#and then there’s Shin who gives the best fuck me eyes of all time

[buriedinmyownfeelings]

I guess this is just a weekly thing now

Just when I think I couldn’t love them more something like this happens

[rowarn]

cw: gun play, throat fucking with a gun im sorry, simon coming untouched, masturbation (reader) I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY BRAIN SO unedited

simon with a gun kink that he's kept hidden would be crazy.

imagine ur big, beefy husband coming home after a long deployment. he's tense, his fists are clenched tight and it's clear he's got a ton of steam he needs to blow off.

at first, you expect a normal night together of him plowing you into the mattress so hard that the bed creaks and hits the wall with every thrust. the kind of fucking that leaves you trembling for 15 minutes after you've finished and cleaned up. the kind that has him pulling you into his arms to soothe and coo at.

but something is different this time.

he starts removing his gear one by one as usual but instead of removing the holster with his gun and safely placing it down, he unholsters the gun completely.

you're watching with bated breath as he unloads the weapon, carefully pulling it back and peering into the chamber. you're watching his hands move, admiring how strong his fingers are and how the veins in his hands bulge out with every movement

you deviously excited by the time he approaches you -- the gun still in his hand.

he brings it up, placing the nozzle against your chin, finger hovering off the the trigger. but you know how well-trained he is -- how good he is at his job. you know that he could have that finger on the trigger in a milisecond, faster than you would even be able to comprehend.

"open," he orders, a voice that sends shivers down your spine. it's firm, rough, authoritative. it's a tone you imagine he uses when he's on the field.

soliders bow to his every whim and you're no better. but unlike those who are trained to obey him because it's their job -- you obey him because you know if you do, you'll get the sweetest reward in the world; that thick, full cock still hidden in his pants.

your panties are already wet and sticky and your brain’s already feeling fuzzy by the time you open your mouth. 

the shock of cold is the first thing you recognize followed by the tang of metal as the weapon settles on your tongue. your lashes flutter as you look up at your husband, face still obscured by his balaclava but his pretty, brown eyes burn holes into you nevertheless.

he slowly and carefully slides the gun deeper into your mouth until it presses against the back of your throat and you involuntarily gag. a groan rips from his cheeks as he watches the tears gather on your lashline.

"that's it, pretty," he coos, "bet you wish that was my cock huh?" you nod your head as best you can with the weapon lodged in your throat, "maybe i'll give it to you if you put on a real nice show for me."

his words take a moment to register in your fuzzy brain but once they do, your hand is flying down between your legs at record speed. you slip it beneath the band of your panties, barely lifting his shirt that you're wearing out of the way so you can finally find relief in the ache that has settled in your cunt.

your folds are wet and sticky as they part around your fingers and you struggle to swallow around the gun in your mouth. there's no give to the metal and drool begins to dribble down your shin in long, thin strings.

simon's cock is hard, heavy and leaking against his thigh. this has been one of his best kept secrets, to watch you submit to his gun -- to the weapon he has used to murder countless people with.

and here you were, doing as you're told, throating his gun while you play with your pretty cunt. he can hear how wet you are, can see the way you desperately hump your own hand trying to get your fingers deeper and deeper. but they'll never feel as good as his, you both know this.

so all you can do is tearfully look up at him through clumped lashes as you choke and gag on the gun he continues to keep stuffed down your throat.

his cock throbs at the thought of being where his weapon is now. he envies it.

you mutter something, muffled and incomprehensible but he knows what you're saying. he can see the way your pupils blow out, hear the way your breathing grows erratic and choppy. you're trembling and breathless, messily jerking your hips into your own hand as you desperately look up at him -- begging for anything to push you over the edge.

his finger finally lands on the trigger of his gun and he sees your eyes widen but the desperate, teary look you give him only tells him more of what you need.

there's a muted, empty click when he pulls the trigger. the gun is empty, you both know this -- but it sends you over the edge anyway.

simons cock twitches and twitches, balls tight and heavy before he's spurting his load down his thigh at the sight of you cumming on your own fingers and moaning around his gun.

the hand holding the weapon trembles as he cums untouched at the entire scene. you pull your head back, gasping for air before pulling your hand out of your panties.

simon lurches forward, you don't even have time to react before he's taking the sticky, messy, cum-covered fingers into his mouth.

he's on top of you, pressing you down beneath his weight, the gun tossed and forgotten on the bed because now all he can think about is fucking you into the mattress. <3

[beenbaanbuun]

brothers best friend w/ yunho

this isn’t proof read so sorry for any typos… i’m just too tired to do that right now 😓

you’ve been pummelling the door of your brothers apartment with the side of your fist from at least a couple of minutes now

whether he’s deciding to play a practical joke and leave you hanging is a mystery to you

you can only hope he somehow manages to grow up and let you in soon

it’s an emergency, and the strap of your overnight bag is digging into your shoulder rather painfully

“mingi, i know you’re in there,” you call as you slam the palm of your hand loudly against the wood, “let me in or i’ll tell mum you’re being a bitch!”

threats of your mother usually seem to work; it’s mingi’s fear of your younger sibling privilege, you suppose

he knows that no matter what, he’ll always be the one to blame since he’s older

a system you’ve been abusing for years, you have to admit

the door swings open after a few seconds, and you gear yourself up to give your big brother an earful for being a dick

but just as you open your mouth, you notice that the man that opened the door is in fact not mingi but his roommate and best friend instead

yunho

he’s leaning against the door frame, gaming headset around his neck and plaid pyjama pants hanging low over his hips

it would take a much stronger woman than you to avoid looking at his toned chest, so you let your eyes do a swoop over his smooth skin

“hey, kiddo,” you can hear the smirk in yunho’s voice, “what’s got you banging my door down at 10 minutes to midnight? you know my neighbours won’t appreciate this, right?”

you ignore him

“is my brother in?” yunho shakes his head before leaning himself against the door frame

the way he effortlessly towers over you even when he’s relaxed sends shivers right the way through you, all of them congregating at the apex of your thighs

trust you to be harbouring a debilitating crush on your brothers best friend…

“where is he then?” you urge

“with his latest conquest,” yunho just shrugs like it’s obvious

like you should know that your brother was busy sleeping around in your time of need

you’d gag if you didn’t have more important things on your mind; more important things like what the fuck you’re going to do now

“dammit,” you mutter before readjusting the strap of your overnight bag on your shoulder, “i was hoping he’d let me crash for the night…”

he snorts out a laugh, digging his tongue into the side of his cheek as he stares you down

“doesn’t the guy you’re fucking live like… 5 minutes away from here?”

yunho knows as well as anyone that you and taehyun are not fucking, but that doesn’t mean he won’t tease you just to see that angry look on your face

the way your forehead scrunches and your lips purse into a tiny little pout

holy fuck you’re adorable; what he wouldn’t do to just—

“me and tae fell out,” you spit, your voice muffled through your upset frown, “and we’re not fucking…”

yunho laughs, “not anymore, anyway.”

he dodges the kick you aim at his shins with ease, sliding to the side just in time for you to lose your balance and fall through the doorway

you catch yourself before you can faceplant in front of the man who had been single-handedly ruining your life since you first met him

god knows that the devilishly handsome man would never shut up about it if you tripped in front of him

“enjoy your trip?” he teases as he shuts the front door behind you, trapping you inside of his apartment

he makes a show of locking it before slipping the key into his pyjama pocket

it’s a clear show of dominance to let you know exactly who is in charge

you roll your eyes at him, letting him know that his performance is redundant; you’re in his apartment, of course he’s in charge

“mingi locks his door when he’s not here so you’ll have to sleep on the couch,” he points to the ratty leather thing that sits in the centre of the room

you grimace at the sight of it, knowing that this might just be the worst night sleep of your life

the pealing leather is bound to scratch at your skin, and you just know you’re going to have to peel your skin off of it when you wake up in the morning

you can’t help it when you groan in complaint

“or you can sleep in my bed,” yunho offers, that mischievous smile rising to his face again, “it’s warm and comfy; much nicer than that old thing.”

“are you just trying to get me into your bed?”

he scoffs, “i would dream of it, kid?”

he knows you hate that nickname… he says it with an arrogant look written all over his features

you want to punch that annoying hot smile right off of his annoyingly hot face, despite the fact that mingi would kill you

you want to sleep on the couch just to spite him, despite the fact that you know you’ll wake up feeling half dead

you want to leave and sleep on the cold, wet tarmac outside, despite the fact that that would be an even worse night

a deep breath of air fills your lungs and you let it out with a sigh

“i’ll sleep in your bed, but be warned; i carry pepper spray!”

again, yunho finds it a struggle to hold his laughter in

how can he when you’re so cute? so adorably naive with your little pout and your fucking pepper spray

you’re dumb to think that he can’t see the way you look at him; like he holds your entire world in the palms of his hands

if it weren’t for your brother, he might’ve done something by now

it’s hard to hit when the girl you so desperately want is your friends little sister

“i’m sure you do, sweetheart,” he hums out through his smile, “go get changed, alright? ill be in my room when you’re finished.”

you nod and drop your bag to the floor, your little hands immediately going to unzip it

he wonders what they might look like wrapped around his cock, your prettily manicured nails glittering as your fingers dance up and down his shaft

he looks away for the sake of his own sanity and slips his hands into his pockets in the hopes of hiding the tent that’s forming

god, he needs to get a grip

“bathrooms over there,” he clears his throat before continuing, “take your time; it’s not like i’m rushing to get to sleep or anything.”

and then he leaves you in the sheer hopes that turning his back on you and heading back to his PC will clear his head of all the disgusting thoughts he’s having

the gaming chair creeks under his weight as he flops down into it, slipping his headphones over his ears straight away

his finger moves over to his keyboard to unmute his discord and—

“i did not make us lose,” he hears the shrill screech of wooyoung, “if anything it’s san’s fault for not res-ing me! i was in need!”

“yeah and i had other priorities!” san scoffs, “jongho is a better player; obviously i’d res him first!”

“i can’t belie—”

“hey, yun,” jongho calls out over the argument, “i’m assuming the knocking wasn’t a mass murderer since you’re still alive.”

the other two shut up pretty quickly, both uttering their own cheerful greetings to yunho as if they weren’t at each others throats two seconds prior

yunho chuckles

“it was mingi’s sister,” he hums, “she’s in the area and needs a place to stay for the night.”

he’s met with a symphony of appreciative hums from the three of his friends; yunho had learnt a while back that he wasn’t alone in his feelings for her

“it’s so unfair that she’s off limits,” san sighs dreamily, “if i got my hands on her, even just for one night… i’d put those pretty lips to work, that’s for sure.”

san’s right, your lips are pretty; like two flower petals begging to be touched and appreciated

“sure, dude,” jongho interrupts, “her lips are pretty and all but have you seen her thighs? i’m pretty sure she could crush my skull with those things…”

“and you’d be into that?” san questions, a shocked laugh evident in his tone

“hey, don’t shame him,” wooyoung cuts in, “i’d love for a little brat like her to sit on my face; i could tease her for hours down there…”

there’s a swift knock on yunho’s bedroom door and he immediately presses deafen on his headset before sliding it off once more

his cheeks are covered in a deep red flush, his friends words echoing around his skull as he turns in his chair to watch you slip into the room

oh fuck

he can’t help the way his jaw drops, but then again, even the strongest man on the planet would have a difficult time

especially with you in those tiny little shorts

for someone who claims not to be fucking the guy you were supposed to be staying with, your outfit choice sure is… something

they’re thin and cover next to none of your thighs; jongho was right about them, yunho muses to himself

thick and plush and your flesh jiggles with every step you take towards his bed

he’d be happy to lie between them, he thinks, face in your pussy as you squeeze his head with those gorgeous limbs

he swallows the lump in his throat as you sit politely on his mattress

“i’m sorry about my shorts,” you mutter, a little self conscious with how intently yunho was staring at them, “i know they’re not really… appropriate.”

yunho shakes his head, dazed, confused and horny

“they’re perfect,” he mutters before he can realise what he’s saying, “i mean they’re fine… just fine…”

“they’re fine?” you confirm

he nods

“i mean they look comfy; that’s all that matters, right?” he shrugs nonchalantly as if he’s not thinking about how it would feel to rip the flimsy material off of you

he’s starting to regret asking you to share a bed with him

how the fuck he’s going to sleep with you laying next to him, he isn’t too sure

yunho takes a deep breath before clearing his throat

“if you want to head to sleep, i’ll be right there. i just want to play another round with the boys.”

you nod before crawling into his bed… crawling

he can’t even focus on how sweet you are when you’re obeying his every command

not when your ass is facing him and those tiny shorts are doing nothing to hide the fact that you’re clearly not wearing underwear beneath them

they cling to your sticky—holy fuck you’re wet?—core, the white material going translucent as your slick soaks into it

he can’t tear his eyes away from your hole, which he can fucking see clenching around nothing through those teeny-tiny shorts

it’s a good job he doesn’t have to; before he can lose his mind and rip those shorts from your body, you’re covering yourself with his thick quilt

the way you wrap yourself up and tuck the material between your knees would be cute if he hadn’t just had his soul destroyed by the sight of your pretty pussy

a few deep breaths, and he finds the courage to turn back around to his pc and press un-deafen once more

but even with the sounds of his friends chattering in the background, and his fingers eagerly dancing across his keyboard, he can’t help but let him mind wander to you

what you’d look like underneath him, your face all screwed up in pleasure as you beg him for more

how you’d sound when you beg him for more

how your fingers feel as they dig into the plane of his back

fuck, he’s in so deep

and the worst of it is, it’s not just fucking you that he’s daydreaming about

he wants to know what you’ll look like in the post sex glow, when he has you tucked into his chest so soft and gentle

he knows you’ll be beautiful; so soft and pliant in his arms

he’ll whisper sweet nothings to you just to see you smile and blush

he’ll press soft kisses to your lips just to make you squirm and giggle

god, he needs to be fucking sedated

a quick glance behind him lets him know that you’re asleep; good, he doesn’t want you to hear what he has to say next

“guys,” he helplessly calls out, “what the fuck am i supposed to do?”

“what do you mean?” jongho asks, “is this about mini mingi?”

mini mingi… you couldn’t be further from your brother in yunho’s eyes

he doesn’t want to fuck mingi into the sheets before helplessly confessing his love to him

“yes, this is about her,” yunho relents, “what the fuck am i supposed to do when she’s explicitly off limits?”

“fuck her,” wooyoung says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, “what mingi doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“he’s my best friend,” yunho groans, sounding pathetic even to his own admission

“okay and?” wooyoung scoffs

yunho slams his head down on the desk in exasperation

it’s soft enough to not make too loud of a noise; he doesn’t want to wake you up, after all

but it’s also hard enough to let the headset slip loose from his ears

and he hears it

something that makes him perk up and rip his headset off for what seems like the hundredth time that night

no… it can’t be

“yunho…”

your voice is small from the other side of the room, but he hears it as if it’s clear as day

you moaned his name

“yunho, need it,” you whine again, every so slightly louder this time

yunho gulps as he spins his chair around to see you, jaw slack, face screwed up and hips bucking into his quilt that you’d secured between your legs

he freezes

“yuyu,” you mewl

yunho can’t help the involuntary groan that comes from his lips

it’s now or never, he decides

he shuts off his pc, not even bothering to say goodbye to his friends—they’d understand—and takes a second to compose himself

sweaty palms rub against the material of his plaid pants as he rises from his seat and takes a few tentative steps towards the bed

the floorboards creek, but it doesn’t wake you

“yu,” your voice is so sweet, he thinks to himself as he comes to a stop by the bed

a hand on your shoulder shakes your body awake, and before yunho knows it, you’re staring up at him with your big wide eyes

fuck, he’s going to destroy you

[look-at-the-soul]

Every little thing you do- Prologue

Tommy Shelby x reader (Mini series)

Summary: Y/N has been Tommy’s best friend since childhood. She had always been there for him when he needed her the most. Now as the Shelby family are in a better position, Y/N will need Tommy’s support when something she didn’t expect happens.

