#and their expressions are on fucking point too

[leona-hawthorne]

FICMAS #7— WHAT’S YOUR TYPE? / theodore nott

december 22nd

theodore nott x fem reader

summary: theo is smart, but he’s an idiot when it comes to taking hints. sometimes, you have to just give it to him.

warnings: smut, unprotected piv, oral m!receiving, google translated italian (sorry in advance)

words: 2.7k

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Theo had this way of existing—effortless, detached, like gravity bent to his whims. He lounged against the headboard, a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling upward in lazy spirals. You were convinced he didn’t even like smoking; he just enjoyed the ritual, the way it made his hands look purposeful.

The dorm was dim, the only light spilling from the bedside lamps. Everyone else was sprawled across the furniture, engaged in half-hearted conversations about Quidditch or the latest rumors circulating the castle. But your focus was locked on Theo. Always Theo.

“What’s that look for?” he asked, his lips curving into a smirk as he caught your gaze. His voice was low, teasing, pulling at some invisible thread in your chest.

“What look?” you shot back, tilting your head and feigning innocence.

He chuckled, a sound that sent warmth pooling in your stomach. He took a drag of his cigarette and passed it to you without a word. You accepted it, your fingers brushing his. The fleeting contact sent a shiver down your spine, but you masked it with a casual exhale of smoke.

“So, what’s the topic tonight?” you asked, your tone light.

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘topic.’”

“I mean, what bullshit are we debating? Everyone’s always got something to say about something.”

He glanced around the room, noting the fragmented conversations, before turning back to you. “I think we’re safe to create our own.”

“Fine,” you said, handing the cigarette back to him. “What’s your type?”

Theo blinked, caught off guard. “My type?”

“Yeah. You know, what you look for in someone. Or are you too much of a brooding intellectual to care about such trivial matters?”

His smirk returned, sharper this time. “I’ll have you know I’m very discerning.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you said, rolling your eyes. “But seriously, I want to know.”

He hesitated, the cigarette poised between his lips. “I don’t know. I guess someone who can hold their own. Smart, independent. Doesn’t take my shit.”

You snorted. “So, basically, someone who’s not a doormat.”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, shrugging. “What about you? What’s your type?”

You took a moment, pretending to ponder, even though the answer was sitting right next to you. “I’ve always thought intelligence is sexy. Like, really sexy. Bonus points if they speak another language.”

Theo glanced at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Oh, yeah? What’s so great about that?”

“It’s just impressive,” you said, leaning forward slightly. “Shows effort, you know? And…” You trailed off, letting the tension hang for a beat. “I’ve always been a sucker for blue eyes.”

His expression didn’t shift, but you could see the gears turning in his head. “Interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” you replied, your tone light but your gaze steady. He didn’t look away, and for a moment, you thought he might finally connect the dots. Instead, he leaned back, as if dismissing the comment entirely.

“What about personality?” he asked, like you hadn’t just described him to a T.

You sighed, exasperated. “Theo.”

“What?” he said, his voice full of feigned innocence.

“For fuck’s sake,” you muttered, grabbing his wrist and yanking him to his feet. The room barely registered the two of you leaving; everyone else was too absorbed in their own conversations.

Theo followed you into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind you. “Care to explain what’s going on?”

You turned to face him, your back against the door. “You’re supposed to be smart.”

“I am smart,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Then why are you so bloody dense?” you asked, stepping closer. He didn’t move, his eyes fixed on yours, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Am I?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

“Oh, you absolutely are,” you said, your hands finding the front of his shirt. “But I think I can help with that.”

The realization finally dawned on him, and his smirk widened. “Well, by all means, love. Enlighten me.”

You didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, you tugged him down by his collar and crashed your lips against his. Theo responded immediately, his hands bracing on your hips as he pressed you back against the door. The kiss was heated, messy, all teeth and desperation. You’d been waiting for this, and judging by the way his grip tightened, so had he.

“You’re insufferable,” you murmured against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“And yet you’re all over me,” he shot back, his tone smug. Before you could retort, his mouth was on yours again, silencing any comeback you might have had.

Your hands moved to the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. Theo barely gave you a moment to breathe before he was on you again, his lips trailing down your jaw to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You gasped, your head tipping back against the door.

“I think I like it when you’re annoyed,” he murmured, his voice rough.

“Shut up,” you managed, but the words lacked any real venom. Your hands roamed over his chest, mapping out the planes of muscle and the scatter of freckles across his skin. He was impossibly warm, and you couldn’t get enough.

Theo’s hands slipped beneath your shirt, his fingers skimming over your bare skin. You shivered at the contact, your breath hitching as he pulled the fabric up and off. His gaze darkened as he took you in, his lips parting slightly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his hands settling on your waist. “Così dannatamente carino.” (So fucking pretty.)

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but you didn’t have time to feel self-conscious. Theo’s mouth was on you again, his kisses trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. Every touch, every movement felt like fire, and you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Theo,” you breathed, your fingers clutching at his shoulders. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with intent.

Theo didn’t hesitate this time. His lips found yours again, hot and desperate, his hands roaming up your sides and pulling you against him like he needed you closer just to breathe. The counter dug into your back, but you didn’t care, not when his kisses were this consuming, his tongue brushing yours and leaving your head spinning.

But you’d waited long enough for him to figure this out, and patience wasn’t exactly your strong suit. You broke the kiss, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “Why’d it take so long for you to figure this one out, hm?”

His smirk reappeared, lazy and infuriating as his hands settled on your hips. “Maybe I just like taking my time.”

You huffed, turning him around so his back was now pressed against the counter. “Then let me spell it out for you,” you said, your fingers already moving to the buckle of his belt.

Theo’s breath hitched, his smirk faltering as you pulled the leather strap free and let it fall to the floor with a soft clink. Your fingers worked quickly, unfastening the button and zipper of his trousers, and when you pushed them down his hips, the tent in his boxers told you everything you needed to know.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his hands gripping the edge of the counter behind him as he stared down at you. “You’re not messing around, are you?”

“Not in the slightest,” you said, dropping to your knees in front of him.

You tugged his boxers down, and his cock sprang free, hard and flushed and already leaking at the tip. Theo let out a sharp exhale, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the counter harder. You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes as you wrapped a hand around him, giving a slow, deliberate stroke.

“Still confused?” you asked, smirking when his hips twitched at your touch.

“Not even a little,” he said, his voice rough and tight.

You didn’t give him time to say more. Leaning in, you flicked your tongue over the tip, tasting the salty bead of precum there before taking him into your mouth. The groan that tore from his throat was low and guttural, his head tipping back to rest against the mirror.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his fingers tangling in your hair as you took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You hummed around him in response, the vibrations drawing another string of curses from his lips. Your hand worked the base of his cock in tandem with your mouth, your pace slow at first, teasing, before you gradually increased the intensity. His breathing grew heavier, his hips jerking slightly as you set a rhythm that had him unraveling beneath your touch.

“Shit,” he groaned, his voice breaking on the word. “You—God, you’re so fucking good at this.”

His praise spurred you on, your free hand sliding up his thigh to steady him as you took him deeper. He was losing control, his grip in your hair tightening, his moans turning into something desperate and raw.

“Fuck—” His hips bucked as his head fell forward, and he looked down at you with wide, blown pupils. “I’m—shit, I’m close.”

You didn’t stop. If anything, you doubled down, your tongue tracing the underside of his cock as you took him all the way to the back of your throat. That was all it took. With a sharp cry, his body tensed, and he spilled into your mouth, a broken groan tearing from his lips as he came undone.

You swallowed, pulling back slowly and wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. Theo’s chest was heaving, his hair a tousled mess as he leaned heavily against the counter, staring down at you like you’d just knocked the wind out of him.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. “You’re insane.”

You stood, smirking as you leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

He grabbed your hips in one quick motion, lifting you onto the counter like you weighed nothing. “Oh, I’ve figured it out now,” he murmured, his voice still rough, but his smirk returning full force. “But I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

Theo’s hands gripped your waist as he pulled you flush against him, his mouth crashing into yours. The kiss was frantic, his tongue brushing against yours as he poured every ounce of leftover tension into it. His hands wandered, sliding up your bare back, fingers tracing the curve of your spine before tangling in your hair to tilt your head back.  

“You’re too fucking good at this,” he muttered against your lips, his voice low and thick. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”  

“Maybe,” you teased, your voice breathless as his teeth grazed your bottom lip.  

He chuckled darkly, nipping at the corner of your jaw before trailing kisses down the column of your neck. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”  

“Pretty sure I am,” you quipped, your hands threading through his hair.  

Theo groaned, his lips dragging over your collarbone. His hands skimmed your sides, his thumbs brushing under the waistband of your jeans. “We’ll see how clever you are when you’re begging me to let you cum.”  

Before you could retort, he lifted and spun you around in one swift motion, your palms landing on the counter as he pressed your hips into the sink. You gasped, his chest flush against your back as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear.  

“Guarda te stessa,” he murmured, his tone dripping with sin. (Look at yourself.)  

Your gaze lifted to the mirror, meeting your reflection. Your hair was disheveled, lips swollen from his kisses, chest rising and falling rapidly. Behind you, Theo was watching you with hooded eyes, his hair mussed and his pupils blown with lust.  

“Sei bellissima così,” he said, his hands sliding down to unbutton your jeans. (You’re so beautiful like this.)  

He pushed the denim down your legs, letting it pool at your ankles, and you kicked them off the rest of the way. His hands found your hips again, sliding over the curve of your ass as his lips pressed to your neck.  

“You’re already so worked up,” he murmured, his fingers slipping between your thighs to brush over the damp fabric of your panties. “Fuck, you’re soaking.”  

“Do something about it, then,” you shot back, your voice shaking slightly.  

Theo grinned, his fingers curling into the waistband of your underwear. “Impatient, aren’t we?” He dragged them down slowly, letting them join your jeans on the floor.  

His hand slid between your legs again, this time bare against your skin, and you gasped as he slipped a finger inside you, his touch teasing and deliberate.  

“Così stretto,” he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. (So tight.)  

You whimpered, pressing your hips back against him as he added a second finger, curling them just right. His other hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as he worked you open with slow, calculated strokes.  

“Merda, sei perfetta,” he said, his voice rough. (Fuck, you’re perfect.)  

You moaned, your head tipping forward, but he clicked his tongue, his hand moving to your chin to tilt your face back up.  

“Guarda il specchio,” he ordered. “Voglio vederti quando vengo dentro di te.” (Look in the mirror. I want to see you when I come inside you.)  

Sure, you didn’t understand a word of what he was saying, but fuck, you couldn’t get enough of him talking to you like that. You didn’t fight against his hand, meeting his intense gaze in the mirror.  

Theo pulled his fingers away, and you heard the rustle of fabric as he kicked his trousers the rest of the way off. A moment later, his hands were on your hips again, guiding you back against him. You felt the head of his cock brush against your entrance, and he groaned, low and guttural, as he pushed inside.  

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, his grip tightening as he bottomed out. “You feel incredible.”  

Your hands braced against the counter as he began to move, slow and deliberate at first, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that made your knees weak. He muttered something in Italian, his voice low and breathless, but you couldn’t make it out over the sound of your own moans.  

“Che puttana carina,” he said, his teeth grazing your shoulder as he snapped his hips harder. (What a pretty little slut.)  

You gasped, the words only spurring you on as you pushed back against him, meeting each thrust.  

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice rough and teasing. “To be fucked like this?”  

“Yes,” you managed to say, your voice breaking as he hit a spot that had you seeing stars.  

“Good girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding up to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place. “Take it all, bella. Sei mia.” (You’re mine.)  

His thrusts grew faster, harder, and the bathroom filled with the sound of skin against skin, mingled with your moans and his curses in both English and Italian. You caught snippets of his words—“così stretta”, “troppo perfetta”, “dammi tutto”—and each one sent a new wave of heat coursing through you.  (so tight, too perfect, give me everything)

Your legs trembled as the pressure built, your release teetering just out of reach. Theo seemed to sense it, one hand slipping between your thighs to circle your clit as he drove into you.  

“Come for me,” he murmured, his voice raw. “Let me feel you.”  

His words sent you over the edge, your body shattering around him as a cry tore from your throat. Theo groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed you moments later, spilling into you with a shuddering moan.  

For a moment, the only sound was your heavy breathing, the two of you leaning against the counter, spent and satisfied. Theo pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder, his tongue swirling over the skin and his hands roaming over your waist as he caught his breath.  

“You’re my type,” he muttered, his voice still rough but laced with affection.  

You smirked, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Yeah, I fuckin’ better be.”

​​ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @iamaconfusedpan

[sunderwight]

Luo Binghe needs to make better friends with Shang Qinghua, because Shang Qinghua's the one person who would know how to get Shen Qingqiu to top Binghe in bed.

Like if Binghe ever got to the friendliness level of actually bemoaning the situation, Shang Qinghua would be like, oh yah no problem leave it to daddy I got this for you. And then he'd go visit Shen Qingqiu and be all, so how's the sex life going?

After Shen Qingqiu finished yelling at him for asking the question, he'd of course provide some details -- which Shang Qinghua would translate out of Cucumber-ese into Normal Person Speak for concepts like "I'm a huge size queen so I'm really enjoying that WMD you gave your protagonist" and "I haven't figured it out yet but I really need to start using a better quality of lube" and etc, until there was an opening for him to get in the question of, has Shen Qingqiu topped Luo Binghe yet? Has he plumbed the depths of his heavenly love cave?

Which would probably inspire a two minute rant about the euphemism before Shen Qingqiu is finally like, of course I haven't topped, are you insane, I would never besmirch the dignity of an alpha male like that!

Shang Qinghua nods and hums thoughtfully and delivers the critical strike:

"Yeah, I guess he isn't really pretty enough to bottom."

Shen Qingqiu's expression goes through several different flavors of emotion before settling on "outrage". What the fuck, Airplane? Not pretty enough? Who gave him that face? What is that face if not "pretty"? Maybe some more advanced versions of the same concept, but that's the only case you could make, the case that it's actually "beautiful" or "gorgeous" or something because "pretty" is just too inadequate to describe it! You'd dare imply Binghe is ugly?! Is it crack that you're smoking?

