#You are shoving that mirror in their face

[urlovebot]

cw: perv!sunghoon, sunghoon jerking himself off, pillow humping, panty sniffing, choking, mentions of cnc!

a/n: swoons i love him. hes so gross!

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sometimes its your panties, other days its your pillow, but today, its both.

"f-fuck." sunghoon moans out. his cock leaks as he rubs it against your pillow, your panties held in his other hand, almost smothering his face.

he wants to use you. he wants to dog fuck you into the mattress. force your head into the sheets and take you how he wants but he can't. not yet.

so instead he opts in for bunching your pillow up and pushing it against his cock for now. and it feels so fucking good. the friction against his length both isnt enough and is too much at the same time.

he cant wait for you to go to sleep and lay your head on this filthy pillow tonight. the thought makes his cock twitch and leak more, dampening his boxers. he felt nasty and weird but he doesn't care. he's fucking obsessed with you. and it's gotten so bad lately.

when you watch movies together, he intentionally spreads his legs so you can see how hard he gets just from looking at you. when he cooks for you, he makes sure to listen intently to the sounds you make when you're enjoying his food.

the other night he even fucked his cock right in front of your face as you slept.

he can't get enough of you. and thats proven as he fucks your pillow harder and rougher. his hips jerk back and forth and his cock drags along the length of your pillowcase. his tongue pokes out to get a taste of your cunt as his pace picks up.

as soon as the taste reaches his mouth, he whines out and just loses it. he quickly gets up, shoves his pants off and mounts your pillow once more. this time he folds it so his cock slides in between the crease and its so much better this way.

his mind wanders and multiple scenes pop into his brain.

he thinks about eating your gushy pussy and the way it'd gush onto his face. he imagines you stuffing his face into your cunt, fucking his face. using him. he wonders if you squirt, and if you do, you'd drown him in it.

he thinks about dressing you up in a cute little babydoll dress, tying a little bow around your neck and fisting his cock in front of your face. you dont even need to touch him. he just wants you to sit and look pretty while he defiles your face.

his final thought runs a shiver through his spine. he thinks about taking you while you sleep, how scared you'd be when you wake up to his thick, long cock filling you up. he'd wrap a hand around your mouth and tell you to "shut the fuck up and take it," as he roughly fucks you into the mattress. he'd hear your screams and pleas and cries and itd only spur him on further.

he's whining and drooling and losing himself in his pleasure. he stops giving a fuck about being careful. he flips onto his back and bunches the pillow up once more. he spreads his legs and begins to fuck the pillow vigorously. he doesnt care how much the dry fabric burns against the length of his cock, his only concern was getting off.

his eyes roll as he feels the burn in his thighs from how hard he was thrusting into the pillow but he fucking loved when it hurt. one hand moves from holding the pillow to his cock, up his body and to his neck. he does a curious squeeze and he sees white. he can't see or hear but with the way his throat aches, he knows hes being loud. his knees knock together and his toes curl as he spills his load onto your pillow.

sunghoons eyes open and he spots himself in your mirror. he looks fucked up. hair sticking to his forehead, neck and chest red from panting, pillow tight in his grip.

he promises himself that the next time he gets off, it'll be in front of you.

[lady-lostmind]

GIVE A SHIT

Written for @steddiebingo Kissing Booth Prompt: Dress Up

Rating: T | WC: 631

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

“This is stupid, Buckley. I look like an idiot. This is never going to work.” Eddie’s face scrunches in disgust as he stares in the mirror, tugging at the secondhand suit jacket Robin shoved onto his shoulders. 

Robin rolls her eyes, “You always look like an idiot.” She pulls Eddie to face her and wraps a tie around his neck. “You guys have been dancing around each other for too long. It’s getting ridiculous.”

Eddie scoffs. “And you think this–” He gestures to himself in his best, non-ripped black jeans, black dress shirt, and the stupid fucking jacket. “Is the solution?”

Robin glares at him while she ties the tie. “No. I think you getting your head out of your ass and actually making a move is the solution.” 

“And this is the move? Dressing like some yuppie in a suit!?” 

Robin flicks him on the forehead, grinning meanly when he yelps and rubs the sore spot. “I think actually making an effort and showing Steve you actually give a shit, is the move.” 

Eddie’s face drops. “Is that what he thinks? That I don’t give a shit?” 

Robin sighs and she smoothes out his tie. “Steve doesn’t think anyone gives a shit about him.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Even I have to constantly remind him or he gets all in his head about it and pulls away.” 

Eddie shakes his head, looking down at his ridiculous outfit with a sigh. “Do I buy him flowers?”

He glances back up and sees Robin smiling widely. “I think that’s a great idea.” 

Eddie shows up at Steve’s house with a bouquet of roses, and a baggie of weed, feeling ridiculous as he knocks on the door. He wants to be with Steve. And Robin is right. They’ve been dancing around this for close to a year. But he doesn’t know how to do this. He’s not– He’s never really had a relationship. He’s never really cared that much. He’s never–

Steve opens the door, eyes going wide when he sees Eddie. “Eds, what–”

“I give a shit.” Great. Really solid start, Eddie.

Steve’s brow furrows. “Okay–”

Eddie sighs, pushing past Steve and pushing the flowers to his chest. “These are for you.”

Steve’s eyes go all sparkly as he looks down at the flowers in his hand, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Eddie starts pacing. “I’m not good at this, okay? I know I’ve probably been fucking this up, majorly, and I’m sorry about that. And I know you deserve better than a trailer trash freak but–”

Steve’s face goes soft. “Eds–”

Eddie shakes his head. “I know, I know. But please, just hear me out, okay? Robin said I have a shot. And I figure she knows. And I know this–” He gestures to himself and the flowers. “Is all a little cheesy and over the top but I do give a shit. About you. I give a lot of shits about you. All the shits, honestly and–”

Steve takes a step forward. “Eds–”

Eddie shakes his head holding his hands out in front of him. “I know I’m probably not what you imagined for your life. I know this is–” He sighs. “I just want you to be happy. And I think that maybe– Maybe I can make you happy. If you give me a chance.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest with a sigh and Eddie’s heart sinks. “Are you done?”

Eddie stops pacing in front of him, his body slumping in defeat. He knew this was a bad idea. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Steve smiles, wide and cocky as he strides forward. “Good.” He cups Eddie’s jaw and leans in close. “Because I’m going to kiss you now.”

[littelovelunette]

sevika x vi x reader threesome😭 feel like they’d be SLOPPY and MESSY

Three Times The Fun

Contains: Smut, threesome, double penetration, overstimulation, clit play, nipple play, anal, cnc

You were severely mad at Sevika and Vi mainly because they had such different morals, they would argue over the simplest things and ruin date nights for you.

You were the pillow princess in the relationship.

They both would often fight for dominance but let's be real, Sevika is the ultimate dom and Vi can't help letting her dominance crumble, although you think it's mainly because she wants her pussy railed by Sevika's huge purple strap, too.

Whatever the case was, you were beyond angry because last night when you three were out together, Sevika got jealous because you were holding Vi’s hand more than hers. You knew she didn't like PDA too much but she didn't have to ruin that for you.

Sevika could've just communicated like any other healthy partner, but no.

Fuming as you returned to the shared apartment with the grocery bags in your hands, you opened the door and walked inside.

The house was awfully quiet, you didn't bother checking the rooms as you walked in the kitchen, putting the items in the cabinets and pantry.

After you were done, curiosity got the best of you and you walked inside the surprisingly empty bedroom. “Sevika? Vi?” You called but nobody answered back, as you were about to turn, suddenly somebody grabbed you from behind, muscular arms grabbing your wrists together with ease, duct tape perfectly binding your wrists together. “Wha-!?”

Your shock was cut out when you saw the hands, it was Vi. As Vi pushed you to the bed, she straddled your waist, layering the duct tape around your wrists to ensure you didn't escape.

“Got her, Sev,” Vi called out and Sevika walked out from behind the door, arms crossed. Sevika was wearing her beautiful big purple strap.

“What are you—?”

“Been such a brat lately,” Sevika said with a smirk, Vi was already pulling your clothes off your body, a happy grin spreading on her face as she saw your naked figure.

Sevika passed, what seemed like, a red strap towards Vi, it was huge. Likely 7 inches and real thick with ridges. It was similar to the one Sevika had, save for an inch smaller.

Wait, why were they both—...

Vi picked you up with ease, walking in front of the huge mirror that you had in the bedroom. Sevika walked up in front of you, kneeling to sloppily lube your holes, both holes.

“Don't do this,” You whimpered out, “I won't ever recover from this.”

With a smirk, Sevika shoved the dildo in your pussy, you let out a loud gasp, body lurching towards Sevika as Vi held your arms up.

“N-No, please, too much!” You managed to cry out loudly as you trembled.

The second dildo lined against your asshole, slipping in with ease due to the generous amount of lube but it was still painful enough to make you scream.

“HURTS! IT HURTS! VI-!... It hurts…” your screams were now just a sob, you knew they wouldn't cease unless you used your safeword.

It was a weird sensation, both the toys filled you up so much that you could feel the dildos grinding against one another with a layer of flesh in between. It was a weird tingly sensation, still good somehow.

You knew you were done for when they both started moving with a new found rhythm like never before. Your tits bouncing up and down in front of Sevika's face whose eyebrows were furrowed in concentration while she continued pounding in your pussy.

Your pussy was basically drooling over Sevika's massive dildo, each and every thrust coercing more liquid out of you.

Vi's grip on your waist and hands were tight as she thrusted in your clenching asshole.

“Please, stop, please, I'm breaking,” you sobbed.

“You'll take what we give you, doll,” Vi said, with a punctuating thrust in your asshole that made you gasp and clench your fists.

“You're doing well, shut up,” Sevika said, not too roughly though like she usually was, her thrusts alternating Vi’s.

Their thrusts were in complete sync, their determination to make you cum palpable as the red and purple dildos rammed into your holes. You sobbed, screaming out when it would get rougher until finally you squirted and Vi slowly pulled the dildo out.

“Your asshole’s gaping, angel,” Vi smirked a little as Sevika lowered you on the bed, hands still duct taped together, leaving you vulnerable.

“Please don't fuck me anymore,” you begged. Sevika looked at Vi who looked back at her and then Sevika nodded.

Vi picked you up, laying down and placing you on top of her, “Hands and knees, lovely,” Vi said, tapping your side to make her point and you obliged.

As you did, Vi started sucking on your nipples, hands playing with your clit and palming your other breast.

Sevika got on the bed behind you, slipping the dildo inside your asshole, “Take it, slut,” she slapped your ass, thrusting hard into your rectum making you gasp and whimper.

“S-Sevika,” you sniffled before a loud moan tore out of you.

Vi chuckled watching you fall apart in front of her very eyes, sucking and pulling your nipples while her other hand pinched and rubbed your clit.

“Baby, you usually get so wet getting your ass pounded?” Vi asked in a teasing tone, causing Sevika to chuckle too. You were in utter humiliation.

Sevika's thrusts got brutal and animalistic as she held the both sides of your hips, her strap starting to glisten from the amount of residue dripping from your asshole, the loud squelching and clapping sounds… it sounded so damn dirty.

Vi wiped your tears as she pulled your clit, earning another orgasm from you.

Sevika slowed down a little before completely pulling the dildo out. “Don't throw a tantrum in public, got it, hmm?” Sevika thrusted three fingers in your pussy making you drool.

Vi kissed you deeply, swallowing the spit leaking from your mouth, “Y-y-yes… got it,” you only managed to croak out the mere words before Sevika pulled her fingers out and Vi took the tape off your hands.

You were left trembling and leaking arousal all over the bedsheets. Both holes aching and twitching due to the relentless tortured inflicted on both ends.

You could hear the sound of the straps hitting the floor as both of them sandwich cuddled you.

“Did real good today,” Sevika huffed out, arms cradling you from behind.

“Mhm,” Vi chimed in, hugging you from the front.

“I hate you both so much…”

[sdmnpact]

Heyyyy can you plz do a fan fic of George Clarke x reader where they look after the readers little cousin for the day and they go out to different places

Day Out.