A/N welcome to this little new adventure! This story started as an idea @lyarr24 shared a while ago and I just stared at it for a few minutes until the ideas started “appearing” in my mind. This particular part turned somehow into a comedy show on its own 😂🤭 it was fun and light to write, but it’s going to get angsty… thank you for sharing your unique ideas as usual! It took me some time but I’m always into giving each story it’s own time. And of course @justrainandcoffee thank you for creating this beautiful moodboard for this story! You totally nailed it!

Word count: 2,196

Arriving at the Garrison, Y/N headed straight towards the private booth where the Shelby’s were reunited.

“You should’ve seen the look in Polly’s eyes when she found out we were buying the stallion.” John cracked and threw his head back with a loud laugh.

Arthur winked at Y/N and decided to mess with his brother.

“Erm John boy.” He cleared his throat, just as Tommy gave Y/N a smirk, they were both sitting facing the door unlike John who had his back at it.

Tommy used the chance to kick his youngest brother in the shin, as a warning.

“So you think it’s fucking hilarious John Michael Shelby.” Y/N imitated Polly’s voice and mannerisms perfectly.

John’s face paled as the smile left his face and he straightened his back.

Arthur snorted and then started laughing uncontrollably as John turned around to find Y/N standing by the door.

“Shit! Y/N you scared the fuck out of me.”

“Get in here sweetheart.” Arthur called for her, making room next to him. “That was brilliant, you’ve got a talent.”

“You sound just like her.” Ada praised, leaning over the table to kiss her cheek.

“You’re late.” Tommy offered her a glass of whiskey.

Taking a sip, she nodded. “The lady I work for had a terrible day, didn’t want me to leave.” She replied titling her head to the side because Arthur was right in the middle, sandwiched between her and Tommy.

“And how did it go?” He asked over the laughs of his siblings.

“My feet are killing me, I had to walk all the way back… but I really needed a drink tonight.

“Why? Scott didn’t pick you up?” He raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

Against his best judgment, he agreed to give Y/N’s boyfriend a place among the peaky men. He didn’t like or trusted him but he was doing it for Y/N and the friendship they’ve always had. Over time, he even gave Scott a car under the condition to drop and pick up Y/N from her work every day.

“We had an argument this morning, he got pissed and I asked him to not.” She lied.

She knew how protective Tommy could get, specially around Scott. They were already past the phase where Tommy would’ve to intervene and put her boyfriend in his place, then Scott would come for her arguing that she let that gangster say and do whatever he pleased.

But Tommy knew Y/N better than that, and this wasn’t the first time she lied to cover for her boyfriend’s attitude.

“What’s so funny?” Polly demanded to know as she joined them in the booth. Staring at Arthur and John’s faces she knew, so she shot Y/N a long look. “You’re imitating me again?!”

The Shelby brothers tried to hide their amusement but all of them failed.

“We wanted to mess up with John, Pol. Sorry.” Y/N looked down embarrassed for being caught.

Polly smiled down at her, it was impossible to stay angry with someone as Y/N.

“Well I hope it was a good one.” The smile grew bigger.

Ada laughed and stood for her aunt to take her place. “You should’ve seen John’s face, he went pale.” Waving at them, she left.

“Hey you need to talk to Finn, he’s getting out of hand these days” Polly warned her nephews. “I asked him to deliver a few letters and he had the audacity to answer he wasn’t a mail boy anymore.”

Tommy shook his head and after a long puff to his cigarette, he answered; “I’ll talk to him.”

Y/N’s chuckle made him look at her. “What? Are you really going to lecture the poor boy? Tom, if I remember correctly, you answered your father something similar back in the day but worse and that caused your first fight.”

Tommy shuddered at the memory. He was so done with his father demanding favors from him and his brother Arthur, so one day he told him he was done with his bullshit and Arthur Sr answered with a curse, threw a glass against the wall and pushed him, Tommy pushed him back. Luckily Arthur Jr and Y/N were close and could intervene to stop them from getting any further.

That night, Y/N stayed with him outside until Tommy had calmed, then she asked her parents, who were neighbors to the Shelby’s if he could sleep on the couch. Y/N’s mother made him some tea and offered him the comfort he wasn’t able to find next door.

They started as neighbors, then Tommy and Y/N became friends until Tommy trusted her blindly. After the war she was the only one who could understand him.

Tommy took a swing of his drink. “You’re not going to tell him that, are you? I’ve a reputation to keep.” He finally added.

“Leave him Pol, the poor boy is probably frustrated because he haven’t had a woman yet.” Arthur chuckled at his own joke.

“Hey,” Y/N called everyone in the room, “leave Finn out, you’re nothing but a bad influence.”

John shook his head and raised his hands as if saying he wasn’t part of it.

“Oh please Mr.-I-want-to-marry-Lizzie-Stark, really?” Y/N raised her eyebrow at him.

“Tommy! Why the hell did you tell her?!” John exploded against his brother, who was already laughing out loud, head thrown back.

Polly had to look twice at her nephew, his guard was down he seemed to be relaxed for once. Since the war he had changed a lot, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“And besides, I corrected my path, married to Esme didn’t I?” John mumbled chewing on his toothpick.

Y/N nodded, deciding to leave that conversation, it’s was funny to tease John. “I better go now, it’s getting late.”

Tommy was on his feet the second she announced her plans.

“C’mon I’ll drive you.” Tommy offered his best friend.

Giving Polly a hug, she waved at the Shelby brothers goodbye.

After driving for a while, Y/N noticed Tommy took another route.

“Before you ask me,” Tommy spoke softly, “I’m going to show you something.”

She opened and closed her mouth. “You’re so mysterious.”

Tilting his head, Tommy clicked his tongue. “When you see it, you’ll understand.”

“Is it the new horse?” Y/N asked impatiently.

Tommy shook his head and passed her the cigarettes and matches to light it. “Why don’t you tell me what happened with Scott?”

“Something really stupid, he got pissed over nothing.”

“Really? Tell me something I don’t know already.”

Y/N sighed and took her time to exhale the smoke out of the window. “He asked me to ask you for some money, when I told him that he still owed you from the last time he got furious at me.”

“But you gave me the money for that loan.” Tommy’s eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“I did, but it wasn’t his money.” Y/N explained embarrassed after confessing Tommy the truth.

It was now time for Tommy for sigh. Eyes focused on the road, he didn’t want to be a pain and say I told you, Y/N was the only person he could trust and he wanted her to trust him the same way.

“Look this happens all the time, your Mum used to pay your dad’s bills behind his back, I just couldn’t take another one yet, he’s trying to find a better job and I think he’s going to propose soon.”

Tommy’s breath got caught up in his throat, he was trying to process the possibilities.

“So… is he the one?” He finally asked.

“Well he’s my boyfriend.” Y/N rushed to answer. “I just don’t know if he will let me keep working for Lady Winchester.”

“If you need a job, you know there’s always a spot for you at the Shelby Company Limited.” Tommy took the last puff of his cigarette and threw it outside the vehicle.

“Maybe I’ll need it later. Thank you.” Y/N felt more than grateful to have someone like Tommy around, he had always been there for her and her siblings specially after his business took off and he started to earn more money than anyone around. In her eyes, that didn’t make him change, if anything he became more generous.

But Scott on the other hand, was tender and good to her, he was fun to be around, always brought flowers to her. He wanted to have his own business one day, unfortunately life had been hard and it was taking him longer to make it.

Taking a turn, Tommy stopped in front of a huge gate, the property guarded by the gate wasn’t a house, it was a freaking mansion!

And her best friend was opening the gate as if he owned the property.

“Wha-what are you doing?” Y/N asked looking out the window.

“Drive over here!” Encouraged Tommy with a huge smile.

Her heart started beating faster, he showed her how to drive and even let her do it when she wasn’t allowed to. But this was wrong, it felt like they were trespassing, she could feel her heart pounding as Tommy shouted for her to hurry up.

Following his instructions, Y/N parked the car next to the fountain.

“I wanted you to see this first…” His smile couldn’t get any bigger as he opened his arms wide and looked around proudly. “I bought this place.”

Her jaw dropped, she was lost for words.

“What do you think? I’ll build a place for the horses in the back.” Tommy explained, eyes shining.

“Woah… I don’t know what to say Tom.” A hand covered her mouth, still shocked to form anything coherent. This house looked bigger than Lady Winchester’s and that was a bloody mansion too! “You always said you’d get yourself a decent place and a big house, and look at how far you’ve come!” She felt genuinely happy for him, Tommy had always worked so hard, always found a way to help his people and those around him. If anyone deserved this, it was him.

“I’ll even have my fucking office here, and there’s a grand salon for parties.” He explained as he waited for her to step inside.

“Parties?!” She laughed nervously.

“A ball dance and shit.” He took a look around.

“You’ll need loads of furniture to fill this place.”

Tommy chuckled. This was unthinkable a few months ago, now it was a reality, he’d had the big place he dreamed of when he was a kid.

“You got a fireplace! In the tea room!”

He followed Y/N’s voice, she was now standing in the middle of the dining room.

“This looks like it belongs to a Lord.”

“You can call me Lord Shelby then.” He winked at her and they both laughed at how ridiculous it sounded.

“Downstairs it’s the wine cellar.” He added hiding his hands inside the pockets of his pants. “Do you like it?”

“Are you kidding me?” She nodded. “This is a dream! I’m so happy for you!” Y/N then went to give him a hug.

A bold movement for the rest of the world, but to her it was just natural, they’ve been friends since forever. She was the one comforting him when his mother passed away, the one to help him hold it together after the war.

“You’ll love the kitchen, it’s huge but they’re doing some renovations already, I’ll show you once it’s done.”

“Looks like I’ll need to make an appointment from now on.” Y/N teased him.

Tommy shook his head with a shy smile. “Of course not, specially not you.”

She knew he was busier now days that the Peaky Blinders owned the races and licenses. It was just a matter of time before he found a woman and got married, then this house would be filled with kids. Or perhaps he already had someone therefore the plans to get the big house.

Once the realization hit her, she pretended to look towards the window. A sudden lump installed in her throat and something indescribable pressed her heart.

“Should we go? It’s going to be dark soon.” Y/N asked, looking him in the eyes for a mere second.

Time flew on their way back and soon Tommy stopped his car in front of Y/N’s door.

Even before he could say goodnight, an angry voice called for her.

“I’ve been waiting hours for you, Y/N nobody knew where the heck did you go.”

“Slow down mate, that’s no way to treat her.” Tommy intervened, holding Scott’s death stare.

“Stay the fuck out of this.” Scott raised his voice.

Tommy felt his blood boiling, one stride and he’d finish the prick, but before he could move, a pair of soft hands stopped him.

“Tommy please, let me handle this.” She pleaded.

His jaw clenched as he saw the smirk of satisfaction Scott gave him. The bastard had Y/N charmed and there was nothing he could do about it.

✨ Thank you for your support! You already know it, but the way to a writer’s heart is through your feedback xx

Part 1

Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @blondie-22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @lau219 @lauren-raines-x @red-riding-wood @lovemissyhoneybee @theendlessvoidofdarkest @wannabeperfectionists-blog @yeppaweshallsee (can’t tag) @skydisneylover (can’t tag) @holacia3 @galactict3a

@saradika-graphics divider

[love-anddeepression]

EVERYTHING IS FINE- Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

this is it. angsty asf. bittersweet ending it’s sad people. tw: infidelity. based on my most recent post. please comment i’m literally begging you and tell me how you like it<3

Part 2

In the depths of your heart, you already know. Your Miguel is not yours anymore.

You remember the stolen glances between him and Dana where you pretended not to notice the palpable tension between the three of you amidst the throng of about ten other people in the house.

It was a nice dinner that you’d planned, after spending almost a week away because of your actual job as well as your little side gig that was being a part of spider society.

But fifteen minutes into the little shin-dig and you get a call from none other than your boss. Not the nice one who showed you the ropes when you first joined and provided you with hours of mentorship. The bitch that was a variant of your husband was currently floating above your watch as you glared at him in the bathroom.

“We need you.”

“Not today.”

“It’s an emergency.”

“It’s always an emergency.” you roll your eyes.

“Look this was unplanned, you think my life’s aim is to torment you?”

“Kind of.” you nod and he groans, “Give me twenty minutes.”

——

At the end of twenty minutes, you storm out of your house as quietly as you can, yes it’s an oxymoron but you’re pissed off.

At Miguel, at your husband, at yourself.

Your mother always said that you were one to pity yourself, even when every bad thing that happened was the result of your own actions. All your life you’ve disagreed, but now you think that maybe your mother was probably right.

None of this would have happened if you’d just said no. No to Dana making her way into your marriage to her guy best friend and co-worker.No to the variant of him with fangs and red eyes and No to your own urge of fucking things up because you wanted to see what happened. If maybe what your heart felt was wrong. That there was nothing wrong with you and Miguel, that he still loved you.

You let out a shaky breath and open a portal from an alleyway behind your apartment building. The purple hue reflects onto your face. No, you weren’t a spider. Just a traveller that stumped your boss and changed his perception of everything he knew about the multiverse.

The man himself nodded at you as you stepped onto the platform he was standing on, looking back to the holo of what looked like a rogue Doc Ock, Goblin and another Spiderman.

“What, now we have evil spidermen? Isn’t that breaking the canon?” you raise an eyebrow.

“That’s the thing. There’s no canon event broken. He was meant to be a villain. Yet, I’ve never heard of him, or of this universe.”

You look at him like he’s just told you that he used to be a stripper in college and all his money came from his side-gig, “I’m sorry, what? The all powerful Miguel O’Hara with the pixel suit doesn’t know of the existence of a universe?”

“You’re being real helpful right now.” he grumbles.

“Thank you, I knew you’d appreciate the help.”

——

The house is quiet when you walk in, evidently everyone has left. The kitchen has been cleaned and the lights are off.

He’d always been your biggest supporter. Always so humble even though he had a high position and a fat paycheck, always telling you to let him help you. Doing some of your work for you when you were busy.

The bedroom door creaked a little as you enter, the sound of your loves breathing makes you crack a small smile. His hulking figure curled up and moving up and down. His face slack.

God he was so beautiful.

You shed your clothes and go through your night routine as fast as you can. Brushing your teeth and scrubbing your face. Cursing the pimples that always make their way onto your forehead at the wrong time.

The mattress squeaks as you get on, slowly wrapping your hands around his body. He stirs and looks up at you, his eyes softening. He’d been drinking, you can tell. He hasn’t looked at you like this for a while.

“Hi.” his hands cup your face and you smile softly as you kiss his rough palm. Your own covering his.

“Sorry I disturbed you. Thank you for cleaning up.” your hands mirror his actions, thumbs caressing his cheekbones.

He answers you with a soft kiss. And then another. And his hands are travelling down to pull you to him. Engulfing you as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. Your hands move to play with his hair as he drifted back to sleep.

You close your eyes and pretend that everything is fine. That the lipstick stain on his shirt in the laundry basket wasn’t the same as Dana’s.

