your wetness now staining you both. he lifts your leg up and slides himself back into your wet warmth. “you’re dripping,” he praises as he pounds into you. the exhilarating pain sets your senses alight, you grip onto him tighter without even realizing. “all for me, yeah?”

“all for you.” you nod. this is not how you expected this conversation to go. you writhe at how big he is, how hard.

“you can take it,” he grunts. he’s not fast, this time—his thrusts are agonizingly slow and tortuously deep—just as you think it’s all entirely too much, one hand grips your clothed tit, the other lifts to cradle your chin, forcing your lips to part open. he spits into your mouth. “swallow,” he orders.

you do.

“good girl,” he places sloppy, wet kisses along your jaw, your neck, then goes to bite at your tits. “so fuckin’ pretty.”

“i thought about you too,” you admit sheepishly, out of your mind. he looks up at you, raises his eyebrows, urging you to go on. “i missed you.”

to your surprise, he scoffs. “fuckin’ bitch.” he suddenly loses the interest in being gentle with you, returning to your body rough and angry. his fingers massage against your clit, unraveling you. “you’re just as crazy as i am, you know that? running around town like you don’t belong to me. like you don’t touch yourself late at night thinking about this cock. wishing those fingers were half as good as mine, huh? fuckin’ idiot.”

“luigi,” you cry out. was this him being nice?

“be a good girl f’me,” he grunts. he feels you pulse around his cock and drives into you with even more force. “cum all over me, baby. have my fuckin’ kids.”

“luigi,” you mewl again, desperate for release.

“come on, pretty, show me how good it feels.”

his lips return to yours, hot wet and desperate, as he cums inside of you. you’re a complete mess—squirming and whimpering as you unravel onto his cock, he catches your moans with kisses and leaves you shaking underneath him.

“good girl,” he hums, kissing your forehead.

for a fleeting moment, the two of you are perfect. everything feels just right. he slips into the spot beside you, the disarray of tangled sheets forgotten as he pulls you into his warmth. you sink into the nape of his neck, and though there are no more words spoken, the air is thick with an undeniable love, quiet but all encompassing.

but when he stirs awake, reaching for you, all that lingers is the soft, fading smell of your spring perfume.

send requests ! <3

[theorist-fox]

Johnny's invited to dinner

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader x John 'Soap' MacTavish

Word Count: 900

18+

CW: smut!!! this is literally smut. blowjob, handjob, various jobs that don't involve a salary. smug johnny. assertive dom simon but soft with you and you only.

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

“Agreed to have ya ‘ere to look, not to talk, MacTavish.” 

Simon’s voice is a growl that unfolds like an earthquake, reverberating in your skull. It cracks at the edges when your lips, wrapped around his cock, slide a little further down.

Johnny stands less than a foot from where you kneel, fully dressed but with his dick in hand, stroking idly and passing his thumb over the slit every now and then. 

“Ach—but she seems to like it.” Johnny’s lips quirk in an impish smile, and his hand travels the space between you and him to tangle his fingers in your hair. “Don’t you, bonnie?” 

Simon pierces Johnny with a look. It’s smothered by the way you moan appreciatively around his cock.

Johnny chuckles hoarsely. “Aye, she does.” 

And then he pushes your head forward—slowly but ever so demanding. You comply, following Johnny’s lead, until your nose is buried in Simon’s curls and your eyes are shining. 

You gag around him. Simon smacks a fist on the bed. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

He’s quick to recollect his bearings and uses his thumb to wipe a tear down your cheek. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, and he takes that attempt at a smile as eager consent. One he makes sure to have, once again, by cocking his head inquisitively—you nod, or try to, and he sighs. Gently, Simon smooths the hair away from your forehead in silent thankfulness. 

“Fuckin’ hell, alrigh’.” Johnny grunts, too focused on the sight of Simon’s cock disappearing in your mouth to notice the silent communication happening. He speeds the movement of his hand, tugging at the foreskin right above his glans. “How's she feel, L.T.? Gimme the details.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Nuh-uh,” Johnny tuts. “Ye gotta tell me—been selfish with her for too long. I get why, but don’t keep me in the dark now, uh? Feel like we're past that."

You start bobbing your head, gently guided by Johnny’s hand, while holding onto Simon’s thighs. He feels completely corded, like a rope ready to snap.

This is not what he thought would happen when you offered to have Johnny over for dinner.

But fuck it if he's going to complain.

Your head is cradled everywhere around it like it’s something precious and fragile—Johnny’s hand at the back, Simon’s palms now both at your cheeks.

“She’s warm.” He replies flatly, burying grunts and growls deep in his chest.

“Aye—coulda guessed that.” Johnny huffs. “Elaborate, will ye?” 

It’s then that you shift your head from side to side to accustom your jaw to his girth. Simon’s tip touches somewhere deep down your throat, and you choke around it. Your nostrils flare, and your eyes drown in tears Simon catches with his thumbs. 

“Fuck—” He grunts, rolling his eyes. “She—she’s fuckin’ melting me, Johnny. Tha’ enough?” 

“Yeah?” Johnny croaks. “Takin’ you deep—aye, sir?” 

“’Firmative.” 

“Can see ye bulgin’ down her throat,” he says, and Simon feels the sick need to go and check with his thumb. God help him, Johnny’s right. 

“She’s tight.” Simon pants. 

“Bet she is,” Johnny croaks. “Can’t wait to feel her myself. Right, hen?”

Simon watches you struggle to find a way to reply. You can’t speak because your mouth is busy elsewhere; you can’t nod, or you’ll choke. You opt for your hands, wrapping one around Johnny’s thigh and squeeze, digging your fingernails into the denim of his jeans. He stumbles forward, just a tad closer.

Johnny rewards you by massaging your scalp with his pads, a hoarse hum of approval passing through his lips. 

“Trained her right, L.T.” He chuckles.

Simon gives him a look that would normally freeze him on the spot, but it only prompts Johnny to stiffen and bite back a moan. 

“Didn’t train her, you twat.” Simon huffs gruffly, giving a tender brush of his thumb on your cheek as you work your mouth down his shaft. “She ain’t a dog.”

Johnny’s smirk falters, but Simon’s sure it’s not because he’s being reprimanded by his lieutenant but because he’s on the verge of finishing. Judging by the heavy furrow of his brow, he clearly doesn’t want to—not yet.

“Aye she ain’t.” He agrees, voice cracked and breathy. “But she’s a learner. Look at how she takes ye—that ain’t talent, can’t be.”

Johnny winks at you when he catches you struggling to look up. 

You huff from your nose, rolling your eyes fondly. His lips quirk, and he softens you up by grazing his nails down your scalp until your skin rises in goosebumps.

You push your head back against Johnny’s hand, and he takes that as a sign to go on. 

“That’s fuckin' hard work, right there.” He growls, and then guides your head down Simon’s cock once again. His thighs tighten under your fingertips, spine straight and knotted when you swallow him all the way down.

“Careful, Johnny.” Simon warns through gritted teeth. Even though he’s on the verge of toppling over, his voice still sounds delightfully rich—stern and commanding.

Then, he directs his eyes to you.

Yours soften, probably because his cheeks are awfully pink, and the crinkles of his eyes stretch in that way he reserves for you only. “Alrigh’?

You hum in reply, blinking up at him with clumped lashes and happy, bloodshot eyes.

“Three taps on my thigh when you need, yeah?” He says. “Go on.” 

You tap Simon’s thigh three times. He brushes his thumb down your cheek before placing his hand over Johnny’s wrist at the back of your head.

He squeezes it until his knuckles turn white, and then he nods his way. Johnny swallows a rock lodged in his throat when he meets Simon's hooded gaze.

“Go on, Johnny.” His hand on your cheek remains soft and soothing, but his eyes, locked on Johnny’s flushed face, hold a darkness you’re not allowed to see.

“Make me cum."

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Hey!!! We officially reached 1k people so I thought I'd scare you away with some filthy smut.

I love you all. Truly. Thank you for being here and making my days 10 times better.

-theo 🦊

[sugawhaaa]

🍫•SEONGHWA ONE-SHOT•🍫

♡✧˖°🍒Hot chocolate🍒♡✧˖°

Warnings//genre:: SMUT, DRUGGING/APHRODISIACS, mutual masturbation, oral (f rec) face fucking, creampie, sweat fetish, marking,

Pairing:: dom!seonghwa x sub!fem!reader

A/N:: I really don't know what to say...I hope yall like this tho, I worked hard on it 🙏

As you stirred the forbidden sweets into the hot chocolate you were making for you and your boyfriend you think back on what he had said a few weeks ago. "Wouldn't it be fun to try some aphrodisiacs?" He brought it up at the most random time. On another occasion, he mentioned putting it in cake or cookies as a surprise but never actually did it but today, you made the move. "Is it almost done?" Seonghwa asks warmly from the livingroom and you smile with a nod before carrying the cups out to the living room couch where you'd be watching your movie.

You and Seonghwa just came back from taking a walk out in the snowfall at night and though it was magical and aesthetic it was so cold. The two of you decided to snuggle up with some hot cocoa and watch a movie but you thought it'd be fun to sneak some aphrodisiacs into your drinks. He wouldn't mind...right?

You give him his cup and he's completely unsuspecting. You get about twenty minutes into the movie and he hasn't taken a single sip of it, because it was too hot, but you get worried that he might've caught you. You continue as if everything is normal, cuddling up beside him and taking occasional sips. You knew what was in it but you wanted to see. natural. You then saw him beginning to drink it and suddenly, his drink is gone.

We're honestly excited at the fact that a, he didn't catch you, and b, he was gonna be unbearably horny in about 15 minutes and you couldn't wait to see how he'd react. It began with him shifting a lot beside you and then clearing his throat more than usual. You take a quick glance up at him and you can tell he is flushed, but you don't assist him. Instead, you wait for him to confess his dilemma.

"Is it hot in here or is it just me?" He says as he breathes heavily, you swear you could see the puff of warmth from his breath like a sex scene in those BL Mangas.

"It's a little warm," you nod. "Could be all the hot chocolate you chugged," you tease and poke his chest and you can see the struggle in his eyes. Seonghwa fights to seem calm and normal but on the inside, he is panicking. He can feel the sweat building along his body, his heart thumping in his ears to the same rhythm as his cock just aching to beat inside of you. His breath always seems out of reach as he inhales sharply.

"Baby, I feel like something is wrong," he slicks his hair back as he feels a glob of precum trail down his cock and soak his pajamas. You set down your cup and turn to him.

"What's up, baby?" You look up at him trying to hide your smile as he pants but he only grumbles in response, not sure how to tell you how he's feeling.

"It's like...I'm so horny it hurts but I don't know why? It just started for no reason," Seonghwa explains as you examine his fucked up features, pink cheeks, glossy eyes, and that dark haze hiding beneath his pupils that are blown out. You officially can't hide your smile anymore and turn into a little smirk to play it off in this situation. "Why are you smiling?" His voice is weary as if he is putting the piecing of the puzzle together in his head as he talks.

"I'm not!" You protest but Seonghwa is already on your trail. "Just since you're feeling this way we could indulge in some...activities," You smirk and Seonghwa's breath hitches at your words.

"Not until you tell me why this is happening," Seonghwa grins and you let out a sigh.

"Fine. I melted some aphrodisiacs into our hot chocolate," You confess and Seonghwa's jaw drops. He finally pauses the TV as he takes a deep breath.

"I should be pissed at you," He begins and you nod in understanding. "But I am way too fucking hard to care," He pulls you closer, resting you on his lap. As he pulls you up you feel his raging boner against your clothed pussy. You take a glance down out of curiosity and his sweatpants are strained into a tent with a dark, wet patch at the tip. Seonghwa smirks as he follows your eyes, making eye contact when you look back at him. "I'm not in the mood to be patient and it's your fault so you're gonna take it," Seonghwa practically rips his clothes off before kneading and clawing at yours. He starts with your shirt before moving lower, yanking off your pants and panties to reveal your soaked and throbbing cunt. He picks you up by your thighs and plops you back down on the couch. He snaps your legs open and, without warning, he wraps his swollen and wet lips along your pussy lips.

"Fuck, Seonghwa!" You jump as your legs jolt up and already you can feel the aphrodisiacs working. Every time his tongue grazes over any sort of sensitive area you feel like you could scream in pleasure, but instead, you just grab and yank his hair.

Seonghwa sucks one of your little folds into his mouth before rolling it back and forth along his tongue. You let out a loud cry as your back arches and it only stirs him on more; the way he was eating you out was like he hadn't eaten in months, like he was deprived of a feast for years and he finally got his chance to be feral. The room fills you with the sound of him slurping, sucking, spitting, and moaning along with your squeals and sobs. "I-I'm close," You sob out and Seonghwa drags his tongue along your slit, poking his tongue into your entrance. His hands come around to grope your thighs leaving red marks. You felt as though it was too early to cum but due to the aphrodisiac, you didn't care.

You then let the band snap in your stomach and you cum into Seonghwa's mouth, your hands matted in his hair as you do so. Seonghwa drinks up your arousal instantly and as soon as he's satisfied he's standing up again. He sits down beside you as you pant. He leans over to look up at you, those big boba eyes silently pleading for something.

"Baby, can we masturbate together?" he asks straight up and your eyes widen. His hand was already lingering around his twitching cock that was constantly leaking precum.

"S-Sure," you smile with a soft nod. You felt flustered by his direct question but you drew yourself back into the moment. Seonghwa softly palms his tip as he moans directly into your ear, his moans are soft and rather quiet but there is a hidden desperation in them. You hesitantly bring your fingers down between your legs, running a finger up your slit to collect up some of the arousal and cum there. You dip a finger inside yourself with ease and gasp softly, the feeling of your finger being squeezed and the intrusion in your pussy. Seonghwa is directly watching as he strokes his cock slowly, his arousal sticking to his hand loudly.

"Just like that darling," he kisses your jaw between moans. "You're so fucking hot," he bites his lip and you feel like you're masturbating with a stranger; it's been a long time since you've seen Seonghwa so lustful and dirty. There's this raw hunger in his voice that makes your spine tingle. He watches the way your fingers are drawn back out from your tight heat and he can't stop staring. "I could cum right fucking now baby," he growls as he fists himself harder, the side of his hand slapping against the base of his shaft.

