#and chew on the sleeves of my sweater

[depresseddepot]

made an irresponsible lord huron purchase tonight but what the hell else am I supposed to do when their next album is overdue

[brokenpromises4brokenhearts]

puppy bf this kitty bf that bunny bf this bitch i am a fucking moth i will steal your clothes and rip the sleeves and neckline to shreds

[barrackbvnny]

Evangeline and Singe have been added to @lost-padawan ♥️

evangeline my beloved-

[shouyuus]

sfw; modern neighbor!vi au

cool but enough about that. thinking about vi who lives in the same apartment building as you and is on the same floor just a few doors down, who sees you struggling with some boxes when moving in so she sweeps in to your rescue and well i mean you're not one to look a-gift-horse-muscular-butch in the mouth when she's so valiantly offering to carry these boxes for you.

who introduces herself and tells you that she lives here with her sister, who's studying mechanical engineering at the university. her? oh, she's a freelancer! you know how it is these days, teaches boxing at the local gym, helps her dad with the family bar on the weekends sometimes, "bit of this and a bit of that." and it sounds like she doesn't wanna talk about it all that much so you don't ask.

you ask her in for a cup of coffee, say it's the least you can do to thank her for helping you with the boxes.

"pleasure's mine, helping a pretty girl like you."

woof.

you swallow, busying yourself with your beat up little moka pot, asking her if she wants sugar or creamer. both, she says, and you pause, looking over your shoulder. she's leant up against your half-unpacked sofa, her arms knitted loosely over her chest.

"what? i've always like my stuff with a little bit of sugar."

it's a simple enough statement but the way she says it makes all your fingers and toes tingle. you swallow, fiddling with the fraying edges of your sweater sleeve.

"yeah, no -- that's --"

you jump as the moka starts to bubble and you pull it off the stove, feeling the same heat working it's way into your skin.

it's easy, so easy, after that. she offers to help you unpack (only if you need it of course) and well, you could use another pair of hands. you tell her that you'll pay her in pizza, and she smiles so wide you can see the hint of a dimple etching itself into her cheek.

you end up spending the whole day together, and when all the boxes are broken down and tamped into a pile by the door, your fingers grease-stained, sitting curled up on your now fully built-out couch, with plastic cups of prosecco, she sighs, staring into the bubbling liquid with a smile just a hitch away from sadness.

"cool! well -- thanks for the pizza," she sets down the cup and pushes up off the couch. you clear your throat and scramble up as well, pressing your palms into your thighs.

"no! thank you for helping me --" you motion around your apartment, "and uh --" you chew on your lips, teetering on the balls of your feet.

"if you ever wanna hang out," vi says, grinning as she rounds the sofa, glancing over her shoulder, "i'm just two doors down."

you slump down onto the sofa, pressing a hand to your chest, feeling it's wild, fluttering beat beneath your palm as you try to steady your breathing.

a few days later, you knock on her door, only to find a girl with shocking blue space buns and a pair of magnifying goggles on her head that make her look truly unhinged.

"who're you?"

you blink, fingers clutched around a large mug.

"uh -- uhm -- i just -- i moved in to the unit two doors down a few days ago and i was -- i was wondering if i could -- borrow some... sugar?" you hold out the mug, wondering if you've just royally fucked up.

"powder? who's at the door?" vi's voice calls out just as the girl with blue hair opens her mouth.

powder pauses, a sly smirk twisting the edge of her lips as she pushes up her goggles to reveal bright blue eyes just a few shades darker than vi's.

"oh no one, juuuuust... the super cute neighbor you couldn't shut up about from a few days ag --"

something clanks from further in the apartment and the girl named powder gets yanked back as vi appears, wide-eyed and a bit disheveled, clearing her throat as she almost crashes into her doorframe.

"h-hi! what -- what're you doing here?"

"i uhm --" you swallow, warmth prickling beneath your skin.

"sugar," powder says, rolling her eyes, waving a hand as she prances back into the apartment.

"sugar...?" vi asks, almost uncomprehending.

you lick your lips, holding out the cup, "yeah... i -- uh -- ran out..."

vi blinks down at the empty mug for a second too long before her eyes flash up to meet yours.

"yeah? what've you been up to, using so much sugar?"

you lick your lips, biting down on our bottom lip as she steps back to motion you into the apartment. it's not big, but it is cozy, sticky-notes and doodles littering almost every available surface, cups with day-old coffee/water/tea cluttered on the countertops. but vi reaches up into the cupboards and tugs down the sugar bag.

"i --" you cut off as she fills up your cup.

you don't want to tell her that you were trying to bake cupcakes of all things. and for her no less.

"ahh... don't wanna tell me? s'okay -- fine then, keep your secrets," she teases, shooting you a tiny wink as she leans up to put the sugar back.

"it's --" you nearly trip over your words as they tumble out of you, "i was -- wanted to make some cupcakes -- f-for... you..." you force out, turning away as her eyes widen slightly, "but i keep fucking up the measurements so --" you chance her another glance.

vi watches you with a soft smile, leaning against her kitchen counter.

"for me, sugar?"

you nod, now feeling impossibly hot as she vi slates you a knowing smile.

"well, lemme know when you're done," she says, "and uh..." she glances down at your sugar cup, "don't be afraid to put in a little extra for me, okay?"

you walk back to your own apartment in a daze, staring down at the cup of white sugar grains as you finally get back to your kitchen and set the mug down. you look at the two batches of failed cupcakes sitting on the counter and sigh, a helpless little smile ticking up the corner of your lips as you remember the twinkle in vi's eyes as she'd told you to add a little more sugar for her.

you drop your face into your hands with a loud groan, slumping back onto the couch, letting your feet dangle off the side as you stare at the light-stricken ceiling.

and you say, to no one in particular --

"i am so, so fucked."

[littlelamy]

Hey love I was wondering could u do a one where rafes angel been just so stressed about Sarah’s baby shower party and she’s just all over the place pacing in her room planning every single detail wearing herself out and rafes just all mushy and cute with her trying to take stress off her

Thx angel!

lamy's notes: hope you like it!

you're pacing. back and forth, back and forth, hands tugging at the sleeves of your oversized sweater as you mumble under your breath, listing out decorations, catering, the playlist—every tiny detail of sarah’s baby shower that needs to be perfect. because it has to be. because it’s sarah’s big day, and you love her, and if one thing goes wrong, you’ll never forgive yourself.

rafe watches from the bed, propped up on his elbows, an amused little smile playing at his lips. you don’t notice, too lost in your own head, too wound up in the never-ending cycle of planning and worrying and—

“baby,” he says softly, but you don’t hear him, still muttering about whether or not pink and gold is too cliché for a girl’s baby shower.

he tries again. “angel.”

you stop, blinking, finally looking at him. he pats the space beside him on the bed, raising an eyebrow. “come here.”

“rafe, i don’t have time—”

“you do.” he pushes himself up fully now, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “just for a second, okay? you’re driving yourself crazy.”

you sigh, chewing your lip, but the look in his eyes—soft, pleading, laced with something warm—makes your resolve crack just a little. with a huff, you plop down next to him, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

immediately, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, fingers slipping under the hem of your sweater to trace gentle circles against your skin. “you’re working too hard,” he murmurs into your hair. “sarah’s gonna love whatever you do. doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“yes, it does,” you mumble, nuzzling closer, letting the steady beat of his heart calm the frantic rhythm of your own.

rafe chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “it’s already perfect ‘cause you’re doing it.”

your breath catches, warmth spreading through your chest, the stress melting away bit by bit under the weight of his touch, his voice, his love.

“you’re too good to me,” you whisper.

“damn right i am.” he grins, tipping your chin up, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “now, take a break. for me?”

you sigh, pretending to debate it, but you already know you’re giving in. “fine. but just for a little bit.”

rafe hums, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead. “that’s my girl.”

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

okay sebastian would have the biggest ego if mc is wearing his sweater it would be near intolerable if mc was wearing his ring. I just imagine he would be like my fiancee every five seconds somehow bringing the convo back to his happy relationship much to everyone's detriment

Subtlety is Dead | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

AHHH THIS WAS SUCH A FUN ONE. THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPT ANON! You're gonna get real Gollum "my precious" from LOTR in this ahaha.

Words: ~3,800

Tags: Seventh Year, Fluff, Established Relationship, Romance, Mutual Pining, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House

Saturday mornings were meant for sleeping in. They were also, as it turned out, meant for stealing your boyfriend’s sweater.

Which was why, as you trudged into the Great Hall, still a little groggy from falling asleep in the Undercroft last night, you were engulfed in the oversized, worn-soft fabric of Sebastian Sallow’s favorite sweater. It was slightly too big—long enough to brush your mid-thigh, the sleeves swallowing your hands—but that was precisely why you’d taken it. It smelled like him, felt like him, and most importantly, it was comfortable.

You didn’t even hesitate when you reached the Slytherin table, sliding onto the bench beside Sebastian with a sleepy hum, fully prepared to load up your plate with eggs and toast.

You made one fatal mistake.

You didn’t look at him first.

Because if you had, you would have noticed the way he’d gone completely still, his goblet of pumpkin juice frozen halfway to his lips. You would have seen the way his dark eyes locked onto you with something between awe and unholy amusement, his smirk sharpening like a blade.

Instead, you reached for a piece of toast.

And that was when Sebastian lost his entire mind.

“Is that my sweater?” His voice was deceptively casual. Too casual.

You barely spared him a glance, still too focused on your breakfast. “Mhm.”

A sharp, disbelieving laugh left him, low and delighted. You should have been alarmed. “You’re wearing my sweater,” he repeated, but this time louder, as if announcing it to the entire Great Hall.

At that, you paused mid-bite, chewing slowly as you finally turned to look at him. His grin was positively feral, his chest puffed up with unmistakable pride, as if you had just declared your undying love for him in front of the entire school.

"I wear your clothes all the time," you pointed out, blinking at him.

Sebastian scoffed, shaking his head, leaning in like you’d just said the most wildly incorrect thing in the world. “No, no, you steal my clothes all the time.” His fingers toyed with the sleeve of the sweater, plucking at the fabric with exaggerated interest. “But you never wear them out. Not where people can see.”

You frowned, because that wasn’t true—except, when you really thought about it, you did tend to limit your thefts to the common room or the Undercroft. You wore his jumpers when you curled up on the couch to study, wrapped yourself in them when you'd sneak into the common room late at night to snuggle by the fire with you, sometimes even slept in his shirts when he lent them to you after particularly rainy walks back from Hogsmeade.

But he was right. You’d never just… strolled into the Great Hall wearing something of his.

“Alright,” you admitted, narrowing your eyes. “So what?”

Sebastian exhaled sharply, shaking his head with something that looked an awful lot like adoration, but in true Sebastian fashion, he let the smugness overpower it. “So, this is a big deal,” he declared, so loud you were sure half the Slytherin table could hear.

Ominis, who had been blessedly silent so far, let out a heavy sigh, already rubbing his temples.

“Sebastian,” you warned.

He ignored you entirely. His elbow hit the table as he turned to face the others, shamelessly gesturing at you as if you were some kind of grand prize. “Do you all see this?” He tapped the collar of the sweater, his grin turning downright predatory. “She’s wearing my sweater.

A few students spared him tired glances. Garreth, sitting all the way across the hall, snorted into his tea. “We know,” he called. “We heard the first time.”

Sebastian, as expected, ignored Garreth entirely. He was still staring at you, positively radiating smug satisfaction. You could already see where this was going.

So, naturally, you tried to stop it before it could get worse.

"Sebastian," you said again, voice edged with warning.

He only grinned wider. "No, but do you understand what this means?" He turned to Ominis, who was now sitting perfectly still, like a man bracing for a storm. "Do you understand what this means?"

Ominis inhaled sharply, pressing his fingers against his temple as if warding off a migraine. "Please don’t involve me in this."

Sebastian beamed. "It means she wants people to know she’s mine."

Your entire body tensed. "Sebastian—"

"I mean, it’s one thing to steal my sweaters in private," he continued, ignoring you entirely, "but to wear it out in public? In the Great Hall? In front of everyone? I don’t think I’ve ever been so honored."

Imelda, who had been unfortunately seated within earshot, huffed. "Merlin’s sake, Sallow, we get it. She’s your girlfriend. She has been for two bloody years. Shut up about it."

Sebastian turned to Imelda, utterly undeterred. "Ah, but you see, Imelda, this is different. This isn’t just dating—this is public declaration." He gestured dramatically to you, his smirk stretching wider. "This is the undeniable, unavoidable proof that she is hopelessly in love with me."

You leveled him with a flat look. "You’re lucky I am in love with you, or I’d hex you right now."

Sebastian’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "See?" He pointed at you, like that somehow proved his point. "Even when she threatens me, it’s with affection."

