#and suddenly his name is at the top of every single one of your stories now

[kingkatsuki]

You’re the only reason Bakugou gets Instagram, and it’s only so he can watch your stories.

[mariclerc]

Dad duties | cl16

Summary: where you meet an adorable dad and his little girl at the beach. Warning: none, just dad!charles, a little emotional, instant crush and FLUFF, pure fluff.

a/n: Hii, a long time ago I was thinking about doing a story about what Charles would be like as a single dad... Something crazy, I know, but I hope you like it!! Let me know if you want a part two of this <3

Part 2 Part 3

Sun gleams off the turquoise water, gentle waves lap at the shore. You walk along the beach, toes sinking into the warm sand. Giggles suddenly catches your attention, you turn to see a little girl, barely a year old, with bright eyes and a head full of messy curls, crawling determinedly towards you. She reaches you, grabbing a handful of your sundress. You smile, kneeling down to her level.

“Hey there, little one. You seem a little bit lost.”

The girl babbles happily, reaching for your sunglasses. You chuckle and gently remove them, placing them on top of your head.

A shadow falls over you. You look up to see a tall, handsome man with kind greenish eyes and sun-streaked hair... He looks slightly flustered.

“Oh god, I'm so sorry, that's my little escape artist Ava, come here to Papa munchkin.” He smiles apologetically.

Ava squeals and reaches for him. He scoops her up effortlessly, her tiny giggles filling the air.

“Don't worry, she's adorable! How old is she?” you asked.

“One year old, going on a hundred!” He winces as Ava grabs a fistful of his hair. You can't help but laugh. “Ouch, sweetie that hurts!” He says and Ava giggles.

“Looks like she has you all wrapped around her little finger.”

“Definitely.” he chuckles.

He introduces himself as Charles, you tell him your name. To your surprise, the conversation flows easily, you learn he's a single dad, the love and devotion evident in his gaze as he talks about Ava. He opens up about his complicated relationship with his ex (Ava's mother), the challenges of dating as a single parent. You listen intently, impressed by his honesty and dedication to his daughter.

“You seem to be doing a great job, Charles. And that's impressive, you know, how hard you work and try to be the best every day for her.” you smile.

Ava snuggles closer to him, burying her face in his neck.

“I manage to do a good job... It's definitely a handful, but she's worth it all.” he smiles.

A comfortable silence settles between you. You steal a glance at him, then quickly look away, cheeks warming. You sense a similar flicker of something unspoken in his eyes.

“Well, maybe I should let you get back to building sandcastles with your princess.” You say with a bit of haste.

“Actually, I was wondering... Would you maybe, I don't know, maybe... Want to grab some ice cream with us sometime? Ava loves company, and frankly, so do I.” He speaks hurriedly.

You feel a flutter in your chest. This unexpected encounter has taken a sweet turn. “I'd love to. Thanks!” you smile.

Ava lets out a delighted squeal, as if sensing the possibility of ice cream, You and Charles giggle at her reaction.

“Great! How about next Saturday? Same place? How does that sound?”

You nod. “Sounds perfect.”

He smiles, you can see how the corners of his eyes wrinkle, something very cute for you. “Perfect... Ehm, here! Write down your number and I'll write down mine.” He says as he takes out his cell phone to give it to you and you take yours out of your beach bag to hand it to him.

You wrote your number on his cell phone with the name of: "y/n the life-saver 🎀". When he finishes he gives you your cell phone back and you see that he has registered himself as: "Charles the handsome dad 😋" you can't help but laugh at the name.

“Well, then I'll write to you to keep in touch... Handsome dad.” You say with a giggle and he blushes.

Ava yawns, nuzzling deeper into his embrace.

“I think someone's getting tired.” you giggle while looking at Ava.

“She probably is. Sand and sunshine can be exhausting for little ones.” He says and then smiles a little. “This was unexpected... But so nice.” he says quietly.

“Yeah, definitely nice!” you say meeting his warm gaze.

A blush creeps up Charles' neck as he finally pulls back slightly.

“See you next Saturday then, Y/N, it was nice to meet you!”

You smile. “It was also nice to meet you both!”

He nods, a goodbye lingering in his eyes. Charles walks away, cradling a sleepy Ava in his arms, you watch them go, a warm feeling spreading through you. This chance encounter has blossomed into something promising, and as you turn towards your car, a smile lingers on your lips. The beach seems a little brighter now, filled with the promise of sunshine, ice cream, and maybe, just maybe, something more.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes in your pocket. It's a text message. You pull it out, expecting a message from a friend, but your heart skips a beat when you see the name displayed on the screen - Charles the handsome dad 😋.

Charles the handsome dad 😋: Ava just fell asleep. She kept asking for "y/n." Any chance you have a favorite ice cream flavor? Trying to win some brownie points for Saturday afternoon.

A laugh escapes your lips. He's charming, that's for sure. You quickly type a response.

y/n the life-saver 🎀: Chocolate chip cookie dough, always! And tell Ava I said goodnight. See you on Saturday cha!

You hit send and a warm feeling washes over you. This unexpected encounter has taken a delightful turn, and with a giddy anticipation for saturday's ice cream date, you turn back towards the ocean. The waves seem to whisper a promise of something exciting to come, and you can't wait to see where this newfound connection might lead.

***

The cheerful clinking of spoons against ice cream sundaes fills the air. You sit across from Charles at a brightly colored table, a giant chocolate chip cookie dough sundae melting in front of you. Ava, nestled comfortably in a high chair, digs into a kid-sized strawberry sundae with a look of pure bliss.

He chuckles “Looks like someone's enjoying their treat.”

Ava lets out a happy gurgle, a smear of red adorning her cheek. You laugh, you leaned towards her to wipe her cheek.

“She's definitely got a sweet tooth.” you say while wiping her cheek.

Charles takes a bite of his own sundae, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just like her dad. Thanks for the recommendation, this cookie dough ice cream it's fantastic!” he smiles.

“My pleasure, I'm glad you both like it.”

Ava reaches out, grabbing a stray piece of cookie dough from your sundae. You laugh, helping her bring it to her mouth.

“Careful, little one, that's a big bite!”

Charles watches the interaction between you and Ava, a smile playing on his lips.

“You seem to have a way with kids.” He says softly while looking at the two of you with adoration.

You shrug. “I guess so, I have a younger brother, so I've had my fair share of practice.”

The conversation flows easily between bites of ice cream, you learn more about Charles' life as a single dad, the challenges and rewards that come with it, he talks about his passion for racing, a twinkle in his eyes as he describes his dream of one day competing professionally. You share your own dreams and aspirations, surprised at how comfortable you feel opening up to him.

As Ava starts to get cranky, signaling the need for a nap, you suggest taking a walk along the nearby park. Charles readily agrees.

A comfortable silence settles between you. You both steal glances at each other, the unspoken attraction hanging heavy in the air. You reach the edge of the park, the familiar beach stretching before you.

“Looks like we're back where it all began.” you blush slightly.

“It does, doesn't it? Funny how things work out.” he smiles.

He stops walking, turning to face you. Ava lets out a whimper in her sleep, prompting Charles to gently bounce her in his arms.

“This was... so nice, I mean, this sweet afternoon and last week at the beach, it's very... Unexpected, but very good.” He says quietly with a smile on his face.

You meet his gaze, your heart fluttering in your chest.

You smiled. “I also liked it! Ava's such a sweetheart, and you seem like... a good guy, a really good and nice guy.”

He smiles back, a genuine warmth radiating from his eyes.

“I, uh... I was wondering if maybe, sometime next week, you'd like to have dinner? Just the two of us, after Ava's asleep?” He says with a bit of hesitation.

Your stomach does a nervous flip-flop, but a wide smile stretches across your face.

“I'd like that very much Charles.”

A wave of relief washes over Charles. He leans forward slightly, his eyes searching yours.

“Great... In that case, how about I give you a proper goodbye this time?” He says with a bit of flirtation in his voice.

Before you can respond, he leans in further, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss is brief, sweet, and filled with unspoken promise.

Ava lets out a startled gurgle, breaking the spell. Charles pulls back with a laugh, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Looks like our little chaperone wants to get home.” he chuckles and blushes.

“Seems that way.” you giggled while blushing.

He walks you back to your car, Ava snuggled contentedly against his chest.

“Text me when you get home, so I know you made it safe. And maybe, just maybe, you can tell me what your favorite dinner is.” He says while blushing a little.

You laugh a little bit. “Don't worry, you'll be very well fed.”

He smiles, a hint of something deeper lingering in his gaze. You wave goodbye as he drives away with Ava, a warmth spreading through your chest. The unexpected encounter at the beach has blossomed into something exciting, and as you watch the sun disappear over the horizon, you can't wait to see where this new path might lead.

[woso-soso]

Missing Puzzle Piece Pt.1

Mapi Leon x Reader x Ingrid Engen

Summary: Mapi and you have been together for years, what will happen when a new person makes an appearance in your lives.

Word Count: 3,639

Part 2

Any time words are Italicized it indicates another language being spoken, in the case of this story it will indicate Spanish is spoken.

You’d known María for years, having met when you were barely big enough to ride the fair rides that came into town every year. Meeting at a volleyball camp held at your town's community center, and while María thrived at it you found yourself cowering in the back. Shrinking further into yourself as you struggled to integrate into the game, finding yourself more so on the end of flying balls. Balls you weren't prepared to hit back, leading to more than one frustrated groan from the team you had been forced onto. By the time lunch had come around you were left to sit alone at one of the tables set up, that was until a wild haired girl came bounding over. A smile wide across her face as she sets her lunch down at the seat across from you. You hadn’t caught her name at introductions, having been more focused on not puking on your shoes than learning anyone's names.

“I’m María,” she said, her mouth full of food. “But everyone except my mama calls me Mapi.” 

You stare at the strange girl in front of you, her arms covered in doodles. Many of them being extremely detailed, maybe the two of you would have something to talk about after all. “I’m Y/N,” you whisper hoping the much louder girl will be able to hear you. 

“So why are you here Y/N, I mean not to be rude but like you seem to hate it,” Mapi remarks not looking up from the food in front of her as she continues to shovel it into her mouth at a speed that was honestly impressive. 

“My papa, he got the dates mixed up when registering. I was supposed to be at the art camp next week but now I’m stuck here instead.” You answer somberly. Your papa was doing his best, becoming a single parent suddenly hadn’t been the plan and the two of you took it in stride together. Even when he did mess up, at least he was trying. 

“So you like art,” Mapi’s interest piques as she finally slows down to look up at you. You nod softly as you pick at the simple sandwich in front of you. Something you had thrown together that morning because your papa had forgotten to pack lunch the night before. “What do you like to do?”

“Well, I like drawing. My papa just got me a ton of new pencils to try. But I also really like taking pictures. I have this film camera at home, papa says when it's full we can send it off to get them developed. Apparently it's a long process.” The camera had been something your therapist had suggested, she thought it would benefit your dad to see what piques your interest. Helping get inside your mind since getting you to talk was a challenge. “Do you like drawing,” you inquire hesitantly, looking again at the intricate doodles that covered Mapi’s arms. 

“I love drawing, my mama says I get ink everywhere but I like drawing on my arms. At least then I get to see them all the time.” Mapi’s answer intrigues you. You could see the cap of a ballpoint pen stick out the top of her shirt having been clipped inside to attempt to conceal it. 

“I like that,” you state, a soft smile crossing your face as you look Mapi in the eyes. Her own large smile somehow getting larger. 

“Come here,” Mapi says suddenly, “would you like some drawings of your own.” You nod cautiously, moving around the table to sit next to the taller girl. Wiping her hands on her shorts before grabbing the ballpoint pen. “Here, stretch out your arm,” her hand gently takes your forearm, extending it across the table so it lays flat palm up. The pen tickles, but quickly you grow used to it. Mapi works slowly, making small marks across your arm as you relax into the feeling. 

The rest of the day is less anxiety-inducing as you switch over to the same team as Mapi, her presence not only calming but protective as you were able to hide behind her. Avoiding any more unwanted contact with volleyballs. When your papa comes to get you you can see him eyeing the ink marks across your skin, a relieved smile crossing his face as he watches you wave to Mapi her matching ink marks clear on her skin. 

“So did you make a friend today?” He questions cautiously. 

“I think I did papa,” a bright smile appearing on your face for the first time in a long time. 

“You got in!,” Mapi shouts gleefully, her arms wrapping around your body. The letter grasped tightly in your hand as happy tears trail down your cheeks. 

After meeting Mapi the two of you quickly became tightly bonded. Spending many evenings camped out in each other's bedrooms exploring different art mediums, a football game usually playing in the background as you talked softly. Mapi had always encouraged your photography, she insisted that while you were one for few words your photos always told a story. It was because of her that you got up the courage to apply to art school, the same art school Mapi had gotten into and while she chose to focus on football and not attend you knew it was still the best place for you. 

“I did it, I can’t believe I did it,” you mumble into her shoulder. Your tears leaving a damp spot on her shoulder. 

“I knew you could do it, your mama would be so proud,” Mapi whispers softly, her hand stroking your hair. A new wave of tears starting at the thought of your mama. She had been gone for so long yet it felt like just yesterday she had been showing you her own camera, a camera locked up safely in the attic. 

You pull away from Mapi’s warm embrace slowly, your arms staying connected around her neck. Your stomach twisting as you stare into her eyes, you knew you had feelings for her. It would almost be weirder if you didn’t, the two of you had been inseparable since you were small. You had been there for her through hundreds of football games where she dominated over the boys and she had been there for you while you displayed your photographs at various school events. She knew you front and back, like a book she had read a million times and you knew her the same. Before you can even think about what you're doing you lean in, Mapi making no move to pull away as your lips connect. 

Mapis lips are slightly chapped, yet taste like strawberry as if she had just applied chapstick. Her arms tighten around you, pulling you in closer as the kiss becomes more frantic. The pent up attraction between the two of you coming out full force. The sound of your front door closing being the only thing to snap the two of you apart. Your face most certainly flushed bright red as you stare at the carpeted floor under your feet. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, quickly wiping your face clean of any chapstick. The strawberry scent lingering. 

“Why?” Mapi asks quietly, leaning back on your bed. Watching you as your brain races a mile a minute. 

“I shouldn’t have just jumped you like that, I just… I assumed things and I’m sure they aren’t correct,” your voice cracks as you try to keep from crying. Embarrassment is clear on your face with your blazing red cheeks. 

“How do you know,” Mapi asks. 

“How do I know? Because come on Mapi look at you and look at me, it's silly to think we could be anything more than friends.” You mumble.

“Well firstly, best friends. Secondly, what do you mean look at you? You are the most amazing person I know, I’m honored you like me that way. I’ve liked you for a long time now, I just never had the courage to say anything.” The two of you sit in silence for a moment, Mapi’s words hanging in the air. 

“Really?” You whisper, turning to look at her. 

“Really,” Mapi says, her hand taking yours. 

The two of you are practically inseparable after that, wherever Mapi goes you are sure to follow. For years you worked at small photography studios, focusing on simple family portraits, weddings, and other parties. But by chance there was a day you got asked at the last minute to photograph Atlético Madrid's game against Real Sociedad. Atlético’s regular photographer had fallen ill and of course Mapi took this as a chance to throw your name out there. Sure some of her teammates were aware of your relationship but that didn’t seem to be a hindrance as you trekked out to the sidelines of the pitch, camera and monopod in hand. The game goes well, except for the occasional stray ball you stay safely tucked away capturing the high emotions of the game. 

“Did you get my good side,” Mapi jokes as she approaches, her cheeks flushed from having just finished a full ninety minute game. 

“Now when did you develop a bad side?” Your eyebrows raise in question as you continue to pack up your gear, preparing for a long night at home editing.

“Just checking, just checking” Mapi smirks, hands raised in surrender as she turns to take off back towards her teammates. 

While that night is long. You curled up on the couch as Mapi’s head rests in your lap, her soft snores reminding you how late it was, your hand gently combing through her hair as you edit the lot of photos you had taken. Only finishing as the sun begins to rise, a nagging headache forming behind your eyes as you close your laptop. 

“Come on love, let's go sleep properly,” you grunt as you nudge Mapi off your lap. 

“What time is it?” Mapi groans as you drag her to her feet. Her eyes barely opening enough to see her surroundings. 

“It's either very late or very early, let's not think about it.” You say as you push her into bed, joining her on the other side. Burying yourself under the covers, hoping for at least some restful sleep. 

What you hadn’t expected to come from the game was a permanent job offer from Atlético. They insisted they needed a photography assistant and that if you wanted it you were more than welcome to have it. It wasn’t something you even need to consider, quickly accepting the offer on the table. In the three years you were with Atlético you learned as much as you could, following the lead photographer like a shadow. Getting to know the coaches and players, learning where to draw boundaries with Mapi, you may be together but you weren’t about to risk either of your jobs because of it. 

That's what made it so hard to leave, when Barcalona came knocking at Mapi’s door it would have been stupid to say no. But the dread of having to start over in a new city made you nervous. You were already away from home most of the time, only seeing your papa a few times a year. You had finally established a career in Madrid, but at the same time you knew you couldn’t be away from Mapi. The two of you moved in tandem for a reason, you were two pieces to the same puzzle. You would rather put your career on hold to be there for her then be in Madrid, alone. 

Things fall into place easily in Barcelona, a job as an editing assistant for the men's team opens up only a few weeks after you move in with Mapi. Sure it wasn’t where your passion lied but it was something. 

“How are you settling in my love,” Mapi asks one morning as the two of you laid together in bed, the sun leaking in through the slightly open curtains. Her hand tracing shapes along your spine. 

“It’s okay, I wish I was with the women's team but it's okay, it's a start.” You knew deep down your only actual chance to work with the women's team would be if someone leaves, and who would leave working for the most successful team in the league. 

“It will happen one day, they will see just how talented you are and they won't be able to deny you the  job you want.” You appreciated Mapi’s optimism, she had always been your biggest cheerleader. Reassuring you throughout the years as the two of you grew and changed with one another. 

“Thank you my love, we can hope, but let's not get them too high.” You whisper softly, tracing the tattoos that cover Mapis arms only stopping once your alarm interrupts your morning peace. 