———

“Are you fucking dumb?” O’Hara seethes, as he disinfects the gash at the bottom of your neck.

“It’s just a graze, i’m fine.” you grumble, “it’s not like anyone’s gonna care if i die.”

“No, just shut your mouth. Stop talking like you’re some martyr. There are plenty of people here who would miss you.”

“Miguel, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” you chuckle, “i get it-

“No, you don’t. actually, you don’t get it. the woman i loved died, and she’s gone and i’d do anything to have her back, and you’re so convinced that if you died your own fucking husband wouldn’t want to die too? Stop acting like you’re expendable.” his eyes glow and yours widen, “This may come as a surprise to you, but people care.”

You gulp, “Sorry.”

He grumbles under his breath as he sprays the wound with bacta so it heals faster. Apologising when you wince.

You look at his concentrated face that is focused on wrapping the bandage around your shoulder and the bottom of your neck. His face is mere inches from yours. He is the splitting image of your husband, save from the red eyes and fangs. But this close you can see the differences, his eyebrows are a tad thicker and his ears are smaller.

He is harder and his words are sharp. Your love is soft and quiet. Mean when he has to be, but kinder. More open.

More loving. Yes. He’s more loving and he loves you.

You look away and focus on the ceiling. You don’t see his eyes watching your face. Eyes filled with sadness and want.

——

“Dana, here. Have some tea.” you pour a cup for the woman sitting next to Miguel at the table. At your spot.

Is it toxic to think that maybe you want her to choke on her tea?

She’d started to carpool with Miguel a few months ago , seeing as they worked together and were on the same team, it was more efficient and made more sense.

You didn’t want to seem like a toxic wife so you nodded and agreed, because you were secure in your relationship with your husband.

“Thank you.” she says your name with a wide smile as she sips the tea, “Amazing, as always.”

“I know right, she makes amazing tea.” he smiles at her and raises an eyebrow. Dana snorts.

You look between the pair trying to hide their smiles, “Did I miss something?” an awkward smile makes its way onto your face.

“Inside joke, you wouldn’t get it. It’s a scientist thing. I don’t think your writer brain could handle it.” Dana waves you away as if you’re a fucking waiter and you bristle.

But what drives it home is that Miguel laughs out loud when she says that. His hair flops onto his forehead and Dana fixes it for him, her hands running through this hair.

You fight the urge to break a plate on her head but you know it’ll be fruitless. Because your husband will take her side.

Maybe you’re just being dramatic. Maybe the tears you’re trying to hide as you make breakfast are unwarranted and you can’t take a joke.

Everything is fine.

You call out to them from the kitchen, telling them you’re going to be late and his voice is brighter when he says, “Okay, honey.”

—————

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, boss.”

“You look dead.”

“Your eyes bags suggest the same.”

“You’re hilarious.” O’Hara smirks

“Thank you.” you take a sip of the beer he’d passed.

It was late, far past dinner time. And the both of you had taken time to go over the record of what anomalies were most common and key weaknesses in most villains.

“But seriously, are you okay?”

You gulp, “Tell me about your wife. Please.”

He blanches, and then looks at the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Well, where to begin?” he turns to face you, “She…was a writer, she had her own business. She loved sunflowers because they faced each other when the sun wasn’t in the sky.” he smiles sadly, “she was terrified of frogs and dead fish. And she hated onions. The pickiest fucking eater.” he shakes his head and chuckles.

“She sounds sweet.” you know she was variant of you, Miguel had shown you the web of life and in every universe there was version of you that made their way into his life. It was beautiful, honestly.

“She had short hair, and her smile. God, it could make anyone’s day better.” he rested his head on his hand and looked at the hologram shining in front of the both of you.

“She sounds like a dream.” you reply.

“She was.” he nods.

“Hey would you mind bringing up a live of my house?” you ask.

“Why?”

“Humour me, will you?”

He grumbles and a hologram showing your universe pops up, on the screen is your living room. And Miguel freezes when he sees the scene before him.

He sees himself kiss Dana. The version of him who is married, is kissing his co-worker. He’s taking her in his arms and nuzzling her nose. He’s pecking her cheeks and tickling her like she’s his wife.

Like he’s in love with her.

“I love you.” his voice echoes throughout the room. And Dana says it back.

His head whips to look at you. You don’t look surprised, rather, you look defeated. You breathe out like it’s a finality. Your beautiful beautiful eyes transfixed on offending scene in front of you.

Before anything else happens, he shuts it off. Immediately turning to look at your frozen form, “Hey, you with me?”

You shake your head and smile. Eyes still fixed onto where the hologram was, “I’m fine.” Tears fall down your cheeks as your mouth quivers, “I’m okay. Everyday he comes back around this time. And they carpool. I told him I’d be late today. Just after I made them tea and they laughed at an inside joke amongst themselves.”

His eyes widens, “Oh honey.” his moves to hug you and you let out an ugly sob, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I knew it.” you say into his chest, “I’m so fucking stupid.”

His hand pats your back, “You’re not stupid.”

“I mean, I know i was busy, i know i wasnt always home. But I tried, i fucking tried. WHAT IS SO WRONG WITB ME?” the dam breaks and you let out a wrecked shout of agony that breaks his heart into two, “Why wasn’t I good enough?!” your body shakes violently.

“No.” he says firmly, taking your face in his hands, almost squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to looking at him, your hands fly to cover his, “ You are good enough. You are enough. Listen to me. That fucking idiot doesn’t know who he just lost.”

“But-But if i wasnt so busy-

“If he had a problem, he should’ve told you. He’s a fucking pussy.”

Your words are silenced when he shakes you once, hands still holding your cheeks, “You are the most perfect person. And the both of them will pay. I promise that, cariño.”

His arms wrap around you to engulf you as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, rapid breaths slowing. His pulse beats and you can feel the vibrations on your own skin.

You close your eyes and pretend everything is fine. Because you’re in his arms.

[hysteria-things]

can you do a smut with dom!nate x sturniolo triplets sister where they're at a restaurant with the triplets and nate starts fingering her idc abt anything else but like please im begging you 🙏🙏

FORGIVE ME

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x sls!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: being friends with benefits with your triplet brothers’ best friend isn’t the smartest idea. especially when nate teases you at a restaurant with your siblings there, there’s only one way to forgive him.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, mentions underage drinking, fingering, public, oral (female/male receiving), p in v

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,277

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: first sturniolo’s little sister fic😯 i find this trope fun LOL

i miss why don’t we they were MY one direction.

hope you like it anon!

a burger sounds so good right now. you think to yourself before being rudely interrupted when a foot taps your shin from under the table. your annoyed eyes are met with chris’. “what are you getting?” he asks.

you shrug, continuing to scan the menu in front of you. “probably a bacon cheeseburger.”

your triplet brothers invited you out to dinner at the finest establishment around: texas roadhouse.

they picked up nathan along the way, who’s sitting silently next to you as the other three are squished in the booth across from you. the four of you are close and know everything about each other, which is the best kind of sibling relationship.

well, they think they know everything about you.

what they don’t — and will never know — is your friends with benefits with nate.

it started randomly at a high school party, where the two of you got drunk and made out which led to you guys fucking in the bathroom. it’s bizarre but true.

turns out, the two of you enjoyed it and this whole thing went on from there. that was months ago, by the way.

while taking a sip of your shirley temple, a hand is placed on your thigh. you look over to the culprit, who is talking casually to your siblings.

his hand teasingly moves up and down, each time getting closer to your waistband. your breath hitches as the waitress comes over. “are you guys ready?” she asks in her customer service voice, smiling as she clicks her pen.

“you go first, y/n.” nate says innocently, taking his fingers and now putting them in your pants to rub hard on your clit. he knows you love getting penetration there.

little shithead.

you clear your throat. “c-can i have a bacon cheeseburger, please?”

the waitress nods, writing on her notepad. “with what side?”

you feel two fingers going inside your wetness, moving at a medium pace. “mmm— fries!” you say loud and quickly. you clear your throat again. “please.”

the three across from you give the same weird look, as if silently saying ‘what the fuck is the matter with you?’

soon, the others put their orders in and go into their conversations. nate keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, a low whimper leaving your mouth.

when he knows your brothers aren’t listening because they’re arguing about whatever the fuck, he scoots closer to you and leans to your ear. “you’re so wet, baby. is it all for me?”

you grip his wrists, trying to pull him away when you feel your orgasm approaching. it’ll be embarrassing to cum in your pants. “nate—”

“you’re coming back to our house, right?” nick asks, causing nate to pull out his fingers and readjust in his seat.

“yup,” he replies, giving your thigh a tight squeeze.

you storm into your bedroom, nate following closely behind. you shut the door and lock it, putting your hands on your hips and tapping your foot like an angry parent. “are you trying to get us caught? what were you thinking?!”

he chuckles. “cut me some slack, will ya?”

he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to where your chests touch. you try your best to give him your best mad face, but to him, you look adorable. “i’m sorry.” he fake pouts.

he tugs at your shirt and slowly lifts it over your head, throwing it somewhere on the ground. his lips are mere centimeters from yours. “forgive me?”

“we don’t have time. they’ll get suspicious,” you whisper.

he shakes his head, now taking off his shirt. “they think the texas roadhouse got to the best of me. i’ll be in the bathroom for a while.” he winks, pecking your lips.

you bite your lip, not losing eye contact when you start to unbuckle his jeans. “i don’t think i forgive you.” you say sweetly, getting on your knees and simultaneously pulling his pants down.

“guess i’ll have to see.” you continue, eyeballing his hard-on through his boxer. you start to rub your hand over the fabric, a groan leaving nate’s mouth.

you give the tip a little kiss before pulling down his underwear, his dick aching for attention. you wrap your mouth around him, going as much as you can down his base.

moistening his lips, he throws his head back. he always loved the feeling of your warm mouth around him.

you start to bob your head, the gulping noises intensifying the faster you go. “shit.” nate exhales, taking his finger and lifting your chin so you can look at him.

he starts to thrust his hips to match your bobs, gagging in the process.

he pulls out of your mouth and in the blink of an eye, he flips you so you lay on your back. despite your bed being quite literally a foot away from you guys, he’s now on the ground with you between your legs. “forgive me yet?”

“n—” you don’t finish the word when he starts to dig into you without warning. even better, he takes his thumb and plays with your clit like how he did at the restaurant.

you moan too loudly, covering your mouth with your palm. the last thing you want is for your brothers to hear you. your other hand travels to nate’s head, grasping onto his hair tightly. “i’m close.” you mumble, making him pull away.

“what the hell?” you sigh annoyingly.

“shush.” he says, flipping you over once again to where you are now straddling his lap. “ride me.”

you smirk, kissing on his neck down to his chest. he grows impatient, lifting your hips and playing yourself on his cock. you whine, leaning back up straight and grinding your hips to feel him rub the right way on your walls.

“fuck.” you whimper. he grabs your hips and starts to bounce you, a squeal coming out of you. “nathan, fuck!”

“best be quiet, baby.” he smirks. “don’t want them to hear their little sister on their best friend’s dick.”

you whine lowly, biting your lip to quiet your moans. he sits up and you grab both sides of his neck, looking deep into each other’s eyes. he’s smiling smugly, but your face is contorting with pleasure.

he groans when he twitches inside of you.

“did nate fall asleep on the toilet?” matt’s voice echoes down the hallway, three pairs of footsteps along with it.

“the ribs probably gave him food poisoning or some shit.” chris replies.

nate moves you faster on him, panting lowly in the process. there’s no way he can stop now. he’s way too close.

the doorknob shakes, startling the both of you, but you guys keep going. “what the fuck? why is your door locked?” nick asks.

“fuck y/n, i’m cum—” you swallow his words by giving him an opened-mouthed kiss. you moan softly into his mouth, making sure you cum first before lifting yourself off of him.

he groans into your mouth when his cum makes a mess on his abs. “hello? earth to y/n?”

you pull away, staying in position to quietly catch your breath. “s-sorry, what?” you stammer.

“why is your door locked?” this time, the question is asked by matt.

“changing,” you answer, nate giggling silently.

there’s an awkward silence for a few beats before it's broken. “okay…” nick says in a hesitant manner, and their footsteps eventually recede.

“holy shit.” nate throws his head back to laugh, and you smack him on the chest.

“be quiet,” you mumble, getting off from the floor.

thank god you locked the door, or things could’ve ended terribly.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld

[steddiealltheway]

Thinking of a coffee shop AU where Steve and Robin work together. They play this little game where they guess what a new customer’s order will be. To their surprise, Steve is accurate almost 100% of the time. Especially after he gets the hang of it, it’s like he’s a coffee mind reader - at least, that’s what Robin calls him.

The best friends spend most of their time chatting and occasionally Robin will ask, “Blondie who just walked in?” Or “Obnoxious purple tie, third in line?”

And Steve will answer in a few seconds, “Iced coffee, two shots of expresso, and three pumps of caramel… clearly a large latte with french vanilla and an oat milk substitute.”

Most of the time, Robin will make the order before the customer gets to the register. She’s learned to always trust Steve’s gut.

On a particularly slow day, Robin and Steve lounge by the machines, having cleaned them three times already. Steve steals a cookie from the display and gives half to Robin as they chat.

The bell rings and Robin nudges Steve. “What about him?”

Steve swallows. The man has long curly brown hair which rests over a leather jacket and some band t-shirt that Steve doesn’t recognize. His jeans are black and purposefully ripped at the knees, and his combat boots are well worn. The answer is obvious to anyone. “Easy, a large black coffee.”

For once, Robin hesitates to make the coffee, choosing to watch the interaction instead.

“Hi, welcome in, what can I get for you?” Steve asks with practiced ease.

Big brown eyes that were previously scanning the menu above now land on Steve, and Steve can’t help but pinch his leg behind the counter so he can get a grip.

The customer’s mouth opens and closes a few times, seemingly indecisive, which Steve finds to be a bit ridiculous because why would he want anything that isn’t just plain dark coffee? He doesn’t get lost in these thoughts for too long because the customer’s lips are a bit distracting…

“I’ll have a medium caramel frappe with whipped cream and maybe a bit of cinnamon on top?” The customer requests.

Steve freezes.

“Is that… okay? I don’t mind not getting the cinnamon if that’s a problem…” he trails off looking adorably flustered.

Steve clears his throat and reasons out loud, “This isn’t for you, right”

The stranger’s brow furrows. “Is there something wrong with my order?”

Oh shit. Yeah, that was rude. “No, no! Not at all! I just thought… well… with your whole look and vibe you would get something… not so sweet.” Fuck. He’s digging a bigger hole for himself.

“My vibe?” The man questions and luckily the crease in his brow is no longer there, and there’s maybe even a smile that tugs at his lips.

“A good vibe! Well, actually I thought you looked kind of scary. Not scary! Just… intimidating, man. With the leather and all black but it’s cool, dude.” Steve’s hands settle on his hips as he nods - at what, he doesn’t know, but he’s nodding. There’s a small kick to his shin that he knows is from Robin who is fixing the coffee next to him, but he’s going to refuse to look at her.

The sound of a lid snapping on the top of a drink container snaps Steve out of outright staring at the man now. Christ. Robin pushes beside him and slides the drink across the counter. “On the house to repay you for my coworker’s manners,” Robin says with a big grin.

“Oh, I didn’t mind really,” the man says, fidgeting with the large silver rings on his hand. Steve can’t tell if he’s imagining the blush on his cheeks or not.

“In that case, please come back and pray that Steve here can get himself together before then,” Robin says nudging Steve hard. Steve winces at the impact.