Across the table, Ominis let out a long-suffering sigh and reached for his goblet. "It is far too early for this."

"Too early?" Sebastian scoffed. "Ominis, how can you say that? This is the best morning of my life."

"That’s sad," Imelda muttered.

But Sebastian didn’t even hear her, because something had shifted in his expression. His smugness momentarily faltered, his brown eyes narrowing as he took a closer look at you. Not at the sweater this time, but at your neck.

More specifically—at the silver chain peeking out from beneath the thick fabric.

His gaze darkened with realization. "What’s that?"

Your stomach dropped.

You scrambled to tuck the chain further beneath the sweater, but it was too late—Sebastian was already moving, quick as a snake, fingers darting out to catch the delicate silver chain before you could hide it.

His jaw practically dropped when he saw what was hanging from it.

His ring.

The one he had taken off weeks ago—the one you had absently pocketed, intending to give back but never quite managing to part with. The one you had kept. and worn around your neck.

Sebastian stared at it, utterly still, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he might actually be speechless. But then his lips split into the most devastatingly pleased grin you had ever seen.

"Oh," he breathed, voice thick with satisfaction. "Oh, this is even better."

Ominis let out a strangled noise, already rising from his seat. "No."

You barely had time to react before Sebastians fingers completely curled around the ring, lifting it just slightly from where it rested against your collarbone. He rolled the silver band between his fingers, turning it over like he couldn’t quite believe it. His face was a picture of boyish delight, an impossible mix of smugness and pure affection.

"You’re wearing my ring," he said, and for the first time since this conversation began, his voice wasn’t teasing. It was something softer, something real.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very warm under his gaze. "Sebastian—"

He let out a breathless laugh. "She’s wearing my ring," he repeated, this time louder, turning to the unfortunate souls still at the table.

Garreth choked on his tea. Imelda groaned.

Ominis pressed his palms against the table. "I am leaving."

Sebastian, ignoring everything else, lifted the ring just slightly higher, his fingers brushing against your neck. His smirk returned.

"You know," he mused, "in some cultures, this would be considered a marriage proposal."

You shoved him.

He barely moved, his grin only widening.

Garreth, still watching from across the hall, just shook his head. "You are the worst."

Sebastian sighed blissfully, slipping an arm around your waist like he was claiming you. "And yet, I am the one with a girlfriend wearing my ring. What a shame for the rest of you."

Ominis slammed his hands onto the table. "FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN, WE KNOW!"

You sighed, heavily and dramatically, rubbing a hand down your face. “I’m so sorry,” you muttered to the others at the table. “Truly. I didn’t mean to trigger this.”

Ominis groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You say that, and yet you continue to date him.”

Imelda just shook her head. “We should have him fitted for a muzzle.”

Garreth gave you a weak thumbs-up. “I mean, it’s entertaining, at least.”

Sebastian, completely unbothered, was still fiddling with his ring around your neck, looking downright pleased with himself. “Oh, don’t listen to them,” he cooed, tilting his head at you, brown eyes warm with mischief. “They’re just jealous. I mean, really, who wouldn’t want a girlfriend who parades around in their clothes and wears their ring like some devoted little wife?”

You groaned this time, fully tilting your head back in exasperation.

“I am not your wife, Sebastian.”

He grinned. “Yet.”

That did it.

With a sharp huff, you reached up to unhook the clasp of your necklace, fully intending to take the ring off and put an end to whatever this was before it spiraled any further.

Sebastian gasped, loudly, like you had just personally betrayed him. “No—wait—”

But you knew him, and you were already shifting to your feet, which meant that when he lunged to stop you, you bolted.

The bench scraped loudly against the floor as you twisted out of his reach, barely dodging his fingers as you scrambled out from behind the Slytherin table.

“Oh, hell no,” Sebastian growled, already moving to chase after you.

The entire Great Hall paused, dozens of students watching as you sprinted for the exit, Sebastian hot on your heels.

Imelda rolled her eyes, reaching for her goblet. “I give her thirty seconds before he catches her.”

Garreth called, stroking his chin like he was deep in thought. “I dunno. She’s got the fear of being publicly proposed to on her side.”

Ominis just scoffed, going back to his breakfast like this wasn’t even worth acknowledging. “I hope Sebastian trips.”

Meanwhile—

You burst out into the corridor, your laughter echoing off the stone walls as you darted between students, shoving past a startled group of Ravenclaws.

Sebastian was right behind you.

“Oh, you’re dead!” he called, voice edged with amusement—and maybe just a little bit of menace.

“Not if you can’t catch me!” you shot back, heart hammering as you bolted down the next hallway, weaving between students who gawked at the spectacle.

A few younger Slytherins pressed themselves against the walls, watching in bewilderment as their Head Boy—someone who was technically supposed to be a responsible figure—chased his girlfriend through the castle like a lunatic.

The way Sebastian was gaining on you was both thrilling and concerning. Your mind scrambled for an escape route. Left toward the library? No, he’d just corner you between the shelves. Down to the courtyard? Too open—he’d tackle you to the ground.

Then—

The staircase.

A flash of inspiration struck, and you lunged for the nearest moving stairwell, barely catching the railing as the steps lurched beneath you.

Sebastian cursed as he skidded to a stop, just missing the stairwell before it groaned and began shifting away.

He stared at you, indignant, chest rising and falling from the sprint. “Oh, you little—”

You grinned breathlessly, gripping the railing as the gap between you widened. “Guess I win,” you teased, watching his jaw tick.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.

And then—

To your absolute horror—

He jumped.

You barely had time to shriek, your brain struggling to catch up to what your eyes had just witnessed—because surely, surely, your boyfriend had not just jumped onto a moving staircase like a complete maniac.

But then Sebastian landed on the railing, clambering up with a look of sheer determination, and reality slammed back into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you muttered, spinning on your heel and bolting again.

“Get back here!” Sebastian bellowed, already launching himself onto the stairwell, closing the gap faster than you’d like.

Your eyes darted wildly across the open space below, scanning for another staircase—any staircase—you could jump down to before he inevitably caught you.

There—

Just beneath you, a staircase stretched toward the third floor landing. It was still far, but if you could time it right—

With a sharp breath, you vaulted over the railing.

Sebastian shouted your name, his voice cracking with something between shock and frustration as you dropped, your stomach lurching.

The impact rattled you, but you stumbled forward, pushing through it as you hit the third floor and took off running again.

Sebastian cursed so violently from above that you were fairly certain he just lost house points for language alone.

Then—because he was an idiot—he jumped too.

You heard the thud of his landing, followed by another string of expletives, but you didn’t stop to look.

You ran.

Students turned in confusion as you barreled through the corridor, robes billowing, heart hammering as you veered toward the next set of stairs.

Behind you, Sebastian gained.

"That was stupid, even for you!" you shouted over your shoulder.

"And your jump was smart?"

"It was strategic!"

Sebastian laughed, wild and exhilarated. "I love you," he called, voice full of amusement, "but I’m going to fucking catch you!"

You shrieked as he lunged forward, twisting away just in time, his fingers brushing your sleeve before you slipped past him, nearly slamming into a startled group of Hufflepuffs.

A few older students stood off to the side, watching with amused curiosity.

“Do they do this often?” a fifth-year asked.

Adelaide Oakes nodded sagely. “Unfortunately, yes.”

You sprinted down another set of stairs—you were so close to the Entrance Hall now, but the sound of Sebastian’s boots pounding against the stone behind you meant you had seconds before he caught you.

You needed a distraction.

A quick scan of the hall—and then, like a gift from Merlin himself, you spotted them.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team, fresh off the pitch, were making their way inside, brooms slung over shoulders, arms full of gear, chatting amongst themselves as they filtered through the corridor.

Perfect.

With a burst of speed, you dove straight for them, weaving between the tangle of players, brooms, and equipment like your life depended on it.

“Oi—what the hell?” one of them yelped as you ducked under a Beater’s arm, narrowly avoiding a swinging broomstick.

Sebastian cursed loudly behind you, nearly colliding with one of the Chasers. "Move!!"

But it was too late.

Sebastian was tall, broad, and not nearly as nimble in a crowd.

You heard the thud of him crashing into a Gryffindor, the swearing, the clatter of equipment scattering across the floor—

And just like that, you disappeared.

You darted left, slipping behind a pillar, pressing yourself against the stone as you caught your breath.

Sebastian was still somewhere in the tangle of disgruntled Quidditch players, trying to fight his way through.

You peered around the edge, watching as he spun in a circle, chest rising and falling, scanning the hall for you.

His eyes were wild, his brow furrowed, frustration practically radiating off him.

You grinned.

Sebastian Sallow, brilliant duelist, cunning strategist, top of his class—completely lost.

"Where is she?" he demanded, still searching.

"Mate, I don’t know," a Gryffindor groaned, rubbing his shoulder. "But you just body-slammed half the team!"

Sebastian ignored him, turning sharply, scanning again, his jaw ticking.

You held your breath.

Then his gaze snapped to where you were hiding.

Your heart stopped.

You bolted.

"Oh, you absolute menace—"

Sebastian launched himself forward and you squealed, laughter bubbling out of you as you sprinted for the doors, pushing them open as you burst into the courtyard.

The moment the warm spring air greeted you, you knew you were at a disadvantage.

The open space was too much. No more staircases, no more crowds, no more pillars to duck behind—just you, the sprawling stone path, and the very determined Slytherin chasing after you.

Sebastian was stronger. Faster. And, to your ever-growing frustration, incredibly smug about it. So you needed to be smarter.

A plan was already forming in your head as you pushed forward, feet pounding against the cobblestone. Behind you, Sebastian was gaining again, his longer strides eating the distance between you.

"You’re running out of space!" he called, voice dripping with amusement. "Where do you think you’re gonna go?"

You grinned to yourself.

The fountain was just up ahead—one of the larger ones, its stone base deep enough to hold a proper pool of water, its spouting center surrounded by intricate carvings.

You veered towards it.

Sebastian, just as you expected, followed.

You heard the smirk in his voice. "A dead end? Really?"

You didn’t answer. Didn’t even look back. Instead, you slowed, just slightly, making it seem like you were tiring. Like you had no choice but to stop.

And, of course, Sebastian took the bait.

You could practically feel his cockiness spike, could hear the overconfidence in his steps as he surged forward, ready to pounce.

"You should've known," he taunted, "you can’t outrun me."

Then, just before he could grab you, you pivoted on your heel, sidestepping at the last possible second.

Sebastian had zero time to react. His own momentum betrayed him—his hands missed you entirely, his boots slipped against the wet stone edge—

And then, with a loud splash, Sebastian Sallow went straight into the fountain.

The world paused.

For a single, glorious moment, there was silence.

Then—

You screeched with laughter, already sprinting away, the sound of splashing and furious cursing echoing behind you. You glanced over your shoulder to see Sebastian emerging from the water, soaked from head to toe, his jaw hanging open in disbelief.

"You—" He blinked, water dripping from his hair, his shirt completely plastered to his skin. "You little—that was foul play!" Sebastian shouted after you, struggling to haul himself out of the fountain.

"You should’ve seen your face!" you howled.

"I am so hexing you for this!"

"Good luck with that!"

Soaked to the bone, dripping from head to toe, and still struggling to wring water from his sleeves, Sebastian was left with no choice but to chase after you again, fueled by sheer, unbridled determination.

You, however, had no intention of letting him catch you anytime soon.

Your laughter rang through the courtyard as you sprinted towards the covered bridge, your heart hammering with exhilaration. Students had begun gathering in small groups, exchanging amused whispers as they watched the spectacle unfold.

Sebastian was seething, but in that wild, playful way that made your stomach flip.

“You are in so much trouble!” he bellowed, his shoes squelching loudly against the stone path as he stormed after you.

“I don't know,” you called back over your shoulder, grinning as you reached the entrance to the bridge. “You look a little slow, Sallow!"

“Slow?” he repeated, the disbelief in his voice nearly making you double over from laughter. “You’re taunting me now?”

You grinned, giddy with victory, heart pounding as you neared the bridge’s midpoint. "What? Can’t handle a little truth?"

Sebastian growled, and that was when you knew you were done for.

He launched himself forward, closing the gap with terrifying speed.

"Shit—"

You tried to dodge, but this time, he was ready.

Sebastian snatched your wrist, yanking you back so suddenly that you gasped, your feet slipping beneath you. And before you could even process what was happening, you were spun, your back hitting the wooden beam of the bridge, Sebastian’s hands trapping you there.

You gasped, breath catching in your throat.

He was close. Too close.

His chest rose and fell with exertion, his soaked clothes clinging to his frame, his wet curls sticking to his forehead. Water still dripped from his sleeves, his collar, his hands, leaving dark stains against the wooden planks below.

And his eyes.

Oh.

His eyes.

Dark. Smoldering. Dangerous.

