#anyway i think they should all kiss sorry

[chrlisangels]

𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐅

WARNINGS .ᐟ.. smut, male masterbation, bobs sorta a perv but reader doesn’t mind, fem reader,

LEI LEI’S NOTES .ᐟ.. english isnt my first language, this is set in my new girl au btw!!, im just learning how to write smut so please give me some grace 🙏🏽, i didn’t know where to end this off so😔

since moving in with the boys you’ve learned they all have ‘jobs’ around the house like pete does the dishes, joaquin takes out the trash, and bob does the laundry. you’ve volunteered to do your own laundry but bob declined saying he didn’t mind and he didn’t like he DEFINITELYYYYY didn’t mind cause it means free rain to your panties and i mean he’s not a perv!! well..not really its not like he’s doing anything disgusting with them.

well he wasn’t doing anything disgusting at first but c’mon can you blame a guy? he’s had so much restraint but he just wants your so bad and he’ll take you anyway he can have you even if its just jerking off while your panties are wrapped around his cock, plus its not like you’ll notice a few pairs are gone, you have so many!

he’s pumping his hand up and down as your panties create such a delicious friction that almost has him cumming in seconds. “please lemme cum ..need it.” he whimpers out begging as if your even there to even give him permission, soon enough bob felt the pressure in his stomach snap, coating his lower abdomen in his white, sticky cum which has his movements stilling as he takes a deep breath to calm himself that doesn’t last long though cause suddenly the door handles turning and he unfortunately sees your the one walking in.

“hey bob i was wondering if you’ve seen my unde- OH MY GOD im sorry im so so sorry.” you ramble out and you know your should probably turn around but he looks so pretty i mean his abs, his sweat covered face, and- wait are those your panties? “oh my god..your the reason all of my panties are going missing! you fucking pervert!” you accuse and that has bob internally panicking as he covers himself with the blanket, “no no its not what it looks like i swear!” he rambles out, his voice all panicked i mean besides the fact he probably just ruined any chance of you liking him you could tell pete and joaquin about it than he would lose some of his best friends.

“oh really? well it looks like you have my underwear wrapped around your dick while jerking off like a little perv.” the tone of your voice has bob practically doing a double take, you don’t sound mad at him you almost sound like your teasing him, do you like that he stole your underwear? bob thinks no nuh uh you couldn’t i mean what he did was wrong! but your face is saying a different story as a smile graces your lips.

“is that why you didn’t want me doing my own laundry?” you tease with a small giggle which bob gives a shy nod to, “thought so…mm your pretty like this robert, you know that? all sweaty and fucked out looking.” bobs cheeks redden at your words as if they weren’t already red enough.

he lets out a small laugh “your pretty-“ you cut him off with a kiss, its starts out soft and sweet but it eventually becomes sloppy and heated as the both of you get desperate. after awhile you pulled away from the kiss which causes bob to let out a desperate while, keeping your forehead and nose pressed to his. “you should probably go get cleaned up before pete and joaquin get back.” you mutter which bob just nods to, too dazed to speak.

[noxemma]

Parts 1&2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

--- Sorry this part took so long. I thought I could avoid the AO3 curse by keeping it to tumblr but it hunted me down anyways. I'm still a little burnt out (being primary caretaker for two nonagenarians and still managing a 40hr work week will do that to a person) so I'm sorry if this is a bit shorter and heavier than the previous parts (I promise there will be fluff and regularly scheduled shenanigans in future parts) 🫠 --- Too many emotions swirl in Cas' brain for him to think past simply getting him and Dean away from his family and back to the relative safety and sanctuary of their room. He wants to close the blinds and pull Dean into bed and do his best to travel back in time to this morning when Dean's arms were wrapped around him. He wants to kiss Dean again. He wants to- "Dude, what- What was that?" Dean asks breathlessly, Cas assumes from being dragged down flights of stairs in his rushed escape, not daring to hope it could be from anything else. "What was what?" Cas answers, purposely trying not to understand. Because he knows he'll have to apologize for springing the kiss onto Dean with no warning, especially after he'd been the one to suggest minimal displays of affection in front of his parents and family. And the truth is, he's not sorry at all. Even though the circumstances were not ideal, not one molecule of his being regrets kissing Dean.

Not after he'd defended him in a way no one else had against the doubt he was up against. He hadn't truly even been aware of how heavily his own fears and insecurities about his ability to raise Jack had been weighing on him until Dean had declared, to everyone, how good he was doing. He'd wanted to cry in that moment, had felt lighter than he had in years to have someone, aside from Gabriel who really didn't count, tell him he was doing a good job, that all the stress and strain and worrying was worth it.

"You know what. That, the, uh, the kiss," Dean huffs. "What about the kiss?" Cas stalls again, their footsteps ringing in the stairwell. "I thought- I thought you said you didn't really have much experience-" "I don't," Cas confirms, cutting off the rest of Dean's sentence. "Okay, so, again, what the hell was that?" Cas spares a glance back and sees Dean's fingers pressed to his lip, green eyes burning into him. He gulps and opens his mouth to try and give some kind of explanation. "I, I don't know. I learned that from the pizza man?" "The pizza man?" Dean repeats incredulously. "I- uh," Cas starts, realizing they've stalled somewhere between the penthouse and their floor. "Castiel! Dean! D-damn you two are, are fast," Gabriel wheezes, placing his hands on his knees and gulping air. "Gabriel? You followed us?" "'course I did. Had to- Had to make sure you were okay. And I wanted to thank Dean for standing up for you," Gabriel manages once he's mostly recovered. He turns to Dean. "Seriously, I don't think I've ever seen anyone stand up to them like that. It was truly a pleasure. If you want anything I'd be more than happy to-" "Who the fuck is the pizza man?" Dean blurts not even waiting for Gabriel to finish. "The pizza man?" Gabriel asks in confusion. "We really should get out of this stairwell," Cas says, trying to distract them and cringing when Gabriel's eyes light up. "Gabriel, no!" "The pizza man! God, I almost forgot about that!" "Gabriel, please-" "Back when Cas was a teen and just sort of figuring everything out, he was kind of nosy and too damn curious for his own good. He found my stash of porn tapes and," Gabriel covers Cas' mouth before he can protest again, Cas clawing at his strong grip. "And it was sort of traumatizing to him. You wouldn't believe the questions I had to answer like 'If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter, why does he keep smacking her on the rear?' and 'why didn't the repairman and the pizza man kiss?' I tried to tell him that there's plenty of good porn, he just happened to pick a crappy one, but, well, he was thoroughly traumatized. Pretty sure it's still the only porno he's ever seen. Ouch!"

Cas finally gets desperate enough to bite Gabriel's hand. His brother jerks back with a pout, shaking the wounded limb but Cas just rolls his eyes. "Thank you so much, dear brother, for expounding on my porn preferences, or lack thereof," Cas growls in his direction, though he keeps his eyes focused on the stairs, wondering if Dean would hold it against him if he escaped down them away from the awkward bubble they're now in.

"Bullshit," Dean finally says, "There is no way you learned to kiss like that from just watching a crappy porno." "Well, believe it or not, that's the truth. You're the first person I've ever kissed," Cas huffs. He doesn't understand the edge of hurt and disbelief in Dean's voice and honestly doesn't have the energy to try and figure it out at the present moment. The bed, several more floors beneath him, calls with a siren's voice and all he wants to do is shuck the uncomfortable clothes he'd shoved himself into and hide from the world for a few hours, preferably with Dean. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! That was your first kiss," Gabriel states, eyes darting between Dean and him. "What? Pshh, no, we've just, uh, we've never-" Dean immediately responds, defending Cas yet again, though this time it hurts. Pain makes him go rigid, his lungs brittle.