“Will do,” the man says, taking his drink and straw and walking out the building.

Steve buries his head in his hands.

“What was that?” Robin asks in a hushed tone although there’s no one around.

“I don’t know! I got his order completely wrong, and it threw me off!” Steve uncovers his face and begins stress cleaning the machine.

Robin laughs. “I haven’t seen you put your foot in your mouth so hard since Scoops.”

“Don’t remind me,” Steve begs.

“Well, at least you’ll never have to see him again because it seems like we’ve lost that customer forever,” Robin says with another laugh as Steve groans recalling the interaction.

It turns out that Robin is wrong though because he shows up again. The next day, in fact. Then the next… and the next… and the next… He starts coming more often than some of their regulars, and eventually he becomes one of them.

And every time, he orders something different. He’s gotten a hot latte, an iced latte, a cappuccino, chai tea, and even a hot chocolate. But everything he orders is overwhelmingly sweet - most times requesting an extra sweetener, and Steve has even seen him use extra sugar packets the few times he’s sat down inside.

A few days into Steve’s new favorite game of trying to guess the man’s new order, he finally gives him his name: Eddie.

Regrettably, Steve had gotten his name because it was a busy day and he had needed to. But still, he had his name.

On a particularly slow day with only Steve working, Eddie ends up being the only one in the coffee shop. Steve writes on a sticky note what his order will be because Robin isn’t there as a witness, and Steve needs some evidence in case he guessed correctly.

“Hey, Eddie, what can I get for you?” Steve asks with a smile.

“How about a medium peppermint mocha?”

Steve is going to tear up that sticky note and throw it away. He moves to make the mocha quickly, adding in extra pumps of mocha because he’s sure Eddie will want it sweeter.

When Eddie goes to pay and accept his coffee, he hesitates. He gives Steve a curious look and asks, “Why do you cringe every time I order something? Is it something I say? Or is it the order itself?” It comes out soft and curious rather than harsh and demanding which Steve is thankful for.

Steve says, “Well, it’s a long story but… here, I’ll show you.” He reached over and grabs the sticky note reading hot cappuccino, four pumps of caramel, and five packets of sugar and places it in front of Eddie who reads it over, throughly confused. “I guess people’s orders, and most of the time I’m right or I’m close enough that I’m basically right. But with you, I’ve guessed it wrong every single time. I just can’t figure you out.”

A small smile graces Eddie’s face. “Does that mean I’m special then?”

Steve’s heart thuds. “I guess it does,” he replies with grin.

“I’m glad,” Eddie says then winks at him. “I’ll be back tomorrow so you can guess wrong again,” he comments while turning to leave.

Steve chuckles, slightly flustered. “Looking forward to it, Eddie.”

“I bet you are,” Eddie flirts as he makes his way out the door.

Steve flushes bright red. Yeah, he definitely guessed Eddie all wrong, and he prays to continue to do just that so he’ll keep coming back. He knows one thing for sure though - Eddie’s drinks are about as sweet as him.

[kryannoy]

you're so calm. you're only feral when you're fighting and . . . y'know

DAY 4 | OCTOBER 14 | PUBLIC SEX

genre: nsfw, smut character: dom!megumi x sub!reader summary: doing the deed outside and almost getting caught warnings: public sex, brat taming, cockstepping, unprotected sex, degradation (use of slut), exhibitionism

He never thought shoving his cock into you outside the house would ever cross his mind, nor even cross off his checklist. Never did you, but it did. You can thank yourself for this.

All you wanted to do was rile him up so he can slam you to a wall as soon as you guys got home but you didn't think he wouldn't wait. He's always been patient so you intended it as a joke.

But yes, now is not a joke anymore with him deep inside your hole in an alley that you're pretty sure passersby can watch the show you guys are putting on.

In a restaurant, you accidently brushed your feet to his crotch when you were adjusting your position. And his reaction did not go unnoticed in your eyes. Your devilish smirk is hidden as your feet crawls up his shin to his thigh. He smacked you away with a glaring look, telling you to behave. But of course you don't listen. You continue rubbing his cock under the table and he's trying his best to keep in his moans, only having to fake cough for coverup. His blush was noticeable, though. His hands flailing to make you stop and his eyes sending death glares. However, all of that went over your head, thinking that he won't do such things in public so you have to wait at home.

After dinner, instead of making your way to both of your car, Megumi pulled you in the alleyway next to the restaurant. The thing is, it's a one way window glass--you can see the people inside but they can't see the outside.

"You wanted to act like slut, huh? Well, I'll treat you like one. Don't worry." His pants are down and your dress is hiked up to your hips. Your panties are long gone in his pocket. He maneuvered you to the window, bending you down ass up, tits and face pressed up against the cold glass. He gives you a loud smack on your ass and aligned his cock to your pussy. You moaned out from the sudden stretch with no prep.

"Oh, you really want the customers to know, huh? You love that, don't you?" He hisses when he feels your walls clench around him from his dirty talks. His hips started thrusting, pounding into your wet, sopping cunt. His grip on your hips will surely leave a mark. If you gave him no chance to contain his dignity just now, then he will do the same.

Not even two minutes have passed and you're already creaming on his raging cock. Somehow you couldn't control your voice, forgetting that you're out in the open. The two customers that was close to the two of spin their head into your direction. You weren't sure if they heard you or not. But after awhile, their turn back to their food.

Megumi lets out a low groan as he also bust his nut inside you. He didn't stop there, oh no. He wants to tease you like you did. He pounded his dick into you so hard you jolted into the glass. Then, he waits a little before doing it again. Waiting and pounding, waiting and pounding. Your moans accompanying each thrust, getting higher and higher. The same two customers look back to both of your direction again and you shut your mouth this time. Whimpers only coming out. Megumi leans in to you and whispered in your ear.

"They're watching you and here you are with my pussy clenching down my cock? You want me to fuck you again, you little horny bastard? C'mon, let's give them some entertainment."

He starts picking up his pace, his pelvis smacking into your ass, giving you spanks at a time. His fingers crawl up to you lips, forcing them open so you can be loud. At this point, you're pretty his shyness and usual timid self has thrown to who-knows-where and you kind of not complaining. You were the one who brought this upon yourself.

The customer has called a waiter to come check the mysterious noise near them, which the waiter obeyed the orders and approach your direction. You lifted yourself off the glass so you won't be seen if looked closely. However, Megumi notices your intention and pushed you back to the glass. This time caging you so you have no way to move around. His head is buried into your neck, biting it to only contain his voice while yours and still forced open with his fingers shoved down your throat. You met the waiter's eyes and you couldn't help to cum for the second time on his cock.

"You dirty slut," he coos before smacking your ass from your naughtiness.

Thankfully, the waiter turned back around and shook his head to the customer. You both assume it was nothing and he only came to 'check' the noise just to satisfy the customer needs. You sigh in relief as Megumi came again in your pussy. He groans out as he removed himself from you. Your hole now dripping with white cum in huge globs. You hear him growl from behind you as he shoved back his cum into you with his fingers so it wouldn't drip again when you walk to your car or staining the seat of his car because he won't be giving you your panties back.

[cosmicalily]

"to be loved is to be remembered" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

2. semantic memory | yang jeongin x fem!reader

semantic memory: a type of explicit memory that is categorised as general knowledge and information accumulated throughout an individual’s life.

author's note: oh, i missed writing for jeongin!! i was going to revert to my typical best friends to lovers but i decided to change it up (barely) and do roommates instead last minute! thank you for all the love on my seungmin fic, i hope you enjoy this one too!

Yang Jeongin was a good roommate. 

He was reasonably quiet, but not uncomfortably so. He didn’t talk all the time, but he still joked around with you. He was clean and organised, but not meticulous or irritating about it. He did things without you asking; washed the dishes when you were staying up late to work on assignment, ordered you a Caesar salad and fries whenever he got takeout from his favourite Italian place, and always took whatever laundry you had with him when he went to wash his clothes. 

When you went grocery shopping, you knew his favourite beer and ramyeon, and would always buy them for him. When you watered your plants, you’d always water his too, the ones he kept along the windowsill of his bedroom and on the balcony. 

And apparently, when the air conditioning in his bedroom broke in the middle of summer, you’d let him temporarily move into your room. Or at least, that’s what you’d just told him.

“Really? Are you sure?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have to. I’m sure I can find a fan or something.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I don’t mind. Honestly. I don’t do a lot of sleeping during the night anyway.”

“You’re always studying,” Jeongin rolled his eyes playfully.

“And you’re never studying, yet you somehow do so well in your classes. It pisses me off,” you groaned, giving him a light shove. “Anyway, you get the floor. Do you want some help migrating?”

The two of you dragged his mattress into your bedroom, out of breath and panting by the time it had been very unprettily dumped on your floor. He made the bed up with clean sheets, and offered to change yours as well. You thanked him, and told him you’d start making dinner.

When you’d finished, you called him, and he came out of your bedroom, shirt off, hair a little tousled. Your cheeks flushed pink and he raised an eyebrow at you in confusion.

“You look…nice,” you said awkwardly, handing him a beer.

“Thanks?” he chuckled, mouth full of rice.

You sighed dramatically. “Most boys would return the compliment,” you shook your head as you opened your bottle of peach soju. 

“You always look nice. I tell you that all the time,” Jeongin replied, fumbling with the remote. “What show?”

“Brooklyn 99. And I always think you’re being sarcastic.”

“We always watch fucking Brooklyn 99. And no, I’m not. I thought that was obvious.”

“Because it’s the best show! And it’s not that obvious, not to me!” You protested.

Jeongin put his beer down and turned to you. “I’m so confused, why are we having two conversations at once?”

“You were the one who asked me two things.”

Jeongin pressed play on the episode. “One of them was a statement, the other was a question. You do always look nice. I’m not being sarcastic, I’m not a dickhead.”

“Some would argue that,” you giggled, and he gave you a gentle shove.

“Some would argue you’re a bitch,” Jeongin sighed. “But I put up with you.”

“Because you think I’m pretty?” you teased. 

“Because of the rent,” he corrected. “How am I supposed to afford my own place in this economy? Although you’re a bonus, I suppose. Even if I have to watch Brooklyn 99 all the time and change your sheets.”

You kicked his shin. “You offered!” 

He grabbed your leg with his hand and shifted it back into place, leaving his hand resting on your thigh. “Shut up. I’m trying to watch.”

“I thought you hated-” you laughed.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jeongin groaned, and he pinned you to the floor, tickling you until the two of you collapsed in a laughing heap, the show still running, dinner half eaten, drinks long forgotten.

The one thing you’d failed to mention to Jeongin was your habit of falling off the bed during the night. You were a professional tosser and turner, and that often ended up with you snapping out of your dreams face-down on the wooden floor, bruises littering your hips, knees and any other joint that was lucky enough to be the first to break your fall.

When you woke up, you were mortified to find yourself not on exposed hardwood, but on a mattress. With someone else, who was staring at you curiously.

“Fuck!” you groaned, shoving your face into the sheets. “I’m sorry. When did I end up here?”

Jeongin checked his phone. “Maybe 4 am? I don’t know, I didn’t notice until I rolled over and somebody’s face was in front of mine.”

“What’s the time now?”

“Just past 7.”

You rolled over and stared at the ceiling. “I should get up then.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jeongin agreed, but neither of you made any attempt to move.

You looked around your room, interested in your lower perspective. It still looked empty, too similar to when you’d first moved in. You’d been so caught up in studying and seeing your friends that you had forgotten to properly decorate your room.

“Your room’s boring,” Jeongin commented, as if reading your mind.

“Rude. But you’re right,” you agreed. “Maybe during the summer I’ll decorate it. Buy some posters, maybe find some new furniture on Facebook Marketplace.”

Jeongin nodded in approval. “I can help, if you want.”

“How can I trust that you’ll pick good home decor?” you rolled to face him, squinting.

“I know your taste, I’ve been living with you a year now,” Jeongin replied, scrolling through his phone. “Trust me, I don’t think I’ve forgotten a single thing about you.”

You chuckled. “Aw, do you have one of those lists with all my favourite things or something?”

“Nope. It’s all in here,” he tapped the side of his head, smiling playfully.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Do you want me to prove it?” he asked, turning to face you, eyes serious.

“Okay, then I’ll do the same,” you agreed.

Jeongin ran a hand through his hair and set his phone down. “Your favourite fruits are peaches, but nectarines come a close second. If stone fruits aren’t in season, you’ll settle for citrus. You’re prescribed an iron supplement, but you never take it, because you say it tastes like metal. Your favourite colour is pale blue, but it didn’t match the personal colour analysis that app gave you and you’ve been angry about it ever since. You drink with your friends, but don’t like getting drunk while you’re out since you have a fear of being kidnapped. You haven’t had a boyfriend since 12th grade, and you’re secretly in love with me,” he finished, eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes at his final statement. “Alright, Yang Jeongin. You’re the youngest in your friendship group but hate being babied, and you wanted to be a primary school teacher growing up. Your favourite colour is green, and you can fit a whole slice of pizza in your mouth. You can actually sing decently well, but never do, and you actually love Brooklyn 99 more than I do. You love buying clothes, and your favourite place to do so is the vintage shop down the road, where you spend all of your time and all of your money. And, above all, you get no bitches.”

“Don’t you classify as a bitch?” He laughed. “You did well, though. Everything you said was right.”

“You were right too,” you sighed. “I really thought you were going to say something insanely stupid that I could tease you for.”

Jeongin raised an eyebrow. “Did you forget that last statement?”

You ignored him. “I genuinely can’t believe you know that much about me. Fuck, I have to hide more about myself. I hate being perceived.”

Jeongin chuckled in amusement. “I pay attention. It’s weird hearing everything someone knows about you all at once. What am I supposed to do with that information?”

“I think we have to make out now,” you said casually.

He nodded, unsurprised. “I think we do.”

You shuffled closer, and he moved to lie above you, weight on his elbows. His eyes glittered, and his cheeks were tinged with peach. You smiled up at him, face warm and tingling. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours softly, and you sighed into his mouth at the feeling. You moved your hands to cup his cheeks, deepening the kiss, pulling apart when you both lost your breath.

“You were right,” you panted, lips swollen. 

“About?”

“Me being secretly in love with you.”

He smiled. “Well, you were wrong. About me getting no bitches. It wouldn’t be presumptuous to assume you’re my bitch, considering the fact that we just kissed?”

“I won’t be for long if you keep calling me that. It’s girlfriend to you now,” you giggled, and he wrapped an arm around your torso, pulling you tight onto his chest.

[inbloomwriting]

a kiss that I kept II Jamie Tartt

Plot: Jamie Tartt was 9 years old when he met the love of his life. He considers himself lucky to have met her at such a young age. He considers himself a damn fool for fucking it up later on though. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of Jamie's dad. Notes: Friends to idiots to lovers. Inspired by "Simple Song" by the Shins Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

When I was just nine years old I swear that I dreamed Your face on a football field And a kiss that I kept Under my vest Apart from everything But the heart in my chest

There’s something cathartic about being back home in Manchester. Not as a footballer, just as Jamie. When he doesn’t have to be phenomenal, when he doesn’t have to perform and win. When he doesn’t have to try so damn hard to give his dad a reason to be proud of him.

Without those expectations and without the pressure, it feels good to be home. It’s a part of his childhood that is untouched by his father’s malice. It’s pure and joyful and precious.

He’s not Jamie Tartt, golden child and footballer extraordinaire. He’s cousin Jamie. He’s Jamie from down the road. He’s Georgie’s boy. 