His fingers flexed against your wrists, his grip firm—but not tight. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to hold you there, to remind you that he had won.

You swallowed hard. "Sebastian—"

"Oh, no," he murmured, voice dangerously low, his lips twitching into something deadly. "Not this time. You're not gonna talk yourself out of this, love."

Your heart stuttered as you took him in, watched the water dripping from his hair and from the tip of his nose.

You bit your lip. "You’re still wet."

He huffed out a laugh his gaze flickering to your mouth before dragging slowly back up to your eyes.

"Yeah?" His voice was soft now, teasing. "Well, whose fault is that?"

Your stomach flipped.

He shifted closer, pressing you firmly against the beam, his breath warm against your cheek.

"I should make you pay for that," he murmured, voice laced with something wicked.

A thrill shot through you.

"Yeah? What's the plan then?" you asked, voice a touch breathless. "Gonna drag me back to the fountain? Hug me and get me all wet? Toss me in the Black Lake?"

Sebastian's smirk darkened, hooking a finger under the chain around your neck, his ring dangling between you.

"Who said anything about that kind of wet?"

Heat spiked up your spine, your entire body locking up as the meaning behind his words registered.

Sebastian just grinned, slow and devastating, clearly reveling in your reaction.

His voice dropped lower, velvety smooth. "What’s wrong?" His lips twitched. "You look a little flustered."

You gaped at him, at the absolute nerve—

"Unless you'd prefer a dip in the fountain instead?" He murmured, tilting his head, his smirk nothing short of lethal.

You stared at him, torn between sheer indignation and something far, far more dangerous.

Your pride refused to let you fold, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. But the heat pooling in your belly, the way your breath hitched under the weight of his gaze, the way he was looking at you—

Oh, you were in trouble.

Sebastian knew it, too.

He smirked, tilting his head just slightly, watching you war with yourself, his finger still hooked under your chain, rolling his ring between his fingers.

"Go on," he said. "Take your pick."

"Between drowning and…?" You trailed off, raising an eyebrow, pretending to be unaffected.

Sebastian hummed at your question, the sound deep, thoughtful—mocking. His smirk curled further as he slowly reeled you in, the chain around your neck tightening ever so slightly as he tugged you forward.

Your breath caught. Your nose brushed his. And his voice dropped to something low, something just for you.

"Let me show you."

And that was what finally made you admit it— you didn’t care at all that you’d lost. Because, Merlin help you, if this was losing, you never wanted to win again.

[lovebugism]

Shy!reader who has never had a valentine and Steve who pulls out alllll the stops to make up for this—flowers, chocolate, jewelry, candles, a nice dinner, even stuff like a teddy bear and those cheesy kid valentines

happy love day <3 — steve helps his shy gf celebrate her very first valentine's day (shy!reader, established relationship, cw for brief mentions of anxiety, 1k)

Valentine’s Day afternoon is grey and gloomy, but your beaming makes up for it. You’re smiling wide and sparkling with it the second you see Steve waiting for you in the parking lot outside your work. He’d promised to pick you up, yes, but you’re always giddy at the sight of him.

“Hey, babe,” the boy greets with his own grin, crooked and perfectly pink. 

He looks all cool, leaning against the driver’s side of his car. Pristine sneakers crossed over one another, sweater sleeves pushed up to his elbows, strands of cinnamon hair draping his forehead — how are you supposed to do anything but melt for him?

“Hi,” you respond in a tinier voice, walking closer to him now. You duck your chin to your chest and peer at him through your lashes, always so painfully shy.

“Did you have a good day?”

“It was alright,” you shrug and plant yourself in front of him. The deep scent of cologne staining his shirt combines with the earthy scent of impending rain. The concoction makes you dizzy. “Kept thinking about seeing you the whole time, though.”

Your confession makes the bridge of his chiseled nose scrunch. 

“Well, that makes two of us,” he quips before revealing the bouquet of flowers hidden behind his back. A small thing wrapped in pale pink tissue paper — pastel lavenders and pale baby’s breath — as pretty and delicate as you are.

You light up instantly, eyes glittering as they flit from the bushel of flowers to Steve’s proud grin. “You got me flowers?” you wonder, quiet with disbelief. You take them with a soft, trembling hand.

Steve shrugs. “‘Course I did.”

You bury your nose in the perfumed florals and flash a sheepish look over them. “No boy’s ever gotten me flowers before…”

Steve knows this. He knows you’ve never had a valentine before him — that you’ve never been with anyone the way you’ve been with him. It’s why he’s always so soft and perfectly patient with you.

“‘Cause other boys are stupid,” he says, grinning when it makes you giggle. He takes another step closer to you and smooths his warm palms over your arms. His thumbs rub gently along the outsides of your elbow. “Do you like them?”

“I love them,” you insist, smiling so wide it hurts. “They’re gonna look so pretty in my room.”

“Want me to take you home then? So you can get ready for tonight?”

Your brows pinch at his mischievous tone. “What’s tonight?”

“Dinner. I wanna take you to that fancy, new Italian place in the city.”

“Oh.” Your panic is subtle but still written all over your face. You’re not good at going out — you’re worse at trying new things. Steve’s certainly made you braver, but you’re always a little timid at heart. 

Steve knows this and assures with a soft smile, “But we don’t have to if you don’t want. It was just a suggestion.”

“I want to,” you hear yourself say.

His brows raise, visibly shocked. “You do?”

There’s something about the way he looks at you, with a glimmer in his deep brown eyes, that makes you bold. You nod once, firm and foreignly confident. “Yeah.”

Steve tries not to be too obvious about his smiling, but he wears his love for you all over his face without trying. “Then let’s go.”

—————

Rain beats heavy against the window of the candle-lit restaurant, a wild and delicate cadence. The flickering flame paints Steve’s smile golden while his eyes glow a shining amber. He tries to woo you like you’re not wearing the pretty dress he bought you — like you’re not wearing his initial in a pendant dangling between your breasts.

“You’re the Obi-Wan for me,” he jokes before taking a hearty bite of his steak. He chews through the mouthful and gestures with his fork. “You know. Like only one—”

“I get it,” you assure with a sickly sweet smile.

He’s been doing this for a better part of an hour. The Valentine’s Day crowd rushed in, and your waiter got your order wrong, and the whole thing spun you into a tizzy. Steve’s been trying to distract you from your nerves ever since. And it’s worked. Mostly.

“Well, you’re not laughing!” he retorts, playful in his solemnity. “That one was good— you gotta give me some credit.”

“It was,” you assure with a quiet nod. You don’t say it like you mean it, but more like you’re trying to appease him.

“Are you saying you can come up with a better one?” he teases.

You think for a moment, doe eyes flitting across the droplets sliding down the window beside you. Your glossed lips purse all pretty to the side with the weight of your pondering. A smile tugs slow at your lips when you turn back to him. “Obi-Wan Ke-bone-me.”

A laugh sputters from Steve’s mouth. As pure and innocent as sunshine. He nods with a proud, lopsided smile. “You’re right. That was way better.”

“I Obi-Want you tonight,” you follow, giggling still.

“You are on fire tonight, you know that?”

You laugh again, louder this time. Steve beams at the pretty sound and waits until you’ve scooped a too-big bite of pasta in your mouth to compliment you. “You’re so pretty…” he murmurs in a low, honeyed tone. His eyes sparkle with amber, warm and visibly fond.

You stop mid-chew to scowl. You’re too cute to look threatening — especially when you’ve got spare sauce dotted on the corner of your mouth. “Stop…” you scold after you’ve swallowed down the mouthful.

Steve laughs, loud and boyish. “You are!”

“You’re being too nice…” you grouse with your nose scrunched.

“I’m your boyfriend. I’m supposed to be nice.”

“But not this nice,” you insist, smiling despite yourself. You twirl noodles around your fork to busy your fidgeting hand. Your sheepish gaze flits from the half-empty plate to the beautiful boy in front of you. “I think you’re starting to ruin everyone else for me, Stevie…”

His chest sparkles with a warmer feeling. “Well, yeah,” he shrugs. “That was kinda the plan here, babe.”

“Was it?”

“Uh-huh,” he nods and folds his arms over the white-clothed table. He grins wide and leans in close.  His cinnamon eyes sparkle with a mixture of adoration and mischief. “You fell right into my trap.”

You smile back at him, so happy that you did.

[chlorinecake]

「 𓍯𓂃 I KISSED HER FOREHEAD AND NOW SHE'S 𝒢IVING ME CRYSTALS ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 」

𝐢𝐞. super Y2K crush scenarios with 𝐍𝑒𝕨 𝐉𝚎𝐚𝕟s

── ✰⋆⁺ 𓊆ྀི . . path to bookshelf ◍ 𓊇ྀི 🔮 虹 . . . 𝔸ᶰĎ 𝒴𝐨𝕌 ?. . .

❖︎ pa𝓲ring .ᐟ 뉴진스 x female!reader

❖ g𝓮nre .ᐟ fluff, comfort, wlw, friends to lovers

❖ 𝒘𝗈𝗋𝖽 count .ᐟ 𝟏,𝟎𝟒𝟏 total ✩ ✩ ✩

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐈 ── ❝ You smell pretty today... ❞

“You too!” You blurted out, right before realizing you'd gotten your words mixed up, “Wait- I meant to say you look pretty, but... I guess I mean both? Gosh, does that even make sense?”

A tiny smile spread across Minji's features at your adorable timidness, her boot-clad feet taking a few steps towards you before pulling you close, gracing your frame with a tender hug, “It makes perfect sense, weirdo… thanks...”

Her voice was calm and soothing as usual, despite the way it made butterflies swarm in the spot where your heart should be. You couldn't really explain it, but something about Minji's energy always had a way of making you look and feel like a lovesick geek by time you got a proper sentence out—

“So,” she began again, breaking from the embrace and looking you straight in the eye, her hands resting at your shoulders, “when were you gonna tell me about this little crush you have on me?”

Your eyes widened like you had seen a ghost, a nervous chuckle slipping past your lips as she tilted her head at you, just as you muttered a distracting, “Right after I told you which Victoria's Secret fragrance I'm wearing?”

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐌 ── ❝ Crystals? As a gesture?... ❞

“Pfft, of course!” Hanni replied matter-of-factly, “just like how you gave me coins for that gum-ball machine we passed earlier… but who's keeping track of all that stuff anyways?”

“You, apparently...,” you said as a gentle laugh escaped your lips at her quirky reply, “but touché, Hanni Pham... what should I do with these?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, cupping your right palm in her own as the colorful stones glittered beneath the mall’s sunroof, “you can put them under your pillow at night!... o-or maybe even stash them in your purse so you can think about me wherever you go!”

“As if I'd need a crystal’s assistant with that,” you teased, ruffling her hair slightly with your free hand. “These are cool, though,” you went on, heart warming at both the feeling of your hand in hers and at the unique gift, “very sweet of you...”

“Eh, I tryyyy,” she replied smugly, right before blowing a tiny pink bubble with the gum she chewed, only to spit the leftover candy into a napkin and ask, “wanna close your eyes and guess what flavor you taste on me?...”

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐇 ── ❝ I like your sweater… ❞

“Oh, this old thing?” Danielle asked with her warm Australian accent, taking the colorful sweater’s hem in her fingers to examine it's loose threads, “My nana knit this for me like... forever ago...”

“Well it's cool to see she was a step ahead of fashion trends back then,” you smiled, letting your hand brush over the soft yarn of her sleeve... That's when a certain question arose in your head:

“Random, but by chance, are you any good with using chopsticks?” You asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“Oh, for sure! I’m basically a pro at it,” she boasted, flipping her curly locks in a cartoonish manner.

“Sweet! I have two coupons for two different places. One for a craft store, and another for a sushi bar… only thing is that they both expire tomorrow,” You went on, hoping that she'd catch your drift without you having to state any specifics...

“Oh? Well it'd be a total bummer to let them go to waste,” she shrugged, hooking her arm in yours before tugging you along with her, “we better get going quick before they run out of sashimi… or yellow yarn…”

𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 ── ❝ Can I come in please...? ❞

You heard a gentle voice call from behind your bedroom door, face buried into the largest pillow you could find given the sob-fest you had earlier…

“The door’s unlocked,” you sniffled, turning over on your bed to face her as she peaked from behind the door, her bright smile not even fading at the sight of you.

“I brought some heartwarming treats and DVD’s!” She began, voice just as pleasant as it always was. Haerin made her way to sit beside you on the bed, opening one of your favorite candy bars and handing it to you.

“How’d y’know I was upset?” You asked before taking a bite of the candy, chuckling a bit at the way she watched you so intently while doing so.