Shang Qinghua just shrugs and goes well no the face department is probably not bad for that kind of thing, it's really more the body that's unsuitable. All those muscles and all, who wants to see those kinds of curves underneath them? And that ass. Totally inadequate for the job. He doesn't really blame Cucumber-bro for finding the whole prospect too unpleasant to contemplate! (Says man who regularly tops Mobei Jun, but it's not like Shen Qingqiu has figured that out, man's firmly stuck on yaoi tropes that say Airplane always bottoms because he's shorter.)

This, of course, inspires a fifteen minute rant on why Luo Binghe's ass is the most attractive ass ever, and all Shang Qinghua has to do is imply that if that were actually true, Shen Qingqiu would have had his husband bent over a bench at least once by now. And he's done it. This conversation can now only end with Shen Qingqiu storming off in a fit of righteous fury to go grab his husband and prove his point by bridal-carrying him into the bedroom and not coming back out until he's won the argument by ravishing Luo Binghe beyond a doubt.

Shen Qingqiu would be halfway through smugly informing Shang Qinghua that Binghe was the best lay ever the next day before it would even occur to him that he'd been had.

But Luo Binghe's too bad at making friends to ever unlock this feature, I think.

[blitzwhore]

Stolas just standing there and letting blitz hug him in the end is all good, right? He is just sad because of octavia and accepting that blitz is there with him right?? It's not that he regrets chosing him, right??? (I just need affirmation)

You know what? I've found myself needing reassurance about this too. So let's take a moment to look at the facts together, shall we?

(This reply turned out way longer than I expected it to 😅 sorry!)

Fact #1 - Stolas is still coming to terms with the consequences of his actions. He spends the whole episode finding out just how much his life has changed. Learning how to navigate groceries, and laundry, and meals, and having a job, and worrying about money.

Mid-episode, he has a breakdown where he truly questions if everything he gave up was worth it just for a fantasy. At this point in the episode, he still hasn't realised how much he means to Blitz. As far as he's concerned, he did all of this for someone who doesn't reciprocate his feelings. By the end of the episode, though, his feelings have settled enough for him to express what he has known to be true all along: that saving Blitz was the right thing to do.

What Stolas regrets isn't saving Blitz's life, or even loving Blitz in the first place.

What he regrets are the choices he made that led them to this. He feels guilty for selfishly (or, rather, naively) playing out his fantasies. He's the one who established the deal, who let Blitz illegally use the book for many months, who wasn't always sensible about how he expressed his love for Blitz publicly and despite being married, and who allowed himself to ignore the reality of his situation so he could live in his own, personal romcom—all of which ultimately led to the events of Mastermind and the loss of Via.

And all the guilt and regret he's grappling with (however justified it might be) is exacerbated by fact #2, which is:

Fact #2 - Stolas is off his medication. He's been off it for a month now. Symptoms of depression (especially untreated depression) include mood swings, irritability, self-hatred and low self-esteem, passive/active suicidal ideation, pessimism and hopelessness about the future, catastrophising, black-and-white thinking, and anhedonia (inability to feel pleasure and to find joy in things—and people—who used to bring you it). All symptoms Stolas exhibits throughout this episode.

So, even if he shows a lack of emotion toward Blitz at times, or irritation to seemingly minor things like low doors or "secretating" or Karen's behaviour, even if he acts regretful and angry and desolate... a lot of these emotions and behaviours are a result of his depression, and not of actually hating the life he chose.

Fact #3 - Stolas loves Blitz. He always has, and always will. I could point at a thousand different moments in the show when Stolas' love for Blitz has transpired, but I'm going to leave it at his line from Mastermind: "I would rather be dead than live life without you by my side."

Even after everything they've gone through, even now that he's taken Blitz off his pedestal and can acknowledge that Blitz can be a fucking idiot... Stolas simply does not want to live a life without Blitz. It has always been Blitz. It will always be Blitz.

Stolas loves Blitz.

Fact #4 - Stolas kissed Blitz. Before he truly hits rock bottom as a result of Octavia cutting him out, Stolas is so ecstatic that Blitz cares, that Blitz was willing to go to such lengths to save his life, that he can't hold back the need to kiss Blitz mid-air. Suddenly, none of his earlier frustration matters. Nothing matters expect for how elated he is that Blitz loves him back. So he smiles and he pulls Blitz into a kiss because he can't bear not to kiss Blitz for a moment longer.

Look at this man. Look at how happy he is. Because it's always been Blitz, and maybe it was a fantasy for a long time, but it doesn't have to be anymore. Maybe this can be real now. He's so happy he (and I) could cry.

Fact #5 - Stolas didn't deny loving Blitz. When Via said "You don't love me, you love him," the script very purposefully did not have Stolas go "no, no, Via, that's not true—" or say anything else that might make Blitz doubt, even for a moment, that Stolas loves him. Because that much is true. He does love Blitz. He just also loves Via. Which brings me to:

Fact #6 - Blitz knows Stolas loves him. At no point throughout the episode does Blitz doubt, even for a second, that Stolas loves him. And we know this because Blitz's walls remain down at all times. If Blitz doubted he was loved, if he had even the slightest of reservations, those walls would come crawling back up whether he wanted them to or not. It's what he's been trained and conditioned to do—it's how he's kept his heart safe ever since the accident.

But now, he knows his heart is safe with Stolas. He believes it enough to not depend on his walls to feel at ease. He believes it enough to let himself take care of Stolas and be soft with Stolas without the slightest trace of hesitation.

Look at Blitz's face. This is the face of a man who knows that even if Stolas isn't okay right now, things will get better. And when they do, they'll both still be in love with each other. This is the face of a man who can't wait for something beautiful to flourish between them, but who is in no rush to get there. He knows the road ahead is hard and painful, but he has faith in Stolas. In both of them.

Fact #6 - Stolas was happy to share a private, romantic dance with Blitz. Despite everything going through his mind, he found comfort and happiness in dancing with Blitz; in getting to have this little moment with him.

He found relief in the fact that Blitz stayed with him this time, even after Stolas told him, once again, that he didn't have to stay.

His reaction to Blitz initiating a dance between them is genuine surprise, immediately followed by an enamoured little smile at the mere notion that he gets to have this, now.

And, as they dance, he keeps smiling and leaning into Blitz, going as far as to manage a deep, heartfelt laugh at Blitz's words. This, for an unmedicated, depressed person going through one of the worst days of his life, is huge in itself. It shows that, even in the worst of times, he finds undeniable comfort and happiness in Blitz.

And, after their dance, Stolas looks at Blitz with a sobriety and soft sort of realisation that shows he's finally coming to terms with the fact that this is real. After everything he's lost, after all the fantasies he hoped for for so long and believed he'd never have, he finally gets to have this.

Despite the pain he's going through, Stolas looks at Blitz and sees the man he loves.

Notice how Blitz's eyes trail down to Stolas' mouth. And Stolas realises. And doesn't move away. Waiting, expectantly, for Blitz's next move, fully expecting it to be a kiss.

But then Blitz hugs him instead, and Stolas doesn't hug back.

And it's not because he doesn't want to be hugged by Blitz. It's not because his feelings for Blitz have changed, or dimmed, or disappeared. It's not because he regrets loving Blitz, or saving him. It's not because he doesn't want to have a close, healthy, loving romantic relationship with Blitz.

It's because of facts #1 (he's grappling with so much guilt and coming to terms with the consequences of his actions) and #2 (he's experiencing symptoms of unmedicated depression). And, above all, it's because of fact #7, which is...

Fact #7 - Stolas doesn't know how to be loved. Stolas has never had support. He has never had a shoulder to cry on, or someone to hold him when he needed it. When he's feeling vulnerable and broken, he defaults to hugging himself as a way to self-soothe, because that's the only comfort he's ever known.

And because he's never known comfort from others—because it was never allowed or safe for him to need or ask for comfort from others—all Stolas knows to do with his vulnerability is hide it. So much so that, the two times we see him begin to break down in front of Blitz before this episode, he either portals Blitz away or masks his tears and pain immediately. Even as he drunkenly rambles about wanting to be held, he still makes sure not to appear like he actually needs a hug.

So when he finds himself being held by Blitz in a warm, comforting hug, Stolas doesn't know how to respond. Because he's never had this. He's never had an opportunity to learn how to exist in someone's comforting embrace, how to interact with this kind of physical contact. He still has to learn how to feel safe between arms that aren't his own.

Simply put, Stolas still doesn't know how to hold Blitz back.

That doesn't mean Stolas doesn't want or need physical comfort. He needs it desperately—everyone does. But wanting something and knowing how to actually have it are two very different things, and Blitz knows that better than anyone, because he's wanted Stolas for a very long time, but didn't, until very recently, know how to feel safe accepting Stolas' love.

And that's why Blitz is completely understanding of the fact that all Stolas can do, all Stolas has the ability to do, is stand there and let himself be held, and let his emotions go through him. In, and out, with every breath, with every second. And get slowly acquainted with what being comforted by the person he loves feels like.

Thirty-something years of trauma can't be undone in a single hug, or a single conversation, and it's going to take time for Stolas to learn how to be present while in Blitz's arms, and how to return that emotional closeness.

But Blitz has faith in him. Blitz is willing to be patient and soft with him while he gets better. Blitz is ready to meet Stolas where he's at, because he knows, beyond a trace of doubt, that they love one another, and they're going to be okay. Even if Stolas doesn't know it yet—even if we, the audience don't know it yet—Blitz knows.

And that's just going to have to be enough for now.

And because this post got completely away from me, I shall conclude by quoting their song, because it summarises their story better than I ever could:

Truer love is hard to find. ❤️

[seeingivy]

sukuna and “ we have to stop meeting like this” plssss

we have to stop meeting like this x ryomen sukuna

**part of my tortured poets concert event

--

“we have to stop meeting like this.” 

sukuna can tell when he’s in trouble. 

he’s seen the look hundreds of times – when he used to talk too loudly during lectures in college, when he’s late to meetings at work, from his brother when he misses his nephew’s basketball games – to the point where he’s able to pinpoint it down to the expression. 

narrowed eyes. furrowed eyebrows. a pursed expression. 

and sukuna can evaluate that, at the very least, he’s not in trouble with you, because you have none of the three, despite the fact that he’s most definitely earned it at this point. a testament to your overwhelmingly large well of patience. if sukuna’s bruised eye isn’t betraying him, he’s almost convinced that he sees a whisper of a smile on your face. 

sukuna readjusts himself in the bed, shifting awkwardly from how small the stretcher is, as you make your way over to his side and pull the shiny blue latex gloves over your hands. 

“how else am i going to see you, doc?” he asks. 

you roll your eyes. 

you’re not particularly fond of downtown los angeles. 

there’s too many people – bustling in the streets, clogging up the sidewalk – to the point where you feel like you see hundreds of people every single day. and while the initial thought of moving was exciting, of the unknown, you very quickly realize that you detest it. 

you work in an emergency department that houses almost hundreds of patients everyday. strangers going in and out, coworkers cycling through to the point where you can barely remember anyone's name, and it’s a severely stark culture shock from the ten manned hospital you used to work at out in the suburbs. the same few patients you saw every few months. 

nothing is consistent in los angeles. except for the promise of a local bar owner, by the name of ryomen sukuna, who always tumbles in around the holidays with some type of injury. 

halloween. new years eve. thanksgiving. a broken arm, dislocated shoulder, a viral infection. 

“you know, i almost thought you weren’t coming.” you joke. 

“and miss out on valentine’s day with you?” he asks. 

you reach forward, fingers light on the side of the face as you guide him to look straight at you, so you can assess the damage. there’s a deep cut on the side of his forehead, superficial, accompanied by bruising around the soft warmth of his eyes. 

and while his pretty face is intact, his arm evidently isn’t. there’s a deep gash, one that makes him wince loudly as you touch the bruised skin around it. you narrow your eyes at him, before craning your neck over your shoulder and whistling. 

“yuuta.” 

“yes, dr. l/n?” 

you give him a polite smile. 

“can you get me a suture kit please?” you ask. 

he gives you a polite nod, quickly scurrying away towards the supply closet, as you turn back to sukuna. 

“don’t make that kid do my stitches.” 

“why not? that kid has to learn, you know.” 

“well, he can learn on someone else, for fuck’s sake.” he mutters. 

sukuna leans forward, giving you a bright grin, and whispering so quietly it sends a warm shiver down your spine. 

“you’ve got a special touch, doc. i’m only going to give you permission to patch me up.” 

you narrow your eyes at him. 

“will you really say no if i make him do it?” you ask. 

he gives you a nod. 

“plus, that poor kid has been staring at that girl with the green hair the entire time. you should let them play hooky.” 

“i should let my residents play hooky?” you deadpan. 

sukuna shrugs. 

“where’s your sense of romance?” he asks. 

you cross your arms over your chest, as yuuta sets the suture kit down on the counter and reaches for the gloves. you raise your hand in the air, gesturing for him to stop, and note that you’ll slightly regret this gesture in a few hours when you have to do the paperwork.

“no need, yuuta.” 

he gives you a frown. 

“i don’t mind, boss. you should take a break.” he offers. 

you shake your head at him. 

“you should go into my office and go to the desk on the left. there’s a box of chocolates that someone gifted me in my top left drawer this morning that you should share with dr. zenin.” you note. 

yuuta’s eyes go wide. 

“what do you mean?” he asks. 

“everyone can see that you’re hopelessly pining over maki. including my patient, who has very graciously convinced me to let you be a romantic. get out of my face before i change my mind.” you respond, making your best attempts at a stern voice. 

yuuta flickers his eyes in between you and sukuna, an unmistakably delighted look on his face, as he lightly taps on the door on his way out. you turn back to sukuna, who now has his eyes narrowed at you as you open up the suture kit. 

“you’re telling me there’s other people that give you gifts?” he asks. 

you scoff. 

“you give me gifts?” you asks. 

“the pleasure of my company at your workplace. on every calendar holiday, mind you.” 

you roll your eyes as you clean up the area around his skin, pulling out the silk material for his stitches. sukuna’s well versed in your stitching techniques, and with a pain tolerance so high, it only takes a few minutes. 

“what did you do this time?” you ask. 

“occupational hazard. who gave you the chocolates?” 

you scoff. 

“where do you work? the mma boxing ring?” you ask. 

“do you think i’m fit enough for that? more fit than the dumbass who gave you the chocolates?” he asks, a wide grin spreading across his face. 

you shrug. 

“evidently not. you can barely…

you pause to lift the chart left on the table, yuuta’s messy notes scribbled on the top, before you look back to glare at him. 

