#and swimming should make me very tired

[zipquips]

my sleep schedule is at peak fucked up so i think my entire goal for today is just to tire myself out, take a melatonin, and zonk out at an appropriate hour

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Just applied for a summer childcare position (like for a camp type thing) that pays 20–28 dollars an hour based on qualifications (I should be towards the end of that scale because I work in a school; and the only requirement the job lists is to be 16 and have experience with children). So hopefully they’ll consider me. That would be wonderful.

[lumibuns-blog]

Can’t stop thinking about how much Simon “Ghost” Riley loves his American girlfriend.

Unlike the other 141 boys he wouldn’t poke fun at you or tease you about the different words you use. Kyle loves to correct you,

“Whens the soccer game on tonight?”

“Its football love, not soccer, ‘cause you kick the ball.”

“You kick the ball in American football as well.”

“Yeah but...ours is better”

Johnny’s a tease

“Have you seen my swimming suit?”

“You wear a suit to go swimming?”

“I’m not calling it a costume”

“Well it sure as hell isn’t a bloody suit”

Even Price gets in on it by pretending not to hear you,

“Can you grab some chips from the kitchen?”

“Hm? Sorry dear can’t hear ya’”

“Grab me some chips!”

“Gunna’ have'ta repeat that”

“....crisps”

“There ya’ go, really outta speak up more sweetheart”

Never mind the fact he was right beside you on the couch.

But Simon, Simon is different. Never once has he corrected or teased you, to the point where its become a bit of a hindrance.

“Can you stop by the gas station on your way home?”

And he’ll just stare at you, an almost blank expression on his face, only the fidgeting of his fingers give way to what he’s thinking.

“The petrol shop Si’”

“Right.” 

Is it because he doesn’t care? Or maybe he’s too frightened he’ll scare you away if he corrects you? Whatever it is he’ll never say, but one thing is for certain, he’s absolutely elated when you start to pick up the British dialect.

You tell people your boyfriend is a leftenant instead of a luitenant and he’s looking at you like you hung the very stars in the sky.

Ask for a “wife beater” while pointing at the bottles of Stella Artois in his fridge and he swears his heart just skipped a beat (despite the crude connotations of the nickname)

Ask him to pick up ‘Maccies for you bolth on the way home and he almost causes a 20 car pileup because he has to hide his burning face.

Tell him you like the black jumper he’s wearing and theres three more in the online cart already.

And when you start swearing like a “proper brit” he’s ready to get down on one knee. He hears you mutter “bloody hell” from across the flat as you listen to news report an expected  10cm of rain for today and for the first time in his life he’s thanking god Manchester is such a dreary place.

You’ve become part of his life, he hadn’t scared you off, you hadn’t gotten tired of him. You wanted to be here, you wanted him. You’ve been here long enough to pick it up, you’ve spent enough time together even your words are beginning to match each other, and theres nothing in the world that could make him happier. So he’ll never once correct you or tease you when you ask to go on a vacation even if he’s blindly nodding along to your requests and scurrying off to the bathroom later to look it up and figure out you wanted to go on holiday with him. Cursing under his breath while he fishes his phone from the sink because he dropped it in his shock at the revelation you wanted to go on holiday with him. Give him two days and he’s already bought the tickets

Sorry for the lack of posting! Schools been getting busy and I'm working on getting a draft of a book ready to send to a publisher so it's been a bit hectic but I absolutely love posting for you guys here on tumblr (srsly all your comments make my day) so I'm going to try and keep posting as regularly as I can! working on a longer chapter for my Ghost and Soap's roomie series rn so that should be out somewhat soon! thank you all so so much for your support.

[okwonyo]

SWEPT ME OFF MY FEET ── them lifting you up。

INTRODUC𝓲NG 𖥔 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f .. r 11OO fluff established relationship 、 kissing skinship use of profanity

ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK

HEESEUNG ｡｡ is very strong. so, of course, when you would tell him that you always loved that scene from ‘dirty dancing’ when the man lifts the woman all the way up (despite not watching the movie), and he tells you that you both can recreate it: you accept.

“are you sure you can catch me?” you would yell at him from afar, making sure he hears you. you get yourself ready to sprint towards him before receiving having an answer.

stretching his arms in your direction, he would reply, “just go for it and you’ll see,” then, you would run to him in full speed. his hands would hold your waist firmly when you get close to him and he would lift you up when you jump.

you would be held in the air for a while before falling directly in his arms. would catch you quickly before you can fall on the floor, thank god.

JAY ｡｡ after a party or a dinner, would make you sit down next to him as he takes off your heels for you after you would tell him that your feet hurt. “has it been hurting for a long time, baby?” he would ask after he would finish, his hand resting on your thigh now.

you would put your forehead on his shoulder, hiding your face while letting a hum that confirms his theory— he saw right through you. would sigh, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you should have told me sooner.”

he would gently nudge you away before getting up. then, would take your heels in one his hands and give them to you before offering you his hand for you to take and help you getting up.

without much of a warning, would slip his arm behind your knees and the other on your back. you would yelp when you feet wouldn’t touch the floor anymore, realizing you are being carried bridal style by your boyfriend.

JAKE ｡｡ “don’t you want to swim a little?” your boyfriend would ask you, eyes wide and shining— puppy like. his desire to go in the sea would be obvious.

after you would tell him over and over that he can go alone, would swear he doesn’t want to go without you. in fact, you do want to go swim as well, getting up, you would sigh; “the water seems cold,” because it’s your only worry.

taking your hands in his, would pull you closer and put your arms around his neck. would lower himself a bit to put his palms on your thighs, “jump,” then would catch you when you do— settling your legs around his waist.

little by little, would walk into the cold water, making sure your body gets used to it before going into it fully. might not let you down even after you tell him you are okay now.

SUNGHOON ｡｡ as the gym rat as he is, would spend most of his time without pushing heavy weights at the gym. would get extremely annoying — endearingly — when he is at your apartment instead of his, during his musculation session day.

you would find him doing russian twists in the middle of your living room two minutes after you woke up, and you would laugh before going to get ready for the day.

“you are not finished yet?” you would ask him, seeing him doing pushups when you come back. “i’m hungry, when are you going to finish?” you would question and a groan would leave your mouth when he would respond ‘in a while’.

so, you would try to make him stop by sitting on his back while he workouts. alas, he would barely budge. “you are the perfect weight,” he would say, a little bit breathless as he would push up. “i’ll use you for hip thrusts next.”

(excuse me, what?)

SUNOO ｡｡ with his arms wide open and a huge smile spread all over his face, would wait for his beautiful girlfriend— which happens to be you— to get off of work.

he would start to get a tad bit worried as he watches several people passing by and leaving your workplace, but not catching even the smallest glimpse of you.

his arms would start to get a little bit tired when he finally hears your voice, calling out for him on top of the stairs right in front of the front door. and would stumble a bit when you jump in his arms from the third to last stair.

would hug you tight, placing a hand on the back of your head and closing his eyes while the scent of your shampoo fills his nose. for sure would not let you down until you reach the car.

JUNGWON ｡｡ being chased and bothered with him as your boyfriend would not be a foreign concept to you. especially to get your attention; pinching you, poking your waist, and the worst tickling you.

this time, he would opt for the three successively. first, would come next to you as you do the dishes, pinching your arms as he asks for some attention. secondly, would poke, not only your waist, but your cheeks too, when you don’t give him a glance. thirdly, would start tickling you right when you finish your chore.

unfortunately for him, would not have the time to do much before you push him away and start running in the apartment, “leave me alone!” you would scream as if you were chased by a monster in the streets— your boyfriend would do everything but that.

when you get in the hall and struggle opening the room’s door, because of the fact you ran and you would be laughing, would sprint to you then lower himself to hug your legs. lifting you up like a bag full of potatoes when he gets up. and, when he would let you fall on the bed, there is no chance for you to escape.

RIKI ｡｡ in the wake of laughing for a good minute after watching you trip on over your feet and fall in the middle of an almost empty street, would genuinely start to worry for you.

“everything happened so fast, i couldn’t catch you, i’m sorry,” he would tell you while helping you get up. “did you break anything?”

with flushed cheeks, because of the fact you laughed too much (he wouldn’t laugh if you didn’t, he is not lame), you would tell him that you are perfectly fine. would squint his eyes, not so sure about that.

kneeling in front of you, and offering you his back, your lover would tell you to hop on. there would be no way for you to refuse— therefore, you will find yourself being piggybacked for the rest of the day.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open ！

(..◜ᴗ◝..) lethal layout, i can’t lie ... thank you for reading, mwah 💕

[hiiikiko]

𝕒𝕢𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕦𝕞 𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧

ellie w x reader | headcanons

tlou masterlist

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 ·｡

˖°𓇼 ellie loves museums, planetariums, zoos, so when you suggest that the two of you should go to a new aquarium, she’s ecstatic

˖°𓇼 you both don’t want to go when there’s too many people, so you wait awhile for people to get tired of the new attraction which gives ellie plenty of time to brush up on her aquatic knowledge

˖°𓇼 you don’t even bother to book a tour because you know that ellie will be acting as your very own tour guide

˖°𓇼 ellie is so excited when she’s getting ready, she even wears a shirt with a shark on it and a blue flannel

˖°𓇼 when you arrive, she practically pushes her way through the crowd, dragging you along

˖°𓇼 as soon as you step inside, she’s bombarding you with fun facts and cockily telling you the diet of every single thing that swims by

˖°𓇼 (at one point she gets into an argument with a nearby tour guide because they said that sharks are very dangerous animals who’s only instinct is to kill so, naturally, ellie just HAS to defend their honour)

˖°𓇼 she spends at least five minutes in each room, which you don’t mind because it’s cute seeing her this excited about something that isn’t comic books or stars

˖°𓇼 when you get to the jelly fish exhibit and you get all excited, going up to the glass, ellie can help but stare at you, the way the changing lights make you look like a mermaid

˖°𓇼 she pulls you into a deep kiss, it’s such a beautiful moment, the jellyfish creating a calm and almost angelic environment and the way ellie’s hands grip your waist, you love it

˖°𓇼 the two of you reach the end of the tour and decide to go to a gift shop before leaving

˖°𓇼 ellie can’t decide what to get so she ends up getting a few things: a sweater with a shark on it, a otter stuffed animal, and she buys the two of you matching jellyfish keychains ♡

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 ·｡

[a/n] if yall want you can dm me/send asks abt what other dates you would want me to write! (also tysm for all the likes on my other posts!!)

[bunnys-kisses]

carnations

toto wolff

cw: smut/pwp, romantic, babies & kids, wife!reader, age gap (20s/50s), gentle sex, missionary, pregnancy, body worship

this bunny eats comments & reblogs! feed the rabbit!

tulips (max verstappen) - roses (charles leclerc) (nov. 3) - sunflowers (lando norris) (nov. 3)

exhaustion was normal after having a baby, babies were fussy little creatures who were learning every day about the big wide world. you understood, but that didn't mean that you weren't tired.

thankfully for the off season, you had your husband at home most nights and he was more than happy to look after your son, tano. he felt like he missed enough after only being with you for a week after you had him. toto felt like he needed to make up for lost time.

you woke up to the sound of the baby monitor going off, your son getting fussy in the early hours. he had been up a few hours earlier, but before you could even raise your head from the pillow you felt toto's hand on you.

"i've got it." he said softly before you put head back down on the pillow.

being in bed felt wrong knowing that toto was up with your son. you knew he was capable of taking care of him, but you didn't want to feel useless. so, you got yourself up and headed towards the kitchen. and the sight of your husband almost made your throat grow dry. he was standing there, with tano in the crook of his arm while he got used warm water to heat up the breast milk that was in the fridge in a bottle.

"Ich weiß, ich weiß. Du wirst bald essen." he said softly, your son was getting impatient with no being able to eat asap. toto looked down at tano and then to the bottle under the water.

you could see your husband's strong back with his sweatpants low on his hips. he was much older than you, but he was doting. he was a caring man who made sure that his wife and son had everything they needed. that meant getting up in the wee hours to take care of tano. you were his family and he loved you both dearly.

it also didn't hurt that he looked very handsome. even now with greying hair, he was perfect. it made something swim in your gut, the same lingering feeling that got you pregnant. your husband was very handsome.

you leaned up against the door way with your arms crossed. you yawned loudly which got your husband's attention. he looked over and gestured quietly for you to come closer. you helped him by finishing up warming the bottle before handing it to toto to feed your son. at the dining table near the kitchen, toto fed tano gently. you yawned into your fist.

"you should go back to bed, my love. i can handle it."

you shook your head, "no, no. we spent too much apart. the bedroom feels like miles away." you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

toto shifted himself on the wooden chair and carefully watched his son. tano was a lot like toto already. even at a little over seven months old. you could see it when the baby scrunched his little face and how clingy he was with you already. he was a real wolff already. matched with the dark hair of his father and his nose. it was cute.

"i love you." toto said.

"i love you too. even though your stupid tall genes made me carry a huge baby." you pointed a finger at him recalling your pregnancy with tano.

99th percentile and sympathy glances from the nurses when you went into labor. didn't help that tano was stubborn like his father too and i took longer than you hoped.

toto smiled as he took the bottle away from his son's lips, "and you did it so beautifully. look at our son."

you smiled at him. damn you, toto wolff, for making you feel something warm in your gut. to see him across from you with your son in his arms. shirtless with his chest hair on display. he held love in his eyes for you. your wild wolf.

"he looks a lot like you."

he smiled, "he has you smile, those knowing eyes. he always looks so curious. but, what he lacks in physical attributes from you. he will make up in personality. your kindness, your smarts, the beauty of your heart. i bet he will take in strays just like you."

you chuckled a little. you didn't know if he meant the two cats your brought home once or himself. regardless you blushed under his comments.

with tano eventually back in his crib, you got back into bed with toto. but something pooled in your gut under the exhaustion. your leg hooked over toto's middle and his face in your hands.

he smiled a little into the kiss before he pulled away and looked at you, "i think it's a little late for that, schatzi."

you shrugged, "it's been a while since we... ya know. with everything going on." you wrapped an arm around him. with formula one, tano, and everything else going on, you had little time to be intimate with your husband.

he kissed the apple of your cheek, your skin was warmed under his lips. he then started to pull at the shirt you wore to bed. he was greeted to the sight of your soft body. his breath was caught in his throat for a moment.

curves like aphrodite yet the strength of artemis to carry his son for nine months. you had a slight softness in your middle and it made him lick his lips. he had seen you naked since you had tano. but, to see it so close up. to feel your warmth on your skin.

you tried to cover up yourself with your hands but toto pinned your wrists to the bed over your head. his gaze was heated and it made you squirm. you said, "toto, don't stare."

he replied, "how can i not? not when i am looking at the most beautiful woman in the world."

"i still need to lose the baby weight."

he got closer to you, his chest against yours. his cock straining in his sweatpants. he then held your hips with both hands, "no, no. you look perfect like this." he then kissed you on the lips for a moment before he pulled away and got between your legs with his sweatpants kicked off to the end of the bed. his leaky cock stood at full attention.

"please, honey."

he rubbed his cock up against your achy slit. it had been so long since you two were intimate. while he worshiped your body at every moment during your pregnancy, it was nothing like feeling the closeness to your husband.

"you're beautiful." he said as he slipped his cock into you. so soft and perfect for him. it made a shiver run through his body as he took you by the hips and started to move against you.

"you're making me blush, toto."