“I didn’t,” she went on plainly, “… I already wanted to surprise you today and just got lucky that it ended up being at a time where you needed it most…”

“Awww,” you pouted, dropping the candy bar to pull her into a hug, “you’re literally the best friend I could ask for, Haerin… thank you for coming to see me…”

“Of course,” she whispered, mind lingering on the word friend for a moment, even though she was certain you meant something a little more than that…

“So,” she began again, breaking from the contact and reaching for the TV remote, “Wanna rewatch Mean Girls or Clueless first?”

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐈𝐍 ── ❝ Can I touch your hair? ❞

You asked the question for one reason: You were bored out of your mind from waiting at the bus stop, and playing with Hyein’s hair seemed like a fun way to pass the time…

“Oh, sure!” She chirped, immediately straightening her posture on the park bench as you scooted closer to where she sat, taking her wavy locks into your grasp.

Hyein’s round eyes wandered to the sparkly pink Juicy Couture purse you wore over your shoulder, compelling her to ask, “What’s in the bag?”

“Oh- just some barrette’s and hair clips I got from Claire’s yesterday,” you replied, pausing to click open your purse and show her the different kinds, “Thought you might be interested in some extra bling, so…”

“You know me far too well then, ____,” she smiled, scanning each package with her eyes before suggesting that you decide which hair-clip style she would wear, and vice versa.

You let out a simple “Okay” at her offer, reaching for the pack of silver shooting stars for her hair while she held the pack of butterfly clips beside your face, a satisfied look spreading across her features.

“These are gonna look gorgeous on you,” Hyein smiled, right before opening the pack of butterflies clips and popping a few different colored ones in her palm, “This is too fun already, hehe… I can decorate your hair first, right?…”

ʚ 𝐀𝒰𝐓ᕼ𝕆𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝕆T𝐸: I decided to explore the wlw genre for a change, and I have no one other than @jwanniie to thank for inspiring me to experiment on my platform in such a way through her works... I've always wanted to write for my fav GG's just like how I write for my fav BG's, but simply never found the courage to until now ~ Hopefully you guys enjoyed what I came up with! ɞ

❖ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr -> if GG content isn’t your thing, pls lmk and I’ll refrain from tagging you in such posts moving forward :3

[nerdycheol]

Pout Trap || C.S.C

pairing: seungcheol x reader

wc: 600 words

genre: established relationship, fluff

a/n: pouty cheol (beware). also dedicated to alaska (@cherry-zip) you really made me do this— so this one's for you ^3^ jina (@facethesunflower) cuz she's such a sweetie also im thinking of making this into a series— kissy face cheol

part 1 || join my taglist

You’ve always found Seungcheol to be just… ridiculously endearing.

Like the way his smile breaks across his face with zero warning, his dimples so deep that one could swim in them. And whenever he laughs a little too hard, his eyes crinkle into imperfect half-moons, and all you can see are his long lashes.

And don’t get you started on the way he looks in his sweaters. He always wears those soft, oversized long sleeves that make him look like the human embodiment of a cozy Sunday morning. Except the betrayal is real—because beneath that marshmallow fluff exterior is one stupidly buff man who could probably bench press you and your entire existential crisis.

But your favorite thing? It’s when he does that pouty face.

It’s so dumb. And adorable. And stupidly effective.

His lips push out ever so slightly, his cheeks puff like a grumpy chipmunk, and there’s always a faint crease between his brows as if the world has personally offended him. It’s your kryptonite. And the worst part? He doesn’t even try to weaponize it—it’s just… there. Like it’s his default expression when he’s even mildly inconvenienced.

Which brings you to now.

You’re sitting across from your boyfriend at your favorite ramen spot, watching him inhale his food like he’s in a mukbang contest. His lips glisten from the broth, his cheeks are full of noodles, and his eyes sparkle with childish delight as he slurps.

And then—there it is.

The pout.

He makes that familiar face because his chopsticks slipped and a piece of egg fell back into the bowl. Just a small setback. But his mouth twitches downward, and he lets out a tiny huff, his cheeks puffed and lips pushed out in that dangerously cute way.

You don’t even think.

In a swift, rogue move, you pick up your chopsticks and gently trap his lips between them, squishing them together like a little duck bill.

Seungcheol blinks.

You lean in with zero shame and press your lips to his smooshed ones, giggling into the kiss while he makes a muffled noise of surprise. He tastes like warm broth and mischief.

When you pull back, he’s staring at you, utterly betrayed.

“You really just used chopsticks on me like I’m some side dish,” he mutters, but he does not even bother wiping his mouth, you clearly know he enjoyed it. “I feel objectified.”

You shrug, beaming. “You looked like a duck. I couldn’t help it.”

“A duck?!”

“The cutest duck,” you say sweetly, reaching over to poke at his dimple. “My duck.”

Seungcheol groans, hiding his face in his sleeves, but you can see his ears turning red.

He peeks out and narrows his eyes at you. “You know this means war, right?”

“Oh no,” you deadpan. “What are you gonna do? Pout me into submission?”

Without missing a beat, he does exactly that—puffing out his cheeks and pushing his lips out, giving you the most exaggerated pout of all time.

And damn it.

It works.

You lunge over the table again.

“Cheol, NO—wait, let me kiss you again!”

He yelps, half-laughing, half-choking on his noodles as you reach across the table. He tries to dodge but ends up nearly tipping over his bowl. You manage to land a kiss on the side of his cheek anyway, earning a loud, exaggerated groan from him.

“Public affection while I’m mid-chew? You're a menace,” he mutters, wiping his mouth as he glares at you—but the stupid fondness in his eyes betrays him completely.

You flash him a grin. “You love it.”

He tries to scowl. Tries. But then those traitorous dimples show up again, and you know you’ve won.

join the taglist

taglist: @mikrokosmos530 @smiileflower @enhacolor

[oofmybad]

GOAT talk

synopsis: based on billie and quen’s complex interview, but i switched out quen for the reader if ygm?

warnings: fluff, quick mention of weight loss towards the end

a/n: this whole interview i just felt like i was interrupting during an inside joke. so i decided to be nosy and write from their perspective lolol. not properly proofread

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

this is the first interview you two have done as a couple - everyone has been begging you to do something together for weeks and weeks. so here you are! sat in front of a purple v-flat, you and billie facing each other both perched on a director’s chair.

the atmosphere is light hearted, but you still feel heavily surveilled because of the 10 cameras all set up from every angle. “you ready, baby?” billie asks you before the cameras are rolling.

“ready as i’ll ever be” you respond, an anticipatory wince on your mouth.

“you look gorgeous, you got it mama” billie reassures you. she always loves when you dress femme. you’re adorned in a faux fur chocolate brown coat thats draped across your elbows with a staple graphic tee underneath. a simple black mini skirt is doing very little to cover the bottom half of your body, but billie loves the view so she’s not complaining. the glam team decided on an effortless, blushy makeup look for you which you were grateful for - the faux blush will cover any real blushing that will inevitably take place.

you simply smile in return to billie’s flirty reassurance, but your eyes betray you, raking up and down billie’s body to check her out. billie’s wearing a grey sweater vest over a stripey oxford shirt. a bair of baggy grey-blue jeans covering her legs. you internally giggle at the two of you’s matching yet opposite vibe - always going together like yin and yang.

the director calls out to you two, notifying you that the cameras are now rollling. a teleprompter lights up with the words “and this is GOAT Talk with complex”.

“should we say it together” you ask billie, already laughing from embarassment.

“okay, ready?’ billie checks. the two of you begin to say the tagline line but all of the words are jumbled and incoherent making you giggle in a squeaky tone.

“come on, ready?” you calm the two of you down “one, two, three…”

“and this is GOAT Talk with complex” you say in unison, billie leaning forward on her knees as she says her part.

you comment, “that gagged!”

“really? good, okay” billie responds. now you turn your head to look at billie, noticing the way she’s sat. you internally sigh, realizing that this is gonna be a long hour if she keeps looking so yummy.

to distract yourself, you reach your right arm out and go to grab a cue card. you pull it up to you and flip it before reading what it says.

“GOAT hear me outs?” you exaggerate the ‘goat’ with a mocking tone. billie pops her gum, chewing loudly as she thinks of her answer.

“i literally have a list” you say under your breath making eye contact with the camera as you tuck your hair behind your ear. any shyness you had a moment ago has now gone. it’s like a flip switches any time a camera hits record.

“yeah? go!” billie coaxes you.

“ummmm” you line up your answers in your mind, “donkey’s wife dragon from shrek” you say, putting out your pointer finger in a counting motion.

“she loveeees shrek” billie laughs at you.

“it’s in my blood” you point to your dragon tattoo on your arm, lifting up your sleeve while you do it.

“ummm, ursula” you say as billie gives you a questioning look as she scratches her head, her lips pursed.

“have you seen them tiddies?!” you defend yourself in an exaserbated tone.

you continue on, “eve from wall-e. and…. i’m a lesbian, but even so, jack skellington”

“oh yeah!” billie groans, “thats a goo- that’s on my list too”

“ok and last one, not a crush but a queen out moment: anna wintour’s bob”

“wait… what?” billie looks to the sky searching forr an explanation, “um, ok.”

“‘cause i dont think anna wintour’s bob would want me…”

“why wouldn’t it want you” billie asks, feeding into your delusions now.

“i think it’s asexual. it came out in a twitter post” you both laugh at the fact that you’re now having a serious conversation about this. you encourage billie to give her answers now.

“my list: jack skellington, duh. i know this is VFX but venom - thats a fantasy for sure” billie says pursing her lips and tilting her head to the side with her hands clasped out in front of her doing the emote she always does.

“you need help” is all you can say back. billie shimmies her shoulders at your comment.

she continues on, “bojack horseman”

now you’re really questioning your girlfriend’s sanity, “that’s a crash out for sure”

“yeah, it’s unfortunate” billie agrees with you but presses on, “obviously jessica rabbit”.

“oh HELL yeah!” you finally agree with her.

“and scar” she finishes up.

“i can get behind that” you nod in agreement.

you go on to read out the next cue card that’s asking after your GOAT anthems. billie explains how she’s been obsessed with gaga recently and you gasp in total agreement; music has always been a meeting point for the two of you.

now, it’s your turn to answer the question.

“can i dick ride?” you ask, your eyes looking over to billie.

“you always do, baby” she flirts at you. this makes you blush and cover your face bashfully. why does billie always have to say such things when people are watching?

ignoring her comment, you gush over hit me hard and soft, but not without making fun of the titles of a few songs. “i think it’s called cheerio” billie quotes you in a mocking voice.

somehow you both get off topic and start talking about your worst night together, but nothing heavy, moreso funny. billie calls it your “WOAT do it for the plot moment.”

as billie picks up the next cue card, she reads it and begins to trip out - her mouth hanging agape in an O shape. the card asks you two to talk about what you just had been - this shocks you, too.

“i feel like i’m on the truman show” you joke.

billie answers the question vaguely but teases the cameras adding that most of your two ‘GOAT experiences together’ are not appropriate to share. “that one night we had, though, that was good” billie’s gaze lands on you as she says this, clearly doing her best at making you shy but this time it doesn’t work.

“we can’t gag them like that” you say making eye contact with the lens, “but just know you could never mess with mommy” you kid, the both of you laughing at the inside joke.

“GOAT gift you’ve recieved” you say.

“my label got me my first car, a matte black dodge challenger” billie says satisfied, “i loved that car.”

“your label loves you, they treat you nice” you comment. “the best gift i’ve recieved is from you. it was that mixtape you made me for valentine’s day. the one with songs from throughout our relationship. and i love that you walked me through it as you played it.” billie nods listening to you with a smile on her face, clearly proud of herself. your heart swells seeing the look on billie’s face, feeling so lucky to be so loved by her.

“yeah, that one was really nice” you finish up your thought.

the interview continues to progress, you both discussing the best music to cry to - describing sufjan stevens as “war music”.

when you move on to discuss GOAT actors, you start to swoon over mikey madison and zendaya, saying, “i didn’t know people could look like that… princess vibes.”

billie talks alongside you in complete agreement, “i love princess looking girls… like you.” you roll your eyes at her and continue to the next question, completely ignoring that billie is taking every chance she can to make you shy. she’s always like this when people are around.

billie goes on to ask your opinion on the best y2k look.

“easy! whale tale. thong showing with the low waisted pants” you nod triumphantly.

“yeah, you wear that one a lot” she says. billie then answers for herself, “i love a tramp stamp. fire.”

“i like how we’re just describing you” billie rambles on as she moves her hand up and down in your body’s direction. “you’re the prototype, baby” billie smirks.

you click your tongue against your teeth and wink at her with a smile, “what can i say?” you half-heartedly bow in your seat.

“GOAT female rapper” you call out after picking up a new card.

“surely it has to be nicki minaj” billie responds to you.

“nuh uh! megan thee stallion. unequivocally.” you fight for your queen.

“oop- lets not” billie says as her eyes widen.