George Clarke x Reader ff

~~~

Are we still on for today? 😘

You received that text from your boyfriend George Clarke, you love the boy to pieces and today you two had a whole date planned. He had spent so much time planning such a lovely day out for the two of you. Unfortunately or maybe not so unfortunate your aunt had just asked you if you could babysit your cousin.

As much as you would love to go out with George, you know your aunt needs your help and of course you love your cousin so you couldn't resist seeing them.

Sorry baby, my aunt needs me to watch my cousin, y/c/n. Remember them? Raincheck?? 🥰

You sent back. You were hoping he wouldn't be upset by this as he knows how much you love your little cousins. You looked at your phone screen as bubbles appeared then disappeared repeatedly.

What if we take them along with us? 👀

You didn't hate the idea. Your cousin hasn't met George yet and you don't know whether they'll be fine with it or not but who knows maybe it'll be better than you think.

Alright then xx

>>>

"Okay now, his name is George and he's a really nice guy, I think you'll like him." You explained to y/c/n who was hesitant on meeting this guy. You looked in the rearview mirror to see them still slightly discontent with this situation but you know that once they meet him, they'll love him.

You finally arrived at George's flat, calling him to come out. He came out with a backpack on holding a small plushie. You narrowed your eyes, wondering where he pulled that from. You watched at he walked up to the back window.

"Hey there." He said waving the plushie in y/c/n's face. You saw their face light up as they reached for the plushie as George smiled widely. He gave the plushie to them as they laughed happily. You 'awwed' at the sight watching as he got into the car.

"That was sweet." You grabbed his hand. He leaned forward and gave you a small kiss on the cheek. "Well, I'm only sweet." He winked at you as you let go of his hand and rolled your eyes. He laughed as you began driving. "So where are we going anyways? Shouldn't you be the one driving?" You said driving aimlessly. "Well it isn't that far from here, I'll drive after this." You nodded as he pulled up the maps on his phone.

You finally arrived at the destination, an outdoor mini golf course. "Mini golf? Is this what you had planned for us?" He nodded smiling from ear to ear. "Only the finest for ma' lady." He is such a dork, but he's your dork.

All of you went up to the putting booth and grabbed your equipment. Y/c/n seemed so happy to be there. "Yay golfing!!" They shrieked as they ran to the first hole while you walked side by side with George. "They're so cute!" He gushed as you grabbed his arm. "I know, they're just like me" You batted you lashes at him as he playfully shoved you off.

"I'm gonna beat both of you!" Y/c/n shouted grabbing the club in their tiny arms. "Is that so? Well, I'm the golf master!" George said getting his club ready. You chuckled to yourself as you watched them playfully fight with their clubs.

"Okay, settle down, let's do this."

You know George is a big softie but you've never seen him like this. When he's around children, he sort of turns into a big teddy bear. You watched as he would playfully tackle your cousin, hugging them in his arms or helping them putt when they couldn't get the angle right.

You couldn't even concentrate on the actual game but rather George's interactions with y/c/n.

"Y/N! It's your turn!!" Y/c/n shouted at you as you were caught up watching George.

"Distracted, are we y/n?" George smirked. You shot him a little glare but sent a cheesy smile to your cousin.

You set yourself up for the shot, taking your sweet time aiming the putter.

"Any day now" George teased as you just shook you head, finally striking the ball, getting a whole in one.

"Was that good enough for you?" You said a bit sassy, swishing your hair at him. He playfully rolled his eyes coming over to grab your waist.

"You're actually really annoying" He towered over you, the breeze sending a whiff of his cologne, you basked in his musky scent.

"You're one to talk, so obsessed with me." You chuckled lightly pushing past him.

The three of you continued your game of mini golf, with y/c/n taking first place at the will of George who you watched purposely throw the game so your cousin can win after you explicitly told him not to. Of course that meant you got second place and you couldn't not rub it in his face.

After mini golf, George planned on having a picnic for you two at a botanical garden but since your cousin has gone along, he decided a park would be more suitable.

You guys arrived at the park and found a nice spot on the grass underneath a giant oak tree.

He laid out a large blanket, unpacking all the food he had packed for you guys. Sandwiches, crisps, fruit, juice, gummies. He had packed a whole meal for you lot and you couldn't have been more appreciative of the thoughtful man that sat in front of you.

"Here you go baby, just how you like it." George laid out a plate in front of you filled with your favorites.

"You're so ridiculously sweet." You teased, pinching his cheek making him blush a bit.

You watched as your cousin went off to play on the playground. "Be careful!" You shouted making sure they don't injure themself.

"Calm down, mom, I think they'll be alright." George chuckled taking a bite of his food.

"I just wanna be cautious, if there is one scratch on that little head, my aunt will have my ass on a swivel."

"Don't worry, everything will be fine." He reassured, getting closer to you. He sat behind you, wrapping his arms around your body. He planted a soft kiss on the top of your head.

You sat there for a while in his arms watching your cousin play on the swing set. "You fancy having one, one day?" He asked you suddenly making your eyes go wide with shock.

You have been dating for quite a while now and seeing as basically all your mates are having babies, you can't say you haven't thought of having one with George.

"With who?" You joked earning a smirk from him.

"Of course, I'd like to have one, one day. I need to find Mr. Perfect first." You continued.

"What if you've already found him?"

"Then I'm the luckiest person in the world." You looked up towards him, the sunlight beaming through the leaves down on his face showing just how beautiful he is.

You enjoyed spending time with him, safe in his arms. You loved him deeply, and you made sure that you always showed him that.

After a while you both laid back on the blanket looking up at the clouds.

"Look at that one." He pointed out. "Looks like a heart. It's almost as big as the heart I have for you."

You looked at him and he turned to look at you. "I love you, so much."

"You know I love you with my entire being." He replied back brushing a loose strand of hair from your face.

You brought you hand to his face, brushing your thumb against his cheek. It was a moment of bliss. Just you two in this vast open world, without a care in the world except each other.

"Y/n!" Y/c/n yelled as you sat up, forgetting about them for a split second.

"What's up?"

"Can we get ice cream?" They asked pointing to the truck that pulled up near the playground.

"Of course, come on, I'll take you." George said standing up, grabbing their hand. "Get your usual babe?" You nodded as a reply.

He walked off with your cousin, hand in hand. Seeing George with a small child was making you go crazy with happiness. You know that he will be the best dad ever.

~~~

After you enjoyed your ice cream. you got a text from your aunt telling you that she was home.

"Your mom wants you home now? Shall we go?" You said brushing your cousin's hair.

"NO! I wanna stay with Georgie!!" They yelled grabbing onto his leg. "Aw it's okay, we'll see each other again, next time I'll plan a better day out for all three of us." He said picking them up.

Your cousin hugged him tightly, not wanting to let him go.

He walked like that to the car and placed them in the backseat.

You both got in the car and you began driving towards your aunt's house. George grabbed your hand, shooting you a toothy grin. You shook your head at him as you looked back towards the road.

You finally arrived and got out to greet your aunt.

"That's your boyfriend?" She asked as she walked up close to you. You two watched as your cousin said their goodbyes to George.

"Yeah, he's a sweetheart." You gushed.

"He's a keeper, make sure to tie that one down."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure to do that." George said holding y/c/n as he walked up behind you.

"Thank you and nice to meet you." She said taking y/c/n from him, shooting him a smile.

"Nice to meet you too." He said as she winked at you, walking back inside the house.

George grabbed your hand as he led you to the car, opening the passenger door for you.

"Thank you, but you're driving? Where're we going?"

"The night's still young."

---

A/n

This is such an adorable idea!! I hope you enjoyed it!!

[dixons-sunshine]

Good Girl, Officer | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Nervous on his first day on the job as a cop, you opted to try and help Steve calm down and relax. However, while doing so, you ensured that you’d be in for one hell of a night when he got back from work.

Genre: Fluff, a little suggestive.

Warnings: Some sexual innuendo.

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: I don’t know what this is. Honestly, this isn’t my best work, but this has been sitting in my drafts for days and I figured I might as well post it. I hope it’s still somewhat enjoyable! And if anyone wants a part two with smut, I’d be willing to try and write one.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Looking up from the cup of coffee in your hands, your eyes locked with those beautiful amber ones of your husband’s in the mirror. He was busy fiddling with the collar of his button up shirt, the jacket with the familiar “Hawkins PD” logo on it hanging open on his broad frame. It was chilly outside, the rain and wind making it necessary to wear one. His glasses were perched on the tip of his nose, his eyes nervously darting between you in the mirror and his outfit.

You placed the cup down on your nightstand and made your way over to Steve, wrapped your arms around him from behind and rested your chin on his shoulder. “You’ll do great, Stevie,” you reassured him, your tone soft and sincere.

Steve inhaled, before exhaling a shuddering breath. “I don’t know,” he began quietly. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up. Maybe even die.”

You hummed and pressed a kiss to his clothed shoulder. “Take a deep breath, okay?” After he followed your orders and took a few deep breaths, you continued. “You’ll be just fine, Steve. I know it. You’ve been working hard for this. Plus, if push comes to shove, you know Hopper will help you out in a heartbeat. He loves you.”

Steve managed to give you a small smile at that. “Sure. The ‘don’t fuck it up, Harrington’ and pat on the back he gave me at my graduation screams ‘I love you’.”

“It does if you’re Hopper,” you told him through a small chuckle, stepping back when he turned around to face you. Instead, you looped your arms around his neck, your husband’s hands going to rest on your hips. “But seriously. I know you’ve got this. You worked your ass off for it, and it shows. I promise you’ll be just fine. And hey, if anyone gives you trouble, I’m just a phone call away. I’ll come to your rescue.”

He chuckled at that. “My hero,” he said, before leaning in to give you a soft, tender kiss. His nose bumped against yours, and his glasses pressed against his face awkwardly, but he didn’t care. When he pulled away, he smiled at you lovingly.

You returned the smile. “So do you feel better?”

“A little bit,” he began, his thumbs tracing idle circles on your hips. “I still feel like m’gonna throw up, but at least I don’t feel like I’m gonna die.”

“That’s good,” you replied. “Well, not the throwing up part, but the not dying part is great. Who else is gonna give me such awesome back rubs if you’re gone?”

Steve laughed and rolled his eyes. “Nice.” He stepped back from your embrace and fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, his hands a little shaky and only being successfully zipped up because of your assistance. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” You glanced behind him at his car keys, before looking back at him. “Well, officer Harrington. All you need to complete this…” You pressed your hand against his chest and trailed it up and down slowly. “...very sexy look is a pair of handcuffs, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, and a gun,” he began, completely oblivious to the innuendo behind your words. “But I’ll get both of those down at the station. Hopper’s orders.”

You smiled and shook your head, stepping back from him and heading over to the nightstand to grab your coffee. “That’s not what I meant, but okay.”

Steve frowned. “What did you—” You nearly burst out laughing when a look of realization spread over his face. “Oh.”

You took a sip from your coffee and sat back down on the bed, smiling brightly. “Yeah.”

He scratched the back of his head, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You into that kinda thing? I mean, you’ve never brought it up before.”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see, huh?” You blinked up at him with a faux innocent look. “I promise I’ve been a good girl, officer.”

Steve inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. “You’re playin’ a dangerous game.” He opened his eyes and glanced down at his watch. “And I’ve gotta go soon.”

You hummed and got up from the bed again, placing the cup back where you found it and walked back over to Steve. You straightened out his uniform for him, before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips in greeting.

“Go,” you whispered, pecking the corner of his lips for good measure. “Go make the world a better place, officer Harrington.” You leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “We’ll test the whole handcuff thing when you get back.”

The look he sent your way as he slowly retreated backwards sent a shiver over your spine. You knew that if he didn’t have somewhere to be, the two of you wouldn’t leave the room that day. But alas, he had a job he needed to get to. You would have to wait until later that night to do anything about it.

You laughed lightly when Steve stopped and strode back over from the door to give you one final kiss, gently pushing him away when it got a little too heated for someone that needed to be out of the house in five minutes if they wanted to be on time. “Woah there, cowboy,” you halted him. “You gotta go.” Despite your words, he continued to press little kisses to your face, making you smile. “I’m serious. Go.”

Steve looked like a man in agony when he finally pulled away. “It’s your fault, you know?” he said. “You were the one that put that idea in my head. How am I supposed to focus after that?”

“With great effort,” you joked, before giving him a peck on the cheek and stepping back. “Now go. You don’t wanna be late on your first day.”

Your husband sighed deeply and nodded, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “Okay,” he began. He sent you a pointed look. “Until tonight then?”

You nodded. “Until tonight.”

Steve straightened his jacket, grabbed his keys from the dresser—keys he would have forgotten if he hadn’t decided to turn back and give you a kiss—and turned back to you. “I love you.”

You smiled at him softly. “I love you too.”

With that, Steve finally left the room. You could hear his footsteps retreating down the hall, and you sat back down on the bed. While you knew you had other things you needed to think about, there was only one thing on your mind:

You were in for one hell of a night.

[bradleysass]

Hair - @black-brothers-microfic - wc: 519 - Starchaser

The morning routine was always the same.

Regulus would wake up just before the first rays of sunlight crept through the window, painting their bedroom in soft gold. James, for some fucking reason, was always awake before him. It was unnatural. Unfair. Almost suspicious. He lay there, warm like a furnace, his bare chest exposed, only clad in those ridiculous pajama pants he insisted on wearing without underwear.

What a slut.

Regulus loved him.

Regulus, in contrast, was always wrapped up in one of his oversized jumpers, soft fabric drowning his frame, paired with pajama shorts that barely peeked out beneath the hem. But the one thing he despised was his hair—long, messy, unruly in the mornings. It tangled at the base of his neck, strands sticking to his cheek, a wild halo of chaos that James swore was "absolutely ethereal" and Regulus swore was "an absolute nightmare."

"You look beautiful," James murmured, just as he did every morning, voice thick with sleep.

Regulus scoffed, not even bothering to look at him. "You don't even have your glasses on. What do you know?"

James hummed, unbothered, stretching like a lazy cat.

Regulus slid out of bed, rolling his eyes at the way James's gaze shamelessly followed him. His morning routine was sacred—wash his face, tame his hair, pretend James wasn't watching him with a stupidly smitten expression.

Today, however, he felt like indulging in something more… elaborate. Instead of the usual ponytail, he reached for his ornate hair sticks, the ones James once dubbed "Regulus's weapons of mass destruction" after he was nearly stabbed for touching them without permission.

The moment James saw them, he was in the bathroom within seconds, appearing in the mirror's reflection like some sort of menace.

"Fancy sticks today, huh?" he grinned, already crowding Regulus's space.

Regulus sighed, feigning annoyance, though the small smirk on his lips betrayed him. "You act like it's an event."

"Oh, it is."

James didn't waste a second before pressing feather-light kisses against the newly exposed skin of Regulus's neck. Soft, reverent, lingering. A contrast to the teasing smile he wore just moments ago.

Regulus's fingers faltered as he twisted his hair up, body betraying him with a shiver. He swatted at James half-heartedly. "Stop that."

James, of course, did not stop.

Instead, he moved lower, kissing over the delicate dip of Regulus's shoulder blade, lips warm and insistent. "Nope."

Regulus exhaled sharply, pretending this wasn't affecting him, pretending his grip on the hair sticks wasn't growing looser. James knew exactly what he was doing. And it was infuriating.

"You're distracting me," Regulus mumbled, though he didn't move away.

"Am I?" James whispered against his skin, grinning.

Regulus turned slightly, eyes narrowing. "James."

James pressed one final kiss to his neck, smug. "Regulus."

With an exaggerated sigh, Regulus finally secured his hair, but not without giving James a pointed glare. "You're insufferable."

"And yet, you love me."

Regulus huffed, shoving past him to leave the bathroom. "Debatable."

James only laughed, following him like a lovesick puppy. "Not even a little."

And, as always, the morning routine continued.

[ivoyzzz]

heyy i was wondering if you Could do Sae byeok x reader Where Sae byeok is super clingy to reader. Like this Girl is CLINGY. So like she is hugging her sooo much whether it is hugging her at the neck, waist, hip, lifting her off the Ground and grabbing her ass 🫢, back hugging her, you name it and she is already in the position with you, Sae byeok is pulling her into her lap every second she gets, Sae byeoks kissing her non stop whether its on the lips, cheek, nose, jaw, neck or even readers top chest and back, and TRUST me this Girl loves to be behind reader and spoon her While she is watching some crap TV show (the two of you Fall asleep with the TV show playing in the back) but there is just one problem, gi hun is your older brother and he is not Happy seeing sae byeok All over you. Trust me he likes the fact that you two love each other but he is also over protective of you and doesnt want you to get hurt. And Sae byeok knows this but continues. And i am tell you that gi hun is not Happy seeing Sae byeok have her hands on your chest and ass meanwhile you are doing your makeup (you are standing infront of Sae byeok because the mirror is right behind her While she is sitting on a chair and has you in between her legs While her head and one of her hands are resting on your chest While her other Hand is resting on your ass.)