It’s been a while since he’s been back, been even longer since he’s seen any of his extended family but being back now, it feels like hardly any time has passed. Millie has always been his favorite cousin so when the envelope showed up in his mailbox, all fancy paper and swirly font, there was no hesitation in him. Nothing could keep him from attending her wedding.

She’s a beautiful bride, all flowy dress and flowers in her hair. It’s almost hard to believe she’s the same kid that used to run around the neighborhood with Jamie, getting into trouble wherever they could find it. But somewhere between chiffon and carnations that little girl still exists. He wonders if the little boy he used to be is still alive somewhere inside of him. He hopes he’s proud of who he grew up to be. Sometimes he doubts it. 

His eyes wander across the room, the reception is in full swing, people are talking, laughing, celebrating. Love is radiating from every smile. Though Jamie doesn’t really care all too much about that if he’s being completely honest, he only cares about one particular smile. 

And when he catches sight of her, leaning against the bar with a glass of champagne in hand, wearing a gorgeous powder pink dress and daisies in her hair, he’s certain his heart misses a beat. 

It would be an understatement to call (Y/N) his best childhood friend. Friend was never a big enough word to describe what she meant to Jamie — what she still means to him. 

Jamie Tartt was 9 years old when he met the love of his life. He considers himself lucky to have met her at such a young age. He considers himself a damn fool for fucking it up later on though. 

“Are you planning on talking to me anytime soon or do you just want to stare at me all day, Tartt?” 

She says it with the same sense of mischief she’s always held. Like a silent promise of adventure perpetually hidden in her words. 

“I was going to — eventually.” 

“Well, eventually is not good enough for me. I missed you, Jamie.” 

It’s only when she pulls him into a hug that he realizes just how much that sentiment is reciprocated. The familiar scent of lavender and the feel of her body against his, it all brings up so many memories of times long gone. This, Jamie thinks, is as close to time travel as humans will ever get.

He is suddenly 9 years old, playing soccer on the field just down the road from his house. His football is old and slightly inflated and some of the hexagons are flaking off, just holding on by a single tread. His goal is no real goal and all but two plastic bottles functioning as make-believe goalposts.

 The air smells like sunscreen and summer and dust and life is easy for a moment. He gets to do what he loves without having to prove anything to anyone. Football is just a game here, something to pass the time. It’s fun.

He does kicks and jumps and trick shots and it doesn’t matter if he messes up. He can fail without having to fear any repercussions. There is no one there to judge him for it. Failure is a byproduct of trying not a sign of weakness. 

Just as he is about to line up another shot at the makeshift goal, he sees her across the football field. At 9 years old, Jamie doesn’t know a lot of things but he’s quite certain she’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. For a moment he wonders if she’s a dream, an illusion. Then she steps closer, comes walking towards him with that bright smile of hers and the glimmer of excitement shining in her eyes. 

“You’re really good,” she says. He’s heard that a few times before, it never mattered then because he wasn’t good enough, not to his father at least. It matters when this stranger says it though, because she’s pretty and because she has no reason to lie to him. 

“Thanks. I’m Jamie.”

“You’re bleeding.” 

His eyes follow to where she points at his right knee and sure enough, it’s scraped up, a drop of blood running down his leg.

“Does it hurt?” 

Jamie shrugs as if to let her know that it’s not a big deal. It does sting quite a bit now that she pointed it out to him. He’s not gonna let her know that though, girls don’t like soft boys who whine about scraped knees.

“I have a plaster if you want one. So you don’t get any dirt in the wound.” 

She doesn’t even wait for an answer, just rummages through her purse that’s shaped like a little poodle, and pulls out a plaster. Jamie holds out his hand though she doesn’t pay it any attention, just kneels down and softly, so fucking softly, put the plaster over his wound. It’s the first time he smells her lavender shampoo, the first time she smiles at him, and the first time she sends his heart racing. 

“I’m (Y/N), by the way.” 

And his life has not been the same since.

“ I missed you too.” 

It’s the truth. He missed her terribly. But sometimes it’s hard to reconcile who he is with who he used to be. Who he is now with the person she used to love.

“Could’ve fooled me, you don’t even answer my insta DMs, you ass.” 

Even when she curses him out, she regards him with infinite affection. 

The girl that put a plaster on his bleeding knee is now a whole woman, but the kindness is still the exact same. The softness she holds for him is still there.

“To be fair I hardly check those. They scare me, honestly.” 

“At least your mum updates me on your life. She was always my favorite Tartt anyway.” 

He loves how much she loves his mum and how much mum loves her. There is something so inexplicably comforting in knowing the people you love most share a bond. 

“Think you’re her favorite too.” 

“Oh yeah, I know I am.” 

Her laughter rings through the air like the sweetest song he’s ever heard. It’s so awfully cheesy, his own thoughts almost make him barf. But she just has that effect on him. 

“You look beautiful today, (Y/N).” 

“Today?” she asks in mock offense and though he knows it’s really just a joke, he feels the need to explain himself.

“Don’t get me wrong. You’re always proper fit but that dress? You look like a fucking angel.” 

The way she bites her lip slightly and bashfully averts her eyes for a second, is a success in his book. 

She really does look gorgeous, a whole vision of perfection. The pink dress, the flowers — the necklace. 

A shiny rose gold charm sparkles in the light, resting gently against her skin. Heart-shaped like his feelings for her. He knows the pendant opens up and he knows exactly what he’ll find if he were to open it. 

His lips lift in an involuntary smirk.

“What’s that look for, Jam?” 

“You still got the necklace.”

She places a gentle hand against her chest, against the heart-shaped charm.

“Obviously. I will never ever ever get rid of it. I love it. You stole this for me!”

He was 14 and stupid and head-over-heels in love. He still remembers the sticky heat of the summer clinging to his skin, the taste of watermelon on his tongue, and the thought of her on his mind. 

They spent all day riding their bikes around town with nowhere to be and everywhere to go. It was a good day, a phenomenal day. She shared her ice cream cup with him and held his hand on the way back to their bikes. It was a phenomenal day and Jamie was not ready to let it end just yet. Not when he couldn’t stop thinking about the way her eyes lit up as she looked at that necklace in the shop window. 

In retrospect, it was an extraordinarily dumb idea, one of his worst to date, but it made her smile. The way she smiled at him when he gave her the necklace that he stole for her, that made it all worth it. The yelling from mum and the being grounded and the having to pay back the money by working at the store for 3 whole months that summer. 

Her smile made it all worth it.

“Mum was so mad at me that day.”

“Well, you did commit theft, so —” 

“Worth it though. Made you smile.” 

“Oh, Jam you— “ 

The nickname gives him shaky knees, the interruption by the DJ gives him a fucking headache.

“May all the unmarried ladies please report to the dance floor, it’s time for the bouquet toss.” 

“That’s my queue, I guess. Save me a dance, Jamie Tartt.” 

He will save her every damn dance in his life. They are all hers if she wants them.

She stands in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by a bunch of other women, a flicker of friendly competitiveness shining in her eyes. If she’s joining in on the bouquet toss, that means she’s not married, does that mean she’s single? 

Of course, he could’ve asked mum, she knows for sure, but that would just open a whole different can of worms. You don’t ask your own mum if the girl you’ve been in love with since you were 9 years old, is single. You just don’t, no matter how badly you want to know.

The DJ starts playing Girls just wanna have fun, (Y/N) hated that song. “It’s awfully overplayed”, she said one time they were driving in his car, before changing the station. 

She must still hate it judging by the grimace that falls over her face for a mere second before she catches herself and puts another polite smile back on her lips. 

Millie stands before the group of women, back towards her friends, and bouquet raised in the air before counting down.

One 

Two

Three

The flowers fly through the air and land in the hands of a girl whose name Jamie can’t recall but she’s definitely one of the bridesmaids. Chelsea? Cristy? Something like that. She looks elated, a guy leaning against the bar looks mortified. 

(Y/N) seems thoroughly unbothered by it all as she strolls back across the dance floor toward Jamie. 

“Do you want me to congratulate you or give you my condolences?” 

She just laughs and shakes her head “It’s not like I have any suitors waiting for me to offer them my hand in marriage anyway.” 

So she is single. Not that it matters or anything. It’s good to know though.

His eyes sweep across her face, then her hair, where one of the daisies is barely holding on and just about to fall off. Without giving it another thought, as if moving on autopilot, Jamie gingerly plucks the flower from her hair and places it behind her ear. There’s something about her that makes him want to be soft, that allows him to be soft. 

“Almost lost one.” 

“Thank you, Jamie.” 

The tenderness in her words almost sends him to his knees. When you’re used to words being sharp and bitter it’s hard to accept when they are silky and delicate. 

“You have the saddest eyes, Jam. What’s bothering you?” 

There is a big long metaphorical list of all the things that rest so heavy on his heart. The pressure of having to be the best version of himself at all times. The feeling of failure always creeping up on him. The fear of messing up. The idea of not being good enough. 

The reminder of what could’ve been and of all that isn’t.

He has a whole big list of things that make him sad — he doesn’t say any of that though. Just shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance. 

“Don’t know what you mean, I’m chuffed. Doing fan-fucking-tastic.” 

She can read him like a book, always could. Jamie doesn’t know why he even tries to fool her, it’s not going to work either way.

“I know that’s a lie,” (Y/N) scoffs then regards him with a look he can’t place. It’s a mix between pity and something else, something warm and comforting. “I’m not going to force you to talk to me about it. I’m aware we aren’t as close as we used to be but I just want you to know that I am always in your corner, Jamie. Always.” 

He has no doubt she means what she says but Jamie isn’t sure she really knows what she’s talking about. She knew him as a little kid, an awkward teenager, a misguided 20-year-old. She doesn’t know this new version of him. Bitter and a little lost — or maybe a lot.

Jamie isn’t sure this new him deserves her loyalty.

"There's something that does make me sad, actually."

"What's that?"

"The fact that I’ve not had a single slice of cake yet. That’s why I’m here, innit?”

“And I thought you were here to celebrate your cousin getting married.” 

“Common misconception, really. I mean I am — but mostly it’s about the cake. Technically I’m on a diet but it's a wedding, that doesn’t count. We all know that.” 

They both know he’s just talking out of his ass. Of course, he’s here for Millie. For the wedding and the family get together and all of it. And even a little for (Y/N). Because he really did miss her … so fucking badly.

“Oh well, let’s go get us some cake then. Can’t have you starving, not Jamie Tartt — the island’s top scorer.” 

Jamie has done a lot of things in his life that he isn’t particularly proud of. He tries to see them all as learning opportunities, cautionary tales for a future him. Doesn’t mean he likes to think about them. Especially not his short but quite memorable stint on the dating show Lust conquers all. All the worst parts of him put on display for everyone to see and discuss and judge, every night at 8pm. 

“You watched that then?”

“Uh, obviously?! What’s a best friend’s job if not to laugh about you while you make a fool of yourself on a dating reality tv show?” 

It warms him from the inside out, to hear that she still considers him her best friend. He’s not sure he’s been very good at it in the last few years. Has barely talked to her. But then again, who makes the rules? Maybe some people are bound together so tightly from the very beginning that neither time nor distance can break them apart. 

“I’ll have you know that I was number one on famous birthdays the day after I got eliminated from the show. So, who’s laughing now?” 

“Were you? How long did that last?” 

“Like a day, maybe 2. Then it went back to John Krasinsky, fucking wanker.” 

“Aw babe, well you’ll always be my favorite person born on October 20th. “ she says as they both come to stand by the table decked out in cakes and other desserts. “ I do like the office though, hmm…” 

"Oh, sod off. You’re breaking my fucking heart.”

He likes the way she hugs his arm in mock apology. She’s not sorry, in fact, she’s still laughing. It doesn’t matter if she’s laughing with or about him though. As long as there is a smile on her face, that’s good enough for him.

“Sorry. Can I make it up to you?” 

Jamie nudges her shoulder with his, the way they always did when they were kids. That little boy that was so in love with her, he’s slowly but surely clawing his way to the surface again. Breaking free from Jamie’s ribcage where he has been kept hidden for such a long time now.

“Well, what about that cake then?” 

The neon lights dip her in shades of blues and pinks and purples as she twirls on the dancefloor, weaving in and out of the crowd. Jamie is sure he’s seen this very moment in a dream of his before. 

“Oh, you look so handsome, my baby. Are you having a good time?” 

His mother’s voice cuts through his hazy daydreams as she plops down on the chair next to him. No matter how old he gets, Jamie doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of his mother’s affection. Her unshaken faith in him and her unwavering belief that he is a good man, after all.

“You’re my mum, you have to say that.”

“Absolutely not! Remember when you had that dangly earring? I told you right out you looked like a muppet.” 

“Yeah you did,” he nods and takes a sip of his beer “Crushed me, honestly. Loved that earring. Thought I looked well cool.” 

“Well, you know who didn’t hate it? (Y/N).” 

That gets his attention. Eyebrows raised he takes his eyes off of the girl in question and turns fully towards his mother.

“How would she know? She didn’t see it.” 

“Yes, she did. I showed her a picture when we had girls night.” 

It's a nice image, his mum and (Y/N) having girls night. Sure, having them team up on him is terrifying, but he can't help but relish in the fact that his loves love each other so dearly. 

"Girls night, huh? You ladies talk about me a lot then?"

"Are you joking?" 

The way his mum raises her eyebrow is so familiar. It's the same damn expression he sees in himself all the time.

"That girl has been in love with you since you were kids. Of course, we talk about you a lot. You're all we talk about, Jamie. "

As a kid, Jamie always wondered what it felt like to put your finger straight into an electrical outlet. He never did it, obviously. But there was some strong curiosity there.

This is what it must feel like. Hearing his mother say that (Y/N) is in love with him, that's what it must feel like

Electric shocks straight to the heart.

“What?” 

His mum just shakes her head, there’s that smile pulling at her lips. That typical mother's smile that tells you that they know you so much better than you know yourself.

“Come on now, Jamie. You know this is how she feels, everyone does. She adores you. Same way you adore her. That is how you feel, isn’t it?” 

Of course, it is. She’s everything. She feels like an ocean being warmed by the sun. Warm and inviting and comforting. Beautiful. Tender. Soft.

“Don’t matter really, does it? We haven’t talked in so long. Doubt she even knows me well enough anymore.” 

“She watches every match, goes to most of them if she can. She even bought that video game you’re on. Girl is almost as proud of you as I am. Look love, “ Mum rests a gentle hand on his arm. “I don’t know half the things that are bothering you right now but I do know that you’re struggling. I just want you to know that you are not a bad person, Jamie. The little boy you used to be deserved to be loved and so does the man you are now. You made bad choices but you still deserve love. We all make bad decisions sometimes. I know I made a lot of them when I was younger.” 

“Hah, like having me.”

He passes it off as a joke but there’s a hint of truth swinging along. She was really young when she had him and while he knows she doesn’t resent him for it, he wonders if maybe her life would’ve turned out better had he not come along. Mum loves him unconditionally and she always makes sure he knows it so it’s a silly thing to think about really. It’s a fleeting thought and it really only shows itself when he’s already deep in his thoughts but when it does, it sends him spiraling. 

The slap to the arm is not friendly or in good humor, that one is meant to sting.

“Don’t you ever say that again. You are my life, Jamie. I love you. Having you was the best decision I’ve ever made. You hear me?” 

It’s dumb really, he knows Mum loves him. It’s always been them against the world (or well, them against dad, really). But sometimes his head gets so loud and fills itself with stupid thoughts.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry. I love you, mama.” 