“...take down a christmas tree at the bar without injuring yourself. looks like you’re irritatingly possessive too.” you state. 

sukuna places his hand on his chest. 

“i told you to take it down earlier when suguru was still in town.” you note. 

“in my defense, i was protecting my beloved nephew, yuuji, from injury. he crawled underneath and almost got trampled.” he exaggerates. 

you give him a smile. 

“heroic.” you deadpan. 

sukuna gives you a smile, before lifting his hand up to cup the side of your cheek, the touch warm as he rubs a circle into your cheek. you lean into the feeling as sukuna reaches back and fixes the flyaways to the back of your ear, before you return to stitching up his arm. 

“i’m starting to think you’re injuring yourself on purpose just to spend time with me, ryo.” you murmur. 

“would that be wrong, baby?” he asks.

you roll your eyes. 

“wait for me to come home, dumbass. i’m literally off in five hours.” 

sukuna rolls his eyes right back at you, before leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek. he retreats as you set your forceps down, reaching for the roller bandage as you wrap it around his arm. you secure it with a piece of tape at the end, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder to signal you’re done. 

sukuna interlocks his fingers with yours, lifting your hand to press your fingers to his lips. 

“thanks, doc.” he murmurs, tone uncharacteristically soft. 

you can’t help but sigh – the aching feeling of seeing couples doting over each other all day hitting you in full force, that you’re spending your first valentine’s day away from him – as you reach forward and run your hands through his hair. 

“be careful. i’m wrapping you in bubble wrap next time.” you warm, reaching forward to lean your head against his shoulder. 

sukuna welcomes the touch, with three warm kisses spread between your forehead and your hairline, as he shows you the three pictures of the little valentine’s day card that yuuji made for you that’s waiting at home. 

you grant him twenty minutes – twenty minutes before you tear yourself from his side to go process his discharge paperwork – and send him on his way. you can’t help but sink into the chair the second you see his pink hair dart out the doors, as you type the last of his notes into the chart. 

“did the boyfriend enjoy the chocolates?”  

satoru’s hovering over your shoulder, a bright smile on his face, as he expectantly waits for an answer. you lean back in your chair, heaving a great sigh as you eye the clock.  

“he was here, got injured taking down the christmas tree at the bar. and the boyfriend insisted i give them up for okkotsu and zenin. they’re probably kissing in my office for all i know.” 

satoru gives you a polite tap on the head, lightly ruffling your hair, before pulling up the chair at your side. 

“well, you should be flattered. sukuna’s so dedicated to spending time with you. so romantic of himself to injure himself just to come down here.”

you scoff in response. 

“dedicated to being a dumbass is what he is.” 

satoru shakes his head.

“i think he’s just a big fan of getting doted on. being cared for, patched up by you, and all that.”

[m00nl1ghts1vt]

Neighbor!Matt x Brat!Reader - Plan B

Your white sheets drape loosely around Matt’s waist, daring to fall each time he pumps himself in and out of you at a steady pace, going so deep he teases your cervix each time. Low, raspy grunts escape his lips with every snap of his hips, one hand glued to your waistline, not letting you squirm out from his grip one bit while the other dangerously thumbs at your clit. “Ahh! — Matt,” you croak out, your eyes low from the little ball of pleasure building up in your stomach, “I can’t — Fuck!”

You hadn’t had a senseless hook up in months, you were too focused on work and isolating yourself, you had no time for distractions. You didn’t know how you got in this position – pinned underneath your obnoxiously rude and loud upstairs neighbor whom you’ve hated up until twenty minutes ago when he was forcing his tongue in your mouth and clawing at every article of clothing you had on. 

His blue orbs suck you in much like a heavy current. His bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he stares down at you with a gruff expression sewn deep into his face. He was so focused on making those sweet, sacred moans roll off the tip of your tongue, he almost failed to respond. Too busy fucking you into a mindless state, studying the way your face contorted in pleasure with each thrust. It was all due to him. His mouth gapes open as your eyes roll back, "all that — Mph! — shit you were talking," he manages to get out all while plowing into your sopping cunt, "now you can't — take it, huh?"

Wetness drips from your arousal at the sound of his voice, so deep and husky like he had been holding back his groans. Your wet pussy spits out squelching sounds adding to the mixture of your heavenly moans and Matt’s thighs slapping against yours as he rams himself in and out of you. The sex sounds are so satisfying, you both find yourselves leaning in, foreheads pressed together just to watch how his cock glides in and out of your wet cunt with such ease. You look up at Matt, his eyes already fixated on your face, “look at you," he coos before pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips, "y’almost there for me, sweet girl?”

That euphoric feeling you had been chasing the last twenty minutes finally reaches its boiling point, sending you over the edge and making your legs shake in an uncontrollable manner. A loud mewl erupts from your lungs and your body goes limp, collapsing onto the memory foam bed beneath you as you moan out, “oh my – god!” You cling onto the bedsheets for dear life, digging your nails deep as he fucks your thru your orgasm, his thumb still working tight circles around your small bundle of nerves.

“Fuckk — y’pussy squeezing me so tight,” he drags out, his eyes clenching shut as your walls convulse around his thick shaft, the feeling becoming too much for him to handle. Matt gives you one final thrust, burying his cock so deep, your entrance sits around the base of him as he spills his full load into you, his dick twitching with each spurt of cum he shoots out. As much as he’d love to stay buried as deep as he could be in the best pussy he’s ever had, the realization quickly sweeps over his mind. Not only did he have his bitchy downstairs neighbor that he couldn’t fucking stand under his complete control, cumming so hard on his cock she was shaking, but he just came in her. He fucking came in her.

Matt tries not to let the awkward silence take over the mood. Letting exhaustion take over his body, he collapses on top of you. Your heart thumps in your chest as he presses a light sloppy kiss to your collarbone, almost like it's an apology. “Fuck, sorry. I’ll uh –,” he breathes out, his nostrils flaring in an attempt to catch his breath, “I’ll insta cart plan b.”

Meanwhile, all you could think about was his cum dripping out of your pussy and onto the silky, freshly washed bed sheets below you. That asshole better buy you a plan b.

Introducing Neighbor!Matt x Brat!Reader

wc - 713

♡‧₊˚ New au incoming 🫣👀 ofc im still doing babydaddy!Chris, just miss writing about Matt 🥰 Let me know what you guys think?! Also want to say thank you @sweetshuga, @strnilolover & @chrislilcumslvt for their second opinions. This probably would've sat in my drafts forever if it wasn't for them lol

Posting the intro next!

Tags - @lvrsturniolo @ribread03 @unknvhx @m11rx @sweetshuga @loveparqdise @emely9274 @frickin-bats @delusional-4-fake-people @katie-tibo @leila-marie4 @thepubeburgler @shadowthesim @immy08 @trevorsgodmother @watercolorskyy @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @luvr4miya @strnilolover

© M00NL1GHTS1VT - please do noy copy my work

[muniimyg]

⋆꙳•❅ knj: wit it this christmas ❆•꙳

in which your boyfriend absolute sucks at wrapping gifts, leaving you to do all the work since… well, you don't suck. at least, not at gift wrapping!

series m.list // taglist

note: hoe hoe hoe ,, let's begin the series <3

warning: kissing, tit fucking, nam joon slaps oc, blowjob, headpusher!joon, dirty talk (calls her cockslut, bitch, etc), face cum shot

//

the floor is a mess. 

it’s a chaotic spread of wrapping paper scraps, accidentally ripped bows, and ribbons cut the wrong length—not to mention the missing roll of tape…you’re sitting in the middle of it all, cross-legged and nearly about to lose your mind. 

meanwhile, namjoon sits beside you, scissors in hand and an expression somewhere between focused and defeated.

“namjoon, this is—this is not even remotely straight. what happened?”

“okay, first of all,” he starts, setting the scissors down exaggeratedly, “you gave me the world’s dullest scissors. second, who needs straight edges? it’s going to get ripped off in like, two seconds.”

“it’s the principle,” you reply, deadpan, as you take the scissors from him and start cutting yourself. “why would we give out poorly wrapped presents? this is our 2nd christmas together—”

he sighs dramatically, leaning back on his hands. “okay, okay…”

“you’re on tape duty,” you say, tossing the roll at him. he catches it clumsily, letting out a small “oof” as it hits his chest. 

“wow, demoted again,” he mutters, peeling off a piece of tape and sticking it to his forehead. “what’s next? moral support?”

“don’t tempt me.”

the playful banter carries on as you work, but it’s not long before the god of destruction himself strikes again. 

why didn’t you see this coming? 

namjoon somehow manages to get the tape stuck to itself, creating an unusable, crumpled mess. you groan, taking the mangled roll from him.

“oh my god. do you suck this bad? fuck, that’s it. you’re officially off tape duty,” you declare, pointing towards the door. “go buy more wrapping paper. now.”

he stares at you, lips twitching into a smirk. 

“wow, so controlling. is this how it’s going to be when we’re married? barking orders at me every two seconds?”

“maybe if you actually followed instructions, i wouldn’t have to bark orders.”

his smirk grows into a grin, and there’s a glint in his eye now, playful but challenging. 

“you know, you’re kind of scary when you’re in charge.”

“good.”

"hot too."

"shut up."

the tension shifts, thickening the air between you. his grin fades into something softer, and when he leans closer, the warmth of his breath brushes your cheek. your heart skips as his hand finds your wrist, halting your movements.

“you’re so bossy,” he murmurs, his voice low, teasing. 

as much as you want to get these presents wrapped and out of the way, there’s something about his voice that pulls you back. something that makes your pulse race. even so, you fight through the urge. 

“and you suck,” you counter, but your words come out quieter, softer than you intend. "useless."

he chuckles, the sound deep and warm, before he closes the distance between you entirely.

“useless, huh?” he says, tilting his head, his nose brushing yours. there’s a lazy smirk tugging at his lips now. “you don’t sound too convincing, you know.”

your breath hitches. 

“well, you’ve got me surrounded by evidence, namjoon. want me to list all the ways you’ve been no help tonight? you fucking suck.”

his fingers tighten slightly around your wrist, grounding you, his thumb brushing idly against your skin. 

“maybe i just needed the right kind of motivation.”

you narrow your eyes at him, but your pulse betrays you, hammering wildly in your chest.

“and what kind of motivation would that be?”

he doesn’t answer right away, just looks at you, his gaze slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing every detail. when his free hand reaches up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, you feel your breath catch again.

“maybe if you stopped looking so pretty,” he murmurs, his voice dipping lower, “i’d be able to focus.”

your cheeks burn, but you scoff, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach. 

“pretty sure being able to cut paper straight has nothing to do with how i look.”

“that’s where you’re wrong,” he says softly, his lips dangerously close to yours now. “because the whole time i’ve been thinking about kissing you instead of—”

you don’t let him finish.

it’s instinctive, the way you close the distance, your lips pressing to his in a kiss that’s more impatient than soft. but he doesn’t seem to mind. his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, while his other drops your wrist to settle on your waist.

the kiss deepens, slow and steady at first, before it grows more heated, all the playful tension from earlier unraveling between you. you can feel the faint press of his grin against your lips, making you smile too, even as your fingers tangle in his hair.

“so,” he murmurs against your lips when you finally break apart, his voice breathless, “am i still useless?”

“you’re getting there,” you reply, and before he can respond, you’re pulling him back in.

mid kiss, he pulls away and breathes; “you know how you’ve been yapping about how much i fucking suck at wrapping presents?” 

you nod. 

“let’s see how much you suck, boss.” 

nam joon has you placed in between his thighs. 

your mouth wraps around the tip of his cock. kissing it lightly, you open your mouth wider to suck him in slowly. you only take the top half though, trying to warm him up. 

he’s leaning back against the couch and watching you with needy eyes. his eyebrows furrow as you take him deeper, letting a muffed moan out every now and then. for a moment, he squeezes his thighs together, trapping you. you almost choke from the lack of air, but it’s only enough for your eyes to get teary. when he lets go, you gasp for air. he smirks, liking the way you lost your breath. then, you get back into it.

as you drag your tongue along his length, he hisses; “yeah? that’s it, baby. lick my fucking cock. see how hard it is?”

“mhm? really fucking hard, baby.”

“take your tits out,” he instructs you, shifting so can have the space to take your shirt off. 

you do so. 

“like this?”

“yes,” nam joon murmurs as he helps you undress. nam joon reaches over to unclasp your bra. tossing it to the side, he grabs a handful of your breasts and bites his lip. “so fucking pretty, baby. tits so fucking juicy. so perfect. god, so fucking perfect…”

you tilt your head and shake your body, getting your tits to jiggle. he groans and slaps them. then, with a raspy and demanding voice, he says;

“be a good girl and fuck my cock with your tits, baby.”

you smile, liking the idea. 

repositioning yourself, you kneel over and hold both sides of your breasts. pushing them together, nam joon helps but gently guiding his cock into your cleavage. he thrusts slowly, and you both watch the way the tip of his dick pops out. 

you spit on top and he moans from the warmth of your saliva. 

before you know it, he’s fucking your tits. 

he pumps himself in and out, harder and harder by the minute. 

then, he places his hand on top of your head and holds you still as he pushes his cock into your mouth. 

“take it, bitch.” 

so you do. 

you take him in, sucking him hard and sloppy. you take him in so good, he’s near cumming. he can feel his dick harden inside your mouth and you do too. it’s like every curve and vein pops out, angry and ready to burst. you feel his body tense too—his thighs, his pelvis, and even the way his face winces… it’s such a huge tell. 

soon, nam joon begins to pant. then, he takes a handful of your hair and tugs your head back. surprised by his suddenness, you let go of everything. he bends over and kisses you, shoving his tongue inside. 

you kiss him back, matching his desperation and passion. 

when he pulls away, he cups your face with one hand and squishes your lips together. 

“do as i say,” he huffs. “okay, baby?”

you nod.

he slaps your face. 

“good girl.”

you moan and he slaps you again. roughly, cups your face and spits on you. his saliva sprays all over your face, but more on your lips. 

“what do you say?”

“thank you.”

“yeah, that’s right, bitch. you fucking say thank you when i spit in your face, right? because you’re such a fucking cockslut. you take me in so good, why? cos you love me? or because you love my cock?” 

you blink at him, pouting. 

“because i love you.”

he lets out a chuckle. 

“and my cock,” he adds. “say you love my cock, baby. then tell me what you love about it. say it while you suck me dry.” 

without another word, he pushes your head down and takes his cock in his hands. pumping it slowly, he shoves it into your mouth and hisses at you. 