Thank you and have a Good Day or Night and you Can change anything if you would like!!

a/n: this is adorable stop. saebyeok is the clingiest girlfriend ever, you cannot change my mind.

warnings: just fluffy

clingy sae who follows right behind you (like walking on your heels) and her trying to act like she’s “just seeing what your doing”

walking in the cold, she just grabs your hand shoving it in her pocket. couldn’t have her girl freeze to death, could she?

eating dinner with her and gi-hun and him just watching the two of you with a careful glare. (maybe he’s a tiny bit jealous that your love life is better then is, so what).

saebyeok sitting on the couch with you between her legs, sprinkling soft kisses on your soft hair. her murmuring that you were gone so long. and all you did was go to get coffee.

always making excuses to be touchy without seeming clingy, “your hair was all over you face, i was fixing it.” “your necklace isn’t showing.” and her careful fingertips linger on your skin.

even though her face seems as if she’s doing the most boring thing ever, it’s just her being in denial. she actually likes being around you, and even if there is no talking she likes your presence and that scares her.

waking up next to her and sae just buries her face in your neck, lips dancing across you. one of her hand’s is lazily behind you and the other is thrown across your waist. whispering a small “i like you.” she has a hard time saying what she feels but she’s good at showing it. even though these words may seem small, they mean everything.

watching you try a new food or drink and watching for your reaction. “good?” she mumbles so quietly. when you nod your head, she gives you one of those small uncertain smiles. then tucking a loose strand of hair behind your head, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

when your on the phone with a friend, saebyeok's just sat beside you hand on your waist rubbing small circles in your hip. can’t really focus anymore, ending the call to put your head on her shoulder. which of course she pretends to be indifferent to, but she’s in just as much bliss as you.

when your upset her wiping your tears with the pad of her thumb. whispering, “just breathe baby.” “i got you.” her face softening, she hates seeing you upset.

when she’s reading a book and you put your head in her lap, her rolling her eyes. she’s not annoyed, sae would choose this over some stupid book any-day.

you sitting in her lap while you do your makeup, hand sprawled on your thigh. even if the two of you aren’t doing anything she just loves being with you. watches you with those sharp eyes while you do your makeup.

when you come to sit on the couch and leave room between the two of you, not thinking anything of it, she thinks about it. are you mad at her? did she do something? when you finally look over at her (it’s been 3 minutes) she looks like a sad kicked puppy. but she’s fine after she pulls you into her arms. “i’m not clingy” she mutters kissing along your neck. “seem pretty clingy to me sae.” you tease back.

gives the best hugs. her arms around your waist while yours are around her linked around her neck.

when walking in public, her arm around your waist fingers in your belt-loop. the world is a dangerous place, it’s just to keep you safe. totally not because she just likes holding you.

she just wants to hold you, that’s not clingy, right?

[miniwheat77]

Stuck. (Gym Teacher!Soap x Reader.)

!NSFW, Smut, READER IS 18, NO MINORS, proceed with caution, age gap, unprotected p in v sex, soap and reader almost get caught, teacher x student relationship!

not edited.

You stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom. Frustrated.

You hated school, absolutely despised it.

You’d just gotten to school and already one of the girls who was mean to you slammed into you, her coffee ruining your shirt.

It was a light colored shirt and now it was ruined. You tried your best to wash it and decided to just suffer until Gym. You’d just change into your Gym clothes when you got there. Maybe you could talk to your Gym teacher, Mr. MacTavish about sitting this one out today. He would understand.

You got along with him really well. He understands better than most anyways.

You covered your shirt up the best you could until you made your way to the Gym, just before Lunch is when your gym class was.

You were able to sit out for the day, thankfully since you'd have to wear your gym shirt and didn't want to be all sweaty for the rest of the day. After your class was over, you hurried into the girls locker room, usually there were no gym classes taught after lunch anyways. You tugged your shirt off and slipped your pants down your legs. Opening up your locker. Your face contorts into confusion.

Your clothes are gone.

“Looking for these?” You spin around, seeing the three girls that had made your life a living hell since you started at this dreadful school. You sigh. “Please give them back.” You sigh. “Hmm.. how about you come get them?” She smirks. You clench your eyes shut. Reopening them after a second. Reaching for your coffee stained shirt you had just taken off. Another girl snatches it away from you. Just as you’re about to step forward, she shoves you back. “No! No wait!” You cry out.

She forces you back, slamming the locker door shut. You push on it but it’s latched. You can hear them laughing. “Let me out!” You cry. “Leave her there, come on.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. It’s cold.

You bang on the locker for a while, but nobody hears you.

You don’t know how long you’re going to be stuck inside.

—

It’s hours later, you’re freezing and shivering but you’re trying to relax.

You finally hear the door open, Mr. MacTavish happens to be coming inside to clean everything up for the day. There’s supposed to be no girls inside.

You can hear him whistling as he walks inside. Dread sets into your gut. You didn’t want it to be him that found you but you had no choice. You bang on the locker, startling him as he nears. “Please let me out! Please help!” You cry out. “Y/N?” He hears your voice right away. “What the hell?” He makes his way to your locker, lifting the tab and opening it up. You cover yourself up. He turns his head, seeing you’re almost nude. “What the hell is going on?”

“They locked me in here just after Gym.” You cover yourself up. He turns back to you. “Christ, the same three?” He asks. You nod your head. He shakes his head. This isn’t the first time this has happened. You’d actually spent a lot of time in Mr. MacTavish’s office because of injuries inflicted from the three. “Just.. stay here. I’ll find you something.”

Just as he turns to walk away. He can hear footsteps coming his way. “Shit. This is about to look really bad.” He hesitates, hoping they’ll pass. When the footsteps get closer, he panics.

He grasps your arm, moving you to the other side and unintentionally slamming you up against lockers, clamping a hand over your mouth before you can yelp out. “Stay quiet.” He breathes. He sees your wide eyes staring back at him.

“You’re half nude and I’m in here alone with you.” He mumbles. You nod your head, eyes still wide. How close he is to you is intimidating.

“Mr. MacTavish? Are you in here?” You can hear that it’s another teacher. “Yeah- I’m just cleaning up the locker room!” He calls. “Oh okay. I just had a real quick question.” He looks to you again, raising his finger up to his lips to hush you. Slowly releasing his hand from your mouth. Your lips part in surprise.

Mr. MacTavish steps out from behind the locker. Placing his hand on the lockers to make it seem like there’s nothing out of the ordinary. “What was your question.”

“Did Y/N show up to your Gym class? I was talking to another couple teachers and they said she was here for a few classes and gone for the rest and nobody knows where she went.”

“Ah, it was probably those girls who pick on her. They probably did something to make her go home.”

You clench your eyes shut. You didn’t want him telling anyone about them. “What?” He says confused. Mr. MacTavish gives him their names and tells him about a few things they had done to you in the past.

After a few minutes, he finally leaves.

“Oh thank god.” He mumbles. He quickly locks the door. You stay where you are, back pressed against the cold row of lockers behind you. You stay quiet, hearing his footsteps coming your way. “Here.” He holds out a baggy t-shirt. It’s the only thing he’s got. “Thanks.” You mumble. You slide it over your head. It goes down passed your hips thankfully.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. He’s noticing your change in demeanor. “Why did you tell him all of that? I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Y/N, they left you in a locker for hours. You’re lucky I came in here because it’s Friday. If you had got locked in there over the weekend, you could’ve died.”

“I don’t care. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

He sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Y/N. Why do you let them pick on you? I’ve seen you participating in some of the activities I have in my class. I know you hold back.”

“Jesus Christ Mr. MacTavish.” You groan. “The Principal is related to Taylor!”

“So what?” He crosses his arms. “So they’re not going to take my side. They’re going to side with her.”

He shakes his head. “Not while I’m around. Not after locking you in here. Jesus Christ.” He mumbles. He stands in front of you, moving closer. “Y/N. You have to stand up for yourself or nothing is ever going to change.” He breathes. His close proximity is starting to overwhelm you. “I-“

He can see you getting overwhelmed, he can tell you feel cornered. He backs off. “Come on, follow me.” He shakes his head. You skeptically look at him, following after him. Tugging the shirt down as you walk behind him. Once he’s got you into his office, he digs through an old bin of gym shorts he had and passes a pair to you. You quickly slide them on. “Now come on. We’re going to the office.” He mumbles. “For what?”

“Just come on.” He mumbles.

You sigh. Following after him.

Those bitches even took your shoes.

You want to curl up and die.

When he opens up the office door for you, you walk in first and immediately see Taylor waiting for the principal who is her father to take her home for the day. She has a smirk on her face when she sees you. “Mr. MacTavish, everything okay?” The receptionist smiles. “No.” He mumbles, he asks her to get a hold of the principal.

He eventually emerges out of his office. “John, something going on?”

“Yeah, Taylor and a couple of her friends locked Y/N in one of the gym lockers for about…” he looks down at his watch. “4 hours. Took her clothes as well.”

He turns to look at Taylor. “Is this true?”

“What? No. He’s lying.”

“Y/N, is that what happened?”

You nod your head. “Why do you think she doesn’t have any shoes on? Her attendance is suffering from Taylor’s bullying. That’s almost half a day missed because of this, and only god knows what could’ve happened to Y/N if I hadn’t heard her calling for help.”

He turns to look at her, and she starts in with the crocodile tears.

“Well. I’m sure this was just a misunderstanding. We’ll get it taken care of.”

—

Mr. MacTavish doesn’t understand why you’re gone for another week, until he finds out you were placed on suspension.

You were right, there’s nothing you can do.

When you come back, they’ve ramped up the harassment.

You’ve had enough, and Mr. MacTavish was right. You do hold back.

You’re sitting on the bench, they never did give you your gym clothes back. You have to wait for new ones, so you’re sitting out of the activities until further notice. Mr. MacTavish notices the three girls are talking to you, probably being rude.

He sighs, trying to finish up his grading when he hears a “oh shit!” From one of his students. Turning to see that you’re no longer on the bench, and instead, straddling Taylor. You’ve got a hand wrapped in her hair as you wail on her. The other two try to intervene but you’re not budging. “Steamin’ Jesus.” He groans, jogging over to the two of you. He tries to pull you off of her but even he struggles.

When he’s finally got you off of her, you’re seething. Breathing heavily and saying nothing. “My office! Go!” He pushes you. You glare at him, turning your back and walking toward his office, shaking the pain off of your hand. He helps Taylor up, she’s holding her bleeding nose.

He knows it’s bad but he wants to laugh, this is exactly what she deserves. “Go to the nurse, the three of you.” He shakes his head.

He gives every one else instructions to go back to the basketball game they were playing. Making his way to his office.

You’re sitting in the chair in front of his desk and he laughs the moment the door is closed. “What happened?”

“She was taunting me.” You shrug. He shakes his head. “I’m afraid you’re really in for it now, kid.” He laughs.

After a few more minutes, the principal barges in. “This behavior is unacceptable.” He seethes.

“Y/N, go wait outside on the bench for a minute.” He ushers you out, closing the door behind you.

“She’s on immediate suspension- this is ridiculous.”

“No.” He mumbles.

“What?”

Mr. MacTavish crosses his arms.

“The janitor found Y/N’s clothes in the trash can behind the school a few days ago. He thought it was odd so he brought them to me. Can only assume you placed them in there, right?” He mumbles. “Or maybe this will tell us?” He holds up the flash drive from the janitor, the footage of him throwing them in there to cover up for Taylor.

“If you don’t tell Taylor and her little friends to leave Y/N alone, I’m going to go to the board about this. And you’ll lose your job, and Taylor will get expelled. You wouldn’t want that right?”

He shuts up really fast. “If Y/N starts in on one of the three again, I won’t pull her off next time. Raise your kids to be better, not assholes.” He wants to come out of his chair and put hands on him. “Fine. Alright. Whatever you want.”

“I mean it, not one more time. And I want you to pay the fees it’s going to take to replace Y/N’s shoes and gym clothes.” He’s got his arms crossed. “Alright. Fine. She still has to be held accountable for violence.”

“We’ll talk with her.” He shakes his head. “Y/N. Come back in.” He waves you inside.

You sit down and they’re both standing as they look at you. “Violence is unacceptable Y/N.” Mr. MacTavish looks at him as he says it. You bring your eyes up from the floor, looking at him. “Yes sir.” You mumble. Johnny can see that you want to roll your eyes. You’re feigning regret. “Detention. For the rest of the week.” He sighs. “Yes sir.” You repeat it, Johnny wants to roll his eyes. “Is that all?”

“Yes.” He sighs. He walks out and you huff, sitting down.

“Want some ice?” He asks, seeing your knuckles that are split and swollen. “No. The sting reminds me of what it felt like to hit her in her stupid face.” You sigh. He can’t help but laugh. “You can hang out in here but I’ve got to get back to my class.” You nod.

He goes out to make sure everyone is doing what they’re supposed to. By the time he comes back, you’re gone. At some point, the Principal had placed enough money on his desk for new Gym clothes for you. Johnny can’t believe the lengths he’d go, to protect his daughter, especially when she’s the one in the wrong.

For the remainder of the week, he spots you in passing. Seeing you resting your head on your hand in Detention. Sending you smiles in the hallway. If Johnny had to pick a favorite student, it’d probably be you. Just because you dealt with so much bullshit and hardly showed it.

The bullying seemed to die down. They weren’t constantly harassing you and you weren’t in his office bugging him when they did like you usually did. It was a good thing of course, but he couldn’t deny that he missed having you around. You participated as normal in his gym class and your attendance had really picked up since they quit bugging you. It was odd for a change.

It made you realize how much you liked being around your gym teacher.

Not being around him as much made you want to be around. It made you think about all the time you had spent around him and than you started dreaming.

More specifically about when he’d found you in that locker in the locker room, and pinned you to them. Holding his hand over your mouth. The dreams you’d had about him when you weren’t around him as much were straight up dirty. You don’t know why these were coming out of the left field like this, you hadn’t ever felt this way about him before. You’re not sure what had changed anyways.

You kept your cool around him even when you didn’t want to. You had no choice. He was a teacher and you were a student. You knew he would never want anything like that with you. That didn't stop your mind from wandering.

It was your last day of detention, you were bored. Resting your head on your hand and staring at the clock as the seconds ticked by agonizingly slow.

You don't turn your head when the door opens, it usually wasn't anything too important.

"Hi. Can I borrow Y/N for a minute?" He asks. His voice is what makes you perk up. "I have a couple of questions for her and she doesn't look too busy."