“no, lets! meg is the GOAT. kendrick vs drake? all because of hiss. those rock-stlye guitars that are suddenly appearing in rap music? that’s cobra’s effect. i will kill for my queen” you ramble on.

“oh no, we’ve got her going” billie giggles talking to the camera, “i’ve never seen her fight for anyone harder than megan thee stallion, not even for me, y’all.”

“period. as i should” you defend yourelf, “she’s a triple threat: insanely hot, insanely talented, insanely smart. and her knees?!”

billie cackles at your last comment knowing she’s caught you watching slo-mo videos of megan shaking ass many times before.

you laugh with her, knowingly, before waiting for billie to read out the next card.

“WOAT purchase you’ve made?”

billie answers her own question, telling the story about one time where she hired people to decorate her house for halloween.

“girl, i swear you’ll do anything for halloween. it’s a little dramatic” you comment.

“go on then, let’s hear yours if i’m so dramatic” billie quips back.

“ok well i didn’t have a business manager at the time, i had no idea what i was doing” you defend yourself before telling the story. “there was this one time i bid on a couch that was like hundreds of thousands of dollars” you say with an ‘eek’ face, your teeth showing and eyebrows furrowed.

billie does her signature cackle at you before cooing after you, “oh, gurl” with a sympathetic pout.

“i don’t even have the couch anymore. that shit was trash! but i did get a funny video out of it, so…”

“i felt so bad laughing at you, though, in the video” billie says kindly.

“yeah, you and millions of other people” you roll your eyes.

“WOAT pick up line you’ve heard” you read out to billie.

“any pick up line is a bad one” billie simply states popping a bubble with the gum in her mouth.

“yeah! like, what are we performing for?!” you get riled up but continue on, “i feel like for me, any pick up line from a man is a bad one, it’s just so ew. from a girl, a bad one might be endearing or funny maybe.”

“i totally agree” billie nods along.

“last carddDDd on the dockett” you sing out as billie reaches out her hand to grab the final cue card, her glasses sat on the table next to them.

“ok, WOAT advice you’ve recieved” billie reads out, her head dipped low looking at the piece of card in front of her.

“put money before anything else” you easily reply, tutting at the memory.

“who gave you that advice?!” billie says, shock on her face, her tongue playing with her gum.

“somebody who aint had a morsel of bread in a LONG time” you joke.

billie pushes out a heavy breath of air through her pursed lips - telling you ‘that’s tough’ without using her words.

billie goes on to croak out a long ‘mmmmm’ thinking of her answer. eventually, after a pregnant pause, she says through a fit of giggles, “any mansplaining advice is just- i can’t do it.”

“ugh!” you huff in agreement.

“one of my biggest pet peeves in the world is someone explaining something to me that i know a ton about, and they’re explaining it to me like i dont” billie rolls her eyes. you heavily nod your head at her words.

“mhm” you agree, “you’re looking at me like i know less than i do and i’m disrespected by it.”

billie thinks on it and gives another answer, “i dont know, someobody was like ‘if you lost weight you could be a really great model’ when i was like twelve.” she’s fidgeting with her bottom lip as she recounts the memory, clearly remorseful for her younger self.

you make the most disgusted, apalled face at that, surprised you’ve never heard the story before. you can’t help but mutter under your breath, “you’ve always been perfect.”

“they called my mom and said that.”

“almond moms, you are the demise of your own children” you fiestily comment making eye contact with a camera.

“love my mom, though!” billie says, shimmying her shoulders in a shrug and pursing her lips, eyes facing the camera - there goes that cute emote, again!

“love your mom, too!” you say back. the two of you lean in for a high-five, the connection leaves a loud ‘slap’ that echoes through the studio.

“and, cut!” the video director calls out from behind the cameras.

billie jumps down from her seat, walking over to stand in between your legs.

“hi, baby” she says, her right hand cupping your cheek.

“hi, bil” you reply, nuzzling your face into her hand with a smile. billie moves her hand to tug your shoulder forward - coaxing you into a hug. “i was here the whole time baby, what’s up?” you ask with your head tucked in her neck.

“you were so far awayyy!” billie yells out in a groan and throws her head back. you just giggle and scoot your hips forward closer to billie.

billie scoops her hands under your arms and lifts you off the chair so you’re now standing and hugging.

“i’m sorry someone said that to you, my love. that’s fucked” you tell her now looking into her eyes. billie remains silent but sends you a confused face at your random apology. “the thing about your weight” you clarify.

“you’re a sweetheart” billie nuzzles her nose against yours. “fuck ‘em” you whisper. “fuck me” she teasingly whispers back.

“billie!” you slap her shoulder, roll your eyes, and pull away from the hug; “god forbid we ever have a sincere moment.”

[narcissistichedonist]

she always needs something in her mouth

a fingertip, a lollipop, the sleeve of her sweater. anything to keep her lips busy, anything to soothe that aching little hunger that never quite goes away. she doesn’t even notice she’s doing it half the time. teeth sinking into straws, tongue flicking against bottle caps, always tasting, sucking, biting, like her mouth has a mind of its own

it’s not subtle. not innocent either. not when she looks up at me with those big eyes while chewing her pen, not when she drags her tongue across her bottom lip for no reason other than instinct. she says she’s not doing it on purpose. that she doesn’t mean to tease. but her mouth gives her away : soft, wet, greedy

and it gets worse when she’s needy. fidgeting, restless, fingers twitching toward my zipper without even thinking. like it’s the only thing that’ll calm her down. like she was made for it. she’s not asking, not really : she’s offering. mouth open, eyes wide, so full of want she can barely speak

so when she finally gets to wrap her lips around my shaft, lick my swollen tip, feel the steady pulse of my cock throbbing inside of her mouth, her brain melts instantly. like a puppy finally getting it's treat. and oh, it's a treat alright

because oral fixation isn’t just a habit

it’s a craving

and i’m the only one that truly satisfies it, isn't that right, darling doll ?

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

6: SNAPSHOTS AND STICKY NOTES

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

Summary: Bucky and the reader take their fake dating arrangement to the next level, planning a social media-worthy “relationship” to convince Sam and their friends. What starts as awkward cooperation turns into something deeper as small moments— shared secrets, teasing messages, and unexpected vulnerability— blur the lines between real and pretend.

Warnings: fake dating, mutual pining, Bucky being emotionally constipated, references to past trauma (HYDRA, brainwashing), soft Bucky moments, a very important whiteboard, reader roasting Bucky’s texting habits, a trip to the zoo that gets surprisingly emotional

Word Count: 2506

The knock on your door came earlier than expected. You weren’t ready— not emotionally, and certainly not physically.

“Hold on!” you called, scrambling to tug a sweater over your head. The hem caught on your necklace, and you winced as it yanked it down against your torso. Naturally, Bucky would show up early on the one morning you were running late.

When you finally opened the door, Bucky was standing in front of you in his usual attire— dark jeans, a Henley, a fitted jacket and his usual guarded expression. His posture was tense, almost like he was regretting coming over.

“You good?” he asked, gruffly.

“Yeah, sorry. Hectic morning,” you muttered, stepping aside so he could enter your home.

Bucky glanced around as he walked into the living room, his eyes landing on the clutter on your desk in the corner. His eyes lingered over the piles of paper which were haphazardly scattered on the desk and on the floor, unfinished designs scrawled across the pages.

“Didn’t peg you for a messy one,” he said quietly, but there wasn’t any malice in his words.

You huffed. “I call it my creative chaos.”

“Right.”

He sat down on the couch, leaning back as though he was trying to get comfortable, but definitely looked like he was failing miserably. You grabbed your notebook and joined him, perching on the opposite end. The distance between you felt like a chasm.

“You know you don’t need to wear a jacket, you literally walked across the hallway.”

You watched Bucky shrug off his jacket, laying it across the arm of your couch. He tugged down on the sleeve of his Henley to cover up his vibranium arm.

“So,” you began, flipping through the crisp pages, “maybe we can work on how to make this more… convincing.”

“How do you propose that?”

“I guess…” you hesitated, chewing on the end of your pen, leaving a small black ink stain on your lip. “We need to get to know each other a bit better.”

“That’s fine, but knowing Sam, I’m not sure an interrogation’s going to be enough for him. He will want… proof.”

“Proof?” you asked, but a realization had dawned on you on what Bucky meant.

“He keeps talking about finding your Instagram.”

“Ahh shit,” you groaned and slumped back against the cushions. “Of course he is. Fucking social media. We’re going to need hard evidence. ”

Bucky watched you, a hint of amusement at your dramatics. “So, what you wanna do? Some kinda of photoshoot?”

“Sort of…” You looked over at Bucky and you could see the sarcastic expression on his face. “Not like those professional things with photographers and stuff… more like a couple of selfies, maybe a few posed ones out and about. That’s the stuff Sam’s expecting to see, and… my friends will too.”

Bucky sighed, running his hand over his face. “Fine. But count me out of anything cheesy. None of those hearts with our hands or matching outfits.”

“What kind of algorithm invaded your feed that made this your first suggestion?” you demanded, your face filled with disgust.

Bucky looked at you blankly, clearly not understanding a word of what you had just said.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on matching outfits. Maybe we can plan some dates that work for us and then go to those places and take some photos.”

“How did I get myself into this?” Bucky mumbled quietly to himself.

Unfortunately you caught his meaning. “If you don’t want to do this, why’re you here?”

“I’m sorry, I… I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

Bucky’s admission hung in the air, more vulnerable than you expected. He was looking down at his hands, he tugged down at his left sleeve, trying to pull it down over the vibranium. And for the briefest of moments you saw beneath his stoic mask he always wore.

“Look Bucky,” you moved closer to him. “I… I’m not really the biggest fan of this either, I mean… it’s not like I grew up with the fantasy of a fake boyfriend.”

He looked over at you, a hint of a smirk crossed his face. “I guess I’m just having a hard time letting someone in.”

“It’s just for show. You don’t need to share your whole life story with me. We just need to know enough about each other to make this believable.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “James,” he said quietly.

You frowned, confusion etched across your face. “Excuse me?”

“My name… is James.” He looked you in the eyes and introduced himself again, holding out his hand. “James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Hi, James.” 

You took his hand and introduced yourself back to him, enjoying the warmth of his hand for a beat too long. But for some reason, he didn’t pull his hand away.

“I’m trying,” he whispered.

There was a sincerity in his tone that made you pause, your fingers still wrapped in his calloused grip. His hand felt surprisingly steady and grounding amidst all the uncertainty that surrounded you.

“Me too, Bucky… James?”

“Everyone calls me Bucky, but I thought, if  we’re dating, you ought to know my real name.”

“Well, Bucky, we’ll figure this out… together.”

He gave your hand a small squeeze before finally letting go.

“So,” you said, clearing your throat. “Since we’re walking this road together, what kind of first date does James Buchanan Barnes take a girl on?”

Bucky leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, one hand absently tugging at the sleeve.

“You want to know what I’d have done for a first date back then?” he asked finally, his voice low and measured.

You blinked, surprised by his question, and nodded slowly, trying not to look too eager at finding out more about this mysterious man. “Sure. If you’re okay talking about it.”

Bucky leaned back against the couch again, staring at your blank television as though he could see his previous life play out on the screen. “It was different back then… simpler, I guess. A guy could take a girl dancing or to the movies. Maybe walk her home, if she wanted.” His lips twitched, a ghost of a smile played across them. “I used to go out a lot, actually. Always had a date for the weekend. Guess you could say I was popular.”

You couldn’t resist a little teasing. “A charmer, huh?”

His faint smirk faded, replaced by something more guarded. “Yeah. It was… easier back then.”

“Before you were the Winter Soldier?” you asked, your voice was laced with curiosity but no judgment.

Bucky’s head snapped toward you, his jaw tightening. “That wasn’t my choice,” he said sharply, the anger in his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. “Oh, Bucky, I didn’t mean—”

He held up his hand, stopping you mid-apology. You could see the tension in his shoulders despite the fact that his face was turned away from you.

“I shouldn’t have snapped,” he mumbled after a moment of silence. Slowly he sighed, running his hand through his hair. “This is exactly why I don’t…”

“I didn’t mean to pry,” you said, your heart sinking. “I just… I’m sorry. Really. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” You bit your lip and stared down at your hands, twisting your fingers together nervously, glancing over now and again to see how he would react.

Bucky didn’t respond immediately but the silence between you felt heavy.

Finally, he let out a long slow breath, as if he was trying to expel the pressure that had built up inside him. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just… this whole thing? Letting someone in, even just pretending? It’s harder than I thought it’d be.”

You nodded. “I get it. Or, well, I’m trying to. And for what it’s worth… I’m glad you’re here. Even if it is hard.”

Bucky turned to look at you, scrutinizing your face. His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something, but then he thought better of it and pressed his mouth into a thin line. After that, the two of you sat in silence, neither one of you knowing how to bridge the gap but there was something different between you. It felt less like a chasm and more like a better understanding of the burden he carried. He hadn’t shown his hand, but he had tipped one of his cards.