“Love you too, my baby boy. And I am so proud of everything you ever did, okay? Except maybe the earring.” 

A chuckle falls from Jamie’s lips. “The earring was a bad idea, I got it.”

“Good. Now go dance with your girl, yeah? You two are driving me crazy.” 

His girl. His girl wraps her arms around his neck when he walks up to her on the dancefloor. His girl looks up at him with the most radiant smile. His girl who feels like the sun and smells like lavender and wraps his heart in silk and sweet memories.

“Finally, thought I was going to have to drag you onto the dancefloor. You still owe me a dance.” 

“Sorry. Not much of a slow dancer, yeah? I do know some great boy band choreographies though, and the cha-cha slide.” 

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. Coach made us learn a full N'sync routine for Doctor Sharon's going away party. She didn't show up but I was fucking ace. I’m sure Keeley has a video of it somewhere.” 

She grants him a smile though it doesn't reach her eyes.

"How is Keeley? How are you guys?"

There's an edge to her words and if he didn't know better he'd call it jealousy. But that doesn't make sense … right?

There's no him and Keeley, at least not in the way she's asking about. There never will be. Keeley is one of his favorite people but her friendship means so much more than any fickle try on upholding a relationship doomed to fail. Jamie thinks there's something brave and mature about that realization.

"She's good. We're good. Friends I mean. Good friends."

"No more dating?"

"Nah she's dating one of my best friends. Hated it at first but they're kinda perfect for each other. It's a bit disgusting, really."

Those words manage to pull the smile all the way up to reach her eyes. It's magnificent. Spectacular. A laugh tumbles from her lips, a sound so sweet if he were to taste it, he's sure it would put the most delicious honey to shame.

"You know," Jamie speaks and pulls her closer as they absentmindedly sway along to the music " I never thanked you."

"For what?"

"For the phone call that one night."

It was just after Manchester had kicked him out. No one wanted to sign him. He had burned bridges with everyone who ever stood by him and gave him a chance and Jamie had never felt more lost and more alone.

He just needed someone. A piece of home. A reminder of the 9-year-old boy who loved football for the fun of it all. He needed her. 

He hadn't expected her to pick up that night, he really didn’t deserve it. But she did. Of course, she did. She always did.

"You don't have to thank me for that, Jamie. You are you and I am me and I will always pick up the phone for you."

It's such a simple thought. The most basic of all concepts. You are you and I am me and there will always be a space for us in my life and yours.

"I just - I felt very alone and lost and I hated the person I was then. It was like I was some boat or something, stuck on a cliff. And then when I talked to you and you had my back anyway it was like all my fears that I told you about suddenly disappeared, you know? Like you sent me a wave, a flood and gave my boat a lift over the rocks. I know it sounds fucking silly but Ted has me reading all these books with the big words. Making me feel all smart and philosophical."

She's so gentle when she combs her fingers through his hair, tugging some strands back behind his ear. He will never grow tired of soft touches and even softer looks.

"Jamie, even if I didn't like the person you were then, I loved you anyway. I don't have to like you to love you. Loving someone means accepting that they make mistakes but giving them room to become the person you know they can be. You wanted to change for the better and honestly, I think you turned out pretty spectacular."

Jamie isn’t quite sure if he will ever grow used to receiving love in the form of comforting words and soft touches but he truly relishes in it, always. 

"Do you wanna get out of here? Party is about to wind down anyway. Don't think anyone's gonna miss us."

The night feels heavy with possibility. 

"Sure, Jam. Where do you wanna go?"

"Doesn't matter. Nowhere. Anywhere. As long as I'm with you."

The glimmer in her eyes tells him she has an idea.

The bench by the side of the field looks the exact same it did when he was a kid. Chipping red paint and rotting wood. Initials in permanent marker forever immortalizing past versions of whoever wrote them down. Time forever frozen.

Jamie is 9 years old again and he is also 11 and 13 and 16 and 25. It’s all the same. It’s all so different.

The field is no field anymore, it’s now a proper little football pitch with a goal on each side. 

“What happened here then? That wasn’t there when we were little.” 

(Y/N) strolls across the field, twirling in her dress illuminated by the moon and the streetlamps. She looks like something out of a movie. He’s sure if he was a smarter man, more poetic, he’d be writing songs about her, poems, books.

 In that book Ted made him read, there’s this one line that Jamie suddenly remembers.

“She was dazzling-- alight; it was agony to comprehend her beauty in a glance”

He thought those were just big words for saying some girl was well fit. He thinks he might get it now.

“Yeah well, some of us put together some money and convinced the neighborhood council to finally turn it into a proper pitch.” 

“Some of you?"

“Mostly your mum, Simon, and I”

She meets his eyes across the field and his heart still does the same silly shimmy it did when he first saw her face. 

“Why?” 

“So another little 9-year-old kid gets to play with actual goals and doesn’t have to use plastic bottles.”

They did it for the kids, the community. But they mostly did it for him, for the child in his heart that never grew up. That is clinging to his insides and that only gets to live in his memories and in the hearts of the people he loves. The people that love him.

(Y/N) leans against one of the goalposts, a smile playing on her lips as Jamie strolls up to stand in front of her, hands buried in the pockets of his pants. His jacket is long forgotten on some chair back at the wedding venue.

“You know”, she says and lets her gaze drift upwards towards the sky. There is too much light to see the stars but Jamie thinks there’s still some kind of comfort knowing they are up there even when you can’t see them. The authors of the books Ted gives him, they’d have some flowery pretentious allegory to tell about all of this. He is no author, he's just a fool in love.

“This is where I had my very first kiss. Right here.” 

Jamie wonders if she knows of the little electric shocks she sends straight to his heart when she lowers her head and looks straight at him while speaking those words.

It’s not news to him. Of course, it’s not. 

He was there. 

“Oh, was it?”

“Yup.” 

“Hope the lad was alright.” 

“He was perfect — for a twelve-year-old. I was also 12 though so I had nothing to compare, really.” 

“What was he like? Lucky kid.” 

“He had this really badly bleached blond hair. Tried to do it at home with a cheap box dye. Didn’t listen when I told him it was a bad idea.” 

“I bet he looked fucking cool.” 

“Had a bit of an ego, that one. Still does. Bit misplaced for someone who looked like Draco Malfoy.” 

“You had a big fat crush on Draco Malfoy.” 

“Yeah,” he doesn’t know when it happens. One moment they’re joking around, strolling down memory lane and the next her hand is in his hair, his hand on her waist, noses almost touching. “I did.” 

“Do you wanna know a secret?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“That was my first kiss too.” 

There’s a flicker of surprise shining in her eyes.

“Huh? You said your first kiss was with Emma behind the playground.” 

“Well I was lying, wasn’t I? Wanted you to think I’m cool and experienced.” 

“We were 12 you dum dum. And I always thought you were cool.” 

He was not cool at 12. No one is cool at 12. It still makes him weirdly proud to hear her say it. 12-year-old Jamie would be positively buzzing at that revelation.

“I um — Jamie, why did we never talk about it again? I know we were 12 and whatever but it meant something to me. Did it mean anything to you?” 

Some memories, Jamie thinks, are meant to be shared. You want to tell everyone about them over and over again and it feels like you might burst if you don’t share them with others. 

And then there are memories that are meant just for you. Beautiful places to escape to. So you keep them hidden in your chest, apart from everything else but your heart when they beat in sync. And they become part of you. And they keep you alive. That’s where he keeps this kiss. The first one. The only one that ever mattered.

“It means everything to me. But I — I wanted to keep that kiss to myself. That was mine and yours and I didn’t want anyone or anything to ruin that or turn it into something bitter and sad. “

“If I were to kiss you again, would you also want to keep that a secret?” 

He shakes his head, his nose gently nudging her’s with the movement.

“Nah, I’d wanna scream it from the fucking rooftops.” 

When she kisses him he is 9 years old again, seeing his future staring right back at him through the face of a little girl. He is 12 years old kissing her in the field, a kiss he’d kept with his heart ever since. He is 14 crying on the floor of her room the night he got back from the Amsterdam trip with his dad. He is 16 and a prick to everyone but her. 

He is 25 and more in love than he’s ever been.

“50 fucking pence? Are you joking?”

“Nope. Dead serious.” 

“That’s fucking mental.” 

Her laughter echoes through the night as they walk down the familiar streets paved with countless memories. He#s holding her hand and he’s never felt more delighted about anything so simple. 

“They still taste fucking great though.” 

“They do, don’t they?” 

Leave it to (Y/N) to continuously surprise him. As they started their walk back towards her house, she pulled two Cadbury Freddos from her sparkly purse. Jamie can almost feel the sun on his skin from all the walks they did to the corner shop during summer holidays to get some Freddos and a smarties pop-up ice.

“Don’t tell Roy I ate chocolate though, he’s gonna kick me ass.” 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” 

Her childhood home is coming into view just down the road and with it the end of this night. The door is a deep red color, he remembers (Y/N) helping her dad paint it when she was maybe 10 or 11 and her parents never seemed to have changed it since. 

“Soooo what’s happening now?” 

It feels a little silly to ask but Jamie has spent so much time keeping his questions inside of his head and not voicing them to her and he wonders just how much time he wasted because of that. Time he could’ve spent with (Y/N).

“I — I don’t know, Jamie. I want this to be. I want us to be, always did. Probably always will. But I don’t want you to choose me because being home pushed you into some kind of nostalgia-induced stupor or something. I want you to be sure about us. So, how about you sleep on it and tomorrow morning you pick me up for breakfast and we’ll talk? “

If he’s being entirely honest, he doesn’t want to talk. All he wants is to kiss her and then kiss her some more. To make up for every second that he wasted not telling her how he felt. But she is being rational and sensible as always and he has to respect that. Out of the two of them, she was always the reasonable one while Jamie did first and then thought about it later.

“Okay yeah. I’ll see you in the morning then.” 

“Goodnight, Jam.” 

“Night, (Y/N). You look beautiful by the way, not sure I said it.” 

“Thanks, you look very handsome too.” 

There’s an I love you on the tip of his tongue and he so desperately wants to say it but when she places a kiss on his cheek and opens the red door, all his thoughts just slip from his mind.

“Bye, Jamie.” 

“Bye.” 

He stays stuck for a moment or two before his legs slowly carry him down the road. The night is inky black and the street lamps' horrid orange-hued light reflects against the asphalt. 

So many times he’s walked down this exact road wondering what could be. Wondering how to show her how much he loved her. Wondering if someday, somehow they would end up together. 

9-year-old Jamie knew she was his destiny from the moment their eyes met across the football field. What would he think seeing him now, walking away from all he ever wanted? 

What’s that quote from that romcom the team watched together the other day?

“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

The shiny black shoes he’s wearing are not meant for running. He figures that out as he turns on the spot and rushes back down the street toward the red door. There is no need for him to sleep on anything. He has never been more sure about anything in his life. Ever.

His heart is racing as he reaches the house, as he knocks on the door, and as he rings the doorbell — for good measure. 

His heart stops when she opens the door, her dress gone and exchanged for a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt.

“Jamie? You forgot something?” 

“I don’t need to sleep.”

“What?” 

“I don’t need to sleep on it. I know what I want. I want us, I want you. Always did. Always will. You’re the only person I want to talk to when I feel shit and you’re the first person I want to tell when something good’s happened. I want to ride my bike with you the way we did when we were kids and eat freddos with you even if they’re 50 fucking pence now, which is insane. I want to go to weddings with you and dress up fancy and I want to sit on the couch and watch movies with you we’ve both seen a million times. I want you to make fun of my stupid earring and have you help me dye my hair and I want to kiss you and tell you how beautiful you are every single fucking day. I want everything and anything as long as it involves you. And I don’t need to sleep on it. I am sure.” 

“Jamie?” 

“Yeah?!”

“Kiss me!” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

It feels right, to hold her and to kiss her. Like all his life has been leading up to this moment. To her soft lips on his and her hands in his hair and his hands on her waist.

And he thinks she might just feel the same. She doesn’t need to say it to let him know. She tells him with his tongue, with the gentle touch of her fingers against his skin, with her breath in his lungs. 

He is 9 years old and also 12 and also 14 and 16 and 20 and 25. He is all those versions of himself and each of them was and is in love with (Y/N).

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 2: In the Beginning

Word Count: 947

Rating: T

Pairing: None

CW: Language, weed

Summary: The guys try to come up with the name for their band.

Special thanks to my darling @offensiunculaee for all the C words, Gareth’s middle name, and inspiring this ❤️

@corrodedcoffinfest

“Alright,” Eddie says as he plops down on one of the ratty old couches in Gareth’s garage. “Last time we managed to figure out we want the word ‘coffin’ in our band. That only took fucking months.” He mumbled that last part to himself before sighing and continuing. “Now we just have to figure out the rest of it.”

In anticipation of this being another long evening, Eddie pulls a joint and a lighter out of his pocket. Gareth’s mom is in the house and will occasionally come into the garage to use the washer and dryer, but the guys have convinced her there’s a family of skunks who like to come and go under the house. That’s why there’s that smell sometimes, of course. 

“Iron Coffin?” Frank suggests.

“Too close to Iron Maiden,” Jeff says, taking the joint from Eddie so he can get a hit. 

“I am Iron Coffin!” Gareth does his best interpretation of the robotic voice that kicks off the song Iron Man. 

“Silver Coffin?” Jeff asks through a cough.

“Reminds me of Silver Surfer,” Gareth says. He twists himself around on the couch so his legs are hanging over the back and his head is upside down, inches from the floor.

“The who?” Frank asks.

“That name’s taken,” Jeff jokes.

“No, who’s the damn Silver Surfer?” Frank clarifies.

Gareth picks his head up enough to stare at Frank, two cushions over from him, as if he’s insulted by the very question. 

“Seriously? From the Fantastic Four?” Gareth says.

“Fucking nerd,” Frank says with a laugh.

“Says the guy who can recite every line the lion says in the Narnia books,” Jeff shoots back.

“His name is Aslan,” Frank defends, his cheeks turning pink. 

“My apologies.” Jeff gives a sarcastic bow—the best he can from his seated position, anyway. 

“Can we get back to naming the band, please?” Eddie asks before taking another hit of the joint.

Gareth stretches his head back to look at Eddie in his upside down position. He throws out his arm and points at Frank.

“He thinks comics are nerdier than Narnia,” Gareth whines. 

Eddie lets his eyes slip closed, the effects of the marijuana kicking in being the only thing keeping him from getting irritated.

“Fantastic Four has the fire dude, that wins right there,” he says.

“Ha!” Gareth gloats.

“What about celestial?” Jeff asks.

“Who’s that?” Gareth asks. He stretches his arm out towards Eddie who hands him the joint.

“No, for our band name. Celestial Coffin.”

Frank tilts his head from side to side, considering it. 

“Meh,” he decides.

“I do like it being two C words, though,” Eddie says. “Maybe a hard C sound, though? Alliteration.”

“Cursed Coffin,” Gareth says. 

This kicks off each band member thinking of any and all words that have the hard C sound.

“Creepy Coffin.”

“Cannibal Coffin.”

“Candy Coffin.”

“Coughin’ Coffin.”

“Commode Coffin.”

“Coffee Coffin.”

“Correlating Coffin.”

“Cunty Coffin.”

The moment the words leave Gareth’s lips, the door opens and his mother gasps. Her brow furrows as she steps into the garage with a laundry basket on her hip.

