#and how do I get better if I never practice!

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star- chap three preview

Pornstar Gojo WILL be out tomorrow!!! One more preview <3 Do NOT read if you haven't read part two!

Pairings- Pornstar! Satoru x shy f!reader

Warnings - NSFW- oral sex (m recieving) mentions of cum, Gojo's dick is broken bc of reader poor baby! Mentions of sex, filming porn, dom/sub undertones -taglist closed but everyone on it will get tagged in the update! rough draft and not edited so excuse any typos!

It's here

“Fuck, I’ve made a mess, need someone to clean me all up.” Satoru whispers, while you barely are able to hold up the camera any longer, the livestream is avid with questions, namely - who is filming Satoru Gojo? And offers from many viewers to lick every bit of him up.

Satoru should stare at the camera, but he’s looking up into your eyes instead, stroking his cum soaked length slowly, just pumping more cum out of his tip, so much it’s ridiculous, dripped down to his balls and inner thighs. You swallow nervously, tummy clenched with desire, knowing you needed to stay quiet for the stream of curious viewers.

Satoru murmurs cut then, and  you do just that, shutting off the feed, and setting down the phone with a shaky hand, clearing your throat. “They loved it I think.”

“C’mere.” He crooks two fingers, and you eagerly obey, walking up to him now, tempting him to no end with the way your eyes drink him in. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

You obey again, eagerly in fact, looking up at him under lowered lashes as his clean hand slips up the side of your pretty neck, then around to the nape of it, entangling in your locks. Your soft whine and shift of your hips are all he needs to know you’re enjoying it, your hands obediently on your thighs, as if waiting for his every order, so sexy he feels his cock twitch back to life.

“Do you want to clean me up?” He asks softly, but the command in his tone is there, you nod and he exhales, tugging you towards him then. “Then do a really good job, sweets. Lick every bit clean like a good girl, and I’ll reward you.”

“I’ll do a good job.” Your whisper wrecks him, as he guides your head down, and you suck him, still hard, into your hot, eager mouth. Your soft whine vibrates around him, his head falling back as your mouth moves.

He can’t help but think of earlier.

A date, you were gonna go on a date, and he hates the idea, no, he fucking detests the idea in fact, the rage alone making him fuck your throat deeper, harder, feeling you gag and choke on him instead of anyone else. He shouldn’t feel possessive over his friend, a friend who’s sucking his cum, who’s swallowing him up, all he can think is his, his, his.

But you weren’t his.

How could you ever be?

Satoru’s never felt anything better than your throat, except he’s a million percent sure your cunt is better, he knows it would suck him up so greedy. When tears fall from your pretty eyes, it’s hotter than any blow job he’s had on set, the eagerness and desperate need to please far surpasses experience, your glasses fogging up when you pull back to take a breath then.

Satoru looks at his slick, spit covered cock, to thin trails of saliva disintegrating between your lips as you pull back, swiping at your lower lip. “How did I do?”

“Perfect.” His whisper is genuine, the words feel too good, you know you should stop, that you already wish he was yours, but you’re too addicted to how those blue eyes make you feel like you’re the only girl there is.

Even if it’s an illusion, a trick of your brain, or a practiced look.

The feeling is too euphoric not to be corrupted by it.

“You did such a good job, look at it, not any cum left. You sucked it all down, so greedy huh?” His hand comes under your chin, squeezing your neck gently yet so possessive, he wants to say it - his - but he knows he can’t. But it’s too easy to teeter off the edge, when your breaths come faster, breasts pressed up in that dress, rising and falling with each one.

“Satoru… I can keep going.” Your soft voice nearly ends him, little hand stroking his cock again.

“I was thinking of something, but if you don’t want to, it's okay.” You blink a bit then, tilting your head, tendrils falling against your bare shoulders.

“What is it?”

“A scene with me, but not showing your face at all,” your gasp and pull back makes him sigh. “It’d be like me eating your pussy, we could have it zoomed so no one sees your face.”

The thought, along with Satoru's sweet cum down your throat makes your tummy clench, while he brings out more and more of you that you did not know existed. Your hands tense on his thighs now, taking a shaky breath, fingers along the downy hair on his thighs. “I don’t… Satoru you have a million options for costars-”

“I want yours. It’s the prettiest I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Satoru…”

“It is. Wanna argue about my expertise here?” You just get more flustered and flushed, looking down nervously, but he tilts your chin with his big hand, angling your gaze upward. “I’ll split all the pay, you get eaten out, and anonymously. I’d never tell anyone, I’d never risk your career or anything. But I do need to do one, and I hate the thought of it not…” Satoru trails off now, the words sinking in.

“You like eating me out that much?” Your whisper makes him chuckle then, nodding and swallowing nervously.

“That pussy is perfect. How about we film it, and you watch it, and if you don’t want to, I just keep it to jerk off to…” Shit, he said that.

He’s so desperate and pathetic.

I'm exciteddd, it's almost done bbs <3 It's gonna be angsty, smutty and MESSY

perm tagsss- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

[k1mbe3rly]

Hii Kimberly can you do something where reader is Geum Seong-je gf. They got into fight. And uhm they do angry sex. (Also can I be your 🥒 anon?)

angry sex

warnings: smut, arguing, rough sex, slight name calling (during argument), baby trapping? talks about pregnancy

Dating Geum seong je was complicated, especially with him being apart of the union (gang), beating people up, and not controlling his anger. You guys are always seen arguing and disagreeing on many things.

Y’all have been arguing all day, no reason just either he picks up an attitude and says something annoying and you just bite back with the same tone, the both of y’all were getting ready for bed but of course he wouldn’t go to bed without an argument, bringing up something stupid about you staring at some guy in a flirt way

“I saw the way you were fucking staring at him i’m not dumb i have eyes.” He says in a cold tone staring right at you, you rolled your eyes getting in bed, “Your just being paranoid, or your just starting something for no reason! let’s just go to bed!” you raised your voice slightly, “I wouldn’t have to start something if you weren’t eye fucking every guy like a slut!” he said raising his voice as well, your eyes snapped at him as you sat up, “I wouldn’t have too if you would just actually treat me better in bed instead of being a little minion!” you said back

He was quick to grab your neck and pin you down on the bed, his face hovered over yours, “what the fuck did you just say? repeat it again you little bitch.” he said, your hand went to his wrist to pull him off as you frowned and glared at him not daring to say anything else, “So now your quiet? now you don’t wanna speak huh?” he said spreading your legs with his knees getting between them

He removed his hands from your neck quickly tearing off your pants without a thought and smoothly, making you gasp in shock as you sat up, “I think..your little pussy just needs some attention. Always fucking complaining. Never shutting up, will this make you shut the fuck up?” he whispered pulling down your panties, he quickly took off his own pants pulling down his boxers low enough for his cock to be out

Roughly spreading your legs as he practically slammed into you, you moaned out loudly at the sudden feeling of him filling you up. “So fucking annoying. So fucking loud.” He said as if he isn’t about to fuck you with all his pent up anger

He started thrusting in and out of you at fast pace, not slow at all, not giving you prep or time to adjust, his movements just as rough and angry as he is, he grabs your throat again squeezing slightly as he fucks into you over and over again, your loud moans falling out of your mouth uncontrollably, the sound of the bed softly creaking and skin being slapped together multiple times, his eyes flash with anger and satisfaction at your loud moans and the sex sounds

“Why do you look at men like you want them to fuck you huh? i’m the one who fucks you, i’m the one who’s fucking you right now” he growled out, his tone slightly breathless, not being able to answer all that came out was moans and moans, his rough pace never slowing down as he than ripped your shirt wanting to see how your boobs bounce all over the place, he smirked like a crazy person his eyes locked on them watching as they spill out your bra

Already feeling your orgasm approach, tightening around him, he suddenly pulls out, flipping you onto your stomach and pulling your hips up, he slaps your ass hard before entering you again from behind, his hands gripping your waist tightly and slamming back in, your head falling into the pillow muffling your moans but not good enough, still loud enough for anyone to hear

He wanted to hear your moans loud and clear as he grabs a fistful of your hair, using it to tilt your head back as he pounds into you relentlessly, your back arched, he looks down to where his cock is connected to you seeing it disappear in and out of you fast, his hips slamming into you, he groans loudly as he throws his head back, his eyes slightly flickering up

Your orgasm was quick to build up again, his stamina was impressive and shocking a bit, the way his pace never slows down not even a bit if instead it goes faster, his cock hitting spots you never thought could be hit, your moans we’re very very loud, you wanted to cum with him but you couldn’t hold it anymore and releasing on his cock, he feels your hot sticky liquid as he looks back down seeing it as he begins to leak, he grins widely

Releasing your hair, he begins to speed up, slapping your ass multiple times, watching as it jiggles against him, he groans again leaning down, “Fuck i’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum inside you, maybe you’ll get fucking pregnant and be able to stay trapped here with me.” he growls, his cock practically punishing your insides as he groans loudly and cums inside you, he slows down and grinds into you, his pelvis rubbing against you as he softly groans, he chuckles a bit and stays there

After a moment or two he slowly pulls out watching mixed cum leak out of you, “No no no..i wanna keep that inside you..i want my baby with you, would you want that?” he whispers to you his fingers pushing back the juices, you simply just nodded and a soft whine escaped your mouth, he smiles a bit, “Let’s get you all cleaned up..are you okay?” he asks with genuine concern, you nodded again.

[seimsisk]

I'm gonna be honest here, I used chatgpt to write some emails and abstracts two years ago. I did it because I was at the end of my rope and I knew it would take me weeks to write a couple paragraphs and abstracts are basically just summaries but I just couldn't get my anxious ADHD brain to do it. I knew doing those tasks without help would be painful and slow and would fuck with my already tattered self esteem and also my schedules. I knew that because it wasn't the first time I had to do such tasks under such circumstances. Those were not small tasks. They were not easy. I had written hundreds of emails in my life and tbh each single work email was a challenge and the stuff I had to write was complex, and I had written dozens of abstracts in my life and the thought of writing a couple more in a tight schedule kinda made me wanna kill myself. None of this is exaggeration; if anything I'm underselling how it felt like.

Writing those emails and abstracts with help from chatgpt was magical. It undercut my anxiety somehow, and I managed what I had never managed before - I actually managed to complete all those tasks on time. The result was subpar ofc, but the fact that I managed to submit subpar results and not hate myself was in itself a win. I'm not sure how much harder it would have been to get my degree without that small help. I might have lost another month or two or twelve, because these things can become a snowball.

Two years later, my mental health is much better. My confidence is better. I can write several emails on a good day, but even when I don't have a good day I can still write an email in a couple of days. I haven't used chatgpt since then, because I can do so much better now. But I haven't forgotten the suffering that led me to it, and I'm so tired of the discourse here just completely dismissing it. "All of us used to write emails ourselves" yeah maybe (I mean I sure asked for help several times to the point of overburdening my partner probably) but at what cost? It's like sure I could jog everytime I need to go buy my groceries and certainly in the long term it would be healthier, but also there would be times when I would go hungry because jogging would be too hard, no matter how much practice I had.

I have many criticisms of genAI and maybe we should avoid relying on it too much but we don't need to pretend like it's not fulfilling a real need here.

the scariest thing about the generative AI thing is how quickly people have accepted it as an indefinite, irrevocable part of their reality. people have genuinely convinced themselves that ChatGPT is the only solution to most tasks - tasks they did with their own brain without any large effort two years ago. like you know damn well all of us used to write emails ourselves why are we pretending like this is an impossible task to do with your own two hands. what's with the fucking. AI revisionism. i feel like i am going insane.

[differenteagletragedy]

Simon doesn't remember the name of the woman who took his virginity. At this point, all these years later, he's not sure if he ever knew it. It was a chance encounter, quick and a little dirty but fun. Fine.

He'd been in the neighborhood pub, the one he escaped to when he didn't want to be at home, shooting pool. He wasn't that good at it, not then, but he practiced for something to do, and as he racked up the balls for a third round against himself, he apparently caught her eye.

A bit older than him, the woman was immediately forward and flirty, and it wasn't a secret, even as inexperienced as Simon was, as to what she wanted. His body must have felt some kind of desire with the way it reacted to her, blood rushing south as she slid her hands over him in the dim light of the nearly vacant bar, but when she invited him to her flat down the street, it wasn't lust that made him agree.

It was curiosity. He wondered what it would feel like to be wanted, even on a base level like this, and if it would fill up whatever hole that had been inside him for as long as he could remember.

And it did. A little.

He'd never even kissed a girl before, always too closed-off to get in any kind of position to do something like that, but that night, he kissed the woman from the pub, over and over again. He followed her movements, let her put her hands on him and place him where he needed to go, and it was something.

When their clothes came off, left in a haphazard heap around her cluttered living room, it was something more, and when she pushed him to the couch and sunk down onto him, the unfamiliar warmth almost overwhelming, for a second, it was everything.

He came too fast, and it was over too soon. That night, he slid back into his own bed, alone again. He couldn't tell if he felt better, knowing there was something he could do to soothe the ache in him, or if it was worse, having the relief for a moment then going back to nothing.

A few nights later, when the weekend hit and the pub was more crowded, he caught the eye of a pretty girl in the corner, shyly checking him out, and he got his answer.

For Simon, for years, it was better to have a little bit of comfort. Just a little bit, because he never saw a way that he could have more. A stranger from a bar, one from the grocery store that asks him to reach a high shelf and flirts a little too much ... he gets good at spotting whatever that first woman saw in him. The part of someone that's open to a quick, needy fuck.

He sees it in you. Clocks it straightaway, but he also sees something more.

It's in the way you pull back after he kisses you hard and deep, the only way he really knows how to kiss. He stops, thinking you've changed your mind, but you're still there, still close, with such a soft look in your eyes now. You initiate the kiss this time, your hands sliding up to cup his cheeks, keeping him in place as you slow things down.

It's disorienting almost, he tries to shake it off, to get back to how this is supposed to go. He yanks your shirt off, and you let him, but when he moves his hands to roughly palm at your chest, you patiently pull them back down to rest on your waist.

"Slow down," you murmur, smiling up at him. "We've got a little time."