The other teacher nods her head and you gather your things, following him out of the room. Once the door is closed and you're walking alongside him to the gym, you speak up. "Something wrong?" You ask. "No just wanted to save you from that hell." He laughs. You smile. "Thanks. Looks that bad huh?" You laugh. "Well your grades have been good since those girls have left you alone so I imagine you have nothing to work on. Just staring at that damn clock," He smiles. "Yeah. It's like the damn thing moves in slow motion."

He laughs.

When you get to the gym, you follow him into his office.

"I was meaning to ask. What do you plan on doing after you graduate?" He asks. "I'm not sure. Figured I'd just go take some basic classes at the community college until I figured it out." You shrug. "You don't have any dreams at all? Nothing?"

You shake your head. "To be honest? People don't take well to me. I'm not sure why." You laugh.

"It's cause you're quiet. Not assertive."

You nod your head. "When are you supposed to graduate?" He asks. "Next couple of months? Why?" You ask. "Just wondering. I couldn't remember what grade you were. So that means you're Eighteen?" He asks. "Yep. Turned eighteen a few weeks ago." He nods his head.

He doesn't say anything for a minute which you find odd.

"You mind helping me clean up the girls locker room? I still have to do the boys."

"Sure."

You had done it a time or two anyways, there wasn't much to it. Changing out the trash liners, sweeping the floor. Picking up trash.

You finish sweeping when you hear the door.

You spin around but don't see anyone. Odd.

You start to worry. Hoping it's not Taylor finally seeking out her revenge.

You move back into the showers, checking to see if there were anything in there. Sometimes people left their trash inside. You turn back around but someone pushes you back into the tile wall. A gasp barely slides past your lips when he clamps a hand over your mouth. "Shhh. It's alright."

Your eyes are wide as you look at him.

"Can you stay quiet?" You nod your head slightly, looking down at his hand.

"W-what are you doing?"

He swallows hard. Looking down at you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide as he looks down at you. "You can stop me."

He tilts his head just slightly. Leaning into you ever so slowly. He wanted to make sure that you actually want this.

When his lips brush over yours, you realize exactly what this is.

When he presses his lips to yours, you're surprised.

You almost forget to kiss back.

Your heart races in your chest as he pushes his hand along your side, onto your hip and into the curve of your back to pull you into him. Your brain is fuzzy, not processing what the hell is actually happening.

When he pulls away, he can see it in your eyes. You want this just as bad as he does. "What if someone comes in?" You swallow hard.

He thinks for a second. You're right. He can't do this here.

"You're right. Your parents come home before or after you do?" He asks. "After, they work until six and after." He nods his head. "Head home, I'll finish up here and I'll be by to get you. If you want."

Your lips part in surprise. You nod your head. "Yeah- yeah of course. Um.." You pause, giving him your address.

He saves it into his phone, just as he steps away from you, the detention bell rings.

You do as he says, leaving and going home for the day.

You're in a daze as you walk. Unsure of how the hell someone like him could want to be with someone like you. He'd actually tricked you into the locker room so that he could kiss you.

He even made sure you were eighteen first!

You step inside and rush to be better prepared. Hopping into the shower really quick, changing into better clothes.

You're waiting when you finally see him pull into your driveway. You're nervous. You've had a crush on him sure, but hadn't put too much thought into this if it had actually happened. Could you really go through with this?

You send your mom a text and let her know that you'd be staying with a friend. Unsure if it would be overnight or not. You make sure to lock the door behind you, making your way to his truck. You open the passenger side and climb in. "Hey." He smiles.

You're so doing this.

"Hi."

Your nerves are shot as he drives to his house.

In just a couple of hours you'd gone from just a normal gym student to him bringing you home.

When he pulls into his driveway, the sun is starting to set.

You follow him up to his front door, following him inside. You look around.

"You alright?" He asks.

"Yeah, I was just wondering. You bring all of your female students home with you?" You smile. He rolls his eyes. "Why, jealous?"

You smile.

"No, no I don't. I don't want to risk my entire career for just anyone, you know."

"Yeah well, you bailed me out of detention and let me blow off a bunch of classes by letting me sit and do fuck all in your office so.. I can keep a secret. Since you've kept mine."

He laughs. He closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you again. You let him kiss you. Kissing him back. "Have you had sex before?" He asks. You nod your head.

"Good. I don't have to go slow." He laughs. Lifting you up off the ground. Your wrap your legs around him and let him carry you to his bedroom. Something you didn't think happened outside of movies. Same with having sex with your teacher.

He lays you down on his bed, climbing over the top of you. He unbuttons his jeans, tugging them down his legs.

"You can stop me. If you feel uncomfortable at any moment." He reassures you. "I know. I'm okay." You nod. He helps you get your pants down your legs, completely off. Your shirt following. He's starting to act different. His usual easy-going attitude is gone. Replaced completely by lust. He makes sure you're wet enough first, not wanting to hurt you.

He lines himself up with you and sinks into you, hearing you gasp.

Your eyes widen slightly.

You were really doing this. You were really having sex with him.

He draws back and thrusts in to the hilt, hearing you gasp out again. "Oh god-"

"Just call me John, sweetheart." He chuckles. You clutch at his sheets. Rolling your eyes at him.

He rests a hand beside your head, holding himself up. The muscles in his arm flex. He was fit, even for a gym teacher.

You screw your eyes shut, moaning out his name.

He didn't think that he'd really be able to get himself here. He figured he'd fail and lose his job trying to get you into bed with him

"You're so tight." He whines, a noise you didn't think he could make. He presses his thumb into your clit, lips parting slightly as he touches it. "Shit... your clit is so swollen baby." He licks his lips. You flinch away from his touch. "Sensitive too." He laughs. He rests his thumb on it just barely. rubbing gentle circles over it. He feels your thighs tightening up, starting to shiver slightly from his touch.

"You're doing so good for me. So fuckin' good lass."

You smile, and he tilts his head. "What?"

"I like that." You pant.

"What, when I call you lass?" He asks. You nod your head, hearing him chuckle. You smile, cheeks reddening. He smiles. He thinks despite the situation you're in, you're really cute.

"You're so cute with my cock inside you." He taunts. Hearing you gasp when he thrusts in harder than before.

He was getting close, he needed to get you there. He applies more pressure to your clit than he had before, rubbing eights into it and watching you visibly lose it underneath him. You're getting louder, breaths even more unsteady than the last. He watches you jerk slightly with every hard thrust he takes into you. You've got your lip pulled between your teeth, hands clutching at his cheeks. Your eyes are screwed shut. You're a sight for sore eyes.

His stomach tightens up. He's dangerously close. He wants to cum inside you sure, but he can't get a student pregnant.

"John.. I- I'm really close." You whine. He grits his teeth hard, nearly cumming right then and there at the sound of your voice. "It's alright doll. You can cum for me." He breathes, lowering his head to kiss you. He keeps his lips locked to yours until you're moaning into his lips, legs shaking as you reach your orgasm around him. His eyes roll back, you're tightening on him and it takes everything not to finish inside of you.

When he's given you time to ride out your high out, he draws his hips back, pulling away from the kiss. Stroking his cock and covering your stomach in his cum. He hisses, teeth gritted. Seeing him like that makes you realize the gravity of the situation you're in. How if someone found out about it you'd be in a lot of trouble, him in even more.

Good thing you were good at keeping secrets.

[jooyeonsvape]

— soobin: thinking of you

genre: angst, a lil fluff

w/c: 1.6k

pairings: idol!soobin, female!reader

warnings: no smut, angsty, unrequited love, suggestive language, drinking

a/n; in honor of soobie coming back!! missed him so much <3 im going to be doing more txt ff so stick around for that!

my asks are open, check guidelines pls!! <3

"First love is dangerous only when it’s also the last"

in your case, your first love was choi soobin and the way he looked into your eyes made you feel like he would never leave your side.

you fell for him almost immediately in college when he sat next to you in your shared audio production course.

“hi my name is soobin, we’re going to be classmates for the next 4 years.” his smile was so sweet and wide, it was intoxicating.

your first kiss was months later, when he ran up to you during free period and grabbed your shoulders. “i like you [Y/N].” he kissed your lips before you could say anything, but there was nothing to say, your kiss was everything he needed.

soobin officially asked you to be his girlfriend on your 19th birthday; he made your entire friend group set up a party at your apartment and when you jumped in his arms from excitement, he announced his love. he made a homemade card that read ‘everytime i see you my heart skips a beat, and i hope to never lose that feeling.’

he was your first everything and finally after multiple attempts to find another man that made you feel the way soobin did, you settled with a wealthy businessman your mom set you up with.

you hear the songs soobin’s band performs and you can’t help but wonder who inspired him to write those lyrics. you’re both now 24 and it’s been 3 years since the breakup.

is his inspiration from other women he has been with since you?

you shake the thought out of your head and turn off the tv, which had his face plastered over it. txt was the new group that he debuted in, his ultimate dream was to be a kpop idol and he finally made it.

your fiancé told you to be ready by the time he got home from work because he was invited to a party by his close friend and you wanted to dress somewhat classy considering all of his friends are rich.

when you were finished getting dressed, you look in the mirror and see the big expensive ring he bought you. it is beautiful but, you often wondered if it was the wrong man who gave it to you.

before he got home, you go in your underwear drawer and take out the card soobin wrote for you on your birthday. “honey?” a mans voice was heard behind you and your entire body flenches then you stumble to shove it back in. “hi, i didn’t hear you come in, let’s get going so we’re not home too late.”

by his mannerisms and squinted eyes you could tell something was wrong, “oh no, what?” he chuckles at you and scratches the back of his neck, “they changed the party to our house, is that okay?”

you shrug gently, “yeah that’s fine, i’m glad i cleaned today.” he nods and gives you a kiss on the lips.

it’s never the same as what you once had, even in the bedroom, you try to kiss him harder and harder until you feel the way soobin made you feel.

the party dragged on with higher ups introducing you to their wives and you were basically forced to make small talk, which you were horrible at.

you poured yourself another glass of wine and see bang sihyuk walk in with a group of tall men following him. they all wore suits and your eyebrow raises when the back of the tallest man looked very familiar.

when reality set in, everyone turns to you because of the wine glass that was now by your feet. the only eyes you were focused on was choi soobin who was looking at you just as confused.

“honey, are you okay? what happened?” your concerned fiancé asks but you didn’t answer, walking over the broken glass, and to your bathroom.

the tears that poured from your eyes wasn’t because of the wine glass hitting your foot, or because you embarrassed yourself in front of hitman bang.

you never wanted to see those dimples in person again, flashbacks were hard enough to deal with, but now soobin is in your house.

you hear a silent knock on the door and instead of answering, you just unlock the door, assuming it was your fiancé.

“[Y/N]?…” the voice you longed to hear for years was now halfway in the bathroom and your small body was against the wall, with knees to your chest. “soobin?” you wipe your mascara smudged eyes and get a better look at him.

he steps in more and closes the door, “how have you been?” you sniffle and hide your face in between your knees, “how does it look?”

“i think you’ve done really nice for yourself actually, you have a beautiful home, and a fiancé that loves you.” soobin honestly answers and you shake your head.

“don’t you see? he didn’t even come check on me, only you did. he’s too busy with his guests. our love is transactional. i’ll have a rich husband, and he can have a pretty wife to show off at events.”

soobin sighs and looks down at the ground, noticing your foot bleeding from the wine bottle. “let me take care of that.” he kneels, and looks in the cabinets for a medical kit until he finds it.

“doss it hurt?” he whispers when he puts ointment on the wound and you shake your head, being numb by the love of your life infront of you. “why don’t you leave him if you’re so unhappy[Y/N]?”

you look up and bite your bottom lip softly, “do you want the truth?” he nods his head and finishes by putting a bandaid on your foot.

“because i will never find anyone like you again and i figured i might as well just settle.”

soobin rubs his forehead and sits on the ground in front of you. “you broke up with me… why did you break my heart if you feel this way?”

you shrug your shoulders and start crying again, “i guess i was just too young and blind. you were busy with training at the company and i thought i needed more attention. i wanted what we had in college, but now i realize i just want you.”

soobin stands up and reaches his hand out for you, “come on, let’s go, this party was boring anyway.” you grab his stretched hand and limp up, “where are we going?”

he smiles and shrugs, “as long as we’re together, i don’t really care.”

[lcvebuckley]

mornings with you

written for @bucktommyfluffebruary

prompt : day 5 - mundane chores | word count : 672 | rated : G

i'm back! i took a quick break hence i missed a few days but i will be catching up slowly,, i'm planning to post two (usually shorter) fics per day until i catch up to the daily prompt and hopefully get back on track before valentine's!

enjoy! ♡

Mornings used to be simple for Tommy. His alarm would go off, he'd roll out of bed, shower, brush his teeth, grab a protein bar, and head out. Efficient. Quiet. No distractions.

And then Evan happened.

Or in which Tommy's morning routine is not the same anymore.

full version below or read on ao3

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

Mornings used to be simple for Tommy. His alarm would go off, he'd roll out of bed, shower, brush his teeth, grab a protein bar, and head out. Efficient. Quiet. No distractions.  

And then Evan happened.  

Now, mornings were an entirely different experience. Starting with the fact that Tommy didn’t just wake up anymore. No, he was woken up—either by Evan draping himself over him like a human blanket, mumbling something about "five more minutes," or by Evan pressing half-asleep kisses to his shoulder, his face buried against Tommy’s neck. If the younger woke up before him (which wasn’t often), Tommy would find himself being watched, Evan grinning like he won the lottery.  

And then there was the bathroom situation. Tommy had been used to peaceful solo time, but Evan had no concept of personal space. If Tommy was brushing his teeth, he would squeeze in next to him, arms wrapped around Tommy’s waist from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. It was like trying to get ready with a very affectionate, overly large koala attached to him.  

“You’re making this very difficult,” Tommy would mutter, spitting into the sink. Evan, still clinging, would grin at him in the mirror. “You love it.”  

Tommy did love it. That was the problem.  

On some mornings, when Evan was extra groggy, he’d try to brush his teeth with his eyes half-closed, inevitably making a mess. Tommy would chuckle, bumping Evan’s shoulder just to mess with him—causing the younger to get toothpaste all over his cheek and waking him up almost immediately.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Evan would groan, while Tommy would try his best to bite down a laugh. Of course, Evan didn’t let that slide. He’d poke Tommy’s sides in revenge, their sleepy morning routine briefly devolving into laughter and playful shoves. Eventually, Tommy would sigh, grab a washcloth, and wipe the toothpaste off Evan’s cheek and chin while Evan smiled at him like an idiot.