Eventually Bucky broke the silence, his voice softer. “So coffee shop for the first date?”

“What, no dancing?” you asked with mock incredulity.

Bucky let out a quiet laugh. “I think my dancing days are behind me.”

“Come on,” you pressed, leaning toward him a little. “You mean to tell me the legendary Bucky Barnes can’t bust a move anymore?”

An involuntary but genuine laugh escaped Bucky’s lips and he shook his head. “I literally don’t understand half the things you say.”

“You’ll learn to love it,” you said in a sing-song voice.

“I haven’t danced since 1943.”

“They say it’s like riding a bike. You just gotta get back on the horse.” You grinned at you as you threw random idioms at him.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Guilty.”

He shook his head but there was no sign of irritation— if anything he was struggling to hide his amusement. “If it means we can get off this topic, I’ll consider it.”

“Perfect!” You picked up your notebook and started writing. “First date: coffee shop.” You looked up out of the corner of your eye and lifted your pen off the page and pretended to keep writing. “Second date: dancing.”

“Let’s survive the first one first,” he said gruffly.

The next time you came home, you found a sticky note attached to your door at your eye level. You peeled it off with a sigh, glancing down at Bucky’s neat, capitalized handwriting:

“MEETING AT 7. DON’T BE LATE.”

You rolled your eyes, unlocking your doors and stepping into the warmth of your apartment. It was 6:30pm and you’d just gotten home from work. You grumbled to yourself as you closed the door.

Is texting too much of a chore for him? Man can wear sophisticated tech for an arm but can’t work something as simple as a cell phone.

By the time the fifth sticky note had made its appearance, you’d had enough. You marched down to the local arts and crafts store and bought a small whiteboard and marker. It was the perfect size to hang on your door and you couldn’t help but smirk at the mental image of Bucky and his Grumpy Cat face standing in the hallway, writing on it.

You hung it up and scribbled your own message to christen the board.

“FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS MODERN, JUST TEXT ME.”

As you were leaving the next day, there was a new message:

“TEXTING IS OVERRATED.”

As time went on, neither of you mentioned the board, occasionally leaving random messages, mostly involving you teasing him about his inability to send a text message.

“CAN WE DISCUSS YOUR FEAR OF TEXTING?”

“NOT A FEAR, IT’S CALLED FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION.”

His handwriting was slightly different in this response, a messy scrawl rather than his neat bold lettering, almost like he had been laughing while he wrote it.

"ZOO TOMORROW? DON’T MAKE ME REGRET THIS."

“FINE! BUT IF YOU POUT, I’M POSTING IT!”

“YOU ANIMAL!”

You let out a small huff, glancing over at Bucky as he stared at the pair of arctic wolves lounging lazily in their enclosure. He had been trudging around the zoo behind you all day looking distinctly unimpressed. For some reason, his usual grumpy scowl was starting to get under your skin. 

“What’s on your mind, Oscar?” you asked, leaning towards him.

Bucky turned, furrowing his brow. “Oscar? Who’s Oscar?”

“You,” you said with a teasing smile. “You know, Oscar the Grouch? From Sesame Street?”

His expression didn’t change. “I don’t know where Sesame Street is.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to the wolves, a distant look on his face.

You shook your head, not knowing whether to be amused or exasperated. “If you’re not into this, we could just leave. No need to suffer through it.”

Bucky sighed and his tone softened. “Sorry. I just… this is… different.”

You were caught off guard at his change in tone. It wasn’t like him to sound so reflective and a wave of guilt washed over you for being so insistent on coming to the zoo.

“I didn’t mean to drag you here if it’s not your thing,” you offered quietly.

He shook his head, dismissing your words. His eyes were still fixed on the wolves. “Have you heard of a place called Wakanda?” he asked, but his voice was so quiet, you wondered if he was talking to you.

You nodded, unsure where this was going but sensing it was important.

“I lived there for a while. They helped me with deprogramming the HYDRA brainwashing. Gave me peace for the first time in… a long time. I’ll always be grateful for what they did for me.”

You swallowed hard, not sure how to respond.

“The kids there… they used to call me White Wolf.”

There it was again, that look— like he was off somewhere else— and there was something almost wistful in his voice that tugged at your heart, making it ache. For a while you just stood silently beside him, unsure if he was looking for a response or was just in need of company.

You took a step back, giving him some space, wondering if he would notice your movement. But he seemed to be lost in his past and you hoped that it was one that would offer him some comfort. He looked…distant, yet somehow at peace, as if the memories he was lost in weren’t all bad. His usually guarded expression softened, and for the first time that day, his shoulders weren’t so tense. 

Instead, you took another small step back, watching as his focus stayed on the wolves. Without thinking, you pulled out your phone and snapped a quick photo of him. Bucky didn’t even flinch, his focus still fixed on the wolves. The light filtering through the enclosure cast a soft glow over him, catching the slight furrow of his brow and the way his blue eyes seemed to soften as he watched the animals move.

The sound of the shutter must have finally caught his attention because he turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow at you. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe. You looked less grumpy for once. Had to document it.”

“If that ends up on the Instacart, I'll expect royalties,” he smirked.

You smiled, uploading the photo to your photo to your feed. You flashed the image at Bucky for his approval, before secretly adding your caption. “Found his pack.” #mywhitewolf

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

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Posting schedule will be Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays around 2.30pm EST / 11.30am PST / 7.30pm BST

[cyberhughes]

— 𝓣𝓸𝓸 𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ quinn hughes

🌊 prologue

next chapter

*:･✧* 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: quinn hughes x fem!oc

*:･✧* 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: injuries from falling off a bike, thats it :)

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: OKAY NEW FIC ALERT?! i had sm fun writing this chapter it was super cute,,,happy reading pookies

series masterlist + character intros

“LET GO OF ME!” tiny hands gripped the car door, small screams echoing all the way down the street. “rory come on it’ll be okay!”

it was april, 2009 when the gray family had just arrived to their new home in toronto. aurora, the youngest daughter was being pried off of the car door by her older brother, ashton. being only 6 years old, moving across the country was possibly the worst thing that could happen to her after having established her own friends back in kelowna— that or having her cereal in the wrong coloured bowl.

“come on you’ll like it! your bedroom has a big window!” ashton looked around in embarrassment seeing if anyone on the street was witnessing his sisters freak out. ashton was 10, the age where he started to find small things embarrassing and tried to be cool. he also wasn’t the most thrilled about their move, but it was happening and there wasn’t anything they could do to stop it. which is why he was currently trying to yank his sister off of their car. who knew kids had such strong grips?

“just leave her, she’ll calm down.” their mother approached, smiling gently. she knew that the only way to get her out of a freak out like this was to just leave her alone and let her calm down herself.

ashton shrugged, throwing his hands in the air before following his mother into the house to check out his bedroom. aurora slumped onto the ground pouting, wiping a few tears from her face. she stared at her pink sparkly sketchers and sniffled.

as she stared at her shoes she saw another pair of blue sketchers walk up towards her. “go away ash.” she mumbled, trying to stop herself from crying again. “who’s ash?” she whipped her head up to look at who was speaking, having mistaken them for her brother.

it was a small boy, maybe around her age with blonde hair and brown eyes. “i’m luke!” he grinned, some candy or something stuck in one of his teeth. aurora didn’t say anything, and she just stared at him with a blank expression, tears dried on her cheeks. “what’s your name?” his smile never faltered.

aurora stood up off the ground, dusting off her blue corduroy pants. “i’m rory.” she wiped the tears off her face with her sleeve. he cocked his head to the side as he observed her expression. “why are you sad?” he stepped closer to examine her.

“i wanna go home.” she pouted, tears threatening to fall back down as she was reminded of her situation. luke’s eyes widened as he watched the girl begin to cry again.

“LUKE! what are you doing!” an older boy came jogging towards, with another small boy trailing behind him, jumping as he tried to put his shoes on.

“she’s crying.” luke pointed at aurora who was going back and forth from wiping her tears and chewing her sleeves in nervousness

“hey what’s wrong?” the eldest boy bent down to her height. she pouted and shook her head, not wanting to answer.

“you just moved here right? i’m quinn.” the boy smiled softly at her, not wanting to scare her away. “these are my younger brothers, jack and luke.” he motioned and the boys waved with big smiles on their faces.

“let’s be friends!” luke and jack jumped up and down and aurora let out a laugh at how silly they looked.

“oh i see a smile!” quinn teased and she laughed more, unable to fight her growing grin.

“what’s going on out here?” aurora’s mom stepped out of the house, hands rested on her hips as ashton followed behind.

“hi, i’m quinn and these are my younger brothers jack and luke.” the younger boys still jumping up and down, “RORY IS GONNA BE OUR NEW FRIEND!”

aurora’s mom turned to face her daughter, her little fists gripping the edge of her sweater with a grin on her face, and a gleam in her eyes to contrast the tears on her cheeks.

they’d be the best of friends.

“rory, be careful!” ashton called out as he eyed his sister’s dangerous activities, pausing his game of street hockey with quinn and jack to warn her.

it was fall of 2011, the street was painted with leaves of every shade of orange, and rory was currently riding on the front handle bars of luke’s bike, bursting into fits of giggles as they paced up and down the street.

“looks kinda fun actually…” jack mumbled, manoeuvring a ball with his stick back and forth and quinn gave him a stern look. “don’t you dare.”

“faster lukey!” aurora giggled, tightening her grip on the bike, “i’m going as fast as i can!” he laughed, trying the speed up but his legs were burning, he didn’t mind though. he just wanted to make her laugh.

as they headed back in the direction of their houses, a few leaves that were blown in the wind got caught in the bike chain, making it stop abruptly and flinging aurora off of the front.

the three boys playing hockey hadn’t noticed the accident until they heard her cries. “oh my god, ash get your mom!” quinn exclaimed, immediately dropping the stick and running towards the scene.

she was on the ground on her hands and knees, tears falling down onto the pavement. she didn’t move, the stinging on her skin far too intense.

“rory, i’m sorry!” luke hopped off the bike, and rushing to her side. “oh no…” his eyes widened as he saw the blood on the pavement, stomach dropping at the fact that he had hurt her.

“hey hey…” quinn approached, bending down to her level. she looked up through teary eyes and could see him in front of her, with jack and her brother running into the house in the far distance.

“can you stand up?” he asked softly and she shook her head, biting her lip. “it’s okay, your mom’s coming, kay?” he reassured and she nodded and her lips quivered.

“here, just try and sit down.” he helped her off of her hands and onto her butt, grimacing when he saw the wounds on her knees and palms. there were giant holes in the knees of her star printed pants, now soaked in blood.

“i’m so sorry rory!” luke said with a shaky voice, tears welling in his eyes as he observed her wounds. “s’ okay lukey.” she said quietly and went to wipe her tears but winced when her sleeves grazed the gash on her hand.

“just sit, you’re okay.” quinn motioned for her to stop moving, and reached his hand out to wipe away her tears for her, offering a soft smile as she leant into his hand.

it was 2011 when aurora first realized she had a crush on quinn hughes.

“rory go away please! go play with jack and luke!” aurora pouted at her brothers words. she had been standing outside her brothers door, knocking and knocking. he had a girl in there, his first ‘girlfriend’ at age 13 and aurora just wanted to meet her, not seeing many girls around the house often.

she huffed and crossed her arms. she had already walked over to the hughes’ house earlier, jack was at a friend’s house and luke was feeling under the weather and needed to rest.

she groaned in frustration, heading outside to play by herself. she grabbed a bucket of chalk on the way out from the garage, humming a taylor swift song.

she plopped onto the ground, beginning to decorate the driveway with her doodles.

quinn went to open his bedroom window for a breeze when he saw aurora sitting outside by herself. he felt guilty, he knew she had come by to see if his brothers could play, he had also received a snap from ashton, a girl visible in his room. he sighed and threw on a hoodie before heading next door.

“hey! need some company?” he asked, hands tucked in his pockets as he approached her, admiring her drawings. she shrugged in silence, continuing to trace lines.

“cool drawings, you’re talented rory.” he took a seat beside her and she blushed at his compliment, thanking him quietly.

he grabbed a piece of chalk before drawing alongside her. the pavement around aurora was filled with flowers and butterflies, meanwhile the space around quinn began to fill with hockey themed doodles.

aurora looked up at him, admiring his features as her heart beat quickened. she knew that he’d probably be anywhere else, what 13 year old boy wants to be outside coloring with a 9 year old? she liked the way his hair looked fluffier in the slight breeze, and the way his face concentrated on his drawings.

“quinny?” she interrupted his concentration and he looked up with a smile. she really admired that no matter how annoying she might seem, he never seemed to have a problem with it, and would always give her a smile.