The two of you go your separate ways when you hit the gate at work, her slipping off to practice as you make your way down the never ending hallways. Passing offices of people important enough to have actual doors, eventually settling into your small cubical towards the back of the room. A place you can tuck yourself into and hide from the rest of the office. 

This continues for years, Mapi and you continent in your relationship never really sharing it with others outside of your family and friends. Your social media staying very much private, especially as you start to get more attention from fans of the team for the photographs you take, having been promoted to the men's team head photographer. You were happy, sure you had hopes and dreams you were still working towards but you found yourself fond of the simple everyday routine that you and Mapi had formed. 

That was until you literally ran into a goddess. 

The tall dark haired beauty had exited the main conference room right as you were passing, not a chance for either of you to stop as you collided. The box of hard drives crashing to the ground as she grabs your arm to stabilize you. 

“I’m so sorry,” the brunette says quickly, a thick accent making it challenging for you to understand. Your limited understanding of English not aiding in the matter. 

“It.. is.. okay,” you stammer out, hoping you said something okay. The soft smile on the woman's face giving you some reassurance that you had. 

“I’m Ingrid, I just signed on with the women's team.” The woman you now know as Ingirid declares, her hand extended towards you. Your mind going blank as you gently take her hand. 

“I am Y/N,” you say with less confidence than her. 

“Well, it's very nice to meet you Y/N.” Ingrid declares, dropping your hand to bend down and retrieve the box you had dropped. Thankfully none of the hard drives had fallen out. 

And with that she was gone, your mind racing at warped speed. The tingle on your skin from where she had been holding your arm reminding you of the feelings that had coursed through you. A sudden wave of nausea washing over you as Mapi popped into your mind, your fun, sweet, goofy Mapi. How you could even think of another woman, one you don’t even know, one who will have to work with your LONGTIME partner. This sudden feeling of guilt settling into your stomach. 

You avoid the topic with Mapi for the next few days, a weird silence falling over your shared apartment any time work is brought into the conversation. You know she can tell something is wrong, you can feel her watching you as you try to keep yourself distracted in the apartment. Being barely able to sit still for more than a few minutes at a time this sudden influx of anxiety being clear as day to anyone who knows you. 

It isn’t until one late night when you get home from traveling with the mens team that you and Mapi finally talk. She had stayed up late, catching you as you snuck in the front door.

“Please, my love, come talk to me. Somethings wrong, I can tell.” Mapi’s words make your heart ache, looking into her eyes you see someone who so desperately wants you to open up. Something that you had never seen before, up until now you and Mapi had never had issues communicating. Communication was actually one of the things the two of you pride yourselves on, something many of your friends were actually stunned by when they first learned how open the two of you are. 

You take your time to drop your bags, sliding your shoes off as you close the door behind you. The pit of anxiety growing more into a black hole. Sitting down next to Mapi on the sofa, not daring to look at her. The two of you sitting in silence for what felt like hours, Mapi’s hand gently grasping yours. 

“What is going on in your mind my love,” Mapi whispers softly as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I… I um, I met one of your new teammates last week.” You swallow, tears pricking at your eyes as guilt eats away at you. “She bumped into me in the main offices,” you whisper looking over at Mapi as she watches you intensely. 

“Did she do something to you?” Mapi asks, a hint of urgency in her tone. 

“Nothing bad I promise, she probably doesn’t even remember meeting me. But… when she held my arm to keep me from falling I got this feeling.” You turn away from Mapi again, not wanting to see the look on her face. “And I hate this feeling, it's a feeling I’m only supposed to have with you, yet my skin burned where she held it. I feel like I’m betraying you even though I haven’t done anything.” 

You don’t dare look at Mapi, her hand hasn't left yours and she never shifts further away from you. But this feeling of guilt settles in your stomach, the fear that she will be angry at you for your unwanted thoughts lingers in the back of your mind. 

“Who was it?” Mapi asks after a few long moments. 

“What?” The shock is evident in your voice as you snap your head to look at her. Having expected anger, not curiosity. 

“What is her name? Who is it?” She asks again, meeting your eyes, a soft squeeze of your hand reassuring you. 

“She said her name is Ingrid. I think she just signed on with the team.” Sharing the only information you had. 

Mapi takes a moment to process what you had said, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks as she takes you in. “It’s okay,” she reassures after a moment. “I am guilty of the same,” Mapis' words shocking you. 

“What?” You hiccup. 

“I have had the same feelings you have had for her, I’ve been struggling with them to my love. She is… enticing to put it simply. I don’t blame you for feeling this way about her.” Mapi’s words both alarm you and reassure you. You had felt some security in knowing that while you held these feelings there was no way you were going to interact with Ingrid again. But knowing that Mapi also held those feelings, for someone she is seeing everyday, traveling with, showering with. A sudden wave of fresh tears form in your eyes. 

“You… you like her too. Were you ever going to tell me?” You ask suddenly, pulling your hand away from hers.  

“Of course I was, it's not like I would ever dream of acting on those feelings. I was worried about you. You’ve been acting off.” Mapi defends. 

“I’ve been acting off because I find this person attractive, the same person you apparently find attractive. A person you will be spending time with, alone.” A tone that isn’t anger but more so anxiety present in your voice. 

“I’m not going to ever act on it, I love you, that isn’t changing.” Mapi insist. 

“But what if you eventually find you are loving her? She seems charming, pretty. What do I have to compete.” 

“You aren’t competing my love, there is no competition.” Mapi’s words hang in the air as you process all that has been shared. 

But what if you want to share? The thought of Ingrid making your heart flutter, not in the way Mapi makes it flutter but in a way that feels like she completed the puzzle the two of you were pieces in. Your love for Mapi hadn’t changed, it had only grown over the years, but the thought of Ingrid felt like your heart was whole. 

“What would you think if I thought dating Ingrid would be appealing, if I thought she would fit in well with us?” You ask hesitantly. 

“Are you asking if I would want to open our relationship?” Mapi asks. 

“Not open, it wouldn’t just be anyone. Just Ingrid.” You respond, watching Mapi out of the corner of your eye. 

“I… I wouldn’t be opposed, not if she would be okay with it. She would have to want both of us, I’m not losing you because of someone else.” Mapi whispers. 

“I don’t think you would have to ever worry about losing me.” You say softly as you place a gentle kiss on Mapi's cheek. “Let's think of it this way, if Ingrid shows any interest we consider it. But we will not tarnish us by seeking it out, okay?” 

“I’m okay with that,” Mapi agrees, her arms wrapping around you tightly as the two of you sink back into the couch. A million thoughts racing through your mind as everything that has happened catches up to you.

[rayveneyed]

cw: smut / cisfem!reader / scent kink

something nobody ever considers about satoru gojo is that he’s very particular about scents.

it’s a weird side effect of the six eyes that is rarely ever spoken of, by him or any other; along with his fantastical sight, his ability to distinguish minute details kilometres away, to read the ever-twisting flow of cursed energy, yadda yadda yadda — the extrasensory perception he was granted the second two gametes fused into a zygote had skyrocketed every perceptible sensation above the level of the average human. leagues above the level of not-so-average humans, too, but that’s a story for another time.

beneath the slightly dusty smell of skin cells and flesh, each person is different. diet and exercise play a huge part, of course, but then there’s the more obvious things — perfume, toiletries, surroundings. nanami always smells like paper and sandalwood. nobara, sweet and fruity, with a sneaky undertone of something synthetic — something almost hospital-like. yuji smells like grass and citruses, like he’s just popped open a can of something fizzy and caffeinated on the lawns of jujutsu tech. but if he had to choose a favourite…

“could — could you, um—”

one really must forge their own little bits of happiness in this line of work. the constant death and despair really puts a damper on one's lust for life. for gojo — sweets, cute little figures, themed cafes and expensive cakes, things that pleasantly appeal to and delight each one of his six senses. you, in a similar way, enjoy the finer things in life — cashmere and vicuña wool, luxury furniture for your top-floor apartment, century-old wines with names you cannot pronounce — and, to gojo's delight, perfumes.

oh, you have one for every day of the year, he's sure. white florals bursting with zesty citrus, bergamot and black tea when the weather cools. there's fluffy vanillas and sugar-sweet marshmallows, tempered with the smooth depth of sandalwood. osmanthus seeping with syrupy apricots and and peaches. cloves and nutmeg and cypress for the days when the clouds split open and tokyo turns grey.

with your back pressed against the couch and gojo flush against you, hips slotted between your pillowy thighs, he's able to dig his nose right into the curve of where your jaw meets your neck, exactly where you spritz your perfume every morning. today, it's one of those delicious, good-enough-to-eat type of smells; white chocolate and macadamia nut and — fuck, he almost moans against you. sugar and spice and everything nice — you smell like everything he's ever wanted to gorge himself on. he's reminded of the cheap, strawberry body spray you used to use back in high school — how the scent would catch on his nose when you walked past, how it lingered on his jacket when you brushed against him. he shivers.

he lifts his lips from your skin — lifts his nose from the cradle of your neck to give you a distracted, slightly disgruntled, "huh? what?"

it's only without the smell of you clouding his nose that he suddenly realises that you're squirming against him — the heat of your clothed pussy pressing against his hardened cock, layers of cotton and denim and linen between you both leaving you with only the slightest, most irksome hint of pleasure. even with his blindfold fastened over his eyes, it's all so much.

"just — i need something," you say, exasperated. your forehead's dewy with sweat, glasses slipping down the bridge of your pretty nose. "you've been at this for ages."

"ah, my bad." but he doesn't stop. how can he tear himself from your warmth, the heat of you radiating from your skin, your arms wound around his neck and fingers in his hair? how can he leave even a single inch of space between you, when your chest is heaving with excitement and the musky sweetness of your arousal is reaching his nose? he satisfies both your needs for stimulation with slow, curling rolls of his hips, dull pleasure tingling up his spine and leaving him shuddering. "i thought you were more patient."

"you — you're the one that dragged me in here," you say, even as your breathing gets heavier, even as your head falls back with a whine, baring the column of your neck to his greedy, seeking nose. "i told you i have plans, so unless you—!"

"alright, alright," he concedes, though all of your arguments about the time have been half-hearted at best. "don't you worry, i'll take good care of you — real good care."

"you sound like such a sleaze when you say stuff like that."

"mhm." for a moment, he lifts his head — and he doesn't have to look at his reflection mirrored in your eyes to know that his pupils are blown wide, his cheeks flushed pink. you're not much better off — for all your whining and posturing, your proverbial claws aren't much more dangerous than those of a scrappy little kitten. beneath it all, your breathing is laboured, your blood vessels dilated. you smell sweeter, like your body is a ripening fruit or blooming flower, opening for him. your blood rushing to the surface of your skin, heating up the fragrance oils still dotted along your flesh, turns it all heady and head-dizzying.

you want him — you can deny it all you want, but he can see it clear as day. the reminder sends what little blood remains in his head straight to his cock.

"you smell sweet," satoru says, blank and dumb. "when you're horny."

for a moment, you pause. embarrassment — and arousal, though you probably won't admit it — has you locking up. a hint of bitterness turns your fragrance — like burning chocolate — before you huff suddenly, smacking at him until he begins to back up. "oh, my god — you're so shameless, satoru—"

"no, i'm serious! h—hey, stop!" he argues, wriggling until he's back in your good graces again. he dips his head to your skin again, teasing you with little nips along your neck. you'll see the bruises it leaves tomorrow and demand he make it up to you with sweets that he'll just have to eat with you, earrings that glimmer in garnet. for now, though, he’ll get a little serious.

"you get a little sweeter when you cum too, y'know," satoru coos. he tugs at his blindfold, blinking as unfettered light filters into his retina. it's sensory overload, overstimulating and overwhelming, but it's exactly what he wants: to see you, feel you, taste you, smell you — be engulfed by you in every way he can. as if drawn there, his hand sneaks between the tight fit of your bodies, slipping under the hiked-up hem of your skirt and petting at your underwear — soaked, as he’d expected, coating the tips of his fingers. "like syrup. i wanna smell you like that.”

his tongue peeks out over your pulse point, touch reaching up and up and up to that fantastic little ball of nerves he adores. you let out a moan so loud that even he’s taken aback. giddiness bubbles in the pit of his stomach — giddiness, horniness, it’s all the same to him — and he shoves his nose so hard into your skin he swears it’ll bruise. ah, there it is. he’s barely even touched you, too. it’ll be even better when he does.

“g—god, you’re horrible,” you say, arching into him, like you can’t bear to be apart for even a second.

“me?” satoru laughs. you’re distracting from the task at hand, though he usually doesn’t mind. he can’t help but respond, giving you your own attitude back a thousandfold. it’s just now, when it’s been so long since he’s gotten his fill of you, he’s just… a little impatient... “oi, don’t get all embarrassed — you always get so mean.”

“then stop saying things like that, and i won’t have to be — a—ah!”

satoru suckles at the cold-hardened flesh he’s just taken in his mouth — your mouth falling open in wonder and your chest heaving as he takes your nipple between two dull rows of teeth, humming. between his fingers and his mouth, you’ll soon be rendered almost completely silent, shuddering and twitching in what he knows will be a strong, satisfying orgasm — sweet with sweat, salt and musk gathering between your legs. looking up at him with glassy eyes and calling his name. his mouth waters.

he better get a move on, though: you have plans, after all.

[ronearoundblindly]

I am sorry but I'm going to need a Ransom story with this prompt. It can be RoaR or a one-off, he can love it or hate it in this space, he can see it over Reader's shoulder on the computer screen, your choice!

o.0 oh boi oh boi oh boi! Fall Vibes but it's gonna be my summer challenge submission to @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar, featuring the flavors Cookies and Cream (soulmates) and Rocky Road (rags to riches) with the topping Oreos (marriage of convenience (reluctantly)). Also my second entry for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza, featuring a babe in love and cranky about it + "can you just...hold me please?"

For Show Ransom Drysdale x poor!soulmate!reader

Summary: Ransom hates that you--his soulmate and wife--are nothing like him.

Warnings for smut and Ran's a**hole brain (rude, nasty thoughts that he barely even believes). Classic Lexi--this is cheeky, y'all, but you know it's because I can't help myself... MINORS DNI. Find all-age friendly fic on my Light Masterlist. WC 2.1k

Ran didn’t believe in love to start, but this is fucking ridiculous. Opposites attract? Get wrecked, asshole. He’s keeping opposites on the other side of the house. It’s not far enough.

It’s standard practice for the confirmation of matching soulmarks to act as a de facto marriage contract—common law, if you like,—and Ransom Drysdale fought tooth and nail to make you prove you had his name on you. He needed to see it with his own eyes or fuck that shit.

His is obvious; he can show it off. In fact, Ran is surprised by how long it took you to come forward, considering his family and status, considering his lifestyle of being very visible.

But no, he had to wait for a fucking database to pop out record of his match from your healthcare provider, and he had wait for that because the government knew about your health…because they know such things…about people who need their fucking money. The registration of soulmarks puts the financial responsibility on the soulmate if they end up having the means.

Now Ran is responsible for you, a woman he made lower the front of her panties in open court to reveal his goddamn name in his own goddamn handwriting imprinted right above her goddamn cunt, and suddenly it became his cunt, his problem, his responsibility.

You’re not even fun. You had no money and didn’t care to have any, so you moved your few, ratty belongings into his home, replacing nothing, offering nothing in return for his—well, in return for every fucking thing he has now being yours, too. It’s so fucked.

You don’t want to show off, and he has no intention of showing you off. He can’t be seen with you, not without the proper clothes or jewelry, and you refused to get them. Instead, Ransom leaves you alone in the house, doing whatever he wants, whenever he wants, as always. He won’t talk to you because he just gets furious every time. He’s not going to have deep conversations about the state of the world, though he might have one social justice issue he can fight for: the mother-fucking law that made you his wife without question.

Ran slams the kitchen cabinet storing all-white, matching stoneware mugs when he notices what’s missing: your single, sad, flea market mug. It’s clay so it always looks dirty, and he hates it.

He lightly punches his own neck in irritation.

He didn’t stand a chance fighting the marriage, not with your name in deep, port red letters creeping up his throat, higher than any turtleneck he’s ever owned. Coupled with his legal name resting snuggly beneath your pubes, it was obviously, technically accurate that you’re soulmates. When was the last time someone challenged that system, he thinks. That might be a better use of his money than—

Where are you anyway?

For all his annoyance, he hasn’t set eyes on you for days.

His house is large enough (and he spends so much time anywhere else) that you have your own room, which you didn’t question, and the kitchen is easy enough to share when one of you eats out with other people (as he does two to three times a day). You get the slightly bigger and more formal living room while Ran gets the den with the big TV. Really it’s been the perfect system for almost forgetting you exist.

He pours tea into his clean, white mug and leaves said big TV fairly loud on some program he wasn’t paying attention to, leaning over the granite countertop to see if he can spot you from this angle.

No luck.

He steps closer, sipping.

A little closer, more sipping, a purposeful smack of his lips to grab your attention if you are just around the corner.

There are two openings, both far larger than doorways, to the living room, each through the central hall. When he doesn’t immediately see you, he steps to the farther opening. What the—

What’d you do to his couch?

Is that every single pillow and blanket from your side of the house?

Did Yankee Candle Company throw up in here?

What, the fucking fireplace wasn’t enough ambiance for you? You had to make some sort of nest with his stuff? And there’s that ugly-ass mug, no coaster, on his super-expensive, reclaimed hardwood coffee table.

A pillow shifts.

No, not a pillow; it’s your back, and when you shift again, Ran sees one of the plush throw blankets slink farther down your bare skin. It’s the largest swath of your body he’s ever seen.

You lay with your arms folded, peering out the windows behind the couch, and you still haven’t fucking noticed him.

He huffs before realizing he isn’t listening to the faint TV anymore, but when he ticks his head, he sees your TV isn’t on either.

“”I think of nothing but you as I fall asleep at night”—” Ran hears a woman’s voice fake a deeper tone before switching to normal “—Javier says, pulling her soft curves into his hard body—”

You sigh dreamily and wiggle on the cushions. The blanket slides over the swell of your ass.

Ran stops moving mid-sip of tea.

“”Please, my darling, let me have you—“ this is fucking terrible, he thinks “—as only a lover can.””

Alright, now Ransom is just sad. You’re naked in his living room, rubbing your thighs together and listening to an erotic novel on your phone.