It's muscle memory for him at this point, finding a woman and bringing her to a quiet, private place, pushing into her, feeling the brief reprieve it brings. But with you, the rhythm is all off. It's somehow very good and very bad, all at the same time.

"Thought you wanted something here," he mutters, his meaning clear -- he thought you wanted him.

"I do," you answer. "I just don't want it to be over in five minutes. That ok?"

He's not sure what else to do, so he nods. And he slows down.

It's different, sex when you're not rushing towards the end-goal. His hands, used to action in moments like this, pushing and pulling and gripping, instead find yours. Your fingers intertwine, and you kiss him, almost lazily, like you’ve got all the time in the world. Like he’s worth it.

To Simon, it feels strange and new, but not really -- like it's all happening through the filmy haze of a dream, where somehow he knows every step of this dance and yet nothing at all, all at once. To you, from the soft sounds slipping from your lips, it feels right.

When it's over, and you're both breathless and sated, he feels like that boy again -- the one who'd never been kissed and who didn't know where to put his hands. But now, he notices, one hand is still grasping yours and he squeezes it, just barely.

"That ok?" he asks softly, and he's not sure if he's speaking to you or to himself.

"Perfect," you tell him, turning your head to give him a smile.

He doesn't know if he'll ever see you again. But he's memorizing the weight of your hand in his, the steady sound of your breathing as it returns to normal. And even if he never has this with you again, in the moment he knows that he's capable of it. And that's enough.

[imnez-daydreams]

the art of noticing

pairing : benjamin poindexter x reader

warnings : extremely suggestive below read more, not outright explicit in detail (cause im not talented enough for full on smut lol) but just to be safe, don't read if below 18 !! quite a few religious themes/imagery too.

a/n : hii ! i've never written fanfiction before let alone anything spicy but the dex brainrot was too strong so please bear with me. special thank you to @kyamiia for inspiring me and letting me expand on the idea based on this, and to @babyangeldex for being THE sweetest ever with her encouragement, especially on me wanting to write for the first time !! credits for the header images goes to @bullseyelover, THE no1 bullseye fan hi i love you !! hope you enjoy fellow dex lovers <3

dex notices things.

it started even before you guys got together.

dex's eye for details only intensifies when he crawls his way into your heart. your home. your shared home. it was one thing being able to look through the glass of your apartment window, studying your routine. timing his sips perfectly to yours, anticipating that look of bliss when the coffee hit just right. pretending that faraway look and smile out the window was directed to him, reserved for him.

now though, dex doesn't have to be delusional anymore. there's no need to time his drinking with yours because he is making your coffee and spending the mornings with you. he knows just how you like it. he's memorised all your morning routine steps, catalogued every small tick in your face when you eat your breakfast, has your glossy eyes from watching your favourite romcom seared into his brain. he knows how to see that satisfied and "on cloud 9" face. how to be the reason for that pleasure.

when you laugh at dex's poor attempt of a joke, really laugh with your eyes crinkling in the corner, he thinks his heart stops. he thinks this is it. the sound of an angel come to gently lead him towards the afterlife, with the way your laughter wraps around his body like the soft embrace of an angel's wings.

so it makes perfect sense for dex's penchant for noticing to seep into your shared bedroom too. he needs to remember everything, he needs to file away every little sound, every facial expression. keeps it in the folders of his mind, locked away for nobody else to see. only unlocking these memories when he's hard at work, away from his angel. clings to the image of you, the sound of you like a lifeline. counts the seconds down to when he can finally lock up his place of worship again because you're back in his arms. but its not just for himself, to keep his hunger satiated. its for you too. so he can replay your reactions to everything he does and says. analyse what made you feel good. what can make you feel even better. let you float up to the same high he gets from watching you, being with you. don't worry, he'll be there to catch you in his protective embrace when you land back down.

the first time he sunk to his knees for you, he never took his eyes away from you. couldn't bear to, not when your face was so beautifully contorted in pleasure, pleasure he was giving to you. the rising pitch of your voice, the up and down movement of your chest, the low tilt of your eyes to keep that eye contact with him going. when you absentmindedly reach for dex's hair, tugging the short hairs at the back while begging with that sweet saccharine voice of yours,

"pl- please dex, i can't anymore. i need, ohmygod, i need it please, i need you dex"

it takes every. single. cell. in dex's body to not roll his eyes to the back of his skull and finish in his pants then and there. his years of military training, experience as FBI-SWAT all lead up to this moment. to practice that honed skill of restraint. he can't let go until you have, until you've reached that peak. when you do, you collapse backwards with a heaving chest. dex unclenches his bruising (posessive) grip on you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. not to waste a single drop, he licks his hand clean while slowly standing back up from his place of worship.

the sight that greets dex has him believing in God.

your hair is tousled just above your head like a halo.

your eyes that look up at him are completely glossed over, a single tear slowly cascading down the right side of your face.

your smile, oh, your sweet loving smile. directed at him, only him as if he was the answers to your prayers.

those aren't what drives dex over the edge though, oh no.

its you.

you looking like the epitome of an angel.

slowly hiking up your legs, opening them up shyly.

"more? please, dex?"

if this is how dex dies, he believes its worth it.

a/n : thank you so much if you've read to the end <3 !! this is very very beginner so pretty please be nice if you reblog with comments/ramblings, though i'd still appreciate any kind of support with likes/reblogs/comments hehe. (also yes i wrote this on my phone on drafts, and nearly got a heart attack when the draft vanished and accidentally uploaded before i was done so if you saw ... no you didnt)

[amexizlov]

TWST characters reaction when your mental state getting more worse after every Overblot Incidents (Housewardens version)

Vices Housewarden version

1st years version

2nd years (except Vice Housewarden) version

Riddle Rosehearts

At first, Riddle thought he could rationalize it — he told himself rules were meant to be upheld, order must be kept.

But when he saw ___ flinch ever so slightly at his raised voice, or how they stood stiffly during Heartslabyul meetings, he realized the damage was deeper than he wanted to admit.

Late at night, alone in his room, Riddle gripped the edge of his desk, trembling.

“I… I was supposed to be better. I promised myself I wouldn’t become like my mother… Yet I hurt them too, didn’t I?”

No matter how much he tried to follow the rules, he had already broken something far more fragile - ___’s trust.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was never good at apologies, but the guilt gnawed at him all the same.

He saw the way ___ avoided the Savannaclaw training grounds now, or how they tensed whenever he got too close.

During one practice match, he spotted ___ sitting alone by the fence, blank-eyed, and something ugly twisted in his gut.

“Tch… All that power, all that pride — and what did I do with it? Scared the one person who actually believed in me.”

Leona would never say it out loud, but he started approaching you more carefully — voice lower, posture softer — silently begging for forgiveness he thought he didn’t deserve.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul’s guilt was poisonous.

Every time he saw ___’s weary eyes, or how they hesitated to set foot in Mostro Lounge, he felt the walls closing in.

In the mirror, he barely recognized himself — just a coward who made pacts with people desperate for help.

“I promised myself I was different from them… that I was better. But in the end, I used ___ like everyone else did.”

He started leaving quiet gifts — a favorite pastry here, a carefully written apology letter there — too afraid to face ___ directly, yet desperate to show he cared.

Kalim Al-Asim

Even though Kalim hadn’t Overblotted, the sadness weighed on him like a heavy chain.

He noticed how ___ laughed less now, how they flinched at sudden movements, how they looked haunted.

Kalim sat alone on his flying carpet one evening, watching the sunset with glassy eyes.

“I couldn’t protect them. I didn’t even realize how bad things were… And because of Scarabia’s chaos, they got hurt too.”

He swore to himself — no more reckless smiles, no more naive ignorance. He had to be there for ___ properly now — to listen, to understand, to stay.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil saw it in the mirror of your soul — the exhaustion, the deep hurt he had helped carve into you.

When he caught you hastily covering up dark circles or forcing a smile in the hallways, his heart sank.

He locked himself in his dressing room after a shoot, staring at his reflection.

“Perfection means nothing if I’ve made someone I care for feel so worthless.”

He began treating you more gently, offering genuine compliments instead of critiques, allowing your raw emotions rather than demanding polish.

A silent vow: “I will help you rebuild yourself… because I was the one who helped tear you down.”

Idia Shroud

Idia knew better than anyone how fast a mind could spiral into darkness.

When he Overblotted, he thought he was the only broken one — he never imagined he would drag ___ down too.

Now, he caught glimpses of them — standing alone, shadows swallowing their figure — and it felt like knives under his skin.

“I did this… I made them afraid of the world. Afraid of me.”

Idia retreated into his room, building small games, holograms, and gentle distractions, hoping maybe — just maybe — he could give ___ some tiny fragments of happiness back.

He left them anonymously at their door. Never brave enough to face them yet… but never abandoning them either

Malleus Draconia

Malleus felt the weight heavier than any crown.

He hadn’t meant to frighten ___. He only wanted to be understood, to be loved… but in his rage and loneliness, he had unleashed terror upon the very one he cherished most.

When he saw ___ shrink away from lightning or loud noises, his ancient heart cracked further.

“I have become the very nightmare I once vowed to protect them from.”

He began visiting only in dreams at first — appearing softly at the edge of your sleep, casting blessings of peace and safety.

Every day, awake or asleep, he prayed silently: “Let them find it in their heart to forgive me… even if I can never forgive myself.”

[colibrie]

It is criminal that this show was cut short because there is so much to explore in the relationship between Splinter and his sons. Particularly, it's one thing for a neglectful parent to recognize their faults and verbally commit to doing better, but an entirely separate thing to put doing better into practice.

In the situation with Leo and Raph, Splinter had an awakening both in regards to how much pressure leadership placed on his eldest, and how capable and clever Leo truly is under that devil-may-care jester persona. He sees what they could become, the net positive in both their development that would come as a payoff from switching the leadership role. Maturity for Leo, breathing space/self discovery for Raphael.

The problem is that Splinter is lacking in the guidance department. He was never given guidance beyond a list of dictations and duties that he rebelled against, and the life he lived after rebelling was either incredibly shallow and self-centered or deeply traumatic. And we see the results of that lack play out in the movie.

He throws leadership onto Leo, but we never see Splinter step up to teach him how to be an effective leader. How to communicate with his team, and how to think through consequences. We never see him working to lift Leo's confidence, build Leo's problem-solving skills, or even just ask Leo what he thinks/feels/wants. He's chucked his baby blue into the deep end before teaching him to swim and then gets frustrated that he's flailing and failing to succeed.

On Raphs end, all of the above-mentioned lack of support ends up once again falling on him. And lord help him, Raph tries to step up as he always does. But in trying to step up into the mentor role, Raph unknowingly has to step out of his role as a brother. There's no space for support when he's constantly nagging Leo to communicate, no time for vulnerability or trust to form when every conversation becomes a long lecture of everything Leo is doing wrong. There's no time for Raph to step back and reflect on his own emotions or thoughts, to consider what he needs, because he is constantly terrified for his little brother's safety.

And Splinter doesn't know how to step in and proactively help. In this scene, he tells them "You are a team... you are brothers" as though that alone should be sufficient to solve all their problems. He's frustrated by them and disapproves that their bickering has devolved to the point that they are coming to blows with each other.

But when the moment comes for him to step up and lead by example, he backs out. Perhaps because he feels inadequate to provide, he falls back on an old coping mechanism (the TV) and leaves two of his sons hurting and his other two sons to clean up the messy aftermath. And you can see the effect it has on all four of them. The defeated slump of Leo's shoulders, Raph's guilty expression, Donnie's quiet resignation, and Mikey's palpable disappointment.

Splinters role gets shuffled to the background once Casey Jr arrives and the threat of the Krang becomes the focus, but if they ever do bring the show back, I hope they focus on the repercussions of it and show him not only recognizing his failure but also him putting in the work to learn and actively be better for his sons.

thinking about this scene

"You are a team."

splinter seeing leo as the leader, and he should be solving problems on the team. He needs to be more mature.

" You are brothers."

Raph is the older brother and needs to deal with his siblings. He's the oldest and should be able to deal with arguments.

....him telling them both to be more responsible while ignoring them arguing, and going back to watch TV....

Their reactions make me explodeee

[skzstarl0ver]

˜”°•.˜”°• Rivals with benefits •°”˜.•°

Lee know x reader / enemies to lovers / secret relationship / smut / emotional confession

**involves!!** cursing, tension, sex, praise kink, rough/soft dynamic, emotional tension, dirty talk

enjoy xx (open for request)

★.•☆•.★★.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★ skzstarl0ver ★⡀.•☆•.★⡀.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★

You and Lee Minho are like oil and fire.

Not water and fire—because water tries to calm. You? You burn.

From the second you joined the dance crew, it’s been war. If you nail a move, he pushes harder. If he shines in rehearsal, you double your effort. You challenge each other, mock each other, drive each other insane.

And yet… you’ve never looked away.

Especially not when he’s sweaty in rehearsal, shirt clinging to his body, lip caught in his teeth as he watches himself in the mirror with that impossible focus. Or when his voice dips low, sharp and smug, when he says something to rile you up.

You hate him.

You want him.

Which is why the first time it happens, it feels like a dam breaking.

It’s after practice. You’re both the last ones there. You argue. You get in each other’s space.

And then you’re kissing.

No—biting.

No—devouring.

He pins you to the wall like he’s waited months to do it.

You should stop. You don’t.

It becomes a thing.

You don’t talk about it. You don’t plan it.

It just happens—whenever you’re alone, and angry, and can’t stand how badly you want each other.

Your friends think you still hate each other. And during the day? You do. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But then there’s night.

And the way he looks at you like you’re his only focus.

The way he touches you like it’s more than release—like it’s a need.

His apartment. 11:47PM.

You shouldn’t be here. You said you wouldn’t come. But your body knows the code to his door.

You barely get two words out before he has you pressed against the wall, mouth hot on your neck.

“You couldn’t stay away,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “Missed me?”

“Shut up.”

He smirks. “Make me.”

You crash your mouth against his.

His hands are everywhere—hips, thighs, waist, under your hoodie. He picks you up like you weigh nothing and carries you to the couch.

He drops you onto the cushions, kneels between your thighs, and yanks off your shorts in one smooth motion. You gasp as the cool air hits your skin—then moan when his mouth follows immediately after.