Dean is lying for me, even when he doesn't seem to trust that I've been honest with him. Perhaps it's not just me then, maybe he's defensive of everyone? Or maybe he just sees me as someone to take care of, like his brother.

The thought is unbearable, so Cas blurts, "Gabriel, we're not actually dating." Two sets of eyes and slack jaws swing his way. "I'll explain, but can we please go back to the room." Neither Dean nor Gabriel objects nor stops him as he begins down the stairs again, only the echo of their footsteps breaking the silence. --- Once the hotel door has shut behind everyone, Cas heaves a sigh of relief and yanks off the button up so he's just in an undershirt and the slacks that will have to do until he's done answering the millions of questions he sees bubbling on his older brother's tongue. "Dean and I met several days ago when he accidentally abducted Jack-" "He what!" "Jack had heard me on the phone describing my fake date to you and Dean was supposed to be picking up his brother at the same corner I asked Jack to meet me," Cas continues on flatly, ignoring the concerned looks he's getting from both Gabriel and Dean. "Jack mistook him for the 'date' and got into his car. Dean had just worked for a long time and was too tired to realize it wasn't his brother. He returned him as soon as he realized his mistake and he offered to help me out as an apology and, well, things just kind of spiraled into him pretending to be my boyfriend and then my fiancé in order to get Chuck and Naomi to stop threating to petition for custody of Jack. Now if you'll excuse me, I plan to sleep for the next few hours so I don't go out, find a liquor store, and drink it." Cas finally finishes, throwing himself onto the bed as all his remaining energy leaves him. "Castiel-" Gabriel starts and Cas buries his face in the comforter to keep his brother from seeing or hearing how he's gasping for air and fighting against the hammering of his pulse, anxiety raising its hands to choke him again. "Gabe, I think it's best if you go." Cas hears Dean's voice interrupt firmly, drifting away from the bed and towards the door amidst Gabriel's protests. "Look, I'll have Cas text you as soon as he's up again, but right now I think he needs some rest. This morning was ... a lot. For everyone." There's a pause like Gabriel has his mouth open to argue, but then Cas hears him agree, threating some creative form of bodily harm if Dean doesn't take good care of him. The door clicks shut and he can hear Dean come back towards the bed. "I'm, I'm fine, Dean," Cas lies, his watery words and hiccupped breath betraying him. "You're not, and that's okay. What do you need from me?" "I- I don't-" Cas can't manage to finish, the weight that had been lifted by Dean earlier seeming to crash down on his chest tenfold heavier. "Okay, it's okay. How 'bout I give you a few suggestions that usually work for me and we can see if one sounds good to you?" Dean asks gently, the bed dipping from where he sits next to Cas' prone, heaving body. He must manage a nod or something close to an approximation of agreement because Dean continues. "One thing that helps me is movies or tv shows, something to play in the background and drown out all the shit going on in my head. Or, um, I could help you try to regulate your breathing. Um, or, well, I don't know if it would really help or not, but I could, uh, I could hold you? Like this morning?" Cas bites back a sob long enough to whisper "please" and he hopes Dean understands. He does and Cas can't help but question whether or not he's a real person and not some divine being.

Dean rises from the bed. Cas briefly hears the television flip on, volume low enough that it's not overwhelming but loud enough to distract from the noise of his panicking mind.

Then Dean is there beside him. The heat of him warming the parts of Cas he hadn't realized had gone numb. Cas instinctually turns toward him, a far reach of his brain whispering something about heliotropism before it's drowned out again. Dean's forehead rests against his, their feet tangled together, one of Dean's arms around him. Cas can feel Dean's heartbeat from where his hand ended up flat against Dean's chest. It's strong and steady and soothing. Slowly, Cas feels his lungs give up their rebellion, his mind raising a white flag as he leans into the comfort Dean offers, his breathing and heartrate slowing to synchronize with Dean's.

"There we go, sweetheart," Dean murmurs, breath hot against Cas' face. "That's it, just breathe." "Dean, I'm. I'm so sorry. You," Cas sucks in a deep breath as his lungs still ache, "You didn't ask for any of this." "No," Dean agrees, but the free hand not pressing against Cas' back comes up to grip his neck and cheek, "But no one really does." Cas tries to laugh, but it comes out as another sob. "Dean-" "Shhh, Cas. You probably had or are having a panic attack and the adrenaline crash is imminent. Let yourself rest for a bit and we can talk when you wake up and feel better." Cas wants to give in to the soft words, wants to slip away into sleep in Dean's arms, but he can't. A sharp kernel of worry refusing to let him be totally comfortable. "I'm sorry about the kiss, or whatever was bothering you about it after. I really didn't plan on doing it, but well, the way that you stood up for yourself and for me? I needed to do something. And I didn't mean to upset you in the stairwell or-" "Cas, shit. If anyone needs to apologize, it's me. You were clearly already freaking out and distressed and I made it worse because, well, uh, because that was probably one of the best kisses I've ever had and, it just didn't. I mean, I'm really supposed to believe that a guy like you hasn't been kissed?" "Well, I have been kissed before, but I don't like to count those as none of them were with people I wanted to kiss me. They were all women my mother set me up with to try and 'straighten' me out," Cas tries to laugh at his own joke but he can't, eyes scrunch shut so he doesn't have to see how Dean's reacting to this information. "I have never been the one to initiate the kissing and well, you are the first man I've kissed." Dean pulls him tighter, the unexpected reaction forcing a soft moan to escape from Cas as Dean buries his face into Cas' neck, his chest crushing into Cas' arms, their hips now flush as Dean leaves no space between them. "I'm so fucking sorry, Cas. That's- no one should- It's fucked up." It feels validating and different to have Dean telling him this. He finds himself able to believe it more coming from the man holding him than from his own brother or even from his therapist, both of which feel like they are obligated to respond that way. "Thank you, Dean." He wants to say more, to tell Dean how grateful he is to have the acknowledgement, to have someone here to listen and hold him. He wants to kiss Dean again. He can't quite bring himself to do it though, can't quite override the anxiety still swirling in his brain. So, he settles for pressing his lips to Dean's temple and letting his hands unlock from their protective position in front of his chest to wrap around Dean's back. Drawing as close to Dean as Dean had drawn to him. Dean hums into his neck, his hand rubbing up and down Cas' back and more tension slips away. --- For the second time in twenty-four hours Cas wakes wrapped in Dean's arms and feeling lighter than he has in years. "Hey, you feeling better?" Dean whispers, somehow sensing that he's awake.

"I, um, yes, thank you. This, you, were really grounding and," Cas finally opens his eyes to see Dean's green one's staring back, full to the brim of compassion without an ounce of judgement.

I don't think I've leaned on anyone so much besides Gabriel. And he pretty much blackmailed me into it because taking his, or rather, our family's money, was to better provide for Jack.

It makes his stomach clench with guilt and regret. If he had been overwhelmed enough to have a panic attack, he can only imagine how Dean must be feeling.

"I'm sorry again, Dean. Dealing with my family was probably hard enough with them questioning you and then you had to deal with my ... breakdown," Cas whispers, not even sure that Dean can hear him. "Hey, hey, none of that!" Dean grabs Cas and keeps him from accidentally scooting himself the whole way off the edge of the bed. "Cas, seriously. It's fine. I've had my own 'breakdowns.' And if all this shit is a normal occurrence? I'd probably be more worried if you were able to keep it together." Dean reaches out and brushes a thumb across his cheek.