“Chloe felt his digits dance across her clavicle, his eyes enchanted by her heaving bosom…”

Go out to a club or restaurant with him? No. Wear nice clothes he could buy you? Nope.

“”Javi,” she gasps, distracted by his rough palm groping her breast hungrily, “I can’t believe you want me.””

Ran is going to fucking gag at the whining appall in the narrator’s voice.

Why listen to this awful shit instead of show off him as your husband? From the quick shiver racing down your spine and the curl of your toes where they hang over the cushion’s edge, it’s because you’re fucking horny for it.

Good god, how low are your standards?

He stalks forward, feet hitting the floor hard until he reaches the plush rug.

Startled, you peer over your shoulder at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, and you begin scrambling to recover yourself.

Ran puts his cup down by yours. “Don’t move,” he orders, and to his surprise, you obey, keeping you head turned his direction and sinking back into the pillows.

“”How could you doubt? From the moment I met you, I adored you.””

He swivels to face the same direction as you, reaches out his hand and mime the stroke he’s contemplating tracing over your curves.

“”I’m yours,” Chloe breathes, Javier’s growing member signaling his desire against her silk-covered core.”

Ran finally bends until the tip of his middle finger grazes the inside of your thigh.

As he drags it over one cheek and down the other, you whine and push your ass toward his hand.

That’s…not bad, all things considered. You are his wife, after all, and you clearly want to be fucked. He won’t argue that having some other woman’s name scrawled on him hasn’t limited his game for quite a while. Financially independent or not, when a pussy is presented to him, Ransom will say ‘yes.’

He stops noticing the audio from your phone and just dives in, no sentiments or kind words of his own. He simply unbuckles his belt, pops the button of this jeans, and rips that zipper down before teasing your folds to find enough slick at your entrance to swirl around. He spreads you and your wetness with purpose. Each second that passes drives Ransom a little bit more insane.

Impatient, strung out like a virgin on prom night, he rushes to shove his pants out of the way and kicks one knee up between your legs, his other foot still on the floor. He pumps his fingers inside you until he’s knuckle-deep and nearly dripping, manhandling your hips to the right height to sink his tip into you.

Ran groans at how fucking good you feel. He’s probably just desperate. He’d be excited about any ol’ means to come right now.

He snaps his hips in small thrusts until his whole length glides in and out in seamless stimulation. You’ve buried your face in the pillow, so he can’t hear if you make any noise. He can, however, see your hands scratch at the upholstery and clench into fists. He can see you deepen the arch of your back, angling his dick to fuck just slightly down through your channel. The pressure squeezes the spongy head of his cock like a vice. He’ll never say it out loud, but your pussy is fucking perfect. God fucking dammit.

Ransom relentlessly drives into you, catching the sideview of your breasts bouncing each time his thighs slap yours. He smacks your ass once just to see if it jiggles for him, and that’s when your hand snakes to disappear between your legs. He expects you’re going for your clit which is good because he’s about to get off and get lost, but instead, he feels your soft fingers cup his balls.

He’s so enamored by the sensation that he switches to tiny pulses deep in your cunt while your hand wraps and rolls his sac gently. Twitching and tensing, Ran unabashedly moans until your walls constrict around his length.

He’s got to make you do that again.

Ransom collapses forward to lean over you, his own hand diving to find your clit, resting his palm right over your mound and soulmark. Every inch of his body burns hot with need. He humps wildly, resting his chin over your shoulder.

“”I don’t care how, Javi, just stick it in there. I need you. I need you so badly…””

“Jesus Christ,” Ran growls, “are they still not fucking?”

A giggle bursts from your lips, a sweet, happy sound he’s never heard from you before, and you reach for him. Your palm lands on his soulmark, your fingers curling to scratch the hairs at the nape of his neck, and there’s…there’s…

He can’t comprehend how your body fits his so well. He can’t reconcile this sudden swell of obsession in his gut for you. He’s enveloped in a binary system of souls, gravity tugging at that connection between you.

Ran doesn’t believe in love or destiny. He refuses. He believes in pleasure and perception, in accumulation and ownership.

The only thought left in his static-filled head is mine, mine, mine, mine.

He falls over the edge first, a satisfied shout punctuating each spurt he plants within you, furiously working your messy clit and kneading one breast in his free hand until he feels that squeeze again, and again, and again, dying to a flutter just as your shared cum leaks out around his cock.

By this time, Ran is panting and resting a sizable portion of his weight on you, knees knocked loose in his onslaught, pushing you both flat to the chaise cushion, feet dangling off the end.

You still hold each other’s mark in a comforting palm.

He’s speechless as the room fills with heated love declarations amidst passionate sex and bad dialogue. Ran tries to catch his fucking breath. He’s glad you don’t speak either.

Everything about his life—his past, his present, his future—sits utterly raw in front of him, and he can’t cope.

He makes the mistake of peeling his body off yours, releasing you and dislodging your hand. The cold emptiness which immediately sweeps over him is sickening, and Ran barely waits for you to roll onto your back before he wedges himself between your legs again, instinctually laying on his side, pressing his sweater-clad shoulder against your sopping folds just so he can rest his soulmark right on top of yours.

Euphoria returns to his body and mind, thick like honey and all-consuming.

He doesn’t want to admit it. He doesn’t want to talk about. He doesn’t want to live a moment without you.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Mercifully, the audio speaks for him.

“”Can you just…hold me please? That was…that was…””

“”So intense,” Javier rumbles, “so beautiful.””

Ransom, the preening trust fund baby, has finally found something all his own, something he doesn’t want to share, something shown only for him.

He refuses, however, to call it ‘love’…

…yet.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: I'm fine.

[theapangea]

Hanging on the Telephone

Lip Gallagher x innocent!reader

Part of the Every Little Touch Series

Summary: Phone sex with Lip Gallagher

W/C: 2k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI!!! Male and female masturbation

A/N: I know I've been MIA but here is a little Lip smut for making you wait so long you little pervs ;). This was a fun one to write and maybe there will be a part two to this story! This is part of my Every Little Touch Series with Lip x innocent!reader. My requests is currently closed but when it does open please feel free to suggest any ideas you have for this story or another one. Love you cuties!! <3

Finally you murmur, shuffling your snow covered boots through the carpeted floor. Struggling to strip your coat and shoes off at the same time. Trying to work quickly as the stale air of the house makes you start to sweat under your several layers.

Eyes sleepy, heavy, ready to collapse onto themselves as the coat and boots are soon forgotten about, taking the last several steps to your bed before plopping face first into the mattress. The plush blanket muffling your scream as you release all the built up stress from the stupid little day you are having. Though the scream seems not to be working.

Rolling over onto your back, arms laying delicately over your mid section. Eyes fixated on the ceiling, the weight on your shoulders grows heavy as the strain builds behind your eyes making it tougher to breathe. Cursing silently at your stupid, sad, pathetic fucking life. A small stream of tears trickle down your temples, squeezing your eyes sharply together, wishing everything and everyone away. 

Just need a little peace.

Just need a little release.

Taking a deep, slow breath as you let your mind wander. Rubbing your thighs together, the buzzing runs through your thoughts, suddenly landing on Lip. His causoled fingers running down your delicate skin. Absentmindedly touching the same spots he did while you continue to let your mind run wild. 

Breath hitches as your fingers grace the lining of your jeans. Arching your back as you imagine Lip placing small kisses down the side of your neck, a trail of wet warmth and deep bruising. Not really thinking much into what you are actually doing. But you missed his touch, even if you have only felt it once. Missed the way he made you feel, wanting to feel that way every single day of your life. Desperately wanting to feel that release again, wanting him to send you over the edge. 

The vibrating in your back pocket makes you jump from your skin. Almost as if someone has caught you in the act of thinking about the shared moment with Lip and what that would ultimately lead to. 

Lifting your hips in the air, your toes digging into the carpet as your hand struggles to grip the small device from the bottom of your pocket. The vibration is still buzzing, sending a quivering through your body. Finally pulling the device free, flipping the phone open to see Lip’s name displayed on the small screen and behind it a blurry picture you took of him on last year’s school trip to Cloud Gate (the big shiny bean in Chicago).

Instantly pushing the answer button and placing the phone to your ear. A half-whisper greeting escapes you as you wiggle your way to the top of your bed. Feeling a little embarrassed to be talking to Lip after you almost let yourself get off on the thought of him.

“Whatcha doing?’ Lip questions from the other end, you can hear the brush of smoke that hits the receiver.

“Currently,” Pausing for dramatic effect, “Succumbing to my self loathing, waiting for the universe to end it all.” You force out a life to make light of the situation.

His low chuckle as a response sends a shiver through your body, igniting the fire that grows between your legs. 

A smile lamenting itself firming onto your face. Lip has that effect on you, making this life feel a little less lonely. “And what might the famous Lip Gallagher be doing right now?” You ask, picking at the dirt underneath your nails. 

“Ya’know, just been thinking.”

“About what?” You inquire, hoping you already know the answer.

Stuttering over his words as he tries to form them into sentences, feeling a bump in his throat as he doesn’t know exactly how to say it, “Ab-about the other d-day…about you.”

Heat rises immediately to your cheeks, a full breath filling your lungs until they burn. A huge smile engulfing your features as you silently giggle to yourself. Happy beyond belief that he was thinking about you. 

“Yeah?” Is all you can muster to say as the air has fully exited your chest, leaving you laying there, basking in the bliss.

Carding a hand through his messy hair as he takes another drag of his cigarette. Lip’s body sprawled out over his bed as his voice hitches, “Can’t stop thinking about it.”

The words are music to your ears as you happily tap your feets against the soft comforter. He’s been thinking about you, thinking about what you both did together and he’s talking to you about it. 

“Have you been thinking about it?” He speaks softly into the phone, finally realizing that you have been silent a little too long.

“Maybe…” You’re a little embarrassed to admit it. Not because you didn’t want it to happen or that you are embarrassed of Lip in any way. You’ve just never been comfortable talking about any form of sex or pleasure before, especially talking about it with someone else. 

Another puff of smoke hits the receiver as you can hear Lip shift on the other end, “Any particular part?” He hums.

You’re hesitant at first, doing this stuff in person is one thing but having to talk about it is a whole other beast you’d never thought you’d have to overcome. But you want to talk about it with Lip, he makes you feel comfortable and wanted. He makes this experience way less scary than you had originally thought.

“Your hands,” You finally confess, the heat rising rapidly to your cheeks as you pull your legs to your chest, doing anything to hide.

He purrs against the receiver. “Where? Deep inside of you?”

“Lip.” You whine, embarrassed that he just said that out loud. He speaks about this stuff so plainly and bluntly that you almost don’t know how to act. Almost as if he gets a kick out of seeing you embarrassed.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about.” The words are heaven, laced in pure silk running perfectly over your body as the thought of Lip thinking about the way you felt under his grasp, the way his fingers curled expertly inside of you, the way you tasted, all innocent and pure. He can’t help not thinking about the way you relaxed under his touch and how he desperately wants to do it again. “Do you still feel that itch?”

The heat has not subsided yet from your cheeks as he keeps talking about it and you have to admit that the itch has truly never gone away. It was just in a deep little part of your brain, eagerly waiting for Lip to let it out. 

You hum as you stretch your legs out in front of you, squeezing your thighs together again.

“Like right now?”

Especially now.

“Are you going to do anything about it?” He questions. 

You huff, “I’m not really sure what to do.” You have to admit out loud which seems so silly at the moment. 

“It’s okay,” his tone is subtle, “‘member what I showed you?” 

Closing your eyes as his words whisper your mind into the amazing memory that you two share together. You could swear that you are currently there now, wrapped in Lip’s arms as he rubs your core into ecstasy. 

You hum against the phone, your tone is whiny as your other hand grabs at the rough fabric of your jeans. 

“Just touch yourself like that, tell me what you’re doing, how you’re feeling.” His voice calms you down.

Shaking your head as you murmur over the line, “Ok.”

Stumbling over your words as you struggle to take off your jeans while laying in bed, “I-I’m taking off m-my je-jeans…come on.” You angrily whisper to your jeans as you push them off.

Lip laughs on the other end at your struggle, able to picture you perfectly as the sounds of muffling come over the receiver. 

“I’m in my panties now.” You say to him.

He laughs again, this time more from the chest.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You whine, “I’m new to this.”

“Do you want me to talk instead?” He suggests.

“Yes, please,” You breathe a sigh of relief. Blessing that you won’t embarrass yourself any further. 

“One sec then,” Lip says before the phone goes silent. Jumping up quickly to rip off his shirt and jeans before grabbing the phone again, relaxing into the mattress. Lip’s hand is instantly on his cock when he gets back on the phone with you. “Ready.” He’s barely able to get out his words as his touch sends electricity through his body.

The pre-cum dripping slightly from his pulsing tip onto his stomach. He doesn't know how long he will last, his imagination has been getting him through the days, desperately wanting to touch every part of you, know every single detail.

You lightly breath out the word yeah, biting your lip in anticipation of what's to come next. 

“Slip your hand under your panties.” His almost demanding tone falls delicately on your ears. 

Your hand slips underneath your white, cotton panties. Fingers trailing over your mound, hesitant to touch too close to your burning center. A single whimper escapes you as you stop just short on meeting your needs.

“Good girl. Now touch that pretty little clit of yours for me.” Lip’s voice is paradise, guiding you on this journey of self-discovery. Begging, pleading for you to just slip your finger between your folds. 

The electric jolt of pleasure bursts through your body as your middle finger grazes over your sensitive nub. You whine heavily into the phone. Lip returns with a groan of his own, happily pleasuring himself, your whimpers are addicting as he strokes his aching cock. 

“How does it feel?” He purrs.

“Amazing.” Your chest falls as you sink a finger deeper between your folds, delicately teasing your entrance like Lip did before. Imagining that it’s his finger dipping graciously into your burning core. 

“But not as good as when I do it?” He questions, his words teasing you.

“Definitely not.” Grinding against your fingers, the confidence begins to trickle in as you try to talk dirty to him, “I wish it was you…touching me, your fingers deep inside of me.” Curling a finger into your dripping hole, struggling to accommodate your own finger this time. 

Adding more pressure to his grip as Lip’s hand falls down his length. Buckling his hips as he groans when you call his name, knowing that your holes are filled because of him. 

Lip’s name whispers from your mouth, between moans, whimper after whimper as he tells you to pick up speed, pumping your fingers deeper inside of your burning core. Back arching, fingers losing rhythm as you gasp one final time. White, hot flames filling your bloodstream as you scream Lip’s name into your empty room, cumming intensely onto your soaked fingers.

Lip follows you as he pumps faster and more rapidly as you say you’re picking up speed, face contorting into pure pleasure as one last pump sends him over the edge. The perfect white liquid shooting from his cock, landing onto his stomach. Stroking a couple more times as his breathes even out and a small laugh departs his lips

Your chest is heavy when the world starts to fall into place again. Cumming with you was absolutely the best sexual experience Lip has ever had.

The phone is quiet for a couple beats, neither of you knowing what to say or how to continue. 

And before either of you can continue a conversation, banging on the door from Lip’s end pulls you back to reality, “Lip, you're wastin’ all the minutes.” Fiona loudly calls from the other side of his locked door.

“Shit,” Lip curses from the other end, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, ‘kay?” 

He hangs up with a quick goodbye.