“Minho—” your voice is already breathy.

“Keep saying my name like that,” he growls against your skin, licking a slow stripe over your inner thigh.

He slides two fingers through your folds, glancing up with that cocky, devastating smirk. “Dripping. Already?”

You hate how much power he has over you. You love how he uses it.

His mouth is hot, tongue skillful, fingers curling just right as he devours you like he’s starving.

Your head falls back. “Fuck—don’t stop—”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” he says, voice muffled between your thighs.

You’re close embarrassingly fast. He knows it. Keeps the pace steady, relentless, until your hips jerk and you gasp his name like a confession.

And he doesn’t stop.

He keeps going until you’re shaking, overstimulated, tugging his hair with a breathless “Minho, please—”

He pulls back, mouth wet, pupils blown.

“Take your shirt off,” he says, voice low and dangerous.

You obey.

He strips, revealing skin and muscle and everything you try not to fantasize about when he’s pissing you off during practice.

He climbs on top of you, lining himself up, but pauses—just enough to look into your eyes.

“You want this?” he murmurs.

You nod.

He doesn’t move.

“I need to hear it.”

“I want you,” you breathe. “I always fucking want you.”

His lips crash into yours again, and he thrusts in, slow and deep, making your back arch and your fingers dig into his shoulders.

You cling to him, gasping, every stroke sending sparks through your whole body.

It’s rough, but not careless. Every snap of his hips is measured, deliberate, like he knows your body better than you do.

“You drive me insane,” he whispers, lips brushing yours. “But I can’t stop. Can’t stop thinking about you. Touching you. Wanting you.”

Your heart stutters.

He’s close. You are too. And when you come again, it hits harder than it ever has—your name breaking from his lips as he follows seconds after, collapsing on top of you with a shuddering breath.

You’re still sprawled across his couch, blanket barely covering you, Minho's arm draped over your waist, chest still rising fast against your back. The room is warm, filled with the scent of sex and sweat and something dangerously close to tenderness.

You’re about to speak—say something sarcastic, maybe ask if he has water—when there’s a sudden buzz at the door.

Minho groans softly, pressing his face into your neck. “Ignore it.”

But the buzz comes again.

And again.

You sit up. “It could be important.”

Minho grumbles but pulls on sweatpants and stalks to the door.

The second it opens—

“Y/N?!”

Your heart drops.

Your best friend, Jisoo, is standing in the hallway, holding the iced coffee you forgot you asked her to drop off earlier. She was supposed to leave it at the door.

Instead, she’s staring past Minho’s shoulder—right at you, wrapped in a blanket on his couch, flushed, messy, very much freshly wrecked.

Her eyes go wide.

You look at her.

She looks at you.

Then Minho.

Then back to you.

You swear time stops.

“I—uh—I forgot I gave her your address once,” you say quickly, voice cracking.

Jisoo slowly blinks. “You’re sleeping with Minho?”

Minho leans casually on the doorframe, smug and shirtless. “Sleeping with? Baby, be honest—we haven’t slept a single time.”

You throw a pillow at his head. “MINHO—”

Jisoo gasps. “Oh my god, I walked into a fucking fanfic.”

You panic. “It’s not serious, okay?! It’s just sex—”

Your voice is louder than you mean for it to be. Defensive. Sharp. Like you’re trying to cut through the heat still lingering in your skin.

Jisoo just blinks at you, wide-eyed in the hallway.

Behind you, Minho's expression shifts—something flickering behind his usual cool exterior.

He steps forward.

His voice, when he speaks, isn’t teasing. Isn’t smug.

It’s quiet. Certain.

“No, it’s not.”

You freeze.

The words hit you harder than they should.

“What?” you ask, even though you heard him.

Minho looks at you—really looks. No smirk, no bite, no mask. His face is open in a way you’ve never seen.

“I said it’s not just sex,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “At least not for me.”

Your heart stutters.

He glances at Jisoo—who, to her credit, is now pretending to look very interested in the floor tiles—and then back at you.

“I know we’ve been playing this game like it doesn’t mean anything,” he says, voice low. “But it does. To me.”

You open your mouth, then close it again.

He takes a step closer, like he’s afraid you might run.

“I care about you,” he says, softer now. “And I’m not gonna pretend I don’t just because someone else found out.”

You want to say something snarky. You want to laugh it off. You want to not feel this.

But the look in his eyes?

It guts you.

You feel Jisoo slowly back away, awkwardly muttering something about “text me later” before she disappears down the hallway, giving you space.

Minho doesn’t look away.

“I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “I thought… maybe if I kept it casual, I could control it. Control how I felt about you.”

His gaze drops to the floor for a beat. Then back to you.

“But I can’t.”

You’re still holding your shirt in your hands. Still standing in his living room in the aftermath of what was supposed to be just another night.

And suddenly, it doesn’t feel casual at all.

_

You leave his apartment with your jacket half-zipped, heart pounding like it’s chasing something you’re still running from.

You didn’t say anything.

Couldn’t.

Not when he looked at you like that. Like he meant it. Like he was done hiding and wanted you to do the same.

You don’t text him.

You don’t sleep.

Instead, you sit on your bed, staring at the ceiling, haunted by his voice in your head.

“I care about you. And I’m not gonna pretend I don’t.”

And damn it, you feel it too.

You felt it in the way he touched you like you were something fragile under all the fire. You saw it in the way he looked at you after you came undone in his hands—like you weren’t just a body, but something he wanted to hold after.

You're not scared of sex.

You're scared of this.

Of how real it suddenly is.

But when your phone buzzes with one single message—

“If you come back, I’ll say it again. As many times as you need.”

—you’re out the door before you can change your mind.

You knock once.

He opens the door instantly—like he’d been waiting just behind it.

You don’t say anything. Neither does he.

Then you're moving—you drop your bag, step into him, crash your mouth to his.

This kiss is different.

It’s not angry. Not desperate.

It’s slow. Deep. Like you're tasting every inch of what you almost lost.

His hands come up to your face, thumbs brushing your jaw like you’re something delicate. Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

When he pulls back just slightly, your noses still touching, he whispers: “I missed you. Every day I didn’t have you—I missed you.”

Your eyes burn.

You lean into his touch, whispering back, “I was scared.”

“I know,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I was too.”

You look up at him, voice barely audible. “Do you still want me?”

His answer is immediate.

“I never stopped.”

He takes your hand, leads you to the bedroom—not like last time.

Not rushed. Not rough.

He strips you slowly, eyes roaming over every inch like he’s trying to memorize you.

“Lie back,” he whispers.

You do.

He hovers over you, kissing you everywhere but your mouth—throat, collarbone, stomach—each kiss a word he doesn’t say out loud.

His hands move softly over your body, teasing but not taunting. Reverent.

When his lips finally reach where you ache for him most, he doesn't rush. He takes his time.

Licks. Sucks. Worships.

You gasp his name like a prayer.

“That's it,” he whispers, fingers curling inside you perfectly. “Let me take care of you.”

You’re already trembling when he slides up your body, eyes searching yours.

“Tell me you want me.”

You pull him in, kiss him hard. “I want you.”

He enters you slowly this time—deep, smooth, like he’s trying to fit the words he can’t say into every stroke.

And it’s different now.

You feel everything.

Every roll of his hips. Every gasp. Every whispered name. It’s not about fucking anymore—it’s about being close. Being seen.

“You feel so good,” he groans into your neck. “Always do.”

You cling to him, nails digging into his back. “Minho…”

“Say it again.”

“Minho.”

He picks up the pace just a little, making you whimper.

“I’m yours,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I’ve been yours.”

That’s what undoes him.

He groans deep in his chest and moves faster, chasing your high as you spiral with him—both of you coming undone, this time not just with bodies but with hearts bared and burning.

After

You’re tangled together in his sheets, breath finally steadying.

He’s tracing patterns on your back, your head resting on his chest.

You look up at him. “You still care about me?”

He smirks, brushing your hair away. “I just made love to you for an hour. What do you think?”

You smile.

Then you kiss him again—slow, sweet, and soft.

No rivalry.

Just you and him.

Finally real.

[yanyannica]

it's not like ushijima wakatoshi to get jealous over anything, but the one time you heavily suspect he does...

"oh? you jealous?"

your tall hunk of a boyfriend stares you down with a mild crease between his eyebrows. you stare back just as intensely with a dopey grin, waiting for an admission from your ever-stoic boyfriend.

it's not everyday you get to see him react like this, so you practically jump the opportunity.

you watch tentatively as he brings up a hand to his chest, clutching his shirt as his gaze drops to the ground — expression stoned not much unlike a rock as he contemplates your words. he never fails to look so serious.

"...am i?"

the blatant confusion on his face couldn't be any more funnier, and you had to stifle your laugh into your hand lest you hurt his feelings.

you really should've known better — of course he wouldn't know what to call it even if it slapped him in the face. we were talking about the guy who went up to you during a random tuesday and confessed that he had an constant urge to kiss you, and innocently asked if you knew anything about it like he was inquiring about homework.

(for an entire week before you officially got together, you had to convince him that no — you were most definitely not hypnotizing him.)

"you're such an idiot, you know?" you nudge his side teasingly, leaning your weight against him as you struggle to keep your giggles at bay.

your hulk of a boyfriend is way too adorable sometimes.

"i'm not quite sure what jealousy feels like. my apologies."

you grimace a bit at his response, now hyper-aware of the way his athletic body feels against your side.

he's never had to be jealous of anything because everyone else is busy being jealous of him!

you pout at him, before poking his side. softly, of course. you might break a finger or two if you went any harder.

you turn back to the matter at hand before it completely derails — you need full details on this rare side of him. "well, what did it feel like when you saw me talking to that guy?"

ushijima takes a moment before his eyes clear up.

"something felt weird here," he gently patted the spot over his heart and your eyes widen in surprise, pulling away to look at him more firmly. "like it got pinched. it didn’t hurt physically, but it made me... sad."

your heart clenches, hard. you swear you heard it crack within your chest too. oh my god. it was one hundred percent your fault! no questions asked!

you reach out to his arms as your eyes turn glassy, "oh, baby. i'm so sor —"

"my muscles contracted by themselves too, like how it feels when i want to hit a spike."

... ha?

your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. the romantic air disperses in a matter of miliseconds, crashing down to earth.

a spike?!

what the hell? well, good thing you kept the conversation short, or else that guy would've had his head blown off...

a shudder runs down your spine.

you sweat profusely at his profound statement, "n-next time you feel bothered by something like that, make sure you approach me first before doing anything, okay?" for safety purposes!

ushijima blinks at you, completely none the wiser to your inner turmoil.

"alright," he pauses, as if there's something else he wants to say, contemplating it for a few moments before speaking up again. "i don't like feeling jealous. is that a bad thing?"

reallyyyyy such a baby. your baby.

"i'm really sorry for making you feel that way, toshi," leaning up on your tippy toes, you coerce him to lean down into your hold — placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. "you do know that you're the only one i have eyes for, yes?"

he nods affirmatively, like an obedient child heeding their parents' words like it's gospel.

"you trust me, right?"

another truthful nod of approval. you sigh in utter relief as you let him go for him to resume his practice, satisfied at how you were able to prevent a major crisis from occurring.

"i will make sure to consult you first before spiking."

you feel a tear form.

"toshi — baby, no —"

oh yes */smirks deviously

[mapis-putellas]

𝑴𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒆/𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

The flat was warm, but the heat did little to soothe the chills wracking your body. You were curled up on the couch, cocooned in a blanket, sniffling miserably as Alexia stood over you, holding a small plastic cup filled with a suspiciously thick orange liquid. Her eyes were narrowed, her expression caught somewhere between concern and exasperation.

She crouched down, placing the cup on the coffee table in front of you, and gently brushed some of your messy hair from your forehead.

“Amor,” she said softly, her Spanish accent making the word sound so tender you almost felt guilty. Almost. “You have to take it. Please.”

Your response was a muffled groan as you turned your head away from her, burying it into the couch cushion. Your throat ached, your nose was so congested that even breathing felt like a chore, and your fever had you feeling as though you were floating just above reality. Yet the thought of choking down the bitter medicine was somehow worse than enduring the flu.

“No,” you rasped, voice hoarse and thick. “Not taking it.”

Alexia sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Cariño, you can’t get better like this. It’s just one sip.

You peeked at her over the edge of the blanket, narrowing your eyes. “I don’t need it. I’ll get better on my own.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she crossed her arms, fixing you with a pointed look. “That is not how it works, and you know it.”

You turned your head away again, stubbornly burrowing deeper into the couch. Alexia groaned softly, her frustration clear, but when she spoke again, her tone was calm and measured. “I know it’s disgusting, but it’s only a moment. After, I’ll bring you tea. Okay? Con miel, like you like.”

You were tempted, but the thought of the medicine still made you shudder. “No.”

This time, her patience began to slip. “Amor, you are acting like a ni��a,” she muttered, switching to Spanish as she often did when she was flustered. “You need to-”

Before she could finish, you suddenly leapt off the couch, narrowly dodging her outstretched hands. Wrapped in your blanket like a cape, you dashed toward the hallway, wobbling slightly from the fever but determined to escape.

Alexia stood there for a moment, stunned, before she groaned again, louder this time. “En serio?” she muttered under her breath before following after you.

You were already halfway down the hallway, tugging the blanket off so you could move faster. Clad in one of her oversized Barça shirts that hung off one shoulder and a pair of underwear, you glanced back over your shoulder, catching sight of Alexia closing the distance with long, purposeful strides.

“Nope, nope, nope!” you mumbled to yourself, trying to pick up the pace, but your fevered state made you sluggish, and she was gaining on you quickly.

“Stop running!” she called after you, her voice exasperated but tinged with amusement. “You’re going to make yourself worse!”

“I’m fine!” you croaked, ducking into the bedroom and slamming the door behind you. You pressed your back against it, panting slightly as you tried to catch your breath.

From the other side of the door, you heard Alexia’s muffled voice. “This is ridiculous, amor. Open the door.”

“Never!” you shouted back, your voice cracking mid-word.

There was a long pause, and you could practically feel her annoyance through the wood. “You know I can just wait you out, right?”

You groaned, sliding down to sit on the floor with your back still pressed to the door. A moment later, you heard her sigh, followed by the soft sound of the doorknob turning.