Breakfast was another adjustment. Tommy used to be fine with a quick meal—just enough to get by. But Evan had decided that wasn’t acceptable. “We’re living together now, Tommy, you can’t just survive on caffeine and vibes.” So now, breakfast was a whole thing.

Sometimes it was eggs and toast, sometimes pancakes, sometimes just fruit and yogurt. Evan, being the better cook, usually took the lead, while Tommy handled the coffee. Except Evan insisted on being a distraction—hovering and wrapping his arms around the older’s waist as he poured their coffee, murmuring a sleepy, “Mmm, warm,” like Tommy was a damn space heater.  

“You do realize we have an actual heater, right?”  

“Yeah, but it’s not you.”  

And what was Tommy supposed to say to that? Absolutely nothing. He just shook his head and let Evan cling to him, because, well—he didn’t mind it. Not one bit.  

By the time they both had to leave for work, their routine ended the same way every morning: Evan stealing a kiss at the door, lingering for just a second too long, making Tommy roll his eyes playfully but also kissing him back just as much.

“Be safe,” Evan would say every time either of them had to leave for shift, and Tommy would do the same. It was something they’d said to each other from the very start of their relationship, a small reassurance in the face of their dangerous jobs. Having someone to come home to made all the difference.

Even on mornings they didn’t spend together due to different shifts, they found ways to keep the routine alive. A quick FaceTime, a “Good morning, handsome” text, a picture of breakfast even if they weren’t eating together. They love keeping each other company no matter how far apart they were and it was a quiet sort of intimacy, the kind Tommy never imagined he’d experience.

Yeah. Tommy’s mornings used to be quiet. Peaceful. Simple.  

Now they were warm, messy, and full of Evan.  

And he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

[squishyhotaru]

MY ELLIS

Ellis Twilight/Reader Fluff TW: Reader is drunk! Pronouns: You Words: 1724 Ao3 Mirror

⤷ for anon

MASTERLIST | REQUESTS

Ellis was very aware that you should have been home by now.

In fact, you should have been home long before he’d returned with Jude an hour ago after taking care of some extra business. He knew you were with Liam, Harry, and William on a mission, but from what he’d heard that morning before he’d gone to Raven to work for the day, the mission shouldn’t have taken long. 

It took all of his energy not to rush out and find where they’d gone. You would be safe with them, he told himself, and yet his nails dug into the palm of his hands as he clenched his fists tightly, trying desperately not to rush out of your shared room. Those three were reliable, William almost never failed, too – you would be safe.

No matter how many times he repeated the sentence to himself it didn’t calm his racing heart.

He tried to weigh the logic; if something was wrong one of them would have come back ahead of the others to warn Roger, but there was no sign of any of that. In fact, the castle was calmer that night than he’d seen it in a long time.

Sighing, Ellis sank down to sit on the edge of the bed. Your side. His hand brushed over the covers, trying to feel any lingering trace of warmth but when all he felt was cool fabric he found his shoulders drooping with disappointment. You’d be home soon. You’d be safe. You had to be. Afterall, how could he make you impossibly happy if you went and vanished or died on him?

Without realising, Ellis reached to the side to grab your pillow, bringing it against his chest in a tight hug and buried his face into the end of it. He inhaled deeply, your scent filling his senses and instantly calming him down, easing each tense muscle in his body. 

He missed you.

If Jude saw him right now he’d probably scold him for being pathetic and then grumble to himself about the ridiculousness of it, and yet Ellis knew he’d also be worrying about your safety and probably, far more discreetly than Ellis would, try to find anything he could about the situation.

Maybe he should just go and ask Victor.

Ellis shook his head.

If Victor knew something, he’d tell him… right?

“I need to-” Ellis murmured to himself, rising to his feet still clutching your pillow. Determined to find you, he took a few steps towards the bedroom door and, as he reached towards the handle, the distinct sound of your laughter filled his ears.

Instantly he felt relief flood through him.

Discarding the pillow onto the end of the bed, Ellis rushed out of the door and down to the foyer, his pace slowing as he found you being supported by a very put out looking Harry. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked as he approached.

“She’s unharmed,” William said smoothly, watching behind with an amused smile as Liam clung to him, his cheeks as rosy as your own. William let out a small chuckle as Liam whined and nuzzled him until he lifted his hand to pet his head. “Just had a few too many to drink.”

“Could you help, please?” Harry sighed, trying to shove you off him.

Ellis moved before Harry could even finish talking, unable to stand the sight of you clinging to him the way you were – but as your gaze turned to his, he froze, watching the huge smile take over your face. Your arms instantly dislodge from Harry, instead reaching out to Ellis as you take a few stumbled steps towards him. “Ellis!”

Ellis hurried forward to catch you before you could fall over, crushing you against his strong arms. You smelled like alcohol, and up close he could see how hazy your eyes seemed to be. “You went drinking after the mission….”

Harry shrugged absently, letting out a sigh as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Wasn’t a pleasant mission, it was only supposed to be one….”

“And then Liam got carried away,” William laughed. “And the little robin decided to join him, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

Sighing, Ellis hugged you tighter to him, placing a firm kiss on the top of your head. You were unharmed, drunk, but unharmed. 

“Ellis…” You say, letting out a small giggle as you hug your arms tighter around him. You rest your chin on his chest to look up at him. “There are two of you.”

“You drank so much,” he murmured. “Let’s get you up to bed.”

“Both of you?”

Ellis found himself thinking, a strange jealousy rising up in him at the thought. “Which Ellis do you want?”

“Which…? I can’t have both?” You asked with a slight pout. Ellis simply shook his head in response. “Mm… then I pick this one!” You announced, reaching your hand up to poke his cheek. “This Ellis! My Ellis!”

Well, you were certainly an open and affectionate drunk, he thought, watching as you cuddled up against him more. Not that he was complaining about it, if anything he was enjoying this a bit too much. 

It took him zero effort to help you up to your shared room, but getting you to sit still? Ellis found himself following you round the room as you picked up random objects that had been there for a while, but you seemed to find them interesting as though you’d never seen them before.

“Will you let me help you change into your sleeping clothes?” He asked softly. “It’ll be much more comfortable.”

“Do we have matching pajamas?” You ask, turning around too quickly, swaying from the momentum and reaching out to steady yourself against him.

“No…” Ellis trailed off, a strained look on his face as your expression slowly fell. “Would that make you happy?”

As you nod, your bottom lip stuck out into a pout, Ellis quickly racked his brain for any solution to the problem. He wouldn’t fit into any of your clothes, but–. Departing from your side for a mere moment, he quickly returned with another of his own shirts and held it up to you. “We can wear these, if that’s okay, and then tomorrow we can go buy matching ones.”

You nod, eyes lighting up before you hold your arms out. “Help!”

“Haha,” Ellis laughed, gently placing his shirt to the side before reaching his hands out to help you undress. There was something so innocent in how you entrusted yourself to him like this, nuzzling against him any time he would touch you as he helped you change, before instantly cuddling yourself against him. “You seem happy.”

“I am happy, I get to cuddle my Ellis.”

His arms wrapped around you tightly as he led you over to the bed. He liked the sound of that; your Ellis. He felt almost upset at himself for how much he liked this side of you. It wasn’t that you weren’t affectionate with him at other times, but you seemed so free or any shyness that held you back that as soon as something crossed your mind, you’d act it out without a second thought.

As evidenced when you reached up to kiss his cheek, let out a soft giggle, and then kissed the corner of his lip.

He wondered if that lack of inhibition would extend to other areas and paused. 

“How much do you love me…?” he asked quietly, not sure if you would hear it at all.

“So much,” you sighed softly, practically melting against him. “I don’t ever want to die because then I would lose days with you.”

“Oh,” Ellis murmured, his eyes widening slightly, before they crinkled into a smile as he let out a small laugh. “What would make you very happy right now?”

“A kiss.”

Ellis said nothing before he pressed his lips against yours, taking advantage of your mouth being open at the end of your words to slide his tongue into your mouth. To his surprise, he found you tasted nothing like the alcohol he thought you would – you tasted as sweet as usual, as addictive–

“Another one,” you half pout as he pulled back. “More. Ellis, please.”

Unable to resist the way you begged him, gripping his shirt to tug  him down, Ellis quickly kissed you again. This time making sure not to pull away until he felt your legs give out from your lack of breath. Then, when he was satisfied that all  your weight was being supported by him, he let himself fall back onto the bed, hugging you against him, draping a leg over you to keep you close to him.

“You… didn’t hug anyone else tonight, did you?”

“Absolutely not!” You half shout, absolutely outraged. “They were not my Ellis. Did you know my Ellis gives the best of hugs?”

“Oh?” he asked, stroking your hair as he slowly watches your eyes flutter shut, murmuring your explanation in a flurry of slurred speech before trailing off into soft snores. 

Ellis wondered if it was right for him to be so happy about this; about how you’d been unable to do anything but rely on him, and he wondered if he should wake you up and continue to ask you questions. He could ask you everything you wanted, everything you were always so reluctant to ask from him when you were sober.

Instead, Ellis held himself back, holding you against him as he watched you sleep. You’d probably have a terrible hangover tomorrow, and he found himself smiling as he thought of how he’d get to look after you. He could get you a small breakfast and something from Roger to help with the headache, run you a bath and wash your hair and back, take you to get some fresh air and some hot tea or coffee. 

As he clutched you firmer against his chest, Ellis found himself happier than he’d been in a while – he wondered, briefly, whether that was okay or not, but as you sighed his name in your sleep he felt his thoughts wash away from anything but how cute you were. Cuddled against him, wearing his shirt, a gentle smile on your face and his name on your lips as you slept.

[truefandemonium]

Haha I have no patience had to get this second part out. Enjoy! 🫰✨ @i-think-youre-a-work-of-art @heavenlyraindrops

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Princess and the Pills (pt 2/?)

Thanos x Fem!reader, angst, fluff, cuddling, literal sleeping together, slow burn, drug use, language, violence (its squid game come on) { pt. 1 }

*✨*✨*✨*

Sleep calls to you, it feels like from beyond a grave waiting for your body to finally lie down and shut your eyes forever.

But you settle for Thanos’s bunk as he beckons with an exaggerated wave, jogging the last few steps to meet you. “Hey, jagiya,” he greets you, his brows bouncing above his pitch black eyes. He’s still riding high on his last dose.

“… Am I still welcome with you guys?” you ask, full of angst that you know is spilling out and looking like a weakness to every other player here.

Thanos’ jaw drops. “Are you fucking JOKING?” he barks, making you wince. “Hell yeah!” He pumps one fist in the air and cheers, “Princess in the palace now, bitches! Woo!” He grabs your hand and tugs you after him, letting go to crawl into the bed and kick Nam-gyu hard in the spine.

“Ow, shit,” the younger man hisses, whirling. “What was that for?”

“Princess gets the bed,” Thanos growls, and the way they face off reminds you of two junkyard dogs fighting over scraps. “Off.”

Nam-gyu bristles before shoving off with a huff, settling back down on the steps and glowering at you as you replace him on the mattress. Across from Thanos, you sit with your knees up to your chest, mirroring his stance.

Something seems odd about him after he settles in, his eyes falling to a space far away and over your shoulder, gaze unfocused and honed in at the same time. His lips part slightly, his chest rising and falling a little too fast to be normal, and Nam-gyu finally pokes his arm, asking, “Hey bro, you good?”

Thanos doesn’t look at him, a heaviness in his eyes that makes you feel sick as he brushes the touch away. “M’fine,” he grunts, his fingers coming up to wipe at the dried blood littering his face.

“You sure?” Nam-gyu asks, his eyes wide and worried.

“Uh huh,” Thanos hums, his gaze falling again. Concern grips you, and you risk getting a bit closer, crawling over to reach him. He seems to finally break out of his stupor at your proximity, confusion clouding his face until you sit at his side and lean into his warmth, and the expression changes to pure surprise.

You’re thankful he doesn’t make a move on you, just content to sit together, the bliss of simple human contact in a cold, cold, terrifying world.

You fall asleep there, wondering what the next game will be. And which one of you will die first.

…

You awake before anyone else, to an incessant nuzzling against your neck, and you tense, eyes opening slowly and fearfully. But rather than what you expected, like the barrel of a gun or someone’s cold hand ready to choke you— you shift your head to blink down at the mop of purple hair tickling your chin.

Thanos has tucked his face into the crook of your neck at some point during the night, one arm slung over your torso as he snores softly against your skin. You suck in a careful breath, afraid that any movement may scare him off. Why let him stay here? I should boot him out of the bunk for his audacity…

But you don’t. You don’t want to. Instead, you stay perfectly still and close your eyes again, breathing slow and letting yourself bask in the warmth this man offers.

Until he snorts suddenly, a gentle little sound that leaves a huff of warm breath beneath your ear and he lifts his head lazily at the sound of music and the bright lights flashing on.

You pretend to be asleep, keeping still and eyes closed as he pulls his head back from your skin, retreating back from your body and removing his arm from your chest.

You don’t see the way his eyes well with longing before they flash with guilt, gaze lingering on your parted lips and sleeping form. The way his painted fingers hover for a moment over the soft rising and falling of your belly with each breath, the temptation to hold you starting to make him shake.

You stretch, then, opening your eyes again and Thanos turns quickly away, rubbing his face hard as Nam-gyu falls out of the bunk above you.

With a wail, he lands on his hip on the steps, back arching painfully as he lies there for a few seconds, Thanos bursting into raucous laughter.

“Fuck, bro! You okay?” he cackles as Nam-gyu moans.

You roll your eyes, not quite as concerned as you probably should be for your now so-called ‘teammate’, and scoot to the edge of the bunk, still trying to calm your heart from the earlier scare of finding Thanos nestled atop you.

Speaking of… you glance over to see him looking at Nam-gyu with a smirk, blinking sleep from his sparkly eyes and scratching at his neck, fingers dragging over the tattoo that disappears under his tracksuit.

You tamp down the warmth bubbling in your chest at the residual sensation of his arm across your body— the weight so palpable in your mind you can almost feel it if you close your eyes and try. But you don’t. You won’t.

“What happened?” you ask the man still lying on the metal steps, his body now curled in on itself.

“Mmph— fuck off,” Nam-gyu mewls, and Thanos kicks him lightly in the butt, his brows pulling down as his lips purse.

“Hey, Princess asked you a question, dick-head, chill out,” he grits out, and Nam-gyu sits up to cower away from Thanos’ foot.