“look at me,” nam joon deadpans. “don’t take your eyes off me.” 

you listen. 

you watch as the corner of his lips curve into a smirk. he holds his cock steady as he uses his other hand to push your head. 

headpusher. 

you breathe in through your nose, trying to steady yourself. as he pushes your head, his cock reaches the back of your throat multiple times. you gag every now and then, and he takes his cock out to give you some air. as you cough, he runs his thumb against your lips and asks if you’re okay. you simply nod and take him back in. 

you suck him off. 

lick him up. 

and soon enough, he lets go of your head. 

with your newfound freedom, you plop down and dig into his balls. 

as you shove your face deeper, sucking his balls and pressing kisses on his length, you tell him;

“mhmpphh… baby, your cock is so fucking hard in my mouth. did you feel how deep i took you? thank you for helping me, baby… such a good fucking daddy. always helping his girl take him in… you like that, right? you like how big your cock is… doesn’t even fit in my mouth.” 

“yeah?”

“mhm,” you hum, shifting up to suck the tip of his cock. then, you take in more. 

and more.

and even more.

his body tenses. 

you look up at him, batting your eyelashes. 

“see?” you ask, mouth full of his cock. you suck as much as you can as you bob your head up. “f-fuck, baby… i can’t wait for you to cum. i love the way you cum taste. you always make it so sweet for me. what do you wanna do today, hmm? cum on my face? cum on my tits? i want it all, baby… will you give it to me? can this fucking big hard cock give me what i need?”

nam joon nods. 

“yeah?” you ask him, continuing to suck him dry. 

you watch as his body winces. 

“how do i look?” 

“so pretty…” 

“pretty?” you tease. “you like it when i suck you cock like this? you’re such a mouthfull… you say i’m bossy? this is how you shut me up, right?”

“yeah.”

“looks like you’re the one that’s all shut up,” you giggle. “do i suck your cock that good?”

“so good… my pretty cockslut.”

you pout. “then what’s taking so long? cum already. i wanna swallow.”

nam joon bucks his hips and listens to your request. he fucks your mouth. nam joon grunts, squirms, and finally—he cums. 

when he does, his cum rushes out and splatters over your face. he aims for your mouth as you stick your tongue out. a part of you wishes he didn't pull out and just spilled himself entirely inside your mouth.

he wipes the cum that landed on your cheek and shoves his fingers in your mouth. you suck it clean and moan from the heavenly taste. before he can move, you reach over and grab a piece of ribbon on the floor.

he sits still and laughs as you tie and make a bow of it around the base of his cock. you get up and find your phone and quickly snap a picture. 

nam joon’s legs are sprawled wide with one arm draped lazily over the backrest. his posture isn’t anything close to refined—more slouched than seated (it’s the post-nut posture). in the picture, his head tilted, eyes half-lidded like everything about him was effortless. his cock has a pretty pink bow tied around it. 

when you kneel up to show him, he groans. 

“my dick looks too soft.”

you giggle. 

“not my problem.” 

just as you’re about to move away, he grabs you by your hair and tugs your back. he places a kiss on your cheek then on your lips. against them, he murmurs; 

“it will be if you don’t fucking put my cock back inside your pretty mouth."

"oh? is that it?"

nam joon smirks.

"mhm... be a good girl and swallow this time.”

"don't pull out then." you pout.

"i'm so sorry about that," he tilts his head. "i'll be good boy this time and cum inside your mouth."

"promise?"

"promise."

[theorphicangel]

bf!sukuna x reader christmas drabble

fyi: i kept sukuna twins with yuji's dad because it made more sense to me lol... i still don't get the epilogue...whoops

claims he does not give a single fuck about christmas and states this each and every time that you bring it up around him.

at the end of your rant about what presents you'll get for your friends and family he looks at you with a disinterested expression

you try to get him in the mood for christmas many, many, many times but you fail to succeed.

at one point you had to decoration your shared apartment all by yourself, lugging around boxes filled with christmas decorations.

you thought you had it all covered until it came to the star on the christmas tree, the final touch to christmas.

slyly you approach Sukuna with a grin.

'help me put the star on?'

'no.'

'but I can't reach.'

'tough, use a chair shorty.'

'pleaseeeeee' you give your best puppy eyes expression

a small pause occurs before he gives in. 'fine.'

it's unfortunate that sukuna doesn't personally show any interest to christmas but that doesn't stop you from dragging him to the christmas markets and make him buy overpriced hot chocolate for you or make him come gift shopping with you.

'how many bags do you need, woman? you need presents for your friends not presents for the entire fucking planet.'

it's only when you give him that look that he shuts the fuck up.

it's only when he catches you backing in the kitchen with a cheesy christmas song in the background with you singing along that Sukuna begins to take it seriously. making christmas cookies with flour down your apron and all over your face makes his heart finally race.

and that's when he locks in for christmas.

he's one of those people around in the store looking for a last minute christmas present, trying to get a gift for those he can think of. yuji his nephew, his brother, his grandfather and finally you.

your gift is proving to be the trickiest. what the fuck does he get you? he's not really known for being sentimental with gifts and with a quick back and forth phone call to his twin brother, Jin, that he finally gets the gift right.

bright and early on christmas morning he waits for you to awake, as per usual, your smile and giddy expression almost has him in the christmas mood.

almost. maybe you can spot a smirk here and there.

the exchange of gifts goes pretty well. soft christmas music in the background with a classic film playing and the warmth of the room keeping the winter cold away.

you're extremely satisfied with your gifts as is sukuna, the two of you thanking each other.

to your surprise there is one last gift left under the tree...and it's all for you.

as you open this gift you can't help but notice Sukuna's gaze, waiting for your reaction. you raise a brow as you tear the wrapping to find a boxed package, opening up the lid you find a necklace.

a gold necklace with the first letter of your name in a heart. It was the same necklace you had been eyeing a few months ago, back in spring when you and sukuna walked past the jeweler once. you made the offhanded comment of 'oh that looks pretty' towards the very same necklace in your hand right now.

you look up at sukuna, your chin wobbling.

'you're not about to start crying-'

'oh kuna!'

you interrupt him, jumping onto him for a hug with arms around his neck. he catches you with ease, a hand around your waist for security.

'merry christmas my love' you sniffle.

'merry christmas to you too.'

[heeseung64]

CAUGHT LACKING

your friend should know better, especially with hiding his feelings for you; but you just look so fucking good to not look at.

enha hyung line x best friend y/n | part 2 soon.

heeseung」

there he goes again, looking away so smoothly as you try to catch up with his gaze. the group's circle of conversation eventually jumbles into a slurry of words, and you zone out, trying to figure out why heeseung's eyes always avert yours.

he does that thing. where he stops joining the laughter to look at you, his smile faltering and his eyelids fluttering down low, staring at your cupids bow and your collarbone, before meeting your unexpected eyes back at him. you catch him so swiftly out of his daze that he clears his throat, tearing away from you and the group for a breather. his adam apple bobs, and he lies: "thirsty." he explains- before internally pleading that you'd follow him out.

you definitley fulfilled his wish, your eyebrows upturnt as your hands find a way to grasp his arms to forwardly face each other. "why are you looking at me like that? do you have something to tell me?" you ask, noticing your body pressed up against his, and his cheeks burnt by your proximity.

⠀more below ㅡ。

"sorry its just.. never knew you found the others that funny." he breathes, and you chuckle, teasing him. "why? you jealous im giving others attention?"

you shut him up, and his eyes waver. you finally catch him, his flustered emotions trembling before you as he fails to cover it up.

"i just.." he couldn't finish off his sentence, so you talk it out of him eventually, his face doing the thing again, his lips ajar and his eyes heavy lidded. your eyebrows cock up.

"is it weird if i'd rather have your attention all night?"

is it weird that you've been waiting for him to say it?

jay」

"you gotta introduce me to your lady friend, jay." was all the words it took for jay to realise that he only ever wanted all of you to himself. it's the way he knits his brows, scanning over the crowd of the bustling party for you- your body dancing around others in your pretty little dress.

"her?" he asks, pleading its not you who they want. "of course her, i mean.. look at her-"

"no."

it was a warning enough when he takes a shot with no expression left on his face, and his tense shoulders cutting the thin ice his friend was on. his eyes scan the crowd for you again, locking into yours. it softens, and his eyebrows crease with vulnerability. his lips were glistening after another shot taken- and you knew by the way he made eye contact with you while he took it that you were going to be approached.

and there he was, under the neon lights, yanking your arm towards his chest for you to lean on as he practically begged for you under his harsh eyes to leave the party with him.

"what's wrong jjongie?" you pout, only make him grunt, bringing you in the car with him. "place is full of creeps." he mumbles. you catch his message, yet you tease back, "creeps so bad that you just had to lock me in the car with you?"

almost taken aback, jay turns away, his cheeks flushed, barely covered by his hand hovering over. the car hasn't even started and his words start falling apart. "i.." he starts.

"i just don't think it's best to go out there, angel.. it's safer here with me." he croaks, "we can chill in the back."

oh. he knew what he was doing.

jake」

"what's yours is mine." you remind jake of an old habit both of you would say, stealing food and pens- to now stealing each other's car keys and designer clothes. the only point it ever got too far was just now, when you decided putting on your best outfit and makeup was fitting for a night out with friends that was originally an event for only you and him.

jake couldn't stop looking at it, those lips he so badly wanted to steal. and it never got any better when he realised you were also staring back from afar, stealing glances for a while- sucking each other's soul before tearing away to have fun with friends.

the occasional eye contact only started small, just a few glances to reassure each other that you were okay with the girls and that he was having fun with the boys- but the more you kept dancing and moving, drinking and laughing- your presence was now unnoticeable to jake. he couldn't tear his eyes away. looking away meant that you were gone forever to him. and so there he stood, a few mere meters away as he watched in awe, your lips, hips and body swaying to sync with the beat. his lips were bitten and his eyes were round, hypnotised by your beauty so much that he gravitated towards you.

"need anythin?" you ask so casually when you were so softly pulled away from the party, your body hovered by his touch and his eyes dragging all over you. "what's yours is mine.. right?" he asks, pleading for you to understand, and you blank. "what do you want, jake..?"

"want your lips on mine so fucking bad."

rules are rules.

sunghoon」

"do i look.. bad..?" you ask, wondering why sunghoons eyes kept lowering when he glances at you. the fancy rooftop dinner between friends was a one in a lifetime event for you to doll yourself up real pretty, and for once- you decided to go all out for the perfect look.

"..no."

sunghoon's answers were always honest, short and concise. when he answered, he broke eye contact to swallow the thick stone stuck in his parched throat. his lips would slightly tremble when he'd speak, soon enough avoiding you so you wouldn't catch on to his behaviour. when he noticed you picking up his glances, he became risky. finding a chance to look at you, devouring you in his mind, fuck; even burning the image of you in that dress for him to dream about.

you finally see him with his glossy eyes and creased brows, the ones you caught knitting everytime you interacted with someone that's not him. to your surprise, he tenses up when you walk up to him and hold his arm, tugging to get his attention; clueless you already had it in the palm of your hand.

"why are you being so cold to me tonight, hoon?" you ask, knowing that the nickname would at least break something in him. "i-i'm being cold to you?" he stutters out, a faint pink on his ears as the nickname wreaks havoc into his brain.

"you've just been staring at me all day." you explain, and to your surprise he dryly coughs, lowering down. "am i not able to stare?" he asks, looking into your eyes.

"w-well.. is there a reason why you're staring?" you ask again.

"you're so fucking beautiful."

another honest, short and concise answer.

perm tags:

@nikiswifiee @ancnymcnzjy @ja4hyvn @17ericas

[kinichval]

when our paths cross again

missing your flight to inazuma and crashing your ex's place for the holidays is certainly not in your 2024 bingo card, nor is it your ideal way of celebrating the year-end. but here you are anyway.

content. ex!scaramouche x fem!reader, modern!au, angst, tension, YEARNING, profanities. | 3.1k words.

december 23rd, 20:34.

“i deeply apologize, ma'am. however, the earliest available flight to inazuma is 72 hours from now.”

great. great.

is the world punishing you for splurging the past three days before coming home to inazuma for the holidays by miscalculating your estimated time of arrival at the airport?

not only did you not have a place to stay, your wallet is tight on cash, and also the fact that you're basically stuck in sumeru for the rest of december unless you wait a whole three days ‘til you're flying back to inazuma. it wouldn't be a problem waiting if you didn't have businesses to resume after the twenty-fifth.

sighing in defeat, you could only offer your gratitude to the lady behind the desk for accommodating your concern. neither does she hold any power to twist your situation favoring the happy ending of eating a delicious buffet with your family, drinking wine all night, and unwrapping the gifts that were held in secret for who knows how long.

now, you sit by the window of a small cafe near the airport. a cup of warm americano accompanying your bummed out ass on this extra cold winter night. there's no snow blanketing sumeru city, but tonight puts you on the border of frostbites with this god awful truth that you won't be home for the holidays.

and then there's that additional layer of coldness that hits your skin when you stood up and was about to exit the cafe, destination still in progress, but all thoughts are cut off when you look up and find sickeningly familiar purplish, cool-toned irises staring at you with wrinkled nose bridge from that scrunched up expression that makes you want to slap the hell out of him.

what a fucking self-entitled bastard to be the one looking all disgusted at this displeasing predicament when he was the one saying “we should break up.” four years ago on a just as cold monday night in december.

“are you not going to apologize for spilling cold water on my shirt?” you hiss, shivering underneath as the multitude of glaciers penetrate your skin.

“why would i apologize if i meant for it to spill?”

an asshole he is, scaramouche is a fucking asshole.

except you're in this asshole's passenger seat because apparently you're too broke to afford a few more days of ‘vacation’, so you're—not by choice—accepting his offer to spend christmas with him at his place.

considering the menacing scheme he pulled, you're wary of other ill-intent motives he has tucked in under his visage of kindness.

you grit your teeth. great. this is not what you wrote to santa, sadly there's no return system and you have to endure whatever bullshit this man is envisioning in his mind.

december 23rd, 22:08.

so far, scaramouche is acting strangely kind after purposely tipping his glass of ice cold water on you. the drive to his apartment was quiet, except for the series of korean r&b songs he hummed along to; he opened the car door and brought up your luggage to his unit; and he asked if you wanted a meal or snack.