"good, i want to have you blushing for the rest of my days. you always feel so nice when you have heat in your cheeks. you are the most beautiful woman i've ever laid eyes on. from the day we got married until now. and forever more." thrusting against you was euphoria for him.

he remembered your wedding day, he remembered how beautiful you looked for him. he felt like he didn't need to say any vows, it was plainly obvious that he wanted to marry you. his almost missed his cue to kiss you at the end because how entranced he was by you. he remembered when you gave birth to tano. and he did anything he could for you, even at the your grumpiest (which he understood). you had been everything for him. you had given him something he never thought he could have.

and as he palmed your breasts and kissed across your skin, he promised that he'd be the perfect husband for you. you deserve it. you and tano deserve the best toto wolff could offer. and sometimes that meant making gentle love to his beloved wife. his personal heaven.

you two kissed, pressed chest to chest now. your legs around his waist as you moved together. it felt good being with him. the pleasure was a throb in his chest and a cloud in your head.

you both needed to feel close to one another. to be in each other's embrace. after so long, to be next to your husband in such an intimate state felt so good. his kisses trailed across your skin.

his words were loose and with such affection. his phrases in german held the same affection as the ones in english. he tried to come up with every word he could think of to tell you that he loved you.

you kissed him once more and you met his pace. the two of you moved together on the bed. you held onto him, feeling the closeness to your beloved husband.

"i am lucky." he said, "most men would kill for the chance to be with you. you've only become more beautiful." he said which made you blush a little more.

you tried to look away but he pulled you with a searing kiss once more. there was an inferno in your gut. you were lucky to have him too, someone who treated you with such kindness and respect. who loved you very deeply.

"i love you."

"i love you too." he said as he cupped your face with a sweet devotion.

he continued to rut against you. you clenched your legs around his waist as he moved. his pace was gentle or at least more gentle than what you usually got involved with prior to pregnancy. you had firm memories of toto going to town on you in the back of his car. he groaned when you gripped onto his shoulders, your pretty short nails dug into his skin as you felt orgasm come over you.

you let out a pretty moan and your husband sealed it with a kiss as he lifted your hips a little higher to get at the best ankle. he kissed your lips tightly and gave it a few more heavy thrusts of his hips. his tip kissed the back of your pussy before he spilled his seed into you.

when the kiss was broken, he slowed to a still and panted heavily. he made a bit of a face and rubbed his hip. you gave a small chuckle and said, "old man." but then yelped when he gave your pussy and tender slap.

"i can still keep up with you, schatzi."

you raised an eyebrow as you continued to breathe heavily. you raked your nails down the hair on his chest. you asked curiously.

"then i'll find a million ways to keep that hungry cunt of yours busy." as he looked down at you. your husband may be the sweetest father, and a doting husband. but when it was you two alone in the bedroom, you remembered why you once called him the vienna stallion.

you were firmly reminded of it come morning, when toto's cum was plastered to your pussy lips.

-

a month later you got the ire of your doctor when you sat in her office and she looked at your blood work. you were only pregnant eight months ago, and now you were pregnant again.

"I suggest after this mrs. wolff that you go on a form of birth control." the doctor looked at your charts, "accidents this close together can cause problems long term. i suggest forms of family planning. having your husband working overseas most of the year doesn't seem to working." her words made you ears burn.

toto held tano in his arms and looked away to chuckle slightly, but it was cut off by the doctor's voice.

"either that or your husband should look into options as well. there's a clinic in the west end that'll happily give him a vasectomy." she said which made toto grimace.

you both looked a little ashamed. you were two for two in accidentally having children. most usually got more careful after the first, but now you were expecting another child right after tano. the baby squirmed a little bit in his father's arms and you felt embarrassed as your doctor talked about options for family planning after your second child. you were married! but, the heat still flooded your cheeks. you thought about the night with your husband. and what started out as a reintroduction to each other's bodies after months apart had become an expansion to your little family. <3

[astayinwonderland]

Hot Summer Night | Song Mingi

pairing: mingi x f.reader

summary: mingi tries to think of you as his very good friend, but he can't deny how he truly feels about you

word count: 1.5k

+18 Minors DNI

warnings: fingering (f. receiving), female orgasm, mingi and reader are in a pool, suggestive thoughts and talk -- lmk if I forgot anything

Song Mingi has his eyes on you. He can’t really understand what happened. You are his good friend, that he knows, but in this particular night he wishes you were something more. You were going to be late to the party, something about school came up and you had to tend to that before showing up. Classic you. Such a good student, so responsible, so honest, so…pure. 

It is a hot summer night, and your group of friends was invited to the pool party. The full moon is high in the sky, and the few guests are already drunk, eating, or very into that one rom-com San is making everyone watch. Mingi watches you say hello and slowly scans the room. Could you possibly be looking for him? He takes another sip of his drink, half of his body in the pool, perfect to cool off his steamy thoughts. 

The only person accompanying him is Yeosang, the voice of reason. He sits comfortably on a beach chair as he watches Mingi follow you with his eyes like a predator. You can’t see him but he can see you through the glass doors. 

“You should just tell her you know… how you feel…” Yeosang interrupts Mingi’s thoughts. 

“No, it’s not like that. She just looks different today.” 

“You do this every single time you have to admit you like her,” Yeosang chuckles. 

Mingi rolls his eyes, he hates that Yeosang is right. The first time Mingi realised he liked you was last year when you were stressed about your finals and he agreed to help you study. He stayed up with you all night and when you accidentally fell asleep writing notes, he stayed up and finished the notes for you. Minig’s heart swelled every time he looked at you peacefully asleep. How could he disturb your angelic being? 

After that, he tried to repress it as much as he could. You went out on a date? Mingi would provide encouraging words and wish you luck, however, he would secretly rejoice when things didn’t go as planned. What kind of friend does that? 

Your eyes meet with his and you smile. Mingi feels he has been caught, but now you’re making your way outside. You move the sliding doors and step into the backyard, wearing your bathing suit and a translucent robe over it. 

“Hey, Yeosang, is this man bothering you?” you joke. 

“Not at all,” Yeosang stands to hug you. 

Mingi is speechless. A million thoughts go through his brain and he can only smile at you awkwardly. 

“I'll leave the two of you alone… I bet you have lots to talk about.” Without looking back, Yeosang returns to the house, ensuring he has closed the blinds behind the glass door. 

“What did I miss?” you casually say, sitting at the pool edge while your legs enter the refreshing water. 

“Nothing. Yeosang is just messing around,” Mingi tries to put some distance between the two of you, but you just scoot further down to look at him. 

“Hey what’s up?” you tease, ruffling his hair. 

“Not much… How was school?” a sweet smile. He was trying so hard not to give in, so hard not to jump out of that pool and kiss you. 

“Ughhh… so tiring. I only gathered the energy to come because you told me you were here. I really need to relax,” you lean a little bit closer. “Tell me, big boy, does anything come to mind?” 

Mingi swallows hard. Is this really happening? 

“Uh… the pool is quite nice, actually,” he says, so you take your robe off and get in. 

The water feels amazing, it’s true, but Mingi’s flushed cheeks and shocked face are even more impressive. You swim around a little, enjoying the cool sensation of the water on your skin. The little hairs on your back stand when the wind hits you. Mingi watches you and before his cock can catch up with his thoughts, he decides to move and play along. The two of you make an unspoken deal and decide to race each other. Mingi is fast, you can barely keep up with him, but somehow you beat him.

“Two out of three? The loser has to do what the winner says,” you reply breathlessly. 

“Deal,” and so Mingi is back to himself. These are the interactions he is used to… friendly ones. 

And so he picks up his pace in this second round. His long arms and legs helped him move effortlessly. Water splashed here and there, leaving you significantly behind. You are too late to hit the other side of the pool. 

“Nice try,” he laughs. 

You simply nod, because you know that cockiness is about to get erased from his face. 

This time you inhale deeply. You make sure to focus when you take the impulse to swim, every muscle of your body giving all it has. You swim, fast and hard. As you bring your face out to get air you see Mingi had stopped swimming. You immediately stop. 

“Hey! You okay? Mingi?” 

“You win,” he says, his eyes searching for yours. 

“What? Why? Not yet.”

“You win…” he moves and walks slowly towards you. “What would you want me to do?” 

“Hug me?” 

Mingi goes straight to your hips and not only hugs you but lifts you with him. With the water creating resistance, he spins you around, bringing laughter into the scene. Vibrations of his deep laugh tickled your belly and to be honest, further down south of your body. When he is about to put you down you wrap your legs around him. 

“Is it okay if I do this?” 

His eyebrows raise, his cheeks turn a lovely pink shade and you can’t help but wonder how pretty he would look under you. 

“Yes…” he whispers. “Is it okay if I–” 

His lips hover over yours, almost touching. He needs you to say it or else he will never believe it. Blood already coursing so fiercely on his erection. 

“Kiss me.” 

Your lips meet. He kisses you softly, slowly, taking in every little whimper you let out when your tongues meet. Mingi feels the heavens are rewarding him for some great deed he accomplished in a past life. Your hands go to his hair and you pull him even closer to you, as if that were possible. You feel the urge to be consumed by him, to be his. You kiss him as if his lips were covered in honey. He is sweet, he is addictive. 

“Mmmm… wanna make you feel good,” he murmurs against your mouth. 

“Please do…” 

Mingi knows what his priorities are, and that is your pleasure over his own. 

He puts you back in the pool and corners you, shielding your whole body in his in case someone decides to come out through the glass doors. 

His hands palm your throbbing cunt, only the thin layer of your swimsuit forbids direct contact. You kiss him, but this time it’s different. This time, you are hungry for him, for his touch, for his lips, for his deep voice telling you he wants you. Mingi pushes the fabric covering your wanting pussy, rubbing his fingers up and down your slit. The cold water makes you shiver as you continue kissing him, moaning for him. Your lips reach his neck, and you bite. Hard enough to leave a red mark. 

“Shit… I didn’t know this side of you,” and one of his fingers enters you. His thumb circles your clit as the cold water mixes with the sensation of his warm mouth once again on yours. Your hands now make their way to your breasts, playing with them. Nipples already hard from your arousal, you pinch them as Mingi adds a second finger into you. The pressure of the water heightens the sensation of ascending to the highest levels of pleasure you’ve ever known. With a flick of his wrist, he manages to angle his finger higher up your soaking cunt. 

“Aaaahhh… ffff-ffffuuuck,” and you try to keep quiet by biting your bottom lip but it’s too late. 

Broken moans leave your precious lips as Mingi kisses them and bites them. He tries to swallow every single moan until your body starts to tremble and your pussy clenches his fingers. 

“Cum… cum,” he whispers. 

And with one last thrust of his fingers, the knot in your stomach snaps, making your head lighter than air and your legs weak. 

“Fuck.. Mingi,” is all you can say, and he catches you before you slip completely onto the water. 

Mingi holds you with a smile on his face until your breathing comes back to normal. 

“I’m that good, huh?” 

“Shut up,” you smile. “I want to return the favour…” 

“Hey! Are you two done? You better clean up that pool!” Wooyoung yells, his face barely peaking through the glass door. 

You laugh embarrassed, hiding your face on Mingi’s chest. 

“We’ll be out in a second!” Mingi yells back. 

He cups your face in his hands and kisses your forehead. 

“How about we continue the party at my place?”

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

a/n: This is pure ✨fiction✨

I uploaded this like a year ago and then it was taken down... idk. I hope you enjoy this. It is always fun to write about Mingi. Comment or dm me if you want to be included in the Ateez taglist.

Masterlist

Ateez taglist: cursedeastern

[luveline]

could i request teacher!reader with hotch? like maybe she’s jacks teacher

thank you for your request! fem!reader, 1.2k

You're a teacher: you're always tired. Overworked, underpaid, everybody knows how it goes. And maybe you've let yourself go because you don't have any real material hopes for the future beyond getting Macy Danish to read at a first grade level, but how were you supposed to know that Jack Hotchner's father would be so overwhelmingly attractive? It's not fair. 

He's handsome though older than you'd been expecting, but that isn't the cut and dry of it. When he comes in, it's alone, in a well-fitted suit. He's tall and remarkably dark-eyed, shaking your hand without trying to impose any authority, as some of the fathers tend to do, and when you call him Mr. Hotchner, he says, "Aaron, please," but continues to call you Ms. L/N.

"Aaron," you say, pulling your skirt under your thighs as you sit down. You're dressed in nice clothes for the parent-teacher conferences, but you could've covered your sleeplessness better. "Jack is the nicest boy in class. He's actually my loveliest kid. Um…" You search through your notes for the preliminary assessment of Jack. "Sorry, two seconds." 

"Take your time. I know what it's like to dig through a mountain of paperwork every day." 

"Jack mentioned you work in the government, he calls you a special agent," you say, smiling. "You get the bad guys." 

"I am a special agent. Supervisory." Aaron is conscientious enough to pretend he doesn't notice your surprise. "I'm chief of the behavioural analysis unit." 

You can't even begin to guess what that entails. "Oh," you say breathlessly. 

"I understand that it sounds fantastical." 

"It sounds impressive," you say, floundering to correct yourself. Behavioural analysis? It must be obvious to him how nervous he's making you, then, and when you realise that, you get worse. "I'm so sorry about this. I should be more organised. I usually am." 

"That's alright. Take your time." 

Does he always speak that way? His voice is like fucking silk? Is he messing with you?

You yank the notes you made for Jack from the pile and flatten them across the desk. "Okay, sorry. Like I was saying, Jack is really the nicest kid, him and his friend Molly. They're both lovely, and teachers shouldn't have favourites, please don't tell the other parents, but they're my favourites." You smile at him quickly and return your eyes to the paper. The words swim in front of your eyes. "Jack can read better than you could ever hope for a first grader, he's immensely intelligent for his age group. He's patient. He'll explain anything to anyone if they ask him too, and he does it well." 

"I'm glad to hear that," he says, again so softly. 

You pick up one of your skinny biros to have something to fidget with. He's a very good looking man, but you're a good teacher. You can focus on what to say. Some parents need good things only. Some need reassurement that they're doing a good job. Aaron is harder to read, but you know what he needs, too. 

"He can be lonely," you say, looking him in the eye. "I don't think that that's down to any fault. I'm sure you know better than I do why he might feel that way." You know about his mom's passing over a year ago. You've seen grief in children too many times. "He… I understand if this isn't okay with you, but he eats lunch with me sometimes. I encourage him to sit with his peers, of course, but I think he runs out of energy pretty quickly." 

Aaron nods thoughtfully. His brows quirk into a furrow that you're afraid is directed at you. 

"I don't think he necessarily has trouble connecting with his friends." 

"What do you think?" 

"I think something awful happened to your family, and Jack will feel it for the rest of his life, but that it won't stop him from being great. It already isn't. And… he clearly has a father who loves him and who he admires. You're his second favourite topic." 

"What's his first?" he asks. 

"He's really into Fruity Fridays," you say with a laugh. "I bring in fruits you don't get often in America. Someone would've had to sign a form." 

"No, I remember signing it. He likes that?" His smile is golden. "I can't get him to try new things." 

"He had all the leftover gold kiwi last week." You rub your lips together. Time is ticking. You have nearly thirty parents to see tonight, but talking to Mr. Hotchner has been so normal. He's a regular person in a sea of inattentive helicopter narcissists. It's a relief and a half to meet him and know a kid as gentle as Jack is in good hands. "Mr. Hotchner, I have to tell you, I'm really relieved to meet you." 

"Aaron," he corrects.

Your tone drops too low. "Aaron." 

"I'm more than relieved," he says. "I knew that this year would be harder for him. I didn't know… I'm grateful to you, for being so kind with him." 

You look down at your notes, flushed from head to toe despite your airy skirt. Crossing your legs, you shake your head. "It's my job." 

"To let him take up the only break you get all day?" he asks. 