Your heart sank as you realized you’d forgotten to lock it.

The door opened slowly, pushing you forward slightly as Alexia stepped into the room. She looked down at you, her arms crossed, her expression both stern and affectionate. “Do you really you can outrun me? Like this?”

You scrambled to your feet, darting around her before she could grab you. “Yes!” you said, though your hoarse voice and clumsy movements didn’t exactly scream confidence.

Alexia turned to follow you, shaking her head. “Eres imposible.”

For the next several minutes, the flat turned into a battlefield. You darted from room to room, using furniture and sheer determination to stay out of her grasp. Alexia, to her credit, remained calm, though you could see her frustration growing with every near miss.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your luck ran out. You’d misjudged the distance between the couch and the coffee table, and Alexia took advantage of your hesitation.

Her arms wrapped around your waist from behind, and she hauled you back against her chest. “Enough,” she said firmly, her voice low in your ear.

“No!” you whined, squirming in her hold, but she was too strong.

With a sigh, Alexia sank down onto the floor, pulling you with her. She settled you between her legs, locking her arms around your waist and crossing her ankles over yours to keep you in place. “That’s it,” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “You’re not going anywhere.”

You struggled weakly, but you had absolutely no strength left in you. “You’re mean,” you muttered, pouting as you turned your head to glare at her.

She arched a brow, unimpressed. “I’m trying to help you.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you slumped against her. “I don’t need help.”

Alexia reached for the medicine cup, which she’d set down nearby during the chase. “Open your mouth.”

“No.”

“Cariño,” she said warningly, her tone firm.

You glared at her stubbornly, your lips pressed into a tight line.

She sighed again, shaking her head. “Do I need to hold your nose?”

Your eyes widened, and you immediately shook your head. “You wouldn’t.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Try me.”

Realizing you were out of options, you let out a dramatic groan before opening your mouth reluctantly. She quickly tipped the medicine onto your tongue, her other hand holding the back of your head to keep you steady.

You grimaced as the bitter liquid slid down your throat, shuddering in disgust as you swallowed. “Ugh,” you coughed, your voice thick with congestion. “That’s awful.”

Alexia set the cup aside, loosening her hold on you but keeping her arms around your waist. “I know,” she said softly, her hand brushing some of your hair back. “But it will help.”

You sniffled wetly, a deep cough shaking your chest as you pulled away from her. “You’re the worst,” you mumbled, though there was no real heat behind the words.

Alexia just smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Te amo también, mi amor.”

Still pouting, you climbed to your feet, wobbling slightly as you turned toward the bedroom. “I’m going to bed,” you announced, your voice still hoarse.

Alexia watched you go, her expression a mixture of fondness and exasperation. “Good,” she called after you. “And I’ll be right there to make sure you don’t get up again.”

You didn’t respond, too busy muttering to yourself as you disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Alexia shaking her head with a quiet laugh as she rises to her feet to follow you.

The bedroom was dark and silent save for the muffled sounds of your congested breathing. You’d buried yourself completely under the covers, cocooned tightly as if blocking out the world - or more specifically, Alexia. She leaned in the doorway for a moment, watching the lump of blankets that was you before she let out a quiet sigh.

“Amor,” she called softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “You can’t hide forever.”

The lump under the blankets shifted, and she heard a muffled sniffle, followed by a grumble of protest.

“Come on,” she coaxed, crouching down beside the bed. Her fingers found the edge of the covers, and she tugged gently. “Déjame verte. Let me see you.”

“No,” you rasped, your voice muffled by the layers of fabric and congestion.

Alexia rolled her eyes, her lips quirking in affectionate amusement. “You’re so dramatic.” She tugged at the blankets again, but you held them tightly around you, refusing to budge.

“Cariño,” she tried again, her tone firmer now. “Let me in.”

When you didn’t respond, she sighed, her hands pausing on the covers. “Está bien,” she said, almost to herself. “If you won’t let me in, I’ll have to come in myself.”

Before you could protest, Alexia wriggled her way beneath the covers. The space was stiflingly warm, the air thick and heavy from both your fever and the cocoon of blankets. You were curled up tightly on your side, facing away from her, your shoulders tense as you stubbornly ignored her presence.

“Dios mío,” Alexia muttered under her breath, wiping at her forehead dramatically. “Hace calor aquí.”

“Then leave,” you grumbled, your voice hoarse.

She ignored your petulant tone, scooting closer until her chest was pressed against your back. Her arms wrapped around you, tugging you gently into her embrace. You didn’t resist, but you didn’t relax either, your body still stiff in her hold.

“You’re sweaty,” she teased, her voice low and teasing near your ear.

You huffed but didn’t reply, shifting slightly as if trying to create distance between you. Alexia tightened her hold, her lips brushing against the back of your head in a fleeting kiss.

“Cariño,” she murmured, her tone softening. “Stop pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” you mumbled, though the petulant edge in your voice said otherwise.

“Sí, you are,” she replied, her hand slipping under the hem of your oversized shirt. Her palm was warm against your bare, clammy skin as she rested it on your side.

You stilled at her touch, your breath hitching slightly when her fingers began to move. They trailed lightly across your side, her nails grazing your skin just enough to tickle.

“Alexia,” you warned, squirming slightly.

“What?” she asked, her voice full of mock innocence. Her fingers continued their playful assault, trailing over the sensitive skin just below your ribs.

“Stop,” you said, trying to twist away from her.

“Hmm… no,” she replied, a small laugh escaping her. “You deserve this por hacerme correr detrás de ti.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips, though you quickly tried to hide it. “You’re evil,” you muttered, your voice still tinged with congestion.

“Maybe,” she admitted, her fingers pausing their tickling to rest gently on your side. “But you still love me.”

You didn’t respond, your head ducking slightly as you tried to bury your face in the pillow. Alexia chuckled softly, her hand sliding up to rest just beneath your ribs.

“Say it,” she teased, pressing another kiss to the back of your head.

“No,” you replied stubbornly.

“Cariño,” she said, her voice dipping into that low, affectionate tone that always made your resolve crumble.

You sighed, your shoulders finally relaxing as you melted into her embrace. “I love you,” you murmured, your voice soft and muffled.

“Te quiero también,” she replied, her lips brushing against the back of your neck.

You didn’t say anything else, your pout finally dissipating as Alexia’s fingers traced soothing patterns on your side. The warmth of her body against yours and the steady rhythm of her breathing began to lull you into a hazy state of comfort.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[nottsstar]

SUNDRESS. theodore nott 𓍢ִ smut 18+ MDNI

THE MALFOY MANOR was a perfect place for pool parties. Though it was dull and dark, the pool area (let’s pretend there is one) was perfect for a small party. I mean, Mr and Mrs malfoy probably didn’t even mind. Well, that’s what Draco told everyone.

The day was perfect for some pool fun. The weather was nice with no clouds covering the bright sun. The whole group, including Theo was invited for the holidays as vacation to the Malfoys. Nobody swam today. Not even Pansy and Blaise were swimming today. They all planning do sunbathing under the scorching heat.

Though, right now everybody was inside. Except for you and Theo. You both weren’t friends-friends. Just friends of friends. But sometimes you both talked. Theo had found interest in you somewhat. He thought you looked gorgeous. With your sharp features and body, you could captivate anyone. Even Theodore Nott.

But you? Oh boy, you had a major crush on him. And throughout the whole vacation you had been ogling at him. Though that was a huge secret. Not even Pansy knew this crush of yours. And she knew almost everything about you. The only person or more rather thing which knew was your diary. It would always star with a ‘dear diary...’ and end with a small ‘<3’. It had been your secret since the first time you saw him. If staring at Nott was a job, you’d be rich enough to by at least six whole planets already.

All you did not know, was that Nott had found one of your ripped pages. The most important one yet. The one that was ao secret you were planning on throwing it away. Though, that never happened because the next moment you opened your dear diary, the paper was nowhere to be found. You assumed you must have already threw it away somewhere. But nope, Theo had gotten to it before the dustbin. And he was pretty surprised with it too. Exactly how you would be when you found out he had seen it.

dear diary . . .

oh goodness gracious god, did Theo look great today. He had a white button up on. I could ogle at him for days, weeks, months, even years. And guess what? He talked to me today! He asked me if I was enjoying my stay. And I obviously said yes. Though, what I really wanted to say was more than that. His hair was a little bit more disheveled today. Oh how I wanted to smooth it out with my own fingers. Okay, back to his white button up. Do you know how hot it made him look? Sexy even. His chest was practically seeping through. I could see it so well. I almost melted. I wonder how they’d feel under my touch and...maybe I shouldn’t write the remaining

<3

and that’s all that was wrote on the ripped piece of paper to Theo’s dismay. Some bits were missing though, the parts he needed to know were there. And you wouldn’t believe it but—

Today, theo was wearing his normal pool outfit. A buttoned one with a normal striped yellow and blue pattern. His shirt is fully unbuttoned though, revealing his chiseled chest bare and exposed. Exposed to your eyes. You had been staring at him all day. All day, you swore. And he was honestly no better than you.

You had been wearing your sundress today. Your sundress that came up to your mid thighs. And funny enough, you aren’t wearing any underwear either. And the dress exposed a good amount of neck too. With black sunglasses on, there’s more you can do than protecting your eyes, theo had managed to stare at you or rather your legs without you noticing. They were exposed. Fully on display. And he could stare at them for hours. You’d probably melt if you knew that.

And currently, you were bouncing on his dick. It’s just how it went. Believe it or not, his hands were on your thighs as you rode him. You were moaning out his name while he was moaning out absolutely nothing. What were the risks of getting caught? You both could care less. I mean, if you both were caught it would be bad and awkward but right now your minds were circling with emotions.

“you’ve wanted this for so long huh? Bet you’re gonna write about this in your diary too.” he manages to say through all the pleasure. Your face flushed an even deeper red at that, if that’s even possible.

“oh shut up.”

“that’s no fair, you don’t shut up about me in your diary.”

You groan at that, scowling at him. He smirks seeing your expression. He’s enjoying giving you pleasure and getting you all pissed at him. He knows the pissed expression will go in no time.

His hands that were on your hips shift to your shoulders, he lowers you down with almost a feather light touch. He chuckles to himself. As you lower down to meet his face with yours, his dick twitches inside of you. Causing you to let out a sof whimper, to Theo’s pleasure of course.

With a bold move he captures your lips with his, locking them in. Your hands are now tangled in his soft brown hair. And he doesn’t pay any attention to it until you tug on it. He lets out a shaky groan into your mouth. His tongue licks your bottom lip as in asking for access to your mouth. And you let him, already in his game. If you’re in, you can’t out. His tongue explores your mouth inch to inch. He even lets out a small ‘mm’ for some reason. Of course, withyour brain fogged you don’t know why.

Once he lets go of your mouth, you go back to your original position. Which is straddling him with his cock buried deep in you. Your hands almost automatically fly tp his chest, stabling yourself. Like you wrote in your diary, his hard abs felt great under your touch. You wanted to skim your hands over them. But there was just no time in this pleasure to it. Maybe next time? Definitely next time. His hands are now on your hips as before, gripping them enough to leave two red handprints. You don’t mind though. Did you? Nah.

“oh fuck Theo...‘m gonna...” no more words come out your mouth before you’re spilling all over his thick cock. You get up from it, still dripping in what not. Though, you’re still on him. His cock is now arched towards your chest as he runs his hand up and down, closer and closer to his release. And it’s not long before thick ropes of cum shoot at your chest, splattering all over your tits covered by your sundress.

“hope you got what you wanted cara mia.”

And that’s the last thing he said before he ordered me toget up. And I obviously did. Hopefully this isn’t the end just yet. But can you believe it? I had sex with him near the pool while there were ninety nine percent chance we’d get caught! I enjoyed it though...

<3

reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

wc: 1184 😦

(What the hell? I dunno how this turned into a fic. Help.)

[gettingyourselfwetforme]

gateway drug - bff!harry

hello to everyone! this is my first one-shot on here! i posted a lil something somethin’ on my page that’s about me if you’re interested! please leave any feedback you have <3

warnings: marijuana use, fingering, slight exhibitionism.

word count: 4k+

.

.

“you’ve got to pinch and twist m’love”

“okay if you wanna micromanage me, why don’t you do it yourself.”

“baby you were the one who wanted to learn.”

y/n throws the half rolled joint onto the tray, undoing her work entirely. she wants to learn how to roll, but her fingers just can’t seem to move in the right ways to get the green leaves to stay inside of the pretty pink paper.

harry senses the frustration in y/n’s face and tone. it is a hard thing to learn, and he hates to see her struggle. “do you wanna take a break, petal? i’ve got one rolled already in the bag if y’want to just light that one.” he holds up the sandwich bag half full with weed.

y/n groans and gets up from sitting on the couch. “but that one isn’t pink! i wanted to make it pretty.” she sighs and paces to the kitchen. “i think im just gonna stick to cones. they’re at least a little bit easier than those fucking papers.”

harry turns around and looks at y/n. his mouth cracks into a smile, chuckling softly at her frustration. rolling is something that everyone is bad at at first- it comes with practice and patience. he could remember his first roll, which was a nightmare considering he was doing it in a moving car with all of his mates, and how messy and bad it was.