Seonghwa's raw desire begins to rub off on you as he presses his sweaty body against yours. Without warning he jumps over the edge, cumming onto your stomach. You gasp softly as you watch his load spurt out onto your body. Your face flushes and your fingers slow, watching his massive load spill over. "Want my cock in your mouth babygirl," he brings his leg up to rest on the arm of the couch as he grabs your head. You gasp in surprise but your mouth is quickly filled with his cock. Seonghwa was acting so abruptly and demanding, not even giving you seconds to process what he was saying or doing.

He gently rolls his hips back and forth, forcing his cock to glide in and out of your mouth. "You're doing so good," he throws his head back as he holds your head, his hands tangled in your hair. "I know I'm being...forceful but I can't fucking help it," he whines lowly as sweat drips down his neck, bobbing along with his Adam's apple. He lets out a choked whimper. "As soon as I cum I feel like I'm gonna cum again...I feel like I fucking animal in heat," his fist tightens in your hair as his hips move harder, gagging you. Tears build in his eyes as he teeters over the edge. "Just a little longer..." he drops his head forward as he groans, sweat dripping off from the tip of his nose onto your chest.

He then unloads in your mouth, cramming his cock in your jaw. "Good girl," he growls loudly. He pulls his cock out quickly and watches as his cum pours from your mouth, his cock hardening again almost instantly. You cough softly before speaking.

"I'm sorry hwa, I didn't know it was that strong," you apologize sincerely, and he quickly pins you to the couch again.

"Don't apologize...I love it," he smirks softly and you watch as the sweat drips down his face. He lines his cock up with your entrance, rubbing his tip against it. "Let me fuck you, please," his head falls to your chest, his forehead leaving a print of sweat. "Just wanna fuck you, fill you up, make you mine," he whines before kissing your chest. "Make you scream," he trails his hands down your sides. "I know I've been rushing all night but..." he lets out a choked groan. "I need you," He sighs as he picks up his head to gauge your reaction.

"It is my fault you feel this way so..." You look down shyly before meeting his gaze. "Use me baby, use me until you're satisfied," You caress the side of his face, your hand collecting up some of the sweat. Seonghwa grins before pushing his hips forward, moaning as you envelop his cock with your tight heat.

"I'll try to go slow," He says between gentle groans.

"Don't worry about it. Use me until the buzz is gone," You smile softly and tangle your fingers into his damp hair. The long dark strands sticking to your hand. His hips move slow at first, taking his time to allow the pleasure between the two of you to build up, but eventually Seonghwa falls to his own lust once again. Seonghwa pants heavily as he pounds into you, his desire now building and slowly taking over.

"Can I cum inside baby?" He asks just to be sure.

"Of course," You nod with shaky breath, his cock never loses it's pace. His hips snap harder against yours as his breathing quickens as he grips onto your hips.

"Wanna fill you up and make you cum at the same time," He groans before leaning down, wrapping his arms around your body as his body weight begins to rest lightly against yours. "Are you getting close baby?" He asks as he feels your walls grip his cock. You nod in response and he smirks before biting your neck, sucking on the sweet and soft skin. His hands ghost over your body with a slight tremble of raw desire and hunger. "Cum for me," he growls into your ear. "Wanna see you feelin' good," he says before groaning, his cock twitching inside you.

You dig your nails into his back as the pleasure builds on layers, stacking one after another until your tumbling over.

"S-Seonghwa," you gasp softly as he smirks softly as he feels your warm wetness coating him.

"Good girl, Shh," he pets your hair before reaching his peak as well, his hot seed spurting out inside you. "Fuck," he gasps as his body goes limp against yours. "You did so good, I love you so much," he moans as he rests his sweaty head on your chest. He shakily wraps his arms around you and holds you close as he pants heavily. "I think I've worn it all out," he sighs. "I'm exhausted," Seonghwa chuckles softly and you smile before slicking back his hair

[rafedaddy01]

Babysitter y/n slipping into rafes bed during the night when his wife is away on a work trip

She convinces him ,because she normally already drove home at 8 pm that he is just having a lucid dream

So shes not real and there are not consequences to his actions

So rafe makes all his dream about her come true

Fing her tight virgin p Doggy style as hard as he can

Of course raw

Grabing her as he wishes

And it really is a dream come true

Until the next mornign when he wakes up d still inside of y/n and he hears "honey I am home"

And he realizes he just actually f d his babysitter

Summary: You've spent years trying to get Rafe Cameron to pop your cherry. He's eight years older than you, but that's never stopped you. Ever since you were 16, you've been obsessed with him. Now, you've finally landed a job as his babysitter, and you're determined to get exactly what you want.

Warnings: SMUT, age-gap

Notes: thank you for the request. I added my own little back story to it ❤️

Your heart pounded in your chest, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins leaving you trembling. “Y/N? What the hell are you doing?”

“Shh, it’s not real. Just a dream, baby.”

He placed his palms firmly on your hips, his grip possessive as he steadied you over him. A sly smirk tugged at his lips. “Is it now? Funny, ‘cause it feels pretty damn real to me, baby.”

Your heart raced, but you forced yourself to stay composed as you leaned in and kissed him deeply, your lips lingering against his. Pulling back just slightly, you whispered, "If this were real, would I be doing this?"

The atmosphere shifted in an instant, heavy and electric. Rafe moved with predatory precision, flipping you over with ease until you were ass-up beneath him. His palm came down hard on your skin, the sharp sting leaving a mark and pulling a startled whine from your lips.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his hand lingering on the sting he left behind. “You like that, huh? Thought you could tease me and get away with it? Nah, baby, I don’t play nice.”

“Rafe—” your voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper as you glanced back at him. Your skin burned under his touch, a mix of nerves and anticipation twisting in your stomach. “You can’t just… do that and expect me to keep it together.”

Rafe’s grin was wicked as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “Baby, if this is a dream, I’m making the most of it. Who knows when I’ll get to ruin you like this in real life?”

Your voice was barely a whisper, soft and inviting, as you tilted your head slightly, exposing the curve of your neck. Your eyes met his, a mixture of daring and vulnerability. “Do anything you want to me, Rafey,” you murmured, your words hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge, full of promise and surrender.

“Fuck,” Rafe muttered under his breath, his voice rough and low, like he was trying to convince himself this was real. The way you looked at him, eyes wide and filled with something between trust and temptation, made his chest tighten. You looked untouchable, like some kind of angel sent to test him, and yet here you were, all his for the taking. His lips curled into that signature smirk, dark and dangerous.“You’re too fucking perfect for me,” he murmured, his hand brushing your jaw as his thumb traced over your bottom lip. His blue eyes burned into yours, a storm of desire and control swirling inside them. “But you keep looking at me like that, and I’ll ruin you, angel. Consider it a challenge… and I never lose, baby.”

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation as you felt the tip of him pressing against your entrance. Your hips instinctively rolled back, seeking him, your movements deliberate, enticing, and impossible for him to resist.

"Ready, baby?" Rafe's voice was low and rough, a warning laced with dark intent. He didn't wait for your answer, pressing forward until his cock filled you completely, stretching you to the hilt. A guttural groan escaped his lips, his head falling back for a moment before his piercing blue eyes locked onto you again. "Fucking perfect," he hissed through gritted teeth, his palms gripping your hips with a bruising intensity. Without hesitation, he pulled back, then thrust forward with a force that made your breath hitch, his control slipping as he chased the pleasure only you could give him.

"Yes! Oh, fuck," you moaned, your voice breaking as your nails clawed desperately at the sheets beneath you. Your knees dug into the mattress, your back arching instinctively, presenting yourself to him in a way that made his breath hitch. From behind, Rafe groaned, his grip tightening on your hips as he watched himself disappear into you, the sight driving him wild. "God, you're fucking perfect," he growled, his pace faltering for a moment as he took in the view, utterly consumed by you.

"Fucking perfect, baby," Rafe groaned, his voice rough as he pulled you closer. "So tight and warm... I fucking love it." Without warning, he smacked the curve of your ass, the sound sharp and satisfying. His hand lingered there, gripping and kneading the flesh, soothing the sting with a possessive caress.

Your release built rapidly, the pressure becoming unbearable. "Rafe, l'm gonna cum!" you moaned, your voice trembling with need. His palms gripped your hips tightly as his cock pulsed inside you, his own release dangerously close.

"Come on, baby, give it to me. Let me feel you soak my cock," Rafe growled, thrusting harder, his tip relentlessly hitting your g-spot.

"Fuck, Rafe," you gasped, the words barely escaping as the floodgates opened. Your legs trembled uncontrollably as you came, his release following in sync, his body collapsing beside yours. His cock still nestled inside you, the two of you drifted into an exhausted slumber. But morning arrived with an ominous chill, the sound of creaking steps jolting you awake. A voice, clear and sharp, echoed through the house-his wife's voice, calling out for her husband. Your heart froze as Rafe stirred beside you, still buried within you, completely unaware of the storm about to erupt.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover @mema10 @writingroom21 @wtfdudesblog

[televisionenjoyer]

Ok wait because I've gotten the outfits complaint way too often so maybe I'M insane let's ask the people shall we

Regarding everything else ↓

When I say Taylor Swift is the embodiment of, I'm not referring to her morality as a person, but to what her brand represents for people.

Taylor is an artist who has in the past fought the music industry war, so I feel like saying these things are "out of her control" and release her from any responsibility is disrespecting all the effort she went through to stand up against Scooter Braun and regain ownership of her masters. She has gone to great lengths to make sure she has as much control and ownership of herself and her brand as possible. Her deal with Republic/UMG was notorious for giving her liberties that were unprecedented for most artists at the time.

So like, sure, the label has the right to produce merchandise as they see fit, but also, she's Taylor fucking Swift. She could go independent, she could change labels anytime (any label would be stupid not to have her) she could just make one public statement, one small tweet like "hey I don't agree with what my label is doing." For someone who once prided herself on using her platform to take a stand for her beliefs (see: miss americana) her silence inclines me to believe she isn't too pressed about this particular issue.

Ultimately just want to say that I agree that the people in the music industry, the execs, management, etc, all SUCK. following that line of thought they all benefit from the sales and overall popularity of the product they sell. Therefore and as previously stated on the notes of this post I PERSONALLY choose to regulate and even cut my consumption of these, as you so called, "big artists", as a PERSONAL CHOICE to boycott this phenomenon. and the rant above is my PERSONAL ASSESSMENT of the current state of the music industry, taking the most streamed artist of the year as a pretty solid reference point.

I don't care for the quality of music made by Taylor Swift anymore I care that she has become the embodiment of overconsumption. New outfits every show new shoes every show new slave-made merch every other Sunday new version of my new disc that is exactly like the old version but with a different cover that you should definitely buy new deluxe version that is exactly the same but has 30 seconds of me farting new meet and greet you can pay a thousand dollars for new private jet new guitar new designer clothes at the latest chiefs game new music MORE MUSIC MORE STREAMING new vinyls actually here are some newer vynils new candles to set your room on fire with new fucking. I don't know. Taylor Swift playstation five. Might as fucking well.

[tsukuhoe]

13. who's the cute boy with the white sweatshirt

the coffee shop buzzed with its usual morning rush, the scent of espresso mingling in the air. you stepped inside the coffee shop, your sundress swayed lightly with the movement. a soft white rosalia midi sundress dotted with a yellow floral print seemed to carry a piece of summer into the shop. you glanced at your watch— enough time before the table read started. 

you walked up to the register, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you studied the menu. 

“good morning!” the barista greeted you. “what can i get for you?” 

“hmm,” you murmured, your voice soft but thoughtful. “a vanilla latte with two shots of espresso and a rose cold foam, please.” 

“right. your order will be soon! love your dress by the way, has anyone told you that you look a lot like y/n l/n?” 

“yes...! i get that a lot! thank you.” 

as you waited, your eyes wandered, taking in the shop's interior. your gaze brushed over a familiar-looking raven-haired man with multiple facial piercings and gauges. his hair was tied ​​half up and for a brief moment, your eyes met. you smiled, the kind of small, polite smile you give a stranger, but it felt like a spark anyway. 

when your drink was ready, you picked it up, fingers curling delicately around the cup. as you turned toward the door, your shoulder collided with someone. the next thing you knew, your latte was splashed across the floor and the person’s white sweatshirt. 

“fuck, i’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, panicking at the mess you made. looking up to see the guy you spilt your latte on. his purple eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, you forgot about the sticky, rapidly cooling liquid soaking into his clothes. 

“no, it’s okay,” he said quickly, though the words came out more irritated than he intended. “i wasn’t paying attention.” 

“neither was i,” you admitted, setting your cup down on a nearby table. “here, let me help.” you grabbed a stack of napkins from the counter and handed him a few, keeping the rest to blot the floor. 

he stood and ran a hand through his messy dark hair as you got on your knees, trying to wipe the hem on his sweatshirt, hoping it wouldn’t stain the white. his face flushing, then turning it away from your downward view. your sundress’s cleavage gave an invasive view from the angle and the position you were in didn’t help his mind to not lead to sexual thoughts. 

“i feel terrible. how much was this sweater? i’ll pay for it.” you asked, still focused on the stain. 

“you know, normally, people would ask for an autograph instead of offering money.” he chuckled, grabbing your arm and picking you up to look at him. 

“huh? i’m sorry, i don’t quite understand...." he smirked. then it clicked. you realized who you were looking at. "wait, are you suguru geto?” 

“the one and only,” he nodded with a sweet smile on his face. “and you’re y/n l/n, right? i’ve seen you a few times on the news and radio.” 

you eagerly nodded back. this was the suguru geto. the one that played a huge part in the indie music industry. the one that went on an indefinite hiatus five years ago. 

“can i buy you another drink?” he asked, snapping you out of your shocked state. you hesitated, glancing at your watch. you were going to be late if you waited any longer. fuck. “i don’t really have time—”

“or,” he interrupted, holding up a hand, “you could take this.” the raven-haired slid a sleek, black stainless steel tumbler across the counter towards you.

you frowned. “what’s this?”