“yeah?” he responded, placing the chalk down. she got nervous and looked back down, cheeks heating up.

“do you have a girlfriend?” his eyes widened at the question, then he chuckled. “no i don’t, that’s just your brother.” she nodded at his response, and went back to drawing. “do you have a crush then?” she didn’t look up when she asked her second question.

“no, i don’t have time for girls. if i did then i wouldn’t have time to hang out with my favourite pal.” he ruffled a hand through her hair and she squealed, swatting him away.

it was 2014 when aurora decided she would be the girl quinn hughes would wait for.

“what are you talking about?” aurora’s voice was barely above a whisper as she sat at the dinner table, dropping her cutlery onto the wooden surface.

it was 2016 when rory and ashton had found out they would be moving, again.

“i mean, we’re moving rory. i found another job—a better job in california.” her dad spoke, cutting into his steak, acting like it wasn’t a big deal that they were making such a big move.

“it’ll be okay rory-“ ashton tried to comfort his sister but she interrupted, standing up from her chair.

“no! it isn’t okay, it might be okay for you since it’s not long before you’re off to michigan with quinn anyways! i don’t want to restart again!” she protested. she could feel a lump forming in her throat and she tried to push down her tears.

“honey calm down.” her mother looked at her with a sad expression, understanding her daughter’s frustration for moving. before they had come toronto, she was a very shy kid, but since meeting the boys next door they helped to being her out of her shell.

not knowing what to say, aurora ran up to her bedroom, hearing her dad call out for her to come back, but she wouldn’t.

she slammed her bedroom door and plopped onto her bed. tears finally falling onto her pillow as her mind began to race. how could they make her move away from everything she knew? surely his job here was good enough, what could they possibly need more of? they had a nice house with nice neighbors.

her stomach dropped.

she’d have to leave the hughes. she’d have to leave her best friends, and the boy she liked.

she was envious of her brother. he would be joining quinn at the university of michigan, not for hockey but for soccer. he’d probably also be able to see luke and jack often as well, while she’d have to be stuck nearly 3000 miles away by herself.

it wasn’t fair.

“rory, the boys are outside ready to say goodbye.” aurora stood in the middle of her empty bedroom while her mom stood at the doorway.

she took one last look at the bedroom that was once filled with posters of taylor swift and one direction. it was here that she and luke and many sleepovers, watching movies that were definitely not age appropriate and giggling so loud that their parents had to tell them to be quiet. it was here where she had told her girlfriends about her scandalous crush on the older boy next door. it was here where she cried, when she found out that quinn had a girl over.

she nodded, and her mom placed a hand on her shoulder guiding her down the stairs and outside.

she saw her dad and jim loading some suitcases into their car, and ashton chatting with the hughes brothers.

“hey.” she approached, tucking her hands into her pockets.

“you’re lucky you get to move to california, think of all the waves you could surf.” jack said trying to lighten the mood and aurora laughed, “yeah except i don’t know how to surf, jack.”

she turned her eyes to luke and could feel the tears she was trying so hard to fight come up to the surface. luke tried to seem cool, but when they locked eyes he started to cry as well, the two joining into a tight embrace, not knowing when they’d see each other again.

“i’m gonna miss you a lot rory.” he sniffled as she cried into his chest. “i’m gonna miss you more lukey.”

the parents stood by the car, hearts melting at the display in front of them. “those two are breaking my heart.” ellen said, placing a hand over her chest and sighing.

a few minutes had passed by and their dad was calling out that it was time to go.

“bye jack, don’t cause too much trouble.” aurora teased, and he rolled his eyes pulling her into a hug. “i could say the same to you.”

she pulled away and faced quinn. he offered the same smile that she loved and her heart melted. she went in for a hug and lingered a little longer than she did with jack, but no one seemed to notice.

“hey, you’re gonna be okay.” he pulled away, keeping his hands on her shoulders as he looked down to her. “next time i see you, you’ll probably have these wacky braces out.” he laughed, poking her cheek and she swatted him away. he always knew how to make her smile when she was sad.

“shut up, you had braces too.” she rolled her eyes but still smiled. she looked over his shoulder to see her mom and ellen hugging, and her dad and jim exchanging a from handshake and it finally felt real.

what if she would never see them again? what if they would forget about her while they’re off playing hockey, following their dreams?

“i’ll miss you guys.” she said, wiping her tears before running to the car, her two braids flapping against her back.

ashton said his goodbyes and joined her in the back seat. they waited for their parents to finish their goodbyes before hopping in as well.

as they pulled out of the driveway, aurora turned around to look through the back window of the car. luke glanced towards his brothers before booking it, chasing after the car. the two other boys looking bewildered before chasing right behind him. “DON’T FORGET US!” she could hear luke yell and she giggled. she’d never forget them, not ever.

she’d never forget her best friend, luke.

she’d never forget her partner in crime, jack.

she’d never forget the first boy to steal her heart, quinn.

©cyberhughes; do not copy, translate or repost my work without permission.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: When you're having cramps, your boyfriend doesn't even think of shying away from helping you in anyway he can.

Genre: Fluff, hurt and comfort✌️😉

Warnings: talk of having a period. that is all.

Although you have been feeling horrible all morning, you haven't mentioned anything as you continue your essay in the comfortable silence of your boyfriend's dorm.

You're in James's favorite Quidditch crewneck, your hands tucked under the sleeves as you continue to scribble incoherent words on your parchment. You chew on your lip as another cramp hits you, the pain piercing your lower stomach.

You hear the door creak and shuffling behind you, accompanied by a call of your name, "Y/n!" you hear the smile in James's voice as he says, "I didn't think you'd be in here?"

He sounds a little surprised but he makes his way over to you eagerly, leaning down and kissing behind your ear. "How are you, baby?" he asks. James wraps his arms around your stomach, lifting the hem of your sweater (his sweater) and presses his hands to your warm skin.

On any normal day you would welcome his touch, but this time his hand on your stomach reminds you of how much pain you're in and how disgusting you feel. So, you squirm against him and pull his hands away. "James," you whisper, shutting your eyes as you feel another jab of pain.

How did it suddenly become so much worse?

James frowns, slightly hurt by your rejection, but kneels in front of you. "Hey," He says quietly, taking your hands in his. He turns you around until he can see your face and his heart leaps in his chest when he sees that your eyes are almost as scarlet as his sweater (as well as extremely swollen).

You blink away new tears, turning your head away from him. You're so embarrassed. James rubs his hands over your knee. "What happened?"

Your lip wobbles as you stare at the desk and the cramps return, "I'm on my period and it feels like someone is tearing my insides out. And I feel all sticky and gross," you pause and warn him, "You don't want to touch me when I'm like this."

James cracks a smile. "I wanna touch you all the time," he continues to massage soothingly across your knee and your lower thighs. "It always only depends on if you want me to touch you. If I had my way, love, you would never leave my arms."

You can't help but laugh and your expression softens. James sends you a lopsided smirk and reaches up to caress your cheek with his thumb. "Did you take something? To help with the cramps?"

You nod your head and mumble, "It hasn't worked yet."

James looks over you at his desk and the parchment and ink, "And what are you doing in here? You should be relaxing," he reprimands softly. He looks around the room just to make sure Remus, Peter, and Sirius are out.

"I have to finish this essay for tomorrow," you say, "And I was lonely. I missed you but I knew you were at Quidditch practice so I came here and — I was cold — " your voice is small as you lift your arms to show him his sweater.

James interrupts you with a small, "Dove," his voice is light with amusement and endearment. "I didn't mean it like that. You can always come into my room and steal as many of my sweaters as you like, I don't care. I just want to know why you're torturing yourself with this essay when you're in pain."

You smile a little, wincing when another cramp creeps up on you and you say,"I can't just put everything on pause because of some silly cramps. I'm okay."

James shakes his head. "Nonsense," he helps you stand and suddenly swoops his hands under your legs and holds you in his arms. You let out a breathy laugh as your arms loop themselves around his neck.

"I'm gonna make you relax, love," he states sternly as he walks to his bed and delicately lowers you onto his mattress. You curl up as you let the warmth of his fuzzy blankets calm some of the pain in your stomach.

James quickly shrugs his Quidditch uniform off, leaving it on the back of his chair, and you can't help but stare when he's shirtless. He turns to you and smirks. "Don't stare at me like that," he whispers teasingly and you whip your head around, pretending to find the walls of his dorm extremely interesting.

"Sorry," you mutter and feel the mattress dips as James nuzzles against you, pulling you in as he leans his head on the wall behind him. He's warm and the feel of his thumb sliding across your skin makes you shiver.

He leans down and kisses your cheek delicately. You squirm when another cramp hits you and James squeezes your shoulder. "Oh, I'm so sorry, my love. I hate seeing you in pain. How can I make this better?" you move closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso as you bury your face into the crook of his neck,

"S'nothing you can do, Jamie," you mumble.

"How can I distract you then?"

You pause, thinking for a moment and then look up and make eye contact with him. "Tell me about practice today?" you ask softly.

James chuckles, "I didn't know you like when I talk Quidditch, love."

You smile and clarify, "I like it when you talk," you lean up a little and kiss his cheek. When you pull away from him, your smile widens as you admire how his cheeks look pinker. He smiles, mostly to himself, and leans his head on yours as he draws small circles on your shoulder.

"Well, Bennett had his head in his ass the entire fucking time," James doesn't hold back and you frown, swatting him on his chest. His eyes widen and he looks at you with a weak smile. "Sorry," he mumbles and you relax into him again. Another cramp hits you but this time James's voice distracts you, "I meant that Bennett had a hard time being a team player and you know I don't tolerate that."

You hum and let him continue, "I had to have a talk to him after but he didn't like that. Merlin, Quidditch players can be such dicks."

You giggle, "I know."

James looks at you. "What's that supposed to mean, baby?"

You grin and stoke a line down his jaw, explaining yourself, "I don't mean you, James. I just mean that it isn't something I don't notice when I'm with you and you're hanging around them."

"None of them ever bother you though, right?" James interrupts, concern weaved into his voice, "Because you would tell me, hmm? I'll kick them off the team no hesitation. No one messes with my girl."

You smile. "Oh, I think they're well aware. Frankly, if anything, they avoid me."

"And that doesn't make you feel sad or ignored does it?"

You laugh this time, sitting up and shaking your head. "No it doesn't. Jamie, you're the only Quidditch player I care about anyways," you wince from your movements and James sits up, his hand coming to rest on your stomach.

His hand falters as he remembers what you'd said, but just as he's about to move it away, you catch his wrist and push it under your sweater. You look at him with round eyes and James melts. "Can you? Your hands are warm."

"Of course," James says instantly. He smiles and starts to gently massage your abdomen. He lets you settle into him again and you close your eyes. The pressure from James's hand helps soothe your pain and just as you turn your head slightly to press a kiss to his neck, the door to James's dorm swings open.

Sirius Black throws his book-bag onto the ground and lifts his head to look at you both. "Y/n?" he scans you and James. James's hand under your shirt. Your lipgloss marks on James's cheek and neck.

Color drains from Sirius's face and he quickly covers his eyes. "Oh my fucking god. Prongs, what the fuck?"

James doesn't move his hand as he continues to massage circles on your skin, he rolls his eyes at his best friend. "Sirius, don't be so dramatic. Nothing's happening, Y/n just," he pauses and looks at you to make sure you're okay with Sirius knowing. You nod. "She's on her period and I'm helping her with her cramps."

Sirius's eyes widen and he stares at you as if you're an alien. "It's happening now? You're bleeding?!"

You frown and James sits up, grabbing the pillow from behind him and throwing it at Sirius. "You're such a child. Get out," James demands sternly.

Sirius holds his hands up in the air as surrender. "Hey, this is also my room!" he looks at you, his expression suddenly soft. "And I was only kidding, Y/n. I know bleeding out of your vagina is a completely normal thing that happens to a woman – "

James narrows his eyes and interrupts him, "Sirius. Door. Now."

Sirius just stares at James for a second until he eventually sighs and listens. When the door shuts behind him, your boyfriend is quick to apologize for his best friend. "I'm so sorry about him. He's such a pain in my ass."

You smile and murmur, "It's okay. He's harmless."

James nods, resuming his massages and you hum in approval, "Are you feeling any better, my love?"

You nod and move closer to him, still wanting his warmth. Your cramp have dulled because of the warmth of James's hand and you turn your head into his neck again, his hair tickling your cheek. "You're the best boyfriend, James," you say and you mean it.

"Oh, because I take care of my girl when she's in pain?" James scoffs, kissing your temple swiftly. "Please, that's the bare minimum, Y/n. I love you. I want to care for you. It's not a hard task. Nothing to be praised for."

You smile into his shoulder. You can't help but wonder if James Potter really doesn't know that he's one in a million. All you know is that if he doesn't you'll make sure to remind him that he is. Every second you can.