“you're being weird. what do you want from me?” your cold tone mirrored the air of december, your eyes narrowed in disbelief and pursued to unveil the mischief playing in his head. “you're in a situation, i offered help, you accepted.” he simply responds as if it's a common thing to do for exes, for exes who have never seen each other for four years.

“how are you so casual about this? we're exes.”

“would you rather get hypothermia out in the city looking for a cheap and open place to stay?”

“i—”

“if you did, you wouldn't be here right now. but look at us.”

he has a point. he only offered, it was you who accepted.

part of you wanted to walk away out of pettiness and embarrassment because you knew if this reaches your best friend's ears, you'd be sitting down and earning an earshot of a lecture from her about not reconnecting with exes regardless of the situation.

“okay fine, you win. i'll just sleep here tonight and i'll be on my merry way tomorrow.” exhaustion is already catching up to you, a yawn escapes past your lips. “you can sleep in my room, i'll be in the other bedroom.” there's that casual reply of his again, words spill out of him like this was just a normal, platonic conversation.

“it's even weirder sleeping in my ex's room, i'll just stay here.” you pat down on the soft cushion on his sofa, scaramouche shrugs and accepts your decision.

how odd of you to expect that he'll insist on having you sleep comfortably in his room?

december 24th, 2:21.

it's even odder and definitely out of character that scaramouche is still within your sight after declaring that you'll be sleeping a few hours ago.

but what the hell are you doing chatting and bickering with an abandoned christmas movie in the background?

somehow, you don't find it in yourself to push him out of your sight.

all those hours of biting back and forth had you writing notes of his life after you—the life that consisted of him being eligible for an exchange student here in sumeru city to which he proved he deserved that he was offered a scholarship to transfer in the esteemed akademiya, scaramouche will be graduating next year.

and you want to slap yourself for that one second of thinking what would be a nice graduation gift.

you also learned that scaramouche shares this apartment with a guy named sethos, he's currently on a holiday vacation which cancels out the wandering thought of why does scaramouche's apartment have two bedrooms.

and about his little stunt, he admitted to swearing to himself that when he sees you, he will pour water all over your top—with high hopes that you're wearing your favorite shirt—and see that horrified expression that he believes will satiate his reasonable amount of hate towards you (no, he doesn't hate you but he won't admit it.)

on the other hand, scaramouche now knows why you're stranded in sumeru and why your wallet forces itself shut in your pocket.

as one of the well performing employees in the company, your boss included you in his entourage for this business trip in sumeru. the schedule was a hassle, it was an almost three week business operation because christmas was in the middle of the whole thing so there's four free days to which your boss decided to go back to inazuma then return on the twenty-sixth. you followed his plan, come home for the holidays—you even spent the morning of the twenty-third buying presents for your family and peers—then fly back on the night of the twenty-fifth to continue your job.

but alas, you were late to arrive at the airport. underestimating the christmas rush in the center of the city, traffic clogs the road causing frustration as everyone was thinking of the same thing: it's christmas.

and you were old enough to know that santa wouldn't give you a miracle that someone was willing to give up their seat in the next flight to inazuma, not that the thought didn't give you a flicker of hope. but you end that idea with a bitter chuckle.

“why didn't you come home for the holidays?” you wonder, your mind traveling back to the last few christmas if he ever flew to inazuma to celebrate the winter holidays back home.

“i don't come home during vacations.” he avoids your curious stare when he answers, seemingly having more words stuck in his throat that he swallows. 

you don't press it further, you know that scaramouche makes up his mind whether or not the reason behind a decision is substantial. 

“is sumeru better than inazuma?” curiosity is getting the best of you, it's an innocent query to anyone. maybe you were just trying to gain insight because of migration plans or vacation ideas. “well, i like it here.” his response has you tilting your head, a subtle sign of wanting to know more.

“i don't know, i'm surviving here so i guess it's not that bad.”

“are you coming back to inazuma after you graduate?”

“no.”

the zero second gap between your sentences startles you. it intrigues you, a quiet voice telling you to find whatever truth he keeps inside his heart.

because despite scaramouche doing most things according to the law of just because and how he wants things to be, this one seems to bear a reason that he dares not to tell a soul.

there's a weighted silence draped over you, but you feel the tempting force to keep scaramouche here overpowering the former.

december 24th, 12:49.

the afternoon rays of the sun pierces through your skin as the wind gently blows the curtains allowing the sun's presence to grace over your slumber.

rubbing your eyes, you try to recover the memory of last night. oh, right, you and scaramouche… in his apartment on christmas eve, what a totally normal ex-lover reunion, truly.

hell no—

“how long are you sleeping? it's afternoon already.”

scaramouche's voice rings through your ears and suddenly you want to deactivate your sense of hearing. your brain cogs were turning, processing a remark that will hopefully crush his soul, his whole life, his dreams, his—

“lunch is ready. get up while (favorite dish) is still hot.”

and you're bolting to the kitchen, accidentally bumping on the corner of the wall, but all is well as you hide the pain in your knee under the dining table.

“you cook now?” you raise your eyebrow. four years ago, scaramouche only knew how to heat up food and modern era's favorite instant noodles. 

“how do you think i survive?” he retorts back, handing you an ice pack before sitting down across you. “that must've hurt. deserve.” he strikes, you squeeze hard on the ice pack which quickly returns your pressure with the coldness it possesses.

four years later, scaramouche changed, but somehow you still feel the same scaramouche you loved lingering. you wonder if who you were four years ago would believe that this is what happens four years later—that you'll break up on a december night and find your ex lover again on a december night.

albeit the second night feels much more colder than the first fall of snow. ironic, because sumeru doesn't experience a snowy weather.

you flinch at the contact of the ice pack to your poor knee, your face contorts. scaramouche fights back a laugh, you hear the slipping sound of him swallowing it down, “just hold the ice pack, i'll feed you.” your brain freezes, unable to wholly process his words and he's already moved to sit beside you, grabbing the spoon and put in front of your lips.

you comply anyway, parting your lips to let him feed you. it's your favorite, you didn't want to pass up the opportunity even though your face is already heating up because why the fuck is scaramouche so close—you're already in his apartment, if that's not already an invasion of personal space (as exes) then you're at loss with the chaotic beating of your heart clouding your perception.

scaramouche continues to feed you, alternating his own portion in between. scaramouche is kind, but he hasn't pulled any mean gimmicks, there's the unfriendly remarks and triggers of annoyance—but he's not acting up. not yet, you suppose.

maybe he'll pull tricks on you on christmas.

a gift of revenge, you thought he would think of it as such.

december 24th, 17:31.

you're unable to read what exactly is going on in scaramouche's mind. is he carefully watching your steps align with his plan and waiting for that go signal to surprise you with the ultimate revenge or is he secretly still in love with you and he's trying to win you back through the little things he knows would matter to you?

either way, you couldn't reject his offer to drive down the city on the evening of christmas eve.

“is this how you spent christmas since you moved here?”

scaramouche pursues his lips into a thin line, eyes still on the road, he takes a few moments to respond.

“depends, last year i just slept through the whole thing.” he shrugs it off, your shoulder drops and a deadpan replaces your anticipating look.

“but i drive a lot at night.” he says, your eyebrow raises, “you're not from here so might as well make this a free vacation.” he finally glances at you, albeit teasingly.

“what kind of ex does that?”

“your ex.”

air gets stuck in your throat, why the fuck did it sound like he's still giving you the right of ownership? your ex. yours, even if he isn't.

“did you not date anyone in the akademiya?”

“why would i?”

“i don't know. did no one seem interesting or did you get rejected?”

“they're not you.”

scaramouche is charged guilty after all.

december 24th, 18:00.

scaramouche opens a can of carbonated soda, the fizz loud enough to turn your attention on him. the stars are twinkling bright over your heads and they hear your longing.

the stars know about your yearning.

the breeze of the night grazes over your skin, you flinch at the coolness, wrapping your arms around yourself. the two of you sit inside his car, windows rolled down; scaramouche brought you to where edge of sumeru.

the coastal highway, a familiar scenery.

ah, right, scaramouche has always been expressive of sitting down staring at the ocean beside the road.

“so—”

“i—”

eyes nervously look at each other, the enemy-esque banter is out of the window when you realize that the both of you aren't trying piss the other off.

scaramouche gulps, heaving a sigh.

“i'm sorry, yn. i'm sorry for leaving you.”

you're confused, why would he apologize after four years? you remember vividly how his last words before he turned his back against you was “let's break up, i'm sorry.”

your heart sinks, unable to yield a thought. it seems you're paralyzed as if all the suppressed feelings that you buried were resurrected and has you on chokehold.

“are you sorry because you still love me?”

scaramouche is silent, he doesn't look at you.

“i'm sorry because i didn't know what to do and breaking up seemed to be the only less damaging route.”

he reasons as his head lowers down, eyes fixate on the can in his hand, “i love you, but it didn't take rocket science to see that we were ruining each other.” you notice the bitter smile curve on his lips.

“yn, i know you were sacrificing too much for us. i know that any more of it will break you.”

“no—”

“you can't tell me otherwise when i saw it in your eyes that you needed to breathe.”

well, curse the fucking tears for ruining your supposed composed being. you hate believe his words.

“i needed you, scar.”

you did, you desperately needed your scar to save you from the chaotic world.

“but i needed me too, yn. and you needed yourself.”

oh.

“then, why do you hate me?”

your voice cracks.

“if i hated you, i wouldn't have looked your way back in the cafe.” he chuckles, “if it's because i spilled water on you, that was just me trying to get your attention.” he admits, your heart tightens.

“four years since we broke up and i still love you, yn.” he chugs down his soda, doing all that he can to avoid seeing your teary eyes, “it's not that i didn't fight for us, i did. but how can i let you suffer like that when i'm already short of what i promised you? i was compromising both you and my future.” he hears you sob and he breaks, his heart equally as broken as yours.

after all, you two truly were in love.

but love as it is will never be enough.

“if we stayed, i'm afraid i'll lose you in the worst way.”

“losing you is already the worst, scar.”

time is a lousely doctor, because until this moment, there's a silent plead for the other half to come back—to love again.

“i'm sorry, scar.” you cry, reaching out to hold him but fall mid-way. your memories flash before your eyes when the nights leading to the break-up consisted of more sincere apologies than the warmth of ‘i love you's.

it kills you to hear more ‘i'm sorry’s.

well, the last blow, the ultimate death was when you heard ‘let's break up’ because after then, you won't be hearing his voice.

you bitterly laugh to yourself, you realized it would've been more painful to hear apologies like it's your routine, a cycle of missteps that muttering a sorry is also part of the egg shells.

you knew no one was to blame, but someone had to cut that cycle. if it had to be scaramouche, then so be it, even if he had to suffer knowing that you suffer because of his loss from your life.

and he knows that if you had realized it sooner, it would've been you who saved your individual lives.

now, silence envelops you, the high tide moves the waves further to the shore allowing its crash to be heard from your position.

december 24th, 23:11.

you and scaramouche still love each other, there's a mutual hope for things to fall back into place. but time isn't the same as four years ago, neither are you and scaramouche.

for all that it's worth, you lay in his arms, his chest heave behind your back.

for what love can allow you to be, scaramouche settles his chin on the crown of your head.

for what you know should just be, yours fingers are intertwined and small bits of laughter blend in with the air as you share moments in your life that made you thought of the other.

you wish for scaramouche to come back as your lover and for you to love him unconditionally, without the constraint of losing yourself.

because you and scaramouche changed over the past four years, and if love allows a second chance,

“i will get to know the newer versions of you than ever think of meeting someone else.”

but alas, things won't be that easy for love alone can not hold a lifetime.

and so, as the seconds inch nearer to christmas, you only have one wish that you hopefully will come true the next year—

“i want our paths to cross again, and maybe then, we can start anew.”

“i'll catch up to you, yn.”

december 25th, 00:00.

merry christmas, please find me again.

[heich0e]

Unkuna for your Christmas drabble game? 🫣

ask game: a christmas drabble from an established AU AU: uncle!sukuna

"ji-chan... why are you looking at pictures of underwears?"

sukuna jolts upright from his place on the couch, dropping his cellphone into his lap in a belated effort to hide the device's screen from the pair of big, curious eyes peering over his shoulder.

"for the love of—" sukuna cuts himself off, whipping around in his seat to see his nephew clinging to the back of the sofa. "stop spyin' on me you little brat!"

"i wasn't spying on you!" yuuji protests, wiggling a little as he attempts to hold himself up off the ground by gripping the sofa cushions with all his might. "you just weren't paying attention to me because you were looking at underwears."

"first of all," sukuna holds a finger in his nephew's face "there's no 's' on the end of underwear." yuuji blinks owlishly, his eyes crossing a little as he stares at his uncle's outstretched finger. the elder then uses it to flick the little boy gently between his brows. "second of all... don't tell your dad you saw that."

"why were you looking at them anyway?" yuuji asks, clambering the rest of the way up the back of the sofa to flop himself down into his uncle's lap. sukuna grunts as the kid lands over his thighs, shifting to accommodate the new intrusion.

"i wasn't."

"were too!" yuuji argues and then laughs.

sukuna sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"i'm buying a present for my friend."

"you're buying your friend underwears?" yuuji blinks up at his uncle in confusion.

"i gotta..." sukuna cuts himself off with a groan. "i gotta buy a christmas present."

"for who?"

"for someone."

"who's someone?" yuuji asks, tugging on the front of his uncle's shirt insistently. sukuna's eyes roll upwards as he takes a deep breath to find the will to deal with this pint-sized annoyance.

"i already told ya,—"

sukuna attempts to pry yuuji's hand off his shirt and then tickles him when the kid's grip refuses to slacken. his efforts are successful and yuuji instinctively lets go of the material when his sides are threatened by his uncle's underhanded attack. he squirms away from his uncle with a giggle, and then takes a seat at his side.

"—it's for a friend."

yuuji's lips purse thoughtfully as he mulls over his uncle's statement.

"i've got friends," sukuna says warningly, sensing what yuuji is about to say.

"isn't that a weird present to give to your friend?" yuuji ignores his uncle's unprompted defense in favour of his own point.

it's sukuna's turn to purse his lips pensively now.

and... fuck, the kid's right.

yuuji slips from the sofa and returns to his previously occupied place at the kotatsu, picking up his green safety scissors to continue his momentarily paused craft. he's cutting snowflakes out of paper to decorate the apartment, though he hasn't quite mastered it yet and is mostly just cutting out variously lopsided triangles.

sukuna flops down face first on the couch with a groan, mulling over his nephew's (annoyingly accurate) point. he listens to the sound of yuuji's dull scissors slicing through paper for a few moments and then picks his head up to look at him.