“my coffee. black, no sugar,” he said, a sheepish grin tugging at his pierced lips. “i’m a little obsessed with punctuality, so i always leave early. you, on the other hand, seem like you’re cutting it close.”

you stared at him, a mix of gratitude and disbelief swirling in her chest. “you’re just… giving me your coffee?”

“think of it as an apology.”

you accepted the tumbler reluctantly. “okay, but only if you let me pay you back for that sweater.”

“deal,” he said, slipping a card out of his wallet and scribbling something on the back with a pen from his pocket. “here’s my number. text me when you’ve got time, and we’ll call it even.”

album bonus tracks: — SUGURU !!! — i have this huge hc of suguru having facial piercings n tats — he has an eyebrow piercing, snake bites, labret piercing, industrial, helix (and tits!) pierced! — and tats are placed on his upper left arm to neck <33 (idk if u can tell but i love body decor) — also on the topic of piercings n tats, choso has SO MANY (which we'll talk about some other time) — excited to update more (if u couldn't tell by my little spree lately) ⋮ MASTERLIST  ֹ⋮  PREVIOUS  ⋮  ֹNEXT  ⋮

. ꒷ TAG LIST .ᐟ.ᐟ [CLOSED 50/50] @celloccino @shokosbunny @nymphsdomain @alpha-mommy69 @soulairess @poopooindamouf @reyna-isabellaa @justamina-blog @koreluvsspring @mayhemfellasleep @clamousera @roxy776699 @l-ilysm @ayla-1605 @kaemaybae @starmapz @gigiiiiislife @puppyminnnie @desideityy @yuhig-blog @kaiiibxby @ami20019 @kentochronicles @missthatgirl @lauuriiiz @emi311 @lunavelha @coffeeisbehindyou @freakadelick @theclassbookworm @ladytamayolover @tojirin @fuckisthatahotghost @odxrilove @perqbeth @rxi-n-lyche3 @sugoroo @mentallyunpresent @naviaberries @wil10wthetree @thesharkcollector @harryzcherry @ghost-buddies @tearshedder @mourn1ng-dov3 @hellokittyish @good-mourning0 @shoma-nom @elegancefr @norikuna

[seungkw1]

safe haven — ljh

♡ pairing: neighbor!jihoon x fem!reader ♡ theme: fluff, hurt/comfort ♡ wc: 3.9k ♡ warnings: post-breakup dynamics, cheating (from ex), swearing, mentions of food ♡ a/n: written as part of the Winter with You collab put on by @camandemstudios - make sure to check out the full collab masterlist here!! give all these talented writers some love <3 and big thanks to @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading!!

As if your fiancé leaving you for another woman wasn’t enough to make this the shittiest week of your life, now you’ve managed to lock yourself out of your house during an incoming blizzard. At least your next-door neighbor is home, and he’s kind enough to offer you shelter from the storm. You barely know Jihoon, only having spoken to him a few times - but soon, you discover you have more in common than you initially thought.

Five days ago, you made the innocent mistake of picking up your fiancé’s phone when you thought it was yours. You noticed immediately when you saw the lock screen - it was a photo of you and him from last December, posed in front of a Christmas tree, taken minutes after he proposed. In it, you’re smiling ear to ear, enthusiastically showing off the beautiful engagement ring he bought you. The photo has been his wallpaper ever since. “You look so happy,” he told you a couple months ago. “I can’t bring myself to change it.”

You go to set the phone back down, but a notification catches your eye. You take a closer look, discovering a string of WhatsApp messages, all from somebody named Kelsey. 

Huh, that’s weird, you think to yourself. I didn’t know he even used WhatsApp. 

Normally, you’d think nothing of it - but something feels off. You hesitate for a moment. You know each other’s passcodes for the sake of convenience; you’ve never felt the need to go through his phone, and you feel bad about even thinking about doing it. But, your gut is telling you to investigate.

You input the password and open the message thread. You’re not quite sure what you’re even looking for, but two seconds of scrolling tells you all you need to know. Dumbfounded, you read the particular message three more times before it sinks in: 

Can’t wait for our vacation next week baby, I really need to get away from all of this right now. 

Your stomach lurches as if you’ve just been punched in the gut. He told you he was going on a business trip next week. He told you that months ago. 

Get away from ‘all of this’? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Does he mean… me???

Blood rushes through your ears as you read through the never-ending series of sexts, nudes, notes more romantic than anything he’s ever said to you before, an entire paper trail of all the times and locations of the evident affair - until you feel like you’re going to be sick. 

No, it’s not real. It can’t be. There’s no way…

Paralyzed, you stand there in disbelief, but as several more minutes of scrolling pass, it becomes clear that this is actually happening. Tears start to well in your eyes, but you quickly bottle it up, converting the energy into anger instead. You take the phone and march into his office to confront him - ready to shut him down when he tries to deny it. 

But, he doesn’t even try to deny it. He doesn’t even care.

“Well, it’s about time you found out anyway,” he tells you nonchalantly.

“Our wedding is in three months!! How fucking long were you going to wait to tell me??”

“I was gonna tell you soon, I just needed it to be the right time.”

“The right time??!! When is there a right time to dump your fiancé???”

“Listen, y/n-”

“Don’t tell me to fucking listen!!” you raise your voice at him. “In fact, don’t say anything else. Get the fuck out of my house.”

“You can’t tell me to get out, this is my house too,” he replies, with the sheer audacity to have a tone of annoyance in his voice.

“It’s MY name on the fucking papers. Get. Out.”

And so, he left. Didn’t even give you his set of keys back. Didn’t even say goodbye.

Now, you sit here parked in your driveway, the howling of harsh winter winds whistling over the melancholy tune playing loudly from the car radio. The volume is cranked all the way up, but despite your best efforts to drown out the outside world, the sharp whooshing sounds persist. Looks like the incoming storm is going to be as bad as predicted - if not worse. The blustering begins to jostle the whole vehicle. You stare aimlessly out the front windshield, watching chunks of snow flying erratically through the air as the winds pick up further. With a sigh, you turn the ignition off, the engine and radio going silent. If you're going to sit around moping, might as well do it inside where it's warm. You reach for the garage door remote clipped on the visor above you, but your hand only hits the soft padding. Right, you think to yourself, still gotta get that one replaced too. 

You drag yourself out of your car, hastily throwing your coat on and stumbling through the wind toward your front door. Flipping through your keys, something feels off. You look down, assuming your frozen fingers are just too stiff to pick out the correct one. You stare at the collection for several seconds, but your house key is not there. 

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself in confusion. Then, a horrible realization sets in: you never put your new key on the keyring after getting your locks changed. 

You brace yourself against the wind, trudging through the pile of snow accumulating in your front yard. As you reach the window, you lean over the bushes, peering through the partially-shut blinds into your kitchen to see a set of gold keys, sitting upon the center of the countertop. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Your stupid ex-fiancé isn’t even around anymore and he’s still finding new ways to make your life miserable. If he had just returned your damn keys, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

Tears start welling in your eyes - and this time, you surrender. The droplets begin to freeze on your face almost instantly, but you let yourself cry. After several minutes, you’re feeling slightly better - but you’re getting quite cold. You decide to head back to your car, at least turn the heat on while you try and figure out what to do, no need to stand here and get frostbite-

“Um, excuse me…”

You jump at the sound of the voice coming from behind you, whipping your head around to see a very bundled up man. You can’t see much of his face, but he looks to be in his late-twenties, with dark hair peeking out from under a thick beanie. It takes you a moment, but you realize it’s your next-door neighbor, Jihoon, whom you've met approximately once.

“I just wanted to check if you were okay,” he says loudly, doing his best to speak over the noisy wind. “You’ve been standing out here for a while.”

“Oh,” you reply, also speaking up. You wipe the tears off your cheeks with the back of your gloves. “Um, I’m kind of locked out of my house.”

“Is the lock frozen?”

“No- well actually, I don’t know, it might be, but I don’t have my key,” you explain, gesturing through the window. “It’s in there.”

“How did you manage to do that?” he inquires, not being condescending, but genuinely asking.

“The front door locks behind you when you leave.” 

“Ohhh. Well that’s no good.” He pauses for a moment, looking at you curiously, before continuing.

“Um, well I know you don't know me very well, but if you need a place to wait while you call somebody you are welcome to come in,” he tilts his head toward his house. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, but it’s really dangerous to be out in this storm.”

Normally, you’d be standoffish to a man you barely know inviting you into his house - but, something about him tells you you can trust him. He looks and sounds sincere, and you really don’t have anywhere else to go. Plus, you’re fucking freezing. You nod at him.

“I would really appreciate that,” you shout over the wind. He nods back, gesturing for you to follow along. He walks with you to his front door, the both of you taking large steps to trek through the several inches of snow that has already accumulated. He turns the knob and ushers you inside, following quickly and shutting the door behind him. 

The sounds of the howling wind abruptly stop, the door creating a barricade between you and the heavy winter storm. Your ears ring slightly, but as you adjust to the quietness of indoors you pick up on a familiar tune playing from the other room. 

“Is that En Bateau I hear?” you ask as you unlace your boots. 

He’s in the middle of unwrapping his scarf from around his head, but he perks up at your question. “Yeah! You know Petite Suite?” 

“It’s one of my favorites,” you reply warmly as you take off your coat. You try to avoid letting the jacket’s heavy dusting of snow fall to the floor, without success. 

“Dammit, I got your floor all wet,” you inform him with a sigh. You realize you’re shivering - the house is warm, comfortably so, but standing out in the cold for however long you were out there certainly chilled you to your bones. He takes your coat from your hands, shaking off the rest of the snow before putting it on a hanger for you.

“Don’t even worry about it,” he tells you, grabbing a neatly folded towel from the closet and mopping up the mess. “There’s some blankets on the couch, you should warm yourself up.” 

The prospect of a nice cozy blanket sends you speedwalking into the living room. You spot the stack of blankets, also neatly folded, and grab the thickest one you see - it’s plush and velvety, dark red in color, and gigantic. You wrap the soft fleece around your whole body, plopping cross-legged onto the couch, practically turning yourself into a cocoon. Immediately you start to warm up, your poor frozen extremities finally relieved of the painful cold. As you defrost, your brain begins to work again, processing your surroundings. Though you’ve never been inside, your neighbor’s abode feels very homely - the decor is largely cream-colored, accented with warm earth tones, doused in low lighting sourced from a few lamps placed strategically around the room. Though a plain, warm white, the walls are flourished tastefully with various unique artworks - nothing you recognize, but all very pleasing to the eye. Not that your ex was a slob, but you’ve never known a man to be so neat and tasteful. Refreshing, you think to yourself.

You hear soft footsteps from behind you as Jihoon enters the room. You turn to see him bearing a glass of water, a piping hot mug, and a small metal tin. 

“I don’t know if you like tea,” he starts as he sets the beverages on the coffee table’s coasters. “But I thought you might want something warm to drink.”

“Tea sounds great, thank you so much,” you reply as you wiggle your arms out of the tangle of blanket surrounding you. Reaching for the tin, you pull out a bag of Earl Grey and place it in the mug to steep.

“It’s y/n, right?” he asks as he sits in a nearby armchair.

“That’s me,” you reply. “And you’re Jihoon, yes?”

He nods to confirm. “I know we met once a while ago,” he adds, “but I wasn’t sure if you remembered.”

"Of course I remember, I accidentally stole your packages,” you say with a laugh. “I felt bad about that for months.”

“No harm done, it was an honest mistake,” he replies with a calm smile. 

The tea is nowhere near ready, but you take a sip anyway. The hot liquid sends a wave of warmth through your whole body, making you instantly feel much better. Now that you’re not freezing and in tears, you can finally think straight, and you remember why you’re here in the first place.

“I should call the locksmith, god knows how long it’s gonna take them to get here in this storm,” you state as you look around for your phone, but it’s nowhere to be seen. 

“Oh, I think my phone is still in my bag.”

You start to get up, but Jihoon is faster.

“Here, I’ll grab it for you.”

He disappears from the room in an instant, returning a few moments later with your bag in hand. Thanking him politely, you rummage around for your phone until you find it. You open Google and type locksmith into the search, calling the first one you see with good reviews. 

“I’m sorry ma’am, due to the storm we aren’t able to send anyone out until tomorrow.”

You try another one, but it’s the same story. A third one, no luck either. Nobody is able to come out until tomorrow morning. Dejected, you go ahead and schedule an appointment for 7am the next day. You do your best to remain calm, but you’re too exhausted to hold in your tears.

“I don’t know what to do,” you say to Jihoon, burying your face with your hands.

“Hey,” he replies softly. “It’s gonna be okay. You can stay here as long as you need.” 

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you sigh.

“You’re not,” he assures you. “I promise. You’re welcome to take the guest room.”

“Are you sure?” you say with a sniffle, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Of course,” he nods. 

“Thank you so much,” you tell him sincerely. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“No problem at all,” he says with a soft smile. “Also, are you hungry? I have some leftover stew I was going to heat up, if you’d like some.”

You didn’t even realize that you were hungry, but the mention of food makes your stomach rumble. 

“That sounds amazing,” you reply. 

Jihoon spends a few minutes in the kitchen, returning with two steaming bowls of a hearty-looking beef stew. 

“This is delicious,” you remark as you scoop another chunk of potato into your mouth. “I’m gonna need your recipe.”

“Oh, thank you,” Jihoon replies humbly. “I’m glad you like it.”

Several moments of silence pass between you two as you enjoy the meal, the music of Debussy’s piano filling the room in lieu of conversation. But instead of it being awkward, you feel peaceful, replenished from the food and the warmth of Jihoon’s home.

“Is there anything you want to watch?” he eventually turns to ask you. “I like having something on while I eat, but if not it’s okay.”

“Sounds good to me,” you reply. “What are you watching right now?”

“Oh, um, I like… anime,” he says sheepishly, turning slightly pink with embarrassment. “But we definitely don’t have to watch that. What do you like?”

“Have you seen The Great British Bake Off?” you respond. “It’s on Netflix.”

“Never heard of it,” he admits, but he already has the tv remote in hand, opening the app.

“I haven’t seen the new season yet, if you want to start there.”

“Will I understand it if I haven’t seen the other seasons?” he inquires, causing you to giggle.