"It's not like that. Jack doesn't bother me." You fold your notes in half. "I can see his role model measures up." 

"I could say the same thing." 

The next time you see Jack, bright and early Monday mooring shepherded by his aunt Jessica, he's very happy to see you. You offer him a hug and pat his back when he wraps his arms around your hips. "Hello, Jack. Was your dad pleased with your drawings?"

Jack smiles at you. "I have a note for you." 

"You do? Can I see? Where is it, honey?" 

Jack takes off his backpack and pulls out the note and a tupperware container. "Oh, wow, did you make treats for the class? Jack, that's so nice!" 

"No. Dad said those are for you. He said you should have nice for nice, or something," Jack informs you. 

"You'll share with me, though? I can't eat them all by myself," you whisper. 

He nods with enthusiasm and runs off to put his backpack in his cubby and his coat on the hook. You look down at the cookies and note, which is actually an envelope. 

You open it with your thumbnail. The writing is Aaron's usual tight cursive.

Dear Miss L/N, 

I hoped to thank you again in person, but work makes that hard. I appreciate everything you do for Jack. There are teachers who work, and there are teachers who go above and beyond. I can feel confident anywhere in the country knowing Jack is being taught by the latter. 

Gratefully yours, 

Aaron Hotchner. 

P.S. Please don't feed Jack too many cookies. They're not for him. 

You keep the letter even if it's lame to do so. When is the next parent teacher conference, anyways?

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part six | r.c

summary:

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you.”

The tone in Rafe’s voice made you pause and you felt your stomach drop. This was it. Rafe found out about your feelings for him and he was about to tell you how he didn’t feel the same.

“Rafe-”

“Can you let me say what I want to say first?”

OR; Your parents are gone for the weekend and you have the house to yourself. Mostly.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: none, I think

word count: 3k

author's note: wait.... this is kinda crazy, but don't hate me for this please. Also i'm genuinely so tired rn, falling asleep as i type this... happy reading!!! <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. six: "you'll be flushed when you return"

You were sitting at the bottom of the stairs at your house, watching your parents pack the last of their things into their bags. They were headed to Charleston over the weekend, running the last errands before the Spring Fling the following week.

“Do you have your wallet and phone?” your mother asked your father as she closed the flap of her purse, checking her reflection in the mirror.

“Yes dear.”

Your father tossed his laptop into his bag, zipping it up before straightening his back, glancing over to you.

“Are you sure you don’t want Kelly to come over the weekend? It’s still not too late to call her in.”

“I’m good, dad,” you assured him. “Kelly should take the weekend off, it’s such a waste to have her for the whole weekend just incase I want a home cooked meal. I’ll probably just go out to eat.”

“Okay then,” your father said with a nod. “We’ll probably be back Sunday night, behave yourself.”

“Bye honey!” your mother called over her shoulder, exiting the house. Your father was hot on her heels, but just before he closed the door, he paused, turning back to you.

“And don’t you dare throw a party while we’re gone,” your father said, wagging a finger for good measure because apparently you were a child in the 80s being scolded by your parents. You resisted an eye roll, because they still had enough time to make you to come along on the trip, so you only nodded, like a good daughter.

“I won’t dad, don’t worry,” you sighed, leaning your chin on your hand. “I’m just going to hang out with my friends.”

Your father gave a curt nod, bidding you goodbye before he left, shutting the front door behind him. Shortly after you could hear the engine from their car start, before the sound of the engine slowly quietened down as it left the estate.

“Finally,” you sighed to yourself, padding back upstairs feeling like your stress had just left with your parents. It was a sunny day out and you wanted to use that time to get some tanning done. As you fished a bikini out of your drawer, you had half a mind to text your friends to come over, hang out by the pool. But that meant facing Rafe.

Ever since the nightly swim during the boneyard party, the ache in your chest that you felt whenever Rafe was around had started to feel more present, as opposed to dull. But you had promised yourself (and Rafe) that this wouldn’t get between your friendship. Tugging the bikini top over your chest, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, unhappy with yourself.

“Fuck it,” you muttered to yourself. Grabbing your sunglasses, some sunblock and your phone, you headed back downstairs, sending a text into your groupchat.

precious [04/05/24: 2:37 pm]: i’m out by the pool if anyone’s down to join

precious [04/05/24: 2:37 pm]: bring food tho

Sliding the door closed behind you as you stepped out to the patio, you headed for your designated sun chair, dropping your stuff on the small side table. You planted your ass on the chair, slathered the sun block on your body, because you very much did not want to look like the hamburgers Topper tried to grill and as you spread the sun block on your arms, your phone buzzed.

top [04/05/24: 2:40 pm]: stuck at the court house with my mom rn, i’ll text when i’m otw

kelce [04/05/24: 2:41 pm]: i’ll be over later

No reply from Rafe, though.

With an eyeroll, you turned your phone, screen side down and made yourself comfortable on the chair, feeling your skin warm up from the sunrays. You heard your phone buzz again, but you were too lazy to reach for it, shutting your eyes, a comfortable silence settling over your patio. Before you knew it, you dozed off, limbs growing tired in the sun.

“Hey precious…. You really invite people over to hang out just to be asleep when I get here?”

….

“Precious.”

You let out a small noise, squeezing your eye shut, a frown on your forehead. The voice quietened, and you nearly slipped back into your slumber, when you felt fingertips dancing on your exposed stomach. The touch was featherlight, but it broke through your unconsciousness, your eyes fluttering open.

Rafe was perched on the edge of the sun chair, his palm resting on your hip. His mouth was curled in a smirk and you were already annoyed with him.

“I was having such a good nap,” you huffed, rolling your shoulders a little, before you arched your back, waking yourself up a little.

“You’re not being a very good host,” Rafe replied, all the while his eyes not leaving your chest, which admittedly, was your goal.

“You haven’t been a guest at my house since you were 14.”

Leaning on your elbows, you sat up to look at him, unimpressed.

“Where are the others?”

“Told them not to come,” Rafe said, his thumb tracing circles into your skin, but you only narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you.”

The tone in Rafe’s voice made you pause and you felt your stomach drop. This was it. Rafe found out about your feelings for him and he was about to tell you how he didn’t feel the same.

“Rafe-”

“Can you let me say what I want to say first?”

You exhaled deeply, sighing, and buried yourself deeper in the sun chair. Rafe watched you intently for a second, removing his hand off your waist to run it through his hair.

“When I suggested we do this casual sex thing, I was mostly doing it out of comfort. I hated hooking up with those random girls who were always so insanely clingy after, and you were right there: my best friend, who’s also kinda crazy hot and understands me without having to say a single word.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you turned away to hide the flush on your cheeks, but Rafe stopped you, turning your chin to face him again.

“Will you look at me while I’m talking to you?”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, and nearly died at his undivided attention on you. After making sure, that you weren’t going to turn away again, Rafe dropped his hand, carefully reaching for yours.

“The past few days I have been struggling, feeling restless, and I couldn’t tell why, until I realized….” Rafe paused, taking a deep breath. “I love you, precious.”

Your eyes widened at the confession, your mouth agape. “I…. What?”

“I know this sounds insane and I really really hope you feel the same way, because otherwise this is gonna get real awkward,” Rafe chuckled dryly, and you shook your head quickly.

“Rafe,” you started. “You know I’m in love with you, right?”

“You are?”

“Yes!”

Rafe beamed at you, pulling you in closely, and the weight on your shoulders disappeared when your lips touched his. Even though you have kissed so many times, this kiss felt… Different. He pulled away, hand gently caressing your cheek and you sighed softly, thinking of how to break this to Kelce and Topper.

“What are you thinking about?” Rafe asked, raising a brow at you. “Precious?”

Your eyes narrowed at the sudden increase of volume,, his voice his voice seeming so much louder than before. You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“Precious, hello?”

With a gasp, you startled awake, your heart racing when you saw Rafe standing over your sun chair, his brows furrowed over his sun glasses.

“What?” you breathed out, swallowing thickly, trying to calm yourself down.

“Shit, are you okay?”

Rafe pushed his sun glasses up, his forehead creased in concern and you nodded, taking a deep breath.

It was just a dream.

“Yeah, sorry, you just startled me,” you assured him, grasping at your chest. You could barely look at Rafe, the dream was still replaying in your head, it seemed so real. Rubbing your face with your hand, you swung your legs off the sun chair, peering up at Rafe, hand coming up to shield your eyes from the sun.

“When did you get here?”

“Not that long ago,” Rafe replied, eyeing you suspiciously. “You sure you alright?”

You rolled your eyes at him, shoving his bicep. “Yes, dad.”

Rafe smirked, and you knew exactly what he was going to say next.

“I think you meant-”

“I know what I meant, you perv.”

Your hand reached out to whack him, but his reflexes were faster, his fingers slipping around your wrist to stop you. With a quick tug, he pulled you towards him, sending you crashing against his chest. You glared up at him, but your cheeks were flushed. If he asked, you’d blame it on the sun.

“Why aren’t we hanging out at your pool more often?”

Rafe played with the small strings of your bikini bottoms on your waist, a smirk ever present on his lips.

“Because you always get bored hanging around doing nothing,” you reminded him. He clicked his tongue, his eyes zeroing in on the valley between your breasts.

“I wouldn’t be bored if you wore this bikini every time, fuck.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “God, have you always been this horny or is it just since we started fucking?”

Before Rafe could answer, a crash sounded from inside the house followed by some cursing. Your head turned towards the sound before you looked back to him.

“Top and Kelce are here already?”

“Yeah, we came together,” Rafe said, as if it was obvious, but you only let out a sigh, pushing away from him to head into the house. As you got into the kitchen, you saw Topper and Kelce tinkering around in the kitchen.

“Hey boys.”

“Precious, hey,” Kelce greeted you, shoving a bag of ice on the counter to give you a half hug.

“What are we making?”

“I was thinking frozen daiquiris,” Topper said, heaving the mixer on the counter with a grin, before smacking a kiss on your cheek. “Hey. We were starting to think Rafe got lost out there.”

“Oh no. He was too distracted by my boobs.”

Topper paused to glance over to you, his eyes quickly flying over your chest, before giving a brief nod.

“Understandable.”

“Yeah, I don’t even like boobs and yours look good in that bikini,” Kelce chimed in. Rafe only gave you a look that said I told you so as he rounded the kitchen island.

“And you’re calling me a perv,” Rafe miffed, emptying the bag of mangoes. Together, the four of you managed to make a big batch of frozen mango daiquiris, tossed together the salad the boys got from Whole Foods and prepped the steak for grilling in-between bickering.

Sipping on your drink, you carried out the salads out to the patio, while Topper got the grill going, with Rafe breathing down his neck, because he paid good money for the steaks and he wasn’t about to let Topper grill it to death. Kelce was setting the table when you put the salad bowl down, a beer bottle in his hand as he laid out the cutlery. You eyed him carefully, thinking back to his text.

“Hey, what were you doing before you came over?”

Kelce’s hand stilled over the fork, and he decidedly didn’t lift his head, staring at the napkins. “I was at the golf course.”

He was being cagey, and his answer didn’t really satisfy you, especially because you knew how he Kelce hated golf. Whenever Top and Rafe went golfing, you and Kelce either went for ice cream or to the beach or hung out in a golf caddy, making fun of Top and Rafe. Kelce would never willingly go on on the green.

“…. What were you doing at the golf course?”

Kelce hesitated before he answered, taking a deliberately took another long sip of his beer, and you narrowed your eyes at him before he finally gave in.

“Malcolm asked me if I wanted to play a few rounds of golf with him.”

Your mouth dropped open, half in shock, half in excitement. “Wait, really?”

Kelce nodded, his mouth curling up in a small grin.

“Yeah, Just the two of us.”

“Kels, that’s great,” you told him, pausing as you thought his words over. “Wait. Was this just you hanging out, or was it a date?”

“… He didn’t say date.”

You sighed and Kelce shook his head, frowning.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know this shit isn’t easy, for neither of us.”

“I know Kels,” you said, voice soft. “But I just don’t want you to get hurt again if Malcolm is scared of things getting real and throws himself at another girl.”

Kelce shrugged with his shoulders, like he didn’t really care, but you rounded the table to lean your head on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes and you were content to just stand there with him, watching as Rafe and Topper fought over the grill.

“What about you?” Kelce suddenly asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t heard anything about boys from you recently.”

Your eyes lingered on Rafe as he snatched the tongs out of Topper���s hand, and you bit back a smile. “Oh. No one’s caught my eye recently,” you lied and Kelce, sighed.

“You’re lucky, crushing on someone is so stressful. It is not what it used to be.”

If only he knew.

“Alright, steaks will be done in a few minutes!” Rafe called over from the grill and you nudged Kelce.

“Come on, let’s get the rest of the table settled.”

The four of you spent a rather chill day out at your pool. After a great steak dinner, with the steaks grilled to perfection (”I told you that it was the perfect time to take them off the grill Top, sometimes you just gotta listen to your gut.”) you got buzzed off of the frozen daiquiris and even went into the pool a few times. Before you knew it, the night broke in and it got too chilly, so you started clearing everything away, carrying the dirty dishes into the kitchen.

“Man, staying out in the sun all day really knocked me the fuck out,” Kelce said, yawning into his shoulder as he put the rest of the salad into the fridge.

“Yeah, we’re getting old,” Rafe agreed with him, and Topper side eyed him,

“Who’s we? You’re two years older than us.”

Rafe smacked Topper’s head upside down and you snickered to yourself as you dried off the mixer. Rafe moved to open the dishwasher, but you waved him off.

“Leave it, I can do it in the morning.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow at you. “You sure, precious?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“A’ight.”

Rafe yawned into his fist and the boys started to collect their things. You were taken aback, having expected Rafe to find an excuse to stay back, maybe even stay the night. You did have the whole house to yourself, and it seemed like he didn’t even care.

Tossing the dish towel on the counter, you walked the boys to the door, leaning against the door frame as you hugged them good bye.

“Alright, guys. See you tomorrow. Thanks for dinner.”

The boys waved, one by one getting into the car, and you crossed your arms as you stared at Rafe through the tinted window of Topper’s car as you stood on your front porch. As Topper’s car pulled off your grounds, you headed back inside with a sigh, shutting the door behind you.

You were tempted to go to sleep right away, but the amount of dishes in the kitchen was taunting you. In all honesty, you’d have appreciated a little help from the boys, you only turned down their offers because you thought that was what Rafe wanted you to say. On one hand, you really didn’t feel like cleaning up, on the other hand, you didn’t want Kelly to feel obligated to clean your shit up when she came back on Monday. So cleaning up it was. You put the dried off mixer away, and started rinsing the plates and cutlery. You cleared the last of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, yawning into your elbow. Kelce was right, the sun shining down on you really had made you super tired. You yearned for your bed and for some rest, and sleep was near as you put in the last plate into the dishwasher. Just as you were about to shut the dishwasher and start the program, the hairs on the nape of your neck rose when you heard the sliding door to the patio open in the otherwise quiet house.

Fuck.

Didn’t you lock the door?

Your heart was in your throat, and you grabbed the nearest weapon you could find - a rolling pin - as you snuck into the hallway. There was no way that someone broke into your house, right? It was just your imagination?

You half expected to see nothing as you rounded the corner, the noise just being a figment of your tired self, but you froze when you heard steps come towards you so when you stepped out from behind the wall, you swung the rolling pin as quick as possible, hoping to knock the intruder out before he could do any harm.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: wait omg my first actual cliffhanger in this series

[sant-riley]

Yeah but like what if one day Gaz walked into a room and saw Y/N FNAF lore dumping to Ghost

[Infodumping the boys]

(Mostly Platonic tf141 x gen neutral! reader, hints at Ghost bc it’s me and I’m biased.)