“Gareth Bartholomew Emerson, I better not have heard what I think I did,” she warns as she stalks over to the washing machine.

Frank snickers. “Bartholomew.”

Gareth punches Frank right in the shin to get him to shut up. 

Mrs. Emerson quickly disappears back into the house and the name game continues.

“Combusting Coffin.”

“Crowded Coffin.”

“Children’s Coffin.”

All the guys stare at Gareth after that one.

“Dude, that’s too fucking dark even for us,” Eddie says. 

“Yeah, doesn’t have the hard C either,” Gareth sighs.

“Cool Coffin.”

“Crunchy Coffin.”

“Corny Coffin.”

“Cantankerous Coffin.”

“Clitoral Coffin,” Frank suggests.

“What’s that mean?” Gareth asks. 

“This is why you don’t have a girlfriend,” Eddie says with a snort of laughter. 

“Girls have asked me out before!” Gareth insists, but other guys ignore him.

“Man, what the fuck are we going to call it?” Eddie asks, rubbing a hand over his tired face. 

Jeff leans forward and holds his head in his hands.

“What would look cool written on the drum set?” he muses. 

“What gives off a metal image when you hear it?” Eddie poses. 

“Now I’m picturing a metal coffin,” Frank says. 

“Is that a thing?” Gareth asks, passing the joint to his couch mate. 

“I don’t think so,” Eddie says. “The metal would get all cor—oh shit.”

“What?” Jeff asks, turning his head to look at his friend. 

A smile slowly grows on Eddie’s lips until it’s a full blown grin. There’s a spark in his eyes as well, Jeff notices. 

“Corroded,” Eddie says. He looks from band member to band member, gauging their reactions. “Corroded Coffin.”

“Holy hell,” Jeff says.

“Well, shit,” Frank says through a laugh.

Gareth rights his position on the ripped plaid couch and leans forward.

“That’s fucking good.” 

Eddie feels proud of himself for coming up with that, not that he’d say that out loud to the guys. But he feels the name rolls off the tongue and sounds pretty damn cool. 

“Corroded Coffin.” Gareth tries the name out. “Yeah. Yeah, I like it.”

“So, we’re agreed?” Jeff asks, looking between his three friends. “We are officially Corroded Coffin?”

“Hell yeah,” Frank answers. 

“Let’s do it,” Gareth adds. 

Jeff looks at Eddie, who still has the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Let me try it out,” Eddie says. He clears his throat and then says in his best Dungeon Master voice, “Madison Square Garden, please welcome…Corroded Coffin!”

The other three pretend to cheer and hoot as the audience. 

Eddie licks over his lips and nods his head. 

“Corroded Coffin it is.”

[sribbles-drabbles]

Hi i stumbled upon you blog and really like your content . ^^

if you get the chance can you do headcanons for BSD. Thanks if you can.

OOOO absolutely!!! I decided to do just some HC's for Sokoku and Shin-Sokoku with a basic gender Neutral S/O!!

Chuuya, Dazai, Akutagawa, Atsushi (separate) x GN!reader

❤️‍🩹Dazai❤️‍🩹

How does one date Osamu Dazai?

You just try your best to fit in with his eccentric personality, amazing mind, and dark past.

You met Dazai through work, as a secretary for the police, and Dazai had come in with a culprit who he and his partner Kunikida caught.

He bragged to you about how he did most of the work, only to receive a smack to the back of the head from his partner.

You laugh, thanking him for his hard work, and your smile struck through his entire being like lightning.

A smile so genuine, so keen, and your eyes that seem to cut him, look through him, unravel him.

He hasn't met anyone like you since Oda.

And from this meeting onward, he comes by the station often to flirt with you.

He'll ask you out over and over until you accept.

Once you accept, there's no going back. He breaks into your apartment often to make dinner, or meets you once you get off work to walk you home.

He'll always ask you to stay the night, not even for sex, but just to cuddle you.

He's oddly enough never invited you to a double...y'know

Mostly because he forms a protectiveness over you and the thought of you dying, especially due to his cohesion is terrifying.

He's often like a cat, and likes his hair played with as he lays his head in your lap.

you often provide him comfort and shelter from his own mind and dark thoughts, even if a temporary distraction it provides relief that he's absolutely grateful for.

Also touch starved, so he's very fond of PDA, he's possessive and just loves the feeling of you against him.

Dazai is a loving and selfish man who desires all of your attention and love, and will give you all he has in return.

🎩Chuuya🎩

You met Chuuya at a bar unsurprisingly

He sat at the barstool of a very bougie bar owned by the port mafia, drinking some expensive Lambrusco

then you sat next to him, calling over the bartender, and ordering a martini

eyes red and puffy, (if you wear makeup then mascara running)

Chuuya looks over at you, setting down his wine, then darts his eyes back straight, trying to avoid getting involved.

He's not exactly the best man when it comes to emotions, especially when it involves crying

If you apologize to him for looking like wreck he'll sigh, groan even, making you feel worse but then ask what happened

you tell him that you got stood up, and his face turns into even more of a annoyed and pissed off scowl

He'll admit, you were cute. So cute as in fact that it felt like a damn crime that you got stood up by a jackass!

Oh no he was drunker than he thought, and in his intoxicated state, he offers something, something that normal Chuuya Nakahara would never...

"Pah, fuck him. Why not have a drink with me? I'll be your damn date..." he slurs.

This makes you blush and giggle, accepting his offer.

And what a great decision it was, you both had a great time, and you bring him back to your apartment. Nothing ensues however, as you both collapse onto the couch, snoring away.

Chuuya is the type of partner to ask you to move in pretty quickly after realizing that things are more than a fling and are more seriously due to the danger of this job.

It just makes it easier to protect you.

He's touch starved and often comes home late, simply discarding his clothes down to his boxers and crawling into bed with you, wrapping your heavy limbs around him.

Often also feels inadequate due to his lack of proper humanity, both as Arahabaki and a clone.

How can you love him when he's like this and can't always give you his attention?

However when you smile at him as we gets off work early, and walks into your shared apartment with take out in hand, he knowns where he's supposed to be.

🐯Atsushi🐯

Please be nice to him ✋😭

Honestly idk how ya’ll met, probably you were a client for the ADA and He for put on your case with another member.

Though rather than flirting with you on the spot like his superior, Atsushi keeps things very professional, despite how obviously attractive you are.

He subtly stares or makes goo goo eyes at you when you speak. Only to earn and Elbow by Junichiro who was but on the case with him.

When he notices what he was doing he’s SO EMBARRASSED and rushes off to the bathroom.

Once the case is solved you thank him and shake his hand and he nearly melts on the spot. You’re just so attractive and your hand is so warm…and-

“Ahem!! Let go of the nice person’s hand now Atsushi~” Dazai calls teasingly as he looks at you and you shoot him and awkward smile as he had been shaking your hand for nearly a minute now…

Oh he’s ready to crawl under a rock and DIE-

When you laugh good-naturally though he finds himself falling hard and fast.

The next thing he knows, you’ve given him your humber, and told him to call you so you two can set up a time to meet for coffee.

He blushes so hard as you leave and swallows thickly. He’s so nervous now, but that doesn’t stop him from calling you a week later.

He meets you for coffee and the two of you have a fantastic time. Would be better if Dazai, Ranpo, and Yosano weren’t in the booth behind him eves-dropping and making whispered comments, but what can ya do?

He’s the type to walk you home no matter if your bigger and stronger than him or not. Just a nervous and chivalrous lad. He knows you can probably handle yourself, but he likes to be extra cautious.

I think he’s old school in a lot of ways like this.

He’s so good to you though. Once you two are officially dating he’ll come to meet you at your work everyday to walk you home unless he absolutely can’t due to a mission, and if that happens he texts you asap with apologies and reminds you to have a nice night!!

If you complement in in anyway, especially physically he’ll melt but only half heartedly believe it.

Takes some serious work to get him to be less scared of himself or the concept of him ever hurting you though.

💀Akutagawa💀

So, you fell for Diablo himself.

Akutagawa is very much not an easy man to love and he knows that, so he's avoided romance and affection like the plague as we see with even Higuchi.

Thus when you join the port mafia as a new recruit and medic, he's shocked that he finds himself mesmerized by your form.

He immediately hates you. Despises you even.

Thus he avoids the Port Mafia doctors as best he can, feeling like if he gets to close to you, he'll kill you out of irritation, then get scolded for his lack of professionalism.

When he's finally forced to come in after a classic encounter with the weretiger and a large gash on his leg that causes him to limp, he's absolutely livid.

He had played off the injury very well, the limp not even being noticeable, to everyone but Higuchi, with her loud mouth.

He sits in front of you, as you take disinfectant to his leg, humming in concern as you do, and Akutagawa can't help but admire you.

You're to gentle in such a harsh profession.

You had just declared a man dead before treating him, and with your unshakable resolve, you treat him with steady hands, not a single tremble.

It confuses him how your bravery stems from desire to protect life rather than thriving in the stench of death like him.

It’s then that he begins to tolerate you and come to the Medic’s as needed. And believe me, he’s a regular with his medications for his coughing and all the injuries he gets from constant brawls.

When you treat his wounds or provide check-ups he begins to open up about his work…and h won’t admit it, but you doting on him makes him feel content.

You realize your feelings first, and when you tell him that you like him…he leaves. He straight up walks out on you.

He’s PANICKING. He realizes he feels the same and believes that makes him soft.

Starts avoiding you and the Clinic again and you think he hates you after telling him.

Soon he’s cornered by Chuuya for “moping and causing drama in the office”and the red-headed executive seems to smack some sense into him.

He finally comes to the clinic with a small thing of flowers. His only thought process being “People like flowers right? This is how someone with romantic interest would respond, yes?”

All in all his apology and subsequent confession is awkward as hell. You’re left dazed and confused by his somehow so blunt yet round about way of declaring his feelings.

[sillyunknownkitkat]

hiii! can you please do a top!leon x bottom!plus sized fem reader? like him worshipping and praising her body before they do the deed 😮‍💨

thank you!! xoxo

Hi! I'm so sorry to answer this request so late. I hope you like it. I tried my best, but it's my first time writing smutt

Leon S. Kennedy x plus size!fem! Reader Nsfw

The actual "deed" is between the blue hearts dividers ;) feel free to skip it if you want to

Leon and you have been dating for a couple of months now. You guys have done the deed a couple of times by now. You'd think he would be a more "casual," but the man still treats you like the goddess you are EVERY.SINGLE.TIME

And of course, since he's not a pornstar, he actually gives you foreplay. And today wasn't an exception.

Like every day, you did a bit of work around the house, worked a bit, enjoyed a show or a book...

And now you're making butternut pastas for dinner/supper ( the inspo ).

Everything was going great. The dish looked and smelled heavenly, music playing in the background for you to sway your hips to, rain playing in the background, making a cosy atmosphere,... But better of all, while you were stirring your sauce so it didn't burn, you heard the door of your apartment open.

"Sweatheart, I'm home!" Leon says, all while getting off shoes and jacket off. He smells the air for a bit before walking up to you in the kitchen. You strutt quickly over him and give him a hug before pressing tons of little pecks on his neck.

"Hey there, what are you cooking? It smells amazing." He asks while looking at your pot and trying to figure out what's in there.

"It's a butternut sauce that'll go with pastas! Also, would you like me to cook you some meat with it? I forgot that it didn't have any proteins in it." You ask while looking up at him and then waiting for him to reply.

"Actually, there's something else that I'd love to eat right now." He mumbles against your neck before gently nibbling the skin there. You let out a small pleased sigh before looking up again at his face.

"What about the food?" You ask with a small pout. After all, you did work really hard to make him good food.

"Food can wait, but myself? I'm quite in need of your loving right now ___." He says before bringing you closer to him, turning the stove off and moving your pot onto your marble counter.

"Come on baby, don't you want to help me?" He insists a bit.

You let out a little huff before agreeing with him. After all, who were you to deny such a request? Especially from him.

So now you have the small of your back pressed around the counter while Leon leaves little love bites on your neck. You let out small moans before lightly grabbing at his growing boner. He lets out a pleased grunt, and his hands wait at the hem of your shirt for you to confirm that he can take it off. You grab his hand with your unoccupied one and move them up to tell him that you were indeed okay with him doing that. So your shirt comes off, and Leon is just looking at you with a mixed love-lust expression.

"I've seen your body many times, and yet I'm still amazed by its beauty." He lets out without even thinking about it. You blush a little, turn your head, and look away, feeling a bit shy from such a declaration, but Leon instantly grabs your shin and gently turns your head back to face him.

"Eyes on me, please." He commands in a soft tone. Leon isn't a hard dom. He's here for your pleasure, and god knows how much getting out of your shell is a turn-on for the both of you.

You obey like the good girl you are. You guys make out, his tongue being the dominant one, but yours still trying to dominate. He backs off a little so you both can catch your breaths. After a few seconds, he gets down on his knees before you, kissing your soft stomach and lightly gripping your hips, all while maintaining eye contact with you.

"Fuuuck~ You're so fucking perfect, you can't even imagine.." He says, breath caught in his throat because of how beautiful he finds you. He grips the aim of your pants and waits for you to confirm once again that you're okay. You nod your head, and as soon as you do, he helps you out of your pants.

He then kisses your tights, tracing your stretch marks with his finger before they get closer and closer to your still clothed pussy. You start to get really needy and grab his hand to get him back up again.

Once he's up you whisper "How did I get so lucky? You're the best I've ever had and probably ever will."

He kisses you with a big smile before saying, "Well sadly I couldn't be your first but hopefully I'll be your last baby." You almost tear up because of the cuteness of this genuine confession. Leon hands trace to small patch of hickeys and bites he made earlier before they lower and start massaging your breasts. He does that for a little while before he starts pushing his hips against yours. You both moan at the feeling. He lets out a little chuckle at his own reaction to such a small action before asking you, "Would you like me to eat you out before continuing ooooor?".

"Not right now no, I really need you Leon~" You moan out as he ruts against you, rubbing you clit unintentionally.

He smiles before getting his shirt and pants off. He grabs you ass so that you can jump to sit on the counter.

He grabs the hem of your underwear, and you lift your hips to make it easier for him to take them off. Once he's done, his hands go to your back and unbuckle the strap of your bra. You let out a small hum at the freeing feeling. Your chest bounced a bit once freed from its barrier. Leon almost drools at the sight. He presses his index and middle finger against your mouth for you to wet them. So you do. You even put on a little show, looking at him seductively and bobbing your head like you would do on his cock. He grabs his hard-on with his other hand and squeezes it. He groans and remove his fingers from your mouth to rub them against you pussy lips and spreading them so he can insert them afterwards. When you feel them in, you let out a moan and close your eyes before remembering that he wanted them on him, so you open them back up obediently. He fingers you for a bit before taking his boxers off and rubbing his tip against your hole.

He teases you by slowly pushing in the tiniest bit of his member before pulling out. He keeps doing that before you start whining, "Leeeeeon~," you kick your feet a bit like a child throwing a tantrum, which makes him chuckle.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Great. He also teases you verbally now.

"Nghhhh~ I need you in!!" You were starting to get impatient. How could he make you so horny just to deny you in the last moment?

"But I'm in. Look down sweet cheeks," he says while grabbing the soft of your hips.

"Noooo~!! I need you all in, need your cock deep inside of me!," and that's all he needed to hear before getting fully in and starting to actually fuck you.