Cas sucks in a breath and closes his eyes, turning his face into the pillow when Dean doesn't let him escape to the floor. "Sweetheart." The petname and the gentle way he says it makes Cas bury his face further into the pillow and away from eyes that are too kind and too understanding. "Cas, I know you probably feel embarrassed, but really, it's not like you could help it. Trust me, I know. Sometimes it just hits you out of nowhere." "You have panic attacks," Cas realizes far too late for all the signs that have been flashing right in front of his face. Sam helping calm him down when he was starting to panic about Jack, Dean knowing how to get him calm and grounding him, even getting Gabriel out of the room, giving him options but ultimately taking control when Cas couldn't. "Yeah," Dean lets out a shaky breath and Cas can't resist the urge to look at him. "Yeah, I do. Not so bad anymore but they used to get really, really bad. Mostly after fights with my dad, so believe me when I say I get it. I thought I was dying the first time Bobby found me dry heaving on the kitchen floor. He's the one who taught me it's better to have someone to hold on to whenever the bad one's hit." "I'm so sorry, Dean," Cas finds himself saying, mirroring Dean's touch.

Dean closes his eyes and leans into it and Cas has the overwhelming desire to give him the world, though he's not even sure himself what that entails. He just knows, like he knows how to breathe, that Dean deserves more than what life has given him, deserves good things. And Cas desperately, perhaps selfishly, wants to be the one to give them to him. Cas is just leaning in to press his lips to Dean's again when Dean's eyes pop open and he heaves in a breath. "Well, I guess you should probably let Gabriel know that you are up. I'm sure he's still worrying." "Oh. Right. What time is it?" Cas replies as he pulls back, his little bubble bursting and reality rushing back in. "Uh, not sure. But my guess is probably around two-ish?" "Two? And you've been stuck here with me the whole time?" "Stuck? Cas, you act like you handcuffed me to the bed or something. Besides, what else would I do, huh? Go downstairs and play slots? Hope to run into your family at the bar or casino? And leave you here by yourself? To wake up alone and feeling guilty or ashamed? Nope, sorry. Like I told your family, you're stuck with me, babe. At least until we get back to California."

Cas doesn't try to stop the smile or the warmth that fills his being at the thought of being stuck with Dean, even if it's just temporarily. "Now, I'm pretty sure I've heard your phone buzz at least six times so you should let Gabriel know that I haven't killed you or whatever he's probably coming up with since he found out I'm practically a stranger. Not to mention the fact that I flipped the dead bolt so he wouldn't be able to sneak in like this morning." "Oh, god! He's probably two seconds away from breaking the door down with the cops!" Cas groans, as he flips around to scramble for his phone on the nightstand. But it's not messages from Gabriel that he's missed. Or at least not just from Gabriel. Mixed in amongst the suggestive jokes and true brotherly concern are several messages from Jack, the most concerning of which being: See you soon, Dad!

Tag List (hopefully I got everyone but just shout at me if I missed you 😅)

@destielfangirl24 @chokinghazardchirp @o-birdseed-o @examishbookwyrm @planterflush @t0asssty @dead-sirens @hate-babe-27 @profanitybasedfun @azriel-rodas @ghost-in-the-light

[stellaspectral]

Sorry if the request is cringy but eh anyways asking doesn't hurt 😭 so what about rise donnie with reader who's completely overwhelmed with university finals, not understanding a single topica so donnie runs to the rescue and helps them out to study so kimda study date vibes? And also your writing is just *chefs kiss* 🤌 🫶

A/N: No worries, anon; this request isn’t cringey at all.

Though I wasn’t sure if you wanted Donnie and the reader to already be together or not. But I decided to write as if they’re friends, they like each other, but haven’t quite gotten to the point where they’ve confessed yet.

And thanks for the compliment! I hope you like this 💖

Not Just a Study Thing (fluff)

💜 ROTTMNT Donatello/Gender Neutral Reader 💜

CWs: Fluff, academic stress, and anxiety/feeling overwhelmed. All characters are aged-up.

Your dorm room is a disaster zone of discarded notes, empty coffee cups, and the growing weight of panic pressing in from every corner. The text in the book before you blurs into an indecipherable soup of academic jargon. It might as well all be alien hieroglyphics, you think, as your head drops to the open page.

“I don’t get it,” you mutter into the chapter on Advanced Quantum Thermodynamics. “I don’t get any of it.”

A groan escapes your lips as you try not to cry about the fact that the only thing you’ve successfully memorized is how close you are to a breakdown.

You’ve been wearing the same hoodie for three days. Beside you, a half-eaten bag of chips lay discarded next to piles of notes where your highlighters have bled through three pages. And you’ve re-read the same paragraph from your textbook five times in the past fifteen minutes—and it still feels like it’s written in ancient Greek.

You sit up, blinking hard, as if sheer willpower might make the equations on the page finally make sense. You reach for your phone, thinking maybe a quick scroll through social media will take the edge off. But the moment your screen lights up, a notification blares across the top: It’s a text from Donnie.

D 🐢💜: You still breathing?

You stare at the screen, thumbs hesitating, before replying:

You: Barely. I think academia is trying to murder me.

He doesn’t reply immediately. You slump further into your chair, your back aching from your poor posture resulting from hours hunched over textbooks. Just as you consider tossing your phone across the room, it vibrates again.

D 🐢💜: Need a study savior?

You don’t hesitate, your fingers flying over the screen before your brain catches up.

You: Honestly? I’m dying, Donnie. HELP.

D 🐢💜: Hang tight. Study hero incoming.

Your room’s a mess, but you don’t panic about the state of it; Donnie’s probably seen worse, considering he lives with three brothers and a father who’d rather be doing anything else but acknowledging his surroundings. So you decide to crawl into your bed and take a nap.

Eventually, there’s a familiar tap on your window. You rub your eyes, groggily rising from your cocoon of tangled blankets, and shuffle to the window. You peek through the blinds, seeing Donnie standing on the fire escape, and you slide the window up.

He enters, surveying the chaos with a raised brow as you flop back onto your bed. “Wow. This place could qualify as a Level 3 Disaster Zone. Should I call FEMA or just start a controlled burn?”

You half-heartedly throw a pillow at him, which he sidesteps effortlessly. “I told you. Academia is trying to kill me.”

He sets his tablet on your desk, sweeping aside an avalanche of loose papers. “Then allow me to counterattack. Let’s dismantle this quantum nightmare one equation at a time.”

Your heart skips at the sight of him. You pretend it’s the stress. Or the overabundance of caffeine. “I seriously don’t understand half this stuff,” you admit.

He pulls up your rickety desk chair, settling into it with that calm confidence he always exudes when he’s in problem-solving mode. “That’s okay. Understanding is kind of my thing. You just need to survive. I’ll do the rest.” He sits his backpack on the floor and unzips it, pulling out your favorite snack before tossing it to you.

You barely catch it, fumbling with it for a moment, which further deepens the flush on your cheeks. “T-thank you,” you stammer, trying to force a grin to cover up your awkwardness.

Donnie gives you a smirk, the kind that makes your stomach flutter. “You’re welcome,” he says casually, like he didn’t just show up like a knight in purple armor. “Now,” he claps his hands once and cracks open the textbook you abandoned, “let’s take a deep breath and start with the basics. Quantum Thermo’s just spooky physics with a heat problem. We can handle spooky.”

You move closer to the edge of the bed, still clutching the snack he gave you. “I’ve read this chapter like a dozen times. It’s all just … my brain going ‘nope.’”