“It’s a reality show, each season is different,” you fill him in, proceeding to explain the premise. He listens earnestly, but his facial expression tells you he is skeptical. 

“It’s really good, I promise!” you assure him.

“I don’t really get it,” he admits with a confused look on his face. “But if you say it’s good, I’ll take your word for it.”

He puts on the first episode, letting you explain the different challenges to him. About halfway through the episode, he turns to you.

“So… what exactly do they win?”

“A cake stand,” you answer. The look of bewilderment on his face makes you laugh again.

“So they don’t even get any money from it??”

“Nope,” you reply, cozying up under the blanket again. “That’s why it’s so wholesome.”

“Ah, okay,” he says, still unsure about the whole thing. But by the end of the first episode, he’s hooked.

“How do they do that??” he remarks at each contestant’s fanciful cake in the final challenge, his eyes glued to the tv. As soon as the credits start to roll, he clicks the Next Episode button.

“See? I told you it was good,” you say with a sleepy smile. The combination of the satisfying dinner, the warmth of the blanket, and the relaxing nature of the show is quickly making your eyelids turn heavy. You lean your head against the back of the couch, determined not to doze off - but within a few minutes, you are fast asleep.

The soft light of early dawn glows through your closed eyelids as you begin to awaken. You’re so warm and comfortable that you don’t even bother opening your eyes - instead you just lay there, relaxing under the blankets. As your brain slowly wakes, last night’s events start to register in your mind - you grimace as you recall the bitter cold of being stuck outside your own house, having a breakdown, feeling utterly helpless until-

Your eyes pop open. Sleepily adjusting to the morning light filtering in through the windows, you see that you’re still in Jihoon’s house, on the couch. You turn your face to see a pillow underneath your head that wasn’t there previously, and an extra knit blanket draped over the red fleece one that was already wrapped around you. Jihoon is nowhere in sight, presumably still asleep. You wonder what time it is - when suddenly you remember the locksmith appointment you made for 7am. Panicked, you bolt upright, searching for your phone amidst the blankets, until you spot it laying upon the coffee table, plugged into a charger that isn’t yours. You snatch it up, your heart sinking when you see the time: 7:34am.

“SHIT,” you grumble to yourself. You hurriedly unravel yourself from the tangle of blankets - it’s still warm in his house, but a chill hits you in the absence of the cozy covers. Sitting fully upright, you feel your feet bump something as they touch the carpet. Looking down, you spot a pair of slippers - light beige in color, women’s, brand new with the tags still on. For a moment you feel a bit weird about putting them on (Why does he have these, anyway?), but you’re cold, and at this point you don’t care. You slip them on, the comfort of the fluffy interior immediately making you  glad you did. They feel high quality - luxurious even, and now you feel nice and toasty. Rising from the couch, you grab the top blanket and wrap it around you. The inviting scent of coffee suddenly hits you - you follow it into the kitchen, where Jihoon stands before a brewing coffee pot. Noticing you have entered the room, he turns to greet you.

“Good morning,” he says warmly. He wears a pair of plaid pajama pants, seemingly with a matching top underneath a dark fleece quarter-zip. You note that he also has slippers on, not too dissimilar from the ones currently on your feet. As the coffee finishes brewing, he grabs two mugs, gesturing to you with one. 

“Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d love some,” you answer. He takes the pot and pours the piping hot beverage into your mug.

“Cream and sugar?” 

“Yes, please.”

He fixes your drink and hands you the steaming mug. You take a small, careful sip, your insides instantly warmed by the smooth brew.

“Delicious, thank you,” you tell him, taking another generous sip.

“Of course,” he nods.

“Guess I missed the locksmith,” you say with a sigh. “I should’ve thought to set an alarm before I passed out.”

He turns, reaching for something on the counter. Turning back, he extends his hand to you, your keys laying in his palm.

“Already taken care of,” he says with a smile.

“How did you…” Your words trail off as you take the keys, your fingertips lightly grazing his warm skin. 

“I met the locksmith and explained the situation,” he explains. “He picked the lock in like, one minute.” He gives you an apologetic look as he continues. “I’m sorry I went into your house without asking you first, I felt bad, but I didn’t want to have to wake you and drag you out into the cold.”

“Don’t apologize,” you reply, shaking your head quickly. “I really really appreciate it.”

“I’m glad I could help,” he tells you with a soft smile.

“Thank you for the pillow too,” you add. “And the slippers, glad you had these laying around,” you say with a grin. His smile fades slightly, glancing away for a moment. 

“They were supposed to be a gift,” he says as he looks at you again. “But I didn’t need them anymore. You can keep them.” He smiles, but despite trying to hide it, his tone is tinged with sadness.

“Oh,” you say softly. “You sure?”

He hesitates slightly, unsure whether to tell you.

“They were for my girlfriend, but she left me a couple weeks ago,” he admits. He looks down at his coffee, stirring it aimlessly with the spoon. A pang of sympathy hits you. 

“I’m sorry,” you say gently. “I unfortunately can relate. My fiancé left me five days ago, for another woman.”

He perks his head up slightly in surprise. “Oh wow, what an awful week this must be. I’m sorry, too.”

“Yeah, quite honestly, it fucking sucks,” you say, staring off into space a bit. 

“I was about to propose,” he adds, unsure exactly why he’s telling you this. But you both are feeling a newfound, unspoken kinship in your aligned misfortunes. “But one day she just told me she didn’t love me anymore.”

“Jesus, that’s terrible, I’m so sorry,” you empathize. “I found out my fiancé was cheating on me and confronted him. He didn’t even give a shit so I kicked him out, haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

“Wow,” Jihoon says with wide eyes. He lets out a sigh. “I had already bought a ring, too. She didn’t know, but I had the whole proposal planned out.” He shrugs, shaking his head. “I guess it’s for the better that she left before I even bothered.”

“Yeah, doesn’t make it any less painful though.”

“Definitely not. And I wasn’t even able to return the ring.” He laughs, letting out an incredulous huff. 

“Oh my god,” you react in bewilderment. 

“It’s alright,” he says calmly. “Maybe I’ll be able to use it someday.”

His eyes linger on you slightly too long as the words roll off his tongue. The moment is brief, fleeting - but it’s enough for you to notice. 

“Would you like any more coffee?” he asks before you can fully process anything, nudging the pot in your direction.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you reply, finishing the last bit in your mug. 

“Here, I’ll take it.” 

“I better get going, now that I can actually get into my house,” you announce with a smile. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You weren’t a bother at all,” he assures you. “But I’m sure you’re dying to go home.”

Jihoon walks to his entryway. He gathers your things for you, taking your coat from the closet and helping you into it.

“I truly can’t thank you enough,” you tell him sincerely. “You really saved my ass.”

He smiles at you. “You’re very welcome. It was nice to finally properly meet you, y/n.”

He hands you something as he opens the door for you. You take it - it’s a blue sticky note, with his name and phone number written neatly on it.

“You can always call me if you need anything at all.”

“Thank you,” you smile warmly, folding the note and tucking it safely into your pocket. “I will.”

[majinael]

You’re not going anywhere.

Michael Kaiser and I met during the final years of my high school. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I was captivated. I became his biggest supporter, his unwavering believer. In time, he fell for me too, even if it took him longer to realize it.

But as we grew together, doubts began to creep in. I found myself wondering if he saw a future with me. He never spoke about moving in, marriage, or anything remotely long-term. At first, I dismissed it, thinking it was normal for someone who struggled with emotions, especially romantic ones. But as time passed, I started confiding in my closest friends. Listening to them talk about their partners planning apartments and futures together, I couldn’t ignore the sharp sting of jealousy.

That night, I sat alone on the couch in his dimly lit room, wrestling with my thoughts. Should I bring it up? Or bury it like I always had?

The sound of the bathroom door opening pulled me from my reverie. Michael stepped out, fresh from the shower, a towel slung carelessly over his neck. He glanced at me, sensing the tension in the air immediately.

“You’re quiet,” he observed, slipping into a pair of shorts.

I sighed, avoiding his gaze.

He crouched in front of me, resting a hand on the edge of the couch to meet my eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

I muttered a weak, “Nothing.”

He didn’t buy it.

“Bullshit. Tell me.”

I slid past him, standing up and putting distance between us.

“I feel like…” I hesitated, then took a steadying breath. “I feel like you’re not taking this relationship seriously anymore. We’ve been together for three years, Michael. Three. And yet, we haven’t moved in together, you never talk about the future. Is this… not what you want?”

The silence that followed was heavy, deafening.

“Do you even imagine a future with me? Or are you just waiting to.. leave?” I added, my voice cracking despite my attempt to stay composed.

He stepped closer, his hand gently landing on my shoulder, trying to turn me toward him in vain.

“It’s not that,” he rectfied “You know my career doesn’t allow me to think about that kind of stuff yet, princess.”

His words only fueled the fire burning inside me. I pushed his hand away, my fists clenching as anger and despair warred within me.

“Then I don’t want this,” I snapped, my voice sharp and unforgiving.

Michael’s eyes widened in shock, his usual composure slipping. Anger flickered across his face as he grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to face him. His piercing gaze locked onto mine, but I turned away, unable to hold it.

“What do you mean by that?” he demanded, his voice carrying a faint tremor of pain beneath its intensity.

Tears threatened to spill as I bit my lip, cursing myself for letting frustration drive my words. I didn’t mean it. Not truly. But it was already out there, and I couldn’t take it back.

He pulled me closer by capturing my wrist in his hand. Lifting it to his lips, he pressed a tender kiss to the back of it.

“You’re not going anywhere, not because of this stupid fucking reason” he murmured, his tone firm , commanding.

I yanked my hand away, my movement harsh. For the first time, I saw uncertainty flicker in his expression, a rare crack in his confidence. He was losing control of the situation, and it was unfamiliar territory for him.

I understood his reasons. Deep down, I knew he was right. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. My desires, my expectations, felt so far away, and the bitterness was suffocating.

In one swift motion, Michael cupped my face in his right hand, forcing me to look up at him. His touch tilted my balance, leaving me on my tiptoes as he leaned in.

“Stop being unreasonable,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “You’re smart enough to understand.”

I squirmed in his grasp, the position almost unbearable, a frustrated moan escaping my lips. His, curled into a grin -a maddening, knowing grin- before he closed the distance between us, capturing my lips in a searing kiss.

And just like that, my resistance crumbled. His kiss melted away every ounce of rebellion in me, leaving only the raw ache of love and longing.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered against my lips, breaking the kiss only to claim them again.

My back met the wall as he deepened the kiss, his desperation palpable.

“You're not going anywhere.” he murmured, his lips brushing against my jaw, trailing down to my ear in soft, butterfly kisses.

“Tell me you’re not going anywhere.” His voice trembled, a faint whimper betraying his vulnerability.

I couldn’t fight him anymore. Wrapping my arms around him, I pressed myself against him, burying my face in his shoulder.

“I’m not,” I whispered, my voice shaky but resolute.

[little-mrs-morales]

Trash TV

Dieter Bravo x Personal Assistant Reader

The hotel room buzzed with an awkward quiet, broken only by the faint sounds of the city beyond the thick glass windows. Dieter Bravo sat slouched on the edge of the bed, his hoodie bunched around his hunched shoulders, the fabric stretched tight between his restless fingers. His usual dramatic bravado was gone, replaced by a kind of nervous vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. Maybe it was because he’d never stayed sober this long. Or maybe it was because he’d never been in a relationship that wasn’t driven by his money.

You sat across from him, legs tucked beneath you on the armchair, a hotel robe loosely draped over your frame. This was your first Christmas as not just his personal assistant but also *kind of* his girlfriend. You hadn’t put a label on your relationship, but he’d stayed sober for you and become surprisingly faithful. You never thought you’d see Dieter Bravo clueless about someone flirting with him—yet when the receptionist tried, he brushed her off, saying he couldn’t wait to see the gifts his lady got him. That’s what you were to him: his keeper, his lady, the one who sorted out his messes but also the one he knew he couldn’t survive without. He wanted you in every aspect of his life, even if it meant staying sober.  

It had been an easy night until now—room service, bad movies, and his running commentary punctuating every ridiculous scene with remarks about how he’d do better. But something had shifted—a shadow crossing his face during a rare quiet moment. And now you were here, trying to figure out what he’d never say aloud unless it forced its way out.

“I’m not lovable,” Dieter said suddenly, his voice heavy with self-hate. The words fell like stones into the quiet, echoing through you.

You blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice. “What?”

He didn’t look at you. Instead, he focused on the frayed edge of his hoodie, tugging at a loose thread. “I’m fun for a little while,” he said, the corner of his mouth twisting into a bitter smile. “But there’s too much under the surface. It’s more than anyone should have to deal with.” He let out a laugh that sounded painful. “I’m like trash TV—and that’s ironic because I’m a good actor—you watch it for a while, and it makes you feel better about how normal you are, but it gets annoying if it’s all you watch.”

You stared at him, his words hanging in the air like a unspoken truth. He wasn’t joking, not this time. The usual quips and distractions he threw up to keep everyone at arm’s length were gone, leaving only the jagged edges of his insecurities. He sat there, bracing himself for rejection, like he expected you to agree.

“You really believe that?” you asked, your voice softer than you meant it to be.

“I know it,” he shot back quickly, defensively. His hands stilled, and he finally looked up at you. His dark eyes were wide, vulnerable in a way that made your chest ache.

“I’ve been through this enough to know how it ends.”

“How does it end?” you pressed, leaning forward.

“With me fucking it up,” he said, his voice breaking just enough to betray him. “With you realizing I’m...” He exhaled sharply, dragging his hands through his unruly hair. “I don’t know. Too much? Too broken? Take your pick. It always happens eventually. And I’m gonna end up shattered, restless, and totally done with myself.”

The weight of his confession was suffocating, but not for the reasons he feared. It wasn’t disappointment or regret that sat heavy in your chest—it was the sheer force of wanting to prove him wrong. You stood, padding over to the bed and sitting down next to him. He tensed at first, but he didn’t pull away.

“Dieter,” you said, your voice steady. He turned his head slightly, just enough to look at you from the corner of his eye. “You’re not trash TV. You’re far from it.”