And then it was reality staring you right in the face when you realized that you’d have to face Lip at school tomorrow. Fuck. 

~~~

Let me know what you think!! My replies don't work but I am more than happy to talk to you in my inbox or messages. Thank you for supporting me !! I LOVE YOU!!!

[asliceofzosan]

in which Zoro takes the blame for not paying for the food at the Baratie (sequel to Sanji witnessing the riceball incident in Shells Town)

Ribeye steaks piled one on top of the other, a massive helping of mashed potatoes with boatloads of gravy, salads, soups, and fancy dishes with names Zoro can't pronounce — all made up the massively long order list that he knows Luffy has not a single Berry to his name to pay with.

Zoro looks around the place, tuning out the story of the giant goldfish that Usopp has told them before, his eyes resting on the blonde waiter flitting about and flirting with every woman at every table.

Sanji was his name. Zoro didn't recognize it. But when he arrived to their table and saw Zoro, it looked like their resident waiter recognized him. Zoro's reputation in the East Blue is not a laughing matter, so it didn't bother him at first. But the way Sanji stared at him, wide blue eyes and with a touch of a smile on his lips, told Zoro that there's something a lot more than recognition swimming in that man's head.

He can't put a finger on what it is exactly though. It's driving him crazy.

"Waiter, can I get a beer and something for my friends?"

Sanji turns to him and nearly steps back in shock. Zoro quirks an eyebrow, confused and a little annoyed. He wore his best clothes today (Captain's orders). And he's pretty sure he even took his mandatory once-a-week bath before they went inside (Nami's orders). Still the waiter looked at him like Zoro had grown a second head. Like he couldn't quite believe his eyes.

"Maybe there really is something wrong with your eye," Zoro muses, crossing his arms as Sanji quickly straightens his posture and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Got a problem with me, waiter?"

Sanji coughs out a laugh. Zoro notes with narrowed eyes that there is the slightest tint of pink coloring his cheeks. Is he blushing? The fuck?

"None at all, sir. I think I was just seeing things." The look in the waiter's eyes betrays his statement but Zoro chooses to say nothing. With a practiced smile, he turns back to Nami and asks her how she'd like her water that makes Zoro stare at him this time like he's grown a second head.

"And um..." Zoro is surprised Sanji hasn't left yet and is once again directly addressing him. "We have a few specialty riceballs not on the menu today. I'll bring them out... on the house."

Without even explaining what the fuck that meant, Sanji turns on his heels and beelines straight for the kitchen.

"I think Nami's boyfriend might be yours too, Zoro." Usopp teases him with a snicker and the glare he gives him is sharper than the blades of his swords.

Now, here Zoro is, letting Ussop's words affect him more than they have any right to as he downs his third bottle of beer.

The specialty rice balls haven't come out yet. Zoro's starting to think it's just a sick joke. But he doesn't let it get to him. Or tries to. Why offer free food when you can't deliver on it? Fucking ridiculous. And no, it's not like he suddenly craved rice balls when the blasted waiter mentioned them. That's not it at all. Bullshit.

"Didn't the waiter said he's coming by with rice balls?" Zoro finally snaps and the conversation his crew was having died down immediately at his statement. Ah fuck. He probably should have just kept his mouth shut because Nami was now looking at him with a shit-eating grin not entirely unlike the one he gave her when he teased her before the meal.

"How would you like them, oh great swordsman?" She teases with a glint in her eye. She cups her cheeks with her hands in delight at the irritated snarl Zoro gives her.

"With or without seaweed?" Ussop chimes in.

"Cubed or crushed?"

"Fuck off," Zoro hisses between his teeth. Nami and Ussop share a look before bursting into laughter. Zoro looks over at Luffy who was swinging his feet and obliviously sipping his milk. When Luffy makes eye contact with him, he just tilts his head with wide blank eyes and it makes Zoro question all his life choices.

"You wanna ask him?" Luffy says, already clamoring over the booth and waving at the object of Zoro's unexplained irritation. Zoro sinks into the seat as Sanji approaches with the bill for their meal.

"Your bill, sir."

"Zoro's asking if you're gonna bring the rice balls you promised." Zoro just stared up at the ceiling and thought of a million different ways to cut a hole into the floor so that the ocean could take him.

There is a headache inducing silence that follows Luffy's question. Zoro can't help but finally look at the waiter and he doesn't know how to explain the feeling that bubbles up when they make direct eye contact. Maybe it's indigestion. It's probably indigestion.

Instead of bringing up the damn rice balls, Zoro just grabs the tray with the bill from Luffy's hand. Just as expected, his annoyingly endearing captain put down an I.O.U for the ridiculously long list of food they ordered. Several possible scenarios could happen from this. And Zoro doesn't want to think about Luffy wreaking havoc in someone else's kitchen.

With a deep sigh through his nose and a knowing look at Nami, Zoro wrote down his own name in place of Luffy's.

"Zoro, what—" Luffy almost took the bill back when Zoro stood up and handed it directly to the waiter, who looked just as dumbfounded as the rest of them.

"If your head chef's got a problem with that, he can talk to me directly. Tell him that for me, won't you?" Sanji takes the bill, reads what's written, and there's a phantom lurch in his chest that happens when Sanji looks up at him and smiles. Zoro doesn't want to describe it. He'll allow himself to firmly believe that it's a side effect of eating too much food. It's indigestion. You're just constipated. Never mind that the feeling is most prominent in his chest and not his stomach.

"Of course, sir." Sanji purrs and the sound runs like a cold river down Zoro's spine. There's a hint of mischief in the gleam of his visible eye. Every instinct in Zoro tells him it's dangerous. He should take his crew out of here, onto the Merry, and run.

But he stays rooted to the spot, wrist limp on the hilt of his sword, as he watches that damn waiter walk away from him.

"WHO THE HELL IS RORONOA ZORO?!"

The steady routine of washing the dishes helps quiet Zoro's racing mind.

It's a very welcome distraction. The clinking of the ceramic against metal utensils provides a cacophonous symphony that helps drown out all of Zoro's waking thoughts. The sooner he starts to think, the sooner he starts to notice how that stupid fucking waiter has just been sitting at the table behind him, cursing Zoro with his mere presence.

Scrub scrub scrub...

"You sure you don't want any help?"

Scrub scrub rinse...

"No."

Scrub rinse dry...

"I really have nothing better to do."

Zoro's eye twitches.

"Good for you."

A long silence follows this and Zoro thinks the waiter finally gave up. That was until...

"Are you still mad about the rice balls?"

"Oh my god!" Zoro nearly slams a pile of dishes onto the floor. He turns to Sanji, who is just casually smoking at the table, and stomps over to him. Once he was right in front of him, Zoro snarls at him, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Talk about those damn rice balls one more time, I'm gonna chop your head clean off for them to use in tomorrow's ramen stock."

Sanji blinks, then turns his head to the side to blow smoke away from Zoro. Zoro tries to convince himself that he isn't staring at the way Sanji's lips purse around the cigarette in the process.

"I can still make you the rice balls," Sanji says without a single ounce of fear in his body. "I just couldn't do it while the old man was around." He then stands up and steps around Zoro with a practiced grace. "Are you willing to wait ten minutes?"

"I'm not hungry," Zoro hisses but his stomach betrays him with a loud grumble. He's been washing dishes for so many hours. He probably missed dinner.

Then, as Zoro straightens his posture, Sanji does it again — he smiles and Zoro doesn't know what to do.

"Sit." Sanji gently nudges a chair out with his foot. It lands perfectly in front of Zoro at a perpendicular angle. "I'll have them out in five."

"You said ten minutes." Zoro found himself saying, only to be contradictory. Sanji laughs this time and the resulting smile pierces Zoro's heart with a million cursed swords.

"When someone's hungry, I feed them." Sanji says simply and that's the statement that ends their conversation. Zoro still refuses to sit on the chair, instead finding himself gravitating towards the counter that Sanji was preparing his ingredients at and leaning against the marble.

Before Sanji found them at their table, he brought down a marine and a fearsome pirate with just his feet. Zoro was fascinated by his fighting style even if he didn't want to admit it out loud. But he's always been curious. Especially now, with Sanji whipping out the sharpest knives and using them effortlessly as Zoro would wield the Wado Ichimonji.

"You're good with knives," Zoro says before he could stop himself. Sanji chuckles.

"Of course, I am. I'm a chef. Best one in the East Blue."

"What's a chef doing waiting tables, then?"

"Cause I was kicked off the line this morning. It's a weekly occurrence, nothing special." The way Sanji scrapes his ingredients into a bowl betrayed how he felt about it despite his nonchalance. "I can cook better dishes than everyone in this damn kitchen but Zeff refuses to acknowledge that. It's always 'your food is crap', 'slice those carrots thinner', or 'needs more fucking oregano—"

Sanji throws the knife onto the cutting board, its tip now embedded neatly straight down the middle. It stood perfectly still, like it was afraid of what Sanji could do if he added more pressure. Zoro raised an eyebrow, looking up at the now irritated cook with a smirk.

"Sorry," Sanji mumbles, taking the knife and cleaning it carefully with a cloth. Zoro says nothing. He just props his elbow on the counter and places his chin into his hand as he watches Sanji in his element. Eventually, it's down to just shaping the rice balls with his hands and Zoro asks the question that poked at his mind during Sanji's mini outburst.

"If you're so dissatisfied cooking here why don't you just leave?"

Sanji pauses. His head is down, his blonde fringe obscuring one eye as his fingers twitch against the rice ball.

"It's not about that."

"Yeah?" Zoro leans as close as he could get with the counter between them. Sanji still refuses to look up. "A hot-headed cook who claims to be the best in the East Blue settling down here — where he is not head chef — is as contradictory as it gets."

"You don't know–" Sanji snaps but stops himself immediately. He looks up to glare at Zoro through narrowed eyes. "You don't know why I still stay."

"Enlighten me then, cook." Zoro leans his hip against the counter. "Because really, someone as good as you claim to be has got to have some ambitions. Dreams." Zoro holds the man's gaze. "Do you hate the old man?"

"No!" Sanji counters immediately. "The man fucking raised me. I owe him my goddamn life!"

"Owing him your life isn't the same as giving up your life to work at a restaurant that barely lets you cook."

"You don't know shit!" Sanji nearly slams his fist down on the counter, pointing a finger at Zoro with his face beet red. "This restaurant was his dream—"

"But is it your dream?"

Silence. Total utter silence.

Where color is nothing but a dark void of black and grey, a sea of blue greets him from the pages. Vivid pink skies and tangerine mangroves burst to life. All types of fish swim in his mind's eye but if he reaches out to touch them, it certainly should be real. A phantom breeze kisses his cheeks and water laps at his feet. He's drowning but he swims in delight. He's falling but he feels the clouds cushion him with warmth.

There is a vast ocean out there, one that contains delicacies and species from all four seas. Creatures of every kind, spices that have never been tasted.

The All Blue.

In Sanji's world of black and white — he strives to find the one place that's in screaming color.

There are tears in Sanji's eyes before Zoro could comprehend what was going on. But he wipes them away before he can get a good look at him. The kitchen was quiet around them. The only sound peeking through was the faint music from the bar outside. Though Zoro's heartbeat was louder in his ears than his own breathing.

But he could hear each footstep Sanji takes, the scrape of the plate as it's pushed in Zoro's direction, and the click click of Sanji's lighter as he helps himself to another cigarette. Zoro looks down and sees the rice balls presented in front of him — three heaping helpings, all coated in a different topping, all different flavors.

Zoro takes one.

And it's the best rice ball he's ever had in his life.

"I have a dream," Sanji murmurs, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. One glance and Zoro could see that whatever his dream is... it still burns like molten lava in the heart of this chef. "I'd just rather give up on it than die searching for mine."

Zoro swallows, turns around, and takes the cigarette from Sanji. The ashes fall into his palm, its embers dimming as he squishes it between his fingers.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Zoro says, looking up to make eye contact with Sanji. He can see it almost immediately — the longing for something that seems near impossible to achieve, the acceptance that it's hopeless — but Zoro sees it, clear as day, that the flickering flame of hope still shines in Sanji's eyes. That he's just waiting for his sign to let it once again consume his soul in a roaring fire, brighter than even the sun could be.

Zoro wants to see him shine.

"Come meet my captain," Zoro instinctively wraps his hand around Sanji's wrist. Surprisingly, Sanji doesn't pull back. "I think he'd really like to get to know you."

Sanji doesn't protest.

Zoro takes the rice balls to go.

Never waste food.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I'm just curious since I absolutely adore all your trans Ed fics, what made you read Ed as being trans? Is it more of a personal headcanon since we tend to see ourselves in fictional characters, or did you notice some tiny detail on the show that made you think so?

Oh my friend, I'm so glad you ask.

The cool thing about reading Ed as trans, I think, is that you do not even have to squint to do it. Literally you need to change exactly nothing, and this read suddenly adds a lot of nuance and additional juicy layers to his story and his journey with masculinity.

Ed's whole deal with masculinity, precisely exactly all of it, makes him feel so much like a trans guy who never outgrew the "I need to be hypermasculine so I pass" phase, fitting that read so precisely that given there are trans writers on the OFMD team I would be absolutely SHOCKED if at least some of it wasn't intentional. Every single trans guy I know has been through a version of this, where you come out and you know you're a man but you need everyone else to know, too, and so you lean very hard into masculinity to make damn sure you pass. And not just pass, but pass perfectly. Ed is forcing himself into such a heavy ideal of masculinity that it feels artificial; he needs to make sure everyone sees him as this perfect ideal of a masculine man that he cannot possibly live up to because no one could.

Certainly, parts of Ed's hyper-masculine presentation seem to be things that genuinely make him happy and bring him joy. That's important. Ed's happy to be a man, the problem is that he's trying to force himself into such a narrow idea of masculinity that it's stifling him. It's preventing him from enjoying more ""feminine"" things that he genuinely loves, because he's terrified of being seen as less of a man for it, and people like Izzy reinforce the idea that if Ed fucks up in his performance of masculinity, he's going to be in danger because of that. It's very real, and the added juiciness from reading Ed as trans adds so much to the great story that's already there, I think. There's this additional element of Ed knowing he's a man but needing to make sure everyone else could never doubt it, there's an additional perceived danger to slipping up, there's a sort of jealous admiration for guys like Stede who seem, at least on the surface, so much more comfortable with a different type of masculinity that Ed wishes he could have more of.

And on top of that, there's just a lot of other little additional things, like:

Ed making his beard his whole brand, it just screams beard dysphoria and "no one could ever claim I'm not a man because the beard is my whole THING."

Something about his relationship with his name, and how hard he has to try to get people like Izzy to call him by his name in front of others

The way Ed is dehumanized when he dares to step outside a very safe, masculine gender presentation - it's why Izzy saying "this thing you've become" when Ed is wearing a robe and painted nails hits so hard for me, I think

Okay. okay. listen. You know the scene where Ed makes CJ whip him in the balls. Listen. Ed baby. It just SCREAMS "people here don't know I'm trans and I don't know how much getting hit in the balls should ACTUALLY hurt so I'm gonna lay it on really really thick just to be safe"

There's a lot to be said about Ed and his clothing in a lot of directions, but I'm gonna leave it at how he's really figured out a safe set of clothing that works for him and consistently allows him to be read as this super masculine guy, and he's scared to step away from that. Also, I really like imagining the full-fingered gloves at the end of s1 as a way to cover up the nail polish on his fingernails until it wears off.

I think it's very sweet that Ed tends to be very private when talking about his personal and sex life with others, but a very, very easy explanation for how that got started is he just doesn't want to go around sharing personal details about his body with people!

Yeah. A trans read of Ed is so shockingly easy, fits so well, and adds so much to his journey, frankly I'm amazed it's not more common.

[blossiewossie]

— Lawless Affair .02

pairing : gojo x reader x geto genre : business men au (lawyers), smut rating : explicit word count : 3.5k+

— note : i told myself (and my friends) that i'd post a pt. 2 if i got 10 notes, but im so overwhelmed that i got more!! thank you, beautiful readers ♡ i started working on this after i posted pt. 1, so i hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it, teehee!

— special thanks to @junqkook and @trshpando for helping me revise my work ♡

Two weeks later...

You’ve had enough.

The maddening frustration of being teased has been going on for far too long in your eyes. The past two weeks have gone by with you practically running home to jump into the shower to take an ice-cold one every. Single. Night.

While you scrub your skin harshly, your mind thinks back to all the countless ‘innocent’ moments that made your knees buckle.

~

The first incident was on your third day at work, when you decided to get up and walk over to the vending machine in the downstairs lobby to stretch your legs and grab a quick snack. The doors on either side of the stairwell had to be closed at all times for security purposes, so you made it a point to open the door and swivel back around to ensure the door at the top of the stairs had closed softly.

As you turned around to make your way down, you see the downstairs door open up and lo and behold, Mr. Gojo himself comes stalking through, shutting the door behind him with his foot as his hands stayed put in his slack pockets. Tilting his head up to look at you through his circular sunglasses, he grinned and leaned back onto the door, crossing his arms. He was once again wearing a suit, but this time, it was all white with a black button-up shirt underneath. His hair was the same as ever, white as can be.

“Well, well. We have a habit of running into each other,” he said in a teasing tone.

You cleared your throat as you descended the stairs carefully, keeping a hand on the rail as you approach the man hindering you from continuing to your destination.

“Hello to you too, Mr. Gojo.”, you said, not liking how breathless your voice sounded.

Is that because of the stairs or because of the man in front of me? you thought to yourself as your steps slow to a stop on the second step. You don’t allow yourself to invade his space as you look at him questioningly, wondering why he’s still leaning on the door.

His eyes meet yours, softening your questioning gaze. He takes a step forward until the tip of his shoe meets the bottom step, bringing his face much closer to yours. His eyes go back and forth between your shocked ones, and then they snap down to your lips before he raises them again to meet yours.

Swiftly, his right hand finds its way to your hip and around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You gasp suddenly, taken aback by how direct he was being. Your hands find their way to his chest, barely pushing but still maintaining a safe distance between you both.

“Now, ____. I don’t remember asking you to call me Mister before. Is that something you like to do?” he asks softly, his eyes a different story. The iciness in them seemed to become ablaze as he awaited your answer, licking his bottom lip slowly.

You feel yourself blushing as you look away from his heated gaze, hands trembling against his warm chest. You don’t quite know how to respond to his question. Surely he knows you can’t possibly address him with his first name, right? As you try to conjure a coherent thought, his left hand comes up and grips your chin, turning your face towards him again.

His hot gaze wiped away any other thought in your head, so you blurt out the first thing you can think of.

“I like to respect my superiors, Mr. Gojo.” you stutter out, watching his face for his reaction to see if your answer had satiated his question

His eyes, now hooded, sparkle as if he was happy with your answer. He removes his hands from you, letting you inhale a breath, but he hovers near you as he takes a step up the stairs.

“Good girl,” he says with a smirk, before pushing his sunglasses back up his face and making his way up the stairs as if nothing had happened.

You watch his retreating form whistling up the steps while you grip the railing hard. He opens the door you had just closed, looks back at you with a wink, and makes his way in, letting the door slowly close behind himself. You hear him call out to the other coworkers, not having a care in the world, as if he did not just say the naughtiest thing to you.

You, on the other hand, have slumped against the wall, breaths coming out unevenly. The tingling in between your legs had you struggling down the last step before you rushed towards the bottom door, ripping it open to welcome the cool air from the lobby.