“Whatever,” the boy scoffs, his tired face set in a scowl. “I move a lot when I sleep, bitch, they should have guard rails on these things.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh in disbelief. “They do.”

Thanos and Nam-gyu simultaneously look up to see you’re in fact correct, and Thanos practically screams, “You DUMBASS!”

“Just shut up,” Nam-gyu mutters, hiding his face in his sleeve-covered hands. You yield, but not before sharing a look of amusement with Thanos that makes you blush.

That morning you get no meal, only left to fend for yourself (sit around) until you’re summoned by the prophet (that psycho 456) with new orders and warnings for the upcoming game.

“Pick triangle?” Thanos is scoffing, his eyes clouded in a way that makes your skin prickle with unease. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Dalgona,” 456 repeats in a growl, his brow furrowed and gaze dark as he catches Thanos’ comment. “It’s going to be hard no matter what, but triangle is the easiest shape, I promise.”

Thanos shifts his weight from foot to foot, clearing his throat hard and not meeting your eye as he crosses his arms. You narrow your eyes in confusion and move until you’re in front of him.

“Hey, what’s up?” you ask him discreetly, not missing the way Nam-gyu sidles up to listen in.

Thanos sniffs, jutting his chin upward, his eyes flicking hesitantly to yours and away again as if he’s afraid you’ll see something there if you look for too long.

“Nothin’,” he lies blatantly, the fear obvious in his clenched fists hidden under his arms. “Just sounds like a stupid shit game.”

“What?” Nam-gyu chuckles, approaching from behind and brushing his arm against Thanos, who pulls away. “Never had dalgona before?” He wrinkles his nose in a way that makes you want to punch it, and you hope that his fall from the top bunk left a mark.

Thanos growls, lip curling as he bares his teeth like a dog and whirls. “No, and so fucking what?” Thanos hisses, uncrossing his arms to shove Nam-gyu hard in the forehead with two fingers. “Babies suck on dalgona, bitch.”

Nam-gyu glares, blinking rapidly and backing up. “Fuck, I was just asking, dude.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Thanos says with a shake of his head.

You step a little closer and watch Thanos’s eyes widen, falling first on your body and then your face, his pale cheeks suddenly dusted in a soft pink. “Hey,” you whisper, shooting a glower so dark in Nam-gyu’s direction he takes another step back. “Don’t worry about this, you’re gonna do fine. A lot of kids never had dalgona…”

He

It’s a lie and you know it— it’s such an age old tradition you’re thoroughly shocked that he’s never tried it. Thanos just clenches his jaw, eyes flickering fearfully, something deep in his gaze that tells you it’s been there for a long, long time.

“Yeah, my dad never let me play it with my friends,” he says, grimacing as if it’s more of an annoying memory than a tragic one. “Dumb drunk said it’d kill me, he didn’t even want it in the house.” His eyes narrow as he jerks a finger at 456. “Talked like this guy, too. Come home after drinking to tell us they were watchin’ him, ‘put bugs in his head.’” Thanos snorts and shakes his head again, closing his eyes gently for a second and making your stomach twist. “Crazy bastard.”

You feel a twinge of something — a wondering that lingers for a second before flitting away.

As you’re all led to the next game, Thanos’ hand finds your tracksuit pants pocket, finger slipping inside to cling as the two of you walk side by side up the narrow stairway. It’s a small comfort; knowing he’s there. Knowing that if he goes down, you will too.

[uracutieraka]

Nobody noticed

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

No one tried

To read my eyes

No one but you

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Keigo Takami x f!reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Tw: angsty, friends to lovers.

Synopsis; SPOILERS FOR S7 UNDER CUT

After Keigo loses his quirk, he falls in a dark spot mentally. As his best friend, it's obviously your job to help him out of that low point.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

"Keigo?" You call out, his apartment is cold and dark. Beer cans and other miscellaneous pieces of trash are scattered about. You sigh and lazily kick your shoes off, dropping your purse and keys on the floor beside them.

You flip the light switch in his hallway on and call out for him again.

"What?" A deep voice calls back, slurring the word. You roll your eyes and finish walking towards the closed door of his bathroom. You push the door open and scoff at him. He's laying in his underwear on the floor. Empty bottles around him.

"You've been drinking? In the bathroom?"

He now looks up at you and rolls his eyes as he turns away from you, sulking on his floor. You don't miss the way his under eyes are dark red. You huff and lay down on his bathroom floor with him, acting as big spoon.

Your face is smooshed up against his back.

"Y'know you're the only person who I'd lay on a bathroom floor with, right?" A moment of silence goes by and you feel him inhale deeply before exhaling.

"Yeah. I know."

"And you know I love you, so, so, sooooo, much?"

"And I you." His voice is quiet and strained. You feel a pang of sadness strike through your chest.

"But, can we not lay on your dirty bathroom floor?"

He grumbles out something along the lines of needing to shower and you unwrap yourself from him and stand up, moving around his restroom.

He watches you with lidded eyes as you turn on the shower for him.

1,2,3, turns to the right.

1,2,3,4, turns to the left.

You stand over him and put a hand out. He stares at you for a moment but you wiggle your fingers and he sighs wile grabbing your hand.

You both groan as you pull him up, he chuckles a bit at how dramatic you are.

You put your hand under the water to check the temperature. His gaze lingers on the way your hair is falling out of the bun you had probably thrown it in before you got on the train here, like you normally do. He was always fascinated with the way you seemed to effortlessly twist your hair around and tie it up.

"The waters just how you like it," You say, turning back to him as you dry your hand off with his towel that's hung up next to the shower. "I'll be on the couch." You move past him but hhis hand tugs the back of your work shirt. You turn to face him.

"Just," His eyes meet yours and you can feel the sadness in them throughout your whole body. "turn around so I can get in really quick."

This wasn't an abnormal request, from either of you. You two had known each other since you were 8, so sitting in the bathroom with one another was a regular occurrence.

You nod and turn to face the door, closing your eyes just to make sure you didn't see anything extra.

You listen as the metal of the curtain rod gets scraped by the curtain rings and turn around once it stops. Your eyes make out his figure through the sheer fabric of his curtain. You turn towards his mirror, wiping away the condensation and looking at your disheveled appearance. Rubbing your hands over your face before redoing your hair.

"Keigo." he hums back as a response. "Are you gonna be okay?"

The sound of the water fills your ears, then the squeak of him turning the knobs to cut the water off.

You quickly move to hand him his towel and he thanks you.

You watch as he pulls the curtain open, now looking at you.

"I'm gonna be fine Y/n." He now steps out of the shower, kicking the empty glass bottle in the process.

"Okay but is this like, 'I'm only saying this to shut you up' fine or fine fine?"

He rolls his eyes at you as he uses his body to shove you out of the way of his sink. He reaches out for his toothbrush and fumbles with the cap of his toothpaste.

"No, like, I'm fine. Right now." He doesn't give you a chance to continue the conversation because he shoves the toothbrush in his mouth and looks down at the sink. You watch as he blankly stares at the white marble. Your brows furrowed in thought.

He spits out the foam and rinses his toothbrush, when he's done he rushes past you and flings the door open so quick it makes you jump a it. He disappears, presumably into his bedroom to find clothes.

You stare at the empty doorway. Contemplating following him. Your lip is raw from where you'd been chewing at it all day long, a habit you developed at some point in your teenage years, when Keigo started going on real solo missions.

You push off the counter top and walk out to his hallway, looking into his dark bedroom. You scoff and walk in, turning the light on.

His back muscles ripple while he digs in his drawers for a shirt. Sweatpants hung low on his hips. Your lips are pulled tightly together now. He turns to look back at you, quickly throwing I head over his shoulder.

"I promise. I'm fine."

You let out your nth sigh of the evening and walk over to him, palms laying flat over his back as you run your hands up, over his shoulder blades. He shivers under the touch and you feel tears prick your eyes.

"I'm not.," Your voice is shaky and it causes him to try and turn around quickly, though you stop him by grabbing his shoulders and turning him back around. "I never used to be able to do this. It's weird." Your fingers now gently trace where his wings used to be. The skin is so smooth, it's as if they were never there.

"Yeah. It is weird." His voice cracks and you allow your hands to wrap around his waist, yet again pulling yourself flush with his back. His hands come up to hold your arms.

"I wish it was me and not you." It was true, you hardly ever used your quirk anymore, despite the endless training you endured as a kid. It was almost as if you didn't even have one now.

"Don't say that." His voice is low as he speaks. You can feel the vibrations of his words due to your close proximity to him.

"I don't even use it anymore."

He now peels your arms off him and turns to face you, hands cupping your face as a solemn smile sits on his lips. His hands drop from your face to your shoulders, rubbing down your arms and back up them.

"I am fine. It's just hard to adjust s'all." His hands come back up to your face, thumbs rubbing slow circles on the apples of your cheekbones. You melt into the touch, your own hands coming up to cup the ones on your face.

"Just promise you're not gonna do anything stupid?" You have wide eyes as you look at him, he swears he might melt into the creaky floorboards of his run down apartment.

"Never," he shakes his head left and right, left and right. "Never, ever."

You giggle at his vigorous head shaking, ands words.

"I said promise." You stick your hand in his face, its balled up in a fist, excluding your pinky which stuck out towards him. He takes his hands off your face and you momentarily frown at the loss of contact.

"Okay, I promise." He threads his finger with yours, pulling your hand into his chest, then the rest of you. You lean into the familiar warmth and hum in delight.

"Good. I'd probably die without you." He squeezes you tighter at your words. Grunting something about how you're unfair.

You begin bickering with him about how it's not unfair to think that way, but there's no malicious intent between the two of you.

He pokes at your sides and you shriek, poorly attempting to push out of his hold before he starts tickling you, but you fail and he launches a full blown attack.

You're screaming and laughing, trying to run from him, but he's stronger and faster than you are. He picks you up and WWE style, slams you on to his bed.

"Oh, you are so dead Keigo." Your voice is stern but the smile on your face gives your true intentions away.

He quirks up his eyebrow at you mockingly.

"Try me." You shoot back a similar look and that when he pounces. Tackling you back on to the bed. Laughs rumble from both of your chests. You struggle out of his grasp, head falling into his pillows. He follows you, crawling completely over you.

You both are coming down from laughing, giggles escaping the both of you.

He's fully over you and his eyes are baring into yours. It's like you two had an unspoken conversation, which you both quickly learned you did a lot, and others thought it was creepy. You two were always quick to find each others eyes, unspoken words always exchanged. This time though, this conversation was serious. Something that couldn't be put into words.

It was automatic for you, like your brain switched off. Your hands cupped his face and pulled him to you. He shudders when he feels your warm breath on his lips. Your eyes flicker down to his then back up to his golden eyes, asking a silent question.

He nods, up and down, its such a slight movement that if you didn't have your hands on the side of his face you probably wouldn't even know he did it.

You close the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips against his so quick that when you pull away, he chases after you. He doesn't get the chance to fully open his eyes again because you pull him back in.

The kiss starts off slow and languid, but soon becomes fervent. Teeth clashing together, tongues fighting one another's. Eventually you pull away for air. Giggling when he pouts.

"Y/n."

"Ooo, your serious voice."

He sits back, and you push up onto your elbows. He wipes his hands on his sweats and your brows knit together.

"Y/n, uhm, look, I've done a lot of thinking lately, and I mean a lot.," he lets out a gust of air and looks down at his lap before looking back at you. "I love you."

You feel your heartbeat quicken at his words, they weren't abnormal to hear, but this was different. He goes to say something else but you cut him off.

"I love you too." You sit up, folding your legs underneath you to lean back over to him, yet again closing the distance.

He kisses back but pulls away after a moment.

"Like, love me love me?" He looks like a kid in a candy store.

You nod, just as eager as him.

"Like, love you love you."

He harshly pushes his lips back on yours and you fall back a bit with a grunt. He crawls back over you and you fall flat on your back again. He kisses all over the side of your face and you giggle when he leaves light kisses on yours ear.

“Kei- stop! That tickles!” You shiver when he chuckles lowly at your resistance. Ignoring you and continuing his actions.

Yeah Keigo Takami was definitely going to be okay.

Playlist

[darkintothedawn]

RUNWAY FEVER || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x female reader

Summary — The runway can't be that bad, right? Not when you've got Stiles hyping you up and a goddess telling you she's jealous of your relationship with Stiles. It's going to be fine. Maybe a little more than fine.

Memo — This is the first of the two stiles x fem reader fics I've got planned. Hope you enjoy this, guys! Also, I'm posting this now because day nine of The Boyfriend Code is going to be a little late ;;;;;;

Word Count — 3013

Warnings — Fluff. Suggestive comment. A single dirty joke. Completely head over heels, obsessed Stiles.

Backstage at the runway show is pure chaos. Models rush past, some still adjusting their heels, while stylists and designers scramble to make last-minute changes to outfits. Makeup artists hover around with brushes in hand, dabbing, fixing, perfecting. The air is thick with hairspray and anticipation, a mix of nerves and adrenaline buzzing through everyone.

But the only thing on your mind is him.

Stiles stands a few feet away, leaning against a clothing rack stacked with designer dresses that cost more than his Jeep. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans, but there’s no disguising the way his gaze is locked onto you—hungry, intense, devouring.

His hazel eyes track your every movement as you adjust your dress, a stunning, high-slit masterpiece with a plunging neckline that leaves little to the imagination. You feel powerful in it, like you belong here, about to walk the runway in front of hundreds of people. But damn, does Stiles make you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

“Babe.” His voice is rough, low, practically strangled. You meet his gaze in the mirror, and the second your eyes connect, he runs a hand down his face like he needs a second to collect himself. “Holy shit.”

You smirk, turning toward him slightly, shifting just enough so the slit in your dress reveals even more of your thigh. His jaw visibly tightens.

“You like it?” you tease, voice light but sultry.

His lips part like he wants to say something—probably something witty, something Stiles-like—but all that comes out is a quiet, strangled noise. His eyes drop, dragging over every inch of you, and then, for the third time since you came out of the dressing room, he shifts on his feet and readjusts himself.

Not discreetly. At all.

You fold your arms, amusement flickering in your expression. “Are you—?”

His head snaps up like a deer caught in headlights. “What?”

You bite your lip, fighting the grin threatening to spread across your face. “Stiles.”

“What?” he repeats, like he has no idea what you’re insinuating, even though the heat creeping up his neck betrays him.

“You’ve adjusted yourself like five times.”