He hums thoughtfully, scanning the page like it’s a casual morning comic strip. “Your brain’s probably doing the academic version of the blue screen of death.” He meets your eyes, tilting his head with a small smirk. “We’re gonna reboot it.”

You sigh, your shoulders slumping. “Can I just throw the whole thing into the metaphorical dumpster and walk away?”

“Tempting,” he replies with a grin. “But no. Come on, scoot over.”

You blink. “What?”

He points to the spare chair in the corner of the room. “I’m not letting you spiral alone.”

Your heart beats a little faster. But you grab the chair, put it beside his, and sit. He nudges your knee gently with his, just enough to ground you in the moment.

“Alright,” he says, eyes flicking from the textbook to your overwhelmed expression. “Step one: we’re not going to panic. Step two: we’re going to make this make sense. And step three, we’re going to keep you from exploding.”

You let out a weak laugh—more of an exhale, really—but it still feels like the first real breath you’ve taken all day. “You forgot step four,” you say, voice quiet.

“What’s step four?”

You glance at him. “Not letting me fail.”

He softens—and you think there’s something unspoken in the way he looks at you. “Not a chance,” he murmurs.

He slides the textbook a little closer to the two of you, flipping to the beginning of the chapter. As he reads, he grabs a nearby pen and starts scribbling on a clean sheet of paper. His handwriting is absurdly neat, his diagrams actually helpful instead of intimidating. He talks you through a problem slowly, explaining it in the most Donnie way possible, with the strangest metaphors.

And somehow, weirdly, it helps.

“Okay,” he says, pushing the paper toward you, “now you try.”

You stare at the problem, then at him. “What if I mess it up?”

“You will,” he says simply. “That’s part of it. Just give it a shot.”

So you do. Hesitantly at first, mumbling through each step, but he doesn’t interrupt. He just watches, chin propped in one hand, the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. When you finally finish, expecting him to correct you, he just nods.

“See? You didn’t spontaneously combust. Proud of you.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s hard not to smile. “Thanks, Donnie.”

He shrugs, but his tone is soft when he replies. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re important to me. I show up for my people.”

That makes your breath catch a little. You glance down at the page again, pretending to be more interested in what’s on it than the heat rising to your cheeks. You look at him, wondering if he realizes how easily he disarms your panic just by being here.

The study session stretches on. More problems, more snacks and caffeine—and more of Donnie casually dropping little encouragements like they aren’t melting your brain in the most pleasant of ways. Every time you falter, he’s there with a nudge in the right direction. Every time you get something right, he lights up like it’s a personal victory.

At some point, your head ends up resting on his shoulder as he reads out a confusing section. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t comment. Just shifts slightly so you’re more comfortable. You close your eyes for a moment, letting yourself breathe in his smell.

At some point, he pauses mid-sentence and glances at you. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

He gives you a crooked smile. “Next time you’re drowning in finals stress, call me before you go DEFCON 1, okay?”

You hum your agreement, not trusting your voice. His shoulder is warm beneath your cheek. He shifts again, careful not to jostle you too much, and continues reading. Eventually, you sit up, blinking yourself back into focus. “Sorry,” you mumble, rubbing at your face. “Didn’t mean to drool on you.”

“Not the first time someone’s fallen asleep during my explanation on thermodynamics,” Donnie says, deadpan. “But definitely the first time someone’s done it on my shoulder, though.”

You snort a laugh. “I think I needed that,” you admit. “The nap, the help. The … you.”

“Anytime,” he says. “Also, I believe you’re understanding the material now, at least.”

“Only because you’re basically a genius tutor with the patience of a saint.”

He chuckles softly, adjusting his arm so it rests lightly around your back. “Nah. I just care. A lot.”

You tilt your head, meeting his gaze. You open your mouth to say something—maybe something brave, maybe something vulnerable—but he beats you to it.

“You’re not alone in this, okay? Finals, stress, life—you’ve got me. Always.”

Your brain fizzles as you attempt to process his words.You stare at him, and for the first time today—maybe all week—your chest doesn’t feel so tight. “Donnie …” you start, your voice embarrassingly soft.

He raises a brow. “Yeah?”

You hesitate. You don’t know how to say ‘I think I like you’ without sounding like your brain short-circuited. So you settle for something safer. “I don’t think I could’ve made it through today without you.”

He exhales a quiet laugh. “Well, good thing you don’t have to.” Then, he clears his throat, like maybe this—this closeness—is affecting him just as much. “We can keep going. Or take a break. Your call.” His gaze is steady, but there’s a softness in his eyes you’ve only glimpsed before in rare, unguarded moments.

You take a deep breath, attempting to rein in your scattered thoughts. The responsible part of you, the one that actually wants to pass this monstrous final, screams, Study! The other part, the one currently replaying, ‘You’ve got me. Always’on an endless loop, just wants to stay near him, whatever you’re doing.

“Let’s … let’s keep going,” you decide. “Just a bit more.”

“Excellent.” He taps the textbook with a pen. “Now, where were we?”

His fingers trace lines in the book, then sketch new, surprisingly clear diagrams on the notepad. As you both lean over the limited desk space, his hand brushes yours occasionally. Each accidental touch sends a little jolt through you.

“Okay,” he says, after patiently breaking down a concept so dense you’d previously thought it was written in a dead language. “Your turn. This problem here.” He points to a question that, just a few hours ago, would have made you want to curl up under your blanket and weep.

You take a deep breath, pick up the pen, and look at the problem. Then you work through it, verbalizing your thought process. Donnie listens patiently, offering encouraging nods, interjecting with ‘mhm’ and ‘Good, what’s next?’ when you pause, his gaze focused and supportive.

Eventually, you reach an answer. You stare at it, then quickly double-check your work. “Is … is this right?” you ask.

Donnie leans in, his shoulder pressing against yours as he scans your calculations before he pulls back slightly. “Not only is it right,” he declares, his voice laced with satisfaction, “it’s elegantly solved. See? I told you you could do it.”

A wave of relief, so potent it’s almost dizzying, washes over you. You can’t stop the grin on your face, feeling ridiculously light. “Only because of you.”

He smiles, then glances at his phone, then back at you. “We’ve actually made some serious headway. How are you feeling? Brain still intact?”

“Surprisingly, yes. And a lot less like it’s about to liquefy and ooze out of my ears.” You look at the textbook, then at your notes filled with his neat handwriting and your own, now slightly more confident, scrawls. Then you look at him. “Thank you, Donnie. Seriously. You didn’t just help me study; you saved my sanity.”

“Anytime,” he says again, his voice softer this time, imbued with a sincerity that makes your chest feel warm. He gathers his things slowly, packing his tablet.

You watch him, a pang of something—disappointment?—hitting you squarely in the chest as he prepares to leave. The methodical zipping of his backpack is a mournful sound in the sudden quiet of your room. A knot forms in your stomach.

You don’t want him to go.

Before you can censor yourself, the words slip out. “Are you heading out already?”

He pauses, hand still on the bag, and turns fully towards you. “That was the plan,” he says, a hint of teasing in his voice. “However, we can adjust mission parameters. Have a counter-proposal?”

Your heart gives a hopeful little leap. “Well,” you begin, feeling a blush creep up your neck, “we did just conquer quantum thermodynamics … or at least, survive it. I thought maybe … that deserves a small celebration?”

“I was gonna head out to give you time to rest, but …” The corner of his mouth twitches upwards. “What did you have in mind?”

“Just … stay. Please.”

His hand, which had been resting on the zipper of his backpack, drops to his side. That one word—please—seems to land somewhere deep in him. His tone softens again. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Yeah. I can do that.”