You beelined straight for the vending machine and pressed a random candy bar before shoving in the change feverishly, craving the distraction that sugar could give you. The candy dropped and you bend down to rummage through the slot, grasping whatever it was that you had chosen. Ripping open the packaging, you took a big bite out of it and the sweetness of the treat had you sighing with relief, as if it would cure the turmoil your body was going through.

~

Back in the real time, you realize you’ve been scrubbing the same spot on your chest for too long, creating a tender spot in between your breasts. Cursing under your breath, you rinse out your loofah before making the warm water a bit colder, throwing your head under the water.

As you rinse the shampoo out of your hair and slap in some conditioner, your mind wanders once more, this time to the second incident — and you try to decipher if what had happened back then was something you imagined or something that actually took place.

~

It was the weekend after your first week of working, and as much as you were looking forward to relaxing and watching your roommates play their video games, you had decided to take on one of the clerks’ weekend shifts to let your coworker spend time with his wife and kids. He had been droning on and on about it all week, complaining about how he always has to work the weekend every other week and that he was looking forward to watching the game, but had forgotten it was his weekend this time around.

You had volunteered to work it, partly because you wanted to get on your coworkers’ good graces, partly because on your first day, after bumping into both of the bosses, you had been so distracted that you didn’t get much work done, which snowballed into you being a bit behind in your work. Plus, you had thought to yourself, I don’t have to worry about either of them being in because, surely, they don’t work on the weekends either, right?

You were told that on weekends, the dress code policy was more lenient. After throwing on a pair of light blue jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt, you made your way to the kitchen where you grabbed a light breakfast before slipping on a pair of white sneakers and making your way out the door, hollering a farewell to your roommates. You didn’t get an answer back which didn’t concern you too much, as they had spent the night before playing fps-games or whatever they had called it.

After taking the shuttle bus and walking a few blocks, you arrived at the building and walked in with a bright smile, ready to start the day free of distractions.

As you made your way into the office area and settled down into your cubicle, you realized just how deserted the workspace was.

Maybe I should take the weekend shifts more often, you thought.

Taking out your phone, you sent a quick text to Iori and Mei Mei, asking if they had any plans for tomorrow since it was a Sunday and you wanted to grab some food with your new friends. Clicking your phone off and putting it on silent, you scoot your chair in closer and start working.

Halfway through your shift, around what you assumed was lunch time, you heard a door open and close. Glancing away from your computer, you look around, trying to find the source of the noise. Hearing footsteps, you look back towards the boss’ office to seem him standing idly by on his phone, typing casually. You sucked in a breath as you took in his form.

His usual business attire was now replaced by a black shirt, showing off every inch of his muscular arms, chest, and abs. Paired with it was a pair of dark jeans and white sneakers. You could see how long his hair was now, as it was down from his usual bun and instead, resting softly atop his shoulders. He was looking too good for someone wearing a casual outfit.

Clearing your throat to make your presence known, you look back at your computer as you call out to greet him, hoping he was just stepping out to take his lunch. You couldn’t bear his presence standing there, so you crossed your fingers that he’d greet you and be on his merry way.

Luck clearly was not on your side, as he glanced up in your direction and smiled, slipping his phone into his back pocket as he sauntered his way over to your cubicle. You prepared yourself to look up at him, but he did not stop walking and instead came into your space and stood right behind you.

Leaning down your left side, he looked curiously over your shoulder as you tried to continue typing out emails and organizing files. You jump a little as his right hand reached over your right shoulder, grabbing onto your hand holding the mouse as he whispered a quick, ‘Let me see this for a moment’, before clicking onto a folder.

After double-clicking it, he leaned more into you, his face almost touching yours, as he read the documents listed in said folder. Turning your head away from the screen to give him a sense of privacy, you take in how the veins in his arms looked. Stealing a secret whiff, you inhale his scent, relishing how woodsy he smelled.

As you turn your head back towards the computer, he lets go of the mouse, leaving his hand there, resting atop yours. His mouth hovered right by your ear, as he asked you what exactly you were doing there on your first weekend off. Gulping, you recant the story of your fellow clerk wanting to stay home, your mind hyper focusing on the fact that his hand lightly squeezed yours every time you mentioned your coworker’s name. He hummed for a moment before finally standing up straight.

You pull on a tight smile as he bid his farewell and walked away, pulling his phone out once more. You wait for the door to the stairway to close before breathing out a heavy breath. You let out a shiver and pull your trembling hand to your chest, remembering how warm and big his hand felt around yours. You bite your lip and close your eyes to remember just how deep his hum was, right by your ear, his lip brushing against it for a second too long. Did he mean to do that so sensually? you thought to yourself.

~

Groaning in real time, you reach back behind yourself and twist the knob further towards the cold side, your breaths coming out slower than before. Your mind was swirling with your memories, making your pussy ache with need. You think back to the last time you had anyone else besides yourself touch it, and you can’t believe how long it’s been. You close your eyes to rinse out the last of the conditioner in your hair, your mind going back to the most recent incident that had you mewling with frustration and heat.

~

There you were, at your cubicle twirling a pen in your left hand and clicking away at the computer with your right hand. You felt anxious, as if you were waiting for something to happen. Looking down towards the task bar of your screen, you realize you have 2 more hours left in your shift. Sighing, you place the pen down and stretch your arms up high. 2 more hours, that’s like 2 one-hour chunks, which is like 4 thirty-minute chunks. I can do this, you thought to yourself. That’s like, girl math.

You leaned back against your chair and rubbed your eyes, feeling a wave of fatigue. You had woken up a couple of times last night by your roommates screaming back and forth about someone being ‘one shot’ or needing a ‘revive’. You had tried to fall back asleep to no avail, and them howling into the night was definitely not helping. Two more hours and I can just go home and sleep, you said to yourself, motivating you to sit up straight and zone into your work.

Just when you were about to place your hands on your keyboard, the boss’ door swung open and Mr. Geto poked his head out while he scanned the office space. Landing his gaze on you, he closed his eyes with a smile and called out, “____, could you come to my office for a second?”

With a small nod, you rise up and head over to his open door, giving him a smile as you walk in. He closes the door as you look around his office, taking in his space. The main office area, where everyone else’s cubicles were, was light and had splashes of earthy tones everywhere. His office, however, was a different story.

His walls were painted black and the furniture in the room reflected that, including his desk, the chairs in front and behind it, and bookshelves. As it was at the edge of the building, the wall opposite the door you had just entered was covered in floor-to-ceiling windows, giving you a breathtaking view of city. The only pop of color in the room was his crimson red sofa in the middle of the room, where you noticed a familiar face: Mr. Gojo.

Remembering the stairwell incident, you blushed deeply as the other man flashed you a smile with amusement and something else dancing in his eyes.

“Please, have a seat at my desk,” said Mr. Geto, placing a hand behind the small of your back, guiding you forward. He pulled the chair out for you and pushed it in under you, then made his way around to sit in his own chair across from you. He sat down and maneuvered over to his computer, tapping a couple of keys and clicking his mouse a few times.

“I called you in today to ask how your first week and a half at work have been. I’d like to know if you’re settling in well and garner any feedback you may have concerning the workspace and your workload.”, Mr. Geto said, now looking directly at you with his hands clasped on the desk.

You tell him how honored you are to be working under him, as his law firm held quite a reputation in the city. You explained that you were getting along well with your fellow clerks and paralegals, as well as enjoying the challenge of handling various cases and their files. While talking, you noticed how intensely he was looking at your lips, drinking your words in. Your words trail off into silence as you realize how much you had been rambling.

After a beat of silence, Mr. Geto nodded his head and exclaimed loudly how happy he was to hear that you haven’t been having any trouble. You heard Mr. Gojo chuckle behind you, but assumed he had been looking at this phone or something. Mr. Geto sent him a subtle glare, making the latter stifle his laugh, before turning his attention back at you.

“Just to update a few things on your record here, I’d like to ask you a question, ____.”, he said with a serious tone now.

“Sure thing,” you said back, wondering what it could be. You were sure to have included any relevant details to Mr. Yu when he had filed your paperwork the day you came in for your orientation, but maybe they had missed a detail or two.

“Your marital status.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at your boss, not exactly understanding what the miscommunication was. You had previously told Mr. Yu that you were single, but maybe he had entered it in incorrectly or misheard you. You shyly tuck a lose strand of hair behind your ear before answering, stating that you were not married.

His eyes did not leave yours as he added on, “Hmm… is there a potential for your marital status to change in the near future? Perhaps a boyfriend waiting to propose?”

Shaking your head at his added inquiry, you answered back, “Uh, no, sir. I do not have a boyfriend, so that’s not a possibility.” Blushing at his questioning gaze, you break eye contact and ask, “Is that all, sir?”

“Now, how could a woman like you be single?” you heard Mr. Gojo ask gruffly, his voice much louder than previously. It seemed that during Mr. Geto’s questions, Mr. Gojo had gotten up from his spot on the sofa and made his way closer, now directly behind your chair.

You feel his hands settle on your shoulders, making your heart race. Looking back towards Mr. Geto, you assume he’ll scold his friend for making such an inappropriate statement. He doesn’t. Instead he rises from his own chair and walks around the table slowly, before stopping in front of your now turned chair, facing towards him thanks to the handsome man behind you spinning you slightly.

You can’t help but glance down towards his pants, now eye level with your eyes, where a growing bulge had formed. Gasping, you stand up abruptly and move to sidestep him, but he had other thoughts. Grabbing your waist with both hands harshly, he pulled you flush against himself, thrusting his growing bulge directly against you. A small moan slips out of your lips at the impact, making his dick twitch against you.

Another set of hands touch your back, sliding their way under your arms and wrapping themselves around your breasts. Mr. Gojo, now flush against your back, let his hands wander around the shape of your bosoms, finding your nipples and squeezing them softly. Another small moan escapes your lips as he grinds his dick right against your ass. Your body felt like it was on ecstasy and your mind was on cloud nine. Every fiber of your being wanted to be taken right there and then.

Gojo leaned his head down to your left ear, kissing it lightly before speaking up.

“Would you be a good girl and stay single for us?,” he whispered.

Geto, doing the same to your right ear, whispered as well.

“We don’t like to share with others, princess.”

You let out a tiny squeak before nodding vehemently, swearing under your breath that you had no interest in getting a boyfriend any time soon. The two men grunted in approval and both gave you kisses and licks on your ears and neck before backing up slowly, their grips loosening from your body. You found yourself licking your lips, missing their touches all too soon. Your nipples, now hard as rocks, poked through your blouse as you adjusted your clothing carefully. Your body hummed, wanting more of them. The men adjusted their slacks as well, keeping an eye on you as you stood their, waiting for them to dismiss you… or do something else.

Geto nodded his head towards the door, letting you know your time in his office was done. A disappointed feeling surged from within you, but you tried to ignore it as you made your way towards the door. As your hand reached for the handle, Gojo’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he said, as he loosened the tie around his neck a little. Looking back at him and Geto, who now was leaning against his desk, you wait to see what he has to say.

“When alone with Suguru and I, address us by our first names or you will be punished.”

You gulp and nod once more, before turning back towards the door and exiting, leaving without another look back.

~

You snap back into reality, hearing a knock on the bathroom door. The ice-cold water was still raining down on you as you took in how breathless you were.

One of your hands had found its way down to your pussy, rubbing your clit slowly, while your other hand was squeezing one of your breasts. Shaking your thoughts and calling out to your roommate that you were almost done, you rinse them both and turn off the shower. Sighing in frustration, you dry yourself off and slip on your robe.

Trudging past your roommate and telling them there was still some hot water, you made your way back to your bedroom and threw yourself on the bed. As you laid there, all you could think was:

What am I getting myself into?

[mournings-stars]

nothing changes

final and part 3 of the prelude to my orpheus and eurydice angst fic "doubt comes in" parts two and three (if you would like to read chronologically these come first) part five/finale (a semi-alt ending)

includes: heaven lucifer ofc, a little lore, some blending of greek mythology, still a little, if not more ambiguous than before, luci is still a hopeless romantic but a little unreliable in the narration aspect, the fluff is basically over I gave yall a warning on the last part but here's my formal apology... especially since lucifer calls you humility

tags: @lxkeee @viannasthings @majonla @sapphirecaelis

Suddenly, Lucifer was holding the world in his arms. 

A Virtue, asleep in his bed, held to his chest. The very same Virtue he’d admired for so long, sleeping soundly in his embrace as if it were the greatest comfort. 

The night of the Celebration, you left after a single dance, going to his home for dinner, where he had the bouquet you gave him on display in his dining room. It was a fight to leave, Lucifer suggesting you stay as he reluctantly walked you toward the door, eventually relenting and letting you kiss him goodbye when you said you’d see him the next day. 

And the next, and the next, and so on and so forth, nearly every day being spent together now that you both knew how you felt. You never ran out of things to talk about, and getting to see him was the highlight of your day. Especially when he came to Earth to help you work. 

The more time he spent with you, the more he wanted to move with haste and plan an immortal future together; marriage, children, living together, but he had to stop himself, remind himself that you had all the time in the world to move as slowly as you wanted, and a single kiss wasn’t grounds to take off from. For all he knew, you kissed him because you were drunk and only cared for him as a friend. 

Which was enough. He’d take whatever care you were willing to give — and this, a night together, was more than enough. 

But his loud thoughts woke you up, feeling that he was awake and mumbling, “sleep, Luci.” 

He smiled at the way you sleepily said his name, forgetting half of it. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, your wings stretching before wrapping around him and gently draping over him as you pressed a gentle kiss to his chest, right above his heart. 

How soon was too soon in deciding you’d fallen in love?

He’d asked Sera, who’d lifted his ban from the seasons changing the moment he came to the meeting room to announce that he would tell you depending on her answer… one day. “I’ll wait a hundred years.” To beings like you, that was nothing but a blink of an eye, making her laugh. 

“You may want to tread carefully,” Sera warned. “You know how Virtues are; sometimes, they abandon you.” Everyone knew the stories of Chastity, Kindness, Charity, or Patience, leaving someone broken-hearted. “They can’t love one thing more than another — and they’ll never love a soul more than they love the Earth. It’s what they were made for.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” he said, shaking his head. “We have free will. Virtues, even if they're born for a purpose, have it, too.”

“Yes, but that free will will never come before their duty,” she said simply. “I’m not telling you that you shouldn’t love Humility — Do it. Love and be loved.” He nodded, warm mood returning to him with Sera’s heartfelt blessing. “But don’t put all of yourself into that love, Lu. You could end up with nothing, while Humility takes it and moves on.” At his silence, she continued, “Have you ever seen the way nature itself fights for a Virtue’s attention?” He thought back, the way animals came to you despite a predator or prey being near. Plants blossomed brighter as you walked by. Winds sang, and the sun beamed while rivers rushed and dived to a fall, a pool of water at your feet. “You have it now, but Humility loves it all equally. You will be loved just the same. Not more or less, but equal; equal to that flower you wear, to a hare she finds needing her help, to the grass and dirt that hare walks across… You can’t expect more.”

“I don’t,” he said quickly, easily. 

“And you can never hurt Humility — I’m warning you to respect a Virtue’s duty, to not expect what one can’t give you—“ Lucifer could argue with that, but he held his tongue. “—and I’m also giving my blessing.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

Perhaps, he never should’ve headed her warning. 

He swore to himself that he wouldn’t, but a warning like that could only do one thing; doubt comes in, planting a small seed in his mind that he couldn’t shake, thinking of Sera’s warning every time he was with you and wondering how you truly felt about him. It was to the point that even you noticed. 

You’d asked him to come down to Earth with you, taking him to a large pond at the base of a waterfall where a pair of ducks circled. He had been happy to see them, realizing you’d taken notice of a golden duck he had on display despite him never showing you. 

“Is everything alright, Luci?” You’d made it a habit of calling him that, first doing it as a joke after he teased you about it, but the joke seemed to stick. 

He smiled, huffing a laugh. “You're perceptive.” You shrugged. “Can I ask you something?” You nodded, waiting for him to continue, but there was a beat of silence. You placed a gentle hand on his, but he took it away. Then he quickly took your hand again, making you chuckle. 

“You don’t have to hold my hand if you don’t want to.”

“I know.” He gave a reassuring smile, then sighed. “Is it true? Virtues love every living thing equally?”

“Ah,” you laughed, “you spoke to Sera.” He nodded. “The other Virtues didn’t leave the angels they loved because we love everything equally — it’s because they expected something they couldn’t give.” You pursed your lips, unsure of whether this would soothe him or push him away. “Yes, it’s in our nature to love all living things equally, but we don’t love them the same. I could never love a soul the same way I love a river,” you said like it was ridiculous to think so. “Or an animal the way I love another angel. It may, theoretically, be equal, but is an angel equal to the wind?” He shook his head, threading his fingers through yours. “So, I may be sinful in saying this,” you joked, “but that would mean I love you more.”

He took it as an explanation rather than a confession of your feelings, a relieved smile coming to his face before he brought the back of your hand to his lips to kiss gently. 

When it came time to transition spring into summer, you let Lucifer help, singing the melody together and flying over Earth as you watched it change. Flowers blossomed and gave you ripe fruits to taste, greenery grew bigger and fuller, and animals basked in the sun as you sang. 

All of Heaven could hear your harmony, reveling in how beautiful it was, and how as you sang it, they could feel your warmth — your love. 

A love so bright and warm it could burn for eons. A song, so beautiful, that when you sang it the world came into tune. 

The song of love.

That was what they began calling it. Hundreds of summers, hundreds of winters. Autumns and springs. For hundreds of years, the two of you sang the song in harmony and Sera’s warning began to mean less and less to Lucifer. 

But doubt comes in. 

Hundreds of years, and your relationship stayed the same. Hundreds of years, and you never told him you loved him. Hundreds of years, and at the back of his mind he knew why. 

Hundreds, and hundreds, and hundreds of years, and humans were brought to the Earth. 

The Earth began to change. Your song was hardly needed, and you frequented less and less. Your animals were hunted and your plants were cut down. You could feel every death, every life leaving the Earth. Your power weakened, and your will to do anything about it weakened with it. 

“It’s how the world must be,” Sera told you when your grief caused rain on Earth at times where it should’ve been calm. “It’s a part of life, Humility.”

“I understand that, just…” You couldn’t articulate your feelings, giving her the perfect opportunity to tell you,