"Fucking he'll, you're so tight on me. You really like this, don't you? " You whine and moan, and he grunts before continuing, "That's okay, baby, I fuck-~ I love it too. I love you, love your body, and love your pussy~"

You both keep going before you start to get close. Seeing that, Leon makes sure to keep the same pace that is making you close and rubs your clit with his thumb.

"Aaah~ fuck, I'm gonna-" and before you could even finish, your legs shake and you cum on his cock.

He moans out at the way you tighten against him while cumming, "fuuuuck~ gripping me so tight!"

He keeps fucking into you until he cums with the most beautiful chocked out moan that you'd ever hear.

After you both catch your breaths, foreheads against eatchothers, he wipes his cum off of you with his shirt, making you whine since your now sensitive, and helps you back in your undies and the shirt you wore before. He puts his boxer's back on and kiss your cheek before getting all of the dirty unused laundry in your laundry basket in the bathroom.

You smile, kinda in a silly fucked out way, and wipe your counter before getting back to cooking so the both of you can actually eat.

Once you both have eaten, you cuddle on the couch and watch a random show on the tv, just happy being together ❤️

Voilà! Hope it's was okay. I just find the "deed" part a bit rushed and awkward, but it's not that I'm uncomfortable writing it's just that I'm not used to writing this :)

Have a good day/night, and be safe, cuties!

[spider-mancan]

Instructor Stark is incredibly strict.

That’s not unusual for a ballet instructor, although Instructor Stark doesn’t have the heavy accent to be truly stereotypical. The real issue is that he seems flippant and casual until he’s making you stand in the front of the room and do the petit allegro over and over and you stop tripping over your feet while the rest of the class gets to drink water and stare at you.

“He’s only like that because you’re so good,” MJ tells Peter after he’s finished having his bathroom breakdown. “Betty fucked up those Italian fouettés and he barely ragged her at all.”

“Betty’s good!” Peter argues.

Not as good as you. MJ has said it before. Peter is glad she doesn’t say it again.

“Mr. Parker?” Instructor Stark sticks his head out of the rehearsal room and MJ flashes him a tight grimace before patting Peter on the shoulder.

“Speak of the devil.”

“The devil has excellent hearing, Miss Jones.” Instructor Stark doesn’t dig in his nails any further — even though most days MJ asks for it. Instead, he crooks his finger in Peter’s direction. “I need to speak with you.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter says meekly. He hopes Instructor Stark can’t tell that he cried. Peter drains the rest of his refillable bottle over his head, luke-warm water soaking his thin shirt. He’s hoping the moisture hides any evidence of his episode in the bathroom, but he hooks his finger in the lid, gathers his things, and follows Instructor Stark back onto the Marley.

It’s dismissive, the way the instructor starts the music before Peter has even set his things down. “Still warm, aren’t you?” he asks, over Don Q on the speakers. “Basil. You know it.”

Peter has been sitting on cold tile for about ten minutes, so he’s not sure he’s up for the jumping, but he nods and rolls his shoulders.

“Perform for me.”

Peter meets Tony’s eyes in the mirror, lit on fire. That stupid smirk. Peter grits his teeth as the music starts over. “Yes, Mr. Stark.”

If he’s not warm at first, he’s warm by the time Instructor Stark decides Peter has performed the variation to satisfaction — four or five times, no marking, and a bruise on the knee from banging the barre on his tours.

The music finally cuts off. “You’re very good at doing what you’re told.”

Peter could kick Stark in the shin, but he’s exhausted, collapsing again the mirror. He scowls at the instructor, who just…smirks, looking down at Peter over his nose. There’s an undertone, something that only bleeds through when they’re alone. They’ve both pretended not to notice, even though the undertone would not be taken well by the school. Peter never mentions it. Tony only gives him elevator eyes when Peter is too tired to care. He thinks it might be a strange, twisted kind of admiration, that MJ is right and Instructor Stark thinks Peter has value, and that comes across in heat under the skin. It would hardly be the first time passion for the arts became something different entirely.

Peter tries not to squirm, so he scowls harder.

“I’ve got an offer for you, kid.”

Peter tenses up. “What, uh…what kind of offer?”

Instructor Stark comes over, holds out his palm to help Peter up, and pretends Peter isn’t hesitant to take it. “I’m teaching at a convention in Germany this summer. Ten weeks.”

“That’s great, sir,” Peter replies, listlessly. He doesn’t know why Instructor Stark felt the need to tell Peter something he already new. Most people moaned about losing their favorite instructor — his replacement isn’t nearly as nice to look at, either.

“I have an extra ticket.”

It clicks too slowly, sluggish. “Me?” Peter scrambles to his feet in a burst of adrenalin, ignoring Instructor Stark’s hand entirely. “Me, to Germany, for the convention? Natasha Romanov is going to be there!”

His instructor smirks, all sideways. “Trust me, that’s a reason to stay home.”

“She’s one of the best ballerinas in two generations! She’s danced for kings!”

“Me too, kid.” Instructor Stark crosses his arms with a sniff. “Pretty sure on more occasions, even.”

“You’re a guy,” Peter argues. “It’s different!” He’s grinning. He’s excited, too excited, to the point of trembling. He’s not sure he trusts it. “I…I can really go? The money—”

“Paid for.” Instructor Stark waved his hand like thousands of dollars is nothing. “You’ll just have to bring yourself and something…” He pinches the see through material of Peter’s drenched shirt, “less wet. Lots of somethings. There will be three or four classes a day, plus rehearsals for company shows. It’s a big deal.”

Peter knows. He can’t believe. “Why…why me?”

Instructor Stark’s fingers smooth out the wrinkle he made in Peters shirt. His finger must smell like diluted sweat, like Peter. Stark looks him up and down, and the smirk goes a little softer on the edges. “I owe you, Mr. Parker, for making you cry.”

[doryyaaa]

Lee Chaolan x reader

Lee playfully sparring with his girlfriend save me... Save me Lee playfully sparring with his gf...

(Translation lol may I please request a Lee x reader where they playfully spar with each other? Lots of distracting one another, kiss and tickle attacks allowed, all bets off to who can doll out the most affectionate under the guise of sparring. And of course you may ignore or follow whatever directions you like most)

In hindsight, you should’ve known something was up when Lee suddenly asked to spar in the living room, the furniture pushes far to the sides. He’d been restless for a time, brimming with anxious energy, a mad scientist waiting to conduct his next experiment, or simply like a house cat needing extra enrichment. Regardless, you only wished to help loosen him up. Blow off some steam, kick the tension from his body and work on your own skills too.

“Come, my darling! Give it your best shot!” Lee strips his shirt with a flourish, leaving only his pants and leather boots on. He’d been running drills by himself for a while, and a thin layer of sweat glistens over his sculpted chest. He smiles devilishly and raises a beckoning finger to you.

“You asked for it.”

So you come at him with all you’ve got. You land hits one after the other and easily get him into a leg lock.

“It’s my victory!” You cackle.

But then, Lee brushes his fingertips over your ribs in a vicious tickle attack. You end up rolling over the carpet, yelling.

“That’s cheating!”

“My apologies.” Lee chortles. “I just couldn’t resist,” he says, winking once. You try your absolute best to keep a serious face.

Round two. For real, this time. Lee even swears he’ll take it seriously, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously at his smoldering gaze and that stupid, cute smile of his. A short exchange of blows later, and Lee catches you off guard with a leg sweep. You brace yourself to hit the ground, but instead, Lee swoops in fast to hold you in a surprise princess dip.

“Whoops! It seems I’ve swept you off your feet, once again. Whatever shall we do?” Lee chuckles.

If it weren’t for his strong arms locking you in place, you would have pummeled him to the ground. Or planted a kiss on his silly face. Either way, you badly needed a win, and two can play that game.

For the final round, you follow his lead earlier and remove your shirt, entering your fight stance in only your bra and pants, which apparently means fucking business to Lee. He finally drops the goofy smile. You don’t miss the way his eyes rake over your body. You swear you’ll get him on his knees and turn him into a sputtering mess.

Not a minute into the round, Lee yelps and clutches his shin. You didn’t even hit him that hard. Did he pull a muscle? Impossible. Lee can be dramatic, but you can see his move from miles away.

“Are you okay?” You step in close. When he does his leg sweep this time, you’re fully prepared to counter.

Lee squawks in surprise. You counter, flip him on his back then straddle him on the ground for an easy victory.

Despite his loss, Lee smiles wide and happily. “Oh, my sweet darling, you’ve completely beaten me now,” he says.

“You weren’t too bad yourself, you big flirt.”

“But of course! Flirting is what I do best.”

You can’t say you disagree—not when Lee pulls you down for a passionate kiss, and leaves you out of breath without even needing to spar for another round.

[anavilante]

Age difference modern AU, part 2

20 year old student John and 30 year old professor Gale (top John, bottom Gale, no vers)

Part 1

Gale is changed after a couple of months of meetings with John, his eyes sparkle, a small satisfied smile on his lips, and a light blush on his cheeks. Now he is happy to choose his clothes, and his old boring, tatty professorial suits are thrown far into the closet, now he is not embarrassed to choose trousers that emphasize the narrowness of his waist, on which John loves to hold his huge hands, and the length of his legs, which John explored up and down with his lips, and if we are talking about clothes not for teaching at a college, then Gale can afford something that will emphasize the roundness of his butt. Gale is no longer self-conscious about the slender wrists that John likes to hold above his head with one hand as Gale gives himself to him with all his bold sincerity; nor the narrow feet with which Gale caresses John’s dick when they casually sit in a cafe and wait for hamburgers, making him almost cum in his pants and beg for continued caressing at home. John taught Gale to love his body through his own love for Gale's body.

When the sexual fever of the first months of the relationship subsides a little, Gale is surprised to discover that they enjoy spending time together, even if it's not sex. This feeling is new to him, he didn’t know it before, before he always had to choose one of two things - sex or comfortable time together.

It's not that uncommon these days to have some non-sexual time for them. John watches TV on the couch, absentmindedly stroking Gale's feet, who is reading a newly acquired book next to him, throwing his shins over his lap and tucking a pillow under his back. They are both completely absorbed in their activities and the silence between them does not oppress them.

John likes Gale's feet, he never thought it was a part of the body that he might particularly like. But it’s always like this with Gale, he has to admit it, something unknown and new is always revealed to him.

He loves the way Gale presses his feet into his chest, lying on his back and slightly squeezing his knees as John fucks him deep and slow, he likes to run his tongue along the skin of his foot, tickling Gale and making him twitch and laugh, covering his face in embarrassment with his hands and squeezing deliciously on John's dick. He likes to just hold them in his hands, slowly massaging and stroking them, letting the blood drain a little from his tired legs after a long day. (Although John is 100% sure that the best position for blood flow from the lower extremities is when Gale's legs are on his shoulders during sex, but if their session lasts for quite a long time, Gale complains that his legs are numb and he can't walk and John calls him "an old man" and Gale charmingly sulks at him all evening.)

When John somehow presses his fingers on the heel in a special way and with emphasis runs along the arch of his foot, Gale emits an uncontrollable guttural groan, feeling the bones moving in the foot that never seemed to move before, and it... damn it, it’s so nice, he’s never knew that it could be so good and he leans back on the couch and drops an interesting book. “God...Bucky...that's...what is this even? How do you…? Jesus…"

John smiles, looking at the TV screen and does it again and Gale just arches on the couch, forgetting about reading, wanting to get this pleasant feeling again and again.

“God, I’m ready to trade half of my orgasms for this,” Gale moans.

“Well, thank you, of course, for humiliating my sexual efforts,” John mutters.

“Okay, not half, but a quarter,” Gale softens. ”How do you even know how to do this?“

“My grandma used to do this when I was a kid and couldn't sleep after an intense day of play. It calmed and relaxed me. Adults seem to like it too,” John says simply.

And this is such an explosive mixture of everything... An incredibly pleasant physical sensation from John’s warm, skillful hands and how simply and artlessly he shares a piece of his childhood, and in Gale’s imagination he pictures an eccentric, curly little boy with missing baby teeth, but with an equally mischievous smile, who carefreely falls asleep in the arms of his grandmother and, in contrast, the current John, big, huge even, impudent guy, which is like vowing to fuck all the brains out of Gale, absentmindedly and without thinking, giving him a simple caress so that he feels a little better, without implying anything sexual subtext in what he's doing.

“Your grandma is an angel,” Gale hums.

And John immediately answers him with a laugh “No, thank God, but she is still alive. Now she really thinks that I’m a huge dunce, not her good boy, but nevertheless...”

Quite suddenly, Gale finds himself on John's lap, looking intently into his eyes.

“I want you to kiss me,” he says seriously.

“Okay,” John answers and reaches out to him with his lips, but immediately receives Gale’s palm on his lips like a full stop.

“Not like during sex. Not like you're trying to stick your tongue further than my tonsils. In another way."

John nods. He understands what Gale wants. He wants it slower. Softer.

Seeing the understanding in John's eyes, he touches his lips with his own, easily, innocently, parting them, allowing John to explore himself, not his sexual hunger as before, but his warmth and tenderness, the need to be taken care of and take care of someone in response and... Damn, John had never felt anything more mind-blowing in his life than those light kisses from his Gale, even though they weren’t about sex at all.

These kisses are light, soft and short. They are gentle. And Gale in his arms is exactly the same - not an excited hungry boy trying to reach more pleasure, but a calm, slightly shy sensual guy, ready to love. And for some reason it's a hundred times hotter.

Despite John's eccentricity and overdose of testosterone, which forces him to fuck everything that breathes and moves, fight and get involved in all sorts of shit, he is actually a fairly mature guy, he is a responsible brother for his sisters and a dutiful son, he is kind and fair, he a reliable and loyal friend to his friends. And Gale never had many people in his life who would give him a feeling of reliability and trust, one of these people was Marge, which is why he preferred to marry her rather than wandering lonely forever between men’s beds in search of the unattainable.

And Gale feels guilty towards Marge for deceiving her, but damn he's been deceiving her his whole life, pretending to be something he's not. Over the years of their marriage, Marge more than once caught him masturbating on their shared bed, saw how one of his hands frantically squeezes the base of his dick, and the another one moves further, down, past his balls, caressing himself where a man’s hand should not caress, fingers ready to plunge inside his greedy hole and stroke himself there, in that place, without touch on which no orgasm seems sufficient. Gale held himself back then, but it wasn't because of Marge, or out of shame or guilt, no, he did it out of the knowledge that he couldn't stop and couldn't continue because it would only cause him more pain. It was a damn sense of self-preservation.

A sense of self-preservation that had completely abandoned him now. Gale clearly realized that he would drink this relationship with John to the dregs, no matter how bitter the muddy sediment at the bottom is. He will spread his legs as many times as John wants, he will run to meet him as many times as John wants to see him. And even though part of his brain screams furiously that he shouldn't be so vulnerable, to show his addiction so openly, Gale doesn't care, he's too tired. He was too tired of pretending that he didn't need John, that he wasn't willing to spend every second of time that John was willing to share with him.

Because Gale knows that all this is temporary, this is not forever. Sooner or later John will leave him. He was abandoned by everyone, everyone who meant anything to him and those who should have taken care of him. Only Marge always stays with him, no matter what, and he will always be in debt to her.

Sooner or later, young and inquisitive John will get enough of Gale and move forward towards new acquaintances, no matter how hard Gale tries to avoid wrinkles on his handsome face or how good, loving and understanding he will be to John. This outcome is inevitable, because youth is drawn forward not by beauty and kindness, but by novelty, and here Gale will have absolutely nothing to offer John.

Everything changes when, during another sex, John suddenly says that he loves Gale.

Part 3.1