He scoffed, but you cut him off before he could deflect. “I’m serious. You’re messy, complicated, and frustrating as hell sometimes. But you’re also funny, smart, and... God, so kind when you let yourself be. You care more than you think you're allowed to, and it scares you.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt. You took it as permission to keep going.

“You’re not some temporary distraction or someone to put up with. You’re just... you. And yeah, maybe you’re a lot, but I’d rather have all of you than none. You don’t have to be perfect to be worth loving.”

His breath hitched, and you swore you saw the faintest sheen of tears in his eyes. He dropped his gaze, his hands wringing together in his lap. “You don’t get it,” he muttered. “You don’t know everything yet. You know more than most, but there are still things…” He knocked on his head. “…things that would scare you away.”  

“Then let me see,” you said. “Stop deciding for me what I can handle. Give me the chance to decide for myself. And I’ll show you I can handle all of you.”  

He looked at you then, really looked at you, like he was searching for the catch, the lie, the flaw in your words. When he didn’t find it, his shoulders sagged, some of the tension bleeding out of him.

“You make it sound easy,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s not,” you admitted. “But nothing worth it ever is.”

Dieter let out a shaky laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re either insane or... I don’t know. Insane seems more likely.”  

“Probably,” you teased gently. “But that’s why we fit. We’re both insane. A good match, I’d call it.” You nudged his shoulder with yours. “You’re insane for putting up with me. For bringing me my pretty pickles when I’m on my period, or buying my crazy stationery when I’m in a creative mood.” 

He huffed a small laugh, the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.  

You stayed close, giving him space to process in his own time. He didn’t say anything more, but the way he leaned into you spoke volumes. There was still a long way to go, but at least he wasn’t alone in it anymore.

He was quiet for a while, his breathing calming, his hand finally still in his lap. Then he shifted slightly, turning toward you. When his eyes met yours again, there was something different—a hint of determination under the vulnerability.

“You really think I’m worth it?” he asked, his voice low, almost fragile.

“I don’t think it,” you said softly. “I know it.”

His gaze flicked to your lips for a brief second before returning to your eyes, as if asking for permission. You didn’t hesitate, leaning forward to close the space between you. The kiss started gently, his lips soft and unsure against yours, but soon deepened, filled with a raw desperation and quiet gratitude. His hands cupped your face, trembling but steady, as if afraid to let go. You had shared countless kisses before, but this one felt different—more real, more alive.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the space between you. Dieter’s eyes were glossy, his expression unreadable for a beat before he whispered, “I think I love you.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and unpolished, but it was everything.

You smiled, your hands resting on his wrists. “Good,” you murmured. “Because I love you too.”

A shaky laugh escaped him, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, his face buried in the crook of your neck. For the first time, it felt like he wasn’t holding anything back. And for the first time, you knew he believed he didn’t have to.

Writing Prompt #2916

"I'm not lovable. Not in the long term. I know that."

"What?"

"I'm fun for a little bit, but there's too much when you dig down. It's more than anyone else should have to handle. I'm like trash TV—you put it on for a little bit and it makes you feel better about how normal you seem but grating if it's all you watch."

[misseviehyde]

SIMONE SAYS

You wanted to stop your boyfriend. You wanted to end this right now, but Simone had said you had to sit quietly with the ballgag in, so that's what you were doing.

He looked exactly like her now... that bitch in the mirror. You kept telling yourself she wasn't real, that this was just a game that had gotten out of hand... but the fact your boyfriend was now almost a physical copy of your imaginary friend suggested this was more than some prank. Somehow this WAS real.

She pulled the satin pants into place and reached down for the final item of clothing...

In moments there would only be Simone.

How had this all started? Well it was all your fault.

You'd always had an imaginary friend called Simone that you blamed for everything naughty you ever did growing up. A play on 'Simon says' anytime you'd ever gotten into trouble you told people Simone had told you to do it.

When you'd gotten older, it had continued. Simone got the blame for telling you to cheat on guys, be horrible to people at work and act like a bitch. If anything it was a fun game that gave you license to do whatever the fuck you wanted.

In time it even began to make you act worse. Imagine what Simone would do in this situation... how bad and evil she would act. It made you actually come up with nasty ideas and thoughts.

Your imaginary friend was the most evil, sex obsessed cruel bitch imaginable. And then you'd got your boyfriend involved too.

You'd told Gary about Simone when you'd first met - as a kind of joke. But then he'd told you it kind of turned him on when you did things she would do. So you went along with it.

Simone appatantly told you to suck his dick in public, send him nude photos at work and then even stick your finger up his ass when you were fucking. Gary loved to play 'Simone says' the rules were you had to do whatever she told you.

But then things got weird. You began seeing a beautiful woman in every mirror you passed and so did he. The two of you were astounded to find out that somehow Simone was becoming real.

Now whenever you passed a mirror her evil whispers would fill your mind and make you do things. At first you thought you were just losing your minds - but then you began to see there was more to it.

Your imaginary friend had somehow become real and was now reaching across the mirror dimension trying to get into the real world.

Simone was coming to life and she was hungry for a body. Your body.

The two of you smashed every mirror in the house and tried to escape. Maybe if you ran far enough you could escape her.

You realised your mistake when you walked into the hotel room with its huge bathroom mirror and saw Simone smirking at you.

"Simone says Gary... become me."

You realised then that it wasn't you she wanted to possess but him. As you watched him begin to put on your clothes, he started to change.

"Mmmmmh I feel so fucking good," moaned Gary as his bones shifted and his reflection began to resemble the smirking bitch in the mirror.

With each item of clothing he put on, his change into her accelerated and you watched your imaginary friend being born in the real world. The girl in the mirror laughed and exulted, her actions freakily different to the woman in front of it.

Breasts grew, hips widened, hair lengthened, skin tanned. A beautiful woman was being born and she was loving every second of it as the image in the mirror began to fade. Simon was newly real and the mirror could no longer contain her.

As Gary slid on a blouse his body finished transforming and Simone finished touching up her makeup. The mirror shimmered and suddenly cracked then Simone's ntoken reflection returned... only now just a normal reflection of a real woman. Gary was totally gone.

"Well loser, it's done. I'm finally in your world. Mmmmmh all those naughty things you've blamed me for over the years... well I can't wait to ACTUALLY do all of them.

Simone giggled as she advanced and rooting around in your suitcase found a butt plug.

"Why don't we start with a little BDSM? Simone says bend over."

As you assumed the position, you wish you'd never invented such a fucking bitch...

[altxrrmelancholy]

Cherry Lemons pt.2

Tags: attempt at angst, yet another argument (a minor one though), Yunho, Min, Woo and Yeo for moral support, sfw, matz moment.

Wc: I wasn't even counting...

Note: ik I have several works pending, but this was long overdue. I deserve punishment for making some of you wait. I'm sorry 🙁. Anyway, enjoy!

Make sure to read part one first!

It was crispy outside, so cold. The leaves outside the house had covered almost all the grass that there was barely any green left. There were dark clouds constantly throughout the day. Times like these are when students dread going to class. They would sit through lectures and wish they were somewhere else instead. The lecturers had probably noticed since the classes for the particular semester were also very little. This meant that students could barely be seen on campus if it isn't class time. There were definitely pros and cons to the weather.

The outside was not the only place that was noticeably cold.

Ever since the stunt outside the house, everybody seemed to be walking on eggshells around Hongjoong and Seonghwa. In a normal setting, these two got along. As the two oldest in the house, they were closer to each other than any other person in there. Now Seonghwa spent nearly all day in his room if he was in the house as Hongjoong seemed to avoid any place graced by his- erm...best friend? Whenever they were in the same room, the atmosphere was painfully awkward. None of the other boys knew if the two knew that they were ruining everyone's mood. Were they gonna talk to them though? Not a chance.

.

.

Now Seonghwa knew it was pretty shameless of him to keep calling all the time because they usually went to voicemail anyway.

He screwed up. Big time. At least he knew that.

He also didn't have the courage to go over to your dorm room and apologize. He didn't know where to start. One would think that the two weeks that passed ever since that night would give him enough time to formulate an apology, what he would say to you when he saw you, if he did.

What did he even plan to say, if by sheer luck, you did pick up one of his calls? I'm sorry, forgive me, I miss us please give us a chance? By nature, you were a nice person, especially to the people you cared about. He could at the moment imagine, as he lay on his pillow with his eyes closed, that he was laying on your chest like he used to do.

He would look up at his beautiful delusion, and you would look down at him and smile, admiring his eyes.

I'm sorry, he would say. I really care about you and would never intentionally hurt you. You know that, right?

And you would smile. I know. You don't need to apologize. And he would wrap both his hands around you and squeeze you so tight that he could feel both your hearts beat in sync.

That would be after he, of course, fucked you into the mattress as you laughed with each other about how crazy it was that you were actually sleeping with each other. He never really knew at what point he started developing actual feelings for you. At first, the two of you were friends with benefits. Maybe he always had feelings for you? He didn't want to dwell in that.

Seonghwa has spent many days imagining scenarios like that. He frowns as he realizes that he is not actually laying on your chest. And that his pillow was cold, and your scent gone.

This is the nth day in a row, Hwa. He dragged his tired eyes to you as you stood over him beside his bed, his T-shirt on your frame. He never allowed you to wear his clothes. He almost felt like crying. Why didn't he allow you to wear his clothes?

"I'm sorry." He said still staring at you.

I know. Now go and eat, please-

"I'm sorry for calling you a bitch. I know I hurt your feelings." You looked at him in confusion. "I'm so, so sorry Y/n. I didn't mean any-"

A knock on the door. Whoever that was stepped in. Mingi.

"Hey, Seonghwa?" He whispered hesitantly as he saw the man on his bed. "Yunho, Woo and I were gonna go get dinner. Come with us?"

It was dinner time?

It's not like he intentionally refused to eat. He just couldn't eat a full meal. His diet lately consisted of snacks that he would sneak out from the kitchen when he was sure Hongjoong wasn't in the house, or in his room. And then he would hurry back to his and close the door softly, like he never left. He should eat though. He loved food.

He nodded weakly at Mingi as he got up. "I'll be down in a second." Mingi shrugged and shut the door a little too hard, prompting a wince from Seonghwa. He looked to his left to hopefully continue apologizing to you, but you were already long gone.

.

.

Since you shared a major with Yeosang, one of Seonghwa's housemates, he was helping you with a few classes that you seemed to struggle with. It's not like they were difficult or anything, you just couldn't bring yourself to study efficiently lately.

"You think you can do the entire paper on your own now?" He said as he gave you your study books over the condiments on the table.

"Sure. I mean, we have been studying, right?" You said as you packed your books and tied your hair so you could eat. Yeosang was surprisingly good company. Considering he started talking to you after the night you were driven home with your tail between your legs. You thought he only started talking to you because he felt pity for you, but nothing about him has ever popped up. Whether he was pretending or not, you didn't know.

As you both were eating, of course, nothing was going right for you this semester. You dropped your fork on the floor as you were absentmindedly staring at your food, causing a bit of spillage. "Shit."

"Oh. No worries. I'll get another for you." He says, standing.

"Thanks, Yeosang." And just as you were about to pick yours from the floor, someone else beat you to it.

"Here you g- Y/n?" You looked at the source of the voice and could see Yunho crouching down beside you. Lo and behold, behind him was Seonghwa. He was staring at you with his eyes wide, his hands around his arms. Why wasn't he wearing a jacket? It's so cold.

But of course that wasn't the most prevalent thing in your mind. But did he look different. You couldn't tell what exactly was different about him. His aura was not the usual confident one he had. Come to think of it, you don't recall hearing his bike around campus these days. Did his hair grow longer? You had to get out of here.

"Y/n? I got your fork. Oh. hey." Yeosang was aware of Seonghwa's presence and suddenly everybody was waiting for anyone to say something. Mingi and Woo were holding each other's arms behind Seonghwa while staring back and forth at everyone. Yunho stood up finally, ready to hold anyone back in case something happened, in this very public diner.

Seonghwa glanced at Yeosang. What was he doing here with you? He didn't remember the two of you being close at all. He heard the sudden scrape of a chair on the floor and watched you pack your bag.

"Yeosang, I'll call you later, okay?" You didn't even give him a chance to answer as you had already started walking away, zipping up your jacket. Seonghwa couldn't allow this to happen. He watched you walk away that night, and he couldn't allow that to happen again.

"Y/n, wait." He walked after you. Yunho was quick to hold him back. "Just let her go, man."

He pushed Yunho out of his way, hard, and ran outside after you.

"Shit, guys. Let's go." Mingi and Wooyoung who were just looking at the drama unfold ran outside after him, Yeosang on their track.

"Y/n? Y/n please stop, I need-"

"What!" Your eyes were starting to turn red as you faced your- what, now ex-boyfriend?

"What do you want, Seonghwa?!" You were now standing in an alleyway, and it was dark. Reminiscent of that night.

"I-I..." His heart was racing. What, again, was he supposed to say? "I'm sorry."

You blinked. That was it?

You scoffed and turned around to head back to your dorm room, but Seonghwa's sudden grip on your arm prevented that.

"I'm trying to gather the words, Y/n. Please, I know I hurt you but could you please be civil for a moment and listen to me?" He wasn't even arguing, the words came out almost a murmur. His eyes were filled with desperation and he was shivering slightly from the cold. It didn't mean you were having it though.

"Civil? Seonghwa, you spent weeks tearing me apart emotionally and now you want civility?" You were also almost whispering, you words sounding harsh.

"I-I want to make things right, I-"

"Let's not forget your little habit of shutting me out whenever I tried to talk about anything important. Are those the words you're having trouble gathering?"

"Maybe I shut you out because every conversation felt like walking through a minefield!" No, no, no, what happened to making things right?

You walked towards him and stood right in front of him, so close, that you could count his eyelashes. "A minefield that you created." You whispered. His eyes turned soft. "There's no way we can go back to how things were, Seonghwa."

He was almost kneeling. "I'm really sorry, y/n. I didn't mean anything I've ever said that hurt you. Please let me try and make it up to you." He looked at you, waiting for something positive, because again, that's who you were.