“As a Virtue, you should love and feel for these humans as much as you do for the life you create and care for.”

“You’re right…” All the other Virtues understand, so why couldn’t you? 

Lucifer said it was because Earth was more than just your job. You cared for the mortal world like no other angel did, and that was what he loved about you. It’s why you were so good at what you did. 

And as he told you this, he took you to a garden in Heaven. Plants you’d created and cared for lived endlessly, and most importantly, the animals you felt leave the mortal world were immortalized there. They recognized you, coming to you like they had on Earth and making you happier than he’d seen you since things began changing. 

Lucifer watched the sullen mood you’d been in wash away, and slowly, you began to spend all of your time in this garden.

And doubt comes in. 

To him, you didn’t seem to care whether or not he was with you in the garden, so he left you alone. Day and night, you spent it alone in the garden and he spent it alone in your shared home, falling asleep and waking up without you. 

He busied himself with unnatural creations, spending time in his office, working the days away like he used to. You’d come throughout the day, hoping to see him. You’d make lunch and call out to him, but he never seemed to notice. You spent the days alone, opting to go to the garden he showed you and wishing he were there with you. 

He started to think, to doubt; It wasn’t that the other Virtues couldn’t give the angels they loved enough, it was that they had all the time in the world to do so, to have them wait while they provided and cared for the Earth. They may have loved them more, but that love could be stretched endlessly.  

Before, time was endless on Earth. It was why the seasons needed you, why you never feared the loss of your creations, and why you could say you would love him more. Now, there was a cycle, an order of things, and a hierarchy. All living things you cared for would one day manifest with you in Heaven, where time was once again endless — His immortal life was endless, and he’d always be there for you. You could stretch your love for him as long as he’d let you, while you tended to the garden he showed you. 

So no, he wasn’t equal to the wind, but now he was equal to, if not less to you than, a manifested soul. 

You could never love him more. How could he expect you to?

And Lucifer went down to Earth, in hopes to feel what you felt, to understand how you could feel plants and animals dying. To see how much it changed. 

But he came across someone — a woman. Sera told him she was named Lilith after the beautiful flowers you made bloom, in hopes to lift your resentment of what she and the other elders created. 

He left before she could see him, taking a lily with him. 

He made his way to the garden, finding you there and tending to the plants. 

He cleared his throat to get your attention, making you turn. The smile you gave him made his heart race and wings flutter, you looked so undeniably happy that he was there. He should’ve just come to you like he usually did, he thought regretfully. He had no reason to doubt you when you looked at him that way.

“I brought you something.” He held the flower out to you, watching you take it with so much care. “I went down to Earth today… It hasn’t changed as much as you thought.”

“Really?” You asked hopefully. 

“New life comes every spring,” he told you. “It feels more alive than ever… Though it could use your touch.” He watched your smile grow as you looked down at the flower, twirling it in your fingers. 

“Maybe we can go down together next time.”

“I’d like that.”

How could he have convinced himself to doubt you so heavily? Why would he, so easily, trust the doubt in his mind more than you?

“I was hoping you’d come here,” you told him after a moment. “I — well — I was hoping I’d get to thank you for showing it to me. I know you’ve been busy with work, but I wanted to tell you: this place helped me feel connected to nature again.” There was a moment of pause before you joked, “I can’t say I’m not glad you didn’t see how weak I was, though…” He’d never heard you speak so quiet and unconfidently, masking it with a flat joke as you refused to look him in the eye, but he heard every word, feeling even worse for what his mind began to tell him. “I understand why you left after you showed me this place… If you want to be alone after the way I reacted—“

He cut you off, quickly bringing you into his embrace. His wings wrapped around you and his head tucked into your shoulder. “I’ve missed you so much.” You sighed, hugging him back and dropping the flower to the ground. “I thought you wanted to be alone.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’d rather be alone with you.” 

You spent the night together in your home, preparing dinner and enjoying the night like you used to, and the next morning he went with you to the garden. Only to find that an animal had eaten part of the lily you dropped on the garden floor. It looked weak, too sick to even move. 

“They’re poisonous?” You asked him, in shock that you didn’t know the changes that happened to your own flowers. You went to the animal to try to use your abilities to heal it, hoping those hadn’t changed, too. 

“I didn’t know…” He tried to say, but you didn’t respond. “I can help—“ he reached for the animal and you turned away, wings flaring to put distance between you. He took a shocked step back, scrambling to explain himself, “I didn’t mean to bring… poison into your garden, Humility—”

“I know,” you said weakly, doubting. 

“It’ll be okay,” he told you. It was already dead, he couldn’t remind you.

Again, “I know.” You knew, and that was why it was so upsetting. Not even in death could a soul escape suffering. How was that fair?

“Let me help. Please.” But he was met with silence, not even a response of you shaking your head. 

Instead, a gentle breeze began to blow, a song flowing through the garden. The same song you’d sung for hundreds of years. As it continued, the winds got stronger, flowers bloomed brighter, plants got taller, and the little animal in front of you perked up and scurried away. 

There it was again. 

He wondered if Sera was right, if he truly did distract you. If you’d done nothing but tend to the garden and your power had recovered more than he ever could’ve helped you to do, there was no doubt. 

“Why are they changing everything I create?” But he didn’t hear your frustrated question. “Can everything I care for now be hurt?” He didn’t hear your voice break as you begged for an answer, hoping that he, as a Seraph, would know and tell you if he did. 

But he didn’t hear anything over his own doubtful thoughts. All he saw was you get up and walk away from him, wings wrapped around yourself to bring yourself comfort as if he’d purposely brought poison into your garden. 

He took what was left of the flower and left the garden, once again going to earth. He’d find you something else, he decided. He’d make sure you knew he didn’t bring you a poisonous flower on purpose. He’d make sure you didn’t resent him, like you resented the humans and the way the Earth changed. 

He’d make sure he knew every change that was made and make sure it couldn’t upset you. He’d make sure you never pushed him away like that again—

“What a beautiful flower.” He paused, looking ahead of him to see that same woman once again. “It’s poisonous, you know?” Lucifer looked down at it. He knew now. “It can be hard to tell, but I can show you the ones that aren’t — though, I thought angels would know.”

“A lot has changed,” he muttered, surprised she was speaking to him. 

And perhaps that was where it started, where he began to learn about this new Earth through her, under the guise of relaying the information to you.

But he never did. 

Instead, he kept coming back. He didn’t retrieve anything for you, but he spoke to her every time. He listened to her cry and comforted her if he could. 

He found a friend in this woman; in Lilith… And then he found something more. 

He showed her his creations, something he’d never shown you, and he beamed at the way she appreciated them, eyes full of wonder. He spent the night with her in The Garden and showed her the warmth of the moss covered cave, where they sat and talked just as you’d done. Only she lied next to him where you sat so far away. 

And then she told him she loved him. 

Something you never said. 

But you didn’t have to. You showed it;

in the way you stayed up and waited, waited to apologize for pushing him away, for walking away and getting so upset. In the way you fell asleep in an armchair in the living room and woke up when he came home in the morning, not even noticing you and going up to his study. In the way you greeted him warmly when he came down, though he didn’t give you time to apologize. In the way you held him like he was what you treasured most, like he was something you didn’t want to lose. In the way you asked to see what he was working on. In the way you let him leave. 

In the way you let him tell you he was in love with someone else. 

“I didn’t realize it until now — all I wanted was to get more knowledge of the Earth, to bring to you; to show you I cared,” he gave explanation after explanation as you stood in the garden he showed you, and you thought you should’ve questioned why you were spending the evening together. 

But he suddenly stopped, shutting his mouth and pausing to look over you. 

He’d never seen you cry. Not once. He’d seen you upset, he’d seen you overjoyed, he’d seen you devastated just months ago, but he’d never seen you cry — and to think, the first time he did, it was because he was making you cry. Because he hurt you. 

He tried to reach out, and this time you didn’t push him away. It was worse. Your arms hugged your shoulders and your wings wrapped around yourself as you stared at the ground, taking a cowering step away from him. He wished you’d turn your back on him, spare him from seeing what he’d done, but you didn’t. 

There was a long silence as you urged yourself to calm down, breathing slowly. 

Finally, you said, “I don’t fault you for falling in love.” His throat tightened as you finally turned away from him. He was wrong. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. Not like this. “I want you to be happy. If this is what makes you happy then… Then, I’m happy for you.” 

“But I did give you a chance to leave,” you wanted to remind him, but he spoke before you could, “Don’t lie to me,” he said, begging and sounding completely defeated. You’d never lied to him before, but he knew you were now. “I know you—”

Instead you reminded him, “Then you know that I love you. I always have… I should’ve said it more than I did, I know, but I never thought you’d doubt me.”

And he could hear it over and over; your reassurance, and your confession. You told him long before he ever told you. 

“But,” you mocked his silence, resentment he knew you would eventually feel for him seeping into your voice as you said, “you know how Virtues are.”

Sometimes, they abandon you.

[babysfirstfic]

live now, think later

luke hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: Luke desperately needs to blow off some steam. In a dingy bar, he finds just what he's looking for...

warnings: Brief allusions to sex, but nothing major. Yet. (18+)

a/n: This is my first ever fic! I would love to hear feedback if you have any. I plan for this to be chapter 1 of 3 (but we'll see what happens)! Shoutout to this Tate McRae song for directly inspiring the title and for subconsciously inspiring the plot.

There were few NHL rookies who had more eyes trained on them than Luke Hughes. Between the constant media attention he received from a young age and the pressure that came with his last name, Luke had always had a complicated relationship with his celebrity.

Don’t get it twisted, Luke was super grateful for all the advantages that came with having two all stars for brothers, and there was a part of him that enjoyed leaning into his status. 

On the ice, he welcomed the attention. He loved the chance to put on a show for the fans, reveling in the opportunities to make game-changing plays. Hockey was his craft; the minute he laced up his skates he was an artist, an author, a showman. A single goal could cause an entire stadium to rise to their feet, and the power he felt in those moments was indescribable.

Off the ice, though, it was a different story.

Luke prided himself on his maturity and his charm, his ability to keep his cool even while being peppered with questions and surrounded by cameras. He had years to perfect the art of the interview, expertly dodging personal inquiries and even cracking the occasional smile to make it seem like he didn’t absolutely despise answering the same inane questions over and over again. 

But one could only keep up appearances for so long. He found it exhausting to have to perform all the time. Though he understood it was a sacrifice he’d have to make now that he was living out his dreams, that didn’t make it any easier. 

After several months in the league, he craved a chance to be something other than “Luke Hughes, the hockey player”. He desperately needed to let loose and to make use of the other sides of his personality, the spicier sides, the sides that the cameras would never get to see. 

It was time for this Devil to earn his horns. 

Within the first few months of being in New Jersey, Luke quickly learned which bars would bend the rules for him. In his desperation to fit in with any teammate who didn’t share his DNA, he was willing to do pretty much anything to get in, buying fake IDs, signing jerseys, you name it. He felt it showed his teammates just how committed he was to building their relationships, on and off the ice. 

But tonight, his team couldn’t have been further from his mind. This time, he’d come alone. 

Luke had never had the time or energy for dating, but he thrived on quick hook ups and meaningless sex. No obligation for vulnerability or commitment, just fun. After the whirlwind that had been last year, he needed some fun, and tonight, he was willing to work for it. 

His bar of choice was dingy, a typical dive bar, complete with sticky floors and disgruntled employees, but the low key lighting and loud music allowed for the perfect cover. Luke felt a sense of safety in his anonymity, a feeling which was becoming increasingly rare. 

Waiting in a booth on the edge of the dimly lit room, he scanned the crowd, searching for a glimpse of excitement, someone to steal the blood from his brain and force it elsewhere. 

Suddenly, something, no someone caught his eye. It was you. 

In a glittery backless top with a loose, low cut and black pants that you filled out in all the right places, you were shaking your stuff on the dance floor. Your whole body bounced with every movement. Like a beacon in the night, the strobe lights illuminated your entirety, sending colourful fractals bouncing off in every direction. You were practically demanding Luke’s attention, and you didn’t even have to try. 

You had sensed his eyes on you immediately and couldn’t help but to return his gaze. He looked young but strangely sure of himself, carrying the recognizable swagger of a man who’s used to breaking the rules and getting away with it. Luke would call it confidence, but if you asked his brothers, they’d call it his raging youngest sibling syndrome. 

You were undeniably intrigued. Adding more hip movement to your dancing, you hoped that it would encourage him to join. This certainly was not your first rodeo. 

It worked. Slowly, he stood up from his booth and made his way onto the dance floor. You sensed a shift in his energy, like this was something out of the ordinary for him. “Nice to know he has a weakness,” you mused to yourself, just now noticing the flutter in your heart as he inched closer. 

Luke hated dancing, but something about you drew him in, like a ship of sailors drawn by the voices of sirens. Though he hoped he might meet a different fate; he hoped you might give him a happy ending. 

Eventually, he reached your spot on the dance floor. 

“Hey,” he spoke into your ear, leaning in close so that you could hear him above the music. You felt his breath tickle your neck, sending chills down your back and deep inside. 

“Hi,” you responded, keeping your cool in spite of the tides coming in beneath you. You didn’t know him, had never seen him before, yet everything within you yearned to be close to him, craved to feel his hand against your skin, begged to know him in every sense of the word. “Sheesh girl, you need to get out more,” you thought, smiling briefly to yourself.

Without wasting any time, you grabbed his hand and placed it on the small of your back, finally experiencing the brief release of skin-on-skin. You looked up at him, attempting to decipher the look on his face. He reciprocated your gaze, flashing his crooked smile, practically threatening to melt you right then and there. 

Seeing his smile mirrored on your face, he moved his other hand to match the first, pulling you in close. You nodded to express your approval and quickly fell back into your original rhythm, grinding and swaying your hips to the music. Sticking your hands in his back pockets, you led him through the motions, slowly undulating your bodies to the beat. 

Your eyes scanned up and down as you let yourself take him in. There was something about this boy; he completely captivated you. With his arms around you, you felt safe. He lacked the aggression and forcefulness you had unfortunately come to expect from situations such as these. He was clearly strong, but you caught him out of his comfort zone, so he was letting you take the lead, a role you took on gladly. 

After a couple minutes of finding the right rhythm, your bodies became one. The world melted away. Luke leaned in and began gently kissing your neck, stopping only to briefly nibble your ear. As your pelvises moved up and down to the beat, you began to feel the friction of something rising just below his belt. You responded in kind, sensing a growing heat and swelling between your legs. Neither of you had done this in a while and it was showing, your bodies overly excitable. But you didn’t mind; you were both getting exactly what you wanted. 

“I live a couple blocks from here,” you shouted above the crowd, doing everything in your power not to let out the moan that was threatening to escape your lips. “Maybe we could finish our dance there”. 

Knowing full well he couldn’t wait that long, Luke made a different suggestion. “There’s a hotel across the street. I have a room. Care to join me?” 

In the haze of the crowd and the music and the night, you found yourself moving off the dance floor, out of the bar, into the open air of Newark. 

Your entire body was pounding, throbbing with energy and excitement. Your hand was clasped in his, and only then, as you were making your way through the hotel lobby and down the hallway to the room, did you realize you didn’t even know his name. More importantly, you realized you didn’t care. In fact, it was better this way. No possibility of getting attached or contacting each other afterwards. A true one night stand. 

As you reached the room, Luke spun you around to face him, your back firmly placed against the door. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, leaning close, finally allowing you to get a good look at his face in the light.  

Your gaze trailed down from his curls to his lips, before resting on his eyes. You noticed a slight sparkle in them, a glint, an invitation. This was your chance. “I’ve never been more sure,” you responded.

Lunging forward instinctively, you reached up, taking hold of his hair and guiding his lips towards yours. Your touch was confident, verging on forceful, a byproduct of the pent up energy that needed an outlet and had finally found one. 

Maybe you were a little too forceful. As your bodies collided, they also made contact with the door, sending a loud noise vibrating through the hallway. You briefly paused your moment of passion to laugh, your foreheads still touching, neither of you daring to fully pull away. 

“Someone’s a little eager,” Luke spoke against your lips, chuckling slightly before re-initiating the kiss. 

Just as it had in the bar, the world melted away, making you forget just how publicly you were displaying your affection. 

But you were both being reckless, and Luke knew it. He had been warned about pulling something like this, about bringing negative attention to himself or to the team. He was new and still needed to prove himself. Above all that, he had a squeaky clean reputation to uphold. He was trained to be tight-lipped to the media so that the focus was on his playing, not his personal life. Stunts like this could jeopardize everything he’d worked for, everything his parents sacrificed for. But god, you were making him forget all of that. There wasn’t a single thought in Luke’s mind that didn’t have to do with getting you out of your clothes and under his tongue...

[cheeseceli]

Skz reaction to their s/o listening to angry music

Pairing: ot8 skz × gn!Reader (individually)

Genre: I'm pretty sure this is fluff

Request: "i was wondering if u could write like a reaction of skz when they find out that yn is listening to angry music (metal, rage rap,..)"

A/N: I AM SO LATE with this request, I'm so so sorry😭 it took me a while to figure out how i wanted to write this but I hope you like it nevertheless! Also first time I use dividers and I think it's so cute (credits in the end of the post)

Bang Chan

I think he would be so surprised?? Mainly if your music taste doesn't match your appearance

Like imagine you wear such soft clothes and then you're listening to rage in your headphones

He would be tempted to make more songs like this to stray kids though

And would ask for your opinion ofc, might even put your name in the credits

Will also send tiktoks he finds about angry music all the time

And if he ever gets to know one of your favourite artists (this man knows the whole entertainment industry atp) he will let you know and might even bring you an autograph

Lee Know

He would find out your music taste when you guys made one of those matchings in spotify

He swore you guys would be more than 90% compatible

you were only 34%

he is in shock

But he listens to every single song that shows up on the matching

Might even add some to his favourites

Will let you know his opinions too

And if another member likes angry music as well, he will mention you in the conversation

He might even use this as a way to bring you closer to the members

His s/o and his best friends, he would love that

Changbin

If you like angry rap he is now taking notes lmao

Will try to incorporate it in his own rap

Takes you to concerts!!

Buy you merch!!

Tries to meet with your favourite artists!!

Makes angry music for skz!!

Will do everything and anything when it comes to your likings, including musical taste

And he would add angry music in your karaoke nights

He is screaming from the top of his lungs into the mic but he is so happy lol

Please scream with him, thank you

Hyunjin

I feel like he always knew that

It was probably one of the first things he knew about you