Summary: Teddy aka You, decide to gather the gang and tell them about five nights at Freddy’s before the movie comes out.

Word count: 800 ish

Warnings: Possibly of for the boys (idrc tho lmao), Teddy is this readers callsign, reader is implied to be at least early 20’s, I can’t think of anything else tbh but lmk if this does need something tagged!

It wasn't uncommon for you to infodump your teammates, they're all older than you and have significantly less screen time than you (it ties into being older). Most of the information you give them is something they take as fact, this is no different.

Gaz of all people knows your interests best, you two being the closest in age means you both realistically grew up with the internet and its most popular series.

The last thing he expected walking into one of the many meeting rooms on base, was you at the front of the room, your laptop hooked up to the projector and Price and Soap sitting down, dutifully listening with varying degrees of attention.

Price is to your left, staring down at mission documents that no doubt need to be turned in by tomorrow. A glass of some liquor next to his stack, a cigar box that's propped open right by it as well.

To anyone else, it would seem like Price isn't listening and he's just here to keep you from bothering him to come but Gaz can see the Captain's eye flick up every so often, his eyes softening when his gaze falls on yours, listening for a few beats, a miniscule upturn of his lips until he's looking back down again, grabbing a pen to make a correction.

Soap on the other hand is sitting next to Cap, a hand resting under his chin, the other flipping around a pen in his hands. He's nodding and asking questions as you flick through. Below him is a notebook that seems to have scribbled in it, if Gaz walked in further he could see little drawings of Monty Gator and Soap himself, a Venn diagram with a large red writing saying "Mohawk!!"

Ghost being there probably should be a shock but it isn't. The man is known to follow you around like a shadow, he humors you arguably the most out of the four men, letting you drag him to and from places with minimal complaint. He bets Ghost is gonna be the one to take you to the five nights at Freddys movie premiere.

Simon's dressed down to just his hoodie and his balaclava mask, attentively watching you as you speak passionately about each character and their role in the series. his dark eyes flicking around to stare at the drawings you inserted so everyone could see what the animatronics and others looked like.

You would've thought this was a mission debrief with how focused he was on your words.

Gaz lets out a fake cough, announcing himself to the room and he watches as your eyes immediately latch onto him, he ignores how his heart skips a beat when he sees the crinkles of your eyes, seeing you shoot a glowing smile his way.

You always look at him like that but he never tires of it.

"Gaz! Finally, you're here!"

Rushing over to him, you grab at his hand, quickly intertwining fingers, and start dragging him to the seat next to Ghost. He sits down with a huff, amusement swimming around his eyes. You move to go back to the front of the room, gleefully rocking on the balls of your feet as you look at them.

"What's all this about?" He questions, after getting nods in acknowledgment from the other 3 men in the room.

"Teddy here is tellin' us about five nights at…Frankies?"

"It's Freddy's, Johnny." You roll your eyes playfully.

"No shot you're making Ghost and Cap listen to this."

"I'm not making them do anything, they're here of their own free will, thank you very much." Sticking out your tongue, moving to click to the next slide.

"Is that true Cap?"

"It's background noise," John murmurs with a shrug, taking a swig out of his glass. He leans back in his seat, seemingly taking a momentary break as he looks around at the table.

"Got nothin' better else to do," Simon answers easily, looking at Gaz from the corner of his eye.

"You ain't gonna ask me, Garrick?"

"Nah, you of all people would enjoy it."

"What's tha-"

"Boys! Shut it! We're getting to the good part!" You clap your hands together and Soap immediately cuts himself off, looking back at you.

With all the boys' eyes on you, you clear your throat and push a button, there, from when Gaz remembers, is Michael Afton in all his purple nasty body glory.

"Fucks wrong with him? Why does he look like that?" Simon remarks, an eyebrow shooting up.

"I'm so glad you asked, you know actually the more I think about it, You and Michael actually have a lot in common.”

"How so?"

"Asshole dad, the oldest brother, daddy issues, I can keep going if you want."

Ghost just grunts in acknowledgment, raising a hand to his head and rubbing at his temples.

Price chokes on his liquor, coughing as it goes down the wrong pipe.

Soap audibly drops an "oh."

And Gaz just stares, truth be told, yeah. Yeah, he can see the resemblance.

[starofthesea7]

König~Worship the King

Your eyes traced the huge mass of muscle in front of you. Fresh from the field, he looked exhausted, primal- his canvas pants still splattered with mud and god knows what else. Arms shiny with sweat and rain, leg bouncing absentmindedly, his head was still a void, swimming with pictures of death and devastation. His eyes were focused on a bowl of stew, dwarfed by his huge, muscled hands. Pale fingers against white ceramic.

‘You can take the mask off to eat your food, I have to clean up your face anyway. In fact I should look at that first.” Your voice was soft, hesitant. Afraid of startling him, even though little could do so.

Dark fabric folded as he shook his head gently. “After. I don’t want it to…” he searched for the word in English, “to scare you. Yet” His voice was rough and tired, laced thickly with an accent, german. Your heart twinged at his words.

“You couldn’t scare me.” You attempted a reassuring smile. König. King. A very fitting name for the enigma in front of you, and yet in some ways not fitting at all. True he was imposing. Large. Stately. Yet he was gentle, anxious, even, when he was in close proximity to others. Under scrutiny. He was anxious when it came to people, most of all you. He was good at hiding it though, to you it seemed an aloofness, perhaps even a polite disinterest, that he felt towards you. A simple nod in greeting as he passed you was the most you could hope to receive.

Now you stood in between his enormous thighs which he’d spread just far enough apart to avoid grazing yours, the air between them thick with tension. You rolled up his dark sleeve, doing your best to ignore the rippling muscle beneath. They way it flexed which each ascent of his spoon, before it disappeared underneath black cloth, then reappeared, empty. He barely flinched as you dabbed an alcohol pad across the gaping wound on his shoulder. Blood glistened carmine.

Oxymoron was a more fitting name, you thought. Perhaps it was too long for a nickname. He truly was a paradox, though. So colossal, yet reserved. So immense yet quiet, even gentle. He was a man of few words. A wave waiting to crash, or a volcano waiting to erupt.

Your voice broke the silence, surprising you both. It felt small. “Feel okay?” He was nervous, although you couldn’t see it, underneath the mask. He wasn’t really afraid of you, more afraid of hurting you, or scaring you. With his weight. His scars, his is strength.

His eyes raised to meet yours. Although he was sitting, they were level with your own. A cold, pale olive green. “Ja. Thank you. I am sorry for waking you for this little scratch.” When you’d gotten a call that he’d needed a small patch job, admittedly you’d jumped at the chance to see him. You’d been drawn to the Austrian giant since you’d arrived a month ago. You liked his presence, it was safe, a shield to all else. Nothing could touch you with him there. No amount of horny jeering men, or loaded guns.

“It’s not a just scratch, König, its a big gash. And I haven’t even gotten to your face yet. Plus, I couldn’t sleep anyway, I’m happy to do it.” You rambled, feeling the burn of his eyes on yours, studying your face as you concentrated, threading a sterile needle. You stepped forward, into him, bumping his leg. He smelled like earth, and motor oil. Faintly of cigarettes and metallic blood. The heady odour was thick, collocating with the rubbing alcohol of your sterile office.

“Deep breath.” You felt silly, instructing a man who’d murdered countless men in the past week to do a breathing excersise, but he obeyed, the soft, raspy sound making your knees weak, and your imagination run wild. You blinked and regained focus, before puncturing the skin. His eyes fixed on your face, unwavering. You counted the stitches. Eleven, black and neat, in a row. “Aaand…done.” You cut the thread. “And not even a flinch.” You smiled at him, and his eyes crinkled, barely.

You gently rubbed it with ointment and wiped your hands on a towel, blood staining it crimson. You noticed his thighs now resting against yours. They were warm, and dirt from them stained your kaki pants but your hardly cared. “Ok. Ready for the mask?” You felt nervous, more nervous than he looked. It felt monumental, an enigma becoming real, smoke condensing into man.

You’d thought about what he looked like, but only in patches, certain features imagined while the rest of the picture was more of a blurred haze. Pale skin and light eyes. Dark or light hair? A sharp jaw or weak and soft? You couldn’t really imagine him being ugly, and truly, you felt you’d be attracted to him regardless, like opposite poles of a magnet. North and south. Dark and light, soft and hard.

He cleared his throat, and set the empty bowl down beside him. His eyes held yours vehemently, and large hands raised black cloth, revealing a pale, broad column of neck, a white scar gracing one side. You wanted to graze it with your lips. His lips were split, bitten and red. And inviting. A glint of teeth and a jaw, sharp with a whisper of stubble. The cloth clung to a splatter of blood and small cuts now integrated with old scars, and a few pieces of shrapnel that traveled up to a deep, glistening slice. Caked blood ran down his temple. His nose was sharp and slightly crooked, veering to the right in an endearing way, as if it had been broken when he was a child.

Then, his eyes, deep set and soft, framed with long lashes and crowned with sharp brows, one interrupted by a large, aged scar. Finally, hair, light, light brown, almost blonde, with a tinge of red, tumbled out. It was tied back with an elastic, but not long, as if he was in need of a trim, shorter pieces falling across his forehead. His head tilted back as he looked at you, silently, daring you to react to his intimate sign of trust.

You breathed out. It wasn’t what you had expected. His face was, interesting. Attractive. Younger than you’d imagined. A sharp canine pressed into his lip. You let out a breath, and raised a hand to his jaw, feeling it clench beneath your fingers, tilting his face up towards artificial light. His lips parted, adams apple bobbing. “You should’ve let me do your face first.”

“Sorry.” His voice was soft, ragged.

You reached for a pair of pointed tweezers and began removing each piece of shrapnel from his face. The night was quiet, save for for soft breaths. His was hot against your cheek. “König.” Chunks of metal and stone clanged into a small aluminum bowl. He hummed in response.

“You could never scare me.”

He smiled softly at you, slightly crooked.

Without meaning to, your thumb stroked the soft skin of his jaw. His legs tightened against you, barely, but your heart quickened against your ribcage.

Again, you soaked the wounds in alcohol. You could tell it stung. His fingers began absentmindedly drumming against your hip, leaving hot tingles in their wake. You moved to the cut on his lip, he hissed quietly as you made contact with the cotton pad. Your eyes were focused, pupils blown wide as you stared at his lips. His hot tongue peeking out from behind pink bloodied skin.

Your voice was quiet, distant, “You have a pretty bad split lip, I’m gonna put a little stitch in it.”

He swallowed hoarsely, “Okay.”

You were close, so close to him, breaths mingling in the hot air. His scent enveloped you. He enveloped you. You weren’t particularly small, but to him you were. Fragile. The needle ruptured his lip and his hand gripped at your waist, heavy and large. You leaned into him, lower stomach barely grazing the split of his pants. He shifted in thick canvas.

Your hand shifted, cupping his jaw as you cut the thread. His eyes were heavy with fatigue, and something else. You looked at each other with neediness, both in awe of how the other contained all that they could ever want- him to satiate your emptiness, you to soothe his aching burn. A month of passing glances and unsaid words threatened to morph into action; spurred on by the arousal of seclusion and stagnation after the high of adrenaline, the heady scent of blood, metal, alcohol.

You leaned in and felt his hand tighten against you hip, You were inches from him, the air between you buzzed as opposites attracted, pulled you towards him. His mouth widened as he leaned into you. Your soft, plush lips grazed his, barely, and he pulled you into him, emitting a soft sound. Mouths opened wide with need. He was metal, cigarettes and gasoline, the taste and smell making you unsteady, faint. You gripped his shirt tightly, his mass keeping you from falling, or perhaps from floating away.

Deft, strong fingers found the back of your head. Scalp prickling as he pulled at your hair. You were slick.

He groaned slightly into your mouth, and your hands found his hair, fisting it free from the elastic band, copper locks brushing your forehead, stubble brash against your reddening cheeks.

His large warm hand traced from your hip down, raising your leg to straddle his thigh. Hot, hard muscle against your softness. You let out an involuntary airy moan as the seam of your jeans jabbed into your clit, cunt clenching around nothing, deprived and empty.

You lifted your other leg to straddle him fully, clothed cunt contracting at the friction against pelvis, you could feel him, large, hard, heavy and confined. It made you hot with need. You pulled back to stare at him, pupils blown, lips puffy. His hips bucked up into you, searching for friction and release, his brows furrowed. Colossal hands found your waist beneath your shirt, opposite fingers almost touching around your circumference. His fingers were calloused and rough. Feeling his hot skin against yours made you reel with thoughts of at the way he dwarfed you, dominated you with the simplest of actions. The fact that he could fill your emptiness, stretch you to the brink, overwhelm you, crush you- was inebriating.

“I-” he searched for the right words, “I want you. Ich brauche dich.” You smiled at his mother tongue appearing, as it often did in states of intoxication.

You pressed your mouth to his neck, with an open mouthed kiss, feeling the bump of his scar as he swallowed, and looked up at him through wet lashes. Grinding your hips against him, making him groan, cock twitching, hyper sensitive from months of neglect. You maundered, “Let me make you feel good, König.” Your voice was airy and laced with fervour. His eyes were glassy and lidded as he looked down at you, hair falling across his forehead, glistening with sweat. His head swam, the situation feeling far to good to be true, an intoxicated dream or adrenaline spurred hallucination. His blunt fingernails clutched at your waist harshly, leaving half moons in their wake.

Your eyes flickered to a stain of precum darkening the crotch of his thick pants as you rose to your feet, his hands gripped his thighs in restraint, watching you in anticipation. Then, you knelt to the ground to worship your king.

[thefandomthings]

Okay HEAR ME OUT BUTTTT what about zuko betrayal part 2 with the prompt “you own my heart” 👀

Betrayal

Fluff Prompt #30: "You own my heart."

Pairing: Zuko x F/Gn!reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Terrible writing, happy ending? ¡¡SPOILERS!!, Takes place in Book 3. Ep. 11. It doesn't follow the script in the episode.

Notes: I'm so sorry I haven't been writing, I work in agriculture and summer and fall are my busiest times of the year and I lost motivation in the process 😭. But, hopefully I'm back. Thank you for your patience.

Part 1 Part 2 Prompt Event

Who knew betrayal could hurt so much. Chest heavy, heart heavier. Why did he do it? Does he think everything will be okay once he got back? Maybe Azula manipulated him? No. He did it willingly.

It's been weeks since the incident, a few months actually. You dont know what to do with yourself. Everything has been so emotionally hard. The long term depression grasping you in a chokehold.

The gaang has been there for you. Aang suffering from his own mid childhood crisis, the weight of the world literally on his shoulders. Katara tires to help as much as she could, but she is also dealing with things of her own. Sokka....was just Sokka.

After the invasion, you retreated to the western air temple. It was definitely a sight for sore eyes. The architecture was incredible. The Air Nation really outdid themselves.

"Y/n? Why don't you come eat dinner with us?" Katara leaned against the door frame of the room you are currently residing in. You look over at her gave her a small smile, one that didn't quite reach your eyes.

Katara didn't exactly like Zuko, having felt being betrayed as well. She has a lot of not nice things to say about the young prince, but for the sake of your ears she kept them to herself.

She grabs your arm pulling you up from your bed. You reluctantly follow her, head resting on her shoulder.

Today was a rough day. It Started out with a dream of you and him dancing in the temple. Oh so in love. Hands intertwined with each others. Whispering small nothings, butterflies occupying your chest and tummy. You woke up as if it was a nightmare, your brain toying with you like a yoyo.