“you just have to keep practicing, it’s okay. you’ll get it eventually.” he prys his eyes away from y/n, who is chugging a glass of water as if she were a kid coming back from playing outside, and starts to roll the forgotten joint on his own.

harry and y/n were best friends: they met in high school in detention, where harry frequented (more often than he liked to admit), and y/n had been just caught passing notes in class. the poor girl was terrified to be in detention, coming in with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks- harry had provided her with a small pep talk and offered to help her out with her assigned detention duties. soon enough, after vacuuming the entire school and scrubbing some baseboards, the pair had become inseparable.

after harry had fixed the joint up to an acceptable roll, he puts the joint between his lips and stands up, turning to y/n and providing a small head tilt to her as if to say “follow me”. she grabs her now refilled glass of water and follows behind him. He closes the balcony door after she steps out with him, and lights the pink paper with (what y/n would say) a brat green lighter.

y/n’s eyes linger at the look of his lips wrapped around the cardboard filter, enjoying the view she has of him in this light. they’re both sat on the balcony of their shared apartment, with only the light from the sunset highlighting his face.

y/n is one of those types of people where nothing comes above her friendships. not situationships, not work, not school. she has such a strong love and respect for her friends and couldn’t imagine anything being better than that bond. that’s why when she looks at harry, she feels as if her heart could burst, knowing that he chooses to spend time with her and loves her right back.

she was clingy- but so was he. harry had a tendency to develop “friend crushes”. it’s similar to the obsession you get when you have a romantic crush, where you have the desire to know someone inside and out, and become close to them.

the thing about harry’s “friend crush” he has on y/n is that it slowly started becoming a full-blown romantic crush. it was embarrassing for him to think about, but he knew that he never wanted to spend a minute away from y/n when he didn’t have to. it was something he had learned to shove down, knowing that he didn’t even have a chance with her.

harry passes the lit joint to her, catching a glimpse of her staring at him. a small “thanks” leaves her lips at the motion, and inhales the smoke. she lets out a small cough at the tickle in her lungs, looking at harry, who has a smile on his face, holding back a small laugh.

“hey… i’m still new to this. you can’t bully me.” she says, smirking and hitting his shoulder with her own.

“you love it though.” he replies. his lip is turned up in amusement, looking between the joint and y/n.

“aish, just tell me you want it instead of looking at it like a puppy does a treat.” y/n giggles, takes another inhale, before handing it off to him. with a laugh, he takes it from her and takes a few hits.

“i just think you’re a joint hogger.”

.

“okay but katya totally deserved to win all stars 2.”

“was she good? yes! do i think she did better than alaska? no?”

y/n looks at harry with an open mouth and wide eyes (as wide as her eyes could go while being absolutely stoned.) since they finished the joint, they’ve been arguing over who deserved to win each drag race reason, whether or not flip flops are an acceptable shoe choice for anything other than the water, and the new episode of celebrity big brother.

“you’re insane, opinion revoked. you’re literally a man, i don’t know why you thought it mattered anyways.” y/n holds a hand up to his face and turns her head.

“do you forget that 75% of the queens on drag race are men? i think i should get more of an opinion on it than you if that’s the case.” harry defends, pushing her hand down and forcing her to look at him.

“okay well most of them are also GAY and im like, halfway there.” she shrugs, sipping her water and side eyeing harry.

harry lets out a groan at her words. “whatever you say, pretty princess” he says, a dopey smile written on his face that has pretty much been permanent since smoking the joint.

they sit in a comfortable silence, harry’s head now resting on her lap, while she tangles her fingers through his hair. y/n feels good- she thinks. she used to always get paranoid when she smoked, but being with harry makes the paranoia disappear. her mind is cloudy, yet so clear all at once.

“do you ever think about us?”

harry’s voice startles her out of her thoughts for the second time tonight, yet this time makes her heart skip a beat. she lets out a gulp.

“what about us?” she asks.

“just… us as people. as friends. as roommates. just, like, i don’t know… us.” he rambles. “i think we’re good together. i couldn’t imagine being without you, like, ever. i couldn’t imagine having to live my life living in a house that you’re not in, you know?”

y/n’s brain feels like it’s sobering up just a little bit, enough for her to feel like what he just said was a… confession of sorts. they’ve always been strictly platonic- never dabbling or messing with one another. the thoughts have definitely floated around but she never entertained them.

y/n’s silence would be worrisome to harry if he wasn’t on an out-of-this-world high, but instead just continues on. “i just want to be your boy, keep you all to myself. wanna be able to love you in every way. i dunno. just something ive been thinking about”

that’s what makes y/n stop all movement and makes her breath hitch.

what does she even say to that? she has pushed her small crush on him down for years, always just saying it was just because they spent so much time together, or saying that she was just ovulating and was ready to be with anybody.

“yeah… i know what you mean. i do… i couldn’t imagine a life without you either. but eventually you’ll find someone you love more than me in a different way.” she says, mind still putty under the influence of weed. her hands continue dancing through his hair, causing him to let out a small noise of contentment.

he lets out a huff of air. “i don’t think i will.”

.

when y/n wakes up, she feels a heavy weight on her lap. slowly peeling her eyes open, she sees a curly haired boy asleep on her lap. it’s bright, she thinks, realizing that they both totally fell asleep on the balcony last night. it was early morning, they had only been asleep out here for a few hours probably.

she opens her eyes fully, letting out a deep yawn. it’s louder than she expected, causing the man on her lap to stir softly. he lets out a small groan, making y/n aware that he’s awake too.

“mornin’.” harry says, voice hoarse from smoking last night and sleeping. he lifts his head up and places a hand on his back, attempting to sit fully up. “jesus fuck, did i sleep like that all night? my back is gonna be fucked up all week ‘cause of tha’.”

y/n looks at his face, littered with sleep lines and paired with bloodshot eyes. she finds this state of him absolutely adorable. “guess so. the weed hit us too hard. don’t even remember falling asleep.” she mentions, stretching out her limbs and letting another yawn out.

the memories of last night are coming back slowly, them arguing about mindless shit, being all too cuddly with each other, and worst of all…

how he told her he wants to spend the rest of his life with her, and wants to ‘love her in every way’.

maybe she was getting carried away. they were both high last night, and they have had many pointless high conversations. it was probably just one of those things. it’s a weird thing to think about for her though- if he was being for real, what would that mean for them? they date, breakup, then lose eachother? the thought of losing him makes her sick.

y/n’s mind starts wandering into if she actually does have romantic feelings for harry, more than just the small crush she keeps pushing down. they spend almost every non-working minute with the other, and honestly she also couldn’t see herself living with anyone but him.

harry’s large, unringed hand stretches to her and boops her on the temple. “it’s too early for your brain t’be workin’ that hard. can’t have you worrying your pretty little head at…” he checks the time on his phone, “6:32 in the mornin’.”

y/n blinks away her thoughts to focus her eyes on harry. “whatever, i’m still tired and neither of us work today… so i’m going to take my happy ass to my bed. are you coming?” she stands up, turning around to look at a sleepy harry agreeing with a simple nod.

.

y/n has been acting weird. harry picked up on it after their nap, but it’s been lingering for the last couple days. she avoids eye contact with him, cuts conversations short, and even fell asleep without saying goodnight to him. he was pondering what he could have said to her to make her feel bad, but he couldn’t pinpoint it! he tried to relive the last few days, going over every (very few) interactions they had, but still coming up short.

that was until he remembered that they got high the night before the nap.

fuck. when he was high, all of his thoughts just came out. he has no filter, and everything he thinks, he says. what could he have said? what could have caused her to be so dismissive with him? he never thought anything ill of y/n (except for maybe when she forgets to put his keys back after moving his car) and he certainly wouldn’t have said anything to her that wasn’t the truth.

he gets up from his bed to go sit with y/n in the living room, who is currently sitting with her feet tucked under, reading a book.

“do you wanna go outside and smoke with me?” he offers, picking up the lighter and a pre-rolled joint. her eyes look up from the book, catching his own, as she marks her spot in the book and places it down.

she honestly wasn’t even really reading the book anyways. she’s been too busy thinking about her feelings towards harry to focus on anything else.

they walk out to the balcony, shutting the door and sitting down. the sun is setting, but it’s still pretty early for them to be smoking. it’s honestly odd that they’re smoking at all- he doesn’t like smoking more than once a week.

he hands the unlit joint to y/n, alongside the lighter, offering her the first hit. he knew she liked seeing the little paper burn at the top, and it always amused him how much it intrigued her.

“so… what’s going on? it’s the second night this week we’re getting high. it’s very… unlike you.” she says, covering the flame from the breeze in order to get a good light on the joint. she takes the first hit, a small cough building up again.

harry scratches the back of his neck. “that’s what i wanted to ask you about. i feel like you’ve been… distant from me lately. ever since our last smoke sesh. did i say something wrong?” he almost sounds nervous, she thinks, which makes her frown a little.

yeah, she’s been cutting their conversations short and been dry texting for the better half of the week, but it’s all because of him. the weird feeling that arose in her stomach when she thought about him saying that he “wanted to be her boy”, made her question a lot about their relationship. she couldn’t get over it.

“you seriously don’t remember what you said?” she passes the joint over to him.

“no, i really don’t. if it was anything mean or inapp-“ he’s quickly cut off by her own words.

“you told me that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, and ‘love me in every way’. “

well, fuck.

he didn’t think he said something like that.

“uh…” was all he could muster out. he’s shocked at his words, and slightly embarrassed about it. he wants to crawl into a hole to curl up and die thinking about him saying that to her.

they both sit in silence for a few minutes, taking hits off of the joint whilst taking turns. y/n’s mind is running around all of the words he spoke to her that night, while his head is trying decide if he wants to tell the truth.

after finishing the last of the joint, y/n smushes it out in the ash tray and breaks the silence.

“if what you said was true, i wouldn’t mind being your girl.” she turns to look at him with a nervous smile.

“i… i- um…” his brain just won’t work! he’s trying to say something but for some god forsaken reason nothing will come out. he looks away from y/n, trying to gather his words. “i… i do… i do feel that way about you, yes. but don’t feel like you have to say anything about it. you can just pretend that you didn’t hear me. i mean clearly it was meant to be an inside thought, but i don’t think-“

his nervous rambling was cutoff by y/n turning towards him and pressing her lips against his. at first, his eyes go wide, not realizing what was happening, but as soon as he collects himself, he leans into the kiss.

y/n had been thinking about it- she knows that if their romantic relationship didn’t work out, they could never NOT be friends. she honestly doesn’t care if it would be awkward after, there was absolutely no way she could live without harry.

harry is the first to break away from the kiss. he can’t tell if his head is spinning because of the kissing or the weed, but either way, he loves it. the rush of adrenaline he got from getting a kiss from someone he always thought was off limits was addicting. kissing her was addicting, and he’s only done it once.

“you know how they say marijuana is a gateway drug?” he says, causing y/n’s eyebrow to raise.

slightly out of breath, she shrugs. “yeah?”

“well i think my gateway drug is you.”

he pulls her into his lap and puts his lips back on hers, but this time much firmer. she can’t believe what is happening right now. she’s kissing her best friend- the one who helped her get over her last girlfriend, the one who would always come and get her from the bar after a bad night out, and- the one who she never could have ever imagined showing any sort of interest in her.

her mind is all fucked by the dizzying kiss and the weed that was slowly entering her system. she’s straddled on harry’s lap, kissing him with a sense of desperation, and her body feels hot. she knows that they should talk about whatever this is between them before doing anything, but her body just can’t help itself from becoming aroused.

“can i touch you?” harry murmurs between kisses. his hands are on her hips, but he needs to feel her more. feel more of her body under his touch.

y/n lets out a small groan, and leans her head back. the way he sounds almost desperate is just so hot. “fuuuuck, yes please.”

her lips return to his, and his hands are moving around her body. around her thighs, around her back, her shoulders, neck, ass- everywhere on her body. his long fingers grasp and pull at her, and she can’t help but let out a little moan at the feeling when his grasp got a little tighter.

he smirks, lips still on hers, and lets out a small ‘hmm’. he pulls away just enough for him to speak. “fucking freak.”

y/n rolls her eyes. “you’re an asshole, you know that?” she says, smiling and leaning back to look at him. he has a shit-eating grin on his face, almost teasing.

his hands move around her ass, kneading the muscle in his palms. “oh no, i know. but i think you like it.” he states. “and i think there’s something you want from me.”

she looks around at the balconies around them- there’s nobody out here, and it’s dark out, apart from the light coming from their apartment. she’s not exactly an exhibitionist- but she’s so desperate for him to touch her, she’s willing to do anything.

“and what do you think that is?” she replies, a teasing tone in her voice.

his pupils have enlarged, the green iris almost invisible. his hands move from her ass to her hips, and he thumbs gently at her waistband. “i think… you want me to touch you under…” his thumb breaks the waistband of her shorts and fiddles with the top of her panties. “here.”

her breathing hitches at the feeling of his touch so close to where she wants it. “then do it.”

he shakes his head. “nope, i wanna hear you say it.” his voice is deep, and wanting.

listen, she’s not above begging. she may come off as someone whose ego is too big to beg, but if she wants something, she’s gonna try her damndest to get it.

she gulps. “please touch me harry, i want you to touch me and make me feel good.” she says in a small, pleading voice.

his cock twitches at the sound of her begging to touch her, and immediately gives in. his hands push down her shorts all the way, and he brushes his knuckle against her wet panties.

“all this for me? already so wet…” he says, ghosting his fingers across the fabric. his fingers pull her panties to the side, finally exposing herself to him.

her breathing is heavy, and her mind is fuzzy. her hips involuntarily jerk at his touch to her bare clit, and he can’t help but smile. collecting some of her arousal on his fingers, he traces gentle patterns on her clit. a loud moan leaves her lips, and her pussy is so wet, she can hear him playing with her.

“fuck, you hear that? hear how wet you are? hear how desperate you are for me to touch your pussy?” it’s official-he thinks. his favorite sound are the little moans of desperation she’s letting out. she can’t even be bothered to give a sarcastic reply, because he just feels so good touching her.

her hips start rocking back and forth slightly, encouraging his fingers to move faster. the little moans get louder the more friction there is on her clit, and her eyes are screwed shut from pleasure.

“f-fuck, harry, faster, please.” she begs. he lets out a little groan at her words, and it just fuels him to move faster. his fingers tease her entrance, dipping in slightly before pulling them out, focusing on her clit again. he looks up at y/n, seeing her eyes shut and face full of pleasure.

“nuh-uh, look at me. look at me while i rub your clit.” he demands. her eyes shoot open. holy fuck. he’s nasty. and she fucking loves it.

her eyes meet his, her jaw slack. the look in his eyes is nothing but lust. nothing but a need to touch her and make her feel good.

she feels her climax getting closer, and her hips start rocking harder on his hands. “fuck harry, that feels so fucking good, fuck.” her voice moans loudly.

hearing his name come from her mouth in a moan makes his cock throb. “you gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my fingers? wanna hear you say my name when you cum. wanna hear who makes you feel this good.” he growls in her ear.

the words send her over the edge. she’s trying to keep eye contact with harry but her eyes roll back at the feeling of of her orgasm taking over her body. “i’m coming- i’m coming. harry- oh my god. fuck.” her voice is loud, feeding into his ego.