"Is it the sex?" His eyebrows furrowed.

"What...?"

"Do you just miss having sex with me?" You said, your voice wavering.

"What? Y/n, no-"

"Why then should we get back together if we're just gonna fight all the time? Or are you afraid that this time, someone is walking away from you instead of the other way around, huh?" Seonghwa didn't know what to say. Wasn't it supposed to be easy? Apologize and then the two of you could move on together? He felt himself panicking. No, it can't happen like this. Without even using the little braincells he had when it came to you, he leaned forward and captured your lips in his. You missed this so much that you just gave in to him immediately. The kiss was slow and passionate, unlike the last one.

"Uuumm, so, did they make up?" Wooyoung whispered from where they stood hiding, peeping at the two of you comically like a bunch of cartoon characters.

"I don't think so? They're crying." Yunho whispered.

"That could also be tears of joy, you know." Woo turned to look at Yunho. But nobody had any right to say anything about this topic so they just went silent and continued watching. You know, in case a fight broke out.

You took Seonghwa's cheek into your hand and he circled your waist in his. He was briefly happy, although he was starting to feel that this was probably not the first of many kisses from then on.

You pulled back and stared at him. You shook your head, tears still shining in your eyes. "I'm sorry, Seonghwa."

"No. No, don't apologize-"

"Just sort yourself out, okay? I can't do this with you anymore. Please, don't look for me."

"Baby, please, I'm so sorry-" He tried grabbing at your waist as you began to walk backwards.

"I know."

And then you left. You just walked away the second time. You were tired and needed rest from this all. Even as you walked away, sobbing with a very heavy heart, not sure if you wanted to do this, you were sure that you didn't want to be tired anymore.

Seonghwa just stood there staring at the void. He had fucked up. His feelings for you didn't save him. What was easy about this was that he had easily hurt you. You probably forgave him, which he didn't know, but you were not going to get back with him. Because he did that. He hurt someone he cared about. Someone he was happy with. And why? He couldn't even tell. Was he not ready for a relationship? Or was it actually just the mind-blowing sex? Either way, it didn't matter. He should have just chased after you that night.

"Seonghwa?" He felt two people beside him grabbing his arms. He looked toward his left to Yunho who had called him, he couldn't even see him well because of his hair and the tears.

"Yes, Yunho?" And his friends felt their hearts break at that. They dragged him out of there to their house, forgoing dinner and quietly agreeing to just eat at home. And there was a void within Seonghwa, multiplying the more he took a step out of that alley.

.

.

Hongjoong entered his best friend's room to find him on the bed, his back turned from the door. He realized how skinny he had gotten from his silhouette in the very dark room. Hongjoong didn't even know that his feelings were this strong, enough to have him bedridden most days. He just thought that he was always in his room because they were busy ignoring each other.

"Hwa?" He whispered.

Seonghwa almost cried. The only other person who called him that aside from you.

Hongjoong hesitantly sat on his bed as Seonghwa shifted to look at him. Thank goodness the lights were off. If he had red eyes, he didn't want his friend to see them.

"Are you good?" He asked, as stern as usual. Seonghwa shifted to lay his head on Hongjoong's lap.

"She just left." He choked out, with the last of his strength of the day.

He dragged his hand through his hair. He felt really bad for his friend. And although he was still mad at him, he couldn't have just left him after what he was told by Yunho earlier. So he made himself comfortable on the bed as he heard his best friend sniff over and over again.

"I'm tired."

"I know, Hwa."

.

.

That night, Hongjoong ended up spending the night in Seonghwa's room.

.

.

Note (again) : feedback would be appreciated. Don't forget to reblog!

[thethronezone]

High Consort to the Emperor

There's not enough Emperor x Reader content *rolls up my sleeves* Guess I have to do it myself.

First of all, I think the only way he would get into an actual, long term relationship would be if the other person were a perpetual. Like, he don't wanna invest time and effort and emotions into a person that is going to die of old age after, what, 200, 300 years? He did that shit when he was younger and that always hurt. He ain't doing that again.

Even if you are a perpetual though that's lived for thousands of years he's always going to act slightly patronizing towards you. He always thinks that he knows best and any arguments you have is simply seen as a tantrum on your end. He'll just wait until you've calmed down and come to your senses.

Partner is given the title of High Consort. Very neat title, all the benefits and you probably don't have to do any actual work. Maybe act nice and polite in front of high ranking officials but that's it. Of course, if you want to work then Big E ain't gonna stop you. In fact, he'll be happy that you're so invested in the Imperium! Here's some paperwork and administrative duties to keep you busy. Yeah, he mostly sees this as a way to keep you entertained and feeling useful.

You'll have anything you could ever think of. Any food, any clothing, any luxury. The Emperor says he doesn't like to spoil you but after returning from a long mission or whatever, he will always bring you something. Mostly just so he can show off and impress you. The man has a massive ego, what did you expect? For a guy that refuses to be called a god, he sure loves it when you worship him.

Rarely calls you your actual name, at least in public. Calls you a mixture of "Consort", "my Consort", and if he's feeling playful/flirty, "my star". Only really calls you your name behind closed doors, when it's just the two of you (plus any Custodian that might be there, he don't give a fuck).

Matching outfits! At least, you're matching him. Always some kind of gold in your outfits, be it golden threads or gold jewelry. Of course you also wear a laurel.

Likes having you by his side but can go for longer periods without your company, simply because he knows he will eventually see you and catch up. And by 'longer periods' I mean months, years, DECADES. He's a busy man, alright? Always acts like it's been no time at all since he last saw you when you finally reunite. After all, what is time for a man that is immortal and has lived for tens of thousands of years?

You have your own Custodi bodyguard that follows you everywhere. They were not chosen just for their skill but also because the actually know how to hold a conversation like a normal person. Are they still a brainwashed superhuman with unquestionable loyalty to the Emperor? Sure, but when you ask them how they are feeling they don't automatically go "Feelings are irrelevant, only service to the Emperor of Mankind matters" like majority of the Custodes do.

The Emperor prefers it when you stay in the Imperial Palace. Does he stop or forbid you from leaving? No, you're a grown person, you can make your own decisions. WILL have you followed however. Not because he doesn't trust you but he's got so many enemies that it would be stupid to assume no one would target you in order to get to him.

Malcador the Bestie! Will listen to you vent about your love life and then give you some solid advice. Is the advice slightly biased because he wants you to get along with the Emperor (which has proven to increase the man's effectiveness and willingness to collaborate by a staggering 1.4%)? Maybe, but it's still solid advice! Also brings you the best gossip.

[sturnlsstuff]

FAMILIAR STRANGER | chapter seven

what's gonna happen when you find out about your enemy's biggest secret?