Katara holds you gently, her hand laying on your head as if you were a child. At this moment you felt as if you were. Needing someone to comfort your aching heart.

"What are you doing here?!"

"Please just hear me out..." You immediately recognize that voice. It was him.

Zuko.

"Why should we? Huh?!" Sokka crosses his arms defensively. Katara flicks the lid on the water pouch on her hip, bending the water out.

You heart is hammering against your chest. His eyes immediately are drawn towards you. Zuko feels himself choke up. The sight of you made his chest hurt. The dullness you held in your eyes was unbearable to look at.

"Y/n...."

"She doesn't want to talk to you." Katara says, she moved to stand in front of you. Her body is blocking his sight of you. Zuko wants to reach for you, to grovel at your feet, to beg for forgiveness. Even if it hurts his pride, or his reputation. Which wasn't much good anyway. He had to make it right with you.

You are his everything.

"It's okay Katara." You give her a reassuring smile, it wasn't very convincing to anyone who knew you.

"What're you doing here?" You inquire and step next to Katara. Your eyes boring into his, he looked...Sad. Regret swimming in his honey irises.

"I've changed-" You feel yourself moving on its own. You hold your hand up, and he stopped talking.

"That's what you said under Ba Sing Se, then you left. Betraying everyone who cared about you. Especially Uncle Iroh."

That struck a nerve, his face hardens and he looks away slightly, eyebrows furrowed. His tongue darts out and wets his dry and cracked lips, his golden eyes looking back up at you. He steps closer, his hands clenching and unclenching by his side.

Zuko wants to hold you...Needs to feel you against him. To kiss you, to be with you. He needs you like he needs air, without you he's nothing, just a shell of the man he was before he lost you.

"Y/n, please...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Zukos voice cracks slightly.

You purse your lips together tightly.

It's so very tempting to close the gap between the two of you, forgiving him just felt right. Maybe it was just the your heart talking over logic. Your headspace is messed up severely, the wound is still fresh in your brain and heart.

"Zuko-"

Katara stops you, stepping in front of you.

"Leave. You've done enough, you are not welcome here."

"Y/n...please." It was strange seeing him so weak for once, pleading you. Practically on his knees for forgiveness.

"You own my heart."

It hurt you to watch him get treated so badly. He deserved it, mostly. Everyone has the right to be angry with him. Chasing Aang across the globe, trying to kill you then after everything at Ba sing se. It was almost unforgivable. Almost.

•°•°•°•

Taglist: @etherjen @xlatinaaxx @youngladysakura @m4rlvky @kitt38 @monysakura @kenqki @rdpiano @mikemakesartt @thigh-o-saur @chi-ara @kookiegirl444 @snixx2088 @zacatecanaaaa

[ateezinmymind]

secret

seonghwa x reader

fluff, smut

warning: fem! reader, unprotected sex, cum play, fingering, alcohol + marijuana mentioned

word count: 2.5k

tag list: (let me know if you want to be on it)

the way he stared at you from across the fire made you flush - and not from the burning flames. his gaze hard and seductive, his bottom lip tucked loosely between his teeth. his wet jet black hair splayed across parts of his forehead from the deep ocean he had been night swimming in.

you and park seonghwa had a little secret to keep from the others

something only the two of you knew about, and something your seven other friends couldn’t know about.

“you all good y/n?” yunho pipes up beside you, making your concentration pull away from the man across the makeshift driftwood bench you seated yourself down at. yunho’s features displayed with worry and confusion, “you haven't even touched any of the food - this is a bonfire girl, get livin’!” his little shoulder groove made you let out a small laugh and shake your head just slightly.

“oh no yuyu, i’m all good, i’m sorry. my mind is all over the place” you say while you raise your hand that has a hold of your bottle of alcohol and joint between your two fingers. “just me and my high ass”

this makes him laugh and shove your shoulder in a friendly manner, and you peek a quick glance at seonghwa once again - finding him staring back with a smirk, his own hand coming up to bring his drink to his parting lips. “well, just had to make sure” yunho adds after he finishes snickering. “you should go out for a dip, it might clear your head”.

this piqued your interest as you began to nod your head with a growing smile, “yeah yunho, that actually sounds really nice.”

“of course babe, just make sure to not go out alone - we can’t have you drifting too far off in the night” and with letting out one last chuckle, he dips his head and jogs off to where mingi and hongjoong were debating - probably about the right way to roast a marshmallow or something of the sort. (you didn’t even bother to look)

perking the arch of your brow up slightly, your eyes catch seonghwas one final time and you decide to take control of the situation. having grown tired of sending flirtatious notions towards each other for most of the night. so, standing up from the driftwood below you, a single nod of your head has seonghwa lifting from his seated position swiftly with an all knowing smile.

“shit!!!” you hiss out, elbows flying out to keep your arms lifted - your face pulling with a clenched jaw. “its freeeeezing”

submerged to your lower ribs, t-shirt halfway soaked, you watch seonghwa dunk below the moon reflected and rippling surface. subconsciously taking a breath in and holding it until he emerges once more.

only then, you let out a small shriek as you feel his nimble fingers just barely dip under your shirt. right above your navel, causing a flutter of excitement in your stomach

“how’s it goin?” he asks you dumbly with a big grin, the glimmering water droplets running down his face. you try and refrain from watching one trail all the way down his chin as your gaze just barely drops down to peek-

“y/n?” he asks again, finally succeeding at getting ahold of your attention, you lift your eyes up and let a small giggle pass. your body submerged in the moving water, yet going nowhere under his soft hold - merely swaying in intoxication. “i'm having fun,” you blankly say with a know it all look, taking in another deep breath - only for an involuntary shiver to chatter in your jaw. his eyes soften at this, and his fingers slide up and around to caress your back and lower shoulders. the feeling makes itself very apparent on your goosebump covered skin. “oh yeah?” he asks, biting back a laugh just watching your eyes squint with yet another infectious snort. “why are you so giggly” he joins.

it was a dumb question really, but that was all part of the fun

lifting your chin a bit higher, your lips just inches away from his - you take your arms over his bare shoulders and lift up off your feet, bringing them around his waist. “i dont know, maybe because im high?” your obvious response made him roll his eyes and finally lower his hold, and support your new position. one hand on your lower back and the other unapologetically on your ass, the contact in turn making you naturally sink more into him.

“o-oh” a small moan escapes your throat as your panty covered heat brushes against his now hardening bulge, having seonghwa let out a responsive grunt.

then silence.

“whatcha doin now” he pipes lowly, slowly closing the distance between the both of your lips and stopping just before you connect. under his close proximity, you adjust strategically and almost deviously - by fully grinding down on his erection. “trying to get you hard” you simply reply, earning a full on moan from seonghwa just before you close the space entirely. swallowing his sounds, the taste of the salty water and alcohol mix with your fighting tongues.

arousal floods your system as your hips continue their grinding motions, seonghwa’s hold on your ass helping guide by tugging and pushing away. and it wasn’t until his hard on painfully strained against the thin suctioned fabric of his boxers he pulled off your mouth, unable to take any more torment. lifting your hips off of him, you whine out from both the loss of pleasurable sensation to your cunt, and the temperature difference of being pulled off his own body heat. though seonghwas hold still on you, your legs drop back down and your feet land down into the sandy ocean bottom.

“okay, y/n, you got me hard” he laughs, exasperatingly. trying to calm his own lust and desire despite the very apparent aroused state. this only makes you roll your eyes and pout.

“you dont wanna fuck?”

seonghwa shakes his head quickly and for the first time looks back at the small group of boys back on the beach yelling back and forth. then back to you - and you're shivering, leading him immediately into decision.

releasing his hold on you completely he leans in for a moment before trudging his way back to shore - “let's get you out of the water and continue, yeah?”

making your way past the scattered friend group was easier than you had initially thought, it just took one look from hongjoong, yunho and yeosang for them to assume the both of you were headed to the parked cars in order for a change of clothes. (the other boys were very immersed in their game of longest handstand, which jongho and san currently battled for the first place it seemed).

the night sky still bright with the lunar glow, you're drawn out of your thoughts when seonghwa gently caresses the back right side of your waist, speaking with a soft tone while closing in towards the vehicles by the beachgrass, “are you wanting to continue?”. looking up, you smile excitedly and nod in response. turning your body to press up against him again once you two disappear behind the car's cover. only this time are you grounded, your intoxicated state backing you up - tongue wetting your lower lip seductively, seonghwa’s grip tightens on you after he chokes out yet another moan. your hand placed over the top of his trousers, palming the (very prominent) hard on he had from moments before.

“please”

how could he refuse such a plea, especially from you - nimble hand between his thighs, your eyes merely staring up into his- almost doe like. taking a look down to watch your hand, seonghwa gives some time to deliberately roll his hips into your opposing touch. “fuck y/n,” he curses, his free hand going down to grab your wrist, “you drive me crazy”

you politely giggle, a blush spreading across your cheeks. “enough talk,” taking the lead once more, you lift up onto your toes and lock lips with him. the both of you in yet another fight for control, moans get swallowed and your positions naturally change. lifted up from the ground, seonghwa slows down the kiss and with one hand (not holding your straddling thighs up) opens the backseat door of his car.

the distant conversations and game shouts from over by the bonfire fade out as he sits you down carefully on the seat. “can i take your panties off?” he questions while casually dropping his trunks, or rather peeling off the wet almost plastered fabric - your eyes dart up before you can catch sight of his cock. your blood runs hot and you feel your pussy clench in anticipation, arousal already leaking from your core, “of course” you confirm, readily lifting your hips to help him grab the waistline. silently smiling, your heart swells from hearing his usual ask for consent.

“i love when you smile,” seonghwa cheers, confidently sliding off your underwear and tossing them into the front passenger seat. the remark makes you roll your eyes, “you always say that, come on i’m getting impatient” you groan out, wiggling your hips and slightly opening your legs with a knowing intention. “we can confess all we want after you fuck me, ‘kay?”

seonghwa laughs at this, and you don’t even have time to realize ‘confess’ was your word choice before lips latch to the nape of your neck and an awaited sigh falls from you. his tongue gently swiping across the smooth skin, seonghwa leans over more into you and when his prominent erection brushes against your inner thigh you snake your hand down to fist him.

he immediately shutters under your touch, pausing his peppering to your pulse points. his heavy and shaking breathing only pushes you further, so beginning to fully jerk him off you watch him attentively from below.

“so handsy” he teases with an airy voice, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows hard, “why don't you help yourself baby, yeah?”

wetting your lips another flutter of excitement confines in your lower stomach, and with an agreeing nod you guide him into position. seonghwa swiftly moves in motion with you and does the go ahead and carefully inches himself completely in your cunt.

feeling his dick glide deeper with ease from all your slick, your walls dilate around him and you both moan in unison- followed with a shared giggle.

“much better” you snide, your voices pitch slightly higher as your body adjusts to his size, making his cock twitch. he smiles and once again dips down to kiss you passionately.

sliding himself out slowly he then- with deliberate ease, thrusts back in. your legs wrap around his waist in response and the sounds of pleasure spill out of both your mouths when he breaks from your lips. “so perfect” he huffs out in an awe-like manner, speeding up. the quicker and harder force makes your tits bounce and high pitched cries flood out your open mouth, his dick reaching deep inside your cunt, kissing your cervix with pleasurable ease.

“oh fuck seonghwa” you mewl, looking up with knit brows at the man above, “yes, right there!!” you watch as he smirks and lowers his eyes down, clenching around him tightly in response. feeling your high near closer and closer with every quick thrust. a hiss of buckling euphoria comes out of seonghwa’s clenched teeth, his dick twitching at the sight of him disappearing inside your tight spasming wetness. his thrusts faltering slightly.

“god- y/n baby, where do you want me to come?” he chokes out as he grabs your hips, slowing down his movements. the grip on you shoots to the pit of your stomach and more arousal floods just hearing him all whiny for you, “anywhere please just don’t stop now.”

with your green light, it had seonghwa pounding into you yet again, his hold getting tighter as he burrowed deep with every rut of his hips.

neither of you had time or care to realize the whole car shifting with your bodies.

grunting, seonghwa gives two more rapid thrusts and pulls out just as he reaches orgasm. his cum spurting out on your cunt. he moans heavily while watching it drip all over, “fuckkkk” he curses, and you whine with your bottom lip between your teeth - hips bucking up for more, “im so close hwa, please don’t stop” you tell him again.

his dick used and twitching, seonghwa is quick to carefully slip two fingers inside your pussy. his release mixes in with your slick as he fucks his cum deep with every thrust of his digits. curling his fingers and stimulating your g-spot repeatedly, your jaw goes slack and your body begins to shake with your climax. “yesyesyessss” you cry out, bundle of pleasure snapping. your thighs clamp around his wrist and hips grind down desperately against his wet knuckles as you ride out your high.

heavy breathing is the only sound once the two of your highs come down and he slides his fingers out between your thighs. carefully spreading them for him again, only now he reaches over and grabs a beach towel from the seat behind you- bringing it down to clean up the sticky mess you both created.

smiling, you thank him and sit yourself up, “of course pretty,” he says as he reaches his arm over the passenger seat and grabs his spare change of boxers under your damp panties, bringing them through your ankles. “thank you” he says in return, sliding them up and over your bottom.

he stops and takes a long look at your face.

“you're so beautiful, y/n do you know that?”

this makes you smile shyly and flush, yet you nod- “yes.. you tell me often-”

“i love you” he blurts out, his own face turning a light pink- “and i know this is a weird time to confess but i-” kissing him before he rambles on, you bring your hands up to his face and slowly part with a giggle. “i love you too hwa”

you see his eyes light up with that and his lips fighting a big smile, so you tilt your head back and tease him

“it's okay seonghwa, you can smile at your girlfriend.”

hearing that he complies happily and laughs “i like that sound of that”

“so do i” you reply, “pull up your trunks so we can go back to the boys?” you ask and seonghwa follows, helping you out of his car after his bottoms are back around his hips.

“do you think they suspect anything about us yet?” he says with a joking snort, “oh please, i doubt it” you reply with a wave of your hand.

as the both of you walk your way back to the group, wooyoung is the first to notice your appearance in the dark distance (still in your wet shirt) and says something- or rather screams to the whole group right in yeosang’s ear,

“I THINK Y/N AND SEONGHWA JUST FUCKED!!!”

[erosology]

a taste of domesticity | simon "ghost" riley

❀ cw/tw: NSFT, fem reader (afab anatomy, fem pet names), established relationship, american author trying to make an english person's dialogue sound authentic, you'll have to pry blond-haired and brown-eyed simon from my cold dead hands, tooth-rotting fluff, undertones of obsession and codependency (because duh it's me), soft dom simon, thigh riding, body worship, praise, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex

❀ wc: 7,248

❀ a/n: i will never, ever apologize for writing simon as a lovesick slightly pathetic man

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Simon “Ghost” Riley during your time together, it’s that he takes his job very seriously. So seriously, in fact, he’s often too tired to do much other than eat the dinner you’ve prepared him, take a shower, and go straight to bed. Despite his demanding and hectic career path, you both find ways to spend time together—him allowing you to sit in his lap as he does paperwork, you sneaking into the shower as he gets ready for the night, him coming home early and helping you with dinner—all small things to piece together a picture of domesticity and love Simon has craved his entire life.

But sometimes, he thinks, things in the bedroom are a little…lacking.

He only has himself to blame, really, considering he chose a job that demands every bit of strength he has. But there are times when he’s looking at you, your body wrapped in one of his t-shirts and your hair thrown up into a messy bun as you’re curled up on the couch reading, and he wonders if being a butcher is really that bad.