You go over to your bed and sit. Donnie takes the hint, settling beside you. He doesn’t lean too close—not yet—but his presence fills the small space between you with something quiet and steady. For a few moments, there’s just silence. Then you lean back slightly, your shoulder brushing his. He doesn’t move away.

Instead, he shifts, easing both of you down so that you’re both laying beside each other on the mattress. You rest your head on his plastron while his fingers trail slow patterns along the base of your spine.

“I could fall asleep like this,” you say, voice drowsy, words laced with more honesty than you usually allow yourself.

“Good,” he replies. “I was kind of hoping you would.”

You look up at him. His expression is soft, open in a way he rarely shows. His arm wraps tighter around you as you settle in again, heart beating steadily beneath your ear.

“Donnie?”

“Hmm?”

You hesitate, then, “This … isn’t just a study thing, is it?”

He doesn’t answer right away—but you feel his breath hitch. He swallows, hand stilling briefly on your back. “No,” he says, voice barely a whisper. “Not for me.”

You nod against his chest, your fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his hoodie. “Good,” you murmur. “Me neither.”

As he begins to nod off, Donnie presses his chin lightly to the top of your head. “Sweet dreams, genius,” he whispers, brushing his thumb gently against your shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

You’re too exhausted to retort.

It isn’t long before you fall asleep like this—in his arms, your breath evening out into the soft, rhythmic sound of sleep.

He watches you for a long moment, his gaze tender. The worried lines that had etched themselves onto your forehead hours ago have smoothed out, replaced by a peacefulness he finds himself ridiculously fond of. Carefully, so as not to disturb you, he adjusts his hold, nestling you a fraction closer.

Mission accomplished, he thinks, not just the studying, but this too. This quiet moment, this feeling of you, safe and resting in his arms.

His own eyelids soon feel heavy. He rests his cheek against the top of your head again, your hair soft against his skin. His thoughts, usually racing, slow. With a final, contented sigh, his own breathing deepens, mirroring yours.

A soft smile graces his features as he, too, drifts off to sleep.

[luvyuuma]

Welcome to writing for &team!! I hope you enjoy it and remember to have fun 🤭

I can’t get over how much Nico would def say “you’re legally obligated to keep holding me” like that sounds so baby girl of him! What are your thoughts my love?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: thank u!! yes! he definitely would say something like this HAHAHA thinking of making this into a full ass fic IDK anyways hope u enjoy this one <3

SYNOPSIS / when you break your arm, your ex-best friend nicholas is the one who shows up to the hospital and sits by you for hours. then, he confronts you about the distance you were in between the two of us.

TW / none

WC / 1.1k words

PAIRING / nicholas x gn!reader

touch-starved &team prompt list

NICHOLAS + “you’re legally obligated to keep holding me” + "I can't remember the last time I did this with someone"

“Are you okay?” he asks for the umpteenth time.

You sigh exaggeratedly. Had you not broken your arm, you would’ve attacked Nicholas by now.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly, eyes growing wide.

“I told you already, Nicholas. You should go home. I’ll be fine here,” you tell him.

Nicholas shakes his head profusely, “I can’t leave you like this.”

“You’re killing me, you know that?” you deadpan, looking down at the bed tray in front of you. Jelly-like pudding stared back at you, reminding you that hospital food is indeed food cooked in Hell.

“I won’t be able to sleep if I stay home, knowing I could’ve stayed with you longer.”

You look up again.

He’s staring at you, all innocent-like but you can read between the lines. Being friends with Nicholas for three years gave you a deep insight on who he really is. Smart, kind and takes care of you in a way you had never expected anyone to. It’s the fact that you wouldn’t have to ask either—he just does things around you while you simply existed.

It didn’t stop there.

It got intense at some point.

Brief touches—holding your waist to get past you, patting your head, hugs that lasted an eternity and night of sobriety at a party that felt like drunkenness. You swore that night you were about to kiss, Nicholas was about to tell you something but it slipped away.

It’s been months…

You’d distance yourself from him since. It was turning into something you weren’t sure you wanted.

He’s your best friend. He’s like a brother to you.

Then, you started craving his presence. It’s true, what they say. You only want something when it’s gone; when it was there, you had no trouble using it and now that it’s gone, you walk around forever craving it.

However, you were lucky.

You’d broken your arm and you needed someone to get your toiletries for you. Nicholas is the only one with a spare key to your apartment. The only one who would care enough to bring it to you.

So that’s why you’re sitting here—you on the hospital bed with unappetising dinner and he’s dragged a chair next to you. You’ve been like this for hours, catching up on what you missed out on the last few months.

But neither of you mentioned the distance you had.

Someone had to.

“What—“

“What happened to us?” he interrupts you.

You’re flabbergasted.

Nicholas sees it in your face. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you respond. 

It’s easier than bringing it up yourself. Confrontation was not your strongest suit. Acting like everything is okay? You’re the most confident.

“Yes,” Nicholas says. “You do.”

“Nicholas, you should really go home now,” you murmur, putting your head down.

A beat and a half of silence saunters slowly past the two of you. The faint shuffling of the nurses getting by, the buzzers in the background and the cold, sterilised hospital air renders you still. As if breathing even a little louder would dirty the air.

You feel your heart beat out of your chest when Nicholas lifts your face up. Gently. He does everything so gently. Oh, how you missed that.

He forces you to look into his eyes.

And, you can tell. You can tell how much this scares him. After all, the line between friends and lovers is so thin and blurred and who would know better than the two of you?

“Please. Talk to me, Y/N,” he pleads with you, eyebrows sewing in.

You can’t find your voice.

“I miss you. I miss us.”

You’re shattered.

“I…I miss you too, Nicholas,” you finally speak.

His eyes light up slowly as he tries to fight back a smile. Ultimately, he fails. 

Nicholas pulls you into a bear hug.

“Hey, my arm is broken!” you yelp.

He’s careful of your arm, of course but you had to put it out there.

“No!” he exclaims. “You’re legally obligated to keep holding me—broken arm or not.”

You scoff. But you can’t argue. Your face is in his chest, taking in the scent you weren’t around for for so long. You missed this, you missed him.

You’ve felt so lonely in your being that you didn’t realise how much you needed this. All those months of isolation. Sure you were around people, but they didn’t compare to him.

“I can’t remember the last time I did this with someone,” you utter.

“Me too.”

Pulling away from him, there’s a new expression on his face. 

Reverence.

He hesitates, like he’s weighing everything. Then he speaks.

“Let me take you out, Y/N. Just once. I’ll make it worth your while,” Nicholas says. He says everything like he’s pleading you, begging for permission.

Your heart skips a beat, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

“You don’t believe me?!” he asks, offended.

“Mmm, let’s say that,” you tease.

“Oh, you better be ready when your arm is healed.”

“Can’t wait.”

[baronessvonglitter]

Maneater: Chapter 1

Max Lord x OFC | WC: 2,372

Summary: Dreading a dinner with his fiancée, Max meets her daughter and decides it might be worth it to stick around.

WARNINGS: 18+Only! Mature. Engagement of convenience. Age difference (Max is 35, Linda is 65, Nina is 22). Male gaze. Mention of a bj. Mention of sex toys. One (1) innocent(?) lick - makes sense in context. Hard-on AND blue balls. Fantasizing. Crude sexual hand gesture. Max is not a dad here (sorry not sorry).