ghostface!chris x enemy!reader

chapter six

— warnings; smut with plot, dom!chris, sub!reader, pet names, bratty reader, cursing, - english isn't my first language.

~~~

chris had been annoyed for almost a week, snapping at everyone around him including his brothers. spending most of his time outside, doing his thing, taking his frustration out on whoever he could. it was starting to get really bad, the constant informations about murders on TV made the whole city live in even bigger fear, feeling someone's breath on their necks. the ghostface killer became everything people could talk about, his name on everyone's tongues. chris would appreciate the attention he's getting since it was always something he'd want, but not in this situation.

he wasn't only mad because you called him out unintentionally, not realizing how right you were. though chris knew and couldn't stop thinking about that he in fact didn't tell you it's just a hook up. he'd tell himself he just wasn't sure, but sure about what? wanting more? ending it? he was just so confused, but also upset noticing you've been ignoring him for the past week without knowing why. was it because you two fucked again? because he's a stupid idiot and left instead of telling you he maybe wants something more? he was obsessed with you since he remembered, only now realizing that.

it was little things, like the way he was always in the room you were in when you came over to see his brothers, even if it was just to argue with you, which he secretly loved. he always kept an eye on you at parties, making sure everything was fine. when it was your birthday he would order pizza to your apartment, knowing how much you loved that food and leaving you wonder who was sending it to you every year. chris knew a lot about you, always checking how you were feeling, sometimes even unintentionally making it worse when you were sad. when he tried to find out why you're in a bad mood, you just shouted at him, which made him angry too and he'd always ruin your mood even more, later regretting it. but he could never apologize, his ego wouldn't let him admit that he somehow cared about you. even if in his own fucked up way. he liked to explain it to himself that it's only because you're important to nick and matt, but really now he realized that maybe there was other reason too. a reason which was scaring the hell out of him.

he doesn't see you anywhere. you're not in the hallways on campus, you're not hanging out with his brothers. he even wants to ask them why but he doesn't want to arouse suspicion. he expects you to text him again for another talk, or even to yell at him for being a moron, but there's nothing.

by tuesday, he's a nervous wreck, pacing around in his room. without realizing it, he's grown accustomed to bumping into you at least once a day, even if it's just for a few minutes. the silence is deafening.

unable to take the uncertainty anymore, chris finds himself standing outside your door, his fist raised to knock. he hesitates, his heart pounding in his chest. what if you don't wanna see him and you tell him to fuck off? you probably will, which is pretty normal for you two, but damn. he believes you're avoiding him and he hates it for some reason.

when he finally decides to knock, the sound echoes in the quiet hallway as he uncomfortably waits, starting to regret that already, his stomach twisting with nerves. when you don't immediately answer, he once again is ready to go and climb through your window, hoping you won't push him out of that, but then the door unlocks and crack opened.

it's pretty clear to see how tired you look, standing there wrapped in a blanket, the hood of your hoodie put over your head. it hits him like a punch in the gut, your hair all messed up, face flushed. a frown appears between his eyebrows, "you're.. sick?"

"as you can see," you answer, met with his intense gaze. you were confused, not expecting him here.

he shifts uncomfortably, stuffing his hands in his pockets, his eyes darting over your face, taking in every detail. "you look like shit."

you roll your eyes, stepping back to let him in, closing the door behind you two when he gets inside. "thank you, that's the nicest thing you said to me in a while," your voice dripping with sarcasm as you go back on the couch where you've been hiding for the last week, tissues scattered on the coffee table. he toes off his shoes, watching as you retreat to the sofa, "you've been ignoring me." he follows you, settling beside you.

you pull the blanket up higher, looking at him in confusion, "no, i was sick. i still am." chris crosses his arms, his brow furrowing skeptical, "convenient timing." he grumbles, "you're always out and 'bout, but suddenly you're sick after you—"

"i what?" you question, but he just shakes his head, suddenly annoyed that he almost said too much. he wasn't gonna let you know he's been thinking about what you said to him last time he was at your place. "nothing really, doesn't matter. m'just sayin'.. whatever," he huffs, looking away. "jus' wanted to see if you're not dying or some shit, that's all."

"awww, how cute," your eyes narrow at him, a small smile plays on your lips. "careful, i'll think you're worried."

"don't piss me off," he mutters. you're curious if he came here to fuck again or is there was another reason, so you bluntly ask, "are you here to hook up again or what, 'cause if you are then i have to disappoint—"

"are you serious?" his face darkens, eyes flashing with irritation almost as he was offended that you can even think he's here only for that. "like, you're in any condition to..."" he gestures vaguely at your blanket-covered form. "-- i came here to check on ya, not to... do whatever." you watch him curiously, tilting your head to the side. catching your stare, he adds, "m'not that much of an asshole."

"hmm— lowkey doubt it..." you hum with a smirk, making him to lost his mind. "so you thought i'm ignoring you and came here to check?"

chris's jaw clenches, he now feels stupid when he knows you weren't avoiding him at all, you just have the flu. "i didn't know what to think a'ight?"

you see something strange in his behavior so you decide to tease him a little more, knowing how annoyed he's gonna get. "it kinda looks like you'd care if i'm mad or not—"

"i don't," he cuts you off, his tone defensive. "i mean, i don't, like... whatever, i don't know, i jus' wanted to see what's your problem with me this time."

"well, i don't have one," you shrug and cough, reaching for tea from the coffee table to take a sip. chris sighs, rubbing his temples in irritation, "yeah, now i know." he looks back at you, his gaze lingering on your flushed face. "you ate anythin'?"

you shake your head, sipping on tea and putting the mug down, "a bit but food kind of disgusts me right now."

"that's dumb as fuck, you won't get better if you—" he sighs giving up, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a glimmer of genuine concern in his eyes despite his gruff demeanor. "food won't kill ya, got any crackers or somethin'?"

you wave your hand dismissively, "somewhere in the kitchen, but i don't wa—" chris already disappears in your kitchen, muttering under his breath something about stubborn girls and their refusal to listen. he's back not even two minutes later with a box of crackers, setting them between you two on the couch as he settles down next to you again. "eat," he says firmly. "you gotta keep up your strength somehow even if you don't feel like eating," he crosses his arms over his chest, clearly not taking 'no' for an answer.

with another eye roll, you reach out opening the box and pulling out a cracker. he watches with critical eye as you eat, "was that so hard?" you shrug as chris plucks a cracker from the box without asking, popping it into his mouth.

his one arm is draped over the top of the couch, he munches on crackers, his gaze occasionally flicking towards you as you nibble on yours. both of you quiet, he's lost in thought, noticing your heated cheeks just as you sneeze. with a grimace, you mutter, "you're gonna get sick too."

he shrugs nonchalantly, a smirk playing on his lips, "if i do, i do. somebody's gotta take care of your pathetic ass, so--"

"i can take perfect care of myself—" as you say that you sneeze again, reaching for a tissue. you felt gross and him seeing you like this was making it worse.

"right," he shakes his head amused. "a real independent badass. that's why you're sweating your ass off, sneezing and sniffling every two minutes?"

"that's what a sick person does, moron-" you respond, taking another sip of tea. chris rolls his eyes dramatically, "y'know if you weren't so stubborn, i'd feel bad f'ya."

"i don't need that—" another sneeze, your eyes half opened now and slightly reddish. he sighs, watching you, something weird in his chest that he only felt around his brothers before when they were sick. he didn't want to believe he might be worried.

"do you, uh... you're like all red and shit, just— lemme--" he hesitates before reaching out to touch your forehead, checking your temperature. "you're really hot—" he murmurs, then frowns at how it sounded. "i mean your forehead is."

"am i?" you tease him a bit with a small smile, then coughing, your cheeks flush an even brighter red as you do. he rolls his eyes again, "yeah, really funny... you're like burnin' up-" he reaches out to touch your neck, checking for any other signs of a fever. you flinch at the sensation of his cold hand against your heated skin.

he's fast to check your temperature, a few minutes later urging you to put a damp cloth on your forehead and taking some meds he found in your kitchen. he's not used to taking care of anyone and the unfamiliarity of the situation is clearly written on his face. "you're fuckin' out of it... jesus—" he mutters to himself, "fuckin' overheating like crazy... you look so pathetic right now-"

"thanks," your voice dripping with sarcasm as you cough again, removing the hood from your head and adjusting the wet cloth on your skin. you wipe your nose with a tissue, just as he says, "disgusting."

"don't have to tell me things i already know," you tuck yourself more under the blanket. a genuine smile tugging at his lips, "someone's gotta keep you in check." you scoff at that, leaning your head back, eyes watery and barely opened. the fever was clearly getting to you. "gonna sleep?" you answer him with a shrug, so after a moment of silence he asks, "want me to go?"

despite his question, he makes no move to leave, clearly seeing as wheels turn in your head, but it was hard to think in that state. it felt even nice to not be alone right now. "you can stay, is whatever..."

"whatever... right," he repeats, pulling out his phone to occupy himself while you get curled up on the couch, your head close to his thigh.

it's how you both spend another twenty minutes in comfortable silence broken only by your sniffling. chris glances at the tv every now and then, not really paying attention and mostly focusing on his phone, until he hears your barely audible words.

"you think i'm a bitch, but i'd never snitch on you—" you're half asleep, whispering. "not only because matt is involved, but also 'cause it's you.... i can be the only one ruining your life—" another sniff, "if someone else would do that, where's my satisfaction in that?"

he looks at the back of your head, feeling his heart leap into his throat at your words, which you definitely would never say if you weren't in this state.

"good..." he finally speaks up, licking his lips. "good, 'cause, uh— i wouldn't want you to snitch on me... it'd be, y'know— it'd, like, maybe even upset me a lil' bit... i guess-"

he cuts himself off, noticing your body is more relaxed now. his brow furrowed in thought as he leans forward to see your face, your breathing evens out, your body in deep sleep. he glances at your flushed from fever face, your mouth slightly opened as you breathe heavily. chris feels relieved and annoyed at the same time, realizing that you didn't hear his answer.

"fuck that," he curses to himself, nudging the blanket higher up your back and adjusting the damp cloth on your forehead, also checking if you were still burned up. it was late already and you did tell him to stay, but now you were asleep and he had no clue what to do. there was no way he's gonna just leave when you have such a fever. if something happened everyone would blame him. so he stays, telling himself he has to, not because he wants to.

quickly texting his brothers that he's at a "friend's" house and doesn't know when he'll be back, chris hesitantly shifts his position so that he's leaning against the arm of the couch with his legs stretched out behind you. almost as if you knew he's laying beside you or felt the heat radiating from him, you shifted around so he was able to see your face, the way you settle against his thigh makes chris tense at first, unaccustomed to such unguarded, innocent contact. but as you continue to sleep, your arm wrapping around his thighs by itself, head moving to rest on his lap. he's actually frozen, not used to this with anyone, let alone you. he tells himself it's only because you're sick and do stuff you wouldn't usually do. so at some point he finally relaxes, his own eyelids growing heavy while listening to your steady breathing and the quiet sounds from tv.

chris jerks awake at some point during the night, realizing that his arm has gone numb from you sleeping on it and the way you kept coughing. he blinks slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the tv before looking down at you, draped across his lap like a blanket. he gingerly pries your hand off his thigh, hissing at the pins and needles sensation. he massages his arm to get the blood flowing again, his other hand automatically checking your temperature. cooler than before, but still warm. as you shift in your sleep, coughing again, a flicker of concern passes chris's face before it's quickly replaced by his usual scowl. he debates whether to wake you or let you sleep, knowing that rest is probably best for your recovery, but once your head falls off his lap, he knows he has to wake you up. he catches your head before it hits the cushion, gently putting it back onto his lap.

he props himself on one elbow, giving your shoulder a gentle shake, "hey, kid— wake up--" he watches as your eyebrows furrow in your sleep, head rolling from side to side on his lap. he sighs, shaking you a little harder, "wake up, would ya?"

once your eyelids flutter open, finding his face, he explains gruffly, "you keep coughing in your sleep."

you rub your eyes confused like a sleepy child, "what time is it?" chris glances at his phone, squinting slightly, "almost four in the mornin'." he grumbles, tucking his phone back into his pocket, "you've been out for a while."

"oh," you grimace at the thought, sitting up to grab the cold now tea from the coffee table. you take a sip, sighing with relief when your throat automatically feels less dry. chris watches you so intensely that you finally look at him, noticing his messy hair and flushed cheeks, realizing he had to sleep with you here. "you, uh– wanna go? nick and matt are probably--"

"i texted 'em that i'll be late," he cuts you off. "i don' really feel like leaving now. unless you want me to go."

surprisingly for not only you, but chris himself, you shake your head, putting the mug down. "move..."you shift, the damp cloth from your forehead falling down. chris catches it as you move higher on the couch, he obediently shifts sideways, wincing slightly as his joints protest the movement. he glances at you, noting the weariness etched into your features.

"uh, m'gonna go get this wet, you're kinda burnin' up still—"

"no-" you take the material from him, throwing it somewhere aside. you were not having it, all you wanted is to go back to sleep and the heat radiating from chris's body was enough to put you in that state again.

he remains silent almost as waiting for your next move, you wriggle out of the blanket, a faint sheen of sweat on your forehead. he raises his eyebrow, a mix of amusement and concern, "ain't you gettin' a lil' bit too comfortable?"

"can you shut up?" you mutter, chris's gaze drifting down to your midriff noticing that your hoodie has ridden up. he hesitates briefly before reaching out to pull the fabric back down, tugging it securely around your figure. you both are laying on your sides, facing each other, you curled up with your head slightly touching his shoulder. chris shifts awkwardly, realizing he's essentially spooning you on this tiny couch. "cozy, huh?" he asks dryly, trying to ignore how natural this close contact feels. "mhm..." you're already drifting off, nuzzling closer, not letting him get up at all, so he's not even trying.

you're fast to fall asleep, but he's up for some more minutes. barely awake he inhales sharply as he feels your arm wrapping around his waist in your sleep. he frowns, looking at you through half-opened eyes, before somehow relaxing, resigned to this intimate position. "drivin' me fuckin' crazy..." he mutters to himself, then carefully repositions himself, so he's half-lying against you, his body providing some semblance of comfort and warmth. his hand somehow ends up stroking your hair as his body lull into a light sleep, telling himself he's doing all that to make you feel better, to help you cool down, but part of him knows it's bullshit. he'd never expect himself to end up cuddling anyone, let alone you or playing some kind of nurse but here he is.

waking up a few hours later hits chris like a truck, the cuddling felt like a fever dream even if he wasn't the one who was sick. he's laying there almost frozen, waiting for you to wake up which you do almost an hour after him.

he feels you stir awake and glances down at you , your face scrunched up slightly, a grimace on your lips. "fuckin' finally, i was getting tired of being your personal pillow-" his voice laced with mockery as he tries to keep casual the fact that you two were all over each other all night. not in the way he's used to, at least.

confusion is written all over your face as you open your eyes and realize you're practically glued to his side. you look up, noticing his face is too close to yours, so you're fast to almost immediately removing your hands from him and prop yourself up on your elbow to put some distance between the two of you.

his expression was unreadable, "clung to me like a koala or some shit..." he studies your face, taking in the way your hair is plastered to your forehead with sweat, you're slightly pale now, dark circles evident under your eyes.

"my bad," that's all you say before he simply puts his hand on your cheeks, making your heart skip a beat. "no fever," he states. "--at least i guess so." you reply with a nod, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. you felt much better, but mentally strange knowing that chris stayed the night and took care of you. plus you looked disgusting, all sweaty, which now made the embarrassment grown within you.

"i should shower-"

"yeah, you should," he says sarcastically causing you to give him a typical for you death stare. he adds with a smirk, "what? you do smell like a sick person..."

"alright, i'm aware, thanks," you roll your eyes. the tension in the room was filled with unspoken words and something strange you couldn't name. chris runs a hand through his hair and stands up, "m'gonna go if you feel better now." you glance at him when he adds, "unless y'want me to get you somethin', like, make tea or whatever. can be even a kick in the ass–"

"ha, ha, real funny," you mutter but the corner of your lips twitches in amusement. "no, i'm good. emma is supposed to come later today soo..."

he nods and moves towards the door, before your full of hesitation voice stops him. "hey, chris-" he looks over his shoulder, "thanks."

surprise flickers in his eyes but he's quick to hide it, "yeah, no big deal."

though as he was leaving, you could've sworn he crack a little smile.

—

chris spent the rest of the day overthinking, which quickly turned into irritation, and he finally decided he just needs advice. he couldn't take being alone with these thoughts anymore. someone has to agree with him that he still doesn't like you and he doesn't want more than physical stuff.

that's how he ended up in matt's room.

matt was looking at his brother with blank expression, more shocked that chris finally admitted that he hooked up with you more than the fact it actually happened.

"the fuck do you mean by that?" chris is taken back after telling matt everything what was going on between him and you, and all he got in response was a simple "i knew."

"i mean, that i knew it'd happen at some point... but it's still kinda crazy to think about."

"yeah, you don't say," chris rolls his eyes, shifting uncomfortably on the wheel chair and clearing his throat. "but is, like, we fucked twice already, yeah? but i ended up this night at her place and we didn't do it again."

"she didn't want to anymore?"

"no— no, is not that... she was sick." matt looks at his brother in confusion, questioning, "sick?" chris nods, "yeah, had a fuckin' fever so i helped her out 'n shit."

"helped her- like how?"

"how?" chris gives him a stare, "the fuck do you think? gave her some meds, put some damp cloth on her head so the fever would go away. that's how."

matt blinks slowly, trying to process everything what he's hearing now, before asking carefully, "so- wait, so do you like her or...?"

"what? no- i— of course not–- she's just hot, that's all..." chris stumbles over his words at matt's blunt question even if he himself was thinking of that too much for his liking. and he needed his brother to tell him it doesn't look like chris likes you at all.