“oh, good girl… yeah, i want everyone to know who makes you feel like this. fuck, soaking my fucking hand, pet.” he almost moans at the sound of her voice. he gets off on making others feel good.

he rubs her clit, carrying her through her orgasm. before long, her hand meets his and pulls it from her clit. “t-too sensitive, fuck” she mumbles, justifying her actions.

she’s fucked out. the last few months she’s been getting nothing but mediocre lays and subpar orgasms, but honestly she thinks that it’s all led up to this moment. she leans her head on his shoulder, taking a few deep breaths. “you’re too good at that.” she says, finally breathing normally.

he chuckles. “so i’ve heard. how are you feeling baby?” he asks, checking in with her.

she raises her head to look at him. “great. that- was really good.” she responds. her memory is coming back, still hazy from the weed, but much clearer than a few minutes ago, and she breaks the question that they’re both thinking. “so um… what, what does this mean for us?”

harry smiles, his little dimple coming out. he suddenly gets a little shy. he pushes a tendril of hair behind her ear and looks at her flushed face. “if you wanted to, i’d like to take you out on a proper date.” he tries to keep his cool, but he always gets so shy when it comes down to it.

y/n likes what she hears. she’s so glad that they got over this barrier they’ve had the last few days. “i think i would like that very much, mr. styles.” she giggles a little bit with giddiness, nose scrunching up at the look of harry being shy over asking her out.

when she finally gets off of his lap, she looks down at his shorts and smiles.

“you want some help with that?”

[keen-li]

Soft launch | jk

Summary: The one where you’ve been a solo OF creator for some time, but now your viewers are requesting to see you with a partner, but you only have...Jungkook as an option. Your closest friend.

18+ MDNI.

Jungkook x fem reader.

Friends to FWB, smut.

Warnings: filmed coitus, kissing, a down bad Jungkook?, fingering, neck kisses, implied virgin reader, penetration(protected.) sweet after care.

Note: smut practice No.1

A/n: this is just practice and i worked on it so fast there could be errors but I did try to edit it. i don’t know how to write smut so I’m working on it. If you think it’s cringe or don’t like it please don’t tell me 😊, I don’t want to know. This is just for fun and no thought.

Any positive, reply, ask or reblog is appreciated

Wc: 2.2k+

╰⊰♡⊱╮

“Really?” when you ask to clarify and he nods, you’re already getting excited. “Let me restart the video.”

You skip to the camera, making sure to end the previous one.

You’ve been doing filming for over a year now, you’re still new but it’s shocking how you’ve grown a large audience already.

Filming pays you so well that you’ve taken it up full time. And with that you’ve had to get creative.

You always did your work solo, it was comfortable and what made you feel the most confident. The people loved it. But it can get monotonous at times, and they made sure to let you know.

You’ve never minded requests; they help you alleviate the pressure of thinking of how to be creative next. So, when people start requesting you to get a partner, it made you do a double take.

Working with someone isn’t something you mind doing. But what really concerned you was your comfortability. You couldn’t walk up to a random person and ask if they could film with you. You never had friends in the industry, and only one male friend. Your female friends don’t swing that way.

So, you were stuck.

But then your thoughts went back to the only male friend you have. Jungkook. He was single and supported what you did.

So, would he help you?

You were scared to ask, but it was worth the shot. If he said no then you could pretend it was a lie. He was very open minded to things, so could he be to this? It’s definitely playing at the seams of things you’ve never thought of in your friendship.

So, it was a shock to you when he said yes, very quickly as well.

“Maybe you should hold the camera.” You tilt your head to the side, doubting what route you should go with this. “For a better angle you get?” he nods.

Cause of the job people wouldn’t believe you’ve actually never slept with anyone before. That’s the main reason you don’t have other male friends. They’d always try to sleep with you. You were never interested in that. and that’s what made Jungkook different.

He never tried to sleep with you, you’d joke flirtishly, but it was never more than that. That’s why you feel comfortable enough to do this with him.

Plus, the other guys always judged you or slut shamed you for what you did. But Jungkook never did, he’s actually the one who bought you the camera you’re using currently.

He also taught how to set up and direct yourself. And the reason he’s here tonight was to help you film a video.

“I’ll hold it.” He says walking over to grab the camera from your grip, his fingers brushing past you longer than normal.

It’s Jungkook, filming should feel easier. “it’ll feel more natural.”

You just nod. You’ve been filming most of your content by yourself and still don’t get the camera thing.

You’re glad he’s here.

“You want me to--” the gesture you make with your hands has him laughing. You pout though and he stops.

“You want to be a fluffer?” the smile from the laugh lingers.

“I’m just asking.”

He chuckles.

“I’ll be fine.”

Thanks to the video you were recording before, he’s partially there.

Watching the way, you touched yourself, how soft your breaths and moans escaped your plushie rose lips. It was a sight to see.

You know how to touch yourself but you definitely need someone to show you deeper pleasure.

“Kook, stop teasing.”

“Content. I’m sure the people like to see little desperation.”

“This video’s gonna be an hour long if you keep that up.”

“I don’t mind.” He has a cheeky smile on his face but you’re having none of it. “Fine. You’re the boss.” He’s only letting you have your way cause it for your page, and he wants to respect the request. but if it was what he wanted, that mouth would’ve been too caught up to whine.

Jungkook pulls your panties off. You have no clue how he does it so swiftly with one hand. He gets it done and now he can stare at your wetness.

“you’re staring.” You inform him like he wasn’t doing it on purpose. Again...if it was on his terms.

“Is this for me?” he runs a cold finger through your folds. You lay ass at the edge of the bed and he stands between your thighs.

You bite your lower lips the longer he traces through them. Is this what it feels like to have someone else do it.

“it’s for the camera.”

“Hard to believe when I’m the one with a finger in you.” At that a finger slips into you. Slow, but determined you fully settle in. You’ve done it yourself before, so why does it feel new with his.

“Fuck kook.” You call when another is added.

“I was supposed to eat you out but since you’re in a hurry...” they glide in and out, pulling a moan from you eat time. Jungkook grows a lopsided smile watching how you squirm just from his fingers. Sweet girl. “...we can save it for another video.”

Another video? You hadn’t though about that. Your viewers would want more, so it does make sense. But... he’s okay with doing another video.

He’s ecstatic. This would be enough. it is nice, but it wouldn’t be enough. he needs to feel you in everyway. Your weight on him, his face. The way you taste, how long would you last?

And his personal favourite.

How many times can he make you come?

All those things make him want to come back.

Not to say that he’s been thinking about this. He’s loves your friendship and loves how you get along as friends. You’ve been friends for awhile and with that comes him witnesses all the shitty guys you encounter, he’s glad you’ve never given then what they were hoping. Honestly, they wouldn’t know what to do with all this.

He wants to see you succeed and be happy, and if fucking you gets you closer to that then he’ll be here...

Right in your tight cunt...

He’s kind of hating this camera right now. Holding it and trying to touch every part of you is hard. And frustrating.

And you can sense it. “You, okay?” you sit up on your elbows and you’re met with exactly what you felt. His brows knitted and tongue poking his cheek. It’s hot when he does that. and he’s so stupid for not noticing how you drip even more after it.

“Yeah, I just need to put this somewhere.”

You knew he’d get tired of it eventually. “Let me grab the--”

“uh-uh...just lay there.” He commands and you don’t move.

He goes to grab the stand.

When he turns, he finds you on your elbows. He hopes this image of you stays on his mind forever. It’s a dangerous wish. But he’d risk it.

You can feel you mouth water when you catch the bulge clearly begging to be touched. He smacks your hand away when you reach.

“Next video I want to suck you off.” You’re not even staring at him, cause you’d see how he pokes his tongue again and his cheeks turn rosier.

Jungkook can’t deny the effect the words have on him. And now he’s getting impatient.

He loves that you’re settling into the idea. Maybe he’ll become your full-time partner. But for him fucking you is the payment; you can keep all the money you earn.

Not knowing how to respond with words he just smirks.

You want to remark how he doesn’t respond but he’s thumb on your clit shuts you up. He knew it would.

His fingers adjust to the warmth. The sounds you and your body make are ethereal. He needs to be closer. So, leaning over he latches at a nipple and your back arches immediately. You’re making sure you can be heard but unlike others, you really mean it.

He’s all over you, kissing up your chest, wet kisses on your neck. You can barely stay in one position, the pleasure of having someone else pleasure you is overwhelming. It’s a new feeling, but your body adjust quickly and you’re begging for more.

“Kiss me.”

He pauses, and when his face is in your view his eyes soften. “Really?” kissing would feel really intimate and he’s not sure if that’s what you were intending. But he doesn’t mind. Not at all.

Your nod comes out rushed and just as fast his lips capture yours. Your hands immediately move to touching anything you want. His hair, under his shirt, you tease to go lower but the pull at your lips stops you. You smile.

Your lips move simultaneously, the feeling soft but deep; proving how bad you don’t want him to stop. You need more of this feeling.

Your tongues battle for dominance, but how much of a fight is it when he’s winning. He smirks when you moan into the kiss.

And that’s all you can handle, you need more. So you pull away, confusing him.

“I need you.”

“I’m here.”

His lips are on your neck again and as much as you’d love him to keep going just like that. there’s a purpose to all of this.

“Wanna feel you.”

Immediately a hot wave of blood rushes down him. And he can only bite his lips. You really know how to shut him up.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He says against your lips. It’s unprompted but not really. It’s just everything about you, maybe he’s doomed himself by doing this. Cause even from the little he’s had; you’ve ruined him for anyone else. Not that he was looking for anyone else.

Seeing that you were solo, birth control was not a thing for you. So, he’s quick to grabbing protection. Maybe now you’ll consider the, seeing that you’re considering more of this anyways.

You watch him slip it over, his eyes on you the whole time.

When he’s between your legs, you lift your hips, just to be an inch closer to him.

“So impatient...” he mocks. “I’m not going anywhere baby.”

You hope he doesn’t.

Grabbing himself, he inches to your core but then you stop him...

“The camera kook.’

“Oh yeah.” Forgot about it.

He points the device to where you meet. He pushes your legs apart, when you threaten to close them.

“So tight. fuck” He mumbles, inching deeper and stretching you out. You wish you could reach him, claw at his back and leave marks to remind him how good this feels.

A whimper escapes your lips when he’s in deeper. The stretch stings but soon turns to pleasure. More than you’ve ever given yourself.

“You good?” he pauses and you want to yell at him for it, but you get it. The stretch feels so new and he wouldn’t want to hurt.

“Mhm.”

“Feels good?”

The moan and gasps are enough of an answer for him.

“She’s taking me so well guys.”

Shit you forgot about the camera. Should you post this? Fuck. You have to, that was the point.

Feeling like you’re more settled Jungkook begins rocking, still holding himself for control.

“Feels so good kook.” you whimper, shutting your eyes.

“I know baby.”

He’s not even moving fast and it feel like heaven. You won’t last long...shit.

More slick dripping out aides his movement. And he begins rocking faster.

You have no clue where to hold onto or what to say. You grip your sheets spewing out who knows what...his movements get faster and you’re getting louder.

Your viewer’s will love this. How he’s slipping into your cunt. How you’re inching away but he has to pull you back with one hand. How you whimper and chant his name with curses.

The slapping of skin is melodious with your moans. With the way you twitch around him he knows you’re close. So, he rubs on your clit to intensify the pleasure and you’re seeing lights.

His name spills out your mouth continuously has you feel the pressure. The knot tightens and you’re inching closer to the feeling.

“don’t stop.” You beg.

“wasn’t going to darling.” It’s the pleasure, it’s the hand that grips your thigh and it’s the pet name and if your eyes were open it would be the way he looks and smiles down at you.

He continues you rock into you and rub your clit until the knot snaps. And it’s never snapped like this.

Your body shakes and you tighten around him, bring him closer as well.

“fuck..” He grunts as he twitches into the latex like he’s never done before in a while.

You’re stuck between time. What the fuck just happened?

Jungkook slips out of you and you internally whine and the loss. He throws the rubber in your bathroom. You flinch when you feel a damp cloth on our core.

When did he even leave the room?

“You did so good.” He kisses down your sweaty chest. It feels good. When you’re alone you have no one to reassure you. So, it feels great to hear him say that.

He’s taken by surprise when you pull him and kiss his lips.

“Now, I don’t want to post it.” You pout and he watches ever inch of your features.

“That would be a waste, wouldn’t it?” he stares into your eyes not able to move away cause you’re holding him closer so kiss him. He loves it. He leans into the kiss before you’re pulling away again.

“no.”

╰⊰♡⊱╮

[heechwe]

for your 3k celebration!! eee congrats my love you absolutely deserve it and i love you very dearly!!! ♡♡

okay hear me out, hear me out… ex!heeseung where you both go to like this small college reunion your friends you haven’t seen a while are throwing. emotions and tensions rise at not seeing each other since the breakup and you guys end up fighting again, but the two of you keep getting closer and closer until suddenly you’re both all over each other and hate fucking hehehe~~ (as a mean dom lover i’m sorry but you know i cannot resist lmao..)

𐔌 𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐈'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𐦯 — oh my god kippy okay i can completely see this happening with heeseung, especially as a very sexually-controlling dom and you being an impossible brat. the two of you are verbally implicit in your arguments throughout the whole night. jake and jay can't stop heeseung from throwing secret vitriol only you can decipher (and they should be used to it by now—they spent a year doing this back when you were all in university together). you volley all of heeseung's comments back to him with a picture-perfect smirk and martini in your hand like he can't phase you at all. despite all the bickering, there's still this inability to fight the pull between the two of you, like magnets unable to repel each other. it's infuriatingly impossible to stay away with the way heeseung looks at you, dark eyes and swollen lips just begging to be kissed and all the memories come flooding back. how can you say no when he practically orders you to go home with him?

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐀 𝟑𝐊 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓

𐔌 𝐁𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 𐦯 જ⁀➴ 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌, 𝒅𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔, 𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒙, 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒆

It's muscle memory for Heeseung, how quickly he remembers how much you like to be touched here and kissed there. He starts slowly and teasingly. He's a tidal wave begging to crash onto you, but he won't do so until you know how explicitly you drive him crazy, why this is the reason it fell apart to begin with. But he has no willpower to walk away, he never has.