A/n: The love I've seen for our Maxi-Muffin has been few and far between. I want to give a great big thank you to @everybodylovedcontractors who is probably the biggest Max Lord girlie I know 💟and who was my cheerleader and inspiration while writing this. Plus I just wanted to delve deep into the 1980s.. one of my favorite decades. I set this story in Miami because I feel like it's the city with the most 80s vibes that I envisioned for this story. Also yes, each chapter is a lyric from Hall & Oates' "Maneater" - one of the best songs from the decade. Also-also, Linda is 65 years old.. which isn't all that old by today's standards, but in the 80s, 65 might as well have been 100.

While I'm curating the playlist for this series, I know some music may not technically be out at the exact time of this story, so I'm just playing with the timeline a bit, it's all just for funzies anyway 😊

Series Masterlist

"Mr. Lord, you have a call on line one," Raquel's voice chirps over the intercom.

"Who is it?" Max asks, hope coloring his voice. The office is too huge, too quiet. He envisions a whole bullpen full of desks, phones ringing off the hook and employees.. his employees, eagerly answering those calls, making successful sales, generating cash flow, making him money.

"It's your fiancée, Linda St. James," Raquel replies. "It sounds urgent."

"Great," he mutters, dreading this call. He dreads all her calls. He lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Put her through."

"Does my Maxi-Muffin miss me?" Linda's sickly sweet voice comes over the line. At sixty-five years old she's one of the richest widows in the country, a real estate tycoon and almost twice Max's age. "I wanted to tell you I'm still in Dallas, but my flight should arrive just in time for us to have dinner at mine tonight."

"Oh Linda my dear, I am positively quivering with anticipation of seeing you again," Max lies through his teeth, lining up a shot on his desktop mini pool table.

Linda continues. "I was thinking.. over dinner we could talk about that business loan I want to give you," she says in a sing-song voice.

Damn, the woman knows how to dangle a carrot. And I'm just her pet, her toy, something to show off to her friends.

"Nothing would make me happier than to enjoy a fine dinner with the most.. with such a.. with my lovely bride-to-be," he manages to choke out. Ass kissing comes with the territory of business and finance, but his lack of attraction to his fiancée somehow keeps him from exaggerated compliments. "But if my dear Linda wants to discuss financing my future, then I won't stop her."

"You know I love nothing more than to help you," her voice drips with sickly sweetness. "See you tonight at the mansion, honey muffin." She makes kissing sounds over the phone before she hangs up.

Max hangs up with a groan of disgust.

That evening he's in the backseat of his town car, smoothing through the post-rush hour traffic. He checks his hair in the mirror, turning up the radio as the new Hall & Oates cassette plays in the sound system.

"A she-cat tamed by the purr of a Jaguar," he sings along to himself as the car finally stops in the circular driveway of Linda's mansion, all lit up against the lavender and orange of the impending night. It's early summer and already it's sweltering, the dipping of the sun doing little to cool him down. Music from a boombox can be heard faintly, along with shouts and splashes from what he guesses are coming from Linda's Olympic-size pool in the back. With a sigh Max presses the intercom button at the front door and waits for Linda to buzz him in.

The machine quickly crackles back and a young woman's voice is heard: "Be right there!"

Several minutes later the door is opened by a stunning woman in a red bikini and espadrilles, toweling off her long black hair, a pair of red Wayfarers perched on her head. "You're not the pizza guy," she says with a slight pout.

Max forces his eyes from her lithe, bronzed body, still dewy with pool water, and meets her gaze, but it's there he's trapped by the upward, feline tilt of her velvet brown eyes. "No, actually I'm here to see Linda.. is she home?"

"Her flight got delayed. She won't be here until after midnight." The young woman shrugs, seemingly posing in the doorway, body nearly on full display and from the looks of it she's enjoying his attention. "And who are you?" she asks, tilting her head at him.

He doesn't know whether to be relieved or to dread a future meeting with his bride. "I'm Maxwell Lord, Linda's future spouse," he introduces himself, laying on the charm with his megawatt smile. "I have a scheduled dinner meeting with her tonight."

She takes his proffered hand, her eyes lighting up with mirth. "Oh? You're having a scheduled dinner meeting with your future spouse? Sounds romantic." She giggles and takes a drag off the cigarette she's holding. "Come in. She'd be pissed at me if I slammed the door on my future stepdad." She smiles, her teeth showing off an attractive gleam. "I'm her daughter Nina."

Max is captivated by her full lips, which look like they'd be fun to kiss.

Though he's been here a handful of times already, Nina leads him through the house, Nina saunters with an ease, a grace, and even a particular carelessness, as if she'd rather bump into and topple over a priceless vase than to steer clear of it. "You can stick around if you want," she says over her shoulder. "I didn't know Linda was expecting company, so I invited a few friends over for a swim."

"When Linda said she had a daughter I assumed she meant one young enough for boarding school," Max says, catching up with her long strides.

"She never even bothered to mention you to me." Nina shrugs, stubbing out her cigarette on an expensive looking Murano glass ashtray.

"If you'll beg my pardon, you look nothing like her. I was expecting someone more.."

"White?" Nina grins, and it makes Max's heart want to stop.

"Well, yes, actually." This gives him the chance to scope her out. She's blessed with an athletic build, her svelte body kissed by the sun. Her hips curve oh-so-delicately to her slender waist where the still-dripping ends of her raven-black hair stick to her flawless skin. Her breasts are perky and firm, the points of her nipples poking through her bikini top. Max lets his eyes drift there, lingering a little before roving upwards to Nina's face, her plush red-painted lips already curved in a smirk, her eyes holding mischief when their gazes meet again.

"I'm adopted," she answers. "Thank fucking god."

She opens wide the patio French doors to reveal the pool party: "Hot Girls in Love" by Loverboy blasts from the boombox as college kids splash in the pool or lazily tan themselves on one of the dozens of sunning chairs, either asleep or drunk or high.

"Not the party you were expecting, huh?" Nina smiles at Max, taking his hand and leading him outside.

"Do you know everyone here?" Max asks, subtly eyeing some of the coeds, but his attention goes straight back to his hostess.

"Not really. But I can't stand being alone. So I just let people come over. I'm a modern-day Gatsby."

His brows raise. "You've read F. Scott Fitzgerald?"

Nina takes a beer and cracks the tab open, taking a small sip. "You think because I'm rich and hot that I'm stupid as well?"

Max pales. "No, I didn't mean--"

"Relax. Have a drink," she says, grabbing another beer for him, but not before placing the cold can on her chest, sweeping over her collarbones and dipping into the plentiful cleavage. "Need to cool off a little first," she says, handing him the drink at last.

His eyes nearly pop out of his head but he maintains a degree of cool, offering a slight smirk in return, his gaze dropping to the lush valley between Nina's breasts, imagining gathering the droplets of water there with a sweep of his tongue.

"Mr. Lord? Mr. Lord," an insistent voice is in his ear and he turns to see Linda's maid. "Forgive me, I couldn't hear your arrival over all the noise." She shoots a glaring look at Nina. "If you prefer you may wait inside, where better refreshment is available." She wrinkles her nose at the beer in his hand.

"Thank you, Paulette," he murmurs. "I may stay out here a moment longer. The air is so nice right now." He casts another furtive glance at his fiancée's daughter.

"As you wish," the maid says, casting him a snobby look before going inside.

Nina glides back into the water, sharing a floatie with another girl. Max's fantasy goes into overdrive as he watches the two bikini-clad college girls snuggled so close together.

"Who's the dweeb?" her friend Tammy asks.

"Another one of Linda's poor suckers. Supposedly he's her fiancé," Nina groans.

"He's kinda cute.. he's that hotshot from those dumb commercials, isn't he?"