It’s no matter, though, because as insane and hectic as his job might be, he knows, deep down, he wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re a breath of fresh air for the man who is constantly drowning in his desire to be useful, a lighthouse for the man who is constantly swimming in his failures, a safe place for him to strip himself of the wet clothing trying to cling on to this body (much like how his stormy thoughts try to cling on to him) and bask in your warmth. He’s enamored by your compassion, utterly and completely in love with your honesty, and bewitched by your loyalty—a soulmate for someone who has only ever known chaos.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

“We should have lemon garlic shrimp tonight,” you suggest to your partner, leaning against his office door frame in hopes maybe he’d look up.

Simon’s eyes don’t even leave his computer as he asks, “What’s the special occasion, love?”

“You’re home in time for dinner for the first time in a month.”

It’s a small stab, he knows it, but it still hurts nonetheless, and you can see him flinch at the blunt edges of your words. He fists clench and unclench, as if debating if he can physically fight off the sense of guilt wrapping around his broad shoulders, before he saves his report progress and shuts his computer down. His movements are always so methodical, measured, but there’s nothing measured about the way he nearly chokes on his own spit when his eyes land on your outfit. Dressed in nothing but one of his t-shirts, thigh high stockings, and a pair of panties, you look nothing short of absolutely divine, and Simon nearly has to check his pulse to make sure he hasn’t died and gone to heaven.

You gaze at him through your eyelashes, eyelids half-closed in lust and the smallest of smirks on your lips. “S’matter, Si? Cat got your tongue?”

It never fails to astound him how easily you rev him up, how you make him feel like some horny teenager on prom night trying to score with his date–clumsy words spilling from his mouth as he tries his hardest to find the magic words to part your legs, palms sweaty as they try to hold your hand, body vibrating with anticipation to see what your tongue tastes like. He’s so unbelievably attracted to you, it makes his head fuzzy with hormones and irrationality, even after all of this time together.

He’s careful as he walks from his desk to you, strong arms wrapping around your waist and his lips brushing your hair. “Are you my starter?” he asks and pinches your thigh for good measure.

You giggle at the rare show of unabashed flirtation from your normally stoic partner and reply coyly, “I could be your dessert if you behave.” Feeling rather bold, you pull him into the kitchen by his belt, and he has to bite his lip to keep the groan clawing at his mouth at bay. You’re too precious for something as barbaric as fevered kisses and frantic hands eager to rip your clothes off. Valuable crystals deserve only the most tender of hands, the most careful of eyes, handled with the utmost precision and patience, and he’s always considered himself a good gemologist.

“C’mere for a second, love,” he says as you turn your back to get started on dinner. Before you can fully turn towards him, he gently cups your jaw and tilts your face up towards his, lips ghosting each other before he finally slots his against yours. You can feel how eager he is, how much he’s holding himself back so as to not break you, so you wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss that much more. That’s all of the motivation he needs, evidently, and he’s quick to wrap your legs around his waist and place you on top of the kitchen counter. Whatever small grip he had on self-control has snapped—a hungry beast finally let free and allowed to feast however he pleases. He wants to completely devour you and keep you safe in his chest—strong bones to keep filthy, undeserving hands from touching you. One taste of you and he’s already drunk on love and all of its promises of companionship and domesticity. 

His hands tangle themselves in your hair, fingers massaging your scalp as his tongue gently prods at your mouth. That’s when you pull away, much to your disappointment, and he groans at the lewd line of spit connecting your lips. Mind hazy with lust, he tries to tilt your face towards his again, anxious to eat until all that’s left is a pile of bones and love, but you gently stop him by pressing your fingers to his mouth.

“Was I too rough?” he asks worriedly. “We can slow down, if you want. I just…miss you, is all, and you’re right about this being the first time we’ve had some time together in God knows how long. I…I know ‘s my fault, and I want to make it up to you—if you’re alright with that.”

And he looks so sincere—dark eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort, hands resting on your thighs and not daring to move, tongue nervously darting out to lick his lips, chest rising and falling with anticipation—you nearly allow him to devour you right there on the kitchen counter. But you’re determined to have a proper dinner with the man you love more than you could ever hope to comprehend. And what’s a good dinner without a nice show?

Your hands fiddle with the collar of his shirt, teeth gnawing at the inside of your cheek in hopes it’ll calm the hunger rolling around in your stomach. “You weren’t too rough, honey, I promise.” At that, you can see relief flood his features, and you gently tug on his collar so he brings his forehead down to meet yours. The pure adoration in his eyes nearly makes you choke, and you swallow down the lump of emotion that had begun to form in your throat. Simon has always been a gentle man despite his very impassive shell, never pushing you and always ready to communicate boundaries and comfort, so to see him so unraveled after a month of missing him is bringing out a masochistic side of you you’d never knew was buried underneath all of the domesticity. Still, you want to be able to enjoy him as much as possible before the moon hangs high and exhaustion begins to settle into heavy bones.

Simon mildly pulls your hand away from nervously toying with his shirt and kisses your fingers—an action that causes you to shudder with admiration. “Did I push you too much?”

“No, sweetheart. I just really, really want to have a nice dinner with you.”

Chuckling, he kisses your temple and helps you off of the counter, his hands lingering on your hips a little longer than necessary before swatting at your bottom and allowing you to begin cooking. “Then a nice dinner together we shall have.”

It’s intoxicating how much your thighs rub together as you cook dinner, how they jiggle and ripple, and Simon isn’t sure what he’s more hungry for. Your hips sway to and fo to the music—nothing inherently sexual about the movement, but his heart speeds up nonetheless. His dark eyes drink in every inch of you like a parched man in the desert, lapping up every single drop so much, he fears his stomach may burst. But it’d be worth it. It would be absolutely worth any form of torture to be able to touch you, hold you, hear you laugh, watch your lips form the syllables of his name. His greatest high, his greatest weakness, the person he’d try to find in every life after this one, the song he hums to himself when he thinks no one is around—all wrapped up in the prettiest package he has ever had the privilege of laying his eyes on.

Simon “Ghost” Riley, special forces operator trained to deal with things most people only see portrayed in overly-budgeted action movies, is absolutely hypnotized by how absolutely gorgeous you are.

“Didn’t know I was getting dinner and a show,” he nearly purrs at you as you pour him a glass of bourbon. Kentucky, of course.

“Hmm?” You innocently cock your head. “I’m just making you dinner, silly, a very normal thing.”

“Whatever you say, love.”

Lust and hormones roll off of your body in tidal waves, nearly drowning the man under the chaotic waters, but he wouldn’t mind, not really. He could spend hours, days, weeks floating around in all of your oceans, exploring every part of you until he has a clear map ingrained in his brain. He’s in love with your heart, in lust with your body, and enamored by your mind.

A warmth only alcohol can provide spreads across his body, and Simon Riley, known by even his closest friends as stern and forthright, dares to relax in his chair, his legs stretched out in front of him and his eyes half-closed as they watch you sway to the music. At times like this, Simon is reminded of what it’s like to be naïve again, excited, ready to face the world and all of its possibilities. He’s content, basking in the security you provide him with and the knowledge that he has you to call home. He’s safe, and that’s something he’ll never, ever take for granted.

“You look happy,” you giggle, taking note of the pink flush to his face.

He hums, and in the blink of an eye he’s got his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your head. His lips brush against your hair, fingers fiddling with the t-shirt clinging to your body, and he swears he could stay like this forever if you allowed him to. He thinks this is what paradise must be like—his soulmate wrapped in his arms, the scent of delicious food hanging in the air, music softly playing over the sound of your giggles, his heart let free from its cage and soaring in the air.

“Must be because I am,” he utters into your hair. “I really, really am, sweetheart.”

And though he’s never been one for grandiose displays of affection, he finds himself spinning you around your shared kitchen, strong hands pressed into the small of your back and swaying your bodies to and fro, a makeshift ballroom squished in between the living room and his office.

Your hand fists his shirt, giggles bubbling out of your lips—the most beautiful sound he’ll ever hear. “Simon Riley! What has gotten into you?”

The smile he bears is a gentle one full of love and admiration, and you swear you feel your heart squeeze in your chest. “I’m very lucky to have you. In fact…” And then, his lips are ghosting over yours and his hands are clutching at your hips, desperate to feel you close but scared to admit how much he needs you. “I’d wager I’m the luckiest bastard on this shithole planet.”

“I think you’d lose,” you whisper back, a joyous light dancing in your eyes. “Because I’d wager I’m the luckiest person on this shithole planet to have you.”

He kisses you before he can stop himself, before he can second guess whether or not he’s worthy of your lips, before either of you can begin to decipher what love is and why it heals as much as it hurts. He kisses you and tries his hardest to commit dedication to memory. He kisses you and forgets what the definition of pain is and all he can feel is your fingers carding through his hair. He’s consumed by you—the smell of your shampoo stubbornly clinging to your hair, the feeling of your heart hammering against his, your eyelashes brushing against his cheek, the little squeal you let out when he picks you up, everything, everything everything. All he wants is this moment right here tattooed into his brain, burned into his eyelids so every time he closes his eyes all he can see is bliss and sunlight filtering through.

And though he’s the one with the infamous appetite, he swears he’d crack his ribcage open and allow you to feast as much as you need to. What is love if not all-consuming—cannibalistic desires flooding empty veins until the need to eat is unbearable? Hungry teeth clash against a bare tongue, and he groans loudly into your greedy mouth.

“Simon,” you gasp, “the food—”

“Can wait,” he finishes for you, and you both find yourselves stumbling into a chair. Quickly, he sits down with you on his lap, careful as to not hurt his precious meal. He can feel your cunt throb against his thigh and, god, he needs to eat, eat, eat before he goes completely mad. His thumb draws circles against the growing wet spot on your panties, a groan reverberating in his chest and deep eyes rolling to the back of his head. He sees you’re wearing the pink lacy panties with a white bow that always drive him up the walls of your shared home, and he has to fight the animalistic urge to rip them clean off of your body. No, he won’t be rough no matter how hungry he is. He’s not a beast void of all humanity. He’s simply a man with an empty stomach and the prettiest meal sitting on his lap, and his teeth miss how your skin feels pinched between them.

He easily slides your panties off, an expert in disarming prey, and brings them up to his nose, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Simon,” you moan out at the sight. “Simon, please—”

His hand strikes at your bottom before you can finish your sentence. “Ride my thigh, love.” And he pockets your panties, promising himself he’ll give them back one day.

His big, calloused hands grip your hips as you drag your pussy across his thick thigh, your juices coating his pants but he doesn’t even care. How can he when you look so precious moaning and pleading on his thigh, shaky fingers grasping at his tie to gain some sense of balance? His brown eyes gaze down at you with a predatory light, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth as your grinding becomes more and more erratic.

His voice is strained when he speaks, husky, a caged animal frustrated at not being able to roam free. “That desperate for me, hm? So impatient…” But he can’t deny the erection swelling in his boxers, nor can he deny how hypnotizing it is watching how your brow furrows in concentration with every swivel of your hips. The squelching sound of your drooling cunt is downright filthy, but it’s so intoxicating to the man who gets drunk off of your submission. Adam’s apple bobbing, he tries his hardest to swallow down all of the primal urges flooding his body, to allow you to continue chasing your high, but he can’t stop himself from planting a kiss on your exposed shoulder, nor can he stop himself from resting his forehead upon that very same shoulder. His arms wrap around your torso, bringing your body closer to his so your chests are flushed together, and he groans when he feels your leg brush against his aching cock.

“Si…,” you gasp.

“Shh, just let me do this, darling,” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck. “I want to be close to you.”

Tears poke at the corner of your eyes and your throat constricts, a small gasp leaving your lips before he kisses them gently. A vulnerable Simon is a rare one, but you’re so parched for the smallest taste of intimacy you’re nearly afraid of draining him completely. Still, you wrap your arms around his neck and quicken your pace—anything to keep him close, to keep his face buried in the crook of your neck and his hands stroking at your spine. Shaky fingers bury themselves in short blond hair, pulling at the strands and his heart strings. Trembling thighs squeeze around his own muscular one, and he feels just how hard your heart is slamming itself against your ribcage. What should’ve been an act of climacteric horniness is truly an act of desperate love, depraved intimacy that has been simmering under the surface—two people trying to find themselves buried in each other’s chests.

“Si…” His name rolls off of your tongue so easily, a sound that floods his veins with a warmth his blood couldn’t possibly supply. “Si, please!” Fingernails dig into his back, and he knows just how dire it is for you to feel all of him, but, fuck, he needs to hear you beg a bit more. He needs to be reminded that yes, he is worthy of love, and yes, even with a heart as scarred as his, he is capable of loving back. He needs his ears to be flooded with the sound of unhinged adoration and unwavering dedication. He needs to run his hands all across your skin until he’s able to commit romance to memory and he can’t bear the thought of touching anything else.

Pulling his head back, his amber eyes search your face, fingers gently tracing your bottom lip, and the sheer intensity of his expression has your movements slowing. You’re surprised to see him hesitant, unsure, because in a world of war and uncertainty, Simon Riley is a man made of osmium. He can’t afford the luxury of insecurity in a market that feeds off of humanity. But here he is, one hand keeping your hips stilled as his other one languidly traces all of the bumps and curves of your body, his brow furrowed in concentration as if afraid of breaking you with the slightest of pressure, his eyes full of worry.

“Si—”

“You know I love you, right?” he uncharacteristically cuts you off, his tone steady despite the tremble in his hand.

You answer without missing a beat. “Of course I do. I love you, too, honey.”

He nods, moreso to himself than you, and finally meets your eyes. You’re surprised to see the fire burning in them, how his soft eyes look nearly deadly as he wraps his arms around your chest and brings your body flush against his once again. “Then we’re going to do this the right way.” And before you can ask what he means by that, he lifts your body up with ease, earning a surprised squeak from you. His lips attach themselves against your shoulder, and you wrap your legs around his waist to allow him to carry you easier. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he confesses softly between kisses. “You keep me grounded, sweetheart. You keep me sane.”

Longing strangles you and you can’t help but shutter at his raw declaration of love. Simon reminding you how much you mean to him isn’t rare in the least bit–he’s rather forthcoming about his feelings after many months of you teaching him how to loosen his tongue–but to hear it said so tenderly, as if your ears are made of paper and he spits razors with every word, is something worth crying over.

And you do.

Glistening crystals poke at the corner of your eyes as he tenderly lays your body on the bed, and it’s at this moment Simon Riley thinks you’re something worth dying over. His fingers swipe at your tears, rough palm resting against your cheek, and you nuzzle your face into the callouses, a soft smile on your lips and galaxies in your eyes. He’s hopelessly, painfully, undeniably in love with you, and he absolutely hates himself for neglecting you so much.

“Sweetheart,” he begins, voice strained with love and weakness. How can he look into your eyes and apologize for being a horrible partner? You—with your patience and kindness and strength and dedication and selflessness—you deserve better, better than being left alone to wonder if he’s safe and alive. Better than brisk pecks to your forehead after a thoughtfully prepared breakfast. Better than rushed showers and swift promises of love before a day of unguaranteed nights. Better than him. Better than anything someone like him could ever hope to offer you.

And of course—because you’re you, you, you—you place a kiss on his palm. It’s an innocent enough gesture. A quick press of your lips to the palm of his hand. It’s something that he normally wouldn’t think twice about, something he would smile about and then kiss your cheek for. Definitely not something worth gasping over. Not something worth losing his breath over. Not something worth the shudder that wracks his body. Not something worth splitting his soul in two over. But, as he hovers over you, he can feel his shell crumbling away until all that’s left is the part of his heart he’s been saving for someone like you. He can’t breathe, can’t think, not when you’re kissing the same hand that has killed, that has failed, that has been scarred and covered in blood. And then you’re kissing the pulse in his wrist and then his forearm and then his bicep and before he can even warn you to save your kisses for the worthy, you’re kissing his shoulder in the same tender manner he was kissing yours moments ago.