It's a wonder the two of you stayed away from each other as long as you did. Two years clearly couldn't change a thing between you both, your resolves as strong as they were back then, your shared levels of integrity akin to tissue paper.

"You're an insolent thorn in my side, you know that?" He growls it into your neck as his fingers plunge into your underwear, the warmth of your walls welcoming him like he's come home from a long trip away, and it has been so long. Too long since he's felt your velvety folds sucking him in and coating his fingers in your essence, your body well-attuned to what he likes and doesn't like still. After all of this time, years spanning between the last time you two did this and now.

"You love it," you gasp as he presses his fingers in and out, almost pistoning them past your cervix to bring you closer to the cusp of an orgasm. He grunts and groans like he's ready to take you there as well, but you know better.

It's never that easy.

But this is exactly why he does love it. He loves to make you wait, leave you impatient and frustrated, watch you explode so he can put you in your place once again, even as you stand defiantly the entire trek back to where you belong.

The squelching noise of Heeseung's fingers coming out of you is undetectable past the whine that leaves your lips. But any resistant noises on your tongue die when Heeseung presses you hard into his dinner table, your body caged in with his front to your back.

"Spread your legs, now, or I won't give you what you want." You listen to his demand, despite how weak your body is already from what he still has yet to give you. He runs the tip of his cock along your folds and taps it lightly against your clit, making you flinch. You're so sensitive and aching and he laughs, laughs because he didn't expect less.

And you hate and love him for it. So when he does finally sheath himself completely inside of you, you curse. You scream. You practically bite down on a corner of the wood furniture from how good it feels.

You knuckles turn white from how hard you hold onto the table, Heeseung threatening to knock you off balance and onto the floor from how hard he thrusts in and out of you. He grunts into the shell of your ear how good it is, how much he's missed his "insatiable little whore," how he can never stay away from you again.

You'd think he wasn't fighting with you mere hours ago about your new job, how great your city commute is, all the little anecdotes he couldn't help himself from poking holes into.

Could it work again with how much you both rile each other up and break other down like this?

You both fall apart together, Heeseung yanking your head to the side to stick his tongue in your mouth to swallow your moans. Your cunt spasms around him as he fills you with his seed, warmth enveloping your lower half from the endless ropes of cum shooting into you. He doesn't pull out of you for another five minutes, still enraptured at how good it feels to be with you, around you, inside you, again. Even if you both drive each other crazy.

Heeseung thinks as he watches droplets of his cum leaking out of you that maybe he loves you for that reason alone. That that's why neither of you can get enough.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @jjunberry @frenchkisstheabyss @prkhaven @tinycatharsis @fangel @aaa-sia @yvnempire @addictedtohobi @innocygnet @filmnings @lovetaroandtaemin @xylatox @dawngyu

[neoheros]

there are very little things in this world that sakusa deems valuable enough to not risk – his game, his career, his reputation, his name.

he isn’t a gambler but he is an athlete and when you’re in his shoes, playing in the big leagues, thousands of people watching, looking, judging, there are a lot of risks you have to look out for.

he has to be quiet, polite, say the right thing, say it in the right tone, say it in the right time, otherwise, he risks his job and reputation.

he has to be focused, agile, ready for any change in the volleyball world the minute - the second - it happens, otherwise, he risks getting left behind, getting replaced by someone better, newer than him.

he has to be a lot of things and the risks of not being any of it puts him in a corner - cold and confining.

all of it, he hates with a passion, he hates with an effort. so he doesn’t take any risks at all. not when it comes to his game, his career, his reputation, his name.

but you – you are probably the riskiest person he has ever met.

i mean, you guys work together for god’s sake. it’s an HR crisis waiting to happen. it puts everything he’s worked hard for at risk — his game, his career, his reputation, his name.

but still.

you always know the right things to say to him, always know the right time he’s gonna be there or the right place to sit where he sees you so clearly even in the middle of the court.

everytime you talk to him, everytime you touch him, everytime you say his name or bring him coffee, everytime you watch him play or everytime he sees you outside of work — there is a feeling in his chest and he almost hates it.

“there’s a new ramen restaurant in miyagi that i’ve been wanting to try…” sakusa clears his throat, standing a few inches away from the lockers as everyone gets their shoes on.

it’s a little bit after 4pm, practice for the day had just ended, and well, meian always tells him he needed to socialize more with the rest of the group.

the locker room is stuffy and sweaty and to be honest, he’s never really been fond of the smell wafting in the air, so he always makes it a point to be the first one out the door after he’s done changing.

today though, he stays, hangs around everybody, and even if he hates it, he goes, “does anyone want to come with me tonight?”

hinata looks up at him from his shoes, “sorry omi, gotta take natsu to the dentist after practice, i dunno how long it’ll take us.”

he gives hinata a short nod — that’s fine.

“kaashi and i are seeing a movie around 7, but next time, man, i promise.” bokuto says, his hand on his neck, apologetic, almost.

another nod — that’s fine, too.

well, at least now, sakusa couldn’t say he didn’t try to socialize more. it’s the preferable outcome for him anyway, he’s better going off on it alone.

atsumu’s voice tears him away from his thoughts, loud and too cheerful for someone who just performed 4 diving laps, “i could go with ya, omi!”

and out of instinct, he replies “no, thank you.”

his blond teammate looks like he’s gonna say something after his response but you speak before he gets the chance to.

“well, i don’t mind coming, omi.” you say, and he blinks - how long have you been there?

there’s a knot in his stomach. “tonight?”

(he thinks, please say no, please say no, please say no.)

you nod at him, “it’s gonna be snowing so some ramen would be perfect.”

he nods at you - unable to say anything else, really - and he clears his throat, looking at atsumu, who he’s now just been really appreciative of for existing all of a sudden.

“then it will be you, me, and miya?” he asks, and he wants to keep his voice quiet now, untrusting of it.

(in the corner of his eye, he sees hinata step on atsumu’s foot and he goes “ow, whaddya do that for!” bokuto gives him a look, similar to the one hinata has, and atsumu catches on.)

sakusa gives the three of them a warning look, begging, actually begging, anyone who’d listen in that silly head of his for them not to do anything stupid.

“sorry man,” atsumu flashes him a grin, and he feels his knees go weak. “i forgot i had some plans tonight, i don’t think i’ll be able to go.”

lord, forgive sakusa kiyoomi for he’s gonna kill somebody.

he wants to say something, but before he could, you beat him to it.

“perfect.” you smile, “more for us then. right, omi?”

sakusa swallows the lump in his throat, and gives you a short nod, “yeah.��

you gather your things in your hand, “i’ll come over to your place, then?”

(words that make his knees feel even weaker.)

another nod. “yes, that’s fine.”

and he regains his composure, the worst of it over, but before you turn to leave, you flash him another one of your smiles, and he wishes you would just go so he can feel his pulse return to normal again.

“it’s a date.” you say, and you’re out the door.

sakusa’s face has a whisper of a light pinkishness to it and unable to think about it too much, he blames it on the open window letting the cold in.

the second the door closes, the locker room erupts in cheers, “way to go, omi!” “you’re going on a date!” and “it’s finally happening!”

there’s a knot in his stomach, and atsumu claps him on his back.

he rolls his eyes at the group, shaking his head as he whispers something along the lines of “whatever” or “its not a big deal.”

but his face feels hot and his pulse feels like its drumming against his skin, but, he can blame that on the cold too.

the sun goes down quicker than sakusa hoped it would, it’s 6:47pm now and you’ll be arriving in no later than 13 minutes.

he takes a good look at his apartment, ransacked and messy, the complete opposite of its usual state.

there’s a knock on his door and he feels his heart beat out of his chest at the sound.

he opens it with a fervor, “i asked you to come 30 minutes ago.”

“it’s a 30 minute walk.” behind the door is atsumu, sheepish smile on his face, hands shoved into his pockets as he pushes past the brunette and into the apartment.

“woah, this place is a mess.” atsumu says aloud, even him surprised at the disarray.

“i didn’t know what to wear.” sakusa admits, and he feels embarrassment course through his skin.

“i’ll say.” the blond replies, but he doesn’t tease. “you alright, omi?”

sakusa sighs – he really isn’t. his nerves are killing him and there’s an intense nervousness that pools in his belly. you make him nervous, did you know that?

“maybe i should cancel.” he says, and he looks at himself in the mirror again — coat, scarf, gloves, check, check, check.

“what? don’t do that.” atsumu shakes his head, “it’s five minutes ‘til 7.”

he’s probably right, sakusa thinks, you’re probably on your way by now, and even with the chilling weather outside, he feels way too hot for his own good.

he takes off his gloves to alleviate some of the warmth, placing it on his dresser as he paces.

“you’re an asshole, right?” sakusa says suddenly, “punch me in the face, take me to the ER, and i will reschedule whatever this night is to when i’m readier.”

(he doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready, to be honest.)

“even if i do really want to punch you in the face right now, that is so not gonna happen.”

“being your friend is useless to me.”

“yet, i’m the one you called over here.”

the doorbell rings and the both of them freeze in their places, sakusa looks over to the clock and how is it 7 already? and must you be on time for everything?

you’re already here and his place is a mess and atsumu freaking miya is standing in the middle of his apartment.

he says the first thing he can think of, “hide.”

atsumu looks at him, “what?”

he insists, “hide now.”

“are ya nuts? your apartment is a shoebox, where the hell am i hiding in here?” atsumu shakes his head, and he follows sakusa’s eyes in response as he tilts his body to look over to the bed.

“no fuckin way, nuh uh.” he backs away, “i am not hiding under there.”

the doorbell rings again and atsumu feels the nerves getting to him too.

“please. i’ll owe you.”

and atsumu wants to say no - really, he does - he’s not some teenager caught with his pants down and has to be stashed away under a bed, but sakusa looks at him in a way that makes him unrecognizable.

sakusa may not know it, but everyone can tell, every single one of them on the team knows, just how much this means to him.

(after all, the only people in msby black jackals who don’t know that sakusa likes you are sakusa and you.)

so he relents, and he gets on his knees near the bed before he scurries off under it. “you so owe me for this.”

sakusa feels embarassed – ashamed, really. he’s actually invested in this - in this date, and he wishes he was kidding, but he’s not, and he hates it.

he opens the door, and you’re there, and it’s always nice to see you outside of work.

“hi.” he says, and he doesn’t know what else to say.

“hi.” you say back, and for a second, it’s quiet.

another second passes, “can i come in?”

and he wants to kick himself, “yes. of course.”

“it’s freezing tonight.” you make polite small talk, “good thing i wore my coat.”

“it looks nice.” he nods, and he is grateful you don’t say anything about the mess of his apartment. it takes him another beat to realize what he said, and he feels embarrassed, although he doesn’t know why, so he follows up, “the coat.”

he wants to hit himself. he sounds like he’s just talking about the coat.

“you as well.” he says again. “not just the coat, i meant to say. you and the coat are nice looking. both of you.” he wants to stop talking – why is he still talking?

he looks at you, “where’d you - uh - buy it?”

great, now he sounds like he wants to take the fucking coat.

there’s a sound almost like snickering coming from under the bed but before you could look over to it sakusa clears his throat again.

“i’m ready to go,” he says suddenly, “are you?”

you haven’t been able to get a word in all night it seems, but it makes you smile - amused, and you nod, “yes.”

the night starts off okay, it’s quiet though, and he thinks, are dates supposed to be quiet?

“you okay there, omi?” you break the silence, and he wonders if you can tell what he’s been thinking.

“yeah.” a short reply, “just cold.”

you nod, “ah.”

in an effort to keep the conversation going, and the sudden realization that he may be the reason why it’s such a quiet evening, he looks to the side, and tells you, as the two of you walk the pavement to the train station:

“i forgot my gloves.”

there’s a pink hue on his ears, and he’s grateful you don’t tease him about it.

you stop walking for a moment, so he stops too.

he watches you as you work, taking the left glove on your hand off and he says nothing when you ask him to give you his left hand.

“here.” you slip on your left glove on his left hand, and it’s a snug fit, but it is warm.

then you say, “do you mind?”

and he doesn’t know what you’re talking about until you put your - now, ungloved - left hand to his -also, ungloved - right hand. fingers interlacing.

“this way, it’ll stay warm, don’t you think?”

he doesn’t trust his voice and he’s more grateful for the snow now as he finds it being his excuse for how red his ears are getting. he can only nod his head, keeping his nose tucked in under his scarf.

his lips tremble and he’s not so sure if it’s from the cold or from you.

sakusa doesn’t gamble. he doesn’t like the risks of it all. he always feels there’s always gonna be too much to lose rather than gaining anything beneficial for him.

so no – there are very little things in the world he cares enough about for him to risk anything for.

“better?” you say, and he tries harder to focus on your voice rather than your warm hand.

“yes.”

you smile and he thinks it’s really nice. “so, why was atsumu under your bed?”

his face feels hot now, his first instinct to deny that there ever was any man named atsumu under his bed, but he knows that look you’re giving him, and he knows it would be pointless to lie.

still, he doesn’t know what to say to you.

“omi?”

but then again, he never knows what to say to you.

“… i asked him to come help me get ready.”

you tilt your head, “get ready for?”

the silence becomes your answer and sakusa feels his face burn. it feels like embarrassment – but it also feels like something else.

“oh.”

and unexpectedly, you laugh, and when he hears it, for the first time all evening, his nerves finally cool on him, and he laughs too.

you bump your shoulders with his, playful, “if it helps to know, i was nervous too.”

“because of me?” he doesn’t really believe you, he doesn’t think anything can make someone like you nervous, but you, on the other hand, make him nervous all the time.

“well, you don’t really talk to me at work,” you shrug, your voice sounding teasing, “i didn’t think you liked me all that much, to be honest.”

“sorry.” he says in quiet laughter, and he can’t bring himself to look at you.

you look at him though, and he wishes that you wouldn’t. he can hear the smile in your voice still, “for what?”

“for this shitty date.”

that makes you laugh even more and he feels like it’s gonna make him fall over.