He groans dramatically, dragging a hand down his face before gesturing at you like you’re the one at fault. “Yeah, well, maybe if my ridiculously hot girlfriend wasn’t out here looking like a literal goddess, I wouldn’t have this problem!”

You raise a brow. “Oh, so it’s my fault?”

“Absolutely your fault.” His voice is firm, but his expression is wild, his hands flailing in frustration. “I mean, do you see yourself? I should be suing this designer for emotional distress. I’m barely keeping it together over here.”

A laugh bursts from you, the nervous energy from the upcoming show melting under his ridiculousness. He always does this—grounds you, makes everything feel right. “You’re so dramatic.”

“No, I’m suffering.” His voice drops into something deeper, and before you can react, he’s in front of you, hands sliding around your waist, pulling you in just enough that you feel the heat radiating from him. His breath is warm against your lips as he murmurs, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your heart stutters, and suddenly, the bustling backstage disappears for just a moment. The music in the distance dulls, the frantic chatter of models and designers fades, and all that’s left is him—his warmth, his presence, the way his fingers flex against the fabric of your dress like he’s barely resisting the urge to press you closer.

Your smirk softens, your hands resting against his chest as you whisper, “Oh, I have an idea.”

Before he can respond, someone brushes past with a very pointed, “Not the time, Stilinski.”

Stiles groans, tilting his head back dramatically, but he doesn’t step away, just loosens his grip enough to let out a frustrated exhale. “Okay, but after the show—”

“You’ll wait like a good boyfriend,” you interrupt, grinning as you tap a finger against his chin.

His eyes darken, his hands flexing against your waist again like he’s imagining a million different ways to make you pay for this later. “Babe, you’re killing me.”

You step back, adjusting your dress as the stagehand waves for you to get in line. But just before you turn away, you glance at him over your shoulder and wink.

“Good.”

The air backstage is thick with anticipation, a humming mixture of adrenaline, nerves, and controlled chaos. The bass of the runway music vibrates through the floor, and the chatter of stylists, designers, and models is a constant buzz around you. It’s almost time.

You take your place in the lineup, stepping behind one of the other models, and immediately feel your stomach do a weird little flip. Because the girl in front of you?

She’s stunning.

Like, next-level, out-of-this-world, sculpted-by-the-gods beautiful. She has that effortless, intimidating beauty that makes heads turn without her even trying—long, elegant limbs, perfect bone structure, and skin that looks airbrushed in real life. And while you know you belong here, standing next to her makes a tiny flicker of self-doubt creep in.

She catches you looking and offers a warm, knowing smile. “You okay?”

You snap out of it, forcing a small laugh. “Yeah, just pre-show nerves.”

She hums, nodding in understanding as she shifts slightly, checking her posture in the nearby mirror. “Yeah, I get that. This part is always the worst.” She glances past you for a split second, then her lips curve into something playful. “But, honestly? I’d kill to have a boyfriend looking at me the way yours is looking at you right now.”

Your brows lift slightly, and instinctively, you glance over your shoulder.

And sure enough—there he is.

Stiles is still exactly where you left him, leaning against a rack of expensive designer pieces like he’s trying to play it cool, but failing miserably. His arms are crossed over his chest now, but his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and his eyes haven’t left you once. He looks like a man barely holding it together, like he’s physically restraining himself from marching over and claiming you in front of everyone.

Your heart does a weird little flutter at the intensity of it.

The model in front of you smirks, crossing her arms. “Yeah, see? That’s the look of a man who’s two seconds away from storming back here and hauling you over his shoulder.” She tilts her head slightly, observing. “And I don’t mean in a controlling way. I mean in a he’s literally in physical agony having to watch you and not touch you kind of way.”

The ego boost hits.

This woman—this goddess—who could have anyone in the world, is jealous of you? Of the way Stiles looks at you like you hung the moon? The way he’s so visibly obsessed with you that it’s noticeable to other people?

Yeah. Yeah, that feels really good.

You bite your lip, trying so hard not to grin like an idiot. “Yeah, he’s, uh… persistent.”

She lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Understatement of the year. I bet he’s counting down the seconds until you’re off that stage.”

You steal another glance at Stiles, and just like that, he shifts—his fingers drumming against his biceps, his foot tapping slightly like he’s forcing himself to stay put. And when you move slightly, your dress shifting just enough to reveal more skin, you swear you see him mouth holy shit under his breath.

Your stomach flutters, and suddenly, the nerves about walking the runway don’t feel as overwhelming anymore.

But before you can respond, someone shushes the two of you, snapping your attention forward.

The first model moves around the corner, stepping onto the runway with effortless grace. The energy shifts instantly, the chatter quieting as everyone watches.

The show has officially begun.

The moment the first model steps onto the runway, time seems to shift.

You stand tall, trying to steady your breathing as the lineup slowly moves forward. The music thrums through your chest, deep and rhythmic, matching the precise pace of the models walking ahead of you. One goes, then another.

You’re fifth in line.

You watch the model in front of you disappear around the corner, stepping into the blinding runway lights. The crowd’s reaction is muffled from here, the sound barely cutting through the heavy bass of the music and the distant clicking of cameras.

Fourth in line.

Your fingers twitch slightly at your sides, the nervous energy starting to build again. You take a breath, lifting your chin like the stylists taught you, rolling your shoulders back.

Third in line.

You shake out your hands once, exhaling slowly. The girl in front of you is poised, relaxed, like she’s done this a hundred times before. Maybe she has. But to you, it all feels surreal.

Second in line.

Your heart beats a little faster. One more. Just one more.

Then suddenly—it’s you.

You step around the corner, and the world erupts.

The lights are blinding. The flashes go off in rapid succession, the music pulses through your body, and the moment your foot touches the glossy runway, everything else melts away.

The cameras. The people. The nerves.

All that exists is the rhythm—the smooth, practiced movements of your walk, the way your dress flows effortlessly with each step, the subtle shift of your body as you pause at the end of the runway. Pose. Hold. Turn.

It’s all muscle memory.

A blur of white lights, shifting shadows, blurred faces in the audience. Somewhere, you know Stiles is watching, but you don’t dare break focus to find him. Instead, you keep your expression sharp, confident, the way you’ve practiced a thousand times.

Before you even process it, it’s over.

You step back into the wings, the sounds dulling instantly as the thick curtains swallow you whole. The shift from the runway to backstage is like stepping out of a dream and straight into reality again.

And just like that, you’re standing next to her again.

The stunning model from earlier, the one who made you doubt yourself for even a second, is standing there like nothing just happened, like the two of you weren’t just parading in front of an entire crowd.

You exhale, shaking out your hands.

She glances at you, tilting her head slightly. “See? Told you it’d be fine.”

You huff a soft laugh, the adrenaline still thrumming under your skin. “Yeah. It all just… blurred together.”

She nods, like she knows exactly what you mean. “It always does. The nerves before, the rush during… and now we just stand here and pretend like we didn’t just walk in front of hundreds of people.”

You snort, and just like that, the tension melts. The two of you fall into easy conversation, the chaos of the show still raging around you, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

It’s done. You did it.

And somewhere in the crowd, Stiles is definitely still struggling to pick his jaw up off the floor.

You shake your hands out again, the last bits of adrenaline still tingling under your skin. The whole thing happened so fast it barely feels real, but here you are—backstage, done, standing next to the stunning model from before like you didn’t just walk in front of hundreds of people.

She eyes you with a knowing smirk, arms crossed. “You crushed it.”

You huff a small laugh, still catching your breath. “I barely remember any of it.”

She grins. “That’s how you know you did it right. It’s all muscle memory—one second you’re waiting in line, the next you’re back here like nothing happened.”

You nod, still processing. “Yeah, that was… insane.”

She studies you for a beat, then smirks. “So, tell me. Are we taking bets on how long your boyfriend lasts before he’s on you like a man possessed?”

Your cheeks heat instantly. “Oh my God.”

“I’m serious.” She gestures toward the direction where he’s waiting. “He’s either about to drag you out of here or spend the next ten minutes hyping you up so hard you’ll be floating for days.”

You bite back a grin, because honestly? She’s not wrong.

Before you can respond, one of the assistants appears, clapping her hands. “Alright, let’s go, let’s go—get changed, and if you have any finale outfits, be ready in ten.”

You give the model a quick smile before getting ushered toward the changing area. As you step inside, you glance down at your dress, running your fingers over the fabric.

God, it’s perfect.

For a brief moment, you seriously consider begging them to let you keep it. Maybe even buy it if you have to. Then you check the designer tag and nearly laugh at yourself—yeah, not happening. This dress probably costs more than your rent.

With a reluctant sigh, you slip out of it and change back into your own clothes, handing the dress off to one of the assistants.

Then, with a deep breath, you make your way through the bustling backstage, weaving past crew members and models, until you finally reach the section where Stiles is waiting.

And the second he sees you?

Yeah, you’re in for it.

The moment Stiles spots you, his entire face lights up.

Like, full-on cartoon heart eyes, jaw practically on the floor, body vibrating with excitement kind of reaction. His arms drop from where they were crossed over his chest, his mouth opens, closes, then opens again, like his brain is short-circuiting trying to find the words.

Then, just as you reach him—

“Oh my God, babe.”

It starts immediately.

He grabs your hands, eyes wild, voice bursting with so much enthusiasm that a few people actually glance over in amusement. “Are you kidding me? Are you literally kidding me right now?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Uh—”

“You were insane!” he barrels on, shaking your hands for emphasis. “Like, top-tier, next-level, shut-the-whole-runway-down level insane. I blacked out! I think I actually blacked out!”

You let out a breathy laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. “Stiles—”

“No, don’t Stiles me, because I need you to understand that I was not okay watching that,” he continues, throwing a hand over his heart dramatically. “I almost had to be escorted out, okay? Security probably had an eye on me because I was looking at you like a deranged fanboy—which, by the way, I am—but holy shit, baby.”

You bite your lip, fighting a massive grin.

“I mean, the walk? The look? The way that dress moved with your body? I almost died on the spot. I think I did die at one point, actually.” He presses a hand to his forehead, shaking his head like he’s still trying to recover. “I saw the light, babe.”

You lose it, laughter spilling from you as you squeeze his hands. “Stiles, you’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m being realistic,” he counters, pulling you closer. “Do you even realize how insane you looked? How freaking sexy you were up there?”

Your cheeks heat instantly, and Stiles sees it, grinning so big you think his face might split in half.

“And don’t even get me started on how unfair it was that I had to sit there, in public, watching you be all hot and powerful and confident—knowing I couldn’t touch you? Couldn’t grab you and kiss you senseless? Torture. Actual, physical torture.”

You giggle, shaking your head. “You’re so dramatic.”

He gasps, offended. “Excuse me, I am being so serious right now.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is so full you feel like you might float away.

Stiles softens slightly, squeezing your waist. “I mean it, babe. You were incredible. And I know I joke around a lot, but seeing you up there? Owning it? Being everything I already know you are? I was just… so damn proud.”

Your breath catches, and for a second, it’s hard to find words.

So instead, you just cup his face and pull him in for a long, lingering kiss—one that’s filled with everything you’re feeling but can’t quite say.

When you finally pull back, Stiles blinks at you, dazed, then exhales a dreamy sigh. “Yeah. Okay. That helped.”

You snicker, resting your forehead against his. “Good.”

He grins, eyes shining. “So, uh… how do we steal that dress?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you smack his arm. “We are not stealing the dress, criminal.”

Stiles gasps, hand flying to his chest. “Criminal? Wow. Hurtful.”

Ignoring his dramatics, you grab his hand and start pulling him toward the exit, your body still buzzing from the post-show adrenaline and his nonstop praise. “Come on, let’s go. Where’s my favorite girl?”

Stiles groans, dragging his feet slightly. “Ugh, here we go.”

You glance back, raising a brow. “What?”

“You mean Roscoe, don’t you?” He gives you a deadpan look, but his lips are twitching. “You just rocked a runway, looked like an actual goddess, and the first thing you ask about is my Jeep?”

You smirk, squeezing his hand. “Well, you did say I looked insanely sexy. I figure I should reward myself with some quality time with my second favorite ride.”

Stiles chokes, tripping over his own feet. “Oh my God.”

You just giggle, tugging him along as he stares at you, wide-eyed, like he can’t believe what just came out of your mouth.

Finally, he shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “Unbelievable. I have to compete with my own car for my girlfriend’s attention.”

You glance at him with a playful grin, voice dropping just enough to be suggestive. “Maybe you should remind me why you should be first on my list, then.”

Stiles stares at you for a solid three seconds before groaning dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “Babe, you are killing me.”

You just laugh, swinging your joined hands as you step outside, feeling on top of the world.

[kamorth]

Just as an intro, yes this post reads VERY white. Unfortunately a lot of recent history is only accessible through white lenses and as I myself am about as white as it is possible to be, I don't have another viewpoint that I can write from with any kind of authority. My lack of experience does not negate anyone else's experiences or views.

In the 80s, being punk was how you showed disdain for conformity. NO, I DON'T Want to be Like You THE WOLRD IS SHITTY AND I AM ANGRY. They were the trash that you warned your kids to stay away from because they were dangerous and violent.

Grunge quickly followed suit with Yeah the world is shitty why do what the boring conformist bougies tell you when you can just do your own thing over here instead. They were the trash you hoped your kids got sick of but the worst parents ever suspected of them was maybe a bit of weed and some clumsy make outs, not that big a deal.

In the late 90s (my teens) it was goths. We are so sick of you and your church and shoving it down my throat with pushing for prayer in schools and Christian Pop Rock all over the billboard top 40. That kid is a witch now and You JUST Don't Get It. Depression is my baseline and the idea of being like you is the cause. We were the trash that were just indulging in a phase and would grow out of it, so we could be humored but mostly ignored (unless your parents were hard core Bible bashers, in which case you would get sent to something akin to conversion therapy - since you were also probably Queer it often was just outright conversion therapy).

Then the emos showed up and people started getting annoyed, partly because suddenly there were goths that you COULDN'T ignore for two reasons, they were LOUD about being sad and THERE WERE SO MANY OF THEM. Since they couldn't be ignored out of existence, the Western world decided to collectively bully them instead. They were the trash that was Just So Damn Cringe!

And now poverty is skyrocketing. Homelessness is a plague that has struck so many people who have committed no crime outside of bad luck. Actual fascists are in positions of power. Planned obsolescence and decades of lobbying by the oil industry in favour of petrol and plastics is destroying everything beautiful about this planet.