"so it's only physical?"

"i... i guess-- like, yeah. only physical."

"but you slept at her place and took care of her, so how is it only physical?"

chris felt like he was talking to a dumbass, literally. for him it was clear as day. he gets a bit defensive, "bro, i fuckin' went to her place and saw her lookin' all shitty, burnin' up. what'd you want me to do?"

"you could call me or nick," matt raises his eyebrow. "if you found her in that state, you could call anyone, but you decided to take care of her."

chris feels his blood boil at the sudden call out, only now realizing that it was true. he could've called his brothers or even emma, but his first thought was to just stay with you.

he remains silent, clenching his jaw immediately regretting everything he told matt, because now it was making everything worse. though matt doesn't back up and asks, "why did you even go to her place? to hook up again?"

chris runs his hand through his hair in frustration, avoiding his brother's gaze. "nah, i was actually... uh, i kind of thought she was ignorin' me so i wanted to check—" he catches matt's stare, adding, "jus' didn't see her for a week, i was confused."

"and what if she was ignoring you? aren't you already used to that?"

"is different now—"

"why?"

"what, why?! 'cause i fucked her and she was all silent 'n i thought i— that-- i don't know, i just... had to make sure we're good."

"okay," matt fights the urge to smile. "okay, so was she ignoring you?"

"no, dumb fuck, she was sick." matt replies with a nod and can't hold back a smirk, leaning against the headboard. his expression and the silence pissed chris off even more. he snaps, "what the fuck would you do, like actually?! 'n don't say this bullshit that i could call someone, 'cause yeah i could, but i didn't. so what, you expected me to leave her? would you leave?"

"the difference is that she's my friend," matt says calmly, clearly enjoying this situation. "-- and you claim to hate her."

"but m'not a dick, a'ight? if you hated someone but saw them in that state, would you not care at all?"

"not really," he retorts bluntly making chris scoff. "i wouldn't take care of 'em but i'd call someone who i know would do it."

"oh, fuck you," chris rolls his eyes annoyed. "whatever. it doesn't matter anyway."

"i guess it does if you're telling me all that," he retorts. "so are you sure it's only physical?"

fuck. matt was supposed to help him, but all the things he said made chris even more confused. it helped him realize that maybe he did care a little about you, which was irritating as fuck to him. a frown appears between his eyebrows as he ignores the question and asks instead, "wait, but how did you know? that me and her might..."

"oh, that? please," matt waves his hand dismissively. "you're my brother, she's my friend, it was quite clear to tell with the constant back and forth you two have and the tension that comes with it. besides, she found out that you're the ghostface and she didn't say shit. in my opinion it's not because of me and the fact i'm involved too, i think she deadass doesn't want you to be in trouble. so something is up."

his words trigger a strange wave of emotions in chris, reminding him of what you told him while you were half-conscious and falling asleep. you didn't want him to have any problems or for something to happen to him, that's the reason why you're still quiet about what he's doing.

he came to matt's room for a simple advice but was leaving even more confused and annoyed, realizing everything he was always so scared of, was becoming reality.

a/n: i kinda hate everything i write lately so for me this chapter is so... 🧍‍♀️😐 sigh...... i'll try to post the next (and last !!) chapter before new year's. hope y'all had good christmas !! 🤍

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[controversially-young-girlfriend]

the first date (spencer reid x fem reader)

<3 oneshot with smut ahead <3

both you and the bau are getting ready for your first tinder date. while you hope he might be your new man, he’s also the unsub targeting young women that reid and the team are on the lookout for tonight.

*

you arrive at the restaurant in your hottest mini dress and a veil of nervousness. everyone hates first dates - agreeing to a few hours of awkward conversation with a stranger in the hope that they’re not a total creep.

unknowing to you, the two men sitting to your left are also dreading your first date.

thanks to garcia they’ve been tracking the tinder profile of who you believe is henry, a 27 year old brunette lawyer who loves his cat. before you two matched he was logan, 25, blonde and a writer, changing his photos and identity after every date.

the girls before you didn’t make it out alive, but now that they’ve learned that “henry” is taking you out tonight, they’ve arrived to save you and apprehend their unsub.

after a minute of waiting your date arrives. “hi nice to meet you, i’m henry”

you feel on edge noticing the difference between his appearance and his photos. but he looks normal enough that you don’t run away immediately. you apprehensively shake his hand and follow him to the bar, hoping to at least get a free drink out of getting catfished on a friday night.

he gives a half-assed excuse for the difference in his photos. age, lighting, haircut. you want to ask why but his delivery of the excuse is patrick bateman-esque, emotive but ultimately soulless. you pray in your head he’s just a business bro and not a sociopath.

as you wait for your drinks you see a handsome brunette walk up to the bar near you. you’re a little disappointed he doesn’t approach you, so you return your focus onto your date.

the bartender hands you two cocktails which you very eagerly take a sip from in order to ease the anxiety you’re feeling right now. after quickly checking the time on your phone and leaning in to take another sip, that handsome brunette knocks your drink onto the ground and pushes you behind him.

you’re in shock. before you can scream or run or do anything besides freeze in fear, a man at a table points his gun at your date. “i’m special agent aaron hotchner” pulling out his badge, “you’re under arrest for the murders of…”

he continues, but the word murder is enough to turn your body red hot and weak. you try and hold yourself together, starting to process that you were on a date with a murderer? you knew your taste in men was questionable sometimes but this was a new low…

you notice the brunette who pushed you away is also holding a gun, pointed at your date as he walks out of the restaurant in handcuffs. you’re a deer in the headlights until he fully leaves the building.

“i’m dr. spencer reid” he introduces himself, briefly flashing his fbi badge and then handing you a glass of water.

you still can’t form a sentence from the shock.

“i would suggest you have as much of the water as you can. while i don’t think you drank much of the benzodiazepines he slipped in your drink, you should try and flush out as much as you can so you don’t feel any intense nausea.”

“i uh i was drugged?” you ask, feeling like that’s a good starting point to figure out what the fuck just happened to you.

“attempted drugging. based on the volume you drank you won’t have any serious health effects.”

you’re slightly comforted but still shocked. “so what exactly just happened? my tinder date was a murderer?”

“he’s been using dating apps to find female victims, intoxicating them and then killing them once they’ve lost consciousness. we were able to access his profile which indicated he’d be on a date tonight at this restaurant.” he pauses for a second sensing your clear discomfort. “sorry. it can be traumatic for victims to remain at the scene of their crimes. would you like me to drive you to my office?”

“is it okay if you just drive me home instead? i’ve had quite the night.”

as you and reid walk to the car, the cold air brings you back to reality and your anxiety begins to subside. you give spencer your address and he tells you about his job as a profiler, going on tangents with statistics you’re shocked a person could have so easily memorized.

you’re grateful though, your mind is taken off your brush with death and is instead focused on the hot fbi agent saving you. you pull into the lot beside your apartment building and ask dr. reid inside, you want to thank him for his help and also can’t really fathom being alone right now.

you two talk over a pot of tea, feeling calm enough to ask about the events of tonight.

“from a profiler’s perspective, why did he choose me as a victim? am i just naive and vulnerable?”

“not at all. you can’t blame yourself, you just fit his preferred profile of victim. he’s been targeting women in their early 20s, all of which are highly educated and physically attractive.”

“so i got targeted for being too young, smart, and hot?” you say sarcastically, trying to humour your way out of the guilt you feel for almost getting yourself killed.

reid darts his eyes and nervously agrees, “uh yeah. pretty much.”

you’d be lying if you said him thinking you’re hot didn’t excite you a bit.

“i’m a little scared to sleep alone tonight then. don’t want anymore murders coming after me, y’know.” you tell him and immediately notice him smile and blush.

“i fear it would be quite unprofessional if i slept over while on your case.” you’re disappointed but can sense an intrigue in his voice that makes you want to keep pushing.

“it’s a good thing you caught the suspect then. sounds like the case is closed and you’re off duty right now.”

“i like that technicality. but-“

before he can continue speaking, you grab the remote and switch on your tv.

“great! i’ll put on a movie for us then.” you say with immense satisfaction.

as the movie progresses you two slowly shift closer and closer, his arm around you as you rest your head on his shoulder. he senses your discomfort and remembers he’s still wearing his bulletproof vest. he whispers “sorry” into your ear before shifting to unbutton his shirt and take the vest off.

your eyes immediately shift from the screen to him, transfixed on his fingers going from button to button, removing the vest to leave him in just an undershirt. he lies back on the couch, leaving him in the perfect position for you to lie on top of.

his hands slowly feel across your back and down to your waist. you lean in and begin to kiss him. he lightly grips your hair as the kiss deepens, feeling his tongue slip into your mouth. you can’t help but grind your hips against him underneath you, becoming desperate for this to escalate from a makeout into more.

you can tell he feels the same way as he gets hard under your hips, but leans away to check in for a second. “are you okay with this? you’ve had a tough night.”

you grab his face in your hand and lock eyes, “that’s exactly why i need you to take my mind off it, dr. reid.”

without hesitation he grabs you and flips you over onto your back, quickly returning to kissing you. he slips his knee between your legs as he starts to kiss down your neck to your collarbones. you help him remove your dress, taking his shirt off right after. he kisses down your body until reaching your panties, briefly admiring the pair you chose for your date tonight. he ghosts his fingers over them earning a soft moan out of you. he adjusts your legs to pull off your panties, positioning himself between them and kissing up and down your thighs.

your hand grips his hair as he finds your clit with his tongue. you can’t help but tell him how good he feels. as the feeling gets more intense he grips your thighs tighter to hold you in place. it’s not long until you’re finishing, breathing heavily as you watch spencer come up from between your legs to place a kiss on your lips.

“good distraction?”

“the best.” you reply

you get off the couch and onto your knees, looking up at reid to say “i don’t think i ever thanked you for saving me tonight”

he smiles as you take off his belt and unzip his pants, pulling them down with his boxers. he grabs your hair into a ponytail gently pulls it to tilt your head up. “you’re really beautiful” he tells you before you take him into your mouth. he guides your head up and down, mumbling praises and gripping you a bit tighter.

“fuck you’re so good”

he doesn’t last much longer before finishing in your mouth. you look up and admire how beautiful he looks undone and breathless.

he pulls you up onto his lap, both arms wrapped around your waist. you press your forehead into his neck and breathe slowly, taking in the first semblance of pure comfort you’ve felt all night.

you two eventually get up from the couch and migrate into your bed. exhausted, you guys lie intertwined.

“i think i need this sort of fbi protection every night. y’know just in case there’s anymore killers lurking” you whisper to spencer

spencer replies “gladly.” planting a kiss on your forehead and holding you until you fall asleep.

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Just A Game (Chapter Ten)

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: Fighting, cussing

The rest of the weekend after the party was a blur. It felt too long and too short at the same time. Mattheo must’ve been hiding from you. You couldn’t find him around the castle at all.

You barely remember what happened that night. You remember drinking and dancing with your friends. You remember being shoved in a small closet with Mattheo and his lips on yours. You swear you remember hearing ‘I miss you too’ coming from him, but you can’t remember if that was your imagination.

Maybe you should stop drinking.

The feel of his lips haunted your days and nights. You had trouble sleeping and your mind would trail off, replaying that moment over and over.

You wondered if Mattheo had the same problem. Maybe that’s why he was hiding from you.

You knew he couldn’t escape you today though unless he skips class, which isn’t uncommon, but you were nearly praying he wouldn’t skip today.

You made it early to Herbology, taking your seat and nervously scribbling on your parchment. Why were you so nervous? Maybe because you drunkenly kissed the guy who sits next to you and he’s been avoiding you. You found yourself in an internal argument with yourself, only coming out of it when the other students started taking their seats too.

Mattheo was still nowhere to be seen as class started. You were a little frustrated now. It had been days. You just wanted to talk to him. That could also be why he was hiding from you, he knew you wanted to talk to him about the other night.

Suddenly, he came strolling into class about 10 minutes late, taking his seat by you like normal. He didn’t even look at you, but that was normal now.

The class was dragging on. You were patiently waiting for class to end so you could have a chance to talk to him.

The second you were dismissed, you shoved your stuff in your bag to make sure Mattheo couldn't get away from you this time. He was already almost out of the door by the time you even stood up. You weaved between the other students that were leaving to get to him. You finally caught his arm in the crowd of students, making you both stop as he turned to face you.

Another student ran into you from your sudden stop, making you stumble into Mattheo. He caught you and helped steady you.

“Watch where you're going.” The boy who ran into you said with a nasty attitude.

“You watch where the fuck you're going.” Mattheo spoke up before you even could. And as soon you turned around to face the boy, you saw Mattheo shove the boy away from you.

“She's the idiot who stopped in front of me!” The boy said, shoving Mattheo back.

“Watch your fucking mouth!” Mattheo spat back, stepping forward to hit him, but you grabbed his arm again.

“Mattheo.” You said his name to get his attention to stop him.

He stopped and glared at the boy before turning back to you.

“Yeah, obey your little bitch there.” The boy said, now with an amused tone.

Before the boy could even walk around him, Mattheo turned back to him quickly and punched him in the face with a loud crack. The sudden move and noise made you gasp and cover your mouth as you watched the boy fall to the ground.

“You ever call her a name again and I'll fucking gut you, understand?” Mattheo asked as he leaned over the boy.

“Mattheo! Enough!” You said, pulling him away by his arm, away from the crowd of students gathered around to watch the fight.

Mattheo let you drag him away without any resistance as he glared at the boy before turning back around to walk with you.

“Please don't hurt people for me again.” You said to him as he finally looked at you.

“He was a fucking prick! You should've let me.” Mattheo said, still clearly heated.

“Please, Mattheo.” You stopped walking to face him, making him stop to face you too, his hands now shoved in his pockets.

He exhaled sharply out of his nose. “What do you want?” His eyes flicked to the grass between you two instead of looking at you.

“I was kinda hoping to talk about Friday night.” You said, still looking at him, hoping he would look at you again.

He rolled his eyes, looking at you for a second before looking to the side. “It was just a game, (Y/N). That's all.”

“But you said you missed me.” You shifted on your feet, feeling your face heat from embarrassment now. Maybe you read it all wrong.

“I was drunk. I say stupid shit when I'm drunk.” He shook his head as he looked back at you.

“So that was a lie? And the kiss?” You asked, fidgeting with your hands in front of you.

“We were playing ‘7 Minutes in Heaven’, the whole point is to make out. Alright? I was playing the game.” He said, his face neutral.

“Oh.” Your gaze drifted down for a moment before looking back up at him. “I guess I misread it.”

“Yeah, guess so.” He said, sighing and looking back to the side.

“Why were you avoiding me this weekend?”

“(Y/N), just stop. Just stop. It was just a game. Don't read so much into it.” He said, shaking his head again, but refusing to look back at you.

“Right. You're right. It was just a game.” You said, looking back at the ground.

He stayed there for a few seconds before walking off back towards the castle.

“I meant my ‘I miss you’.” You called to him after a moment.

You saw him stop walking for a second before he continued, leaving you behind yet again.

Chapter 9

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[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

could you please write steven trying new positions with reader and she get sensitive and steven gets a ego boost

Hot topic

Steven Grant x fem!reader

Content: P in v sex, bit of cocky Steven, soft dom!Steven if you squint.

Summary: You and Steven wanted to try another position.

Steven and you had only done it in missionary since you two started dating, and now that you've been together for a while, both of you wanted to try a new position.

"Sooo, wanna try a new position?" you grinned.

Steven looked up at you with a dirty smirk. "You have one in mind?"

You shrugged. "No, that's why I asked you. I thought you would know some... spicy ones?"

Steven laughed. "Yeah but-" he paused. "Wait, did you just say spicy ones? You should ask Jake or Marc about those."

You snort. "Um, I thought since Jake and Marc are... drilling machines in that, I thought you'd be too?"

Steven's mouth went slack. "Holy fuckin' what?"

You shrugged it off as if you said the most normal thing in the world.

Steven grinned. "Okay, how about doggy?"

"Doggy? You mean–"

Steven cut you off. "Yeah, me bangin' you from behind."

You two agreed to do doggy, heading into the bedroom and stripped off your clothes.

You positioned yourself on your hands and knees on the bed, while Steven stood behind you.

"Err, you good luv?" He asked, looking over your shoulder as he gently placed his hands on your hips.

"Yeah," you confirmed "you know how it's done, right?"

"Oi." He squeezed your hips gently. "Of course I do, who do you think I am?" he chuckled.

You giggle. "You're Steven with a V."

Steven chuckled. "Yeah.. well, let's get to it."

He positioned himself behind you, holding you steady with one hand while moving his cock to your pussy with the other.

"I heard this position is more pleasurable because it allows for de– o-oohh fuck!"

Steven thrusts into you without warning, catching you by surprise as he sheathed himself inside you completely.

"Deeper?" Steven finished your word, setting a slow, deep pace. "Right, love?"

Your eyes rolled back, you arched your back to get more of him. "Fuck... that's definitely deeper!"

Steven bit his lip, feeling the difference too. But he was pleased with himself nontheless.

"Feels so good, Steven!" you moaned, bucking into him as he increased his movements.

Steven hummed in agreement. "Then we should do this one again." he chuckled, already feeling his orgasm build up.

The new position allowed him to hit the spot deep inside you repeadedly.

"I'm about to cum if you keep it like that!" You moaned, your pussy tightened around him in response.

Steven groaned. "Yeah, I can feel it. Me too."

Each thrust brought you closer and closer to orgasm, and with one last thrust, you you couldn't take it anymore and crashed down on him, coating his cock in your juices.

"Oh fuck!" Steven groaned, pushing himself to the hilt inside you and filled you up with his release.

He pulled out shortly after as you slowly turned onto your back to look at him.

"That was..." you pant, smiling softly at him.

"Good? Better? Great?" Steven chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah." You chuckled.

Steven grinned smugly. "So... wanna do it again? Or perhaps another position?"

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

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