“well, we haven’t even gotten to the restaurant yet so jury’s still out on whether it’s shitty or not.” you squeeze his hand, teasing.

(and he rolls his eyes, nerves gone, and feeling much better now that he’s talking to you.)

you are probably the riskiest person he’s ever met. you put everything on the line.

by all things considered, he should stay far, far away from you — you jeopardize it all, you could take all he’s ever worked for away.

but everytime you talk to him, everytime you touch him, everytime you say his name or bring him coffee — there is a feeling in his stomach that envelops his entire body and the corner he’s been backed into doesn’t feel as cold or as confining.

you smile at him and he wants it all: he wants to wake up next to you, he wants to fall asleep and you’re the last person he sees, he wants to drive you to work and he wants you to come home with him after the day is over.

“besides,” you say, and the snow may be cold, but his face feels warm.

your voice is soft, “you can just keep taking me on them until we get it right.”

the risk is you could take everything he’s ever worked for, his game, his career, his reputation, his name. but you smile at him and your hand is warm against his and your laugh feels like it’s gonna make him fall over, and he thinks, okay — take it all, it’s already yours anyway.

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 12)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings:

Word Count: 2957

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11)

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“I’m still not sure I understand,” you say, rubbing the grit from your tired eyes. “Would you mind walking me through it one more time?”

You swear you see Emerie roll her eyes in exasperation. You’re not even upset with your new tutor, it’s late, and you’re just as annoyed as she is, but there’s something about the way she’s explaining biological bases of behavior that you’re just not getting.

It doesn’t help that your entire week has been a juggle of avoiding almost everyone in your life.

You’ve felt just as sick as Gwyn was the night of her birthday all week long. For more reasons than one.

For one, you kissed one of your best friend’s cousin. For the second time. After she deliberately told you not to, and you agreed. For two, Rhysand hasn’t stopped trying to contact you since the incident, which you haven’t been able to stop thinking about. You haven’t answered him once, too worked up about the possibility of word somehow reaching Mor.

And the worst part is, you don’t even know if Gwyn remembers what she witnessed that night. Your legs around his waist, his hands gripping your butt. Mouths fused together, so tightly, so desperately. You had no intentions of stopping yourself, couldn’t if you wanted to. You’ve been thinking about his mouth pressed against yours since the very first time you kissed, and with a few drinks in your system, your confidence was off the charts. There was no one to stop you from taking what you wanted, what you both wanted, until your roommate barged through the door to catch you in the act.

You’ve been skirting Gwyn, walking on eggshells around your apartment, spending as much time as you possibly can outside your dorm, tucked between stacks of books in the library, hiding out in the commons. You’ve even gone as far as finding a dingy diner named Rita’s to hunker down and try to instill psychology into your brain. It’s mostly empty, and you’ve sort of befriended the waitress, or maybe she feels bad for you, growling down at your books in a futile attempt at studying, because the Shirly temples she delivers to your table somehow never make it onto your bill.

You’ve even managed to find a new tutor, though she’s about as good at teaching you as Rhysand is.

“I’ve already told you,” she points to the diagram in your textbook with the tip of her pen a little more forcefully than you’d like. Frustration furrows your brow, and you manage to keep your glare aimed at the book. “The cerebrum is the part that starts and manages conscious thoughts, and the cerebellum is the part that processes and regulates signals between other parts of your brain and body.”

It sounds like she’s read it straight from your textbook. Wait a second. You squint at the highlighted text right beside the photo. She is reading this right off the page!

You could fucking do that. You have, and you’re still just as confused. You need some real-life fucking examples, or you’re never going to pick this up. You have a practice quiz on Thursday, and even though it doesn’t count toward your grade, you want to do well.

Do well on the practice, ace the exam.

Simple.

Or, it would be if you could fucking understand.

You set your jaw, grinding your teeth. Rhysand would be so much better at explaining how all of these brain functions work. He’d even give you real life examples and flash cards to help you out. Emerie is doing none of that. She’s spent about half of the hour you’ve been here scrolling through her phone, and you’re pretty sure you’re just prone to having easily distracted tutors.

What have you put out into the universe to be gifted this back?

“Okay, I think I get it now,” you lie. If anything, you can come back to this. Emerie’s phone lights up on the table beside her and you slyly check the time. 8:30. Gods, when did it get so late? One minute, you were tucking your drawing pad in your cubby after the life drawing class you signed up for and the next moment, you’re seconds away from stabbing your pencil into your eye in the middle of the study room at the library. “Can we move onto the next thing?”

But Emerie isn’t even listening to you anymore. She’s frowning down at her cellphone, completely engrossed. Her face scrunches in the same disappointed look you’ve seen from her thrice tonight before she begins tapping a response.

You’re almost impressed at the number of letters she punches in in such a short amount of time. You’d hate to be the person on the other end of the phone with the essay of a message she seems to be writing. It must be almost as bad as being on the other side of her tutoring skills.

You decide to use the reprieve to check your own phone. There’s a message from your mother, something about a conversation she had at the convention her work sent her to. You don’t really understand what she’s talking about, so you click out of the thread with an air of disappointment. There aren’t any other texts.

Rhysand’s name calls to you like a siren. You hover over the chain, sadness curdling your stomach. You made the right decision to cut him from your life, but you’d be lying if you said it was easy. You’ve missed his flirtatious nature, the feeling of being wanted by someone, even if it was just for fun. You miss how helpful he was in your tutoring sessions, even if he was late on more than one occasion. You miss his violet eyes, gleaming with mischief as he teased you. You missed the curve of his wicked smile, the way they slotted perfectly against yours—

The door to your study room opens, drawing your and Emerie’s attention.

Your breath hitches as the very boy you’d successfully avoided for five days and counting saunters through the door like he fucking owns the place.

Your heart stammers in your chest at the sight of him. You don’t know how he found you, tucked away in the most discreet room in the library you could find. You would have invited Emerie over to your dorm room to study, if it weren’t for the whole avoiding your roommate’s thing you have going on right now.

Rhys looks just as fuckable as he did the last time you saw him. A waffled, white shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. The sleeves are shoved up to his elbows, offering you the perfect view of his forearms. To your dismay, he’s not wearing those sweatpants you love to see him in, but the dark wash jeans that fit snugly around his hips do just as much justice. A Velaris U snapback sits backwards atop his dark hair that curls around the edges post shower. You swallow hard, trying very hard not to think about how he’d look in the shower, toned body on display and water cascading down his muscles, down between thick thighs and dripping off the tip of his cock.

You clear your throat, cheeks heating as Rhys tilts his head. There’s a hint of a smile on his mouth, like he knows exactly where your mind went, because he’s thinking the same thing. His eyes trail slowly across your face, down your chest and torso to where the table hides the rest of your body.

Good thing, so he doesn’t see the way you have to clench your legs together.

“And who are you?” Emerie questions, but with her dry tone, you don’t think she really cares all that much.

You do, however.

“I’m her tutor.”

Emerie’s caramel eyes flicker between you and Rhys with a flash of intrigue. You hold your breath carefully as she decides if the captain of the hockey team looming over you is enough hot gossip to stay for the show. Anyone would be interested in watching this play out, but your new tutor seems less than interested in Rhys’ interruption.

Maybe she thinks you’re a lost cause, you think as she silently begins packing her things without so much as a mumble or an apologetic glance in your direction. If she is thinking there’s no hope for you in psychology, she’d be right. It’s been over an hour of working through the questions you got wrong on your last test and all you’ve managed is one corrected answer and a whole lot of mind-wandering to the boy who currently stares at you like you’re across from him in a faceoff. His brows are flat, eyes sharp, mouth drawn in a firm line.

“You’re not,” you insist vehemently. Maybe Emerie will stay if you refuse to give your attention to Rhys. Your warning glare does nothing to deter him. He doesn’t falter. His shoulders don’t wither under your harsh look. He stands tall, straightens his shoulders even, and stands his ground.

Rhys’ lips quirk when your tutor stands. Your attention is diverted to Emerie as she slides her backpack over her shoulder. “Emerie, please—”

“I’m sorry,” she shakes her head solemnly. Rhys’ triumphant smirk quickly disappears when you whirl his way. You’re about to give him a verbal lashing when Emerie slows by his side. She holds her hand out and your jaw continues its descent toward the floor as Rhys proceeds to tug out his wallet and hand her a wad of folded bills.

His trickery slides down your spine like an ice cube down your shirt. What the actual fuck? He paid Emerie to get you here, all because you’ve been avoiding him? A part of you is flattered, but the feeling is smothered by his cunning. You knew Rhys was sly in the rink, but you didn’t know that extended into his daily life. Not like this.

“Thanks, Rhys.” Emerie shoots you a ‘what can you do?’ look and shoves her way from the room. Your shoulders fall in defeat, your mind reeling. Has she ever even taken a psychology class? You want to slam your head into the open book on the table. Surely, that will be more help than the hour you just wasted as an unknowing pawn in Rhysand’s little game.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Rhys starts, and flames course through your veins. You can feel the path they inch to your cheeks, anger flushing your skin bright red. How dare he? How dare he pay someone to pretend to tutor you so he can ambush you?

Good, then I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. You give yourself a mental pat on the back. You’ve made it nearly an entire week without reaching out to Rhys no matter how many times you typed out responses went unsent or fell asleep to your text threads. Small wins.

“And you’ve just ruined my night,” you snip back, slamming your book shut. The test you’d been working through is trapped between the pages, squashed in half, but you’re too annoyed to care. An off-center crease on your paper will be something to distract you from studying later. “I can’t believe you faked me out like that! Is she even in psych?”

Rhys winces and that’s all you need to know. Frustration presses hot behind your eyes, prickling your sinuses as it tries to escape. You could explode on him right now, but you bite your tongue. He doesn’t deserve your words or your tears.

“Not technically, no,” he answers sheepishly, but you’re much too angry to think about how cute Rhys is when his face scrunches in concern like that. You avert your eyes and chuck your book into your bag. “Was she any help?”

Of course she wasn’t any help. Although, that means the single question you reworked and corrected is either another small win or you need to double-check your work.

You don’t deign Rhys with a response.

“Look,” he says when you exchange your pencils in the front pocket of your bag for your headphones. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to show up this late but watching film ran late, and I swear I was going to help you study, darling, after I had the chance to talk to you.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” you reply stubbornly. You can’t even look at him right now.

“We do,” he argues. He rounds the table and plants a hand on the back of your chair, keeping you from sliding back to make your escape.

You can feel his breath on the back of your neck. You can’t turn to peer over your shoulder because you know it will bring you face-to-face, maybe even so close your lips might brush. You fight the shiver that crawls up your spine at the thought, the warmth that pools between your legs.

“Please, Rhys,” you sigh. Your gaze is drawn to his broad body like a magnet as he lowers himself into the freshly unoccupied chair. Staring at you with those determined, violet eyes tugs at the wound in your chest you’ve been trying to plaster shut all week. “Can we be adults about this?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, kicking his chair back on its hind legs. “You start.”

You pin him with an unimpressed look.

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes. “You can’t tell me that kiss didn’t mean anything to you.”

“It didn’t,” you respond all too quickly. The fact that your eyes have fallen to the table again doesn’t help your façade.

In truth, the kiss meant more than it should have. You haven’t felt that sudden rush in a long time. You were left buzzing afterward in more ways than one, could still feel the shape of Rhys’ lips against yours all the way back to your dorm that night, could still see that hungry look in his eyes. Even the sight of Gwyn retching into the toilet afterward didn’t chase that image away.

“Liar,” he argues.

“It can’t mean anything, Rhys!” You bite. You cross your arms tightly over your chest and stare at the table, swallowing tightly.

The silence that falls is heavy. His stare is heavy. Everything is fucking heavy.

Suddenly, you’re exhausted. All you want to do is slink your way home and curl up beneath your blankets and avoid everyone for a little bit longer. You hadn’t expected Rhysand to drop in on your tutoring session, nor set up your tutoring session for you. It’s late, and your test is in two days, and you don’t feel any more confident in the material than you should.

You don’t want to fail another exam. You need his help.

After a beat of silence, Rhys asks softly, “Why?”

“Because Mor is my friend,” you repeat for the umpteenth time. You force your gaze to Rhys and your chest aches at the concern on his face. He’s normally so rugged and cocky, winking and smirking, to see him like this needle’s holes in your chest. “And I won’t ruin our friendship over a guy.”

“I can handle Mor,” Rhys says like all of this is so easy. Maybe for him, it is. He’s her family, and she can’t stay made at him forever. You on the other hand, have no such ties. If she found out that you went behind her back to be with Rhys…you don’t know how you’d recover from that. You know Mor, and you know that while she’s confident on the outside, your betrayal would scar her deep inside. “Just give me a chance.”

“It’s not that simple, Rhys,” you respond with a sigh. You wish it were. You wish you could slide from your chair onto his, straddle him and hold him close, let him console you with pretty words and soft kisses until you’ve relaxed enough to keep studying.

You’d love to see him outside of school, outside of hockey, where you can have all of his attention, but there are too many factors that play into being more than friends with Rhys. You need to pass this class, and he has so much on his plate you don’t even know how he has the time to sleep, let alone date.

“It could be.”

You shake your head. You would give him the chance, but you don’t know how. Your fears rear their heads and bare their teeth. The loss of a relationship with one of your best friends in the entire world.

You couldn’t do that to Mor.

Rhys must see your inner turmoil. He plants his chair back on the ground and places a gentle hand over yours to stop you from wringing them together anxiously. Oh. You didn’t even know you were doing that.

Emotion pricks your sinuses as the warmth from his hands spreads throughout your body. He strokes a thumb across the back of your hand, and your bones ache with the need to flip your hand and intertwine your fingers with his. But you can’t. You can’t do any of it.

His eyes are soft when you’re able to look at him.

“It won’t happen again, I swear,” he promises, though there’s a sad twist to his mouth that tells you he doesn’t quite believe it’s possible. He’s telling you right now that he wants more, but he’ll give you the time that you need, as long as you need it.

You don’t tell him that this is going to last a lifetime.

“We can…we can be friends,” Rhys says like he doesn’t like what he’s agreeing to. You don’t like it very much, either. “Just…don’t replace me as your tutor.”

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