He feels your breath dance across his neck and refuses to move until you give him permission.

“Simon,” you whisper, and his ears ring at how much affection you place in the syllables of his name. “I love you more than I could ever hope to fathom. I don’t think you realize how much you keep me sane.”

“Sweet—”

You silence him with a kiss to his neck, humming at the steady beat in his jugular. “You’re my comfort. You’re my safe space to be myself with no worries about what’s going to happen tomorrow because you’re prepared for anything. You allow me to be neurotic and moody and a ball of stress without judging me or trying to baby me. You understand that sometimes I need to be neurotic and moody and a ball of stress. You’re caring and thoughtful and straightforward and I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

You can’t be real. Even the holiest of heavens couldn’t craft something as angelic as you, and yet here you are, touching your forehead to his and filling his lungs with your stardust, divine hand caressing his cheek, sephric eyes holding so much unfiltered love he can’t stop himself from kissing you. His lips are tender at first, trying their best to memorize immortality and savoring how ethereal you taste, but when you place your hand on his neck, he feels himself giving into his mortal instincts. Using his body weight to his advantage, he lowers you back down to the mattress, never daring to break the kiss. His hands begin to tug at the shirt clinging to your torso, and you’ve never been quicker to dispose of clothes.

“So beautiful,” he mumbles against your lips, hands grazing across your thighs and squeezing them appreciatively. “You’re so beautiful, darling, do you know that?”

A sudden bashfulness warms your body, and you fight the urge to hide behind your hands. “You make me feel it,” you reply shyly and try to pull his face back down to yours, but he stops you by kissing the tips of your fingers. Pouting, you try to grab his face again, but again, he simply catches your hand and kisses your palm, his eyes resting on yours and full of unadulterated dedication. “C’mere, I wanna kiss.”

“You’ll get plenty of those, love, don’t worry.”

Forever and ever, he silently promises himself, I’m going to kiss you forever. And, keeping his promise like the dutiful man he is, he kisses his way up your arm, every touch of his lips measured and careful, until they gently brush against your cheek. You giggle at his breath tickling your neck, and he swears he feels his heart collapse in on itself like some pathetic parody of a supernova. This right here—you stripped down to your underwear and allowing him to love every inch of your supple skin, him stripped down to the bone and being forced to let go of control–is something he used to fantasize about, something he never ever thought himself worthy of, but when you look up at him with your eyes full of trust and dedication, he can’t stop himself from drinking in every second of it. His lips brush against your neck, right above the jugular so he can feel how your heart rate spikes, and then your collarbone, and then his tongue gently swipes across your nipple, earning a soft gasp from you.

“Simon,” you whine, “no teasing, please.”

His fingers brush against your cheek, lips still attached to your breast, while his other hand snakes down to your cunt. “‘m not teasing, darling, I promise. Just want to show every part of you some love.”

He’s an expert at unraveling you, at lightly grazing his fingers just above where you need him most, at dragging his tongue across your peddled nipple, at nipping and sucking at your breasts until you’re bucking against his hand. Even after all of these past weeks of quickies and fevered shower sex, Simon Riley is nothing short of a master at making you moan out his name. His penchant for precision is often deemed a tedious mindset, something to hold him back from admiring the big picture, but it’s a gift from the heavens above when it has you a writhing mess underneath him. Your juices are coating his hand and his ears are full of your vows of love and lust, but it still isn’t enough for him. He needs all of you, all of your tears, all of your gasps and whines, all of your shaking thighs wrapped around him, needs to feel skin brushing skin and the promise of loving and being loved forever.

Your shaking hands bury themselves in his hair, pulling and tugging at the strands and causing him to groan against your skin. “Simon, f-fuck, you’re so good.”

A moan stutters in his chest at the unexpected praise. He needs to feast on everything that is you until he’s full. Without so much as a warning, he kisses your forehead once more before throwing your legs over his shoulders in one swift movement. You open your mouth to protest that he deserves a little love too, but his lips are already attached to your throbbing clit and all you can do is cry out his name. You can feel another groan reverberate in his chest, his hands kneading at your plush thighs and pulling you closer, closer, closer, until his nose is buried in your pubic hair, and he looks nothing short of a man utterly in love with the person beneath him.

“Simon! Oh my fucking god, Simon!”

He slides a finger inside of your fluttering hole, and then another, curling them and scissoring just the way that has your thighs twitching around his head. Brown eyes roll to the back of his head, and he somehow manages to bury his face even further into your pussy. “Like that, baby? You like it just like that?”

“Yes, Simon, yes, please!”

“Fucking hell, darling, I could stay here forever.” Forever doesn’t seem like a long time as long as you’re by his side…

Simon isn’t sure what he’s more drunk on—the alcohol he indulged in earlier, or the juices dripping from your cunt. He’s intoxicated on submission and domination, lust and love, every saccharine memory with you in the past and every hopeful wish with you in the future, every broken piece of you and every picture he’s painted on your skin. He’s drunk on you. All of your moans and pants and pleas for more, more, more—eat until you’re full, Simon! Completely devour until all that’s left is an illustration of what love is!

He was never an indulgent man until you came into his life and discovered just how large his stomach truly is.

His tongue draws languid circles on your clit as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt, his half-lidded ambers watching the rise and fall of your chest. Once he finds a good rhythm, he brings his free hand up to pinch and roll your nipple between his nimble fingers, and you’re sure this is what heaven must feel like.

Simon Riley is almost certain you’re an angel in disguise, but you’re starting to suspect he’s a god who’s too humble to admit his omnipotence. How else would he know exactly how to curl his fingers just right to get your thighs to shake? How else would he know how much you love when he flattens his tongue and slowly drags it along your clit? How else would he know to kiss your inner thigh as he takes a minute to catch his breath and rest his jaw? He looks up at you with ambers filled to the brim with worship and adoration, but you swear you can see a flicker of greed lingering somewhere in there—obsession disguised as fascination, possession parading as love, anything to keep you by his side.

“Look at you, so wet for me,” he coos up at you, using his fingers to spread your pussy lips and admire the mess between your legs. “Do I make you feel that good, sweetheart? Can’t help but fucking drip for me, hm? So wet for me, baby, so good for me.”

“S-S-Simon!”

“Keep moaning my name, sweetheart,” he groans as he brings his mouth to your cunt again, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the tightness of his pants. “Fuck—scream it, I don’t care. Just wanna keep hearing you.”

“Simon fucking Riley, please, you feel s-so good!”

Taunt skin is pulled across knuckles as you grip the bed sheets underneath you. Eyes rolling to the back of your skull, thighs uncontrollably shaking around his head, chest heaving as if you just ran a marathon, sweat clinging to your skin, cunt throbbing rhythmically along with the pumping of your partner’s fingers, you can feel your orgasm swiftly approaching. Simon must be able to tell also, given the way his licks to your clit are becoming more and more frantic and he’s starting to goad you on.

Desperation is laced with fascination as he begs, “Go on, baby, it’s okay. Cum on my fingers. Cum for me, please, let me make you feel good. I know you can, love. Just cum for me.”

As if under his spell, you feel the control you had been trying to grip on to snap and unadulterated pleasure crash over your body, leaving you heaving and twitching underneath his touch. He easily helps you through your high, gentle as he kisses your thighs and slowly eases his fingers out of your throbbing cunt. Crystals poke at the corner of your eyes, causing them to look like stained glass on a sunny day, and Simon is sure to say his prayers as he kisses them away.

“So, so gorgeous,” he whispers between the brushes of his lips. “So pretty when you’re cumming for me. Fuck, love, you’re so beautiful.”

Relishing the praise he’s pouring on your skin, your shaking fingers begin to tug at the shirt clinging to his chest. He tries to stop your ministrations and tell you that predators typically don’t get help from their prey, but you shush him and tell him that not every prey is helpless just like not every predator is invincible. He watches your hands fumble with bemusement, and after a moment of struggling you decide to flip your bodies over so you’re now straddling him.

He’s surprised to say the least, eyes widening and body struggling to regain control, but after a kiss to his forehead and a nip at his ear, he begins to think that having control isn’t what it’s all cracked up to be. Besides, why would he deny himself the perfect view of your body—of your breasts heaving in front of him, your pulse thumping in the hollow of your throat, of your neck exposed and ready to be bitten? Why would he deny himself of the feast before him, coated in sweat and glowing with love?

“Off,” you mumble against his neck and tug at his pants. “Off, please, Simon, take them off.”

Desperation drips from every syllable that falls from your intoxicating mouth, and he’s quick to dispose of the pants that restrict him. Strong fingers cup your jaw and bring your face in front of his, hungry ambers drinking in the sight of adoration and lust. His lips slot against yours, hands grasping at your hips and dragging your cunt across his hard cock, and he swears this is the sweetest form of torture.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I want you to look at me while you put me inside of you. C’mon, baby, don’t be shy now.”

Your trembling hands find his dick, and you have to stop to admire the masterpiece laying underneath you—a pretty red head beaded with precum, a prominent vein running along the side of his shaft and wrapping until it meets with a tuft of blond pubic hair, stomach muscles contracting with every breath, pink-flushed cheeks on a stern face, a naked chest rising and falling with anticipation. He’s beautiful. He’s everything every artist has tried to capture on blank canvases and fell just short of. He’s ethereally gorgeous but also alarmingly human. He’s an angelic face with blood-stained hands. He’s Simon “Ghost” Riley, and you’ve never been more proud to be able to call him yours.

Bashful eyes meet greedy ones and you’re lowering yourself on his cock before you can begin to ask yourself who’s more vulnerable in this moment—the prey on the pedestal or the predator whose appetite can only be satiated by one person. The swollen tip of his cock rests easily inside of you, and right when you’re about to start rocking your hips, he sits up so your chests are flushed together, much like how you were in the kitchen.

His lips brush against your shoulder, and you’re reminded of how gentle he can be despite the calluses on his palms. “I want you close, baby, please. Need to feel all of you. Every inch, inside and out. Will you let me do that, sweetheart?”

A thick blanket of submission wraps itself around your shoulders, and your head is nodding before you even give it permission to. “Want all of you, Si! Need all of you! Jus’ wan’ you.”

He begins to rock his hip, bones digging into plush flesh, and swears he can see flashes of golden gates with each thrust. “That’s it, baby. Such a good girl—my good girl.”

“S-Simon!”

Watching your breasts bounce as he bucks into you is hypnotizing, and he has to dig his fingers into your thighs to keep himself from bucking into you wildly. No, he refuses to be the beast he keeps buried down. It’s taken years of self-discipline and self-discovery to keep it locked away. He can’t unleash it now during a moment of vulnerability. But there’s something so tantalizing about you, so tempting and delicious that causes his teeth to sharpen and his mouth to flood with drool…

“Roll your hips, darling,” Simon whispers into your neck. “Be my good girl and roll your hips.”

And like the obedient girl you are, you listen, clit brushing against his pelvis and sending delicious waves of pleasure over your body. He thinks he’s dragging you down to hell with him, but you’re certain this is what heaven feels like. The love of your life beneath you, a light blanket of sweat over his body, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tries not to overindulge, his heart slamming against his ribcage in a frenzied attempt to reach you, his hands touching every inch of you they can reach, his lips kissing away the tears that stream down your face… No, this is better than heaven. With his hunger and your curiosity, you’ve both managed to find a place better than the promiseland, better than anything any god or mortal could even begin to hope to comprehend, a place where he’s free to feast on you as much as he wants and you can bury yourself in his ribcage.

Strong fingers slip under your chin and force you to look in a pair of shining ambers, and you swear Simon has never looked more beautiful than in this moment. “Kiss me, sweetheart,” he pleads, his hips stuttering.

Starving lips come crashing together, and it takes every ounce of self-control to not feed until his stomach ruptures.

And the worst part of it all is he knows you would allow him to.

You would absolutely allow him to eat, eat, eat, Simon, sharpen your teeth and bite as hard as you want! You’ll never go hungry as long as you’re with me! Just eat, goddammit, eat, eat, eat! Eat all of me until we aren’t sure where you end and I begin! Eat until I’m swimming in your veins! Just fucking eat!

Simon buries his face into the crook of your neck in hopes that maybe he can get through the night without any bloodshed, struggling to keep himself under control. But you have other plans. Lacing your fingers through his blond hair, you guide his face to one of your breasts in a silent plea for him to suck on it as you ride him. He obeys, of course. How could he not when you look so delicious covered in sweat and bouncing on his cock?

With teeth as sharp as diamonds, he tugs onto your nipple, and you cry out his name until it’s all you can dare to think about. “Fuck, baby,” he swears, one of his hands massaging your other breast, “you’re so beautiful. You know that right, darling? Have I ever told you how beautiful you are as you ride me?”

Your thighs begin to shake, and it’s then you both know you’re at the brink of unadulterated pleasure. Mustering as much strength as you can, you slam your hips down on his in frantic motions, feel the head of his cock prodding at your cervix, and tears poke at the corners of your eyes in anticipation of the feast about to come.

“So close, baby,” your partner moans, “so fucking close. Just a little more, love. Can you do that for me? Can my good girl ride me just a little bit more and make us both cum?”

“Y-Yes! Anything for you, Simon! Jus’ wanna be your good girl…”

Your whines and moans become more and more warbled the closer you get to your orgasm, and Simon is drinking every ounce of your submission. Unable to maintain self-control in the face of greed, sharp teeth pinch your nipple, the swell of your breasts, your shoulder, your neck, your jaw—anywhere he can feed and hear you squeal out in delight, just so long as he eats, eats, eats. Every time enamel pinches plush flesh, he can feel a piece of you slither down his throat and land in his ever-growing stomach—somewhere you’ve learned to consider home. Whispers of praise and love dance across your skin, his hands running up and down your spine as if coaxing you to give him just a little more of yourself, just a bit more so he can sedate the beast and continue to be the practical man you know and love.

“So fucking good for me,” he moans into the crook in your sweaty neck, his cock beginning to throb with the need to release. “That’s my girl, just a little more. I’m so close, love.”

Shaky hands bury themself into thick hair, and you pull until you can hear a hiss leave his lips. “Please, Simon, cum with me, please!”

“My baby wants me to cum with her, hmm?” he teases, albeit weakly. He’s losing control, you both know it. His abs flex with strain, his brow is shining with sweat, and his lips wobble with weakness, and yet he’s fighting to have you cum first just so he can taste how sweet you are on his tongue before he’s no longer human.

“Yes, please! I’m begging you, Simon, cum with me!”

“O-O-Oh, fuck...” Though he’s never been much for blind optimism, a part of him hoped maybe he finally could have control over his desires around you. A foolish thing to think, really, when you call to the beast buried in his ribcage so easily… “I’m gonna cum, darling, cum with me!”

And you do, almost embarrassingly quick. With your arms wrapped around each other, your face buried in his chest and his buried in your hair, your hips clumsily crashing together, you both cum together loudly, lewdly, your names burned into each other’s throats and echoing off of your bedroom walls. 

“You did so well for me, baby,” he mumbles against your shoulder, his lips fumbling to kiss everywhere his teeth sunk into. “I love you so much.”

You sigh and lean into his kisses as much as you can, arms still hanging loosely around his neck and your lungs trying to pull in oxygen. “I love you too, sweetheart, so, so much.”