"That's right," Nina answers, watching him covertly through her sunglasses. Max walks around aimlessly, talking to people here and there but this group isn't exactly his age range.

"Maybe I'll blow him," she says. "He seems like the type to be humbled by a BJ."

Tammy laughs, splashing her with water. "If you can't humble him, no one can."

Max is enjoying his last moments of freedom before Linda is due to arrive, his eyes drinking in as much of Nina as he can. He watches her glide under the aquamarine water, surfacing just where he stood at the edge of the pool, like Phoebe Cates in Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

"Linda's town car is driving up," she tells him as he admires her: shiny and wet, the pool water glistening on her dark lustrous hair. "You should probably go inside and get ready for your romantic dinner." She smirks, going underwater again.

"Wait.. how did you know she's coming?" he asks, but Nina's already gone.

"Max! Where are youuuu?" Linda's voice rings out, making him cringe. She appears in her prim grey Armani power suit, pearls at her ears and throat, silver hair short and feathered. Max can't help thinking if she was even twenty years younger he'd find her more attractive.

"I see my daughter invited her friends over," she smiles with hidden disgust at the younger people infringing on her personal property. "Nina dear, have everyone gone immediately," she says, finding her daughter drying off.

"Will she be joining us for dinner?" he asks, hoping not to sound too hopeful.

Nina catches it as she passes by and a mischievous glint sparks her eye. "I'd love to get to know the man you're going to marry," she says agreeably.

Linda looks like she'd rather eat dirt, but she smiles. "Of course. Tell your friends to leave, then get ready to dine with us."

Max suffers through the humiliation of Linda feeding him like he's a child. No matter that he doesn't like asparagus-- Linda feeds him extra helpings. "It's good for your digestion," she says, patting the small bulge of his belly.

He smiles, chewing the horrid greens. "My Linda always looks out for me.."

Nina watches from her seat across from Max, stifling a smirk on her rouged lips. And Max can't even tell Linda no, because she knows he needs her. So, annoyed by her treatment of him, he knows better than to protest.

"I'm thinking, dear Maxy.." Linda coos.

His ears perk up. Now may be the time to discuss the loan she'll give him. He does his best to maintain his composure.

Linda continues, "We should save our business negotiations for after the wedding."

Max places his hands on the table, because he's very certain it's just turned.

"Oh.. dear Linda," he says with false sweetness that she seems not to pick up on. "I'd really hoped to get a good start before we're officially man and wife. And I thought to pay you back quickly for your generous loan, as sort of a wedding present."

Nina remains quiet through all this, moving her food around on her plate, a look of utter boredom on her beautiful face as she takes in the exchange. As usual, Linda acts as if she isn't even there. "May I be excused?" she asks, interrupting their little love fest.

Linda looks up. "Already?"

"As much fun as it is to watch you spoon-feed your fiancé who's young enough to be your son, I'd much rather be at Tammy's. I'm going to spend the night." She puts down her napkin, pushing her plate of uneaten food away.

"Fine, fine," Linda answers, not bothering to look at her daughter. "I hope you've at least cleaned your room. I can't tell you how embarrassed Paulette gets when she walks in and has to see your lacy underthings and.. sex toys strewn everywhere."

Max does his best not to crack a smile, though his blush is obvious when Nina casts her glace on him. She smirks, daring him to meet her eyes.

Paulette comes in to tell Linda she has a phone call, and the older woman throws her napkin down, giving Max a kiss on the cheek before leaving. "If you are very good you'll get dessert," she whispers before leaving to take her phone call.

"Ooh, dessert," Nina smirks. "It's a good thing I'll be out of the house. I wouldn't want to overhear anything that might make my imagination run wild." On those long legs she stalks over to Max, standing behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders. Her red lacquered nails gleam in the light of the overhead chandelier. "You're a man of style, aren't you?" she whispers. "Just be careful with this suit.. you've got a little something here." She leans in and lightly licks away a tiny bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth.

Max is glad for the dinner napkin resting in his lap though it's doing little to hide the growing erection she's giving him. After she goes upstairs and Linda returns from her call, his face is still pink, his brain still swimming with thoughts of Nina in that teeny bikini, holding his beer to her clevage. He imagines her polished fingers wrapping around his-

He's distracted by Linda once more, and feigns attention to her, ignoring the tiny ache in his balls as he softens from his earlier excitement. But the little minx that she is, his future stepdaughter traipses down the stairs, duffel bag in hand, a barely-there mini dress under her denim bedazzled jacket. Catching his glance she blows him a kiss, then sticks her tongue in her cheek, her fist going to her mouth, mimicking a blow job, giggling as she takes her leave through the front door.

Yeah, he's definitely gonna marry Linda now.

Music inspo for this chapter:

dividers by @strangergraphics & @plum98 👑

taglist: @darkheartgatita @missladym1981 @whoaitspascal87

@djarinmuse @foreveratlantica-blog @a-loneywolf @chalterdh22

@elegantduckturtle @joelalorian @algressman16 @rafeysgirl5

@kissing-among-snowflakes (if at any time you want to be added or removed, please let me know 💗)

[tttt06]

Where Were You

IdolJungwon x Blackreader

Request are open! I reply quickly. Masterlist here

Synopsis~ Jungwon hasn't given you attention, so you went out to a party. Jungwon is pissed about this, what do you do?

Warnings~ Arguments, sexual comfort, intimacy, smut, oral (receiving), dirty talk, multiple orgasms, ANGRY JUNGWON

Word Count~ 1.6K

Jungwon has been rude lately. He's been ignoring your messages and acting single.

So, you decided you would have a girl's night and get wasted. That's what you did. 

You came home to your apartment. You wore a short strapless dress and sneakers. 

Your ass hurt from all the ass you were throwing. You threw off your shoes as you groaned. You were still on the phone with your friend, yelling. "Tell Kevin I think he's cuteee~ He should come over!!"

You switched on the light and gasped. "My boyfriend is here!" Kevin yelled, "Boyfriend?! I thought you were single?!" 

You waddled over and hugged him. His tall and sturdy stature keeps your dizzy body upright.

"I do! I love my boyfriend. Anyways, give Kayla her phone and tell her to be safe." Kevin said, "I wanted to go on a date."

Jungwon snatched the phone, "She's busy."

He hung up, and that's when you caught on. Your head was throbbing as the easy smile stayed on your face. "What's got your panties in a twist?"

Jungwon said tightly, "Where were you?" You stepped back, tripping on your feet a little. 

"I was having fun." He quirked an eyebrow. His arms folded as he asked, "Were you planning on telling me, or did you get too drunk to remember?"

You rolled your eyes, "Not like you would respond anyway. You're too busy for me." You started walking away, and Jungwon followed. He grabbed you back, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

You groaned as you swayed under his grip, "You're ruining my night. We can talk another time."

Jungwon said, "It's not my fault you decided to get drunk while I was worried sick about you."

You tilted your head, "Now you're worried?" Jungwon furrowed his eyebrows deeper, "Yeah. I am. I've always been. You can't just-"

You cut him off, "Just what? Go out and have fun!? I'm a fucking grown adult. I pay the bills in this apartment you walk in like you own! Give me your fucking keys, and stay away from me for a while. You're pissing me off, and I don't wanna be around you anymore. You're playing the victim."

Jungwon's face was red, "I'm playing the victim! Who went out and got drunk because of a couple missed texts!? You're out with whoever the fuck Kevin is all night! Are you cheating now!?"