"hey... what would you get your friend for christmas?"

"i don't get my friends presents for christmas, that's santa's job," yuuji says, looking over at his uncle with an expression that seems to say 'don't you know that?'

a throb of irritation blooms behind sukuna's eyes.

"then how do you know they don't want underwear?" he asks tersely, though his anger is largely misdirected considering yuuji is only six years old.

"because underwears are boring," yuuji says matter of factly. "that's why papa buys mine for me. let your friend's papa buy them underwears, that's their job."

sukuna's lips part for a moment to explain that your father certainly would not be buying you the underwear he has been looking at on his phone a few moments prior, but thinks better of it in the last second.

"what should i get them, then?" sukuna finally asks, his tone far more defeated than it had been a moment prior when he was arguing with the child before him.

"dunno!" yuuji exclaims, examining the 'snowflake' he'd just cut (another hack job.) "what kinda stuff do they like?"

that's the problem. sukuna has no idea what you like—at least not in the way that's gonna help him with his gift giving. he knows what makes you flustered, what makes you scream, but he hasn't the faintest idea about what makes you... happy.

"i know!" yuuji whips around to face his uncle with a look of clarity on his little face, his eyes lit up in excitement.

sukuna waits eagerly to hear his revelation.

"it's fushiguro's birthday next week, and i got him a super cool spiderman toy. wanna see it?"

sukuna flops down on the sofa again in defeat, all hope abandoning him.

yuuji seems offended by his uncle's lack of enthusiasm. "i bet your friend would like it too!"

"don't think so, brat."

yuuji gapes. "but everyone loves spiderman!"

"maybe everyone who's six," sukuna snorts. "my friend's a grown up."

"grown ups can like spiderman too, me and papa watch it together."

"your dad's just an oversized kid anyway," sukuna waves his hand dismissively as he rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling overhead.

yuuji laughs, setting about cutting out another horrifically terrible snowflake. "that's what he says about you!"

[imistyou2]

Tummy bulge. c.sb

pairing: switch!Soobin x Noona!reader

warnings: sex. like that's about it. sub! soobin, a lil dom! soobin if u squint. basically switch lol. MINORS DNI!

summary: Your usually obedient junior, Soobin succumbs to his biological tendencies when he sees what his cock does to your body.

This is part 2.5, you can read it as a stand-alone too

Part 1 Part 2

_

Lately, you've been more encouraging when it came to having sex with Soobin. What started off with his pleading moans and teary eyes from the first time you guys had sex turned into something frequent. Something ravishing. He would see the hungry look in your eye as your hands would snake around the nape of his neck during your shared classes. Pointy fingers massaging his skin and you inched your body closer and closer to him to the point where your breasts pressed plush against his bicep. It was a tale-tell sign that you wanted him, wanted his cock, the very thought sending the younger man into a mental frenzy.

Soobin's cock was no joke, you had made sure to verbalize this over many instances. From raving about the size to teasing him and getting him to blush red to ultimately rolling your eyes into the back of your socket when his thick girth enters your slicked-up pussy.

The tip of his cock had a velvety texture, shaped like a mushroom, growing red and pulsing tenderly as you played with his nipples or kissed his neck, sometimes even talking dirty to him, reminding him of what a loser freak he is. Oh, Soobin loved it when you did that, he would do anything to fall into your submission and let you play with him however you pleased. With the increase of sex, Soobin's grown bolder, fiercer with his strokes.

You usually played with his head as he would gently pry open your insides, thrusting in softly to match your breathing before increasing the pace on your voice of command. The grip on his black locks would tighten as his cock fully entered you, even with all your slickness, the stretch was a bit deafening before his rhythmic thrusts and desperate moans would drown out the slight pain.

He would keep his eyes closed, head tilting back from the sheer feeling of your gummy walls, but one time his eyes peeked open amidst his ecstasy and he saw the expression on your face. Despite your dominating attitude, your face curled into a look of pure bliss from his cock, a thin string of drool lolling from the side of your bitten lips. Soobin's heart somersaulted in his chest before his gaze peered down.

Holy shit. A distinct bulge appeared in your abdomen every time his cock thrust inside. His eyes widened tenfold, mouth agape from what he was seeing. He couldn't believe it was him making his noona like that- all needy and whiny and bulgey. He's so used to your bold attitude and as much as he loved that, he didn't mind seeing your softer and submissive side from time to time. Without waiting he would increase his pace, rocking into your cunt with great speed.

"AHHH~~ Soobin what the fuck. When did I ever say you could go that fast?!"

"Fuck, Noona you feel that?" He placed his long fingers around the bulge, trying to cup it as his hips stammered. He was close and seeing your body stretch like this for him didn't help. "Noona, am I making you feel good? Look at the way my cock's stretching you Noona, look at that bulge."

Your eyes looked forward to seeing where his hand was and as a matter of fact, there was a huge indentation, something trying to protrude out from your lower belly. Your cunt grows wetter from the thought of his cock rearranging your insides so deliciously. His hips pound into you, intense concentration to make you cum from his cock alone.

"Shit,shit, shit just like that, make your noona cum, Soobie. Yeahhh."

You reach your climax and so does him, painting the insides of his condom with the thick liquid. With a few more thrusts, his hips slow down as his sweaty head falls past your shoulder and onto the pillows. His hips still keep working, rolling slowly but not stopping. This was a different version of Soobin from what you have seen in the last four months of being involved with him. You've gotten to know he's a fast learner, adapting himself to your liking and what makes you feel the best.

"What has gotten into you today Choi Soobin, doing things when your noona hasn't even told you to?"

His head turns to the side, facing you. He gives a coy smile as you raise your brow in amusement. His lips curl, "Just saw how I made you feel and couldn't stop myself, Noona."

"Oh, stop-!"

You both burst into giggles, not before you've pinched his sides lightly and he yelps out, "Sorry ma'am, won't do again! Hahaha!"

Well, you certainly won't mind this side of Soobin again, you can't wait to see what more riles him to take charge like he did today.

-

a/n: unedited per usual :) tummy bulge + soobin is like water at 3 am.

[angelltheninth]

Every Time He Leaves

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, reunions, teasing, family planning

Word count: 0.8k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I heard that the sequel isn't coming in 2025 but that won't stop me from writing fics for this amazing man.

"Mi vida, I'm home." Miguel heavy footsteps echoed through the halls, a good sort of comfort now in your current state. "Baby? Are you asleep?" You could pretend to be. Like you pretended all those night before, then wake up in the morning and wonder if he would be there or not. No. Not this time.

You waited for him to open the door, his charming, soft smile thrown your way, almost shaking your resolve.

"You didn't have to wait up for me you know, I don't mind cuddling up next to my-" He stopped talking once his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom and he saw your eyes red from crying, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" You nodded. You were about to explain when he was in front of you in a flash, his hands pressing and prodding, looking you over. The bed dipped to one side under Miguel's weight, his worried expression turning a little angry, " Where does it hurt? Who hurt you? I'll make them regret it!"

You let out a long heavy sigh. Taking one of his hands you placed it above your heart and then pointed your finger at him, finally meeting his eyes with your being full of tears, "You hurt me."

"What?" He looked like you just slapped him, which would have been preferable, he would hardly feel that. But your words, they cut deep. "What do you mean? Was I rough with you last night? You told me it was-"

"Oh for gods sake Miguel, I'm not talking about that. I'm not physically hurt." You backed up a bit, putting some space between you two. It was a little empty space, easy to close, yet it felt like you were worlds, universes apart, "I don't ever see you anymore. You go on missions, you come back, you... fuck me and then you leave. Do you really not get how that makes me feel? How... used and alone I feel?"

The sex was good. The sex was damn good. Perfect even. He was so close to you, he was smiling at you, you were one with him, holding him, feeling him everywhere, kissing him. But those moments, they passed way too quickly for your liking and then you were empty and alone again.

"Is that really how you feel?" He sounded like he couldn't wrap his head around what you were saying. At the same time you could see it on his face that he was putting the puzzle pieces together. "I love you, more then anything, you're the most important person in this or any universe to me. I... would stop. If you wanted me to. We could settle down, buy a bigger house, start a family, like we talked about."

"How? How can you say that when you leave without... without even telling me? Your job is important, I understand that, but for the love of god Miguel, I'm your girlfriend! I at least deserve to know when you're leaving don't I? What if... what if one day you... what if you don't come back to me?" You started hiccuping while you cried, your body shaking from the wave of emotions that you were finally able to unleash. There was a part of you that felt like it was selfish, that Miguel wasn't yours to keep and that doing so would mean a lot of people would get hurt. Did you deserve him in the first place?

Miguel's arms wrapped around your smaller frame, you could hear his heart beating quickly, you could feel him shaking along with you while he balanced himself on his knees, his suit flickering on and off. "I would never abandon you. Even if I have to crawl back from Hell itself I'd find a way to come back to you. I made up my mind long ago, when I die it will when we're both old and I lost all my hair."

"And we have grandkids running around?" You whisper against his chest, voice still raw from crying and nose stuffed from sniffles.

"So many grandkids. We're gonna have a big family, just like we planned. I know its hard right now but its almost over okay? Then we can settle down anywhere you want." Miguel cupped the back of your head as his lips pressed to your forehead, lingering there for the longest time, "Nothing is more important then you. Nothing."

"I want at least three kids." He nodded, "A big house in the country side." A nod, "A big, cuddly dog." Another nod, "And you in my bed every night." He kissed you, not caring the least that you tasted like tears. But he didn't stop there. His hands lifted you up by the hips, your legs wrapping around his body as you felt yourself being lowered on the bed.

You felt his suit vanish and warm muscles take its place, "Three kids. That's a lot of work. We should practice as much as we can." Miguel smirked like an idiot while he undressed you, ready to prove his love to you.

[itsallmouthwashing]

Band AU bullet points / slight timeline of events

This IS an AU, and they’re MY barbies I can make them kiss when I WANT /silly

Here are general bullet points for the Band AU with a slight timeline of events. Reblogs are so appreciated :)

If I write out a scene that's here I'll link the post and reblog this post as a sort of master list? Maybe? I'll figure it out. Also here's the playlist for the AU :)

Cw: mentions of parent death, implied neglect, drug abuse, assault, ooc characters

A little context---

Band Name: Tulpar

Record Label: Pony Express Records

Genre: Rock and Metal 

Canon divergence note: Anya does get assaulted, but by her boyfriend instead of Jimmy. I don’t really have a character set up for the boyfriend yet, but I wanted to keep that as an element of her story 

Curly on guitar and vocals, Jimmy on guitar and scream vocals, Anya on bass and fills for drums, Daisuke on drums and synth/keyboard, fills for bass sometimes when he’s feeling confident and Anya wants to switch it up

Swansea is their manager right before they go pro and remains their manager when they sign with P.E Records! He is the one the band has to impress with their new songs. If he doesn’t like it, it doesn't get used 

Curly and Jimmy formed Tulpar in their junior year of high school. Originally it was going to remain the two of them(Curly was learning drums), but the two clicked with Anya and Daisuke almost immediately during senior year (they were both transfer students). 

It for sure took convincing for Jimmy to let them join the band. He made them ‘prove’ they were ‘worthy of finding a place in their art’

They totally fucking blew him away (Curly was a little smug about it after Jimmy conceded.)

Jimmy does bond with Dai and Anya over the years

Dai is the one to propose they go pro. His parents have lots of connections in Hollywood and production, so it’d be easy to find someone willing to listen to them and give them a chance on the billboards

Jimmy gets a little pissy about this (he’s huge into actually working for things in life and hates the idea of using connections to get his success) and storms off without saying anything (normally he’d be dragged out of the room screaming. He’s been working on his temper since senior year. Curly literally slapped it into him that the world isn't highschool and he needs to change the way he acts around people if he wants to retain friendships)

But Jimmy’s mom dies. His dad can't take the grief and follows her into the afterlife. Jimmy breaks down and he’s lashing out at every turn

The rest of the crew take it for months and months, with Curly explaining that Jimmy's really going through a lot and should be patient. He would talk to him later if he hasn't calmed down in a few days

But it just gets worse over the days 

Jimmy is constantly putting down the rest of his bandmates but mostly targets Anya as she is the most insecure of the group and finds it easier to spit poison at

One day she visits Curly to discuss this (Salt and Mouthwash scene here)

Jimmy ends up apologizing but it takes time for things to return to normal for all of them

Dai brings in Swansea, a music critic for them to workshop songs with

He goes full manager mode, disapproving of songs the crew thought for sure he’d love and approving ones they were really on the fence about

Insert training montage here

Swansea eventually brings them in front of P.E Records execs

After a brutal five week waiting period, Tulpar officially signs with Pony Express records

To celebrate, the crew goes out clubbing. Anya hooks up with a girl for the first time. Lesbain shenanigans ensue in the bathroom. Jimmy and Curly get a little too drunk. Daisuke pukes outside of the car (and tries really hard to not puke inside the car. He fails.) 

Sleepover at Curly’s house (they all forgot they had exams in the morning and Curly’s house is right next to the campus.) Jimmy gets flirty and lonely when he’s drunk and through the heightened emotional states of it all, he goes in for a kiss

Daisuke stumbles into Curly’s room thinking it’s the bathroom. Almost pukes on the carpet like an ill cat. 

They startle apart and when Curly comes back from leading Dai to the bathroom Jimmy is already asleep (he’s a little faker- he’s just embarrassed)

Exams go like shit the next morning and everyone is too stressed to go back out and get their cars so it’s a week-long study session at Curly’s while everyone crams

Song writing breaks that become too frequent. Swansea suddenly appears to oversee the studying (Dai’s parents sent him over to check on him, but he finds a reason to stay and supervise. Writing breaks become nonexistent) and he actually helps everyone with studying. He’s the one to propose flash cards and Anya hs to scream into a pillow because why didn't she think of that sooner? Then again when she realizes She did, but her flashcards were in her car. Which was at the bar. Which was an hour away because they’re all idiots. 

Swansea and Curly get her car for her and convince her to take a break from her own material while they’re out (Dai just asks her to help him with studying.)