And even though he might not like this musical genre personally, he will probably listen to it sometimes and will have some of your songs in his playlist

But he likes it the most when he is driving and you play one of your playlists on the radio

When you sing along>>

And!!

If you know the story behind one of the artists/songs PLEASE tell him

He would love to listen to you explain it to him

Han

You can't convince me that this man doesn't have some songs like that in his playlist as well

He goes to the gym listening to the most agressive songs ever

So he actually is pretty happy you guys have something else in common

And if you guys like the same artist or the same song, he is in heaven

Specially if it's metal

Nothing will change my mind, he listens to metal a lot

And agressive rap

Will also incorporate to his rap sometimes and maybe will even put some references to your favourite artists on the lyrics

Will add a lot of your recommendations to his playlist

Felix

Tried to do a matching on spotify as well and was in shock with how many metal and rap was there

Asks you to make a playlist for him recommending some songs

Will show your recs to the members as well

Suddenly all the dorm is listening to metal

And if you ever think that his voice could match one of your favourites songs, he would be so honoured fr

Like, you're making an association between a thing that you love and him, he is so genuinely happy

Will try to sing it ofc

Seungmin

He is other one who I think will probably not like the genre that much

But will listen to it whenever you listen to it

He really likes to share an earphone with you

If you're up to it, so is he

And also likes to pick which song you're listening to

Will make a whole queue for you to listen

And if he ever comes across to another angry music, he is sending it to you immediately

I.N

Now that they have personal instagram accounts (I'm so happy lmao) he will post a picture on his stories and will let you choose the song

So he is wearing the cutest outfit but rage is playing on the background

He finds it pretty cool ngl

And since we're talking about fashion

He would love to see how your musical taste reflects on your clothes, if it does

It's so interesting he swears

He would also spoil you with merch and concerts

I believe he would try to listen to some angry music to try to impress you lmao

Like you'd be listening to some music and somehow he knows the artist, the album and even the release date

Pretend you didn't see him search everything on google

Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Dividers by @cafekitsune (thank you btw!)

[kookstempo]

in the end, it's him and i - jjk

pairing(s): taehyung x reader if u squint, jungkook x reader, brief mentions of namjoon x oc

genre(s): fluff and smut.

word count: 5.4K

warnings: some strong language, both jungkook and y/n being idiots lol. for the spicy content: fingering in front of a mirror, dirty talk, praise, mentions of an erection. (hope i'm not forgetting anything).

summary: how long will it take until the dam bursts and one of you says what the other one longs to hear?

masterlist

A/N: i gotta thank my beautiful @daechwitatamic because she's always there to help me, she read this SO FAST (wtf). pls go check her profile <3

he had grown so used to it that he kept looking for it the first time you stopped doing it. with a silent, simple tug on your shirt or a whine whenever you’d cut the hugs or kisses a second short. full of hesitance, you’d simply wrap your arms around him tightly, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath; you’d cup his jaw with your slightly tremorous hand, pulling him to your mouth again as he had wordlessly begged you to.

meanwhile, for you? you noticed it that time he held your wrist as you walked behind him between the crowd. his touch had never meant anything special outside the bedroom, until that night. he had made you feel a thousand things in mere seconds, your heart lighting up the same way the buildings’ lights lit up the street. it was amazing how something as basic as holding one’s wrist had helped you put the puzzle pieces together. suddenly, it made sense how you kept running away from his touch when possible, skipping reunions where you knew he would be.

because your heart couldn’t handle the truth. it couldn’t bear knowing that jeon jungkook only belonged to you behind closed doors, between messy sheets and underclothed bodies, where only whispered pleas were welcomed and not love confessions, nothing but lust. and as much as it hurt, it only hurt more trying to deprive yourself of him.

“y/n?” his voice calls, warm hand finding its place on your thigh, giving it a little squeeze.

“i’m sorry, yes you can press play.” placing your hand on top of his, you give it a squeeze back and lean backwards on the couch, looking for a way to ease your internal discomfort by getting comfortable externally.

“it’s been rolling for at least seven minutes, angel…” he trails off, not being able to take his eyes off your constant fidgeting with the blanket you were sharing. “are you okay?” 

“mhm,” was the only thing that left your throat, making sure it came with a reassuring - yet very fake - smile to ease the tension. everything screamed that he didn’t believe you, knowing him well enough to notice it was a huge effort from him to stay quiet and not ask any more questions. jungkook thought it was best to let you be. maybe his touch was offending you? or was it the pet names he had decided to use for you as they were worth it only for you? one thing you hadn’t managed to notice, though, was the fact that his hands were the fidgety ones now. they were itching to pull you closer to him and wrap his arms around your waist like you’re used to every movie night.

“it was hilarious because taehyung was complaining about her, talking about how she had eaten the last donut and that it was his favorite flavour and he hadn’t eaten a single one. suddenly, she enters the office and you just hear him go: ‘good morning, miranda!’” tone chirpy and mocking, seokjin tells the story from his point of view, not being able to hold back the cackles that leave his lips.

“taehyung! i didn’t know you despised her that much.” covering your mouth, unlike seokjin, you giggle quietly.

“i just know you wouldn’t have done that to me, you would’ve defended that donut with your last breath,” the aforementioned man rolls his eyes, head resting on your shoulder as a pout rests on his lips.

“i’ve already apologized thrice. i was in a meeting, okay?” you shake your head as a smile slowly makes its way onto your face, looking down at taehyung and ruffling his hair.

"you look like you want to explode his head." yoongi whispers, next to jungkook who’s been looking at your interaction with a clenched jaw and his tongue prodding his cheek.

"i'm trying." jungkook admits, glaring at taehyung like he had just insulted his family when all he was doing was acting cute with you. with a forkful of pasta into his mouth, he decides to take his eyes off you, knowing deep inside him it was useless feeling like that when you were coming home with him at the end of the evening. or that’s what he hoped.

“anyone up for dessert? i am full, but my sweet tooth is asking me for that cheesecake i read on the menu. i’m willing to share.” looking around for someone wanting to share the creamy dessert with you, you lean forward, resting your weight on your forearms.

“me, me! i’ve been eyeing that cheesecake since we arrived, too.” taehyung chirps, eagerly raising his hand to call the waitress’ attention. his eagerness is short-lived, though, since jungkook speaks up.

“i want cheesecake, too. you think i could share with the two of you?” 

“uh… let me ask the waitress how big the slice is.” shooting jungkook a tiny smile, you turn your attention to the kind waitress who is expectant.

in the end, you two do end up sharing the slice with jungkook, as it turned out he only wanted “a couple of spoonfuls” of the dessert. he is not a cheesecake guy, which makes you wonder what had caused him to suddenly crave some of the dessert.

leaving your bills to pay your part of the check, you get up and walk to the restroom, letting everyone know they could head out if done before you came back. they tend to complain about how long you take in the restroom, and knowing jungkook is waiting for you to ride together, you make sure you hurry.

your memory sometimes fails you. and one of those cases is tonight as you can’t seem to locate jungkook or his car. letting your legs lead you to where you think you might be able to find him, you recognize taehyung’s back and hair. he might know where jungkook is.

“for god’s sake, dude. just confess your fucking feelings for her,” taehyung groans at the younger man’s behavior, covering his face.

that sentence alone makes you halt, leaning back against the brick wall so they can’t see you. eavesdropping is not appropriate, but right this moment it feels like it is. 

has he had feelings for someone else this whole time he’s been fucking you? are you his go-to option when he needs it?

“what are you talking about? we were talking about cheesecake and now you’re telling me i should confess to y/n?” jungkook scoffs, about to walk away when taehyung grabs his wrist, preventing him from leaving. 

“you don’t get all whiny over cheesecake, jeon. all it took was me saying i wanted to share dessert with her for you to go all ‘oh i want dessert, too’ when you weren’t even halfway done with your pasta. you kept giving me death stares if i even breathed around her.” 

“whatever,” jungkook laughs, a little too loud for his liking, making him scrunch his nose. “i’m not going to confess my feelings just because of some cheesecake.” he mocks taehyung in the last word, carefully releasing his wrist from the man’s grip, walking to the car.

does that mean… no, he never confirmed it. 

“jungkook!” you call him, jogging to where he is, “are we still on for tonight? you were about to leave without me.” you adjust your purse that’s almost falling off your shoulder, rocking back and forth on your tiptoes.

“yeah, i’ve been looking forward to it all night,” he confesses, pulling you closer to his body by your waist. one of his hands removes your purse from your body, the other cupping your cheek. “you ready?”

“yeah! bye, tae-tae,” you wave at the man, flashing him a smile before getting inside the car.

the traffic at this hour is never heavy, if anything, it’s the best it’s ever been. the wind coming from outside is making you get goosebumps, but it’s nothing jungkook’s hand on your leg can’t provide relief to.

his phone lights up just as you’re reaching the last traffic light before his house.

taehyung [21:02]: i’m pretty sure she heard us talking. just so you know.

jungkook scans his phone screen, reading the text quickly before shutting off the device and placing it somewhere else where it won’t distract him.

“what did tae want?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“nothing important,” he murmurs, tone leaving no room for discussion as he speeds off once the traffic light turns green. “is it my turn to pick the movie tonight?” trying to change the topic, jungkook squeezes your thigh and parks the car smoothly, but doesn’t get out yet.

“uh, i think? but maybe i can bribe you with some kisses? there’s this movie i really wanna watch,” you confess, leaning over the console once your seatbelt is off, your face dangerously close to his.

“bribing me, huh? okay, hit me with your best shot,” he smirks, hungrily latching his lips to yours, hands holding your cheek softly - the perfect juxtaposition to the way he laps at your mouth.

the kiss rides like a wave - intense when needed, but also soft at times, steadying you and leaving you craving for more. more him, more jungkook, all the time. 

“mmm get inside before i change my mind,” jungkook whispers against your lips, already chasing them for more, but you’re quicker than him, getting out of the car and using your set of keys to unlock the door.

he seems pretty compliant tonight, agreeing to everything you say, letting you kiss him all you want even if you had bribed him already to choose the movie… yet he never complains, never says anything about how you’re not paying attention to the movie, eating at him or his snacks.

“did you bring your pajamas this time?” jungkook turns to look at you, moving some strands of hair off your face so he can look at the blush that’s starting to cover your cheeks. “i’m gonna take that as a no.” he snickers at your pretty much silent response, pausing the movie and pulling you to his lap.

“i keep forgetting them. i don’t really use them around you, but they’re pretty and comfortable,” a pout takes over your lips, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“i mean, i’m never against seeing you in my clothes. but you gotta start remembering to pack your pajamas, y/n.” jungkook carefully secures an arm around your waist as he moves to take off his shirt, letting it rest on your lap once taken off. “put it on. let’s get our pajamas on and then we’ll continue with the movie, sounds good?”

you nod, giving his nose a tiny kiss, enough to hear him chuckle and make you leave with a smile on your face. the floor feels cold under your bare feet as you make your way to the bathroom next to his room; the night is chilly enough that you already know you’re gonna be seeking jungkook’s body warmth throughout the night since you tend to get cold pretty easily.

it's almost like your heart is inside a cage and fighting to be set free the second jungkook's fingers trace your curves. every square inch of your body responds to him - blushing, smiling, getting goosebumps. your body knows better than your mind. and as much as you try to tell yourself that you don't have feelings for him, you do. you hope he does, too.

slipping the cotton material over your body, you look at your reflection on the mirror, adjusting the shirt so it covers your body the most it can. his shirt smells like him, like the cologne that drives you crazy and can’t get enough of. a knock interrupts your train of thought, and you open the door for him to come in as you move away from the door to collect your clothes and fold them.

“wanna know something funny?” is the first thing jungkook says as he sees you, leaning against the door frame, shamelessly eyeing your figure.

“what’s up?” you turn to him, looking at him as you finish folding your pants, recognizing the hunger in his stare but saying nothing about it.

“as i was getting dressed this morning, i kept picturing you in my clothes every time i picked out a shirt,” he starts, taking a few steps to be closer to you. “wondering which shirt of mine would look best on you. but now…” his tongue wets his lip, removing the pants from your hands and putting them next to the sink.

“n-now?” you murmur dumbly, waiting for him to keep talking.

“i think i picked it for another reason.” he pulls you closer to his body by the shirt, cradling your face in his hands. “i think i picked what shirt to wear based on what i wanted you to wear as i fucked you. or as i took it off your body.” he simply states, moving one hand down to your neck. he doesn’t even bother to apply pressure on it, he just lets his hand rest there.

"so what are you gonna do? are you gonna keep it on or should we take it off?" you trace the ink on his forearm, moving your head to place a kiss on his palm.

"wouldn't want you getting cold, would we?" his hands move you in mere seconds, letting your pelvis rest against the edge of the vanity, right in front of the mirror. 

you can see him, can see the way he puts your hair up in a messy ponytail so he has space to scatter kisses around your neck, decorating it with a couple of marks. your hands replace his on your hair, holding it up the way he wants it. jungkook hums, pleased, while you quietly gasp when his hands move to your inner thighs, making you spread them wider so his hands can roam freely where they want to.

“mmm, good girl.” he praises, his fingers leaving feather-like touches on your clothed cunt before they wrap around the waistband of your underwear. jungkook crouches down as he removes them, leaving a trail of kisses on your legs, too. 

“no matter,” he starts, hugging you by the waist once he’s back to his full height, “how hard i try, you’re always on my mind. it’s not fair.” 

“it’s as fair as it can be. you’re always on mine, too,” you whisper to him, almost like you’re telling him a secret, even if it’s just the two of you in the room. 

maybe it is a secret with the way you’re baring your heart to him by saying that.

silence follows your words, filling your chest with something close to restlessness. had it been too much? did you cross the line with your words? your gaze moves to the floor, enjoying his embrace the most you can because you’re sure he’s gonna step away–

“look at me. not at my reflection, but at me,” he orders, and you’re surprised by the way you quickly obey, without second thoughts.

“what’s going on in that little head of yours, angel?” jungkook whispers, hovering your lips, giving you space to talk freely.

jungkook’s not sure what just happened. he is sure, though, that with the way your expression fell in that moment, he doesn’t wanna see that again, ever. the sincerity in your eyes when you confessed that he’s constantly in your mind too had made him feel… something. not sure what to make of it, but with a persistent thought in his head:

taehyung was right.

“i want you.” you respond after a while, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. your nose nudges his playfully, a grin on your mouth rapidly replaced by his lips on yours.

jungkook kisses you as if he’s never going to see you again, feeling lonely when your mouth’s not on his, when your body is half an inch further than he’d like it to be. his lips chase yours, they chase the sweet, lingering taste of the chamomile tea you had drank during the movie.

the movie. he doesn’t even know what the fuck it had been about since he was just thinking about you, when you were next to him the whole time. what if taehyung found the way to your heart and stole you from him? he should confess, shouldn’t he?

at least he’s past the denial phase. 

your confession should be more than enough for him to know you probably feel the same too. unless you’re constantly thinking about him because you’re needy, because you want him. 

deciding to shove those thoughts away, he pulls away from the kiss, pushing you with a hand on your back so your chest is against the vanity, making you hiss at its coldness.

“thought you were gonna fuck me with it on,” you confess, angling your hips so they’re slightly lifted. you rest your chin on your forearms, finding a comfortable position; you know you’ll be here for a long time before he fucks you. 

“tsk, who says i’m not? don’t be greedy,” he tsks, running his cold hands over the warm skin of your butt, squeezing it a little. “i don’t think i’ve ever fucked you in front of a mirror, have i?”

“nuh-uh. there’s always a first time with you.”

there’s this side to you that only comes out when jungkook’s around. he knows who you truly are and helps you express that side, a judgment-free zone if you will. if restlessness ever clouds your thoughts, a look from jungkook is all you need for everything to quiet down and dissipate.

“keep your eyes on me, or i’ll stop.” jungkook leans down to leave a trail of kisses on your upper back, allowing you to feel his hard-on right on your butt. “y/n.” biting down on your skin, hard enough to leave a tiny mark, he tilts his head when you only blink at him, whining desperately. “did you hear what i said?”

“yeah, yeah, not taking my eyes off you,” you reply, gripping the counter as his fingers make contact with your now-bare cunt, collecting your wetness before easing two fingers in one go.

every drag of his fingers inside you manages to turn you into a moaning mess, legs trembling because of his touch, eyes trained on his just like he expected. it takes a huge effort from you to not close your eyes once he curls his fingers, aiming for your g-spot.

“look so pretty bent over the sink for me, aren’t you my pretty girl?” he whispers, hot breath fanning in your ear as the fingers from his free hand move to rub your clit, enjoying the way he can tell you’re about to lose it. when jungkook has you like this, you let your inhibitions get lost. your body trusts jungkook, feeling safe under him, letting him do whatever he wants to you because you know he would never hurt you.

it’s about time your heart trusts him, too.

you manage to nod, trying to keep your eyes open as he instructed you to. the sound of your whimpers and loud moans fill the bathroom; as jungkook pulls you by the hair so your back is against his chest, you lean your head on his shoulder, turning your head so you can kiss his neck.

“words, princess. let me hear you say it.” he requests, slowing his thrusts as he expects your reply.

“i-i’m your pretty g-girl. i’m jungkook’s pretty girl,” you whine, hips having a mind of their own and rutting against his hand to get some more friction.

“what was that? i’m sure you can be louder. no need to be shy.” he pouts, smirking condescendingly right after he angles his palm so your clit rubs against it, thumb wiping the fallen tears on your cheeks.

“i’m your pretty girl, fuck! jungkook, please. i need you.” moving your head to face him through the mirror, your hands grip his forearms in order to control yourself. “yours, all yours. just– take me, please.”

he takes his sweet time with you that night, reminding you that you’re his, and reassuring himself he’s not gonna lose you. even if the voices in his head wouldn’t shut up about how he could lose you any second, the way your hands reach out for him so you can hold him a little longer, how you won’t stop showering him with kisses as your eyes struggle to stay open because of how tired he has left you… 

eventually, sleep wins the fight. you pull the blanket jungkook got you closer to your body, scooting closer to his body - his chest has always been more comfortable to you than a pillow - and clinging to him like a koala. 

he can’t take his eyes off you. you’re laying there, asleep, and he feels like you’ve cast a spell on him. when jungkook used to think about you, he’d either picture you naked or as someone who’d be there unconditionally like the great friend you are. 

however, now? he cannot focus on anything other than your lips and how he yearns to kiss them over and over again just to hear your muffled, angelical giggles; how your body feels meant to be next to his like two puzzle pieces.

despite the fact that everyone can see how much time you two spend together, they know you’re not dating. they know about your - basically - best friends-with-benefits relationship, leaving both of you on the market. all that jungkook can think about is changing everyone’s line of reasoning from “they’re fucking” to “they’re dating”, they’re in a relationship”.

yeah, he’s screwed.