You pushed him as tears started to well, "FUCK YOU, JUNGWON! I've been texting you since Wednesday morning. I get no response! It's Friday! I understand if you're stressed and need space, but you won't ridicule me for leaving like you have been this past month!"

You're alcohol left your system as tears started streaming, "You're drunk. Go to bed."

You laughed as you hit his chest defeatedly. "You're so stupid!"

Jungwon just hugged you as you angrily cried in his arms. It wasn't long before you were sobbing.

Jungwon said, "Stop crying." You shook your head, "I'm sick of you telling me what to do! I want to live my fucking life without you on my back."

Jungwon hugged you closer, "I'm sorry."

You pulled away, "I'm not ready to accept your apology."

He cupped your cheeks and wiped the tears away, "I'm sorry that I've been absent. I've been stressed, and instead of coming to you, I was running away. You were doing the same thing."

You confessed, "It was immature." 

Jungwon laughed, "You were upset."

You shook your head, "I'm sorry, too. I guess I've really needed you lately." Jungwon pressed his lips into yours softly.

It was the kind of kiss that made you melt. When Wonnie pulled away, your lips stretched a little.

The kind of kiss that made you two stare at each other with so much love and adoration. You were ready to marry him.

Jungwon said, "What are you thinking about?"

You thought carefully about what to say. You took a deep breath and confessed, "I'm mad because of something else, too."

Jungwon quirked an eyebrow, "Yeah?"

You pulled away, getting shy, "You haven't had time for us in other ways."

Your head was facing down as Jungwon asked, "What do you mean by that?"

He stepped closer to you, and you said, "Sex, Wonnie. I've been so horny I've been ready to pounce on anyone."

Jungwon pressed you against the wall as he said, "I haven't been taking care of my girl?"

He bit your earlobe and whispered, "You need my dick that bad huh?" You shuddered as you nodded, "I need you."

Jungwon tapped your leg, and you jumped around him. He pressed his lips against your neck as you moaned, "Wonnie."

He sighed and asked, "Yeah?"

You gasped when you felt his tongue trace along your jugular. He kissed under your chin as you confessed, "I'm wet."

Jungwon laughed as he carried you to your room. He dropped you on the bed as he took off his shirt. You bit your lip as you stared at his chest and abs.

"You like what you see?" You answered, "Always, baby."

Your hands instinctively reached out to touch as you said, "You've been working out a lot."Jungwon looked at your small hand as he hardened. 

Your delicate, small, brown hand smoothed over his abs. He looked up at you, and you were staring at him. Your pretty round eyes, begging for him.

He groaned as he slid off your pants. "Take off your shirt." 

You followed his directions. Jungwon was biting his lip as he kneeled. "Slide to the headboard."

You pushed yourself back as Jungwon crawled after you. He slid your panties off and stared at your glistening pussy.

"You're so wet, baby. Fuck."

He attempted to stick his finger in, and it glided inside your hole with ease. As his finger seeped in, your body relaxed. You moaned with satisfaction as he pushed in and out.

His head dove down to kiss your clit. Your hands dug into his hair as he made out with your bud. You whined when he added a second finger. 

Jungwon slurped as he roughly dug his finger into you. You pulled his hair, and Jungwon moaned into your pussy.

The vibration made you sink deeper into the couch. "Mm. That feels good." Jungwon let his arms sink under your thighs as he shoved his face deeper into your pussy.

His tongue slid up your clit, sending a flash of pleasure up your spine. "Ah~" Jungwon plugged a third finger in, stretching you further. "Ah~ Wonnie! Please!"

Jungwon groaned as he fuck you with his fingers. He sped up as you gripped his arm. Your legs rested on both of his broad shoulders as you shook.

"I'm gonna-" Jungwon sucked harder as he plunged his fingers deeper. Your body lifted as you cried out. "Ah... fuck."

Your grip loosened as you started cumming. Jungwon didn't stop licking. He was slurping up your juices as you breathed shaky breaths.

When he pulled away, his eyes were full of hunger. Jungwon said, "I'm gonna dig so deep inside of you that all you can do is scream, baby."

He leaned in closer as he kissed you deeply.

His tongue went down your throat as you tasted yourself on him.

You let his hands grab yours as they enveloped together. "I'm gonna make you feel so good tonight, baby."

You shuddered as he kissed your neck. You heard his belt buckle start to jingle as he took it off. 

It wasn't long before you felt his hot tip rub along your clit. "F-fuck Y/N."

He let his cock slip into your tight hole. Your eyes squeezed shut from the stretch. Jungwon dug deep until he reached your hilt.

He didn't move as he peppered kisses all over your face.

Jungwon said, "That feel good?"

You nodded as Jungwon started rocking his hips. Your eyes fluttered closed.

Jungwon thrusted again, his breath shaky. Low, shaky moans came from his chest as he stared at you.

He loved the way you relaxed when you were under him. The relief was taking him.

He kissed your nose, "I love you so much, Y/N."

Jungwon thrust a little firmer. Your body rocked to his slow rhythm. You gasped when he fucked you hard.

The feeling of his angry tip slamming into your G-spot as your skin slapped together was unbearable.

You moaned, "Jungwon! Feels so good!"

Jungwon panted, "Yeah? Fucking taking my cock so well, baby. Fuck! Take it all! I love how you clench around me."

Jungwon started getting rough as you let your hips slide up to him. His dick went further.

Your body felt tight as you started to shake, "I'm going to cum!"

You squeezed his shoulder as he sucked on your breast. You were overstimulated. Your hole was throbbing and clenching. 

Jungwon was moaning your name like a chant as you felt yourself release. Your lip got caught in your teeth as you had your first orgasm since last month.

Jungwon kissed you as he fucked you once more for him.

Then, it was silence. Sweet nothing and kisses.

You were laying on his chest and tracing his abs. "I felt really alone this past month, Jungwon. I was worried you were going to leave me."

Jungwon's chest caved as he spoke. The conversation turned vulnerable as his sweaty skin stuck to your cheek. "I'm supposed to be your protector. The feeling of relying on you makes me uncomfortable because I'm supposed to be your rock."

You shook your head, "You're supposed to be my boyfriend. That's it. So stop showing me your idol image. I wanna see the real you."

Jungwon kissed your head, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'll try to be better."

You hugged him tighter, "I forgive you. Always."

[remyfire]

Looks that say a thousand words

[cyanpromise]

hehe

[quirinah]

I hope they explode

[noctilu-uca]

i doodle a lot in spanish class so here are my guys

[skrunksthatwunk]

i lied kuwameshi time NOW

[march32nd]

me when the girl i've been dating for two months tells me that she doesn't find me at all attractive and isn't attracted to me and doesn't know if she ever will be !!!!!

[sonknuxadow]

ive seen so many people complaining about people making joker sonic just so they can ship him with batman shadow and like i dont NOT believe the people complaining about it because that sounds exactly like something people who are overly obsessed with so/nadow to the point where they try to make everything involving shadow about so/nadow somehow even if its wildly out of character for him and/or sonic or just otherwise doesnt make sense would do . but its also wild seeing the complaining when i havent seen anyone actually making fanart of that concept . i feel like im dodging a massive bullet right now

[fix-me-sixteen]

helena watching helly and mark kiss on the security footage is so embarrassing to me idk why. it just makes me feel such intense secondhand embarrassment *shudders*

[intertexts]

also really funny to me that i wasn't very interested in most pd ships until new haven wards. ghostkicks insane qprisms obviously but now i'm like over here shaking and sobbing thinking abt evildead & ghostknife & all their dreadful intricate messy bestfriends little polycule. as mallard conway calls it.