“C’mon, I’ll go prepare a bath for us.” Gently, he untangles your limbs and lifts you in his strong arms. With one last kiss to your forehead, he begins to make his way to the bathroom, you curled up against his chest and listening to how hard his heart is hammering.

And somewhere between the sound of running water and satisfied giggles, Simon swears he hears a growl coming from his chest—low and threatening, a warning he only has so much time before he loses control and he can no longer contain how he feels about you.

And, for the first time since he discovered that wretched beast, he thinks he might be okay with that.

[annwrites]

— billy hargrove quotes  ⏧·₊̣̇. “ | thoroughfare

❝Hey, sweetheart, need a ride?❞

❝Sorry, you say somethin’, baby? I can’t hear you over the stereo!❞

❝Friday Night at the drive-in theater they’re having a showing of Nightmare on Elm Street. I was wondering if you’d want to go with me? Don’t worry, if you get scared, I’ll hold your hand.❞

❝Don’t waste your time, man. She’s a fuckin’ prude.❞

❝Y/N, who did this? I’ll fuckin’ kill him.❞

❝You want to go west and so do I. So, we might as well go together. At least you’ll be safe if you’re with me.❞

❝I'm not the one that gave her a tune-up. So, you want to ring my shit up now, or what?❞

❝If you think I'm about to let you behind the wheel, sweetie, you have another thing comin'.❞

❝You worry too damn much, darlin'. Might help you relax if you just got laid.".

❝See somethin' you like, darlin'?❞

❝Oh yeah, she wants me.❞

❝Because I don't need to worry about your ass disappearin'. And I'm fuckin' beat, so I'm not going back out. Close the damn door.❞

❝Knew I'd get you into bed eventually.❞

❝I don't mind 'em fiesty, y'know.❞

❝Mornin', sunshine. You sleep good? I know I did.❞

❝You want to take your frustrations out on me, baby? I can think of lots of funner ways to do it.❞

❝Just trying to get you to lighten up a little, sugar. You know, you are allowed to have fun.❞

❝You want to play footsie, darlin'?❞

❝Touch her again and I'll beat your fuckin' ass! You hear me, asshole?❞

❝Stay down, if you know what's fuckin' good for you.❞

❝Fine, yeah, I'm fuckin' jealous! That what you wanted to hear? Huh?❞

❝If you need somethin' else to lick, I know where you can put your tongue at, sweetheart.❞

❝I think you like getting those perfect feathers ruffled.❞

❝I definitely think at least one thing is pretty.❞

❝Trying to kiss you, pretty girl.❞

❝You're stuck with me, baby.❞

❝Please come back with me. I can't do this without you.❞ (...) ❝I don't want to be alone anymore.❞

❝You should see me under the hood of this thing, sweetheart. I’d really have you sweating then.❞

❝We’ll have to pick you up a bikini, sweetheart.❞

❝Oh, c’mon. Just try this one on. Humor me, honey.❞

❝Oh, baby, you should know by now: I’m not one to give up easily.❞

❝You should see what else these fingers are good at playing with.❞

❝Might want to slip your suit on, too if we're going to swim. Unless you'd rather skinny dip?❞

❝I'll tell you this much, honey, the water won't be the only thing making you wet tonight if I have anything to say about it.❞

❝You don't have to keep it together all the time with me. You can be whoever you want now; do whatever you want. No one's going to stop you.❞

❝I'll have to get you liquored up so I can finally take advantage of you.❞

❝God, you're such a fuckin' tease. I don't buy the innocent act anymore, so don't bother with it.❞

❝Be a lot warmer if you just pressed yourself up against me again like last night.❞

❝I'm not tired. You could always help with that.❞

❝Honey, if you wanted to spoon, all you had to do was ask.❞

❝No, that's not my pistol, before you ask. I'm just that happy to see you.❞

❝If you want to keep playing hard-to-get, sweetheart, we still have plenty days of driving before us, so we can play that game. Just know you won’t win.❞

❝I have no problem hand-feeding you, princess.❞

❝I’m nothing if not a man of my word, baby. I told you that you were stuck with me. I meant that. So I’ll wait for however long you want to keep holding out for. You take that to mean whatever you want it to.❞

❝Your hair looks nice, since I never told you. I was right: it makes you look hot.❞

❝You think I acted that way because I didn’t like you?❞ (...) ❝It’s the very opposite. You should know that by now, honey.❞

❝You want to talk, then we’ll talk. But I need to get my blood-alcohol level up first.❞

❝You like my package, sweetheart?❞

❝That your way of asking me to be sweet on you, baby?❞

❝I only had eyes for you since day one, baby. There was just somethin' about you, I guess. Honestly, I think it was the fact you never tried to get my attention.❞ (...) ❝Every man likes a chase. And I'll be damned if you haven't given me one. A few times.❞

❝But once I had her in the backseat and we got down to business, there was only one girl on my mind, and it sure as hell wasn't her.❞

❝You need a hand with that, baby?❞

❝Fuck,❞ (...) ❝Are you always this wet?❞

❝That feel good, honey?❞

❝When you come, sweetheart, I want you to fucking scream my name. I want half this damn place to hear it.❞

❝That's it, baby, come for me. C'mon, sweetheart, you're almost there.❞

❝That's my fuckin' girl.❞

❝Fuck, that's fuckin' perfect. Just like that, angel.❞

❝I'm so fuckin' close, baby. I'm about to cum. Fuck, keep going. Jesus Christ.❞

❝God, that was fuckin' perfect.❞

❝Please, angel, no one has said it to me since my mom left. Please... I feel it, too.❞

❝I know it’s not your monthly or I would’ve found out as much last night with my hand between your legs.❞

❝Don’t ever fucking touch her again! You hear me, you fuckin’ piece of shit?❞

❝You’re fucking mine. You understand me? You’re mine.❞

❝Next time I see another guy touching you, I won’t stop until I have fucking killed him.❞

❝Please don’t go. I’m in love with you.❞

❝I didn’t want to acknowledge it—admit it. I mean, fuck, what if you didn’t feel the same?❞

❝But I just…started seeing you differently the more we spent time together.❞

❝Please don’t leave. I’ll do fucking anything. Please, Y/N. I…I can’t lose you, too. Please, God, I’m begging you, stay.❞

❝I love you. Please. I’ll change, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll be whoever you need me to be. Just don’t walk out that door, I’m fuckin’ begging you.❞

❝Just let me prove to you that I can be better. The kind of man that’s worthy of you.❞

❝Angel, I know I don’t deserve you. Fuck, I probably never will. And I know you deserve a hell of a lot better than me. But you’re all I want. I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want you. I…I need you. Just, what can I do to fix this?❞

❝I want you. Now. Maybe...maybe forever. I guess we can figure that part out together. If you'll still have me. If you could ever fuckin' forgive me for all the shit I've done—put you through. It's not always going to be perfect. I'm going to piss you off and keep getting on your last nerve for my own amusement. I'll never stop being a pain in your ass. But it's only because I—❞ He sighs. ❝Because I love you. So, please, just stay. I think... I think that we belong together. Who the hell else is going to put up with me the way you have? Who else could ever understand the shit I've been through but someone else who's been through it, too?❞

❝Honey, I don't want anybody else.❞

❝You have no idea what it meant to me, sweetheart. A lot. Before...whatever shit I did with a girl was just sex. Not intimacy. Things are different with you.❞

❝I didn't know what the fuck to do with that: being in love. So I did the only thing I knew how to and punished you for it. For making me fall for you. Even if that had never been your intention, it happened anyway. It was always going to, I think.❞

❝You've been a naughty girl and you're getting punished.❞

❝Jesus. Easy, killer. I said park it, not give me whiplash.❞

❝Now, how the fuck am I supposed to behave myself when I know what you look like under your clothes now?❞

❝You realize that when we're alone in a room together, I'm not letting you wear clothes ever again?❞

❝I can't believe you're finally mine.❞

❝Shh, I know. You're close, aren't you, sweetheart?❞

❝You're lucky I didn't finish in my fucking jeans just now.❞

❝You do know driving my car isn't the only thing I'm going to be teaching you, right?❞

❝I'll never love anyone else the way I love you, not after everything we've been through. Only we understand each other. No one else ever could—will. You're mine. Forever.❞

❝You're going to fucking cum this time.❞

❝God, you’re fucking soaked. I can hear just how wet you are.❞

❝C’mon, baby, I know you like this. Tell me what you need.❞

❝Tell me how to get you to cum all over my cock, doll.❞

❝You’re fuckin’ insatiable. And I thought my sex-drive was bad.❞

❝I told you I always get what I want.❞ (...) ❝I meant you, baby. It was always you.❞

❝Y’know what, putting you in cuffs at some point seems like a good idea, too, now that you mention it.❞

❝God, you look so fucking hot right now. You’re perfect, honey.❞

❝Maybe I should see what my shifter looks like inside of you next.❞

❝Now there's an idea. You want me to pull your hair, honey? I always wondered what it'd feel like wrapped around my fist.❞

❝Maybe I'll let you yank on mine, too, next time I have my head between your legs.❞

❝Besides, how the hell am I supposed to sleep with you pressed up against me like this all night?❞

❝My face has been between your legs, making a meal out of the place you piss from, and that's what turns you off?❞

❝Baby doll, you're on fire, how do you feel cold?❞

❝Without...without you, all of it means nothing. It'll have all been for nothing. It was for you. All this shit.❞

❝Incase you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m the jealous type.❞

❝Was half-tempted to get my knuckles bloody for you back then, too. Just from him asking you out alone. And right in front of me, at that.❞

❝So, I finally flipped her on her stomach, pretended it was you, and laid some pipe. End of story.❞

❝Not your type, huh? Guess I’m the real winner here after all. So, what was it about me, then? My car? My rebel attitude? My devilishly good looks.❞

❝I wouldn’t have done all of this for anyone else.❞

❝Just trying to show my girl a good time. What, you've never been young and in love before?❞

❝C'mon, baby, we'll go blow a grand at Circus Circus instead.❞

❝Think you might be my little good-luck charm.❞

❝Not my fault that my cock is all you can think about.❞

❝You should know by now that I’m in this for the long haul. That you’re it for me. I know you deserve better than me. You always will. But I’ll try my best, alright? To be a good dad. I had a shitty fuckin’ example, but maybe I can learn from his mistakes. I’ll take care of you.❞

❝We’ll…we’ll get married. I’ll be better than he was. I have to be. You deserve that.❞

❝Don’t worry, baby, you won’t be wearing it long.❞

❝I love you. I love you. I love you.❞

❝Promise me that you’re mine for forever.❞

❝Man, that is one hot mama.❞

❝You’re lucky I’ve already got you knocked up. Because if I didn’t?❞ (...) ❝You’d be on your back right now getting bred.❞

❝Trust me, kid, you could do a lot worse when it comes to parents.❞

❝I’m gonna marry that girl one day.❞

❝Not a good day unless I’ve gotten on your last nerve, sweetheart.❞

❝Well, well, look who it is.❞

❝Somebody specific you’re trying to catch the attention of tonight, sweetheart?❞

❝So, what’s that pretty lil’ heart desire?❞

❝If you’re lookin’ for fun, I’m right here, honey.❞

❝You’re dancing with a man, not a boy.❞

❝You look really pretty tonight. I don’t think I told you that.❞

[lisacameron99]

Second (JJ x reader) (outer banks)

warning: angst, fighting, fluff, fluffy ending, feelings of insecurity, nakedness but no sex, illusions to sex

“I’m late, I know I’m late,” JJ said, rushing into the house. You stayed silent. There wasn’t much to say. “You’re soaked… did you walk?”

“Yeah, JJ. I didn’t want to stay on The Cut all night.” You deadpanned.

“Why didn’t you call somebody?”

“I did JJ! I called you! Pope! Kie! Johnny! Even Sarah. But nobody answered. Too busy helping John B find dad!”

“… Y/N…” JJ said, guilt swimming in his eyes.

“I mean, God, JJ. I don’t think I asked a lot when I asked you to pick me up.” JJ swallowed hard. He knew he fucked up. He knew he did. But they were so close on finding Big John, “And you don’t have anything to say because you know I’m right.” There was a beat of silence. “I’m going to shower. You should go back to Johnny, because he clearly needs you more than you think I need you.”

“Babe,” JJ ran a hand through his hair and over his jaw.

“Just - just - don’t.” You were growing more frustrated. “I’m going to take a shower.” You dragged yourself to the bathroom, piling you clothes by the sink. Stepping into the shower, you had it on the hottest setting your body could handle. The water pressure wasn’t the best, but you loved your little shower. Tears ran down your face, but you knew JJ wasn't going to be able to tell the difference between the tears and the water when it was on your face.

You prolonged your shower, longer than you normally would have, just so you could think everything through. Johnny was just going to have to suck it up and pay the water bill. JJ was sitting on the toilet, fiddling with his hat. He just wanting to be near you. You knew he did it as much for himself as he did you. You both thrived on both quality time and physical touch.

He handed you your towel when you opened the old curtain. “Thanks,” you muttered, squeezing your hair out and watching the drops hit the floor. You wrapped the towel around your body, drying yourself off.

You guys both made your way to the room you shared, and JJ threw an old shirt of his at you. Because you weren’t paying attention, it hit you smack in the face and fell on the floor. You stared at it before looking back to JJ. Your e/c met his blue and you both burst into laughter. JJ snagged it off the ground and pulled it over your head. A smile graced both of your faces as your eyes met.

“Hi,” you said softly.

“Hey.” He returned the gesture. You blinked, still keeping your eyes on his blue ones. After a few beats, he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

You shrugged, trying not to think about the stinging feeling in your chest. "It's fine." You said shortly.

"It's not." JJ said, rubbing your arms. "It's not fine. I told you I'd be there and I wasn't. I'm sorry."

"Well, it's done and over with now." You shrugged again before sitting on the bed. "No sense in dwelling on it."

"You think John B matters more than you do. And that's just not true." JJ responded. "I love John B, he's my brother. Always has been, always will be. But you matter to me. I love you. And I'm sorry that I made you feel as though you are less than him."

Tears welded up in your eyes. "I'm just very tired of this happening. JJ, I literally called you five times. I called Kie twice, Sarah twice, Pope twice, and Johnny three times and none of you answered. I mean, I work all the time because I have to keep groceries in the house, and the mortgage and the electricity bills paid for. Johnny takes care of the water and gas and what not, and you always, always, always do what you can, but I'm tired of being made second best just because I'm keeping us afloat."

"I'm sorry." JJ whispered, beginning to pace around the room. "I'm so so sorry." JJ sighed, mad at himself for making you feel low about yourself. "I love you, Y/N. More than I've ever loved anybody. I'm sorry that I'm bad at showing it, and I'm really sorry that I left you at The Cut today."

"I love you too, JJ. But we need to be better at being there for each other when we commit to each other." JJ pulled you to your feet and hugged you too him. Face planted against his shoulder, you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist. He threaded one hand through your hair and the other around your shoulders. You stood there hugging each other tightly for a few moments before words came to JJ.

"You don't need to be better at it, you already are great at it. I need to be better. And I will be."

You nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" JJ asked you, gesturing to the bed.

You nodded, flopping on the bed. JJ went to go on his side of the bed, but you dragged him to be on top of you.

When his eyes glanced up at you, you gave him a soft smile. "Hi."

"Hi yourself." He placed his mouth on yours and kissed you deeply. You both pressed into each other, trying to feel as much of each other as possible. Your hands ran through his hair, clutching tightly while his rans down your sides and planted themselves on your hips.

You finally pulled yourself away from JJ, panting as he kissed down your neck. What a perfect way to end the night, you thought to yourself, as JJ kissed further down. Make up sex was so underrated.

End.

lmk if you all want a part two!