Jimmy like a fucking DOG keeps himself from begging to go with them, but Swansea says “I’ve known how to drive longer than your daddy’s been shooting into socks. Anya’s car will be safe with me, kiddo,” and pushes Curly out the door lmao

On the way, Swans and Curly have a little heart-to-heart and Swans reveals he’s been family friends with Dai’s parents for years and they’re actually large shareholders of the record company. 

Curly doesn't care, not really, but he feels his stomach drop and his heart drown in fire. Jimmy could never find out about this. He can hardly keep the radio on during his solo drive back

When they arrive back at Curly’s, Dai and Anya are passed out on the couch while Jimmy sits wide awake at the dining-room table. Swansea sees no reason to stick around (“I went to the club for the first time in twenty years, Grant. I need to get home and sleep it off.”) and dips. 

Exams go a little better, but on the last day Anya gets pulled over on her shame-stop to Burger King. She has a panic attack during the stop and it gives her the idea to write HAMMS IN A GLASS. She’s caught humming it and tapping on the coffee table one day while Swansea is over discussing logistics or whatever with Curly. He full stops their conversation, tells Anya to polish it and have it to him by the end of the week (“Motherfucker I might not have a degree if I think about anything other than my tests and where the fucking rotator cuffs are, PLEASE”), and then LEAVES (“Guess I’ll find what our budget will be after you’re finished…”)

She tries to workshop it with Dai between classes (he’s in an engineering course, but their buildings are pretty close together)(Ive only taken online college classes please) but Dai is becoming increasingly unavailable. She turns to her boyfriend. The night they work on it, he gives her a drink to help her relax from all the stress she’s been under

But he takes advantage of her that night. When she realizes what he’s done she flees to Curly’s house. Her boyfriend follows her, accusing her of cheating when she gets to the door and Curly is there to catch her. 

Curly tries hard to deescalate the situation, but when Jimmy catches wind of what’s happening at the door he makes his appearance (anya had no idea why he was there (gay reasons) but grateful for the surprise help). Jimmy punches his FUCKING lights out (“I didnt do it for you, Anya. That guy was pissing me off. So I took care of it… Now he won’t mess with either of us, alright?”). Everyone thinks it’s a little hot, even the guy getting punched (hey, everyones having a gay awakening this evening, huh?)

Anya stays the night, thwarting Jimmy’s plans to dick Curly down sexual style at last. 

[durrtydawg]

What are your thoughts on Sam and Christmas-presents? Is he a good present-giver? Is he creative? Can he wrap up presents or will it look like shit?

Love youuu 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Linaaaaaa i LOVE YOU TOO!!!

Hehe alrighty. Have some Christmassy thoughts of mine including present stuff x

🎄Sam Drake Christmas Headcanons:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

• 'Hates' (really likes) Christmas music.

• Will eye-roll and complain about the 'same old crap' being played year in, year out, but secretly clings to the whimsical sense of early-childhood nostalgia that makes him feel undeniably pleasant.

• Unless it's Mariah. Straight up can't stand it.

• Happily volunteers to karaoke along to Fairytale of New York, or both parts of Baby It's Cold Outside after one too many eggnogs (bonus points if it's the Tom Jones rendition).

• Hates (actually hates) Christmas shopping. Will avoid retail zones like the plague at all other times of the year, so the festive season boosts the hatred tenfold. If he has to, for any reason, venture near a shop around December, he will do it with a festive scowl affixed to his face.

• Because of the above, you'll hardly ever find a store-bought item gifted. If anything, store-bought means he can't stand you. Sorry.

• Enjoys providing gifts that are both comical and thoughtful in equal measure. Stolen or otherwise.

• No matter how gruff he appears at the worst of times, he's one sentimental bastard. A sappy fuck, if you will. If he's read a particular book that reminds him of you, be it an old tome, or a second hand travel guide, he'll write a message in the front pages, explaining why and hand it over in a display of nonchalance that just about hides his eagerness to please. Boom. Card and gift in one.

• Eats like a total pig throughout the season. Like a vulture when anyone's cooking in the kitchen, lurking around and picking at whatever he can, under the guise of 'helping', regardless of how many hand slaps he receives. "Quality control, sweetheart." God bless fast metabolism.

• Makes incredible roast potatoes. Everything else is quite crap though, so volunteering to play head chef is infrequent come Christmas time.

• Actually quite enjoys The Muppet Christmas Carol, and wholeheartedly believes that Michael Caine's Scrooge is the most Dickens-accurate depiction.

• Also believes that Die Hard is a Christmas film. "When the hell else are you supposed'ta watch it? Easter?"

• Despises the Grinch. Thinks the whole thing is frightening.

• Bit of a sucker for a Christmas jumper (sorry - sweater). Especially if it's crass or punny. Tries to one up himself year on year.

• God help him, his gift wrapping is abysmal. Comically so. Crumpled paper, far too much tape, improvising with tin foil and duct tape if need be. He literally couldn't give a shit, either. It's all going in the trash, after all.

• When it comes to receiving gifts, he definitely downplays his reaction to avoid any sort of vulnerability in front of people.

• Once or twice he's accidentally come across as rude when the downplaying is taken a little too far.

• Regardless, he 100% cherishes thoughtful gifts. He's terrible at expressing gratitude in the moment, but rest assured, anything meaningful is going to be treasured forever.

[acknowledge-reigns]

Good Boy | Sub!Jey Uso x Dom!Damian Priest (with a little bit of Switch!Rhea at the end) | SMUT! 18+

Description: Damian Priest puts a Bratty Jey Uso in his place.

Warnings: Degradation, Man handling, Praise, Handjob, Oral, love bites, teasing, edging, swallowing, begging, petnames, face fucking, multiple partners, Dom/sub dynamic - or more particularly Dom/Switch/Switch dynamic.

Requested by: @lov3rla03 and some of her lovely horny anons.

Shoutout to @acute-crashout-jeyuso for the Spanish tips!

My Masterlist can be found here.

It had to have been at least an hour of Damian going off on him in a mixture of English and Spanish for his reckless air headed behavior.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴

When Jey had agreed to sharing a hotel room with Rhea and Damian on this live show tour he had no idea Rhea would disappear on them leaving him to get lectured by the big man.

Damian glares at Jey, his eyes burning with anger and frustration. "You're a damn fool, you know that?" he says, his voice low and dangerous. "A complete and utter idiot."

Jey tries to protest, but Damian cuts him off with a sharp glare.

"No, don't even try to defend yourself," he says, his tone cold and dismissive. "Mr. 'I don't have any friends on RAW'. Are you kidding me? You'd rather walk into wargames a man down then ask for my help?"

Damian steps closer to Jey, towering over him with a menacing aura.

"You're so damn stubborn," he says, his voice laced with anger. "You're too damn proud to ask for help when you need it, and now look where it's gotten you."

Jey swallows hard, his eyes darting nervously as he looks up at Damian, but he tries not show it. He sucks his teeth, full of attitude. "Man, you had shit going on, uce."

Damian's eyes flash with anger at Jey's response. He grabs Jey by the collar of his shirt and pulls him closer, their faces only inches apart.

"Watch your mouth, Uso," he growls, his grip tightening on Jey's shirt. "I'm not in the mood for your attitude right now."

Jey tries to wrench himself free from Damian's grip, but it's no use. Damian is much stronger than him and he easily holds him in place.

"You need to learn some respect," Damian says, his voice low and dangerous, his chuckle sinister. He had every intention of showing why he'd at one point been referred to as 'the punishment of the judgement day'.

Damian pushes Jey back against the wall, pinning him there with his body. He leans in close, his breath hot against Jey's ear.

"I forgot, you only respond to being pushed around and bullied, huh?" Damian says, his lips curling into a smirk as he looks at Jey's defiant expression. He loves seeing that look on his face.

Damian runs his fingers along Jey's jawline, his touch gentle yet possessive.

"You know, you look so pretty when you're being all bratty," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "All tough and unbreakable, but I know better."

Damian's hand slides down Jey's neck, his fingers tracing a path along his collarbone before coming to rest on his tattooed chest.

"You might put on a brave face, but deep down, you're just a submissive little toy," he says, his eyes glinting with amusement. "And you know it."

Jey grits his teeth, trying to suppress a shiver as Damian's hand moves over his chest. He can feel his resolve wavering, but he refuses to give in so easily.

"No the fuck I'm not," Jey mutters, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

Damian chuckles, enjoying the effect he's having on Jey. He leans in even closer, his lips hovering just millimeters away from Jey's ear.

"Oh?" he whispers, his voice low and sultry. "I'm going to make you beg for mercy, and you're going to love every second of it."

Damian's hand slides lower, his fingers tracing over Jey's abs before coming to rest on his hip. He pulls him closer, their bodies now pressed tightly.

Damian leans in, his lips brushing against Jey's neck, leaving a trail of kisses along his skin. He knows all of Jey's weak spots, and he's not afraid to use them to his advantage.

"You can't resist me," he murmurs, his breath hot against Jey's ear. "No matter how hard you try to be a little brat, you always end up submitting to me."

Damian's hands roam over Jey's body, exploring every inch of him as he continues to tease and torment him. He knows exactly how to make Jey's knees weak and his resolve crumble.

"Now, let's get you out of those clothes." Damian grins.

Damian takes a step back, his eyes roaming over Jey's body with a hungry gaze. He slowly begins to undress him, taking his time to tease and savor every moment.

As he removes each article of clothing, Damian leaves a trail of kisses and bites along Jey's skin, marking him as his own. He takes particular pleasure in the little gasps and moans that escape Jey's lips as he's stripped bare.

"Expect me not to believe you're a submissive lil toy when you run around in these slutty ass crop tops, Jey?" Damian chuckled condescendingly.

Jey flushes with embarrassment at Damian's words, but he can't deny the truth in them. He knows how much Damian loves seeing him in those crop tops, and how much it drives him crazy.

"Shut up," he mutters again, but there's no real bite to his words this time. He's already starting to lose control.

Damian chuckles again, enjoying the way Jey's body responds to his touch, the way his breathing quickens.

"You're so easy to rile up," he says, his hands sliding down to Jey's hips, pulling him closer. "And you're even easier to break."

Damian's lips find their way back to Jey's neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. He knows that Jey's neck is one of his most sensitive spots, and he takes full advantage of that knowledge.

He can feel Jey's body trembling in his arms,

Damian's hand wraps around Jey's cock, his touch firm and deliberate. He begins to stroke him slowly, taking his time to build up the tension and tease him mercilessly.

He watches Jey's face closely, enjoying the way his eyes flutter shut and his mouth falls open in a silent gasp. He knows that Jey is already close to the edge, but he has no intention of letting him reach it just yet.

Damian smirks, enjoying the sight of Jey completely at his mercy. He can see the desperation in his eyes, the need for release that he's denying him.

"Not yet," he says, his voice low and commanding. "You don't get to come until I say so."

Jey whimpers, his body arching towards Damian's touch. He's aching for release, but he knows better than to disobey Damian.

"Please," he whispers, his voice ragged with need. "Please, I need to come."

Damian grins at Jey's plea, enjoying the power he has over him. He continues to stroke him, keeping a slow and steady pace that's driving Jey insane.

"Not. Yet." Damian practically growls.

Jey moans, his body trembling with need. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, but he knows that Damian won't let him go over until he's good and ready.

"Please, please, please," he begs, his voice rising in desperation. "Papi, Please.."

Damian's heart skips a beat at the sound of Jey calling him "Papi". It's a term of endearment that he secretly loves, and it only serves to make even more possessive and dominant.

He quickens the pace of his strokes, his grip on Jey's cock tightening as he watches his lover fall apart.

Jey's body is taut with tension, every muscle clenched as he struggles to hold back his orgasm. He's on the brink, so close that he can almost taste it.

But Damian isn't done yet. He slows his strokes again, keeping Jey right on the edge but not letting him fall over.

Jey lets out a frustrated cry, his body practically vibrating with need. He's so desperate to come that he's almost sobbing, tears streaming down his face as he begs and pleads for release.

Damian grins, enjoying the sight of Jey so completely undone. He loves seeing him like this, reduced to a begging mess by his touch alone.

Damian finally takes pity on Jey, increasing the pace of his strokes once again. He knows that his lover can't hold on much longer, and he's determined to make this orgasm as intense as possible.

"Come for me, baby," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "Let go."

Jey's body arches off the bed as he finally, finally, reaches his peak. He comes with a shout, his cock pulsing in Damian's hand as he spills over his own stomach.

Damian watches him with a satisfied smile, his eyes dark with lust. He loves seeing Jey come undone, knowing that he's the one who caused it.

Damian grins as he watches Jey come down from his orgasm, his chest heaving and his body still trembling from the aftershocks. He leans in, his tongue flicking out to lick up the cum that's splattered across Jey's stomach.

He takes his time, savoring the taste and the way Jey shudders under his touch. He licks and sucks at the skin, making sure to clean up every last drop.

Once he's finished, Damian sits back and admires his handiwork. Jey is a mess beneath him, his skin flushed and sweaty, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

Damian runs his hands up and down Jey's thighs, his touch possessive and soothing at the same time. "You're so beautiful like this, Caríno.." he murmurs, his eyes roaming over Jey's body hungrily. "All spent and exhausted."

Jey lets out a soft moan, his body still tingling from the aftershocks of his orgasm. He's exhausted, but he can feel his arousal building again as Damian continues to touch him.

Damian can sense the shift in Jey's body, the way his muscles tense and his breathing quickens again. He grins, knowing that he is already ready for more.

"Be a good boy and suck my cock, Jey."

Jey nods weakly, his eyes still hazy with pleasure. He struggles to push himself up onto his elbows, but he manages to scoot forward and position himself between Damian's legs.

He looks up at Damian with a mix of adoration and desire, his lips parted and waiting.

Damian watches as Jey takes him into his mouth, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as he's engulfed in the wet heat of his mouth. He tangles his fingers in Jey's messy brown curls holding him in place as he starts to thrust gently into his mouth.

"That's it, baby," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "Just like that."

Jey's mouth is perfect, taking Damian's cock all the way down to the base without complaint. He relaxes his throat, allowing Damian to take control and use his mouth as he pleases.

Damian moans, his grip on Jey's hair tightening as he begins to fuck his mouth in earnest. He knows that Jey can take it, that he loves being used like this.

Jey's eyes flutter closed as he focuses on pleasing Damian, his tongue swirling around the head of his cock with each thrust. He can feel Damian getting close, his movements becoming more erratic and desperate.