he feels like his heart is gonna explode, and he tries to convince himself with all of his might that it’s because of the way you look tonight and not because of taehyung’s arm around your waist as you both move to the table you got assigned for tonight. if he could rip it off your body, he would, but the weight of someone else’s body on his arm reminds him you’re not his date, this other girl is. he’s walking with somebody else, too, so he has to keep it together for the sake of jimin’s party. 

when jimin sent the invitation to the group chat, both of you felt excited and had already started to plan what you’d wear, who was going to drive who, and what you two were going to gift him. the conversation fell when you reached the bottom of the invitation, where in bold, it said: remember to bring a date!

sure, it said other things, but that was all both of you could focus on.

“so… uh, you and i are not dating–” 

“yeah,” you squeak, interrupting jungkook. “we aren’t, so we should find a date, right?”

“yup, you could go with taehyung! he’d love that,” jungkook lets out an insincere laugh, keeping himself busy with another app to stop thinking about how badly he wanted to be your date. 

fast forward to today and jealousy is eating him alive. that night, he had texted jimin privately, asking him to sit you at another table in order to keep his feelings controlled, to be able to spend time with leslie, his date for the party. now, he doesn’t know if it was a good idea. 

you two fit perfectly together, he realizes. he’s mesmerized by you, the color of your dress suits your skin incredibly well and he finds himself smiling when he sees the way you grin at the others at your table, greeting them quickly in order to continue listening to whatever taehyung is telling you.

right, taehyung. 

he’s one second away from getting up, chair in hand, to sit between the two of you because he can’t stand one of his closest friends taking his place, talking to his girl. 

“is everything okay?” leslie asks, noticing jungkook’s clenched jaw and tight grip on the tablecloth. 

“what? yeah, why do you ask?” he turns to look at her, eyebrows furrowed together subconsciously. he’s quick to soften his gaze, moving his chair so it’s closer to leslie’s.

“you seemed… angry, i don’t know. if something’s bothering you, we can leave,” she suggests, wrapping a hand around his wrist, trying to intertwine her fingers with his.

“the party hasn’t even started,” he scoffs, pressing his lips together right after. “sorry, i’ll keep it in mind, okay? i’m just a little distracted, had a small situation at work before coming here, that’s why i was late.”

because he was certainly not debating whether he should go to the party if it meant seeing you with somebody else. nah, not at all.

jungkook manages to keep his feelings at bay for the second half of the night. almost like the situation had been flipped around since you’re the one about to lose it now. 

the food was delicious, taehyung kept making you laugh every now and then with his funny stories and bad jokes, you had also met namjoon’s girlfriend, kimberly. everything was sailing smoothly. jungkook who?

that was, of course, until he and his date joined the other couples on the dancefloor. you feel like they’re dancing on top of your table, too close for your liking. too close to you, too close to each other. leslie keeps laughing like a teenager in love at prom; at this point, you think he’s a second away from kissing her if you don’t do something soon. taehyung’s deep in conversation with jimin, so that leaves you without your dance partner.

almost as if he’d read your mind, jimin stands up and pulls the two of you to the dancefloor. taehyung moves his free arm to be able to reach your hand, making sure you don’t get lost in the crowd. bingo, you think to yourself, standing up and reaching for his hand, securing your grip on his.

“i love this song, i was about to interrupt your conversation,” you confess, taking advantage of the position you’re in now that taehyung spun you around to the rhythm of the music to peek around the room, trying to locate jungkook. 

your eyes meet his almost instantly, your gaze changing from soft to something close to “did i interrupt something?” when you see how close leslie’s mouth is to his. jungkook steps away from her at breakneck speed, making you smirk now that your line of sight is not infected. you don’t mind taehyung pulling you closer to his body if it means giving jungkook a taste of his own medicine. besides, his grip feels snug. 

“didn’t know you were such a good dancer,” taehyung’s warm breath in your ear startles you.

“we’ve never had the privilege of dancing together, have we?” the music is loud enough, almost like you’re in a club, making you lean to talk in his ear too.

you don’t step away or move your head when taehyung cups your cheek and makes you look at him, not even when he tilts his head and his eyes flutter shut, lips mere inches away from yours. 

“y/n, i think i left my gift in your car, can we go get it?” jungkook’s voice is heard out of nowhere, making taehyung jump and step away from you.

“but we didn’t even r–”

“now,” he growls, reaching for your hand.

there’s a tiny window open for you to refuse if you don’t want to listen to him. jungkook could be filled with rage, but he’d never force you to do something you don’t feel like doing. the moment you take your hand in his, he leads you to the hallway, hoping you two could have a decent conversation.

“this is not the way to the parking lot, i should’ve guessed you were bringing me somewhere else since we didn’t ride together, but i still don’t understand what we’re doing–”

you’re hotly interrupted by jungkook. “were you about to kiss taehyung?”

“were you about to kiss leslie before i caught you redhanded?” you closely scrutinize his body language. 

he is not going to put the blame on you, oh hell no.

“i think i asked you first, y/n. were you, or were you not?” he questions you again, tongue prodding his cheek.

“last time i checked, you’re not blind. you definitely saw my lips hovering over his, his hands on my waist, my chest pressed to his…” you trail off, biting your lip to contain the smirk that’s about to take place on your lips.

“if you were so okay with him kissing you, why did you get all bothered by me being close to leslie? if i recall correctly, she was standing close to me like this,” he pulls you to him by the waist, wrapping your arms around his neck. “and i was here…�� he leans down, about to kiss you until you push him off you.

“if you wanna go kiss her, just go. sorry i interrupted your majestic movie scene with my jealousy.” it escapes your mouth before you could even think twice about it. your arms, that were still wrapped around his neck, leave his body in order for you to be able to cover your mouth.

“what was that? i’m sure you can be louder. no need to be shy.” he uses the same sentence he uttered the other day in his bathroom, enjoying the way you get all flustered. 

“imma go shove my tongue down taehyung’s throat. this is a waste of time.” you spit, eyeing him up and down before turning around and taking a couple of steps.

“over my dead body, get the fuck back here and kiss me,” he practically growls, making you halt in your steps.

“not so cool picturing the other person about to kiss someone else who’s not you, is it?” you reply, back still turned to him.

“i was not joking when i said you should kiss me. i was also not joking when i called you my pretty girl the other day.” 

that makes you turn to look at him. 

“it was the heat of the moment, don’t twist your words.” you’re able to recognize when jungkook is bullshitting his way through life, and you hope this is not one of those moments because that is the closest thing you’re ever gonna get to a confession coming from him.

“i’m not.” he simply states, walking up to you. “if what you felt tonight was indeed jealousy, then i’m not ashamed to say i’ve spent the whole night imagining it was me holding your hand in front of everyone, holding you close, making you laugh and dancing so close to you.”

“why now?” you ask, deciding to break the one-step barrier between the two of you, being able to spit one question out of the thousand in your head.

“because i hated seeing someone else take my place, and i’ve tried to hide it. i’ve tried to ignore these feelings, but i can’t anymore.” he gulps, throwing his head back in exasperation. “my date, you were supposed to be my date. not leslie.”

“why didn’t you say something?” 

“why didn’t you say something?” jungkook returns the question, obviously a nervous mess because of your interrogation.

“look, can we pretend i never mentioned i felt jealous? it was stupid and useless and this conversation’s going nowhere.” typical you trying to escape everything that seems complicated.

“too bad, y/n. because i’m not letting you go so easily now that i know you feel the same way.” 

before you know it, jungkook’s kissing you. if he’s kissed you before, this kiss makes you forget all those previous kisses. nothing feels better than the way jungkook leaves you breathless just by licking your bottom lip, or the way he breaks the kiss for a nanosecond before tilting his head to deepen the second best kiss you’ve ever had. 

the need for air becomes predominant, making you reluctantly step away from him. jungkook is quick to chase your mouth, eyes still closed and a low whine leaving his mouth.

“mmm. let’s go home, ‘kay?” you giggle, cupping his face like he usually does to you.

“i’ll follow you everywhere, y/n.” 

pls don't be a silent reader! i love reading your reactions <3 hope u enjoyed.

just wanna thank everyone for the reblogging, likes, and even follow!! love y’all 🥰

[iwanty0uu]

You hated your bestfriend.

The one day of the year you decided to go out because she wanted you to, could have turned into the worst night of your life.

Homebody wasn’t the word to describe yourself, but you still weren’t a fan of large crowds and the humidity that they brought, so you decided that it entertaining yourself and your friends with FaceTime was the best idea. Every facetime led to you doing dumb shit, and your best friend Annka would screenshot the memory and add it to her photo album of you.

She had one on your phone too ,and it was something that started in your 10th grade year, eventually, memories continued to take up all of both of your storage but birthday spams on social media were always fun.You could trust her with your life and there was no reason to ask her to delete anything.

But the way she embarrassed you tonight wasn’t shit that you would let slide…

Grinding your hips on the green eyed boy behind you could have been enough to lead you to your orgasm in itself, but the way the boy named Eren clutched your hips and slid his fingers through the belt loops of your light washed jeans shorts sent the message that he felt the same.

He rubbed the fat of your ass that wasn’t covered while kissing your neck, you weren’t wearing a bra, so it was easy to rub on your pointed nipples that shown through the thin material of your top. Turning your neck towards him, you spun your hips so they touched his and you felt his hard dick rub up on your aching cunt.

•yea you were definitely finna slide that pussy all on his face later•

He grinned, pulling your face to his like they do in the movies, making his lips touch yours. You could taste the Hennessy on his lips and your tongues danced in one another’s mouth, you deepened the kiss, breathing through your nose trying not to let go. Then suddenly, a shove forced you away from him, the space between you two angered you, the moment was ruined and the once dimmed lights were on.

Opening your eyes, you couldn’t help but notice your drunk best friend standing in between you. “WHAT THE FUCK” she slurred, your face heated up with embarrassment, “girl THE FUCK DID YOU PUSH ME FOR” you yelled back, she stumbled over herself ,trying to get in your face “That’s … my man your kissing on..” she said narrowing her eyes, black pupils dilating.

“Bitch you’re single?” you responded, but then, the memories of Annka’s delusional-relationship flooded back to you, the mystery man with the man bun could be the only one she was talking about, and Eren, just hadddd to have have his shit up in a slick back. “Bro for one you never even told me his name I wouldn’t have known, and for two, he doesn’t even know you that’s some weird shit. Baby I understand you like him and I’m sorry if you feel a way but I didn’t know it was him if I did, you know I wouldn’t even look at him.”

You motioned to an awkward boy who stood in the middle of the crime scene and then tried to hold her hand, but you were met with a tug. “Alright then bitch, you really doin this over dick you never touched? I’m out.” Your silk press swung as you pushed past her, before you left you kissed Eren and told him that you would get his insta from your friend Onyankopon, and angrily walked to your car to drive yourself home.

The next morning you woke up to hundreds of instagram notifications, bonnet still on and lips dry as fuck, you called your homeboy Ony and asked him for Eren’s insta, and to stay for emotional support while you went to go and check the remnants of your social life.

You went through your stories and didn’t see her, she wasn’t on your friends list either, come to find out, the bitch blocked you..Thank god for alt accounts. You went on your spam and seen she blocked you too, so you went into your third account, the one that often took up dust in your phone, and seen every embarrassing picture she took of you on her story. You couldn’t take her petty behavior seriously and posted her old sex tape with her homegirl’s boyfriend, and tagged her ass.

Of course you were hurt by her weird ass behavior, and you did cry a little but life goes on, n, you had a new relationship to worry about, and another bitch to shit on.

bruh i was tryna add the link for this pic but it wouldn’t work🙄 this is the whole fit, from the hair to the mfkin phone case!!

Hi my baby boo boo bears I missed you guys so bad like so freaking bad this shit is horrible, but it’ll do. I need some ideas for shit to write so imma open my requests!!!~ 𝓁ℯ𝓁ℯ <3

[thefallennightmare]

Matty brain rot has been real so please enjoy this little smutty blurb.

Best Friend!Matt x Reader

NSFW BELOW THE CUT. 18+

The pounding nosies of the drums brought a sense of calm throughout you as you internally danced to the song Matt had been playing. While Kooter had already finished setting up Folio’s drums, Matt wanted to run through a song just to make sure it sounded fine.

Everyone knew it was mostly because Matt secretly missed drumming.

Adjusting the strap of the camera on your shoulder, you smoothed out your sundress as you let the hot Arizona heat blast against your bare shoulders and watched your best friend slam the sticks against the drums.

Wonder what that would feel like.

Shaking those thoughts about your best friend out of your head, knowing he didn’t feel the same, you watched with a smile on your face as you picked up on the familiar beats of your favorite Bloodline song.

Same Stories.

But what really made you break out in a smile is when you saw Matt trying so hard to keep his long locks of hair out of his face, ultimately falling. Since your camera bag was on the stage next to you, you rummaged through it to pull out a hair brush and a hair tie.

You were always prepared.

Your shoes smacked against the stage as you walked up the mini stage towards the drums where Matt let out a frustrated groan, dropping the sticks so he could run a ran through his hair yet again.

“I can’t believe I forgot my hat,” he muttered.

“You could just cut your hair,” you teasingly shrugged which earned you an ice cold flare from him.

You held up both hands, still holding the hair tie and brush. “It was a joke, Matthew. No need to go feral on me.”

Please do.

His eyes softened as they grazed over every inch of my body and suddenly I wasn’t warm from the sun any longer.

“What’s that?” He pointed a drum stick towards my hands.

“Don’t mind me, I’m going to fix your hair for you. It’s way to hot to leave it down, even with a hat,” you replied while maneuvering yourself behind him.

Matt had been wearing a cut off shirt, his muscles glistening with sweat and you bit your lip at the sight of him. You’d had feelings for him for a long as you could remember but always kept it to yourself after over hearing a conversation of him and Noah where Matt admitted six words that made your heart sink.

“I don’t do relationships. Never will.”

And it was true. You’d been around Matt and the Bad Omens crew for the last two years and never seen Matt in one single relationship. Not even a fling.

But the two of you were incredibly close, the best of friends and he proved it more than once he cared and loved you. Just not in that way. So you swallowed the way you felt in order to keep your best friend.

“You don’t have to always take care of me, you know?” Matt’s question pulled you out of your thoughts and you merely hummed, running the brush through his long golden locks.

“If I don’t then who will?” You retorted back with a wink as you peered your head around to face him.

His dark eyes traced your tongue as it darted out to wet your lips. Then followed a single bead of sweat as it trailed down between the valley of your breasts that were peaking out over the top of your dress.

Behind him once again, you finished brushing his hair and let the comb fall to the floor as you gathered all of it in a low bun.

“Please don’t braid it,” he pleaded while kicking his feet slowly on the pedals of the drums.

You snorted after finishing tying all of his hair out of his face and walked to the side of him. “I think you would look really cute in braids, Matthew.”

Something flashed in his eyes as his hands shot out to grab your hips, pulling you into his lap as he still sat on the stool. Your giggles echoed into the blue sky as his fingers gently tickled your sides.

“You think so huh, baby? I’d look cute?” He teased with a low voice.

You sucked in a breath at not only hearing his pet name for you but also what you felt brush against your semi wet core.

Matt’s cock was hard underneath his sweat shorts making you bit your lip as he raised his hips up against you when he noticed how much it turned you on.

“Oh, what this? Did you forget how to speak?” Matt grazed his lips gently over your collar bone.

This wasn’t anything new, you two teasing each other like this. But what was new was how hard you felt his cock pushing against your pussy. The thin material of your panties doing nothing to stop you from staining his grey shorts with your arousal.

“I-I,” you panted, him practically forcing you to jump him while on the drum set.

“You’re so cock drunk and I haven’t even slipped it inside of you, baby girl.” Matt bit down on your neck, causing you to cry out.

Thankfully everyone was in the back hang out area of the outdoor venue and couldn’t see you nearly falling apart.

His fingers lifted up the end of your dress so your ass was exposed to the sun, him kneeding the sensitive flesh.

“I’ve been dreaming of fucking you against a drum set,” Matt admitted while leaving a deep red mark against your neck.

Your pussy was on fire now so close to falling over that edge of bliss and you dug your nails into the exposed flesh of his arms, Matt still forcing your hips back and forth against him.

“What-what happened to you not doing relationships?” You breathed your question, so close to your release.

He wrapped your pony tail around his hand to yank your head back, exposing more of your neck to him.

“That’s for everyone else. For you, baby. I’m all yours.”

Your heart leaped into your throat at his admission and you let out a silent scream of agreement as your body exploded with pure euphoria.

[gghalcyon]

König gives you precisely what you want. Rough. Crazed. And everything in between. Until you are screaming his name.

Title: Love Me Rough | Relationship: König x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit | Words: Part 1/1 (600 Words)

Hot breath tickles your ear as König's voice gasps, "I crave you." Your entire body melts into his embrace as the heat of his skin sears through you. You can feel every muscle, every tendon, as he holds you against him. There is a hunger in his eyes that mirrors your own. This isn't going to be a gentle union. You won't go slow or romantic. No chivalry here. This will be rough and hard; you both know what you're after.

You gaze into König's eyes; they are smoldering with desire, and your heart races in anticipation as you open your mouth to speak. "Fuck me," you breathe.

He doesn't need to be told twice; his lips are on yours before the words can even escape your throat. His hands move urgently over your body, leaving trails of electricity everywhere that he touches you. His grip is solid and firm, but it sends a thrill through you every time he brushes against your skin.

You tumble backward onto the floor, clothes forgotten on the way, your passion taking you further and further until you finally reach the bed.

Your skin is searing wherever his large, muscled form and rough hands touch you, and you feel yourself shudder with pleasure beneath him.

His breath is hot against your neck as he whispers, "I'll do anything for you." Then his lips crash back down onto yours as if to punctuate his declaration of devotion. His tongue touches yours, only making you wetter for him, yearning for him and wanting him so badly that you feel a craze take over you.

You need him inside of you, and you let him know as you stop his fingers from where they are at your slick and wet folds and over your sensitive bud he caresses with his thumb, making you wild.

"Take me, König. Please, take me now." You beg. Spreading your legs wide for him, grabbing his throbbing cock in your hand and positioning him in your warm entrance.

He does not hesitate. His lips are back on yours as he enters your body with one deep and powerful thrust. He moves inside you with an intensity you've never experienced before – like he wants to consume you completely - murmuring against your mouth amid heated, wet kisses, "I'm going to fuck you so hard until you're screaming my name."

The sensations of pleasure and pain radiate through you as König sets a punishing pace that leaves you breathless and panting for more. Your walls pulse around him, striving to pull him deeper, squeezing him tightly as if you want to keep him within you forever.

König's thrusts are relentless, powerful and passionate. With each one you soar higher until you're screaming his name in ecstasy.

He grabs onto your hips firmly, pushing himself deeper and deeper into you until you feel like a single being, with an unbreakable connection between the two of you.

Your orgasm comes faster than ever before and your breaths become ragged as the pleasure surges through every inch of your body. With one final plunge, König releases too, collapsing on top of you with blissful exhaustion.

You lie still for what feels like forever as you both struggle to catch your breath. When suddenly, König pulls away slightly so that your faces are mere inches apart and whispers against your lips, "I'm most alive when I'm with you."

Read More Stories @ Fanfiction Master List or G.G. Halcyon's AO3.