And Punk is back. Be ANGRY at your politicians who don't listen. Let your anger be heard so that they know you will not accept these ideas. Grunge is back. It doesn't have to be new, it just has to be functional. Work together to make a community you WANT to live in. Goth is back. Mourn for the world we were promised but never saw. Learn about belief systems that are different to the one you were raised in, ESPECIALLY if doing so pisses off your parents. Emo is back. Fuck haters. Cringe is dead. Being comfortable in your own skin means being allowed to do what YOU want, not having to exist for the benefit of someone else.

Before us it was hippies and beatniks and flappers and dadaists and before them there were the coffee shop philosophers and the point is there have ALWAYS been people who want the world to see its own flaws and fix them. I know other cultures had the same sorts of groups, like the Japanese Subekan gangs (who created the original lolita fashion trend as a way to take femininity back from being sexualized) and Islamic Sufism (an Islamic sect who practice things forbidden by stricter groups, such as singing and dancing) but I'm an armchair scholar, not an expert.

When society is broken, our numbers surge.

We are surging.

Society needs us.

[yangzhouman]

CLOUD STRIFE and the YAOI IDENTITY

[note: this is my slightly-edited submission to yaoi zine vol. 1: what was the yaoi that changed your life? organised by our beloved @tshirt3000. it’s 81 pages of nostalgia, poignancy, and really fucking amazing creativity, all about yaoi. i wrote about FF7, and the zine ranges from arthurian legend to currently-publishing webtoons and all the way back. it’s a real labour of love! and it kicks ass! please check it out here!]

what’s gayer than absorbing the identity of another man? doing it twice. i’m talking about cloud strife from FFVII, a yaoi icon who has carried fujoshi gamers on his shoulders for nearly three decades. i owe everything to him, and i’m sure my highschool friends wish his pointy polygon form hadn’t plagued my mind for all these years. sorry girls.

pretty much everything about cloud is yaoi, from his design to his character to his story. did you know the designers deliberately made him “less masculine” so that he could better rival sephiroth? direct quote. until this week, i didn’t — he was meant to have smooth black hair, but was given his defining blond spikes instead. sephiroth, with his long hair and his long sword, exists in deliberate, calculated comparison. it’s easy pickings for people looking for yaoi in a classic contrasting uke/seme dynamic.

but the previous design of smooth black hair and less ambiguous masculinity, now a contrast to cloud, still exists. it went to zack fair, who is notable as the first man that cloud absorbs. he’s the origin of it all in the truest sense: let’s begin with him. 

ZACK FAIR

the most important thing about zack is that he’s dead. it gets weird from here, because every time we see cloud, we see zack — in this sense, he is entirely defined by his connection to cloud, and by how cloud keeps makes space for him even when he really, really shouldn’t.

see, cloud believes he is zack. this is psychological and somatic: for a long time, cloud thinks that he is a soldier working for the megacorporation that runs the planet. but he isn’t. this identity actually belongs to zack fair, who truly was a soldier, and who died protecting cloud from that megacorporation. 

zack died for cloud. cloud becomes zack. this confusion of identity is borne both as a trauma defence and a grief response: cloud believes he is zack so thoroughly that he forgets zack exists, thereby removing that horrific memory from his mind while paradoxically ensuring that his friend is not lost forever. zack is safe within cloud. here he cannot be hurt. 

and cloud’s absorption of zack is total, taking on his mannerisms, his sword, even his skills and relationships. his style of fighting, his attitude to the world — everything. in doing so, zack fair lives on; it’s not zack who died, not if he is standing right here in a different skin.

i struggle to think of something more yaoi than subsuming another man into your being, other than gay sex. nothing says that zack and cloud don’t have gay sex, but it’s unlikely, as cloud is catatonic for a long time — it’s the reason why zack dies, protecting his vulnerable friend. the lack of physicality between zack and cloud works nicely though. there’s a desperation around cloud’s actions here, an unreasonable response to grief/loss/love that speaks of unfulfillment. zack and cloud’s relationship is all about uncrossable distances, and reaching across anyway. there is little response between the two: they can never reply to each other, only assume permission and act in the way they think the other would want. the other’s existence becomes cerebral, established in thought-space rather than physical-space. and the result is a loneliness so desperate it destroys. zack was as lonely as cloud; zack mythologised cloud too, dreaming of delivering him to safety so intensely that he gave his life to this fantasy.

cloud feels immense shame about his inability to save zack, and later on when he realises what he has done, shame about how he has treated zack’s memory. but i think there’s something here about cloud’s respect and love for someone who took care of him. zack is physically and emotionally stronger, openly affectionate and protective. by taking zack on as a mantle, cloud stays safe. by becoming his own protector, cloud embodies zack more truly than zack himself could manage. he understands what it is that zack truly dreamed of, and gives him another chance to be a hero. 

what i’m saying is: cloud did what zack wanted, though maybe in a more extreme form than he had imagined. i don’t even need the authorial stamp of approval, but i have it anyway — in the movie sequel ADVENT CHILDREN, zack appears in ghost form to support a struggling cloud. and his support is simply to ask cloud to repeat the final words that zack ever said to him, knowing that cloud will understand: “you’ll be my living legacy”. 

these words are imprinted on cloud’s yaoi identity. zack totally meant it as a wish for cloud to survive, but i love the weight of burden here: it sounds like something an overbearing parent would say. cloud subconsciously shapes himself around it. and i can’t ignore how it calls to trauma theory of living legacies, too, though i’m sure square enix didn’t mean to express the theory so textually. here trauma is not solely marked by scars, but by the emotions and behaviours that a person experiences afterwards, which grow and take life of their own. it’s about carrying your trauma around with you, and having it change you physically. as janina fisher tells us, trauma manifests in a person’s life beyond the event as “fear, shame, anger … startling, impulses to run or hide or fight, even against one’s own body”. zack had carried cloud’s body around with him, and the weight of it encouraged him onward to his death; cloud truly was his living legacy in that sense. but zack positions himself as cloud’s living legacy, which cloud’s body must carry not as a physical weight, but as emotion and behaviour that cloud cannot help but follow through. this kind of intense doubling-back and doubling-down is the kind of stuff that makes fujoshis crazy, by the way.

this fucked me up for years. i have always loved stories where important characters are already dead: it’s a style of writing that really impresses me, and i enjoy what it does to the remaining characters who have to live with that hole, or in cloud’s case, in that hole. the fact that cloud fills his hole with zack, and also himself, is so twisty and fun. forgetting and becoming a dead guy is fucked up — absorbing the man who died for you is fucked up. but i think zack would have been ok with it. and what’s better than two guys aligning in their fucked up views?

this brings us to sephiroth.

SEPHIROTH

if sephiroth had his way, cloud would also be his living legacy. he’s the most famous villain in FFVII, driven crazy by his mommy trauma and god complex, and cloud becomes his enemy because he keeps thwarting his plan to destroy the planet. he’s also the other half of sefikura, one of the most enduring and epic ships in the yaoi world. cloud has earned his place as a yaoi icon, and sephiroth is on the podium with him.

during FFVII, cloud pursues sephiroth. this is more than just plot — square enix built this dynamic into the game itself, and it was a resounding success within the industry and the genre. this pursuit mechanic involves looping back around the world map to find this villain in previously-explored locations. by updating the map with sephiroth’s presence, we get to feel his omni-presence in cloud’s mind. the pressure that sephiroth exerts upon cloud to think of him becomes more discernible, and more complex, in sephiroth’s response to being hunted by the protagonist: which is to remove any thoughts that are not of him. he turns cloud into his puppet — he forces his way into cloud’s mind on a psychic level, and imposes his own will onto him. chasing sephiroth makes cloud vulnerable; but he must keep chasing the bad guy. he must knowingly open himself to sephiroth because that is his role in the game; and we as the gamer behind him are pushing him onwards, making him dance on those strings again and again so that we reach the ending. becoming implicit in the roles of martyr and murderer is a heady rush that speaks to the success of sefikura in FFVII. we yaoify cloud. how fun is that?

here’s a quote from cloud: “i wasn't pursuing sephiroth... i was being summoned by sephiroth”. he’s being literal here. sephiroth is deliberately drawing cloud closer, forcing him to follow and find him, because he wants to, um, ‘form reunion’ with him. this is also literal. sephiroth wants cloud to be with him, but more importantly, he wants cloud to be him — to obey his commands, to align with his views, to be in total sync with what sephiroth thinks and feels. this part of their relationship is all about sephiroth: narcissistic to the bone, sephiroth’s obsession with cloud is rooted in how cloud continually pulls away from his call and rejects him.

cloud is meant to be sephiroth’s vessel, by the way. not immediately obvious, especially with the care that the designers took to make their visual appearances contrast. but it’s a really fun plot twist, and one that puts cloud’s identity crises into sharp focus. sephiroth’s identity has been forced onto cloud through medical trauma, with his dna inserted physically into cloud’s body, which turns his mental and verbal objections into something of a painful joke. he doesn’t want to be sephiroth. sephiroth sucks, and keeps killing his friends. but cloud’s body betrays itself, betrays him and keeps him from feeling secure in his own identity. there’s no part of him that he can cut out to get rid of sephiroth; and even after sephiroth is dead, cloud feels him. sephiroth is still in him. whose body is it, anyway?

i’ve made sefikura sound fucked up, and it is, kinda. but it’s easy to understand the hold that it’s had on fujoshi gamers. cloud doesn’t go quietly. sephiroth’s oppressive manipulation is what ignites cloud’s will to fight back. 

sephiroth’s insistence that he is the original, and cloud a copy who must submit, is the kind of crazy that appeals to me more now that i’ve come to terms with my leo sun star sign. i suppose it’s visually similar to how zack and cloud had existed, but in practice it is a more dynamic and charged relationship. like his mother before him, sephiroth is a virus: iterative, defined through the suppression of others and the subsequent displacement with himself. he exists only in this state of violence — is made real through it — and he doesn’t want to live in any other way. as derrida puts it, “as soon as there is the One, there is murder, wounding, traumatism. L’Un se garde de l’autre. The One guards against/keeps some of the Other. It protects itself from the Other… The One makes itself violence.”

sorry for putting french in front of you. this aptly describes and complicates sefikura, because actually, it’s cloud finding himself in that abjection of sephiroth. who is he? not sephiroth’s copy; not sephiroth. he is as much a One as he is an Other, and makes himself more of both as he rejects sephiroth. in that rejection he provokes sephiroth again, who must respond. it’s an equal relationship only through its dynamism, in the constant flux and flow of violence that they put each other through. there’s no real hope of reconciliation between them — they are on guard, always conscious of the power they hold over each other. it’s sustainable only if the two of them live forever, and cloud is the protagonist. eventually sephiroth loses.

sephiroth is measurably more yaoi than zack, by the way. zack has a girlfriend, for all that his character is defined by his homoerotic death scene. sephiroth has an obsession with cloud that follows him into the grave and beyond. in ADVENT CHILDREN, sephiroth somehow manifests into physical fragments in an attempt to resurrect himself — and when he does, he runs to fight cloud. (cloud fights alongside his friends, but always ends his fights with sephiroth alone: their relationship is unique.) it’s here that we get sephiroth’s yaoi line: “i will never be a memory”. once again, it’s the final words that cloud hears before sephiroth dies (again, and hopefully more permanently this time). 

i kinda like it more than “you’ll be my living legacy”. i think it’s more comically connected to living trauma theory: yes, sephiroth is in his nightmares, but he does keep physically appearing to haunt him. it ties in well with sephiroth’s narcissism, but also his place in the wider story as a lapsed war hero that cloud had, at one point, idolised. as a young boy, cloud had looked up to sephiroth and tried to emulate him; cloud had joined the army to be like sephiroth. in a way, sephiroth is more of the origin to cloud’s story than zack is. sephiroth’s fall from grace is something a lot of sefikura fans tap into, recognising the toxicity of that connection. all yaoi should have a healthy dose of painful, hilarious irony. 

i also like how in plain text it seems… relatively mundane? not normal, and definitely terrifying to a man recovering from his protagonist status. but also a little bit like sephiroth is cloud’s crazy ex who just can’t accept the breakup. that does trump zack’s parenting line for me. 

anyway, with sephiroth in place, cloud moves from a fujoshi’s delight to a fujoshi’s icon. it’s in sefikura that we see cloud at his most fierce and dynamic, which is hugely appealing. i think the stakes add rather than detract here, and the pain of finding yourself in/with a man who keeps killing your friends is very thrilling. as true rivals, sephiroth gets to transgress some of the barriers that kept zack from cloud through sheer force of villainy, and the intense mirroring between them is revitalising for cloud. sephiroth gives cloud purpose, defining him as an individual again — a One. that’s yaoi.

CLOUD STRIFE AGAIN

the thing is, i’m not sure cloud wants to be a One. not in the sense that sephiroth means it, anyway. cloud’s identity is a fractured thing, broken up by amnesia and survivor’s guilt and the burden of being a protagonist, but it’s deliberate. it’s a defence mechanism, as fredric jameson puts it, against the eroding currents of life that cloud must continue to run through. a poignant image for a broken midgar, and a textual experience, rather than theoretical, for cloud. yet his healing is not to discard parts that do not resemble cloud-before-the-game, but to try and make amends with what’s left — or rather, what’s there. the final third of the game is cathartic for cloud’s identity, when he reconciles the two truths of being neither zack fair or sephiroth. so, what happened to cloud? is he still there; if so, how does he find that part of himself again? or does he throw it all away and start again? no; cloud refuses to live in rejection any longer. he cannot exist parcelled away in the spaces between people, butting up against their edges. instead he starts to acknowledge and appreciate how they touch him. he is made through the interactions of their identities against, and with, his. cloud has always been there. 

in this way, i think he is yaoi. writing from the perspective of his ship halves makes him appear reflective rather than transformative, but in truth he absorbs. he is a space for other characters to go through (i am calling him a hole) and in doing so, those characters are different. it’s in that type of connection that cloud finds his identity, and i find that really beautiful. deleuze and guattari talk about how a fragmented identity shows an unfettered desire that is rooted in the current of life, and who craves life more than someone who keeps being denied it? refusing to cohere to a single, impenetrable ego is a choice, and it’s one that shows a determination to experience the present whilst not letting go of the past. it’s too hard to be done accidentally, and especially to do it twice. cloud’s showing us something here. 

he’s my favourite kind of protagonist, really. cloud resists the archetype of a lone(ly) soldier trudging on, because he keeps seeking out connection, be it for love or security or purpose. it is only in experiencing relationships that cloud can begin to make sense of his life. he can’t exist on his own. he needs to know someone, and they need to know him. 

and that, to me, is yaoi.

[now read yaoi zine!!!!]