Damian's breathing grows ragged, his hips jerking as he gets closer and closer to the edge. He looks down at Jey, his expression one of pure pleasure and adoration.

With a final, rough thrust, Damian comes undone. He spills down Jey's throat, his body tensing as he rides out his orgasm.

Jey swallows everything he's given, his eyes locked on Damian's face as he watches him come apart.

Damian pulls out of Jey's mouth, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He looks down at Jey, a mixture of affection and possessiveness in his gaze.

"You're incredible," he says, his voice still rough from his orgasm. "You take me so well, baby."

Jey smiles up at him, his lips swollen and slick with spit. He leans into Damian's touch as he reaches out to stroke his hair, his body humming with satisfaction.

"Anything for you, Papi," he murmurs, his voice hoarse from the abuse to his throat.

Damian pulls Jey up into his lap, holding him close as they both come down from their respective highs. He runs his hands up and down Jey's back, his touch gentle and soothing.

"You're all mine," he whispers, his lips brushing against Jey's ear.

Jey snuggles into Damian's chest, feeling safe and protected in his embrace. He lets out a contented sigh, basking in the afterglow.

"Always," he whispers back, his arms wrapping tightly around Damian's waist.

"You share with Rhea though." Jey corrected with a sly grin.

Damian chuckles, his grip on Jey tightening slightly. "Mhm, She is the only exception, Amor."

Jey and Damian both adore her. Jey was a switch and so was Rhea. Damian was the only one in their little trio with no submissive bone in his body.

They have a unique dynamic, with Damian being the dominant one in their relationship and Rhea and Jey switching between dominating and submitting to each other but Damian always being truly in charge. It works for them, and they're all incredibly happy with their arrangement. A little group of best friends who happen to fuck and be madly in love. "Where is Mami anyway?" Jey asked

Damian chuckled again, running his fingers through Jey's hair. "Probably plotting our downfall, as usual," he teased. "She had some business to attend to earlier, but she should be back soon."

As if on cue, the door to the room bursts open and Rhea strides in, a smirk on her face. She takes in the scene in front of her, Jey curled up in Damian's lap, both of them still looking thoroughly debauched.

"Well, well, well," she chuckles. "What do we have here?"

Damian grins up at her, his arms still wrapped tightly around Jey. "Just having a little fun with our boy," he says, his voice playful. "But now that you're here, we can have even more fun."

Rhea saunters over to the bed, her eyes glinting with mischief. She climbs onto the bed and straddles Damian's lap, effectively trapping Jey between them.

"I see you've been busy," she says, her gaze raking over Jey's body. "Baby boy looks so wrecked."

Jey shivers under her gaze, his body responding to her presence even as he's still recovering from his earlier orgasm.

Damian chuckles, his hands sliding down to grip Jey's hips. "He's still sensitive," he says, his voice low and rough. "But I'm sure we can coax another orgasm out of him."

Rhea grins wickedly, her eyes locking onto Jey's. "Oh, I'm sure we can," she purrs. "He's such a good boy, always willing to please."

She reaches out and cups Jey's cheek, her touch gentle but possessive. "Isn't that right, my sweet?"

"Yes, Mami." Jey agreed.

[leiawritesstories]

I Won't Call It Love, Part 1

hi @shyvioletcat!!! happy rowaelin yulemas!!! you love baby fics and idiots to lovers so...here's both of those tropes! This is part 1 of probably 2 parts :))

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: NSFW, swearing, reference to infertility, pregnancy

Enjoy!!!

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“Hey.” Tucked into Rowan’s side, snug under the blankets that spilled out of the hammock, Aelin tipped her face up, catching her boyfriend’s eyes. Boyfriend. Gods, it still made her giddy to call him that, the title they’d settled on so recently. 

“Hey.” Beneath the blankets, his hand slid lazily from her waist down to her hip, fingertips just barely grazing the dip of her spine. “What's up?” 

She let out a soft sigh and curled closer into his warmth, watching the embers of the campfire flicker out. “I like this.” 

“Me too.” He grinned at her, a flash of wickedness edging his expression, and tugged her more solidly onto his lap. “I like it a whole lot.” 

“You’re a bad, bad boy, Rowan Whitethorn,” she teased, arching her hips ever so slightly into the thickness she felt pressing up into her from below. “I thought we agreed to keep this casual.” 

His hand on her back grew heavy, and he pressed her hips into his in a slow, languid roll. “Does keeping it casual mean I can’t touch you like this, Ae?” He dipped his head, breathed a feather-soft kiss behind her ear. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“I…no,” she managed to gasp, lost already in the feel of his hands on her skin. She’d had dreams like this for years. “We talked about that, Ro.” The teasing lilt returned to her tone, and she sat up enough to playfully flick his nose. “We’re casual, but we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, and as long as we’re together, we’re only with each other.” A brief, haunted spark danced through her eyes, gone as soon as it appeared. “And if we decide this doesn’t work, then we go back to being friends. Right?” 

“Right.” He tugged her slowly back down against him. “But you didn’t answer my question, Ae. Do you want me to stop?” Her hips nestled into his once again, and she barely suppressed the moan that sprang up her throat at the feel of his cock pressing into her. 

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “I—mmh, Rowan.” Her thoughts garbled into nonsense. She’d buried her feelings long enough. 

He smirked into her neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there. “Whatever you say, princess.” 

A moment of clarity broke through her lust-clouded thoughts. “Ro, I—mmh—we’re in a hammock, buzzard. This definitely isn’t stable enough.” She sucked in a jagged breath, let one hand drag down his side and dip into the waistband of his sweatpants. “Not for the things I want you to do to me.” 

“Fuck, Aelin,” he groaned, catching her wrist before she could warp her fingers around his dick. In one smooth roll, he was out of the hammock, and he hoisted her into his arms without effort. “And what kind of things…are those, hmm?” 

She looped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips up against his ear as he kicked open the door to the cabin. “Filthy things.” 

“Good girl,” he rasped out, lengthening his strides and crossing the small, open-concept cabin in barely three steps and splaying her out on the bed. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Ro,” she teased, sitting up so she could kick off her shoes and pants. Before she could roll her sweats off her legs, he stopped her, heat burning in his eyes. “Having second thoughts?” 

“Hardly.” He threw his sweatshirt across the cabin floor, his shoes following. “I want to do it.” 

She raised a brow. “That’s the whole point, buzzard.” 

“Not like that,” he huffed, catching the mirth in her eyes. “Like this.” He skated his warm hands up her sides, tugging her sweatshirt up as he went. And he stopped short, sucking in a gasp and staring at her breasts. 

Her bare breasts. 

“What?” She shrugged irreverently. “I don’t like wearing a bra when I’m in my comfy clothes.” With a wink, she added, “And I might have had a plan for this little trip.” 

“Did you, now?” His eyes dilated into darkness as he tugged her sweatshirt off and threw it across the floor, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants. “What kind of plan, love?” 

“This kind.” She smirked, then gasped as he dipped his hand between her thighs, his thumb finding her clit with remarkable speed even through her little scrap of lacy panties. “Yes, Rowan. Yes.” 

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, and tugged her sweats off with one hand while the other continued to draw lazy circles over her clit. 

She groaned his name and wrapped one hand around his wrist, leading his fingertips inside her panties. He caught her gaze, a question written in his look, and she nodded her confirmation as she reached up to kiss him. Rowan braced himself on his free arm and kissed her slowly, his tongue tangling lazily with hers, and she sighed into the kiss as her body melted into the mattress beneath the hard press of his. Unbidden, his fingers curled against her pussy, and she nodded breathlessly, her hips shifting against him. 

“Show me what you like, Ae,” he breathed, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties and sliding them off of her. 

“That might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me,” she chuckled. Her humor rapidly gave way to a moan as she trailed her fingers down her body, curling around her sensitive nipples and drifting to her wet pussy. She traced patterns on her clit with one hand and let the other slip down, dipping two fingers into herself and watching Rowan’s cock strain through his boxers as he watched her fingers sink effortlessly into her cunt. “Like this,” she managed to say, moving her fingers at an increasing pace, twisting and curling them inside herself. 

“Fuck me,” he groaned, and he pulled her fingers out of her pussy and replaced them with his thicker ones. He licked her wet fingers, his eyes rolling at her taste, and curled his fingers upward, matching the rhythm of her fingers on her clit. 

“Fuck me,” she moaned, rocking her hips into his touch. “Can I?” Her free hand reached towards his cock, and he nodded as he slipped a third finger into her cunt. 

“Yes.” 

“Oh…fuck,” she gasped, going speechless at the sight of his dick. She pushed his boxers off completely and traced a soft touch up the underside of his thick, hard cock, making him grunt and jerk towards her touch. “Are we…?” 

“Don’t worry.” His fingers hit a spot that had her seeing stars, and she gasped his name. “That’s right, love, tell me who’s making you feel like this.” She wrapped her fist around his dick and stroked, and he tipped his head back and groaned. “So good, love. Yes. It’s gonna fit.” 

She looked like she was about to protest, so he swallowed her next words with his tongue in her mouth and curled his fingers, and a tremor rocked her body. “I…Rowan, I’m…” 

“Come for me, love,” he whispered into her neck, and she clenched around his fingers and did just that. He worked her through it, stopping to catch her hand and lift it from his cock. “Fuck, Ae, if you keep that up I won’t last thirty seconds.” 

She laughed quietly, still catching her breath from the orgasm. “Ah, Ro, I think you have better stamina than that.” 

“Damn right I do, Ae.” He kissed her softly and cupped her tits in his hands, the calluses on his fingers scraping gently against the delicate skin. She moaned, her body writhing against his, and he smirked. “Ready?” 

“For you?” Her smile went soft. “Yeah. I’ve been ready for a long time.” 

“Fuck, Fireheart.” His thumb skated up the curve of her cheek. “I think I’ve had dreams where you said that to me.” He notched his hips into hers, his dick nestling against her slick pussy. “I—wait! Fuck. Condom?” 

A shade of sorrow passed through her eyes. “It’s fine, Ro. I’ve pretty much been told that I can’t get pregnant.” 

“Aelin,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, love.” 

She shook her head. “It’s alright, Rowan. There’s lots of ways to have a family.” As she said that, his dick nudged her cunt, and she chuckled. “Someone’s eager.” 

“Fucking right, someone’s eager,” he returned. She guided his dick to her entrance, and he rolled his hips, slowly fitting himself inside her. “Gods.” 

“Fuck,” she gasped, breathless at the sensation. “So full.” 

He groaned, a garbled rendition of her name, and at her nod, started to move. He drove his hips into hers, once, twice, and…well. “Fucking gods, Ae!” He cried out her name and came inside of her after less than a minute. 

Silence stretched between them. 

Then Aelin turned her head sideways on the pillows and burst out laughing, Rowan’s dick still inside of her. “Oh gods,” she gasped through her laughter. “When I said I wanted you to do filthy things with me, love, I didn’t mean for you to two-pump chump it.” 

Rowan blushed scarlet, but a chuckle escaped him despite his efforts. “I’m never like this,” he groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Fuck me.” 

Aelin chuckled and pushed herself up to kiss him. “There’s more than one way to make a woman orgasm, as you know.” She winked wickedly at him. “Lucky for you, I brought a battery-powered boyfriend.” 

“You really did have plans, didn’t you?” He finally pulled out, and he reached over and picked up her toy from the nightstand. 

“I did indeed.” She let her legs splay apart. “You gonna just make me lay here?” 

“I could.” He smirked. “But I won’t. C’mere, gorgeous.” 

~

The late-September breeze raised a soft pink on Aelin’s cheeks, but it wasn’t cold enough for her to start wearing a jacket yet. The bells on the coffee shop’s door tinkled as she swept in, waved at Elide behind the bar, and headed towards her and Lysandra’s usual table. 

“You’re late, babe,” Lys said, raising a perfectly threaded brow. “Did that man of yours keep you up late?” 

“You’re the worst,” Aelin grumbled, gratefully taking a sip of the latte in front of her. “I walked here from the office, you know.” 

Lys snickered. “I’m just giving you shit, Ae. But I do want to know.” She widened her green eyes and propped her chin on her hands. “Because if he hurts you, I’ll rip his dick off.” 

“That’s graphic,” Aelin drawled. “And we’re…” She trailed off, a glow that had nothing to do with the fall air brightening her face. “We’re great. I think I’m in love.” 

Lysandra cheered. “Atta girl! Give me all the dirty details.” 

“Freak,” Aelin laughed. “I can’t stay, Lys. I have my appointment in half an hour.” 

“Damn,” her best friend sighed. “Fine. We’ll go for drinks later, then?” 

“Absolutely.” Aelin picked up her coffee and waved. “I wouldn’t miss Tuesday girls’ night for the world.” 

“See you then!” Lys waved as Aelin left the coffee shop. 

Aelin went back out to her car, parked a few blocks away. She had yearly appointments with her gynecologist, and she was used to them by now. She’d been seeing Dr. Towers for a good five years, since she was diagnosed with adenomyosis at twenty, and she was glad to have the reassurance of her doctor, even if her condition was a heavy one. 

She arrived at the clinic fifteen minutes later, checked in, and waited for a while before the nurse came out and called her name. Aelin followed her back into the exam room, and she set down her bag and went to the restroom. The nurse handed her a small sample cup. 

“You know the drill,” she said with a little smile. 

Aelin smiled back. “Yep, I’ve been here enough times.” Pregnancy screening was a normal part of every appointment. It had never meant much to her—it still didn’t, not when she and Rowan were only a few months into an official relationship. She took care of things quickly and went back into the exam room, where the nurse took her vitals and went over a few things with her before Dr. Towers came in. 

“Hi, Aelin.” The doctor’s usual gentle smile was absent. 

Aelin’s brows furrowed. “Is something wrong?” 

At that, Dr. Towers broke into a beam. “Not at all.” She set down her laptop and took a pregnancy test out of her pocket. 

A very positive pregnancy test. 

“You’re pregnant, Aelin.” 

The world went silent. 

“Th—that’s not possible,” Aelin whispered. She tucked her shaking hands under her legs to hide them from view. “I…are you sure?” 

Dr. Towers nodded, holding out the test. “I’m very sure, Aelin.” Sympathy warmed her expression. “Would you like to discuss your options, or do you want to have some time to process? We can schedule another appointment in a week or so if you need some time.” “I think I want some time.” Aelin’s mind began to settle, the one thing that she could fully grasp being Rowan. I need to tell Rowan.

~~~

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