"I love you, Jamie," you mumble as James kisses your head again.

"I love you more," he whispers as you close your eyes.

[muntitled]

Oh my!! I just read your lee know req and god please spare me my knees are weak. Can i request a lee know dilf? I’m sure its perfect!! 💗 btw i love you take lots of rest! Mwah!

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞

Pairing: Lee Minho x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dating a single dad who coincidentally happens to be your next-door neighbor does not come without its fair share of hardships (and fun)

Warnings: Language, Humor, Domestic Fluff, Single Dad AU, Secret Relationship, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), implied age gap, Brat!TamerMinho, Bratty!Reader, Oral, Dacryphilia, Needy!Minho, Slight DDLG, Dom/Sub undertones

Seriously so domestic, you have been warned <3

Dating had always been difficult, and up until very recently, you had been perfectly content as an unwilling participant of crush culture. Seldom men have grappled your attention, and the ones that do are often doomed to give you the ick. Every man was either too loud and obnoxious or too nonchalant and non-empathetic. You had given up on dating altogether until fate sunk its talons into your love life.

What're you wearing?

The message came at the dead of night while you lay supine on your couch. Minho rarely sent text messages, preferring to call or email like the archaic man he was. It sent you crazy with admiration.

Wouldn't you like to know?

You grinned as you sent the message back, chewing anxiously at the ends of your sleeves like you were a child awaiting their scolding.

Yes I would. That's why I asked.

Almost immediately, you could tell Minho was needy. He was naturally very blatant and authoritarian, but he became even more so when he found himself slipping into arousal. You could picture him through the screen, and the mental image had your stomach warming with delight: his hair shaggy from his hands running through it all day. His dress shirt, unbuttoned. And perhaps maybe he was reclined backwards on his big leather couch. Nursing is phone in one hand a whiskey tumbler in the other.

What are you wearing.

Comes Minho's message a second time. This time, the tone felt far more demanding despite being the exact same words. You immediately knew that if you would not comply quickly, you might be in for a punishment. Oh how you adored punishments.

Wrong punctuation. It's 'what are you wearing?' No full stop. And you have an adult job? Smh...

You're so undeniably tense that you fear your jaw might crack from the pressure that it's clenched and you hold your phone close to your screen. For 60 agonizing seconds there is not response and you can definitely picture the look on Minho's face with his tongue poking tje inside of his cheek while he shook his head and murmered a quiet and appalled "진싸" to himself.

Come over. His next text reads. The kid's asleep. Come over.

You dreaded taking the very short walk to your next door neighbor and boyfriend's apartment and yet, the opportunity to piss Minho off even more is just too difficult to pass up. A slow smile grace's over your face as you send back an 'aye aye captain' before slipping on your slippers to make the short journey to his apartment.

Before your fist even hits the surface of the wood, the front door is ripped open and Minho's pulling you inside. "You've been holding out on me?" He grumbles, before forcing kisses down the side of your neck. "Why?"

In a flurry of trying to kick your shoes off at the front door as Minho leads you both to the couch. You try to control Minho's frantic groping at your sides and try to ignore his bulge pressing against your thigh. When pulling you onto his lap, you're not quite sure what to make of your thoughts and emotions.

All you feel is a sharp pinch on the skin underneath your woolen sweater and you yelp, "What the hell-"

"Answer me?" He says, glaring at up you with an aura of seriousness. Your legs ached as you straddled Minho's lap, and conversation seems impossible. "I wanna know why you suddenly think it's okay to start being a fucking bra-

"You brought it!? I can't believe you actually brought it-"

A small, excited gasp cuts through what was to be the most embarrassing scolding of your life.

Like the breaking of an ancient spell; you and Minho push back from each other on the couch, you detangle your limbs and you keep a distance. You're almost grateful for the little boy padding into the living room, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

Minho watches his son run towards you on the couch with furrowed eyebrows. Nothing but confusion swims across his darkened irises, and you shrug slightly before uncovering the thing that has apparently been in your hands this whole time. Minho had been so clouded by his own lust that he barely saw the children's book you had clasped in your hands. He watches how you and his son exchange pleasantries like long-lost friends. The both of you practically beaming.

He is only able to intervene on your very important conversation when he notices you handing his son the book.

"Woah- hey, what's going on?" Minho's hand instinctively goes to the back of his son's head as he looks down at you curiously, "What's this?" Minho asks.

"The reason I'm here," you make awkward little jazz hands which Minho's son finds very amusing before you clear your throat. You give Minho an inconspicuous wink.

"Your son... he-"

"I just can't stand how you read bedtime stories to me, Dad."

Minho swings his head downards, his eyes wide.

"You said you liked how I read-"

"No, Dad," theres a roll of his 4 year old eyes and you smile, "You like how you read. Its not very fun for me-"

And that's how you spent a majority of the evening reading a bedtime story for a sleepy little boy until he finally slipped away. You didn't mind it. The story was buying you some time from what you knew was a very aggravated Minho, and all you could do was chuckle to yourself as you read.

This was all so incredibly short-lived because the kid eventually did fall asleep, and you could feel your insides twist as you closed his bedroom door, making your way back to the living room. Every step you took felt like you were skinking deeper and deeper into the earth, and you swallowed very thickly when you rounded the corner to find Minho staring idly at the wall. He was slouched slightly on the couch with his shirt unbuttoned even further.

As you rounded the couch, you spied an empty whiskey tumbler on the coffee table. You shiver.

"Had fun, then?" Minhos hisses almost petulantly.

You roll your eyes as you lower yourself onto the couch beside him.

"If only you weren't such an incompetent bedtime reader then I wouldn't-"

But his hand was already squeezing at the base if yojr throat and you gasp, raising and lowering your body as your lips parted in what was very clearly excitement.

"You and this fucking mouth-"

"A-Are you going to punish me?" Minho regards you for a split second underneath the shadow of his lashes before he breaks out into a chuckle. You tilt your head in confusion, which is only tripled when his hand goes from your throat to the top of your head. "Good girls aren't supposed to like their punishments, are they?"

He knew what diction to use to have you slipping into subspace, and all you're able to do is nod as you shift closer to him. You lick your lips, so completely rattled with tension of all the endless possibilities. Would he spank you? No, perhaps that would cause far too much noise... would he edge you-

"Only slutsnlook forward to their punishments, you know that?" Your nipples tighten against the fabric of your sweater and you nearly moan again. Minho's hand on your head is so heavy, so unmistakably manly it has you spiraling.

"And punishments are no fun if you enjoy them." The hand on your head gets heavier and heavier.

"Minho-"

"Knees." It's all he says before you're toppling to the ground at his feet. Your heart is pounding out of the confines of your very chest, and you lick your lips suddenly feeling so incredibly dehydrated as Minho drags you to his knees. He sits back, letting his head rest on the back of the couch as he says, "You know what to do, don't you?"

The weight of your punishment suddenly hits you tenfold as you bring your shaky hands to undo Minho's belt. It wasn't a 'punishment' at all. Not in the way you wanted.

Instead, Minho was quite content letting you pull out his cock and service him. Making you wait as long as he was forced to.

Minho's jaw clenches when you pull his cock out of his briefs and the sound has your bottom lip trembling.

"P-Please, Minho,"

"Shut up," he mumbles into the air with his head still thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut.

Consequently, you nod into the open air as you spit into your hand and begin to pump his hard length with every bit of precision. You can feel your clit beg for some kind of friction to the point that your need becomes painful.

"You're too slow," he whispers, clenching his eyes shut in frustration, "Too fucking slow." You speed up the pace, watching his lips fall open and feeling utterly intoxicated by all the pretty sounds Minho makes for him all from the both of your hands wrapped around his cock.

"F-Fuck-" You twist your wrist, suddenly spurred on by his reaction.

"I don’t want your hands," Minho huffs, "I want your mouth" and you bend your head dutifully before closing your warm mouth around the head of his cock. Minho's head immediately snaps up from the couch, and he is completely and utterly wrecked. He digs his fingers into your hair, forcing you down onto his cock, "Make a mess. You know I like it when you make a mess, Dove," You're practically whining around his cock and he hisses.

Trails of spit and precum drip out of your mouth along with nasty tears that run down your face, reddening your eyes. Minho's cock twitches in your mouth at the very sight of you. "Look at you," he whispers, "Fucking look at what a mess you are for me," You're nodding frantically, his large cock hitting the back of your throat now-

"I'm gonna fucking cum in that pretty mouth of yours and yojre gonna take it, aren't you, baby?" He frantically moves your braids out of face, all the more the see your completely fucked out expression despite not even receiving any stimulation. It has him lifting his hips to rut into your mouth and just as you choke, Minho's voice cracks, "Shut a good girl," he praises as he looses control, "Shut as good fucking- FUCK-" His cum fills the back of your throat at an alarming rage and yourenforced to clench your toes and swallow, there was no other option. He pats down your head lovingly as his hips snap up against you and you whimperbsnd moan around his cock, only prolonging his orgasm

"God, you're so good to me, baby," he whispers, coming down from his high but not without any aftershocks, "You're so fucking good to me,"

<3

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

[kissitbttr]

“toji, baby? can you do alena’s hair please?” you call out from the kitchen, fixing simple breakfast for your little family,

he nods at you, giving a short kiss on your cheek as a confirmation before heading towards his little girl’s play pen. his eyes brighten when alena is busying herself with her my little pony plushies, adorable messy hair comes into view making him chuckle,

“hey ya sweetheart, having fun?” toji walks around to face his pretty baby, the sound of her dad’s voice causing her to look up. he swears the moment her big round eyes stare at him, he’s ready to kill anyone who dares to try take his daughter away,

with a toothy smile, she babbles away while clapping her chubby hands. feeling excited to see her dad there, seemingly cannot wait to be picked up by him,

“aren’t you the prettiest girl i have ever seen, hm? aside from mama of course. dunno what she sees in me. she’s a ten and i’m not. i’m happy she chose me, though. such a lucky bastard” toji makes sure to whisper the last word to himself because he doesn’t want his daughter to hear him cuss.

his hands go under her armpits before lifting her up, little legs kicking away in excitement making toji chuckles. “time to do my little alena’s hair!”

he brings her to the baby chair near the dining room, where you can see it too. your eyes look over your shoulder and smile at the sight of him setting your baby down,

“got anything to work on today?”

toji shakes his head, rolling the sleeves of his sweater up to the elbows. “nah. took a day off. i’m letting shiu handling it today”

one of your eyebrows quirks up, turning out to plate the cut up fruits and eggs on the table. “oh yeah? what if there’s something really important come up that you need to—“

“i need my girls more” he cuts you off with a soft voice and a grin, his eyes look up to you and see you mirroring his smile but it’s much more prettier to him. “plus, i’m sure they can handle not having their ceo for today. and tomorrow. maybe”

his fingers move to thread lightly under the strands of alena’s hair as she toys with a little action figure toji had gifted her few days prior. it keeps herself busied while he’s doing her hair,

“how about you, baby? got any meetings or anything?”

you shrug, grabbing a few utensils. “just one with the team to discuss the launch of our newest design. should be quick, though. hopefully. i need to speed up the process and everything because it seems that everyone is fuc—freaking slow.”

he chuckles, tying a band around alena’s mini bun. “i’m sure you can handle it, darling. you’re ruthless like that. one of the reasons why i fell on love with you, is it?”

“would you still, if i had to kill them?”

“absolutely” he answers without hesitation making you laugh,

“god, we are bad parents”

“don’t know what you’re talking about. we’re pretty good at what we’re doing” toji smiles at his baby, who suddenly chucks the toy towards the table. “damn, our baby got strength”

“got that from you, i think” you lean towards the table and snatch a cut up strawberry before plucking it into your mouth,

“nope. that’s from you” he corrects, softly patting alena’s hair that are sticking out. “remember when we had an argument and you almost hit me with—“

“we do not talk about that” you shake your head, not wanting to remember,

“was pretty sexy to me” he replies casually. “i was so turned on by that”

both of you share a laugh, causing alena to look up at both of you at the sound of it.

“so—do i get to see my pretty wife’s latest design or—“ toji trails off, planting a kiss on alena’s chubby cheek before grabbing a handful of berries for himself,

you tilt your head to the side, a small smirk tugs upon your lips and toji immediately catches what that look meant for,

“i see trouble” he eyes you for a second, chewing on the juicy fruit. “is it sexy? god, if it was you can’t keep teasing me, baby. i’d die”

“so dramatic, you won’t die”

“i will for you though” and he means it. “is it dresses? leather involved perhaps?”

shaking your head, you reply “lingeries, babe. night gowns, garters, panties. all that”

and toji suddenly stops moving. breathing even. his eyes widening at the mention of lingeries,

“oh fuck. you are killing me.”

“toji! language!”

but alena just laughs at her silly banter between her parents